By Dale Paule
The airwaves are constantly awash with cries of “bombshell,” “blockbuster” and that old reliable, “alert; this just in!” All of which are meant to keep you tuned to that channel or station, listening to a few more commercials before the “Bombshell” event is finally revealed. As long as you stay around for those commercials, it doesn’t matter to them whether the big event will thrill you or send you into a state of political depression, as long as you hang around long enough to catch those commercials and pump up ratings!
On and on it goes; one gigantic “bombshell” after another, begging for our attention.
Unfortunately, the “bombshells” are never followed by any good news which might offer a brief escape from the chaos and misery. Luckily, we, the loyal watchers and listeners, have our own method of escape from the chaos and misery; we simply turn that little knob, or push that little “off” button, and voila! Bye-bye chaos, bye-bye misery!
Unfortunately, while we can escape these big annoyances, there is no escaping the effects of another kind; one impacting an even larger part of our life – the little things.
If you’re somewhere around the middle of life’s yardstick of age, you’ll understand what those little things are that we must endure every day.
It’s those little things, like that little stabbing pain in your back when you try to get up from your easy chair too quickly; or that little four-digit password that you need to access needed information, but you seem to have forgotten three of them.
How about that little print they use now on prescription bottles that you have to see to make sure you’re taking the right pill, at the right time?
And what’s up with those instruction manuals that came with that great new gadget you’re dying to try out, but the print in the assembly manual is too little to read without your glasses? (Which are upstairs—some place!)
Or that strange phenomenon that follows every Thanksgiving dinner, when your pants seem to have mysteriously shrunk a little.
Oh yes, and one of my favorites is shelling $36 bucks for that little parking ticket when my car’s front tire was only a little in the red.
And finally, on a scale of 1-10, my vote for the biggest little annoyance rings ten bells for the Sunday newspaper’s blatant disregard for old eyes.
When I was a kid, a treasured ritual of every Sunday was reading the newspaper, especially the funnies, which, like dessert, were always saved for last. Now, we have to add the new ritual of finding our glasses before beginning the old ritual of reading the newspaper, because the print has grown so darned little.
They’ve added more cartoons, which is great, but instead of adding a page, they shrunk them down to the size of a little postage stamp to fit in the same space. I’m still wondering just what Blondie was telling Dagwood about how that dent got in the family car’s fender.
Now don’t get me wrong; I have no argument with the newspapers wanting to save a little money on ink, considering the rising cost of everything and all, but I wonder what their reaction would be if I suggested they might want to consider charging a little less for their newspaper?
I’m guessing they might have a little problem with that!