I haven't been sleeping, really. I've just been busy -- very busy. But that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking.
Here, then, are some random, non-political thoughts I've been pondering:
-- Have you ever been driving down the expressway and gotten into the left, or fast, lane, because there's a slow-moving truck in the right lane, and find yourself behind a string of cars because some dingus doesn't realize or care that he should be moving along and pass the truck before moving over to the slow lane where he belongs? I find myself swearing at the driver in the lead car and gesturing in hopeless frustration because someone's too clueless to move over to the slow lane.
-- Not all keyboards are created equal. Trust me.
-- Without a doubt, the best fast-food hamburger is made by Culver's.
-- Why would anyone dare to swim or surf in waters that are known to be shark-infested? And if one were to dare fate, what goes through his mind while the shark is munching on his body part?
-- This radio station that I've found plays all the music I went through high school and college listening to: Aerosmith, The Cars, Chicago, The Doobie Brothers, The Eagles, Heart, The Steve Miller Band, Foreigner, ZZ Top, Boston, Billy Joel...every once in awhile a song will come on that evokes memories of four decades ago. It's like a cold beer. If I haven't tasted one in awhile, the taste and scent of the beer takes me back to when Jeff, Jim, Evan and I drove around (illegally) drinking and killing time before that weekend's party. People will wonder how we survived, but the truth of the matter is we were ahead of our time: The driver never drank, and then the next night, one other guy drove and abstained while the driver of the night before drank with the other two.
-- I'm forever amused by the talking heads of network and local news. How they can turn on the pathos is amazing. We have this one woman who does the traffic in the morning who must have negotiated a heck of a deal with the station: Weekday mornings she does the traffic and at night they air specials she's done with local law enforcement who tracks down the area's most wanted and dangerous criminals. Make no mistake: This woman has about a twelve for her body and about a seven for her face, but she acts like a coquette while delivering the traffic updates. Then when she delivers her Most Wanted reports, she casts a stern look at the camera with her hair pulled back in a pony tail as she glares at the camera from behind her bulletproof vest. Seriously?
-- When eateries tout something as being grilled or cooked to perfection, just what is perfection? On a similar tack, why must I eat my beef medium raw? I can't stand how chewy medium raw is.
-- In that same vein, it cracks me up how certain reporters have go-to moves in every on-air report. A fellow bimbo of the station mentioned in the paragraph above always turns and gestures to the location in front of which she's reporting. For example, if she's talking about a daring rescue at some burning building that happened overnight, the producers will have trotted her out in the station van so she can report from the scene, and as she talks to the camera, she says something along the lines of, "And firefighters conducted a daring rescue here," and she turns and gestures at the remains of the once-burning building, a la Carol Merrill, as if we wondered why she was standing in front of a burnt-out building. Ridiculous.
-- Speaking of ridiculous, how is it that The Bachelor or The Bachelorette are still on television?
-- If last year was the year of musicians' deaths -- and it was -- this year is turning into the year of the actors' deaths. I can't remember all of the luminaries who have passed, but there have been quite a few.
-- What's up with all the Chicago-centric shows? NBC seems to have cornered the market on Chicago flavoring: Chicago Fire, Chicago Justice, Chicago P.D., and Chicago Med. Trust me, folks: It's not that exciting.
-- I'm not half-bad at using the grill, but I think it's time to become better at it.
-- I've misplaced the cord to my electric razor and I can't find it. This is troubling. Karen has about thirty pairs of reading glasses and can never find one. That'...unbelievable.
-- When we grew up, there were no ads for Viagra or Cialis. I'm typing this as I listen to an ad on the radio for Noxitril, which the flack says the porn industry calls Viagra on steroids. I don't know what's worse: That it's being advertised or that I don't even blink as I hear it.
-- Thirty-six days, people, thirty-six days...
(c) 2017 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles
No comments:
Post a Comment