I constantly ask questions. It's my job. But I don't have all the answers.
Why can't airlines, hotels, and concert ticket sellers just be honest? Instead of charging us more money for “convenience fees” and “service charges,” why not just jack up the price on the front end and be done with it?
Why can't chili exit our bodies as gently as it enters? Chili is like that party guest who greets you at the front door with a smile. Then after a few hours of carousing and loud conversation, you have to send him out the back door kicking and screaming, waking up all the neighbors.
Why can't my high-tech friends accept the fact I prefer my pen and paper over an electronic gadget? When I refer to my written grocery list, or when I write down an appointment on my calendar, they snicker as if I am carving hieroglypic writings on a stone tablet. “Why don't you just put it on your phone?” they will ask.
What can I say? I'm always a few years behind the curve. I once waved down a car dealer as he entered a restaurant, to kindly inform him he left his headlights on. I figured he would thank me profusely, and then reward me with a discount at car shopping time. Instead, he eyed me with pity, and explained that cars were now equipped with automatic headlights that turned themselves off. He walked away grinning, probably telling his wife that he should explain air conditioning too, but it would surely be over my head.
Speaking of cars, if we really want to cut back on fatalities, why don't we require everyone to display their name and phone number on their vehicle? And then, install cameras in each car to record that information whenever someone is tailgating, speeding, or recklessly changing lanes? They would then be required to pay fines for their dangerous driving. There's the solution.
So many questions, so little time.
Why can't members of Congress be more like your hometown politicians? The local ones are just trying to improve their community, often serving long hours for low pay. But when you watch the national news, you see these egotistical blowhards playing for the cameras with their quid pro combovers and tedious talking points.
Why can't people be as kind and considerate on social media, as we once were in person? Would you walk into church and yell, “Donald Trump is a no-good #@$%+$#&$” or “Why don't they lock up that $%@#%+#%$ Joe Biden?” Of course you wouldn't. So why would you go online and say that to the entire world?
Why do people go to a baseball game, spend $150 for a front row seat, $30 for parking and $10 for a hot dog, just to sit and stare at their phone for three hours?
Why do some elected officials call news reporters their enemies, when they never would have gotten elected without coverage by those same news reporters?
Why does the remote control from my new Smart TV make me feel so incredibly stupid? Remember when TV remotes had about six buttons? On, off, volume up/down, and channel up/down. My latest remote has a button called AD/SAP, another one called STB, multi-colored buttons with no explanation, and a bunch of little icons I'm afraid to touch. One day, I pushed all the buttons at once, and hundreds of flights had to be canceled at the major airports. (OK, that may have just been a dream, but I can't be certain.)
All these questions, just simmering in my brain:
Why, after all these years, do people on Facebook still post and share those fake coupons? Think about it, folks. If Lowe's or Home Depot honored a free $150 discount on every purchase, how many minutes would it take until they were out of business?
Why do people think it's OK to interrupt your cashier during your transaction, with an important question like, “Don't y'all have any clean potatoes? These here look like they've been in the ground.”
Why do people drive as if the time trials for the pole position at the Daytona 500 are held in the Walmart parking lot?
Why don't folks know the definition of the word “literally?” You know, the ones who say, “I'm so hungry right now, I could LITERALLY eat 50 slices of pizza!” I say, we should literally hold 'em to it.
Why do those quickie oil-change guys take only 10 minutes to change my oil, only to spend the next half-hour telling me my car won't make it out of the parking lot without expensive repairs?
Ah, the mysteries of life.
There are some things even Google can't answer.