Sunday, October 18, 2015

Game times are a couple of hours down the road. Good weekend for football. Cool.

I was watching the telly the other day and QVC did their annual Breast Cancer drive advert. I suppose it isn’t an outstanding advertisement, but it did, for some reason this year, grab my attention.

The overly skinny lady with the pipe stem legs and big black shoes stepped her way through the pitch without a hitch. Except what she said meant something different t o the BB’s in my otherwise empty head.

Buy shoes, she said, for half price.

Do that and eighty percent of the price will be given to cancer research.

My BB mind said okay. That’s not even good on the surface of it and probably not good subsurface. How much money goes to cancer each year – I’ll research it. Well,  I got to the first item, the American Cancer bunch and their contributions went into the BILLIONS, and I decided not to go where my BB mind was taking me.

I’ve been watching these advertisements for the past forty years. Everyone wants money for cancer research and it shows no end, and cancer cures, from the advertisements are still out of reach. Hell, they’re using dogs to better effect to find it than chemistry.

You get my point.

Give all you want, it seems, however, that most of the contributions keep people employed rather than research.

The question I really had, however, on due reflection, was if you buy shoes at half price fo which eighty percent goes to charity, how much are the shoes worth in the first place.

Really.

______

From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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