How not to stop snoring

 

Hayter for April 13, 2025

“Everything that glimmers may not keep you from snoring”

 

            I am blessed to have lived at a time when one can go online and order a plastic bag of men's briefs that will appear on your porch the next day. That’s not right, and furthermore, it’s not possible!

If it weren’t for the fact that Kay is the procurer of online purchases for our household, I would’ve never believed an item could arrive the day after the order. And, I would’ve eventually died not regretting my ignorance. But, it’s here. I’ve seen it. In fact, right now I’m wearing one of it.

Not all purchases that Kay makes online arrive the next day. After placing an order, the day of delivery will show on the computer screen. It could be two days, a week, or beyond. But the number of items that have arrived at our house the following day of the purchase goes against time itself. The latest particular item was sent by some outfit in Philadelphia that apparently has a stockpile of Asian underwear.

In Philadelphia, an automated arm grabbed a bag of underwear and chunked it on a moving “belt” that sent it to another belt that had big envelopes with bubble wrap inside. It is then sent by a carrier jet to Houston, where the package is dispatched to Montgomery County, and then dropped off by a person, who while standing on my porch, takes a picture of the package.

If that’s not the way it happened, then there is some gigantic warehouse in this county that’s loaded with every item, be it jewelry, clothing, 2026 Calendars, shoe spoons… In other words, shoddy things that stores are too ashamed to sell.

Speaking of which, raise your hand if you use a CPAP machine to help you sleep. Anybody? Okay, so it’s only me. I’ve been using a CPAP for many of years. Kay was the first to get one to keep her from snoring. (CPAP: Continuous Positive Airway Pressure. An acronym pulled from a hat.) A couple of years after Kay got her machine, she had me get one to stop my snoring, which is sad because my snoring has never bothered me.

The mask I am now using has been improved multiple times Right now I use one that fits just inside my nostrils. A pleasant sight it’s not. Besides the nostril inserter, the thing about the machine that I find disturbing is the fact, that the company that sold it to me, does not allow me to regulate the speed and amount of air that shoots through the tube.

The output of Kay’s machine is a nice, calm flow. My machine from hell emits a force of air that not only clears my nose canal, pops my ears, and exits through my eyelids, but it also leaks like a landing blimp. And, I’m unable to lessen the flow of the wind gust. Apparently, someone in the front office doesn’t trust me to tamper with the device. It’s all done on a computer by a nice lady who calls me every six months. I would tell her about my displeasure with the windstorm, but she’s so nice I hate to upset her.  Next time, though, she’s hearing from me. I may have to send her this article.

I went through all of that to tell you this. I found online a mouthpiece that does exactly what a CPAP machine does but without making my ears flap. When inserted into your mouth, the object clamps over your bottom teeth and pulls your lower jaw forward causing it to extend beyond your upper jaw. That sounds impossible, doesn’t it? There’s a reason for that.

The theory sounds great, though. If you can get your bottom jaw to move forward, it will automatically improve your breathing. While it feels majorly uncomfortable, it can cure you from snoring. Don’t believe me. Well, key in the ad. I think it’s “Magic Jaw Extender.” It’s somewhere online. Perhaps with a different name.

I was so excited by the ad that I ordered the magic mouth-guard cleaning box—the kind that emits an ultraviolet ray that cleans the tooth guard. It was likely invented in the town of Muanz Xay in Laos. Regardless, I forked over $100 for my bottom jaw-shover and the cleaner box. When that buddy arrived it looked strangely familiar. Not to worry, I was still all ga ga over it.

During the first night, I had trouble keeping the jaw device in my mouth. I had to look I was sleeping on it once. The other time it had visited my left armpit. While trying to make my bottom jaw protrude it apparently paralyzes my jaw which causes the device to exit my mouth. I figured I was doing something wrong, so continued to experiment with the flimsy jaw-trap for the next couple of nights… with the same results.

I had purchased the device without letting Kay know because I wanted to impress her with my cessation of snoring. Well, In the early morning of Day 3, after returning to bed from the bathroom, Kay had managed to notice my blue mouth guard lying on the bottom sheet on my side of the bed.

When I returned, she handed me the guard and said, “You know you already bought one of these don’t you?” Not even a person as smart as I am can answer a question like that, so I replied, “Ah. So, that’s why it felt familiar.”

Later that morning, Kay showed me the original mouth guard that didn’t work, as well as the box with the ultraviolet ray. I never sent the original back, because I figured I was using it wrong. Kay, being the best returner of stuff, called the company’s office, As she explained the situation to the gentleman online, he pulled up my previous order and asked Kay why I bought a second jaw shover after hating the first one. I left the room, so I don’t know what she told him. The gentleman told Kay to mail the item to a factory in Estonia.

Kay got her money back before returning the items. If you ask me, Kay’s timing was very good. As all of the tariff threats fly around, I doubt that the foreign countries that are ticked off at us, will stop selling us crummy stuff along with all of the other items we can really use. Is that a happy ending, or what? – No, I’m asking

 

Hayter.mark@gmail.com                                         end   

 

Computer Killer

 

Hayter for April 6, 2025

“How I nearly killed the advent of computers”

 

          I never spread this around, but 40 or so years ago, I was on the cusp of becoming quite valuable in the area of Control Processing Units. We referred to them as CPUs. – Let that sink in  for a minute. – Times up. Get back here.

          Over the years, CPUs have been referred to as computers. The CPU I experimented with was a keyboard that sat on a table in front of an 18-inch TV screen. The background of the screen was black, and the print on the screen was green. I’ve never cared for green on a black screen. It might be good for a song lyric, but nothing else. Oh, and there were no photos, videos, or sound coming from the computer. It made me a bit leary of it’s value.

          My friend Bob Ezell was the one who got me involved with the early computer. Bob is as sharp as a whip and as unpretentious as you can get. For a brilliant person to be able to communicate on my level while exhibiting no hint of talking down to me is a gift from God. One that He decided I had no need of.

          If I recall, my friend Virginia knew Bob from Sam Houston University and somehow introduced me. Before I knew it, Bob got in touch with me and made me a part of TWC, “Teachers With Computers”. I made up the name.

At the time, I had no vision. I never considered the advent of color TV, so it’s obvious I saw no future in waiting five minutes for green print to pop up on a blank screen. But, per my instructions, I keyed in a range of topics. When I keyed in “Oklahoma” three documents

 showed up. No worries. I already knew as much as I cared about Oklahoma. I just wanted to see if I was smarter than the CPU.

 

Bottom line, had the powers that be accepted my advice on the fallacy of computers in education, teachers would not be using them today. NASA would likely be the only outfit playing around with them. 

The good news is, Bobby Ezell was the one who the Conroe ISD Administrators heeded.  – And get this: after recognizing my lack of vision, Bob still liked me. He even got me involved in other projects. Since my retirement, I have yet to see my friend. I’ll find him. I’ll just have to remind him who I am. I couldn’t have left the impression on him that he did on me.

          All in all, it’s amazing how my early involvement with technology has so drastically changed in just 40 years. When I finish this piece, the first thing I’m going to do is check my emails. I vaguely remember life before emails. As it is, I seldom talk on the phone. With conversation, I don’t have nearly enough time to respond to anything without sounding silly. Computers give me more time to figure out what it is I’m trying to say.

I retired from teaching just in time. I’m sure some students shared homework and test questions in my classes. It was just a little harder to do before the advent of the cell phone. It’s a blessing indeed, that my mind has only managed to hold onto the good things about being a teacher. My experience was great. My involvement in CPU experiments, not so much.  

          Of course, I am now overly dependent on my laptop and cell phone. The first thing I do in the morning as well as before bedtime, is check my emails. That topic brings to mind the greatest invention since the flushable toilet. Of course, I referring to the computer mouse. Oh, and the pointed thing it brings up on the screen. I believe Apple came up with this. Without a mouse, I don’t have the patience to locate stuff.

The one thing a mouse can’t even help me with is the plethora of ads that attack my computer screen. As soon as I pull up some info on my screen, I’m attacked by a mass of rectangular ads for any and everything. They won’t go away, either. If I click on them, I’m liable to see an ad for an invisible cell phone holder that’s surrounded by a dozen other things I don’t want nor need.  

That’s not good. And, in the words of Wilford Brimley from ‘Absence of Malice’ -- “It’s real wrong, and by God it’s not right.”

          I have seen popups that agree to get rid of the ads if I click on them. I haven’t done so, because I can’t afford whatever it costs to lose the ads.  

          I’m thinking that advertising will be around forever. Some of the sci-fi movies today show strange spaceships flying around downtown, where all of the high-rises have videos of huge ads on the side of buildings. That’s what the future holds for mankind. Perhaps many of us will be blessed to be elsewhere when it hits.  

          That being said, next week my plan is to share with you some helpful things amongst a bunch of less helpful. We’ll both come out so much smarter than we are now. Smart enough not to order some of the weird stuff online. I have no hope for me, but perhaps I can save a few of you.

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com

         

Under the Influence

 

Hayter for March 30, 2025

“Under the Influence”

            I have never missed a deadline. A couple of decades back I wrote an article about cats that didn’t get printed, but I made my deadline. I learned the hard way that cats have a large following. Perfectly understandable. -- I included that in my follow-up article.

            If this week’s article doesn’t make it to print, the reason will be that I wasn’t in my right mind because last week I had an operation that required a lot of pills. There were a bunch of different ones, but the two that had the worst aftereffects were the anesthesia and Smooth Move. The anesthesia was much needed. The laxatives? I have no idea.

I mentioned to some of you last week that I was to have my hip replaced. Today I shall take you on a journey into my pre and post-hipbone removal process. The journey will be like a walk in the park--a park known as Jurassic.

I had many people tell me that knee replacement is much worse than hip replacement. That means I may likely die from my refusal to have a knee worked on.

 My hip procedure was performed at Tomball Regional HCA. It’s a hospital with the greatest staff and nurses ever to have the misfortune of removing my hipbone. Kay and I arrived at the hospital at 5:30 A.M. They started cutting on me an hour and a half later. It took two hours for them to yank the hipbone out and replace it with a doorknob.  

I only got to see drawings of a hip bone, but I did see what was used to replace it. You would not believe it! It’s called a hip bone, but it looks like a doorknob. It comes in all sizes. The door knob doesn’t even know what it’s doing. It’s got no nerve endings. It’s just metal. Metal can melt, but it never feels the heat. A hip bone may not feel much, but it sends hipbone pain issues straight to your brain. I assume that now that the procedure is behind me, I’ll never have any more trouble with my right hip.  

During the insertion of the doorknob, I felt no pain. The anesthesia stuff knocked me out, which was a good thing. The fact that the drug makes me forget stuff and talk weird, is just one of the aftereffects that may never leave me. They didn’t even show me a video of the procedure.

            When you are in the hospital overnight, they can do some eerie fascinating stuff to you, and you won’t even know what it was. “Mr. Hayter, I’m going to give you a shot of Cemapromacapliberry that might make you feel better. In fact, I think I’ll save a little of it for myself. -- The nurses quickly caught onto my sense of humor and used it to calm me down.  

I went to Tomball because that’s where Dr. Blackwell does his surgeries. I had never seen or heard of Dr. Blackwell, but my family doctor Lance Pickard recommended him. I trust Dr. Pickard with my life. He could recommend me to see Dr. Bella Lugosi, and I’d make an appointment. (That was me being crazy.)

 Kay will edit out most of my beyond-weird stuff. She’s ever vigilant. (She’ll likely edit that out.) Dr. Blackwell is down to earth. After imaging my hip he said, in so many words, I could give you a shot and pills for your pain right now, and you could limp around with the pain for as long as you can bear it.

Another option would be to get your hip replaced in a couple of weeks so that two or three months later you’ll lose your limp and pain. “What? Two months!” – “Yes, sir. Or, three.” He apparently didn’t want to tell me that it is largely because I’m old.

And that thought makes me feel like a wimp for crying over my pain issues. Before my operation, I was upset because I was told I would never get to play racquetball again. My desire to play racquetball is in no way worth suffering the pain I’ve been going through over the past few days. And I’ll be exercising for the next three months.

The only thing that has gotten me this far is Kay. That girl took notes on everything the doctor and nurses said. My memory span is two sentences, tops. After about 30 minutes the nurses knew to communicate only with Kay, on most instructions.

At the moment I’m blaming it all on the drugs. What is bothering me the most right now is my avid regularity. When it takes you a couple of minutes to drag your rear to the restroom, and 30 seconds to position yourself in the proper place, you’re brain can’t tell your colon what it’s supposed to do. Speaking of which, I’m going to end this thing right now. – “Kay, I need some help, darling!”

end

hayter.mark@gmail.com