IT SMELLS LIKE.
I talked to a teacher about that wonderful smell that is in the air this time of year.
It is heavy and sweet, and probably comes from a combination of privet hedge, honeysuckle and other blooming plants.
“It smells like the end of school,” teacher said in obvious bliss.
As both of you know, I am a modest guy who is happy with the simpler things in life.
I like NOT having choices. For example, when I go to John Curtis for a haircut, I simply say “Haircut.”
I don’t ask for purple streaks, or cornrows or a North Korea Fearless Leader shaved sidewalls hairdo, or Orthodox Jew Curly-Qs in front of the ears. I’ve never had a Mohawk or a ducktail.
Just: “Haircut.” John understands.
The same for most foodstuffs. I am appalled to see that food items — items that I was once familiar with — have evolved into mysterious combinations that scare other stuff out of my shopping cart.
Once upon a time your momma might send you to the store to get a can of baked beans (in my family’s house it was naturally a half-gallon can).
Now you have to select from: BBQ, honey, brown sugar, bacon, turkey lips, vegan, lying vegan, or Muslim style with gunpowder residue.
I managed to stay alive during penniless college days by living on a diet of Spam and Spam.
You remember Spam? Well, if you want some Spam now you must choose from original, curry, hickory, teriyaki, jalapeño, pickled, low salt, bacon, turkey lips, French red wine, or Muslim style with dynamite residue.
Remember how excited you were the first time you fixed cheese dip for friends coming over for a football game on TV? You just dumped a box of Velveeta and a can of Rotel together in a fairly clean pan over low heat, and hoped someone else brought the chips.
Now, of course, Velveeta comes in Mexican, illegal Mexican, original, low fat, high fat, caloric lies and a few other mysterious styles.
And that dependable old Rotel is now in original, chunky, fire roasted, extra tomatoey, chili style, Texas chili style, lime & cilantro, UFO, hot, extra hot or extra-extra hot.
The worst foodstuff travesty, though, is that “they” whoever “they” are (I’m fairly sure it’s one of those weirdos from the Food Channel), have gone to messing with Spagetti-Os. That Native Italian American treat which you would serve to your kid when you didn’t have anything else and no time to fix it anyway. Has there ever been a screaming kid that couldn’t get happy spooning down a can of warmed Spagetti-Os?
Of course not.
At least, not until now.
You are plumb wore out by the time you get through looking at all of the types of Spagetti-Os that Mr. and Mrs. Campbell now offer.
Original, cheesy, taekwondo, turkey, extra turkey, simulated Italian, gluten free or Muslim style with dynamite residue.
It’s enough to drive me back to Weight Watchers. Plus, you’ve got to have a working can opener and I won’t even get into that again.
I’m afraid to look closely in the frozen foods section. Does the store now have more than just chocolate, vanilla, strawberry or neapolitan ice cream? No, don’t answer that question because I have a suspicion I wouldn’t like the answer.
And in my next column I’m going to name my old college roomie who neglected to bring the chips for my first cheese dip, forcing me and our friends to lick it off our fingers.
A BIG BLOW. Weekend wind ripped the awning of Heritage Computers on Main Street. I saw at least one large tree limb down on Fourth Street. Everyone’s pretty much in agreement that we’ve had enough rain for at least a little while.
AND JUST for the record, my barber says he’s willing to try to shave a J on the side of my head as a constant reminder to the mayor that he’s tardy on deputizing me for J-Turn duty in downtown Nashville. I hate to ‘harp’ on this subject so I’ll just shut up for awhile.
THINGS I LEARNED from reading email: There isn’t a magazine named “Northern Living” for good reason.
HE SAID: “We owe a lot to Thomas Edison – if it wasn’t for him, we’d be watching television by candlelight.” — Milton Berle, comic
SHE SAID: “Too much mercy… often resulted in further crimes which were fatal to innocent victims who need not have been victims if justice had been put first and mercy second.” — Dame Agatha Christie, crime novelist
SWEET DREAMS, Baby