The Old Coot found an ally

By Merlin Lessler —

A recent article by Dan Smith in the Volusia Hometown News caught my attention. In it, he realized he sounded like that grumpy old man in his neighborhood he hated as a kid, as he listed the things that irritate him: dances in the end zone when pro football players score a touchdown, fake butter on popcorn, men wearing too much jewelry, and names he can’t pronounce or remember. 

His list went on and on, several dozen in total. I’m that grumpy old man too. Look up “grumpy” in a dictionary, and you’ll see a picture of me. 

It was a good start, but he left out a lot of things that bug me: stuff you are interested in buying, but it’s sealed in plastic and you can’t see what you are getting; stickers – on everything: apples, oranges, but the hardest to get off are stuck in the worst possible place, like on the lens of a pair of glasses. 

The liar at the check-in station who says the doctor will be right with you. You sit and have no idea when you’ll be called. Meat and deli counters solved that issue 100 years ago by giving you a number. But not modern-day medical centers, in spite of having computers that could easily be used to reduce patients’ anxiety. My blood pressure is always high after sitting in a waiting room.  

Stretch jeans bug me. It just allows manufacturers to replace some of the cotton with a synthetic substance, probably derived from oil, like plastic bags. Stores that offer 50% off on a second item, but you don’t want a second item. 

So, as the Soup Nazi from Seinfeld might say, “No sale for you!” How about socks that are so tight they cut off your circulation and socks that are “one size fits all,” which means they don’t fit anyone properly.  

It’s just wrong to advertise prescription drugs on TV. Just like it’s wrong for ambulance-chasing lawyers to dominate the advertising landscape. Adds in general. Too many and everywhere: every app, every website, every streaming service. New Year’s Eve celebrations, and worse, New Year’s resolutions – nobody keeps them. Names for moons, every 28 days, a new made-up name. Naming winter storms, like the overzealous weather people do with hurricanes. Weather reports dominate the news and make us focus on the disaster headed our way with DANGEROUS lightning. No longer called a simple thunderstorm. They want us scared and tuned in.

My list is long, but I’ll cover it over the next year. That’s my New Year’s resolution. For now, I’ll end with shoelaces that don’t stay tied, airplane seats for those of us in “the back of the bus,” glass bottles replaced with plastic, no free air at gas stations, and crappy ones you pay for that hardly are up to the task. A rule against taunting in pro football. What’s wrong with the good old “Na- na, na- na- na,” that my generation grew up using to celebrate, and rub it in after scoring a touchdown? It’s a war out on the football field, and the insults exchanged that we can’t hear would make even a salty old sailor cringe. 

Complaints? Comments? Drop them at mlessler7@gmail.com.