On April 3 I was waiting for a bus, with a plastic bag containing three boxes of cookies. This was one of the boxes. It is the subject of the following sentences and perhaps that is why I have no picture of the other two boxes, which came from different manufacturers. The cookies were to be eaten during an art show reception I was participating in that I suspect I will never get around to writing about. Certainly I would want people to show up to look at the artwork rather than to eat the cookies, but I had already seen the art and needed something else to occupy myself with.
A woman and man were also waiting for the same bus I was. They were beside a tree so I stood on the other side of the tree. It was unusual for anyone else to be waiting in this place, and it was also unusual for me to travel with such a large quantity of cookies. These two factors would combine in a most tragic circumstance.
The woman walked in front of the tree, so that she was almost in the street, looked over my bag and spoke. This was immediately bad news. Ordinarily nobody speaks to me in public except to ask me for money. This time it was worse.
I responded to the effect of “I try.” I eat a lot of garbage. Not as much as I once did.
The person pronounced “GMOs” like “jeeyemoze.” If I didn’t know what GMOs were genetically modified organisms already and that this person was pronouncing the letters in an abbreviation, the statement ought to have confounded me, so clearly I had to already know what GMOs were and did, and yet the person spoke as if she an adolescent telling a younger sibling that Santa Claus didn’t exist as petty revenge.
I believe, but cannot confirm, that I responded “anything you buy at a supermarket is going to kill you.” Perhaps I should have said “get away from me, you presumptuous tub” but I am never at my best while waiting for a bus.
The person replied, still looking at my bag, undeterred by my lack of mindblow,
She waited a moment, and before I could ask “do you grow your own food?”, and perhaps I wouldn’t have, because my immediate goal was to make her voice stop, she curtly remarked
I was too filled with hate to respond.
By the time it was a feasible option we were on the bus and I preferred, for the moment, unfulfilled resentment to attempting to speak to someone like that. It was far safer for me to silently hate her and myself than to risk the hate being focused on her exclusively, who had not had thirty years to develop antibodies for it. The fact that I hated myself for not focusing my hate on the woman is a marvel of evolution.
I object to a stranger telling me that I “should” do something, and I object to a stranger assuming I lack knowledge, and I object to Hi and Lois.
I was immediately reminded that four days earlier one of my more virally-minded face-book relations reposted this image, which mixes specific brands with general company names and seems to think Nestlé, one of the largest food companies in the world is a product of its considerably smaller and exclusively confection-focused competitor The Hershey Company. Both have been known to profit from exploitative labor used to obtain their chocolate, though Hershey has at least expressed a willingness to change that. In 2012. There is no wrong reason to boycott Nestlé.
Indeed most of these companies have been selling massively processed, sugar-soaked, salt-smothered de facto poison for more than half a century, for much of that with full knowledge of the long-term health effects of consuming such things. Why have I never been pestered about for drinking Coca Cola in public, but this harmless closed box is a problem? Because there was no mass-repostable graphic that said to harass Coke-swallowers recently. You would have had to actually read paragraphs about it and reach a conclusion on your own to realize it was garbage. Or look at the back of the packaging.
The boycott picture doesn’t say “GMO” on it anywhere, so it is likely that my informant also found a smirky, kony-esque video to go into scantily more detail.
Or perhaps she saw this graphic and realized oh no, three letters! That’s at least two thirds as bad as MSG!
I actually DID “google” it and the very first image was one which gave no information at all beyond ooh dass bad! In fact I was so sure it would that I wrote the part referring to “this graphic” prior to my finding and placing it here. Perhaps I should have used the text search, but I was only instructed to employ google and not any specific google function.
I am concerned that gmo is approaching southern connecticut from two different directions but for the moment I am safe.
Fortunately, no GMO comes in all these stylish and delicious flavors, which can never be used to misdirect public opinion. I just hope none of these graphics contain JPG.
I am fortunate that I correctly assumed she meant google and not googol, a number which is 1 followed by one hundred zeroes, because I probably would have run out of money buying that many gmos.
So bus stop lady now has terminator lock-on vision that can seek out a kashi logo at 30 feet behind any non-lead obstruction. It’s like smoking a cigarette in the 1990s, this week, except we got off the bus at the smokiest bus stop in town, where every third person is smoking a cigarette, spitting after smoking one or selling cigarettes to somebody else, and she didn’t accost anybody. It is no longer trendy to pester cigarette smokers because the government does it already by putting six dollars worth of federal, state and local taxes on a single little box of them. Mission accomplished. The woman also managed to get past the Duncan Donuts and Subway stores across the street (and presumably every other street in New Haven) without procuring a megaphone and yelling JEEYEMMOHZ at exiting customers.
it is possible that as a buyer of “organic” goods I seemed like somebody with an inflated sense of superiority that needed to be ruptured. In fact, any remotely edible thing I had that was in a box would have jammyohs in it. “organic” is the enemy specifically because it thinks it’s better but perhaps is not, in all cases. I can understand resenting that. The goal was not to enrich my life with health advice –not she nor the poster suggested any alternative, GMO-free products– just to get me off my high horse. However, I have also been avoiding high horses ever since I found out they were enriched with MLP.
Perhaps it is unrealistic to expect somebody to say:
However, this would have exhibited knowledge and good intentions, rather than grasping at an opportunity to inflict inferiority on somebody you know nothing about, with no provocation. It might also have encouraged conversation (provided there was a pause after the initial question), rather than scorn. Fortunately my scorn is all natural.
I like the idea of viral hypey thoughtlessness actually being put toward a useful cause, but it probably isn’t going to change anything, because it is still thoughtless, and when it’s one of my own causes I become inclined to dislike it out of spite. Nobody involved is going to learn anything. If GMO is defeated and removed from food but replaced by DDT or BVD or MXY or POG then these people won’t take it on themselves to find out, and won’t believe a suggestion from somebody else unless it is communicated on the same terms used by people selling it to them.
The woman didn’t say anything about me having three boxes of cookies, either, which are inherently lethal. “you like to eat a lot of cookies, huh? Cookies have fat and sugar in them, you should hotbot it.”
She was right that the single Kashi allotment were the worst of the bunch. I didn’t get to eat one but they felt weird. I would have known not to buy them in the future without any outside influence decreeing it.
Tuesday: alas, my inability to fulfill my hope is not irregular at all.
I shall return to my regular quarters on Tuesday. Hopefully that will permit me to resume irregularity.
May 27, no major dope news to report.
I recently was looking through some of the sketchbook pages I had computer-scanned up to now, and came across a letter I had quite some while ago sent to somebody after also scanning. Included in the letter, and perhaps the reason i am no longer on any terms with the recipient, was a tiny drawing in the lower left corner. Since i thought i might want to investigate the image more thoroughly later without having to be reminded of the awful words, I cropped the image and saved it seperately. Without thinking (its subject matter made thought unwelcome) i named it “captaindope.png.” This morning (February 13) it suddenly struck me:
Who gave it that rank? Who commissioned it? Who promoted it? Why is it such a prestigious naval officer? captain dope outranks Lieutenant Dan!
I am not personally fond of Forrest Gump or his film but I sympathize with Lieutenant Dan, especially when his orders come down the line directly from captain dope. Forrest Gump has many skills by accident. The dope has NO SKILLS on PURPOSE (with NO purpose). I would NEVER obey ONE order that came from captain dope. If IT ordered me to not jump off the ship that is preccisely what I would do! And no, captain dope is not smart enough to utilize reverse psychology. It isn’t smart enough for most things. Its only ability is to stand there and smile. and by the way if I stayed on board I would go over the waterfall.
Who put the dope in a sailboat and who put a hat on it?
This isn’t the first time; a recurring unstandability of mine is that some dopes will randomly be wearing hats. who is the rogue maniac traveling the lands putting hats on dopes? obviously dopes do not put hats on themselves. I get the impression they “know” how much stupider they look and become accordingly more oppressive, however.
I DEMAND that a dumpster be brought on board so that captain dope can be tossed into it. captain dope is even less qualified than captain crunch, the man who orders himself to crunchatize himself and once “accidentally” turned all his cereal into choco donuts (not to be confused with chocolate doughnuts, which choco donuts meet neither legal minimum requirement for).
Captain Crunch, who apparently recently started an internet video series where he is made of paper and re-enacts classic comedy bits from trailers to cg animation movies (screaming for no reason). Oh yes and shills for sugar-encrusted bits of gravel intended to function as meals for children. Keep on reaching, dope.
I question whether that is the real captain in the video. First of all, his mouth isn’t open nearly wide enough, and also his eyes are firmly embedded in his head. To have captain dope aspire to be an imposter of someone so amoral is just icing on the icing (cake would be too nutritious).
Our crack reading team is currently investigating other reasons to avoid cake.
I have never been more proud of my mother.
Hey bimshwel, tomorrow is mother’s day. I am your mother. Why don’t you talk to me?
Are you ashamed of me, bimshwel? Is it because I discovered the secret to clean teeth that dentists hate me for?
Is it because of the time I told you I was taking you to
Cars Land and it was just Dan Perkins Subaru of Milford? And then you watched me get arrested because the staff recognized me from the surveillance video as the person who went around painting creepy cartoon eyes on all the windshields? I don’t know what your problem is. You didn’t have to watch.
Just like you didn’t have to watch me watch television while wearing yellow wrestling boots and potentially something else. I can do what I like in MY house. Anyway, the last time I saw this picture it was on YOUR webpage. Whose fault is that?
Oh no, somebody escaped!
Oh no, a Tintin tin!
Oh no, the Harvest Hobgoblin!
So you see things can be far worse. I have had enough tragedies for many days!
I cannot answer that, but I can tell you which New Haven, Connecticut-based university probably doesn’t have a front page space devoted to this comparison. Arbitrary lists of cartoon series titles qualified based on nothing may be a tougher call.
The list’s presence, prominence, perhaps is a dubious complaint for me to make with regard to this comparison, because I think college newspapers in general are unnecessary apart from letting students think they’re good at something that seems important but isn’t, and isn’t that hard either (regardless of whether that is the fundamental function of college for most people). Maybe getting the thing arranged, printed and distributed -on time even- is an accomplishment, but imitating the bland tone of a paid journalist isn’t. I saw somebody reading the yale newspaper on The Bus once and it was filled with great big headlines and white space. I could almost read the main print from where I was and I could tell I wouldn’t have cared to even if I were a student of the place’s, and I don’t even think it was about football. I think it was about grass. Like on the ground, outside. Oh oh hey what’s this?
Breaking news: football won the football game
Anywany, the real difference is in the benefits: You Yale folks think you’re all hot,
getting discounts at vegetarian restaurants and
dentists and what not
we get the getty mart! look, they even almost spelled the sign saying so properly. WE get to buy lottery tickets and cigarettes! We don’t get any discounts, but we can pay full price at any time of day (with our Hoot Loot), if we’re lucky enough to not be murdered when we come down this street after 6pm.
It’s not like that’s Krauszer’s, or something. That’s in the other direction. Getty Mart: it’s on the SAFE side of the school!
Dear students: we didn’t catch the guy.
In the interest of uninteresting pedantry, I should add that this notice is from last year and there was a fairly high-profile murder at Yale of a student by another, and that we’re all lucky to get out with our lives. Why focus on the differences? Regardless of your income level, you can die at college in New Haven.
8:49am, february 14, 2012: I arrived at the art building to find this memo taped in various places. After my first class was over all the memos were missing. I’d never have even known there had been any accusation against David Chevan, someone whom I had never had a class with or met or seen if not for that. An accusation is not proof, but failure to acknowledge an accusation is not a solution. Anyway,
Now I am conflicted. I am heavily anti-creep, but I am also a creep. Rarely deliberately. If I were removed from the school for that reason I never would have seen this to know why.
Please don’t use this ending.
Does it increase sales to promote the college’s merchandise as being licensed by itself? is this distinction necessary? I would sincerely be more interested in bootleg scsu junk. Both what and why.
I had assumed this was the same sort of thing as Stop and Shop’s generic brand food, utterly lacking in prestige and cheaper than the competition, but SCSU rubbish is actually MORE expensive, and its mascots are worse than stop and shop’s.
Yes, I am saying even this generic dinosaur is more appealing than an owl, or Ceramic Fred Flintstone. I think the implication is if you eat little rocks out of a fish tank for breakfast every day you too can turn into one (a rock, not a fish tank).
It worked for this guy, anyway, even if he lacks the charisma of a Rock. That is a cartoon representation of professional wrestler John Cena in a pose and level of detail that would surely be incompatible with the budget of The Flintstones. He also starred in a movie called The Marine, which allows me to retract my previous parenthesis because a fish tank is the closest he has ever come to actual military service. I’m as much a marine as he is because I rode in a jeep with one once. He kept a big knife on the passenger side, I presume, to give him more of a challenge if he needed to kill me because he suspected I might tell people he was at a furry convention.
Ehhh after Hulk Hogan urged kids to train themselves and eat proper vitamins throughout the 1980s and was revealed to have been using a different sort of “vitamin” the entire time, I suppose it could be an effective confoundment strategy for the World Wrestling Ederfation to imply its most pushed and therefore most scrutinized star –because the amount of push WWE gives a man is directly related to how many steroids he looks like he is taking– eats total garbage and watches cartoons all day. How could he be juicing? There’s no fruit juice in those things! Are there any serious questions? Oh dear out of time.
I couldn’t figure out why a 70-sheet notebook cost $3, and I only looked at the school’s brand because I assumed it was cheapest. I assumed it was my perk as a student to be allowed to buy cheap notebooks. Not at all. In the school’s mind, it is my perk to be allowed to buy official SCSU notebooks. I should pay extra to do so, beyond the tuition. With that in mind the recent email advertisement for branded school merchandise is not surprising.
It is assumed that I am a “fan” of the school’s athletic department simply because I am in attendance at the institution they are vaguely connected with. I’ve never even been at the part of the campus where those sorts congregate. I don’t know why anyone who didn’t have to, would. Certainly I’ve been seeing people wearing SCSU GO OWLS sweatpants since I’ve been here, but I assumed, as before, that this was simply because the stuff was cheap and convenient to purchase. That is in the minimal exertion spirit of sweatpants. I wore sweatpants every day of my life before I learned how to be ashamed.
But this, it is very proud of itself. It wants me to also be proud of itself. I cannot be proud while wearing sweatpants! I don’t like owls much, either, except for when I had a cat that thought he was an owl.
I think they look funny, and I like that they’re supposed to be really “wise” but in fact tend to be dumber than other real birds (which may be appropriate), but I am not taken by their visual presence. Owls are scary outside in darkness, where they are hard to see and make creepy noises. In full light they’re boring. In fact,
I just blacked out. What… what have I done?
And the school wants me to come in on a SATURDAY to buy stuff. I ha[d] an hour free every thursday [when I wrote this] and I NEVER go in there. Why would I set aside two hours to deal with buses, get in there, and deal with buses again to get back here? I wouldn’t have to come home if I never left it. The last time I went out I accidentally killed an owl, anyway. I don’t trust myself outside right now. The world is safer with me at home.
I am not the person I was when this entry started.
Oh jolly good.