Here We Go Again

More tragedy struck when another innocent person died from an accident.  An 11-year old girl was killed when the ATV she was riding flipped over and crushed her to death, in Indiana.

Clearly her mother was distraught, to the point of leading an effort to make the world safer for everyone else.  In other words, she stuck her nose in the rest of America’s private business.

She fought hard, according to the newspaper article, but finally got a bill passed to dictate all ATV riders under the age of 18 must wear a helmet, both on public and private land.

Pretty noble, indeed. But also pretty intrusive.

Once known as “the land of the free,” America was built on taking risks and being adventuresome.

Today, however, this mother feels she knows better than everyone else on how to parent.  She’s wrong.

Everyday, people jump out of airplanes to skydive, they swim with sharks, they mountain climb, they drive racecars, tame lions, and walk tightropes.  Yet this buttinsky doesn’t feel the need to help save the lives of these aforementioned thrill-seekers.  No, she wants to target other people’s kids because she wants to take “positive action.”

While this all seems pretty harmless, it is intrusive.  Likely out of a necessity to self-heal for her loss, she now wants to save people’s lives.

In case you hadn’t noticed, her daughter tragically died on the ATV this mother bought her. 

It is noble for her to try and save innocent lives but, why not simply encourage others – rather than creating a law to be followed – which would allow for more continued freedom for others?

More than 30 children drown in five-gallon buckets each year.  Why not force a screen to be placed over each plastic pail?

Kids die from falling down stairs, being struck by cars, and baking in side hot vehicles, regularly.  Once again, where’s the outrage and positive action needed to prevent another child from dying.

Using activism as a therapy is terrific, if only to make suggestions.  To enact legislation to limit liberties of everyone borders on criminal.

Sure, this mom feels good but, the balance of ATV riders in Indiana are certainly feeling imposed upon.

We cannot ensure the absolute safety and well-being of everyone in America.  Chances are taken just climbing over the side of a bathtub.  Tainted food can be of a concern, and ladders are merely an accident-waiting-to-happen.

To that end, I’d like to say, “Sorry about your personal loss.  And I’m sorry you feel you are so much more capable to run my life than me.  Now, you need to stop shoving your ideas down the throats of strangers and get on with your own life.”

It’s Job Hunt Time

It’s time to set the record straight about politicians.

Many, many politicians are simply self-absorbed egoists who desire to control and manipulate the lives of others.

I know this because I lived at the seat-of-government, Washington, D.C., for over three decades.  The daily drumbeat dictated more influence over citizen’s rights by greedy politicians who regularly feigned piety as a means to wrest away more individual rights.

Droning on about helping the poor always meant the hard workers needed to pay more; it never meant finding jobs for those poor, though.

Cleaning up the environment called for additional funding for recycling and endless studies, but rarely amounted to more than wealth redistribution.

Taxing food products was aimed to help fund food safety organizations and nutrition centers; those taxes regularly wound up being diverted to local road building and civic center subsidizing.

And most of today’s politicians know very little about working in the private sector, as they acquired their political ambitions during their time in law school, never holding actual jobs that require making a profit.

If more money was needed, they merely raised the taxes of the working class.  Amen.  Problem solved.

And so it goes as far as funding pet projects that keep those political weenies in office.  This system is nothing like the “real world,” where if you want something, you must work and budget for it.

This new America is why we are facing a $20,000,000,000,000 deficit.  And that’s not good.

So in an effort to spend more money they don’t have, the East Coast politicians have become more creative than ever.

Something called the I-95 Corridor Coalition was recently established by a group of state transportation agencies from Maine to Florida.  It seems as though monies paid through sales, excise, local, state, federal, and gas taxes just aren’t enough for these creative thieves.

Now this criminal brain trust is ardently working in a system that would charge drivers based on the number of miles traveled.

Of course, the gas tax would not be repealed because those finds are needed for major maintenance.

An Aside:  Remember when President Barack Hussein Obama proudly announced his program of shovel-ready jobs?  That cash went to replace road signs and guard rails, not repaving or repairing roads.  Why?  Ain’t that maintenance?

And, all those environmentalists touting fuel efficiency have now backed America into the proverbial corner.  You see, the I-95 Corridor coalition needs the money lost through gas tax because of people buying less fuel.  Clearly that needs a stern punishing.

The same thing happened with water conservation.  Save water, was the mantra.  Before long, water rates soared because people were using less water.  Neato, eh?

It’s time to send these money-hungry slugs on their way to jobs that require accountability, and involve profits for the company.

There’s an old saying: “Politicians are like baby diapers; they needs to be changed regularly.”

They are our employees, and they need firing.

Leave Me Alone

A large part of August on The Eastern Shore welcomes the annual harvest of tomatoes, potatoes, and corn.  So it was with great anticipation that I greeted this scrumptious yield of three of my favorite foods.

For the record, my other favorite foods include prime rib, watermelon, rib eye steak, meatloaf, butter, oysters, and the king of that infamous food pyramid, salt.  But I digress.

My sainted wife and I had prepared a pork loin, glazed with pineapple and mango, corn-on-the-cob, and sliced tomatoes.  We were enjoying this modest feast when my phone rang.

Mid-chew, I answered this cellular device only to hear a perky woman’s pre-recorded voice informing me I had just won a free cruise.

I don’t want a free cruise.  I don’t want any cruise.  I weigh enough.  Friends and family have been telling us for years how terrific cruises are.  They dress up for dinner. They dress down for lunch.  They get bottomless drinks.  They have stage shows.

Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Fantastic desserts on the planet, bowling, surfing, movies, gambling, miniature golf – you name it – it’s the bestest!

Unfortunately, all these acquaintances, except one, return with an extra 25 pounds because of all this wonderful food and lack of exercise.

“You should go,” is the common advice from most of my misery-loves-company buddies.

Thanks anyway.

But the whole point of this is not about all the goodies that can be had on cruises rather, it is about that triggering phone call.

I was home, minding my own business, when I was rudely interrupted by some schmuck who didn’t care about my dinner.

Here’s the rub.  My sainted wife and I shop fairly often.  It seems as though we never have that tub of sour cream, or jar of olives, or splash of Marsala, so we are usually on the road either going to or from the market.

When we are in the store, no one – again, no one – ever asks us if we need help finding anything in their store.  As such, we wind up wandering aimlessly, much as refugees would in a foreign country, searching for our necessary goods.

Or, if I call your business, I’m invariably put on hold for countless minutes, only to eventually hang up without conducting any business whatsoever.

So why would it be better for these merchants to try to sell me something when I’m home, but not when I’m in their store?

That seems counterintuitive still, it happens.

Cruises, vacations, time shares, vacuum cleaners, and steaks, are just a few of the spiels I receive pretty regularly from shady merchants and con artists.

Here’s a business plan you merchants might want to employ on a trial basis: talk to me when I’m in your shop; when I’m at home, leave me alone!  I love fresh corn!

Semi Jerks

On a recent trip to God’s Waiting Room, also known as: Florida, I must have passed 6,318 semi trucks.  There may have been 6,319, but I digress.

They are large, reaching back some 70-feet, and a challenge to handle on a good day without traffic.

Still, those operators are called professional drivers because that is what they do for a living, drive.  The operative word here is “professional.”

But nobody I’ve heard has accused most of them of driving well or courteously.

We are constantly being harped upon to “share the road” with motorcyclists, and to “move over for emergency vehicles.”  Yet, no one calls for those arrogant truckers to share the road with “common folks” operating non-commercial vehicles.

Speed limits on I-95 are generally 70 MPH.  It occasionally fluctuates in high-population density areas where drivers usually make their way on the highways while eating, shaving, and texting.

Yet, as a rule of thumb, the travel speed is generally 70 MPH.

Now some of these truckers are likely bored, and some are also a bit touched in the head. 

I’ve never been accused of driving much under the speed limit – probably never.  So when you see me coming up behind you on the highway, it will be quickly.

Invariably, one of these professional drivers will pull out in front of me forcing me to slow down to somewhere in the vicinity of 60 MPH. 

This artificially created bottleneck has been caused by the touched-in-the-head semi operators who will now poke along adjacent to the semi they “are trying to pass” for fourteen miles.

Those professional drivers appear to be playing a deadly game on the highway with total strangers.  You see, the car behind them may be on route to the hospital, or some other emergency.

It’s clear they don’t care about the rules, and they even make it apparent they are “Kings of the Road.”

So, when you see one of these mentally ill truckers operating their vehicles in an unsafe and noncompliant fashion, I encourage you take action.

Many legitimate trucks have stickers on the trailer that proudly invite other drivers to call a specific phone number and tell them about the professional trucker’s driving abilities.

You also have the right to contact local police and state police to report anomalies in their driving techniques.

If those inconsiderate road hogs refuse to “play nice” with cars and other drivers, perhaps it’s about time to help them find a job at which they can excel.

Truckers, beware.