CSotD: Games People Play, Valentine’s Edition
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I'm not much for Valentine's Day, but today's Wumo cracked me up.
For one thing, it's nice to see a Valentine's Day cartoon that isn't based on "Men are so insensitive!" in which the gag is either that he tried but got it wrong or that he completely forgot.
In creative terms, those are the Y-chromosome version of a cartoon featuring a disheveled looking wife standing in the doorway with a steering wheel in her hand.
Part of the appeal of Wumo today is that the sexes could just as easily have been swapped: Baggage comes in both men and women's models, and the trick is, how many times do you have to have been around the block before you start to notice it early on?
Like a lot of people these days, I got to be a bachelor twice, but not very long the first time around. While I'd had some really nice girlfriends as well as some fun relationships that didn't get as far as "girlfriend," I went to the altar at 21 still pretty wide-eyed.
Extruded back into the dating pool at 34, however, I saw the world with a few more discerning filters, which brings us to Wumo.
I never would have noticed those slight impediments she brings with her the first time I was single, but they became as clear to me as they are in the cartoon on my second go-round.
(BTW, I realize that, on the face of it, the gag is simply her eagerness to move in with him. But real baggage and metaphorical baggage are pretty much the same thing.)
Anyway, here are two revelations that seem to come with age, at least to my generation and sex:
1. You don't have to fall in love with someone because they're cute. In fact, while attraction is part of the mix, it can be kinda toxic when taken by itself.
2. Nor do you fall in love with someone for being friendly. This I know is mostly a guy thing. Most guys have to actually learn how to be friends with women, especially when there is an element of attraction at play.
This is why I love the relationship between Lemont and Susan in Candorville. It's not the Sam-and-Diane deal from "Cheers" and 1000 other outlets of lameness, where they seem to hate each other because they love each other.
Nor does it feature the betrayal of "When Harry Met Sally," which spent 86 minutes showing that men and women can indeed be close friends before collapsing in the final 10 into "well, no, of course they can't."
Cause, y'know, love conquers all, or some crap like that.
Love conquers friendship. Good message, thanks.
Maybe it's like rock, paper, scissors: Love conquers Friendship, Friendship can overcome Baggage, Baggage destroys Love.
Or maybe it's like Wargames.
Juxtaposition of the (Valentine's) Day, slightly cheated
(Today's On A Claire Day)
(Yesterday's Frazz)
Okay, I cheated. It's the Juxtaposition of the Past 48 Hours.
But I had pulled out Frazz yesterday the way the judges at Westminister pull out a half dozen dogs before singling out the ones that actually get ribbons. I didn't end up using it, but it did make me wonder how restaurants project traffic when Valentine's Day falls on a day of the week when they would already be kind of busy, as compared to, say, a Wednesday.
Then that evening, I decided to get take-out, but opened the door to realize that we had some serious snow happening, serious enough that I went to the closest place and still slid into the curb once in the course of a three-block round trip.
At which point it occurred to me that, if those conditions persisted for 24 hours, whatever traffic projections any restaurants had made were going straight down the tubes.
So when I saw "On A Claire Day" this morning, I immediately thought of both Frazz and the whole idea of empty restaurants during blizzards.
But there was more: Before going to the comics, I had done my usual quick Facebook scroll-down, and someone had posted this piece from the NYTimes revealing what I thought everybody knew, which is that the minimum wage for tipped employees under federal law is $2.13 an hour and nearly half the states set it at $3 or below.
Which is unconscionable to begin with. The law says that, if a worker gets less than $30 a month in tips, the employer has to compensate so that they earn the regular minimum, but who's going to monitor that?
The reason the boughten-Congress cries to close loopholes instead of raising taxes is that they've gelded the IRS to the point where it can barely monitor anyone. It's like hiding the old dog's dentures and then shouting "Release the hounds!"
But, while the big fish slip through the net and only the little ones get caught in the mesh, everybody has to fill out the paperwork: The IRS insists on seeing how much the restaurant takes in, then assumes you were tipped, and they demand their cut.
Something to think about the next time you decide to stiff the waiter because the food was already pretty expensive and you had to call her over twice to get your coffee refilled, goddammital.
Here's a condescending IRS infomercial on the topic, otherwise known as "The Jill and Jason Show," otherwise known as 18 minutes of your life you'll never get back.
But in case you thought I wasn't including enough jokes today, here's one from that video:
JASON: Everybody listening? Good. The more tip income you report, the more you're permitted to contribute to your 401(k), which will make you even more comfortable when you're retired.
JILL: Again, the reason is the same. Tips are considered wages under the law. The more wages you earn, the more you're allowed to put into your 401(k).
SEAN THE CABBIE: Well, my retirement's a long way off.
JASON: Well, that's good. You'll have more time to build for really comfortable retirement years. You know, it's never too soon to get started.
SEAN: Maybe I could get a little place down at the beach, huh? Someplace warm, like Florida, maybe.
JILL: Mmmm. Even the thought of that makes me feel warm!
Yes. If you make $2.13 an hour, it's important to give the IRS a share of any tips you make, or else you might not also be able to put enough of your earnings aside to purchase oceanfront property in Florida.
In case you were wondering what a single mother waiting tables at Appleby's worried about, now you know.
This freakin' song never goes out of style.
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