Thought of the Day

Leaf-footed bugs MUST DIE.

Every last sinkin'* one of them within a ten-mile radius, if I had my way. 

Yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck YUCK.


*(Figuratively and literally stinkin', I might add.)

On Building Permits & Idiotic Zoning Laws

You decide to build a garage on your property, which is way off the nearest county-maintained road.  You try to follow the rules by going to get a building permit, even though you really feel that it isn't any of the county's business, anyway, where / when / how you build said garage.  (Seriously, why must you pay the local government for the privilege of building a simple garage on your own-- decidedly rural--  property, which you own free and clear?)

But still, you go to apply for the permit.  And then they inform you that you are not allowed to build it where you've planned it (and in fact, have already had dirt brought in and leveled, because who could have foreseen that there would be an issue?).  No, they say, it's too close to the property line.  You see, that's the property line that faces the nearest county-maintained road (which, again, is way off through hundreds of yards of trees), and any structures built on your property must be at least 40 feet away from that property line.  Now, if it were the side property line, 15 feet would be enough of a buffer.  (Our buffer is currently about 18 feet.  We had no idea our rural area even had zoning laws.  I am SO VERY VERY HAPPY to know, now, that it does.  Yippee, hurray, hurrah.)

You explain that you are way off the county road, and that the proposed garage, like the already existing house, will face the (non-county-maintained) easement... so really, that is the front of your property. (Through gritted teeth:) ...Right? 

Sorry, not so!  We, the Mighty and All-Powerful County Zoning Poo-Bahs do hereby proclaim that the front of your property is now and forever shall be that north-facing side, because of how it is oriented regarding the nearest county-maintained road.  But no biggie.  Just move the garage (extremely inconvenient) or have the property line moved.  Simple as that!  Then (and only then) we'll be more than happy to accept your money and generously grant you permission to build ON YOUR OWN PROPERTY.  You're welcome.

Oh, and have a nice day! 
We're always happy to serve!

They don't care that no-one lives anywhere near that property line.  Neither are they moved by the information that the land is owned by family, who would not care about the location of the garage and would sign a document to that effect.  Nope.  (In robo-voice:)  Does not compute.  Must not build within 40 feet of front property line.  MUST NOT-- MUST NOT-- MUST NOT...

~soul-weary sigh~

We're fortunate that my family owns that land, and there's not a house or something already on it-- so we can work something out-- but still, incredibly infuriating. 

One of the things I want in our garage, should it ever actually be built, is a punching bag.  No, seriously.  I mean it.  I need an outlet for my rage.  In the meantime, I guess I'll just have to hold it in.

Good Grief!

This sounds familiar, so I've probably heard it before, but seeing it in print makes a stronger impression on me:

"In the 1970s, one in 50 Americans were on food stamps-- today that figure is one in seven."

Well, I'm sure no bad can come of that. 

(Quotation from this story:  USDA uses Spanish soap operas to push food stamps among non-citizens, citizens.  ...Which makes you wonder, if one in seven Americans are currently on food stamps, how many non-citizen residents are, too...)

Random Grumpy Topics

• It's still really, really hot and dry here.  We got a sprinkling of rain on Friday, but it was barely enough to wet the ground.  Or in other words-- more, please.

Maybe our digital thermometer is telling tales, but it's been recording temperatures of over 100 with alarming frequency, lately.  Yesterday, it peaked at 105°F or 106°F.  (I can't remember which, and again, maybe it's not accurate, but...)  I'll keep you posted on whether or not the grass spontaneously bursts into flames.

On the other hand, this super-hot weather is a handy excuse for not doing much work in the yard.  ;o)  


• To add to the list of reasons the Internet is Evil:  "Could the Net be killing the planet one web search at a time?"   Well, of course it is. Is there anything we humans do or don't do that doesn't "kill the planet"?  Sheesh.  What was God thinking when he put us here, anyway?  Also:  This is why we can't have nice things!! 


• The infinitely abhorrent Bill Maher says he thinks "anybody could be president in this dumb f**king country". Well, based on the current administration, there's reason to suspect he may be right. On the other hand, if you hate this country so much, Bill, why not move right the heck out of it? Pretty please with sugar on top?  (P.S. You disgust me.)


• The E. coli scare in Europe is just the sort of health-related news story I try to ignore, because they have a high propensity for freaking me out.  (I don't like health-related news, and I am even less interested in raw vegetables now than I was before.)


There.  I'm all grumped out for the moment.

Pet Peeve of the Day

The Pet Peeve of the Day is a doozy, and I have to warn you, if you're eating breakfast, second breakfast, fika, lunch, dinner, supper, high tea, low tea, elevenses, or what-have-you, or if you have a weak stomach, you may not wish to read further.  ;o)

Basically, it's this-- people who think that watching someone vomit is hi-lar-ious and-- furthermore, because honestly, I don't mind if they sit guffawing at it all day long-- insist on inflicting it upon others.  They do this sometimes on AFV (the "funniest home videos" program), for instance, and in some movies.  Most TV programs I watch have the decency to at least provide the buffer of a waste basket, but the sound and mental image is bad enough.  Look, I felt a little queasy just seeing that hideous spot left on Don Draper's shirt after he tossed his cookies.  ~shudder~  (Considering how often the character drinks to excess, I have a feeling this may have happened more than once, so just choose your favorite instance.) 

Then there are people who use-- as their avatars-- animated gifs of someone vomiting.  I don't care if it's real or not-- why would I ever want to see it once-- much less over and OVER again in a loop?  It's horrifying, and it has to stop.  (Well, ok.  It doesn't have to, and I'm sure it won't, but I certainly wish it would.)

...This has been the Pet Peeve of the Day. 
And no, I don't intend to make this a regular feature of the blog.  You can thank me later. ;o)

Reason #45 Why I Am an Awful Person

Not really, of course.  I mean, I know there's plenty of room for improvement, but somehow I manage to look myself in the mirror (on occasion).

No, this is just one of those things that some people might think you shouldn't think... or admit to thinking... or... waste time writing about...  

- - - - -

The other day, we got something in the mail-- something from a charity.  (Even though it claimed in the accompanying letter not to be a charity, that is still how I think of it.  Sorry.)  The envelope bore no mark identifying it as being from that charity.  Instead, they decorated it with a goofy-looking illustration of a frog and a couple of "enticing" remarks:  "Greeting Card Collection Enclosed" and "You'll love these cheery cards!"

Open it up and there are five small, simple cards (for a variety of occasions), complete with envelopes and return address stickers.  (Never mind that the address stickers were printed so poorly-- with the type off the edge-- as to be unreadable and therefore useless.  Even though I take the time to mention it, that's not the point.) 

Also in the envelope is information from the organization explaining what they do and asking for a donation.  Though the author of the letter insists that the cards are merely "a reminder of the wonderful changes that are being made" by the organization, it's impossible not to feel that you're being guilted into making a donation.

I don't appreciate being guilted into anything-- even donating to what is probably a worthy cause.

Maybe there aren't many better ways to seek donations, but you have to wonder how much money is wasted on this type of solicitation. 

...The total lack of the charity's logo on the outer envelope (even though it appears repeatedly throughout the enclosures) just adds to the feeling of ambush.  No question why they decided to leave it off.  Just ask the person who tried to call us over the weekend.  When the caller I.D. displays "Jehovah's Witness", we just let it ring... (Hey, I'm saving them time.  There's no way I'm interested in that.)

P.S.  Oh, and while I'm at it (grumping, I mean), it's really irritating that practically every time I go to the only real grocery store in the nearest town there's a kid (teenager) bagging groceries, with a tip jar.  If it were only once every now and then, it wouldn't be so bad, but it really does seem like there's always someone (various sports/extra-curricular teams from the local high school, mainly) there, expecting a donation. 

...Ok, I think I'm done now.  I'll try not to be grumpy, next time.  (Try, I said.)

Back Pain and "Health Care Reform"

I have been a bad blogger lately, but at least I have something of an excuse for the past week or so-- that excuse being we've had company to entertain us-- Thorbjörn and Jocke visiting from Sweden-- and I've been struck (since last Saturday evening) with a bout of mysterious back pain.

(Note:  I probably ought to warn you right away that this isn't likely to be a happy or interesting post.  I'm up late with more of the same pain, and I don't really have anything fun to write about.  This is mostly a "venting" entry and a way to remember a few specifics in case the need to remember them should ever arise.  Once I'm feeling better, I'll try to write something other than a grumble.  Really.  My tender, delicate feelings will not be hurt-- at all-- if you choose to skip this.  In fact, I recommend it.  (g)  Again, really.)

The only reasons I can think of for the pain are one of these:

1)  Saturday, I spent a lot of time standing around and sitting at tables.  When I sit at tables, I probably tend to not have the best posture. . . and maybe somehow that triggered something.  (?)

2)  Possibly during cleaning on Tuesday and Wednesday I strained my back somehow.  I know that it sometimes takes a day or so for pain to begin after a strain, but how likely it is to take three or four days, I'm not sure. . .

3)  Something else that completely slips my mind-- possibly something that I'd never expect to cause back pain.  Or I was just a ticking time bomb of back pain waiting to go off at the worst possible moment.  ;o)

I feel like a little of a sissy-baby for making such a big deal about it, but it's just so frustrating.  I've probably been lucky, but for years and years, I practically never took pain pills, and in more recent years, when I have started taking them for the occasional headache or abdominal cramp, they've tended to work.  Sometimes they work better than others, but I can usually tell a difference, at least, even if I find I need to take the bigger recommended dose.  This time, though, nothing I've taken seems to reliably put a dent in the pain.  (Unless I'm simply a very poor judge of it. . .)

(For future reference:)
The pain tends to sneak up on me in the middle of the evening (though tonight it came earlier).  By the time I'm ready to think about sleep, it's bad enough that I feel that sleep is impossible, so I end up sitting up most (if not all) of the night, possibly able to drift off to sleep on the couch at 2 to 3 a.m. When I wake, the pain is noticeably lessened-- sometimes no longer even perceptible.  I can usually go through the rest of the day (sometimes with some naps to make up for missed sleep) without any recurrence of the pain.  There may be an occasional light "don't forget me yet" twinge or numbness in the general area, but that's about it.

Saturday and Sunday night were two bad nights in a row.  (I think Sunday wasn't as bad, though.)  Monday, I was able to go to sleep at a normal hour, but on Tuesday night, the pain returned.  For the rest of the week, there seemed to be a pattern of a good night followed by a bad night.  (So, as far as I can recall, Wed. = good, Thurs. = bad, Fri. = good, Sat. = bad.)  Until tonight, since I'm "enjoying" my second bad night in a row.  (Which is what happened last weekend, too, whatever that means, if anything. . .)

I should probably try to describe the pain itself, if I'm writing this complain-a-thon under the pretense of keeping a record for future reference, but I'm bad at describing pain. . .  I'll try anyway.

The pain starts out focused in mostly the middle back (maybe lower middle?), more on the right side than the left.  As it progresses (when it progresses), it seems to gradually spread to the sides and front-- pretty much the same area, only on my front as well as my back.  I'm pretty sure this is just a sign that I'm tensing or putting extra stress on other muscles as a result of the back pain, since it seems only to happen after the back pain has been around a little while.  The lower and upper back can sometimes hurt a little, too, but all this other pain tends to fade earlier in the night than the middle-back pain, and it all seems to originate with that middle-back pain, more to the right side than the left. 

When the pain is at its worst, I feel a little queasy, but I'm almost positive this is just a reaction to the pain itself, not a symptom of whatever's causing the pain.  I've never "been sick" from it-- just felt unsettled, like a mild case of indigestion. 

. . .What else?
As for what kind of pain it is. . . I don't know how to describe it.  It can be fairly sharp at the worst times, but mostly it's not generally at that jabby, "take your breath away" level, just steady, persistent discomfort-- enough to keep me from getting to sleep at a normal hour. 

I've tried a few types of pain killers (ibuprofen, Advil, Tylenol), including some with sleep aids.  The first "good" night after this all started, I had taken some type of generic Tylenol PM as a precautionary measure, so I thought I'd found my miracle drug.  Oops-- not so fast.  I eventually learned that it doesn't seem to make a big difference.  Some nights I took it, I'd sleep fine.  Other nights, I'd never get to sleep until 2 or 3.  Instead, I'd just be groggier as I sat up with the pain.

(Ah, the Pain.  My nightly companion.  Many's the time I'd look at my [nonexistent] watch and op' my mouth with every intention of saying, "Well, look at the time!  I guess I'd better be going off to bed now.  And you!  You must be exhausted after all that work!" only to find myself instantly hushed up.  "No sleep for you yet, silly girl.  Oh, no.  I have other plans for you. . ."  . . .Sorry.  I blame the lack of sleep.)

Heating pad-- sometimes it seems to help, sometimes it just makes me feel like my trunk is burning while my hands and feet are freezing, which makes me feel really queasy and "Ohmygoshwhat'swrongwithme?!"-ish.

Stretching-- It feels at the worst times like if I could just stretch hard/far enough, it might feel better, but it really doesn't seem to make much immediate difference.  

Massage-- Seemed to help for a little while, one time-- but only very temporarily.  The next time, it didn't really seem to make even a temporary difference, maybe because I was in the worst part of the pain the second time, so it was harder to relax.

Tonight, upon some advice from others who have experience with back pain, I tried lying for a while (probably about 45 minutes one of the times) with my back flat on the floor and my legs up (in the seat of a chair).  The idea is that this position takes all the stress off your back.  (Or is it just the lower back?)  Both times, it was not comfortable at first, but gradually became somewhat better.  The pain never went away entirely (not sure if it was even "supposed" to, or if it just gives your back muscles a break), and I didn't notice any marked improvement once I got up again.  It may be that this is meant to make more of a difference over the long term.

I can't tell if this pain is muscle-based or if it's caused by some sort of issue with nerves, but I lean toward muscle-based.  (This is probably immediately obvious to people with more anatomical/pain management knowledge than I have.)

The biggest thing that helps is time, I guess.  Sitting up and waiting, trying to find a decently comfortable position and just doing something to take my mind off it.  Crocheting & listening to music, for instance, or complaining about my lamentable situation on "the Twitter".  Writing long, detailed, and excruciatingly boring medical entries in my blog seems to work, too.  I mean, yes, the pain's still there (Don't panic, my friend.  I feel you, loud and clear.  Calm yourself!), but it's much less. . . well, painful now than it was an hour or however long ago it was when I gave up hope of falling straight asleep and came out here instead.  I might even be able to go to sleep soon, if I try.  (For some reason, I think it's easier for me to fall asleep on the couch than in bed, with this back pain.  I don't know why.  Maybe it's all psychological. . . Anyway, it does seem easier to drift off through a little remnant of pain when I'm in this room.)

In short (ha ha ha, I'm hiLARious), if I had experienced this pain for one night-- maybe even two nights-- I would have been uncomfortable, but would have just shrugged my shoulders and been grateful when it was over.  When it comes and goes for a week, I start getting more anxious and irritated.  I begin to make mental lists of what I might be willing to do to get the pain to just - go - away.  (Forever.)  I find myself wondering how much longer it will stay-- and what I did to trigger it in the first place.  (And how I can arrange to NEVER, EVER do that again, so long as I may live.)

I also question how bad this pain really is, comparatively speaking.  Do I have a low threshold for pain?  I'd always hoped and even been told once or twice that the opposite was true.  After all, I took only half of one of the prescribed pain pills the dentist gave me after removing-- cutting out, in spots-- my wisdom teeth.  And the women at the orthodontist's office were so impressed by my ability to bite those metal bands into place.  (No, seriously.  They seemed quite impressed.  Maybe they were just surprised I could bite so hard? (g))  Then there was the pain associated with having braces in general.  It definitely hurt, sometimes, but I don't recall taking pain killers.  Somehow it was just manageable without anything.  (Or maybe my terror of swallowing pills had something to do with that. (g)  Hm. . .)  In any case, now I wonder about that. . . Maybe I just have (had?) a high tolerance for mouth-related pain.  Or maybe my threshold has lowered with (ever-increasing) age.  It's troubling.  One of those things you don't often think about until Pain comes around to pay a call and keeps you up at night. 

(And then I also can't help but think of people facing horrible diseases and syndromes and infections.  You wonder how much pain they might be in, all the time, and feel guilty for whining about what you have every reason to hope and believe will be a temporary discomfort.  . . . Of course, it's easier to do that when the worst of your own pain has faded a little. . .)

Anyway, enough on that subject.

In other news, "health care reform" passed tonight.  I have heard so many horribly discouraging things about this bill and where it may take us that that might be enough to keep me up at night even without this back pain.  I'm infuriated, I'm discouraged, I'm. . . frightened-- fearful of what this might mean for myself, my family and the whole country.  I feel powerless.  I cast my vote in 2008, and it didn't do any good.  I'll be voting again, every chance I get, to try to reverse some of what I see as damaging policies, but so many people (who are so much better informed than I am on these issues) seem to think that reversal will be incredibly difficult, if not impossible-- and unless more of my fellow voters have woken up by the next election, I don't have faith that my vote will be of any use whatsoever.  This is why I probably shouldn't follow politics.  (It depresses me.)  This is also why it is so important that more everyday, common-sense Americans do follow politics!  If more had paid attention and acted in previous elections, we might be in a better position today.

I guess there's not much to do now but pray (or keep praying), pay attention (even if it gives heartburn), and wait for November. . . and try not to lash out at those voters who have contributed to the tearing down of our country (brick by brick-- or in this case, wall by wall), because so many of them seem to be clueless as to what they're doing, and it's wrong (not to mention fruitless) to be unkind to dumb animals.  ;oP

The End.

Talkin' 'Bout *Your* Generation

If you're a Baby Boomer, that is.

I happened to hear this story referenced on the radio today: A Grand Plan.

The basic gist is that as members of the Baby Boomer generation become grandparents, many of them don't want to be called "Grandma", "Grandpa", or other traditional/typical grandparent names. Instead, they opt for "Glamma" (which I find perfectly awful), "Grandude", "Grampster", and the like. (Is it just me? I can't say-- or think-- "Grandude" or "Grampster" without doing it in a silly bubble-headed surfer-dude voice: "Hey, kids! Look who's here! It's the Graaampster!")

Ugh.

I mean, sure, go ahead and have your grand-kids call you whatever you like. (Who cares, really, except for you and the kids?) But is it really that important what little Bobby or Susie calls you? Must you always stand out-- be different purely for the sake of being different?

For some reason, this just rubs me the wrong way. I guess it goes back to this feeling I've (almost always) gotten that "Boomers" think they're special, somehow. As if being born around the same time as a bunch of other people somehow imparted them with a rare gift.

It's the same feeling I got when I first saw this commercial and the others that went along with this particular ad campaign:



Reading that story, I just got the strongest impulse to tell all those Glammas and Grandudes-- and yes, the Grampsters, too-- "Get over yourselves!" Oh yeah, and get ready to make way for the next generation! :oP

Sorry for the lack of respect, "Boomers", but. . . well, to be honest, I don't respect you as much as many of you seem to feel you deserve. Or at least as much as the media seems to want us to respect (or at least admire) you. Because of all the great things you accomplished. Like, you know, Beatlemania. . . Anti-war protests. . . And, um, the whole hippie/free love thing. (Yeah, right on, flower child!) Aha! Don't let us forget a little something Wikipedia all-too-charitably describes as "experimentation with various intoxicating recreational substances". . . (Well, ok, maybe a couple of your social issue things were good causes, but I have a feeling they would've come about anyway.) All in all, just really good work breaking down the basic foundation of our society. You really did yourselves proud and, personally, I just can't thank you enough for all the good you did. Woo hoo!! (sarcasm ends here)

(By one reckoning, my parents fall in the very end of the Baby Boomer generation-- or at least my father does, and my mother was born only a few months later-- but I don't think of them as Boomers. I think of them more as "cuspers"-- like myself. Nope, you can't explain this away as deep-seated resentment against my parents. Sorry. (g))

Oh, and obviously there are plenty of Baby Boomers who were and are perfectly decent and admirable people. I give them respect according to their due. This was aimed more at the idea of the "typical Boomer" as promoted by the much-loved and oft-mentioned mainstream media.

Equal Health Care for All?

Maybe I am a mean, horrible person for writing this, but I'm doing it anyway.

I was reading comments on a blog-- one I've mentioned here before, which is written by someone who is half Swedish, half American, raised in the US, but now living in Sweden. He'd written about his recent experience with the Swedish health care system, and it generated a number of responses.

Now, normally, I wouldn't have much to say about health care in another country. Leave it to those citizens to decide how they want things to be run. However, these days, with our own system in such a mess and the very real threat of having it changed to something that will probably be even messier, I find this subject has become a sore spot for me. Some want us to believe that people in Canada-- Sweden-- wherever-- have it made, as far as health care is concerned. Based on what I've heard and read, I can't agree.

Then I read this particular comment on the blog. Here's an excerpt:

There are definitely positive things to say about the Swedish health care system, as well, though. One being the fact that you don't need to have an expensive health insurance to get good health care, meaning that people from all social classes are entitled to the same health care.

If I was more opposed to the Swedish health care than I already am and had a proneness to being sarcastic I would probably describe the Swedish health care with the following sentence: "The waiting lines may be long but at least we're all standing in the same line!"

Sadly enough, though, I guess that's what you get when you have equal health care for everybody.

(This is the part where some of you may hate me forever. (g))

Is that such a positive thing, that everyone gets (supposedly) the same care-- even if that means many are getting care of inferior quality to what they'd get in our current system?

I mean, sure, if I could wave my magic wand (what? don't you have one, too?) and make it so that everyone everywhere would receive top-notch medical care, that would be wonderful. But that's not how it works.

If everyone gets the same level of medical care, that implies taking an average of their previous care. Yes, some people's care will improve, but many will receive less efficient or effective care than if they were to just pay their own way. Instead of paying ridiculous fees for insurance, they're forced to pay for their health care through ridiculously increased taxes. What they get is probably worse medical care than if they had just paid their own way. So where does the rest of the money go? (Probably partly just sucked down the drain of government waste! As for the rest:) To help pay for the health care of the "less fortunate". Why are some people entitled to the money of others? (Because health care, like any service, is money.)

Gosh, this life thing is complicated! It'd be so much easier if people would get over this insidious sense of entitlement. (Fat chance!) Yes, there are some people who truly need help, and it is the responsibility of any civilized people to help provide for their needy. But I, for one, don't like it when the government tries to force my hand.

Is it "fair", if someone works hard to earn a higher standard of living, that he shouldn't be able to buy better care than someone who does the bare minimum?

Consider: You've worked hard and saved your pennies your whole life. You've managed to accumulate a little money. You won't be buying a mansion or hiring a chef to prepare your meals, but you've earned some financial security. Now, you're getting older, and the time comes that you decide you need some type of elective surgery. It would vastly improve the quality of your life-- maybe even prolong your life, as it would help you stay physically and mentally active-- but it is elective. Now that we've put the government firmly in control of health care, it's up to them to decide who gets surgeries and when. Because people believe that health care is now free (never mind the fact that someone's paying for it), the demand for all types of medical care has sky-rocketed. People who would've just made do, before, are now quick to say, "Heck yeah! Sign me up for this, and that, and that, too!" This means longer lines. It also means that there are government workers reviewing each case to decide if a procedure is warranted. (The doctors and surgeons can only do so much every day, after all, and there may be less incentive for people to become doctors, working under these new guidelines and conditions.) The health care doler-outer looks at you, an aging person, and decides that it'd be a better investment to let someone younger have the surgery, instead. You'll probably only live another 10-20 years, and that 40-year-old guy whose file is right below yours in the stack might have 30-40 years left in him. Tough luck! Even though you have the money to pay for the procedure directly out of pocket-- on top of all the taxes you've paid across the years-- you are denied. (Well, that's one prediction I've heard, and I doesn't seem too far-fetched, if you ask me. . .)

*sigh* Why can't people see the simplest things? If you take away most of the incentives of hard work, there's no reason for anyone to bother putting in the extra effort that creates success and wealth.

Mood-killers

And now I shall treat you to grumpiness, followed by a petulant outburst.
Please do us all a favor and skip this one. ;o)

It's amazing how a pretty decent mood can be ruined with just one or two little things. (sigh)

One of the "little things" is so little that it's not even worth mentioning-- especially since the "perpetrator" may happen to read this. Unlikely, but you never know. Besides, like I said, it's a little thing.

The other is a not-so-little thing-- a political thing-- some weird thing I just happened across that suggests that because of our nation's fiscal irresponsibility, the country could "go into foreclosure". Now, I'm not saying that I think that's actually going to happen, but my defenses were already down, and it managed to put a damper on my mood.

Politicians! Bloggers (in general)!
Stupid people in a stupid world, squabbling over idiotic nonsense.
Why can't they all be perfect, like me? ;o)

Ok, I'm feeling a little better, after that. (g)
Now just a little dish washing to seal the deal. . . ;o)

Sometimes the morning news just makes you feel like CRAP.

There's nothing like starting the day off on a positive note. Like when the first thing you hear is a reiteration of the possibility that you're (maybe) more likely to have cancer because you were raised in the age of plastic food containers and had a plastic bottle in your mouth since Day 1, probably. (sigh)

So what am I supposed to do about this great news? Somehow divine which plastic containers in my house have BPAs and toss them? (Some people say they're the ones marked with a 7 in the little "recycle" symbol.) Or is it best to just avoid all plastic like the plague? It's not going to be an easy task, these days!

Fortunately, I'll probably have pushed this little joyful nugget to the back of my mind in a day or two, and I'll be able to eat food stored in plastic without every bite tasting of dust. Honestly, what else is there to do? I don't think I want to go through life checking everything for 7s.

I thought 7 was supposed to be a lucky number, and it was the triple 6 we were to be on the look-out for? ;o)

Anyway, I guess my writing this is just spreading the happiness a little further. Sorry if I ruined your day, but I needed to complain.

Ok, I'll admit it--

I'm probably naive. And frankly speaking, I try to keep myself that way, in some respects. (g)

Wandering through this curious digital realm of blogs and comments, I'm frequently amazed by the extremely varied opinions (not necessarily a bad thing, but sometimes mindbogglingly different from what I've assumed was widely accepted), the "random acts of rudeness", the ignorance, and (often) the downright stupidity of people.

I suppose there has always been a certain number of stupid and/or rude people making things uncomfortable for the rest of us, but I have to wonder if the percentage is increasing.

Some of it can be attributed to our relative anonymity in our online lives. It's easier to be rude to someone when you think that no-one knows who you are. (It's also easier to say vicious, vile things about/to someone when you aren't looking him or her in the face. Well, that's true for most of us, at least.)

That aside, how much of this is due to the breakdown of long-held standards of decency and respect for self and others? Why is it ok-- or if not quite "ok", at least to the point that the rest of us just ignore it-- for someone to post a crude, angry comment about something as harmless (and completely unoffensive) as some random blogger's list of things they'd like to read?

(sigh)

It's discouraging. A little thing, to be sure-- or rather, many, many little things-- a thousand pinpricks, perhaps? Maybe it's not worth bothering about these little things when there are such bigger problems facing us... But then again, what good is defending our way of life from outside threats if we're slowly (or not so slowly?) rotting away from within?

I know I'm not the first to comment on the rudeness of the Internet Age, but I needed to vent! (g) Anyway, the grumbling is officially over, now, and I'll try to remind myself that the extreme rudeness is probably magnified by the fact that rude people tend to be louder than the rest of us. Not to mention that the ignorant and the stupid (separate groups, but both dangerous) likely spend more time blogging than our brightest minds. (I suspect that they're otherwise engaged.)

. . . Hm. Maybe I shouldn't blog so much, myself. ;o)