Random Thoughts: Is the Trump Campaign a Practical Joke?

Why are there toll booths on freeways?

I sprained my neck a month ago, and then sprained my back two weeks ago. God help me If the trend continues moving South.

Why do flight attendants come by to pick up trash roughly 30 seconds after serving your beverage, and then not again for an hour?

Life lesson number 243: when looking for a gas stop on the interstate, pick an exit with signs advertising either three or four options.  Any less and you’re likely to re-live a scene from Deliverance.  Any more, and you’re in for a traffic nightmare.

Why can be people be rejuvenated but never just juvenated?

Why do people wait in lines at airports to board? Assuming you’re not fighting for a seat on Southwest, what’s the benefit of being the first to sit in an uncomfortable seat the confines of which you’ll soon be itching to escape?

Having lived in California for almost a year now, I just don’t get the fuss about In-and-Out Burger. I’ll take Jack-in-the-Box, any day.

Why do I get the feeling that some day the entire Donald Trump campaign will be revealed as a giant hidden camera show?

Why do “jeans” and “shorts” end in an “s” based on having two sleeves, but “shirt” does not?

Seriously, I abhor every single thing about Donald Trump, an attention-seeking narcissist with no moral compass or coherent platform. So why do I keep finding myself rooting for his poll numbers to keep going higher?

A bad analogy is like a bad owl. Oh wait, I forgot where I was going with that.  

Why does “delighted” not mean the opposite of “lighted?”

People often ask me how the Bay Area culture is different from Nashville. But having lived in the West, Midwest, South and Northeast, I’ve found that people who live in urban areas are pretty much the same all over. The bigger cultural differences are between people who live in the city and those who live in the country. Having grown up somewhere in between, like Reese Witherspoon in Sweet Home Alabama, I’ve enjoyed getting to experience the best parts of both.    

I’d also be willing to listen to an argument that St. Louis goes in its own separate, third category.

The last half of August is to summer what those last few guests who just won’t leave are to your party: in each case, it was fun, but the moment is over and it’s time to move on.  

Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.

 Every time I see a “drug free zone” sign, I have the same reaction as when someone says, “I’m not racist, but.” In either case, if it was actually true, you wouldn’t need to say it.

Happy Labor Day, everyone. Enjoy your last bit of summer. I hope you come back from the break feeling juvenated.