2023: THE YEAR IN REVIEW- PART I

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (01-25-24)

 

     Here is a summary of the stories that you might have missed when you were wasting time reading the New York Times. I have carefully curated the most important stories of 2023, along with some pertinant observations, not unlike the observation that I should probably be under. Here they are, in reverse alphabetical order of appearance.

AUSTRALIAN MEAT START-UP DEVELOPS WOOLLY MAMMOTH MEATBALL
A company named Vow has successfully fashioned a glob of lab-produced meat using a DNA sequence from cells harvested from the long-extinct woolly mammoth species. They're hoping that this discovery will open up a conversation about how we think of meat. No one has invited ME into the conversation I notice, because they're afraid I might suggest that the mammoth meatball could be served with a mole sauce from an actual mole. I'm wondering if the same process can be used to make food out of whatever is in that jar in the back of my refrigerator, that is also long-extinct. I find it fascinating that the future of meat is 15,000 years old, and I guess this proves what I've been saying all along: Just because you CAN eat something doesn't mean you SHOULD. It also proves what saber-tooth tigers have been saying all along: Woolly mammoths require a lot of salt.

POST MALONE BUYS "LORD OF THE RINGS" CARD FOR $2 MILLION
Austin Richard Post, better known as rapper Post Malone, is a big fan of an immersive fantasy game based on Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings," which is played using collectible cards. Post Malone located the owner of a special one-of-a-kind issue and bought it from him for two million dollars, and they posed for a picture together after the sale. But I couldn't really concentrate on the magic card because I was mesmerized by Post Malone's face, which, due to a preponderance of tattoos, looked like my notebook during geometry class in high school. Instead of "body art," they appear to be scribbles and doodles, and they made me think that tattoo artists probably know even less about geometry than I do.

AI-GENERATED "SEINFELD" PARODY AIRS ON TWITCH
Imagine a world where "a show about nothing" airs, using no writers, no director and no actors. Well, that world is ours, and it's nothing to laugh about. A show called "Nothing, Forever," debuted on the streaming site Twitch, and it potentially could mirror the evolution of AI itself. The creators used several AI softwares to develop a 24/7 stream based on the characters of "Seinfeld." The result is a somewhat crude and boring entity that feels like the early days of Atari's "Pong," but which could exhibit its own growth as its algorithms become more sophisticated. The fact that the characters are starting to realize that they are computer-generated has some worried that the apocalypse is near. If so, the apocalypse might not be as funny as you'd think.

AIR FORCE SHOOTS DOWN CHINESE BALLOON
A suspected surveillance balloon of Chinese origin was spotted flying over Alaska, possibly sending back the report to China that not much goes on in Alaska. It was deemed a potential threat to other unidentified flying objects that had more important spying to do, and was shot down by the U.S. military several days later. The incident just reaffirms what we've always thought: that the American military is no fun. That's why I never invite them to my birthday party (they probably wouldn't come anyway, for the same reason). "Excuse me, General, but did you just shoot down all our balloons?" "Yes, sir, they were potentially spying." "And what about our piñata? You blew it up." "Yes, sir, an obvious money-laundering operation. Case-in-point: $100,000 bars came out of it." "I saw that you ate several of them. What about our donkey that you chased off? We were going to give rides on it." "Yes, sir, but don't worry, I had it followed." "You put a tail on our donkey?"

DWI SUSPECT TRIES TO SWITCH PLACES WITH DOG
A man in Colorado was stopped by the Springfield Police Department for speeding and possible DWI, and attempted to switch places with his dog, who was in the passenger seat. He insisted he was not driving and attempted to flee but was immediately apprehended. The dog surrendered peacefully. In comparison, my dog, while excelling in extreme cuteness, is not at all skilled in motor functions that require an actual motor, although she is good at parallel barking. The entire episode makes me wonder if this is really the first time they've tried to pull off this stunt, and whose idea it was. Colonoscopies, double dates, bank robberies, obedience training, ventriloquism, they all seem like fair game for the old switcheroo. It also made me thankful that he is not an airline pilot. The man, not the dog.

     Well, I think you'll now agree that knowledge is painful sometimes, and that's why they say, "WOW, that smarts." I'll be back next time with some more stories that I did not make up even if I could have, along with some commentary that I shouldn't have made up even if I didn't.

A TENSION GETTER

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (01-13-24)

     Whenever you see the holidays reflected in art, they usually depict families, together again, laughing, having a grand old time, eating, drinking, and not fighting. That is why we invented art, so that we could picture things the way we want them to be, and give ourselves something to shoot at. I meant to say "shoot for," but that brings me to my point. When reality falls short and it turns out we don't live in a Norman Rockwell painting, it can be a stress-inducing torment. Norman Rockwell himself once said that he painted happiness, but he didn't live it. If I could paint, I would rather live happiness and not paint it. And if I was a sculptor, well then again, no. 

     That's why it's important to take a few moments for yourself, before everyone arrives and takes all your moments for themselves. Everyone has different ways of dealing with trials and errors, and finding the right one for you might be a matter of trial and error.

     Many people like to put themselves in someone else's hands for an hour or so. Massage may be relaxing for some, but not for me; I'm as ticklish as it gets, and massaging me would be like massaging an eel. Even if I wasn't ticklish, I'd be afraid that the therapist would take a look at my body and say, "What's this bone doing here?" And I'd say, "It's probably up to no good, like the rest of them. Can't you massage it over to where it's supposed to be, like a bubble in a hose?" My wife says that she sometimes falls asleep during the massage, and I ask, well then, how do you know it was relaxing?

     There are those who consider yoga to be the way to achieve their best self, through breath control and self-awareness. My friend said she attended a goat yoga session, and the goat was lousy at it. Even when in the dog position, the cat position and the camel position, it still looked like a goat. Then it started to eat the yoga mat. Another girl I know said she attended a hot yoga session, and it wasn't that hot. So I don't think it's for me, because a 6-foot, 2-inch guy in the shape of a pretzel does not sound appetizing. Yes, you say, but have you ever seen a stressed-out pretzel?

     There are people who swear by Transcendental Meditation. You choose a mantra, something easy to remember, like your Social Security number, and repeat it out loud over and over. Your eyes are closed, and 15- 20 minutes later, you transcend something. If my eyes are closed for 15- 20 minutes, I'm either attending a joint session of Congress, presiding over a meeting at work or pretending to be asleep, and I am known for my realistic pretending. I remember when the Beatles went to India to meet with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi at an ashram near the Himalayas, to try to achieve the seven levels of consciousness. I can get to the first level of consciousness only after a large cup of coffee, and I cannot achieve the second without being tased.

     My idea of relaxation is to ride my motorcycle on a warm November day when the leaves are off the trees. You can see 180 degrees for miles around, the wind racing you, your body and the machine in a synchronous accord of balance and purpose. There is no radio, no one talking to you, no cellphone ringing. You are alone with your thoughts, which trust me, is better than being alone with mine, especially without a chaperone. The beauty of the occasion lasts as long as the weather holds out, there are no potholes, no deer and no one pulls out quickly in front of you. Nothing is forever.

     I know some people that aren't truly at peace unless they are engaged in battle. This may sound like a paradox, but they crave disorder in the world so that they can tame their own little piece of it. Drama queens, divas, cardiologists, their way of relieving with stress is to cause an equal amount of it in others.

     If you don't shut your brain down once in a while, it's going to take some vacation time at the worst possible moment. So take a few minutes, take a deep breath, and picture how nice it will be when your sister and brother-in-law come home for the holidays and everyone's together at last. And how she still makes fun of the way you make mashed potatoes, and how he still can't stop talking about how much more money he makes than you although he never picks up the check, and how you still have to follow their kid around saying "please don't touch that," because it seems like there are hyenas better trained than he is.

     And then picture how you'll feel when you're waving to their taillights, and you have a sink full of dishes, wrapping paper all over the place, inappropriate gifts to return, and instead of dealing with any of it you decide to get to the bottom of a cup of hot chocolate and the Times crossword puzzle. That moment will make all the stress worth it, and I can't stress that enough.

DO YOU HEAR WHAT I HEAR

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (12-21-23)

 

     Christmas is certainly the holiday with the best soundtrack, and all that music, with its references of snow, cozy firelit family-oriented gatherings and giving, extends to everyone of any culture and creed who feels like celebrating. No matter what you have to be thankful for or whom you have to be thankful with, music will help you do it. And by the time you've heard "Carol of the Bells"

     My favorite winter date night is two seats at Garrison Keillor's Prairie Home Companion at the Town Hall on 43rd Street. When I visit the town hall in any other city it's usually for a different reason, but paying for a ticket is one thing the two experiences have in common. The Prairie Home Companion in December has a healthy dose of Christmas songs, droll radio-style skits about winter in New York City and some fun poked at those in need of it. I'd guess there are some who have red marks from getting fun poked at them so many times over the years.

     On hand was Ellie Dehn, an opera soprano, which reminded me of my Mom who was always trying to get me to embrace opera music by playing "Die Fledermaus" on the record player and wafting it over in my general direction with her hands. It didn't make me like opera but it did make me love my Mom even more. I still don't know why they need all that heavy vibrato, like you're trying to sing while driving over railroad tracks.

     At the end of the evening we all sang "Silent Night" together, all 1,495 of us not counting the performers. The irony of how any newborn Savior is supposed to sleep through that was not lost on me. Garrison Kiellor was smart enough not to let the soprano start it in some ridiculous key only she could sing. A song cannot choose its writer, and classics will be classics even though they they might contain some weird references. But I can't help thinking that "tender and mild" better describes a habanero pepper.

     I remember when I was a kid and our neighbor Mrs. Goldsmith led us around the neighborhood singing Christmas carols, even though she was Jewish. She liked the songs kept a Christmas tree and didn't take things too seriously. I'm not sure if you could get away with caroling in this day and age; people are naturally suspicious that anyone who makes contact with them in any way is somehow angling for a sales opportunity. In those days you might even get some cookies, but now? "Ma'am, do you mind if I run a couple tests on the cookie first? I'm an ovo-lacto vegan with gluten and nut allergies, and I only eat free-range baked goods that have not been experimented on animals." "Don't worry, it's made of plastic."

     The theater staff at the Town Hall might have been wondering what all that Tupperware was for when they searched my knapsack on the way in, but I'm sure they've seen a lot weirder stuff than that. Some of the other stuff in my knapsack, for instance. I needed it because afterward we went next door to our favorite Italian restaurant, and even though we split one meal it's still way too much food to finish unless it's 2:00 in the morning and you're alone and no one is watching and you make last-minute plans to run a triathlon the next day. 

     Not everywhere was there holiday harmony. There were tears flowing all around us at the restaurant. We were surrounded by two couples out on their own date nights on either side of us, and emotions among the women were running high. They may have been tears of sorrow or tears of joy, but at least they weren't bored to tears. The couple on our right looked like they might have been visiting New York from another country, and I couldn't read how the evening was going. Words were exchanged, voices were raised, makeup was running, and there was literally a bone to pick. She took her fork and moved it toward his face, but he opened his mouth and swallowed whatever was on it in a deft defensive move. On our other side was clearly a fight, which seemed pretty serious until dessert arrived. Closing arguments were concluded and a verdict was reached and a banana was the only thing that was split. I swear there are some couples who like to break up deeply just so it takes longer to make up.

     But for us, nothing beats a date night in New York City at Christmas time. Walking back to Grand Central you could see the twinkling lights down 6th Avenue. It turned out to be an ambulance, but even if all you give someone for Christmas is a cold, it's the thought that counts.

FINDING CHRISTMAS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (12-14-23)

 

     The older I get, the longer it takes to get myself into the Holiday spirit. I guess that's only natural, since it takes me longer now to do just about anything, especially if I have to get up out of a chair to do it. But I'll get there. When I was growing up my family used to decorate our Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, and that would certainly excite each of my senses. The smell of the pine, the sight of the lights playing through the branches, the feel of the resiny boughs, the sound of the cat throwing up in the corner. I told it not to try to eat tinsel but cats think they know everything.

     If Hallmark Christmas movies can get you into a yuletide frame of mind, they started in July and they're still going on.  A weird apogee will one day occur when Hallmark will have finally produced enough Christmas movies to run them back-to-back from December 26th for the entire year.

     I just want to get through the day without thinking that I blew my chance to make someone happy. I concede that I'm not the greatest gift-giver. You're supposed to put yourself in the other person's shoes and figure out what they would want if you were them. I do the next best thing, and put the other person in my shoes and figure out what they would want if they were me. And when Christmas is in the rear view mirror and you can barely make it out, I see those very same shoes in the closet and ask, "Hey Honey, it doesn't look like you've worn these size 11 shoes I got you- do you mind if I try them on?"

     Part of the problem is timing- anything we really need, we never seem to need two weeks before Christmas. And that leaves two categories: stuff that we don't really need, and stuff that we REALLY don't really need. There's another rule of thumb that says to get a gift that the other person wouldn't get for themself. I can always check that box with no problem.

     If you want to get someone a traditional present, there are some time-honored favorites, like the Chia Pet. In 2008 the Chia company introduced versions of their sprouting figures based on presidential candidates, and according to their website, sales figures have predicted the winner of the White House. I will say that Chia hair was not a flattering look for Mitt Romney, and it may have cost him the presidency

     Another great gift is Flex Seal, and the entire Flex Seal family of products. Armed with a roll of that you can cut your powerboat in half with a chain saw, then duct tape it back together for your next fishing trip. On their website you can purchase a leather-bound Flex Seal journal in which you can document the best two days of boat ownership: the day you buy the boat and the day you sell it. If you did cut it in half it will be easier to split the profits.

     A lot of gifts these days focus on technology. One of the "Best Gifts of 2023," according to an on-line article of the New York Times, is a flame-less lighter that emits a plasma arc. I'm not sure what a plasma arc is, but just for fun I'd like to point it at Superman and see if anything happens.

     How about the Black Falcon mini-drone? It comes with a 360-degree camera and it's own carrying case, although if you have to carry it with you you probably don't know how to work it. The promotional video shows beautiful aerial views from it soaring high above the Alps, and not over the house down the street that has a pool and is rented by four college girls.

     And yet some gifts hearken back to a day when words like "hearken" were popular. Like Tote-A-Fort, the portable fort-making kit that comes with nylon sheets and Velcro straps so your kids can make their own private hideaway anywhere, and indulge themselves outside of your purvey with something that will eventually get them sent to military school.

     What about a bouquet of flowers that you assemble yourself using Lego parts? If you know someone who just retired and is getting on your nerves staying at home all day and has already cut his boat in half, why not put him to work making a pretty parcel of posies made up of parts that will eventually somehow get stuck in your foot?

     The gift of giving is the thing that will put you into the holiday mood. Seeing that smile on her face that says, "It's just like YOU to get me THAT," makes it all worthwhile. And while Flex Tape may not be the most romantic gift, it did save our waterbed, and that is a TRUE Christmas miracle.

CHINESE FOOD FOR THOUGHT

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (12-07-23)

 

     The holidays are inching ever closer, and I've been toning up, hitting the gym pretty hard, working on my stamina and sharpening my elbows. Because soon I'm going to be in that store with YOU, and you and I will be racing for position when a new register aisle opens up, trying outsmart each other in the parking lot and competing for the last widget on the shelf. And I'm going to win, even if I have to break some of the Ten Commandments. I was chatting with my dentist recently, although he did most of the talking. I said things like "arrorragh," and "urrowowawa," but he seemed to agree with it. The dentist's office is just one more place where I can't keep my mouth shut.

     Anyway, my dentist mentioned that he tries to avoid buying anything from China. I'm not sure whether it's a political statement or that he just thinks that their products are inferior. I know that when Chinese President Xi visited the U.S. last month, probably much of the stuff that came out of his mouth President Biden wasn't buying either. It illustrates a mutual mistrust between the two super-powers that has only gotten worse over time. I only hope that countries that export chocolate will not mistreat their workers, because I would not survive a boycott.

     Distrust usually comes from misunderstanding, which often stems from lack of trying. But when President Xi had his recent summit with President Biden, they did manage to iron out a few things, such as cracking down on fentanyl labs, opening a dialogue about artificial intelligence and that the Golden Bachelor has made some weird choices. It's important to walk away from a summit with an agreement of some kind, because a summit seems like something you have to climb a lot of stairs to get to, and nobody wants to go through that more than once.

     A promise to engage in high-level discussions concerning military operations and artificial intelligence might not ever come to anything, but it represents a chance to at least try to understand what the other is up to, as long as nothing gets lost in the translation. I'm sure they were hoping for a bilateral agreement, but at least they ended up with two unilateral agreements. And they did agree to disagree.

     Even in the internet age of information, there are so many things that remain inscrutable about Chinese culture. The Taoist discipline, put forth over 2,500 years ago by Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu, means as many different things as there are people to interpret it. Nature is complete, the doctrine tells us, and any attempt to master it must result in failure. One look at my lawn proves this to be true. 

     There are so many people in China, you'd think more illumination would leak out just by osmosis. But it remains a carefully monitored microcosm. I picture the country like a giant #6 train during rush hour: it's almost impossible to get in unless you were born there. I picture China so crowded that if even you were appointed a seat on the State Council, you would have to scramble to sit in it when the music stops, and whomever is still standing is eliminated.

     The issue of "human rights" comes up a lot when discussing China. But is America blameless? In certain parts of the country it is still illegal to alter a claw machine game so that it doesn't pick up any toys. In some places you can't honk your horn outside a sandwich shop after 9:00PM. And don't try to eat any frog that died in California after participating in a frog-jumping contest, or you could end up in jail AND suffer mild indigestion. So America, get off your high horse, and remember, you could be arrested for riding a horse drunk in Colorado, although it's perfectly legal for the horse to be drunk.

     Even the Chinese calendar is a mystery to me. The phases of the moon are divided into 12 parts, each represented by an animal that possesses certain attributes. We are currently in the year of the rabbit, which is associated with the element of water. Those born in the year of the rabbit are said to be affectionate, kind, gentle, compassionate, and merciful. Those sure don't sound like the qualities of the rabbit that attacked my vegetable garden.

     I don't know if you can or should avoid Chinese goods when you do your Christmas shopping, but that doesn't mean we accomplished nothing today. Lest you think that this column is somehow not worthy of your time, Kong Qiu, better known to the world as Confucius, possibly said it best when he said, "Fine words are seldom associated with true virtue."

UNFORGIVING NATURE

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (11-23-23)

 

    Nature is revolting. For example, I was walking along my street with my dog, and this enormous pine cone dropped right in front of me, missing me by inches. Of all the enormous pine cones in the world, this particular one came down right when I was almost underneath it? I'm telling you right now, this was no accident. It reminded me of when I was in a Hollywood cliché where I'm standing on a stage, and a sandbag held aloft by a fraying rope is about to drop onto my head, and the hero, at the last second, sees it and rushes in to push a really hot girl out of the way who is nowhere near it, and the sandbag drops onto my head, knocking me conscious. And he says, "Are you all right?" And I say I think so, and he says, "I was talking to the hot girl." And he grabs her in his arms and I ask, "Where are you going?" And he shouts, "There's no time to explain!" And he whisks her out the door and into a restaurant across the street that's really hard to get reservations for.

     Anyway, I think it's a sign. I think Mother Nature is talking to us, saying, "Clean up your room! NOW!" Okay, your Mom might ground you for a couple weeks or take away your phone if you do something bad. But when you get Mother Nature angry, it's a different level of punishment. Feast, famine, plague, that sort of thing. And we're seeing more and more of it.

     What about the otters? Otters are about the most playful creatures on the Earth. And yet, a man training for a triathlon a couple months ago sustained a prolonged attack by two otters as he was swimming in a lake in the Sierra Nevadas. He tried to swim away, at a rate of speed that probably would have won him the triathlon, but the otters kept cutting him off and biting him. He was terrified, and his wife finally came out on a paddle board and rowed him to safety. I don't know about this guy but my wife would have made me promise to get rid of all that crap in the garage, change the light bulbs in front of the house that have been out for weeks, and a dozen other things before she rescued me from an otter attack. She would have brought a pen so she could get it in writing. Anyway, otters are normally peaceful, have a great sense of humor and excel at board games, but they will attack if threatened, so saying things like, "Why don't you come at me, bro?" should be avoided. But this was an unprovoked aggression.

     Another example is the case of orcas attacking boats in Europe and Australia. While there have been no reported deaths as yet, the sudden downturn in behavior exhibited in animals thought to be benign to humans is somewhat disquieting. If I would have been present during the attack, once I dried off I would have asked the orca, "Why are you doing this to us?" His probably would be, "We're not happy with your stewardship of the Earth. And by the way, we are 'killer' whales, not 'second-degree attempted manslaughter' whales, so consider yourself lucky." "Lucky is that guy on that boat over there, who is bone-dry and nursing a frozen mango margarita, laughing at us." "He's next."

     Humans have been running this planet for a long time, and it's not going that great. We have always assumed that we are the smartest animals on the planet, even though my cat sits around 23 hours a day, gets all his meals for free, never tips, never fills out any paperwork of any kind, free medical (no dental though), no jury duty, short commute and can lick his own tail.

     Maybe we're not that smart after all. We've dumped a lot of carbon dioxide into the air. And every time one of those genius politicians opens his mouth about how scientists are wrong about climate change, guess what comes out? More carbon dioxide. Those who think, well, there are plenty of natural resources out there, let's just use them up and then we'll figure something else out should consider one thing: That oil we pump out of the ground comes from the bones of an extinct species. Hmmmm.

      You can hardly blame Mother Nature for being angry. I don't remember my own Mom being too tough on me, but when she was really mad I used get a whacking on the behind with the hairbrush. It was corporal punishment, and I was a major pain in the neck, so I actually outranked my punishment. But would resort to hiding the hairbrush from her. This explains a little about my lack of discipline, and a lot about my hair.

BURNING QUESTIONS

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED BY THE SOMERS RECORD (11-16-23)

 

     We had a scheduled fire alarm at work last week, and we were all required to assemble in the hallway and review the emergency procedures. It was an extremely small hallway, and my guess is that if the Fire Marshall knew that there were 30 of us packed in there, he would have shut the place down. What we learned is that if anyone should smell smoke, they are to break the safety glass and pull the fire alarm. A call to 911 should be next, especially if they lacerated the radial artery in their wrist with the broken glass from the fire alarm. If there are flames, we need to proceed to stairwell "C," unless it's cut off by smoke in Hallway "D." Should that be the case, we are to attempt entry into the "E" wing, where multi-denominational praying is to take place, along with a review of the alphabet to figure out our next move. When the talk was over I let everyone know that an odor of smoke around lunchtime may be attributed to the toaster in my office. And based on the abstruse nature of the fire safety procedures, if a fire starts in my office we're ALL toast.

     The Fire Warden passed out flyers telling us what to do to escape a smoke-filled room. You're supposed to place a wet cloth over your nose and mouth to filter the smoke, take short breaths, stay low on your hands and knees and do NOT break windows. Which is the same procedure we used when riding in the bar car of the old Conrail commuter train. That car was like a moving den of iniquity, and you could commit at least four of the seven deadly sins by the time you reached 125th Street without even trying.

     For five years my office was located in the building across the street, and they sounded a fire alarm literally every month. Which seemed almost irresponsible, because eventually you became inured to that beeping noise and just ignored it. It was like the boy who cried wolf, if he had made a beeping noise. My office was on the 13th floor, where an actual fire every month would have seemed perfectly appropriate. 

     Fire is no laughing matter, as are many of the matters in my columns. I almost burned down my parents' house once when I was cooking French fries back in the 1980s. As much as I'd like to blame France for this, I can't, so I'll blame the 1980s. I had left the pan unattended and it eventually burst into flames, overcooking both the French fries and the kitchen cabinets. Once I realized what had happened I sprung into action by trying to remember what you're supposed to use to extinguish a grease fire. Is it ONLY water or NEVER water (NEVER water)? A grease fire is a class B fire, which should be put out by an appropriate fire extinguisher, which luckily we had several of distributed throughout the house. 

     Firemen quickly came to finish putting out the blaze, although now, of course, we call them fire-fighters. Fire-fightresses if they are women. I'm not sure why we choose to call some professions by a gender-specific names and not others. Does it seem important that a man be known as a waiter and a woman a waitress? Now that they're called servers, they are never even the ones who actually serve the meal when it arrives. By contrast a woman, for instance, might not want a doctor who does not possess all the same standard equipment as she does. She may be more comfortable with a doctorette. 

     As much as I think that vaping is a poor alternative to smoking, at least it seems less likely to cause a fire. And that's better than nothing, unless we're on a desert island and we need to signal planes flying overhead. "Does anyone have a match?" I ask, "one that does not involve my face and some other object? Let me see a show of hands." The show closes quickly. "Everyone here quit smoking? Not even second hand? And how healthy did that decision turn out now?" Someone offers, "I have an e-cigarette, and we can use it to start an e-fire." "All right, any other suggestions?" "Yes! Remember that Facebook post that asked what three CDs you'd want with you if you were stranded on a desert island? Well, I BROUGHT them with me! Does anyone have a CD player?"

     Any fire professional will tell you that an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure, and a smoke alarm weighs about seven ounces. This is also a good time to thank those men and women who have risked their lives in this dangerous and unpredictable profession. Those who run toward the fire as the rest of us are running away from it. And if I am ever running toward a fire it's only because I wrongly assumed that  stairwell "D" came after stairwell "C."