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Put me in coach, I know my password
The Piney Woods family voted to take in a Braves game. We checked our calendars and waded through the menus looking for a way to buy tickets for just one game, please. The Yanks and Red Sox are out as the Braves front office believes demand is so high they can demand you buy three additional games to see either of those legendary teams.
We whittled our choice down to Pittsburgh (doing much better this year), clicked our date and seat choice and started a savings plan to cover our hot dogs and cold drinks.
But wait! First you have to type in the secret code, presented in illegible script. Then you have to remember the Tickemaster password you created the last time you bought tickets. And you’ve got 45 seconds before they release your seats to the next anxious customer.
Fortunately for me, the queue for Pirates tickets was short and I was able to find my password and wallet, re-log on, and get the same seats.
Worthy of Comment
Also on the Dew
As it says in my by-line, in the several items I've posted previously on "Like the Dew," I recently ran for Congress. But I am not a politician, nor possessed of a personal ambition to hold public office. I ran, rather, because for the past nine years I have had a message that I regard as so urgent that I've been willing to do whatever I can to spread it far and wide in order to persuade my fellow citizens of its truth and importance. I believe that for the past decade or so America has faced a crisis as pr Read on →
He was walking along the street, minding his own business. Out of nowhere, he was attacked, stabbed over and over again with such force that the coroner said the wounds went all the way through his body. His body. Lying there, in a rapidly expanding pool of his own blood. He was dying, and he knew it. He didn't know why, only that the life was flowing out of him onto the solid, gray concrete of an English street. You didn't hear his story. It happened on April 30, in Birmingham, England, not long after evening prayers ended at Green Lane Read on →
My beloved colleagues in Teh Media sure get on my last damn nerve. Most of the time it's just from sloppy work or jumping on whatever bandwagon is rolling by at the time, something along the lines of a pet peeve. Like when my Twitter list of political reporters blows up with some hashtag meme instead of actual reporting. Today it's #Obamacareinthreewords, launched by that icon of credibility, Rep. Darrell Issa. It's the second time around for that one -- Rep. Kevin McCarthy launched it the first time last June. (@WhiteHouse even got in on it, tweeting "It's.The.Law." Republicans responded with "arrogance Read on →
Last Thursday, just before I took my daily two-mile run/walk hunger struck. A few bites of watermelon did the trick. When I bit into that cold sweet watermelon a flood of summer memories rushed in. I recalled the great tastes of summer and with those memories came warm images of youth in the Georgia countryside. I saw stacks of dark green, striped watermelons, red, ripe tomatoes, and heard the beautiful grinding of a hand-cranked ice cream churn. Recalling the great tastes of summer I thought will make a good column. I created a document and titled it “The Tastes of Summer.” I’m Read on →