Today’s Tirade: Nothing in General

Image about why the brain needs sleep
According to the latest research, the brain’s needs sleep to purge neurotoxins manufactured during waking hours, doing all the things it does to regulate and motivate the body. When a person sleeps, the brain shuts down in parts which open canals to flush out these impurities. Upon one’s arising, the canals become buried in the gray matter, now swelling with activity and stopping the flow of toxin removers. These waste products, if not removed, accumulate and attach to brain cells, destroying them slowly, which causes dementia-like diseases such as Alzheimer’s.

Makes sense to me, just like in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, during Bike Week. The bars close for two hours daily for sanitary cleanup. Imagine drinking in a bar for more than twenty-two hours straight? I don’t think it can be done without becoming almost brain-dead. The bar needs cleansing for two hours or else they’ll lose their license, like the brain would lose it lease on life without sleep for very long, nor in regular portions.

The preceding really has nothing to do with my forthcoming diatribe, only for the fact that venting and having a blessed tirade once in a while is necessary for a healthy psyche, especially mine, or else I become extremely cynical, which is most of the time anyway. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been well over a month since my last tirade. For my penance I must bitch about something which leads into this rant and rave.

Things that get my goat:

      #1 My neighbor has a key-less-entry device for his car that whistles twice every time it’s activated. He’s a bit anal for checking to see if the doors are locked at least three times before entering his flat on the floor below me and slamming his apartment’s door. Then as he walks to his car, he has to electronically open it at least three times before getting in, sometimes talking on his fooking cell phone on the outside of his vehicle while pushing the key-less entry a few more times. All this frigging whistling is driving me nuts. I’ll probably never mention it to him. He’s a soldier stationed nearby and I wouldn’t want to get him riled.

      #2 I’ve been pushing off doing the dreaded food-shopping as usual. There aren’t very many things I hate worse, except for that occasional colonscopy, not to mention the prep on the night before. The inconsiderate people who block the aisle with their shopping carts, standing along side it with that deer-in-the-headlight appearance while trying to decide which prune juice to buy are one of the main reasons for my procrastination, but also for the irregularities and pricing of the supermarket’s products. Have you noticed the cost of prune juice lately? Not that I buy it, of course. I suppose a sub-order is necessary here:

        A. Why aren’t toothbrushes made to fit in the bathroom’s cup-holder slot anymore? They’ve expanded the girth for whatever reason is beyond me.

        B. Ever notice that your regular-size rolls of paper towels are sometimes marked with the claim they’ve increased the amount of sheets per roll? OK, I’ll give that to them, but the size of each sheet had been shortened by half, and the rolls look smaller than they used to.

        C. The same goes for most products. Notice their containers are smaller by an ounce or two for the same price or even higher than their full-sized predecessors.

      #3 This is really insignificant, but why do social-media typist and texters leave a space between the last letter of the last word in a sentence and an exclamation point? I’ve even seen it done with question marks !

      #4 Lastly, related to #2, faulty cardboard-zip tabs on boxes supposedly easy to open, tend to shear in half, leaving the box sealed, requiring the usage of my trusty pair of surgical scissors slice it open. Then there’s the zip-lock bags, containing lunch meat and such, that tear open below the zipper, causing extraction of the contents and transplanting to another cellophane containment, all unnecessary wastes of time, energy and annoyance.

    My job is done now. I’ve fully vented and paid my penance for another month or so. What’s beneficial about having a tirade from time to time is seeing that one’s life ain’t so bad after all and things could definitely be a lot worse, indeed. Until the next time, happy trails to you.

About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at
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