Maybe It's Just Me, Bike Lanes Are Annoying

  Maybe it's just me, and usually it is, but bike lanes on streets are a waste. 

  It's not like they are used that often. I go days without seeing a bike on them. Has anybody ever done a cost/benefit analysis? Why aren't they licensed, and the fee used to pay for bike lanes themselves? 

  Do they have to obey traffic laws? I see no evidence that they do. They can run through traffic lights and stop signs, and whiz by me in school zones. 

  And what about those bikes that have a motor attached? The people who ride them shouldn't be trusted with a gallon of gasoline and a two-stroke engine. They're like a suicide bomber on a mission.

  I live in Boise, Idaho. It is a city that is as obsessed with bicycle lanes as it is with the Boise State Broncos.  

  Several years ago, there were three automobile/bicycle collisions within a few weeks of each other. The automobile always wins. A local TV station displayed the pictures of the three cyclists (none sustained life-ending injuries). Here's the strange coincidence: they were all photographed in competitive cycling attire with numbers. My take is that because they were "skilled" cyclists, they thought they owned the road. Indeed, it was discovered later they were at fault, but because they were cyclist, they were portrayed as the victims. 

  Near the same period of time, I personally witnessed an automobile/bicycle collision. A cyclist was speeding on the sidewalk. He had his racing helmet and tights on. He was slumped forward like he was heading for the finish in the Tour de France. With a bike lane available, he chose the sidewalk. He didn't bother checking for traffic because, after all, this was the Tour de France. An automobile, having the light and about a three-thousand-pound advantage, collided with the bike. I'm grateful the cyclist was not killed. 

  The bicyclists and the lanes are a menace and should be changed into something useful. I don't know what, but I do know when something is useless; it's when seldom used. 

Maybe It's Just Me, Over Precise Doesn't Always Work

Maybe it's just me, and it usually is, but when someone asks me more than once to repeat myself, the third time is worse than the first two. 

Let me illustrate. If somebody asks me the capital of Wisconsin. I'd say, "Madison, Wisconsin."

"What?"

"Madison, Wisconsin!"

They are not cupping their hand around their ear, so I assume that volume is not the issue. I may be speaking too fast. 

I'll slow it down to 33 and1/3 RPMs and be very precise. I twist your mouth all around to make sure every syllable is just right. "Ma di son, West con son."

The listener looks at me as if I'm trying to give directions to a tourist from Japan. 

The thing is, you usually say it right at 78 RPMs, but when you slow it down, you really have to deal with all the individual parts.

Maybe it's just me, Football Announcers Are Annoying

Maybe it's just me, and it usually is, but I find announcers on football games annoying. 

I like to watch football. Note, I wrote "watch." There are times I turn off the sound and just watch. That solves the problem, but not totally. You see, the announcers do possess vital information that the viewer does not have. And that information does enhance the viewing experience. 

There are so many things that annoy me about announcers that I don't want to rob the reader of taking them all away from them. I will likely cover them as this year's football season progresses. 

I don't like it when the announcers favor the team with the momentum at Adnasium--not even when it's my team. 

I don't like the camera shots of the quarterback's mom--Adnasium. We know she loves her boy. We know she acts like a madwoman when he scores. And the hotter she is, the more camera shots she gets. And the more animated she gets, the more camera shots she gets. What pressure!

The announcers are aware of who has the larger and more financially affluent fanbase. They will tailor their remarks to that fanbase to keep them happy. Sometimes, but for the score, you'd think the losing team was ahead. 

I hate it when they draw on the screen. "Keep an eye on this guy," they'll say and circle a player. Guess what? That's not the guy, and if it is, we hear about it well past the five-minute commercial break. The announcer will still be talking about it on his way to the airport. I pity his wife. "Did you see, did you see, Honey? I drew a squiggly yellow circle on the TV, and that guy got the touchdown. Wait until contract time comes around. I'm not just another silver-tongued talking head."

And could we please stop it with the Sideline Suzies who stick a mic in the face of some crochety old coach. 

"What does your team need to do to get back in this ball game?"

"We've got to make some good plays and cut down on mistakes."

"What did you tell your team at halftime to get back in the game?" 

I don't think we want to hear what he told them.

  

Maybe It's Just Me, Corny 50s TV

  Maybe it's just me, and it usually is, but I like old 1950s television shows. I find them on YouTube. 

Captain Midnight; from left to right, Ikky Mud
(Sid Milton), Captain Midnight (Richard Webb), 
Dr. Aristotle "Tut" Jones (Olan Soule)

  It takes me back to a time when life appeared simple. Those shows and plots that I watched were not complicated or riddled with preachy messages. If they were, it was about honesty, courage, obeying authority, respect, diligence, and many other positive traits. 

  We saw how to act around adults and figures of authority. Indeed, some of those things were a bit overplayed. The message was, This is proper conduct. 

  The TV of yesteryear is scoffed at as being unrealistic and a portrayal of an idealistic world that did not exist. To be clear, TV programs are fiction.

  The last week or so, I've watched several episodes of Sergeant Preston of the Yukon and Captain Midnight. Unbelievable plots, structured dialogue, stiff acting, cheap sets, rudimentary special effects. Like many have said, radio with pictures.

  Sure, it had its faults. We saw no African Americans. That was not society's fault. It was the writers, producers, and programming
executives. Mexicans were portrayed in extremes, humble and gracious or violent and cruel. There was a lot of stereotyping, not just among ethnic groups and races, but also among whites. The short guy was always the sidekick and comedic relief. The fat guy was always dimwitted. 

  Do I wish now that more time was taken to provide fair and believable representations of all people? Of course, but they didn't. And now is not the time to whine about it or overcompensate.

  Looking back at the influence these programs had on my interaction with people outside my racial and ethic group, they did not have any effect on me. I knew it was a show.