Irked In January

It’s still an irksome old world even if I haven’t done one of these posts in a few months. What do I have to kvetch about? I’m not trapped in the Viennese sewer system like Harry Lime in The Third Man. Now, that would be irksome.

Now that I’ve made the mandatory, film noir reference, It’s time for some vexatious venting.

I’m irked that New York Governor Kathy Hochul ran on abortion rights, but nominated a pro-life curious judge to her state’s highest court. Hochul ran a weak campaign and wouldn’t have won without the support of pro-choice groups who were sufficiently vexed to oppose the nominee. Some are irked enough that they might say this in 2026:

I’m irked by the Trump Derangement Syndrome that afflicts the MSM. Don’t get me wrong: I hate the sumbitch but he shouldn’t still dominate the news. It’s what he wants. Never give a spoiled brat what they want.

MSNBC’s Nicole Wallace is exhibit-A for TDS. She has an unhealthy obsession with the Kaiser of Chaos and his lies. Funny thing: she speaks highly of her former boss, George W. Bush who lied his way into the Iraq War. Maybe it’s because he has better manners than Trump, but who the hell doesn’t?

This should be the theme song for TDS sufferers:

I’m irked by folks in the Gret Stet of Louisiana who are convinced that wingnut Attorney General Jeff Landry is a shoo-in to be our next Governor. If that’s so, why are so many other Republicans entering the race? They’re not afraid of Landry. Voters shouldn’t be afraid of him either.

They should treat Landry as if he were Virginia Woolf or the Big Bad Wolf.

I am, however, afraid of Peter Wolf:

I’m irked by the concept of heavenly birthdays. Celebrating someone’s birth when they’re dead is creepy to me. I don’t believe in heaven, so why would I celebrate a heavenly birthday?

Some of you may find this vexatious, but I agree with David Byrne that heaven is a place where nothing ever happens.

I’m irked that I have to waste time on the phone with TFC (This Fucking City) just to get my trash or recycling collected. The system hasn’t recovered since Hurricane Ida after which I wrote a post called TFC: Teedy’s Trash Trouble. We still have them.

Oddly enough, it’s worse than it was after Katrina. That’s why I call it This Fucking City.

The trash mess has driven me to post a New York Dolls song:

As I was finishing the last segment, the recycling was picked up on the scheduled day for the first time in months. It’s a miracle. I need a miracle every day.

Finally, I’m irked that I’m hooked on the reality competition show The Traitors on Peacock. It combines elements of Survivor, Clue, and Big Brother. I’m on the fence as to whether it’s stupid trash or clever trash.

The Traitors is hosted by Alan Cumming and set in a Scottish castle. He’s worn some wild outfits. But it took him 5 episodes to wear a kilt. That nearly kilt me…

While we’re on the subject of Alan Cumming, I’m irked that Masterpiece Theatre no longer has full-blown introductions. Alistair Cooke and Russell Baker made those series come alive.

Now that I’ve gone from lowbrow to middlebrow, let’s go highbrow with Leonard Cohen who gets the last word:

3 thoughts on “Irked In January

  1. “Celebrating someone’s birth when they’re dead is creepy to me. “

    Both my parents and two of my sisters are dead. I don’t celebrate their birthdays, but I do remember them.

    1. Same here. My parents are both gone. I don’t need a prod to remember them.

  2. Kathy Hochul is Catholic. That’s all you need to know about her choice of an anti-choice judge.

    I’ve been listening to “I Need a Miracle Everyday” since the New Year. Of course, I live in Buffalo.

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