This year, my Thanksgiving holiday included not only back-to-back turkey dinners, Black Friday shopping and football in front of the TV, but also a wedding that required a large chunk of my Saturday. The timing was perfectly logical to me; my wife and I also chose Thanksgiving weekend for our nuptials 26 years ago. Somewhat…
In this country, “impeach” has become the verb of choice for anything that upsets us. A friend, recounting a story about how someone had cut him off in traffic, ended the tale by saying, “That guy should be impeached.”
It was the large, inflatable snowman in your front yard that drew the association’s ire. That’s hard to miss if you’re a rules enforcer. You may as well just speed past a stopped school bus driven by an off-duty police officer.
Like every product sold today that requires at least an iota of setup on the owner’s part, manufacturers have elected to stop using words. In this case, all I see is a diagram of the device and a bunch of arrows pointing to various parts.
I am well aware of rats’ value in the medical community; their cardiovascular systems are similar to humans and, like us, they possess the uncanny ability to forage for delicious snacks in darkened kitchen pantries at 2 a.m
I had all the classic symptoms: Back pain, followed by severe stomach pain, followed by uncontrollable retching, followed by a mad dash to the emergency room where, naturally, the pain subsided as I was handing my medical insurance card to the receptionist.
Handing out more than a single item quickly gets you a reputation as a “must visit” house among the neighborhood kids. True, I never achieved the status of my neighbor Tom; his lavishly decorated front yard included not only treats for kids, but beer for dads. And I didn’t even have to dress up or say, “Trick or Treat” to receive one.
I’ve thanked police officers AFTER they’ve written me speeding tickets. I thanked a cineplex attendant for ripping my admission stub in half and then, without making eye contact, informing me that my movie was “the last theatre on the left.” I’ve thanked my dry cleaner simply for finding my clothes. I once thanked my physical therapist for putting me through an hour of excruciating pain, and then charging me for it.
Several of Clarkson’s tunes reside on my workout playlist and her folksy, “Aw shucks, y’all, I’m just a country Texas girl turned country Texas millionaire” style seems totally genuine.
In your case, calling the photos “selfies” is misleading, for it implies that every one of your fans held their own phones, extended their arms, took the pictures themselves, viewed them with disappointing looks and said, “Wait, can we do one more? In landscape mode?”
