We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world…

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The panic over COVID-19 has been steadily climbing. Mass toilet paper shortage due to everyone buying in bulk and stockpiling. Some places short on non-perishable food items. The Walmart in Blair, Nebraska on Sunday were completely out of the regular $.98 packs of regular hot dogs, and surprisingly low on Ramen noodles.

I do not fear the Coronavirus; I am, however, quite wary of everyone’s collective reactions to it.

You’ve got your standard panic–THE WORLD IS ENDING!–which is expected. Some are convinced this is a bioweapon developed by China. Some seem to think this is a plot by President Trump to secure his re-election. On the other end of the political conspiracy spectrum, some think this is a “leftist” plot to sink the economy and prevent the re-election of the Orange Faced One.

Restaurants, bars and various other small businesses are closing. Movie theaters are cutting back ticket sales to only half of the seating per capita. Those of us who work jobs and live paycheck to paycheck will feel the brunt of this economic devastation.

The most chilling thing of all, is that the elderly, the infirm, the impoverished and the homeless are being referred to as “collateral damage”, rather than fellow human beings that need our best efforts to protect them.

Alas, there is no spiritual-sounding platitude to accompany this entry. We’re all full of shit when it comes to talk of charity and love. But when something happens to allow us to finally put that talk into practice, we would rather run down people in the Cosco parking lot and knock everyone over for that last roll of precious butt napkins than practice what we preach.

I’m done.

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HALLOWEEN’ING Day 22: Trunk Or Treat (A Rant)

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halloween'ing 2017
trunk-or-treatOne of my co-workers is starting to talk about some places around Omaha to take her kids “trunk or treating”. I’ve heard of this practice: Instead of taking the kids around the neighborhood, door to door to get candy handouts, the kids are now taken to a parking lot, where people have parked their cars and filled their trunks (or unmarked windowless vans) with candy for the kids to wander around to. The idea is that doing this instead of the traditional practice of trick-or-treat is safer for the kids.

I’m calling B. S. And not because I’m some sentimental traditionalist when it comes to Halloween…although, I do tend to be.

No, what bothers me about this practice is that we’re assuming the point of Trick-or-Treating is getting the candy. It is not. Well, that is a nice perk, but the point of Halloween is to dress up, pretend you’re something or someone you’re not normally all the other days out of the year, and then go pay visits to your neighbors at an hour that you normally wouldn’t be caught dead outside. Bad pun intended.

The big thing we’re losing here is community. We’re giving the impression that it’s dangerous to go around even your own neighborhood, and should avoid everyone at all times, because MONSTERS of the REAL KIND! But…what takes away that fear? Getting to know your neighbors, maybe? And what really brings the community together, mingling in a way that the adults can know each other better, for the safety of their children?

TRICK OR TREATING, PEOPLE. You can’t get that same sense of community by driving several miles out of the way to a parking lot to get candy from people you’ll probably never see again for the rest of the year. If that. You might as well just take your costumed kid to the grocery store, buy a bag of fun-sized whatever, and go back home and sequester yourself in the safety of your locked house and call it a night.

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BOB Spelled Backwards is BOB…

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bob can't singWhat’s worse than a Bob Dylan song?  People singing along to a Bob Dylan song.

Never really could understand why Bob Dylan is so popular.  Sure, you can take the whole socio-political message thing.  But the music is just dull, annoying, and quite frankly representative of everything I despise about hippies and the whole 60s myth.

I’ve witnessed many drug-addled neo-hippie minded posers and freaks defend this frizzy-haired golden cow of theirs, to the point of near combative frenzy.  Peace, love, tolerance…but don’t you DARE say anything less than reverential worship about Saint Bob.  Hypocritical double standard be damned.

It doesn’t matter if I just say simply, “I don’t like Bob Dylan.”  They will launch into a tirade, demanding to know why, usually questioning my music tastes and re-evaluating their friendship with me.  All because I don’t like Bob Dylan, and would have the audacity to have an opinion contrary to theirs.  Heaven forbid.

It would make sense that it’s the potheads that enjoy Bob Dylan, though.  I would have to take drugs to make it through an album, let alone more than one song.  And it’s not for lack of trying.  Being a music connoisseur like myself, I gave him a rather fair shot.  Really, I did.  It never gelled with me.

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