This morning, I decided to add to the complexity of my morning routine, I decide a slice or two of toast would go nicely with my Fair Trade Colombian caffeine fix. My grumbling stomach convinced my sleep addled brain that there were two simple steps to the toasting: Open the bread and put it in the toaster. My brain verified the information, added it to the coffee making procedure and set my body about it’s business.

The coffe amking went as well as expected. No water dropped, no blood spilled.  With this part of the mission accomplished, the brain ordered a small release of serotonin to celebrate.  The most difficult task was complete. Now on to the simple, simplicity of making toast.

The order given, the body complies.  Open the bag grab a slice of bread. Grab a slice of bread. Grab a slice of…wait a second! Package opened, check.  Grab.a.slice.of.bread. Fail.  What fail?!?!?  The befuddled brain orders the sleep encrusted eyes to see why the hand can complete the simple task of  grabbing a slice of bread. The eyes report a second package encasing the bread.

I checked the inner package for a EZ-Open strip, or a flap of plastic to tear open, to no avail.  The package was to well sealed for this method of attack to succeed.  I had to resort to finding something sharp.  My track record of opening packaging with sharp objects is riddled of incidents involving pain, blood and stitches.  Each of these cutting incidents occurred under much better conditions than my current uncaffeinated and annoyed state.

I rapidly eliminated the blood thirsty 14″ Chef’s knife (one bitten, twice shy), the boning knife (the name alone stands  as a warning) and the rest of the knife family in general.  There was just too much of a chance of disaster with any of ‘em.  My next thoughts turned to scissors.  I have several pair, all in other locations of the house, other than the kitchen.  A search of that magnitude would really need a caffeine fix, before any attempt was made.

Just as I was going to lose hope for a bit of warm, butter and jam soaked toast I remembered my Swiss Army wallet companion! It has a small naikl fikle and a bitty set of scissors in it!  ultimately, my morning pre-breakfast was saved.

The simple task of having a cup of coffee and toast was made way more complicated by the second layer of packaging for my bread.  I understand that it serves the purpose of keeping the bread fresher, but, the manufactures need to make the opening of this second package easier. No one should need to wield a sharp object, in order to open stupid package of bread. Leave an easy to find, small flap of plastic that will allow the package to be unwrapped or put an easy to find zip strip on the inner package.

In short, don’t fuck with me in the morning.  This time nobody got hurt (mainly me).

I hate these conditionals.  They show a lack of respect to those who have been wronged and a lack of acceptance of blame.  In my reality, an apology is to accept blame for an action and express remorse to those wronged.  The conditional apology does not meet those requirements and should be rejected.

Why the rant?  Netflix’s Reed Hasitings blog posting.

Hasitings makes two conditional apologies in his posting.  Neither which really accept blame for treating his customers thoughtlessly and disrespectfully.

“It is clear from the feedback over the past two months that many members felt we lacked respect and humility in the way we announced the separation of DVD and streaming, and the price changes. That was certainly not our intent, and I offer my sincere apology”

Close, but, no apology.  There is no acceptance of wrong doing.  Hasitings places the blame on those customers who felt Netflix “lacked respect and humility”, rather than accepting responsibility for those actions.

A proper apology would have looked something like: “It is clear from the feedback over the past two months that we have  not treated our members with respect and humility”.  See, respectful, acceptance of blame, and (Bonus!) a touch of humility.

The second ‘It’s not my fault you’re so Emo” apology is as follows:

“I want to acknowledge and thank our many members that stuck with us, and to apologize again to those members, both current and former, who felt we treated them thoughtlessly.”

Again, no acceptance of blame and no remorse for the actions taken.  A proper apology would be:

“I want to apologize to our current and former members who we treated thoughtlessly”  Again, this form accepts blame and shows respect to those who were wronged.

I was just annoyed with the split of the DVD and Streaming plans. Now, I’m pissed off with Netflix for sending this crap,  half-assed “you’re so Emo”, explanation of why I’m wrong about being annoyed at how the split was done.

Now, what I’d like to see is a real apology to the blog posting, tweet and email send by Netflix and Hastings, followed by a real apology for the way we, the past and current customers, have been treated in the last few months.

I apologize to Reed Hastings and the team of drunken monkeys who wrote the posting if they, in their insecure, Emo way, feel they may have been, in some wronged, by this posting.  I understand that those with large egos are easy deflated by words and apologize for any emotional damage I may cause through this weakness of spirit.

You can find the full sized version over on Tabblo

My Summer So Far

A quick synopsis of my summer created at tabblo.com

***Now a Tabblo of the Day***

The Gardens

First a little background. My parents own a double city lot.   They live on the line that separates the ‘good’ and ‘bad’ neighborhoods.  If the house was on the oddly numbered side of the street, it’s assessed value would go up 50-60%.  In the almost 30 years they have lived there, may improvements have been made to the lot. Currently, the front lawn has been replaced by an English Cottage Garden and where I take 95% of my flower and garden pictures.

The street side part of the property has a short steep hill and is filled with Sweet Peas, Herman’s Pride and Periwinkle.  They keep it weeded to encourage these plants to grow and spread not only because they beautiful, they also form a strong root system to keep the ground from washing away.

The backyard, bordering the down-the-street neighbor, use to have a nice border of Mock Orange and other flowering shrubs along the property boundary.  These provided a nice screen between the yards. I say provided, because the Good Citizen cut them down, as they had branches that hung over his side of the property line.

Simply the yards are beautiful.  People pull their cars over to look at the flowers and ask for gardening advice. Photographers (besides me) photograph the gardens and flowers.  A local news station came out and did a very short piece how beautiful the gardens were and how they brightened the neighborhood.  No one has anything bad to say about them (this would include the two Cops who were called due to The Good Citizen).

That brings us to today. I’ll warn ya after this buildup it may seem kinda anticlimactic.  The Good Citizen came bay to check on two of his four properties in the area (his permanent address is in NYC according to the tax records). While inspecting the property next to my parents lots, the Good Citizen took it upon himself to start edging the sidewalks.  Not his sidewalk.  My parents sidewalk.

With a shovel, he tore roots, cut stems and dug into the the hillside.  The Good Citizen started down by his property, tore up twenty or so feet of edging.  Shifting tactics he skipped a ten foot section of sidewalk and hill, to start in view of the front porch.  At this point my dad noticed the Good Citizen going about his self appointed, code enforcement duties.  My father approached the Good Man to see what he was up to.  The Good Citizen advised he was clearing the public thoroughfare.  When asked to stop and leave, the Good Citizen refused, as he was protecting others from the encroaching plants.  My father advised him, I’m sure without any explicits, that if there was a code violation that it should be brought up to Code Enforcement.  The Good Man the began the chest bumping and shouting, asserting his rights to take care of the issue without any assistance.  It was at this point my mom separated the Good Citizen and my father and called the police.   Soon after, I arrived.  The Good Citizen, knowing full well the police were on their way, left.

Here are some of the pictures of the aftermath:

It’s true the plants were overlapping the sidewalk.  But, an adult would approach the property owner and mention that it looked messy or that it may be a code violation.  If the complaint was ignored, the next step would be calling Code Enforcement.  It’s the process.  Taking a shovel and starting in on someone else’s property is asking for conflict.  Making sure you are seen attacking a garden with a shovel is trying to start a fight.  Starting a fight with retiree in his late 60′s is asinine.  Either you think it’s someone who you can bully, you’re trying to start a fight so you can sue or you’re trying to kill the the man.

This was not my parent’s first encounter with the Good Citizen and I’m afraid it will not be the last.

For my part, I think I’ll need to call Code Enforcement and check on the legality of building your own curb with pressure treated lumber and bolts.  The curb dose intrude in to a public thoroughfare and may pose a danger.  It’s my duty as a Good Citizen, isn’t it?