Monthly Archives: January 2020

Facebook–Say What?

Among many others

Moderators for YouTube must now sign a document acknowledging that they might suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder by reviewing YouTube posts.

Excuse me?

When a website creates stress similar to a combat experience, it’s time to just stop and ask ourselves what the hell we’re doing. We expected Facebook, YouTube, and other social media sites to be an opportunity to share ideas. Now, at best, they share thousands of pictures people take of themselves or pictures of their latest meal. At worst–they post images so disturbing that they can cause PTSD. Something is wrong. Terribly, terribly wrong.

I have a better idea. Make it a policy that postings are hateful, disgusting, or otherwise inappropriate for polite society, the social media site will respect their First Amendment rights, so long as they include their (verified) name, address,cell phone number, photo, and e-mail.

Decent people have no use for a coward.

Life Is Too Complicated

In order to ignore the brouhaha–or is it a kerfuffle–that dominates the news, I will focus my blogs on the curves that life throws at us normal people. Let’s start with parking.

When I started to drive, except for the shopping centers (now called strip malls–or that now outdated?) parking was on the street. In order to park, you had to parallel park. Parallel, as in parallel to the curb.

Parallel parking was part of the drivers license AND the part that everyone feared. It isn’t really all that hard, and on very rare occasions I still get to use my parallel parking skills.

However, things got more complicated. Besides parking spots near the door reserved for the handicapped (logical) and pregnant mothers (also quite logical), there are now reserved spots for customers who are there to pick up an order, employee of the year/month/week/day/hour, etc. In some cases, standard parking is in the next county.

I suspect, but can’t prove that the lines defining parking spots have been moved closer. In any case, many cars–especially SUVs and pickup trucks– occupy every last inch within the lines. This is fine, until you park next to one and try to open your door. I guess that’s why so many vehicles have sunroofs.

Then there’s the final straw–large vehicles with rearview mirrors that significantly extend from the truck body. On a rainy or snowy day, it is possible–although unlikely–to find a good parking spot. This does not necessarily mean that the walk to the door is short. Instead, it is often necessary to walk a circuitous path in order to find a space between cars with enough room to walk without the risk of decapitation by the interlocking mirrors.

Clear Title

Sometimes, in our effort to remain relevant, we change simple, explanatory terms to ones that are less so. For example, when people reach middle age and there are hormonal changes, we now call it menopause. First, it’s not a pause; when we pause, we usually start up again. Second, a lot more happens to the female body than the lack of menstruation.

In my parents’ day, they referred to it as “change of life,” which in my opinion is a much better description. Everything seems to change–muscle mass, skin tone, libido, moisture in the mucosa, hair color, energy level, hot flashes, etc., etc., etc.

Menopause sounds more clinical even though the name refers to only one symptom. In reality, pretty much everything is different.

Men may not have the same physiological catalyst or the hot flashes, but life changes for them as well–muscle mass, skin tone, libido, energy level, etc.

I think the old title worked better.

Hide and Seek

Courtesy, the Punchbowl.net

Like most others, as I get older, I regularly suffer from CRS*. I’m not yet to the point where I can hide my own Easter Eggs, but I do find that I’ll walk into a room and wonder, “Why did I come here?”

I’ve decided that instead of complaining, I’ll make a game of it. For example, when I open the refrigerator door with the intent of getting a particular item, often I forget. I scan the shelves, hoping to remind myself what it was that I wanted.

It’s kind of like playing the childhood game of “I Spy,” only I get to play both the person who is looking for the item and the one who selected it.

It’s actually not that much fun, but sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do.

 

*Can’t Remember Shit Stuff”