I recently bought a new garden hose. Big deal, right? I never said that I lead an exciting life so give me a break. I hooked it up and that’s it, at least that’s what I thought. You spray water on things with your hose and you’re done with it. At least, that’s what I have done in the past. But this time I examined the packaging that it came wrapped in. Are you kidding me? I never realized the dangers of owning and using a new garden hose.

This purchase has changed my life. One of the first things that I noticed was the health danger that this hose posed. In bold black lettering was this warning; “There is lead in the hose and according to the state of California, it can cause cancer.” What? So now using my garden hose can cause illness? They can’t make a garden hose without lead for crying out loud? They tell me to wash my hands after touching my garden hose. I wonder if I am causing damage to my plants, lawn, and flowers by the water coming out of this hose from hell.

The warning makes one think about people in other states. I live in good old New York state where apparently hoses are not a health danger, just 5 miles of interstate 90 near Buffalo are a danger.

Then I thought, what does California know that Andrew Cuomo doesn’t know? Is he keeping something from us New Yorkers because he’s been supported by garden hose makers? Have you ever seen Gov. Cuomo using a garden hose? I haven’t. In fact, I’ve never seen any leader of our country using a hose. Hmmm. Trump, Biden, Pelosi, Schumer, never once have they been spotted using a garden hose.

Another warning on the instructions is that birth defects and other reproductive harm could come from this hose. Good grief, this hose is like having my own private little Chernobyl on my porch. I guess I should warn my wife and neighbors to stay away from my new hose. It may be necessary to wear a hazmat suit to water our petunias.

Another warning is NOT to leave the hose under pressure when not attended. I do that all the time. So, if you see a mushroom cloud of water droplets over Fredonia sometime soon, you’ll know that Nin left his pressurized hose unattended.

I can see it now; the prosecutor points his finger at me and states, “Your honor, the defendant, this deplorable human being, one of society’s lowest scabs, didn’t shut off his hose at the faucet.” (There would be a great uproar by the outraged attendants at the trial. The judge demands “silence in the courtroom.” They always do that.)

The prosecutor would continue, “He left it pressurized and unattended resulting in many of his neighbors becoming homeless due to his negligence.” That statement would prompt cries of anguish in the courtroom once again and admonishment from the judge.

“What also led to this preventable tragedy was his neglect of the hose’s couplings. We have proof that he never decoupled the couplings once, no less the recommended three times a year. This man is a domestic terroristic threat to the population of his neighborhood, all of Fredonia, and all of humanity. He should have never been given the right to own a new hose. The only solution is the firing squad to bring justice in this case. And we, as a nation, must severely enforce the hose control laws to prevent another event like this from happening. The prosecution rests.”

¯ I didn’t live through the Great Depression, but my parents told me about it. If I recall correctly, there would be unemployed people standing on the street corner selling apples for a nickel. Poor souls. They should be around today and they’d get rich.

I was in a supermarket the other day with my shopping list and apples were an item to purchase. I was not shopping for gold nuggets-just apples. They were to be a few unbagged apples because bagged apples are inferior because they’re not good enough to be standing naked on a shelf to be inspected.

I saw a sign for Washington State honey crisp apples; $3.79 a pound! Little did I know that I would need a bank loan to buy apples. I picked myself up off the floor from the shock and decided to see what part of an apple I could get for my money. I weighed two honey crisps and the scale told me I could have them for $4.86. Then I thought, hmmm-America still has a ways to go to be great again if an apple cost what used to buy a prime rib dinner in 1956.

If the apple price trend continues, I expect to see a proper looking gentleman in black tie and tails attending the apple aisle. “Good afternoon, sir. My name is James and I will be serving you today. Can I interest you in one of our finest honey crisp apples? As you can see the skin is flawless. It is a delicate blend of pinks, yellows, and reds. The shape is quite elegant, slender and plump in all the right places if I may say so, myself. It is a joy to caress. Let me put this gently on the scale with great joy. Sir, I am pleased to inform you may be the owner of this jewel from fruit heaven for a mere $2.37 cents. May I gift box it for you, sir?”

¯ CNN anchor Chris Cuomo recently went off on a profanity-laced rant against a guy who called him Fredo. That name comes from the movie “The Godfather.” Fredo was the name for the dim-witted brother of the Corleone family. Chris Cuomo says that the term Fredo is the ultimate insult that can be made against an Italian man. He didn’t like the remark so he let the guy know it. It was all caught on video. Of course, what’s happening today isn’t recorded?

Chris says Fredo is comparable to the n-word in a racial slur. Oh, please, give me a break. If he wants an example of a real slur, he should’ve been here in the 1950s and met my family. They had some real humdingers to lay on you, and that was just by the ladies of my familia. After they got done with him, Cuomo would welcome the days of Fredo.

My mom would start out burying this guy with a little lacing of calling him a scungilli. You may have tasted one. A scungilli is a large snail. Therefore the image of someone who is so slow in thought or action makes him a scungilli. For example, when Joe Biden mistakes his wife for Greenland, you have seen the actions of a scungilli. When you see someone who wants to buy Greenland and gets miffed because his request was turned down, you’ve seen a scungilli.

One step higher on the ladder of Italian ridicule is one of the all-time favorites; a mammalucco or in my late family’s circles, just a mammaluke. This guy’s a chump, a mope. There are several other terms of non-endearment. You can pick out your political favorite target and fit them with the complete rundown of chooch (schmo); scungilli (snail); mammaluke (a mope) and the crown-winning, stonato (out of tune).

So stop your whining Chris; you’re bordering on leaving the land of the Fredos and entering the kingdom of the guidos.

Nin Privitera is a Frredonia resident whose column appears monthly. Send comments to editorial@observertoday.com