Am I mental? Probably. But as some of you may know, there are certain words and sayings I cannot abide (which of course means that all my friends and family who read this will henceforth endeavor to use them in a sentence every chance they get).

Why do I hate certain words/phrases? Several reasons: icky mouth feel, pretentiousness, misuse, mispronunciation, overuse, just plain dumb. Behold a partial list, because neither of us has that kind of time:

Words and Phrases I Hate

Beaucoup.  Now I love French, but when people mispronounce this particular word (“boo-coo”), I think violent thoughts. “He’s got boo-coo bucks to throw around.” Seriously, if you’re going to impress us with your cosmopolitan foreign language flair, you really need to get this right (“boe-coo”).

Treacly. Please. Simply say “overly sentimental.” The extra five syllables won’t kill you.

Interwebs. Just…

My bad. I know this might put me squarely in the fogie category, but as a teacher of 10- through 18-year-olds, I might be justified in wanting to drop people who say it.

My AMAZING boyfriend! It’s not that the words amazing and boyfriend are offensive; they’re not. It’s the constant use of them together to describe your sweetheart that makes me want to punch things. What amazes you about your boyfriend, truly? To be amazed is to be filled with astonishment; astounded, stunned, staggered, in awe, stupefied. That’s a tough gig for anyone to live up to, dudes. Again, maybe you don’t hear/see these things as often as I do because you don’t spend nine months a year with hundreds of teenagers.

Clutch. In addition to describing the mechanism that separates two drive shafts in a manual transmission automobile, or classifying a great play in sports that came just at the right time, clutch is now being used as a synonym for cool. “Those new Jordans are clutch!”  Oy.

Kiddos. When used as a ruffle-the-hair term of endearment to ONE person, it’s fine. Using it ad nauseam to refer to one’s children (or a classroom full of students) is like chewing foil. I’ve heard school administrators use it to the exclusion of all other words meaning “children” while giving a 30-minute speech. Dreadful. Why? I ask you. Why can’t everyone just follow my rules?

____ Porn. Food porn, shoe porn, dress porn…I can’t think of any other examples. Does using porn after something you can’t get enough of make you feel naughty? Well, bless your heart and good for you. Now put yourself in time-out.

Yummo! I’m serious. *KaBLaM*

Panties. Don’t say this word around me — especially with the words big girl anywhere near it.

Cutie Patootie. If Rosie O’Donnell said it once on her talk show, she said it 3249869384669846 times. Totally ruined it.

Tuckus. While we’re on the subject of butts: I hate this word, too. It sounds like someone trying to speak after having just bitten into a huge lemon. It’s also creepy; ventriloquistic and sneaky.

OK, OK. Enough’s enough. I hope that, while I really dislike these words and phrases, you can see it’s all done in fun. If you use these words, or if you’re particularly fond of some of them, I will apologize ahead of time for offending. It’s never my intention. I’m also prepared for the Godwin’s-Law-like comment(s), “Well, I hate the word [something I said above].” Go for it. I deserve it.

In fact, to illustrate my good will:  Tomorrow — Words I Love!

And that’s one of the nicer descriptors.

See here now, fiends. It’s time to give it up; time to cash in on the outrageously expensive, bloated, consummately idiotic donkey of a failure that is the “War on Drugs.” We’ve given it a good go. Cripes, it’s been since 1971. Isn’t 43 years long enough to finally decide that what we’re doing isn’t working?

Remember Prohibition? It only took those Einsteins 13 years to figure out how utterly pointless it is to try and legislate — then enforce — morality choices in this country. When will we progressive, savvy, 21st-century thinkbombs get it?

Look. Pornography is legal. Cigarettes are legal. Alcohol of all kinds is legal. Opiates in pill form are legal. You can go to what’s-her-name dot com and have an extramarital affair. Turn on the TV and you can watch sex, murders, rapes, beatings, and all manner of unseemly, inhuman behavior against others of your species. You can watch a man court a harem of pathetic, gold-digging, attention-starved chicks, sleeping with any number of them over a span of eight weeks, while the girls themselves put up with it, hook, line and sinker, in teary-eyed hopes that he might pick me. You can do all that — but you can’t buy something that’s been used for medicinal and recreational purposes for thousands of years. Thousands of years. 

What would be so bad about putting a crimp in the Mexican drug cartels’ cannabis profits? Or decreasing the violence associated with the marijuana trade so drug enforcement agencies could concentrate more on the truly dangerous infiltrations of heroin and cocaine? Of course, there are problems with every regulatory system, but there doesn’t have to be a problem with weed. Tax it up one side and down the other, just like booze and cigs, so the Feds are happy. The pot smokers will be less happy, but they’ll be at Taco Bell, so they won’t care.

What, you’re not happy? Too bad. I’m not happy about a lot of things that I find reprehensible in this world, but the time comes when you have to stop trying to control everyone else. We wanted this free country; now we’ve got it — and all the crap that goes along with it. But it goes further than that. Here’s a nice, round number for you:

Deaths attributable to alcohol (a legal substance) in the US, PER YEAR: approx. 88,000

Eighty-eight. Thousand. A year. Now I’m not saying that a baked 17-year-old Chieferson behind the wheel is a good thing, or that it has never resulted in a deadly crash or other fatal event. It’s a big country with a lot of stupid, sad people. I’m sure it’s happened. But 88,000 times on average? Doubtful. And I doubt very much it would reach that level even if it were legal. Either way: it’s a choice. No one would dare in their mildest, mellowest, sticky-induced stupor suggest making alcohol — a proven killer — illegal in this country. It wouldn’t be fair to all those who drink responsibly; nor would it be tolerated for a New York friggin’ minute by the powerful booze lobby in Washington. Are you kidding me? Prohibition AGAIN? No way. We’ll just keep that license to kill, thank ya — and its dirty cousin Tobacco, too. But it’s the big fat no to big fatties — stupid 10,000-year-old proven treatment anyhow. We’d rather fight endless border wars and smugglers, and put folks in jail for decades for possession of a half ounce of it, while murderers and rapists beat rap after rap, as we continue to blindly pour billions upon billions in US tax dollars down the WoD rathole, only to have more illegal drugs enter the country with impunity.

That’s the ‘Murrican way, lemmetellya. I don’t like it, either. But I’d rather see them legalize pot and put a dent in the cartels (and ease some of the overcrowding in our prisons and county jails), than watch this costly “war” drag on for another 43 years with no end in sight.

So there.

Hey, did I mention I had a really good rehearsal yesterday afternoon? How about that? Me, driving home, not wanting to plow into the nearest light pole. Only really bad part of the weekend was not getting to see my grandsons. That will be fixed soon enough, trust me.

Here’s a rant for your morning joe.

I try to remain tolerant of divergent opinions. And while I am far from blameless on many issues, I’ve learned a bit over the last 54 years (heck, I’ve learned a lot over the last ten). Still, there are some inalienable truths for everyone:

1. We are entitled to believe what we want to believe — about people, rules, government, politics, fashion, food, religion, entertainment,  literature, philosophy, medicine, and whether or not the Browns will ever see a Super Bowl other than on TV.
2. When we believe in a thing passionately, it’s hard — actually, well nigh impossible in many cases — to sway us from our conviction about it.
3. It is relatively safe to say that, where politics are concerned, no minds are changed.

And yet, the social media battles wear on. Yes, I’m talking Twitter and Facebook. Facebook: a place I frequent to see photos of my friends, “talk” to them via posting and message, and basically catch up on what everyone’s up to, and enter into an engaging discussion or two. You know; the no stress type of stuff. And then…

Send in the clowns.

Never in my life have I ever seen such vile, vicious, personal attacks on an elected official — by CHRISTIANS, who by any other measure are kind and gentle people. But bring up the government shutdown or the Democratic Party, and some of them turn into ugly, unforgiving, relentlessly cruel trolls, looking for the next internet drainage to post as truth (“Obama refuses to close his favorite golf course! Pass it on! Make it viral!”) How do I know this? Because I saw it, just this morning — not only on Facebook, but on several news sites.

Now Guns ‘n God folks: before you go gettin’ yer dander up, I’m mad at President Obama, too. I’m disappointed that he crawled away from the Common Core debacle. I’m angry that he hasn’t seriously addressed the student loan crisis. I hate the ongoing wars, and what they have cost our government and our families in lives and livelihoods. And there are other things I’m not happy about, but this, as you know, is not a place to discuss political issues. I’m not on about that; rather, I’m on about mean people, who, on one side of their Facebook wall, quote endless bible verses and share memes about faith and preach the gospel of Christ and peace and love and kindness, and minutes later, spew poison about how Obama the Muslim should be assassinated, and wouldn’t that just do us all a favor, or how maybe a cruise missile should be aimed at the White House.

I’m not saying that Christians can’t get frustrated and mad, or can’t choose to dislike someone. I consider myself a person of Christian faith, and I’m mad as a wet hen right about now. I’m mad at Governor Kasich; he needs to leave office in a big fat hurry, before his policies destroy what little is left of neighborhood schools in Ohio. But some of the rhetoric I read about him — people lobbing horrible, personal insults at him and wishing him bodily harm — makes me cringe. Not when faithless people do it, mind; rather, when self-professed followers of Christ do it. I mean, go ahead. Be as nasty and profligate as you like to another child of God. But don’t stand in church on Sunday with your hands raised and your head back, singing “Open the eyes of my hearrrrrt” and expect me to think of you as anything but a contemptible hypocrite.

There. That’s said. Now…what’s for breakfast?

Caveat: I love reading comments! But be advised that any policy-oriented rants will be deleted. No one wants to read yet another partisan diatribe about how the Republicans are ruining Ohio, or how the Democrats have mortgaged the nation. This is not the place where anyone gets on their high horse. ‘Cep me, of course.

All right.

I know that we all take a risk when engaging in social media, and you can believe me when I tell you that few people pay closer attention to managing that risk than Yours Truly. I have all applications blocked on Facebook, my profile is locked down tight except to friends, I never use my real name (or especially my Facebook identity) when commenting on forums or news articles, and I have an alternate email reserved for purposes whereby I might receive inordinate amounts of spam. I am not careless.

Yet, Domino’s Pizza not only found me (because I happened to be logged into Facebook when I ordered a pizza from them online), but they posted a link to their site — as me — on my own Facebook wall. I was told by a friend in the restaurant business that the company rolled out a new TOS that enables them to do this.

Well, where was the email to all the site users, telling them of this change? While I admit that I don’t read the 4500-word (yes, I pasted the TOS into Word and did a count) agreement EVERY TIME I ORDER, this came out of left field, completely. And I don’t like them for it.

In fact, I don’t like them so much, I had to tell them about it. It was among my best work.

I suppose I should also insert an additional reason for my Domino’s divorce. The last two times we’ve ordered, the Thriller has made the “wet dog” comment. Their sauce or dough seasonings or something reminds him of the smell of a wet dog. If that alone isn’t a reason to say bye-bye-bye, I don’t know what is.

Regardless, we’re done with the three dots, and they’re done hijacking my social media identity. And for good measure, I removed the “TM” from the logo before I put the red circle on it. Take that, homie. Hmm. Must be Snark Week around these parts.

For sure, it’s Go to Bedford and Buy the Car day. Oy…could this be why I’m fussy this morning? Saying bye-bye-bye not only to the dots, but the dough?

I hope I don’t chicken out, but if I do, you will know it was for a good reason.

Stay tuned! Rant over.

FO

Y’know, one of the great things about having your own web space is that you can say whatever you want, phrase it however you want, and cloak it as much or as little as you want. Behold the list.

I Am Sick to Death of:

1. people who assume no responsibility for their actions
2. those who laugh at others’ pain
3. the hopelessly self-absorbed, to whom much has been given, but who appreciate none of it
4. people who can’t be bothered to care about anyone else unless something is in it for them
5. repeatedly trying to see the best in numbers 1-4, then constantly getting smoked for it

Of course, and thank the gods, there are exceptions to the above. That’s why I heart you. And I’m not so foolish as to think I’ve never been guilty in some measure of 1, 3 and 4 at one time or another in my past (though not #2, I’m glad to say — sociopathy is, thankfully, not on my character trait list). I just hope I’ve learned from the experiences. Sadly, some people never do.