Night of the Big Snit-Fit

Several nights ago, I was unloading the dishwasher when my wife came home. As is my wont, I was cursing up a sailor's storm while tossing the dishes around. (It's not that I hate the job of unloading the dishwasher so much as my back despises it, call it the ravages of getting old.)

I plead with my wife, "Can you please help me?"

She jumps in. While I'm bending over the lower deck (and why geniuses haven't decided to create dishwashers for tall guys is beyond me), I yell, "My back can't take this any more! You finish it!"

I go sit down. My wife follows me. Exasperated, I toss my arms up. "What? You're not going to finish unloading the damn dryer?"

Calmly, she says, "As soon as you're done being snitty, we can finish it together."

"I'm not being snitty! You're being snitty!"

"Oh, you're soooooo being snitty."

"Am not," I reply in a very anti-snitty, mature manner. "If anyone's snitty, you're the snittiest."

"You're Frank Snitty!"

"You're snitty, gritty, lower than any dirt band!"

"You constantly wallow in the Secret Life of Walter Snitty!"

I held up two finger guns. "Snitty, snitty, bang, bang!"

"Are you quite finished with your snittiness yet?" she asks.

"No! Because I'm not snitty! I'm the anti-snitty! There's an aura of snittiness surrounding you! You're just swimming in your own snittiness!"

This went on quite a while. Much to do over a tiny little word like "snit."

Which sent me hurtling--hurtling, I tell you!--toward the nearest electronic device to consult with my research assistant, Ms. Google.

A snit is defined as a fit of irritation or a sulk, hence the term "snit fit." Furthermore, the word derives from the Proto-Germanic word "snidaz," which means to cut, slice, or piece. Yow! First of all, I had no idea there were so many variations of the German language. Secondly (and an even bigger Yow!), "snidaz" sounds more like Norman Bates on holiday, rather than a little sulk.

I'm glad my wife and I called a halt to our (she would have you believe it mine alone) snit-fit before the knives came out.

But something still seemed wrong. I always thought a "fit" referred to a voluntary or involuntary physically violent altered state, you know, the classic rolling on the ground, pounding your fists over the floorboards, moaning and crying and shrieking to the unfair Gods of Mean Parents about how you never get to watch Star Trek on TV and instead have to suffer through yet another geriatric, boring detective show (not that I speak from experience, mind you). It's hardly fitting behavior when teamed with a "snit," a mere irritant. Aren't we treading softly into the land of Oxymoronia?

Back to Ms. Google I raced for the answer, who defined the term "having a fit" as being very angry or shocked. Well. I wasn't really angry at the dishwasher, more than just in pain at having a sore back. I definitely wasn't shocked at the resultant dishes (other than a few that stubbornly refused to come clean no matter how many times we washed them). And, of course, I never resorted to floor rolling (although knives sprang to mind a couple times). So...is what I experienced even remotely close to a "fit?" Furthermore and henceforth, the combined definition of the words "snit fit" means being irritated to the point where you're reaching for the knives (so, sooooo close at hand in the dishwasher...) to resolve your irritation.

Such a cute, little phrase. Such a deadly consequence.

Ahoy, matey, lots of deadly consequences arise in my darkly satirical serial killer trilogy, Killers Incorporated, resulting in--you guessed it--numerous snit-fits that don't end well for the intended targets. Knives come out, heads are dropped and swapped in lots of serial killer cat 'n mouse games. Start with the beginning, Secret Society (available here and other fine on-line book sellers, because all brick and mortar bookstores are as dead as most of the casts of my books), and read 'em all. Go on. Whaddaya waiting for? I'll wait right here until you're done. Don't make me have a snit-fit! You won't like me when I have a snit-fit! 

 

Crime in our Time of Quarantine

The other day my wife tore herself away from perusing the latest electronic headlines with a gasp. "I can't believe it," she said.

Used to our president's daily cup of lunacy, I sighed, replied, "What's he done now?"

"No, for once it's not him," she said with a head shake. "Even during this pandemic, people are still shooting each other."

My wife is one of the last truly noble idealists. 

But I'm not. It all made perfect sense to me. It took all of my control not to go over there, muss up her hair, and give a Mr. Cleaver condescending "don't-worry-your-pretty-lil-head, June" chuckle over it all. (But I knew better...besides, now would be the absolute WORST time to end up in the hospital with a head concussion.)

For you see, an increase in crime during the quarantine makes perfect sense to me.

I ticked off the reasons. "Law enforcement is thinly stretched and I would imagine taking precautions themselves, thus hindering their ability to perform to the best of their abilities. Also, since most employees are at home now, places are ripe to be robbed. Crooks can just break into a bank, no security guards, no risk of getting shot. And criminals are a cowardly and superstitious lot...wait, that's "Batman"...I mean, crooks are predators."

As she thought about it, I could see her unflagging faith in the over-all goodness of humanity dim a bit. "Yeah...I suppose. And with everyone wearing masks, it's harder to identify them. Plus, they have an excuse to wear gloves, so no fingerprints."

(If my wife ever decided to go over to the dark side, she'd make a great criminal mastermind with her devious mind.)

Further case in point, recently my daughter sent me a list of scams taking advantage of the ongoing pandemic. There are stimulus check scams: these scumbags are asking for bank and personal information or even going as far as to ask for a fee! Honestly, unless your personal check has the Orange One's personal signature on it (along with an accompanying orange Dorito make-up thumb-print), it ain't kosher.

Scammers are also imitating health organizations and selling fake supplies and/or once again, asking for personal financial information. There are charity scams, hospital and provider scams, the list goes on and on.

This is truly vile and reprehensible behavior. I mean, daring and ingenious heists are one thing, but this? Taking advantage of a world's collective fear is beyond even an Ocean's 11 type of starry-eyed, Hollywood-styled romance.

I've even heard fear-mongers discussing the possibility of the United States adversaries taking advantage of our vulnerability during this time.

America's leadership isn't helping. Our commander-in-chief is so busy covering his own arse, he's creating his self-created "fake news" by making up stories daily and pointing fingers at everyone except for himself, blaming the virus on China, Democrats, Obama, journalists, and...oh, I dunno...the movie Cats, maybe?

Enough! White flag waving! 

On the other hand, I hear a lot about the generosity of many people from all walks of life. Millionaires donating scads of money (hear that, Trump?). Poor people volunteering to help. Communities coming together, supporting, and helping to bring food to the elderly. People are lining up in the streets (taking necessary precautions, natch) and applauding the brave health-care givers at the ends of grueling shifts. Likewise, this list of kindness goes on and on.

Maybe my wife has the right idea after all.

Be safe. More importantly, be kind.

(Week five of captivity and bored outta my gourd! Who woulda ever thought eating, drinking, and binging Netflix could get so boring? Somebody take Tiger King...please!)