Rage War

Every now and then, I’ll recognize that I have a lot of anger stewing within and I don’t know where it comes from. There are those people who see a sea of traffic on the highway or long lines at the grocery story and they just shrug and go with it. I’m not one of those people. I have rage. I have all kinds of rage about all kinds of things, not just how no one cares about feminism anymore or a sense of community or what were at one time common courtesies, but a Whisky Tango Foxtrot kind of rage. This rage that's worse in the morning with a coffee fueled serotonin rush, where I can be driving to work and on the radio hear 2005 Factory Cash Back on Sienna and I get mad. For no reason. Okay, well, there's clearly a reason there - it should be 2005 Factory cash back on A Sienna or on THE Sienna but they just say ON SIENNA like we're all just supposed to intuitively know that car names don't need articles before them anymore.

Or sometimes just the word Toyotathon can enrage me.

Informative and yet funny. You really can't beat that.

"Capitalize hurricane when it is part of the name that weather forecasters assign to a storm: Hurricane Hazel." But use it and its -- not she, her or hers or he, him or his -- in pronoun references."

"And do not use the presence of a woman's name as an excuse to attribute sexist images of women's behavior to a storm."

How can you not love The Associated Press Stylebook?

Ode to TiVo™

Prior to our move we had the DirecTV version of TiVo™ (the “DVR”) and in no small measure, it changed my life! In the year we had it, I’d watched about 11 commercials. I LOVED it. I was no longer a slave to the network schedules. I had become relatively conversant in water cooler gossip about Trump’s latest hire, and I was able to satisfy my The Amazing Race jones on a weekly basis. Prior to that, since the birth of Baby Moon, I missed every new show that was released and hadn’t a clue who Veronica Mars was or why she was interesting. But now? We’re back to that ignorant and desolate existence. No DVR and no TiVo™. I find myself forgetting that I've been shoved through the WayBack Machine to preTiVoric times and I'll push the Pause button on my remote as I get up to go to the bathroom or I'll attempt to fast forward through some idiotic soft porn Victoria’s Secret commercial only to find that I am back to living in real time and not that gloriously innovative view-on-demand world in which I had fallen in love. Damn! Why must crappy television thwart me like the scorned lover it has become? Why have you forsaken me, TiVo™? Why????