(R&R) As in Rants and Raves

The End of Civilization as We Know It

(with a nod to D. Letterman)


I was driving along a straight stretch of road, approaching four teenagers walking along my side of the road in the same direction I was traveling. They were jostling each other, as teens walking along are apt to do, so I worried someone might get bumped into the road as I approached. As I came up behind them I tapped the horn just once. None of the four teenagers turned around to look, but the girl on the left side of the group, the one walking in the road near its edge, raised her left arm and extended her middle finger. In of itself, that didn't shock me in any way. What I still can not understand, however, is the speed with which the girl made the response not knowing if I was her mother, father, or even grandmother pulling up behind her.

I was walking along a rural road one afternoon when I heard a car coming up behind me. I glanced at the car as it went by, noticing it was one of those oversized cars fom the late 70s or early 80s that are cheap enough for young drivers to buy. I saw a teenage boy driving, and a teenage girl sitting close beside him in the middle of the front seat. I looked away from the car after only a second, but looked back when I heard the car's engine racing. The car, now a couple of hundred feet in front of me, was picking up speed and moving to the center of the two-lane road. The car then served back to the right side of the road, and my first thought was the driver was being distracted by something. As the car moved off the road, the right tire now on the soft shoulder, I saw a cat race off the pavement, across the shoulder, and disappear into the woods at the side of the road, just barely escaping the approaching tire. I couldn't help but wonder if the driver thought he was going to impress his date by killing a cat, or was his date going to be impressed by seeing a cat crushed in her honor.

email me with comments or rebuttals at jack@jackcurran.net

My Commentaries

The Ubiquitous Cellphone
News as Entertainment
Think For Yourself, Please
Think Again

The Blame Game in America

You may have seen this list before, it's been going around the Internet.

It's not my fault!!!
Let's see if I understand how it works lately...
If a woman burns her thighs on the hot coffee she was holding in her lap while driving, she blames the restaurant. If your teen-age son kills himself, you blame the rock 'n' roll music or musician he liked. If you smoke three packs a day for 40 years and die of lung cancer, your family blames the tobacco company. If your daughter gets pregnant by the football captain you blame the school for poor sex education. If your neighbor crashes into a tree while driving home drunk, you blame the bartender. If your cousin gets AIDS because the needle he used to shoot up with heroin was dirty, you blame the government for not providing clean ones. If your grandchildren are rude brats without manners, you blame television. If your friend is shot by a deranged madman, you blame the gun manufacturer. And if a crazed person breaks into the cockpit and tries to kill the pilots at 35,000 feet, and the passengers kill him instead, the mother of the deceased blames the airline. I must have lived too long to understand the world as it is anymore. So if I die while my old, wrinkled ass is parked in front of this computer, I want you to blame Bill Gates, OK? :)

This list brings me to my own thoughts on the blame game in America.

The "My Dad" Factor
As a boy I loved and respected my dad, and I tried to earn his respect
(and my independence) by learning to stand on my own two feet,
knowing he would be there to lean on when needed.

I wonder when it first became a part of our culture for Americans to be proud of their stupidity. I'm referring, of course, to the habit of Americans to insist on their right to stand up in front of a jury of their peers and flaunt their stupidity. The reward for their openness is money, so that may be the driving factor. But, I'm a believer of what I call The "My Dad" Factor. My father has been dead for many years, but The "My Dad" Factor requires that I try to place myself in front of my father to explain my actions, and gauge his response. For example, I try to imagine myself standing before my father and telling him something to the effect of:
"Dad, while driving around with a friend I had him pull up to a fast food restaurant's drive-by window, where I ordered a cup of coffee. I took the cover off the cup, put the cup between my thighs, and told my buddy to drive away. You can imagine what happened, Dad, and I'm going to sue the fast food restaurant for selling me a cup of hot coffee."

At that point, if my father rolls his eyes and seems to be regretting giving me his name (likely) I would have to drop the idea of a law suit. If, however, my father seems to be ready to support me (unlikely) then I would be one of those many Americans ready to stand up in front of a jury of my peers to admit that I am so incredibly stupid that I should be given a lot of money so I can hire someone to protect me from myself.
The "My Dad" Factor prevents me from profiting from my own stupidity.

My all-time favorite: smokers lawsuits (I'm no fan of tobacco companies, but I don't believe in spreading blame around).
I smoked cigarettes for twenty years (up to two packs a day) without ever once telling myself that sucking hot smoke into my lungs was good for me. Unlike those who sue the tobacco companies in order to afford annual visits to DisneyWorld, I didn't make a judgment on smoking based on what the tobacco companies were telling me (I assume those plaintiffs were still being told by their mothers when to go to bed at night--such major decisions being beyond their own capabilities). In fact, I started smoking as an adult after the surgeon general's initial report on the hazards of smoking, so there is nobody to blame but myself if problems arise (I quit in the mid-80s).
If I was on one of those sympathetic juries, I would have to ask each juror if they had ever burned leaves in their yards in the fall, and spent the entire time leaning over the burning pile inhaling the smoke, or did they think that might not be too healthy.
Following close on the heels of the need to put warning labels on cigarette packs (remember your lungs' reaction to the first time you inhaled--now that's a warning) are the labels on ladders telling people they could fall off. Apparently, American schools are no longer teaching about gravity. Speaking of gravity, I also noticed a warning sign on the inside of an oven door on a kitchen stove telling Americans not to use the open door as a step. Huh? Pardon me, exactly how stupid have my fellow Americans become?

I was told this story quite a few years ago by a court clerk. It involved a lawsuit that he said reached all the way to a state supreme court (that involved a lot of taxpayer's dollars, in addition to the efforts of a few money-hungry people) before being thrown out.

A teenage boy was walking down a street when he found an empty beer bottle. He threw the bottle against a utility pole where it shattered. A piece of glass flew back and cut the boy's cheek. The boy's father sued the beer company.

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