Well, excuse me for
setting my cruise control 9 mph above freeway speed limits
leaving a phone message instead of texting
not buying organics
welcoming the development of Frankenfoods
not rounding up
the bill at Whole Foods to the next dollar and donating, as they suggest I should, the extra change to a local food bank
liking Whole Foods in spite of their smugness and sanctimoniousness
asking for a credit on my bill instead of donating
my stopped Arizona Republics to their "Newspaper in the Classroom" program
thinking that people have a right to defend themselves with guns
having no desire to own a gun myself
waiting to learn the facts before condemning or exonerating
the police in incidents involving police violence
thinking it a good thing that the federal government donates body armor and other military equipment to local police departments
believing that the police should wear and use cameras at
all times when on duty
fearing that continued quantitative easing will lead to inflation
accepting the role of dark money in politics
only beating myself up a little about my contributions to global warming
not caring who takes
the Ice Bucket Challenge
wondering who is going to end up paying for any significant increase in the minimum wage
thinking that the U.S. should play no role in the conflict in Ukraine
believing that it is the Iraqis themselves--Shia, Sunni,
Kurds--who must come together and defeat ISIL, with the help of money and munitions from a coalition of western and middle eastern nations
opposing Twitter's censoring of the beheading of journalists James Foley and Steven Sotloff
not caring
if a record number of foreign-born hold jobs in the USA
engaging in stereotyping and believing that foreign-born medical specialists are ultra-competent
engaging in stereotyping and believing that females are more dependable and conscientious
workers than are males
not caring that President Obama will back off on seeking to change immigration policies in order to help Democrats in the next election
not being outraged--or even offended--that Obama played golf shortly after James Foley
was beheaded
not caring that Obama played golf during the outbreaks of violence in Ferguson, MO
rather liking Obama's "can't do" attitude
not caring if polygamy is decriminalized in Utah
thinking that the new upscale Denny's in
Manhattan should be called Dennis's
believing that nature is indeed heartless--and therefore incapable of being cruel
thinking that humans should get more of their protein content from eating insects
not being upset by Common Core standards
and mandatory testing
not believing that Common Core standards and testing will do much to improve education in the U.S.
looking forward to the days when cars can talk to each other and drive themselves
liking the concept of "immersive
journalism" that uses virtual reality gaming technology to place viewers/listeners into the scene of news reports
not caring who hosts Meet the Press
loving the story of Mo'ne Davis but suspecting that her 15 innings of fame are over
thinking that replays of close or controversial calls in MLB are good for the game
welcoming the technology that will eventually make umpires obsolete
favoring any changes made to speed up play in MLB
not being concerned that ESPN reported
on Michael Sam's locker room showers
thinking that the email from Atlanta Hawks owner Bruce Levenson is not racist but legitimately analytical, seeking to account for poor attendance at Hawks' games and concluding that racism on the part of whites is
a primary reason for it
thinking that Janay Rice is right to lambaste the media for ruining her life
believing that the media helps more lives than it ruins
actually enjoying NBA summer developmental league games on TV
sort
of enjoying the shrieks of female tennis players as they strike the ball
not caring whether Johnny Football starts for the Browns
scolding myself whenever I do something old mannish, like grunting involuntarily when I sit down or stand up
classifying Lucy as a comedy
*****
Recipe For Success
I'm going to spill the beans here and confess that in my salad days I egged myself on to get a plum job as a top chef, sure that the cream would rise to the
top. I knew it wouldn't be duck soup or a piece of cake or as easy as pie, but I'm not chopped liver and I didn't want to just take pot luck, so I went the whole hog--sometimes currying favor, I must admit--to get my just desserts. I
wanted to do more than simply put bread on the table, I wanted to bring home the bacon and join the upper crust, be top banana, make the world my oyster, build up a nest egg, hot dog it a little bit. There's no such thing as a free lunch, and I have
no beef with that, but as sure as eggs is eggs, confidence in yourself, if taken with a grain of salt, doesn't mean you believe in pie in the sky and have bitten off more than you can chew and will end up with egg on your face, making a pig's breakfast of
everything. There's something fishy about that. In a nutshell, that's a red herring. You can talk turkey without waffling or mincing words. Still, no matter how I sliced it, I wasn't getting anywhere. Sure, a watched pot never
boils, but I was in a stew. I tried to keep my sunny side up, but I knew my career there was toast, and that's not just sour grapes. I remained a line cook year after year. Too many cooks spoil the broth, and I was not going to be one of
them. I know that one man's meat is another man's poison, but what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander and you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. That's just the way the cookie crumbles. Half a loaf may be better than none
for some, but not for me. I didn't want to be the pot calling the kettle black. I wasn't going to cry in my beer--that's not my cup of tea--but I wasn't about to clam up, either. I had other fish to fry, and I knew what side my bread
was buttered on, so I ate my Wheaties, went to the Small Business Administration and sweet-talked them into being my sugar daddy and forking over a loan. I was all over them like white on rice. With a little spoon-feeding--nothing cheesy, nothing
ham-handed-- I convinced them that they weren't buying a pig in a poke, that I wasn't just the flavor of the month. I was hoping that they wouldn't punch me in the old bread basket or simply give me mighty thin gruel or small potatoes, and holy guacamole,
did they ever drink the Kool-Aid! They were complete marshmallows! With the $100K they loaned me, I opened my own restaurant, which I called A Different Kettle of Fish, and after simmering briefly, business mushroomed and boiled over. Suddenly
I had a lot on my plate. The diners were packed like sardines in my restaurant. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, and they really put on the old feed bag and porked out. They licked their plates clean. They went nuts.
I was the apple of their eye. I was bacon on a stick. I was catnip. My crepes sold like hot cakes. It might to be corny, but here is my philosophy, my chicken soup for the soul: if life hands you lemons, don't eat crow or humble pie, make
some damn lemonade.