Retirement Issues — Save the (Insert Animal Name Here)

Now that I’m retired, I’m getting more mailings from companies suggesting ways to invest my funds, and from organizations that want to save every animal that was in Noah’s ark. I find this ironic, since I have less discretionary income in retirement, not more. I doubt that I’m unusual, but just in case you have a stash you need to get rid of, read on.

Thanks to my attorney, I’ve learned that the GST (generation skipping transfer) tax exemption amount will decrease at the end of this year from the $5 million Congress approved in 2010. (To what, I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s a lot less.) We need to make those multi-million-dollar gifts to our grandchildren before December. Unfortunately, I don’t have any grandchildren on whom to bestow my millions. I’ll have to settle for making gifts to charities that will put my hard earned money to good use.

This is no problem, because a high percentage of my mail comes from animal charities. People who know me well are aware that I have a soft spot for just about anything that travels on four legs and is covered in fur (or lots of hair). I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that word has gotten around that I’m an easy touch. But I think many 501c3’s exist solely for the purpose of sending me heart-wrenching stories of animals that have been tortured, abandoned or otherwise mistreated.

I continue to be amazed at the names of some of these organizations and what my donations could accomplish through them. I’ve put together a test to see how much you know about all of this. Answers are at the end of the post. If you get 3 or more correct, you’ve probably written a few checks to one of these groups yourself.

1. Which of the following is/are not legitimate 501c3 charities?

a. Heifer International

b. Best Friends Animal Society

c. Peaceable Kingdom Elephant Preserve

d. Peaceful Valley Donkey Rescue

e. Flights of Fancy Parrot Sanctuary

2. Which “gift will do” statement(s) is/are correct?

a. $20 will keep an ASPCA disaster response trailer stocked with animal rescue equipment.

b. $100 will make you a foster parent for an orangutan (schooling not included).

c. $250 will provide an individual kennel for a cat awaiting adoption.

d. $850 will purchase a camel (that’s $425 per hump…).

e. $5,000 will buy an entire ark (15 pairs of animals).

3. You can “adopt” which of the following animals?

a. A duck name Quackers

b. A pig named Penelope

c. A donkey named Floyd

d. A pink elephant named Floyd

e. An elephant named Pink Floyd

4. Which of the following is not on the National Wildlife Federation adoption list of protected species?

a. Barking Tree Frog

b. Horned Lizard

c. Horny Lounge Lizard

d. Humpback Whale

e. Humping Lounge Lizard

f. Vitriolic political extremist

5. If a female rabbit can have as many as 12 baby bunnies in each litter, and she can reproduce every 30 days during mating season (February thru October), what is the maximum number of bunnies a warren of four female rabbits can have in one year?

a. 108

b. 360

c. 432

d. Other ________

6. Rabbit courtship and mating are very brief, lasting only 30 to 40 seconds. (Hence the expression: “Quick like a bunny.”) Which member of the animal kingdom can mate in even less than 30 seconds?

Answers:

1. c and e are bogus charities.

2. All are correct.

3. You can adopt a, b or c.

4. c, e and f are not protected; they’re prolific.

5. Trick question: zero; there was no male rabbit…

6. Oh, come on. We all know the answer to that.

Retirement Issues — Heat Wave Sleep Depraved

Like many other parts of the country, Rhode Island experienced an official heat wave this week. The older I get, the less I can tolerate the heat. Now that I’m retired, I’m at home most days, and we have no AC in our 100+ year-old house. Multiple box fans create cross breezes, but they give only slight relief.

The basement, where I have my office and computers, is relatively cool, but the upper floors are oppressive. That makes sleeping a challenge. Here’s what happened Wednesday night, mid heat wave.

Our king size bed was down to sheets only. Three box fans circulated the air around our bedroom and two open windows added some cross ventilation. My husband, Jagdish, and I were sprawled in our respective spaces, careful not to press sticky limbs one against another.

Around 5 am, I got up to use the bathroom (all that water I drank to keep hydrated…) When I came back, Jagdish was spread swastika-style across the middle of the bed. Luke (my male cat) had settled into the sphinx position on what was left of the spot I had vacated. Front paws bent at the elbows and parallel in front of him, body elongated but on his belly, tail stretched full length behind him.

For a minute or so, I weighed different strategies for reclaiming my space. I finally opted for picking up Luke and repositioning him. That left me to deal with Jagdish’s swastika foot. I gently pushed it aside with my own foot. In short order, back it came, so back I pushed it, and eventually, back it came again. Each time, his scratchy toenails woke me up.

I considered getting a nail clipper, putting on my glasses and giving him a pedicure while he slept. The chances of my getting back to sleep after that would have been slim to none.

Another option was to find one of those drawstring fabric bags that come with dress shoes and tie it over his foot. But I was clueless where those landed once the house was staged for market. A plastic grocery bag would have been easier to find, but in this heat, I’d have to be sadistic to do that to him—ragged toenails not withstanding.

I finally decided to angle myself toward my edge of the bed until I was out of spousal foot range. That left my own feet dangling in midair. Anyone who has ever owned a cat will know that toes dangling over the edge of a bed are like catnip to felines. As it turned out, Luke made a few half-hearted swipes and decided it was just too hot. Soon after, I was back asleep.

By Thursday night (still mid heat wave) I had figured out a better strategy. As soon as Jagdish’s foot wandered into my space I was ready for him. I took an old necktie and secured his ankle to the iron bed frame. I used a slip knot, so he could easily free himself if he needed to head to the bathroom. For any of you wondering if he’d think I had something hinky in mind, trust me. At 90 plus degrees and almost as humid as Delhi just before monsoon season, I wasn’t worried about that.

This heat wave has prompted me to revise the list of requirements for our condo in Vermont when we’re finally ready to buy one. Must-haves include: first floor master, basement suitable for offices (preferably walk out), and now—central air conditioning. Some things are just beyond compromise.

Retirement Hiatus — Father’s Day Post

I hope my regular readers will afford me an indulgence today. This week’s post has been hijacked by Lily Magnolia. She wanted to send her father a special Father’s Day message through her mother’s blog. She’s always been Daddy’s girl…

Dear Daddy,

F is for my Fur that irritates your nose;

A is for the Allergies that you’ve learned to ignore.

T is for my Tail, that flicks across your plate;

H is how Happily I meet you at the door.

E is for my Ears that you gently scratch behind;

R means that I let you Rub my furry little tummy.

S is your Slippers that take me for morning rides;

D means you’re my Daddy, and I love you more than Mommy.

A is for Always—that’s how long I’ll be your special girl;

Y means You’re the best Daddy in the whole, wide world.

Love, Lily Magnolia

Don’t feel bad for me. I’ve got Luke. He doesn’t write poems, but he purrs up a storm and he really loves his mother.

Retirement Opportunities — Jobs for Retirees

With the economy still showing no signs of sustainable improvement—at least from the perspective of those on fixed incomes—more and more retirees are looking for jobs. I’ve collected some suggestions from my usual sources (and some not so usual ones). The good news is that, for some of these, you can work part time and work from home.

The bad news is that if you’d planned on that retiree standby, Walmart greeter, it’s been eliminated at many supercenters. Likewise, if you’d hoped to help your local high school grade essays, you can cross that off your list. There’s now computer software capable of doing this faster than we humans can. A recent study shows that these “robo-graders” are as accurate as we are, too.

Take heart. Here are some jobs that computers can’t do—at least not yet.

1.     Inventory Clerk

The need is mounting for recording the tsunami debris washing up on America’s Pacific coast. Some items found thus far: a huge piece of a dock, fishing boats, volley balls and (be still my heart) a Harley. It’s a plus if you can read Japanese, since many items have writing on them. Important: you won’t be required to inventory radioactive tuna, and volunteers will remove the debris, not you.

2.     Reporter on Obama and Romney Sightings

There’s a catch to this job. We’re not talking about in-person appearances of the Presidential candidates. This is akin to Jesus sightings wherein His face is seen on potato chips, slices of toast, and water stains on cement walls. Candidates for this position should be comfortable using Facebook, YouTube and EBay to find weird stuff. Bonus paid if you find something showing one of the candidates with Jesus.

3.     Property Valuator

A recent Time blurb valued Barbie’s Malibu Dream House at $18,000, were the 21 sq. ft. property to actually exist in Malibu Beach. Barbie lovers worldwide are now clamoring to know the value of all her belongings, from her Cadillac hybrid Escalade to her Jammin’ Jeep to her water park. Good luck putting a price on Ken’s head.

4.     Rat Catcher

Hameln, the German town that made the Pied Piper famous, has again been forced to hire an official rat catcher. The pesky critters have been enjoying a population explosion. A number of smaller American cities are following Gunter Loschner’s performance closely. Take a look around the dumpster in back of your local greasy spoon and you’ll know why. If Gunter is successful, expect a burst of postings for rat catchers in the U.S. If this tickles your fancy, pipe up!

5.     Text Message Editor

With 20 years of messaging behind us, texting has become more popular than email. It’s killing family budgets in households with teenagers. It’s also a major source of teen driving accidents. This is creating demand for text message editors to reduce the time spent texting. If you can say things in 140 characters, this job could be yours. It’s clearly not an option for me.

6.     Golf Ball Retriever

As Baby Boomers explode into retirement, they have more time for playing golf, but their drives are increasingly errant. Since golf balls are expensive, many clubs have openings for golf ball retrievers. You get an hourly wage, and the clubs sell your balls to other retirees at a discount. You’ll need waders, snorkeling equipment and a waterproof tote for this job.

7.     Social Deviants Police Aides (SDPAs)

Many municipalities are putting into effect ordinances that prohibit a variety of behaviors. The offenses are more social than criminal. As a result, there’s a need for civilians to aid police in identifying antisocial behavior that violates the new codes. Here’s a few locations that will be hiring SDPAs and what you’ll be looking for.

·       Hi-Fructose Over-Dosers (drinking sugary beverages larger than 16 oz.)—apply in New York City; bring a 16 oz. travel mug so you can check sizes.

·       Plastic Bag Violators (now banned in supermarkets)—apply in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Toronto and no doubt other cities in the near future.

·       Dragging and Sagging Pants (pants hanging so low that teens’ undies are on display)—apply in Chicago; it’s unclear whether plumber’s butt is also covered by this law.

·       Marijuana Gardeners (even where medical Mary Jane is legal, you can’t grow your own)—apply in Pasco, WA. Warning: you may have to test the stuff to be sure it’s really marijuana before you can make the collar.

As you can see, there are lots of great jobs out there for retirees. As usual, I’m here to serve.

Retirement Reflections — Why I Love College Reunions

Last weekend I celebrated my 45^th college reunion with more than 100 classmates and their spouses/partners. I’m sharing here some of the reasons why I love going to these reunions. My alma mater is unusual in that alumni march in the graduation procession along with the administration, faculty, graduating seniors and advanced degree candidates. The atmosphere is electric and it is foreshadowed by an incredible camaraderie all weekend long.

I love these reunions not just because I get to catch up with friends from my time on campus, but also because I get to connect with classmates I knew only casually during my undergraduate years. Over time, I’ve become as close with many of the new friends that I see again every five years as I am with the ones I made over 45 years ago. Sadly, at this reunion we learned more about some of our classmates’ lives posthumously. No doubt this will become even more of a theme at future reunions.

Here are some of the reasons I enjoyed being part of my reunion last weekend.

One of my classmates who has chosen not to retire yet gave these reasons (paraphrased somewhat.) I love my work. I’m at the top of my game and I’m well respected. I’m known as the go-to guy in my field. How inspiring to hear that from someone in his mid-sixties. A tip of my pen, “And here’s to you, Mr. Robinson, wo wo wo. Coo coo ca-choo, Mr. Robinson!”

I was a scholarship student, so the university’s Annual Fund has a special place in my heart. I’m a co-chair of our Reunion Gift Committee. At Friday’s dinner, I reported on the status of our fundraising and made a pitch for support from those who were still on the sidelines. We needed just 58 more donors to reach our participation goal, and about $16,000 to reach a five-year comprehensive giving total of five million dollars.

One of my fellow co-chairs came forward with this offer: for each new donor who made a gift during reunion, she’ll add an extra ten dollars to the gift she’s already made. Then one of the men in our class made an even greater challenge. He’ll increase his own gift and match new and increased contributions made during reunion in order to get our class to five million dollars. What generosity of spirit by both of them! The dust hasn’t settled, but there’s money coming in because of them.

Another classmate’s second husband was considerably older than she (like mine is). She’s been widowed for some time. She heard me say that my husband has many stents in his arteries. She quietly took me aside and counseled me to make sure my husband gets annual angiograms, even if he has the medicated stents. Her husband’s stents calcified and they didn’t realize it and she lost him. What an act of kindness to want to spare me her same fate of early widowhood!

And speaking of clogged arteries, another classmate became a vascular surgeon after she graduated from medical school. She was on a panel about women breaking barriers in the workplace. She commented that a woman can be strong in her profession yet still show a softer side. And she was wearing red shoes! A woman after my own heart. (No pun intended…)

Another rewarding part of reunions is meeting the spouses of my male classmates. These women embrace our alma mater as though it were their own. The ones whose husbands are active in the class either in fundraising or on the event side are right beside them helping to make our class and our university successful. Our incoming class president is an example of this. At the risk of hitting some raw nerves, I joked that it reminds me of when Bill Clinton became President and quipped that with Hillary, the country was getting a twofer.

There are times when I think it would be great to celebrate reunions every year. As each reunion passes, after a weekend this intense, I’m increasingly exhausted. But with each reunion, there are also more and more familiar faces that did not live the five years from the previous one. All the more reason to savor them as we celebrate.

If you’re wondering why this post is a day early, it’s because we’re heading to Vermont for the weekend. My micro-preemie grandniece (now age 8) has a ballet recital. This may be the only thing that could top reunion weekend for pure pleasure!

Retirement Tools — Candles for Retirees

Yankee Candles has just launched a new line of scented candles targeted specifically at men. Examples of the new “man candles” include “Riding Mower” (smells like freshly cut grass), “First Down” (leathery, like a football) and Man Town (“escape to the man cave with… musk”).

My husband carries Bean Pod candles in his store. They’re soy-based and burn much cleaner than paraffin ones. Because he’s a Bean Pod vendor, he receives advance notice of new lines. Here are some of the scents for retirees you’ll be able to buy in just a few months. You’ll note that they’re particularly deep on hobbies that retirees finally have the time to take up.

Gardener’s Paradise—an earthy mixture of potting soil, vermiculite and slightly damp canvas gloves. For those who are addicted to gardening, this is a great candle to burn when you’re going through planting withdrawal in the winter. Be sure to dead head the wick for longer burning.

Lounge Chair—that familiar blend of leather and pomade that tells you it’s your headrest and no one else’s. This scent is similar to Yankee Candle’s “First Down,” but less macho and more curmudgeon.

Woodworking Shop—the smell of fresh sawdust without all the mess to clean up. If you’re taking up carpentry in your retirement, this is the candle for you. Just don’t light it in the shop please.

Putting Green—the adrenalin-pumping aroma of newly mown grass, with top notes of morning dew and sand traps. Even when you can’t get to the golf course, you can always have your Putting Green.

Fermented Grapes Infusion—for the retiree who aspires to make boutique wine, light this candle for inspiration. It smells so realistic, you’ll be tempted to pour it into a tulip-shaped glass as it melts. Comes in a small oak barrel.

Medicine Cabinet—a dizzying blend of Ben-Gay ointment, Noxzema skin cream and Listerine mouthwash, whipped together to caress the senses. This one’s good for whatever ails you and it’s guaranteed to clear out your sinuses.

Fisherman’s Delight—a unique combination of just-caught bass and slimy nightcrawlers, a true fisherman’s favorite bait. We bet you’ll head to the attic to look for your waders as soon as you light this one.

Nap Time—the gentle smells of talcum powder and chamomile. Light this before your afternoon nap and sleep like a baby.

Cheese Factory—the distinct aroma of artisanal cheese with none of the milk fat. Why spend hours with a butter churn and cheese cloth strainer when you can just light one of these? As an added benefit, it won’t clog your arteries.

College Reunion—a swirl of misty memories, ivy-covered bricks, faded loves, rock music and stale beer. I’ll be burning this candle at both ends this weekend!

Retirement Venting — IRS Never Has To Say Sorry

Those of retirement age probably remember the classic line from the movie Love Story. “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” We slow danced to Brenda Lee’s hit record I’m Sorry (“…so sorry; please accept my apology.”) It should come as no surprise that the IRS adheres to Ali McGraw’s philosophy, not Brenda’s. Simply put, being the IRS means never having to say you’re sorry.

A few months ago the IRS sent notice that I owed $33,770 from 2010. They claimed I earned $75,000 consulting and that I reported no income from that. In fact, I earned $750 and did indeed report it. (FYI, I’ve changed the figures here to protect against identity theft, but the order of magnitude is the same.)

I picked myself up off the floor and checked my blood pressure to be sure I didn’t need to go to an ER. Then I spent several hours combing through files in my basement, looking for the relevant tax material. When I put my house on the market in summer 2011, I stored papers that used to be stacked neatly in places I remembered reflexively.

I eventually found what I needed. I wrote a detailed letter explaining that the IRS missed a decimal. Then I went to Staples to make copies of everything and to the main post office to mail all that to the IRS, certified. I spent close to a day on this in total.

A few weeks later, a form letter came from the IRS. They had received my mailing and said to do nothing until I heard from them again. Soon after, I went to the local IRS office with my husband on something of his that required him to go in person. Since I was there anyway, I checked the status of my own problem.

After some computer sleuthing, a young woman insisted that the IRS had not made a decimal error. The company had indeed told them I earned $75,000. Presenting the original 1099 they sent me showing $750 would not help, since I could have fabricated it. The company had to file a revised 1099. I was not a happy camper, but deep breathing kept my blood pressure in check.

Finding the contact info for that company was almost as difficult as finding my tax return, but eventually I reached their bookkeeper. She assured me they gave the IRS the same figure they gave me, but she offered to re-file. I had her hold off until I received an official written response. I figured if one IRS humanoid could lose a decimal, another could misinterpret her computer screen.

After a few more weeks, I received another form letter from the IRS stating simply (but in large print) “Amount due $ 0.00.” No apology. No acknowledgement that they did indeed lose a decimal. No “sorry for scaring you half to death and wasting hours of your time.” But in mice type: “If you receive other notices regarding this matter, please disregard them.” As if. I’d have to be certifiable to disregard anything sent by the IRS.

As a public service and in good citizenship, I’ve put together a check list of responses the government can send taxpayers to apologize for IRS screw ups. This list preserves their love for form letters and removes any need for someone to actually behave as a human being. They can robotically tick off the most appropriate item. Or any item, for that matter.

·      We’re sorry we nearly gave you a coronary.

·      Oops! It was our screw up!

·      Lo siento! Our bad.

·      We will try not to/hope we never do this to you again.

·      We apologize for putting you at risk of having your Social Security docked because it looked like you earned way too much last year.

·      We feel really bad that you worried about a lien on your house, especially since you have it on the market. It would be a real bummer trying to sell it with an IRS lien on record.

·      Federal policy doesn’t allow you to bill us for the time you spent researching this problem and helping to correct our error. We’d compensate you if we could. Really we would. (Unless they took the money out of our own pay.)

As always, dear readers, I’m happy to be of service. I just wish the IRS felt the same.

Retirement Tools — Mixology for Retirees

In my early twenties I enjoyed a rum and Coke now and then. I had a Black Russian phase when I was traveling on business in my late twenties. In my thirties, I joined my father for an occasional gin and tonic on visits to my childhood home on summer weekends. These days I’m into good wine and cold beer, not hard liquor or mixed drinks. Still, I’d be remiss if I didn’t share new mixology for retirees.

First, some general information regarding cocktails and mixed drinks. You might wonder when it’s proper to shake the frozen concoction and when to stir it. This is more complicated than “shake if you’re making it for James Bond and stir if you’re in Margaritaville.” Here’s what I learned through my on-line sleuthing.

You shake a cocktail that has egg or dairy additives, including cream liqueurs. Likewise if it has fruit juices or syrups. Shaking makes it cloudy and effervescent. Strain it and the cloudiness should clear up. You also shake a mixed drink if you want to show off your new bar equipment.

You stir a cocktail that contains only distilled spirits or light mixers. Stirring is supposedly a gentler way to mix. Gin and whiskey cocktails are stirred so you don’t "bruise" the liquor. This makes little sense to me. Stuff that hard shouldn’t bruise easily. If you’ve paid careful attention, you’ll have concluded (correctly) that true martinis should be stirred, not shaken. That makes James Bond a contrarian (surprise, surprise). Plus, he drank vodka martinis, so all bets were off anyway.

Moving on to specific cocktails, the drink my mother favored when she went out with her lady friends was the Fuzzy Navel. The ingredients are peach schnapps and orange juice. Several online sites say to pour these into a glass filled with ice cubes and stir well. If your short-term memory still functions, you’ll realize that this flies in the face of the basic rules for shake vs. stir. It’s a good thing my mother didn’t know those rules, because she was not a contrarian; she was a joiner.

Variations found online include the Hairy Navel, which adds vodka, the Pierced Navel (adds grenadine), and the Not-So-Fuzzy Navel (adds grapefruit juice). But you can Google ‘til the cows come home and you won’t find a recipe for the Linty Navel. It’s a new cocktail made especially for retirees. It combines peach schnapps, calcium enriched OJ with no pulp, and the white of one large egg, poached. Shake all these together and serve over chilled tapioca bubbles.

Another variation on the Fuzzy Navel is the Fuzzy Ear Canal, also a specialty for retirees. In addition to the peach schnapps, you add equal parts peach brandy, curaçao liqueur and grenadine. Leave out the orange juice and forget about ice. Shake or stir; you won’t be able to tell the difference. By the time you empty your glass, all your senses will be impaired, but especially your hearing. You’ll swear that everything is being filtered through cotton balls in your ears.

A particularly stiff mixed drink I found is the Bristly Chin Hair. Combine three parts gin and two parts each vermouth and crème de menthe with one part Silver Needles White Tea. Brew the tea in boiling water for five minutes, then cool it in the freezer before adding to the alcohol mixture. Stir vigorously with a stainless steel drink whisk. If you made this right, the whisk should stand upright. You, on the other hand, will be stretched sideways after you drink it.

My research turned up a lesser-known drink—The Devil’s Handshake (a sweet and tart combo of fruits and tequila). You probably haven’t heard of the retiree variation—The Devil’s Middle Finger. It shares with the full hand 1½ parts tequila, ¾ parts lime juice and a teaspoon of ginger puree. After that, the Middle Finger goes its own way. Add a mouthful of light cream, a smidgeon of muddled papaya and a handful of trampled gooseberries. Shake vigorously until your middle finger hurts like the devil.

Finally, you’ll want to file away the recipe for the Metamucil Mudslide. Like a conventional Mudslide, you use 1½ ounces of Bailey's Irish Cream and ½ ounce of Kahlua. Separately, mix chocolate syrup with a tablespoon of Metamucil and coat the inside rim of the glass with this mixture. Fill the glass with ice and pour in the liqueurs. Be sure to lick off everything coating the glass if you want your mud to just slide on its way.

You’re free to go off now to practice your retirees’ mixology. What are you waiting for? Shake a leg and create a stir with your new cocktails. You can thank me later.

Retirement Updates — Product Potpourri

This week’s post is a potpourri, and a short one at that. There’s a major conference going on at my alma mater and I have some houseguests, so time is crunchier than usual. I’m sharing some product updates plucked from recent news reports. This doesn’t really tie into retirement, except that the fact that I’m retired affords me the "luxury" of watching the TV shows that feature this type of information and time for reading the miscellaneous blurbs buried in the back pages of periodicals.

First, those 1980’s Jellies plastic shoes are back. You know, the ones made with no animal products that started as children’s footwear and caught on with adults. Or pseudo-adults. The originals were a T-bar, or fisherman style sandal. Now we’re seeing ballerina flats, bows and flowers affixed to the shoes, perforated designs and even high-heeled jellies. I don’t know about you, but a high-heeled jelly seems like a visual oxymoron to me.

I did some further checking. You can get jelly tote bags and jelly purses if you’d like, and there are even designer jelly handbags (by Michael Kors, for one.) Designer jelly anything is another oxymoron in my opinion. There are also jelly belts, which I assume are purely decorative. If I wore a jelly belt, it would no doubt stretch well beyond its intended dimensions. And don’t even go where you’re thinking about jelly bellies…

I couldn’t find any jelly hats or vests online, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. Likewise no jelly suspenders, but I put them in the same category as belts—not at all practical. Personally, I’d like to see a jelly cat harness. I doubt that Luke would be happy in one, but he’d look cute as a button. Speaking of… jelly buttons would be awesome! (Not to be confused with belly buttons. And once again, forget about jelly bellies.)

The other category of new products I’d like to put on your radar is containers for wine. The word on the street is that wine-in-a-box has lost its stigma. There’s a wide array of choices now available boxed, from single serves, to family reunion size. Franzia, sold boxed at Trader Joe’s, claims to be the world’s most popular wine.

I suppose it was only a matter of time until one could buy wine in a purse. The Volére wine handbag is just adorable. The spigot comes out of one side, and you’d hardly know it was there. It comes in red, (off) white, and rosé colors. You can get this one at Stew Leonard’s.

Some of you no doubt see where I’m headed when these two stories merge. The next thing you know, we’ll be able to buy jelly shoes with spigots on their toes, ready to dispense wine on the go. Is this a great country, or what?

Retirement Updates — Long Tail of TV

You may be familiar with Malcolm Gladwell’s bestseller The Long Tail. His book talks about how marketing has changed since the time when the best way to reach your audience was by advertising on the big three networks. The Internet provides the chance to finely target your audience in the long tails of a bell curve, and at a much lower cost. Apparently, cable now provides the opportunity for affordable niche TV programming, resulting in some highly unusual shows.

I must give credit up front to Nat Ives for reporting on this for Advertising Age, a marketer’s favorite trade publication. Difficult as it may be for you to believe, these are all genuine reality TV shows. Trust me, even I could not make this stuff up.

My absolute favorite, and what lured me to Nat’s story, is Hillbilly Handfishin’. It airs on Animal Planet and the promo photos show… well, hillbillies, with huge catfish in their arms. They have apparently dredged these out of the mud on the bottom of the river in which they are immersed up to their gloriously hairy chests. The website includes videos of episodes such as “Noodling Catfish” and “Monster Catfish Wrestling.” Talk about “must see TV!”

Another not-to-be-missed reality show is Spike TV’s Tattoo Nightmares, brought to you by the same folks who unleashed Jersey Shore on us. Nightmares chronicles “the horror stories behind people’s unfortunate tattoos and their attempts to fix them.” The tattoos range “from the hilarious to downright disturbing.” Reenactments demonstrate “how these people wound up with their ink.” Sounds like the stuff that dreams are made of.

A related show that may provide backstory on some of the nightmare tattoos is Tattoo School, coming to TLC. True to its name, TLC provides an educational service for students who want a career in tattooing. School promises they’ll learn in two weeks “what most tattoo artists spend years learning.” Does that mean “Mom” in a heart, and butterflies and “Sue Ellen 4Ever”? Or will they become experts at massive dragons, bald eagles and warriors? The suspense has me on pins and needles.

Speaking of warriors, get your macho on for Full Metal Jousting on the History Channel. The website describes it thusly: “HISTORY is bringing back the most dangerous collision sport in history… but with a twist: Traditional armor is replaced by modern suits of steel. Each episode features full-contact jousts in which jousters charge and collide at 30 miles an hour.” Jousts require courage, strength and “nerves of steel… as this extreme sport is reborn.” Sounds positively medieval.

Look for these last two shows to be merged into a winning spin off: Tattoo Jousting. Contestants on horseback will tattoo one another as they charge and collide. OK, I made this one up. But just this one.

There are numerous reality shows on hoarding, including one from Animal Planet titled: Confessions: Animal Hoarding. As you would expect, there are episodes about cat hoarders (and no, I’m not featured), dog collectors, and fanciers of snakes, lizards and other reptiles. According to profiled hoarder “Pat,” this last group responds to his conversations and he takes his snakes out walking. And I’m not referring to one-eyed trouser snakes.

Yet another popular reality show genre is one that features little people (the PC way to describe what folks used to call dwarfs.) Some of these are on TLC and follow families of little people, including Little People, Big World and The Little Couple. The latter is curiously featured on the TLC website under their section “How Stuff Works.” I didn’t drill down to see more; it sounded like TMI to me.

Finally, there’s Rat Bastards, also on Spike TV. Like a curiously high percentage of reality TV shows, this takes place in Louisiana.  There a group of ‘Cajun Commandoes’ “hunt down a nasty invasive species of giant swamp rats wreaking havoc on the Mississippi wetlands.” These rats are actually nutria, a species that was once prized for its fur, but have now become 40-pound menaces. I hope those hunters don’t actually go commando. Those nutria look like they’d get all squirrely over nuts.

I just know that somewhere in this list of shows is your new favorite guilty pleasure. Likewise several future Emmy winners. Or more likely, People’s Choice Awards. It’s almost enough to make me put some money into my retirement budget for cable TV. Don’t hold your breath.