Public Service Announcement

Hear ye, hear ye, attend all ye interested in this news.

Anal bleach is now available at Walmart.

I find this news amazing for two reasons: one, who wants to bleach their a-hole? How do you reach that point, when you wake up one morning and think, time to bleach my a-hole? I can’t ever imagining awakening to that morning.

Then, they probably think, well, where do I get a-hole bleach?

Mind, I don’t know if that’s what it’s called. I don’t know what you say when you’re in Walmart and can’t find the a-hole bleach. What do you ask an associate? “Excuse me, can you tell me where the a-hole bleach would be?” Or do they already have them up on the little signs that tell you what’s in the aisle?

My number two to all of this is, a-hole bleaching is now so mainstream that Walmart is selling it.

Of course, I remember the ruckus raised when women modeled brassieres in the Sears catalog. It made the news!

A-hole bleach at Walmart didn’t make the news. Guess it wasn’t newsworthy. My wife read about it on some post. She shares my shock that people are bleaching their a-holes and the stuff to do it is sold at Walmart’s. It’s all about our age, culture, mores, and norms. Somehow, we just don’t think a-hole bleaching is going to turn out to be a good thing, but that circles back to our A-C-M-N, doesn’t it? I guess it’ll be real news when you can buy it at your local grocery store.

I think I’m going to go vape some green and think about what it all means.


The Latest

In the 1960s, as far as I know, we came in America to have T.V. dinners. I remember the first time Mom brought a few home. She looked at the shiny, foil trays and asked, “Can this be any good?”

Thirty years ago, it was Tofu. Tofu was in everything or they were making it out of tofu. “What is it?” “It’s the miracle food, tofu!”

Tofu didn’t always lend itself to everything in the early days. I experienced some nasty, funky tofurkey on one ghastly Thanksgiving. But progress was made. Textures, appearance, and flavoring improved. Tofu came a looong way.

We shifted from white rice to brown rice. Fat-free and non-fat became the cry, but then people asked for a little fat. “Please, sir, may I have a little fat for flavor?” A little fat was added and pronounced low-fat. Sprouts and sprouted breads arose in favor. My wife, a vegan, then a vegetarian, and now a pescatarian, despises the sprouts, grumbling about them whenever they’re served to her on a salad or sandwich. Look out if it’s sprouted bread.

We’ve processed through other phases in the quest to be healthier. Plant-based and dairy-free cheeses arrived. Organic arose in favor. GMO free. Gluten-free. Kale jumped in there, making a brief splash on salads and as chips, and then, non-diary milks arose. They’d been around for a while, but suddenly things were being made of coconut milk, almond milk, soy milk, rice milk. Soon the ice cream aisle exploded with non-diary frozen desserts. Then —

Greek yogurt!

Now we’ve come to the latest. Gentle people, I give you the cauliflower.

Yes, it’s the miracle food, cauliflower. Eat it raw. Roast it in the oven and eat it instead of french fries (or roasted brussies, or roasted kale chips.) It’s great as a pizza crust or a creamy soup. Why should potatoes have all the glory? Have mashed cauliflowers instead of mashed potatoes.

I’m sure someone somewhere is working on cauliflower wine and cauliflower ice cream. What comes next? will it be the beets?

No, too obvious. Plant-based meats are making a run, but I think something else is on the way.

Solyent green, anyone?

My Purple Hair

I love my purple hair. Most would call it eggplant. It’s purple in my mind.

Most people can’t see it, though. It doesn’t exist, except in my mind. I’ve never dyed my hair purple, nor any other color. Although I want to, to demonstrate my rebel nature, having purple hair isn’t me. I don’t like attention; purple hair would draw attention.

I cope with a trifurcated opinion about unusually dyed hair, tattoos, and piercings. One, I don’t like them. Two, I admire them. Three, I don’t understand them.

People getting and doing these things must not mind the attention, but I question how much they’re rebelling. With piercings and tattoos becoming more prevalent, it seems less like they’re rebelling, instead conforming in a new way. Maybe they’re not rebelling; that’s part of what I don’t understand.

The same happened with me and my parents. I wore bell-bottoms. My hair was long. Mom and Dad didn’t like either of these things, because it was different. Was I rebelling? No; I was emulating the Who, the Beatles, and other rock and rollers. As I told my parents to their disgusted observations and comments, “But everyone wears them.” I guess that if someone I admired back then dyed their hair purple, I’d have done it, too.

No one did, and I retained my natural hair-color. Some rebel.


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