MR WRONG: Tip sheet
Indignity Vol. 4, No. 159
COLUMN DEP’T.
MR WRONG: Gratuity Buttons Ease the Sting of Working
I DON’T KNOW if you have noticed that Indignity has installed a computer button in our posts in order to solicit tips and donations. Regardez:
Personally, as somebody who subscribes to stuff on the internet and pays for stuff, and also as somebody who considers themselves a good tipper, I am all in favor of this, tipping. I will refer to this form of donation as tipping for the rest of today’s column because a tip is a donation, but a Donation is not always a Tip, and I feel there is Honor in appealing to you, the Gentle Reader, for tips. I will elaborate!
The thing I have always heard is that in Ye Oldde Days at the roadside inn or whatever there would be a sign over a collection box to the effect of “To Insure Promptness,” of service, so it got acronymized into TIP. The thing that always sticks in my brain is I feel like it shoulda maybe back in the Days Of Olden been “To Ensure Promptness,” the transitive verb or something proper? I am not an English Major, so don’t correct me on this. The Editor of Indignity might take a sec to weigh in and that’s all I need, thanks. [Ed. note: Basically any word-origin story you hear about anything being an acronym is fake, unless it's something invented in the mass-media era like RAdio Detection And Ranging or Self-Contained Underwater Breathing Apparatus; "ensure" is the more accurate word choice but this imaginary T.I.P. box era presumably dates back to before people knew how to spell.] The other thing about this whole “insure promptness” thing is it’s fuckin’ extortion. Unless you have a very regular relationship with a tip recipient, you pay the tip after the promptness or whatever has already happened, so I never liked this story because of that aspect, I don’t like a shakedown, see? Nobody’s musclin’ in on my wallet for some sort of “promptness,” okay? OK!
Also, let’s get this the fuck out of the way: Some of you, if you haven’t already had your little self-stim chuckle, go ahead and get it outta your system, “just the tip,” har de har har! TIP! Penis sex reference! Gotta say it, otherwise nobody will know that I know how and when to unload with that witty riposte! Pretty sure it was a popular jape at the Algonquin Round Table, when it was time for Benchley to pick up the tab, right? It’s the “tip” of a human reproductive organ, it’s sex stuff! Ha ha! Right up there with “That’s what she said,” if you do that to people in your social circles, congratulations your banal mediocrity!
Alright, back to business: I tip all the time. I tip the person who hands me a cup for me to fix my own coffee, yeah. Because I am awarding a little something for the effort! That person hands out cups all day to all kinds of people and a lot of them are shitty, so I break off a little something for the Struggle. I tip at McDonalds. I am not a hero, I am just appreciative of Service. Nobody says you have to tip, but don’t give me that crap about how they don’t do anything for you. They are in your fucking food chain! I also tip the Uber a little on the app and then slip ’em some cash off the radar. I also tip flight attendants when they serve me an alcohol-beverage. Just a little something! Appreciate! Service! Tipping is the Circle of Life! Karma! All that good stuff! Generate positivity!
So look, when I encourage Paid Subscribers and not-paid readers of Indignity to tip, it’s because I believe in recognizing the grind, and also, if you read something on these pixels that makes you think or amuses you or inspires Thought, act on it and express Gratitude with a tip, I swear there’s a lotta corny shit out there about how The Lord Loves A Cheerful Giver, but it really does improve your outlook on life to be a Giver, it realigns your brain neurons or something. Just saying, no judgment, and don’t fucking tell me all about how you don’t tip because of your opinions and stuff. Cram it to yourself!
Also, yeah yeah yeahhhh, of course it’s gigantor Conflict of Interest in this particular instance, because it’s my thing I’m talking about here, the Mr. Wrong column, a tiny but active part of Indignity, so I see a part of the rake, after expenses and stuff, from Paid Subscriptions, and as always, I thank the Readers for reading Indignity, but I extra-thank errbody who digs into their pocket to throw some cash at Indignity to keep our thing going. We can’t make this without Paid Subscribers!
It’s not like Indignity is asking for More money, OK? We’re asking for enough so we can spend more time on Indignity and less time on other stuff in order to earn. Personally, I know this might be a turnoff for some of you, but I could write a Mr. Wrong column every day, seriously. I have a lot of important opinions, har!
The only reason I don’t type a Mr. Wrong column every day is because I gotta do Day Job –kinda stuff to Earn! I got a whole thing right now in my house that’s gonna cost a few bucks, there’s a goddamn buncha yellowjacket bees [Ed. note: wasps] making a nest or hive or whatever up under the rain gutter in between the flashing—when you become a Homeowner you learn about stuff like “flashing”—and the exterior wall and the fuckin’ yellowjackets don’t know any better, so they’re coming into my bedroom! Of my castle! Every morning I am trapping and murdering bees inside my bedroom because I am not gonna let ‘em go back outside and keep building the fuckin’ nest! I gotta flip the sheets and blanket to eject bees out of my bed! I want them exterminated! I’m sorry, these are yellowjackets, which is also the title of a very entertaining show my wife and I watch on Showtime, about a bunch of kids on a soccer team who are faced with an Alive situation, but it’s kinda existential and mystical. Anyway, not to be mean, but yellowjacket bee-insects are aggressive and they make terrifying giant hive-nests in the walls of structures and I don’t want to get stung in my own goddamn bed in my own bedroom. I gotta pay an exterminator to climb up on a ladder to murder some bees, and I will be tipping. I just read the Editors note, so just put “yellowjacket” in your brain wherever you read “bees,” no offense.
The MR. WRONG COLUMN is a general-interest column appearing weekly. No refunds. Write Wrong: wrongcolumn@gmail.com.
WEATHER REVIEWS
New York City, September 11, 2024
★★★★ The nectarine glow out the back window when the alarm went off was matched by a pink streak out the front. In the sky of full daylight, contrails were layered over contrails in various stages of diffusion, tracing the routes of uninterrupted air travel. The bars on Amsterdam had their windows open at midday and firefighters were sitting there in the shirtsleeves of their dress uniforms, dress hats piled up beside them. Whatever discomfort there was in the sun's warmth went away as soon as it headed back down the sky, leaving cool shade and the brightness of high-story brick. Two hawks flew over on the cloudless blue, one flapping and the other gliding.
SIDE PIECES DEP'T.
Tom Scocca
FOR DEFECTOR, I wrote about this week's presidential debate and how the people demanding policy talk don't really mean it:
On debate night, taking the issues seriously meant asking Harris earlier, and at greater length, about why she'd changed her position to support fracking—a rote question about a rote bit of pandering—than both candidates were asked about the totality of their positions on the global climate catastrophe, a subject about which they hold diametrically, world-changingly opposite views. Harris's assignment wasn't to talk about policy; it was to deliver campaign messages while performing a role in a two-person improvised drama.
EASY LISTENING DEP'T.
HERE IS TODAY'S Indignity Morning Podcast, now with transcript.
Tom Scocca
Click on this box to find the Indignity Morning Podcast archive.
TOM SCOCCA
ADVICE DEP'T.
GOT SOMETHING YOU need to justify to yourself, or to the world at large? Other columnists are here to judge you, but The Sophist is here to tell you why you’re right. Direct your questions to The Sophist, at indignity@indignity.net, and get the answers you want.
SANDWICH RECIPES DEP'T.
WE PRESENT INSTRUCTIONS in aid of the assembly of a sandwich selected from The Swedish, French, American Cook Book, by Mrs. Maria Mathilda Ericsson Hammond, published in 1918, and now in the Public Domain and available at archive.org for the delectation of all.
Chicken Sandwiches (Sandwiches au Poulet)
Eight slices of bread and butter, lettuce, some slices of chicken, four anchovies, pepper, salt, and one bunch of watercress.
How to Make It. Cut bread in thin slices and butter; spread on them some shredded lettuce; on the lettuce spread mayonnaise dressing; on that, place some thin slices of chicken and fillets of anchovies; then another slice of bread and butter. Cut into oblongs and serve on a napkin; garnish with cress or lettuce in the centre.
If you decide to prepare and attempt to enjoy a sandwich inspired by this offering, be sure to send a picture to indignity@indignity.net.
MARKETING DEP'T.
Supplies are really and truly running low of the second printing of 19 FOLK TALES, still available for gift-giving and personal perusal! Sit in the crushing heat with a breezy collection of stories, each of which is concise enough to read before the thunderstorms start.
LESS THAN 5 COPIES LEFT: HMM WEEKLY MINI-ZINE, Subject: GAME SHOW, Joe MacLeod’s account of his Total Experience of a Journey Into Television, expanded from the original published account found here at Hmm Daily. The special MINI ZINE features other viewpoints related to an appearance on, at, and inside the teevee game show Who Wants to Be A Millionaire, and is available for purchase at SHOPULA.
