I'm so upset.
I talk back to the newspaper. I talk back to the radio, the computer and the TV. I know that nobody can hear me, but I do it just the same. The news really angers me.
I have to be shocked. My outrage has to show. I’need that kind of indignation that starts in your guts and blows out your ears.
I learned today that a kid graduating high school was almost denied publication of his “year book quote.” I’m not sure what that is, but it must be pretty important. (His quote was “Of course I dress well. I didn’t spend all that time being in the closet for nothing.” And it was by someone "Unknown.")
Along with 17 million Chileans, I was stunned by some random soccer star crashing his Ferrari. (He escaped injury.)
I was outraged by a Florida Sheriff who spoke in church in uniform.
I learned that a taxi had caught fire in New York City. How atrocious. (It would have been worse if anybody had been hurt. But I bet FDNY has never seen a taxi catch fire.)
I gnashed my teeth and tore my garments when I found that some brewery was selling “Sweet Baby Jesus Beer” in Ohio. (I considered issuing a fatwa against the brewery, but then I remember that Christians don’t do that. Darn it.)
Oh, and when the French ecology minister said that folks shouldn’t eat Nutella, I was disgusted. (Nutella is some sort of sweet spread used in Europe. It's made from palm oil, peanut butter, sugar, chocolate, and who-knows-what-else. Maybe Red Dye #3? It looks like baby shit, but I’ve heard that it tastes good.)
I was so upset over who Pat Boone wants to be president in 2016, whether KFC served somebody a deep fried rat, and whether Ashton Somebody-I’ve-Never-Heard-Of does - or does not - have a butt.
But the most insulting, the most offensive thing I heard today was that a North Carolina teacher read a fable out of a book in class -- about gay people getting married.
All of the news sources assured me that I should feel abused. I should feel violated.
Well, by golly, I do!
The North Carolina teacher resigned. Along with an assistant principal. I am deeply thankful that nobody had the huevos to to brush it aside, like maybe, “Well, that didn’t seem to work out. Maybe you ought to think about that.” Resign or be fired, I say.
There are some wise-guys who suggest that we are led by the nose to get outraged about all this stuff, so we don’t have to worry about what they consider important things. Hmph. They are Ivy League weenies, if you ask me. One wag proposed that the average guy, like this Poor Scribe, is diverted by these issues.
I just don’t have time to worry about which candidate will buy a presidential election. The entry price is a billion or so. Chicken feed.
I don’t have the attention to give to America’s $17 trillion debt.
I refuse to dwell on the fact that we owe half of that debt to China, Japan and the Arabs. When we have a book to ban in North Carolina, we need to tend to it.
25 million people go to bed hungry every night in America. Sorry, no time.
8000 dead American military people in Afghanistan and Iraq. Uh-uh, not going to get my valuable attention.
Everybody seems to have their own little hobby horse of a crisis. Uh-uh, I have gay-ness and Nutella catastrophes.
Eye on the ball, people, eye on the ball!