This week, in honor of spring, I'm giving the special treat of two rants for the price of one. Please, manage your enthusiasm as I wouldn't want to be responsible for your having a heart attack, due to the excitement of it all.

Guess what? I'm going the extra mile for you as well because I am not, for once in my life, going to begin with one of my now infamous longer-than-life intros. This is too much to handle.

However, (you knew it was coming as it was simply too good to be true), the first rant does contain some preliminary information. Yeah, that's it. I had to impart this data in order to gently move in to the meat of the matter.

Without further craziness, here I go...

I have been asked, on numerous occasions, if Perpetual, Mother and now Aunt Liz, (AL), take me aside and punch me in the face when I pick on them mercilessly week after week in this writing region.

Some gasp in horror when they read peruse my words as they seem to be under the false impression that the above-listed individuals are horrified when they hear that they have been targeted in a rant.

Getting to the answer of the original question of do they become angry when they star in a column, in a word, not really. That was two words huh?

Now, first off, why would I write something that I KNEW would get me in a heap of trouble about about people who dwell within smacking distance? Do you really think I'm THAT dumb? Don't you dare answer that question.

Plus, these goof balls, (there I go again), all read the paper so, did you assume that I bought all issues and burned them during camping season?

You see, the reason why Mother, Aunt Liz and Perpetual, to name a few, do not get upset with my pointing out their insanity is this: they, unlike many, have the vanishing ability to laugh at themselves.

And that, my dear fellows, is the subject of the first rant of this double header.

I've broached the subject before about how, in this day and age, humans are becoming overly offended on a regular basis. Well, that kind of ties in with this as, not only is society super, duper sensitive, here in the current century but, there also appears to be a shortage of those who can actually have a good laugh, at their own expense.

I am leery of any human being who can't, on occasion, simply chuckle at one of his own weaknesses, idiosyncrasies, habits, etc., etc.

Perhaps I'm nuts—again, stop with those thoughts, but I become highly irritated by those who do not possess the ability to examine themselves, let loose, and crack up wildly. What is it with that?

Along with steering clear of cat haters, I now try to distance myself from human beings who fit the above-mentioned description. (Don't even get me going on feline foes as that is reserved for yet another kvetch -fest.)

Swiftly backing away from the subject of “Serious Stellas” who are too uptight to kid around about their own shortcomings, I shall now launch, with the force of a supernova on steroids, into the promised second rant du jour.

For the past several weeks, those in my path have deserved high praise because they've heard the following words escape, from my large mouth, over and over again. The phrase in question would be: “I hate this. I hate this.”

The hate-fest has nothing to do with the political atmosphere, reality telly or any other pet peeve—not this time anyway, and has everything to do with the ungodly, terrible, lousy, disturbing and rage-inducing phenomenon we call: “Daylight Savings Time,” DST.

I detest it with the burning fury of fifteen suns exploding simultaneously. (What is it with my fixation on deep space this week? Anyhow, I digress and then move forward like a spaceship hitting warp 4. OK, I'll stop already.)

At any rate, DST is the most unnatural, inhumane “invention” since the guillotine and I cannot take another season of it but, I must.

Why do we have to tinker with nature's way by stumbling back, lurching forward, sinking into a coma, due to the lack of sleep, and, all in all, invading our bodily clocks because, well, I don't know why—and at 2 am, twice a year, no less? (I'm in the aerobic state from typing that paragraph/sentence.)

By the by, I do realize that the real saying goes something like: fall back and spring forward but, the words I used above describe how I, personally, feel during these tedious time-changes.

Now, as you can imagine, if you know me at all, I don't mind so much the one that takes place in the fall, as we gain sleep. However, this deal in the spring is ridiculous. First off, I cannot afford to have even 15 minutes erased from my precious pastime.

Second of all, why in the *&%$ do we need the sun blaring brightly at 9 pm? What are we saving, exactly, by doing this? I don't believe it's necessary to endure 20 hours of daylight, is it? Not only but, it puts a total damper on campfires, as who wants a roaring flame when birds, rather than crickets, are chirping?

We should all follow Arizona and just forget about this totally whacked-out concept if you ask me. You didn't ask me, I know but, that's how things roll in this column.

Speaking of which, I have to wrap this up as I'm way out of room. So, I'm off to be cruel to all in my path by writing nasty things about them in preparation for future columns. I will make certain to do so without their permission and will simply hope that they don't read the plethora of Community Newspapers that I have stacked on various furniture items here in the home. Well, at least I should be able to schlep my computer outside and type all kinds of secret stuff about them under the shimmering light of the midnight sun.

The End.