Sailing, Sailing

Anyone who does one of those radio call-in-and-rant shows knows that when there's not much happening in the news (remember those days?) and the conversation is lagging, one sure way to spark things up is to drop one of these topics:

• Abortion
• Politics
• Equal Rights for LGBTQ individuals
• Gun control

Any of these topics is like tossing a lit match onto a pile of old newspapers, and within minutes there is so much smoke being blown around on the air and on the pile of old fishwraps that you can't see the farce for the tease.

There are lots of opinions around all of these topics, and believe me, I am not about to toss that match here and now.

There is another topic on which every person seems to have a firm made-up mind, and that is...going on cruises on those big ships, such as the S.S. Carnival Festival Maiden of the Far-Off Voyage, those big floating (most of the time) paradises that sail off from America (but only one of the ship lines registers its boats in the United States, to avoid the nagging consumer protection and safety laws that sane government puts in place.)

Bart Simpson watched "Two For Tunisia" on
"Colorization Theatre" to get ideas for smooth
lines to woo his teacher. 

In case you're taking a poll or something, you will sooner see me in the audience for the Staten Island Medium or whatever she calls herself than on one of those ships. I'm not the least bit interested in going places reached by sea, although I hear it's lovely in Tunisia this time of year. And that was my choice long before the news came along with stories of eColi, Legionnaire's Disease, back-up plumbing with waste matter oozing down the walls of staterooms, and people plunging 200' into the pitch black Atlantic Ocean, people who only moments before had been playing shuffleboard with a nice couple from San Jose.

Just the other day I saw a story in which some vessel had a pipe break and the crew was bailing the several feet of water in the staterooms and gangways and fo'c'sles and poop decks with blue trash cans. For the inconvenience, soggy passengers were being given their cruise money back along with a 50% discount on the next time they set sail on the Titanic or whatever that doomed ship was called.

The NEXT time! Like there would be one.

And then there are those who say that cruising on a b.a. ship is the closest thing to heaven on earth, people who mark their calendars for the next time they will be jammed in a "suite" not much bigger than an MRI machine and do a conga dance with a very nice couple from Keokuk, Iowa before Dinner With The First Mate in the Main Dining Room.

This is why it's such a wonderful world, and everyone gets their opinion and the chance to act upon it. And, again, most people, given the mention of sailing off aboard the "Lady O'Hoolahan," would either answer "No, no, no thanks," or they would twitch and shiver with eyes a-bulge at the very thought of it, like our friend on the right here...

No one ever says, "Let me think it over and let you know."