Things I Don’t Get

My niece has inspired a new list for me this evening. I will call it “Things I Don’t Get”…

1. Why anyone would need an additional belly button tattoo right next to the original: was the first one lonely?Didn’t it hurt enough the first time?

2. Skinny jeans: they certainly don’t make anyone skinny!

3. 18 self-checkout machines manned by 3 employees staring at the 26 people in the regular check-out lane for who shopping in the first place was a big enough ordeal without bagging it all too…

3.5 Ditto for airport self service kiosks;

4. Entertainment venues offering children’s parties where parents are not free;

5. The existence of caffeine-free diet soda in general (and how I have managed twice now in two weeks to buy it);

6. Why they can’t make in rewards card that accommodates a plethora of vendors;

7. Velveeta.

Clearly I am getting old, rigid and easily confused, but honestly it wears me out just thinking about this stuff.

The first item on my list is really just to razz my sister about her crazy kids…though yeah, STILL don’t get it.

Poultry Media

I admit it: I don’t watch much in the way of news. I don’t seek it out without specific intention: not only do I not have the time, but also it gets in the way of my DVR programming, which is already greatly reduced by the amount of children’s programming that seems to find its way onto one tv (or iPhone or iPad or Kindle) or another.

I manage to tune out much of the celebrity gossip, reality tv in most of its incarnations and the latest political propaganda.

I admit it: I even avoid much of the Olympic coverage. There is some shame there, but had I known previously that the Trampoline was in fact an actual event, it might have been a different story.

But the proliferation of poorly-spelled poultry -laden nonsense has been a little insane. I am not saying I don’t see there are some topics within that mess that people want to talk about.

I just think that a moral platform, regardless of your beliefs, built on a foundation of chicken grease, public ignorance and highly processed animal goo tends to have a level of ridicule accompanying it… not to mention gas…in which whatever actual communication may be in there drowns.

Serving up your hate on a bun makes it no more palatable, and it is insulting to the poor chickens.

I would honestly rather watch Sesame Street.