When Celebrity Obsession Goes Too Far

I feel sorry for Miley Cyrus. I’ve never seen an episode of “Hannah Montana,” and I only know of Cyrus from the television and covers of the rag magazines at the grocery store. But from what I’ve seen recently, I feel sympathy for the girl. One minute she’s America’s sweetheart and the next the media is ostracizing her for “seminude” photos in Vanity Fair. Then Cyrus dutifully apologized for the photos claiming to have made a tremendous error in judgment.

Shame on you, Miley Cyrus, for apologizing when those photos are neither wrong nor inappropriate.

The photographs of Cyrus that appeared in Vanity Fair were taken by Annie Liebowitz. Anyone heard of her? The Annie Leibowitz. As in the greatest celebrity photographer of her time. Leibowitz’s photographs are art. It’s certainly not as though Cyrus posed for Playboy. The photographs show not even the tiniest hint of nipple or curve of breast, and nary a pubic hair is present. Rather, Cyrus posed — her front completely covered up — wrapped in a sheet with her back exposed. Without even a subtle suggestion of her bum or crack.

I don’t understand why the media made the photos out to be scandalous. So she portrays Hannah Montana on the Disney Channel. Are Disney Channel viewers also Vanity Fair readers? I can’t think of a single 10-year-old who reads Vanity Fair. And if they are that advanced, then they ought to know that Hannah Montana is merely a character Cyrus portrays.

The problem, once again is the media. Without the media’s exploitation of the photographs, Hannah Montana fans would have had no knowledge the photos existed. The media had to make them out to be dirty and shameful, however, and now children have seen them.

Instead of reprimanding Cyrus for “immoral” behavior, parents ought to be reprimanding the media for making a big deal of nothing and for treating artistic photographs like porn. Parents should also take this opportunity to teach their children about fantasy (Hannah Montana) versus reality (Miley Cyrus) and about art.

Furthermore, just because Cyrus portrays a children’s television character doesn’t mean she won’t grow up — which is why it’s important for parents to teach their children the difference between fantasy and reality. I’m not saying it’s OK for her to go the way of Britney Spears and turn into a raging, snatch-flashing, junkie party-girl, but Cyrus is a teenager and no one can stop that from happening. If Disney has a problem with the simple process of biology, then perhaps it should stick to cartoons.

Some critics went so far as to claim that the photographs of Cyrus and her father, Billy Ray, in Vanity Fair were suggestive of something other than a father-daughter relationship. Obviously these people have nothing better to do with their time than monitor celebrities and dream up disgusting fantasies. The father-daughter photos, also taken by Liebowitz, show a loving father-daughter relationship and, in my humble opinion, do not suggest anything improper or incestuous.

Celebrities have chosen a career that is in the public eye, but I don’t believe that the public or the media have the right to make presumptions and craft wild stories just to sate bored housewives and gossippy teenagers. Perhaps if the media hadn’t interfered so fiercely in the lives of celebrities like Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan, those young girls wouldn’t have felt the need to continually shock with their behavior.

This also brings up the sad fact that we are a celebrity-crazy society. People talk as though celebrities are their friends, and they want to know the intimate details of their lives. My former roommate was addicted to the celebrity rag magazines, shows like “Extra,” and reality TV. She and another friend would talk about actors and actresses as though they knew them personally: “Omigod! did you hear that Angelina is expecting twins? I heard that Jen’s even more jealous than ever now. Ooh, and I heard that Katie left Tom. Who didn’t see that coming?”

I’ve never understood why people think that because someone made a movie, the general population has the right to know everything about that person. Each purchase of a celeb rag magazine pays the papparazzi and gives them permission to stalk celebrities — even when the celeb doesn't want the attention. I mean, what woman wants to be photographed in a sweatsuit with no makeup while she’s in the grocery store?

If society could overcome its obsession with all things celebrity, then maybe Miley Cyrus’ artistic photographs would be appreciated, along with her decision to pose for such photographs, rather than made out to be scandalous and pornographic.

A Great Man Leaves the Unicameral

I am going to miss Nebraska Senator Ernie Chambers. Last Thursday was Chambers’ last day in the Nebraska legislature. Although he has been accused of racism against white people and considered by some to be a nuisance, Chambers achieved more than many are willing to give him credit for during his 37 years in legislature. With more years in the Nebraska legislature than any other senator, Chambers remains a controversial figure even at 70 years old.

Let’s consider, too, that Chambers likely would have remained in the Unicameral for many more years were it not for the term limits imposed for Nebraska state senators in 2000. An effort, Chambers and others believe, was targeted at him. Chambers made noise in the legislature, and plenty of people were tired of hearing it.

However, Chambers likes to make noise to see who he can wake up — and that was a good thing during his tenure as a state senator.

He’s been called an “angry black man” and those with whom Chambers sits in disfavor claim that he doesn’t like white people, that he only looks out for black people, that he wasted the legislature’s time filibustering, that the crazy old coot sued God last year, and that he was a pain in the butt.

Although laced with truth, those statements are inaccurate.

White people in Omaha generally accuse him of reverse discrimination and catering to the black community and North Omaha. I, however, have never considered Chambers’ actions discriminatory. As for catering to the black community and North Omaha, where Chambers grew up and still lives, well … someone has to look out for that area and its people because it doesn’t seem to be on the radar of other state and community leaders. I won’t fault Chambers for looking after his community and his constituency. Furthermore, I sincerely doubt that Chambers hates white people, considering that some of his best friends, including former State Senator Kermit Brashear, are white. Furthermore, a white couple recently asked Chambers to preside over their wedding, and Chambers accepted.

And yes, Chambers sued God in 2007. That action received nationwide attention. However, in typical Chambers style, there was indeed a point to the lawsuit, and it wasn’t to get God to pay up. Rather, it was Chambers’ unique way of showing rather than telling people how ridiculous their frivolous and inappropriate lawsuits are and demonstrating how much of the courts’ time they waste. Some of us got it. Others are still shaking their heads that a man actually tried to sue God and believing that Tom Osborne truly is God.

That was something that Chambers excelled at: taking an issue to an extreme to show the people or his peers in the legislature how ridiculous they were acting.

Chambers is indeed also famous for his filibustering talents. Well-known for filibustering by lecturing about the legislative rules or reading the Omaha telephone book, Chambers managed to block bills that would have had negative effects on Nebraskans. You see, Chambers made it a habit to actually read the legislative bills he was voting on, so he understood the terms of the entire bill, and he often accused his contemporaries of failing to read and fully understand the bills they voted for or against.

Chambers came from humble beginnings in North Omaha and became a barber. He later earned a law degree. He was an activist for black rights during the 1960s. And unlike most other state senators, Chambers doesn't supplement his $12,000 annual salary from his work in the legislature with other income. Perhaps this is because Chambers lives and breathes his job as a state senator. He entered the legislature a poor man, he has said, and he will leave the legislature a poor man.

There is more about Ernie Chambers that his detractors would rather hide than exploit. For example, Chambers demonstrated sensitivity and sensibility about issues that concerned rural Nebraskans, and during the farm crisis of the 1980s, Nebraska farmers sought his help. Look back even further, and it was Chambers who penned a bill abolishing corporal punishment in schools. He is also responsible for assuring women equal treatment in the state pension system, blocking the legalization of concealed weapons, requiring grand jury investigations of deaths that occurred while suspects or inmates were in police custody, and introducing an amendment for stricter standards for DNA testing by police.

Moreover, Chambers has for years denounced Nebraska’s electric chair as cruel and unusual punishment, and he has repeatedly tried to repeal the death penalty in Nebraska. At one point, he had majority support from the legislature only to be vetoed by then-governor Charles Thone.

Chambers looked out for people’s rights and wasn’t afraid to limit government while doing it, which, frankly, gave me comfort. Unfortunately, our current politicians care less and less about our rights. We could use a few more leaders like Chambers looking out for us. Chambers has always worked to protect the First Amendment, and he also halted Omaha’s attempt in 1998 to install red light cameras, arguing that such an act was against the state constitution. And it turns out he was correct. Omaha was forced to deactivate the cameras they had already put in place and was prohibited from installing more red light cameras unless a law was passed to change the state constitution.

Chambers’ fiercely independent, maverick style of legislating wasn’t for everyone, and I can’t help but wonder if he would have been more warmly received if he were white. Chambers probably wonders this, too, and that may be why he never lets us forget he’s black. He has said that he is a black man in a white, racist society, and that has obviously influenced his political career. But I think that’s OK. He has a point. Although we have made progress toward improving racial equality, that progress has been slow, and there is still a long way to go. When you really examine Chambers’ political career, you find that his work helped all of us, not just black people, and that is what truly counts.

Ernie, I will miss you, and I appreciate all you have done for the people of Nebraska.

Competitive Birthing: Keeping up With the Joneses

I completely missed the announcement that the more children a family has, the higher their status. A recent op-ed in the Washington Post brought this trend to my attention.

“… the desire to have another child opens one up to charges of elitism and status consciousness,” wrote Pamela Paul. “In many major U.S. cities and their suburbs … having three or more children has now come to seem like an ostentatious display of good fortune, akin to owning a pied-Ã-terre in Paris. The family of five has become ‘deluxe.’”

Seriously? When I think of families with more than two or three children, I think of one of the following, usually in this order: 1) Poor, unemployed and too stupid to use birth control. 2) Catholic and stupidly adhering to the “no birth control” rule. 3) Some other strict religion that advocates huge families and outlaws birth control.

I do not think, “wealthy elitists” or “affluent country clubbers.”

I fully realize that I am out of touch with the whole parenting thing because I have never had a maternal instinct toward anything other than an animal or a plant. My biological clock is broken — or perhaps nonexistent. I have never wanted children. When I was in my 20s, people said, “Oh, just wait until you hit 30; you’ll start wanting them.” Well, I passed 30 four years ago, and I’ve yet to have any inkling of yearning for a child.

Nevertheless, refusing to believe that this is actually a trend, I did some digging around on the Internet. It turns out this trend has been around for a couple years. Maybe I haven’t heard of it because I don’t run around in the baby-maker circles.

NPR published an article on its Web site in August 2007 stating that the more children a couple has, the more affluent they are considered. Furthermore, “some say the trend is driven by a generation of over-achieving career women who have quit work and transferred all of their competitive energy to baby-making.” Competitive birthing, the article calls it.

That’s just sick. Take up a hobby or something, but the idea of continuing to squirt out kids so you can one-up your pals is outrageous. I suspect like most trends, Hollywood had something to do with the competitive birthing trend. Britney Spears, Jennifer Lopez and Angelina Jolie start popping out kids and everyone else thinks they should, too. Having a kid because your favorite Desperate Housewife did is absurd.

An Associated Press article from October 2006 was one of the first to announce this trend. Apparently the reason for the belief that more children equal higher status is that since it costs more than $204,000 to raise the average kid, you must be well off if you can afford to have more than three. Well, folks, you don’t have to be wealthy to breed, and I think people analyzing this “trend” are forgetting this.

I think of people with whom I work who have five and six kids. They are not affluent. In fact, a co-worker with six kids is constantly pinching pennies in ways that would be embarrassing except that I know he has six mouths to feed. Furthermore, a few of us are convinced that the only sound sleep the man gets is at his desk, when he occasionally nods off for a few minutes while sitting at his desk during the day.

Other people I know who have a herd of children are basically in the same position, and they all admit that if they lost their jobs, they would be ruined. In fact, I have yet to meet people who have a plethora of children and do not worry about finances or layoffs. So I’m not sure where these wealthy competitive birthers breeding to keep up with the Joneses live, but they don’t live in Omaha.

I thought it was bad enough when people kept reproducing in an effort to have a baby of a certain gender. I can’t tell you how many people I know who have three boys and keep trying for a girl or vice versa. I thought the point of having children was — well, frankly, I’m not sure what the point of having children is, but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to be to keep trying until you get the one you want.

I don’t feel sorry for people who have loads of kids, and I don’t think they’re saintly, either. I don’t understand the point of television shows that focus on some family with eight kids and how they manage. Who cares? Am I supposed to feel sorry for them and say, “Oh, how do those poor people manage?” I don’t. They put themselves in that situation. It’s not my fault they’re stupid.

And I’m tired of people becoming pregnant with six fetuses because of artificial insemination and expecting the general public to donate supplies and diapers to them because sextuplets are such a burden. First of all, if you couldn’t get knocked up naturally, then maybe you should have considered that it just wasn’t meant to be and either remained child-free or adopted one of the thousands of unwanted children. Or was it that you couldn’t find that perfect little Caucasian baby that would make your family complete so you decided on insemination?

Second of all, you knew early on that you had six fetuses growing in there, and you chose to carry all of them to term rather than keep one or two. All the suckers donating money and supplies to such couples ought to consider this. Great, reward them for over-reproducing.

The fact of the matter is that whether couples keep squirting out kids because it’s a competition or because they want a certain gender or because they refuse to use birth control, they ought to be thinking about the state of this world they’re bringing these kids into. We live on an already overpopulated planet that we are destroying (mostly because of the overpopulation) and these people think it’s a good idea to bring more and more children into it.

Bad Kids Come From Bad Parents

I’m fed up with my generation. Generation X has a lot going for it. We’re intelligent, innovative, liberal and hard-working. We tend to be sensible and healthy, and we are wealthier than our parents. Why then, are the people of my generation raising children such awful children?

While grocery shopping last weekend, I was reminded why I don’t like children. A social worker friend of mine has said for years that it’s not the children I don’t like, it’s their behavior, which is the fault of their parents. She may be correct, but all she made me realize was that I can’t stand the children or their parents.

Our Baby Boomer parents were decent parents for the most part. We were disciplined and taught from a young age to behave in public as well as at home. Yet my generation of rebels has veered so far from their parents’ teachings with their own children that they are negatively affecting society and making some of us agoraphobic. Online shopping has never looked so good; I find myself buying more and more online and going out in public less and less because I don’t want to listen to screaming children and look at their lousy parents.

While grocery shopping last weekend, any maternal yearnings that I may someday experience — which, I should add, is highly unlikely, as I have yet to have a maternal yearning toward anything other than cats and plants — was squelched by the masses of screaming children. I saw a mother with two screamers in her cart, walking along as though she had no idea they were screaming and crying. And this woman was pregnant with a third future screamer. Minutes later, another woman drove her cart by with a screaming child. She, too, acted as though she couldn’t hear it.

When my siblings and I threw tantrums in stores or acted like little assholes, my mother dragged us right out of that store. I’m sure there are stores that still remember the woman who left a full cart in the middle of the store and dragged her ill-behaved children out of it. By that time we were quiet because we knew we were in deep trouble, and making any more fuss was going to make that trouble worse. My mother never once drove her cart around a store with screaming children as though she couldn’t hear the noise.

Frankly, if you choose to allow your children to remain undisciplined, then leave them at home. The rest of us don’t want to be around them. Maybe you are immune to the crying and screaming, but I am not. If your children can’t sit in the cart or walk beside you, then leave them home. I’ve grown tired of having to look out for ankle-biters running around in the stores. I just run them over with my cart now, which actually gives them something to scream about.

It’s not that parents being unable to control their little monsters. I see it as parents don’t want to control them. And this irresponsibility on the part of Gen X parents isn’t limited to toddlers. No, these little monsters are growing more monstrous as they grow older.

My mother works at a high school, and she is continually appalled by the behavior not of the children, but of their parents. Unfortunately, we have not only unruly children in our midst today, but we also have unruly parents. If I caused trouble at school and a teacher called my mother, I was in deep shit at school and at home. Nowadays, however, if the school calls the parents about a student’s behavior, the parent becomes irate, claiming that the school is wrong, their child is guilty of no such infraction. Instead of disciplining the child, the parent tells the school to go to hell.

Which perfectly explains why children today are out-of-control brats — because their parents allow it, and in many cases condone it.

A couple weeks ago, a kid called in sick at my mother’s school for himself from his friend’s cell phone. Since schools now have caller ID, my mother knew the call didn’t come from his parents. She called the boy’s mother, who said she’d have to check and find out what was up with her kid. Minutes later, the mother called back and said, “Oh, yeah. He’s sick.”

If my parents had busted me skipping school, there would have been hell to pay. Not only would I have been grounded by my parents and assigned extra chores, but my mother would have called the school back and told them I had skipped just so I’d have to pay the price at school, too. She never would have covered for me by telling the school I was indeed sick. And she would have taken enormous joy in watching me suffer my punishments.

This child is going to grow up like the 18-year-old jackass who hit my car a few months ago and lied to the insurance company, claiming I hit her car. She called me the day after the accident and still accepted responsibility for it. Later that day, both of her parents contacted me asking what had happened. When I explained the incident to them, they both said — repeatedly — “well, it’s her word against yours.” It wasn’t until her parents told her to lie that she did. Now that’s the kind of lesson you want to teach your kid, isn’t it?

The lie bit her in the ass, though, when she lost in court. Now, do I think she will pay me? Hell, no. I’m sure her parents have told her not to. I’ll have to go through garnishment proceedings to collect the money. And I’ll do it for the same reason I took her lying ass to court: Someone needs to teach her responsibility and honesty, and her parents aren’t doing it.

Unfortunately, Generation X is guilty of perpetuating the worthless practice of “time out” while calling spanking “abuse” in an attempt to abolish it from discipline. Frankly, every child needs his or her ass spanked once in a while. “Time out” is not discipline. It’s the lazy parent’s way of avoiding discipline.

I’m not so sure the old “children should be seen and not heard” adage is so wrong. In fact, in public places, it should be adhered to. Let your children run around and scream at home or at places designed for children. In stores, restaurants, the workplace and school, your children should behave and display manners. Otherwise, leave them at home.

I am usually proud to be a Gen Xer. That pride wanes when I am forced to experience the result of my peers’ horrible parenting. Wake up, Gen X, and take some hints from the way you were raised. Rebelling against your parents by raising your kids the opposite of how you were raised isn’t benefiting you or your children.

Small Claims Court: Free Entertainment

If you’re bored some morning or afternoon, I highly recommend visiting your county’s small claims court as an audience member. It’s like Judge Judy live — just as funny with just as many stupid people.

I learned this yesterday when I attended court for a case I filed against a driver who hit my car. We both have Farmers insurance. She lied to the insurance company and said I hit her car, so the insurance company decided not to find fault and assigned each of us responsibility for our own damages. After the initial decision, I asked the insurance company to assign the case to a local field office and actually look at the vehicle damage and take photographs. I am certain that fault could be determined by the points of impact.

Farmers, however, still refused to find fault. I’m thinking the decision may have been weighted by the fact that her stepfather, whose plan she is on, is a contractor and has a shitload of insurance with Farmers, so they didn’t want to piss him off.

Now, I’m not the best driver in the world. When I was 18, like the driver who hit me, I was a terrible driver. I hit everything. I stopped counting accidents at 14. And they were all my fault. My insurance was outrageous because I was high risk. My family teases me to this day about my driving record. (My driving record has since improved and I haven’t had an accident in more than 10 years.)

During those years when I was a bad driver, I never lied about my fault in an accident. Not to the cops, not to my parents, not to the insurance company. I took the tickets, the increased insurance rates, the body shop repair bills in stride and vowed to slow down and pay closer attention.

This is why I was so pissed off when the jerk who hit me lied. She had insurance; she should have just told the truth and let them handle it. Instead she lied, I took her to court, and I won. She filed a counterclaim at the last minute, but the judge dismissed it. Had she told the truth to the insurance company, they would have paid for the damage on my car, and I would have had to have get my car fixed. Now, she’s out $700 and I can use the money to buy cute shoes.

My case was probably one of the less entertaining of the day, though. My favorite was the guy who took his ex-girlfriend to court claiming she had the two vehicles that he bought. He had a notebook with him, but it didn’t have anything useful in it because when the judge asked him for bills of sale for the vehicles, he didn’t have them and said he bought them from a good friend. This is when the ex-girlfriend piped up and said that she did have the bills of sale because she bought them. The guy then tried to say he should get one of the vehicles because he did all this work on the house.

Turns out, it was his house, and the girl bought all the materials for the improvements, for which she had loads of receipts. We also learned — from the dumb guy — that she had filed a restraining order against him. He stated this four times in the courtroom. The judge found in the girl’s favor, and it was obvious to the entire courtroom that she had dumped the guy, he is violent and he filed this lawsuit because he was bitter and tried to steal one of her vehicles.

That was the only case in which the defendant won, other than the one where the plaintiff didn’t show up. A couple other cases were landlord–tenant disputes. My favorite was the one where the couple had paid their rent on time and in full three times out of almost two years. The judge had the landlord read his ledger: June 2006, rent paid late and $200 short. July 2006, rent paid late and $40 short. … November 2007, rent paid late with additional $300 for arrears. December 2007, rent paid late, $400 short.

When I was an apartment dweller, it didn’t occur to me to pay my rent late, and I certainly never would have paid less than the full amount.

The only response the couple had was to complain about the condition of the property. “It was fine when we moved in,” the guy said, “but after a few months it really started to go downhill.” So after they started living there, it went downhill. Sounds like they wrecked the place.

Maybe the judge would have listened to some of the defendants if they didn’t dress like homeless people. In my mind, people dress nice for court. Not necessarily suit and tie, but at least business casual. But these people showed up in worn-out blue jeans and faded t-shirts. My defendant showed up in calf-length leggings, a long shirt and Keds, and the judge hardly spoke to her.

To support my hypothesis, the landlord in another case didn’t win all he filed for, because, I’m convinced, the defendant wore a dress and looked very nice. Maybe I’m just too prim, though, because I don’t think wearing blue jeans to a wedding is appropriate, either, and I’ve seen it plenty of times.

My second hypothesis about small claims court is that the judge will find in favor of the plaintiff unless the plaintiff and defendant are ex-lovers, ex-friends or embittered family members. When it’s two people with no previous relationship, the judge must recognize that the defendant obviously did something to piss off the plaintiff enough to go through the hassle of filing a lawsuit. To support my hypothesis, the judge wanted to hear from the plaintiffs in most of these cases, and the defendants said very little. The exception was the embittered ex-boyfriend case, in which the judge listened to the person who was actually prepared and had evidence.

It was endless entertainment, though, and I laughed a lot. I wasn’t the only one laughing, either. I heard snickers and laughter all around me. So next time you have a day off with nothing to do, go to small claims court. It’s fantastic entertainment and it's free courtesy of your local buffoons.

New Ways to Land Yourself in Hell

Last week, the Vatican declared seven new ways for Catholics to win a one-way ticket to hell in addition to the traditional seven deadly sins and mortal sins and breaking one or more of the 10 Commandments. Someone has too much time on his hands over there.

The traditional seven deadly sins, or the seven deadlies as I call them, are gluttony, greed, pride, lust, wrath, envy and sloth, and they are considered the root of all sin. That is, they are the things that cause people to commit sinful acts. To that list, we can now add these new venial sins, which include genetic engineering, drug use, pollution and abortion. (I thought the Vatican always considered abortion a sin, but apparently not.) The final two sins — now keep in mind these came from the Catholic church and try reading these two without laughing — are tremendous wealth and pedophilia.

The Catholic church is the wealthiest church in the world and requires its followers to tithe 10 percent of their income to the church or face eternal damnation. It also requires that you marry another Catholic and that your children be Catholic, which ensures that you will keep giving them your money, as will your good little Catholic children.

Many priests no longer live in church rectories. No, they don’t want to be bothered with people’s problems 24x7 — which, by the way, is their job — so they live in lavish houses away from the church and paid for by the church. So much for that vow of poverty. And how did the church pay for it? With the money you give them every Sunday.

Furthermore, the church makes a tidy sum from annulments. A friend who is very Catholic wants her (first and only) wedding to be in the Catholic church. Her fiancé, however, must annul his first marriage, which took place when he was 19 and ended after six months, when he found out his wife was cheating on him. (His second wife of 20-some years died, so he’s off the hook there.) The archdiocese said that for $400, he could get an annulment in about a year, implying that if he paid more, he get it faster. It is the Catholic church, so that’s certainly how it works. Show them the money and you can get married in their church. What a crock.

So as the wealthiest church in the world with billions of dollars in assets, isn’t the Catholic church itself guilty of the sin of tremendous wealth?

And the Catholic church calling pedophilia a sin made me explode with laughter. The church’s priests are some of the worst offenders of this particular sin, and they are rarely punished for it. Rather than send a disgusting baby-raper to prison, the church transfers him so he can molest more kids somewhere else. Part of the reason the Catholic church needs its tremendous wealth is to pay off its priests’ victims who come forward. Pay them off, transfer the priest and pretend everything is fine.

I keep wondering if Catholics really take this shit seriously. How do you fear damnation because you had an abortion 15 years ago when the Catholic church itself is sponsoring pedophiles? Excuse me, but pedophilia is a much worse offense than abortion could ever hope to be. Those priests have wrecked the lives of countless children while breaking the vow of celibacy. If I were Catholic, I would laugh in the Vatican’s face with its new sins. I’ll follow them when you do, I’d say.

Here’s another thought. If these sins get you banned from heaven, then aren’t the Catholic church and its representatives banned from heaven? Where does that leave you as a follower of a hell-bound church? Other churches ought to be cashing in on this, inviting Catholics to join their churches and gain the opportunity to go to heaven. They could have catchy slogans like, “What is your fate if your church is hell-bound?” or “Stop supporting priestly pedophiles. The Church of Whatever is here for you.”

Regarding the five other new sins, how will the church determine how much pollution is sinful? Moreover, large corporations are most guilty of pollution, so now what? Is someone guilty of the sin of pollution if they work in a factory or are the top execs the guilty ones? We all know the abortion debate: Whether the procedure is murder depends on when you believe life begins. And is the Vatican using the term “drugs” as a general collective to included street drugs, prescription drug addiction, alcohol and even tobacco? Calling drug use a sin is stupid. I call it thinning the herd.

And finally, genetic engineering. I know that Christians believe that man was created in God’s perfect image (women were either made from the leftover sludge or Adam’s rib, though), and thus humans shouldn’t fuck with God’s design. I agree that Nature (not necessarily God) is not to be fucked with. I don’t like the idea of cloning or designing your kid to look how you want him or her to look. That’s when we start getting into spooky Brave New World kinds of things.

However, genetic engineering most certainly has benefits, such as exposing the inner workings of diseases, viruses, genomes, DNA and more, all of which can save lives. Genetic engineering is what will find the key to cancer, cure HIV and reveal more information about the human body. That can’t really be a sin, can it?

By age 13 I recognized how hypocritical, controlling, corrupt and greedy the Catholic church is. I refused to be confirmed (much to my parents' chagrin) and I left the church entirely. I have never regretted it, and if I were to suddenly become Christian tomorrow, I would not return to Catholicism. Every time the Vatican comes up with something ridiculous, it reaffirms my decision to leave. I just can’t figure out why so many people continue devotion to such a corrupt church.

Omahans Are Bad Drivers

Omahans are terrible drivers. I realized this shortly after I moved here many years ago, and because I have to drive at least five days a week, I still notice it. For those who have never been to Omaha, everyone has to drive because the city is so spread out and has lousy public transportation. What I wouldn’t give for good public transportation.

Since we have to drive everywhere, you would think Omahans would be good at it. Alas, they have no regard for the rules of the road and make up their own. In fact, I’m pretty sure most of them don’t know the actual rules of the road.

A prime example of this is a six-way stop. If you visit Omaha, find out where these are and avoid them at all costs during rush hour. Omaha drivers have enough trouble with four-way stops: Either everyone just sits there, or two cars go at the same time and it turns into a game of chicken, with the vehicles bound to collide unless one stops. So you can imagine how much trouble they have with a six-way stop. I feel like I must have a death wish every time I encounter one.

If Omaha drivers would remember that the first car that stopped goes first, and the other drivers’ turns move clockwise from that point, then everyone would be fine. This is also called yielding to the right of way, which most Omahans have never heard of. They often remember the first part of the rule — the car that stopped first goes first. Then, however, they believe that the other cars go in the order that they stopped. So if you’re stopped to the left of the first car that went, it should be your turn; however, you’ll probably be hit by the person to your left because they stopped second and think it’s their turn. Essentially, you have to do it their way or your car will be sporting a dent.

Merging or changing lanes in Omaha is a little like playing Frogger, and you’re the frog. If you’re exiting the interstate onto a street, good luck merging into traffic. If you need to move to the left lane for an upcoming turn, fat chance. The reason Omaha drivers won’t let you merge or change lanes is — and I only know this from riding with Omaha drivers — they think you are trying to “cut them off.” That’s right. I have been in cars many times when a driver is trying to merge or change lanes and the person I’m riding with says, “Oh, no, buddy. You’re not cutting me off.” That’s right, he’s not cutting you off; he’s trying to get to his destination. And these drivers become angry when they think you’ve cut them off. They change lanes, zoom around you and cut dangerously close in front of you just to let you know how wrong you were for merging or changing lanes.

The old “faster traffic drives in the left lane, slower traffic in the right” does not apply in Omaha. Granny will drive that car in any lane she wants, and she doesn’t care if cars in the right lane pass her. It’s particularly frustrating when there’s a slow car in the left lane and another slow car in the right lane, both driving under the speed limit, neck and neck so you can’t pass. (This is especially popular in the Benson area.)

Speaking of lanes, Omahans have no idea which one to turn into when they make a turn. They make right turns into the left lane and vice versa, and smash right into your car because they don’t know any better. Coincidentally, I have to take some 18-year-old jerk to small claims court because she did this very thing and told the insurance company that I turned into the wrong lane. She didn’t even know there was a rule until I mentioned it at the scene, which was my big mistake.

Anyway, if you turn left into the left lane while another driver turns right because you assume that they will turn into the right lane, your car will have a nice scrape and dent on it as a result of that assumption.

Determining when to use headlights is a problem for Omaha drivers. Most of them know to use the headlights at night, but that’s about the only time you’ll find everyone using them. Most drivers don’t use their headlights when it’s raining, snowing or foggy, though, which is dangerous because visibility is reduced. Obviously they’ve never heard the rule that if your windshield wipers are on, then your headlights should be, too.

Omaha drivers do, however, know of some mysterious rule about driving with their parking lights on. They’re called parking lights for a reason; you use them when you’re parked. But in Omaha you use your parking lights during that hour before sunset and after sunrise (when you should be using your headlights). Omaha drivers seem to figure that parking lights are meant to be used when it’s not quite dark but not quite light.

Most Omaha drivers either don’t use turn signals at all, and the others leave them on all the time. This keeps the drivers around them guessing when — or if — they might be planning to turn. When complaining to my sister the other day about how Omaha drivers don’t use turn signals, she pointed out that it’s because if you do signal, drivers in the other lane speed up and block you because they think you’re trying to cut them off. Thus, to avoid this rudeness, Omaha drivers just don’t signal at all. We couldn’t come up with a reason why oncoming cars speed up if you’re waiting at a light to turn left. I think they just do it to be jerks.

And it wouldn’t be a day if I didn’t bash people who talk on their cell phones in the car, even though it’s not a problem endemic to Omaha. Omaha drivers, hang up and focus on the road, for godsakes. Maybe if you weren’t gossiping on the phone or texting your pals, you would remember to use your turn signal and pay attention to whose turn it is at the stop sign.

Omaha Doesn't Need a New Stadium

I’m tired of Omaha Mayor Mike Fahey dreaming up gigantic new buildings that will increase my taxes. First it was the Qwest Center, now it’s his idea to replace Rosenblatt Stadium with a new baseball stadium in downtown Omaha.

Ever heard of the Omaha Royals baseball team? Exactly. Now you may have actually heard of the College World Series, and Omaha has been host to the event for nearly 40 years. Fahey’s big motivation for the new stadium is to keep the CWS in Omaha. So they need a $140 million stadium to use 10 days a year?

Oh, but the Omaha Royals and Creighton Blue Jays would use the stadium, too. Well, then, they can chip in to pay for it. Furthermore, if so many people think it’s such a fabulous idea, then Fahey should have no trouble paying for the thing with private donations. I don’t really care what his solution is; I just don’t want my property taxes to increase yet another year, and frankly, I’m not keen on sales tax or any other tax increasing, either.

Nebraskans are already screwed with some of the highest taxes in the nation. That's what happens when a state has two somewhat large cities, a lot of small towns and a lot of uninhabited land used for farming. The more people living in a state, the lower the taxes; the fewer people, the higher the taxes. On top of that, Omaha likes to add its own ridiculous taxes, like the wheel tax. Instituted decades ago, the wheel tax was to be charged for a year or two so we could afford new roads and road repairs. It was $1 per tire, including your spare tire, so $5 per car. The wheel tax never went away, though, and now it's $7 per tire ($35 per car). Omaha has even gone so far as to force people who live outside city limits but within a certain distance to pay the wheel tax unless they can prove that they don't travel to Omaha more than two or three times a year.

The plan that makes more sense is to renovate Rosenblatt Stadium to meet the needs of the CWS. It just doesn’t make sense to build when you can renovate a perfectly good stadium — an Omaha landmark — for half the cost. Renovating Rosenblatt would cost about $73 million.

Several years ago, Fahey had the idea to build a giant convention center in downtown Omaha. His promise was that it would attract tons of conventions and big-name concerts, so many Omahans blindly followed him in this idea. I was a naysayer from the beginning. It’s Omaha, folks. You can have the biggest convention center in the country, but it’s still in Omaha. Moreover, just before Fahey started talking about building the convention center, the Mid-America Center went up in Council Bluffs, Iowa, just a stone’s throw away. So now we have two convention centers within 10 miles of each other.

For the most part, Omaha’s convention center stays empty. All those conventions Fahey promised us? Well, they’re happening somewhere, just not here. Some people refuse to criticize the Qwest Center because they say we’ve had big-name bands come through just because of it. Omaha has never been a key city for bands to play, not like Denver or Kansas City or Chicago. Hell, not even like Des Moines or Ames, Iowa. Sometime in the past, though, band managers figured out that they could make a little extra money by stopping in Omaha between Denver and Kansas City. They needed a rest stop anyway, and Omaha has good steaks. Unfortunately for concert-goers, these shows were always on the weeknights, never on Friday or Saturday.

And the difference with the Qwest Center? None. They still come through on weeknights. We got Bon Jovi a couple weeks ago — on a Monday night. Matchbox 20 played earlier this week — on Tuesday. I would rather drive two-and-a-half hours to Kansas City on a Saturday to see a band on a night when I don’t have to work the next morning.

Since the Qwest Center was built, concert ticket prices have increased, in addition to property taxes. I can buy tickets cheaper for a Kansas City show than for an Omaha show. Furthermore, the Qwest Center charges $5 so you can park and walk a mile, not exactly an enjoyable trek in a city with weather ranging from negative 5 degrees to 105 degrees. In eight years, we have had fewer than 10 big-name acts come through — Elton John, the Rolling Stones, Cher, the Police (coming this summer), Pink Floyd (I’m not sure this one counts as “big”) Bon Jovi. That’s all I can think of, but there are probably a couple more. People could have driven to Des Moines or Kansas City for those like we used to. What is that, maybe one big show a year?

With Fahey’s plan, the new stadium will be built on two of the Qwest Center parking lots. Although he claims the new stadium would not increase property taxes, he initially proposed a 2 percent “entertainment tax” on everything from hotel rooms to dinner at a restaurant to pay for it. Fahey later revised his tax idea and proposed that we raise the tax on hotel rooms and rental cars, thus sticking out-of-town guests with the brunt of the tax increase. However, under Fahey’s master plan, Omaha’s hotel tax would become the highest in the nation. Higher than New York. Higher than California. Higher than all the other fun places in the country.

I don’t know how Fahey thinks we can get away with charging the highest hotel tax in the nation. Omaha is a great place to live, but it's not exactly a tourist or vacation destination. We have a great zoo, and that's probably the only thing you can't find in other cities that have more culture, more shopping, more night life, amusement parks, etc. Furthermore, did Fahey forget that Council Bluffs — with several large casino hotels — is basically an extension of Omaha? In fact, the casinos aren’t even across the river from Omaha; they’re on the river. And you might as well rent your car there, too.

Fahey has all these other grand plans to pay for a new stadium, like a “seat tax” charged on baseball tickets. If you’re going to a baseball game and bought tickets, didn’t you already pay for your seat? What a maroon.

Fahey has proceeded with these stadium plans without anyone’s permission or blessing. Yesterday he proposed the stadium plan to the CWS. The idea needs to be put to vote. If Omahans are so gung-ho for that new stadium like Fahey believes, then he should have no problem putting it to vote. The thing is, the majority of us are against building a new stadium and want to renovate Rosenblatt.

I understand that the CWS brings money into Omaha, but if the NCAA officials are going to be assholes and demand a brand new stadium, then maybe they should take their demands somewhere else. A brand new stadium could hurt Omaha’s CWS income: Smart fans will take their hotel and rental car business to Council Bluffs, and that means they’ll also spend money in Council Bluffs on meals, gambling at the casinos, and maybe even shopping. Oh, and gas is cheaper there, too, so that’s where they’ll be refilling their gas tanks.

Dog People and Cat People

There are distinct differences between people who like cats and people who like dogs. They act like cats or dogs. The good thing is that dog people usually don't slobber or sniff a guest's crotch, and cat people don't crap in litter boxes.

My friend C— is a dog person. Not only is her preference for dogs, but she also acts like a dog herself.

She doesn’t drool or lick her crotch. But she is very friendly. She’s nice to everyone, and she won’t pass anyone in the hall without saying hi. She is loyal, and she gives everyone a fair chance, even when her friends warn her about someone.

She is always willing to help someone, even if she doesn’t particularly like the person or helping sets her back on her own work or activities. She can’t say no; her weekends, and often her weeknights are filled up with social activities, volunteer work and helping friends. Sometimes, she says that she wishes she didn’t have to go to this party or doesn’t want to go out with so-and-so. When I point out that she doesn’t have to, she can cancel or better yet not accept so many invitations, she mumbles, “I know,” but she never changes her ways. Some of this is due to the fact that she overextends herself; some of it is that she has a great sense of obligation.

I also work with C—, and our cubes are next to each other. Because she can’t give anyone the cold shoulder or nonverbal clues that she doesn’t care for them, her cubicle attracts every annoying person at the company. And she just talks to them, and lets them ramble on about their insipid lives. God forbid they come by with good gossip or anything worth hearing. They’re always complaining — about their breakups, their divorces, everything that’s gone wrong in the last week. It would do her good to growl at a few of them sometime.

Dog people get so excited to see someone they haven’t seen in a while, you almost wonder if they piddled. Dog people also tend to be tolerable of disorder and mess. They clean their houses only when necessary, mostly because they’re always out playing. Dog people are also the ones most likely to greet their spouses at the door in the evening.

I’ve known many dog people, and they all have these same basic qualities.

Cat people, on the other hand, are quieter than dog people, we like quiet and we’re not people people. We don’t trust people, and we spend a lot of time observing other people to determine whether we like them. Cat people are aloof and walk down a hallway without paying attention to who we pass.

Then there are the people we don’t like from the start. We tend to growl and hiss at them until they take the hint that we don’t like them and go away. We don’t fight like dogs; rather, we tend to end the argument with one quick swipe of our verbal claws, which sends our opponent yelping.

We like our sleep, we enjoy naps and we are content lying on the sofa for an entire day. We don’t need to be surrounded by people to be happy, and we don’t particularly enjoy meeting new people; we’re like our small group of close friends whom we trust. Large groups of people make us want to run and hide under the bed.

We are finicky, and we want things our way. We like our surroundings to be in order and neat. We don’t like disorder. And we really hate change. We are also clever and we can be sly, and we enjoy getting into mischief once in a while. We're more daring than dog people, willing to attempt activities like bungee jumping, skydiving or drag racing. (Dog people don't like to try things that may kill them.)

Don't expect a cat person to greet his or her spouse at the door. We don’t want to constantly be touched, and we want affection on our terms. For these reasons, it’s best for cat people to have romantic relationships with other cat people. Although we can tolerate dog people as friends, we tend to become irritated with their constant doting and affection and need for attention. They just don’t know when to leave us alone.

Moreover, when it comes to pets, many cat people won’t allow dirty, smelly dogs in our homes, which can be a real disappointment for dog lovers. We don’t want the commitment of having to walk a dog or finding someone to care for the dog when we take a weekend getaway. Essentially, we want a pet as independent as we are.

I don’t have an earth-shattering point to this. I just think it’s interesting that we tend to favor pets that have similar personalities to our own. I suppose this is disturbing news for people who prefer reptiles and fish as pets.

Please No Children in the Workplace

This morning, the “Today” show ran a story that evoked genuine horror in my mind. It was about companies that allow new mothers to bring their babies to work with them.

I was stunned and speechless. Finally, the only word that came to mind was, “NO.” No, fuck no, absolutely not, no fucking way, no. The mere mention of such a ridiculous idea makes my blood curdle. I do not go to work every day to listen to the breeders’ brats scream all day and to smell their baby poo diapers. And I certainly don’t want to walk past a cubicle to see some woman breastfeeding her baby. NO.

Well, maybe I’d reconsider my stance if you turned the travel desk into a bar and kept it fully stocked with booze. Then we could talk.

I’m sure that a recent article in Time magazine was the impetus for this story on the “Today” show. The article discussed the newly formed Parenting in the Workplace Institute, an agency that advocates companies allow employees to bring their children to work. The Parenting in the Workplace Institute keeps a database of companies that allow this ridiculous practice. So far, there are 70 companies in the United States where I would never work.

Who thinks up this shit? And who then thinks it’s a good idea and lets it happen? Oh, you don’t want to leave your baby, daycare is so expensive, boohoo. I didn’t knock you up, so figure it out yourself. You’re the one who decided to breed, after all. Maybe these people should think things through a bit more thoroughly before they decide to have babies.

The article in Time said that employees who work at companies that allow women to bring their babies to work have a higher morale and more content employees. Obviously they have a bunch of baby-lovers working there, because I can’t imagine I would be content having to listen to the person in the cube next to me cooing to their baby or disciplining their toddler all day. And I can already envision all the people who would just have to stop by to visit the little bundle of joy. People trying to actually work would be distracted by all the noise.

My co-workers and I become irate when the woman who runs our mail room, which is right in our area, allows her grandchildren to scream and screech and carry on during working hours. Her daughter brings the little brats by every week — sometimes she leaves them with Grandma for an hour or two — and it’s miserable for everyone within earshot. One day, I’d had enough. I couldn’t concentrate and I was getting a headache.

I went to the mailroom counter and poked my head around as though I were curious and had no idea there were children in the building. The mailroom lady was holding the screamer and looked at me and smiled. I gave her a sour look and said, “Oh. Wow. That’s loud.” Then I turned around and walked the 15 steps back to my desk. She took the screamer outside.

The only time it’s OK to bring your kid to work is when your job requires you to work with children or at a business dedicated to children. If you are a daycare provider, then by all means bring your kid. If you work at Chuck E. Cheese, then your toddler will have a blast. Moreover, at these places, you and your child will be surrounded by people who like kids and can tolerate them.

There’s a good reason I don’t have children: I don’t like them. When invited to large get-togethers, my first question is will there be small children there? If so, I won't be attending. I don’t enjoy being around them. I don’t think very many kids are cute, and frankly, 99.9 percent of babies either look like monkeys, space aliens or worse. I don’t want to be around their screeching, crying, incessant chatter, spit-up, drool, sticky fingers or stinky smells. I didn’t even like kids when I was a kid. Babysitting was my first job, and I hated it. I preferred the company of adults and books.

Some naysayers commented in regard to the article that if co-workers brought their kids to work, then they would bring their dogs to work. Frankly, I don’t agree with that, either. I would love to bring my cat to work, but I’m also conscious that some people are allergic to cats and that doing so would make them suffer. I’m allergic to dogs, so my cube neighbor bringing her dog to work would make me unable to breathe.

Why can’t people just set a picture of their dog, cat or baby on their desk and be content with that? I don’t understand this need to bring them with you to work. If you absolutely can’t stand to leave the baby with a babysitter, then quit your job until the kid is in school. Work nights when Daddy can watch it. Or start your own effing business. That’s your issue, not mine.

Perhaps I sound harsh, but pregnancy and parenting are voluntary — sorry, I don’t believe in an accidental pregnancy; you’re either using birth control or you’re not — and people need to live with their decisions rather than expect other people to accommodate them. I’ve chosen to remain child-free and I shouldn’t have to pay the consequences of other people’s decisions to procreate and add to our already overpopulated planet.

When someone can logically explain to me why I should be responsible for other people’s kids, then I might consider changing my mind on the issue of workplace babies. Until then, no, never, uh-uh, no way, en-oh, no.

Get a Life

A friend recently voiced her desire to hire a life coach. I laughed because I thought she was joking. She wasn’t.

“Why would you need a life coach?” I asked her.

“Well, to push me to do the things I’ve always wanted to do. It’s someone to answer to so you achieve your goals.”

I told her she could answer to me and I’d charge half the going rate of a life coach.

Over the last few years, life coaching has become one more thing in which the middle-class and not-so-famous have indulged. The “need” for a life coach befuddles me. Life coaching brochures and Web sites promise that a life coach will help you “discover who you are and what really motivates you! Set and achieve proactive, powerful goals rather than just reacting to life! Create the life AND career you want to follow your passions, priorities and talents! Gain a true supportive partner throughout the process to assure that you achieve your goals! UNLEASH THE POWERS WITHIN YOU to accomplish more than you ever thought possible!”

The ads are full of exuberant people and promises and exclamation marks. They are overflowing with happiness in capital letters and boast things like, “Life coaching converts dreams into reality.” Client testimonials reveal that a life coach helped “organize my thoughts — made me realize that I had LOTS of options.” “I liked your vivacity, your sense of humor and especially the way you helped put things into perspective for me.” “ His easy but effective nudging got me to take action that I might not have, if left to my own motivation.”

Who are these weak-willed, unmotivated, needy people? Are they rejects looking for someone to control their lives but couldn’t afford to join the Church of Scientology? If I need someone to make me laugh, then I’m going to go to my co-workers who do standup comedy. They crack me up — for free.

I told my friend that if there are things she’s always wanted to do, then she should do them. She doesn’t need someone to tell her to do something. If she’s always wanted to go skydiving, then she should go. She doesn’t need permission.

I noticed that in all those testimonials no one stated exactly what the result was. I didn’t see any, “My life coach, Bill, helped me start the business of my dreams.” There were no comments like “Because of Ann’s coaching I’ve lost 30 pounds and no longer crave cookies.” Hell, I can offer vivacity, a wicked sense of humor, and easy but effective nudging and claim I’m truly helping people. In fact, I should start charging my friends and co-workers.

I’ve thought about life coaches, and I can’t imagine a situation where I’d think, gee, I could really use a life coach to help me with that. A cleaning lady, maybe, but never a life coach. I think life coaches are to the new millennium what psychiatrists were to the '90s — essentially, someone you pay to put up with your whiny crap so your friends and spouse don’t have to. At least the shrink would help you figure out why you’re whiny rather than tolerating it indefinitely.

If our society has really come to hiring someone to do the thinking for us, then we are in a sad state indeed. If something you want is within your means — unlike, for example, a trip to the moon — then I don’t understand why you wouldn’t do it or would need to be pushed to do it. And I don’t understand how hiring someone to tell you to do it would be effective.

I am the person my friends come to for advice, to listen to their ideas, to offer suggestions and ideas. I’m pretty sure I could double my income if I became a life coach. I’m sensible and logical, and I can surely blow smoke up people’s asses and tell them what they need to do. This sounds really appealing at first. But I’m not sure I could in good conscience accept people’s money for giving them what they should be getting from friends.

Furthermore, I could become a life coach just that easily, since there are no Bachelor’s degrees in life coaching. Sure, there are “schools” and “classes” for people who want to be life coaches, but if you’re going to pay for those, then you won’t make much money life coaching, since the goal is to sucker other people, not to be the sucker yourself.

And what if you hire a life coach and still don’t finish that novel you’ve always wanted to write? Do you get your money back? If after three months, you haven’t organized all the closets in your house, will the life coach come over and do it for you? After all, you paid that person to “convert your dreams into reality.” If it didn’t work after three months, then I’d either want my money back or for the life coach to come clean my cats’ litter boxes for the next three months.

What these people really need is a kick in the ass and someone to tell them to quit their effing whining, sit down and figure out their lives on their own. It’s worked for thousands of years, and maybe if people exercised their independence and self-sufficiency more often, they wouldn’t need to pay someone thousands of dollars to give them that “nudge” to go to the gym.

I see life coaches as people you pay to be your friends. Frankly, if your friends are truly friends, then they can help you achieve all the things a life coach can. Bounce ideas off your friends. Ask a sensible friend for advice about how to tackle a situation and help you organize your thoughts. Use your friends as a sounding board for new ideas. If you don’t have any friends and don’t plan on making any, well, then hire a life coach (and maybe a shrink).

Welcome to the Cube Farm

It was so quiet and peaceful in my cubicle at work until an overflowing department flowed right next to me. Apparently while the company is cutting back every department to the point of areas becoming short-staffed, our human resources department has plenty of money for a bunch of do-nothings. What’s worse, is that the area overflowing is “corporate education.” I don’t know if other companies have corporate education departments or if those people actually do anything, but as far as I can tell, ours just takes up space and holds ridiculous classes on things completely unrelated to work, like parenting and healthy eating.

I’d like to take the opportunity to remind cube dwellers that when you work in a cubicle environment, everyone around you can hear everything you say and do. The rule to remember is that if you can hear them, then they can hear you. Thus, it is unwise to discuss personal information that you want to keep private in your cube. It will no longer be private, and believe me, we’re talking about it. Furthermore, if you’re a do-little, you might want to lay off the telephone conversations because your neighbors can hear you and wonder why they’re working and you are not.

Another reminder is that everyone talks louder when they’re on the telephone, especially a mobile phone. My personal hypothesis about this phenomenon is that we talk at what we interpret to be the same volume as the person on the other end. Thus, if you have the volume cranked up on your desk or mobile phone, you are probably taking much louder than necessary. I tested my hypothesis on myself. I know for a fact that I talk louder than normal when I’m on my mobile phone, and I usually have the volume turned up. So I turned down the volume. And yes, in turn, I was not talking nearly so loud. (Thanks to my co-workers for helping me with this little experiment.)

I once worked in a cube farm with a woman who was either on the phone arguing with her mother, or on the phone with the pediatrician describing the green goo coming out of her kid’s ass or the color and texture of his barf. She made no effort to keep her voice down, so everyone in the department heard about her kid’s oozing orifices.

I am a pretty quiet person. I like quiet. I edit and often write rather boring documents for a living. Since it’s not exciting material, I often have to concentrate on what I’m reading while fighting the urge to fall asleep. The people in my department are pretty quiet, too. Now, however, our department has been invaded by noise, and I’m finding it distracting and irritating.

It started when HR moved Steve into the cubicle next to me. Steve is in his late 30s, married with kids, and reminds me of a nerd trying to be cool. He is a very loud person in everything that he does. The way he pounded on that keyboard made me wonder what the keyboard ever did to him. I’m not joking; even the guy across the aisle from me could hear Steve typing.

Steve also has a loud voice that carries, more so when he stands up and talks, which he liked to do. And he was a chatterbox. If the other corporate education employees weren’t standing at his cube yammering away, then Steve was on the phone with his buddies talking about music that was “phat.” It sounded ridiculous coming out of his mouth, and it made me laugh out loud.

In his cube, he was constantly banging around, slamming drawers and dropping shit. I often wished he would disappear and take the rest of the corporate education group with him.

Steve worked out during lunch, so he would eat his stinky lunches at his desk. There I was, at promptly 1:30 every afternoon, trying to keep down my lunch while Steve ate things that smelled, literally, like barf. Maybe they tasted good, but the odors made me want to barf.

When I say that Steve is loud in everything he does, I am not exaggerating. One day, a friend was in the men’s room when he heard, “BA-BA-BA-BA-BOOM! BA-BA-BA-BA-BOOM!” in one of the stalls. It was the toilet paper dispenser, and guess who emerged from the stall — Steve. My friend said it sounded like he was beating the toilet paper out of the dispenser.

In December, Steve moved on to greener pastures and is making noise at some other company. The cubicle next to me was once again unoccupied and quiet. I thought that with all the budget cuts, they wouldn’t even replace him. I was wrong.

The new guy — also named Steve, so I guess that’s convenient — moved in last week. He’s in his 40s, married, and I’m not sure about kids. He’s originally from a small town in Nebraska, but he’s traveled the world and moved to Omaha from Chicago for this job after failing at starting his own business. (It’s amazing how much information you can find about someone by doing a Google search.) He’s not so bad. His training was pure torture for me, though. I had to listen as all the corporate education people talked him through how to use his computer, the intranet and e-mail. Another one explained how to order office supplies. Another one talked him through some other useless information. This lasted the better part of two days.

Now corporate education is back to holding daily meetings in Steve’s cube. I want to punch those women. No matter how much I clear my throat, cough or sigh loudly, they insist on talking and laughing loudly. Sometimes I even moan, “So loud,” but that doesn’t help, either.

The new Steve doesn’t eat stinky lunches at his desk, so that’s a good thing. I do, however, wonder if he has ever worked in a cubicle environment because he doesn’t seem to realize that I can hear everything he says on the phone. The way our cubicles are set up, Steve and I are face to face, with only the cube wall separating us. I can hear everything.

I wonder if he knows that I not only know all about his new apartment, where it is, what he wanted the landlord to do to it before he moved in and what was wrong with the apartment when he moved in, but I also know the name of the woman in the apartment management office.

I know all about his banking and credit card issues, and I suppose I could have written down his account numbers and gone shopping if it didn’t seem like his credit sucks. One day he was talking to his bank about four overdraft charges and he thought he had overdraft protection, and he thinks he has $150 in his checking account. And, well, if he didn’t have overdraft protection before, please add it, and I’ll pay the fees with my credit card. The conversation lasted longer than an hour. Later there was another hour-long conversation about his credit card and would they offer him what this other one offers, and would they give him the deal with no fees for cash withdrawals like another card, blah blah blah.

It’s been like this every single day since he started, even on the day he started. Yesterday he was arranging the moving trucks to move his stuff from Chicago to Omaha. Today, he was on the phone all day, and cannot have gotten any actual work done. When I came in this morning, he was on the phone with his bank again about his checking account and credit card. That lasted an hour-and-a-half. Then he was on the phone about something else, but I was in a different cube, so I couldn’t hear what it was about.

For the last three hours of the day — and I do mean three hours nonstop — he was on the phone about his car. Apparently some part of a cart corral in the parking lot at a local store was broken and messed up his bumper and he’s afraid it might fall off when he’s driving. So he called the store to remind them that they were supposed to call him and how do they want to handle this, do they have a preferred body shop they work with or can he just go anywhere, and he needs to get it fixed right away because if it falls off while he’s driving, then that would cause an accident, which would be worse for the store …

After listening to his half-hour diatribe, the store told him to take his car (a PT Cruiser, in case you were wondering) to any body shop and get it fixed. He then spent over an hour on the phone with the body shop. Then he set up his rental car, then he was on the phone with the body shop again, and then he was on the phone with the store again. My impression of this guy is that he has lousy credit and is way too prissy and demanding.

So the next time you’re on the phone discussing your venereal disease, emotional instability or bad credit, remember that the person in the cubicle next to you can hear everything.

Give Servers a Break

I’m an avid listener of KFAB radio (except for Rush Limbaugh), but two hosts irked me today. Strangely, they were discussing the same general topic.

During my morning drive to work, I listened to Scott Voorhees complain about servers who won’t split checks. During my drive home, I listened to Tom Becka berate his server at lunch today because when she picked up the check she asked if he wanted change. He apparently hates when servers do that and considers it server sin.

I was a server for 15 years. I quit waiting tables two years ago because it wasn't fun anymore. I told the manager when I gave my notice that it wasn't him or the restaurant. It was the customers. People had become ruder, meaner and cheaper than I'd ever seen them. It wasn't worth being treated so terribly for a little bit of extra mad money.

I’ve always said that you shouldn't be able to eat in full-service restaurants unless you have waited tables one night in your life. And on a Friday or Saturday night, not a sleepy Monday. People would be much kinder to servers if they did. Mr. Voorhees would understand why splitting checks sucks, and Mr. Becka would understand a server trying to save a few steps.

First, the matter of separate checks. Voorhees stated that when businesspeople go out, they typically need separate checks so they can each put the tab on their expense reports. That usually only occurs when businesspeople from the same company go out. When a businessperson is taking out a client, the host pays. That’s relatively irrelevant, though.

As a server, I didn’t mind separating checks for businesspeople. First, they generally tell the server right away that they’ll need separate checks and why. Second, they aren’t asking for separate checks because they’re cheap, so they still tip well.

Ninety percent of the time, however, the people asking for separate checks are A) bitchy women lunching together, B) old grannies lunching together, C) couples dining together or D) an extended family dining together. In each case, they want separate checks because, god forbid, someone might pay 25 cents too much or end up paying for half of their friend’s glass of wine. In all these cases, servers dread separate checks because the people are cheap.

I’ve worked in restaurants with handwritten tickets and with computer systems. Either way, separating checks is a tedious, time-consuming task — especially if they don’t ask for separate checks until the end of the meal. Then the server has to sort through the one long check and figure out who drank and ate what, then go back to the table and ask who’s paying for the appetizer because most computer systems don’t split the cost of an individual item. It would be fine if the process was nice and quick. But it’s not.

Some restaurants automatically add the gratuity on split checks. This is because they know that most people who want split checks are cheap, and if the server has to go through the splitting process, they sure as hell want a decent tip. Generally the guests get pissed off about the added gratuity because ... they’re cheap and would have undertipped.

Frankly, I’ve never understood why people think they need separate checks except for expense reports. You’re telling me that you can’t look at the check and add up the cost of your items in your head? I’m horrible at math and even I can manage that. If your wine is $8.95, call it $9 and move on to the next item. Are you really that worried about overpaying by a nickel? If you have a regular group with whom you dine, can’t you just split the check evenly? Sure, Susie’s entree may have been $10 and yours and Beth’s $8, but there will be a time when yours is $10 and theirs are $8 or when you have more drinks than they do. It all works out in the end. Mostly, stop wasting time acting petty.

Consider this: The table next to you wants four separate checks, and they announce this after the server drops off the check. (Unfortunately, this is usually what happens.) The server then has to go figure out who had what and write up new checks. In the meantime, your water glass is empty and you really want more butter for your baked potato.

Ten minutes later, the server finally drops off the separate checks and makes it back to your table. You’re parched and your potato is cold. Don’t blame the server. Blame the jerks who needed separate checks. Don’t feel singled out, either; another table will also have empty water glasses and no butter when the server has to make change and run credit cards for the jerks. The moral of this story: Don’t be a jerk.

On to Becka’s gripe. His knickers are in a twist because his server picked up the check and asked if he wanted change. His bill was $40, and he put down $50. Plenty of people would leave the rest for the tip. It’s not like he put down $60 for a $40 check, in which case, the server most likely would have assumed that he wanted change. Very few people tip 50 percent.

The most outrageous part of Becka’s complaint is that he intended to leave the server the change all along. He didn’t want change. However, because he considers making change part of a server’s job, he made her bring his change. Then he left it for a tip. Even though he left a great tip, I would have been ticked off that he made me bring change while Table 10 needed refills on their sodas.

It was the lunch rush. She was busy. She was just checking to see whether he needed her to run to the bar and get change or if she could go fill the water glasses at the next table. She wasn’t trying to get a bigger tip. She wasn’t trying to cheat him. She just wanted to think ahead and determine whether she would need to ask someone else to fill the water glasses.

Becka said it makes him feel cheap when a server asks if he needs change. That’s not the server’s intention and he’s unusually sensitive about feeling cheap. There’s a good chance the server didn’t even look to see how much money was in the book and just asked. Honestly, it’s not a big deal.

The overwhelming number of callers found nothing wrong with the server’s question and said Becka was too upset about it. One caller did call in to the show with the best solution: When servers pick up a check, they should say, “I’ll be right back with your change.” That gives the customer the opportunity to say, “No, I don’t need any change” without offending people like Mr. Becka.

Most servers truly are trying to give their guests great service. After all, they make less than $3 an hour, so they rely on tips to pay their bills. Diners can do one small thing for a group of people who work hard for their money and for whom timing is everything: Don’t waste their time.