Published: July 30, 2008 02:56 pm            

VALLEY: Oh-h-h, have I got issues

Why do they call it “sounding-off” (which I am about to do), when someone makes a lot of noise about something, yet, if you tell someone to turn the “sound off” it means just the opposite? I’ve digressed, already.

Quite often, I’m at a loss when it comes to figuring out what is going on with our society. Watching the news on television, reading the newspaper and the actual experience of witnessing life leaves me wondering: What the hell is going on here?

Not too long ago, I read that one of Charles Manson’s female accomplices in the gruesome murders of several decades back — I can’t remember her name — was denied parole. Not unexpected within itself, but the accompanying story left me scratching my head.

It seems as though this Mansonite has brain cancer, lost a leg to amputation and is in the throes of her final days. It was reported that the parole board’s decision for denying her release was due to the fact that she had not shown any sense of remorse. In other words, she lacked the necessary compassion that one would expect from a fellow human being.

Now, understand that my sentiments here are not to argue one way or the other for her release. But, what I can’t understand is: if it’s a lack of compassion that keeps her locked up, then why isn’t the parole board in jail for not showing the same compassion to a dying brain-cancer patient with one leg?

Moving on! I saw in the paper that a local couple has opened a funeral parlor for pets. Before I offend anyone, I’m sure that these good people have wonderful intentions. And I know how some people get lovingly attached to their pets, but (now is when I start offending), what in the name of Rex the Wonderdog is wrong with this picture? A funeral home for pets? Has our society gone completely nuts?

I can’t even imagine how this scenario plays out. Who comes to pay their respects? People or other pets? Do people and animals co-mingle in a calling-hours’ room telling warm anecdotes about ol’ Duke?

“Remember how he brought that dead rat into the dining room when we were eating Thanksgiving dinner? Gosh, I’m going to miss him.”

“Not to mention, the countless number of fleas who are now homeless!”

When I was growing up, the closest I ever came to a formal pet-funeral was when my dad took our deceased pet and put him in a shiny porcelain bowl and hit the flush handle. Commenting something to the effect that he was just “going with the flow,” Dad sent our goldfish into the bowels of the city’s sewer system in what can be termed a non-ceremonious dispatch for the bellied-up Goldie. A demonstrative show that drove home the point that this gill-flapping creature was departed in more ways than one.

But animal funeral homes are just too far out there for me. I’m not on the same page with this at all; I don’t get it.

Another puzzler popped up not long ago when my wife got a new car. It has to do with what I used to call: the radio. But it’s not called a radio anymore — it’s a sound system.

Remember when a car radio had two knobs and maybe, four buttons? Two knobs! That’s all you needed. One to turn it on and control the volume and the other was for the tuner that let you dial in the station that you wanted. No need for anymore gadgetry — what else has to be done? You’ve got your station and the volume where you want it. Think about it.

But apparently that wasn’t good enough. My wife’s new car has — and I’m serious here — 30 different buttons for that fancy sound-system. Thirty different buttons for 30 different functions. And there are over 30 accompanying words, arrows and little drawings of who-knows what all around it.

My question is: if it’s illegal to be talking on a cell phone while driving because it has been deemed distractive, how the heck are you supposed to drive and get something on the radio — excuse me, sound system — by manipulating a command center from hell while flying down the highway at 60 miles an hour? I’d have an easier time assembling a gas grill while driving than trying to get “Oldies 104.5” on this thing.

And what ever happened to all of those old radios? I guess they’re just a dying breed of technology from yesteryear. And since they can’t be flushed down a toilet, do you think someone will open a funeral parlor for them?

That’s the way it looks from the Valley.

Tom Valley is a Medina resident. His column appears Thursday. Write to Tvalley@rochester.rr.com.

        

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