Arbusto.
Harken.
"Dimpled chad."
My Pet Goat.
Afghanistan.
Iraq (a.k.a. "Cake Walk"; a.k.a. "Mission Accomplished")
New Orleans.
...Middle East peace process?
Be afraid. Be very afraid.
Showing posts with label stupidity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stupidity. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Too stupid to live... literally?
On my way home from the grocery store this afternoon, I drove past a car that narrowly elected not to shoot out in front of me from a side street; a last-minute decision that probably made for a better afternoon for all concerned. As I passed the car, I caught sight of the driver... a young woman between 20 and 25, emoting rather passionately into a cell phone. I take a dim view of people who drive with their cell phones and think the practice should be banned, but this... this was beyond the beyond.
She pulled out behind me and kept pretty good pace with me. Just before the access to a local freeway, we had to stop at a light. I could see her in my rearview mirror; in fact, I could not take my eyes off of her. She was making a spectacle of herself in the literal sense of the word; phone held to her face with one hand and a cigarette poised between two fingers of the hand on the wheel (in other words, steering with three fingers total), she was shouting into the phone, her face visibly flushed. She sobbed constantly, violently gulping air; repeatedly threw her head back, moaning, thrashing. It had the air of 'girl learns boyfriend and best friend are shacked up, gets on phone to confirm, learns worst, hops in car to confront/threaten/plea/commit assault or homicide'. Terrific! Twenty years ago, these were three separate acts; now at least two (and thank God only two) of them are combined, and today teary-eyed angst is our co-pilot.
A better person than me, I guess, would have had more generous sensibilities like "that poor young woman, what's going on in her life?" And yes, I had that too. But the overriding concern I had was that this idiot was immediately behind me. I was thinking, "Please, don't let her crash into me. Don't let her crash into me. Don't let her crash into me..." Whatever pity I felt for her was drowned in my anger at her for endangering herself, me, and hundreds of others she was sharing the road with. More than anything, I wanted to use my (non-existent) telepathy to impress in her mind: What the fuck are you doing sitting behind the wheel of a car? You're in no state to be on the road. You're not even in a state to be on that phone right now! Go home, suck a bottle of gin, smoke your head off, and cry yourself into a tortured sleep. Wake up in the morning.
The last I saw of her, she was weaving down the onramp to the expressway. May she arrive in safety. And may all the people at the other end give her slap for being so stupid.
She pulled out behind me and kept pretty good pace with me. Just before the access to a local freeway, we had to stop at a light. I could see her in my rearview mirror; in fact, I could not take my eyes off of her. She was making a spectacle of herself in the literal sense of the word; phone held to her face with one hand and a cigarette poised between two fingers of the hand on the wheel (in other words, steering with three fingers total), she was shouting into the phone, her face visibly flushed. She sobbed constantly, violently gulping air; repeatedly threw her head back, moaning, thrashing. It had the air of 'girl learns boyfriend and best friend are shacked up, gets on phone to confirm, learns worst, hops in car to confront/threaten/plea/commit assault or homicide'. Terrific! Twenty years ago, these were three separate acts; now at least two (and thank God only two) of them are combined, and today teary-eyed angst is our co-pilot.
A better person than me, I guess, would have had more generous sensibilities like "that poor young woman, what's going on in her life?" And yes, I had that too. But the overriding concern I had was that this idiot was immediately behind me. I was thinking, "Please, don't let her crash into me. Don't let her crash into me. Don't let her crash into me..." Whatever pity I felt for her was drowned in my anger at her for endangering herself, me, and hundreds of others she was sharing the road with. More than anything, I wanted to use my (non-existent) telepathy to impress in her mind: What the fuck are you doing sitting behind the wheel of a car? You're in no state to be on the road. You're not even in a state to be on that phone right now! Go home, suck a bottle of gin, smoke your head off, and cry yourself into a tortured sleep. Wake up in the morning.
The last I saw of her, she was weaving down the onramp to the expressway. May she arrive in safety. And may all the people at the other end give her slap for being so stupid.
Friday, May 11, 2007
Moore ridiculous news...
I read yesterday that Michael Moore has been given 20 working days by the U.S. Treasury Department, of all things, to ‘explain himself’ for a recent trip to Cuba. It seems Moore was down there to investigate their health care system in conjunction with his upcoming documentary Sicko, purportedly about the inequities of the current American health care system. It seems that going to Cuba without Uncle Sam’s official or at least tacit okey-dokey is a violation of the Hyper Super-Duper God Bless America Act or something.
Ironies abound here.
Think about it… these days, if Moore cannot or will not explain himself to his government’s satisfaction, he might just wind up being sent to Guantanamo in Cuba… for going to Cuba.
Also, it seems to me that if only he hailed from, say, Sarnia, Ontario, instead of Flint, Michigan, he wouldn’t have to ‘explain himself’ to his government for having visited any foreign country he chose, Cuba or otherwise, to make a movie about his country’s health care system leaving millions of people uninsured. But then, if he were from Sarnia, he wouldn’t have to make such a movie in the first place…
Finally, there’s the odd emphasis on freedom in the US… missing the forest for the trees. I can remember being condescended to by Americans who were ‘shocked’ by anti-hate speech legislation here in Canada and elsewhere. No such thing could exist in the US, I was told, where freedom of speech is absolute. Yes, Americans are free to shout from the rooftops that the Holocaust never happened but that if it had, Hitler had a great idea — though not one in ten thousand of them would exercise such a ‘right’. But travel 90 miles to a country whose government your own doesn’t like in order to make a point that could potentially help tens of millions of your fellow citizens live longer, better lives? Oh, no. No, we can’t have people doing that, uh uh. It makes you wonder if these folks understand the difference between the product and the packaging.
Ironies abound here.
Think about it… these days, if Moore cannot or will not explain himself to his government’s satisfaction, he might just wind up being sent to Guantanamo in Cuba… for going to Cuba.
Also, it seems to me that if only he hailed from, say, Sarnia, Ontario, instead of Flint, Michigan, he wouldn’t have to ‘explain himself’ to his government for having visited any foreign country he chose, Cuba or otherwise, to make a movie about his country’s health care system leaving millions of people uninsured. But then, if he were from Sarnia, he wouldn’t have to make such a movie in the first place…
Finally, there’s the odd emphasis on freedom in the US… missing the forest for the trees. I can remember being condescended to by Americans who were ‘shocked’ by anti-hate speech legislation here in Canada and elsewhere. No such thing could exist in the US, I was told, where freedom of speech is absolute. Yes, Americans are free to shout from the rooftops that the Holocaust never happened but that if it had, Hitler had a great idea — though not one in ten thousand of them would exercise such a ‘right’. But travel 90 miles to a country whose government your own doesn’t like in order to make a point that could potentially help tens of millions of your fellow citizens live longer, better lives? Oh, no. No, we can’t have people doing that, uh uh. It makes you wonder if these folks understand the difference between the product and the packaging.
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