Too Much Tequila, Too Little Sunscreen

This is my entry in the writers contest. I didn’t win but it was fun to write. The winner’s story blew me away. Bob

Writer’s Digest Contest # 17

Prompt: A 20 something man sits in a taxi in front if his parents’ house, trying to find the strength to tell them that he _______.

Damn, I’m here already. They always seem to go faster when you’re not in a hurry. I was hoping I might to figure out how to tell mom and dad, but nothing’s come to me. “I’ll just be a minute, driver.”

What am I going to say? Mom will freak. Dad will … I don’t know what? The driver’s getting antsy.

“I’ll just be another minute.”

“Take your time, the meters running.”

How’d I get into this mess? Why didn’t I tell mom and dad back when I made my decision? I knew they’d throw a fit but I was hoping, no praying, that I’d come up with some way of soft pedaling it. I’ll break their hearts but I can’t see any way to avoid it?

“Driver, I need a drink. You know a bar around here?”

“Right down the street.”

“Let’s go there for one quick drink.”

A couple of minutes later the driver says, “Here we are, so you want me to wait for you?”

“Yea, I’ll be right out.”

I guzzle two double bourbons; pay my tab and dash back to the taxi. “How about taking the long way back to my folks?”

“What’re you afraid of? It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, you don’t know my parents.”

“Nothing could be as bad as you’re making it seem.”

“Oh, yes it could.”

“Gimme a break, parents are used to disappointing news from their kids. In fact, my kids are one disappointment after another.”

“Maybe, but my folks had such high hopes. They wanted something better for me.”

“What did you do? Get caught with your pants down with a St. Bernard,” he said as he chuckled to himself.

“No, nothing like that, I just made a decision they won’t approve of and I’m scared to death they won’t be able to handle it.”

“Why don’t you tell me? I might be able to help you with a story for your folks. I’m good at making shit up.”

“Thanks, but you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

“You don’t know me; you’ve never met my parents and you think you can … I don’t know, I just don’t know.”

“Look Mac, you’re talking to a world class bullshitter. If there’s a story to be told here, I can do it. Just ask my wife.”

“Nope, I’ve got to do this myself. How much do I owe you?”

“It’ll be twenty six dollars and forty cents if you go by the meter but I’ll tell you what; I’ll knock off ten bucks just to hear your story.”

“Thanks for the offer. Here’s thirty dollars. Keep the change.”

“You mean you’re not going to tell me about your little problem, after all of this. I feel like I know you.”

“Thanks for you help.” I say as I open the door.

“Buddy you’re not getting out a here without telling me what’s goin on. You think you mom will be pissed!”

“Come on driver, I’ve got enough problems without having to put up with you too.”I swung the door open and tried to hop the curb and missed. I went down on the sidewalk just as the driver landed on top of me. I struggled but he had me pinned and I couldn’t move.

“Now, asshole lets hear your story.”

I was stammering when my dad came racing out of the door and pasted the driver with a big right haymaker. The driver fell to the side, grabbed his jaw, stood, looked down at me then headed back to his taxi.

My dad helped me up. “What was that all about?”

“Oh, nothing really … we were just arguing, arguing about … about Obama’s stimulus plan when he tackled me.”

“You were what? Everybody knows Obama is the best damn thing to happen to this country since Roosevelt.”

“I’ve got something important to tell you and mom.”

“Well, dust yourself off and come on in the house.”

“Hi mom.”

“What was all of that trouble out there in the yard?”

“Nothing mom, I just got into a little disagreement with the taxi driver.”

“Well, it looked like more than an argument.”

“Mom, mom and dad, I’ve got something important to tell you.”

“Shoot, what could be such a big deal?”

“I’ve been avoiding telling you and I feel awful telling you like this … but I’ve made a decision, a big decision. I’ve … I’ve joined the Republican Party.”

Mom fainted into dad’s arms as he sunk to his knees.

The importance of the opening line in a story is well known but how about the closing line? No one has ever said a word to me about how to agonize over the last line in a story so I thumbed through a few books in my library and found a whole new world, the world of closing lines. Here, let me share some with you:

Plum lucky by Janet Evanovich © 2007 by Evanovich, Inc.

I counted to twenty and opened my eyes. Diesel was gone … and so was my bra.

MX Is the Way to Go. ‘Bye, a column by Dave Barry © 1982 & 1983 by Feature Associates

These questions deserve a lot of hard thought, which I intend to give them as soon as I’ve had another drink.

“R” is for Ricochet by Sue Grafton © 2004 by Sue Grafton

So here’s what I’ve learned. In the passing drama of life, I’m usually the heroine, but occasionally I’m simply a minor character in someone else’s play.

Fashionable Worries a story by P.J. O’Rourke © 1994 by P. J. O’Rourke

(And a memo to Generation X: pull your pants up, turn your hat around, and get a job.)

“D” is for Deadbeat by Sue Grafton © 1987 by Sue Grafton

I thought I heard a siren wailing, but the sound was mine.

In Sickness and in Health, a column by Erma Bombeck © 1993 by Erma Bombeck

Of course that was before I delivered my first child and bared my bosom to a doctor in the hall to ask, “I’m nursing. Does this look normal to you?” only to have a nurse tell me he was a telephone repairman.

Plum Spooky by Janet Evanovich © 2008 by Evanovich, Inc.

I felt his hand on my ass, and I stood and turned to face him, but he was gone.

Some Sound Ideas, a column by Andrew A. Rooney © 1982, 1983, 1984 by Essay Productions, Inc.

The tapping, tapping of my typewriter as the keys hit the paper is a lovely sound to me. I often like the sound of what I write better than the looks of it.

Parliament of Whores by P.J. O’Rourke © 1994 by P. J. O’Rourke

The trouble is, in a democracy the whores are us.

Surviving Motherhood, a column by Erma Bombeck © 1996, 1997 by the Estate of Erma Bombeck

I yelled at the top of my voice. “I hope you have identical twins … two weeks apart! May your patio face southwest. May your father belch loudly at the father-son banquet. May you have a rainbow over your playpen!” When they get home from school, I’ll think of some more.

Anti-Insurance Policy, a column by Dave Barry © 1982 & 1983 by Feature Associates

If this approach doesn’t work, you should try vicious dogs.

Dear John, An Open Letter to John McCain by Bob Rockwell © 2008 by Bob Rockwell

America doesn’t need another C student.

God Needs the Money, a column by Dave Barry © 1982 & 1983 by Feature Associates

So there you have it: a list of people not to trust. You should be grateful you have someone like me, working for the Public Good, with Your Interest in mind. God wants you to send me money.

Spices, a column by Erma Bombeck © 1996, 1997 by the Estate of Erma Bombeck

The Egyptians were buried with their spices. I know which one I’m taking with me when I go.

The Law of the Jungle by Carl Hiaasen © 1996 by Carl Hiaasen

Every mammal for himself.

©2009 by Bob Rockwell

As an apprentice writer I’m very conscious of the importance of the first line in a story. I work and rework my opening lines to show that I’m practicing what I’ve been taught and, if I were honest, to show my brilliance. Here are some of my favorite opening lines chosen from my modest library:

Plum Lovin’ by Janet Evanovich © 2007 by Evanovich, Inc.

Men are like shoes. Some fit better than others. And sometimes you go out shopping and there’s nothing you like. And, as luck would have it, the next week you find two that are perfect, but you don’t have the money to buy both.

It’s Only a Plate, a column by Andrew A. Rooney © 1982, 1983, 1984 by Essay Productions, Inc.

Do I grieve for an icebox? I do.

The Living Bible © 1971 by Tyndale House Publishers

When God began creating the heavens and the earth, the earth was at first a shapeless chaotic mass, with the Spirit of God brooding over the dark vapors.

The Wedding, a column by Erma Bombeck © 1993 by Erma Bombeck

It would have been a wonderful wedding … had it not been mine.

Underwear, a column by Andrew A. Rooney © 1982, 1983, 1984 by Essay Productions, Inc.

You have to look for good in people wherever you can find it. A very nice thing about most people is that they wear their best underwear when they get dressed up to go to a party, even though it isn’t going to show. There’s something basically honest about that.

The Glitter Dome by Joseph Wambaugh © 1981 by Joseph Wambaugh

It was six inches long. He stroked it lightly, but he could not conjure an appropriate response: eroticism, revulsion, fascination, terror. He had read it described in a hundred melodramatic and pathetic suicide notes. Technology had even infiltrated death messages: So far this year four farewells were transmitted on taped cassettes, the ultimate proof of declining literacy.

Destination: Maybe, a column by Dave Barry © 1982 & 1983 by Feature Associates

I fly a lot, because of the nature of my job. I’m a gnat.

Directions, a column by Andrew A. Rooney © 1982, 1983, 1984 by Essay Productions, Inc.

Early next year I’m going to take a week off and read the directions for all the things I’ve bought that came with the warning READ DIRECTIONS CAREFULLY BEFORE OPERATING.

Lonesome Shorty, a story by Garrison Keillor © 1993 by Garrison Keillor

The summer before last, I was headed for Billings on my horse Old Dan, driving two hundred head of the ripest-smelling longhorns you ever rode downwind of, when suddenly here come some tumbleweeds tumbling along with a newspaper stuck inside…I had been without news for weeks so I leaned down and snatched it up and read it trotting along, though the front page was missing and all there was was columnists and the Lifestyle section, so bouncing along in a cloud of manure I read an article entitled “43 Fabulous Salads to Freshen Up Your Summertime Table” which made me wonder if my extreme lonesomeness might not be the result of diet.

The National Academy of History, a column by Andrew A. Rooney © 1982, 1983, 1984 by Essay Productions, Inc.

I’m not at all satisfied with history the way it’s being written.

Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell © 1936 by Macmillan Publishing Co.

Scarlett O’Hara was not beautiful, but men seldom realized it when caught by her charm as the Tarleton twins were.

Self-Improvement Week, a column by Andrew A. Rooney © 1982, 1983, 1984 by Essay Productions, Inc.

I think I’ll improve myself this week.

Plum lucky by Janet Evanovich © 2007 by Evanovich, Inc.

My mother and grandmother raised me to be a good girl, and I have no problem with the girl part. I like men, malls, and carbs. Not necessarily in that order.

Reunion, a column by Andrew A. Rooney © 1982, 1983, 1984 by Essay Productions, Inc.

There’s just so much sentimental baggage you can carry through life.

You Aren’t Getting Any Younger, a column by Erma Bombeck © 1993 by Erma Bombeck

I put down the stubby pencil, took a sip of the warm punch balanced on my knees, and waited for the rest of the group to finish writing.

Metro Girl by Janet Evanovich © 2004 by Evanovich, Inc.

Just because I know how to change a man’s oil doesn’t mean I want to spend the rest of my life on my back, staring up his undercarriage. Been there, done that.

Birthday Celebration, a column by Dave Barry © 1982 & 1983 by Feature Associates

The Name “February” comes from the Latin word Februarius, which means “fairly boring stretch of time during which one expects the professional ice hockey season to come to an end but it does not.”

Cannibals and Nuns, a column by Andrew A. Rooney © 1982, 1983, 1984 by Essay Productions, Inc.

Well, finally. It’s over. I don’t have to anticipate its ending dread any longer. It’s been one damn summer weekend after another. If summer had lasted another month I might have died from all that relaxation.

Beer Is the Solution, a column by Dave Barry © 1982 & 1983 by Feature Associates

Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza.

“I” is for Innocent by Sue Grafton © 1992 by Sue Grafton

I feel compelled to report that at the moment of death, my entire life did not pass before my eyes in a flash. There was no beckoning white light at the end of a tunnel. No warm fuzzy feeling that my long-departed loved ones were waiting on The Other Side.

How Much Happiness Can We Afford, a column by Erma Bombeck © 1993 by Erma Bombeck

The first wondrous miracle was thirteen months old when I discovered I was pregnant.

Hot Six by Janet Evanovich © 2000 by Evanovich, Inc.

Okay, so here’s the thing. My mother’s worst fear has come true. I’m a nymphomaniac. I lust after a lot of men. Of course, maybe that’s because I don’t actually have sex with any.

A Cold Cure? Who Nose?, a column by Dave Barry © 1982 & 1983 by Feature Associates

I say we give the medical community two more weeks to cure the common cold, and, if it doesn’t, we turn over the problem to a more competent outfit, like the Sony Corporation.

Whatever Happened to Romance, a column by Erma Bombeck © 1993 by Erma Bombeck

You don’t see it slipping away, but somewhere between wearing maternity underwear under a flannel nightgown to bed and receiving a salad spinner for Christmas, the romance fades.

Hard Eight by Janet Evonovich © 2002 by Evanovich, Inc.

Lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time rolling on the ground with men who think a stiffy represents personal growth.

About lawn Order, a column by Dave Barry © 1982 & 1983 by Feature Associates

I got to thinking about ecology the other day when I ran over a turtle with my lawn mower.

Bless Me Everybody for I Have Sinned, a column by Erma Bombeck © 1993 by Erma Bombeck

You weren’t supposed to count the number of people ahead of you in the line outside of the confessional or keep track of how long they spent inside the shadowy cubicle, but everyone did it.

Socket to Them, a column by Dave Barry © 1982 & 1983 by Feature Associates

Today’s scientific question is: What in the world is electricity? And where does it go after it leaves the toaster?

Weave World by Clive Barker © 1987 by Clive Barker

Nothing ever begins.

©2009 by Bob Rockwell

President Obama’s unyielding commitment to change our government, reprioritize our spending, and to clean up the economic mess Bush left behind is inspiring. So inspiring that I’ve fantasized about what I would do if I were ever in charge. Here’s my plan for a better America. You know, deep down in you heart, that I’m right. If I were in charge I’d …

1.0 Institute New Social Behavior Laws – forget manners and etiquette, they don’t work. We need laws.

1.1 Spitting will be illegal in all public places and especially enforced on baseball diamonds. Finally, we can get on with America’s game without all of the unsightly chomping and spitting. Matter may be eliminated from your mouth or throat, just like any other excretion, in a rest room.

1.2 Toothpicks will no longer be available at restaurants. Toothpicks should only be used in places where you would use other dental hygiene products. Picking will be just like brushing and flossing. Makes sense?

1.3 Nose blowing and all other nasal activities including nose picking, digging, and scraping will be illegal in public. If you desire to remove something from one of your nasal cavities you must do it privately.

1.4 Nails, both finger and toe, are not to be clipped, filed, painted, or in other way groomed in public.

2.0 Establish some Appearance Laws – taste doesn’t work either, maybe jail time will.

2.1 Anyone desiring to wear sandals must pass a foot and toe inspection. Pedicures and other treatment may be required before you’ll be allowed to expose your ugly damn feet to the rest of us.

2.2 Tank tops, halter tops and low rise jeans can not be sold to or worn by anyone whose waist size exceeds that of their chests. No one really wants to see your protruding belly.

2.3 Goofy comb-overs will be expressly forbidden. If you’re bald, you’re bald, live with it. Quit parting your hair at you’re your ears and get on with your life.

2.4 Women will be forbidden from wearing any blouse, shirt or top that exposes their bra straps. Bras are under garments and will be treated as such.

3.0 Finally Institute Two Sure-Fire Cures for Obesity – It’s too easy being fat in the U.S. I’ll fix that.

3.1 From this point forward we will discard all of our fat hiding and figure obscuring clothing and wear leotards. Leotards will become the national uniform of the U.S. We’ll finally show the world how big our asses and bellies really are. This is the incentive we’ve been waiting for to finally loose weight.

3.2 If leotards don’t work I’ve got a new tax scheme. We’ll do away with income and sales taxes and institute a fat tax. Your ideal weight will be calculated by the government based upon your height, bone structure, ethnicity, and so forth. Every April 15th we will have our annual weigh in. Your tax for the past year will be based on how many pounds overweight you are. We’ll build in a couple of loopholes for offensive tackles, sumo wrestlers and such. This will work.

4.0 Come up with a fair tax, the Resource Consumption Tax – Everybody knows that the very poor and the very rich don’t pay income taxes. It’s all paid by us, the middle class. This isn’t right; I’ve got a better idea.

4.1 Our tax on gasoline may be the only fair tax we have. The more you drive the more you pay. Let’s take that idea and extend it to all of the other resources we consume. What if we had a tax on the amount of electricity, natural gas, heating oil, and water you consume? We’d also put tax on all of the oxygen you consume as soon as we come up with a way to measure it. Those jocks and porn stars that do all of that heavy breathing will have to finally pay their fair share. Also, we’ll tax the amount of garbage you produce. Now the people that use the most of our country’s resources will pay the lion’s share of the taxes. Ingenious?

5.0 Fund the things we really need – Take any of my ideas and make a fortune; you can pay me later

5.1 Homeless Carts – Have you noticed homeless people pushing all of their worldly possessions around in grocery carts? These carts are difficult enough to push down supermarkets isles let alone over rough sidewalks and streets. What we need is for someone to invent a “homeless cart” for these folks. It will have bigger wheels, better bearings, a lockable compartment, and running lights. Good idea?

5.2 Really Have To Go Lane – Ever had to really pee at a ballpark or some other big event? You dash to the john only to find sixty other people in line ahead of you waiting for the five stalls. What we need is a “Really have to go” lane for people that can’t wait, just like the express lane in the supermarket.

5.3 Sad And Lonely Hotline – Have you ever sat at home consumed by loneliness? There must be a host of others that feel the same way. What we need is “a sad and lonely hotline.” You call it when you’re down in the dumps and they connect you with some other poor soul. Together the two of you can try to lift each other’s spirits. Won’t work? It’s better than the nothing we have now.

5.4 John Inspections – The state, or is it the county, inspectors routinely inspect all of our restaurants and report their findings. This is really great if you’re interested in dining at a Chinese restaurant with un-refrigerated meat and mouse droppings on the floor. What I want is an equivalent kind of organization that will inspect and rate public restrooms. Don’t you think the Texaco station down the road will class up its act if they get cited for their filthy johns?

5.5 Do Not Mail List – The national “do not call list” seems to work. Our daily calls from those assholes wanting to sell us an extended warranty on our cars has dropped way off. Now, what we really need is a “do not mail list” so we can get rid of all that junk that fills our mailboxes and nobody ever reads. Who wants this action item?

5.6 Church Profile – How many churches do you have in your town? Lots I’ll bet. Have you figured out what they’re all about? Nope, no one can. What I want is a directory of beliefs and practices that would clearly spell out what each of theses churches are all about. I don’t want to judge; I just want to know. Then we can map our personal feelings and beliefs into the appropriate congregation. Why didn’t you think of this?

6.0 Get rid of irritating or unnecessary things– why we haven’t done so already is beyond me.

6.1 Waiting Rooms – Waiting rooms are an admission by a business or a professional that they are too greedy and disorganized to care about you as a customer. Being forced to wait beyond your appointment time will be cause for disciplinary action and possible closure. Let’s boycott all businesses that make us wait and read old uninteresting magazines while they try to find the time to take our money.

6.2 Call Centers in India – Do not, I mean do not, purchase any products or services from firms that have call centers in India. It will soon be illegal to spend hours trying to accomplish anything with an English-as-a-second-language kid in India. If these companies can’t get by with minimum-wage call centers here in the U.S. then they should get out of business.

6.3 Self Service Gas Stations – What’s up with self service gas stations? The reason filling stations did away with their attendants is because of greed and our willingness to put up with it. It will soon be illegal, as it is in New Jersey, to pump your own gas. Thank God!

6.4 Motion Inhibiting Clothes – Why you women put up with clothes that you can’t function in is beyond me. Motion limiting shoes and clothing will be illegal in the Rockwell administration. Every pair of shoes and each article of clothing to be sold can not inhibit a model in every size offered from running an obstacle course. There, we’ll finally get rid of those shoes you can’t walk in and the dress that won’t let you climb a flight of stairs.

6.5 Smoking – Why we continue to let people smoke is beyond me. Maybe it’s because we can’t figure out how to live without the cigarette tax. That’s like having a suicide tax. We’ll make smoking illegal. It’s OK, no one with a three digit IQ smokes anymore. Those die-hards that just have to smoke can move to Canada. So, there!

                  ©2009 by Bob Rockwell

Ring

“Hello.”

“Hi, how are you this morning?”

“Great, how about you?”

“I feel super. I slept like a rock after you left.”

“Thanks again for last night. I had a great time.”

“It was good, wasn’t it?”

“It was wonderful.”

“What are you doing today?”

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll go to the gym if I can find the energy.”

“I’m zapped, too.”

“Zapped is not the half of it, I’m sore in places I can’t even discuss without blushing.”

“I know the feeling. I’m not sure I can get a shirt on over these scratch marks.”

“I’m sorry; you should have said something last night.”

“I’m not complaining. I earned these scars the old fashioned way.”

“You sure did!”

“When am I going to see you again?”

“All you have to do is ask.”

“How about sushi on Friday? A great new Japanese restaurant just opened down the street.”

“You never told me you liked sushi. I love it. You’re on for Friday.”

“Do you think you’ll be healed up by then?”

“I’d better be because I’ve got some real wild stuff planned.”

“Wow, wilder than last night?”

“Oh by far, last night was my conservative, first-time performance.”

“I can’t wait. Maybe we should get together Wednesday rather than Friday?”

“I can hardly wait either but I’ve got a class on Wednesday night.”

“You never said you were taking evening classes.”

“Yes I did. You even commented on my schedule.”

“I did?”

“Yes you did. You had too much tequila to remember.”

“I don’t drink tequila.”

“You couldn’t prove it by me. You had a least five margaritas last night.”

“Not me, I drank scotch all night.”

“Like hell you did. You had two tequila shooters for a nightcap.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive, you even showed off by guzzling that really expensive stuff. I think it was Patron, or some such.”

“Not me lady, I can’t stand the stuff.”

“Is this Larry?”

Click

©2009 by Bob Rockwell

Introduction There is no end to the things you can rant about if you put your mind to it. The list of stuff that pisses me off is endless. Here are my latest rants on life’s little irritants and inconveniences: Transformers, AC Adapters, Chargers, and Other Such Junk Have you taken inventory of the electronic devices in your life that require AC adapters for either primary power or battery recharging? I have about thirty of these things; half of which I’ve forgotten what they’re for. All of these “charger” gadgets are simple AC to DC converters that transform our 115 Volt AC power to the low level DC voltages used by integrated circuits, micro chips, and battery recharging circuitry. My rant is not that we use these charging devices; it’s that every electronic gadget requires its own unique power cord and AC Adapter. They generally produce 5 or 12 Volts DC and deliver it to the device through a two wire connector. We need to force the manufacturers of this stuff to standardize on a single DC voltage and a common connector. Then all of the electronic devices in our homes and offices could use the same AC adapter cord. We could finally throw away all of these “chargers” that are cluttering up our lives. Who has the action item to solve this? We Miss You, Jim and Tammy Faye Who can forget Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker and their religious talk and music variety show, The PTL Club. They told us PTL stood for Praise the Lord but we latter learned it really stood for Pass the Loot or maybe even Please Tip Large. They wrote a whole new chapter in bible thumping rip-offs. They dubbed their unique ism, “Prosperity Theology”, a religious teaching that taught us that God desired the material prosperity of those He favored. The amazing thing is their conspicuous consuption scam worked. They were raking in over a million dollars a week to support their lavish life style, theme park, and Tammy’s cosmetic bills. They epitomized the greed, our love of corny pomp, and the shamelessness of the 1980s. Their glitzy appearances naturally complemented their greed and shameless bible thumping. Jim looked like country and western singer with blow-dried, helmet hair, clad in loud satin-like suits while Tammy wore really heavy, I’m talking heavy, makeup, particularly globs and globs of mascara with huge false eyelashes under her tatooed on eyebrows. She topped all of that off with Dolly Parton-like, big-hair, blond wigs. Can you believe we sent millions and millions of dollars to people that looked like that? Anyway my rant is not about the poor Bakkers; they were actually funny. But, they may be the poster boys for the TV evangelists that I really want to rant about. These pseudo religious scum bags exemplify everything I dislike, no loathe, about religion in the U.S. today. I know I’ll offend a lot of you with this rant, but what the hell, I feel strong enough about these jerks to risk pissing you off. Don’t you just hate it when someone talks down to you? That’s what these TV preachers do in spades. They slant their sermons to the average eight year old in all of us. Having some intellectual light-weight explain simple things to me like he alone has broken some difficult code drives me up the wall. I don’t want to be lectured to by some yoyo that thinks it’s his role in life to interpret the words of God for us simple folk. And, what’s up with their opulent, overly gilded sets and those huge mega-churches? Are they having Donald Trump over for dinner after the show? Wal-Mart Shopping I can’t put my finger on the one thing I hate most about Wal-Mart shopping; it’s probably the whole degrading experience. Or, it could be that my patronage of Wal-Mart is a vivid reminder that in my retirement I’m on or near the bottom rung of the economic ladder. That’s probably it, Wal-Mart is a constant reminder that my Nordstrom shopping days are over. My disgust usually starts in the parking lot where you have to fight through the shopping carts the other shoppers are too lazy to return. I do my best to ignore the homeless guy and his dog living in the rusted out rattletrap parked next to the cart return. Greeting the greeter and knowing that his real job is deterring shop-lifting depresses me even further. I push my obligatory cart, (they don’t offer hand held baskets), down the aisles trying my best to forget all the Wal-Mart case studies we studied in business school. It was Sam Walton’s genius to realize that to succeed as the lowest price retailer you had to have the lowest cost structure. No magic to his madness, he squeezed his suppliers unmercifully, optimized his supply chain, and cut customer services to the bone. So, I know when I pick an item off of Wal-Mart’s shelves that I am holding the cheapest possible product from the lowest cost or lowest margin manufacturer, presented and sold to me with the least amount of customer service. Reassuring, huh? The check-stand experience rounds out my fun day at Wal-Mart. The check-out clerks are either bored silly, pissed-off about something, or too new to know how to ring up my head of cabbage. Don’t even think about buying something complicated to ring up like screws, bolts or other loose hardware. You’ll be there all afternoon. The highlight of your Wal-Mart shopping experience is seeing all of your purchases stuffed willy-nilly into a host of Wal-Mart monogrammed plastic bags. These bags are not packed to help you transport your goods home; their only function is to add individual handles to all of your normally handle-less purchases. You’ve got to load your cart with your 74 randomly filled plastic bags quickly because the checker will leave them on the carousel, ignore you, and turn to provide her version of customer service to the next person in line. Divas and Other Pains-in-the-Ass Don’t you just hate these bitches. We, ordinary people, bestow all of life’s rewards: fame, fortune, and lives of privilege, on these losers and they rub our noses in it. Wikipedia defines a diva as a star who is is arrogant, difficult to work with, high maintenance, manipulative, fussy, highly strung, privileged and demanding. Lovely! These aren’t the folks you’d want to share a bucket of KFC chicken with; these folks are bad, bad. We ought to do something about them. I don’t know what, but something. My research into pain-in-the-ass divas produced an impressive list of really difficult people including folks like Jennifer Lopez, Cher, Demi (Gimme) Moore, and Diana Ross but all sources were unanimous in their pick of Sharon Stone as diva numero uno. Let’s talk about Sharon a bit and see if we can figure out why she’s so difficult. When Sharon was doing the sequel to Basic Instinct she demanded five pages of additional perks on top of her lucrative salary. They included: three nannies, two assistants, first class travel (if a private jet was unavailable), a presidential suite, chef, deluxe motor home with all the amenities including VCR and cellular fax machine. She also needed a chauffeured car plus a convertible sedan for herself. She demanded to keep all wardrobe and jewelry worn in the movie that weren’t rented. And, oh yea, $3,500 per week per diem for her bodyguards. Want to work with her? Hire her? Why would we spend a cent to support this pain-in-the-ass, prima dona and all of the others like her? ©2009 by Bob Rockwell

Test your knowledge of geezer-dom with the following quiz. A high score indicates that you are well on your way to senility; while a lower score is a sure sign that you should spend more time at rest homes watching old people drool. Oh by the way, your answers don’t really matter because no one cares what old farts think anyway.

If at first you don’t succeed, you should:

a) Quit, it was a dumb idea anyway

b) Blame it on someone else

c) Have a drink

d) Lie, success is fleeting anyway

The thing I miss most from my childhood is:

a) Skinny dipping in a cool pond

b) Playing doctor with the neighbor girl

c) The serials at the Saturday matinee

d) Skipping school to hang out with my buddies

The one thing I’ll never ever do again is:

a) Order a cubic zirconium from QVC

b) Attend another Dr. Dre concert

c) Wear my red and green, plaid sans-belt golf slacks to brunch

d) Watch another showing of Austin Powers

The most disgusting person that just won’t go away is:

a) Joan Rivers

b) Al Sharpton

c) Kathy Lee Gifford

d) Al Davis

Life’s biggest mystery is:

a) What’s going on in the TV series Lost

b) Why Noah didn’t swat those two damn mosquitoes on his ark

c) How TV evangelists live with their consciences

d) Who shot JR and who cares

To me, sex is:

a) A pleasant but distant memory

b) Too much work

c) A one-handed affair

d) Something I’ve been waiting months for

The one thing you never want to hear is:

a) Your PSA results are a bit high and I want to do a biopsy

b) FORE! Duck! Damn it, duck!

c) Is that your wife in the conga line with the flamenco dancer?

d) It would be cheaper to donate your car to a worthy cause

If I had my life to live over again I’d:

a) Buy Microsoft stock at their IPO

b) Never get that tattoo

c) Wouldn’t inhale

d) Marry a rich girl much later in life

The question you never want to answer without a lot of thought:

a) Does my ass look big in these slacks?

b) Would you rather have surgery or radiation?

c) Do you want red or green chile on your burrito supreme?

d) How much can you afford per month?

The thing you never ask another geezer unless you’ve got a day to kill:

a) How was your surgery?

b) Do you have any pictures of your grandkids?

c) How are you feeling?

d) What do you think of (insert any topic)?

That’s nice but:

a) My surgery was longer, scarier, and more expensive than yours

b) Whatever your son has done, mine did it when he was only fourteen

c) My longest drive on this hole was 30 yards past yours

d) I’ve already been there and done that, twice

The sentence you’ll never hear at the Senior Center is:

a) This Cabernet Sauvignon goes well with the chateaubriand

b) My hearing seems to get better with the passing of time

c) My last Social Security check was so big that I’m afraid to cash it

d) I slept like a rock last night

Your major accomplishment in 2008 was:

a) Getting all the way through American Idol without kicking in your TV

b) Actually reading the booklet on your Medicare benefits

c) Enduring our last political campaign without moving to Mexico

d) Avoiding interment

The thing I want to focus on in 2009 is:

a) Figuring out how to qualify for a government bailout loan

b) Finding someone new who hasn’t heard all of my stories and BS yet

c) Finally saying a long, long overdo goodbye to George W.

d) Flossing more and farting less

I believed them when they said:

a) Don’t worry, it’s covered under warranty

b) You may have already won our $10,000,000 sweepstakes

c) Our serviceman will be at your house Tuesday between 7 am and 9 pm

d) You’ll only feel a slight sting

The one thing I’ll never learn:

a) How to answer a text message from my granddaughter

b) Not to eat Mexican food before a long stretch between rest stops

c) How LBJ beat Barry Goldwater in 1964

d) How to not have that third and fourth drink

©2008 by Bob Rockwell

Introduction

I thought I had all of my pet peeves on paper with my first two rants. Nope, more things continue to piss me off. Here is some more stuff that is getting under my skin:

Boom-Box Cars

I can’t think of anything more irritating than those idiots that boom their high-wattage stereos through huge speakers in their cars. Do you think that they just want to be noticed, not for their cool cars like we did when we were kids, but for their bad taste in music and their hearing impairments? You can actually feel the air move and your car shake as their bass notes, and it all seems to be bass, rattle the fillings in your teeth. This can’t be music that they play; even the worst hip-hop music is better than this awful noise. What are we going to do with these guys? I don’t know, should we report them, give them a one finger salute, call 911, crash into them, what? Think about this the next time one of these imbeciles pulls up beside you at an intersection with his boom box throbbing and let me know.

Tattooed Young People

Where was I when we decided that looking like tattooed carnival freaks was a cool or in thing. Watch a pro basketball or football game on TV and you’ll think they recruited their heavily tattooed players from our nation’s prisons.

I’m not terribly proud of the one small USMC tattoo I have on my left shoulder. I’m proud to have been a Marine but there are better ways of showing my loyalty to the corps than writing their initials indelibly on my arm. I’ll live with my thirty minutes of adolescent stupidity forever.

When I see an attractive young girl with tattoos I have to wonder why? Why? Why? These tattoos don’t enhance her beauty or add a token element of mystery or sexiness to her appearance; they only show how dumb young people can be when they try too hard to look grown up.

How about the plain looking girls that load up on tattoos? I only see their socially acceptable exposed parts and I’m aghast. How must they look nude? If they have all of that on her arms what must their breasts, bellies, and their butts look like? What do their lovers think of all of this very permanent artwork?

Unfortunately a tattoo is not something you can choose to wear or not wear, or change when you tire of it and move on to different things. It is permanent, like forever. What are these girls going to look like when they are little old grandmothers? I can’t even imagine.

Hand Held Food

Don’t you hate the sandwich that falls apart the minute you try to pick it up? How about the burrito that unwinds as you lift it for your first bite? Then there’s the chili dog that spills all over your lap, the soggy taco that dumps its contents into an inedible pile, the deli sandwich that is so fat that there is no way to get it into your mouth, and on and on. I don’t know about you, but I think there ought to be a law that would require hand held food to be truly hand held. No dripping, leaking, crumbling, drooping, soggy, or over filled items would be allowed. If you want that kind of food order a bowl of chili.

Call Centers in India

Have you ever spent a frustrating couple of hours trying to do some simple thing, like schedule a local repairman through their dispatch center in India? I really try to be polite to these young, they all seem to be young, call center people who struggle in their heavily accented English to solve my problems or honor my requests. I’m glad these people have jobs and I feel that they are truly trying but there is a limit to my compassion. Often they seem poorly trained or don’t have the information I need available to them. They never have a solution for what seems to me to be an ordinary request. Who trains these people? Who writes their manuals? Why do we put up with this?

Celebrities That Make Me Want To Puke

Everyone has their likes and dislikes. Our personal points of view become even more pronounced as we become older. I’ve recently noticed a freighting trend; I have a new “people I can’t stand” category that goes well beyond my simple dislikes. These are people I want completely out of my life. But, they’re all celebrities and they keep showing up again and again. Let me give you an example: I dislike Donald Trump, or the modern Liz Taylor but I can’t stand Donny and Marie Osmond or Tom Cruise. See the difference? Another example might be: I dislike George W. Bush but I couldn’t stand Lyndon Johnson.

Topping my list of people that really make me gag are Wayne Newton and Barry Manilow. I wouldn’t go see these guys if they were playing in my front yard. A couple of women I’d like to forget and never see again are Kathy Lee Gifford and Starr Jones. And, the guys that really get to me are that smug, red-haired prick on CSI: Miami, David Caruso along with Paul Shaffer, the creepy little band leader on the Letterman show.

Another category of people I want out of my life are Jewish singers that think we want to hear their Christmas carols; people like Barbara Streisand and Neil Diamond.

I know, I know, I’ve never met any of these people and I’m basing my opinions on their public personas, but I hate them anyway.

Cell Phonies

A lot has been written about cell phone etiquette, or our lack thereof, so I’m hesitant to add my little rant. What the hell, these people deserve all of the bitching we can muster. Does anything piss you off more than the air-head in her huge SUV whipping in and out of traffic with one hand on the wheel and her cell phone stuck to her ear? How about the inconsiderate moron that answers his phone in an otherwise quiet waiting room and shares his meaningless conversation with everyone within shouting distance? I especially dislike the yoyos that answer their phones while you’re talking to them without batting an eye or saying a word to you. Recently, I was half-way through buying my stuff at a convenience store when the clerk’s cell phone rang. She stopped tallying up my purchases and began a long conversation that was far more important to her than me or her job. I don’t know how long she talked, I left. What can we do about these assholes?

©2008 by Bob Rockwell

In an old novel Sherlock Holmes says something about the sun going around the earth. Dr. Watson corrects Holmes only to hear Sherlock reply that he would try to forget that as soon as possible. Holmes immediately knew that this information was immaterial to his life. Unlike Sherlock, here’s some of the stuff clogging up my tequila soaked brain cells:

Oreos are nearly 100 years old • the Taj Mahal is located in Agra • a roo is a kanga’s kid • Web sites are programmed in HTML • the Libyan currency is the dinar • a haw is a left turn • plant circulatory tissue is called xylem • imarets are Turkish inns • the capital of Western Samoa is Apia • another word for beige is ecru • Leandro loved Ero • Xiamen’s former name was Amoy • A bassa or cantata is a missa • a literary collection is an ana • Adar is a month in the Jewish calendar • the state motto of Idaho is Esto Perpetua • William McKinley’s wife was Ida Saxton • Attu is the most distant of the Aleutian islands • Asch Sholem wrote The Apostle • An Eskimo paddles his umiak • Turgnev was born in Orel • An olio is a collection of miscellaneous pieces • Enid was a lady in Camelot • Orel is port in Russia • Rara avis is Latin for a rarity • A vertical set of loom yarns is called a warp • A gamp is another name for a large umbrella • the Otoe is a Nebraska tribe • Mindy was played by Pam • an oda is a room in a harem • Apollo astronaut Slayton’s first name is Deke • the Eger is a river in Hungary • a young codfish is called a parr • lobster claws are chelae • a nene is a rare Hawaiian goose • coach Stagg’s fist name is Amos • honey is also called mel • Eugene O’Neill named his daughter Oona • a seta is a stiff hair • A squirrel’s nest is called a drey • a Malay gibbon is a lar • A Spartan magistrate is an ephor • the Yser is a river in Belgium • éclat is great brilliance • the Auca Indians are an Araucanian tribe • a goddess of discord is Eris • a liana is a type of vine • dins causes tinnitus • the Inca worshiped Viracocha • Rick loved Ilsa • a noh is a Japanese drama • alar is a banned chemical • the patron saint of goldsmiths is Eloi • an ara is a macaw • an etui is a needle case • Cush was Ham’s son • a mawk is a maggot • Esau’s later name was Edom • Prospero’s servant was Ariel • pluvial is rainy • a nidus is a spider’s nest • a lump of clay is a clag • one hundred lwei equal one kwanza in Angola •

PS My spell checker didn’t recognize any of the bold words. Shows you what Microsoft knows

©2008 by Bob Rockwell

An Open Letter to John McCain

Dear John,

I listened with interest to your first interview since the election; your guest spot on The Tonight Show. An interview by a comedian rather than a hard-hitting journalist gave you a rare opportunity to discuss what you have learned in a non-defensive, open fashion. There often is far more to learn from a lost opportunity than a win. What did you learn from your defeat? Nothing! Your discussion with Jay showed me again that you are as clueless as you came across throughout your unsuccessful campaign.

To give you a bit of credit, I don’t think any republican could have won with the country’s disenchantment, or out-and-out disgust, with the Bush administration and Bush’s disastrous policies. We’ve had it with everything Bush. On election night a network anchor described the only negative point against a losing incumbent Republican representative was that he had an R after his name.

We were captivated with the spirit and energy of the Democratic National Convention and wondered how your team could even attempt to measure up. How would you handle Bush and Cheney? All and all the Republicans did an excellent job except for you. You never talked about any of the issues in your acceptance speech. Instead, you chose to give us a verbal resume stressing two major points, you’re a war hero and a maverick. After 23 years in the Navy and over 30 years in the senate is this all you’ve accomplished? Obama talked about all of the issues of interest to me: healthcare, education, the economy, energy independence, and our lessening stature in the world. You talked about the courage you showed as a POW.

You are truly someone we should all respect and honor for your sacrifices in the Viet Nam war. A hero, I’m not sure being shot down by an enemy with no airpower or limited ground-to-air capability qualifies. What was your mission? Did you accomplish it? What were the circumstances surrounding you being shot down? Did the enemy outsmart you? Did your equipment fail or did you fail to exercise the proper defensive procedures? Anyway, your war hero claim begs more questions than it answers.

After nearly 35 years in the senate the only accomplishment you could talk about was being labeled a maverick without mentioning what you accomplished as a maverick. I think you meant that you didn’t always vote with your party. I see this as maybe good, maybe bad. I expected you to describe some issue where you went against the mainstream and was later shown to be right. You never came up with one instance where being a maverick was good.

Fifty eight years of service to our government in the Navy and the Senate and you couldn’t point to any accomplishments beyond these two. I’m led to believe that you’ve never done anything outstanding in all of this time. I think you don’t have fifty eight years of experience; your have one year of experience which you rehashed 58 times

Your campaign was awful. All your rhetoric and TV commercials were focused on portraying Obama in as negative a fashion as possible. You attempted to discredit Obama and paint him as an inexperienced liberal. We all knew that about him going in. Couldn’t you come up with one positive reason on why we should have voted for you? Sales people that can’t elaborate on the benefits of their products and can only discredit their competition never win. That’s exactly how you came across … a bumbling salesman with nothing to sell.

Lastly, trying to paint yourself as a Washington outsider promising change to the very system you are part-and-parcel of didn’t make any sense to me. You never talked about what you were going to change. You even tried to paint Sarah Palin as your change agent when you realized how dumb your change message was. Obama’s definition of change was very clear; he is going to reprioritize the issues. He thinks healthcare and education should be placed above expensive wars in third world countries and tax breaks for the rich.

My conclusion is that you are truly the C, or possibly even the D, student that you demonstrated at Annapolis. After 8 years of leadership by another C student. I believe that the job you sought is too tough for a C student or someone with just average intelligence and clearly below average academic ambition. America doesn’t need another C student.

Respectively,

Robert D. Rockwell

Ex-Republican & an A – Student

©2008 by Bob Rockwell