Rant 'n' Rave, a.k.a. Tuesday Morning Insanity

There's nothing like getting out of the house early so you can go out in the world and see how messed up everyone is.

Hmmm. Maybe it's the system.

Gasp--maybe it's me!

It is curious, a lass like me in the study of politics. For one, because I am *really* into truth in advertising. If the sign at the grocery store says, "Orange's 99cents", I believe I have the right to think that oranges, despite having no independent thoughts of their own, somewhere underneath their rind, they have a wallet, and inside is 99 cents.

I mean 'orange-apostrophe-s'! That's possessive! The oranges have 99 cents!

The one that gets me more often if the prospect of iced coffee. Sure, sometimes I think, "you know Beth, a little abatement of the caffeine addiction may help you not get so worked up about this".

Bah. I'm trying to keep up with the Jones. And you know *they're* drinkin' coffee.

None the less, what IS iced coffee?? Is it COLD coffee over ice?? Is that not how they do iced tea?? Or is it HOT coffee over ice?? (Which, geez, if the damn baristas had paid attention in Chemistry AT ALL, they would know that "hot coffee over ice" really amounts to "lukewarm watered down coffee". And is that what I paid my two dollars for?? In words of my favorite electrical engineer, BEEEZERVILLLLLE!!

So as I rode the train back to SF from my worthless doctor's appointment (he told me I should have been referred to the OPthamologist, not the DERMatologist), I tried to tell myself, "Self, 20% of America lives below the federal poverty level. Could you be a little more mature than worrying about the strength and temperature of your coffee?"

And then I remember my therapist, who says that government is run by a bunch of pissed off twelve year olds. Since I wasn't drinking coffee at 12, I figure, heck, at least I'm more mature than them! Shoot, I didn't start coffee until almost 21! At that rate, I'm an old timer! Kind of.

Well, speaking of old timers--with the utmost respect of course!--I was on the bus yesterday in my usual "public transportation in this city sure sucks" mood, when this cute-as-a-button older lady gets on, and SMILES at the bus driver.

That's the first way I know something's different. Smiling at the bus driver??? Omigod. They are the surly of surly. Don't ask them when the bus is leaving. That's what makes them surly. Don't smile. That makes them surly too. (Among about a million other inane and "not in my job description" things that I'm sure happen to them everyday.)

Then as we proceed southward on 19th street, she is *still* smiling. She's got her stylish, red, but simple hat to keep the sun off her face. Shoot, I could swear she's wearing purple under there somewhere. Socks maybe?

Then as she gets off at the mall, she leans down to this other girl on the bus, who had the BEST hat on the bus, and says very sweetly, I like your hat! The young girl smiles at the unexpected compliment, and the older girl traipses off the bus into this crazy, messed up world, still smiling, still wearing purple, and at peace with oranges having their very own 99 cents.