This Bun's For You

Back in the day, my BCA era – that is “before clogged arteries,” I was popping McDonald’s hamburgers the way I pop those St. Joseph’s tasty orange aspirin today. St. Joseph (the company, not the guy) used to call them baby aspirin. Now, they ought to call them baby boomer aspirin. They’ve repackaged the product for those of us at risk for a heart attack.
I tell you what I think would be a good idea for a commercial for St. Joseph’s. The commercial starts with a fifties era home movie quality scene of a mother giving her baby a St. Joseph’s aspirin, then the scene morphs to where the baby is the grown daughter and the mother is an old woman. The daughter is giving her mother a St. Joseph’s aspirin. The announcer says: “St. Joseph’s Aspirin. We brought you in and we’re gonna take you out.”
But, as I’m wont to do, I’ve gotten way off subject here. What I was writing about was my old eating habits. I’m in the (pathetic) shape I’m in today because I popped those McDonald’s burgers like they were pills. Of course, if you’re from around these parts, perhaps you remember, before McDonald’s, it was the Kelly’s hamburger. The company eventually went under, but it wasn’t for any lack of effort on my part to keep them solvent.
Back in the good ol’ days, I ate anything I wanted. Sure, I gained weight. My mother bought my clothes from the Husky department at Thalhimers. But, I kept on eating. I loved all the foods that were bad for me. I was probably the only five-year-old who asked Santa for a deep-fryer for Christmas. When I was in high school, I used to sneak around to the back of the building and smoke a ham. I wasn’t a Toys R Us kid, I was a Tater Tot tot.
I know those days are gone for me…it’s garden burgers and turkey bacon these days, but somehow, it did my rather corroded heart good to hear the new Burger King commercial. Just when you think this healthy eating addiction is going to take over, Burger King comes along with the Triple-Whopper. You go Burger King!
I think that’s great. Burger King is the King. He’s not going to be intimidated by all of those heart association P.S.A.’s that are constantly trying to scare us into submission. In fact, I bet my heart would be in better shape today if there were no doctors to tell me how bad I felt. So what if you get winded climbing the steps. Who need steps? The kitchen’s downstairs anyway.
I tell you who is really going to go for this triple whopper thing, it’s the majority of those who go to the Chesterfield County Fair. They’ll use the bigger burgers to neutralize their palettes between the fried Oreo and the fried Twinkie. I sometimes will go to the fair and just stand by the booth to suck up the aromas. How I envy those 350 pound gals, all decked out in the pink spandex with the matching hair curlers, who belly up to the Fried Twinkie booth. That could have been me a few years ago…I mean except for the spandex and curlers.
Anyway, I really don’t have a point to make today. I was just listening to the Burger King commercial and started to wax nostalgic. I know I probably shouldn’t, but, heck, I might just have to get my lips around one of them triple whoppers today, you know, just for old times’ sake.

Did You Hear the One About...

So, I was sitting in this bar, you see, minding my own business, enjoying my favorite adult beverage. Actually, I was there to do an interview with the owner, but he had to run an errand, so I figure why not stick around. One beer can't hurt, right? Everything was fine. And then this midget walks in. Actually, it was a midget and her boyfriend, who wasn't exactly a midget, or if he was, he was a very tall one. He probably stood about five feet.
The midget comes up to me (about this high) and asks, "Is this stool taken?" She's pointing to the stool next to me. I politely say to her, "No, climb on up."
She orders a drink. I'm not sure what, because I wasn't paying that much attention. I was reading an article I had written in one of our magazines, and, as usual, I got so engrossed in myself, I didn't really care about the outside world.
Anyway, evidently this midget couldn't hold her alcohol so well, because within minutes she becomes rather loud. As I said, I really wasn't paying much attention, but she turns to me and says, "Hey, they're accusing me of being a trouble maker. They better shut their mouth or I'll shut it for 'em."
"Mighty big talk for a little lady," I say. I didn't think much of it. I'd have said that to any woman under the circumstances. But she gives me this look as if to imply that I must be some sort of a bigot. You know, it's the same sort of look Lewis Farrakhan might give you if he thought you had something against guys who wear bowties.
So, I try to cover myself. "I bet you can be quite the little hellion," I tell her. She just glares at me even more. If there's one thing I don't like it's a nasty drunk midget.
It's time to turn on the ol' Steve Cook charm, I'm thinking to myself. Whenever I think to myself, I always stop to wonder if there should be quotation marks around my thoughts. I don't think so. But, anyway, I figure I can turn this whole potentially ugly situation around with my silver-tongued devil personna.
I look down at her with a warm smile, and say, "You know, Snow White has always been my favorite fairy tale." I think my kindness must have thrown her off guard, because she just gets this perplexed look on her face and turns away. I pat myself on the back. Once again, my quick wits saved the day.
A few stools away from me sits a rather attractive blonde woman, probably in her mid-twenties. She's reading a book. I'm reading my magazine, so we don't speak. I just happened to notice her. About the time my little friend turns away, I notice a young teenager walk into the bar. That's strange, I think. What's he doing in a bar? The kid looks like he's probably in the eighth grade or so.
Anyway, he walks up to the bar and to the young blonde woman. She smiles at him, gets up and the two leave together. Hmm, I think, I guess she must be a school teacher.
About this time the owner of the bar comes back, and I go do my interview. I'm somewhat disappointed. There I was sitting in the middle of what must have been a great joke, and I never figured out the punchline.

My Problem With Gas

I got to tell you, I'm excited. You'll never guess what I discovered this morning. A local gas station selling gas...you better sit down, this is fantastic...selling gas at a giveaway price. I mean, this station has gasoline at the rock bottom price of $2.879 a gallon. How can they do that? I felt like I should have been holding a gun on the guy while I was pumping the precious fluid into my tank.
All seriousness aside, these fuel folks really have a neat little gimmick going on.
From those oil-producing countries in the Middle East to the guy who runs the local convenience store...it's all a gimmick. Yeah, I know, the guys who own the gas stations say they're only making about a penny a gallon. Well, if that's so, then how can they have their Terrific Tuesday promotions when they reduce gasoline by five cents a gallon? I guess they're taking a loss on each gallon. Or, how can they give away a car wash or a cup of coffee with a fill-up?
Caught you money-grubbing greedy commercialists, didn't I? Yep. You can fool some of the people all of the time, and you can fool all of the people some of the time, but you can't fool Abraham Lincoln.
I'm back to the gas-buying habits of my high school days. I only buy about 2 gallons at a time. Back in the late sixties, I'd pull into a service station and tell the guy to fill it up or one dollar's worth, whichever came first.
I was pumping a couple of gallons into my 1995 Saturn the other day when it dawned on me just what a gimmick these gas station folks have. There was a big sign at the pump that advertised cigarettes at $25.95 a carton. In other words, whatever your addictions are, the guy at the local convenience store is there to "help," from gasoline to beer and cigarettes to the lottery.
And, yet the way they plead poverty, they have you feeling that you maybe should start some sort of telethon for them. Don't fall for it. These people are bleeding us dry.
Think about this. Why is it that one day a particular station will have the lowest prices in town and a couple of days later they're ten to twenty cents higher than the other stations around? Then it will flip-flop and a station that was low will have high prices. I figure they all kinda work together. You know they all agree on who will jack up the prices this week.
And now, down in Hampton Roads anyway, they have a new little trick up their sleeves...fake gasoline outages. I know that little game. Yesterday they shut down several gas stations in that area because they were "out of gas." What they're doing is trying to scare us. These gas guys are smart. They know that if we go a couple of days without any gas, we'll thank them for selling it to us for more than three bucks a gallon. These fuel people are so convinced that we're so dependent on gasoline that we'll pay anything. They are convinced that despite grumblings and protests and threats of boycotting, that we'll keep on buying their fuel. They're as confident as are the drug pushers who keep satisfying the sick needs of their clients. They believe we are just going to keep on needing a fix regardless of what it costs.
And here's the really sad thing about this whole mess...they're right.

Things That Go Bump In My Brain

I have a mess of random thoughts cluttering up my mind, so I'm not sure just where to begin today. Sometimes my poor little brain gets so filled up with useless thoughts, that I tend to forget the important things. I used to worry that maybe I was on the verge of Alzheimer's. But, I've come up with a theory that makes me feel secure that I'm not.
What I think, and keep in mind that I'm not actually a doctor, but my limited research has led me to the conclusion that only nice people develop Alzheimer's. If you have evidence that refutes this theory, please let me know. But, all the people I've ever known that developed the disease were very nice, kind-hearted individuals.
I've come to the conclusion that the human brain, living in an imperfect world, can't handle an overload of positive thoughts. People who think positively about everything will, sooner or later, develop some sort of brain freeze as a protection against something I like to call "happy thoughts overload."
If I'm on the right track here, then I think I'm virtually guaranteed to be self-protected against mental disease. Almost as soon as I start thinking positive thoughts, my brain's protective mechanism kicks in with negativity. I don't think I've ever gone more than five or ten minutes thinking positive thoughts. That's why I'm so mentally healthy.
It's also healthy for me to use this space to get some of those things that bounce around in my brain out of my head. For instance, I was taking a shower last night and I noticed that my wife had bought a new shampoo and conditioner. I'm always fascinated by the many new gimmicks the cosmetic people keep coming up with. Evidently they know that there are a lot of folks like my wife out there in consumer-land.
Her latest find (my wife's that is) is something called sap moss. Sap moss? I'm thinking two of the more unattractive features of a tree are the sap and the moss. I immediately conjured up in my brain an idea of how something that combined those two ingredients might smell. I was wrong. This stuff smells worse...kind of a very used pair of sweat socks smell.
I'm wondering if the sap is in the tube or if it refers to the persons who'd buy the stuff.
I believe my (lovely) wife would try just about any new product they put out there if it sounded like it contained exotic ingredients. I wouldn't be surprised to find a tube of urinary-tract-infection shampoo on the shelf. Anyway, if you're around Richmond today, and smell an old rotting tree, look around, I just might be nearby.
I had another little experience on the way to work this morning that has left a little dent in my brain. I decided, in order to feel, if not also look, cool, I'd take a little detour and ride the Jamestown Ferry to work...not all the way to work, but across the river anyway.
When I get to the entrance lane to the ferry, this security guy stops me, comes over to my window and says in an extremely thick Russian accent, "Vee are vith zee Department ooof Transportation Security Deevision. Are you fameeleear vith our screening process?"
I wasn't even familiar with the words he was using, but after several "excuse me's" I understood he was telling me that he and his comrades were going to screen my car. "Do you mind?" he asked. I didn't want to find out what he'd do if I did mind, so I said it was fine. And, I really don't mind, but I do wonder why the state of Virginia is using members of the KGB to keep the Jamestown Ferry safe.
I also can't really imagine why terrorists would go to the trouble of takiing the ferry when they could just as easily drive right up to wherever they had a terrorism job, unless, of course, we're dealing with terrorists, who like myself, want to feel, if not also look, cool. Or, maybe they just want a relaxing little boat ride prior to blowing themselves up. Anyway, it's just another thing for me to worry about.
I'm also wondering this morning if there's any intelligent human alive on the planet who gives a darn about Tom and Katie's baby. I like to scan the radio dial while I ride and I must have heard about that baby, Suri, I think is its name, fifty times this morning. Each reporter had to mention (and this is before breakfast, I might add) that the semi-talented, sanity-challenged actor had announced he was going to eat the placenta.
Do we really need to hear stuff like that? I know it's not good for my brain, except, of course, it does help to keep me thinking those healthy negative thoughts.
Speaking of eating, we got a press release here in our office about Maymont Park's "Breakfast with the Animals" promotion for kids. Now, that's just plain sick. You take these kids out to a barn and serve them bacon and eggs with pigs and chickens standing right there, looking on. Who is the marketing guy at Maymont? Jeffrey Dahmer?
I would think something that brutal would traumetize the kids for life, not to mention the impact on the animals. I mean haven't those poor animals suffered enough out there, what with their little bear friends being given permanent naps?
Well, that's just some of the stuff that's weighing on my mind this morning. And I feel so good being able to cleanse myself of these things. I gotta run, but, in closing, I just want to say, "Keep thinking those negative thoughts."

The Sweet Smell of Highway Robbery

In a few weeks I'm going to have to write an article for one of our magazines about some of the great banquet and catering places in town. I'm going to rave about how marvelous they are. In other words I'm going to be a hypocrite.
Who knows maybe I'll find a reputable place to rave about. But, chances are, I'm going to be gritting my teeth. Talk about a real racquet...the banquet and catering industry folks will stop at nothing to squeeze a buck out of their clients.
Here in the office, we're getting quotes for a private party. Now get this...a simple buffet costs $32.00 a person. Unbelieveable? Asanine? Yes, but as they said on the Titanic, that's only the tip of the iceberg.
Here's what they don't tell you until you get down to the real nitty gritty. On top of that $32.00 per person is an 18% service and coordination fee. In other words they charge you to sell it to you. That's kind of like Costco or Sam's Club. They charge you money to come in and spend money and then they frisk you on your way out to make sure you didn't steal anything. If they're concerned about theft, they ought to be frisking themselves.
Now, you may be thinking that that 18% is a tip, but, if so, why do they charge you another $75.00 an hour for a waitstaff, and another 75 per hour for a chef? And another $250.00 for a setup fee and so on?
That'd be like going to McDonalds and ordering the dollar hamburger and dollar fries...$2.00 right? Nope, because they'd add on another $2.50 for the counter person to stand there and get the order mixed up. Then there's be a $5.00 charge for the guy in the back by the ovens picking his nose...another dollar if you insist that he wear plastic gloves.
Then of course, there'd be about a .75 charge for a bag and another .75 for condiments. Throw in the tax, and my two buck meal now costs about $13.00. That's how ludicrous this whole catering thing is.
And people take it sitting down (of course to sit down there's a table and chair rental of $2.50 per person. I think the next time I use the services of a caterer, I'm going to take a gun along. Not to use it, just to have them hold it on me while I write the check.
How can some industries, particularly the hospitality industry get by with such outright price gouging. Who do these caterers think they are, oil companies?
Speaking of which, did you hear about the Exxon bigwig who got a $400 million retirement package? At first, I was pretty steamed at the guy, but then I heard the whole story. What he had asked for was free fill-ups for the next years. Exxon said they couldn't go that high. So, they compromised on the 400 mill.
I'm definitely in the wrong line of work. I gotta figure out some way to gouge those who read this blog. If you have any suggestions, please email me. Please include your credit card number and expiration date, as there will be a $15.00 consideration fee. Or, just send me the card number and expiration date, and I'll deduct $5.00 for not having to read your suggestions. Now that's a pretty good deal. Take it or leave it.

Bunions

I've been doing a lot of thinking about bunions lately. Not just bunions but the very word "bunion" itself. It seems such a waste of a nice word. Really if you'd never heard of bunions and then you heard the word, what picture might it conjure up in your mind?
I think I'd think of a delicious sandwich. Give me a bunion and an order of fries. I see ground beef on a bun with fried onions. Sounds good. Well, thanks to the podiatrist people, I'm unable to call that sandwich a bunion.
Instead the word refers to feet deformities. I hope this doesn't offend those of you with bunions, but they really are ugly. Much uglier than a good sandwich.
When I was a kid I was fascinated by bunions. My grandmother had them on her feet, which to my knowledge is the best place to have them. I kind of thought of them as a special extra toe. Admittedly, I was a pretty stupid kid, but anyway, that's how I viewed them.
She used to ask my brothers and me to massage her bunions. When you're five years old, massaging your grandmother's bunions was a nice way to be able to sit and watch TV. If we weren't massaging her bunions, she would have found harder work for us to do.
These days my wife asks me to massage her bunions. And, may I add that her bunions are not ugly at all, but downright beautiful. Whew! That was close.
Massaging bunions doesn't hold the fascination it once did. Maybe because at my age today, it takes me about fifteen minutes to get seated on the floor...faster when I pass out. And then once I'm sitting on the floor there doesn't seem to be any comfortable way to position my body that something doesn't hurt.
And, of course, getting back up off the floor is nearly impossible. Now, if my wife will stand on the dining room table and I can sit down and give her bunions some attention, that's not so bad, but somehow she's never willing to climb up on the table for that. Go figure.
Well, I guess that's enough about bunions. If I was motivated, I'd start some sort of campaign to get the name "bunions" changed to something like bone-warts, maybe, and then I could open up bunion stands all across the country.
Probably more than a few people would still be thinking the foot thing, and would be repulsed at eating a bunion, and I'd probably lose a fortune on my idea. So, it's not really worth the trouble. However, the next time you go into a restaurant and want a burger with fried onions, try asking for a bunion and see what happens.

Two Wrongs Just Might Make a Right

I'm somewhat worried about the things I'm reading in the news. What I'm afraid of is that the bird flu will hit here before gasoline prices go up to $7.00 a gallon. If we're lucky, the gas will hit the big seven-oh-oh before we start dropping like flies with bird flu. You see the wisdom there, I'm sure.
The thing that will cause bird flu to spread like wildfire is if we all get in our cars and go around other people. But, if gas prices are so high that we all have to stay home, then that ol' bird flu won't hardly be felt at all. Oh sure, someone here and there will get it, but then they'll die before they can infect others, and before you know it, the whole thing just fizzles out.
So, I'm suggesting, if not encouraging, the oil companies to go ahead and put the screws to us now. Who knows, at the rate things are going we may hit $7.00 in the next couple of weeks anyway. But then, on the other hand, I don't want the gas to hit $7.00 too soon for two reasons. First, why pay that much when there's no pandemic knocking at the door. Secondly, if it hits too early, the artificially raised gas price problem will come and go before the flu ever gets here.
I guess you can see why I'm so worried. This whole thing, our future existence, hinges on timing being just right.
It's kind of like when you're eating a bowl of ice cream and a piece of cake at the same time. About the time I get half-way through, I lose all my joy worrying about making sure that my last bite of cake comes at the same instant as my last bite of ice cream. It's sheer misery, trying to make things hit just right. Sometimes I'll have to restock on cake and/or ice cream three or four times to make the whole thing jive.
I don't know how to make the bird flu and the gas prices jive. I'm afraid this is one (make that two) horrifying catastrophies that we're just going to have to hope for the best.
Of course, there is one even brighter side to the whole thing. Maybe the illegal immigrants will be running the country by then and it'll be their problem. We'll all be down in Mexico picking jumping beans, or something...totally oblivious to bird flu or gas prices. I kind of hope for that scenario. My head is already hurting worrying about all of this.

Illegal Is Just Plain Against The Law

You know sometimes life's most complex problems have the very simplest solutions. And I think that maxim holds true as regards the current hubbub over the illegal immigrant problems. The more I've thought about this one, the more obvious the real problem becomes.
This may seem so simplistic that when you read today's blog,you may slap yourself in the forehead and say, "Why didn't I think of this?" But anyway, here goes. Could it be that no one has told these immigrants that in English the word "illegal" means against the law? I sincerely believe that if these good, albeit Hispanic, folks realized that we've been trying to tell them they're criminals, they'd stop marching and protesting.
I mean who ever heard of criminals protesting about their being called criminals. In my day criminals went into hiding, and I can't believe things have changed that much in just a decade or two. What's going on now is somewhat like escaped convicts beginning to protest about being forced to live on the lam. Obviously, that would not be a very wise course of action. In fact, it could land you back in jail.
So, I say, let's get us a good English/Mexican dictionary and next time these guys start protesting, just show them the word "Illegal" and its definition, in Mexican, of course. I dare say that'll put a quick end to their public protests, and in all likelihood, will send them packing.
Most of these immigrants seem like good, hard-working folks. I'm sure they wouldn't want to be illegal anymore than most of us would. I'm willing to bet that if we make sure they understand that we view them as felons, that most of them will get these sheepish grins on their faces, we'll all have a good laugh, and they'll head home. And, then maybe someone down there in Mexico can explain to them that we'd love to have them, but they have to get the proper papers.
I think I know that of which I speak. I'm somewhat of a world traveler. Maybe you didn't know this, but I went to China last year and let me tell you, I had to get a passport and a visa and all that stuff. And, when I went into China they had to look at my papers and give their approval.
I gotta tell you I was just a little nervous about the whole thing, not knowing if maybe they'd look at me and think I looked too capitalistic or something and not let me in. Sometimes those customs people would look at my passport, and then look up at me and frown, and then look at my passport again. Thankfully, they always let me through.
I don't think I'm all that different from most of these Mexican illegals, except, of course, that I don't speak Mexican as well as they do. If I had to learn their word for beer, I'd never have a drink. It's a hard one. But, to them the word just flows off their lips like honey.
But, as I was saying, humans are humans. I'm sure that if these immigrants understood that we never really officially told them they could come to America, they'd all go home.
I guess maybe Americans aren't as good as those Chinese are at making it clear whether you can come in or not. I mean the Chinese had all these Chinese policeman standing around, and they didn't look all that happy. I definitely would never have tried to see what would happen if I had decided just to slip in without going through the proper procedures.
So, you see, what everyone is getting so upset about is probably just a simple misunderstanding. If you have any problems that have you baffled, feel free to write me. Problem solving just seems to come kinda natural to me. It's a gift, I guess.

A Good WomanTV Host - Who Can Find?

I think I may have spoken a little hastily yesterday. I confessed my utter disdain for Katie Couric. Her cutesy, little, fake smile is so irritating that I have had to stop watching the Today Show. And, I had been a fan of the show since Dave Garroway and Jack Lescouli.
Well, if there’s anyone in the show/news business with a more obnoxious smile than Katie’s, it’s Meredith Vieira.
So, who does NBC go out and get to replace Couric? Exactly. I don’t think NBC spent enough time in finding a replacement. I bet if they had taken a little more time they could have come up with someone even more obnoxious than either Katie Couric or Meredith Vieira.
For instance, why not pick Rosie O’Donnell? Now talk about one irritating gal (and I use the term loosely). If I had my choice between spending a week with Rosie or Katie, my vote would go to Katie every time. I’m sure O’Donnell would say the same.
Rosie has already done morning TV, so she’d be a natural. That’s not to say she’d be good, just that she’d be a natural.
Or how about Martha Stewart. Now that’s one tedious woman. If I had to listen to her voice every morning, I think I’d stay in bed. Her smile is not as hideous as the other ladies, but she makes up for that with her over all phoniness.
But, I think there’s one woman even more obnoxious than any of these other gals. In fact, if you took Martha, and Rosie, and Katie, and Meredith, and rolled them into one, they couldn’t compete for obnoxiousness. This woman is currently employed, but her job may be in jeopardy.
She’s got everything one would need to irritate the average viewer. She’s opinionated. She’s belligerent, she has a constant chip on her shoulder, and, evidently she packs a pretty mean punch, which just might come in handy, particularly if Matt Lauer gets on her nerves.
You’ve probably figured out who my choice is to replace Katie Couric (or Meredith Vieira, when she decides Who Wants To Be A Millionaire is a better career choice), I say why not offer the gig to U.S. Congresswoman, Cynthia McKinney.
The only thing she doesn’t have going for her is an obnoxious smile. Actually, her smile is rather pleasant, but, hey, with a little work that can be taken care of. After all, a smile is just a frown, turned upside down.
Listen to me NBC, Cynthia McKinney is your girl…oops, your lady. Let her replace Katie Couric and you can’t lose. Just make sure studio security knows what she looks like.

Good News Today

Have you heard the good news? Katie Couric is going to CBS. I'm hyped. I'm even downright giddy with joy. Now, maybe I can go back to watching the Today Show. I never watch the CBS news anyway, so I won't have anything to give up with this transition. And the only time I catch 60 Minutes is when it runs long and I tune in to see Cold Case. And then, I usually only see Andy Rooney. Can you imagine a columnist being so opinionated and dour as that over-the-hill, hairy-eared has been?
First of all, should women be doing the news in the first place. I can see some of them doing cooking segments, or even feature stories on child rearing, but hard news? I don't think so.
Secondly, I hate Katie Couric. She's just a little too cutsey, if you know what I mean. I have a feeling she's her number one fan. She even makes Bryant Gumbel look modest.
She has this stupid grin that just seems to say, "Look at me. Me. Me. Here I am. Don't you see how cute I am?" I could go on, but you probably get the picture.
I really like Matt Lauer. He's not only a great newscaster, but what an actor. He can almost make you believe he really likes working with Katie Couric. No wonder he keeps doing those Where In The World is Matt Lauer segments...anything to get away from that...that...woman.
Now with this Evening News thing, I would imagine Couric is probably petitioning the United States Postal Service to get her ego its own zip code. Can you imagine turning on the evening news and having to look at that that smug smile. If Dan Rather were alive today he'd be spinning in his grave.
Although I'm sure he appreciates Couric's hatred for George Bush. Have you ever noticed how that smile turns to a scowl whenever any Today Show guest says something nice about the President?
That's about all I have to say on the subject, but I guess some sort of disclaimer is in order. No, I'm not prejudiced against old men with hairy ears, although I do wonder if they've ever thought of keeping some tweezers on hand. And, no, I don't really think women shouldn't be doing the news. There are many great female newscasters, althought, for the life of me I can't think of any right now. Hmmm. Let me think. Is it okay if I get back to you on this?

It Just Doesn't Add Up

I heard a news report this morning that the City of Virginia Beach had agreed to lower their standards in tests administered to city police job applicants. It seems that blacks and Hispanics scored so low that, according to some, it was creating unwanted trends in hiring.
In other words, Virginia Beach is wrong to insist that its police officers are able to read, write, and do simple math. I say the last thing we need is more dumb cops. Don't get me wrong. All in all, I have a very high regard for police officers, but they do have a certain degree of power that, if exercised improperly, could cause a lot of harm.
It's the sort of power I wouldn't want to see given to anyone, regardless of race, who is too stupid to pass the elementary school level testing given to public servants. This is not an attack on blacks or hispanics. It's an attack on stupidity and the people who create and/or foster an environment of stupidty.
Instead of seeking to provide some sort of remedial training that would help minorities qualify for the job, the city caves in to pressure and just lowers the standards. Doesn't anyone realize that when you provide an incubator for morons you simply breed more morons?
So what happens in another ten years when the then applicants can't get even 60% of the answers right (that's the new standard)? I guess they lower it again. Of course, if the people lowering the standards are the ones who couldn't pass the math test to begin with, then who knows maybe they'll inadvertantly raise the standards.
I think if I were to be given a speeding ticket in Virginia Beach, I'd insist that the police officer be tested for literacy. After all, if the guy has a difficult time doing simple math, who is to say he even knows how to read or calibrate his radar gun? It's a good thing the traffic signs come in different shapes and colors or the police wouldn't know whether I'd run a stop sign or a yield sign.
Of course, it's not just the Virginia Beach police. It's everywhere. In case you haven't noticed, many people are just plain dumb these days. I heard a middle school teacher on the radio the other day. He was talking about how he had dealt with a male student who had worn a dress to school. He saidl, "I asked him if he was gay. He said he wasn't. So I didn't want to ask him nothing more."
That's a school teacher. And, in case you don't get the point here, maybe you ought to join the Virginia Beach police force.
I'll bet that some of you will read this and conclude that I'm prejudiced against blacks or Hispanics. And, if you do, let me just say one thing in my defense...you're an idiot.
As far as I'm concerned the ones who are prejudiced against blacks and hispanics are the blacks, hispanics, and even many whites, who think that these minorities are too stupid to succeed without giving them special assistance, such as lowering grading standards.
When I was in school, if I had been allowed to pass a test by getting a grade of 60, you know what? That's what I would have shot for. And, if I'd passed, I'd have been as proud as my stupid little brain would allow. However, if it took an 80% score to pass, I'd have done that...or 100% if need be.
I wasn't the best at math, but I'm not too bad at it either. I figure that if you enforce higher standards that the majority of applicants for the jobs will strive to succeed. If that were done in Virginia Beach, I predict that in the near future you'd find about 50% of the police were white, 50% were black, and the other 50% were Hispanic.

The Old Man and the Pee

Here's an open letter to everyone under the age of forty from someone over fifty. It ain't that much fun from where I'm at. Sure, you'll hear old folks tell you that life begins at forty. Yeah, right. If you call prying your aching muscles out of bed and standing in front of a mirror and staring at a face that's sagging into the sink a lot of fun, you'll enjoy those golden years.
If you want to spend your remaining years trying to determine if the lump on the left side is matched by a lump on the right side, then buckle your seatbelts because you're in for a thrilling ride.
If you have a crush on your doctor and want more quality time with him/her, you're in luck. And, if providing weekly specimens is fun (and, who knows, some people might like that), is your cup of pee, then, yep, the excitement is still ahead of you. I've been pricked and poked and x-rayed and inspected so many times recently that I feel like a piece of GRADE B meat.
If you think liver spots are just cute, big freckles, then I have some good news for you. And, if you've bought that line that wrinkles add character, I think you're going to be real happy in the coming years.
It's really all in the way you look at it. I choose to look at it in the same way I look at everything else...negatively. I have made it a policy to expect the worst. I'm never really happy, but I'm hardly ever disappointed.
When my doctor told me how bad my health is, I didn't bat an eye, at least no more than I normally do. I'd been expecting it. I'd start an office pool to pick the day I kick the bucket, but since there's no way I could win it..and collect, what's the point?
Now before you start thinking I'm just some pathetic shell of my former self, let me assure you that my former self wasn't all that great either. When people call me a bitter old man, the only thing that is changed is the "old" part.
But that doesn't mean I'm ready to buy the farm. Actually, in spite of what you may think, I'm really quite happy. When I was a teenager, my grandfather, noting my constant dour countenance, asked my mother if I was ever happy. Her reply that I was only happy when I was miserable. I think she was onto something.
So, as you can probably tell, I'm pretty happy these days.