As the Wheel Turns... to Rust

Sometimes people, in their desire to simply have something to bitch about, will voice a complaint that, when considered more closely, just doesn't make sense. It's at these times that I have to laugh over the stupidity. Like, for example, when Republicans bitch nowadays about Democrats not taking Social Security or Medicare reform seriously. Excuse me, who has had a clear majority in both houses for the last twelve years, extending even to the White House for the last six of those years? If you thought those issues were so important, Joe Republican, why didn't you address them when you could have acted with near impunity in designing the changes the way you desired? Instead, you wait until your party implodes, then piss and moan because Dems aren't attacking the issue with the kind of gravity you suddenly deem it deserves?

Before my pointless rage escapes, let me change subjects....

When we moved to Texas, we stayed with my parents for a short time while searching for a house of our own. My father rented a storage unit about the size of Rhode Island to store not only our crap -er, valuable belongings, but those of my brother as well, who had relocated to the same area about the same time.

Now that we have our own place, the shed has become little more than a financial extravagance, so he decided to close it down at the end of March. I spent yesterday cleaning out our garage in preparation for the arrival of that last load of cra- valuable belongings, from the shed. Our nephew, who is 18 and clearly the un-coronated commander of the universe, has been storing four tires and rims for his truck in our garage for a few months now. Actually, he's been storing just about everything he removes from his truck in the garage, which I'm sure will find their way into the trash eventually; probably after he leaves for the Navy in a couple months and decides he doesn't need any of it any longer.

To make room for the craaa... valuable stuff from the shed, I moved those tires and rims to the back yard. Yes, I'm fully aware that this is a major leap toward redneck status, but as I see it they'll only be there a few months so I didn't even bother to place them in a "good spot" in the yard. They simply stacked right next to the fence door, so as to require the minimum amount of effort to remove when we sell them after our nephew's in the Navy.

Today our nephew noticed that the tires had been moved.

"What the hell? Why are they back there?!"

"Because we needed the space for all the shed stuff."

"You could have at least asked me to move them. Those are $400 per tire!"

"Why is their being back there such an issue?"

"Because they'll get wet and dirty sitting out there in the rain and weather, that's why!"

This last part he said as he was storming out the door to leave. If I had to venture a guess, his real issue was that he had shown up with his buddy to go ride dirt bikes and didn't expect everyone to be home. His buddy doesn't have a dirt bike and our nephew only has his own. But also in that garage is a competition quality Kawasaki dirt bike that belongs to my brother. That he's been told by his father that he's never allowed to use that bike doesn't matter to the Supreme Commander. And we're convinced that if we hadn't been home, my brother's bike would have left in the bed of the Commander's truck and he was more than just a little peeved that now his buddy and he would have to share the one bike. His attitude seems to suggest sometimes that as far as he's concerned, as long as he can return it before anyone knows he took it, it shouldn't be a problem that he took something that doesn't belong to him.

Since we were home, that wasn't possible and the Supreme Commander was merely searching for something to be peeved about because as I watched him drive away down the street, his comment about his tires being ruined still floating in the air, I thought "um... 'scuse me, but isn't the proper place for those things the outside of the vehicle? Where they will come in contact with rain and mud?"

Pardon me while I go jab myself in the forehead with a fork.