If there is something wrong with a very expensive car, and it is not a safety issue, but the manufacturer recognizes the problem, and knows it is a manufacturing defect, and what caused it, and how to correct it, and the manufacturer has a policy about this problem, about how to defer inquiries and how to deal with the customer that is a series of actual, provable lies, and that when you do the research and find out the truth about the problem, and confront them with the facts, they continue to decry any knowledge thereof, and stoop to not answering your phone calls, hoping you will let the matter drop, THEN, why do we continue to buy cars from these people, and EXPECT them to fulfill the terms of the contract and produce a decent, safe product, as advertised?
They have shown beyond any question of any doubt, that they are a bunch of lying, sneaky thieves, and we all know this, and accept this, and DON'T do anything about it but go out and buy another one of their cars. What is wrong with this whole concept? Why do we all, each of us, YOU, TOO, allow ourselves to be stupid about this and forgive ourselves for being made a monkey of, just cuz we want to drive down the road in something shiny and acceptable...
I don't know. I wish I was back in the day when I was just glad to have a machine that moved and was licensable. Now it has to be pretty and on TV currently, and make it seem as if there is not actually a very stupid monkey driving it.
When we all know better and GM is glad we know...
Sunday, November 18, 2007
I just think I need to make a declaration, in case anyone ever happens to feel a little guilty about paying attention, which probably will not happen anyway...
I have decided not to ask certain people, anymore, "How are things?" or, "So, how is the family?" or other things of that ilk. Cuz, even though I have always been interested in what is going on with you, and am always asking, NO ONE ever asks me anymore. (The use of the word "anymore" in a non standard way, is a peculiar Mid Western, American coloquiolism.)
And, you are all forgiven, blanketly. (Made-up word) cuz I know anyhing I would have to tell you in reply to such a question is so terrible and depressing, and so unbelievable, that you are all sick to the death of hearing it, year after year. And I want you ALL to know, that I understand completely how you feel, cuz I myself, believe it or not, have also had periods of time in my life when I lived in LaLa land. The difference here is that you, and you do know who you are, have been granted permanent residence, and are thoroughly enjoying life in LaLa land, where as I keep getting kicked out. So, I guess it all boils down to my just being bitter and resentful, which I am sure all of you, and you do know who you are, will find very comforting since that is what you already thought.. .
- June 20, 2007, the spectrum of bitterness part two
- I have decided that I cannot do anything the simple way. I cannot be friendly to my neighbors because one of them gets annoyed at me and I become the pariah. I cannot tell ANY of my relatives how I feel, because they all think they have it tougher and more often. I can't just have a kid. I have to have a kid with neurological and mental problems. And then if I try again, I can't just have a pretty and smart daughter; I have to have a pretty and smart daughter who has to drop out and have a child before she enrolls in college and gets on the dean's list and makes a ton of money. And my daughter can't just buy a house, she has to buy a house with a guy who is sick in love with her but for some reason doesn't want to get married. And my grandaughter can't just break off the faucet and make a geyser in the bathroom; it has to be a boiling hot geyser and it has to be at midnight and the shutoff valve has to be too hard for my arthritic hands to turn. And I can't just have a little progressive, normal arthritis. I have to have all my knee cartilage disappear before I am forty. And I always bump into the coffee table and I always have an allergic reaction to the only drug I MUST have. And whenever my dear very elderly father tries to help me, it ends up costing me about $500 and I have to keep it a secret so his feelings are not hurt. My mom said I reminded her of the guy in Lil Abner that walked around with the little black cloud over his head. My brother says I should count what I do have instead of what I don't have. Yeah, Like count the gas bill for $400 dollars, and don't count the $400 dollars cuz I don't have it. I get it...
- I know, I know, you get it too, only you get it worse, and way more often...
Sunday, July 01, 2007
Today, ah, a beautiful, perfect day weather-wise. Tried to garden... "Someone" took my landscaping staples. "Someone" said the water from the hose was inhibiting their plans. So I went to empty the wagons of the rubble I had left to molder. As I returned from that chore, which I carried out just as soon as "someone" suggested to me that it needed to be done, I walked up the stairs to hear my husband in conversation with AT&T, attempting to get the phone service reconnected. (What Barbour parka? What Filson Cruiser? What motorcycle?) And he was explaining to the customer service representative how much I weighed.
Why am I here?
"Someone" once said that no one is useless. They can always be used as a bad example.
Another gorgeous day in my life, shot to hell.