Pet Peeves-Belts

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By Mark D. Crantz

Laguna.  Another perfect day in Paradise, but then there are the Belts.  Oh, no! Before I retired I never gave much thought about belts. They held up my pants just fine without any direction from me.  I just buckled up in the morning and was good to go. Of course, I had a white-collar job and there was little physical exertion that would test my belt under strenuous conditions.  I suspect plumbers have a more difficult time with belts.  I haven’t met a plumber who didn’t crack me up.  According to Angie’s list, greater crack exposure corresponds with higher ratings from housewives who should know. Wives are always stuck calling plumbers. Husbands know little about general plumbing and zip about their wife’s plumbing.  Some free advice men. Forget the pool boy. Worry about the plumber.


At the top of my professional game I owned two belts, brown and black. All other belts were had during happy hour. These belts varied depending on how many schmucks I had to deal with on any given day.  Interestingly, schmucks don’t believe in belts. They worship Sansabelt. Sansabelt is self-adjusting for everyday use, like when schmucks go to “In and In” Burgers.  For them the only “Out” is the grating sound of their self adjusting sansabelt which freed them up to harass me with “I’ll gladly pay you Tuesday, if you do my work and yours today.” Wimpy schmucks.


This brings me to my latest pet peeve. Laguna belts, blue and green. These bright belts took me by surprise, although I had a little experience outside brown and black. My brother wore a white belt. Not surprisingly, we’re estranged.  Last I heard, he’s doing fine in Barstow, where white belts are good in all seasons, hot, hotter, hottest, and dear God my belt’s on fire.  Sorry, patient reader, I digress.


When I retired, it was quite the send off. The office ‘Open’ sign was replaced with a ‘Gone Fishing’ sign. The go away gifts were spinning reels, lures, tackle boxes, and books about coastal fishing.  Imagine my surprise when I read that the Blue Belt bans Laguna fishing. From what I understand, Crosby, Seals and Nash need more fish.  From the look of Crosby, I’d say he’s had his limit. And this Blue Ban has some piranha teeth in it. There’s not even a ‘catch and release’ provision, which is too bad for me.  I have some experience with the ‘catch and release’ program.  Before retirement, women would catch me and release me from much of my money and that’s why it took me so long to retire in the first place.  Another little known Blue ban provision provides that all Laguna restaurants replace the surf and turf entrée with turf and turf.  The only fish available will be talapia because it’s farm raised.  However, if farm raised is too organic for your taste buds, an out of school fish told me that Jessica Simpson recently reunited with her white belt wearing Dad and plan to introduce a fish replacement item called ‘Chicken of the Sea. ‘ However, Blue belt’s most tragic collateral damage will be when grandparents and grandchildren get arrested for playing “Go Fish.”


Compared to the Blue Belt, the Green Belt is not so life altering.  The Green Belt is a law that protects the land around Laguna from over development. Of course, I’m not sure how much we need this belt, because nobody can get the green to buy or build a house anyway.  Mountain cats disagree. They support the Green Belt because they need many square miles to hunt in. Not a comforting thought for Top of the World folks nearest the Green Belt.  No wonder, after a few years of out racing cheetahs, they want to get back to the safe confines of the Village.  Oh well Laguna, if a leopard can’t change his spots, do you really think I can change belts?  Here’s my new sign ‘Gone Fishing and Hunting with Suspenders.’  Catch me if you can!  And then release.



Mark is a recent transplant to Laguna from Chicago.  He occasionally writes the guest column ”Pet Peeves.”  His recently deceased collie told him in a dream he could have a pet peeve or a Chia pet.  Crantz chose pet peeves to share with Indy readers.


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