Motivational Speakers

My drive to work today…Yes, yes, I drove the truck, okay?  Anyway, as I was saying, during my drive to work today…Oh, for Gawd’s sake, alright already!  I drove and I really should have taken the bus! Are you happy? I wasn’t green today and I wasted money as well as gas. In my defense, had I taken da bus, I wouldn’t have had the problem with traffic because I would have been in da bus lane which was unaffected by the streams of chowderheads heading down to the Seattle Center for the cavalcade of motivational speakers. In which case, I’d have had no idea whatever what to write about this evening, so just get over it and play along, okay?

Now, I don’t have anything against motivational speakers, so long as I don’t have to listen to them or deal with the insane crowds of lemmings heading in their direction beforehand like metal filings to a magnet.  On the other hand, I don’t really mind watching the dazed, glow-eyed zombies stumbling away from the venue afterward so long as none of them gets in my way, or oozes slime or chomps the head off a random bystander.

I’ve nothing against Colin Powell or Rudi Giuliani; I even read Powell’s book. But cramming myself into an arena with thousands of other people for the thrill of swiveling my head between watching his ant-sized body on the stage or his circus-sized bust up on the Jumbo-tron – I don’t think so! And who on earth would pay to see that Forbes guy speak? The guy’s as boring as a used toothpick! I’m sure Laura Bush is nice but there are lots of nice people around and I don’t think I need advice from the spouse of a failed President, thanks all the same.

Why do people need to pay someone else to convince them to get off their butts and do something useful? Is it really going to be transformative to watch a retired football player talk about “leading a team to victory” or a former news reader hold forth on how to take charge of your career? (By the way, the secret answer is: get a job as a network news reader so you’ll have hirelings to do everything but wipe your booboo and an unlimited supply of drooling sycophants to congratulate you for being you. Oh and a hair stylist, gotta have a hair stylist.)

 Don’t get me wrong – I watch Survivor, so I’m hardly in a position to flack folks for their choice of entertainment. But couldn’t they keep it in the privacy of their own homes, and stay the heck off the streets when I’m trying to get to work? Especially when I get up too late to catch the bus? Hm-m-m?