Okay, so I posted my first blog almost a month ago and kinda fizzled out there. I somehow got it into my head that as soon as I started the genius would just pour out. I imagined it like one of those old black-&-white movies... me in a gray suit (I think it's gray... the fantasy is in black-&-white, remember?), cigarette hanging from my lips as I hunched over my netbook (No, I don't smoke! It's for effect. And no, the fantasy doesn't go so far as to include the typewriter). But in a seamless combination of procrastination and lack of inspiration I created... well, uh... nothing. As one may guess from my earlier 50's movie reference I grew up on old movies (thank you soooo much, dad. I'm sending you my therapy bills if this blogging thing doesn't work out).
Don't get me wrong. I didn't just shelf the whole thing. I had stuff to write... I guess. Truth is I think I was trying too hard. For me, that was totally out of character since I pride myself on my overall lack of enthusiasm. I wanted to really have something to say and nothing was good enough. I kept drawing a blank and days turned to weeks, etc, etc. But, you know what? Whenever faced with a hurdle I have to climb I just take a nice long sigh and say “Screw it!” That philosophy cured me of my fear of heights, drowning... girls (I almost left a comment to that last one then realized Mrs. C might actually read my posts some day).
Anyhow, I digress. I actually did have something I wanted to write about and I think I'll stop wasting everybody's time and begin my story:
It was a Sunday... Mrs. C was watching T.V. and I was over in the corner playing computer games (as per out typical Sunday afternoon ritual). During her show an ad was for some kinda “touchless” soap dispenser came on. At first I wasn't really paying too much attention because “...a huge wave of zombies was approaching...” and I needed to put more pea-shooters down. But somewhere on the edge of my subconscious heard the line “...and you'll never have to touch a germy soap pump again...” … and I cringed... and I thought about it... and I paused my most-skillful zombie slaughtering for a second... and wished I could, just this once, rewind time so I'd realize I just heard it wrong.
But I didn't...
I'll warn you now. Whatever you want to call it: people taking themselves too seriously, media mind control, excessive consumerism (I'll call it just plain idleness - Trini-talk) – this is one of those things that'll set me off. I mean, come on! Is this the society we live in today? When did we start worrying about when the little bottle that holds the liquid soap was a means to our destruction? Parents today must be mortified to even think that – dare I say it – MUD could even come into contact with their children. Parents in my day (remember, I'm still in my early 30's here) were glad to find any way to get us out of their hair and I'd be allowed to play in the mud, tall grass or even the middle of the street if it gave them five seconds of peace and quite. As such, I am not afraid of a little dirt. I live on a tropical island anyway and most people in the so-called developed countries think we still live in caves and mud huts (we were so glad when tablet pc's came out). Let's see who get's that one.
But, continuing my rant, I am of the firm opinion that if we allow this trend to continue, by the time my kids (when we eventually do start our spawn) – are parents, people will, most likely, live confined to their own plastic bubbles and procreation, if it still exists, will primarily involve the use of sterile test tubes. (And, yes, I do realize I'll get in trouble for the use of the word “spawn” to refer to our future children, by the way). Not that it's not important to practice good hygiene. I mean, I almost decked a guy in work the other day. It isn't that every thing he does just seems to annoyed the crap outta me but when he proceeded to stick his finger up his nose and subsequently, in one fluid motion, extract said finger and slap me on the arm with the same hand I had to stop and take a long, looong, deep breath and regain my composure (I still have flashbacks). To make things worse, he didn't even notice what he did (at least, that what I tell myself). Aside from incidents like those, however, which mostly require just a little bit of common courtesy, the rest is just, in my opinion, just plain idleness. And the guys in the suits and power ties use this and pander to our basic insecurities.
Truth be told, all of the money spent on our obsession with germs is wasted anyhow because, as any gamer will tell you, the real cure for human contact is World of Warcraft – lucky for me, I met Mrs. C before I met WoW.