A pair of vaguely related random randomnesses.
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Letters of eclectic commentary featuring the wit and wisdom of a garrulous geezer and {Dana}, a persistent hallucination and charming literary device.
"Resistance is futile. You will be assimilated." -the Borg
Dear Gentlereaders,
My last column, in blatant violation of company policy, was published Sunday, 5/18. As my millions of regular gentlereaders are aware, my column is supposed to be officially published every other Saturday. It's usually unofficially released into the wild on Friday evenings, but that's a secret, so don't tell anyone.
The reason for this was explained in the truncated column released on Sunday, and a commitment was made to post something with a bit more meat on the bones in short order. This is that column.
{There goes the vegetarian vote.}
Balance has been restored to the Force and my next column will be officially released on Saturday, 5/31/25, Lor' willin' an' th' crick don' rise. Tell your friends.
{Lor' willin' an' th' crick don' rise?}
Here's a link for any other etymologically inclined nerds in the audience. Appropos of not much, greater Pittsburgh area natives, where cricks abound, are aware that I'm not talking about a crick in my neck.
I have a lazy eye, lazy eyes actually. My big brother claims it's because of the time he "accidentally" tipped over my baby buggy, and I landed on my head.
While there's a kernel of truth buried in this apocryphal tale -- i.e., I really did fall out of my baby buggy while he was pushing me back and forth at the time, perhaps with a bit too much enthusiasm to shut me up while Mum made dinner -- but I don't think I hit the floor hard enough to permanently knock my eyeballs out of whack.
When my brother tells this story he likes to opine that as a result of the tragedy I can see around corners, so all's well that ends well.
My lazy eyes, although sometimes a problem when I'm attempting to talk to someone whom I've never met before, because they think I'm looking at something or someone sneaking up behind them, have not left me permanently psychologically scarred.
Also, early on, I perfected a method wherein I stand at a bit of an angle to someone when I speak to them so that they're only required to deal with the eyeball that's pointed at them.
Unfortunately, this doesn't always work. Some people notice what I'm doing and wonder why this dude is standing at an angle. Is he preparing to execute some sort of martial arts move that will result in them waking up later with their wallet and car keys missing?
That said...
{Hold up there, Sparky. Did you say lazy eyes? Plural?}
I did, Dana, yes. I can look at a person with either eye, but the other one will move to the far end of its respective socket, like it's trying to escape, or see around the corner. While I can't see around corners, it occurs to me that if I could, I might've had a much more exciting life as a spy.
{Or a mugger.}
I saw (see what I did there) some sort of specialist when I was very young. He said that the only way to fix the problem was with surgery, and that the problem could eventually return anyway. That was all me and Mum needed to hear; she didn't want someone sticking a knife in my eye any more than I did. We were outta there.
Dad, not exactly well known for being a supportive, hands-on parent, got mad. His position was that I should do some sort of eye exercises and somehow will my eyes into behaving, like a real man would. A sort of visual version of walk it off, son. He subtly but effectively made it clear he found my problem embarrassing to him.
Unfortunately (or fortunately?), it never occurred to me to spend my life trying to get his approval by becoming a RBFD in some form or fashion while accumulating a hooge pile of dough.
{That's why you squeak by on a fixed income. You should write a book claiming that, between your eyeball problems and a father who was more like a benign but disinterested grandfather than a Dad, yours has been a life of constant struggle. Good money in being a professional victim nowadays. Say, have you ever done time or been addicted to drugs?}
No, but I am addicted to pizza. I also...
{Have you ever thought about wearing an eye patch to make it easier to communicate when you're out and about? It would be perfect for when you're promoting your book, and/or becoming a social media influencer.}
I have indeed considered wearing an eye patch from time to time, but I always talked myself out of it figuring it would generate more unwanted attention than my wandering eyes.
Hold on a sec, I'll be right back...
Hey, Amazon offers a large selection of eye patches in various materials, colors, and patterns. You can even get one that features a skull and a pair of crossed swords. I'll bet the chicks would dig it, maybe I'll get one yet.
Aargh!
Now, despite the trauma of having lived a life with two lazy eyes and the fact that I've been chronically a day late and two (adjusted for inflation) dollars short, I was never tempted to become the CEO of a ginormous healthcare firm to resolve my physical, psychological, or financial issues.
United Healthcare (UHC) which has been much in the news of late due to the assassination of its CEO by Chuck Mangione's grandson, a falling stock price, and most importantly which provides my Medicare Advantage Plan, is now under investigation for fraud... related to its Medicare Advantage Plan, leaving me to wonder if I'm going to have to switch companies and/or be left holding a bag of poop when I'm least expecting it.
They haven't ripped me off in any way as far as I can tell, in fact, just the opposite. However, I hate them anyway for several reasons, the main one being that it's virtually impossible to resolve any problem over the phone, even if you can manage to reach a human being with all-American names like Steve or Sally. I have reason to believe they may not use their real names.
Hint for fellow sufferers: Find a way to make the problem something your doctor's clerks need to deal with. Otherwise, don't waste your time or call a lawyer.
Another tip, you know that promised free transportation to medical appointments? The subcontractor they farm this out to farms it out to another subcontractor in your area.
You may learn the hard way, as I did, that you should've made other arrangements. Walking would've been better than risking my life with that crazy chick with crazy long glow-in-the-dark fingernails who drove with one hand while continuously texting with the other while executing the occasional panic stop and blowing through traffic signals.
{You made that up!}
No, I didn't.
{Did you complain?}
To ModivCare? The firm that works for UHC? Fill out the form, human, we'll get back to you, promise, by email. We have more important things to do than talk to "end users," but we're developing an AI system to handle annoyances like you.
Bend over and grin. Resistance is futile; you've been assimilated.
Colonel Cranky
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Copyright 2025-Mark Mehlmauer-All rights reserved
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