Thursday, June 25, 2009

Within Spitting Distance Of Heaven...Is Hell

Aren't shot glasses great? Does anyone not have one? Or two. Seriously, is there anyone in the world who does not own one? Is there anyone who really needs one? Tom Cruise didn't use one in Cocktail (don't Google 'Oscar nominated movies' in you're looking for background information on the movie). Personally, I free pour my drinks, thus ensuring a Niagara of rum, barely allowing any Coke (which I believe to be bad for you).

Shot glasses, sheesh.

What a shame that people spend their working lives making wretched trinkets for fat, often drunk Americans (and Canadians) who never use them. Can you imagine heading to the factory every morning to make shot glasses for the western world? The Chinese must think that we're tools...and I agree with them. We are, though, in my defense, I've never given a shot glass as a gift to friend (or an enemy).

Imagine in one of the most stunningly beautiful places on earth, coastal Maine, there are enough cone-lickers who come here, year after year, who buy these shot glasses in a volume great enough to sustain this palace of poor taste. Cruise ships visit Bar Harbor...nuff said. It's depressing to think about it.

I need a drink. One-point-five ounces please. Careful!

The shot glasses remind me of hell. Making them. Buying them. Giving them. Getting them. All just hellish. Imagine...hell in Bar Harbor (formerly Eden). It doesn't seem right.

Hell lives in some funny places. I live in a place, Cambridge-Narrows, that feels heavenly but just a stone's throw away is a place that must be hell. Of course, I'm referring to....(no, not Jemseg)... oh, never mind. Everyone in my village knows where I'm talking about, the signs are everywhere. There's no accounting for the existence of hell, especially when the balance of good fortune is heavily weighted in your favour. If you are blessed, then start counting your blessings. If you can't count, then hire an accountant.

I woke up this morning, stepped outside and smelled salt in the soft morning air. I went for a walk. I said 'good morning' to three drunks who hadn't yet found their beds (even they seemed happy, although I did see one of them spit).

Spitting is gross. Why do people spit in public? I don't want to walk (in my flip flops) through their puddles of frothy white, and off-white, spittle. I wish they could just carry a little glass in which they could harvest their own spit.

By Jove Ian, you've done it again!

And so Ian made his fortune...not through writing, but as the re-inventor of the shot glass.

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