As My Train Of Thought Pulls Out Of The Station

Colin Firth as the Unfortunate Mr. Worthing

Whenever anyone asks if my parents are still with me, I think of “The Importance of Being Earnest”, and one character’s response on being told that Earnest has no living parents.

Lady Bracknell. “To lose one parent, Mr. Worthing, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.”

This is a perfect example of Oscar Wilde at his wickedly funniest, slyly parodying the society that tolerated and finally turned on him. What would he think, one wonders, of a society that so relentlessly parodies itself.

Have you ever found yourself sitting on the couch, remote in hand, mindlessly surfing, stopping here and there to graze. A bit of this story, a byte of that, and suddenly there is a story so outrageous that it has you fumbling for the “Info” button. Wait a minute, is this network TV or cable? ABC, MSNBC or CNN? “The Daily Show”, “The Colbert Report”? Is it Dave or Conan, Jimmy or Craig?

And in the end, the stories are all outrageous. If I were responsible for a child’s viewing schedule right now, I’d have the evening news locked off, you betcha. What’s more, news shows airing before 9:00 p.m. should bear warning labels; i.e., Warning! Watching this program could result in insomnia, a pervading, low-level sense of impending doom, dyspepsia, ED, flatulence and nightmares. Oh, and weight gain. (We’d like to give you the statistics on fatalities, but they were still adding them up when we went on air.) Followed, of course, by several commercials for pricey new prescription drugs, lists of whose side effects are then read very quickly, interspersed with shots of horny couples in separate bathtubs (which seems a bit self-defeating when you think about it). My favorite (after the bit about four-hour erections), is the part where, if you experience difficulties with vision or hearing (if you go freaking blind, or freaking deaf), you should probably consult your doctor. Forget health care reform, it makes me want to slip away and join one of those remote aboriginal societies, where you only pay your doctor as long as you stay healthy.

Oops, here we go. Please keep your arms inside the cars and do not feed the attendants.

Originally published in Dec. 2009, this works just as well today!

Born in a small, Illinois log cabin. No, that won't work. The pampered only child of incredibly wealthy parents. No, that doesn't fly either. Raised by French nuns after her aristocratic parents were beheaded. No, that's been done! An East Coast transplant to the Pacific Northwest, this notoriously late bloomer began her new life with a new career as a writer and blogger. She has taken to both the new location and the career move like a duck to water. Writing for Expats Post is a new adventure, and our intrepid risk-taker is diving in, feeling right at home with so many old friends.
Reached for comment she replied, "Okay, I wrote my bio, may I Please go out and play?"
We expect great, or perhaps merely more coherent, things from this writer. (Okay, that's a wrap. What a wacko!)