Bob Crespo

Do more guys than the average who smoke cigars all the time have a big fat lower lip? Has anybody else noticed this, or is it just me? And what came first, the big fat lower lip or the constant cigar smoking?

Do all operas end when the fat lady sings? In case I ever go to one, I’d like to be sure that’s my cue to leave. Wouldn’t want to commit a faux pas at the opera house and embarrass the lovely wife. And if that is the case, doesn’t that sort of put a lot of pressure on opera composers to tailor their stories so that they are always summed up by the fat lady? Seems like an odd choice of a narrative device. Or is it just me?

Is it just me or does anyone else notice that the bigger the SUV, the more “Support The Troops” and “God Bless America” stickers it has plastered on its rear end. Could it be that drivers of extra-large vehicles love our nation more than the rest of us?

Speaking of cars, there’s the other extreme, a teeny tiny little one called the “Smart Car” plying the nation’s highways, just a tad bigger than a bread box and just about as sturdy looking. It looks like you could store it in your hall closet when you’re done driving for the day. When you see one in heavy traffic you can’t help but wonder how smart it is to rub elbows with all the giant SUV’s and their patriotic bumper stickers wrapped in only a couple of hundred pounds of plastic and light steel. Doesn’t seem all that smart, or safe. Or is is just me?

Does anybody ever win anything playing all those video games that are eating up billions of man hours per year? Are there valuable prizes at stake? Big dough, maybe? A quick glance at the objects of the games and the complete foolishness of the whole enterprise seems to indicate that no one would  willingly waste their valuable lives in such a manner unless there was some worthwhile reward involved. Is that what’s going on, or is it just me who doesn’t get it?

Is it just me, or am I the only one on the planet who doesn’t care who gets custody of Michael Jackson’s children? Seems like there’s no shortage of family members and genetically related donors and surrogates who can step in and do the right thing. They are, after all, just 3 kids out of billions and billions of them on this earth, with nothing especially interesting about them except their eccentric genius of a father, who’s gone now. So now they are just 3 fabulously wealthy kids looking for someone to give them a home. Line forms to the left.

Then there’s the people in this world who’s reaction to Michael Jackson’s death was to worry about the animals in his private zoo. Is it just me, or is that sort the very last thing you’d worry about when a family suffers a tragic loss?  Custody of Bubbles the Chimp just doesn’t seem like much of passion-stirring cause. Who gets the ape’s expensive jewelry might be interesting, though.

Is it just me or do a lot of the Cable TV commentators seem like they are about to burst a blood vessel? Life seems pretty much the same as it’s always been, give or take a few changes here and that’s just part of life, the usual ups and downs and comings and goings. Why are these guys so angry all the time? Did someone key the side of their limos or something? Hide their sedatives? When you’re angry at everything, how can you tell what’s important to them? Is there some sort of secret meter I don’t know about that lets viewers know what’s really important to these people and what’s just regular stuff, maybe a forehead vein color chart or something?