Charley and the Hoarders

I watch "Hoarders" and Charley Sheen interviews: I know I'm not that messy, and I'm pretty sure I'm not quite that crazy.

Not Me.

There is a public relations spot on TV directed against drinking while driving. I hate it. A father who has lost his little daughter in a devastating drunk driving accident lashes out from the screen---"Could you live with yourself if you killed my daughter?" His face and voice are filled with anger and hatred, while his heartbroken wife echoes his grief. But who is the raw anger and hatred directed at? Understandable, if at the drunken driver who did kill his daughter, or even if aimed at anyone who would even contemplate drinking and driving. But his horrible grief and deep rage reach out to everyone in TV land-----teetotalers, non-drivers, little children, others who have endured similar losses and may be trying to heal. But as the sponsoring organization would undoubtedly maintain------"If even one life is saved," the collateral damage is of no consequence. Personally, I don't believe that such advertising is likely to save even one life: people don't drink and then drive with intent to kill. Other, less dramatic, efforts must be made to get the message across.

Why Charley?

It seems the entire country is attuned to the words and actions of Charley Sheen. What's the attraction, since if you walk the streets of any city, you can hear the same kind of talk from those who wander the sidewalks talking to themselves. Not on a cellphone; they were there long before cells were invented. They mutter sometimes indistinguishable gibberish, but at other times speak with crystal clear logic and insights unbroachable by those of us who live in our politically correct climate. Do we really believe that public relation spots on TV or in the newspapers are really put out there by some caring paternal (or maternal for that matter) entity who truly cares about us? Do all those organizations and self-help societies really help the individuals or is their main purpose to perpetuate themselves as an industry. We who are obsessed by Sheen's manic ravings must see some shred of reality in all the artifice surrounding us. The illusion of life where everyone is trying for perfection is impossible where humans are tainted by self interest. So we live in the cocoon of pretense while living out our baser selves through Charley Sheen. We do not have the intestinal fortitude to drink tiger blood.

For the birds

Last summer there were reports of birds falling dead from the sky. The media ran with the stories, and while awaiting toxicology reports that never seemed to come, posited various theories as to what might have caused the birds to, essentially, drop dead. Struck by lightning maybe, seems plausible. Bird are in the sky, so is lightning, the 2 forces could meet. The birds may have been scared to death by the thunder, was another theory. Or , even more shocking, perhaps the birds were frightened to death by fireworks displays. If one bird heard a loud noise that stopped his heart, might that not have spread to the rest of his flock and they all fell dead too. But in this neck of the woods, there has been an area plagued by huge flocks of birds-blackbirds, starlings- and the city has tried every means to discourage them, including ultra-loud explosions beneath their gathering sites, and all it does is move them from one stand of trees to another, and the next day they're back. When I was a child, I remember a gentleman farmer who lived nearby who would shoot pigeons perched on the roof of his barn. If he shot a pigeon, that one was sure to fall dead, but I don't remember any other birds sitting nearby the shot bird, to fall dead from the loud explosion of the shotgun. And then----I read that a later bird group death was attributed to government sanctioned poisoning because they were destroying the livelihood by eating planted seeds. They were nuisance birds, not pretty at all, starlings, I believe, and so they had to die. BUT, we don't need to worry about the nice birds dying such a grisly death because the poison laid down for the offending birds was applied to food that is eaten exclusively by the bad birds. Really. We have birdfeeders in our back yard and it sure seems that all varieties of birds eat all varieties of food. Woodpeckers eat the seeds when there aren't any bugs nearby, the big birds eat the little seeds, the little birds eat the big seeds, maybe not their first choice but what's available. If I had some of that poisoned seed exclusive to the nuisance birds, and I spread it near my birdfeeder.........?

Really lost in transition

While I was reading the newspaper the other day (right away you know I'm an old person), I came across the inquiring reporter column. She had asked someone how hard he was going to fight for some cause or other. His answer as printed----"To the nail." Now I don't know if that's what he actually said. My guess would be that's what the reporter heard, and had no idea of what "tooth and nail" means. Both terms do sound alike, and no one cares what is meant anyway. Ask a question. Get an answer. That's the idea, right.

Foiled Again

Whenever I go for a doctor's visit, I fully intend to ask lots of questions and completely explain whatever set of symptoms or condition has brought me to the office. However, that never really happens. The doctor is rushed, or focused on "just the facts," and I usually go along with it, kind of muttering that I guess I feel okay, basically, and I'll just agree to whatever he or she says. Today was to be different. I'd been having some symptoms in my eye that didn't seem to fit what had been previously diagnosed. I mentally prepared a summary of how I'd been feeling and the strange sensations that were sporadically appearing. The doctor entered the room in all his suntanned--just back from vacation--glory. In response to his opening "How are you?", I began to collect my prepared thoughts, beginning with "Well, I have a series of questions." I got as far as the "Well...." and he jumped right in with "Glad to hear it." AND SO IT WENT.