I just saw the best advertsiement in the May issue of “The Week” magazine. It is entitled “Progress is Overrated” and it argues about how progress hasn’t done us any favors, so that’s why Post has kept the recipe for Shredded Wheat the same for 117 years. What sealed the deal was the tag line:
“We put the ‘no’ in innovation”
Simply Brilliant!
Ted
“I put the ‘ill’ in brilliant”
Holy chips and bean dip, captain! I have definitely stumbled across one of those accidental discoveries that should probably remain UNDISCOVERED. But, pop culture being what it is, and media catering to the lowest denominator and people waving signs saying “God Hates You” and all that, I figure… what the heck, I will SHARE (yummay!)
Now, if you’ve read around (which I have not, I just borrow from other people’s research), you may have heard how yoga balls make for better ergonomic chairs, and they cost $30 instead of $4,999,014 (price slightly dramatified to show texture). So, yes, I bought a yoga ball and threw my chair in the attic (it was a folding chair, just so you don’t hurt yourself visualizing my attempt to get a chair through a small hole in the ceiling).
So far, things are pretty mundane. But about a week ago, I made 12 quarts of slow-cooked split-pea soup. One need not use much imagination, as I think we have all experienced the joys of our fair-weathered “musical fruit”!
The true entertainment value, however, is when I combined this “music” with the yoga ball. What would normally have been a silent squeak was amplified via the ball! Like some form of deranged mad-scientist, I bounced happily on the yoga ball while unleashing a chaotic cacophony using only the pure sounds of the booty-flute and the zen amplification provided by said yoga ball.
Needless to say, when I was done with my exhillerating Symphony of Split-Pea in B-flat (ulant), I did stop to wonder, who else might have been home? The land lord? My roommates? Guests of my roommates? Perhaps I should be embarrassed, but I am instead liberated! Just, for your own well-being, don’t ask to borrow my yoga ball…
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