If you’ll indulge me (and I won’t take no for an answer), I’ll unload in no particular order. Should you disagree, it’s important you keep it to yourself.
• I find the months between March and May a bad time frame for spring cleaning. There’s the unpredictable weather, several holidays — Easter to name just a few — and bowling leagues still in swing.
I prefer the fall, with the leaves turning and crisp morning frosts a more practical time for that cleaning crap.
• When someone says they “skimmed” my column, it really sticks in my craw; more than once I’ve had to have it surgically removed. I’ll continue to warn of the dangers of skimming.
The following example says it all. I recently skimmed this headline about a courageous young patriot: Gov’t says man wanted to fight with ISIS.
“Well, good on him,” I thought. “He has to know fighting with this bunch of bloodthirsty savages could result in his capture and beheading. Yet he chooses to risk it all for his country.”
What? This treasonous Benedict Arnold wants to fight with ISIS, as in “for them, against us?” Never mind!
Now do you see how skimming leads to tragic consequences? It reminds us of the old adage: “Skimmers are never winners” (which comes alarmingly close to rhyming).
• In the land of phony politics, payback thrives. The hypocritical GOP refused to do the right thing and give Obama’s justice nominee at least a hearing — while reserving the right to vote “no” in light of Obama’s lame duck status. Thus the insincere, vengeful Democrats say, “Fine. Then we’ll never confirm your nominee who from all indications would be fair and good for the country!”
That’s how an immoral, unhinged bully got elected, you know. Voters said, “We’re sick of lying, self-serving losers, so let’s protest by electing a sociopath with those same exact qualities, but so far only in private life.” And a great nation implodes.
• What did I tell you? I KNEW North Carolina would beat Gonzaga! I KNEW the final score would be under 154. And I backed them both up with cold, hard cash. Am I a gambling genius or WHAT?
• If you recall my last column (and if you don’t, it’s your loss, as I’ve told every girl that ever dumped me), I detailed my ill-fated love affair with Las Vegas. I quoted several old songs in express my unrequited, true love.
But how could I forget the sultry Joan Jett summing up my emotions in a nutshell? “I hate myself for loving you” describes perfectly my feelings about the city that’s broken my heart more times than I can count. (Actually, it’s five; I’m not good with numbers.) Joan understands how Vegas has chewed me up and spit me out like an obese gentleman gorging on ribs.
She crooned, “I think of you every night and day; you took my heart and then you took my pride awa-a-ay … I hate myself for loving you; I can’t break free from the things that you do. I want to walk but I run back to you … that’s why I hate myself for loving you.” Maybe I’m no Lance Romance, but it’s her loss!
• OK, I’ll admit I often sit to urinate, and I won’t apologize. Not only am I secure in my asexuality, but am practical. Sitting as opposed to standing takes stress off vital joints like knees, ankles and spine. Eliminating the need to wash one’s hands is just a bonus. If you had an enlarged prostate the size of mine, you’d know that conserving time and energy is no small consideration.
At my age, I’m all about conserving energy, and wee-hour walks to the bathroom undoubtedly stress the heart to a great degree. I’ll take preventive medicine over macho every time. BTW, the ugly rumor that I also wear women’s pantaloons is not only slander, but disgraceful. (Hey, I put on my men’s pants one leg at a time just like any other man in transition).
In closing, I hope Nancy Kerrigan gets eliminated from Dancing with the Stars ASAP. Just one more time we should hear her annoying cries of, “Why? Whyyyy?!”