Daily Archives: January 27, 2011

There Ought to be a Law

There ought to be a law against ridiculous lawsuits.

I’m talking about the ones where the ‘victim’ refuses to admit his own stupidity and shifts the blame elsewhere. For big money. Or to make himself look like somewhat less of an idiot. I don’t know what all the motivations are.

You should not be allowed to sue a college for having a course that is not up to snuff after you fail your practicum. Or sue a cable company because you smoke and drink and are addicted to tv, your wife is fat and your kids are lazy. Or a furniture store in which you trip over your own toddler and break your ankle. Or a golf course when you fall over a log on to your face while searching for your ball, the one YOU shot into the trees and decided to go after with you own little pea sized brain.

The list is endless. The lawyers are laughing all the way to the bank. The worst ones of all are when criminals sue their victims for robberies gone wrong, or for bodily harm or mental anguish to the perpetrator of the crime.

All the ludicrous signs posted everywhere are compliments of the airheads who made them necessary. Caution – contents of this coffee cup are HOT. Please ask for help to remove heavy objects from shelves above your empty head. Do not attempt to use this toaster oven while taking a shower or operating a vehicle.

It wasn’t my fault, I’m not to blame, I did nothing wrong, nobody warned me!

Boo hoo. Suck it up and take some responsibility for being a moron when you’re being a moron.

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A Childhood Idol

When I was a kid I was smitten by Zorro – a dashing and handsome black clad outlaw wearing a mask, riding a horse, brandishing a sword, and always arriving in the nick of time to save the victims from the villains. He had a flowing black cape, a whip and a mustache. Who would NOT want to be him?

I greatly admired that he was acrobatic and agile and smart as a fox. A master swordsman, a great marksman, a skilled horseman! (His hat was kind of stupid, but I forgave him for that.)

The most brilliant thing he did was to leave behind his mark when a situation had been satisfactorily sorted out – zip zip zip with the tip of his sword – a flaming Z!

And then as he galloped off into the sunset someone would always ask the inevitable unanswerable question – Who WAS that masked man?

I loved that show. If only I had been born a Spanish-speaking boy. Once I took a pencil and wrote on my bedroom wall in various sizes and scripts with hearts and swords and flowers “I love Zorro!” I told mom that my brother did it. Unfortunately I was not as foxy as my hero and no one was fooled.

For awhile I practiced signing my name as Don Diego de la Vega and calling everyone caballeros and wishing I could grow facial hair. And then, sadly, I left childhood and Zorro behind me and turned into a boring girl with no talent for the Flamenco. Such is life.

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