Bart Mendoza 5 a.m., Dec. 8
Almost won a bike race tonight! WooHoo!
...gets a Runner-Up accolade for knowing that Metro shelving is the best! No better way to hold stuff off the floor, period. Industrial grade kitchen equipment is the bee's knees, and the reason I don't cook at home anymore; once you're spoiled on the good stuff, retail grade equipment doesn't cut the mustard. Of course, these shelves might not be actual Metro shelving, but such dark thoughts have no place here!
Time to be Executive and award the Best Of:
Having a sword around is just the weirdest thing. Really, the whole point of a sword is to decapitate and dismember. So, without beating around the bush too much, actually owning a sword is tantamount to saying, "I'm really hoping that someday I will have the opportunity to decapitate someone." And, really, how strange is that?
Of course, it's kind of like a pirate obsession, when you get right down to it.
But, pirates? You ask me. What does that have to do with a craigslist sword?
Pirates have everything to do with a craigslist sword. I've even done my homework. The thing towards which I'm trying to draw your attention is the assertion that Talk Like a Pirate Day (TLPD) stems from a "romanticized view" of piracy. I actually ran into the phrase some time ago when trying to find out who began TLPD and why. Turns out that the history of the thing wasn't nearly as important as the slightly pathological reasoning behind the phenomenon of TLPD. It is a bit strange that we (the citizens of the 21st-century global world) have such a romanticized view of some things; piracy being a shining example of such a phenomenon. Everybody wants to be like Captain Jack Sparrow or Spongebob Squarepants. This notion of "swashbuckling" lifestyles is a strange one indeed. I should know, after all. I used to wear a Van Dyke beard with a decidedly curly moustache, head scarves, and large boots. "Oooh, you're such a pirate" everyone would say. Meaning that I looked like some sort of carefree, swashbuckling character with peculiar mannerisms. Ironically, that description actually fits me rather well...
Still! The hip, cool, trendiness of piracy--while admittedly awesome and something I would never discourage--is definitely a little weird.
Which brings us to the swords, because we could say the same of swordplay. Having a sword is like the ultimate mark of romantic savoir-faire. The whole, "yeah, I could totally decapitate someone" attitude is just weird because, in reality, "someone" actually means "some orc or goblin from dungeons and dragons." It's a total fantasy fetish thing, actually hitting someone with a sword. Besides, who out there would actually know what to do with a sword if he or she actually had the opportunity to use the damn thing? And let's not forget about the other end of the equation. The reflexive property of equality (who'd have ever thought I'd put that knowledge to use!) comes into play: if you have the opportunity to hit someone or something with a sword, then someone has the equal opportunity to hit you with a sword. And that would suck beyond all suckiness. Nothing of which I can possibly conceive could be more of a bummer than being hit with a sword. Firstly, they are as heavy as baseball bats. I have been hit in the head with a baseball bad (yeah, I did it to myself, tease me all you want), and that was horrendous. Secondly, they are sharp like knives. Working in kitchens I have delivered all sorts of terrible lacerations to myself with knives of varying degrees of sharpness; all of them were unpleasant in the extreme. I cannot, for the life of me, imagine the exquisite agony that would attend being hit with a sword. Picture, if you will, being hit with a razor sharp Louisville Slugger. Worst feeling imaginable, right?
Seriously, the skeletons know what's up!
Considering all this, what could be more absurd than actually wanting to have a sword around? It's like wishing you could go back to the days before the tetanus shot, or be drawn and quartered. It's like wanting to experience unanaesthetized dentistry out of some perverse fetish for a romanticized view of classical methods of inflicting agony on another person.
Not that I don't think that's a totally sweet sword that and that it would look wicked cool hung up on my wall, waiting for the zombie apocalypse to happen. After all, it doesn't count as barabarism if you're beheading that which is already dead!