Peeves? I’ve got a lot of pets

New Haven Register (New Haven, CT) - - FRONT PAGE - James Walker Colum­nist James Walker is the Regis­ter’s se­nior ed­i­tor. He can be reached at 203-680-9389 or jwalker@ nhreg­is­ter.com. Fol­low him on Twit­ter.

I am tak­ing a break this week from writ­ing about guns and vi­o­lence, drug deal­ers and other so­cial ills of so­ci­ety.

I am go­ing to take a break this week from writ­ing about guns and vi­o­lence, drug deal­ers and other so­cial ills of so­ci­ety.

My in­box as­sures me there still will be plenty to write about next week as crime hap­pen­ing daily is as de­pend­able as the next day’s edi­tion of the New Haven Regis­ter.

And though they may keep quiet about it, I am pretty sure cops, so­cial work­ers, min­is­ters, teach­ers and the com­bined forces of non­prof­its have those days too when they just don’t want to deal with it.

So I am go­ing to switch gears and write about other things that just don’t make sense and frus­trate me as a con­sumer.

Let’s start with the ob­vi­ous fake rea­son that some big-name chain stores are us­ing that re­quire peo­ple who are pur­chas­ing cig­a­rettes to show their driver’s li­cense.

I am told by the PR flacks of one of these com­pa­nies that it is to en­sure ev­ery­one is treated equally when ask­ing for iden­ti­fi­ca­tion to de­ter­mine if you’re old enough to buy a pack.

Like the Bri­tish say, pop­py­cock.

It is clearly a tool that is be­ing used to track the age of peo­ple who are smok­ing. I am fu­ri­ous that I have to show my li­cense or leave the store and buy else­where.

A per­son would have to be blind or at the very least Mr. Ma­goo not see the gray on my head, de­spite Just for Men.

At one of these places I can even buy al­co­hol without show­ing my li­cense, so save the po­lit­i­cally cor­rect podium speech. You’re do­ing re­search on peo­ple and you damn well know it. Next up? AARP. Please leave me alone. I get a re­minder from you ev­ery week that I am over 50. I see the com­mer­cials and must ad­mit, I don’t know AARP. But nor do I want to — at least not for the fore­see­able fu­ture.

I am sure AARP of­fers plenty of “ex­cit­ing” dis­counts and op­por­tu­ni­ties, but I don’t know what they are be­cause I never open and read the mail. In fact, doesn’t AARP get the mail back? I put them in re­cy­clables.

Much like AARP, I am sick of those “no­tices” about burial in­sur­ance that come from Mu­tual of Omaha and, for that matter, the sud­den bar­rage of lit­er­a­ture I am get­ting from funeral homes.

What’s with these com­pa­nies that want to walk with you to­ward death like they’re your friends? The doc­tors at the VA hos­pi­tal in West Haven say I am in great shape, so sell it some­where else.

Speak­ing of sales, can some­one tell me when men’s feet went to a one-size-fits-all medium width?

Ev­ery time I go shopping for a pair of shoes, I can­not find at­trac­tive wide-sized shoes and think of the late, great Richard Pryor’s com­edy skit “Tight shoes are a mother...”

For some odd rea­son, shoe man­u­fac­tur­ers think all men over size 11 have nar­row feet, and I feel like I have Godzilla feet try­ing on some of these shoes. And for­get about stylish. The wide sizes I see avail­able come with grandpa styling and Vel­cro straps.

And while we are on the sub­ject, how can my size 13 feet fit per­fectly in some size 12s, but some size 13s are tight enough to make my toes curl up? Let’s move on. When did chicken wings be­come wingettes?

Has any­one else no­ticed this ruse?

I al­ways feel like I am get­ting ripped off when I or­der chicken wings be­cause a chicken wing — de­pend­ing on your eating plea­sure — comes with three re­mov­able parts — but I only get one part per wing or­der.

So, how did one wing be­come two? It’s just wrong, though I still or­der. Maybe this is one case where mar­ket­ing is ge­nius.

An­other thing that is be­gin­ning to wear me out are the long waits at the cour­tesy counter in su­per­mar­kets.

It just seems that be­tween the num­bers game, the bank­ing ser­vices and the wire ser­vices, peo­ple who are there about “food,” hence the word su­per­mar­ket, are just af­ter­thoughts. I get they have to evolve, but why can’t su­per­mar­kets have some­one on standby for peo­ple who are there for “food.”

And last — but cer­tainly not least — on my list is Arby’s. Yes, Arby’s.

How cruel can this com­pany be?

I see a com­mer­cial for this chain at least three times a day, but it doesn’t have any lo­ca­tions in Con­necti­cut near Bridge­port, where I live. The clos­est ones are in North Haven and Dan­bury.

C’mon Arby’s, I can’t take a 25or 30-mile road trip to eat a sand­wich. Ei­ther open some other lo­ca­tions or at the very least offer fast drone de­liv­ery.

Af­ter all, you have teased me enough: I want the meats!

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