NOTOW

"When I was in school, I had to walk nine miles, uphill, both ways..." You know the drill, you've heard your parents or grandparents talk like this a thousand times. For those of you who're getting a touch, uh, mature, you may have even heard these sorts of things coming out of your own mouths. I am particularly guilty of this crime as I have more time to sit around thinking about how much things really have changed, as opposed to concentrating on work, kids, and how many pounds of ground chuck we'll need for the next week.

First it was the criminalization of melody in music (don't tell me you haven't noticed that there hasn't been a tuneful song on the radio in about 15 years), then it was those god forsaken reality shows, and as if all that wasn't bad enough, through all of that we've had to deal with the increasing banality and irritation of these stupid cell phones. Now there's some dipstick bunch of lawmakers (the wrinkled up ol' farts) who wanna take away the last peaceful cellphone free zone, passenger aircraft. Did you copy that?

If you guys get half as fed up with me being ticked off at stuff as I do, I feel sorry for you. It won't stop me being ticked or writing about being ticked, but I do feel sorry for you.

I'll admit it, there are far more things in this world that I don't understand, than the paltry number I do. I don't understand Nuclear Physics, the New York Stock Exchange, the high cost of three pack briefs, why anyone would want to be on American Idol, why anyone would want to watch American Idol, why the same people that will pay $4.00 for a gallon of water will buck at paying $2.25 for a gallon of gas, and how a Baptist Church in Waynesville, N.C. can be national news for a solid week, when there are things of real importance being shuffled two or three pages back.

I suddenly occurred to me that I hadn't passed along any of my inane and superfluous 'wisdom' lately, so in an effort to rectify that very situation, I shall pass along this. My favorite guitar players really don't play all that well. The amazing thing is, I think I just figured out why they're my faves.

Have you ever watched one of those strongman competitions on TV? Don't fib, you know you have, just go on ahead and admit it. I'll never know, and you'll have the satisfaction of having not lied to your computer. I'll wait...

Some things, some objects or products, some materials and artifacts, simply become representative symbols of a place or a time. Try thinking of Egypt without including the Pyramids, or King Tut's burial mask. New York city without the Empire State building, or now more fittingly, the Twin Towers. By extension, the largest portion of the rest of the world cannot visualize the United States, without imagining the Big Apple. Think of baseball without Babe Ruth, or Fenway Park, that green monster staring down, intimidating everyone who steps into the batters box.

By all accounts, and on the authority of many respectable citizens, yours truly is a natural-born coward. Yes, ostensibly I travel, chicken feathered, yellow streaked, and shivering, through life, ducking from doorway to covered bunker, hoping to avoid the worst of the sniper fire. I shan't deny it, that would be both lying to myself and more importantly, to you, my faithful readers. I'll admit, I'm most definantly a coward, but I am not afraid of everything, just some things, some really scary things.

Can anyone explain to me why old people, creaky old people, feel the need to go out and buy an RV? I think you know the vehicle I mean, it's those honking huge camping monstrosities, big shouldering their way down roads large and small, and generally making themselves a menace to everything, and everybody. Why, right here in my very own town, there's a successful business established for the sole purpose of selling Recreational Vehicles (and their accessories) to old white men from New Jersey.

That's it, I'm done with buffets. No, not the attractively built side-tables supplied by a fine furniture retailer near you, but the all you can eat for $7.99 kind. As enticing as the prospect of cheap, plentiful food may be, I've finally decided that there's no way that it's worth the undiluted bull-crap you have to go through to get it.