The Pursuit of Happiness

It is 6:30 in the morning and I drive into the outbound lane in the Evil Retail Giant’s parking lot. An old bat in a Cadillac SUV, going in the right direction, shakes her fist and screams. At first, I think she’s being small-town friendly; I smile and wave back. This enrages her; she honks her horn. Not only is she an old bat, she’s a bat out of hell.

I know the paragraph above may approach political incorrectness. It could – possibly – be judged ageist. Perhaps – likely – sexist as well. Is the crime mitigated because she called me an old goat first? There was no premeditation on either side; she drives a nicer car than mine, certainly a vulgar car – oops! Classism at work here – but we each reacted spontaneously, creatures of our culture and times.

I grew up among Scandinavians and Germans in a state with remarkably effective government. No one in Minnesota cares if you marry your canary, but everyone seethes with unbridled fury if you fail to cut your grass regularly. It is the opposite here. Decent lawn hygiene is a bizarre concept, but whom you fall in love with requires regulation, oversight, and decrees from county and state governments that can’t get an inch of snow off the roads. It is very confusing.

I love dumb blonde jokes, but don’t tell them anymore. Thank goodness for State Representative Bob Ballinger, now running for State Senate. Say that Old Bob’s house is on fire. He’s in a panic! He calls the fire department. “My house in on fire!” he shouts. “Okay, calm down,” says the fire guy. “How do we get to your house?” There is a long, long pause, then Bob indignantly says, “Well duh! In big red trucks!”

So: I’m in the ERG with an infinite list from my wife. I buy the wrong things – dishwasher pellets rather than pliable gel pacs, for example – and will hear about it when I get home. Yet, am I a new age, fully actualized male for doing the marketing? Or just another situation comedy husband? The path traveled by an old goat is often crooked and steep.