The 8th Anniversary Edition

The Peeves just continue to mount. The way things are going, I could write a daily column. Peeves, peeves, peeves. Everywhere you look, there’s another peeve. I’ve been so peeved off lately, I’ll probably end up in one of Ashcroft’s detention camps for the severely pissed off. In eight years I’ve managed to peeve off just about everyone. You have to admit, I’m pretty good at it.

So, in the spirit of reconciliation, if I’ve peeved you off in the past, I’m sorry. Let’s let bygones be bygones. In the future – Oh, forget it. Idiots are idiots. Morons are morons. If you’re screwing up, Leave It To Peever to remind you of one of life’s more significant lessons: It is far better to have tried and failed, than to have never tried at all, so long as the Peever’s not around.

Thanks for all the support and encouragement. I could never have done it without you.

– Bumper sticker of the week: WWIII begins with Dubya.

– Ten reasons why I write the Peeves:

1. I don’t have anything else to do.

2. It helps control my homicidal urges.

3. It’s either this or Zeller, and Zeller is closed.

4. I don’t really like making people upset, but I can’t say I really dislike it.

5. I have to keep practicing. I was once diagnosed with peevaphobia – the fear of peeving. I don’t want that horrible affliction to return.

6. If I wouldn’t do this, someone else would. Why let them have all the fun?

7. It’s a better job than emptying septic tanks, although not a whole lot better. Or a whole lot different.

8. I love getting all the e-mail. Some of it even rises to the intellectual level of a baboon.

9. In the scheme of things, there’s not much more important than pointing out the utterly stupid and idiotic things that we humans can come up with.

10. In the end, I do it to validate my existence: I peeve, therefore I am.

– Back from a quick trip to Vegas. What a town! It’s surreal. The buildings are incredible. The Bellagio, New York—New York, The Venetian, Mandalay Bay. We stayed at The Paris, complete with a replica of the Eiffel Tower. You talk about fancy. I was afraid to eat the pastries, they looked like works of art. The Paris has one of the best buffets in town. I suggested to the manager that they change the name of their French fries to Quail’s potatos. and their hot wings to Bush’s Bombers. They liked the suggestions. They asked me to come up with another name for French toast. I’m thinking along the lines of Ashcroft’s Egghead Bread.

– Ten reasons why turning 55 ain’t all that bad:

1. It sure beats dying at 52.

2. I get to celebrate having been a member of AARP for 5 years.

3. Fifty-five is probably better than 85.

4. You’re getting too old to worry about impressing anyone.

5. If you still have a job, you’re probably the boss.

6. Only 7 years to early retirement.

7. Your eyes my be bleary, your hair getting thin, your teeth falling out, but by God, you can still remember the date they started selling Viagra.

8. It takes until about age 55 to start appreciating brussels sprouts.

9. People start expecting less from you at age 55. Except for your wife. She expects you to stay awake until at least 8.

10. Even with the inevitable decline of bodily functioning, I think I’ll like 56 even more than 55.

That’s eight years. Don’t you just love it?