In My Humble Opinion

Please Stop It!

I have simply had it. My tolerance for annoyance has reached it’s limit, and it is time for me to rant to anyone who will listen (or read in this case), so I can get this off my chest and out of my head.

Be warned: I am NOT feeling politically correct. I do not have alliances with any political or media interests. This is no manifesto. These are the feelings of a 60-ish-year-old woman who is really, REALLY disgusted. With pretty much the whole world and most of the people in it.

The last straw, leading up to this post, was one of the many surveys I take to support Diabetes Research. I take five a week sometimes, and they always have the same ‘screening’ questions at the beginning. What used to be a simple either/or question has now become more complicated.

I’m reluctant to ask what Non-Binary means, but I googled this term and discovered that people can be more than 2 different genders. What?!?

And while I am ranting, Why are the frequency and stupidity of TV commercials increasing at an alarming rate? It feels like the floodgates opened, and someone let the drugs out. I remember the good old days when pharmaceutical companies were prohibited from advertising on TV. Now they are hogging up the airways with ads that should be geared to doctors and not the general public.

The ads that really blow my mind are the car manufacturer’s ads. They all do the same thing – show colorful imagery, motion, speed, and animation. The visuals are set to loud music and flash everything but the actual car. Until the very last 5 seconds, you see the car and the maker’s logo. Nike also does this kind of ad, and other companies hopped on the bandwagon. Why spend a gazillion bucks to make a commercial that does not advertise your product?

Oh, and those butt-wiping bears have got to GO.

That is the GO that I will enjoy.

In My Humble Opinion · Ranting For Health

Uh-Oh, Somebody Got Me Started…

When the subject came up, I gestured “Time Out”, and told him, “Don’t get me started!”

He did anyway.  He is like that.  He has no respect for the fact I am trying to wean myself away from the political drama that living in California entails.

He begins reading me the newspaper article, knowing full well all the buttons it will push, yet, he plunders on, each sentence raising my perfect (until now) blood-pressure.  I suspect that this is like foreplay to him before he gets to the critical mass – the summary at the end of the article that ties the buttons together.

Regardless of subject matter, these articles always have 3 things in common: a new law/tax, ridiculous circumstances, and our State Governor, the Honorable (fill in the blank) (D).

“They just raised that tax!”

“This is a NEW one…” Hubby sits there, watching me, anticipating the volcano about to erupt.  He is not disappointed.

“Oh No!!” I groan. My body slouched, hands on hips and jaw thrust out. I would be Medea on a righteous mission, except I’m a short, white girl. “Well… I suppose that the first tax is doing so well, that they want to extract even more money out of us – to NOT repair the roads.”

It is time to do something.

“I’m writing a letter to our Governor, and I will personally show him the sad condition of our roads.”

“How are you going to do that?”

“We are going to invite him over for dinner.”


“Oh yes,” I say, “In fact, I hope that his town car or limo, hits every single pothole and sinkhole on the way. So he can experience how all those extra taxes on gasoline have worked making our roads safe.”

“He’s not going to come.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.”

Hubby began to look a bit worried. He knows me so well.

“Go ahead, then. You better cook a Hell of a lot, because he will have his entourage with him, no doubt.”

“Aren’t you going to help me?”

“That would make me an accomplice.”

“Accomplice to what?”

“Whatever it is you are planning to do.”

I shrugged, palms up, and tried to look innocent. “I’m not going to do anything, except cook dinner.”

So… Stay tuned.  I will let you know when one of my invitations gets through the gauntlet…

Meanwhile please drive carefully!

        Intersection to the road we live on