Last week’s pet peeves

Another flurry from award-winning columnist Benjamin Gohs

By: Benjamin J. Gohs, News Editor
(231) 222-2119

I thought I’d gotten all of the griping out of my system last week but, hosanna, I endured another seven days of ridiculousness and observances of the irksome.

Don’t get me wrong, I have considered doing some sanguine columns in the past but let’s honest: you don’t go to the garbage man to buy flowers.

What follows is taste of last week’s peeves.

  • Anger management—I’m now about three weeks into my attempt at bettering myself. I haven’t given up swearing completely but I am finding myself saying only the first letter of each swear word, which goes a little something like this. “Who ate the last of the F cottage cheese and then put the empty D container in the C fridge?! I’m tired of this S and it better F stop right F now!”

The result? I sound like a Mormon with Tourettes.

  • Gun Appreciation Day—It gives me no mirth to report that at least five people were injured by gunfire in three separate “accidental” firearms incidents on the Saturday Jan. 19 Gun Appreciation Day events across the country. The events were intended to push back against those determined to squelch a wide range of gun rights. Perhaps nobody told these folks that only Bugs Bunny characters can get away with looking down the bangy end of the gun and pulling the trigger to see if it’s loaded.

Forget the background checks: If you’ve ever used a gun as a back scratcher, a hammer, a Frisbee or to try and dig an English muffin out of the toaster, you shouldn’t get to own one.

  • Corrections—An astute reader wrote to inform me that the term “clip” and “magazine” are not interchangeable. A clip is used to load ammunition into a magazine; the magazine loads ammunition into the chamber of a gun. Thanks for the tip, smarty-pants!
  • A bunch of garbage—Last Friday I read that Sweden has had to begin importing garbage from Norway. You read that right. While we’re getting fatter and worse at geography, these Asians have become hyper efficient at recycling and even figured out a way to turn the rest of their garbage into electricity—so much so that they ran out and had to start buying it from other countries.
  • Tour de False—Lance, Lance, Lance, Lance, Lance … you broke my heart. Actually, I never liked this smug little pedaler. It doesn’t bother me that his lies and cheating have disgraced a sport beloved by tens and twelves of people all across Frenchland. What bugs me is the idea that all he has to do is admit to a decade of deceit and cheat and he’ll get a free pass.

Forget guns, pot and gay marriage, you want to know what’s killing this country? A lack of accountability; people who behave immorally not being punished for it. You’re really sorry? Go spend a decade doing volunteer work without any endorsement deals and then come ask for forgiveness.

  • Instant potatoes—For 20 years now I’ve endured instant potatoes, telling myself they don’t taste like cardboard and sadness. I’m done. I decree 2013 “The Year of the Fresh Potato.”
  • The sixth Stooge—Sly Stallone needs to stop it. He’s over 60 now and he’s in better shape than I was at 18. Oh, who am I kidding? I was voted most likely to turn out like Curly Joe DeRita.
  • Scapegoat—When I was 10 years old they started censoring Bugs Bunny to protect the children. This was back when cartoons were only aired on Saturday mornings. Now they’re trying to blame video games and movies for the tens of thousands of shooting deaths that occur in America each year.

Look, banning Bugs Bunny didn’t stop us from dressing in drag and handing out exploding cigars—and, stopping kids from playing Halo or Mario isn’t going to prevent little Billy Psychopath from doing what genetics, bad parenting and over-medication have predisposed him to do.

Take my strife, please—I’m finishing this piece on a Monday morning and I couldn’t be happier. The house is quiet after a long four-day weekend of influenza-induced moans, groans and hate speech.

Little did I know, when I awoke early last Thursday morning, that the flu had turned my wife into Hitler’s third niece. (Yes, McCarty, I used the “H” word.)

What did I learn over this 96-hour hell-ride of soup, juice and tears?

1. Sprite is not juice!

2. Apparently the boiling point of soup is still not hot enough.

3. I am personally responsible for the cold spots in the house.

4. Chocolate ice-cream is more effective than Prozac.

  • Words matter—I heard the phrase “vitally important” three times this week, but that’s nothing new. What really irked me was once again someone misusing Occam’s Razor which basically means: “When faced with competing theories with similar predictions, the simpler is more attractive.”

Go here to learn more about the proper and improper uses:

I’ll end this screed with a quote from the great Dale Gribble: “This is the waste produced when shame eats too much stupidity.”

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