"Can openers that won't"
The things we'll swallow for health
"The talent of pulling numbers out of a body cavity"
Have you noticed how I too often ramble all over the place before I get to where I’m going? You have? I do that a lot, do I? Well, that’s great, because today we’re starting off with can openers
During the last two months, Kay and I have purchased four can openers. Three of ‘em were made in China and couldn’t open a can unless you attached a blasting cap to it. One “opener” was electric. A $10 electric can opener. Does it get any better than that?
The other two weren’t electric, yet each cost as much as the electric. One thing they all had in common was the fact that they were made in China. I’ve got nothing against the Chinese. Not crazy about how they cut up a chicken, or how their alphabet works, but they’re okay.
There is one thing about the Chinese that has become quite clear to me of late. The Chinese have not yet grasped the art of can opening. And this is the crazy part – owners of retail stores in the U.S. refuse to stock their shelves with can openers unless they come from China.
I don’t know what these retailers use to open their cans, but whatever it is, they do not offer it to their customers. Granted, my findings are based on the purchase of only three can openers. Perhaps every fourth one actually works. It’s possible.
Kay finally found one company on-line that sells Non-Chinese can openers. The name of the company is “Made in the USA.” I kid you not. Kay purchased a red-handled can-opener for $15. It looks like the one Elsie used to have, but without a red handle. And, get this -- it actually opens cans. It costs more, but it works.
Sure, I can save a couple of bucks for something that doesn’t work. And I have. But, now I prefer paying a little more for one that works.
I do not blame the Chinese for this. They’d be stupid not to sell lousy stuff to nincompoops who are willing to buy it. I’m just saying, uh, did you hear how much rain fell on California during the last deluge. (He’s wandering! Seat belt time.)
A couple of weeks back, a reporter with NBC News had the audacity to read what someone put in front of him. He read, “The storm deposited 10 trillion gallons of water on California.” I begged Kay to tell me that he didn’t say that. She said, “He didn’t say that.” – I said, “Yes, he did.” – She said, “Fine. So, I wasn’t listening.” I then reached over and stole her ciabatta roll.
Ten trillion gallons of water? Why tell me that? It’s like saying that the average warthog carries 396 ticks on any given day. Am I supposed to think that NBC’s research staff is smarter than all others? Is 10 trillion more believable than 800 billion gallons? How about 1017 ticks on a warthog? Are you more amazed than you were when you heard 396?
|Looks like 10 trillion gallons to me.|
Someone out there is convinced that we are fascinated by bull defecation. Are we? Are you? Then why are they wetting our legs with superfluous hooha and calling it news?
And while we’re at it, what’s all this about coconut oil? (Hold on! He’s moving again.) Coconut oil has been on sale in the U.S. since 1843 when Captain Blake entered Boston Harbor with a massive supply of the stuff. No one was all that crazy about Blake’s cargo, but a moderate amount stayed in Boston, and, over time became available in most cities.
Like NBC, I made all of that stuff up. But, I’m not making up the fact that, today, coconut oil has become God’s gift to the circulatory system. At the last Hayter gathering, my niece (who is an absolute doll) was singing the praises of coconut oil. It’s God’s gift to—oh, I already said that. Anyway, when Shauna cooks with oil, it’s always coconut. She says that it leaves no coconut smell or taste in the food. When I use it, the coconut smell and taste remains in my food, but that’s ‘cause I cook it wrong.
Shauna occasionally eats a spoonful of coconut oil, ‘cause it tastes great and it’s full of the good cholesterol. I took her word for it. Jill didn’t. Jill put a heaping spoon of that stuff into her mouth and then began looking for a place to throw up. My kid sister has a gag reflex that can be set off by the smell of a raisin. Yet, she put a glob of Crisco into her mouth. (That’s what it looked like.)
I could do nothing for her, except give her my I-can-do-nothing-for-you look. I don’t know how she got rid of it or where she got rid of it, but after about 10 minutes, she was standing there in the kitchen wearing her semblance-of-sanity look. (That girl can make me laugh like no one else.)
And, none of this explains how Kay and I ended up being the only ones in the theatre wearing 3-D glasses. But, we’ll have to save that for another day, because now I have finally arrived at the point of my intended theme.
That would be my wish that all of us have a productive, worthwhile and fun 2015. You can try to do all of that by yourself, but it’s so much easier and enjoyable if you share the journey with the friends God keeps putting in your path. If I’m not one, it’s probably because I’m always wandering all over the place. -- Next time.