John Delach

Part 4: Conclusion of the Great Hoverboard Saga

To recap: the sources for hoverboards No. 2, 3, 4 and 5 had been solved. No. 2, 3 and 4 originated through Amazon Prime. We returned No. 2 and 3 and Amazon Prime credited the cost of No. 4 to our account leaving us to do with the unit as we pleased. We were satisfied that No. 5 was UL approved and that went to Matt Delach as his Christmas gift. We still possessed No. 1 one not knowing its origin and, of course, No. 4.

Working with the credit card company, we tracked down a telephone number for the company where board No. 1 had originated. Shockingly, a person answered the phone on my first try. She identified her company as, Hoverboards 360. I explained that I wanted to return the unit and she gave me their service department’s email address and instructions to send them photographs of the box and the unit which I sent from my IPhone.

Several days later they emailed a form to me. It advised me to return this form together with the unit but it didn’t give a mailing address. I filled out the form and put in the comments section: “Please send me a return label,” and emailed the form back to the service department. Several days later, I followed up with a second email. Then I began to call the original number I used but, now, when I called, a recording periodically advised me “how important my call was” and “that it would be answered shortly” for about the first ten minutes of the call. Then it somehow flipped and I heard this message: “The mailbox you called is full. Try your call again later.”  At the end of the message my call was disconnected.

Not a good sign especially as we are without an advocate like Amazon and the same sequence occurred every time I called that number.

Christmas was now closing in. Mary Ann and I talked over the status of the Board No. 4, the grateful AM unit with Beth and Tom and we agreed to bring it up to our place in New Hampshire on Christmas morning where their family was celebrating.

They had explained to Marlowe and Cace that we couldn’t receive hoverboards as they were illegal in Brooklyn where they lived. Our idea was No. 4 would live in NH and we’d store in a separate shed located a decent distance from the house.

When we arrived Christmas morning, Tom brought it into the living room. He casually mentioned that the box in a plastic bag was a gift for me. When the opening was about finished I asked the kids to open that big box as I didn’t want to get up. Once Marlowe removed the wrapping paper, she looked up at me with a puzzled look and asked, “You got a hoverboard?”

“A hoverboard; what in God’s name would I do with a hoverboard? If I got on it I’d break my good hip for sure. No thank you. Hey, would you kids want it?”

You know that millisecond of complete silence as the realization creped into their heads. And then all hell broke loose as reality hit home. Fortunately, the weather was warm and we have a flat paved area used for basketball, badminton and other games making it ideal for mastering elementary maneuvers on the board. Ultimately the time came for the Briggs family to go home and not unsurprisingly, the board accompanied them back to Brooklyn.

As for the Hoverboard 360 unit, it now lives in a rain and snow proof plastic container on our back patio, a spare for when one of the other two breaks (unless 16-year-old drew liberates it.) I will continue trying to get satisfaction from the distributor but I’m not holding my breath waiting. My last attempt on Monday, January 18, 2016 duplicated my other experiences.

Soon after Christmas ended Mary Ann sent everyone the following text: “To all, I just heard on the radio that 12 children were admitted to Valley Hospital in New Jersey on Christmas Day having suffered wrist injuries form hoverboard falls. Please make sure your kids wear wrist pads in addition to wearing helmets. I also heard Police Commissioner Bratten say, ‘It doesn’t matter whether or not hoverboards are legal in NYC, any parent or grandparent who buys one is a moron.”

I penned this addendum: “Don’t charge them at night and make sure an adult is close by and so is a chemical extinguisher.”

I think next year we may consider drones…NOT!

Part 3: The Great Hoverboard Saga (Continued.)

We gathered all five cartons in the kitchen and proceeded to cut each open to reveal their contents. The first thing to strike us was that each board came from a different source and while identical in outward appearance except for color, each inner box identified the unit by a different product name. We were in possession of a Smart Drifting Scooter, a Smart Balance Wheel, an Airboard Scooter, a Drifting Board and a Smart Self Balancing Scooter. I kid you not!

(An attorney friend later explained that they were probably manufactured by one firm but under “small batch” LLC offshoot companies in an attempt to limit liability and, perhaps, pattern infringement.)

We were searching for “UL” labels on the boxes that would confirm that each unit had been approved by Underwriters Laboratories. As an insurance man, I explained to Mary Ann, “We can’t believe that any unit is safe unless it’s approved by UL who test electrical products. They either have the UL symbol or they must go back. I wouldn’t even buy a string of Christmas tree lights unless it was UL approved.”

The first unit we inspected came from Modell’s and it bore the UL symbol. Since Matt was the prime mover to have this contraption, we both agreed this was his.

The other four did not deserve a home. None of them had the UL symbol we sort. So began the difficult task of determining which units corresponded to which orders and arranging for them to be returned. Nothing matched any paperwork or labeling and we re-boxed them using whatever seemed to make some sense.

We also wrote email messages of explanation to the parents. They agreed and Mary Ann referenced UL in her messages asking what it meant. Michael replied, “U lose.”

We first tackled the three boards ordered through Amazon, (two three and four). Mary Ann quickly located three items on her account and following the prompts on Amazon’s web site she instructed Amazon that we wanted to return three units. Amazon advised that they would contact the manufactures and we should receive return labels by email within two days.

Two suppliers sent shipping labels and Mary Ann returned these units (boards numbered two and three) via FedEx at a cost to us of $40 each. The remaining supplier (board number four) remained silent until Mary Ann followed up with Amazon. Amazon must have poked them but instead of a label this company, “Grateful AM,” sent a series of messages that escalated their position as the days went on:

We would like to tell you. Our products has quality assurance. You won’t worry the safety problem. Please continue to use it. We already spent expensive shipping fee from Hong Kong to your address.

This was followed by: If you return it to us, we only can give you the refund of value of product not including the shipping cost.

And finally: You have received our product for a long time. You must have used it already. Our company doesn’t accept the products are used already by customer, unless it is still in new type.

Enough already! After a lengthy but satisfying conversation with an Amazon representative, she agreed to credit Mary Ann’s account with $60 toward the shipping cost for the two returned units and the full purchase price for the one from Grateful AM. Great job, Mary Ann, great job Amazon Prime!

Mary Ann asked this woman, “What should we do with that board?”

“Anything you like.”

Several days later Mary Ann received a half-baked apology from Grateful AM. offering us a $100 credit if we did not return the unit.. Apparently, Amazon gave them religion. We chose to ignore their offer.

In summary, we returned two boards. We received a credit for about 80% of the price from one from the supplier and Amazon advised that the second supplier would credit our account with the full purchase price of that board. Board number four was ours do deal with as we saw fit and, number five, the one from Modell’s, was going to Matthew. That left the first board, ordered directly over the internet, ours to contend with if we could locate the supplier…(to be continued.)

The Great Hoverboard Saga

Hoverboard: A levitating board used for personal transportation in the films “Back to the Future Part 11 and Part 111.”

2015 version: An electronic skateboard powered by lithium batteries.

Sunday, September 20, 2015, 1 PM: The New York Football Giants home opener versus the Atlanta Falcons. A huge event for the male members of our family, joining me for the start of my 53^rd season – my son Mike; (this being his 31^st season,) my son-in-law, Tom, and their boys, Drew, (15), Matt, (13), and Cace, (9).

A warm, sunny opening day swelled our already happy, busy, crowded tailgate beyond two dozen or so fellow tailgaters. Food offerings exceeded calculation guarantying famine would be absent. Among those attending, Ehab, a regular, and his son Chase. Chase introduced the lot of us to this new phenomenon, the hoverboard, that he rode around the parking lot with ease simply shifting his weight and stance to turn, go forward, stand-still and go backwards. My three grandsons were mesmerized and all successfully took turns on this contraption.

Shortly after that Sunday, Matt texted his grandmother begging for a hoverboard Christmas. He promised to renounce Satan, never get a tattoo or piercing or ask for any other gifts from Santa or his January birthday in return. Faced with such a plea, Mary Ann quickly caved and the order went out for Hoverboard No. 1.

Cace soon climbed on the bandwagon followed by our two granddaughters, Marlowe and Sami as the news of Matty’s score leaked. And so it came to pass that three additional orders were placed by Dame Mary Ann, this time using her membership in Amazon Prime. The only one still missing was: Grandson No.1, Drew, who about to turn 16-years old, was more interested in obtaining his learning permit and the vague possibility of a Jeep Wrangler in his future. That being almost out of the question Mary Ann chose to order a fifth and final unit for him, also through Amazon.

Unit No. 1 arrived first. Then three of the four through Amazon arrived. I stacked these heavy boxes in our garage as we awaited the arrivals to be completed. In mid-November when Mary Ann received discouraging news from Amazon that their remaining supplier could not guarantee a timely delivery for the Drew unit, Amazon canceled that order. Mary Ann found a replacement from Modells, a Metropolitan sporting goods store, that quickly shipped Unit No. 5.

Five in hand! We congratulated each other as to how we had seamlessly and efficiently completed our grand children’s Christmas shopping. Little did we know how wrong we were, we had no idea that all s*** was about to hit the fan!

Stories of hoverboard problems began to appear in print, on the radio and TV. The lithium batteries in some units had a propensity to overheat and catch fire while the units were in use or, worse, while being charged. These stories grew in number and we began to receive rumblings of concern from the parents. In addition, we discovered that the units were illegal in New York City where Marlowe and Cace lived. They were considered unregistered motor vehicles. It was a crime to use them on streets, sidewalks or in parks and the word was fines could be as high as $ 200 to $500.

We decided to open the units to see what God had wrought and that’s when it really hit the fan… (To be continued.)

Sometimes you get the bear and sometimes the bear gets you.

(Commentator unknown)

Part 1: The Television

Back in October Mary Ann and I finally had it with the HDTV located in our eating /relaxing room, a.k.a. “the new room” circa 1988. The sound quality had been problematic and over time grew more annoying. Inertia delayed taking action until enough was enough and the fact that we needed to replace the dishwasher sent us scurrying to P.C. Richards and Sons, a fairly well-known metropolitan area appliance retailer. Salesman Frank sold us a dishwasher, a 43 inch Samsung Smart HDTV, a stand, HTMI cables and a special device that permitted the television to be smart by connecting it into our wireless router.

Miracle of miracles, we successfully put the stand together, mounted DVD player, cable box and the TV, connected all cables and successfully turned it on (once we realized that the smart device had an on / off switch.) The TV rode on top of the stand on a swivel allowing us to turn it for viewing in different sections of the room.

A potential problem caught my eye as I was assembling the TV legs. Instead of a one piece pedestal base, this model had two wing-like sleds on either side. While they fit onto the swivel, they overhung this platform. This concern was justified a few days later when I went to turn the TV and it started to slide off the swivel. Fortunately, I had both hands free and caught it before it moved too far. “Yikes,” I said to myself, “It is just a question of time before this thing falls.”

I vowed to handle it with two hands going forward but I failed to tell Mary Ann. Sure enough, a couple / three weeks later with both hands busy, she turned it with her hip. Down it went converting the HD screen into a kaleidoscope of colors.

And so the television sat unplugged in the living room until we could return to P.C. Richards. Frank became very defensive when we arrived explaining their warranty didn’t include breakage. “I know that Frank. That’s not why we’re here,” I explained. “First off, we want to replace it, something smaller like a 40 inch and with a pedestal.”

We showed him the store’s circular that included just such a replacement unit. Frank had it in stock and I paid for it the same way as I did the broken one with my Amex Card. (What we realized with the help of Mary Ann’s friend, Dotty, that we most likely had breakage coverage with American Express.) It took me several times to try to explain this to Frank but finally he gave me the name and address of their service and repair facility located in Farmingdale.

Amex confirmed I had the coverage so I dutifully brought the TV to their facility. A nice young man helped me carry it in but felt it was a constructive total loss (CTL) as the cost of parts and labor would exceed the sales price. I replied, “From your lips to God’s ear.”

That afternoon, they asked me to call the service center in an email. I was told the cost of repairs would be $631 for parts and $99.50 labor plus tax. “Can you put that in writing?”

They did. I sent Amex the original sales receipt, the replacement TV sales receipt, the repair estimate all under a covering letter of explanation. Twelve days later Amex confirmed they would credit my account with $456.21 the sales price plus Nassau County’s 8.625% sales tax.

For the record, we won. However, this was but a skirmish for a new struggle just then developing. Stay tuned for Part 2.

Bribing V. the Underwriter

John Delach

Once upon a time a chap I shall call, V. became the leading underwriter on the really Big Oil and Gas Company’s (BO&G) insurance package. V. who worked for a Scandinavian insurance company was a fairly unsophisticated insurance man who didn’t understand how the complex insurance clauses worked or how they came into existence. V. decided to challenge them and it was my responsibility as BO&G’s broker and account executive to solve this dilemma.

Repeated attempts of negotiating by telephone, telex, fax and mail failed to bring us satisfaction so I arranged a face to face meeting to resolve these issues. We agreed to meet in Oslo, Norway. I did not want to meet in the formal setting of V’s office so I convinced him to meet at the Grand Hotel.

I traveled from New York with four other brokers each who was an expert on one of the types of coverage that the policy provided, onshore property, offshore property, casualty and marine.

I instructed each broker to purchase two .750 liter bottles of Johnny Walker Black Scotch whiskey at the Duty Free shop in JFK International Airport before boarding the flight to Oslo. This was the legal limit for each traveler to bring into Norway and I did likewise so that we accumulated ten bottles of J.W. Black.

I was not planning a drunken orgy. Liquor is heavily taxed in Norway making it almost worth its weight in gold.

I also arranged for a large comfortable suite for myself with an oversized table where I would host the meeting. When V. arrived I lined the ten bottles of J.W.B. on top of the fire place mantle and explained, “V. each time we reach agreement on the wording of a disputed clause, one of those bottles of Johnny Walker Black is yours.”

As God is my witness, ole V. began to salivate.

As soon as we finished explaining the entire rationale for the first disputed clause and fended off V’s objections, it was amazing to witness the furtive quickness that V. demonstrated as the first bottle disappeared into his travel bag.

Long story short: If you were counting bottles of Johnny Walker Black, V. won. Otherwise, it was our game set and match.

Coin Toss

John Shapiro

Some years ago we possessed two ponies for the kids. The insurance costs were quite high and it struck me that a better home for the insurance would be with marine underwriters – there are sea horses after all – rather than the avaricious livestock market.

Having selected a friendly Lloyds’ underwriter, M.L. for this exercise on the grounds he was a free thinker, I found he was happy to accept the formal livestock policy wording and he set a premium, I think, of about £750. While this was fairly competitive I tried to get this reduced and he came up with the suggestion we should toss a coin which if he won he got the 750 and if I won he would get 550 creating a spread of £200.

After accepting this deal I found the audience surrounding his box had grown and I asked Roger Tyndall if he would act as “Tosser”. Before Roger swung into action it suddenly occurred to me I ought to protect the spread if possible in a less formal way and, as another broker, John Lloyd, was passing, I asked him if he would care to a take a share of the spread on a new policy form we called “Toss Total Loss”.

It seemed fair to me to offer a rate of 50% on line which he readily accepted. His 10% line was quickly followed by others and my £200 exposure was thus reduced to 100 at worst.

A breathless hush as the coin rose into the air. It fell and I lost. My collection of these informal Toss Total Loss reinsurers, being gentlemen, paid out and all were reasonably happy.

Alas this arrangement lasted for only three renewals as my luck remained poor and I failed to win the toss each year. My supporters grew cross with my inability to win the coin toss and my Toss Total Loss market finally dried up.

There is nothing that excites or thrills politicians more than the opportunity to puff up and express righteous, unabashed, and nationalistic indignation against evil forces encroaching upon the American way. This opportunity to express indignity is especially satisfying when they can unleash it after discovering the culprit is a big bully, (example: Exxon-Mobil,) caught with their hand in Uncle’s till. Never mind these politicians own soiled reputations for not always doing the right thing; they either forget or down-play their own or fellow colleagues foibles in the pursuit of publicity.

Such political fodder provides representatives and senators with the opportunity to demonstrate displeasure and outrage without consequence allowing them to attack like a pack of mad dogs. Better yet, going off against powerful, rich and arrogant organizations, grabs the ever hungry activist press and a little leak here and there sets off a feeding frenzy; forget the dogs, the sharks have taken control and there is blood in the water.

The latest incident began when a New Jersey newspaper reported last spring that the New York Jets received $377,000 from the New Jersey National Guard for ceremonial events saluting the military during a number of their home games. This led to a Senate investigation chaired by Jeff Flake and John McCain, both of Arizona. The investigation revealed the Department of Defense (D.O.D.) had spent $6.8 million in 2014, “…on questionable marketing contracts with sports teams, including events to honor American soldiers at games…”

The sum of $5,400,000 was paid to the biggest sports bully in the known Universe, the National Football League. Fourteen of the NFL’s 32 teams participated including the aforementioned Jets, the Atlanta Falcons ($877,000), Buffalo Bills ($650,000) and the New England Patriots ($700,000).

Of course the D.O.D. spent the bulk of their money with NFL teams. That’s where every smart advertiser goes to get the most bang for their buck. Even so, the NFL was not the only venue. Various entities within the D.O.D., mostly state National Guard organizations, paid out money to teams for promotional consideration from Major League Baseball, Major League Soccer, the National Hockey League and the National Basketball Association. Teams that profited included the Atlanta Braves ($450,000), Boston Red Sox ($100,000), Arizona Diamondbacks ($40,000) and Minnesota Wild ($500,000).

The Boston Globe reported: “The Boston Celtics received $195,000 in part to spotlight soldiers at home games. The Boston Bruins received $280,000 for national anthem performances, color guards and reenlistment ceremonies.”

Senator McCain opined: “It is hard to understand how a team accepting taxpayer funds to sponsor a military appreciation game, or to recognize wounded warriors or returning troops can be construed as anything other than paid patriotism.”

Senator Flake added: “These tributes are as popular as the kiss cam. But when people assume this is a goodwill gesture and then find out the heart-felt moment is part of a taxpayer-funded marketing campaign, it cheapens the whole thing.”

McCain has introduced a bill to ban such payments in the future and Bloomberg News reported that NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell has pledged to conduct an audit of all contracts between NFL teams and the military. Goodell promised: “Any payments made for activities beyond recruitment or advertising will be refunded in full.”

God knows, Goodell has every incentive to be proactive and corral bad publicity as quickly as possible. Goodell has already been suffering through a personal annus horribilis bumbling through a multitude of NFL issues like domestic abuse, head injuries, and concussions, “deflategate” and the Tom Brady law suit mess; hence his  pledge. Other professional sports have been silent or less forthcoming, so far.

Free publicity for congress, angst for pro-sports; please note, this whole semi-non-story should pass quickly enough unless Trump chooses to run with it.

Two footnotes:

1: The amount involved ($6.8MM) doesn’t exactly impact on the D.O.D. budget of $619 billion as it represents .00001% of this amount.

2: Note, the New York Football Giants, New York Yankees and New York Mets remain clean, so far.

My last piece, “A Bagel Infamnia,” resulted in  more comments than any other I have written. Here are two that the author’s have agreed to let me share with you.

John Delach

Texas

Phil Brown

Your piece reminds me of the smells from the local bakery that wafted out in the early morning…if you had an early paper route, or was up to go duck hunting or perhaps just coming home after a night out the smell was unbelievable. I grew up in a small town, and before bread was brought in each day form Dallas or Fort Worth in semi trucks we had two bakeries on the square. You could go in to the bakery and buy a loaf of the hot, fresh baked bread and with butter slavered on it you were in for a real delight…not as good as my grandmother made but a close second. Then gradually the big bread factories were able to ship in bread, cakes, cookies, and other baked goods and there went the bakeries. Later the local dairy and the ice house went the same way…gone like the buffalo…

White Plains

Geoff Jones

Your piece had me recalling my early days in White Plains. We had an ice man who delivered regularly to those not having electric refrigerators which included a couple of apartments in our building. The way the guy carried two huge blocks slung against his legs in big tongs and with his black heavy apron to keep him warm or dry(never knew which) always interested me.

We had a fish truck at least once a week probably on Fridays out of deference to Catholics abiding by the meatless Friday dictum. The truck was basically a pick up with a dog house roof over two sloping pieces of plywood sectioned off to hold the fish on top of ice cubes. Very primitive but functional. There was a cutting board for the fish monger to gut and clean purchases and a typical market scale hung from the roof beam. Beneath the cutting board were compartments with wrapping paper and knives. I don’t recall if he had a bell to announce his presence but somehow the mother’s always knew when fish monger was there. It looked like a social occasion as these women all gathered around waiting their turn. It’s a really fond memory.

On occasion the “scissors grinder” came down the block in an old truck and he did have a bell he loudly rung to announce himself. Out came mothers but in spite of the “scissors” appellation they all seemed to be carrying knives rather than scissors. It was the same sort of gabfest the fish monger created.

Another odd truck was the asphalt truck to repair cracks and potholes in the street. You could hear it coming because the flame heating the asphalt had a distinct roar. The crew had buckets they filled and then poured into holes or if it was a crack they carefully followed it with a slow pour then moved on. The asphalt (we called it tar) cooled pretty quickly but always left a slight bulge over the hole or crack and on hot summer days it became pliable and for kicks we sometimes carved it out. The crew was always filthy as one might imagine and when we engaged in our vandalism we learned why. The stuff was really sticky and hard to remove from hands and jeans. This usually earned us a smack on the butt or harsh words when we returned home to frustrated mothers.

I’m not sure about a produce truck. I seem to remember one but I also suspect I may have created a memory because I recall no details.

An Italian bakery (commercial) opened a block from our apartment. They did have a modest retail counter as well and we kids were often sent there to buy a loaf. We knew when a batch was out of the oven because the aroma wafted over the neighborhood and that’s when we’d run the errand. I remember for reasons unknown that it cost 20 cents, maybe I recall because it was probably the first time I was asked to engage in a commercial transaction. The bread was warm and delicious smelling. Most times we kids couldn’t resist tearing off a small end piece to eat on the way home. My mother, and I suspect others, scolded me for this but it was too hard to resist so we continued to do it. Then one day the baker’s assistant gave me a small chunk of bread the size of a “spaldeen” with the admonition “eat this and not the bread”. Apparently enough mothers’s conveyed their complaint to the baker who found a Solomon like solution.

The coal truck showed up often in cold weather. It parked in the drive and directed a chute into one of the cellar windows. That particular window had a sloped cement sill instead of the flat ones in the other windows. The chute fit perfectly into it keeping it level so the sliding coal didn’t spill out. The pile in the cellar seemed huge to us and after a delivery we opened the cellar door and played in the pile which annoyed everyone. It stirred it up so coal gas rose into the upper floors; it got our clothes making them and is filthy. The “super” got mad as it meant him having to shovel coal back on to the pile from where we’d scattered it. The good news: So far no black lung symptoms.

Growing up Catholic in Ridgewood was the urban equivalent of living in a small town. We didn’t have a single supermarket when I was a child, but we did have specialty stores for everything we needed. A butcher, a pork store, a bakery, delicatessens, candy and newspaper shops, a green grocer, florist and two A&Ps that were no bigger than local delis. We had Penisi, the shoe maker, and Penisi the barber, laundries, a tailor, Doctor Koch and Dr. Bongeorno, the dentist. For bad times we had drug stores, churches and funeral parlors. Finally, when I was nine or ten, a single Bohack supermarket was built on a vacant lot seven blocks away.

The food we ate reflected our isolation. My mother made sandwiches on Tip Top, Wonder, Silvercup or Tasty white bread, each as bland and tasteless as any other. On rare occasions like Dwight David Eisenhower’s election in 1952 or when the Dodgers won the World Series in 1955, she would celebrate buying a loaf of Arnold’s Brick Oven white bread. A grilled cheese sandwich on Arnold’s Bread, “My tongue would throw a party for my mouth.”

But other than these world class events, the only normal exception to my bland bread diet came on weekends when I was detailed to go to Eichler’s deli to buy Kaiser rolls or bagels. Both were scrumptious and over time my taste buds came to prefer the bagels produced by authentic kosher bakeries. In retrospect, I am certain that they were a day old when we bought them but these plain gems were all we knew.

This isolation lasted until friends and I gained access to cars that led us to discover a single bagel bakery located in Fresh Meadows on the service road to the Long Island Expressway called, Bagel Oasis. This holy of holies offered fresh, hot, delicious bagels. Not just plain; a universe of salt, onion, garlic, poppy, sesame bagels and (are you ready for it?)…cinnamon raisin. “Strike me down Lord, for I have witnessed the Promised Land!”

Bagel Oasis broke the barrier of our isolation as we realized a whole new world of bagels was out there. Did the number of bagel stores proliferate or was I finally set free? It didn’t matter and, with the exception of high Jewish holidays when the stores and their bakers closed in observance, bagels were plentiful across the Metropolitan area.

But these edible gems never traveled well restricting their production to areas with substantial Jewish populations. Why? The International Bagel Bakers Union founded in New York in 1907 was an exclusive trade organization that actually kept its minutes in Yiddish well into the 1950s. Nor were they eager to have non-union bakers share their craft and were not adverse to employing strong-arm tactics to enforce this.

So you were out of luck in scoring a bagel unless you lived in New York, Miami, Montreal or a few other places. Then along came Daniel Thompson, son of Meyer Thompson, from Hull, England. Daniel was born in Winnipeg, Canada in 1921 and recently passed away in 2015 at the age of 94.

This Canadian inventor, who created the first wheeled, folding Ping-Pong table, successfully engineered a bagel-making machine in 1961 that out-produced what a single baker could hand-fold by 280 bagels an hour. The NY Baker’s Bench observed: “…like the steam drill (versus) John Henry, (it) put hand-rollers of New York’s Local 338 out of business.”

Granted, at first glance made from a distance, the new concoction looked like a bagel, but as The New York Times reported in Mr. Thompson’s obituary, “…idealists deplore (it) as little more than cotton wool…” or as Wonder Bread encased in an edible  plastic shell.

The Times continued: “…even invective-rich Yiddish lacks words critical enough to describe a machine-made bagel, though shande – disgrace – perhaps comes closest.”

I prefer: “Bagel Infamnia.”

Nevertheless, RIP Daniel Thompson

“A billion here, a billion there, pretty soon you’re talking real money.”

Senator Everett McKinley Dirksen, Illinois

The USS Zumwalt, DDG 1000, is the lead vessel of a new class of US Navy guided missile destroyers designed to be, “Multi-mission stealth ships with a focus on land attack.”

If you think that sounds like new-speak, let me put it another way; Zumwalt, named for Admiral Elmo R. Zumwalt Jr. and her two sister-ships, DDG 1001, the USS Michael Monsoon, named for a Navy Seal awarded the Medal of Honor and, DDG 1002, the USS Lyndon B. Johnson will cost the American taxpayers at least $22 billion.

First proposed in 1994, the lead ship will not become operational until 2018 at the earliest. Meanwhile, the cost of building this class of vessels has become so out-of-control that the number of ships was cut from 32 first to 24, then to seven and finally to just these three. Not only that, but during the course of development, the Navy admitted to Congress in 2010 that these 14,000 tonners weren’t going to be up to their design tasks and asked for eight additional Arleigh Burke destroyers, the class the Zumwalts were expected to replace. They even offered to suspend the two already under construction at Bath iron Works in Maine and cancel the third as a trade-off.

But the late Senator Edward M. Kennedy and Senator Susan Collins from Maine would have none of that so the navy got their eight Arleigh Burkes while funding continued for three Zumwalts.

So what are we getting for our tax dollars at work? Three 600 foot long ships at a building cost of $4.3 billion (it was $3.96 billion three years ago) each powered by Rolls-Royce gas turbines driving Curtis-Wright electric generators providing ten times the power available on current destroyers. This is important as almost all the weapon systems are electrically powered including some not yet ready for prime time like the rail gun.

This idea of building weapons before all of the systems are operational is an insanity that the military has adopted. The same problems infect F-35 fighter program and the CVN-79, Gerald Ford aircraft carrier class. Back in 2009, the Government Accounting Office (GAO) “…found that four out of 12 of the critical technologies in the Zumwalts’ design were fully mature. Six were ‘approaching maturity’ but five would not be fully mature until after installation. Now that’s one hell of a way to build a ship!

Their physical appearance is nothing to write home about either. The Boston Globe’s Christopher Rowland recently described them: “With sharp angels and sleek surfaces that evoke Hollywood science fiction, the Zumwalts… are the weirdest-looking warships…”

“…Picture an Aztec pyramid welded atop a machete blade.” The bow is inverted giving a similar appearance to battleships and cruisers that fought in the Spanish-American War in 1898. This is all done in the name of stealth to limit the ships’ radar signature. On paper, it is no bigger than a fishing boat. In return the ships stability in hurricane-force weather is being questioned.

But wait, wait…with only three units, the mission remains unclear and the suggestion has been advanced that they be utilized “…as state-of-the-art platforms for experimental weapons such as lasers and electromagnetic rail guns.” I kid you not!

James R. Holmes, a professor of strategy at the Naval War College noted, “I wouldn’t describe fleet experimentation as the ‘best’ use for the Zumwalts, but more as a way to make lemonade out of lemons.”

To which I would reply, “Professor, you can’t shine shit!”

This past Election Day, I received an odd letter in a curious envelope having the appearance of containing junk mail. Preparing to discard it unopened, I hesitated as two distinctions caught my attention. First, it was addressed to an E. Delach and second, the printed postage symbol noted: “Postage paid GB: ROYAL MAIL: £1.00.”

Opened it I did, to find a letter addressed to E. Delach at my address from a certain Mr. A. P. This was curious as E. Delach hasn’t lived here for over 20 years, and changed her surname after marriage in 1997. Still, I pressed on. A.P. described himself as: Head Auditor, Barclays Capital Finance. His purpose was to present E. Delach with the news that a certain Mr. J.B. Delach had opened an account at his firm in 2002, but sadly passed in 2008. Poor, J.B. left no will and evidence of a family could not be established.

A.P. explained: “(Without an heir or will)… I decided to contact you to stand as next of kin since you share the same last name with him.”

A.P. did infer a possible personal profit motive in his proposed partnership explaining that if E. Delach either, “…set(s) up a new account or provide(s) an existing account that will serve the purpose of receiving this fund..,” he will compensate E. Delach with “…40% of the funds after the transaction.”

Forty percent of zero is still zero but A.P. boldly stated that the gross amount of the sum in question is GB£ 12,500,000. To reinforce his point he also spelled it out as Twelve Million Five Hundred Thousands British Pounds. Oh Happy Day!

A.P. explained: “This information I have on this account is confidential as no other person has access to it.”

He warned to urgently proceed with his plan otherwise the window of opportunity will vanish and this money will be converted to company funds for the benefit of the shareholders only. Greedy bastards!

Where is Bernie Sanders or the Weavers when I need them?

Oh the banks are made of marble,

with a guard at every door.

And the vaults are full of silver,

That the farmer never saw.

A.P. provided his private direct phone number, fax and email address. As I pondered, “What to do, what to do,” I continued to sort the mail. I set aside an appeal from The Bowery Mission seeking a Thanksgiving Day’s donation. In the stack were the latest issues of National Review and New York magazines and a gaggle of catalogues. Hold on; as I sorted the catalogues, I discovered trapped between two an identical envelope to the one addressed to E. Delach, but this one was addressed to John J. Delach.
Truly, a serendipitous moment especially as I discovered the contents was identical to E. Delach’s letter. Of course, cynics caution that the receipt of identical solicitations negates A.P.’s statement that the contents were confidential to E. Delach only. I prefer a more pragmatic road that both E. Delach and John J. Delach are each entitled to 40% maximizing our share to 80%. Oh Happy Day!

To be sure, caution will be my calling-card. I plan to wait to see if other household members, past and present also receive like solicitations. Mary Ann, (wife) Michael (son) as starting points but also, Woofie, Harry, Fred, Bubba, Maggie, Buster and Max. Since all of these canine companions except Max are deceased, they will fit very nicely with collecting J.B. Delach’s monetary legacy and wrecking ole A.P. once we exceed 100% of the share.

As for Max, I am certain if he receives his own letter and is included in my reverse scam that he will sell out for treats regardless of the amount I collect.

Oh Happy Day!