Just Wondering

Saw a sign that gleefully informed me that 1/20/09 would be Bush’s last day in office. What will happen to the Democrats when the target of their vitriol leaves? Will they turn on each other at that point? Isn’t this the same tension that keeps the Dark Knight and the Joker in lockstep?

A sign on a restaurant told me that they were serving Ice Coffee. It’s Iced Coffee, you morons, same as Iced Tea. The first word is an adjective that modifies the noun behind it. “Ice” is not an adjective. I know that a lot of people say “Ice Water,” but unless you’re serving actual meltwater, that’s incorrect. When did grammar become so difficult?

Speaking of grammatical challenges, a coworker that gets way too much ego gratification from MySpace came up to me recently. “Know who I was talking to last night?” He leaned forward and paused, building the drama. “Nikki. Hilton.” Then he stepped back with this smug “Who’s the man?” look on his face. I asked him what rigorous identification verification procedures he had to endure to create his MySpace account, and was he aware that on my blog, I was personified by a talking cat?

I absolutely despise the current sartorial trend of placing logos and catchphrases on the rear of tight sweatpants sold to young girls. I am a compulsive reader, having been conditioned by evil marketing agents to seek out their messages. I am also of an age and moral character where I do not wish to be seen staring at a 12-year-old’s ass. In this Megan’s Law “for the children” era, where we stop just short of the death penalty for child molesters, and the merest hint of opprobrium can ruin a man’s life forever, who decided that this was a good idea?

Surely I can’t be the first to think of how much more work we could get done if we’d stop having meetings about how much work we’re getting done.

I really don’t ask for much out of life. A healthy, happy family, a small circle of excellent friends, a satisfying career, my own submarine, and an island fortress. That’s not too much, is it?

It’s been said that the lottery is a tax on idiots. Looking at the current crop of Presidential candidates, I’m beginning to suspect that our elections are, too. There are none of them who wouldn’t benefit from a road trip to Emerald City. The dispensation of a few brains, hearts, and some courage would improve the selection immensely.

Compassionate Conservatism is no way to win a war. Particularly the war against Islamic fanaticism. My humble suggestion is to get biblical on the terrorists. In II Samuel, Sheba, a Benjamite that revolted against King David, is holed up in the stronghold city of Abel. Joab, the commander of the king’s army, attacks the city. A woman asks him why he is trying to kill her, and he tells her that he is looking for Sheba. This woman goes and convinces the people to cut off Sheba’s head and throw it over the wall. Joab then calls off the attack. Similarly, we should line up our bombers, missiles, and tanks, and make it clear that unless the terrorists are delivered to us, we’ll turn their cities into dust. We know where these folks are, we just don’t know who they are. If the rest of the inhabitants want to be martyrs about it, we can help them with that, too. If II Samuel isn’t to your liking, how about Samuel L. Jackson? “And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger!” It always amuses me that the same people that sit in the theatre going “Yeah! Get him!” recoil in horror when it’s instituted as official Foreign policy.

Why do airline pilots feel compelled to chatter away on the intercom? Do they think that enhances customer service? Don’t you have a button to push, or traffic to monitor or something? I’m trying to read, here. I’ll consider your customer service obligation fulfilled if I get there on time, and can walk away from the plane. I don’t need a guided tour from 30,000 feet.

There’s a guy in our office that enjoys being annoying. You don’t dare ask him to stop doing something, because then he knows that it bothers you, and he does it more. My solution to this is to fuck with his OCD. When he targets me, I just knock his paper clip holder onto the floor. If he keeps it up, I rearrange his desk. He’s learning.

Some phrases just stick with you. Currently, I have the echo of some dialogue from Dark Passage stuck in my head. Bogart asks Bacall “So you like Swing music?” Her answer, “Yes. Legitimate Swing.” intrigues me. Was the market being flooded with cheap foreign imitators? Was there some epic battle in the music industry in the 40s to determine what was going to be labeled as Swing music? I’m sure the answer would add all sorts of nuances to Bacall’s character, but I’ve not been able to track anything down.