Every once in a while, my latent Angry White Male personality
creeps to the surface and takes over my normal bleeding-heart
weenie self.
Every once in a while, my latent Angry White Male personality creeps to the surface and takes over my normal bleeding-heart weenie self. I recognize this transformation when I start talking like a night club comic by adopting an exasperated tone and asking cynical questions that begin with lines like, “What the heck is the deal with …?” or “Are they ever going to stop talking about …?”
You know the tone of voice I am talking about. We all have it. It’s the one that implies the question, “Why is the world so stupid, and why can’t everyone in it be as smart as I am?”
I have lately been stricken with moderate case of AWM cynicism. It all started with the East Coast power outage that must have consumed a week’s worth of talking-head time on Fox “News,” CNN, MSNBC, CNBC, LMNOP, XYZ and all the rest. If ever there was a classic example of the East Coast self-absorbed, we-are-the-center-of-the-universe mentality, this was it. For God’s sake, the lights went out. My advice: Light a candle. Get over it.
Does every piece of fruit have to have a sticker on it? Are we really supposed to think that each piece of our produce is getting a high level of careful inspection? Do you, the fruit-buying public, feel better about your produce now that each piece comes with a sticker? I just had a nectarine that had four stickers on it. I’m not sure if it merited extra stickers because it was a nectarine of especially high quality or if there was some concern about the quality that kicked it up to middle and upper management, each of whom inspected it and then placed their sticker of approval on it. I just know that by the time I scraped the stickers off with my thumbnail, it looked like it had been in a food processor.
My son bought me a music CD for Christmas. I worked on it diligently every evening, and by St. Patrick’s Day I had removed the cellophane wrapping only to find that the case was sealed shut by a piece of tape underneath the cellophane. Is this tape here to insure freshness, or is it additional security in case the cellophane, that took me forever to remove, falls off?
Where are the weapons of mass destruction? If they are hidden somewhere in a cave or underground, there are people besides Saddam Hussein who know it. It seems to me that a reasonable bribe to the right person would save the American taxpayers a few billion dollars. Or could it be that there are no … never mind.
Just because you have two people in your car doesn’t mean you should be in the carpool lane going 60 mph. You have a rear view mirror. Use it. If people are passing you on the right, move over!
Aren’t you glad that soda pops have freshness dates printed on the container as though they are delicate, perishable products? I’ll bet some of the ingredients in sodas are used by taxidermists. Can you imagine someone saying, “I had a Pepsi the other day that was past its freshness date. It tasted kind of funny.”
Thank you for listening. I feel a lot better now. I think it is important for people to be able to get things off their chests. If more people could unburden themselves by sharing their true feelings, there would be a whole lot fewer candidates for governor.
