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Posts for the date of Thursday, February 14, 2002
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 10:27 PM |
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This is truly funny. It's a sad comment on our society, but in essence . . . we're talking natural selection here. Although I must admit I'm impressed that the supermarket knew the difference between "12 items or less" and "12 items or fewer."
Don't let the monkey fool you.
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 5:01 PM |
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Welcome to the Abbott & Costello hour. That’s apparently where I live.
My house is full of discoveries these days. Both of the kids are learning new things constantly. I feel left out. It’s not that I know all there is to know but . . . I’ve already learned the fun stuff. It’s all downhill after puberty.
Kaitlyn, on the other hand, is learning the fun stuff. She’s discovering language and learning how to read. I admit it’s a little heartbreaking to know that she no longer actually needs me to read to her at bedtime. We still read together. But I think she’s humoring me.
She’s old enough now to be able to understand some of the true children’s literary classics. We read Matilda recently. She loved it. We’re delving into more complex, longer stories with a deeper emotional core. I think I’ll try the Pippi Longstockings books next. How often is a little girl portrayed as all-powerful and strong? Not often. I think it would be a good lesson for her. That boys aren’t the only ones who can fly and beat up bad guys.
Today, however, she was really playing with the language. When she came home she had a reading assignment for school. It was the usual school text drudge designed to make kids learn the sounds and word order rather than try to accomplish anything with the written word.
However, today it was her first attempt at dealing with a “saying.”
The story was about some kid who goes fishing with her grandpa. When she questions his wisdom he tells her, “Don’t worry. I know what’s what.”
Kaitlyn stops. “What’s what," she asked. "Isn’t what what? I mean, what iswhat.
“That’s true,” I said. “But it’s a saying.”
“What’s a saying?”
“Well, it’s when people take a phrase to mean something else. Like, ‘that’s the way the cookie crumbles.’ It doesn’t have anything to do with what you’re doing, but it means the same thing.”
“So,” she asks, “her grandpa know what and it is the same as what?”
“I think,” I replied, “he means he knows what he’s doing. That for him it’s obvious.”
“Oh. Why didn’t he just say ‘I know what I’m doing’? It makes much more sense. And if I don’t understand the question then the little girl won’t.”
“True, but it’s just a saying.”
“But it doesn’t make sense.”
“I know, but not everything always makes sense. You’ll understand that some day.”
“I do. You never make sense,” she replied.
Well . . . I thought . . . I guess that’s that. Crap.
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Posts for the date of Monday, February 11, 2002
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posted by Gary O'Brien at 5:27 PM |
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I’m sick. Infirm. Ill. And because of this I’ve discovered a public health issue that threatens us all. It’s called: The local drug store.
Feeling ill, I went to our local drug emporium to pick up a box of Extra Strength NasoBlast. Guaranteed to pull every milliliter of moisture from your body. Sure, you’ll be dehydrated, but at least the sinus pressure will be relieved, right?
I walked through the door and the scene I came across was straight out of Night of the Living Dead. Hundreds, or maybe ten, gaunt, pale people with rosy cheeks and sunken eyes were hacking and coughing their way through the store in search of a miracle cure for whatever bubonic plague that was ailing them. Granted, most of them were mutant strains brought on by designer antibiotics but . . . hey, that’s another story.
The Cold & Flu aisle was three deep with the infirm. We didn’t talk, or touch, lest we pass along germs we didn’t already have and certainly didn’t want. We milled about, inspecting boxes to make sure that it addressed every symptom we had. “Indications: Nasal Congestion. Chest Congestion. Sore Throat. Aches. Pains. Bitchy Wives. Dog Flatulence. Gravity. Magnetic Fields. Political Extremism. Jessie Ventura. Andrew Lloyd Weber Musicals.”
Whatever ails you, your local drug emporium can cure. But, alas, that’s where the problem lays.
That place is full of sick people! Everywhere you turn, there were sick people. They were coughing and I was breathing their air! At least I had the common decency to go in with a sinus infection, something I couldn’t pass along to them unless I provided them mucous samples. But they, these . . . untouchables, went out of their homes with GERMS without any regard to public safety.
Worse yet, the staff of this store seemed to think this was okay! They were walking about unprotected. No respirators, no hazmat suits. Just ugly blue smocks and sensible shoes. When I asked them what they planned to do about this they responded, “Sell them the medicine they need.” What? I retorted. You condone this? You allow these sick people into your establishment? “Of course. We sell medicine.”
Sigh. Another threat to our safety unrecognized and, worse yet, capitalized. Our health is at risk and these apothecaries are simply shelling out over the counter medicines with abandon.
I propose they install sterilization rooms in all these drug stores. I propose they issue hazmat suits. Blood tests. If you fail, you must send a representative to pick up your medicine. Write your congressman! Write the president! Write your clergyman! Write Ralph Nader! We’re at war with germs and these “drug stores” are the hot bed of germ action. It’s ground zero for an outbreak.
I say it’s time we put an end to this. Boycott your local drug store. Refuse their wares. Suffer in silence at home, swollen and red.
But, for the sake of the nation, do NOT go to the drug store. It’s dangerous!
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