The World is Going to Hell: I have always had the sneaking suspicion that I am going to end up one of those old guys who does nothing but grouses and spews invective all day long. Hopefully, I would be a little more classy about it than your standard issue knee-socks-and-sandals geezer, maybe something like Dr. Gregory House, or possibly John Geilgud's Hobson from Arthur. But I don't think it was until the past week or so that I finally realized why people end up that way. It's really because you have no choice.

Now bear in mind I am coming off a weekend where I got my rebates rejected by Best Buy, official retailer of Satan, and ended up having to drop $300 to deal with flat tires. This week I have the pleasure of getting pimp-slapped by the world yet again.

Here in the bone-dry Midwest winters, one practical luxury you can treat yourself to is a humidifier. It keeps you from waking up in the morning cacking from a dry tongue and bleeding from 2-inch deep crow's feet. I buy a new one every year, because the water here is so heavily laced with lime that by the end of the winter, the moving parts are all cemented together.

I have now purchased two of them this year and neither one has functioned properly. I don't know about you, but waiting in line to return small appliances makes for a joyful weekend in my book.

And today, I discover my condo association has unanimously decided to levy an extra $700 assessment this year to "replenish the reserve".

I had planned a couple of long weekends before the year was out, including one to my beloved French Quarter to check on progress, but now the best I'd be able to do is the Super 8 in Gary, Indiana.

Yes, I realize I am not alone in having to deal with these aggravations; that's why so many people end up as curmudgeons. You are helpless to fight this. What am I supposed to do, form a task force to improve quality control in the room-sized humidifier industry? Grab one of the greasy teenage "sales reps" at Best Buy and explain the finer points of customer service? And where, exactly, do I go to replenish my reserve?

You are powerless, insignificant. Taking action against the infuriating nature of the world gets you lip service at best, and a rubber room at worst. Reacting by spraying the source of your frustration with Uzi fire will only get you a 5x10 cell and a toothless 300-pound roommate with an extensive collection of leather goods.

What else can you do? You have to grouse. Pathetic as it is, it is the only assertion of your self-worth that is left to you. And by the time you've reached old age you have no choice but to do it 24/7 just to keep even with the world.

God only knows what is in store for me this weekend.

So. How are things with you?

This weeks picks are up. I'm slowly chipping away at my Hawaii travel essay. And I hope to get a nice fat set of links up sometime soon for your surfing pleasure.

Too bad it's all wasted on the ungrateful world. Blech!