Pick-Up Artist

So I'm just reading the Sunday paper and working away at the computer, with whatever game is on in the background, which is pretty much my typical Sunday afternoon if no one bothers me (in other words, pretty rare).  I'm surrounded here by windows- I never counted them before, but there are exactly 100 of them in this room, 100 @11"x8" windows.  I live on a corner, and all these windows look out on both streets, so I look out a lot, and occasionally see things.  

Today's sight was innocuous but curious, as a young woman I hadn't seen before was walking a large dog I hadn't seen before.  Fortunately, our dogs were snoozing.  As one pup in particular also likes to look out the window, such a sight would doubtlessly incite some vigorous barking, as it does several times a day, but on this occasion I watched in peace as the big dog did what big dogs do on the lawn.  This is mildly irritating when the owner doesn't clean up- some do, some don't- but unlike my wife, who has been known to chase offenders down the street, I really can't get excited about it.  But in this instance, the lady who failed to clean up actually made me laugh.  As she pulled out her bag and turned it inside out, I nodded to myself approvingly, only to see her bend over and wave her hand over the poop, only pretending to pick it up, and making quite a show of it.  I've actually seen such behavior before, but never with such a flourish.  And what made me laugh was not just the histrionics, but the notion that the act was premeditated.  She actually took the trouble when leaving her house to pack a poop bag in order to have props for the performance.  Most offenders just ignore the mess and go on their merry way, apparently oblivious to civility, or, more likely, simply expressing the darkness in their soul.  But this woman knew that not cleaning up was wrong, anticipated that the situation would occur, but rather than do the right thing to avoid the social disapprobation of strangers, chose to pretend to do the right thing should strangers be watching.  

It's an unlucky man that will marry her, but not more so than the poor baby around changing time.  However, it seems unlikely that this insecure evildoer will have to worry about that.

Reach out and touch someone

I'm getting tired of people "reaching out" to me.  Where did this expression originate?  I know it's a harmless phrase, and often used by kind and sensitive people, but it is too dramatic.  What are you reaching out for?  Do I need help?  Do you need help?  Are you engaging in an arduous or unusually magnanimous act for which I should be truly grateful?  Because it just seemed like a business-related email to me.

The picture raises an interesting question:  what is the worst boy band ever?  Answer:  all of them.

To Serve Man

I never really got involved with video games because I knew I wouldn't rest until I found the princess (for those old enough to remember the original Mario games), and I don't have that kind of time.  It's the same with Facebook, as I don't have time to relate the inane details of my inane life, nor do I have time to read the same about others.  But there's something else about Facebook, even beyond the distaste for that company's founder (though not the concept's founder, apparently).  It just seems like a Twilight Zone episode- or perhaps Southpark- or come to think of it a million shows and movies where some social phenomenon explodes onto the scene with epic popularity, all the while with some hidden and nefarious agenda. ( "Mr. Chambers, don't get on that ship! The rest of the book To Serve Man, it's... it's a cookbook!")  It seems innocuous enough, and connecting people seems so noble a cause.  But beyond the obvious criticisms around privacy (and they've been quite duplicitous in this area) and security- and with so many people in the world, there are just too many bad people being cyberbullies, stalkers, trollers, and aggressive marketers.  But maybe this bad company will be obsolete soon, a victim of their own popularity.  Now dominated by middle-aged women searching for long-ago boyfriends (and being disappointed with what they find) and then resigning themselves to posting pictures of their kids, the cool factor is definitely gone.  You'll know Facebook is completely dead if MicroSoft acquires it.

Kickin'

The sneaker industry and culture is pretty interesting, but I really don't care about sneakers, and won't go down the long and well-trodden road of sneaker commentary beyond stating unequivocally that I won't be spending crazy money so that the kids can try to impress other shallow kids.  I really only need three pairs of sneakers, one for running, one for hanging around, and one for mowing the lawn and such.  I probably have a couple of other pairs that I just haven't gotten around to throwing out yet, but how many pairs do you really need?  

One thing though.  I always thought those little loops at the back of sneakers were pretty girly, but as I get older and my feet get farther away they're starting to look a little better (and it probably won't be long before the looking will be through bifocals).  What's next, using a shoe horn?  Velcro straps instead of laces?  Those god-awful Crocs?  Might as well just start wearing a sweat suit and go to the mall.