Remember, Life Is Short

My pet peeve for today is redundancy. I liked the days when I could say something once and leave it. Now, we have political letters of eight pages that keep repeating sound bites followed by requests for donations. I hate that format. My coping mechanism is to read them no more. Oh, and if you haven’t heard, yet, “Now is the time.”

Then, there are those who wish to volumize with fluff. Like the proverbial teacher who graded papers in accordance with how far they fell down the stairs when tossed, elected officials and those seeking to kiss up to them mistake length of print and length of time for due diligence. My coping mechanism for reading redundant reports appended to city council agendas is to blare nasty metal in the background, take six or seven chocolate breaks, turn red in the face and imagine the Armageddon-like scenarios of taking the proposals to their logical conclusions. My coping mechanism for redundant public hearings is to turn red in the face, shift in the seat, twitter my pen, or analyze reflected lights with the hope of discovering something I can’t yet explain.

While on the subject of dysfunctional communications, I would like to add a complaint about legislation. A few times recently, city and county legal representation has commented that after a few readings of a bill, they remain uncertain what it implies. This is the law. A civil society needs little more than the understanding that injustice that upsets a well-adjusted person is not a good idea. This is to say nothing about all the typos. My coping mechanism for the latter is I have trained myself to realize bad English is the new normal. I no longer think in pictures that would become twisted and make me laugh arrogantly. For the former, I roll over and play dead.