Another great day at my folks’ basking in 17 degree temperatures. This is the first non-entertainment oriented snow I’ve seen in 5 years. I couldn’t be more unhappy about the weather, especially since it’s 70 at home, and we came here after a week of golf and 65 at home everyday. I feel cheated, like I went on Spring Break to watch the filming of “Girls Gone Mild.”
Everything is cold. I’m eating my way to warmth. I have no motivation to exercise. There is no mealtime. Just a series of feedings that blend together until I collapse for the evening. I am a true southerner now.
The upside to all this is that my parents have a lot of great pills, and I readily partake. All the top ones that younger people enjoy. In plentiful supply. Courtesy of your government. Ready to help me sleep off a few extra hours that would otherwise be spent dwelling on my physical discomfort.
My dad has been a libertarian sort for most of his life, but I’ll be damned if he doesn’t leap for joy when he gets his walking around money from SS every month, and takes whatever free meds the government will pay for. Fuck it. He paid into the system.
When I was 7, I vowed never to touch a girl, but that was broken.
When I was 11, I vowed never to participate in TV or radio commercials that interrupt my favorite shows, but I skipped out on that one, too.
When I was 17, I swore that I would never pay for a show-offy car or anything but good, reliable transportation. Yeah, right.
And when I was 30, I vowed never to accept anything from or get involved with the government.
Well, I wish my 30-year old self good luck with that one, because with pills like this awaiting me when I’m in my sixties, I’d vote for Chelsea Clinton if it meant getting more of them. In fact, looking back on my track record of keeping principled stances, I think my last voting will occur when I’m 59. After that, who cares what judges and policies and laws are put into place? They won’t have any impact for decades, and I’ll be gone. Let the grandkids pick up the mess. That’s what they’re there for. I tried.
I didn’t know it until I left my hometown and went to other cities and got perspective on the situation, but everyone in Baltimore is ugly. I haven’t seen one woman I’d like to bone yet. It’s got to be the weather. It’s a sex chaser for sure.
While I’m feeling like I’m 80, I called the Weather Channel about a job over there. Last weekend, I applied for the position of “graphics spell checker.” It’s obvious they don’t have one, but they do need one.
They didn’t post the position. I made it up myself after seeing an outrageous spelling blunder on one of their teasers, which is doubly infuriating because I’m already not a fan of even correctly spelled weather teasers. Tell me the goddamn weather. Don’t give me this “coming up” crap. It’s unethical to play ratings with people’s lives. And it’s not like I can’t find the information from 20 other sources.
The teaser graphic said:
“Coming up-Tempertures Today.”
I called their station programming voice mail, told them of the gaffe, and the good news that I’m immediately available for future service as a spell-checker for the WC. Haven’t heard back yet, so if anyone over at the Weather Channel listened to me on the radio, please put in a good word for me.
“Guess who’s the new guy at the office, honey?”
“Larry Wachs of the Regular Guys Show.”
“OMG! He’s so sexy.”
“Yeah, and he’s a great guy, to boot. He’s gonna make our company a lot of money someday.”
It would be cool to work with Larry Wachs, and have that exact conversation happen to you. And you can make it happen. Think about it.
Standards are ebbing for sure, but I’m only curdled by it because they’re my standards that are being ebbed. The people eroding my standards are setting new ones, most of which I think are horrible, like lip piercing and not spanking children, but at least I am comforted in knowing someday they will get their just desserts and die of hepatitis or patricide by their self-esteem laden offspring, and their methods will be discredited and targeted for ruin as well.
What are my standards? What’s Larry’s America like you wonder? Well today, I was intrigued by the storyline of a Leave it to Beaver episode.
It seems that Wally and Lumpy were getting set for the big track meet that weekend. Of course, with Wally being short and having carefully arranged hair, and Lumpy, with his double chin and body fat percentage teetering on the brink of triple digits, both would be counted on heavily to carry Mayfield to a victory over their arch-rivals at No Negroes Academy.
The coach tells the boys in the locker room that they need to buckle down and concentrate and ....absolutely no horseplay would be tolerated.
Well, wouldn’t you know it but here comes ole’ Haskell strolling by and that seductive and wily rascal Haskell starts a towel fight with Wally and Lumpy, and only Wally gets caught by the coach while the others roll him under the bus.
“I’ll bet you had a gay old time throwing that towel,” says the angry coach, who promptly tosses Wally out of that week’s meet despite the huge loss to the team. Well, at least they have Lumpy in the 500yard hurdles.
I don’t know how the story turned out because I had to go eat something because I felt cold, but I ask you: What is wrong with that era in American life? I’d sure like to go back to it. Except we should keep all our current technology. I’m not a lunatic.
I’m sure people watching that show when it first aired were uniformly disturbed by Wally’s ethical predicament and uniformly unaroused by the use of the word gay. They had standards. That’s what I want. Get back to some standards. Life is too short to be this confusing.
Now, no one gives a shit when the Weather Channel misspells “temperature,” one of their bread and butter words, and they giggle until they wet themselves, as I did, when someone uses the word “gay” wrong. And why should people care when they’ve eaten so many boxes of Krispies and sat in millions of La-Z-Boyz?
Feh. Pass me the pills and build a fire, would ya?