Throughout my life, I’ve always had many questions and curiosities. I’ve always wanted to know what things were, how they worked, why things are the way they are, where they came from…you get the idea. I’m learning now that the older I get, the more I tend to channel the things that befuddle me. Many things that I once pondered over incessantly no longer concern me in the slightest. Other lifelong queries still plague me, and have me even more curious than when I was younger, while some other questions didn’t manifest themselves into my subconscious until I was older, if ever at all.
The following is sort of a list of these items that may or may not perplex me. There’s no rhyme or reason to it, just a collection of random thoughts and wonderings. Many of the age-old questions we’ve been forced to muddle over in our easily influenced minds were the result of T.V. shows, song lyrics, marketing and advertising, and various world events. Having never been one to take things for face value, I filtered which of these questions I genuinely sought answers to.
Who Cares Who Shot the Guy?
One such question that was posed to us as Americans back in the early to mid eighties was: “Who shot J.R?” An entire nation of prime time soap opera viewers were held captive for one whole summer waiting for the answer to this. I personally was not amongst them. I never cared in the slightest for a multitude of reasons. Not the least of which is that at that time, I was much more concerned with taking my liver and genitals out for recreation on a Friday nights than staying at home following the chronicles of a family of Texas oil moguls.
If you wanted to capture my attention and alter my sleep patterns for an entire summer while keeping with the theme of Larry Hagman characters, a more enticing question would have been: “Who shot Major Nelson”?
I mean, J.R. was a billionaire Texas oil tycoon and that’s pretty cool, but Major Nelson was a FREAKIN ASTRONAUT! As if being an astronaut wasn’t cool enough, the guy lived in Coco Beach, Florida and had a smoking hot Barbara Eden dressed in a Jeanie outfit living in a very comfortably furnished Irish Mist bottle in his den. Oh, and did I mention that she would obey his every command? Now this guy being shot would truly have been a tragedy. So no, I never cared who shot J.R.
Song Lyrics
Song lyrics have often posed questions that we may or may not seek answers to. The only recurring theme here is that if you write and sing a song in the form of a question, you are destined to never be heard from again. That’s a guaranteed ticket on the “one hit wonder train”.
“Do you like pina coladas?” No, but I think Ruppert Holmes is now manning the chocolate water fall at a Golden Corral somewhere. Is “The Bird” really the word, or were we just led to believe that? I never once, even for a second wondered “Who wrote the book of love”, or “Who put the bop in the bop-shoo-bop-shoo-bop”, and I damned sure never wondered “Who let the dogs out”. My only quandary over this catchy little tune was when it would run its’ course. How long would I be forced to listen to drunken buffoons in bars and at sporting events ritualistically shouting the only lyric to that God-awful song that they actually knew? It would be painful enough if everyone just sang that lyric, but it was ALWAYS invariably followed by a series of mono syllabic grunts intended to simulate the sound an excited canine might make.
Sticking with the music theme, NO! I don’t know the way to San Jose. I have also stopped trying to figure out if Tracey Chapman is male or female. I enjoy “its” music, and I’m content with that.
The Conundrum of Marketing and Advertising
Marketing and advertising have saddled us with some interesting questions over the years as well. I’m not sure how comfortable I am with the resurgence of the “Where’s the beef?” campaign. It was kind of catchy when a 90-year-old woman asked it back in the eighties, but now it’s being pitched to us by some skinny, dorky kid, who wasn’t yet born before the entire cast of the original commercial was dead.
I’m not really curious about Altoids. Pretty strong mint, clever packaging…I get it. I don’t feel compelled to ask any Posture Pedic owners about their mattresses and pleasant sleep patterns. I learned more than thirty years ago from a very wise old owl that it takes exactly three licks to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop and I was cool with that. I no longer needed to wonder. I’m no longer clinging to the desperate hope that the fifth and final dentist would finally come around and say that it’s ok to chew Trident gum. Mom said it’s ok and this jackass just wants to make waves and be different. I’ve moved on.
These Ploys May Keep Me Up at Night
Some marketing techniques do still stump me however, and I’ve spent time thinking about them. For example, there is a condom brand called Ramses. Correct me if I’m wrong, but wasn’t this dude alleged to have had more than 100 children? Is he really the best pitchman for contraception? I think this was the brainchild of an ambitious kid with a marketing degree and a warped sense of humor, banking on his employers’ lack of knowledge about ancient Egypt.
This absolutely stupefies me…how does a Thermos know? The same container keeps hot things hot and cold things cold—sometimes for days at a time! I never understood that.
What moron is responsible for the packaging of Imodium A.D.? Why must I enlist the use of industrial strength landscaping equipment or the “jaws of life” to gain access to the medicine itself? CLEARLY, if I have purchased this product and require its’ use, then TIME IS A FACTOR! I don’t need to feel like I’m wrestling an alligator during this time of potential crisis.
Do parrots really like crackers? Or is this simply an unfortunate stereotype perpetuated by one individual named Polly who befriended an old pirate?
I don’t “Love Raymond”. I have no personal vendetta against the guy, but I just think the title was a little presumptuous. Perhaps they should have gone with something like: “A lot of People Dig Raymond”. I personally think the guy did his best work as the voice of an animated Mammoth, so don’t presume to tell me who and what I love.
Why do we call it a “pair” of pants? Has anyone ever been in a big hurry, and mistakenly left the house in just one pant?
Who decided that pitch men with British accents better the odds of selling your product? I hate this! It’s annoying as hell and you have a better chance of selling me something that is pedaled by that mangled-faced, speech-impaired, half-wit mutant from the Sham-Wow ads.
I Know I’m Not Alone in This One
Apparently, at some point in life I missed a survival class on how to properly prepare for Mother Nature’s wrath. Why, when the weather report says that there is a potential for snow, be it a dusting, or the accumulation of nine feet, are the staple supplies always milk, white bread, and toilet paper? What is it about these three items, and why does everyone but me seem to know? Before the meteorologist even utters the words, “Back to you Suzy”, the shelves harboring these products are picked clean. I don’t get it. If there’s the potential for Armageddon like weather stranding me, my three-item list consists of vodka, batteries, and vodka. With crisis imminent, Wonder Bread and dairy products aren’t exactly topping my list, and I can improvise in a pinch as far as cleansing my posterior region. According to the Mayans, the world ends in ten months. Should I start stockpiling milk, white bread and toilet paper now?
I can take solace in knowing that I learned the “Meaning of Life” many years ago thanks to Monty Python and friends. Anyone who’s ever called my cell phone and heard my outgoing ring tone knows how much credence I place on the crew of the “Flying Circus”.
But even with all of the knowledge I’ve gained and that which I’ve dismissed as irrelevant, there remains one nagging question that has perplexed me for many years. It has kept me awake many a night and haunted my subconscious. My life will not be complete until I find the answer. Why isn’t the word “PHONETIC” spelled like it sounds? It seems to me that if ever there were a word that should be spelled using “FA NET IKS”, it’s that one. Well, that’s all I’ve got.
Thanks for playing along.
Until next week,
Syd Nichols
