Author’s Note: I’ve decided to make my weekend installments of this blog resemble something different from the near-daily “news briefs.” Thank you for your patronage. Be sure to tip your waitress on the way out.
Every now and then I am confronted with a mind-bogglingly vapid or obtuse person, place, thing or idea. Now, I’m not against nouns – I simply find myself confronted with rare cases that grind the very coffee beans of faith in humanity. Apple fans and consumer whores beware – this one's all about you.
Upon realizing my recently acquired “disposable income,” I decided it’d be nice to have a music player to help occupy the time I spend feigning interest here away from home. Through a stroke of (luck?), I ended up getting an iPod Nano. Bear in mind that I denounced the very idea of participating in pop culture simply for the sake of being “cool.” That reminds me, everyone should check out my new page at MySpace! Sarcasm aside, the point is that I now own the spawn of Apple Hell. It’s not a menace yet, but it is inherently evil by association.
I witnessed the power of the demonic device while grabbing lunch one day at my “guest” university. While channeling the outside world via The New York Times, I looked up from my paper to see a girl glance towards me as she passed by. While she smiled at me, I traced her vision back to my Nano. She was cute, much in the way that any girl with a bra size/IQ nearing the upper 30s and cups most certainly filled with Vitamin D-sized goodness tends to be. She then sat a few tables down from me, apparently within earshot. That’s when I heard her utter, “Oh, my God, those Nanos are so hot. You know, it’s those little things they always show on MTV? I swear I have to get one. Like, they’re so cute.” Suddenly, the game was afoot.
-Should I stroll over and exploit the consumer whore within her? -Should I casually saunter near them, Nano in view and whet their product-hungry appetites?
-Or should I seek consultation from within…the “Great Nano” itself?
I opted to ask the Spirit of Nano to grace me with a random track that would alter the threads of destiny. Its Magic-8-Ball-esque response was a Ben Fold cover of “Bitches Ain’t Shit.” My evil lord works in mysterious ways.
I opted to “ignore the whore” and “listen to the music.” The Reverend Folds doth say, “Bitches ain’t shit but hos and tricks.”
“Go on,” I seemed to say as I nodded to the profundity coined by Dr. Dre, Ph.D.(doctorate of social sciences, biotch!) It was clear that such women were not the caliber of lady worth leaving my crossword puzzle. Besides, the worst kind of whore is a consumer whore who moonlights as a slut. I’ve got higher standards, mostly involving literacy and a requisite appreciation of apple juice. When it comes to these chicks, the Nano while pocket-sized, still appeared to be the largest thought to cross their mind all day.