Crying All The Way To The Bank

Hello World, It seems like you just look up, and the month is gone already, and the new year is scarcely the dewy-faced fledgling that we welcomed in scant weeks ago. We find ourselves already perched on the very brink of the last weekend in January, with February champing at the bit after next Friday, and the inaugural month of 2014 will be nothing more than a memory. Of course, with not one but two visitations by the dreaded Polar Vortex to our region during the month, I can't say that it will be exactly a pleasant memory that people will have after it's gone, but the one thing you can say about the weather - if we've learned nothing else from Comrade Mischka and the Kremlin's infernal weather machine - it can always be worse, and often is just that. While we're on the topic of the weather, I'm sure everyone is looking forward (NOT) to the first cold weather Super Bowl of the modern era, to be played next Sunday at MetLife Stadium in New Jersey - rain, shine, snow, sleet or Polar Vortex notwithstanding - which was the misguided inspiration of the bird-brained NFL bigwigs, although in fairness to our fine feathered friends, even the birds know enough to fly south for the winter. Since 1969, the Big Game has been situated at a neutral warm weather city or domed stadium, in deference to the players and especially the tens of thousands of fans, so February in the wild and woolly swamps of East Rutherford is certainly going to come as a cold shock to everyone, and about as welcome as an avalanche, I shouldn't wonder. Also setting this game apart, Denver's Peyton Manning represents the first quarterback ever to make it to the Super Bowl with two different teams - which is a statistic you would think would be impossible after more than 4 decades of these contests, and the countless quarterbacks (Tim Tebow, Donovan McNabb, Joe Montana, Fran Tarkenton, Michael Vick, Brett Favre, Steve Young) who have played for more than one team in their career. And speaking of being on the same team, I was at the bank recently trying to open a new account, which a normal person might expect them to greet with some enthusiasm, especially in this economic climate, if not downright euphoria. Not so fast! Apparently, customers are the last thing they want interfering with their more important pursuits, and they have implemented a multi-phase approach to keep them at bay. First there is a greeter, whose only job appears to be to discourage customers at the door, with a surly attitude that must turn them away in droves, and who is more than willing to become belligerent if customers continue in their efforts to gain access to the inner sanctum and services therein. The more persistent customers have to be thwarted with stronger measures, and they have no lack of them at their disposal - refuse to accept proper documentation, toss meaningless roadblocks in the way, invoke specious rules and regulations, demand ever more arcane requirements out of the blue - until even the most obstinate account holder has no choice but to throw their hands up in despair and give it up as a lost cause. And mind you, this is for the purpose of giving the bank money, which you think they would welcome with open arms, I mean, heaven forbid you were trying to get money out of them instead, they'd probably call out the National Guard. I considered myself lucky to get out of there in one piece without being arrested and winding up on the front page of the newspaper. Also in the local news, that reminds me of a recent newspaper story where the writer was recalling some significant event in his life, and searching for some poignant turn of phrase, came up with this odd choice: "I'll never forget that faithful day ..... " Honestly, sometimes you just don't know whether to laugh or cry, and weeping and gnashing of teeth might not be out of the question either. But seriously, I never do understand why people try to make use of colloquialisms (baited breath, straight laced, a real trooper, another thing coming, peak your interest, nerve racking, wet the appetite, brass tax, a flare for, slight of hand, roll model, hail and hearty, to a fair thee well) when they clearly have no familiarity with the idiom, and then don't even bother to look it up and make sure that they're using it properly. (Although admittedly one befuddled scribbler, clutching vainly at the term "lackadaisical" and coming up instead with the serendipitous creation "lax of daisy," remains one of my all-time favorite typos since Gutenberg's inspired invention of movable type over 550 years ago.) Of course, before that people had no choice but to go ahead and make all of their own mistakes by hand, so it's a lucky thing that technology came along to save the day, and now we can all make so many more mistakes than ever before, and all at the blazing speeds that could never be imagined by our low-tech predecessors. This is what they call progress, and personally, I'm all for it, and I'm not just saying that as just some sort of fare whether friend, believe me. Just don't ask me to go to the bank. Elle