Tag: general grumbling

Why it’s the special Thanksgiving issue of the Oregonian.  The one that I specifically called and said I didn’t want and they cheerfully agreed that I wouldn’t get and wouldn’t be charged for.  Will they charge me for it?  Most likely.

Just in case you don’t want to out-click, I’ll transcribe for you:

Thank you for being an angry and reluctant subscriber to The Oregonian.  We are sending you this sneaky postcard with many words to tell you that your subscription includes the newspapers published on Thanksgiving and Christmas.  These two newspapers are piled high with advertisements and have practically no news content to them.  We know that you, along with many other subscribers, grabs the three inch pile of ads and immediately transfers it to the recycling bin so you can get to the actual content of the paper which is, of course, news–not that we’re doing much of that anymore.  And remember a few sentences ago when we said that the extra newspapers are included in your home delivery subscription. What we really mean is that we are actually going to charge you extra, three dollars (that’s two dollars above the regular newsstand price) for the Thanksgiving Edition and one dollar (which is more than you pay for your weekday paper) for the Christmas one.  So be aware that your bill may come sooner than usual because of this.  If you’ve read this far and comprehended that we are completely screwing you over, please call our Customer Service Department where you can wait on hold for long periods of time before someone attempts to assist you.

Have a joyful Holiday Season, sucker.  

(We hope you will stop subscribing so we can claim circulation declines and forgo publishing altogether because we now pay our reporters based on how many “likes” and “pins” they get, not on their actual competence as a reporter. I mean really. The “free press” is so twentieth century.)

Your “friends” at the Oregonian.

It’s weird, the way the paper arrives.  Rather than just stacking all the sections in the middle and folding once, there are various configurations of sections and often just the front page is wrapped around a stack of sections.  This leaves the front page rather wrinkled and strained. This was something that was never a problem, before the advent of the tabloid format.

Self-congratulatory pablum like this pisses me off.  I’d love to know where all the grumblers like me hang out so we could gripe together.

Oh wait, it’s probably the Internet.  I’m already here.

We used to have the Ethicist, which was a great column, but like many good things in the Oregonian, the Ethicist dissappeared.  Olive Gallagher has appeared and I’m always amused how she prints letters that praise her or agree with her.  I find this so off-putting, I have trouble paying attention to what she’s saying.

It’s America’s birthday, so why don’t we, as the publishers of the Oregonian, debut yet another annoying feature.

See this wrap-around ad?  You have to open the entire paper and tear it off from the front page.

In the past few months rules in the health care and mortgage industry have kicked in and now we get a monthly statement from HomeStreet Bank telling us about our mortgage which is auto deducted.  Plus, after every appointment at Kaiser (I go once weekly for UV therapy for psoriasis) I receive a mailing telling me how much UV therapy supposedly costs.

I have an entire electronic thing set up at Kaiser so I don’t have to get these types of things, so why don’t they come via that?  And HomeStreet, it would be great to opt in to something like that for the mortgage notification.

Um.  Most all of the teenagers I’ve encountered have goals.  I myself had goals for my life when I was a teenager.  Most of them weren’t really realistic and didn’t come to pass, but that doesn’t meant I didn’t have them.  How about giving the upcoming adults some credit?

Text under the picture says, “The Union High School Marching Band takes part in Saturday’s Rose Festival Grand Floral Parade.”

Huh.  I remember band as looking more like people in unisex uniforms carrying instruments and playing and stuff, but I guess things have changed since my day.

(There is half of a flute pictured, on the right side of the picture. Also, picture caption writer, you might tell us from whence the Union High School came.  Because I have no idea.)

Pumping my own gas does not fall under the heading of “personal freedom” in my world. It falls in the category of odious task I’m happy to pay someone to do.  

Seriously! Don’t mess with one of the best quirks about this state.