I actually don’t do these every week, but “Song of the Week” is a snappier title than “Song of Whenever I Get Around to Posting It.”
My mission, trivial as it may seem, was to find a Bit-O-Honey bar.
Does that make me sound old? Should I be eating more modern, “rad” candy bars? Have I just proven how old I am by using the word “rad” and thinking it’s a current, hip term? I couldn’t find any at the convenience store, so I casually asked the 17 or 18 year-old girl behind the counter if they sold them. She didn’t answer me, she just sort of looked down in the general direction of the candy shelf. Then she said, “Is that, like, a candy bar?”
Yes, it’s like a candy bar.
I explained to her what it was to the best of my ability (“it’s brown-ish, somewhat hard to chew, and with a bit of a honey taste”) but I think I just confused her more. I decided to use a little self-deprecating humor to lighten things up and said, “Have I just dated myself?” So now this girl thinks that not only do I like weird, fuddy-duddy candy, I also date myself. Which lately isn’t far from the truth, actually.
It reminded me of the time, 20 years ago, when I went to my local bookstore and asked the clerk if they had any issues left of that week’s Entertainment Weekly. She looked at me, slightly puzzled, leaned in and lowered her granny glasses to her nose and said, “S+M Weekly?”
She actually thought I said S+M Weekly.
This was frightening on many levels. 1.) That she would actually say this out loud so everyone else in line could hear. 2.) She knew who I was and waited on me all the time and now thought I would ask her if they sold a magazine with that title. 3.) That if there was a magazine with the title S+M Weekly it would have to come out every week because there’s so much bondage and fetish content it couldn’t be every other month or quarterly.
They didn’t have any issues of Entertainment Weekly so I went to another store. In fact, I never went back to that bookstore again.
Now there’s a depressing headline.
Maybe it would sound better if I put in an exclamation point. COVID and taxes! Yeah, now it’s a party.
Just getting over the former. I feel fine, a little tired and a slight cough has suddenly appeared. But I’m at 99%. Maybe 98%? I’ve never been very good at math.
The latter I’m doing this weekend, and it isn’t easy for someone not very good at math. I always wait until the last minute. Hey, why do them early when you have to pay? (That’s a quote from Rudyard Kipling … or Morey Amsterdam, I can never remember.)
Since I’m busy I’ll keep this short. My Saturday Evening Post column this week features random thoughts, hurricane names, Gilbert Gottfried, Being the Ricardos, venomous blue dragon sea slugs, the Titanic, and SPAM recipes (for Easter, of course).