I survived an earthquake that measured 7.1 on the Richter scale.
I didn’t know you used to live here in California before. I was on the East Coast back in those days by the dates you posted.
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During the first months of COVID19 when the scares of shortages caused people to panic and hoard supplies, the grocery store nearest to my house ran critically low on loaves of wheat sandwich bread. They then set a limit of two loaves per household per shopping trip, and required shoppers to fill out an online form providing full name, DOB, POB, SSN, copy of birth certificate, blood type, copy of dental X-Rays, DNA swab report, tear-duct readout, biological parents’ full biographical data, photo of first pet’s favorite toy, and proof of financial solvency or government assistance payments.
Luckily, three days after I bought my two loaves, the entire management team was arrested and the program was dismantled; it turns out they were stockpiling wheat bread by the truckload to create fake demand by withholding supply. The shelves were restocked within hours of the paddy wagon taking away the suspects, emergency diverted.
Now, the district attorney’s office has already contacted me to see if I’m willing to be a paid expert witness if trial testimony becomes necessary. My field of expertise is in the ways sandwich-deprivility can drive people bonkers, and the real-life hardships involved in not being able to get products needed for making them.
It’s an attractive offer and it pays quite well, but I’m not sure I’ll be available. The trial dates coincide with the protests in Melbourne for Vegemite shipments being brought to America on a wider scale than they already are, and I simply have to be there for that: I’m the West Coast Sub-Chairman for Throwing Tomatoes at the Aussies, you know. At the same time, I haven’t visited the Melbourne chapter of The Harem for quite some time . . . (sigh), decisions decisions.
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Yes.
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