A Thoughtpiece

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I have coined a new phrase, or at least I think I have. It pertains to pieces of writings, and I shall use it as such.

thoughtpiece (n)|xk| — a piece of a thought, esp. when referring to written opinions and personal expressions.

Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Rather Orwellian. Anyway, I think I shall use this term when referring to my blog posts. This just seems like a such a concise and final term. Complex, simple, and to the point. Does that even make sense?

This is not you. And now, I present to you a thoughtpiece on driving.

Dearest people of the world, I have but a humble request for you: learn to drive!

For starters, let us examine the steering column upon which the wheel with which you steer your vehicle is mounted. On either the left or right side is a stick/knob/lever. This perplexing device, which you seem to have very little knowledge of, allows you to activate lights mounted on the exterior of your car. Interestingly enough, when you move the switch in one direction, lights on one side of your car blink, letting others know that you intend to turn, the converse is also true. We call this the turn signal. USE IT.

Another tip, while we are still examining the interior of your vehicle. You have probably discovered that when driving at night, it is dark. You seem to have adequately remedied this fault by turning on your lights. Good. I’m glad that you have found how to make these function. Let me tell you a secret, though. Your lights have two settings, one of them is called bright. You don’t need to have them on this setting when people are driving towards you. YOU ARE BLINDING PEOPLE.

We have touched on some etiquette in the previous points, but now let us move on to pure etiquette. One interesting thing about our roadways is that they have speed limits. These are maximum speeds at which we are legally allowed to drive. While you can go somewhat slower than the limit, great deviance is not recommended. Here’s why. When you do not go the speed limit, you make people angry. Angry people  do stupid things. You might die. GO THE SPEED LIMIT. (This is especially true on two lane highways on which people cannot easily pass you.)

If you use a cell phone while you are driving, that is perfectly fine with me. I do not discriminate. If you, however, cannot drive and use a cell phone at the same time, please don’t do either. The world will be a better place.

Finally, if you drive a moped, please don’t hog the center of the road. I will run you over. In my mind.


Le Maïs Soufflé

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It was upon the night of the ninth of June, twelve years past the second millennium, that this oddity so rudely occurred. This recollection is my own, and I grant that only one other may corroborate my tale: Mme. S——. The night was not particularly young, and Selene was well on her way into her nightly journey.

The urge came upon me to fix some form of edibles, for it had been some hours since I had last dined. I freely admit, the quality of those recipes that come from my head are not always of the most ordinary sort. Not to say that they lack quality, but they are not the type that one would flaunt in view of those trained in the culinary arts. On the evening in question, however, it came into my head that a recipe of surpassing uniqueness should be developed, yet, I was not inclined to take upon myself the awkward task of compiling, using, and washing so many dishes as to make the situation unnecessarily lengthy. I decided, after some thought, to create a new recipe for the popping of corn–the usual use of butter and popcorn salt becoming quite quotidian.

Had I been under any deep conviction or devotion to my task, I would have endeavored to scour the cabinets much more thoroughly. As I have hinted before, however, I did not wish to lengthen the process by any means. So, with nary a thought as to the olfactory results of such a concoction, I created what I thought would be a supreme triumph of kitchen-work. Here I was deceived, yet only in part. To be certain, the taste itself was quite unique, and not at all in a negative fashion. The smell emitted from such a mixture, however; that was a dreadful result! The punishment for my crimes was indeed the very result of my actions.

I would lay out before my readers the exact mixture used in the formulation of this disaster, were I not afraid of harming others without a thought for their own noses. I shall keep it a secret, though, and no evidences shall be kept as to hint at the spices used in the making of that hideous dish. 

Read this note and keep it as a warning to yourself and others. Beware of what you mix in a pot. The stove holds more dangers than one might first imagine.