When asked about my position on the Israeli-Palestinian stalemate, my mantra was always, “they’re all crazy.” Done. It offered a way to avoid getting mired in a complex discussion. Nowadays, I say the same thing about our tiresome political stalemate. Nothing gets done, there’s no respect, and instead of the old talk about “the evil ones” by mad-dog Cheney, referring to the fear of omnipresent terrorists, too many people are just plain mean.

No wonder more people have pets than ever before. Dogs and cats smile at them. When my kids were little back in Maine we had two big white fluffy Samoyed dogs in a row; that’s the breed that the doggie guidebooks say “have the Christmas spirit in their hearts all year round.” Both dogs were named “Friend.” As a toddler Brook would sit on the floor with her giant “Friend” and stick her tiny hand in his mouth. (I guess it tickled because she always giggled.)

Would it be better if people didn’t talk so much? It used to be — back in the good old days — that we all kept a lower profile in public. If you didn’t think a young person with a disease who chose not to purchase health insurance should shrivel up and die, you didn’t yell “let him die” en masse at a nationally televised political debate. The League of Women Voters wouldn’t have allowed it.

What happened to them anyway? Have they gone the way of  many bipartisan organizations?

The other thing I don’t get is why parents allow screaming children to stay in a restaurant while other folks are dining out for the evening. We would always whisk a screaming child outdoors, telling her or him to use their indoor voice. There was no other way to return to the happening-place.

And my one complaint about Tucson — maybe the extreme summer heat gets to me occasionally — is talkative people in movie theaters. It always happens, I’m not kidding.

Venting is good.