WHY I SELDOM BLOG

 

WHY I SELDOM BLOG

I used to post every day.  I posted stories from my past.  I posted opinions.  I posted about everyday happenings around the Cranky home.

I have run out of stories from my past.  Opinions no longer promote thought and discussion; they promote judgement and anger.  Happenings around the Cranky home have already been well documented. (And often treated as if I was looking for solutions to a problem…apparently, I suck at sarcasm.)

I have also noticed a significant difference in reader reactions to my posts and in general any media articles or news items.

I sometimes go back and read old posts from 2012 to around 2017.  Posts that many, if I do say so myself, are dang funny and occasionally almost inciteful.

Comments typically used to be, “Funny Cranky” or “LOL” or “ROFLMAO” or “I know you are joking, but much of this is spot on” or “Your wife is a hoot” or “I totally disagree, but still had to laugh at some of this crap.”

Comments today would be,

“I think you meant insightful, not inciteful, unless you wanted to start a riot!”

I read an article today about 6-year-old twins, and their reaction to a present of clothes and not toys.  I expected comments on the parenting style to what I thought was a bratty child reaction.  Instead, at least 40% of the comments were on the authors apparent grammatical flaw of referring to the Twins as a “Pair of twins.” I did not even notice this flaw as I am apparently also grammatically challenged.

For instance, I still refer to pants as a pair of pants, not a pair of pant.  Or glasses as a pair of glasses, or pliers as a pair of pliers, or even scissors as a pair of scissors. (Plus, it just took me four tries to spell scissors correctly).

I should not even be allowed to post!

I think I may have just slid slightly off topic.

Point is, it seems to me that these days people do not read anything to learn, discuss, laugh, or cry. Instead, there is a tendency to be insulted, indignant or judgmental. 

People are angry. 

In our current nationwide effort to be inclusive of different people, cultures, and ideas, we have become compartmentalized finger pointing virtue signalers.

This is of course a giant generalization, but the point is it is a clear direction that we are moving towards, and I do not like the direction one bit.

 

She Needs A Deerstalker Hat and A Meerschaum Pipe I Tell Ya!

 

She Needs A Deerstalker Hat and A Meerschaum Pipe I Tell Ya!

 

Mrs. C once again has demonstrated her Sherlockian talent of clue spotting.

Today while she was at work, I had to fill out an on-line form for an oral Surgery appointment… (Bad tooth, no biggie.) The site to fill out the form was sent to my phone, so I had to fill it out on my phone.  (Yes I probably could have forwarded it to my computer except I can’t).  Anyway

One of the questions was for the phone number of my emergency contact…Mrs. C of course.  Problem was, her number is on my contact list which is on my phone which I was using to fill out the form.  (No I don’t know her actual number, I call her by telling the phone to “Call Karen, Mobile!")

OK, that’s it, no more explanation’s in parenthesis.  

So, in order to find the number, I thought maybe it would be on our landline phone.  (Well, it used to be on the phone…ok now that is the last one.)  I picked up the phone and looked.  Apparently they don't put it on the receiver anymore.

I had to dig out the number from a list in my wallet.

Later this night, Mrs. C comes to bed and glances at the phone.

“Did you use the phone today?”

“WHAT?”

“Did you use the phone today?”

“Why?”

“Because the cord was moved.”

“Holy crap!  I picked it up to look for our number which is not there to fill out a dental form.  How does the cord get moved more than an iota or two from that?”

“Apparently it does, because I could tell.”

“So, I guess if I came home with lipstick on my collar you would spot it.”

“Yes, but I might not care!”

That’s Mrs. C.  She does not miss a trick and also can put me in my place without skipping a beat.

At least she didn’t call me a JERK! 

(She has been known to call me that from time to time)

(Oops, I forgot)

(Maybe I am a Jerk!)

 

MY CAR IS POSSESSED

 

MY CAR IS POSSESSED

My 2017 Honda HRV (Harvey) is possessed!  Not repossessed, it is paid for, but possessed by some unknown force.

How is it possessed?  I have no idea.  I am the only owner, so it is not as if some previous Nere-do-well left it with some bad karma, or someone died a horrible death and the soul has not left Harvey. 

But possessed it is.

How?

Last month I left for a 4-mile drive to out local recycle center, Fort Grumpy.  (Yes, Mrs. C thinks I should get a job there too) I recycle once a week, carefully separating glass, plastic and cans, cardboard boxes, and paper into separate containers.  I’m pretty sure all this stuff ends up in the same land fill (several engineering experts in the field have confirmed this) but I still feel like I am doing something good for the environment once a week.

On the way to Ft. G. I pulled out my driver’s license and stuck it up under my sun visor.  

Our Ft. G. Grumps demand proof of residency to drop off recyclables, they are very thorough in ensuring some non-town resident cannot drop their stuff off on our center, so proof of residency is demanded.  I put it in my visor ahead of time to be “soup-nazi” prepared for the Grumps…they will yell!

Half way to the center I glanced up at my visor and the license was not there. 

What the Hell!

I pulled over and looked on the floor, the seats and even under the front seats.  Nothing!  How does a plastic license slip out of the visor and disappear without my even noticing?

I looked all over and nothing.  I drove back home for a more thorough search.  After tearing everything in the front seat apart without finding the license I turned to the back…as if a piece of plastic could slip out of a visor, fly out over the front seat and land on the floor in the back without my noticing a thing.

I found it on the floor almost under the back seat and slightly buried under assorted trash.  Impossible, and yet there it was.

Still hard to find...partially buried

Today I left for Fort Grumpy and once again stuck my ID firmly in the visor.  Once again half way to the center I looked up at the visor and …WTF!  Gone.

I Pulled over to check quickly and once again nothing.  I Drove home and checked all through the front driver and passenger side and again nothing.  I checked the back seats and there was the license.  Directly behind me.

So, without any moving of the visor, without hitting any bumps, the license somehow flew out of the visor, over my shoulder, and landed  behind the driver seat and I did not feel or see a thing.

The car is possessed I tell you!