Chapter Two – People we need to remove

Saturday morning rain, so no golf today.  Might as well blog, right?  Actually was thinking about this yesterday so a good time to spew (with no disrespect to the dear people of Hawaii).

There are many people, unfortunately, who need to be removed from this planet.  Or, at the minimum, from civilized society.  I’m not going to throw any softballs at you like abusive priests, Trump or Giuliani or any of that dreck.  They’re all givens.  I’m talking about people in everyday life, people that, if we had the button with the box and could push it, would simply go away.  Don’t worry, no harm will come to them.  Maybe we’ll just send them to Limbo or someplace serene like that.  Do you think they do the limbo in Limbo?  If so, I hope it’s where they send all of the chiropractors when they die.

First off is the hunter who has to wear his camouflage clothing 365 days of the year.  We get it.  You like to kill things.  But you’re not going to need to hide or blend in at the 4th of July picnic.  Wear a color for Pete’s sake!  And sorry, but I have to admit, every time I read a story about a hunter who is accidentally injured or killed by another hunter, or who falls out of a tree stand and breaks something vital, I go into a little happy dance.

Next on the limbo express is the toll taker who reminds me she is praying for me.  If ever there was a solid reason for E Z Pass, this is it.  This is a person who doesn’t know me, and for that matter is in no way aware that I even need prayers said on my behalf.  And how much free time does she have?  Is she praying for every car that passes through her lane?  Or just in bulk, say, “One Hail Mary for every car between 10 am and 3 pm”.  Because frankly, if I’m part of some bulk prayer thing I’m more than a little offended.  Let’s save prayers for those who truly need them.  The sick, the dying the starving, the poor, and the guy who has to prep Trump’s hair every day.

And while we’re on the subject of religion, the next football player who savagely tries to decapitate an opponent and then after the game thanks God for the talent and opportunity to do so.  It we are fortunate enough that there is a God somewhere, watching over us, I certainly hope he or she has nothing to do with athletes.  Can we simply eliminate the pre and post game interviews while we’re at it?  And all athlete interviews now that I think of it?

The local news anchor, non-sports related, who tries to make passable comments about the just finished sports segment.  Here’s a hint, you’re hurting yourself.  And your viewers.  Concentrate on your hair and your makeup and reading from the prompter.  We realize that is all difficult enough.  I’ve never quite understood why people prefer to have their news read to them by Ken and Barbie.  We need a couple of good hard rules that pertain to on air news.  First, the person should be at least 50 years old and have the first clue about, well, life.  Next, the person can not be attractive.    The idea is to listen to, and grasp the news, not the shade of lipstick someone is wearing.  Lastly, they must read the news from a stack of papers they are holding, not a prompter.  It shouldn’t matter that we are looking at the top of their head.

The next waiter or waitress who bring my appetizer and entree out to the table at the same time.  And then offers the lame excuse, “The chef had everything ready early, is that okay?”  Okay, first, he’s not a chef.  He’s wearing a backwards baseball cap and a black tank top.  Second, there’s no room on the table for all of these dishes unless I resume my plate-spinning act from 1979.  I love the reaction when you say, “No, take the entrees back please and keep them warm until we’re ready for them”.  The actual look they give you is as if they’ve just heard a meteor is speeding towards the earth and we will all be killed in an hour.  It is called a dining “experience”.  Even at Chili’s damn it!

The next person at Comcast or Sprint that I call with a problem and tell me how sorry they are that I’m experiencing a problem with their service.  Listen, I realize they have a job to do, but my problem with their service is usually compounded with having to deal with them.  Don’t read from a script.  Treat me like a person, not a machine.  And stopping saying, “Mr. Duffy” every 12 seconds.  I know who I am.  It doesn’t bother me that you have an accent, or that you empathize with me.  Let’s talk like real people trying to solve a problem.

By way of honorable mention, every person that apologizes to me all day long for no reason.  People, let’s stop saying, “I’m sorry” unless you have something to truly be sorry about.  If you’re apologizing to me for taking too long to get change out of your purse at Wawa, what are you saying to your husband when he comes home and finds you in bed with your neighbor’s recent college graduate son?  And, let’s not forget, the people who came up with, “Honorable Mention” as an award title.  There’s First place, Second place, and Third place.  Those are the positions of honor.  Just make it Fourth place and end it.  Saves money on the ribbon typing as well.

Everyone connected with the Royal Wedding.  I realize it is happening as I type.  My wife rose at 5 am to prep and dress up and watch the event with some friends.  Perhaps I am becoming a grump.  Okay, I am a grump.  But watching an event with such pomp and circumstance, seeing the amount of money that is spent, tends to remind me of those who have so very little in life.  I live in Bryn Mawr, near Villanova and not far from Gladwyne and I see daily how some of these people live.  The excess.  The waste.  Sure, it’s their money and it is their choice to do whatever they want with it.  But open your eyes people just more than a crack.  BY the way, has anyone ever witnessed pomp without circumstance?  Can I use, “Pomp” in Scrabble?

People using their phone to apply a coupon to a purchase at the register.  They are using an $900 device to get $1.50 off of a case of bottled water.  Mainly, they are just trying to show off how smart they are.  That’s why someone named them, “Smartphones”.  And Smart TV’s.  Now, Smart Cars.  Because, let’s face it, most of us, are, well, stupid.  But, $1.50 richer.

The friendly golfer.  Okay, with the rain I’m being spared that one this morning.  This guy, while you’re waiting at the tee box, pulls up because he has hit yet another errant shot from the adjacent fairway.  “Beats working” is his go to phrase.  My general response is, “Well, I’m a swimsuit model photographer, so, no, it doesn’t”.  Their backup comment is usually, “How you hitting’em?”  What I’d like to say, as I pull out my 4 iron is, “put your head on this tee and you’ll find out”.  Look, I barely speak to the people in the group I play with.  For the rest of you…stay in your own fairway and remember, golf is supposed to be a quiet sport.

Lastly, for today, the inventor of the bobble head.  Has anyone, anywhere, ever actually seen a bobble head that actually resembles the person it was made for?  And, after it is placed on a shelf, has anyone ever touched it again, except to dust it?  Our fascination with crap that serves us absolutely no purpose amazes me.  In the 70’s it was pet rocks.  We’ve had dozens more in the 40 years that followed.  Do your kids a favor. Clean out the crap and give them one less thing to throw away when you’re gone.  My plan, before I go, (and those of you out there cheering, I can hear you), is to clean my attic and my life of everything unnecessary.  So, in the end, it will simply be me, my wife, our dog and cat, and my blue Puma sweatpants.

And off to Limbo we go…to limbo for eternity.  And then my wife can stop complaining that I never take her dancing.