Donald Trump seems to be ushering in a new era of anger in America.
It’s always been my policy to zig when people like that are zagging, so this is a good time to go the other direction from Trump and his Trumpettes and start making peace with some of the people and things in this world that drive me crazy.
Therefore, in true Trump fashion, I am raising my right hand and solemnly swearing to try and stop cussing and fussing as much as I do about the following irritants, so help me Oprah:
People who drive slow in the fast lane — I’ve probably bored you to tears over the years with all my moaning and groaning about the brain-dead twits … er, I mean, motorists who poke along in the left lane, oblivious to the rising blood pressures in their wake.
I used to curse these people, and wish bad things upon them — like, say, forcing them to eat kale or watch a Kardashian marathon.
But no more. Instead, when I encounter these people I am going to take a deep breath and go to my inner happy place, where public executions of nitwits who drive slowly in the fast lane are legal and well attended. Problem solved.
Commercials for personal issues — I have a thing about all commercials for prescription medicines. I have never once, nor will I ever take medical advice from a TV commercial and ‘ask my doctor’ about what medicines to take. Mostly, because I suspect she’d hit me. She’s the doctor, after all, not me. If she thinks I need a pill, I’m sure she’ll tell me. Doctors don’t want to be told what medicines to prescribe any more than mechanics want to be told how to fix a car.
TV banter — For some reason, the cutesy banter TV anchors employ between segments has always bothered me beyond all reason. This is not healthy for me. They’re not going to stop saying dumb things like, ‘Ha, ha, I guess that contest is really going to the dogs’ after a segment on the Westminster dog show just because I want them to, even if it makes me want to wing my remote at the set. So I’m just not going to let it bother me anymore. It’ll be better for my health and I won’t have to replace so many TVs. (Flat screens are so flimsy these days.)
Leaf blowers — We’re entering leaf blower season. I contend the world was a better, quieter and healthier place before the invention of the leaf blower. As soon as the grass is long enough to cut, I’ll awake most Sunday mornings to the sound of one of the dad-blamed devices. I wouldn’t hate them half as much if the people who operate them didn’t blow their lawn waste into the street where — I can only presume — they expect the ‘lawn waste cleaning fairies’ to whisk it away for them.
I am not going to let things like that bug me anymore, though.
Thank you, Donald Trump.
I suspect that’s the last time I’ll ever write those words.