Snacks

Pretzels don’t cut it anymore.  Neither do mere Flaming Hot Cheetos.  Not even Cajun Squirrel flavored potato chips.

Nowadays, snacks and snack flavors have got to be bold!  Disruptive! Exasperating!

My peanut butter filled pretzel bites have got to be filled with toe jam cheese at the very least; even better should they contain the macerated remains of angel tongues.

Five Hour Energy Taco John’s Hot Sauce is actually a thing; that’s a good start.  Now get me some Fentanyl Flavored Ducolax Hershey’s Chocolate Kit-Kat Suppositories, stat!

In the realm of healthy snacks, like trail mix or raisins, isn’t it time for something like Super-Crunchy Almond and Caviar Ortolan Bites?  I’m sure those would go over well in the first-class sections of international flights.

And soft drink flavors are boring; the best the pros have been able to come up with so far is Cucumber Sprite; heck, Dr. Brown was doing celery soda in the mid 20th century.  We need vision in the soda realm: bring me Anal Sweat Cherry Coke and Bean Fart Dr. Pepper!

We should look to history for inspiration; the internet tell us that on the Lewis and Clark Expedition each member of the Corps of Discovery ate up to nine pounds of meat each day; with that in mind, isn’t it time for Bison and Deer Meat Ding-Dongs?  Or how about Mini-Frosted Elk Glands?  Pickles and Buffalo Hide Popsicles?

People used to sprinkle ambergris, the intestinal slurry of a sperm whale, on their morning eggs; I think we can top that.  Let’s fill our spice shakers with Snot-Infused Grated Courtesan Toenail Clippings; yum!

Pizza flavoring has certainly had its day; the current apotheosis may be Tostino’s Pizza Cinnamon Crunch breakfast cereal.  But that’s just a start.  I propose an all-day snack that turns things around: Captain Crunch and Lucky Charm Marshmallow Pizza Squares.  Now you’re talking; now you’re snackin’!

Bring me a bowl of them with a side of Pepto-Bismol Dorito Chips!

Counterpoint

All over the world, people are suffering; the natural world is collapsing; politicians are inept and corrupt; everything everywhere pretty much sucks.

Except:

• Public libraries are wonderful.  They provide education, entertainment, solace, and community; we all ought to celebrate them every day.
• Bicycles rock.  Humanity’s most noble invention, as Grant Peterson says, “a rideable work of art that just might save the world.”
• A tomato sandwich on toasted white bread with mayonnaise and pepper is summer in a meal; perfect.
• Lake Washington, even though vastly appreciated, is vastly underappreciated as a civic amenity; being able to lounge on its shore and swim in its depths for free is an unbelievable luxury, available to all.
• Going barefoot is how humans were meant to live; bare feet on soft grass is a bit of heaven on earth.
• Bumblebees are beautiful, hard-working, and don’t fuck around.  When they’re gone, we’re gone, too.
• Poetry.  Words can make you cry; that’s incredible.
• Music.  Vibrations of the air can make you cry; that’s staggering.
• The vastness of the Universe is impossible to comprehend and that’s a very good thing.
• Sneezing is kind of delightful; it’s also amusing when you do so in public and some random person wishes you “gesundheit.”
• Genuine kindness, even in tiny bits, isn’t so bad.  I saw a girl reach over and tuck her friend’s shirt tag back in without even being asked; that was very sweet.
• Photosynthesis might be nature’s number one hit; respiration, transpiration, reproduction, all great, but converting sunlight and water to energy is tough to top.
• Don’t discount recreational sports; millions of people all over the world have had some of the most fun times in their lives kicking or hitting or chasing balls with their friends; it’s silly and mundane, but so are humans, so there.
• An afternoon nap is balm for so many of the world’s troubles; a mid-morning one works, too.
• Oh.  And surely best of the best: the sun.  Thanks for everything.

Parts

I used to worry about my body parts sagging; these days, I’m just happy if they don’t fall off!

So, which will be the first to be replaced?  Knee?  Hip?  Shoulder?  Maybe I can make it to the finish line (that’s death), without a spare, but I guess we’ll see—or could see, I guess, if I need a new cornea or whatever.

Things wear out: jeans have a lifespan of a couple years; a toothbrush goes after about three months; there is that bottle of ranch dressing that’s been in the refrigerator for a decade at least, but other than that, everything has an expiration date, so I guess if you live long enough, there is not alternative—other than not living long enough.

Eventually, a person could go almost full cyborg: new knees, hips, a couple cornea, internal organs, too.  I don’t know.  Replace the brain, too, and become an android.  I’m sure there’s a billionaire out there working on that very scenario.

Honestly, I can’t see the appeal of living forever.  It’s hard enough to carry on from day to day; the prospect of doing so forever, especially as a brain in a vat or a disembodied neural network is about as appealing as solitary confinement, which—come to think about it—is essentially what that would be.  No thanks.

If there were a god who was a better designer than the one who some theists allege did the work on this Universe then you’d think they’d have made the human body modular.  Just unscrew the arm and install a new one.  I did a similar repair on the water regulator in my toilet yesterday; that sort of design seems like a no-brainer, frankly.

Or why not have human limbs be able to take root like cuttings from your simplest houseplant.  Drop an arm in a glass of water for a couple of weeks and grow a whole new me.

One that blooms, too!

Convenience

How convenient is convenience, anyway?  

Is it convenient that in order to get chicken nuggets delivered to your door that the delivery person makes $3.00 an hour to do so?

Is it convenient that in order to save fifteen minutes by driving somewhere rather than taking the bus that you contribute a little more to the problem of climate change which will eventually cause humanity’s demise?

Is it convenient that because you don’t have to carry your re-usable travel mug around that another disposable coffee cup goes into the waste stream and our already overflowing landfills?

Of course, it’s certainly NOT convenient to be reminded—and passive-aggressively scolded—of such examples of alleged convenience by some random person on their rarely-read personal weblog, which just goes to show that the truly convenient action in many cases is not to take action at all, at least in the name of convenience.

The internet tells us that word “convenience” comes from the Latin “conventia,” or in French, “convener” which is essentially to come together (although not in any naughty sense).  What’s “convenient,” then, is what we come to a meeting of the minds about what’s convenient, essentially.

So, if we can agree that it’s NOT convenient to order online so much, drive with such frequency, or discard with such impunity, then, apparently, do so would no longer be convenient.  

Conveniently.

There’s nothing wrong with labor-saving devices; it’s a good thing that we have washing machines and vacuum cleaners to spare us from the drudgery of banging our dirty clothes on rocks and hitting rugs with sticks to get the dirt out of them.

But do we really need leaf-blowers instead of rakes? An automated espresso machine instead of a stovetop pot?  Self-driving cars?  Artificial intelligence?

Seems like the goal is to reduce human activity to nothing more than sitting in front of a screen pressing buttons; if that’s the height of convenience, isn’t not doing so even more convenient?

Could

I could rise from my sitting position, get the tools out of the garden shed, and do the yardwork that’s been beckoning me all week; weeds to pull, suckers to cut back, branches to prune.

I could respond to those pleas from public radio stations in light of recent federal funding cutbacks and send them all some money; I should, too, since I’m a regular listener.

I could take the dog for a second walk of the day and let her sniff the ground to her heart’s content.

I could dig around in my files for the article I want to send to my friend who is recovering from his cancer treatment.

I could scrub down the bathroom shower; I could mop the kitchen floor.

I could write a few letters to far-flung friends.

I could clean out the refrigerator and organize my sock drawer.

I could pack a bag of old clothes I never wear and take them to Goodwill.

I could read some articles in preparation for my fall quarter classes.

I could put on my swimsuit and ride down to the lake for a quick swim.

I could try to fix that sticky door on my bike shed.

I could do my best to replace the hissing water control mechanism in my toilet.

I could organize those hundreds of photographs currently in boxes by putting them in photo albums.

I could meditate for an hour. I could write for a while in my journal.

I could go shopping for vegetables at the nearby Farmer’s Market.

I could wrap a band-aid around my blackened big toenail so that it doesn’t fall off.

I could empty the water in the basement dehumidifier and make sure it’s running at the proper humidity level.

I could consolidate the waste paper baskets into the main downstairs trash can, take the old bag out to the garbage, and replace the one that goes under the kitchen sink.

I could, but I won’t.

Devo

In traditional Hindu cosmology, there are four world ages or yugas, all together lasting about four and a half million years.  

Each yuga is characterized by a decline in human capabilities, basically from gods to animals. 

We’re in the fourth now, the Kali Yuga, and it’s the one in which human capabilities are at their lowest level.  During the first yuga, the Satya Yuga, humanity was giant-sized and perfect in regards to truth and morality; a little less perfect but still ideal in the second, the Treta Yuga; by the third, the Dvapara Yuga, humanity was more degraded, but still way better than our sorry state now, which will lead to the eventual demise of the human race and set the stage for the cycle beginning all over again.

The French historian, Alain Daniélu, reckoned that the Kali Yuga would come to a close about the year 2442, when a catastrophe will wipe out all mankind; honestly, if that catastrophe is mankind itself, that seems about right (if not somewhat overly optimistic).

At any rate, take it all as metaphor, remove the supernatural implications, grounding the whole story in recorded history, and it still seems like those ancient Vedic sages were on to something.

Even though many contemporary human beings would (and do!) claim that the current state of humanity represents the apotheosis of the human experience, a strong case can be made that it’s entirely the other way around.  

Our average ancestor knew way more than any of us about how to survive; those ancient hunter-gatherers had to figure out everything; we just have to press a button and it’s done for us without any skill whatsoever on our part.  

Or think about sailors three hundred years ago crossing the oceans in sailing ships without GPS! 

Or turn-of-the-20th-century engineers building structurally sound bridges without computers.  

Or Victorian novelists writing some of history’s greatest literature by hand!

And then, everntially, this: 327 words typed on a laptop.

Weird

Here, teams of ten young people are playing softball in a municipal park, occasionally grousing about calls made by the old man who is paid by the city to make them.

There, groups of parents and children are being massacred by bombs from the air, pleading for their lives while explosions paid for by a far-away country rock their land.

Here, a person rides their bike down a shady hill to a clear-blue lake and lays in the sun by the beach before diving in to cool off time and again.

There, people walk through the broiling sun for hours just to get a bucket of water that they carry back on their heads to barely hydrate the parched throats of their loves ones.

Here, somewhere, someone wearing an $800 dollar t-shirt and $3000 dollar sandals complains that the bathroom tiles they have ordered are one Pantone shade different than what they expected and so, therefore, are unacceptable and must be returned and the $150,000 dollars they paid for them be refunded.

There, somewhere, someone wearing rags huddles in a filthy alleyway with rubble strewn all around; they relieve themselves in a plastic bucket that’s stained with months of use; the lid is cracked and repaired with duct tape; that’s better than nothing at all.

Here, it’s an issue when you run out of cream for your coffee.

There, you’re lucky not to be killed when lining up for food distribution.

Here, there’s a library, a police station, a fire station, two grocery stores, five restaurants, a hospital and an urgent care facility, a public swimming pool with a recreation center, and three city parks all within two miles.

There, there is nothing but broken bricks and dust.

Here, all our problems are privileges; how lucky in the course of human history to have nothing worse than a leaky kitchen sink to worry about.

There, problems are problems: no food, no water, no safety at all.

Weird.

Broken

It starts with a wine glass, dropped in the sink and shattered to bits. 

Then, reaching for the broken bits around a vase full of flowers, a miscalculation, thus shards and blossoms all over the floor.

In the process of cleaning up, an old pipe in the kitchen fails, soaking the floor.  While fixing that, a wrench is dropped and smashes the water valve; you can guess what happens next.

It’s not good to get electrical wires wet because when they do, circuits short out and when the electrical box goes on the fritz, so does the refrigerator; all the ice melts, the floor caves in and the appliance ends up in the basement.

Walls begin to fold down  The roof collapses.  Pretty soon, what was once a house is now a pile of rubble.

A huge sinkhole opens beneath the foundation and all is swallowed up, which busts a gas main, causes a fire and consumes the entire neighborhood.

In the effort to extinguish the blaze by dropping water from the air, a military transport plane crashes.  The emergency search and rescue crew succumbs to smoke inhalation; their vehicles, left unattended, explode; a cloud of toxic fumes blankets the city.

The heat from the various conflagrations melts the mountain’s glacier; a lahar rushes downhill, covering the entire region with what looks like a rolling slurry of wet concrete.  Not a single animal is left living.  The weight of it all tips the earth off its axis and the Northern hemisphere heats up almost overnight to unprecedented temperatures.

All the glaciers melt; the seas rise precipitately; every city in the world is submerged; the entire human race is wiped out.

Aquatic life thrives; in a couple of centuries, dolphins and whales rule the seas.  Over time, they continue to evolve, until one day, a porpoise with arm-like flippers, holds something like a wine glass over something not unlike a sink.

History doesn’t repeat, but it does rhyme.

Boredom

Is there anything more thrilling these days than being bored?

What a joy to have nothing to do and all day not to do it; how entertaining to not be entertained; how very engaging not to be engaged.

Consider the paradigmatic cases of being bored: the droning lecture of your checked-out teacher in 7th grade History class; the long wait in the endless, non-moving line at the Department of Motor Vehicles; the one-way conversational monologue by the vegan cross-fitting conspiracy theorist sitting next to you on the train; yes, these all kind of suck, but they’re a luxury to be sure.  Ask anyone in Gaza or flooded Texas or drought-ravaged Sudan if they’d trade places and they’ll tell you: please let me be bored; if only.

So, it’s sort of strange that boredom is such anathema to so many.  Ride the bus or subway and you’ll see everyone on their phones, feverishly seeking entertainment.  In the line for coffee, people will immediately take out their device, the moment they queue up.  Apparently, you’re a total loser if you’re alone with your thoughts for even a second or two when you could be watching Instagram or playing Wordle.

Squarely in old man rant mode here, I observe that something important is being lost in this frantic effort to avoid being  bored.  But what could be more boring than never being bored?  And what’s so bad about boredom, anyway?  At least you’re not working on a chain gang.

Mom always used to say, “Only boring people get bored,” and there’s some truth to that.  Perhaps it should be modified, though, to be, “Only boring people find being bored boring.”  All it takes not to be bored is to find being bored interesting; becoming curious about boredom turns it from boredom to intrigue; interrogating boredom suddenly becomes fascinating.

Of course, I could be wrong; maybe we should avoid boredom at all costs. 

If so, you’d better stop reading this now!

Acceptance

 • Should I replace the dripping pipe joint gasket in the kitchen or just put a bucket under the sink?

• Should I lose those ten pounds of belly fat or simply buy some bigger jeans?

• Why take the car in for servicing that weird sound when I can just turn up the radio?

• No need for spot remover on my shirt; this campaign button covers that stain perfectly.

• I could replace the brake pads on my bike, but instead, I’ll just squeeze the levers harder.

• Not going to paint the house this summer; we’ll just let the ivy grow wilder.

• My dog doesn’t really need a walk; here’s a treat instead.

• That .pdf I’ve been using as a reading in my Intro class for years is pretty hard to decipher; I guess I’ll just remove it from the syllabus.

• Eight hours of sleep or six hours and two cups of coffee; I’ll take the latter.

• This table balances fine; you’ve just got to shim it up with those matchbooks.

• I never really minded those scratched records; you just lifted the needs a bit at the skipping parts.

• We could rent the movie or watch it for free on broadcast; I’ll press mute during the commercials.

• Maybe there’s a little mold on this bread, but when it’s toasted, you’ll never taste it.

• The current mayor’s not so great, but an alternative might be worse.

• Potholes in the street?  No problem, just drive around.

• No thanks, Doc, I’ll hold off on getting that tooth crown; I can just chew on the other side.

• Yeah, you’ve got to slam that door to make it close; it’s been like that for years.

• Don’t open that window all the way; it’s a bitch to get closed if you do.

• That drawer sticks; you’ve just got to yank it hard.

• I’ve had this headlamp forever; works fine if you shake it.

• I could try to write that novel, but this is enough for today.

Ouroboros

• I’ve been wanting to procrastinate more, but I can never seem to get around to doing it.
• I’m planning on taking a memory course, but I keep forgetting to sign up.
• I think my doctor may have told me to take a hearing test, but I didn’t quite hear what she said.
• I want to lose weight, but not until after a big meal.
• I’m trying to get more sleep, so I’ve been staying up late, researching how to do so on the internet.
• I’d like to spend more time with my friends, but I’m not into hanging out with them.
• I know I should read more, but all those words get in the way.
• I want to spend less time on my phone, so I downloaded a bunch of apps to help me.
• I’d ride my bicycle more if only it had three wheels.
• I’m of two minds as to whether I exhibit schizophrenic tendencies.
• I get depressed at the thought I might be depressed.
• I want to drink less booze, so I need a couple of shots for the courage to do so.
• All these healthy snacks are making me sick.
• I’m too tired from working out to exercise.
• My personal relationships are all with people I don’t know.
• I’d look forward to tomorrow if only it weren’t in the future.
• My past would be better if only it hadn’t happened yet.
• There’s no time like the present except for this moment right now.
• I need to concentrate more, but I can’t focus on that.
• I could stop biting my nails if it weren’t for having teeth.
• I’d be a lot braver if I weren’t such a coward.  And I could stop stealing if I wasn’t a thief.
• I argue in a circle to not beg the question.
• I close my eyes to all I cannot see.
• I’d be a writer if it weren’t for the paperwork.
• I could be mature, but that would be childish.

Trash

 People are pigs, and that’s probably not being fair to pigs.  After all, I’ve never known a pig to toss an empty Styrofoam clamshell container along with a plastic water bottle and a crumpled Doritos bag into the gutter, just two feet away from an overflowing municipal garbage can.

Humans do this all the time, though.  

Take an early morning bike ride through a part of your town where “nightlife” happens, and you’ll be shocked and shamed by the amount of trash strewn about everywhere: beer cans, empty pizza boxes, broken umbrellas, random shoes, chicken bones, Starbucks cups, t-shirts, socks, underpants and brassieres, even, McDonald’s bags, Burger King bags, Chick-Fil-A bags, grocery bags, plastic take-out food bags, a kid’s stroller, wine bottles, booze bottles, baby bottles, and disposable diapers, too, yuck!  And besides all this, if you live in a place where there’s regular trash pick-up, there will be piles of filled-up garbage bags filled up with all these things that are lying around unfilled-up, as well.

And that’s just one neighborhood, in one city or town, after one night!

Meanwhile, I make no claim to be any better.  Check out my garbage can, recycling bin, and compost container on Friday morning before the weekly pickup: broken dishes, soiled take-out boxes, empty yogurt containers, a pile of newspapers and magazine, discarded mail, rotten vegetables, a week’s worth of coffee grounds, socks and yes, underpants, too, sometimes, tied-up dog poop bags, busted picture frames and various indistinguishable shards of plastic, soon to be floating in the ocean somewhere.

And that’s just one household, in one city, after one week!

According to Wikipedia, an archeological midden, or old dump for domestic waste, “may consist of animal bones, human excrement, botanical material, mollusk shells, potsherds, lithics (especially debitage), and other artifacts and ecofacts associated with past human occupation.”

With that in mind, then apparently, the entire globe is a midden; the archeologists of the future will find our trash everywhere!

Feedback

Thanks for staying at our hotel, flying on our airline, eating at our restaurant, using our customer support line, buying our brand of cheese, choosing us as your dentist, accessing our service, dropping off your trash at our transfer station, purchasing our cannabis, or picking us as your preferred provider of dog poop pick-up bags!  We are always looking for ways to improve what we do!  In that spirit, we would appreciate it if you would take our feedback survey and share your thoughts.  Rate us on the following scale:

1: Excellent 2: Superior 3: Out-of-this-world

Thanks very much!  See you soon!

How many of these do you get a day?  I’m averaging about three and—going into full grouchy old man mode—what the hell?

Isn’t it enough that I’ve paid the company for the service they’ve provided?  Now I have to do some homework?

Let’s be honest: we all know that the only person reading my responses—if they get read at all—is some summer intern doing remote work from their college dorm.  And we’re fully away that even if I give terrible feedback—merely “excellent”—it’s not going to make a whit of difference.  

So, what’s the point?  

To merely create the illusion that someone cares about what I have to say and to demonstrate to the gullible public that the organization in question is committed to some sort of corporate double-speak of “continuous improvement?”

Pshaw, I say, double-pshaw!

If the company or service really wanted to offer something of value to me following my interaction with them, they’d send me money in their post-experience message.  Or they would devote themselves to ending world hunger or addressing climate change.  They wouldn’t be pestering me to do the work that their own middle-managers ought to be doing to make their organization more responsive; I’m not getting the big bucks to write reports no one reads!

So, here’s my real and meaningful feedback: stop asking for my feedback!