Greetings boysen berries and girls. This is Captain Beno logging in from the decks of the Starship Funkyprize to update you on the progress of my mission. The brief, as it were, was to root out and annihilate every annoying thing from the surface of the planet earth so that all its residents could live and breathe happier and easier. In accepting this mission, I have found that I have bitten off more than I can chew. After only a few weeks, I find the compendium of irritating, itchy, twitchy, pissy and prickly things that occur on average in everyday life fills more paper than the unabridged version of the Oxford English Dictionary, plus and obscure volume entitled Prayer Palate, Pizza for the Passion: Easter Cookery by Sister Angelica of the Order of the Hooded Nuns and Buns. It’s seventeen pages long, which seems about right after the 124 pounds of the Dictionary.
What I need is some help in culling the chaff from the less grating chaff. So far, I’ve accumulated a semi-short list of the worst of the worst, which I shall soon attack with the aid of my trusty Acme Rays and Jays Instant annihilation Device, patent pending. The list will undoubtably keep growing. But to make my task attainable – to give me an end game of sorts (W, are you listening?) – I need reader suggestions about items to add to the list. Here is mine:
1. Form fitting football uniforms: As a member of a generation for whom the glimpse of the color change in the upper quarter leg of panty hose was delicious, forbidden fruit, I tend to in favor of form-fitting any thing. I am almost willing to forgive European men for their tini-kinis that display their “junk” – bless ’em, they just don’t know any better – but draw a line in the sand and dudes from New Jersey in Speedos, who should be summarily round up and shot. I draw a line with a highway striper at those land masses who, packing Smithfield hams around their arms, who insert electric shopping carts into folds of their bodies, and proceed up and down the aisles of Wal-Mart in biker shorts and shrink-wrap tops. Did you ever notice they are banned from the pet corner, where their passage makes all the water slosh out of the fish tanks? There are things the public just doesn’t need to see. So when and where did anybody decide it was a good idea to sausage sleeve football players into uniforms? Some wide receivers and defensive backs may be what the Bowflex generation calls ripped, but interior lineman of either variety do not fall in that category. That these guys may be great athletes cannot disguise the fact that it looks like their jersey tops encase a scrum of baby rhinos only lightly sedated. Frankly, if I wanted to see fat folds of flesh flapping around all over everywhere, I’d cut off my TV and hie on over to Mazola night at the Phi Delt house at NC State, which I can assure you, ain’t about to happen real soon. And while we’re on the subject of fleshly un-delights, let me bring up two thing involving “cosmetic” surgery that really burn my wick. A) The early generations of boob implantees are now grandmothers and great-grandmothers in their 60’s and above, which means we have a plague of saggy, baggy “little-olds” on canes and walkers who meander around packing torpedoes. Something really should be done about this gnarly sight. B) Ditto face lifts. There are now a bevy of gray-heads who, regardless whether they try to dress and act in an age-appropriate manner, look as if they were wearing undersized hockey masks. Imagine the effect on the lives of grandchildren, being read to by at bedtime by this creature escaped from a horror flick! Something needs to be done.
2. Toilet paper: I herein declare war against anyone who makes, sells or buy one-ply toilet paper that is not only thin, but has the texture of wax paper. Not only do you have to use 73 sheets of the stuff to do the job of 11 sheets of good, gentle, 2-ply norwegian linen (hint, hint, might there not be a cost savings, counter-intuitive though it may be?), but you wind up…….how shall we put it delicately…….slicking what you would erase. And you get it all over your fingers and hands and clothes and become a stinking embarrassment to family, friends and church and every dog in the neighborhood becomes your lingering friend. Talk about taking a licking! Well anyway, you get the point. And I am sure you join me in my condemnation.
3. Murderers of English: Our reproductive and educational systems have yielded a generation of folks who somehow manage to find employment in the communications sector of our economy who have never quite mastered the concept that singular subject nouns require the singular form of verbs and plural nouns require plural verb forms. From “these is a speedy group of wide receivers” on ESPN to “Cain and Gingrich is at loggerheads” on NPR, rank stupidity oozes from the speakers continuously. And what the hell do you do with this following tidbit from an interviewer on NBC: “How does this policy compare from the Administration’s?” Were I to resume my old law review editorial mode, and attack any newspaper with a red Sharpie, the front page alone would look as though I were trying to design a new flag for Japan. Criminy, somebody had me a meat cleaver!!
4. Katy Perry, Adele, Lady Gaga and any of the other priestesses of teenaged girl empowerment now on radio and MTV and TV music award show playlists. The music sounds like the mating calls of NY sewer rats. The message is as profound as that delivered by the street corner preacher who can’t figure out why his untied shoe keeps slipping off his foot. As for the personae, well, when you need to search out Elton John to obtain the quote that “she’s just a normal girl from the Bronx” you know you’re stretching it. It’s like having Ghadafy say he thought Saddam was a “pretty good guy.” I do believe the rules for acquiring automatic weapons are pretty lax in northern Virginia.
5. Institutional scripting. Let me give an example. When formerly friendly sized institutions grow fat and waddling, they develop many layers of bureaucracy, leaving thinkers and worriers and nit-pickers in lower-upper management worried about how the lower minions go about the day-to-day. Before cadets get assigned to the front line, they train them to follow scripts that help the cadets impose on the unwitting public whatever the new marketable version of the company line might be. Hence, a few weeks ago, I tried to make a small order of a pack of necessary items from an outfit I done business with since Jimmy Carter was president, and the daft little chowder head I was talking with on the phone couldn’t quite understand why I had a problem with spending $150 plus dollars for something that had never before cost more than $45. The third time she said “I am reaching out to you to help us solve your problem,” I was borderline ballistic, telling her that if I heard “I am reaching out to you” one more time I would stalk her and……….please have her supervisor call me. Of course, when the supervisor called, it took all of 47 seconds for us to figure out that I could still order the same thing I wanted for roughly the same price. Still, if I ever run into anyone employed in the corporate personnel……excuse me!…….human resources department, you can count on me to utter a mild protest over treatment of old customers and wander quickly down to the other end of the bar. And while we’re on the subject of scripting, what about the related subject of suggestive advertising. You know the routine, when you pull up to the drive-through order station and the voice comes through, “Welcome, wouldn’t you like to try our new and improved salt dough Moravian biscuit slathered with honey American cheese and ham from happy pigs butchered and cured in Pennsylvania by certified German butchers………” So you interrupt to say, no, you’d just like an egg biscuit and a cup of senior coffee, and they ask, “Would you like that to go?”
Ah, well, this is exhausting. Give me a break and make some suggestions your own selves, want’cha?
Beno