Lisa's Rants and Raves
The other week I was roped into—I mean, I had the ultimate pleasure of transporting my friend, Diane, to the hospital. Mind you, she had to be there at 6 in the morning. Yes, you read that right but, I've not imparted something major to you and will now take the time to do so.
For about a year now, my schedule has taken a turn for the weird in that I now arise between 6:30 and 7:30 in the morning.
Can you dig it? (For my new readers, first off, bless your hearts for putting up with this and secondly, I used to be a total night owl. 6 in the morn was reserved for childbirth and, even then, I'd try to hold it in, so to speak.)
This column actually has not one thing to do with the whole taking Di to the hospital scenario. I only used that as an intro so that I could casually launch into a story about major news maker which I first encountered in said hospital. I viewed it whilst waiting for her to come out of surgery. How was that for captivating an audience? Not so good, huh?
OK, after getting her settled in to her cubical, I was thrown out of the area and then entered the waiting region. As I was busily perusing my Christopher Hitchens book, a television announcer said something so startling, so captivating, so hideous that I had to violently slam the book shut in order to gaze at the talking head in a transfixed stupor.
Now, I need you to sit down for this because it is utterly horrific in so many ways. I don't want to be responsible for “episodes” suffered by my adoring fans. Now that I ponder, I'm certain that episodes unfold weekly after readers finish Rants and Raves. Yes, I digressed and can now move on.
The aforementioned news bulletin that I heard in the waiting room was also repeated throughout the week, due to the emergency nature of it all. Therefore, I feel compelled to share it with you, in case you missed out.
Here I go. Brace yourselves. The Girl Scouts have decided to make Barbie, (of Barbie and Ken fame), an honorary member.
Now, that isn't the whole story—heavens no. The induction process has drawn harsh criticism from, well, some group that is clearly fueled by displaying outrage over stupid things.
The spokeswoman for the anti-Barbie faction, (words I never thought I'd type), is some drab woman who, obviously, has a plethora of spare hours in her thumb-twiddling day.
You see, she thinks that Barbie becoming a scout could cause a cosmic disturbance of such magnitude that the planets might veer off course. I exaggerate to make a point but you knew that. The reasoning behind her “let's keep Barbie out of the scouts campaign” is that Barb, (I'm familiar with her and she allows me to call her this), is simply not a good role model for our delicate young flowers. What? Huh?
Pardon me but, isn't Barb a plastic object with maybe a dash of rubber thrown in for good measure? Since when is an inanimate object considered to be a role model? Does this mean that my cooking spatula is a moral compass or a kind of heroic figure? Can I seek wisdom from objects located in my own kitchen? Wow.
The Barbie is a bad influence on young ladies saga has grown to epically idiotic and, dare I say, asinine, proportions.
The fearless leader of those against Barbie donning Girl Scout green droned on incessantly about the poor body image that Barb projects, how she gives young gals the wrong idea of ladies, in general, and all of the predictable male bovine excrement associated with anti-Barbie lunatics.
Not to mention, but I will, if she isn't qualified then nobody is. I shall now elaborate... I would think that Barbie has earned her merit badges since her resume includes her stints as everything from a stewardess—I mean FLIGHT ATTENDANT, (I dodged that politically incorrect projectile), to an astronaut. Good gravy man, what do these people want?
If memory serves, this doll, (yes, she is a literal doll, lest we forget), was one of the original feminists. She has worked in fields once reserved for men only. She took on the establishment and won. Go Barb! Wait, I'm now forgetting that she is not a real person. Hold me.
Even though Barb has seen and done it all, there is one job description that is blatantly missing from her list of occupations. That would be the title of housewife—oops, I mean HOMEMAKER—wait, what I meant to say was “family dwelling supervisor.” Whew, this is getting difficult.
I'm brimming with fury over it. Don't people think that managing a home is prestigious? Isn't caring for our tender offspring the most important task in life? I demand justice and now. Ire is oozing out of my pores over the injustice of it all.
I shall now inch back to the crazed goof ball who has too much time on her hands, you know, the one who wants to prevent Barb from entering the world of the Girl Scouts. Why would anyone dedicate an ounce of their precious, limited life to an anti-Barbie cause? Just ponder on that one for a bit... Time's up.
I could, and will, supply a short list of topics that rate just a touch higher on the “Atrocity Scale” than Barbie-Gate. Here, lady, occupy your day with some of this: world hunger, illiteracy, animal cruelty, short sentences for violent offenders, global warming, global cooling, media bias, war on drugs, phone solicitors, zoning laws, private property rights, politically correct jargon and clean air, just to name a few.
I must end the madness abruptly as I just noticed that I'm running late. You see, it's time for the therapy, guidance and protection seminar which will be conducted by my wooden spoon set in the kitchen. Off I go...