I had a high school science teacher who once, in a moment of frustration, famously accused an out-of-control class of running around “like a bunch of blobs.”  If Mr. Duncan were to read this post he could accurately claim that I wrote it like a bunch of blobs.  If you’re looking for taut, cohesive writing, you probably should go visit some other blog today.

And most of the other days.

Blob One

There is a drink machine in our building where I will occasionally treat myself to a high-quality paper cup of French Vanilla Cappuccino.  I’m sure the French are swollen with national pride to know that a guy in Kentucky has such ready access to their Vanilla Cappuccino.  I’ve been patronizing this particular machine for years and just today noticed that it features “2” cup sizes.  I’d really like to ask the person who designed the machine’s graphics about the quotation marks around the 2.  Were they added for effect, and if so, what effect?  Or are they trying to hide something?  So many questions.

Blob Two

I was reading the headlines on Yahoo News and saw an article titled “How not to be a Bore at Parties.”  I’ve already got that licked.  I avoid parties.

Blob Three

I was rudely cut off in traffic a couple weeks ago by a guy with one of those Darwin fish the sole purpose of which is to mock the Christian “Ichthus” fish.  Thankfully, my faith is strong enough to not be shaken by little metallic legs sticking out the bottom of a peel-and-stick fish.  Surely the driver wouldn’t have minded if I had mashed the gas and angrily spun his car into a bridge abutment.  Because of all the choices I had at that moment, that would have been my natural selection.  “But Officer, I was only augmenting his worldview!”

(And did anybody catch the fish pun I made back there?  Sole?  Anybody?  Sometimes I don’t know why I even bother).

Blob Four

I close today with an embarrassing confession.  You know how sometimes parts of your brain will battle one another?  One part is totally willing to reach a conclusion and go on its merry way, while some other more grown–up part will pause and advise caution.  Last year we got satellite television service (including two DVR’s which I love with such passion that I will reserve comment on them for another time because I think all bloggers are legally required to extol the virtues of their DVR).  So I was happily searching the channel listings, excited about what new offerings I might find that I never had with cable.  As I’m scrolling along I go past one that is called the “Cocoa Channel.”

So the naïve, happy part of my brain thinks, “Wow!  A channel about cocoa!?  Must be some spinoff of the Food Network that caters to chocolate enthusiasts.  What will they think of next?”

(And did you see that food pun I did right there with the word “cater?”  If you people aren’t going to try any harder than this I’m going to go get a pseudonym and blog someplace else).

Let the record show that the duration of such thoughts were no more than a second or two before the wiser part of my brain kicked in and took stock of the situation.

“That’s not a channel.  It’s a show.  It’s on one of the shopping networks.  It doesn’t say ‘Cocoa Channel.’  It says ‘Coco Chanel.’  I think that is some kind of perfume or clothing or something.  But it’s certainly not chocolate.”

OK, then.