I can’t even go to my local supermarket without getting totally exasperated. About most everything.
Maybe I need anger management.
I mean that’s what my last future-ex-wife contended in court. But soon the judge and Assistant DA had to manage their own anger when they finally recognized what had been causing me to froth with fury: That Stephanie (Blatt) read without comprehension; listened without comprehension; And when she talked — no comprende!
Perhaps what more of us Americans really need is to get downright irate. Froth!
And the rest of the world.
You know…like in Brazil. It’s been in the news you don’t get on ESPN or the Food Channel. Over a million folks, in a spark ignited by proposed bus fare increases, thundered across the country. It exploded the powder keg of numerous grievances –from costly stadiums and Olympic Villages to corrupt politicians, higher taxes, fewer services and shoddy schools.
Sounds like America’s crumbling infrastructure, doesn’t it? From Washington, D.C.’s crumbling politics to the state of Washington’s crumbling bridges. Even my own my bipolar state of Pennsylvania. The follow-duh-money-guv and his Republican good ol’ boys are proposing to build $400 million dollars in new jails with air-conditioned cells, while crumbling schools have no books and thousands of teachers are being fired.
Yet it seems that everywhere, except America, the world is presenting angry rejections to politics as usual.
Like they did against corruption in India, and super-costly living standards in Israel. Like they’re protesting in Turkey. Like they’re voting in Iran. Like they’re adjudicating in Italy. Like they’re being very uncivil about in Syria. Like in Guinea where they’re taking on the illegal government. Like in Egypt where the women aren’t the only ones tossing their burkas. Like China where they’re just simply killing corrupt politicians everywhere — with “respiratory failure.”
And soon it’s undoubtedly going to be more than just the Chechen nyets against the self-indulgence of the Russian oligarchy. (What a bizarre extravagance it was for Putin to shed his hard-earned wedding ring while he kept that unearned diamond-studded Super Bowl ring. No doubt for the same reason Obama kept his Peace Prize.)
Anyway… what I am talking about is them over there, there and most everywhere except America. They are taking actions and making noises so over-deafening that when they are no longer there, their silence will be even more deafening.
Heck, even in Myanmar (Burma for you geography-challenged) the illustrious gentle voice of Buddhists is being usurped by radical monks invoking more than pugnacious words. They are fiercely battling against a perceived Muslim ‘cancer’.
“You can be full of kindness and love, but you cannot sleep next to a mad dog,” goes the rant of the popular angry monks.
You know, in some appetizing way or other, I savor the taste of that. It’s easy to dance to. And it signifies precisely when you’ve got to stop turning the other cheek.
And here, there and everywhere — except America — the folks are re-assessing their government, its corruption, high taxes, bad services, unaffordable healthcare, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera… and deciding it is time to storm the Bastille.
Rage! Rage! Against the dying light! Do not go quietly into the night!
As in: Some gonna live. Some gotta die. And some gettin’ hung.
Enough is enough! Enough of politics as usual.
Enough of our government propaganda – like with this elusive whistle-blower Edward Snowden. He blew the manhole cover on Big Brother – government over invasiveness into our private lives. His documents suggest that it’s even worse than we thought!
That’s the story! And not all this misinformation that he’s evading the deleterious U.S. authorities. The issue is that our untruthful government has been hiding the truth from its citizenry! NSA’s multitude of exceptions to its eavesdropping policy swallowed its own rules!
Why is it unconstitutional for us – and not the government boys?
It’s time to wake up, America!
In Brazil they admittedly built upon our tepid “Occupy” Wall Street, Philadelphia and elsewhere movement. And also the Arab Spring, where the self immolating fruit cart vendor lit the fuse after he had more-than-enough of the daily fare of more-than-enough government insolence!
Here at home I just don’t know what it is going to take to get our obese butts off the Barcaloungers parked in front of 900 TV channels to nowhere.
Pull the plug? Shoot the cable guy? I mean: Change only begins with discontent!
For me, the other day, lightning and thunder struck in my local supermarket.
There were all these bright red and yellow signs stuck on the market shelves broadcasting: “Everyday low prices!”
Just because somebody says something, don’t make it so. Just think about all those advertising disclaimers…in small print.
Remember, this was the very same supermarket where I told you a few weeks back that my weekly basket of items that cost me less than $44 three years ago now costs over $58.
And I couldn’t find anything priced lower than the week before. Not the ice cream. Not the eggs. And especially not the Gatorade of which I consume in vast quantities. But the Powerade seemed to be having a special that it also promoted a couple weeks back of ‘buy-10-get-five-more-free’.
Or so I thought. But was confused, because the promotion had pictures of five different merchandise possibilities – including the Powerade. (All no doubt also owned by Pepsi.)
So I asked one of the dour regulars who has been working there longer than my three years of bulimic patronage.
When I sought his translation of the shopping market’s hieroglyphics he replied: “Just get five more Powerades.”
So I did.
At the same time he also informed me that the yellow “Everyday low prices” stickers were the chain’s announcement that the store discount cards were no longer required at checkout.
Interesting isn’t it? I offered. That the discontinuation of these cards, which most of the big chains have utilized merely to track each of our personal – and sometimes private — shopping lives, happened to be occurring now. That is, during the startling revelation that our even bigger government has been snooping into more than our private parts.
He didn’t comprende me any more than he did the pricing hieroglyphics.
Anyway, I proceeded to the busy checkout counters where impatient shoppers are obliviously serving their time-in-line. That is, they always appear absolutely surprised by the last minute disclosure that they have to dig into their purses to find money to pay for their every-day-not-so-low-priced-goods.
Hello! Don’t we pay a price for everything, folks?!
Finally! Just as my mental steam engine was about to blow something bigger than the San Andreas Fault, the cashier had a totally different read on the Powerade promotion. So she consulted her manager, who consulted an aisle chief, who eventually consulted the same dour soul who had provided me the original interpretation.
And just like the Russian joke that a camel is a horse by committee, this committee deciphered something that was as incomprehensible as my ex, Stephanie, was that day in court. It was enough to conjure up yet another in my infinite reasons of why I don’t own a gun.
With all supercilious sincerity of a government bureaucrat I was informed that I (as in moi) was mistaken. I was required to select one of the other items pictured in the promotion.
At that, a weird, ethereal roar began gurgling from somewhere unfathomable in my quaking body. And the formerly annoyed faces of the alien line-dwellers stacked behind me turned nervous. And managing my anger I had to march forth and seek some more!
Obviously no one is in control of anything! You can’t get a straight answer anywhere. The authorities don’t understand their own language. No comprende! By anybody. Because it’s nobody’s job. It’s like punching fog. And the psychiatrists puff on their Briars wondering why so many of us have savage thoughts about going postal? Or desire to charge like the Light Brigade into City Hall?
Like the monks’ chant: You can be full of kindness and love, but you cannot sleep next to a mad dog.
And dats yDrewIS on dis penal colony…