Posted by
LowDownCentral on Tuesday, October 17, 2006 3:50:26 PM
Our writers unsheathe their poison pens.
By Rose Pedenko
By now, a great many people are familiar with the sound of my tapping foot. Yes, the tapping is semi-rude, but I try to throw in an extra beat now and again as a diversionary tactic. The first time I noticed the involuntary tapping was in a long grocery line. As the third person in the queue, standing behind the conveyer belt afforded me the opportunity to fling that handy separating baton at the woman in front of the cashier. But I restrained myself. And what, you might ask, would inspire this penchant for violence?
She opened her deep environmentally-correct shopping bag and proceeded to dig around for a checkbook. Why didn’t she have it out and ready 10 minutes ago, I muttered. Did she just now realize she had to pay for her food?
The man in front of me turned, rolled his eyes, and sighed like Al Gore.
Woman-with-No-Place-to-Go (her new Indian name) began digging through her bag again. She withdrew a crinkled envelope brimming with food coupons. While they had been neatly sorted with paperclips, she now had to find the right bundle and just the right clipping. You’ve met them before, haven’t you? Her husband, Man-With-Time-on-His Hands, was standing in front of you at the ATM yesterday.
Just before she uncorked my last nerve, the dreaded words blared over the loudspeaker: “Price check on 3.” Good thing that baton was rubber.
by Lance Thompson
Politicians wishing to add legitimacy to positions that enjoy minimal support always invoke the mantra of "the American people." Politicians believe the phrase "the American people" renders their pronouncements unassailable. "The American people want state of the art infrastructure," so we fund a bridge to nowhere. "The American people deserve the truth," so we spend $200 million on a special prosecutor. "The American people need a change," so vote for me.
Framing statements with "the American people" suggests that the speaker represents the interests of every citizen of the country (and a few million gate-crashers as well). In fact, the speaker represents at most only one of 50 states (or one district out of many in a state). He doesn’t even represent the whole state, only voters in that state. And unless he received 100% of the vote, he speaks for only a majority (or even a plurality) of those voters. This minuscule fraction of the electorate is not the image that the all-encompassing "the American people" brings to mind.
So next time you hear "The American people," substitute the following phrase: "The tiny fraction of voters gullible enough to elect me based on the slanderous television ads their contributions made possible..." And translate "want," "need," or "deserve" into "will never miss the $1.2 billion it will cost to acquire..." Of course, whatever entitlement program, technological wonder, civic improvement, or public edifice the politician is selling does eventually touch all of "the American people." Because we all share the bill.
by Tanya Simon
I'm a quiet and engaging person. I like solemnity and calmness. These states of well-being were attainable once, at any time of day or night. I could reach into my inner self and think. Actually ponder life and love without the obtuse distractions of those wretched CELLULAR PHONE USERS. [Cue organ music]
Quietude has become this millennium's Tyrannosaurus Rex. With the advent of these and other electronic contraptions, the number of ways in which I can be aurally assaulted has multiplied.
In supermarkets: "How much should I get? Do you WANT broccoli or cauliflower?" Don't shoppers make lists anymore? As my teeth grind, I imagine how much damage I can inflict as I bounce a head of cabbage in my hand. Cabbage? Where's the kimchee when you need it.
At gas station pumps: "So I was talking to my agent..."
Or newsstands: "I left you a message earlier and thought I'd try again before I get home, which is in about 2 minutes." She couldn't wait two minutes??
Mothers with their strollers really knock me dead. The kid is wailing and thrashing, as mom blindly chatters into "the thing" tucked between her ear and shoulder.
Elevators: "Hello? HELLO?!"—and they keep talking without a signal.
The noise emanating from cell phone users is obnoxious and annoying. From what I hear day in and day out, it's also unnecessary 95% of the call time. How else do you explain how we got along with out these appendages the last couple hundred years.
Next time, before you reach for that cell phone, grab a lollipop instead. It's tastier, more fulfilling, and a heck of a lot quieter.
Next stop, loud sucking noises.
By Anthony Ragan
Me: "So, what'd you think of old Kim Jong Il announcing to the world that he's not only a psychopath, but a nuclear-armed psychopath?"
Friend: [Sounds of barely intelligible words from a very intelligent man, forever lost in a morass of chewed fried rice and masticated orange chicken, all lubricated with swirling Diet Coke.]
Me: "You don't say?"
So, what is it with otherwise cultured, intelligent, attractive people that, when they eat, they become human garbage disposals? Chewing with mouths open, talking through the pre-digested cud, apparently so anxious to show us the glory of their food that, like a man in a bathroom, they can't close the lid?
Really. Is what anyone has to say so important that he or she can't take a few moments to chew and swallow before unleashing their wisdom on the world? Do I really need to be fending off flying bits of bleu cheese while you're telling of the danger posed by North Korean missiles?
I might expect this behavior from someone raised underneath a single-wide, but the world's elite proudly show off their chewed food, too. Just a few months ago, President Bush told Tony Blair over dinner that Syria needed to tell "Hezbullah to stop this sh*t." What shocked the Prime Minister I'm sure was not the President's language, but the crumbs of dinner roll headed his way.
So, please be kind to whomever you're sharing a meal with: shut your mouth.