EVEN A TERM POLICY.................... YELLville, Arkansas

Most, some, quite a bit of the below stolen, plagiarized, borrowed, copy/pasted.. it's so fun to be lazy!

United Airlines flight cancelled.  One, yes, only one, customer service agent faced with re-booking a long line of inconvenienced travelers. An angry feller swerved his way from the back of the line to the front, slammed his ticket on the counter, hollered/yelled "I HAVE to be on this flight, and it HAS TO BE First Class!" The agent replied, "I'm sorry, sir. I'll be happy to try to help you, but I've got to help these folks first; and then I'm sure we'll be able to work something out."

Unimpressed, the feller YELLED (yes, the theme today) "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHO I AM?"

Not missing a beat, the agent picked up the public address microphone, announced "May I have your attention, please?", she began, her voice heard clearly throughout the terminal. "We have a passenger here at Gate 14 WHO DOES NOT KNOW WHO HE IS. If anyone can help him with his identity, please come to Gate 14".

Yelling.  Mostly paftooey, but, just my take. Yours?

Two blondes are walking on opposite sides of a river. the first blonde yells out, "Hey How do I get to the other side of the river?" The second blonde thinks about it for a moment, then yells back. "Don't be silly, you ARE on the other side!

MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT!  ARE TOO! (Lest you forget, my blog, my last word, AM NOT!)

McDonalds, in their ever reaching quest for expediency, have done all kinda things.  Kiosks, Apps to pre-order, automatic 'drop a size large cup, pour ice, add Coke' buttons, and of course, adding a second lane in the drive thru to accommodate more, more, more. Awhile back (which, we've come to define in old people talk is 'two weeks ago or maybe 12 years ago') I was the next car in line behind the guy presently ordering, outside lane.  A car from our lane had just ordered, drove up to grab their food.  Simultaneously, the lady ordering in lane one, and the guy aheada me, finished ordering, heard "Thank you, and please pull to the first window." S'more.

3,500 pounds of steel, both lanes a goin', the guy infronta me (actually with a split second headstart) nudged up, pressing his bumper nearly on the bumper of the dude infronta him (who'd also come from our oustide lane).. lady in inside lane mebbe, probably woke up on wrong sidea bed, as she hollered "YOU MORON! IT'S EVERY OTHER ONE!!!!"

Google hollers back with "For some people, yelling may be a coping mechanism for responding to stress, anger or other intense emotions or people who struggle to manage their emotions, yelling may be a way of trying to get their point across. For those who are under extreme pressure, yelling may be the result of built-up stress."

You seen, I seen, we all seen 'em that HOLLER ALL THE TIME.  AT KIDS.  AT LIFE.  ON THE PHONE. Of course their aim is to be heard, but, after awhile, opposite effect.  Yelling.  Mostly Patooey, but, just my take. Yours?

The last one... Yes, my last GF.  I usedta kinda sorta love when cable went out.  She'd speed dial 'em, frustrate her way thru seven "press such-n-such for such", then it always ended with her, what I'd call DAMNIT LISTEN TO ME NOW tone, screamin', hollerin', YELLIN'......."REPRESENTATIVE!"

I will admit... there are those times where otherwise, patient, really kind folks have a Popeye situation ("I've had all I can takes and I can't takes no more."), then YELL, very outside of their normal comfort zone... and, ya hear "Woah, a whole new side to (enter-person's-name-here)."

"HELLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO WRESTLING FANS!" (You maybe hadta be from KC to remember..) A weekly pro wrestling affair, that, when yer a kid, u dunno if scripted or not. Scratch that, we were so young we didn't know there was sucha thing as scripted.  I LOVED LOVED LOVED the three old ladies who sat in the front row and HOLLERED at the toppa their lungs to the ref when onea the rastlers cheated!

"Facebook lets me be lazy the way a man in a stereotypical 1950s office can be lazy. Facebook is the digital equivalent of my secretary, or perhaps my wife, yelling at me not to forget to wish someone a happy birthday or to inform me I have a social engagement this evening."  Sarah Jeong

I Googled "Facts about yelling"........ up popped a ton of Danger Will Robinson-like warnings: "Please don't yell" Psychology Today...   "Trauma response to being yelled at" Verywell Health..  "7+ psychological effects of being yelled at (repeatedly)..   and I hear all that. I guess I was lucky, my folks didn't really yell.. unless it was like me hitting snooze button for school... and I'd reached the 'you better get up' place, then mom would holler "VICTOR!"

S'more crap I stole that moms say (mebbe holler)...........

"LOOK AT ME IN THE STRETCH MARKS AND SAY THAT. ONE. MORE. TIME!"

"YOU BETTER ACCELERATE YOUR MASS IN THE DIRECTION OF YOUR ROOM IMMEDIATELY, OR, YOU WILL BE IMPACTED BY AN OUTSIDE FORCE!"

A kinda yelled warning note written on a sticky note on toppa a tin of mom's Danish Butter Cookies: "TOUCH AND DIE!"

"KEEP CALLING YOUR BROTHER STUPID AND I WILL STOP WAXING YOUR UNIBROW!"

Sometimes yelling really isn't necessary. "I told my son to behave, or I would kiss him in front of his friends."

I LOVED LOVED LOVED my Language Arts Teacher in school.  You couldn't jolt her outta kindness.  Level headed, smart, insteresting.  BUT..  she'd be reading... reading something like "My uncle Wilbur used to spend hours every day checking on the lightning rods that stood guard on the roof of his house. We get a lot of storms here in our state. (AND, if she noticed some kids not paying attention, up to and including sleeping, she'd RAISE the tone, volume, pretty much YELL the next line)  SOMETIMES WE SEE WIND UP TO SIXTY MILES PER HOUR (then return to her normal, sweet voice as by now we were all paying attention) and baseball sized hail. 

Please feel free to YELL at me if you want to as I've told this one before (I think).

Imagine if you will the cutest, biggest smile, floppy haired, brown eyed, T-Baller you ever saw, then double the cuteness, as that was Buzzy.  I was the coach, and Buzzy's dad, a very reserved, very religious, Vice President at our local college, was my assistant.  Buzzy was literally a ball of fire. Fun, enjoyment, energy, times two.  One night he was playing right centerfield - but, his energy, antics, had him running around, first, around the right-fielder, then, he'd bootscoot and circle the left centerfielder.. 

Dad was becoming uneasy. Very. "Buzzy!  Buzzy! (Trying his best NOT to draw attention from the bleachers, but, telling it to Buddy) Stop!"

Buzzy didn't stop.  He decided to visit his infielders next.  Yes, game was going on.  He ran in, tapped the first baseman on the shoulder.. laughed.. ran back to right centerfield. Next up was the 2nd baseman.  Buzzy snuck up, poked the kid in his ribs, left and right at the same time.. laughed.. .ran back to his position.

Dad's volume increased. "BUZZY!  BUZZY!  STOP IT!"

He didn't. Parents on bleachers, outta dad's sight, giggling wth their hands over their mouths.. Next up, shortstop.  Yep, stole his hat.  Tossed it down about halfway back to right centerfield.  Dad, embarassed to the beyond, by now YELLING, "BUZZY! BUZZY!  STOP IT! NOW!"

He didn't. Had his eye on the 3rd baseman.  Snuck in, over.. Stole his glove right off his hand.. running left, running right, aimlessly in the outfield..  Dad reached his boiling point.. "BUZZY! BUZZY!  STOP IT, NOW!.. then he added the dreaded "OR ELSE!"

Dead silence.  Well, for a sec anyways.  To which Buzzy stopped midun, replied, toppa his lungs, "OR ELSE WHAT DAD?" I don't remember what was said next, nor the outcome, but I remember my stomach aching for a long time from bending over laughing...   where dad couldn't see me.

As a whole, I'm not a great fan of yelling, but, like anything in life, I reckon its fun to try and find the fun, humor of it all.

I'm out.  I'll HOLLER later,

Love, Victurd