PSA! PSA!

I am of a certain age.

I wake up in the middle of the night and have a hard time getting back to sleep.

So I listen to the radio. That knocks me out within 30 minutes.

I have a Squeezebox Radio and a pillow speaker. Without the pillow speaker, my wife would kill me.

Without the Squeezebox, I’d have to listen to crap and it wouldn’t turn off automatically.

Squeezebox Radio rocks. Get one.

So I hear a lot of PSA’s. Public Service Announcements.

There is a whole series about how you should talk to your 2 year old, even if other people think that talking baby talk to your baby is odd. Thanks, gubmint. We parents really needed your fucking permission to talk like idiots to our toddlers without being embarrassed.

There are a lot of PSA sequels. There’s this series about animal adoption where Lassie lets Timmie get bit by rattlesnakes or drown for not being sufficiently sensitive to the plight of animals who are in trouble for issues not related to the animal’s behavior.  They say that. “Not related to the animal’s behavior.”

As long as these things invade my 330am wakefulness, I will know that we haven’t cut back on government enough.

 

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