Carl Bosch, with a bit of a rant.
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Bad drivers
Why do car manufacturers put turn signals on cars? So that some idiot can ignore them? Just because a car speedometer goes up to 120 mph does not mean you have to drive anywhere near that fast. If your wife is delivering a baby, get her to the hospital safely, not quickly. If someone is bleeding in your car, call an ambulance. If you’re avoiding the police, you’re already messed up. If you cut me off in a highway lane again, I’m on the verge of getting a paintball gun and letting you have it. If you park at the grocery store and take up two spots you’re just dumb. If you run the red light you’re dumber. If you’re putting on makeup while driving you are the dumbest. Forget texting. If you’re going to do that while driving, you belong in driver’s hell.
The rock band Rush
I’m sorry but I stand by this. Great band, if they just did not sing! Awesome guitar riffs, fantastic drums, terrible voice and lyrics apparently written by a 14 year old comic book enthusiast on nitrous oxide. Here we go:
“Invisible airwaves crackle with life
Bright antenna bristle with the energy
Emotional feedback on timeless wavelength
Bearing a gift beyond price, almost free.”
“One likes to believe in the freedom of music
but glittering prizes and endless compromises
shatter the illusion of integrity”
(and finally, and remember, this is all from just one song)
“For the words of the prophets
were written on the studio wall
Concert Hall
And echoes with the sounds of salesmen.”
Salesmen? Really? Salesmen? Enough said.
Airline Seats
I’m kind of an average size guy and not very heavy, but airline seats were clearly made for ballerinas, anorexic world travelers and dietary fanatic aerobics teachers. There are no places to put your legs unless you’re willing to occupy a row where you will have the responsibility to open an emergency evacuation door. If you are in love with the person in the seat next to you, you can lift the seat arm and roll into one another. When I see large people making their way gingerly down the aisle I say silent prayers to Icarus that they’re not going to be seated next to me. Ordinarily, those prayers are rejected by the winged gods. I have never flown first class and, most likely, never will. As I pass through that section on the way to my Inquisitional seat I eyeball those extra inches of leg room, that extra space for wealthier rear ends. Who designed airplane seats and what were they thinking? I suppose it’s all about dollars, but would another couple of inches have destroyed their profit margin?
Words of comfort at wakes
People are uncomfortable at these sad rituals. The place smells like a flower arrangement that has been shoved up your nose. You stand in line chatting with people about the weather and how long it’s been since you’ve seen them. Nowadays you see bulletin boards of photos when the deceased was young, handsome, beautiful, athletic, happy, engaged, laughing, and alive. And now they’re not. So you get to the front and try to say something to the grieving family. People say things like:
“He’s in a better place now.”
“She looks so good.”
“God needed him home.”
“His suffering is over.”
“She was such a wonderful mother.”
…and on and on. Now some of these might be true, but I’m not sure that any of these really help. How about, “I’m sorry for your loss.” and leave it at that.
“What’s the best thing on the menu?”
This probably drops into the category of pet peeve rather than something that I actually hate, but it fits nicely on this list. I get why people ask this, but I’ve talked to waiters and restaurant people and this is on their list of stupid questions. Here are some possibilities that your server is thinking when you ask that question. Do you really think we have one best thing on our menu? Are you asking me what I like the best? Should I simply push you to the meal that we’re trying to sell today? How about I recommend the highest priced item on the menu so I can garner a bigger tip?
Really high, high heels
Now being a man I should probably not even go here, but it makes me just a little crazy when fashion dictates that a woman should be required to walk on heels that resemble 5 inch golf tees. This makes your calves look better? Taller is cool? High heels must be uncomfortable, toe-crushing and cursed by podiatrists everywhere. Several women I know have toes that look like a nest of worms and I’m placing the blame directly on this heel culture. Flats are looked down upon. Even their name sounds bad. Flats. How boring…flats. But high!? Let’s get high! Let’s wear high heels! Stiletto heels! Yeah!
People who complain about the weather
If you start complaining every time it rains let me wake you up with a reality check. In the thousands of days you’re going to live it is going to rain a ton of times. Add those rainy days up, it’s like you’re Noah. You are dooming yourself to many, many future days of complaining over the rain. If you’re ranting about how cold it is, what did you expect if you live in Vermont or Montana, or for that matter New Jersey or Iowa or a million other places? Here’s a guarantee…it will get warmer. Or move your ass to another locale. Move to the Dominican Republic and you can complain about the heat. It’s weather, this is the Earth, this is what happens and thank nature that it does. It’s a nice planet to live on, been pretty good to humans so far. You want something different, build yourself a biosphere.
Inane crap on television
You’ve heard this before from many sources. We have a thousand channels, but 950 of them are filled, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, all year long with mind-numbing, inane, ridiculous, preposterous, and demeaning shows masking as entertainment. We plop our ever-widening rear ends in a comfortable chair and watch…anything…and nothing. We love shows that sell us stuff we don’t need, we watch stupid people doing stupid things, we spend our minutes as if we have millions of them to throw away.
Talentless celebrities
They can’t sing. They can’t tap dance. They can’t rap. They can’t draw. They can’t tell jokes. They can’t hum. They can’t act. They can’t write. They simply can’t.
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O.K. There it is. Nine things I hate. I could list a bunch more, but what’s the point of going on with this? Enough is enough. If you take issue with some of my hates (Rush, for example) I don’t really care. Go make your own list.
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Read also: Nine Weird Things I Like (Me Will Get it, Ladies Please Understand)
Photo: schmilblick / flickr
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You are the next Larry David??
Another good one, Carl! I can’t comment on RUSH as I don’t really know them, but I trust your judgment. I agree with all of the rest, and especially high heels, or even more so women who wear the latest in fashion in shoes, or even clothes that they shouldn’t wear. But those wearing those really high heels will eventually pay–either my falling down, or later in life having to wear sandals all day as their feet are so bad!
I can get behind most of this, except for Rush…you know those lyrics are meant to be ironic, right? That he’s complaining about the commercialism of music, not celebrating it? But I do know a lot of people who can’t stand his voice, so I guess I’ll cut you some slack 🙂 Oh…what are MY pet peeves? Well, thank you for asking! People who whistle in public; people who eat loudly in their cubicle when I’m trying to concentrate and forget the fact that I’m hungry; people who leave their shopping carts blocking the aisle when they could easily move… Read more »
And when you do have those more expensive exit seats the armrests don’t move and you can’t snuggle. It might distract you from opening the door when you land in the ocean and are fairly likely to drown anyway.
Wonderful.
Ha ha, you totally didn’t get the Rush lyrics, completely missed the meaning. Read it again, it will become clear. I do agree with you about the high pitch though.