I’m on a political vacation or better said a vacation from politics. My guy lost, tho’ she was a gal. I believe the system wins more often than those who try to mess too much with it; in this case read “constitutional law” where I wrote system. We have a system of checks and balances; I think they will hold.
Something else has been festering in me. In this bit of therapeutic writing, I will try to dodge the old dictum that “it’s the little things that kill ya” and not die from what I’m writing about. A dear friend is always telling me “don’t sweat the small stuff.” ‘problem is there’s so much small stuff around that I often want to push in next to Peter Finch in the window and add my own chorus of, “I’m sick and tired…..”
Here are some examples:
Spam: Spam is a polluter of the intellectual environment. And like most pollution the maddening thing is trying to get rid of it. ‘should be easier to do than getting rid of ocean sludge or old (read anything past 16 mos) electronic machines. Easier still should by using that little spam icon. I “rat-tat-tat” on that button all the time. Yet the annoying person whose determined to get me to read his wine column and the confident plastic surgeon who is sure I have something he can nip or tuck keep showing up. Mark it spam and it goes away? Really?
People making stupid choices on HGTV: My wife and I veg-out watching HGTV. These shows are fascinating because they manage to edit a show that should be 11 minutes long into a half hour or 13 minutes long into an hour. Two things get me all the time. The young couple looking for their first home is one. Their budget? $900,000. Oh really, how realistic is that? The other is the morons who are constantly picking the wrong house and ending up thrilled with it. Couple with a pet shop’s number of kids, not in cages, insists on a bedroom for each, a pool, a large (emphasize large)backyard for kids and poochala, and enough closet space for Imelda Marco’s reputed 10,000 shoes.
They buy? They buy a house with such charm and great location that it matters not that it lacks enough bedrooms, which means the kids will have to be stacked up in rooms as if they were logs, a postage stamp sized back yard where the children happily trample the poor dog because there’s not enough space for the poor pup to avoid the kids who like to imitate the bulls at Pamplona. Of course there is no pool. But a paint job and new furniture bring out the charm and makes it all ok. Gag me with a spoon.
Ads that use the truth and still lie: This guy Thicke makes me sick. He’s the one whose warning us that if we don’t hire his buddies at the only agency that can save you from the IRS that the IRS will use its power to take your house, you car, you wages, and your family. Sorry I got carried away. Periodically he does inform us about a “new” IRS program that will do everything about helping the taxpayer with unpaid taxes that his buds will do. He also seems omit that his pals charge money or take a percentage (of course they do they have to pay the Alan Thicke’s of the world) while the IRS service is, gasp, free. Really? There outta be a law!
Repetitive Commercials: And speaking about laws, there should be a mental healh statute or provision to protect TV watchers from being driven insane by the repetition of (very bad) commercials. My newest TV addiction is “Designated Survivor.” I watched 3 episodes last night. By my count is watched the same numb-nut talking to Michael Phelps in the bleachers of a pool (with the human tuna inexplicably wearing a hoodie (lest we not recognize that he’s a star swimmer?) about buying a faster computer four times per show! Good God man, really? Fortunately the rest of the shows are to be taped so I can zip through the commercials faster than the human torpedo can lap the competition.
This election: On the aforementioned show, Designated Survivor” the #2 at the FBI says to his most trusted agent, “The reason I never gave you an undercover assignment is because you’re a lousy liar.” Well this year’s crop of politicians have another career waiting for them, particularly our President-elect, assuming of course he got a crew cut. It was stunning how many candidates for office this year, from mayor to president shall we say “fibbed” their way to victory. My mother used to call it bare-assed lying. Really? Are we that stupid?
Don’t answer that question.
Banks: Unless you use Bitcoin or a mattress, I don’t have to say anything more than the word, bank, and you’ll know. C’mon bankers. Not only are you constantly re-enacting the rape of the Sabine Women on your customers, even after having come close to near wrecking the world’s economy, you’re already beginning to screw around with it again. You gonna put us in the tank again?!? Really?
Talking telephones that sound like stars wars characters: This week three more folks went into space including a woman in her 50’s. You go girl! The US also launched an advanced weather satellite. Maybe we’ll finally be able to know with some certainly what the weather really will be tomorrow morning. You’d think with the lightening advances in macro and micro technology, someone could invent a phone whose answering machine actually sounded like a human being. And while whomever is doing that is at it, would it be too much trouble to have the voice use the same cadence and inflections as people do instead of sounding like CP3O? And couldn’t it figure out when something was initials and pronounce the letters individually. Periodically I get a robo call from something my machine pronounces like the name of an African antelope–GNU. Good grief!
High pressure ads fronted by the likes of Michael Smirconish: Here’s a guy fronting for an add on the Sirius Radio CNN channel. He’s the same guru whose advice I’m supposed to take on a whole range of matters that could (conceivably) mean the end of civilization as we know it. It’s a fund made of up real estate funds. I believe it’s called, “Rich Uncle.” He tells us all about it and how it should be part of our path to wealth. What he doesn’t tell us, in his Daytona 500-like speed speech, slower only than the Indianapolis 500 speed disclaimer, is how much money he has in this fund if any at all. C’mon, Mikey! Really? Though i suppose if we are knuckle-heads enoughs to bank read money on something with a name from Monopoly……
You’ve noticed I could get really worked up and go on–and on, and on. Let’s do one more.
Robo calls: Praise the Lord that the election is over. That should cut down the pre-election number of robo calls to about unmanageable from “if i get another one I’m going to force the answering machine into the garbage disposal.” Show me a “do not call”list and i’m on it. Show me one that works and I’ll pay you copious sums of money (from the Rich Uncle fund). It is a plague upon society. Must this annoyance be retained when America is made great again? I understand the whole first amendment thing, and I understand catching the perpetrators is like playing “whack-a-mole,” but i also under its driving me crazy and driving me to thnk that when a few of these pains in the neck are caught we just ought to cut out their tongues as an example. Well, not really–but pretty close.
So fair is fair, if you have your own pet peeves lemme have’em and i’ll be happy to share them with the masses.