Feast or Famine

Apparently I have the bug up my ass to write again. So here goes...

I hate when people call Target "tar-JAY" (soft "j"). It is not funny, and whatever irony you think exists by shopping at a value priced store and giving it a name that supposedly makes it sound haughty and expensive just doesn't exist. The only irony is that there is no irony there (oooh, mental moebius strip!). And really, it's just not funny. I don't know if it has ever been. You are the same people that called the alvation Army "Le Sal's", and Nordstrom's "Nordy's". You are all blathering idiots.

Now back to trouser socks. I really do need to know what the difference is between "trouser" socks, and socks you can buy in a 6 pack or 12 pack at Wal-Mart or Target or K-Mart or any other damn place. To me, it sounds like an excuse to charge extra for tube socks. And (gender differences and stereotypes be damned) I am willing to bet that men have never bought trouser socks. NEVER.

I have a few random thoughts that are floating in my head, so here they are in no particular order...

The Power Rangers are nothing but a pale imitation of Voltron (the lions, not the cars. But IMHO, the cars never got a fair shake. They were like Bo and Luke's cousins. Doomed from the start), with some really bad karate moves thrown in for good measure. And they have been on for what, 10 years now? Longer? No wonder kids are getting dumber.

Speaking of kids, I do not believe that time outs work. I got my ass whupped more times than I can possibly count (I am pretty sure that having to whup my ass is the reason my mother has arthritis now. All the slaps she gave me must have thrown her bones out of alignment. Especially because I learned early to clench up my butt cheeks when the whuppin started, so my mother just started whuppin harder. She probably knocked her spine out of alignment trying to make sure I got the message. And eventually I did. It took longer than expected, but still. And since my juvenile record is sealed, you will have to take my word on it). I am either for spankings or psychological warfare. My "big brother" (mentioned earlier) uses the latter. He has convinced his son that if he misbehaves, he can call the Amish to vome take him away. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a straight face the first time you hear a grown man threaten to call the Amish to take his son away if the son doesn't stop misbehaving. Thank God I was there and knew he wasn't joking (at least not as far as his son was concerned). And to see the panic in his eyes when he grabbed the phone, the boy running to his father crying "PLEASE don't call the Amish!! I'll be good!!!". I had to excuse myself and go outside and down the street so as to not ruin it by gut laughing. It works. And really, shouldn't we all be at least a little afraid of the Amish? But here is the best part. About 2 years ago, my bro and his wife bought a house in Red Lion PA. Right in the middle of Amish Country. Apparently whenever they pass one of the buggies, he sinks REAL low in his seat and whimpers a little. Of course, there is an off chance the kid will end up on a tower somewhere going all Lee Harvey Oswald on people, but as long as you don't have a beard w/out a mustache and don't wear big hats, you should be okay. He'll probably just wing you.

Dammitall, I had others, but I just got 3 phone calls in a row from patients and completely lost my train of thought. Hopefully I will get it back soon and I can finish this before I leave work today. I doubt I will have time to do anything this weekend. We shall see.