- When the police announce they found someone else’s body while searching for a missing person, I can’t help but thinking, “Jimmy Hoffa!? No? Not yet. It’s okay, guys. Just keep looking. You’re doing a great job.”
- Subconsciously, every time I see a newer Toyota on the road, a little voice in my head screams, “AHHH!! Toyota!!” It used to be the same voice that screamed, “I want to flip you off, you D-Bag Hummer!”
- Women who drink apparently tend to weigh less. I didn’t WANT to go beyond reading the first line of this article, but I knew I had to. Apparently, they were only talking about “seasoned drinkers” in their 40s and over. Well, OBV. Those women are crazy bored housewives. There’s nothing to do but drink and exercise. They also can probably afford way better booze then us 20-something city folk. Another reason I am never moving to suburbia. That’s where all the weird stuff happens. Give me a self-proclaimed mayor of the bums and a mid-day mugging any day.
- I get extremely angry at “movie talkers.” They are pretty much what is wrong with America. I truly believe someone should do a documentary on “movie talkers” and see what their lives are like outside of ruining mine. I’m pretty sure we’ll find them taking up two parking spots, not holding doors, and basically void of any human decency. Despite damning their souls to hell, I will still try to avoid confrontation with them as much as possible, because 8 times out of 10, they are insane. (A meat thermometer? Really? Did you just pick one up at Different Drummer’s Kitchen and forgot to drop it off at your car?) The other two times, they are drunk or under the age of 7. Or both, if you’re in Europe.
Author: loweritup
I write what's right, but in my world, I write left (handed).
Media Breakdown!
I have issues with American Idol. Firstly, idols are supposed to be people we idolize. Let’s look at what the definition of “idolize” (or “idolise” if you’re British):
–verb (used with object)
1. to regard with blind adoration, devotion, etc.
2. to worship as a god.
If you don’t see where I am headed with this, then you obviously don’t know what is wrong with people. In fact, I’m pretty sure there is a Commandment against this. Yes, just checked – “Thou shalt not have any false gods before me.”
So in case you were search for Jesus, I’m sorry, you will NOT find it in Kris Allen.
Nevertheless, you voted (more than you would vote for a politician, but that’s for another post), and you got this dude. A semi-attractive hillbilly who steals. Yes, that’s right, STEALS. While listening to Mr. Allen’s song, it was somewhat reminiscent, let me remind you:
Still a little hazy? Okay, let me add another one into the mix:
Fair enough. Not everyone is as anal about lyrics and chord progression. For those who don’t have the ear, then I’m just going to break down Kris Allen’s into the ridiculousness that it so deserves.
“Sometimes we fall down and cant get back up,
Were hiding behind skin thats too tough”
So are you saying we need help or we don’t? You’re not starting out on a definitive foot here, Kris.
“Our hearts are hungry for a food that wont come,
We could make a feast from these crumbs”
Crumbs from what? Are our hungry hearts obese and perhaps need a valve transplant? Where are these crumbs coming from? You JUST said there’s no food coming.
“And we’re all staring down the barrel of a gun,
So if your life flashed before you, what would you wish you would’ve done.”
Are we suicidal or on our deathbeds? Stop contradicting yourself in rhyming sequence!
“We only got 86 400 seconds in a day”
There’s no such number as eighty-six, four hundred. If you think there is, perhaps you should stop counseling suicidal folks.
“And if you plane fell out of the skies,
Who would you call with your last goodbyes?”
I’m pretty sure if your plane was falling, you wouldn’t have the dexterity or wherewithal to dial numbers. And even if they were on speed-dial, it’s HIGHLY unlikely you would get service.
“Looking at the hand of the time we’ve been given here, this is all we got and we gotta start thinkin it.”
Whoa, run-on sentence, Kris. Do you WANT us to look at the clock or live like we were dying? Because I’m in plane right now trying to call my life insurance agent and you’re giving incorrect subject-verb agreement. Plus I’m still hungry for those crumbs you were talking about earlier.
“Every second counts on a clock thats tickin,
Gotta live like were dying.”
Oh, thanks. That cleared it up.
“All these people right when were dead wrong,
You never know a good thing till its gone.”
You just told me I was dead, what do I care who is right? And who is gone? Me? My loved one. Am I at the funeral? Is the funeral on a plane? Are we all dying? Did you hijack the place? Are there crumbs leftover from dinner?
Stop saying eighty-six, four hundred! It’s not a number!
Wednesday’s Bad-Ass Picture
This week’s bad-ass picture.
Some things about Valentine’s Day that Hallmark doesn’t want you to know….
The story of St. Valentine is one that is shrouded in mystery and legends. The most popular legend says the Valentine was a priest who served during the third century in Rome. Emperor Claudius II decided that single men were better soldiers than those with wives and families. Claudius obviously missed that day in health class about reproduction and its necessity to perpetuate a society. Nevertheless, his decree went out to outlaw marriage for young men in his infantries. The first “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” military policy.
Being a priest, and therefore making his living off performing sacraments, this cut down Valentine’s work schedule to performing blessings on dead corpses and dipping crying babies (and adults) in Holy Water. He started to perform marriages in secret for young lovers. It was inevitable, though, that his secret would get out. Have you ever met a bride who doesn’t want to brag to her whole village about getting hitched? Claudius discovered what Valentine was up to and ordered him to be put to death.
Christians love a good martyred saint. Especially a priest who loves love. But Christians sometimes have trouble getting their stories straight. Another legend paints Valentine as a liberator of imprisoned Christians in Rome who were mistreated and often tortured. Although, it’s safe to say that no matter whom your personal savior was in third century Rome, you were pretty much treated like crap in Roman prisons. Either way, Valentine was caught and then, of course, killed.
But that’s a boring story. There’s no love. No intrigue. No mystery. No plausible plotline for a Hollywood movie starring Russell Crowe. So here’s where another legend creeps into the story-tellers repertoire. Firstly, Valentine was imprisoned for one reason or another. This part is always vague because it doesn’t matter what he did to get to prison. He could have been tossing puppies into fires or inventing hairstyles for the rich and obscure. Roman law was pretty basic. “I don’t like what you are doing. Go sit in this cold cell with your friends while I go back to building my awesome empire. And don’t conspire. We hate conspirers.”
So after he gets imprisoned, Valentine starts to get a visitor. A young girl who was probably the jailor’s daughter. Nothing says “forbidden” like a teenager in love with a criminal. Her dad was probably pissed, too. Those would have been some AWKWARD holiday get-togethers. Since Valentine was about to die anyway, he started to send the girl letters, which he signed “From your Valentine.” This is where the collective “Awwww…” comes in. “So THAT’S where we get the expression.” Never mind the 1800 years, a biblical language, and distance that separates us from that phrase – romance is everlasting and ethereal, gosh darn it! No matter the story, Valentine is often portrayed as sympathetic, heroic, romantic figure.
So if we know so little of St. Valentine, why do we celebrate his feast day in the middle of February? There are a few theories behind this. Firstly, feast days usually commemorate the birth, death, or significant event in the saint’s life (or after life, if you believe in those “miracles”). The early Church leaders were pretty random and arbitrary when it came to dates. At least that’s what they claimed. Instead, they would often look for pagan celebrations in attempt to capitalize on the rituals and lure in lost souls looking to be saved. You like your parties with the harvesting and the feasting? Well, we have better parties with magic tricks and cake. Come join us. Pretty effective PR move. Worked for Christmas, Easter, Mary’s Birthday, and All Saints Day. Why not for an archetype of love? In ancient Rome, February was the official beginning of spring and considered a time for purification. The pagan Lupercalia festival celebrates the fertility god of agriculture as well as Roman founders, Romulus and Remus, on February 15. The Christian leaders moved St. Valentine’s feast day back one day to February 14, probably hoping the celebrants would be too hung-over the next day to get up and do anything, including dancing and sacrificing animals.
But it wasn’t enough for the Christians to steal the day; they also wanted to steal some the rituals as well. During the Lupercalia festival, the elders would sacrifice a goat, cut its flesh into strips, dip it in blood, and hand it out to all the bachelors in town. The men would go around and start slapping women with the blood soaked pieces of meat. The girls went wild, because this meant to increase their fertility over the next year. And girls in first millennium Rome love nothing better than popping out babies! Hence, Beyonce’s less popular lyrics, “If you like it, then you should have put some blood on it.”
Later in the day, after being smothered with rotting carcasses, the young women from the city would place their names in a big urn and the city’s bachelors would choose the name and become paired for a year. Talk about leaving your odds to fate. Your pick could be sickly, ugly, poor, uneducated, or even worse, your cousin. But according to legends, these matches often ended in marriage. However, after the Christians got a hold of this, in 498AD, Pope Gelasius decided the Roman “lottery” system for romantic pairing was un-Christian and therefore outlawed. Love: 1. Randomness: 0.
So how did we go from chasing around girls with pieces of flesh to giving overly impersonal mass produced cards with glitter? It took a couple hundred years to get to that point. Although there are handmade valentines that have been recovered from the 1400s, it wasn’t until the middle of the eighteenth century in Great Britain where the exchange of cards and trinkets became popular among members of all classes (apparently poor folks like love just as much as the rich). Advancements in printing and cheaper postage increased the sales of valentines exponentially over the next few centuries. According to the Greeting Card Association—yes, this really exists—an estimated one billion valentine cards are sent each year. That’s a lot of glitter. To no one’s shock, 85% of valentines are purchased by women. And .005% are purchased by cats.
By the 21st Century, Valentine’s Day has become an accepted and celebrated holiday throughout most of America. Despite its Christian’s beginnings and extremely intimate sentiments, the secular “Happy Valentine’s Day” can be uttered platonically throughout the country without fear of being smacked or hearing the response, “You offend me.” Although some people say the latter no matter what. Don’t take it too personally. So why are certain items more prevalent than others on Valentine’s Day? Because of advertising. Not surprisingly.
Jewelry – “A Diamond is Forever” was coined by a young female copywriter in 1947 and is considered the most successful advertising slogan of the 20th century. Before diamond engagement rings, proposals often included offerings of cattle, land, and other gemstones in exchange for a family’s daughter. Ahh, the good ol’ days. De Beers had a bunch a diamonds they couldn’t sell and decided to convince generations of women that diamonds don’t break, disintegrate, or lose value (they do) just like love. Obviously it worked. Since diamonds and other jewelry have become synonymous with romance, it was only natural that advertisers upped their ante around the most romantic day of the year.
Chocolate – Chocolate makers in the 1800s realized no one was buying their confections between Christmas and Easter, which did not look good for their first quarterly profit. Richard Cadbury is credited with creating the first heart shaped Valentine’s Day chocolate box in 1861. Chocolate has also been proven good for one’s health in moderate amounts. Chocolate contains organic substances known as alkaloids. The most important of these substances is theobromine, which works as a stimulant to the kidneys. Another important substance found in chocolate is phenylethylamine, which is part of a group of chemicals known as endorphins. Endorphins have an effect similar to amphetamines and are found naturally in the human body. When endorphins are released into the bloodstream, the mood is lifted and feelings of positive energy are reached. Dark chocolate is shown to be a cancer killing agent while a newer study suggests that eating moderate amounts of chocolate once a week can lower your stroke risk as well as the risk of dying from a stroke. Although “Happy Valentine’s Day, hope you don’t have a stroke” doesn’t have a romantic appeal, one can assume that if you’re giving chocolate, the receiver will be happy no matter what.
Conversation Hearts – Sweethearts, as the candy is known, are made by the Necco Company since the 1860s when the founder designed a machine that could print sayings on the candy like a stamp. Originally, the candies were used only as wedding favors, but in 1902 they became mass produced when the company figured out a way to mold the candy into hearts, hence the name “Sweethearts.” Presently, Necco produces the hearts from late February though mid January of the following year. Approximately 100,000 pounds of hearts are made per day, which sells out in about six weeks. That’s a lot of “Be Mines”. Stalkers across the world rejoice.
Flowers – The history of sending flowers on Valentine’s Day is said to come from the 17th century. A daughter of Henry IV of France gave a party in honor of St Valentine. Each lady received a beautiful bouquet of flowers from the man chosen as her valentine. Roses have become the most popular bouquet given and the color of the rose conveys a different means, including how many are in the bouquet.
Red – Sincere love and respect; courage and passion
Good way to say “I Love You” without the risk of being rejected. Although, that might defeat the whole “courage” thing….
Pink – Grace and gentility; the rose of sweet thoughts. Deep pink shows appreciation and gratitude. Light pink roses convey admiration and sympathy.
So if you send a mix bouquet, are you saying “I was thinking about you, but then I felt sorry for you. Here are some flowers”?
Yellow – Friendship, joy, gladness, and freedom, a proposal or the promise of a new beginning. In Victorian times, yellow also meant jealousy.
If I lived in Victorian times, I would just send these to a single friend and say, “I’m jealous that you have freedom. What are your thoughts on killing my abusive husband?”
White – Spiritual love and purity, the rose of confession, the bridal rose; “you are heavenly” or “I am worthy of you.”
I get why these are used as a traditional bridal bouquet, but I feel like it might be sending mixed messages too. “I have something to confess…” never ends well. Especially when it’s the start of a toast at the reception.
Lavender – Love at first sight and enchantment.
Here are some purple flowers to let you know I’m watching you…
Orange – Passionate desire, pure enthusiasm, and fascination; often given as an indicator to pursue a new relationship. Also a business partnership
I don’t know about you, but if I got a bouquet of orange flowers, I’d be more confused than anything else. Not willing to start a business venture.
The meanings behind the numbers of roses in a bouquet came from the strict Victorian courtship rituals. While most don’t know this today, I’m going to guess if you’re asking for 999 roses, you’re pretty darn committed to the person. Or should be committed.
1 Rose – Love at first sight or devotion to one person.
2 Roses – Mutual feelings of love and affection.
3 Roses – “I love you.”
6 Roses – “I miss you.”
7 Roses – Infatuation.
9 Roses – Together forever.
10 Roses – Perfect love.
11 Roses – You are my treasured one; the one I love most in my life.
12 Roses – One dozen roses is a declaration of love and appreciation.
13 Roses – From your secret admirer or “we are friends forever.” Well, I was expecting a little more romantic than that…
15 Roses – I am truly sorry, please forgive me. What happened between 12 and 15!?!
20 Roses – Believe me, I am sincere towards you. No seriously, what did you do?
21 Roses – I am devoted to you. If the 15 and 20 roses didn’t work the first time.
23 Roses – Saying “I love you” with great affections. I get it, you love me. How about something else to show your affection? My house smells like a funeral home.
24 Roses – Two dozen roses says “I belong to you” or “thinking of you 24 hours a day.” Still smothering, but I think we’re on our way to something good here…
36 Roses – Head over heels in love or “I cherish our relationship.”
40 Roses – “My love for you is genuine.”
50 Roses – Unconditional, boundless love. If you didn’t think I was serious before.
100 Roses – Represents a century and says “I want to grow old with you.”
108 Roses – Proposal of marriage. It’s about time.
999 Roses – Eternal and everlasting love. And also a controlling share in a flower shop.
Mixed drinks and techno beats…
Have you ever walked into a place and thought to yourself, “Oh these people are going to be really annoying unless I start drinking. I don’t care if it’s church and it’s 10 o’clock in the morning.” I made an observation similar to that when I went out last week. I had obviously entered a venue that had been saturated with mixed drinks and techno beats long before I showed up. So instead of getting smashed immediately (that would come later—It was Tuesday night after all), I decided to take in the scene a little bit. Eventually I began to feel a little bit more sympathetic towards bartenders, bouncers, late-night fast food workers, and overnight building doormen. Anyone having to deal with people who can’t hold their booze (or “drink responsibly,” a d-bag way to put it) must have a special place in heaven reserved for them.
As I watched people try to text message last night in a bar with one eye open, yelling at t9 for not letting them spell “Jäger-bomb,” and basking in the bright blue glow of the cell phone screen that is flattering on almost no one, I started to wonder about drunken communications in the past. It couldn’t have been much different then today with misinterpreted meanings and regrets in the morning.
Telephone (Drunk Dialing): Probably the point when drunken communications came to a head. Dialing 7 to 10 numbers (more if you’re an international drunk dialers, or three if it was 1908) comes easy enough, but the receiving end of the call usually knows immediately if the caller is intoxicated. Although still remains in effect today, text messaging has slowly infiltrated the once dominant form of communication for ex-lovers and low self esteem co-eds on Friday nights.
AIM (Drunk Typing): Had a surge in the early 2000s, before the Facebook/MySpace wall posts came into effect. Still remains strong today. Similar to text messaging in that you must have both the dexterity and the consciousness to make the person on the receiving end not suspect how many rum and cokes you had that evening. A few rookie mistakes were often CAPITAL LETTERS AND NOT UNDERSTANDING HOW TO TURN THEM OFF. UsiNg the ShiFt Key $tim^s too liberally. Overusing emoticons 🙂 😉 “-( —no one likes a tool(bar). And lastly, just nonscensical and mistiped ramblings about wut an amazzzingg purson u r and how the othur person is just so gosh darned amazzingg 2 and y dun’t u guys hang out anymore like u used 2 in high school omg remember that time we stole that shopping xart from the supermarket and went around collecting lawn gnomes and then left them all on fFrankie’s front porch and he was –Ur4MerBud has signed off.
Telegram (Drunk Dots and Dashes): Besides risking danger of never knowing when to say STOP, the room for error was too great. If you don’t have enough reaction time steer your horse and buggy, you probably don’t have the agility and accuracy to create a well thought out message. “I miss your lovely faces and vibrant banter” could easily become “I miss your lovely feces and vagrant panther.” Chivalry is dead because it probably never existed in the first place.
Carrier pigeon (Drunk War Correspondence): I see nothing good coming from releasing a bird into the night with battle plans drawn up by someone who is probably intoxicated with moonshine, asbestos, and lead paint.
Letter Writing (Drunk Calligraphy): I’m sure there were many a love note started in the middle of the night with one’s quill pen, but hopefully the person would either come to their senses or pass out before getting a chance to mail it. Although, I’m sure on more than one occasion a servant was woken by the master of the house whom had just professed all their emotions onto the finest parchment for a fine lass down the road who’s becoming marriage material on her fourteenth birthday.
I’m sure smoke signals, singing telegrams, and building intercom systems had their heyday as well.
A Victim Can Die Twice – March 2008
“Those who do not remember history are condemned to repeat it.”
In our lifetime, we are sure to see the death of the last of so many survivors: those of the Holocaust, those of the nuclear annihilation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and those of the internment camps in America. This is inevitable. However, we will never see the death of Neo Nazism, fascism, dictatorships, and modern warfare. Just as victims’ stories and legacies are passed from generation to generation, so is hatred, imperialism, and technologies that will harm our human race. World War II was not a mistake we can learn from, but a breeding ground for evil and hysteria. The after effects are so substantial, that we are still too closely connected with it to understand its true implications.
This connectivity is still so evident today. A woman in San Francisco was deported this week because it was revealed that she was a concentration camp guard. She is 83. Do we, a country that tortures its prisoners, spies on our citizens, and are fully aware of organizations such as the KKK formulating, have the right to ostracize this woman? It is a rhetorical question of biblical proportions. We looked the other way as we imprisoned our own citizens because of where they came from on so many occasions just in the past century, that it is hardly our place to cast the first stone. We justify our actions as the prevention of future atrocities in other nations but we rarely step in to the rivers filled with blood, the modern genocides happening today. We have equated imperialism with freedom fighting, while in reality we are actually just colonizing. We are repeating the mistakes of our British fathers, and soon, just like them, we will suffer the same fate: our empire will crumble.
It’s not a matter of doom saying, it’s a matter of cycles. The sooner we are aware that we are not invincible, the sooner we can accept that history isn’t just something we learn about, it is something we can learn from. Germany wanted to create a superior race. We want to create a superior force. When the last bullet is fired and the last body is counted, in the end, there’s not much difference.
Learned Yourself Here! – January 2008
Dear Immigrant (Legal or Illegal, I don’t judge – this is an open letter),
Hello and welcome to America. Now that you have mastered perfect English, please proceed to Amazon.com and learn how “real Americans” speak. There are 1807 results for “slang dictionary,” 151 results for “gay dictionary” and 52 results for “star trek dictionary.” I believe that covers it all. But wait, there’s only one (very) misdirected result for “pop culture reference dictionary.” Why, you may ask (or “Por que,” you may ask if you haven’t learned that word yet). Because in this country, you gotta be quick. In order to laugh at those jokes Mr. White and Mr. Whiter-Thanwhite make around the break room you have to watch as much television, go see as many movies, look at as many magazines, and listen to as many popular artists at possible. Sometimes, to save time, you will have to do this simultaneously, while driving. And talking on your cell phone. And eating. And disciplining your kids. Don’t be overwhelmed. Soccer moms do it all the time. They do it by stealing their kids Ritalin and knocking it back with a fifth of vodka. But those are expensive. So I’m going to help you out. Here is a preliminary list or terms that may not be in circulation yet, but they will be. You can make book on that, missy. (Did you get that one? No? You are way behind.) This set deals with popular television series. You don’t necessarily need to be familiar with the television shows or their characters or premises to use these terms. Just the mere mention is sure to get a laugh out of your boss/landlord/parole officer/that INS agent shoving you in the back of a black van. So start studying. Because remember, they will never accept you as a true American until you can spit out as many pop culture references as possible.
1. arrested development
n : an abnormal state in which development has stopped prematurely.
Also refers to the Fox Television show by the same name that ran from 2003-2006.
HOW TO USE
A. Refers to a joke that no one gets because it was too smart for them.
ex: I didn’t get the one about Rumsfeld and Clinton that Larry told at the party last night. It must have been an arrested development.
B. Refers to something that is cut down in its prime because no one appreciated it.
ex: John was such an arrested development. It’s a shame he got shot by that crossbow at his CD release party.
2. desperate housewives
n: women who usually live in suburbia that must deal with their lives under the restrictions of the men or children within it; many were ambitious and career centered until marriage.
Also refers to the ABC television show by the same name that has been on the air since 2004.
HOW TO USE
A. Refers to someone or something that is so overdramatic and satirical, it can’t be real.
ex: Joan likes to tell stories about her days as a roadie. But I have a feeling she’s seen too many
documentaries and its all a desperate housewives.
B. Describes something that is made up for publicity purposes only; note – this may or may not have some basis in truth.
ex: Carrie told Mr. Smith a desperate housewives about Andrea’s addiction to cocaine. I think she did it just to get the promotion, though.
3. grey’s anatomy
n: Refers to a popular television show currently running on ABC since 2005. The title is a pun on Gray’s Anatomy, a famous anatomy textbook.
HOW TO USE
The deliberate action of somebody who spends more time on their relationships than advancing their careers. They may be suffering in one or both.
ex: Mary was so in love with her professor that she grey’s anatomied her way out of law school. He dumped her anyway.
4. lost
v. to come to be without (something in one’s possession or care), through accident, theft, etc, so that there is little or no prospect of recovery.
adj. havng gone astray or missed the way; bewildered as to place, direction, etc.
Refers to the popular ABC program by the same name running since 2004.
HOW TO USE
A. Usually used in reference to plot lines, refers to someone who is so philosophical that they often ask many questions but never offer answers. These outbursts are often difficult to follow, even though within their head it makes perfect sense.
ex: My roommate is such a pot head that I have to deal with his pretentious ramblings all hours of the night. He is so like every plot line on Lost.
B. Someone or something that promises to have all the answers if you stay committed long enough. It can also refer to a person who believes in these promises, no matter the cost.
ex: That shrink was really lost to me. I paid him $200 an hour and he couldn’t tell me what was wrong. I’m still going to go back every week just to be sure, though.
This is it for now. Study hard, pupils. There will be more pop culture references to come. There will be a test. Just kidding! But seriously.
A Smile Can Break Your Heart
After living in Manhattan for about two years (minus holidays and summers), I’ve come to the conclusion that there are three kind of people who wander around this island every day: the people who live on the island, the people who work on the island but don’t live here, and the people who neither live nor work here but are visiting for a specified amount of time. Whoever came up with the idea that New Yorkers are rude and inconsiderate must have only met the people who don’t live here.
The commuters are perhaps the most unpredictable people on the planet. Maybe it’s because they have to spend a large majority of their day stuck inside their car or public transportation. Or maybe it’s because they know no matter what happens during the day, in the end, they are going to have to get off the island at night. Or maybe, just maybe, they’re jealous of the natives who get to stay here and enjoy 24-hour Chinese or movie rentals at 1am or the ability to buy a knock-off Prada bag and a falafel from the same guy on the way home from the bar.
Whatever the reason, I’ve noticed that despite a few bad seeds (what town doesn’t have a set of crazies?), Manhattan-ites are actually the nicest people in the world. Yes, outward appearances can be deceiving. But if you had to walk past at least four homeless people, two closed shops, and a kid trying to sell you candy on you’re way to the pizza parlor on the corner, you’d develop a hard shell too. But that shell can be easily broken, too.
Last spring, I was walking with the toddler I baby-sit from time to time. Well, actually I was walking. She was sitting pretty in her stroller. It was a typical spring day in the northeast: inexplicably cold and cloudy. But, upon the insistence of her mother, a breath of “fresh” air was always necessary (I don’t how fresh the air is from the 5th Avenue busses, but nevertheless…). On my way to the park, I got the sensation that people we’re looking at us. And I was right. Everyone, from businessmen on cell phones to traffic cops to Park Avenue madams to lost tourists would look at the 35-pound ball of fun I was pushing around and smile.
People love babies. Something about the fact that they can’t talk back to you or steal your purse or curse or ask for money makes them the most respected New Yorkers. People are always willing to help you on the bus when you have a baby or open doors or pick up things the kid drops. It’s a way for people to connect with reality. To do something nice for someone without expecting anything in return. It is the ultimate unselfish act to smile at a baby. And if sometimes I get caught in the crossfire of the smiles, then it’s all right with me. I might even smile back. But I’ll still hold on to my purse pretty tight. You never know with those commuters.
I picked the wrong week to start my all spinach diet
Picture this: years from now, when we’re older, we’ll look back and say to our grandkids, “I remember the Spinach Scare of Ought-6″(that’s right, we’ll say ‘ought’ because that’s how we’ll look back at it. If you say it now, you’ll get slapped upside the head, “It’s ‘Oh’ you pompous asshole. Get it right.”) Our grandkids will look at us with contempt, ask what spinach is, and hand us our dinner pills and a glass of prune juice to knock it back with. That’s right, prune juice. Because no matter what kind of advances in food technologies occur, old people will always, and forevermore, have to drink prune juice.
Now back to the present, where we just got hit in the head with a 2×4 of irony. Spinach is making people sick. But the only people who eat spinach are usually the most health conscious people out there. Fat people, 1; health freaks, 0. A naturally occurring bacterium has stricken every corner of the media and they are ready with guns cocked and torches barreling. Let’s smoke ’em out. We’ll teach dem bacteria, you don’t mess with the CDC. We’re gonna plaster yo face all over every news program, news magazine, and newspaper. Dateline is going to set up sting operations. “Mr. Spinach, did you think you were coming here to meet a barely legal lower intestine?” We are gonna start a nationwide panic among people who never even gave a second glance to spinach as it sat conspicuously among the other green leafies in the produce aisle. How dare you disrupt our lives, taking our attention away from Iraq, Darfur, and Terror (that’s right, I capitalized it). The PhD-holding news freaks already have a think-tank about what to do about this scare. Into the darkness of the night, voices can be heard over and over again, shouting, “What do we call this terrible tragedy?! Spinach is Finished? Spin-ich Alley? Spinichgate? Spin-ich a Web of Shame? Oh nothing fits. The English language has failed us of our puns. If only Spinach was having an illicit affair with another member of the produce aisle. CarSpin or Spinlet or heaven forbid, Sproccoli!”
But now, as mounds and mounds of spinach are being thrown away to the joy of children around the nation, a steroid using, inked sailor is quietly sobbing in the corner, his corncob pipe askew. What will come of him? No elixir to make him stronger, only a could-be disease lurking in that can. Throw it out, Popeye, and while you’re at it, you better throw out anything that may have touched it, or was bought at the same store, or even begins with the same letter. We won’t let the spinach win. You must continue your daily life. Everyone, to your nearest McDonalds, where spinach would never dare to lurk in the shadows, waiting to pounce on your intestines and make you whither inside. Why oh why did I decide to eat healthy today? It was a mistake. Now I know, God truly wants me to put as much crap in my body as possible. Fast food, 1; produce aisle, 0.
Coming next week…Tuna fishermen around the world rejoice: you silly Americans, you finally forgot about mercury. [EVIL LAUGH TRACK] (I often picture fishermen in lairs similar to Dr. Claw).
Lower It Up 