Harangues and Diatribes

Part III, March 1997


Well, I've edited my never-published full bore bile blast which was originally slated to run in the January Na Zdarovya!. This version is more suited for TV14 audiences.

So, let's see what's been tightening a red hot band of iron about my spleen lately:

Ebonics

'Nuf said.

Oo oo That Smell...

I know, it's a running issue, but so is my nose. What brings up this issue again? Right before Christmas my wife Ida and I went to the Eastman Theatre for a holiday concert. Just as the music started, someone shuffled into their seat directly behind me. Within moments I was overcome by a noxious flare of fresh squeezed (cheap) perfume berries. Were I blind, I would describe this pharynx felon to police as "a matronly corpulence, strapped from head to toe with multiple bandoliers of Irish Spring bars". She reeked. It was bad.

For the entire show my sinuses clamped shut. I was forced to mouth breathe like a mobile home dweller until my tongue was as dried as a stick of beef jerky.

After the show, I turned around to confront the aromattacker. "Phew, someone must be trying to hide a dead body", I said. No response. I guess I should have directed that zinger right at her. She went home, oblivious to the olfactory arsenal she accosted the audience with. Me, my coat still smelled several days later. Yuk.

My thanks go to Sister-In-Law Peggy for the decongestant.

Speaking of Mouth Breathing:

I was at a demo of new Sony digital video systems a while ago. One seat over to my left was a slightly ill-kept individual who started breathing rather loudly once the program began. No, this wasn't a case of me being overly sensitive. This guy was blowing gale force winds simultaneously from his nose and mouth - nonstop. The noise was much like that made by a starved armless man given a large bowl of jello.

To help him become self-aware of his condition, I started to imitate his breathing style occasionally, first matching the rhythm, then syncopating, every so often offering up a pull of my nasals. His response? Every so often he would glance at me. That's it. His phlegm-flapping breath kept at it. During the coffee break I manuevered to his flank. All quiet on the western front. Could you believe it? During breaks his breathing is normal, but when he's in a quiet location, he once again becomes Ole' Wind Tunnel. Most annoying.

9/10¢ Candy?

Gas stations should only charge in one tenth of a cent increments if they are willing to make change for a penny.

Scrooge 'Em All

I think we've had over a half dozen mail carriers in 1996. I don't think this is right, so we neglected to give a Christmas gift to the carrier of the week. We keep getting the mail of people who haven't lived at our address in over five years anyhow.

Nice Town, But...

Can you believe that the hamlet of Rochester, NY can command $67.00 a month for downtown parking? C'mon, we've got a diary farm within our "outer loop".


Pretty lame, huh? Suffice it to say that the first edition pissed me off when I read it the next day. And hey, who knows who reads this stuff anyway . . .




"Yeah, you can dish it out, but can you take it?

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First written January 3, 1997, edited for general consumption February 25, 1997
©nrozanov 1996, 1997