Remote Control Chastity Belt

Yesterday evening my sainted wife was fortunate enough to grab the television remote control from me.

I normally control the “magic wand” because, like most women on the planet, my sainted wife always picks the wrong shows to watch.

She’ll tune-in those sappy shows about women dying of incurable diseases, all the while going through an entire box of premium tissues.

Premium tissues are those that are strong enough to contain a sneeze and a thorough nose-blowing.  Less-substantial tissues tear and allow mucus to gather onto your fingers thereby creating a web-like effect.  But I digress.

I generally watch educational programs that have little to do with soap operas or grown men kneeling on a football field, for any reason.

In any case, I left the room when she struck like a red tailed hawk grabbing a field mouse dinner, snatching the remote control.  Quick high-fives between her and Smokey, accompanied by toothy grins, sealed this electronics coup.

I returned to find the TV now tuned to a house shopping show.

It seems a though watching other people buy things is a popular event on television.

People who are members of the More-money-than-brains-club set about traipsing across select territories in an effort to incorporate more problems in their lives.

These potential buyers search for homes in the Caribbean, at the beach, on lakes, in the mountains, even perhaps next door to you.

I watched a couple of these episodes that all seemed to maintain similar formats.

The husbands are usually Mr. Milqetoasts, the wives are whiny, and not in a good way.  They are both well-dressed however the women look as though they belong in a biker bar rather than an upscale resort.

Rarely are the sources of purchase money disclosed.  Guessing these funds came from sizeable inheritances or drug sales, I would say that money would be better spent on tattoo removal procedures over a second home.

With the wives repeatedly carping about the tiny kitchens in these vacation properties, the husbands – with bowed heads – realize their much-desired man-cave will now be another pipe dream.  Worse, those guys will still be waking up next to their wives tomorrow morning.

Still, those tiny kitchens cause my sainted wife to pipe-up about our first house’s kitchen, ending up with, “I’ll show you tiny!” while angrily waving her fist.

Not our first house, but close

Our kitchen was 6x9’, with a gas range, sink, and refrigerator; it also had three doors and a window, all of which occupied valuable space needed for countertops.  It was termed a “galley kitchen.”  Elsewhere, it is called a steamer trunk.  But we made do.

And so these programs go for a sparing half-hour. 

Countless times they droningly repeat the words, “Is there enough room for our friends to visit?”  And, “But there is not a view!”

I’m going to come clean to the world.  There was not one time, when I was house-buying, that I was concerned about whether there was enough room for my friends to visit.  Sorry, friends.

And the view is equally unimportant as I won’t be seated in an overstuffed recliner looking out the window; I’ll be out doing things such as annoying my neighbors with motorized yard tools.

Invariably, the people select houses with their needs in mind, ending the wagering in our living room, with Smokey usually winning.

After being sated by these house searching shows, my sainted wife is now searching for a television program about mopping floors.  Yeah!

Unemployment Line

My retired life is quickly approaching its ten year mark.  Before you give me the finger, remember that I had worked for 41-years, in many capacities.

And during those two score, I had plenty of bosses – most of whom were mediocre, at best.

They so badly wanted to impress their bosses that they felt compelled to make us do something – anything – to give the impression of productivity; the end product was actually less efficiency.  Allow me to explain.

I once had a boss named Eddie who was always the smartest guy in the room, if only in his mind.  Eddie was a numbers fellow who loved to see statistics, and he often used them in an attempt to impress his boss.

Eddie-like product

Eddie didn’t care about what his boss thought because he was too smart to listen to da man.  So he inundated the upper echelon with countless, useless charts, graphs, and summaries.

His boss thought those stats were nonsense; nonetheless Eddie wanted and thought he needed them to justify his existence.  Eddie’s employees were not important to Eddie; only Eddie was important to Eddie.

And so life went for many, many years.

All this brings us to the cusp of the mid-term elections in the United States and the crux of today’s blog.

In November, we will be offered an opportunity to make our selections for representatives at the local, state, and federal levels.

We will be inundated with smarmy ads and cardboard signs and countless robo-calls to make our decisions of whom should be sent to work in the government on our behalf.

Some of us will do our due diligence to make an informed decision about who may be trustworthy and who will not, that will treat my tax money as if it was their own, and who will likely take my concerns to heart instead of deep-pocketed special interest donors.

Others will simply look at the candidates and vote for the woman, or minority, or transgender, or lesbian, or Muslim, because those voters are simply shallow.

Calls will be issued to “get out the vote!” and enter the voting booths with little, or no, information and direction.  This is the feel-good bunch of our society who has no plan or clue about what the future should hold.  Alas.

But the most important issue in any election is not if the candidate wears beautiful suits, wants to punish success, is related to a former office holder, or is even plain inspirational.  The most important issue is will our candidate heed our wishes and wants.

Just as with Eddie, no one else mattered.  Decisions as how to realize our goals and missions were irrelevant, although we as rank-and-file employees with institutional knowledge and historic information were more mentally prepared to achieve significant accomplishments, Eddie was the boss.  Amen.

So many failures were the result of these poorly executed plans instituted by arrogant incompetence.

That is why our stable of politicians should do their jobs.  And their jobs are the execution of their voter’s desires, since they are our employees.  They work for us.

They receive our money in the form of paychecks and should listen to their constituents.

Rarely ought the absolute independence of their votes trump my desires.

Once again, they work for us.  Make them do their jobs or send them to the unemployment office.

Quit Helping

This morning I awoke in a parallel universe.

Both print and electronic media were running stories about one of the greatest threats to the entire planet.  Of course I needed to take notice.

The lead story was how – now is the time to get your kids out of the room, lest they suffer irreversible damage – Kroger’s grocery stores are taking the lead to ban the perpetually dangerous plastic bags.

Some years ago, the brain trust of environmentalists in America pushed for a ban on paper grocery bags.  The propaganda associated therewith was spot-on.

Sheeple, people who have no free thought or the ability to debate, called stores, and politicians alike, to help rid our vulnerable planet of bio-degradable paper bags.  Legislation was introduced and passed by sheeple in an effort to “do something.”

Rather, shoppers we supposed to use plastic bags as a viable, sensible solution.

For those who really want to know, jurisdictions now banning plastic straws are turning to paper straws to fill the void, inasmuch as the elderly and young children often need straws to consume beverages.

And soon all was well.  And there was peace on Earth upon ridding society of paper bags.  Hallelujah!

But now there is a push to get rid of those plastic sacks that were ceremoniously foisted upon us without our input.

I can picture the environmentalists and politicians huddling about in a dimly-lit, locked room, full of cigar smoke being filtered around a single low hanging light.  Grunts and shadowy furrowed brows displayed as note pads went untouched, sharpened pencils still honed.

Suddenly, a pinstriped-suit sleeve moves toward the cloudy light beam; simultaneously, a gravelly voice announces, “How about using paper bags instead of plastic!?!”

Strong concurring nods move the smoke about, much as a ceiling fan would.

A quick glance to the side reveals a nerdy, socially inept, bespectacled figure wearing a Mother Earth t-shirt.  This Sierra Club supporter produces a thumbs-up sign, sealing the deal.

A suitcase full of currency exchanges hands with a wink.  The deal is consummated. 

Yep, it seems as if we’re going back to the dangerous paper bags as a means to toting canned beans and iceberg lettuce to our SUV’s.

There is a Plan B, though.  The overly disturbed among us are pointing the way to more environmentally friendly means of transporting food stuffs.

Plan B calls for the purchase and use of cloth bags.  At only $1 to $2, each, they are promised to be good for the planet, good for the planet, and good for the planet.

As an aside, these bags get dirty and windup carrying germs and diseases.  They require regular laundering and repair to remain functional.

There is good news, though, about these busybody environmentalists and sheeples – nobody lives forever.

You Ain’t So Smart

For many years now, citizens of the United States of America have been begging for criminals to make them victims.

Growing up, the populace of America has had its common sense removed to create a nation of sniveling sheep.

Although sheep are good for keeping meadows trimmed and producing wool, they also serve as food for wily wolves.

Allow me to explain.  Colleges and universities began teaching love and acceptance throughout the 1960’s and ‘70’s.  Included in that brain-washing era was the fact that criminals who committed horrible crimes should be spared the death penalty.

The simple reason for this nonsensical wave of humanity was that the criminals might be innocent.  Although they were subjected to numerous trials and re-trials and appeals, they needed to be spared.

Along the way, methods of executions have been altered, too.  Some effective ways to exact a quick death upon people have included a firing squad, hanging, and electrocution.  Because these tried and true exercises in the reduction of recidivism were criticized as “inhumane,” they were eliminated.

Super-smart human rights activists then decided it was time to make those miscreants’ trip to see God a painless one.  In an effort to eliminate the death penalty altogether by hamstringing the legal system, they offered an idea.

Why not use lethal injection?  The same way family pets are “put down,” those dangerous, non-repentant killers would be injected with a cocktail of drugs that would stop body functions – including heart pumping – to effectively and painlessly exterminate society’s vermin.

But after years of legal wrangling, those activists that so desperately wanted this method employed now want it rescinded.

The good news is that sane people insist it remain as a viable way to exact permanent justice upon the undesirable; the bad news is that the pharmaceutical companies that provide those drugs are now refusing to supply them for such purposes.

What to do?

Throughout those decades when America’s sheep felt everyone – EVERYONE – has a right to life (except innocent aborted babies,) and they were going to flex their muscles to demonstrate their power.

Part of that power display included forcing people to wear seatbelts, install fire alarms, wear helmets while riding bicycles, and quit smoking.

All are noble efforts that use the carrot and stick approach to change behavior, alas intrusive.

Being the problem-solver of most social issues, I see a simple and effective solution to this elimination of criminal problems.

To circumvent our nation’s sheep herds, I suggest the guvment wheel pallets of cigarettes into the cells of death row prisoners.

It seems the guvment has been crying about the gravity of cigarette smoking on both the smoker, and second-hand inhaler, alike.  In other words, if you smoke you’ll die.

This way, even if the prisoners don’t smoke, everyone on death row will be long deceased, first of second hand smoke, long before the appeals process is nearly complete.

You’re welcome, America.