Flaming Meteorites of Annoyance

You're back? Wonders never cease. As long as you are here pull up a chair, or more appropriately a bar stool. I have a topic of serious import. For my second blog post I decided to dive right in and address a situation so serious, so momentous, so critical to humanity's survival that to ignore it could cause such widespread destruction and mayhem as a hundred mile wide asteroid striking earth. You know, the kind of cataclysmic event that killed off the elves and dwarves and goblins and such like. Wait, no, let's be realistic I meant the dinosaurs, and the dragons of course. I am certain you have ascertained from the title of today's blog what I am talking about, a sobering thought to say the least.



Just kidding, I'm actually just going to talk about a pet peeve of mine. But it is something I cannot figure out. So maybe you, gentle reader, can help me. Let me start by saying I really don't care if people smoke. I enjoy the occasional cigar, typically much to the dismay of those near me. I have even had a cigarette or two. There is a theory that Bar Napkin wisdom is enhanced by smoking a cigarette (Just leave it at cigarettes my friends, I know what you people are thinking, at least some of you anyway). This being said, there is a phenomenon associated with regular cigarette smokers that I cannot figure out. A person who is otherwise considerate and socially attuned, and smokes, often does this thing without apparent thought. So I am wondering if it is some kind of smokers code. Perhaps an unspoken perk, or right, which only smokers are aware of. The rest of us are left to wonder why it seems. Let me set it up for you.



So you're cruising down the road, windows open, maybe in your convertible (you sally) enjoying the nice weather. Perhaps it is dusk, the failing light of lovely day giving way to a clear cool night. Of course your Elton John CD is blaring, something like "Saturday Night's All Right For Fighting" is playing. You know, the perfect moment of life. Yeah, you're right, that might not be the name of the song, but it is the chorus, stay with me. Ahead of you is a beat up 1985 Chevy pickup, which you have not paid particularly close attention to. Something which will soon change, and all too soon at that. It all happens in a flash. Something fires out the window of the pick up. Your attention is drawn because it is afire. Blazing even, in the gathering dusk it is the brightest thing in the sky. Millennium of human ancestral memory draws your eyes directly to the fiery object hurtling out of the window of the preceding vehicle. It is FIRE! Were you captain James T. Kirk, you might react with something like "Mr. Sulu! Evasive action Alpha!" But of course you are nowhere near as cool and calm as William Shatner, who is really, so you just brace for impact (Interestingly this is invariably what one of Kirk's crew members always said when evasive action Alpha failed. Food for thought). So here it comes, directly at your starship, I mean convertible. Small bits of fiery tobacco falling away as the slipstream captures the mini Meteorite and redirects its lateral motion into a collision course with your vehicle. Unable to avoid impact you watch in horror as the Flaming Meteorite of Annoyance bounces off your car. It's bloody annoying isn't it? Plus, there is spittle on the damn thing. It just came from that jokers mouth. It's like he just hurled his chewed up wad of Beef Jerky at you. Not cool, no not at all.



I mean, seriously. What is the deal, as old Seinfeld would say, with people lobbing Flaming Meteorites of Annoyance out of their windows? I suppose it's not like the thing will slam into your grill, penetrate your engine block and blow off you leg at the knee or anything. As cool as that might be it's unlikely to do more than bounce off your windshield. As a side note, if that happens, make sure Spock gives you an estimate on what percentage your windshield is at, and a guess from Scotty on when full power can be re-established. I'm just saying. All that aside. I really want to know why smokers feel free to throw their butts on the ground, out the window, into planters, etc, etc. Are these things eco-friendly? I know that Smoky the Bear hates them. How many trees have been doomed by Flaming Meteorites of Annoyance? Lots I'd guess.



So I am left to wonder why smokers drop their butts wherever and whenever they want. Perfectly socialized and nice people simply drop them all over the bloody place. Clearly it is not all of them, but there are enough that I have noticed. And ask my wife, if I notice something it's fairly obvious. So if you know why this phenomenon occurs, let me know. Otherwise it's yellow alert when in close proximity to a vehicle with smokers. And for gods sake try evasive action Bravo, or Charlie, because Alpha is clearly rubbish.

In the Beginning...

Congratulations.  If you are the one person in the world who is reading this you have witnessed the creation of the Brazillionenth blog on the web.  Well played my friend.  The blame however goes directly to my friend Slick who inspired me to do this.  In fact, when I become rich and famous from this I expect you will all be entertained by a legal tussle between the two of us as the title was his idea to begin with.  Perhaps I will share my wealth, perhaps not.  In any event you should be entertained. 

"Are you not entertained"!  That was my best "Gladiator" voice by the way.  Get used to the movie quotes, happens a lot.  Back to the reason for the blog.  My buddy Slick mentioned I should write some of the various things I say and think down.  That is of questionable merit at best, a complete disaster at worst.  But being just narcissistic enough, and having many many opinions, some of them vaguely interesting and some with no particular value, I decided to go ahead and do it.  I've read that the average life span of a Blog is not long.  So if you are reading this in the year 2050, you are now getting a glimpse of life in 2010 and the mind of JS.  Well, maybe a few weeks of it anyway if I can muster that kind of commitment. 

Now, about the title.  Ever been in a bar, or social gathering where a few drinks may have lubricated the personal interactions and various topics are earnestly discussed, often with much vigor and passion?  Invariably, at the time anyway, significant portions of the worlds problems are fixed.  Yet, when cruel morning light is shone on the proceedings, those epiphany's are lost.  Perhaps it is the newest brain cells that die in the hangover, perhaps the solutions arrived at were garbage.  Unfortunately we will never know, because they are forgotten.  One is left with the vague feeling that if only he had written down the solutions last night, the world would benefit in new and wondrous ways.  I hope you can see where this is going.  My friend Slick thinks if we had only written this stuff down on a Bar Napkin, all would solved, fixed and corrected.  I think he's off his rocker.  Of course, I can't prove it at all because neither of us remembers.  Kind of like the seconds before the gunslingers draw their pistols.  Two squinty eyed cowboys wondering who is going to be right when the lead flys.  Ok, maybe not that dramatic but you get the point.

So I named this likely train wreck, "Notes From a Bar Napkin".  I'll just fire off whatever comes to mind and see where it leads.  Stay Tuned, or not...