The View From the Doormat

You know, the theme for next week is supposed to be “love”, and I’m pretty sure I’m either going to have to choose a different theme or wait another week before grappling with it.  While I have already written some pieces on the matter, and I could likely write some more, I fear that what may come out, if I finish them, is a lot of sour, angry, “stuff.”  Why?  Funny you should ask.

Let me preface this by saying that, having worked retail in my younger days, I know that some people will blatantly lie to you, some will steal, some let their kids run around like maniacs, and that, as a “sales associate”, you are very low in the food chain, in the eyes of the customer.  Having that experience, I tend to take a kinder approach whenever I enter a store.

If there’s a long line, I won’t complain that there aren’t other available registers or that the person at the register is slow.  If I have to return an item, I make sure I have everything available to make the transaction as carefree as possible.  If something is rung up incorrectly, I’m almost apologetic when I have to point it out.

Let’s talk about my trip yesterday to a large “always low prices” chain store.  I generally do not have issues with this chain; I have fed them thousands of dollars over the years of stopping-in-for-toothpaste-and-walking-out-with-a-lampshade-a-rack-of-lamb-4-jars-of-peanut-butter-and-typically-forgetting-the- toothpaste excursions.  The cereal aisle is way too cramped, the associates are not overly friendly, there is never anyone with a key in the electronics department, and God forbid you need help with the photo processing machine thing.  But, they DO always have low prices, so, I deal with it.

In my zombified shufflings yesterday, far from the garbage bag aisle (which was the only thing I needed, and guess what? Forgot to buy them), I discovered the “clearance” area.  Large signs indicating “$5” “$10” “$15” demarcated various sections in the two rows.  In the $5 section I found an “As Seen On TV” item.  I’m not going to tell you what it is, because I’m embarrassed to admit I was looking at it, and I further think that the item is probably a scam.  BUT, for $5, it couldn’t hurt to try, right?  I assess the situation:  there are at least five or six of these items in the $5 section, so, it’s not a misplaced item.  There is no sticker on it, however, so I have some doubts.

I move onto another part of the store and find yet another “clearance” area, with a (gasp!) “$1” section.
In it, I find these lovely melt-able wax cubes which are usually a whopping $2.  It’s sad, but these $2 items are kind of a luxury for me.  I can certainly live without them.  But, since I’m feeling crazy, AND they’re half price, I decide to buy four of them, all very nice scents.

You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?  You know what happens when I get to the register, right?

Of course, the $5 item is not $5, it is $19.77.  I make a feeble statement that the item, along with several others, were in the $5 clearance section.  The register man stares at me.  He probably suspects that I’m lying.  I don’t even bother to argue.  I just tell him I don’t want the item, and kindly advise that they really should check the signs, because there are several items there, and not all customers are going to be nice, like me.  In my embarrassment (why am I embarrassed??), I fail to watch the other items being scanned.  And, you all know it.  The wax cubes rang up at $2 each.  Which I didn’t notice until I was looking at my receipt, in the car.

I’m tired, angry, and it’s late, and I don’t feel like going in and having to wait in that %(@))!! customer service line just to get $4 reimbursed.  Additionally, I really want to make a complaint about the $5 sign shenanigans, and I just don’t have it in me to do it.  “I’ll go tomorrow when I’m fresh and have a better attitude,” says I, to myself.

Well, today is tomorrow, and for fear of creating a “Falling Down” incident in the always low prices store, I decide to wait, again, until tomorrow tomorrow to approach the customer service desk.  Why?  Funny you should ask.

Today, it took me NINE HOURS to sort out a problem with my cell phone provider, the same problem which occurred last month.  Only this time the problem (they charged my bank but didn’t credit my phone) took place while my son was lost somewhere in the next town over and I had no way to reach him directly.  The details would be too long to recount, but needless to say, at the end of the day, I felt utterly defeated and exhausted.

 Tomorrow, after writing yet another complaint to my cell phone provider,  I will be making a return trip to the low prices place.  And I’ve decided that I am going to be relentless.  I’m sick of being that nice person.    The sign says $5, there are multiple items there, the damn thing should be $5.  The thing is, someone else with the guts would have demanded to see a manager, and gotten the item for $5.  Well this time, so am I. And, I’m getting my four dollars back.  And they better be really apologetic about the screw up.

You would think that, after all those years in retail, I would have learned that if you b-tch loudly enough, you will always get your way.  And it’s not just with things that perhaps you don’t deserve, it’s with a multitude of things.  What it comes down to is that the people who argue will generally come out with a better deal.  Or at least, a fair deal.  And that annoys me.  I want to be nice.  I don’t want to have to fight to get what I deserve.  But sadly, nice gets you nowhere, much of the time. Nice gets you footprints on your back.

Well, enough is enough.

(p.s. This was written last night, so today is the official “tomorrow”, and I’m gonna do it!!)

Dumb Things Aren’t Funny

Over the years, I have tried to figure out what my deal was when I was a kid (and maybe even now).  I don’t know if I just had no sense of humor, if I wasn’t mature enough to get jokes, or if I took things too seriously, but I remember the phrase, “that doesn’t make sense!” running through my head, constantly.  If you read my post about being blonde, you might remember my mentioning that I used to be annoyed with “dumb” acting females.  Well, it wasn’t just females, it was pretty much any television character who was not so swift.

One character, in particular, used to drive me absolutely nuts.  Gilligan.  You know, from the Isle.  I don’t know why they named the island after him, unless it was the fact that the only reason they were stuck there so *&^#%( @#  long was because of his stupidity.  He was always screwing things up, and it annoyed the crap out of me.  I didn’t find it funny.  I just wanted them to get off the damn island.

“But, if they get off the island, there won’t be a show any more.”
“Okay. So?”

Of course, it wasn’t just him; there was much about the show that just didn’t make sense to me.  If they could make these great huts, and the Professor was so knowledgeable, why couldn’t they make a big boat?  Why would two guys flying overhead in an airplane think that some random people in the middle of the uncharted ocean had spelled out “SOL” with burning logs just to wish one of them “happy birthday”?  How did Ginger’s evening gowns and Mr. and Mrs. Howell’s fancy clothes survive the wreck, and mostly everyone else was stuck wearing the same clothes every day?  This stuff was just ridiculous, and no amount of “well, it’s supposed to be funny” could sooth my confused mind.

But, enough about Gilligan.

I would like to think that I had at some very early age enjoyed shows with innocence and simple joy, but even Sesame Street, while mostly acceptable, still had that annoying Count with the repetitive counting thing, and the guy with the cakes who always fell down the steps. I remember watching shows like Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood and Bugs Bunny at a young age and being filled with indignantion.

“What’s so great about those puppets?  Their mouths don’t move and you can tell someone’s hand is making them work.  Do kids believe puppets are real?  They all have the same voice, too!” (I wonder if deep down I was just scared crapless about those creepy things)

“Why doesn’t that guy (Wile E. Coyote) just throw the bomb down instead of strapping it to himself?  He keeps doing that!  Every time!” (funny how I complained about his bad technique but referred to him as a “guy.”)

“Why would someone have a sign in their pocket saying “uh-oh” for when they’re falling off a cliff? He doesn’t even have any pants on, so where did it come from?  And why does he have to show the sign?  He doesn’t have to say ‘uh-oh.’  Why isn’t he trying to save himself?”

And on and on and on I went.

Over the years, I gradually learned to chalk some things up to the fact that people had different senses of humor, and it was a waste of time to question why some people found dumb things okay or even “funny.”  I would like to say that I have expanded my humorous sensibilities, and can even force myself to enjoy slapstick type scenarios now and then.  To this day, though, The Three Stooges is still ridiculous, abusive, nonsense.

“Why is that guy hitting the other guy?”
“Why is he so mean!?”
“He’s hurting that other guy! He‘s hurting him!!!”

I don’t know if it’s due to the alleged fact that chicks never get The Three Stooges, or if it’s because Moe was mean and scary and kind of reminded me of Hitler, but that show was horrible then, and is still horrible, now.  Sorry, Men.

After learning to cope with other strange considerations of what was humorous,  I hadn’t really had any doubts or questions on the matter in some time.  Flash forward (or backward?) to a few years ago, when an on line acquaintance randomly said to me “I can has cheezburger? LOL”, and, let the show begin.

I had absolutely no clue as to what he was referring, so he tried to explain it to me.

Me:  I don’t get it.
Him: You never heard of that?  It’s from a website.
Me:  What does it mean?
Him:  It’s from this website that has pictures of cats doing funny things, and there are sayings written on them.
Me:  What does the cheeseburger have to do with it?
Him:  It’s just funny.
Me:  Why is it spelled like that?
Him:  I don’t know, it’s how the cats spell.  Go look at the website.  It’s funny.

(Catherine goes to website.  Soberly clicks through the pictures.)

Me:  Okay, I see it.  I still don’t get it.
Him:  It’s funny stuff! You don’t think that’s funny?  What about the one with the gun?
Me:  I guess.  I just don’t get the spelling thing.  The cats are supposed to be saying this stuff?

Anyway, I guess there are some things that I just never will get.  Call me a stick in the mud, call me an unsympathetic female, call me a Gilligan-hater, whatever.  But, in the end, dumb things are not funny.  They’re just dumb.  So there.

Rude Drivers

Well, I am unsure as to whether this subject belongs under the “Decline of Humanity” heading, but I suppose if flip flops made it, why not add rude drivers to the list?

The reason I was unsure is that I often suspect that people, when they get behind the wheel of their vehicles, imagine themselves in an alternate dimension, or suddenly become mind controlled zombies with one purpose:  MUST.  GET.  THERE.  Since there may be some alien influence on the conduct of many drivers, this perhaps should be under another topic, entitled, “Stupid Things Humans Do Which Must Be Caused by Extraterrestrials.”  95% of driver behavior is so bad, I can only guess that this is not purposeful human behavior.

I suppose that I wasn’t as irritated by rude drivers before I became the transporter of another human being, namely, my backwards-facing infant strapped to a piece of plastic and metal.  Suddenly, rude drivers weren’t just “bad”, they were the intentionally evil humans who were out to murder me and my child.  I was literally awestruck at how selfish, stupid, and uncaring for human lives people could be.

As unlikely as it may seem, I am one of those people who believe that, deep down inside, about half of humanity is “good.”  Maybe even more than half.  I’m one of those who believes, when the going gets really really tough, there will be the bad ones who rape and pillage, but there will be the good ones, too.  There is a really interesting sidebar here, regarding “end of times” and the possible destruction of humanity (for real), and whether people are really just animals by nature, but I will save that for another post.  What I will say, though, is that these mindless bad drivers may actually be good, on the inside.  This may be a fancy I have created in my head, in an attempt to believe that people are not monsters.  They’re just being mind-controlled.  Yeah, that’s it.

Since I am supposed to be discussing rude driving behavior, I guess I should actually provide some examples of it, and how it is destroying humanity and everything good in it.

Let’s start with the use of the “signal” or, “turn indicator.”  For those of you who do not know, there is a lever located on or near your steering wheel.  Depressing it in a downward fashion will cause some small lights located on the front and rear of your vehicle to blink, indicating to other drivers in your surroundings that you intend or wish to move your vehicle in a left-ward direction.  Similarly, pressing this lever in an upward fashion will indicate your intention or wish to move your vehicle in a right-ward direction.

Oh, there are so many sub-topics here.  Since it seems that 89.4% of the driver population either have broken or missing levers, broken pinkies, or short term memory loss when they enter their vehicles(or are mind controlled), we can start with that group.  The group which refuses (or is unable) to use the lever.  Ever.

This is the group that will slow down dramatically for no apparent reason, and you are forced to use your Extra Sensory Perception in order to determine whether your life is in danger, or, at the very least, you will incur massive points on your license and suffer hikes in your insurance rates.  Yes, folks, it’s up to you to figure out if the person is braking for an animal or small child, is looking for a house or landmark, is looking for a parking spot, or suffering a cerebral hemorrhage and you should be calling 9-1-1.

The Kind and Forgiving Catherine reasons that perhaps the person is lost and confused, is scared, or is experiencing a serious health condition, and thus, has temporarily forgotten the lever.  The unforgiving, “I Hate People” Catherine, who has been stuck behind this non signal-using continual brake-r for 3 miles is starting to resemble Cruella de Ville.  You know, red eyes filled with rage, hair standing on edge, maybe even some steam erupting from the ears.

A note of advice to the lever forgetters who are genuinely lost or confused: there is another button located in your car which will enable the use of things called “hazard” flashers. Use them instead. It’s only one button to push and you don’t have to try to remember how to depress it.  This way we only have to guess whether your car is breaking down or if you just don’t know where the hell you’re going.  At least we know in advance to get out of your lane or suffer the consequences.
To the rest of you, there is a special level in Hell reserved just for you and your kind.

Now, let’s move on to the other drivers who are kind enough to use the lever, but have forgotten that a flasher is used to show directional intent, rather than a brazen and murderous announcement that they can go wherever they please because they pressed it.  These are the same people who never check their blind spot (what’s a blind spot?), who weave in and out of lanes, who cut you off, who enter a 65 mile per hour speedway at a rate of 2 m.p.h.(or 82 m.p.h.) and cause 47 car pileups.  They believe that the lever is their ticket to freedom.  Their equivalent of emergency vehicle light bars.  The lever is their god-mode.

A note of advice to you people:  go back to Drivers’ Education and re-learn what you have forgotten.  Using your lever/turn indicator translates to this:  I would like to change lanes/I will be turning at the next intersection/I am entering the highway, PROVIDED THAT there is a safe opportunity and I have followed all traffic rules.

The only people to whom I will give an ounce of leeway are the ones driving on parkways in southern New York, upon which you have .06 seconds to merge from the entrance ramp into traffic before you are either in a ditch or suddenly in the exit ramp for the next exit.  Everyone else, I hate you.

So, that covers just one small portion of idiotic/dangerous/rude driver behavior out there.  Rather than going into the details of all the other bad behaviors, I’m going to try to shorten them into a list of sorts.  The following behaviors are not only rude, but are dangerous, careless, and make the “I Hate People” person come out in those of us who actually drive safely:

*people (usually ladies, I’ve noticed) who drive gargantuan vehicles who have never gone off road exploring nor been involved in Armed Combat, usually talking on cell phones and not paying attention to a #$@(^#^^ thing, because, they don’t have to.  They can and will crush any vehicle in their way.
*people (always male) who drive with their shoulders and head in the middle of the car, in order to have their one arm stretched onto the steering wheel in a macho fashion.
*people talking on their cell phones.  The main reason this annoys me is because they never get caught, and I know that if I ever tried to do this, there would be 3 State Troopers pulling me over.
*people who suddenly remember their gas pedal as you’re trying to pass them, even if they’ve been going 22 miles under the speed limit for the last 45 miles.  YOU. SHALL. NOT.  PASS.  Screw you, buddy.
*people who cut you off from behind when entering a motorway and either block your entrance or force you to be the moron driving on the shoulder with your signal on, waiting to get in and causing all sorts of problems.  Wait your effing turn and enjoy your time in Hell with the non lever pullers.
*people who speed or tailgate in poor/low visibility weather conditions.  Thank you for splashing 86 gallons of rainwater onto my windshield and causing complete temporary blindness.  Also, thank you for forcing me to test the limits of my anti-lock and tire balancing system on an ice covered road with my kid in the back seat and someone who is following me so closely I can see their eye color.  Thanks.  The only comfort I take is that the tailgate jerk will get the ticket when he rear-ends me, and will have to live with the guilt of taking the lives of two innocent people just because he was in a hurry or too stupid to slow the hell down.
*people who drive 5 miles under the speed limit in the passing lane.  These are the same people who may have been previously speeding and decide to slow down just as you are behind them, and in the No Zone of a tandem with his left turn indicator flashing.

Oh, I could go on for days, but, you would all be asleep by the time I’ve finished.  As I previously mentioned, I can only surmise that the lot of you are being mind controlled by an alien race.  There are so many out there, ruining the daily commutes and possibly the lives of their fellow human beings, it is truly mind boggling.  Please, challenge yourselves and others to be respectful, law-abiding, and careful road citizens.  Additionally, invest in some aluminum foil covered helmets.  It blocks the alien signals.

The Decline of the English Language

Now that you have been introduced to some of my prudish and old fashioned ideals, I figured it would be a good time to share the fact that I am a bit of an English snob.  I’m referring to the English language, not the country; though, England is very lovely.

Back when I was trying my hand at on-line dating, whenever I created my profile, I would always add the following statement:  If you cannot form sentences without the use of constant abbreviations, lol’s, textspeak, or some semblance of proper English usage, please do not expect a reply.

It may sound a little harsh, but, I thought it only right that I gave fair warning.  I found that probably 85% of the people on these sites didn’t even bother to read what I had written, anyway, so I felt no guilt in weeding out the “bad” ones immediately.

I will admit that I have used the occasional “LOL” (I used to type out “laughing” before I forced myself to just use the abbreviation), and, after having played World of Warcraft for many years, my l33tspeak vocabulary has increased tenfold.  For the most part, however, when I speak or write, the average human can understand what I am saying, without the use of an on line or urban dictionary.

I am not fully against gamer speak or textspeak, as there are appropriate reasons and environments for using such languages.  It’s when those abbreviations encroach into the “real” world- you know, the world where we actually speak to other human beings face-to-face or in formal writing- that I take issue.

With the massive increase of on-line communications, there seems to be a massive decrease in the use of proofreading or editing.  I have read countless news articles with misspelled names/words, improper punctuation, and such poor usage of pronouns that I’ve had to read the article multiple times to figure out to whom or what the author was referring.  The facts are barely laid out in any sort of order, it often appears that someone’s scribbled notes were just thrown onto a virtual page and left, as is.

Brochures and business advertisements are in a similar state of disrepair.  My first thought is often, “who was the editor/publisher for this crap?”  My second thought is more of a sad realization that there was likely never a proofreader/editor involved in the production of said brochures/advertisements, due to the wonderful opportunities for self-promotion available on the Worldwide Web.  Self-promotion is great, but if you want to sound somewhat professional, try to spell “lounge” correctly.  And to sound older than a 9 year old.

While the ideals and assertions of the Academie francaise may seem a bit silly to us, I admit that I am slightly awed by their attempts to preserve their language.  I know, I know, their ambition is to keep the French language as French as possible, and to prevent evil foreign language expressions (mainly, English) from creeping in to formal usage.  They are decidedly elitist, old-fashioned, and anti-English. But I do admire their attempts at limiting slang and trying to keep things proper.  Look at this statement:

“We want to restore courage to all those in France and outside France who endeavour to defend and enrich the language. Let French remain a great language of communication and culture,” Jean-Matthieu Pasqualini of the Académie told Le Figaro.

If something similar were to be posted on line in respect to the English language, I’m guessing the replies would look something like this:

“LOL! idts bro”
“Lol to bad whats up with this dude get in the 21st centry”
“these people got there heads up there ass”

Sad, isn’t it?

I remember when Spenser was very young, and just learning to read and write, I would look at some of his schoolwork.  There was a new “philosophy” or “method” back then, which was based on the merits of attempting to spell a word, as opposed to actually enforcing (its) proper spelling.  “Kat” was an acceptable replacement for “cat”, because, isn’t it fantastic, they recognized the general idea of the word!  Sorry, but when do they start learning about the difference between a “hard” and “soft” “c”?  Tenth grade?  “Cat” is not a difficult word.  Really.

Of course, being the horrible Nazi-like Mother I was, I would point out, “..but, that’s not right.. I know your teacher didn’t mark it wrong, but, that’s not how we spell ‘cat.’  It’s spelled with a ‘c.’  Learn it now and you won’t have to re-learn it next year.  Now spell it correctly.” (sound of whip snapping in background)
It’s no wonder that half of the people in America can’t spell, if they’re starting out in this fashion.

Add in the need for the conservation of space and time required for texting and on-line chat through the years, and you have a recipe for disaster.  This is not about the new generation of young adults, this is about everyone, the French included.  Expectations (it always comes down to this, does it not?) have been lowered, and “attempts” are considered acceptable.  It’s not about getting in the 21st century, it’s about laziness, and the fact that most of us have forgotten usage rules, anyway.

When I write these posts, I proofread multiple times before hitting the “publish” button.  I am constantly recalling my high school English teacher (I love you, Mrs. Richardson) and her Evil Red Pen, and asking myself if my syntax is bad, if my pronouns are sloppy, if I’m being too colloquial (I am, but this is blogging), if my sentences would be understood by an alien race attempting to learn the language.  I take immense liberties, I use horrifically long run-on sentences, my use of quotation marks is likely abominable, and I continually start sentences with conjunctions.  As I edit, I consider whether anyone would actually give a crap if I have incorrectly used “who” instead of “whom.”  I blush to admit that my internal reply to that question is “no, Catherine, they don’t…just leave it..”  

In the end, it truly does come down to expectations and what is acceptable.  Our decline as a whole is the product of these lowered expectations.  The less we care, the lazier we get, and standards will all but disappear from society. Join me in my (currently) one man crusade to encourage some noble standards.  Equip your mental Red Pens and “endeavour to defend and enrich” our language.  Challenge yourselves to spend a day proofreading before hitting “enter,”  to use no abbreviations, and to communicate your intelligence to the world without once using “LOL” in your musings. 

Translation:  L2 rite.


I was speaking to a friend recently, and we were discussing some of our mutual on-line acquaintances.  I mentioned that there was a particular female I disliked, because she had a mouth like a truck driver.  I went on further to say that, sexist as I am, I am more offended when females talk trash like that, because I feel that:

(A) they should know better, and
(B) I am embarrassed for (womanhood) them

Now I will say that I am all for occasional swearing, male or female, in the right company.  I don’t really consider “shit” to be an overly bad swear word.  Of course, you wouldn’t use it, in, say, an interview with a potential employer.  Otherwise, it’s not so bad.  Slightly impolite, but not going to Hell worthy.

The f-word is okay in some circumstances, as well.  Again, in the right company.  And by that, I mean, with a close friend or friends, a spouse, a relative who is close to your age, and in a non-public place.  And the context is important, as well.  “I can’t find my f-cking keys” is somewhat okay.  Using the word to describe a sexual act is not.

To reiterate, it’s not occasional swearing I’m talking about here, it’s using the f-word as every other descriptive, using it in mixed company (strangers, children, parents, whoever), and making no apologies for it.

This post is not going to be simply concerning females who swear like sailors (poor truck drivers and sailors… such bad reps..), but completely, about females who have no clue as to what comprises ladylike behavior.

I guess I should kind of go into what is considered “sexy” these days.  Things that once were considered naughty were considered so, because it was a rarer thing to behold.  If a woman used a swear word in a “heat of the moment” situation (I’ll let you interpret that one at will), it was considered sexy.  If her dress flew up in the air on a windy day and you could see her underwear, it was sexy.  If a woman raised an eyebrow or winked in your direction, it was sexy.

I ask you, if every other word is the f-word, if you can already view multitudes of underwear with no wind present (thongs), and a wink is replaced by a hand on the crotch,  where is the sexy?  To me, sexy is more about being subtle, and today it seems there is about .02% subtlety present in the female population.

Some of this is blamed on the “role models” girls grow up with these days.  Me, I blame it more on the parents.  If you don’t buy your daughter the belly shirt with the word “DIRTY” imprinted upon it, guess what?  She won’t be wearing it.  I’m not saying parents should buy peasant blouses and ankle length skirts, but for Pete’s sake, show a little backbone and restraint.  And if she goes out and buys it for herself, burn it.

On that same subject, it seems that many females today don’t seem to care if something looks grossly unattractive according to their body types.  The “muffin top” is present everywhere.  Everywhere!!! I’m not sure when fat rolls became fashionable, but, I’m pretty sure that they shouldn’t be.  Ever.  I agree that one should “suffer” a little to be “beautiful”, but these outfits look constricting, painful, and do not enhance the beauty of the wearer in any sense of the word.  Some of these females don’t even look like they would have fat rolls, if they just went up one size in the waist.  It’s just like the flip flop thing.  Taking an unattractive feature and attempting to make it look sexy.  Feet are gross.  Fat rolls aren’t pretty, either.

I’d like to address now the fact that excessive cleavage seems to be au courant as well.  I’m not exactly sure where all this cleavage came from, because I know, growing up, there was usually one girl in class with big boobs, and the rest had to wait until they were 17.  Now, they’re everywhere, starting at age 10.  My brother in law insists it’s the bovine growth hormones in cows/milk that has caused this phenomenon.  I don’t know if it’s that, or the creation of the WonderBra, but females are busting out all over, and making no attempt to tame “the girls.”  In one slight bending over maneuver, males have full viewing access to boobs, crack-enhancing underwear, and rolls.  This is not subtle, this is not ladylike.

Back in the old days, males had to work to woo a lady and to have access to her intimate details.  And by intimate details, I mean the name of her parents, and possibly her ankles.  Now, they can get full view of everything before they’ve even said hello.

Unfortunately, I do not believe there is any sort of fix available for this problem.  Until parents start taking control of their little ladies, and start setting better examples (having your topless photo on the “Single Moms Gone Wild” website is not one of them), I fear that, along with true Gentlemen, the idea of the true Lady will become completely extinct.

I can only hope that, with the prevalence of such in-your-face behavior, that there will be a complete turnaround in thinking where Men (and Women) are concerned.  That, perhaps, subtle will be the new sexy.  That Men will search for the elusive Lady in the sea of boobs and thongs, and that Women will adjust accordingly.

My son used to tell me that it was hard to find one “good girl” in a school system with hundreds in every grade level.  Perhaps there will be a slow turnaround for the better.  Then again, I tried to raise a gentleman. What is the rest of the world doing?  Grow a backbone, parents.

And to the Women out there, grow some self-respect.  Subtle is Sexy.  Make that your new mantra.