I drove to work this morning with the nagging feeling that I had missed a news bulletin. Something was not quite right. Then it hit me: it was back- to- school time. I made up a headline for the story I had obviously missed:
Driving Age Lowered to Twelve
This accounted for those little children who wore their caps backwards and could barely see over their steering wheels. For reasons best known to themselves, they preferred to drive down the middle of the road.
While I was trying to dodge these little people, who only yesterday were on the playground plotting to crash driver’s ed., I made a point of glaring at them. One of the Munchkins rewarded me with a puzzled look.
I imagined his thoughts: “What? Somebody else is driving on this street that belongs to us high school students only? What’s that old Geezer doing driving anyway?”
I had barely recovered from my close encounters with drivers supposedly 16, when three people in a row, average age 52.7 years, or old enough to know better, failed to use their turning signals.
These people were the parents and grandparents of the aforementioned, headline-grabbing twelve-year old drivers. We live in a small town, it’s true, but a little warning that somebody might be taking a left to The Store would be nice. I made up another headline:
One Hundred Million Vehicles Recalled as Turning Signals Defective
Half of all American drivers don’t use turning signals. They think (apparently) that blinkers are optional equipment and that turning signal use is for other people; they themselves can’t be bothered as they are in a lather to get to the other side of town. (Some people would be in a hurry to get to Hell.)
The only thing worse than idiot drivers are idiot drivers talking on cell phones. What I really love--to get to my pet peeve--are people who call a business and the first thing out of their mouths is, “Let me talk to Bob”. I created a headline for this group:
People Who Can’t Identify Themselves Barred from Using Telephones
Millions of Americans call businesses and ask for Jack or Susan. Were they brought up in a barn? I want to say: “NO, you may not talk with Jack until you say who you are. Did you notice when I answered the phone I said: This is Danny; may I help you? Didn’t that give you a clue that you are supposed to identify yourself? Apparently not, you worthless scum.”
Well, I certainly feel better.
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2 comments:
Danny, this is one of your finest efforts to date. Very polished. Who have you been reading lately eh? Tell me your secret. C'mon. I was reminded today how some of my favorite singers some how always turn out stuff that sounds similar, but you have turned out something with a little different voice. Congratulations. And good subject matter. I hate people who talk on there cell phones while driving. Uh-Oh, gotta go. I'm being pulled over.
Timm
P.S. Hows the song writing career comming along?
Supplies flying out of Lantana airport
Cellphone attached to her belt buckle, toddler clinging to her leg, Tara Pearl stood on Lantana airport's tarmac and declared she would scrounge up bigger wings.
Canny blog you got here one of the better ones i've been on
I have a register domain names site. It pretty much covers register domain names related stuff.
Come and check it out if you get time :-)
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