Let’s start with the fact that I hope this month’s entry doesn’t come across as negative. I can’t help finding things in the world around me that I observe and on which I can comment. So, here are a few things about which you can agree or disagree, laugh or simply dismiss.
Does anybody pay attention to those annoying ads in the top of the e-mail list? On the side of Facebook? Me neither.
Why does it seem there are so many cute kids and not nearly as many good-looking adults? What happens to all those adorable babies? Growing up is a tough thing for all of us, I guess.
Does the world really need “Paul Blart, Mall Cop 2?” I saw the first movie (at a friend’s house, nothing else on, I probably dozed) and am fairly certain we don’t need a sequel.
In the commercial I saw recently for a diabetes medication, the announcer spent more time explaining the possible side effects than explaining what this medication purports to do. It sounded really scary – and then I realized that I take it!
People – if you decorate your mailbox with a seasonal motif, please change your decal when the seasons change. It was all I could do not to slip a reminder into the mailbox with the “Let it snow!” decal on it in 65-degree weather!
We have all had enough experience with answering machines and voice mail by now that we don’t need lengthy instructions like “Hi, we’re not here now but please leave us your name, number and a brief message and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can.” That recording is usually followed by further instructions: “After the tone you may leave your message or press 1 for further options.” Who presses 1? Have YOU ever pressed 1? What ARE those options anyway? This whole process takes too long. Let’s abbreviate to something like: “Hi, not home, leave a message.” Callers will figure out they have to do it AFTER the tone, right?
Sometimes I wonder: Is there a method to my madness or a madness to my method?
I’m prone to respiratory infections and bronchitis, so every once in a while, I lose my voice completely. I notice that generally no one seems to mind. I also lose my mind every once in a while, but no one seems to notice.
Many of us have a place in our house with a comfy chair and a lamp where we can just sit and read, but how many of us actually do? With so many activities, movies to watch, basketball games and TV shows recorded on the DVR, I find myself reading a couple of pages at a time, and NEVER while sitting in that comfy chair with the lamp. I need to work on that.
I don’t understand how SPAM works (the e-mail kind, not the ersatz food thing). What have I done on the internet that would lead to anyone to think I would have an interest in Christian dating, a career as a nurse (or a career at all since I have been retired for 9 years), scholarships for ME as a student, eliminating toenail fungus or finding a Russian bride? I find this stuff perplexing and amusing at the same time.
The CAPS LOCK button is situated dangerously close to the letter A on my keyboard, which means that halfway through a sentence, suddenly I am typing IN ALL CAPS. That’s probably because of my lack of finger control and the fact that I still look at my fingers instead of the screen while I type. That’s just another area on my report card of life that comes under “Needs Improvement.”
Seriously, Siriusly Sinatra has more people who are not Frank singing than they do actual Sinatra songs. And I don’t think anyone tunes in thinking this channel is Nancy Sinatra’s (although she does a good job). Today I swear I heard Bob Dylan singing a Sinatra song.
On the subject of music, it wasn’t until I started listening via headphones (in my ear) that I realized that in all of these years I never had the lyrics right to “He’s a Rebel.” Apparently the Crystals denied his being a rebel with the words, “he’s not a rebel, no, no, no.” And listening to the Temptations' “Beauty’s Only Skin Deep,” I realized that this song is very insulting to the girlfriend – “a pretty face you may not possess...” even though the man appreciates her tenderness. But it makes it sound like she is really unattractive and he’s being big-hearted by loving her anyway. Let’s see what HE looks like, shall we?
Raise your hand if you downloaded Gary Lewis & The Playboys Greatest Hits so you would listen to “This Diamond Ring.” So it was just me. I thought so.
I listen to “60s on 6” on Sirius Radio in the car, and Cousin Brucie is one of the hosts. How old must Cousin Brucie be by now? He was a DJ in the 60s when I first started listening to music on the radio and he still seems to be pretty sharp. I don’t know what he’s doing but I’ll have what he’s having.
It spooks me out when I tune in to an Oldies station and they are playing Casey Kassem’s “American Top 40” from the 70s.
I found it ironic to learn that Barry Manilow didn’t write the song, “I Write the Songs.” Bruce Johnston, who performed with the Beach Boys, wrote the song, but Barry’s version made the charts. Isn’t it ironic? No, THAT song was composed by Alanis Morissette.
I like the song “Baby, Come Back,” a one-hit wonder by the Ohio Players, simply because of the line “All day long, wearing a mask of false bravado.” Anyone who can include the word “bravado” in a song gets my endorsement.
There are so many songs that remind me of my mother. Carly Simon’s “Nobody Does It Better” reminds me of how I would con Mom into making me a Bumble Bee Tuna sandwich (is there any other kind?) by singing that song to her, even when I was in my 30s. She probably acquiesced just to make me stop singing. When I hear Tony Orlando and Dawn’s “Knock 3 Times,” I picture Mom tapping her fingers on the steering wheel of the car, waiting for me to come back from S&S Stationers, where she made me go in and pick up cigarettes for her. (Clearly, this was at a time when there was no age requirement, but I nonetheless would explain that they weren’t for me. Luckily, the S&S folks knew her well enough to believe me.) I think of her every time I hear anything by Barbra Streisand, particularly anything from the Broadway show “Funny Girl,” which my mother saw early in its run and henceforth claimed to have discovered Barbra. Any Frank Sinatra song reminds me of those big old albums, the ones with ‘78s in them that she treasured, despite the fact that we did not own anything on which to play them. My father favored Sinatra’s “Love and Marriage,” and “Young at Heart.” The latter jived with his philosophy that you’re only as old as you feel.
I never mind giving my opinion about something, whether or not I am asked. But I can’t help but notice the uptick in requests to fill out a survey for practically any product or service I use. One day it is the car dealer who serviced my Mercedes, where, God forbid, if I don’t rate every single item at the top of the scale, they make it sound as if someone will lose his or her job. If I buy something at Amazon, I am not only asked how the shopping experience went, but they want me to review the purchase and comment on the shipping. I know most of us will take the time to complain if we have a bad experience, but I actually have taken time to call or write about good experiences, too. I called Del Monte once just to tell them I liked their peaches, and they couldn’t accept that there was no other reason for my call. I even wrote to the county prosecutor’s office after serving on Grand Jury for four months just to compliment the assistant prosecutors on their performance in the courtroom (yes, I know, who else would do that?). But please, enough with the surveys about every little thing!
Can it be that it was all so simple then, or has time rewritten every line? If we had the chance to do it all again, tell me, would we? Could we? Ah, memories…
