Simpler Times ?

Sometimes I long for Simpler Times.  For example, when I went to the market they would package what I bought in a brown paper sack.  Now I have to make decisions.  Do I want paper or plastic bags.  If I take plastic then I am made to feel guilty for not having a reusable cloth bag.  There is much discussion now about charging for plastic bags.  I think a much better solution is the Costco way.  Package what people buy in left over empty boxes.  If they don't want boxes and don't bring a reusable bag, then they get to wheel out their cart to their car and transfer items one by one- NO BAGS.  That alone solves a multitude of problems and eliminates a decision or two at checkout.  Simpler Times!


Used to be that when we recycled from our house, we had four containers- one for paper and cardboard, one for glass, one for plastic and one for metals.  Now all of the items are mixed together in the same bin, to be sorted when it gets to the waste company.  This, of course, costs more.  Did I mind doing the sorting ? No.  They don't give me the option now, but I certainly paid less in those days.  I bet the waste company makes money on what it can sell as recycled goods.  I bet the local gubmint as well as the constituents (i.e. me) are never told what that amount is.  The waste company is making money from both directions.  Yes they have a crappy job, but I REALLY didn't mind sorting the items on my very small scale.  Simpler Times!


When I was a kid I got a job sorting out pop bottles that people turned in for deposit.  I asked my boss once why the bottles weren't all the same so they wouldn't have to be sorted.  He said Seven-Up comes in a green smooth bottle, and Coke comes in a rippled bottle with a pinched waist.  Everybody knows that (but do they really care?).  In California, all glass that is recycled (no matter what the color) is squashed and the bottles are re-made rather than being washed out and refilled.  Simpler Times!


I must be old because I REALLY can't understand how remaking the bottles is efficient.  All I save is the glass, which there certainly is a tremendous amount of easily available (i.e. sand), except that we need heat to make either the recycled glass or the new glass back into bottles.  It sure seems that washing and refilling are easier and cheaper.

  

Two terrorists are chatting. One of them has his wallet out and
is flipping through pictures.

"Yeah, this is my oldest. He's a martyr. Here's my second son.
He's a martyr, too." There's a pause...

The second terrorist says, wistfully...
"Ah, they blow up so fast, don't they?"

It was that time, during the Sunday morning service, for the children's sermon. All the children were invited to come forward.
One little girl was wearing a particularly pretty dress and, as she sat down, the pastor leaned over and said,
"That's a very pretty dress. Is it your Easter Dress?"
The little girl replied, directly into the pastor's clip-on microphone,
"Yes, and my Mom says it's a bitch to iron."

36 Signs You Might Be A Yankee

1. You think barbecue is a verb meaning "to cook outside."
2. You think Heinz Ketchup is spicy.
3. You don't have any problems pronouncing "Worcestershire sauce" correctly.
4. For breakfast, you would prefer potatoes au gratin to grits.
5. You don't know what a moon pie is.
6. You've never had grain alcohol.
7. You've never, ever, eaten Okra.
8. You eat fried chicken with a knife and fork.
9. You've never seen a live chicken, and the only cows you've seen are on road trips.
10. You have no idea what a polecat is.
11. Whenever someone tells an off-color joke about farm animals, it goes over your head.
12. You don't see anything wrong with putting a sweater on a poodle.
13. You don't have bangs.
14. You would rather vacation at Martha's Vineyard than Six Flags.
15. More than two generations of your family have been kicked out of the same prep school in Connecticut.
16. You would rather have your son become a lawyer than grow up to get his own TV fishing show.
17. Instead of referring to two or more people as "y'all," you call them "you guys," even if both of them are women.
18. You don't think Howard Stern has an accent.
19. You have never planned your summer vacation around a gun-and-knife show.
20. You think more money should go to important scientific research at your university than to pay the salary of the head football coach.
21. You don't have at least one can of WD-40 somewhere around the house.
22. The last time you smiled was when you prevented someone from getting on an on-ramp on the highway.
23. You don't have any hats in your closet that advertise feed stores.
24. The farthest south you've ever been is the perfume counter at Neiman-Marcus.
25. You call binoculars opera glasses.
26. You can't spit out the car window without pulling over to the side of the road and stopping.
27. You would never wear pink or an applique sweatshirt.
28. You don't know what applique is.
29. Most of your formative high school sexual experiences took place within the context of a football game.
30. You don't know anyone with two first names (i.e. Joe Bob, Billy Bob, Kay Bob, Bob Bob).
31. You don't have doilies, and you certainly don't know how to make one.
32. You've never been to a craft show.
33. You get freaked out when people on the subway talk to you.
34. You can't do your laundry without quarters.
35. None of your fur coats are homemade.
36. You don't have a burning desire to own an AK47. 

Twelve Steps to Not Thinking
I was a lot like you: carefree, happy and blissful. This was before my life took a tragic turn, a turn which I sense you are on the verge of taking. There is no help for me, unfortunately, but perhaps my story will prevent you from falling into the abyss into which I have been thrown.
It started out innocently enough. I began to think at parties, now and then, just to loosen up. Inevitably, though, one thought led to another, and soon I was more than just a social thinker. I began to think alone. To relax, I told myself, even though I knew it wasn't true. Thinking became more and more important to me, and finally, I was thinking all the time.
I began to think on the job. I knew that thinking and employment don't mix, but I couldn't stop myself. I began to avoid friends at lunchtime so I could read Kafka and Thoreau. I would return to the office dizzied and confused, asking, "What IS it exactly we are doing here?".
Things weren't going so great at home, either. One evening I had turned off the TV, and asked my wife "What is the meaning of life?". She spent the night at her mother's.
I soon had a reputation as a heavy thinker. One day, the boss called me in and said "Greg, I like you and it hurts me to say this, but your thinking has become a real problem. If you don't stop thinking on the job, you'll have to find another job". This gave me a lot to think about!
I came home early after my conversation with the boss.
"Honey," I confessed, "I've been thinking".
"I know you've been thinking," she said, "and I want a divorce."
"But honey, surely it's not that serious!"
"It is serious", she said, her lower lip quivering. "You think as much as college professors, and college professors don't make any money. So if you keep thinking, we won't have any money!"
"That's a faulty syllogism!" I said impatiently, and she began to cry.
I'd had enough. "I'm going to the library", I snarled, and stomped out the door. I headed out to the library in the mood for some Nitzche and NPR on the radio. I roared into the parking lot and ran up to the big glass doors.
They didn't open. The library was closed! To this day, I believe a higher power was looking out for me that night. As I sank to the ground, clawing at the unfeeling glass, whimpering for Zarathrustra, a poster caught my eye.
"Friend, is heavy thinking ruining your life?" it asked. You probably recognize that line. It comes from the standard Thinkers Anonymous poster. Which is why I am what I am today: a recovering thinker.
I never miss a TA meeting. At each meeting we watch a non-educational video; last week it was "Porky's". Then we share experiences about how we avoided thinking since the last meeting. I still have my job and things are a lot better at home. Life just seems...easier, somehow, as soon as I stop thinking.