Weighing the Weight of the World

Folks, my last few columns have been more on the serious side, so it’s probably time to lighten up this week. I’m as guilty as most people when it comes to exaggeration. Perhaps it’s human nature. For instance, have you ever heard someone say, “It felt like I was hit by a ton of bricks?” Well, unless the person has actually in the past been struck by 2,000 pounds of formed, dry clay, how could he or she relate to the experience?
The same goes for other expressions. I offer the following examples: “It felt like an anvil dropped on my foot,” “I feel I have the weight of the world upon me, “It is hotter than Hades,” and “It cost me an arm and a leg.” My favorite (if my editors will allow this to be printed) often is said in response to taking a dose of liquid medicine. It goes like this: “That tasted like s#@*.”
And why do some women keep returning to their favorite beauty parlor to get a perm? I would demand a refund if I had to keep going back to a place where I spent my good money on a service that did not live up to its name. Should not the procedure be called a “temp?”
A few years back I saw a weekend sunglasses stand at a local gas station. An attractive tent canopy and colorful signs beckoned potential customers. One of the signs read, “Lifetime Guarantee!” I wondered at the time how many states one would have to search through to hunt down these retail nomads to take them up on their guarantee if the glasses proved to be defective?
A friend of mine is pretty much bald. Pardon me, I guess the politically correct term is “follicly challenged.” Anyway, he’s thinking about growing out what little hair he has left in the back and sides and going as Albert Einstein this Halloween. Perhaps with the right makeup and hair spray he might come somewhat close. However, I told him he would never pull off the impersonation unless he took my advice. I strongly suggested to George that he not open his mouth or utter a word.
Finally, this morning I was driving through a nearby neighborhood and was stopped at a three-way intersection. A school bus was also turning off one of the streets and got my attention when it stopped halfway through the turn, beeped its horn, and the driver slid open her window. I thought that perhaps I had committed some kind of driving infraction until she politely asked me for directions. If your child is late for school, maybe now you know why.
James David Altman lives in West Ashley and has been a contributing columnist for several publications. He’s the son of the late former S.C. Republican House of Representative of John Graham Altman III. You can reach him at rabidreb@gmail.com