Tahoe Pine Nuts: Just spray a little Pam on your Dish
Special to the Bonanza
I’m ashamed to admit it, but after a dozen satisfied years with Charter, I went with AT&T and Dish to save a few bucks.
So feeling not unlike a street merchant from Mumbai, I gathered together my Charter equipment and returned it to the Charter shop, where the lady at the counter looked at me like I might have Ebola and said in a voice with no sugar in it to speak of, “You’ll be back.”
I forced a weak smile, nodded my pumpkin head in agreement and walked out the door feeling like I had just returned some stolen hubcaps.
I’m really no good at this sort of thing, and never should have ventured into it in the first place, but I was committed and there was no going back.
I waited for the Dish technician and here he came with all his tools. “Can I drill a hole in your wall here?”
“Well, yes.” I agreed, “A small hole, I mean I don’t want a snow drift piling up at the foot of my bed.”
I stood back while he drilled a hole clean through the outside wall in two seconds flat by my watch, and then ran a cable through that hole to my old fashioned TV.
I was duly impressed. The TV worked great and received about a thousand channels so far as I could tell, and the Dish man was my new hero.
It wasn’t until he had gone that I ventured out onto the deck to find out where exactly my new Dish was habitating, and to my utter surprise I had to shade my eyes to find it up on my rooftop, so far up onto my rooftop that Wilt Chamberlain could not reach it with a broom. I could not reach it with a fire hose.
So I called the Dish people and after an interminable amount of time listening to a recorded voice that could not know or care whether I lived or died, I got to talk to a person who had red blood cells flowing through her veins and a heart just bleeding to hear my complaint.
“This is Vespuchia, caaaaan I help you?” (I could hear her cracking her gum.)
“Yes, you can! You can come over here when it snows and sweep the snow out of my Dish, because I can’t reach the damn thing with a twelve gauge shotgun.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, just spray some Pam on your Dish and the snow will slide right off, that’s what I do.”
“Oh, swell, Pam!” I objected. “My wife told me to put Pam on my snow shovel once when I went out to shovel our roof. You wanna to know what happened?”
“Not really, but tell me anyway.”
“That Pam-powered load of snow fired off that shovel like a quail shot, cleared the alleyway, and imploded our neighbor’s bathroom window. AND, there was a guy in the shower from LA who stuck his head out and shouted, ‘#^%%! I thought it was a drive-by!’ And you want me to put Pam on my Dish?”
“That’s what I do.”
Well, we haven’t had any significant snow up here as yet, and we all know why. But when (if) we ever do get snow, I’ll have to climb up there on the roof to find out if I can get the Warriors game through the miracle of Pam.
If in the act, I slip on Pam and fall off the roof you will read my obituary in this fine family journal…
Learn more about McAvoy Layne at http://www.ghostoftwain.com.