On ties

I have a passel of ties, but I hate wearing them–all that rigmarole with the fancy knot. Most guys don’t know how to tie the knot, so they do a simple slip-knot, and it always looks like hash. Crooked, I mean. Sort destroys the whole point of the tie if you can’t tie it properly. They are adjustable, you know, according to my friend, Sha. As far as a totally useless piece of clothing goes, the tie is the most useless. Except if you want to keep gravy off of your shirt, the tie has no known use or value. Some guys with fat necks use ties as a cover for not buttoning that top button, but all that means is that they need to buy bigger shirts or lose a little weight. Some might say that a tie adds elegance of color and design to a man’s suit, but that is just style and caprice, meaningless, in other words. So men collect ties, always looking for that perfect shade of red or that one odd shade of gray that will look good with their favorite shirt. Many ties are just flat out ugly. In fact, most ties are flat out ugly. Murphy’s Law of ties says that no matter how you place your napkin, you will stain your favorite tie with bacon grease no matter what. Polyester ties are the worst of the worst. Pink ties? I think paisley is coming back, so hang in there paisley lovers. Murphy’s second law is that you will forget your tie for that one important interview. Never run a drill press with a tie on. Men will never throw away a tie no matter how out of style it might be or how blood-stained it might be. One should never dab one’s mouth with your tie after slobbering on yourself.

On ties

I have a passel of ties, but I hate wearing them–all that rigmarole with the fancy knot. Most guys don’t know how to tie the knot, so they do a simple slip-knot, and it always looks like hash. Crooked, I mean. Sort destroys the whole point of the tie if you can’t tie it properly. They are adjustable, you know, according to my friend, Sha. As far as a totally useless piece of clothing goes, the tie is the most useless. Except if you want to keep gravy off of your shirt, the tie has no known use or value. Some guys with fat necks use ties as a cover for not buttoning that top button, but all that means is that they need to buy bigger shirts or lose a little weight. Some might say that a tie adds elegance of color and design to a man’s suit, but that is just style and caprice, meaningless, in other words. So men collect ties, always looking for that perfect shade of red or that one odd shade of gray that will look good with their favorite shirt. Many ties are just flat out ugly. In fact, most ties are flat out ugly. Murphy’s Law of ties says that no matter how you place your napkin, you will stain your favorite tie with bacon grease no matter what. Polyester ties are the worst of the worst. Pink ties? I think paisley is coming back, so hang in there paisley lovers. Murphy’s second law is that you will forget your tie for that one important interview. Never run a drill press with a tie on. Men will never throw away a tie no matter how out of style it might be or how blood-stained it might be. One should never dab one’s mouth with your tie after slobbering on yourself.

On shopping

It is that time of year when societal pressure turns us all into shop-aholics–not because we want to be, but because it’s what everyone expects. So we buy a bunch of stuff that no one really wants and give it to people who already have everything that they already want. The traffic is terrible, the stores are jammed, everyone is short-tempered, they don’t have what you want, you are running short of funds, and you are creating of crisis of both financing and conscience at the same time. We over-consume on a regular basis without giving it much thought. We hurt ourselves because we are only thinking of ourselves and our tremendous righteousness as consumers who have everything: we don’t consider the poor or the hungry–we have met Scrooge and he is us, to paraphrase Pogo. We lead cushy lives, totally intent on satisfying our every need, but we build our castles on the sinking sand of materialism without the foggiest idea that this is not solid rock. We obsess about who might be doing what with whom, which is a total and complete waste of time when we don’t even know how to lead our own pathetic lives. If fact, I always suspect those who complain the loudest without keeping their own doorsteps clean. If we think our materialism will save us, we are so sadly wrong.

On shopping

It is that time of year when societal pressure turns us all into shop-aholics–not because we want to be, but because it’s what everyone expects. So we buy a bunch of stuff that no one really wants and give it to people who already have everything that they already want. The traffic is terrible, the stores are jammed, everyone is short-tempered, they don’t have what you want, you are running short of funds, and you are creating of crisis of both financing and conscience at the same time. We over-consume on a regular basis without giving it much thought. We hurt ourselves because we are only thinking of ourselves and our tremendous righteousness as consumers who have everything: we don’t consider the poor or the hungry–we have met Scrooge and he is us, to paraphrase Pogo. We lead cushy lives, totally intent on satisfying our every need, but we build our castles on the sinking sand of materialism without the foggiest idea that this is not solid rock. We obsess about who might be doing what with whom, which is a total and complete waste of time when we don’t even know how to lead our own pathetic lives. If fact, I always suspect those who complain the loudest without keeping their own doorsteps clean. If we think our materialism will save us, we are so sadly wrong.

On the perfect cup of coffee, or the best cortado

I do believe that if you take care to make a great cup of coffee, you don’t need to flavor it with anything else. Leave the vanilla for the ice cream, the hazel nut for chocolate spread, pumpkin for the pie. Yet the reality of most brewed coffee, especially if it has been pre-staled by one of the major coffee companies, is really pretty sad. Most brewed coffee is pretty bad–a weak, watery concoction that tastes more like umbrella juice than coffee. Recently roasted and freshly ground coffee, whether drip or espresso, is a pungent, fragrant, bitter array of robust flavors that have nothing to do with the coffee you buy at the local supermarket that comes ground in a can. Why Americans insist on dressing up their coffee with chocolate, caramel, pumpkin spice, vanilla, hazel nut, cinnamon and a bunch of other flavors is really easy to understand–they are drinking a stale, weak brew that doesn’t taste like anything at all. First, they never use enough coffee, so what they brew is as thin as water and isn’t opaque enough to obscure the bottom of the cup, much less taste like anything more than dirty water. Pre-ground coffee is also already stale, the vast majority of its flavor greatness lost with the passage of time as the bean’s essential oils are allowed to change and turn bitter with time, disappearing and losing any potency it once had. Never buy pre-ground coffee; pre-ground coffee is but a ghost of its whole-bean self. Even freshly roasted coffee has a shelf-life that is really very short. If you cannot roast your own, find a local roaster that roasts on a regular basis and buy into their production, buying small quantities so that your supply never gets very old before it is replenished. Old coffee is bad coffee, no question about it.

On the perfect cup of coffee, or the best cortado

I do believe that if you take care to make a great cup of coffee, you don’t need to flavor it with anything else. Leave the vanilla for the ice cream, the hazel nut for chocolate spread, pumpkin for the pie. Yet the reality of most brewed coffee, especially if it has been pre-staled by one of the major coffee companies, is really pretty sad. Most brewed coffee is pretty bad–a weak, watery concoction that tastes more like umbrella juice than coffee. Recently roasted and freshly ground coffee, whether drip or espresso, is a pungent, fragrant, bitter array of robust flavors that have nothing to do with the coffee you buy at the local supermarket that comes ground in a can. Why Americans insist on dressing up their coffee with chocolate, caramel, pumpkin spice, vanilla, hazel nut, cinnamon and a bunch of other flavors is really easy to understand–they are drinking a stale, weak brew that doesn’t taste like anything at all. First, they never use enough coffee, so what they brew is as thin as water and isn’t opaque enough to obscure the bottom of the cup, much less taste like anything more than dirty water. Pre-ground coffee is also already stale, the vast majority of its flavor greatness lost with the passage of time as the bean’s essential oils are allowed to change and turn bitter with time, disappearing and losing any potency it once had. Never buy pre-ground coffee; pre-ground coffee is but a ghost of its whole-bean self. Even freshly roasted coffee has a shelf-life that is really very short. If you cannot roast your own, find a local roaster that roasts on a regular basis and buy into their production, buying small quantities so that your supply never gets very old before it is replenished. Old coffee is bad coffee, no question about it.

On getting up early

Obviously it’s late, so this is not going to be pretty. I hate getting up early for anything, and I especially hate getting up early for either any early morning meeting or an early morning flight. For years I taught class at 8:00 a.m. What was I thinking. I love to stay up late and wrap the darkness around me as I write. Fatigue seems to release the creative juices, knocks down some of the internal editor’s walls, and let’s the imagination just wander aimlessly through the blind alleys of my mind. But if I have to get up early, I’m going to feel bad and sleepy, which is a horrible combination. I was not made for seeing sunrises. I was made for admiring sunsets. I know all of that stuff about the early bird, but I’m just not buying it. What a horrible metaphor, catching the worm and all. You need any worms? Not me. To sleep the sleep of the just plain tired and not worrying about the morning rush half hour is a great pleasure. Driving to work with all the crazies who slept too long and are now speeding to work is just plain dangerous. Between drinking their coffee, putting on their make-up, texting, eating an egg-whatever, and juggling the children, these people are just plain dangerous. No, it’s better to head into work after 8:00 a.m. and it’s even better when you head in after 9:00 a.m. If I can just sleep a few more minutes, drink another couple of sips of coffee, eat my toast while it is still hot, I am a much happier camper. Rushing around in the morning is for the birds, people who don’t plan well, and the frantic. I would rather not associate with that boiling morass of multi-taskers, and go to work in my own sweet time. This does require, however, a bit of discipline because otherwise no one would come in at all, sleep the day away, and nothing would ever get done. On second thought, that doesn’t sound completely awful at all.

On getting up early

Obviously it’s late, so this is not going to be pretty. I hate getting up early for anything, and I especially hate getting up early for either any early morning meeting or an early morning flight. For years I taught class at 8:00 a.m. What was I thinking. I love to stay up late and wrap the darkness around me as I write. Fatigue seems to release the creative juices, knocks down some of the internal editor’s walls, and let’s the imagination just wander aimlessly through the blind alleys of my mind. But if I have to get up early, I’m going to feel bad and sleepy, which is a horrible combination. I was not made for seeing sunrises. I was made for admiring sunsets. I know all of that stuff about the early bird, but I’m just not buying it. What a horrible metaphor, catching the worm and all. You need any worms? Not me. To sleep the sleep of the just plain tired and not worrying about the morning rush half hour is a great pleasure. Driving to work with all the crazies who slept too long and are now speeding to work is just plain dangerous. Between drinking their coffee, putting on their make-up, texting, eating an egg-whatever, and juggling the children, these people are just plain dangerous. No, it’s better to head into work after 8:00 a.m. and it’s even better when you head in after 9:00 a.m. If I can just sleep a few more minutes, drink another couple of sips of coffee, eat my toast while it is still hot, I am a much happier camper. Rushing around in the morning is for the birds, people who don’t plan well, and the frantic. I would rather not associate with that boiling morass of multi-taskers, and go to work in my own sweet time. This does require, however, a bit of discipline because otherwise no one would come in at all, sleep the day away, and nothing would ever get done. On second thought, that doesn’t sound completely awful at all.

On Halloween

Costumes, candy, horror stories, parties, and lots of strange behavior mark the final day of October. I think that most mainstream religion visibly cringes at the religious tones of the holiday, or just relaxes and accepts it openly as one of those strange manifestations of supernatural belief that can neither be denied nor dismissed. There exists a carnivalesque atmosphere that draws people in who dress as zombies, politicians, monsters, superheroes, or whatever as an expression of the innermost desires to be heard and seen as something other than what they are during a routine day. Halloween is definitely a break from the routine, a break from the established social orders, a break from the sadness that often crowds into our daily lives. People wear masks, or perhaps they take one off. They eat candy–lots of it. Perhaps what people are doing with Halloween is confronting their fears–of the darkness, of the unknown, of the future, of economic ruin, of joblessness, of death. The dark, festive nature of Halloween is attractive because it speaks to the repressed desires that lurk just off camera for most people. Whether those desires are sexual, or violent, or perverse, or gluttonous, or lazy is the thing that brings out the ghosts and goblins on the last day of October. The year is winding down, summer is over, and the year is drawing to a close, boredom is creeping in from all sides. Halloween is a salute to our darker natures, the hidden ego, which, for one day a year, gets a chance to go out on the town and play.

On Halloween

Costumes, candy, horror stories, parties, and lots of strange behavior mark the final day of October. I think that most mainstream religion visibly cringes at the religious tones of the holiday, or just relaxes and accepts it openly as one of those strange manifestations of supernatural belief that can neither be denied nor dismissed. There exists a carnivalesque atmosphere that draws people in who dress as zombies, politicians, monsters, superheroes, or whatever as an expression of the innermost desires to be heard and seen as something other than what they are during a routine day. Halloween is definitely a break from the routine, a break from the established social orders, a break from the sadness that often crowds into our daily lives. People wear masks, or perhaps they take one off. They eat candy–lots of it. Perhaps what people are doing with Halloween is confronting their fears–of the darkness, of the unknown, of the future, of economic ruin, of joblessness, of death. The dark, festive nature of Halloween is attractive because it speaks to the repressed desires that lurk just off camera for most people. Whether those desires are sexual, or violent, or perverse, or gluttonous, or lazy is the thing that brings out the ghosts and goblins on the last day of October. The year is winding down, summer is over, and the year is drawing to a close, boredom is creeping in from all sides. Halloween is a salute to our darker natures, the hidden ego, which, for one day a year, gets a chance to go out on the town and play.