If you’re someone who doesn’t like hot takes, then have I got the perfect takes for you. I’m back to rant about a bunch of insignificant issues that aren’t technically hurting anyone, but that I will continue to fight against because, hey, I’m just a little fella, and small battles are where I thrive. So please enjoy these tepid takes as I cancel things that I definitely don’t have the power to cancel.
You might have been in once, but guess what? You’re out…
I think we can all agree that no-slam (or anti-slam) technology is a brilliant innovation. Cabinetry, toilet seats, and other hinged household fixtures can’t be slammed anymore! So why aren’t we using no-slam tech consistently? I moved from a home with no-slam cabinets and slam toilet lids to a home with slam cabinets and no-slam toilet lids. Now, I’m out here closing cabinets like they owe me money and watching my toilet lid close with the speed of an “Everything Must Go” store that never actually goes out of business. All I’m saying is if we, as a society, are going to use no-slam tech in some places, we should use it in all places so there’s no confusion. Slam poetry? Slam a beer? Slam dunk? I don’t think so. You read that poetry with less emphasis. You sip that tall boy. You tuck that ball into the hoop like it’s going beddy-bye. We’re either slamming everything or nothing. There can be no middle ground when it comes to no-slam tech implementation.
Every now and then, I’ll get a hankering for a turkey club. So I’ll go to a restaurant, order a turkey club, and what comes out? It’s not a turkey club. I don’t even think we can call it a sandwich. It’s more like an affront to god. Restaurants are stacking these sandwiches so tall nowadays that you can’t take a bite without either breaking your jaw or spilling half of the ingredients onto your plate. Who decided to do this?! Look, I appreciate that restaurants are trying to give me more bang for my buck and really loading that bad boy up. But outside of my Chinese zodiac sign, I have nothing in common with a snake. I can’t unhinge my jaw, nor can I eat such a monstrosity in an airport Chili’s whilst maintaining my dignity (In fairness, my dignity was gone the moment I sat down in an airport Chili’s). Please stop building the Tower of Babel with turkey, bacon, lettuce, and tomato.
The Roman Empire
Specifically, my beef is with the Roman and Julian calendar reforms (This beef is like 2,000 years too late, I know). And yes, I’m going to condemn the entire empire because of this. Come on! These guys are the worst. If the Ancient Romans were taking a test on how to create a society, they’d be copying the Ancient Greeks’ answers and somehow still getting all the answers wrong. They were so superstitious about even numbers that they said “To hell with logic!” and messed up what could’ve been a nice seasonal calendar with month names that matched up with their order in the year (You know…September, septem, 7). That would’ve been so easy to remember! But no. They added January, February, leap years, and renamed two months after the Caesars—one of whom was stabbed to death because of his own hubris and later became a salad dressing. That’s your legacy, Ancient Romans. A screwed-up calendar and an anchovy-based wetness for greens.
Consider this your cancellation notice, no-slam sandwich empire.
Featured image by David Libeert on Unsplash