If you’re reading this, we’ve survived February, my least favorite month. If we’re going to have Leap Years (and we are), I don’t see why we can’t have the extra day in May, or June, when there are flowers and it’s not too hot yet, but the days are long and full of promise. Instead, we stretch out February.
Cranky? Moi?
It’s really horrible for me to complain. I’m blessed with a family that’s only mildly neurotic, a roof over my head, a full refrigerator and work I enjoy. These facts only make me more apt to gripe, because these things should be adequate. Adequate is not enough.
So here are some things I would smash, if I were the Hulk:
• The city of New York, particularly the construction parts of it. I know Manhattan is the Center of the Intelligent Universe™, but there is no reason to drill through the surface of West Houston Street at one o’clock in the morning on the weekends. Because of this work, half of Houston Street is closed, so buses that pick up students on our block now do so on my street. For some reason, they think it’s appropriate to get here at least half an hour early, and idle their engines for the entire time. This is a violation of noise and environmental laws. Where’s my costumed vigilante?
• Talk shows. During the writers’ strike, progressives with principles refused to cross the picket lines of those programs – The Daily Show, The Colbert Report, Real Time with Bill Maher – that counted on opinionated conversation. Faced with empty seats, the producers hired those willing to cross a picket line. For the most part, these people were right-wingers, apathetic to the issue, Joe Quesada, or some combination of the above. And that’s fine. It’s their choice. The show must go on. Baby needs a new pair of shoes. However, it made for rather boring talk. Now that the strike is over, there could once again be more, funnier talk, but there’s not. Bill Kristol has never been right about anything. P. J. O’Rourke isn’t funny and makes me miss Michael O’Donohue. Get them off my television!
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