October 9, 2025

Humour

Posted by Dell

Tech support:

                so I’m at the dollar store with Mom a few months back at she spies these pink cell phones and decides to buy one to support Breast Cancer and it’s a good cause and it says it’ll be so easy to move your number, set it up. A snap, plus it comes with two Cadillacs full of minuets and a camera, and, well, it’s pink. So she buys it. I was for it because basic I am a cheap kind of guy and I would end up with her old phone which is perfectly fine it’s just old. It’s been perfect for four years. No problems. Just ate minuets and pooped data, or phone calls. Bad analogy there but you get the idea. So, great phone, just old and a new one beckoned. I would bet there are people reading this who have almost gotten into relationship problems using that same reasoning.  Funny the double standards we have, eh?

    So, she buys the phone, we go home and I go to work on the computer because other than going to church once a week and chasing Horny Tom Cat’s away from my Fred cat that’s about all I do. So I typed away for a few minuets but I kept hearing these sighs, and mutterings, so finally I said… “Uh, Mom… Everything okay?”

    Lets set the record straight I knew everything was not okay but I was hoping for an answer like “I’m taking this $#@%^ phone back it’s junk!” Yes. I was actually hoping for that answer. Instead I got … “I can’t figure it out. I’m doing exactly what it says…”

    “Okay,” I soothed. I am a man. I know how to fix these things and most of the time I don’t even have to read the Manuel. I didn’t say that. I have learned not to say it because it just turns out to be that one time when I can’t do it and I look stupid. So I took the phone and spent the next hour doing all the same things Mom had and getting nowhere.

    “$#@**%# Phone,” I said.

    “I told you,” Mom agreed. “There’s a number to call.” She held up a piece of paper and I couldn’t help wondering why she hadn’t given me the piece of paper earlier when I could have possibly used it. But then I reminded myself that I never would have used it anyway.

    “Hmmm.” I frowned and looked over the number. “So. You have a phone that doesn’t work and they give you a tech number to call.”

    “Well you have the other one.”

    “Yes. But what if I didn’t?”

    Mom shrugged and I realized the stupidity of my own question, still, didn’t it sort of make sense? Isn’t it sort of like offering a drunk a drink while he waits? I don’t know. Reluctantly I punched the number into the other cell phone, pretty much jambed the end of the cell phone halfway into my brain and waited.

    I touched on this the other day. I had never had to call tech support in the last ten years. There is no Tech support in prison…

    “Hello?”

    “Hello.”

    “Tech support?”

    “No. There is no tech support in prison. Stop calling here you moron.”

    “But I’m in prison!”

    Dial tone…

    The phone stopped burring and an Voice came on the line. Computer voice. Push one for billing issues, two if you’ve had an affair with a politician, three for technical support. I pushed three but I didn’t push it fast enough because the whole thing played again. I ended up having to call back and immediately press three.

    Now, let me say this delicately, why would you get a job in tech support in America if English is not your first language? And, why would a major company hire you. After thirty seconds of trying to understand the woman I gave the phone to Mom hoping the kindred spirit thing would kick in but no, she couldn’t understand her either. She gave me back the phone. Apparently womaneez doesn’t cross the language barriers easily.

    It must have been about two hours later and the third string of numbers the woman had given me before the phone finally began to work.

    “You are being happy with your experiences?” The tech asked me.

    “Are you serious,” I asked?

    “Yes. Of Course. Serious is what I am being.”

     “Oh God,” I said aloud. “Have you ever heard this?”

    “Yes? I am Listening.” She obviously thought we had bonded.

     I hung up. Mean, I know.

    Two days later there was a recall on Mom’s Coffee Maker. I called tech support.

   “Yes? I am being happy to be taking your call.”

    “Never mind I’ll buy a new one.” I said

    A week later my new laptop croaked. I called customer service.

     “Yes? I can be helping you?”

     “What? Do you work for the Coffee maker place?”

    “No. That is my sister, Sari.”

    Tech support…


Here is a Thriller you might like… Zero Zero

As the clock ticks down for our planet and her inhabitants, powers that have lain dormant for centuries are loosed on the Earth. #Horror #Kindle #Amazon #Biblical #Christian #Fiction



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Long Live the King Kindle Edition

    by Dell Sweet (Author)  Format: Kindle Edition

    #Mystery #ElvisPresley #Whatif #KU #Kindle #Readers #DellSweet

    The King is dead, the headlines screamed. A hard, hard day. But, what if the king wasn’t dead? What if the king just got fed up with all of it and called it quits…

    The quiet cadence of Aaron’s days was rarely broken by external disruptions. His hermitage in the bayou was, by design, an exercise in profound isolation. Yet, the world, like an persistent tide, would occasionally lap at the shores of his self-imposed exile. These intrusions were not of the dramatic, attention-grabbing variety that had once defined his existence. Instead, they arrived as fleeting whispers, carried on the humid air or snagged by the errant radio waves that sometimes pierced the dense foliage surrounding his cabin. #Mystery #ElvisPresley #Whatif #KU #Kindle #Readers #DellSweet


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    Posted by Geo

    I thought about entitling this what the Hell is wrong with me but I don’t like to get too dramatic. Even so, there is something wrong with me. I just don’t seem to see things the same way as other people do. For instance, just before I sat down to write this I turned the channel to a movie channel to listen to movies while I work. Pathetic, I know, but I do it every night. The T.V. Is behind me so I have to turn to see it. So, I don’t. I just listen. But, sometimes it’s so good that I do turn to watch for a second and I’m usually disappointed. Well, tonight I turned the channel and there was a sports show just ending, and one of the commentators turned to the screen and Said “We want to thank you for tuning in.”

    “Really,” I asked?

    He didn’t say anything. I guess we would all be surprised if he did. But, I continued… “I didn’t tune in. I hate your show! I wouldn’t watch it if you paid me.” He did seem to flinch a little at that but the T.V. Went to commercial with no further incident… Not that there could have been one. I’m just saying…

    Anyway, my point is, I do not like sports the way other men do. Several times in my life other men have stopped and looked at me like…. “Whoaaa, what’s up with this dude.” or “Did you play with dolls when you were a kid?” I learned early in my life that it is unmanly to say you do not like sports, or hint it, or not know the answer to a sports question. It’s just not allowed. Since I was young I had to go along with it, even so I couldn’t always keep up the facade. Occasionally someone would trip me up…

    “So, what did you think of Babe Ruth?”

    “Oh… Babe Ruth… It’s a damn good candy bar,” I answered.

    He looked at me funny and I knew I screwed something up, but, eventually he laughed, I went home and asked my little Brother who Babe Ruth was, a hockey player? (My brother is a Hockey fanatic) “Sure… Sure… A hockey player,” my little brother tells me. That was payback for all the mean things I had done to him.

    As I got older I’d pick a little and ask guys why they didn’t just give both teams a ball and send them home, I mean, wasn’t the point to get the ball? And didn’t they seem to take an awful long time to get it? And wouldn’t it be easier to just give them a frigging ball of their own? Wouldn’t it. That didn’t win me any points, and then, in ninth grade, I decided to not major in smoking behind the school that year and I took Home Economics instead.

    My life as a social outcast was short lived though. I got kicked out of Home economics and went back to majoring in smoking behind the school. Then, voila, it hit me. Maybe not liking sports was… was… I couldn’t make the connection though. I had probably burned out too many brain cells smoking joints behind the school instead of cigarettes. Too bad, if I could have only made the connection I may have been able to see that real men need sports in their lives as much as they need to fart and burp… (Some men, not all men.). And sports lends a well rounded social adaptation you just can’t get any other way. I remember so many times at work some guy would say… “So, what do you think about those Dodgers?” And I would say, “Oh… Well they ought to go to jail…(Then, because it’s manly to swear and cuss), Frigging A! They ought to, those bastards!” Another potential social connection missed. Another opportunity to be a success in society missed.

    At an early age I did decide to make a concession. I decided that I would watch Stock Car Racing. That was a sport. That would be my sport! It would solve everything. But no. Footballers, Baseballers, All those other ballers (It’s all games where you play with balls, right? … I’m just saying…) they don’t all believe that stock car racing is a real sport… What? So, I had managed to like the one sport that wasn’t really a sport. What was wrong with me? I just didn’t know.

    As I grew up and went to prison I realized that I had to be honest with myself about my shortcomings when it came to sports if I ever hoped to break the cycle and stop going back to prison. My whole life was in ruin. Virtual ruin. So I sat down and examined it and realized that I was uncomfortable with the games. I paid attention, I took notes, and I realized that I had some prejudices and hangups concerning the way the game was played. And, I plain didn’t understand the rules. So I took a closer look at them. And wrote down the ones that really confused me:

    #1. Did you pat the other guy on the Ass after he made a basket/home run/touchdown or before?

    #2. Did you grab your junk whenever you wanted to or only when people were watching?

    #3. Did you cry only in a strong emotional circumstance like your coach retiring, or could you cry if you just had a bad day, or the dog crapped on your new carpet?

    #4. If you patted a guy on the Ass more than once did it mean you had to buy him dinner?

    I learned these are not questions you ask other men in prison.

    After I got out of the infirmary, I tried to figure these questions out on my own after watching my sport for awhile, but I only became more confused.

    In NASCAR, nobody pats anyone on the Ass. At least not in public (Tony Stewart excepted but he’s nuts anyway). I’ve seen dozens of finishes and never once have I seen the other drivers run up and pat the winner on the Ass. Not Once. There are no balls to play with. None. The drivers never grab their junk in front of the cameras, and if anyone cries, why one of the other drivers will just beat him up! Even the women drivers don’t cry, and, I’m pretty sure they don’t play with dolls either.

    After much thought I decided these things:

    #1. I’m not patting any guy on the Ass whether it’s a game or not, and if one pats me on the Ass there’s going to be trouble.

    #2. I will only grab my junk when no one’s watching.

    #3. If I feel an urge to cry I will remind myself that it could be worse. I could be a footballer and some sweaty, three hundred pound guy could be patting me on the Ass all of the time…

    *******

    Okay. That’s it for this week. Check out my book series. I’ll be back next week…

    Earth’s Survivors: The Earth’s Survivors (11 book series) Kindle Edition https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FCCRRW6C


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