Hate is such a strong word. I like that.
I hated 2016. Sure, I join the majority of Americans, by more than 3 million voters, who hated the results of the presidential election. Actually, I’m pretty sure the majority is much bigger, since so many people polled and queried won’t admit to voting for Donald Trump. But my disdain for the last 12 months are much more than what we now know to be a parallel universe spillover, blending reality and Saturday Night Live.
As the year dissolved into cold and higher gas prices, I realized how many other things are driving me crazy. Whether it’s my advancing old age and the chronic pain that seems to inflict, or the nation’s political delusion, and the chronic pain that seems to inflict, I hate so much. I’m hoping that an airing of these growing grievances will alleviate them. Join me in my catharsis:
I really hate how there are now several instances every time I drive on metro highways where some ass hat nearly takes out themselves and dozens of others nearby. In nearly every episode of this dirt-bag derby, the jerk is at the wheel of a black Jeep, Audi or Land Rover. These freaks just don’t do 15 miles or so above the speed limit, like I do, they’re pushing 100 mph hour better as they weave among cars, into the shoulders and medians, up the butt of your car or that of the horrified guy in front of you. Until a couple of years ago, I saw this behavior maybe once in my life. Then, it seemed like I’d be retelling an episode as much as once a week. Now, it’s a couple of times each way into and back from work. Every day. I’m not exaggerating. Since nobody teaches anybody to drive like this, these jerks are watching this and thinking it looks like a good idea to them. So they imitate it. So, what kind of stupid jerk sees something totally wrong and senseless on almost every level and thinks, “hell, yeah”? And if it’s this bad here, can you just imagine what it must be like in states where Donald Trump won?
As much as I hate Colorado’s highway hellions, I loathe how the metro restaurant scene has become obscene. The number of restaurants that believe in their heart of heart and monthly margins that they have a god-given right to charge upward of $40 for a roasted chicken dinner is alarming — a la carte. These are the same restaurants boasting wines their reps gave them deals on because they aren’t moving with the public, and they then “step on” them five or even six times. It means they pay about $2.50 for a glass of wine, and charge you $12.50 or more. I love restaurants. I worked in restaurants for much of my life. I don’t begrudge hard-working restaurant owners, managers and employees a good living. But I’m not paying well over a hundred dollars for an OK chicken dinner for two because at least it’s not a two-hundred dollar baked pork dinner with three carrots glazed in locally sourced water. The reason why an increasing number of restaurants are doing this is because an increasing number of patrons are willing to pay it — and then gush on YELP about having peeled off a good chunk of their paycheck for the best roasted chicken dinner ever. I can only assume that previously involved roasted chickens were waiting at the checkout at Wal-Mart, and that these people drive like idiots on metro highways to get to their self-absorbed dinners.
Loathing doesn’t describe the burn I have for health care, or the lack of it, in this country now. My employer and I now pay a princely sum for crappy health insurance each month. For the most part, I’ve been lucky my entire life to have never been seriously ill. So I’m the guy that pays into the insurance pool and never draws. You’re welcome. But I also make a huge effort to push away from the trough, even when I don’t want to, bike, hike and ski, avoid foods that researchers have consistently said for decades are anathema to good health and look for answers other than drugs when I am sick. As a reward, I now pay more for health care for my family than I do my mortgage and long list of other bills. For nothing. If I were to break my leg, it would cost me another $6,000 or more. Don’t blame Obamacare. We were 90 percent here before Obama took office, it’s just that the Affordable Care Act never did squat for prices or making people take better care of themselves. I abhor the fact that the people who are most unhealthy and driving up insurance rates live in states that have worked hardest to undermine Obamacare. And, you saw this coming, they are states that supported Trump and have sent us their demented drivers. I hate that.
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