CSotD: Saturday short-takes
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At last, a day when nothing momentous distracts from the fun of comix!
Although I suppose I could spin a rant about astroturf fads from Liza Donnelly's announcement that she's getting off the kale bandwagon.
When I say "astroturf fads," I'm not commenting on how the stuff tastes, though I'd rather eat collards or mustard greens or maybe that green strip that separates take-out sushi from the wasabi and ginger. I like greens, but kale isn't even my fifth choice among them.
Flavor aside, the notion that everyone suddenly "discovers" a new must-food is pretty naive. The almond people are pretty out front about having hired someone to promote the product and the dairy industry was pumping up awareness well before the "got milk?" campaign.
So, to paraphrase Michael Corleone, don't tell me that the kale thing "just happened," because it insults my intelligence and makes me very angry.
I've got nothing against kale itself. But I don't believe all the wild claims, and it just feels like a mirror-image of the wild claims about genetically modified food or infant vaccination, which is to say, just as there is no actual scientific basis for all the claims about how harmful those things are, I don't think there's a lot of hard science behind all the claims for how superior kale is.
But I'm not ranting today. I just want kale to go climb into the "we're over it now" bin alongside creme brule and tiramisu and cosmopolitans, which at least didn't come bundled with wild health claims.
Google gabble
But while I'm determined not to rant about my distaste for overboard enthusiasm, Tina's Groove continues the theme. It got a laugh today because I went into Staples Wednesday and the person at the register nearest the door paused in ringing up a customer to send a clearly-mandated cheerful greeting my way.
Which won't keep me from buying office products, but the chipper call-outs at Moe's have, indeed, made me go elsewhere for Mexican food. Well, that and the fact that you can't just go in there and ask for a cheese enchilada or a beef burrito because everything on the menu has a clever name and description that you have to parse through wondering what in the hell you have to ask for in order to end up with a goddam beef burrito?
I think Moe's is a cult: They're way too eager to welcome you, and way too mysterious about what they serve.
Check this
So as long as I'm not ranting, a bit of quiet gratitude for the last leg of my recent trip to Denver, sparked by today's Bottom Liners.
Normally, I at least carry my bag outbound, because I need the stuff when I arrive, not delivered by taxi a day later. But I had more than an hour and a half in Newark for the connection, and was arriving Thursday for a Sunday workshop, so I checked everything except my laptop through both directions.
It was very nice not having to haul a carry-on around and everything arrived on time except the camera that disappeared from my checked baggage. Fortunately, the thief left a note telling me who stole it, and we'll deal with that.
Mostly by getting a larger laptop case so I can fit everything electronic in the next time, since the camera was barely expensive enough to go over the deductible on my renter's insurance and the TSA is not about to own up to it, I'm sure.
They're in charge of making sure you don't put things in your luggage, but apparently they aren't in charge of making sure nobody takes things out of your luggage.
Note to al Qaeda: Recruit some baggage handlers.
Anyway, on the return, my O'Hare-to-Manchester flight was a fairly small plane and had no room for roll-ons, which had to be gate-checked. That meant not only did we not have people trundling their mini-trunks down the aisle and then making everyone wait while they wrestled them up into the bin, but there was room up there for my laptop case and I didn't have to have it taking up footspace under the seat ahead of me.
And everybody got their roll-on back at the other end, which meant they got to keep the airline from losing it and TSA from looting it and I think all flights should gate-check those things.
Oh, and I not only had an aisle seat in the exit row, but nobody had the slightly-more-spacious window seat, to which I moved.
I paid extra for the legroom, but I don't mind that.
I do mind having to pay extra to replace the camera, but life goes on and I'm not ranting today.
Don't check your camera, Evie
Meanwhile, over at Stone Soup, Evie's off to South Africa. There are many things I like about how Jan Eliot does this: First of all, she hasn't simply handed the strip over to Evie. Not only does she avoid overplaying this recurring theme, but she avoids losing the focus of a good strip.
More than that, she's working Evie's adventurous spirit into a parallel effort to make Alix a role model for smart little girls, and without making her a stereotypical "tomboy." The idea that curiosity and boldness are for "tomboys" simply means that girls aren't supposed to be smart and adventurous and thank god that's not true.
I've said before that what I regret about being my age instead of a kid today is that Title IX unleashed a flood of girls with ponytails hanging out the back of their baseball caps, striding confidently down the street.
Dirty old men used to drive around Boulder in the 70s, drooling over the girls in halter tops, but that's creepy and pathetic. What I'm talking about is watching the NCAA Softball Tournament and seeing those tough, self-assured and (thus) very attractive college athletes hanging over the dugout railing cheering on their teammates and wishing they'd been in style back in our day — because I know the potential was there, but society hadn't extended "permission."
Well, Alix, you've got permission, and you don't have to shock everyone the way your gramma does.
Best of all, Alix is not alone. Over at Edison Lee, the Hambrocks have been working a smart girl into the mix, and she's not a nerd or a geek. She's a smart kid, and the only way she's an antagonist to Edison is that he might not always be the smartest kid in the room.
We need more of these, but it's a start.
It's also a welcome break from "oh those teenagers with all their texting and their saggy pants."
I may be too old to be hip anymore, but I'm not so lost in the fog that I think it's clever to be clueless.
I better sign off. That could easily turn into a rant.
Here. I'll let you do the ranting today.
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