If you knew me at all...
...you'd know that I hate local news. I mean HATE IT. Local Fox news, in particular, is particularly heinous. I would never watch it if it weren't for Kevin, who watches only to catch the weather. Last night it was on as I was bustling around, preparing for bed, and I kept making sharp little "Ach!" "Ugh!" and "Argh!" sounds to drown out the stupidity of the lead "news" stories, mostly involving child abuse/rape/fondling and really awesome wrecks.
But I didn't bustle enough to drown out one of the leading stories, LEADING, mind you, about a ficticious group of citizens who are trying to ban strip clubs in their little patch of heaven. I say ficticious only because I don't really believe that a major city's news organization would take the time and money to talk to a group of about 4 citizens about a really worn-out issue. Not when there are legitimate third party candidates to interview! I'm SURE those "citizens" are actually horny news hacks, dressed as citizens, making up this whole thing so they can weasel a camera inside any strip club, anywhere. In their reporting of this moral outrage, they brought uncommon sensitivity and brevity to the boob tube by bouncing out no less than THREE strippers in about 45 seconds, including one fine lass who shook her gigantis, keyhole-blouse bursting bazongas at a concerned populace. Won't someone think of the children?
In other news, I went to a garage sale during lunch today. They promised quilts and bolts of fabric. I ended up with a weird double rake, a 'weed scratcher' tool thing, a hand spade, and a hand fork. Four bucks. On my way back to the office, I drove down the dreaded Parkway and was confronted with about a million cars (where did all these assholes come from!?) and, so, took a back road and ended up just kind of milling around the city on unfamiliar streets. The freeway was sort of in the corner of my eye--I wasn't hopelessly lost--but I did find myself in the bowels of the Industrial Parks Beside the Freeway. Who works in these building cubes with no names? Where do these people live? Does it bother them to come to work everyday in a place where they can't go outside and take a walk? Where the only view is up towards the freeway? Do they ever fish in those big ponds, or at least eat their sandwiches on its halfheartedly manicured banks?
It was about then that I realized, "I'm talking about myself!" And I was so depressed that I went to Once Upon a Child in Suburbanton and bought just the perfect sun hat for Marky. Problems over!
But I didn't bustle enough to drown out one of the leading stories, LEADING, mind you, about a ficticious group of citizens who are trying to ban strip clubs in their little patch of heaven. I say ficticious only because I don't really believe that a major city's news organization would take the time and money to talk to a group of about 4 citizens about a really worn-out issue. Not when there are legitimate third party candidates to interview! I'm SURE those "citizens" are actually horny news hacks, dressed as citizens, making up this whole thing so they can weasel a camera inside any strip club, anywhere. In their reporting of this moral outrage, they brought uncommon sensitivity and brevity to the boob tube by bouncing out no less than THREE strippers in about 45 seconds, including one fine lass who shook her gigantis, keyhole-blouse bursting bazongas at a concerned populace. Won't someone think of the children?
In other news, I went to a garage sale during lunch today. They promised quilts and bolts of fabric. I ended up with a weird double rake, a 'weed scratcher' tool thing, a hand spade, and a hand fork. Four bucks. On my way back to the office, I drove down the dreaded Parkway and was confronted with about a million cars (where did all these assholes come from!?) and, so, took a back road and ended up just kind of milling around the city on unfamiliar streets. The freeway was sort of in the corner of my eye--I wasn't hopelessly lost--but I did find myself in the bowels of the Industrial Parks Beside the Freeway. Who works in these building cubes with no names? Where do these people live? Does it bother them to come to work everyday in a place where they can't go outside and take a walk? Where the only view is up towards the freeway? Do they ever fish in those big ponds, or at least eat their sandwiches on its halfheartedly manicured banks?
It was about then that I realized, "I'm talking about myself!" And I was so depressed that I went to Once Upon a Child in Suburbanton and bought just the perfect sun hat for Marky. Problems over!
posted by lulu | 10:37 AM
4 Comments:
Kudos for your social consciousness. Rule 1: when faced with the perils of sprawl and traffic, drive around in your car for awhile! Rule 2: when Rule 1 fails to cheer you up, go shopping!
PS. Strippers on Faux News? Now I'll tune in!!
To clarify for Mr. Golly:
1. The traffic was at a dead stop. For once I followed the crowd turning left onto a mysterious road, thinking that they might have The Solution! They didn't. Facing even more traffic, I took the road less traveled, and found myself in said maze.
2. Marky really did need a sun hat to protect his little fuzzy head. I broke out of the maze just a mile away from this store filled with USED items.
3. I don't have to justify myself or anything.
Consider yourself vindicated, or absolved, or whatever. Omni deuce valorum ex post facto. Go in pieces.
Post a Comment
<< Home