So does the display of having one of these stickers on your car mean something? I am never quick enough to judge that said stickers, particularly OBX, are silly, annoying and what? I don't know. Some close friends of mine have them on their cars. I really can't fathom the need for it. Is it the same thing as when I put punk rock band or MST3K stickers on my car? I like to think that I at least put some unique thought into my stickiness. The way I see an OBX sticker is the same way I see people who tune into American Idol with such fervor.
--Oh, and by the way on that. How cattled are we as United States citizens that my beloved Richmond has a parade for the third place contestant, and thousands of people show up (the same people who wrote in grease paint on their auto windows, "Vote for Elliot!"), but try and protest an unjust Iraqi War lie, MAYBE hundreds show up? ---
I want to call them brainwashed but I know that is just too strong a word and I know some of them really aren't because they are my friends. And you know there are plenty of annoying car stickers out there: My kid is an honor roll student, Git-R-Done, My kid beat up your honor roll student, Power of Pride. Oooo. Now there is one that trumps them all when it comes to gilded ignorance. I want to know how many good christian souls have that on the bumper of their SUV or immaculately undirtied suburban bound F350 Ford Truck? The Power of Pride. Even the alliteration is hopelessly Bush-esque in its childish king of the mountain type stance.
We are living the Power of Pride; NASCAR is the biggest "sport" in the country (imagine the riots and protest if we had to stop NASCAR during an oil shortage), the new Disney Pixar film Cars, about NASCAR, is sure to be a summer hit. I can just feel the needle going in my arm every time I start my car. We are glorifying our addiction and covering it with a bumper sticker to hide the track marks.
Don't these good christians know that Pride is the father of all the seven deadly sins? Think people, before they start selling you bottled water from the melting glaciers.
Still, maybe if everyone that owned a car with an OBX sticker on the bumper went to the Outer Banks at the same time, I could take a vacation too; in my own town devoid of lemmings.
Listening: Melt Banana
Reading: Rats by Robert Sullivan
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Past smears
At my job, we often have to take advantage of restroom facilities of the various places we visit. This was one of those times.
I hurried through the lobby of some retirement compound with the wind having just insaned my hair nicely. There was an old lady in the lobby. Without even a pause she said, "You're runnin'." Was I runnin'? I took a moment to assess my stride. Hell, I guess I was, definately to her anyway. Let's take it to the bigger picture...
We live in an age of instant gratification. We want things either now or yesterday and it is usually disposable satisfaction. Fast food (really? is it really fast?), instant downloads of music, box-stores on every damn corner (same things in all of them, it's the CONVENIENCE of them everywhere), instant American Idols (prepackaged instant hits television show that runs season to season only to be forgotten through the years), cheaply made reality T.V. (that runs season to season too) where we want to see conflict amongst the players and often don't care the results after the big winner has won and gone (can you even remember the full name of the first Big Brother Winner? The first Apprentice winner? --without looking it up instantly on the internet?). Our whole way of life seems to revolve around the hurry-up or hurry-up and wait lifestyle.
Before you know it, you will be old and then dead. At 36, I'm already looking at high school yearbook photos and going, shit, that was me....20 years ago? Yeah, yeah --we've read all that nostalgic drivel of where have all the good times gone, and that's not the point of this.
I think what that old lady was saying was: take it easy boy, LOOK AROUND. Maybe if we actually stopped a moment and gave pause to reflect we'd see things a little more clearer. Maybe that's why I kind of enjoy birdwatching; seeing the abundance of what is around you if you would just stand still for a spell. Maybe we'd see that we're being fed crap as entertainment on television, maybe we'd see that we really don't have to buy that DVD of "Walk the Line" just because it's on sale for 16.98 (unless you KNOW you would watch it more than 4 times in your life), maybe we'd see that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, that our government has been hijacked, that the 20 minutes in a fast food line would probably best be spent to make your own damned sandwich every once in a while. The list is long if we take the time to read it.
So thinking all of this while urinating, I decided to slow down a little, at least for the walk out (small steps, as they say). Strolling down the hall I enjoyed the large oil paintings of the stuffy old men, perhaps the founders of the retirement home, I enjoyed the long Japanese tapestry on the wall next to the small library, the fabric glowing a golden hue with intricate green and red lines for asian gardens. On the way out, the same lady, still perched in her chair by the motion sensitive front doors, gives me the eye again, and with the same sense of authoritative wisdom says, "You've slowed down."
True. "You're runnin'" no longer applies.
Reading: "Kafka on the shore" by Haruki Murakami
Listens to: The Cougars
I hurried through the lobby of some retirement compound with the wind having just insaned my hair nicely. There was an old lady in the lobby. Without even a pause she said, "You're runnin'." Was I runnin'? I took a moment to assess my stride. Hell, I guess I was, definately to her anyway. Let's take it to the bigger picture...
We live in an age of instant gratification. We want things either now or yesterday and it is usually disposable satisfaction. Fast food (really? is it really fast?), instant downloads of music, box-stores on every damn corner (same things in all of them, it's the CONVENIENCE of them everywhere), instant American Idols (prepackaged instant hits television show that runs season to season only to be forgotten through the years), cheaply made reality T.V. (that runs season to season too) where we want to see conflict amongst the players and often don't care the results after the big winner has won and gone (can you even remember the full name of the first Big Brother Winner? The first Apprentice winner? --without looking it up instantly on the internet?). Our whole way of life seems to revolve around the hurry-up or hurry-up and wait lifestyle.
Before you know it, you will be old and then dead. At 36, I'm already looking at high school yearbook photos and going, shit, that was me....20 years ago? Yeah, yeah --we've read all that nostalgic drivel of where have all the good times gone, and that's not the point of this.
I think what that old lady was saying was: take it easy boy, LOOK AROUND. Maybe if we actually stopped a moment and gave pause to reflect we'd see things a little more clearer. Maybe that's why I kind of enjoy birdwatching; seeing the abundance of what is around you if you would just stand still for a spell. Maybe we'd see that we're being fed crap as entertainment on television, maybe we'd see that we really don't have to buy that DVD of "Walk the Line" just because it's on sale for 16.98 (unless you KNOW you would watch it more than 4 times in your life), maybe we'd see that there were no weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, that our government has been hijacked, that the 20 minutes in a fast food line would probably best be spent to make your own damned sandwich every once in a while. The list is long if we take the time to read it.
So thinking all of this while urinating, I decided to slow down a little, at least for the walk out (small steps, as they say). Strolling down the hall I enjoyed the large oil paintings of the stuffy old men, perhaps the founders of the retirement home, I enjoyed the long Japanese tapestry on the wall next to the small library, the fabric glowing a golden hue with intricate green and red lines for asian gardens. On the way out, the same lady, still perched in her chair by the motion sensitive front doors, gives me the eye again, and with the same sense of authoritative wisdom says, "You've slowed down."
True. "You're runnin'" no longer applies.
Reading: "Kafka on the shore" by Haruki Murakami
Listens to: The Cougars
Saturday, January 28, 2006
How long is a cookie lifespan?
At my job a few days ago we had to swing by Garden Ridge to get some decorations for my job. So while I waited for my co-worker to purchase some cheesy hearts and such, I come across these little beauties of modern human design. Well, more or less. Spongebob Squarepants cookies. You know you have seen them, admit it. Well, there are also King Kong ones too, to promote the new Peter Jackson masturbation released last December. (I could not find a picture of this cookie on the Web, unfortunately.) Can you imagine how empowering it must be to be a kid and have a Kong Cookie in your mitts AND be able to bite his head off? Whoa!
But have you ever thought to give those cookies being fed to youths across the planet a good inspection? The icing looks almost petrified onto the shortbread, and the shrink-wrap is almost as if it were melded to the cookie by Brundle Science Experimentation. As I further inspected it, searching for a bakery, lo and behold it's distributed by some company out of some mid-western state, but in nice all CAPS font, so obvious and therefore almost incognito are the words: PRODUCT OF CHINA. Wow. Even our cookies come from China. So this cookie was created way over on the other side of the globe. By the delicate touch of a bakers hand? Probably not. Oh, how that $1.99 bit of shortbread must have traveled, hell it's seen the world! The things it must have seen. That is one world traveled cookie. I'm not too sure I would want that bit of globalization in my mouth. Imagine all the preservatives in that sucker. It would probably outlive me! Cookies aren't supposed to do that, damnit. Anyway, as I further investigate the pseudo-delicious Kong cookie, I see the expiration date: 11/01/06. Wow! This thing is built to last too! And considering how it was probably made in August of 2005, in preparation for the movie release, this is one well aged cookie. How long is a cookie lifespan anyway? I wonder what the cookie to human years ratio would be? 30 = 1? 40 = 1? 7 = 1? That is something for a scientist to figure out.
I then think of some family in line, with a cart full of fake plants and flowers and crafts, trying to satiate their kid who is hollering "gimmie gimmie" and eyeing that Spongebob or Kong sugary goodness. Without even thinking the parent buys it, unwraps it and stuffs it into the kid's mouth. Instantly pacified. It seems like we are okay with all of this. What's next? Microwavable meals for our kids because we are too tired from a long days work to cook a simple 3 ingredient dinner? Oh, wait, too late huh?
A link regarding WTO and NAFTA . I recommend watching the video of Lori Wallach.
Movie: A Tale of Two Sisters. A wonderfully creepy Korean fairy tale set in modern times that will surely be an American remake and then totally suck.
But have you ever thought to give those cookies being fed to youths across the planet a good inspection? The icing looks almost petrified onto the shortbread, and the shrink-wrap is almost as if it were melded to the cookie by Brundle Science Experimentation. As I further inspected it, searching for a bakery, lo and behold it's distributed by some company out of some mid-western state, but in nice all CAPS font, so obvious and therefore almost incognito are the words: PRODUCT OF CHINA. Wow. Even our cookies come from China. So this cookie was created way over on the other side of the globe. By the delicate touch of a bakers hand? Probably not. Oh, how that $1.99 bit of shortbread must have traveled, hell it's seen the world! The things it must have seen. That is one world traveled cookie. I'm not too sure I would want that bit of globalization in my mouth. Imagine all the preservatives in that sucker. It would probably outlive me! Cookies aren't supposed to do that, damnit. Anyway, as I further investigate the pseudo-delicious Kong cookie, I see the expiration date: 11/01/06. Wow! This thing is built to last too! And considering how it was probably made in August of 2005, in preparation for the movie release, this is one well aged cookie. How long is a cookie lifespan anyway? I wonder what the cookie to human years ratio would be? 30 = 1? 40 = 1? 7 = 1? That is something for a scientist to figure out.
I then think of some family in line, with a cart full of fake plants and flowers and crafts, trying to satiate their kid who is hollering "gimmie gimmie" and eyeing that Spongebob or Kong sugary goodness. Without even thinking the parent buys it, unwraps it and stuffs it into the kid's mouth. Instantly pacified. It seems like we are okay with all of this. What's next? Microwavable meals for our kids because we are too tired from a long days work to cook a simple 3 ingredient dinner? Oh, wait, too late huh?
A link regarding WTO and NAFTA . I recommend watching the video of Lori Wallach.
Movie: A Tale of Two Sisters. A wonderfully creepy Korean fairy tale set in modern times that will surely be an American remake and then totally suck.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Consumer addiction
I am an addict. I don't know why, I shouldn't be, but even those of us who feel Capitalism is the downfall of the world cannot resist the sensation of a new purchase. I myself fell to it a few days ago.
Lying around the house in the morning, watching the kid play video games, I had the sudden urge to buy a book I have been wanting about Carny Folk. You see I was already losing a bid on ebay on another book about Sideshows.
(By the way, my interest is Sideshows is spawned by a movie everyone must see at least once.) I figured I would zip up to the Barnes & Noble, since massive bookstores give the illusion of having EVERYTHING. Yeah, that's what I would do: just pop into the bookstore, MAYBE across the street to Best Buy for some fine Japanese horror DVD and then back home to read! Of course, I get there, and NO, they do not have it. Well, maybe the mall bookstore, on a slight chance, would have it. (Stupid thought, I know). I get there and NO! of course not, you dolt. By this time all my sensors are worked up into a lather of materialistic desirous foam, oozing at every pore. Sounds like smut doesn't it? That's Capitalism! Okay, so I bag the whole deal, but wait! On the way home, there are clearly 4 more stores I could visit. Hmmm, okay bag the Carny book, because we have come to terms that it won't be found at a Walmart or Target either. BUT! I did buy potatoes for dinner. Finally on the last leg home, I thwarted the temptation of reducing myself to buying Young Frankenstein (pronounced Frahnkensteeeen) on the cheap at a K-mart. Okay, so 3 hours later what do I have to show for my shopping habit? 9 dollars worth of product, them being : a hiking book (initially bought at the B&N), potatoes, mushrooms, and worstershire sauce. So, despite my desperate attempt to satiate some sort of consumer monkey, I wind buying a helpful book on the outdoors and food. Pretty basic and necessary things. Now I understand our problem in this culture, I have felt the urge that some people probably feel everytime they go out into the stores. I think in the most evolutionary way, through years of buying and buying, modern people, particularly in the U.S., are cultivating an addiction to the need to shop. We may very well be in trouble as a species people. Maybe that's also why our government has been hijacked and we don't even care, as long as the sales are good. And you know what I found out visiting all these damn stores? They all have the SAME THINGS and the price of those things are the SAME everywhere. I'm still looking for that damn Carny book though however. Which is available online at a fraction of the cost!
Listening to : Candy Machine "A Modest Proposal"
Reading: okay so I gave up on that damn Quicksilver book, for now, so I am looking for that Carny Book!
Lying around the house in the morning, watching the kid play video games, I had the sudden urge to buy a book I have been wanting about Carny Folk. You see I was already losing a bid on ebay on another book about Sideshows.
(By the way, my interest is Sideshows is spawned by a movie everyone must see at least once.) I figured I would zip up to the Barnes & Noble, since massive bookstores give the illusion of having EVERYTHING. Yeah, that's what I would do: just pop into the bookstore, MAYBE across the street to Best Buy for some fine Japanese horror DVD and then back home to read! Of course, I get there, and NO, they do not have it. Well, maybe the mall bookstore, on a slight chance, would have it. (Stupid thought, I know). I get there and NO! of course not, you dolt. By this time all my sensors are worked up into a lather of materialistic desirous foam, oozing at every pore. Sounds like smut doesn't it? That's Capitalism! Okay, so I bag the whole deal, but wait! On the way home, there are clearly 4 more stores I could visit. Hmmm, okay bag the Carny book, because we have come to terms that it won't be found at a Walmart or Target either. BUT! I did buy potatoes for dinner. Finally on the last leg home, I thwarted the temptation of reducing myself to buying Young Frankenstein (pronounced Frahnkensteeeen) on the cheap at a K-mart. Okay, so 3 hours later what do I have to show for my shopping habit? 9 dollars worth of product, them being : a hiking book (initially bought at the B&N), potatoes, mushrooms, and worstershire sauce. So, despite my desperate attempt to satiate some sort of consumer monkey, I wind buying a helpful book on the outdoors and food. Pretty basic and necessary things. Now I understand our problem in this culture, I have felt the urge that some people probably feel everytime they go out into the stores. I think in the most evolutionary way, through years of buying and buying, modern people, particularly in the U.S., are cultivating an addiction to the need to shop. We may very well be in trouble as a species people. Maybe that's also why our government has been hijacked and we don't even care, as long as the sales are good. And you know what I found out visiting all these damn stores? They all have the SAME THINGS and the price of those things are the SAME everywhere. I'm still looking for that damn Carny book though however. Which is available online at a fraction of the cost!
Listening to : Candy Machine "A Modest Proposal"
Reading: okay so I gave up on that damn Quicksilver book, for now, so I am looking for that Carny Book!
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
Seasons Deities
Firstly, Happy Winter Solstice!
We have lots to celebrate, especially the court case in PA on Intelligent Design. We can breathe a LITTLE easier, but not too much, we still have this Cable Indecency thing, led by Republican insane man Ted Stevens (and incidentally 3rd in line to the Presidency in National Emergencies). Okay, so it's only Cable we're worrying about here, but let's flip that drug metaphor logic on that thought. Just as some could say marijuana is the gateway to worse addictions, perhaps censorship in the airwaves is only the beginning to worse travesties against the First Amendment as well.
Oh yeah, we also have to worry about being spied on these days too. Where is J. Edgar Hoover when ya need him?
Despite all these red herrings and distractions to the Middle East Mess, let's all try and remember the time of year and what stuff like Christmas trees are all about, really.
Music to bring in the New Year:
Ani Difranco "Evolve"
Polysics or Die!!!!
Reading: Neal Stephenson "Quicksilver". Well, starting, the thing is huge, so let's hope I stick with it and be done by, say, April?
We have lots to celebrate, especially the court case in PA on Intelligent Design. We can breathe a LITTLE easier, but not too much, we still have this Cable Indecency thing, led by Republican insane man Ted Stevens (and incidentally 3rd in line to the Presidency in National Emergencies). Okay, so it's only Cable we're worrying about here, but let's flip that drug metaphor logic on that thought. Just as some could say marijuana is the gateway to worse addictions, perhaps censorship in the airwaves is only the beginning to worse travesties against the First Amendment as well.
Oh yeah, we also have to worry about being spied on these days too. Where is J. Edgar Hoover when ya need him?
Despite all these red herrings and distractions to the Middle East Mess, let's all try and remember the time of year and what stuff like Christmas trees are all about, really.
Music to bring in the New Year:
Ani Difranco "Evolve"
Polysics or Die!!!!
Reading: Neal Stephenson "Quicksilver". Well, starting, the thing is huge, so let's hope I stick with it and be done by, say, April?
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Sex me up with some hypocrisy
So in the world of local politics in RVA, Schoolboard Chairman Johnson, while seeking some johnson on the internet, was called out by someone that dislikes him and he has stepped down. People at my work are all up in arms over his promiscuity, but these barking pseudo-dems seem to forget the not too distant past. From what I understand, Johnson did a lot of good things for the schools. I think what this person at work is all excited about is the fact that he was gay and using the internet. Hypocrisy is a disgusting monster no matter what side of the political fence you are on. Me? I'm generally not in the same yard... ha
The thing that I don't understand is that don't these politicians KNOW they will constantly be under the microscope?
Other interesting news, albeit a bit dated. When the M&M balloon went out of control and hurt some people at the Macy's parade, NBC ran old footage of the previous years M&M balloon while the Today Show puppets read from scripts. A liberal media that wants you to remain happy and content during Turkey Day? I THINK NOT! Try not to get alarmed if real poo ever hits the fan, just keep smiling!
Listening to: Lungfish
Reading: The Book on the Bookshelf
The thing that I don't understand is that don't these politicians KNOW they will constantly be under the microscope?
Other interesting news, albeit a bit dated. When the M&M balloon went out of control and hurt some people at the Macy's parade, NBC ran old footage of the previous years M&M balloon while the Today Show puppets read from scripts. A liberal media that wants you to remain happy and content during Turkey Day? I THINK NOT! Try not to get alarmed if real poo ever hits the fan, just keep smiling!
Listening to: Lungfish
Reading: The Book on the Bookshelf
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Biography me, oh please Biography me!
"Someone please tell me when to stop dry humping the cash cow".
It's down right ridiculous the people that are cranking out bio-books these days. I have two samples, perhaps one holding more validity than the other.
First, let's look at this lovely business of Fantasia and her new book "Life is not a Fairy Tale". Okay, I GUESS being that she won the American Idoloff, she would be deserving to have a turn in the consumer well with her own little story of how she "made it". These types of inane bio-books ALWAYS have photos and this one is no different. But some of these photos look like they would have been passed over even in the Family Scrapbook, even if it were the ONLY existing photo. Two instances, the first: what the heck is there a picture of the UPS guy who just delivered a package in Fantasia's neighborhood doing in there. Yeah, OK, she is hugging him, but this is wack. There is even some silly caption saying something to the effect of, "Even the UPS man is getting in on the love". Is this some sly attempt at product placement or is Fantasia securing some sort of future for herself in the Package Delivery Empire? Filler anyone? The other photo, albeit a nice warm fuzzy bit, shows three generations of the women in her family but unfortunately her daughter (3 or 4) looks like she just ate a spoonful of medicine and it wasn't going to go down. I would have thought there would have been at least two photos taken of such a memorable moment, but I guess being backstage on "Idol" can be hectic. I wonder if her daughter will grow up with a vanity thorn and loathe her superstar mother for putting that unattractive picture in the book. Something to look out for, say in 20 years. Or will anyone even remember the reign of Fantasia?
Okay, now onto the real complaint.
Ashley Smith has written her untold story called "Unlikely Angel". (Note: Not to be confused with the goofily packaged DVD Unlikely Angel, starring Dolly Parton and Roddy McDowell) Have you figured out who she is yet? Tick tock, tick tock...TIME! She was the Atlanta hostage from earlier this year. Yeah, I don't remember either. But yup, she has a book out, and boy if it were anymore heavy-handed with Christian inspiration she'd be on the cross already. I dare you to read her author bio and not wince at the sheer whorishness of the market she is trying to sell to. Photos? You betcha, ranging from the amber alert sign to her marriage photos to her Christmas photos to her coming out of the shower in a towel photos. Gripping eh? Well, it DOES state that she will devote SOME of the royalties from the book to the victims of this incident. Some? Hmmm? oh, wait, she was a victim too... I get it. Well, this is supposed to be more a story devoted to her getting off crank or something and there are already rumors fluttering about she already knew her abductor. Anyway, this just is another example of the saying that pretty much anyone can get published these days; all it takes is a little walk through the valley of misery or win a contest of Network Proportions to get your story told.
On the upswing, I bought a 6 foot tree for the holidays and it looks swell. Pop in the Holiday Music, swing style and let's have a cocktail!
It's down right ridiculous the people that are cranking out bio-books these days. I have two samples, perhaps one holding more validity than the other.
First, let's look at this lovely business of Fantasia and her new book "Life is not a Fairy Tale". Okay, I GUESS being that she won the American Idoloff, she would be deserving to have a turn in the consumer well with her own little story of how she "made it". These types of inane bio-books ALWAYS have photos and this one is no different. But some of these photos look like they would have been passed over even in the Family Scrapbook, even if it were the ONLY existing photo. Two instances, the first: what the heck is there a picture of the UPS guy who just delivered a package in Fantasia's neighborhood doing in there. Yeah, OK, she is hugging him, but this is wack. There is even some silly caption saying something to the effect of, "Even the UPS man is getting in on the love". Is this some sly attempt at product placement or is Fantasia securing some sort of future for herself in the Package Delivery Empire? Filler anyone? The other photo, albeit a nice warm fuzzy bit, shows three generations of the women in her family but unfortunately her daughter (3 or 4) looks like she just ate a spoonful of medicine and it wasn't going to go down. I would have thought there would have been at least two photos taken of such a memorable moment, but I guess being backstage on "Idol" can be hectic. I wonder if her daughter will grow up with a vanity thorn and loathe her superstar mother for putting that unattractive picture in the book. Something to look out for, say in 20 years. Or will anyone even remember the reign of Fantasia?
Okay, now onto the real complaint.
Ashley Smith has written her untold story called "Unlikely Angel". (Note: Not to be confused with the goofily packaged DVD Unlikely Angel, starring Dolly Parton and Roddy McDowell) Have you figured out who she is yet? Tick tock, tick tock...TIME! She was the Atlanta hostage from earlier this year. Yeah, I don't remember either. But yup, she has a book out, and boy if it were anymore heavy-handed with Christian inspiration she'd be on the cross already. I dare you to read her author bio and not wince at the sheer whorishness of the market she is trying to sell to. Photos? You betcha, ranging from the amber alert sign to her marriage photos to her Christmas photos to her coming out of the shower in a towel photos. Gripping eh? Well, it DOES state that she will devote SOME of the royalties from the book to the victims of this incident. Some? Hmmm? oh, wait, she was a victim too... I get it. Well, this is supposed to be more a story devoted to her getting off crank or something and there are already rumors fluttering about she already knew her abductor. Anyway, this just is another example of the saying that pretty much anyone can get published these days; all it takes is a little walk through the valley of misery or win a contest of Network Proportions to get your story told.
On the upswing, I bought a 6 foot tree for the holidays and it looks swell. Pop in the Holiday Music, swing style and let's have a cocktail!
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Flip Flops; the decline of Western Footwear
Flip Flops; the decline of Western Footwear
By Phil D. Ford
The sound is almost caustic. Especially when dragged across an apartment complex parking lot. The steady puffy plastic drag across smooth asphalt has all the charm of fingernails on a chalkboard. The coupe de grace is an accented punctuation to this excuse for footwear, the inevitable popping sound of the heel smacking the ball of the foot. We are of course talking about the invention known as the flip-flop which have now become the George Canstanza excuse for footwear in the
Once upon a visit to the mall, I have discovered that this phenomenon of foam rubber footwear has become quite the trend with the lack of tread setter. People will wear flip-flops with anything. I have seen young punk boys with a face full of piercing, sleeve-tattoos, offensively challenging mores t-shirt, and tight jeans, walking with a pair of them in the color of the German flag. I have seen beautiful twenty-something women in fully Gapped fashion-wear sporting dainty little flip-flops with gaudy pink plastic flowers on the strap. I have seen little girls, barely tweens, oversized by what I like to call “Kiss-Flops”; platform flip-flops that keep such rail-thin children from blowing over in strong winds. I have witnessed studly lads donned in Abercrombie and Fitch clothes, Fight Club glasses, and hundred dollar buzz cuts, dragging their feet in food courts in $45.00 (!) Nike streamlined glider-flops. On an average day of people watching at the mall, your odds are about two in four, that’s half the consumer population, that you are going to be seeing peoples gnarly toes exposed to the elements and restrained via the flip-flop.
As devoted as people are these days to looking good, especially at high-end outdoor malls, one could certainly put a little investment into a nice pair of shoes. It is almost as if people started from the top, applied all sorts of nifty and expensive hair products, worked their way all the way down with the latest trendy apparel, reached the lower calves and then just gave up. Or is this in some nightmarish way, supposed to be part of the outfit? Here people have spent all this time and money to achieve that certain special “look”, and have petered out below the ankles. Come on; finish that fashion thought you had. I know you can do it if you just apply yourself. You would think in this fear-driven age where terrorism or natural disaster could spark at any moment, that you would want to have a nice pair of shoes to avoid possible dangers in. If a levee breaks in your neighborhood, where are you going to be? That’s right, up flip-flop creek without a shoestring.
Flip-flops as regular footwear are, like reality television and rude cell-phone habits, signs of the decline of western civilization. They really say something about a person as far as I’m concerned. Now it’s one thing if you are making your way to a source of water for swimming, or in a public shower at a campground, or taking trash to the curb or even being a NCAA Woman’s Lacrosse Champion meeting the President of the United States. I’m not saying if you can’t wear them if you are say, Jimmy Buffet and you have a matching Cheeseburger in Paradise hula shirt, but if you are going to be attending anything public that requires lots of walking, there is no excuse for it. It has no merit as a shoe. By definition of purpose, it can’t. You can try and doll it up as much as you like, making them sporty brown with two sets of buckles like you would even attempt to hike with them, or decorate the plastic toe straps with butterflies or cubit zirconium jewels. It’s not attractive. There is no arch support, certainly no finesse, and absolutely no sex appeal. Flip-flops have all the social dignity of mononucleosis. It’s nearly Fall for flips sake. And if proper dress etiquette can pooh-pooh white after Labor Day, surely there is something to be said in the Hoyle’s Book of Fashion for these unsavory foot disasters. In this age of our concern about white teeth, toned bodies, implants, and clothes, we can't be bothered to put on a pair of real shoes?
Look, I don’t want to seem like a curmudgeon, I’m all for expressing yourself and looking like you just stepped off the fashion page, but let’s get something straight right now. Flip-Flops are not cool. They may be totally hip and nifty at water areas but when you are wearing them regularly as “your shoe”, then you need some one to come in and set you straight, a friend to tell you how wrong they are as a habitual footwear. I am that friend. I'm just looking out for the better interest of Americans, take your power of pride and get some sneakers or at least some loafers. Life is too short to still be acting like a 10 year old in a Wee Winks at the Outer Banks.
Surprisingly, this has yet to be published anywhere. Copyrighted though.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Where do I start?
Music to life to: Jon Spencer Blues Explosion "Xtra-Acme", any Noble Chicken (Why? well, because that's my band!) Movie to recommend: One Missed Call (Japan, Dir: Takaski Miike) |
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