Tell Me Why...

At the risk of sounding too much like Andy Rooney (not that such a comparison would be entirely bad), I’ve got a few nagging questions this week. I don’t know about you, but I know I’ll feel better getting them off my chest. Sometimes we have to deal with the fly poop in the pepper before getting back to more serious musings, you know. 

First off, why the brouhaha over the non-release of a dead bin Laden photo? Either you believe he’s dead or you don’t. Look at the Birthers and their continuing doubts in spite of continued statements and evidence to the contrary. Can there be any doubt that similar outcries would follow the release of a picture portraying a bullet-riddled ObL? “Fake! Fraud! Photoshop!” Even al Qaida has acknowledged the passing of their leader, so what would the release of a photo accomplish? (As an aside, it seems as though al Qaida members are more willing to accept reality than the Birthers. Kinda sad, isn’t it?)

And why would we admit that a “treasure trove” of information was confiscated at bin Laden’s home? Why wouldn’t we want to let the bad guys think they’re still cloaked in the security of secrecy while we ferret each and every one of them out of their lairs? Now they’re running for cover in new places and changing their names and appearance and such. Seems like a step backwards to me. Unless, of course, we found nothing and now are creating the impression of being smarter than we really are. 

Moving on, most of us have caller ID on our phones so we know who’s calling before we answer. Why then do many folks answer with “Hello?” instead of “Hi, mom” or dad or whomever? It’s dumb and we’re smarter than that, aren’t we? True, some numbers or names don’t ring a bell, but generally we know who is on the other end of the call and should greet them personally when answering.

And why is so much time spent texting when a conversation takes less time and is more personal. Yes, there are venues where a call would be rude to those in our proximity, but I’d say most choose to text simply to avoid conversation of any kind. And texting at a dinner table in the company of friends is no less rude than talking. Either turn the phone off or move off to a deserted area to conduct your oh-so-important business.

Why do more and more people include the word “actually” into a conversation where it has no meaning? The word infers that we’ve been lied to and an admission is in order or that a misstatement is in need of correction. “Is the boss in?” “Actually, he’s at lunch.”

As opposed to what: theoretically he’s at lunch? Or have you been lying to me and now admit that he is, indeed, out of the office? Either way, it makes no sense and should be relegated to the status of other, more common, sentence fillers as “like” or “uh” or “um” or “er”.

And why are traffic reporters always so happy? Radio or television, it matters not: reports of accidents, gridlock, and any other interminable condition that slows down any hope of timely progress are passed on to us with a smile and a shrug. Maybe it’s because the reporter is in the friendly confines of the studio or blithely passing above the mess in an aircraft. Or maybe the message is softened to assuage our anger over a never-changing traffic problem. Either way, we’re not having fun and should resent the attitude that somehow we should be taking this delay in stride. Perhaps if the conditions didn’t exist every day at the same time, we’d be better able to smile and shrug. But we don’t because it does. I’d be better able to cope if I heard, even one time, “Boy! It sucks out there, folks, and you’d better pack a lunch if you’re heading out today! What the hell is up with our roads?” Now there’s some real-world reporting!

And finally, here’s to those of us who were never all that close to our mother. Yes, it’s Mother’s Day as I write this and I can’t help but envision a large number of folks with guilt over their lack of admiration for the family matriarch. I loved my mother. Hell, she brought me into the world. But I didn’t like her much and there were several periods of estrangement over the years. I bought her the requisite Mother’s Day card, but always picked one with few words and little sentiment. So if you’re in the same boat as I, don’t sweat it. Truth be told, most would admit to something less than enduring harmony with mom (or dad, for that matter). 

I was right: I feel much better having released these questions into cyberspace and beyond. Any similar conundrums in your life? If so, send ‘em my way. If nothing else, I can assure you, yet again, that it’s not just you.