Tag Archives: clueless

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Human interaction. Some people don’t get subtly. They don’t pick up on the social cues that the rest of us understand naturally. Occasionally that means you have to do things that under any other circumstances would make you seem and feel like a jackass… but when someone isn’t getting the message, sometimes that’s all that’s left. If that means I have to stand up and walk away from you mid-sentence, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m not going to feel bad about it. I’m not going to apologize for it. As much as I’d rather handle it like a normal human being, I’m perfectly willing to be an asshole in the service of my own sanity.

2. The canonization of John Stewart. Stewart is a funny guy. I like the Daily Show. But I don’t get the left wing lionizing him for his take on Fox News. I mean does anyone not know they trend towards the right wing? I’m not sure that’s even a serious discussion. Like every media outlet, they have an agenda or an ax to grind. CNN, MSNBC, Sky, they all have their own brand of slant, but Stewart singles out Fox with glee as if they were the only ones pushing an ideology. It’s a case that could be just as easily made about just about every organization, everywhere. Then again, I guess it doesn’t hurt that the Daily Show’s viewers skew left… I suppose Mr. Stewart, too, knows how his bread is buttered.

3. Lunch. Turkey sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly. Ham sandwich. Turkey sandwich. Salad. Turkey Sandwich. Meatball sub. Turkey sandwich. Turkey sandwich. Salad. Ham sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly. As a cost cutting measure back in the dark days of the furlough I started packing my own lunch… but honest to God if I keep opening my bag and seeing nothing but deli sandwiches, salads, and wraps I might have to burn my cubicle to the ground. There simply has to be a better lunch than sandwiches, microwave “meals”, and leftovers. If there isn’t, the terrorists have already won.

A Sunday Driver…

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Good morning, Mr. Minivan Driver. I know what you were thinking this morning just before you heard my breaks lock up and screech as I swerved to avoid plowing into the left rear quarter of your lovely late model suburban nightmare: “Oh my goodness… We’re going to be late for church so I’d better cut across three lanes of traffic to get into the turn lane.” I don’t want to bring up the fact that you were turning from a side street when your signal was red, so you would have had plenty of time to observe my distance to the intersection you wanted to cross closing rapidly. And still, you, Mr. I’m proud of my Cub Scout, bravely dismissed onrushing traffic as not even an inconvenience to your plans. Apparently, there is no connection between being proud of a Cub Scout and having a clue how to drive the family truckster. That’s too bad, really. You could obviously use as much luck as you can find.

I don’t know if you noticed, but I honked and waived at you when I passed. I’m pretty sure your wife noticed, though I’m not sure if she was annoyed with me or you. Probably it was me, because I’m sure you don’t do anything wrong, what with your hurrying to get the family to church and all. Just so you know, I usually wave with my whole hand, but I made an exception for you and the kids this morning. One finger seemed sufficient to express this particular greeting.

I know it’s probably unseemly to pray for yourself… kind of like telling friends what to get you for your birthday… but maybe while you’re communing with the Almighty, you could slip in a small request from me that he send you a some small semblance of a clue. Asshat.