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Historical February–March 2007 article. Dates, prices, services and contacts describe the source period; current availability has not been established.
Is there no justice? I’m no spring chicken, as longtime readers of this column know. Indeed, I first began writing it when Jimmy Carter was president. Since that time, there have been many injustices in the world. By and large I’m them, but this latest one takes the cake.
I didn’t even know there was a cake, and now it’s gone!
I remember the oil crises. How unjust and offensive were they?
I mean, why can’t we have as much oil as we want?
We built the pipelines, so it should be ours to squander as we wish. Just because it’s under someone else’s soil doesn’t make it their property. I’ve worked hard, and if I want to drive a big car, that’s my right. That is the American Dream!
This baloney about global warming is a bit of an injustice too.
I don’t know what all the Chicken Littles are talking about.
I had to wear a coat the other day; how warm was that? Oh sure, some left-wing leaning scientists like to talk about the ice cap melting, but what do they know? Ice melts in my freezer; it’s no big deal.
These are probably the same guys who defrocked poor Pluto. Arf.
I think it’s all a conspiracy to get me to use less gasoline, even though it’s my natural right as a citizen of the U.S. of A. to use as much as I want. Think about it: Davy Crockett didn’t give his life at the Alamo for me to worry about fuel consumption.
Another injustice was George Bush being elected president. “Which Bush?” you ask. That’s simple: all of them.
I understand that the people get to decide and I recognize that there is something to be said for everyone having the right to vote. That sounds good on paper, but how do you reconcile that with the present administration? Or his dad?
A couple of years ago, I wrote that we’d be better off choosing presidents at random from the phone book rather than electing someone like W. People laughed at that idea, especially Condy Rice, but I was and am serious. How much worse could it be? It’s a bit like if you give infinite monkeys typewriters, sooner or later one of them will write a Shakespearian play. That makes sense, and I know right now that I’d rather have that monkey as president than W.
The monkey’s public speaking and decision-making sure wouldn’t be any worse. And then there was #41, Bush 1.
He seemed like a nice enough guy, but it was clear that his elevator didn’t go to the top floor. And we elected him too! How smart are we? What about the injustice of the St. Louis Football Cardinals moving to Phoenix? What – you didn’t even know that the Big Red used to play here?
They came in the 60’s, and gave us 30 years of mediocre football before they scampered out of town.
They really tested one’s patience. You’d think that they couldn’t do any worse, and then they’d surprise you.
It was almost as if they were intentionally bad because such ineptitude couldn’t happen by chance. You know, in hindsight, I wonder if the Bush family had some relationship with the Big Red?
The resemblance is a bit uncanny.
Another injustice, far more personal, is the unfairness of getting old.
As I noted earlier, I’ve been writing this column a long time.
When I began, I had hair and it was dark. Alas, poor spot, my hairline and my memory are long gone.
In fact, I had a really clever line about age and gas, but I’ve forgotten it. It’ll probably pop up later. And where’s the justice with all this City redevelopment? Talk about inconvenient.
I used to be able to zip to work in a flash by driving down the 8-lane wide Delmar Avenue. Everyone else joined me, so much so that I expected to see a checkered flag on Skinker, announcing the start of the race. Ba-room!
Then some wise guy got the idea that it would be good to have restaurants and retail on Delmar instead of boarded-up buildings. I’m all for restaurants – my home doesn’t have a stove, just a microwave – but why did they have to narrow the street?
Now it’s only two lanes each way until the 6100 block, and then it narrows to one.
I can only drive 1520 miles above the speed limit now. How fair is that?
The same wiseacre, 1,200 of them in fact, is probably the person who decided to repair Forest Park.
I didn’t even know it was broke! It’s just land, after all, trees and stuff.
It used to be you could drive through it very quickly.
There wasn’t much traffic and no reason to slow down to look at the weeds.
But no, it had to be fixed, too.
Now it’s beautiful which makes it harder to speed through. Plus, there are lots of people there now, further congesting the roads. First they take away Delmar, and now the park is attractive. What a pain. You see, people keep talking about progress but it doesn’t seem like progress to me. Give me the good old days again, and my hair, too, while you’re at it.
But what really rails and roils me now is by far the worst bit of news to date.
It pales the gas situation and everything else. Alas, it’s due to my upset and consternation that I write this article about injustices rather than something more timely like the Miss America Beauty Pageant now requiring contestants to read and write, or the rumor that Oprah is secretly engaged to Don Rumsfeld. Are you ready, dear reader? Have you heard: Mark McGuire didn’t get elected into the Baseball Hall of Fame.
I know, I’m shocked too. Is nothing sacred?
This is the injustice of all injustices. For years, McGuire was a largerthan-life protagonist.
He was almost a comic book character, too big for real life it seemed. Well, guess what?
He was too big for real life. Yep, nothing can be proven, but it seems pretty clear that Mark is an example of “better living through chemicals.” He didn’t admit anything but he wouldn’t talk about it either. “I’m not here to talk about the past,” was all he’d say when asked about his use of steroids. Isn’t that a convenient dodge? (If not a convenient dodge, is it at least a convenient Chrysler?) We should all have such options.
I remember years ago when I put a piece of chewed bubble gum into the fish tank at my Uncle Glen’s house. Glen was a bit of a fool and prone to overreaction, though I didn’t know that at the time.
All I knew was that I was caught and destined for a lifetime in hell.
It didn’t really matter on which of Dante’s levels I was going to spend eternity, I just knew it wouldn’t be fun.
When he grilled me, oh, how I wish I’d been able to say “I’m not here to talk about the past.” My Uncle Glen, though, was a bit sharper than our members of congress (no surprise there, unfortunately) so he pushed until I ‘fessed up. Thank goodness he didn’t ask if the chewing gum had steriods in it.
I did notice that the fish got a whole lot bigger very quickly.
But things get worse.
I just heard the news which featured a summary of Bush’s press conference.
I know I can get things confused in my old age, but this doesn’t make any sense at all. Why would Bush be sending Mark McGwire to Iraq? Wasn’t not getting into the Hall of Fame punishment enough?
I know, I know, Bush is our president and some of you voted for him, so I’m sure things will turn out fine. For all we know, maybe McGwire will find the Weapons of Mass Destruction. Alright, I’m up to here in injustices, so I just need something pure and fair. I’m going to stop writing and turn off the news.
I need to relax, so maybe I’ll get O.J.’s newest book, If I Had Done It.
He has always seemed like such a nice man.
Originally published in The Times of Skinker-DeBaliviere, February–March 2007.
Read this article in the original newspaper issue.
Archival transcription note: Source prints By and large I’m them and 1520 miles without missing words or separator; retained without invented repair.
Original source: SD_Times2007_02.pdf, printed page(s) 8; PDF page(s) 8.
