Random Thoughts

Part One

Dear Unwashed Hippie Mob waiting for an unknown concert outside the Greek Amphitheater,

As you wander in your stupefied haze in search of tickets, please refrain from spilling into the street or I will run you over with my gas-guzzling V8 while sitting in my seats made from the skins of slaughtered cattle.

Part Two

To UC Berkeley, purveyor of the EIGHTY FIVE DOLLAR parking ticket:

Save yourself the phone call — I just mailed my last and only alumni donation to your Parking and Transportation division’s citation payment office.

Part Three

Dear people who refuse to use a turn signal:

Please — for the love of unwrecked cars and safe, sane streets — move your hand the two inches it take to use your blinker and let us know what you’re doing.

Closing

Yours in sanity,
Peter

Women like talking about their day, men don’t:

[As part of the study] researchers measured levels of a stress hormone called cortisol in the saliva, four times a day.

These cortisol profiles provided biological backing for a familiar frustration in many marriages. The more that women engaged with their husbands in the evening, talking about the day, the faster their cortisol dropped. But the men’s levels tapered more slowly when talking with a spouse.

The article continues on to note “A previous generation’s solution: ‘cocktail hour’.”