Nothing appears sacred anymore. When the most popular cookie in the world feels that it has to try unusual things in order to appeal to the market, as it has recently with waffles and syrup (as well as myriad other flavors), it is easy to wonder just what's going on around here. Sure, there's no evil in trying new tastes per se, and if that's what folks want, well, so be it. After all, waffles and syrup do seem popular with breakfast.
But why do we see all this, I don't know, innovation seems an overwrought term to use. There are lots of tasty treats out there, and sugary ones are prominent. Yet waffles and syrup in cookies? Especially beloved ones such as good old Oreos? The whole idea simply strikes me as bizarre. If you want waffles and syrup, just go get them.
One easy explanation is that the makers of the famous treat, Nabisco, are merely responding to market forces. There's nothing wrong with that, again adding the caveat per se. Markets tend to make things better indeed by offering choices and making improvements on various levels and in various ways which are sometimes heretofore unimaginable. Having said that, I cannot ignore the implications of changing things simply to change them. If the markets are doing nothing more than reflecting such, what does that say about us?
What are we looking for, that we can't be satisfied with good old Oreo cookies? Why ought things change merely to change, merely to be different? To display our individuality? Surely, though, when we have to do things differently solely to display our independence we are in fact the most dependent of creatures. We have to watch society for what it likes and then act differently. At that point we're merely being contrary, if not obstinate and contradictory. Our personalities and outlooks, if dependent on change (which is after all merely doing things differently today than yesterday) are actually rather shallow.
Yes, yes, yes, I realize the hyperbole in what I've just asserted. I know, I've already said, that there's nothing wrong with experimenting with new cookie flavors let alone habits of fashion per se (yes, I must again add that dreaded as such). I'll even readily concede that the flavor of an Oreo isn't substantial in any useful philosophic sense. And I certainly do not want to be the reactionary conservative who opposes simply to oppose, who sees every change as dangerous if not sinful. Those reactionaries can be as wrong in resisting change as the revolutionaries who want to alter everything. I simply want people to understand that what was once accepted en masse, particularly the tried and true, can continue to be accepted without surrendering any valuable individuality on our parts. I want folks to accept the converse of eternal change: a single, basic, underlying outlook which holds all our choices together. That means if you must change what are mere habits, simple personal proclivities, merely to assert your person, you aren't particularly individual at all. You may be becoming something worse.
Well, I did a thing. Yesterday morning after leaving a customer pickup call I stopped at the Buc-ee's in Huber Heights, Ohio. I've heard a lot about them, so, why not?
It was impressive but not life changing. Nowhere near, in fact. I had half expected that, from what I've heard of folks losing their minds over Buc-ee's. Indeed I've read that travelers in the U.S. for the World Cup soccer tournament are making special trips to see the combination gas station/stores.
Really? I mean, it was cool, and it's hard not be impressed with their selection of food and snacks. But to make an excursion out of it strikes me as absurd. To be blunt, how much choice do you need that you elect to go out of your way for it?
Still, the food and drink choices were astounding in variety, although glaringly noticeable was the lack of choice in coffee. I thought the hot food on the expensive side, and as there was no seating area I declined to try any, satisfied with a later sit down breakfast at good old Cracker Barrel.
If you want Buc-ee's souvenirs and apparel, you'll certainly get that. Yet the most outstanding thing I found were the gas prices. At $3.39 a gallon, it was the best I've seen lately.
So I'll keep Buc-ee's mind, and I certainly won't turn my nose up at it. But it's overblown. At the end of the day, it's just a fancy gas station/department store.
Well, look who was interviewed by The Digital Journal, an online news source. Me!
Here's the link: Faith Through Allegory: Charles Martin Cosgriff on Exploring Humanity’s Deepest Questions
It's a bit potboiler, but hey, it's a step forward for my books. Here's hoping!
Ever since I found Duke's Mayonnaise is available locally I have been using it on nearly all my foods.
Ham and cheese sandwich? Duke's!
Turkey and cheese sandwich? Duke's!
Roast beef sandwich? Duke's!
Corned beef and Swiss sandwich? Duke's!
Tuna sandwich? Duke's!
What do you use with fried fish instead of tartar sauce? Duke's!
You need a dip for potato wedges? Duke's!
Out of milk for your breakfast cereal? Duke's!
Okay, maybe not that last thing. But you get the idea. I'm Duking it out! I bought two more jars already. It's. That. Good
One of my favorite things about baseball is that you can savor moments, at least more so than in many sports. In hockey, and I do like hockey, goals seem to come up suddenly, indeed almost unexpectedly. Blink and you miss. But baseball? The moments allow a certain enjoyment because they tend to build.
Take the Columbus Clippers game which the Ohio Cosgriffs and I were at last Saturday. The home team won, but it was a slog. They weren't hitting very well, and then the second baseman couldn't complete a double play in the top of the seventh inning, which allowed the lead run to score for the visiting Omaha squad. As that night's match could only be seven innings by rule (it didn't start until after 9 PM because of a rain delay, and in the minor leagues any game beginning that late is seven rather than the typical nine innings) that run loomed large.
Columbus, then, was down 2-1 as they came up for their last at bats. When the first hitter struck out, it looked bad for the Mudville Nine. But the second batter drew a walk, and a pinch runner who was presumably fleet footed was sent to replace him at first base. A bit of hope was felt by the crowd.
Batter three swung mightily at the first pitch he saw yet missed for a strike. But on the next pitch he connected for a moon shot, a huge, arching fly ball which caused the crowd to jump to its collective feet. The ball sure appeared to be a home run off the bat. Yet you must wait and see. You get to anticipate that happiness which you know approaches.
The ball sank around ten rows beyond the left field wall. Cheers erupted. Columbus wins 3-2 on what is known as a walk off homer, because technically the batter doesn't have to jog around the bases, the contest being decided.
He did, of course, and the patrons could revel in that, their patient fandom rewarded with the late victory.
Sure, walk-offs as such can happen in other sports. But they aren't as magical as in baseball.
If someone tries to frame you into a Catch-22, do what's right and don't worry about them. No one has the right to put you in an impossible situation. It's the very heart of gaslighting.
If you're damned if you do and damned if you don't, don't. No point working towards damnation.
A stitch in time saves nine. Yeah, I never got that one either.
Sometimes the best thing to do is walk away. You can't let another person's bad attitude affect you.
Lincoln was right: never argue with a fool. People might not be able to tell you apart.
See what a sleepless night can lead you?
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