"Three - it's a magic number."
- Schoolhouse Rock "3"

February 10th, 2008

I have a deep felt apology to make.

It's been over a month without a rant from me and I know a lot of you have been waiting for a new one. And because I'm a lazy POS, I have not gotten around to creating a new one. Really, I'm sorry. Every excuse I have really isn't good enough for me. However, there have been a few marginally good reasons for not writing.

The first of which is that I've been relatively happy lately. Damn happiness is always getting is the way of a good rant. I have a great job with a new company. I work for great people. I have great benefits. I'm making very good money and I sort of kinda like what I'm doing. The complaints I have are small and because I have a firm rule about ranting about specific people in a profession, I will not mention them here.

And, trust me, there are people who are pissing me off.

The second reason is, with this job, I rarely have a moment to spare. Whenever I have a really good rant cooking in my head, I find no time to sit down and give birth to it. I think, "Hey, that's a good rant to start" - then when I get home, it's gone.

And even now, when I sit down at this keyboard, my mind is assaulted with all of the things that I should be ranting on. For example, being from New Jersey and not from Iowa, Florida, New Hampshire, or Michigan, I felt I had very little say in who our next world leader should be. Personally, I was really looking forward to casting a vote for either Dennis Kucinich or John Edwards. And I got to thinking that it's not fair that four states that probably have the lowest literacy rates in this country (okay, not New Hampshire) should be used as the deciding factors to whom the two major parties should use as polling centers for marketability. Instead, we now have a choice of two candidates.. in February.

So, once again, I'm sorry.

I hope this will make up for my tardiness. Here are three mini rants for your entertainment. And just so you know I spent today gathering rant fuel for some of these. All of these rants were due to things that happened today or were inspired by events that were going on today.

Rant 1: The Superbowl With All The Trimmings

"Winning isn't everything, but losing is nothing."
- Red Symons

I'm not a football fan.

Those of you who have been reading this site for a while or have been reading from the dear, departed site, The Rant Shack (RIP), know that I'm not. To be blunt, I don't like the sport. My brothers-in-law and my father are football fans. I think the entire sport is a waste of time and keeps humanity from evolving into its ultimate destiny of being the big headed Talosian superbeings that have insanely powerful mental abilities.

Hey, there are people out there that believe that the earth and the universe are only 6,000 years old and that Adam and Eve existed. No names, I'll just silently laugh at them since they readily identify themselves at every public opportunity.

So, this year it's a little different. Obnoxiously so. The New Jersey Giants are in it (I'm sorry, where do they play again?) and that makes living in this state nearly impossible without hearing "GO BLUE!!!" EVERY 10 MINUTES!!!! Now, in addition to these football heads which come out every winter's solstice, I get it now, in concentrate.

Normally, I find other things to do during this horrible time... Like rant on my PC.

However, I've been betrayed by my own wife in this arena. She says she has to watch the game.

"I have to watch the game."
"What game?" I say with mock surprise.
"The Superbowl. The Giants are in it this year. They are playing the undefeated Patriots. It will be historic either way."
"Historic? What? Will there be a death or a killing? Will aliens land in the center of the field? Will George W. Bush blow his own brains out if his team loses?" To me, that's historic.
"No, but the Giants are in it and if the Patriots win they will be the first team to ever go undefeated through an entire season and championship."
"Whatever. I'm going food shopping."
"Why?"
"Because I don't know how "out of it" I'll need to be in order to watch this and snacking is always good."

So I went to Shopright for throwable food. You do know when football people see the players or referee do things that they don't like, they like to throw food, beer, or pretzels at the TV. It makes them feel better. My job is to find food that won't stick to the screen. Potato chips, pretzels, Doritos are usually good choices. Chilli has a tendancy to make the TV on/off switch a little grungy... so does onion dip.

My mistake was going to the store on the day of the game. Trust me, you really don't want to do this as you'll see these football people at their most obnoxious moments. They feel that since they are buying food for their party they have a priority over every other person who is buying food for their party. It's quite amusing if you can just sit back and watch them as an observer. Seriously, my local Shoprite announced over its speaker that they will have a special "G" shaped sandwich for people buying Superbowl platters.

These football people are easy targets and are vulnerable to the Jedi Mind Trick.

"You want a "G" shaped platter."
"I want a "G" shaped platter."
"These aren't the droids you're looking for."
"These aren't the droids we're looking for."
"Move along."
"Move along."

It's just like that as I saw a flock of Giants fans head to the deli section. They pushed their snack laden carts as they lumbered like the undead to the sandwich maker mumbling, "'G' shaped Giants sandwich... 'G' shaped Giants sandwich... 'G' shaped Giants sandwich... " I took that opportunity to get some fresh fruits and juice, then I went to get my Ben & Jerry's ice cream and headed out the door.

I think the one thing that I hate about the game is that it transforms the most innocent of fans into a raving violent maniac. Even now, I can hear my wife downstairs scream at the television, "DIE YOU ROTTEN BASTARDS!!! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU OLD LADIES!!!! YOU CAN'T LET THEM GET ANY GROUND!!!! MUTHER-F*&%KERS!!!!"

And she's a Buddhist.

It's a horrible thing about the human condition when we can let a group of people in the media control the emotional states of viewers and then have the more sensitive viewers watch the genius of Madison Avenue work their magic with probably the best commercials you will see all year. In case you are wondering, this is an experiment in watching all the viewers react like Pavlovian Dogs to a ringing bell or a referees whistle in this case.

I want to make this perfectly clear. It's not the sport that I truly despise. It's the culture it breeds. It's the testosterone laden amounts of bullshite that come from even the most casual of conversations pertaining to the game. It's the roles that we create over and over and over again. And, much as I hate to admit this, I enjoyed seeing a New Jersey team defeat one from Massachusetts. It's a New York/Boston thing, people from outside the tristate area won't understand. However, even now, I can see this darkside within myself of gloating over the misfortune of others. I'm making my level best effort to expunge it.

I can't tell you how much I miss having a big head and making illusions to innocent space landing parties for my own enjoyment disappoints me.

Rant 2: My Eyes... My EYES... MY EYES!!!!

"Eyes are the mirror to the soul."
- Yiddish Proverb

My vision sucks.

I really am lost without my glasses. I'm going to be 42 tomorrow and everything in my body is breaking down right on schedule. It's the eyes that go first. I've got the arthritis in my knees and I've got the greying of the hair on my head. I'm hoping that if I get all of the stupid crap out of the way, I might just avoid erectile dysfunction.

My fingers are still crossed. So far, so good. Maybe the saying is true that if I didn't stop I'd go blind. Who knew? I took the view of doing it until I needed glasses. And here I am now. With Mr. Magoo vision.

My eyes always screw with me at the worst times. The week I got married I got a huge monstrous eye cyst on my eye lid. It's in all of my wedding pictures. A few thousand dollars for me in a tuxedo with a new deformity on my face. Nice, huh? I had to get surgery to remove the offending chalazion from my eyelid. My argument to the insurance company was that it was distorting my vision - which I needed for web design - so I could continue to work and pay insane premiums. They listened to that logic.

My eyes have been bad since I was a freshman in high school and they've stayed bad. Well, to be fair, they are bad but sometimes they get better than they were. They have actually gotten stronger at times. Not so strong that I don't need glasses anymore but strong enough for me to get a weaker prescription. Then they get bad again... then they get good again. It's like watching a graph of the stock market over the years.

So, three weeks ago I decided that I couldn't take not seeing well anymore and I went to the eye doctor for an exam. Actually, that's not quite true. I thought I had pinkeye. Why did I think that? My eyes were pink and felt as if they were retread with sandpaper. Normally, that says to me that I have a problem and should see a doctor.

Unlike my wife, who won't see a doctor short of either me making her go or her noticing the absence of a limb, I believe that when you are sick you should either take medicine or see a doctor for illnesses that over-the-counter drugs can't cure. It's part of my Italian heritage. The Italians believe that there are pain medications out there for a reason and they should be used when you feel painful sensations... like PAIN.

As a consequence of the pinkeye, my vision was blurry and it started to get to the point where I could not read my monitor. I called the eye doctor and the next day my wife drove me there for an exam. As it was an emergency visit, the optomitrist would not give me an eye exam for new glasses. Her priority was to see what was causing the infection. She said that it was nothing serious, but she gave me steroid drops for the eyes and I took them for a week. When I came back, I could get my eyes checked for glasses. I faithfully took my drops and within A DAY, the pinkeye was gone. Nevertheless, I continued to take my drops for the week and returned to the optomitrist.

Okay, kids, raise your hands if you've done this. When you go to the eye doctor and the doctor asks you to read the chart, how many of you think your going to be graded on it. Yeah, me too. My right eye is weaker than my left one... currently. With the way my eyes go, sometimes I just need to wait that out. The doctor examined my right eye first. After making a complete blind idiot of myself with my right eye, my left eye told my right eye that I was, indeed, blind - compared to my left.

It was as if my eyes were having a competition and were taunting each other.

"That was an 'F'," my right eye will say.
My left eye responds, "Are you joking? That's a 'B'."
"Now, who's kidding. It's an 'F'. Clearly, you are out of your iris."
"Okay, see what the doctor says, if you're so smart. I know it's a "B", Mr. Magoo." My left eye thinks it's sooo superior.

It was a "B". Boy, did my right eye feel foolish.

When all was done, the doctor put the drops in my eyes and checked for other problems, which happily, I did not have. I always worry about glaucoma. It was only then that I mentioned I also wanted contact lenses. The doctor patiently told me that I should have told her before she put the drops in my eyes. I had to come in the following week for my contacts, but then she said it might be better if I did it after I got my glasses back.

Since I brought my wife, she joined the decision making process of what kind of frames to get. I wanted my regular round "Harry Potter"-like glasses. The style however is going toward the narrow geeky black frames which I just despise. My wife said that I should not get the round glasses again as my face was "fuller". The translation to this was that "I was a fat bastard that gained too much facial weight and round glasses made me look like a near sighted pig."

I speak "wife" fluently.

We looked at a whole bunch of the narrow glasses and I just kept pushing them aside. After all, whose face was it anyway? Finally, I decided to go "rimmless" with a pair of TAGHeuer with blue frames. I liked them because they don't look like glasses. In addition to these, I decided to get some prescription sunglasses because I want to be able to see when the sun is shining brightly. And since my latest job has a great view of lower Manhattan, the mornings, more often than not are filled with bright light. This also goes for when I drive to work. I'd like to get there alive and not die because the sun blinded me.

Combined with the disposable lenses, the sunglasses, and new regular glasses cost me over $1,000. This is a jim dandy argument for LASIK surgery - which I'll do next year when I feel I got my mileage from these new glasses.

I want to backtrack for a moment to when I had the growth on my eyelid. In actuallity I have growthS on my eyelids (both eyes) and when I had the surgery on them I was bandaged for a day. I was blind. Right after my surgery, my wife had told me that I was literally crying blood. It was quite frightening. And as much as I bitch about my eyes, having no eyesight just stinks. And it's funny what you miss when your eyesight is gone.

I couldn't read books or comics. I couldn't watch television. I couldn't drive my car. And I couldn't see my wife's face or even her beautiful eyes. I found myself listening to the entirety of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy as it was originally performed on radio through casette tapes and my walkman. After the first twelve hours it was good, but after that, I wanted to jump out of a window.

I mention all of this because as imperfect as my vision is, I'm grateful to have it. It is what we take for granted that when we lose it we miss it the most. This can be said of anything we take for granted. People, pets, parents, spouses and it's interesting that when we blink the entire world goes away and just as quickly, it comes back clearer and more in focus.

Rant 3: Elevator Anxiety

"Show me an elevator operator and I'll show you a man who knows his ups and downs."
- Old Joke

It's time to diet again.

Yeah, yeah, yeah... I'm usually the first one to say it. Although, I carry my weight very well and I think I look damn good for 240. I also like to buy clothes that fit. I don't hide the fact by lying to myself and attempt to wear clothes that are too small. I wear the clothes that are right for me and fit well. There is nothing more pathetic than someone who tries to wear the wrong size and try to pull it off. It's tragic.

Being larger has some advantages. More often than not, you get your own seat on the bus. I'm at the point where people will sit next to me and be comfortable. I take an aisle seat because I don't like people sitting next to me. Someone who is larger than me can't sit with me. I can sit with others my size though. I'm not really that bothered by my weight. Really. And I promise, I will get to a gym. It's just the concept of working out at 6:AM that really bothers me. It's just the little things that get me the most. Some of them make me nervous. It's not that I'm getting heart palpitations or that I feel diabetic. There's none of that.

What scares me is elevators.

I work in Jersey City now. It's a nicely kept, executive style, and fairly old building with an elevator that is somewhat eccentric. It's also a tad annoying. The first thing I noticed was that when I stepped into the elevator, it seemed to sink for a second. This did wonders for my self esteem. A friend of mine while drunk screamed when an overweight couple came to an elevator one time while she was inside of it. She shreiked at the top of her lungs, "WE'RE AT MAXIMUM CAPACITY!!!!!!" That's usually when I pause and think, "I could be the straw that broke the camel's back. I could be that last 10 lbs. that broke the cable." Then I'd fall to a horrible death.

At least my corpse will have been wearing nice clothes.

Another thing that irks me about this particular elevator is that the doors close too quickly. I understand that we live in a civilized society and sometimes people like to be polite. As I understand elevator etiquette, the rule is that people who are in the elevator should get off before others get on. A further stipulation that my father literally beat into me was that people at the front of the elevator get off last as the rear get off first. I really don't know what my father was smoking when he heard that one. All I know now is that I can't use that rule with this elevator.

This elevator will close if you wait more than 4 seconds. So allowing women to enter first or allowing people at the back of the elevator to leave first will only seal the chances for you to get off on the wrong floor. This is not a patient elevator and will close its doors before you get a chance to step on.

I saw a man this morning give his own bit of criticism to people trying to get onto the elevator before it closed and before he got off. Now, despite the fact that he looked like the corporation had sucked every bit of life and happiness out of him, he looked as if he had worked there for more than 4 or 5 years. Didn't he know how the elevators in his own building worked and that the people in the building who essentially said, "Screw the manners! I need to get upstairs!"

For some reason he looked offended. Unreal. All things being equal, I think he's lucky I didn't flip him the bird.

The one good thing that the elevator system does is that it will indicate which elevator is coming to which shaft and whether it's going to be going up or down. That's a good thing to know. At least you can get into the elevator quickly. The ironic thing is that once the doors close, it's as if the elevator has to remember what direction it was going to go to. Do you think the elevator is thinking, "Now, which floor is it again? Oh yeah, that's right. It's seven. That's 2 more floors. I'd better get started." Then it will gather its strength and go to seven.

For breakfast trips to the 6th floor, I take the stairs. There is nothing quite like the illusion of exercise that one gets when they think they are doing their body good by taking the stairs once or twice a day. The stairs only have the advantage of not having to wait for the elevator to arrive. Plus, who wants to climb or descend stairs with an empty stomach. I don't. I'd rather do it when... well, I really can't justify a pointless use of the stairs. But, if I did, um, I'd be on them.

Aside from the actual physical anxiety of wondering if the elevator would fall, there is always that fear that you'll get stuck in one. It's the problem of whether or not you get stuck alone or in a crowded elevator. If you are alone, no one can keep you company. If you are with others, in a crowd, eventually, you'll want to sit down. Ideally, it's nice to have one or two other people and that's it.

I'm sure that eveyone will think of using the hidden ceiling door to climb up the elevator shaft like McGyver or like Bruce Willis. Then you can climb the ladder to the roof and know that you escaped the problem. Who knows what would happen in that rare occassion? Do you know of anyone that actually had to do that? Me, neither.

Did you every notice the almost microscopic bit of anger you get when someone or some people press the buttons that are below your floor? I do. I see it as, "C'MON!!! I COULD HAVE BEEN TO MY FLOOR 30 SECONDS EARLIER!!!! BUT NOOOOO!!!!! YOU HAD TO COME ON NOW AND DELAY ME!!!! JERK!!!!" Then you remember, that there is no possible way that person would know that their final destination was going to cause you any strife and that they have as much right to be on the elevator as you do. They may have the inverse feeling of, "Wow, this is great. I get to go directly to my floor. That other guy will just need to wait for me to get to where I'm going, cause my floor is closer."

And people wonder why I don't sleep well.

Being in a crowded elevator is fun. George Carlin said that there really is nothing to do in a crowded elevator except NOT look at the other guy. You can always look at your shoes or pretend that you are thinking of something important or pretend you are thinking about something you have to do when you get out of the elevator. This is to give the appearance that you are a busy kind of guy and really have no time to talk to nameless strangers on the elevator, let alone look or smile at them.

I prefer to either look at my shoes or just pretend that I'm really into what I'm listening to on my iPod. It's like being on line for something. Normally, a person whom in any other circumstances you'd have nothing to do with will start a conversation with you. Sometimes it's nice but most of the time, it's just awkward. Especially, if that person starts a conversation that you really don't want to talk about. I usually get people who like talking about animal husbandry and what pros and cons are there with the efforts of bull artificial insemination.

In that case, I'll punt. I'll smile and mention something about Paganism and that serial killers look just like everyone else. Cause we do. That gets them out the door faster than pushing them out. And who wants to waste time waiting for others to linger about? They should be "in and out" like a duck mating.

There is no reason for them to ask you personal questions or interrogate you on where you're going. Wouldn't it be great to just make things up? When people try to make small talk maybe it might be best to say things like, "Hey, did you notice how easy it is to sneak in this building and get into a supposedly secure office? I'm amazed at how lax security can be. I keep the credit cards that they send in junk mail for 'jimmying' locks... they work best."

Once again, I hate waiting for people to leave the elevator.