Sunday, January 25, 2009

Dream those Improbable Dreams

I don’t know about you, but seeing millions of hope-filled, weeping Americans witnessing our new President taking the oath of office has renewed my enthusiasm to dream big for a few things myself.

My hope is that parents will someday… get their kids to stop kicking the back of my seat at the movies. In my vision, parents would take the hint from my backward glances and respond to my polite request, “Can you please stop kicking my chair, little boy?” They would apologize for junior and clamp down on his little legs before his foot would swing or when he seems about to use my seat as a leg-press machine.

If this doesn’t work, I dream that I would just…so… happen to have a tall, fruited, “Carmen Miranda” hat to put on. I would also dare to hope for the ability to pump-up my seat (like a barber-chair) to become such an obstruction that junior’s entire family would move.

I’m giddy thinking that my dream might someday come true.

I also dream….

“Dream, what do you mean by dream?”

Well, as I was saying, I also dream…

“The other day, someone else said the word dream.”

Yes, that’s nice, but I’m dreaming of a …

“A White Christmas? HAHA”

I dream, O dream-weaver, for the return of conversational manners. Life would truly be beautiful if customer service agents would wait for me to finish, before telling me I can’t change my cell phone plan. Sales people would remain silent while I describe what I want. Talk show hosts, “Hannah Montana” and politicians would keep their mouths closed while others spoke and take turns like they did a few decades ago. Such changes of practice would greatly affect radio D.J. banter, to be sure, and I’m afraid the ladies of “The View” would be out of jobs. Wouldn’t it be worth it, to be able to complete a sentence again?

My third wish would be “like” the end of “like” the overuse of “like” the word “like.” The producers of the movie “Valley Girl” and the 1980s generation are to blame for the birth and proliferation of this sentence filler--our kids can’t “like” help it. They deserve some time to wean themselves off it. If today’s kids can’t kick the habit after, say, age 18, I wish to have the ability to turn their “likes” into dog barks. That would stop the nonsense.

Or, maybe I’m “like” totally off base here.

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