I’ve been listening to All Things Considered every morning, like I used to – before I read that listening to a morning newscast puts you in a sour mood for the rest of the day (whereas listening to music makes you happy.) Maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling like crap? I guess I’d rather hear about the civilian death toll in Iraq and get angry about it than listen to the inane morning radio hosts discuss dirty x-mas gifts. Worse is the holiday music. I can’t venture out to any public venue in this wretchedly chipper season without hearing Nat King Cole belt out White Christmas, and I can’t hear a Christmas song without bursting into tears. (I actually cried over a head of lettuce while grocery shopping. Jingle Bells was blaring over the loud-speaker.) I wish I weren’t such a sorrowful scrooge.
Anyway, my intended point: I heard something SO FUNNY, SO ABSURD on the news this morning, I can’t resist sharing it. It proves NPR has a sense of humor. Reportedly, a woman on a flight to Nashville (?) lit a match on-board the plane. According to the NPR report, the FBI concluded that the woman lit the match b/c she had GAS and was trying to conceal the odor.
That’s fucking hilarious. And retarded. Who needs pop music in the morning when you can hear shit like that on the radio?! Made my day.
News of the “Bombplex” the feds are planning to build in NM sort of soured my cheer. Ironic how people flock to NM for spiritual renewal, when the gov’t. views it as a repository for nuclear waste and weaponry. (Fact: NM is home to the only site in the nation where nuclear waste is deliberately --and legally -- dumped...just miles from a world-famous spa.)
In other ironic news, I also hear that New York City is trying to pass an ordinance which would ban all food svc. establishments from using trans-fats. Who’s behind this? A coalition of anorexic supermodels? NYC is not SoCal. NYC is skinny, yes, and beautiful. Glamorous. But NYC is not healthy. NYC is about indulgence and excess and hedonism. I’ve never bought a donut from one of those street vendors, but if ever I do, I want it fried in the kind of oil that’s going to kill me. That’s just the NYC way.