Crap No-one Needs, #7

Airline Safety Demonstrations

"Please direct your attention to the front of the cabin where the flight attendant will demonstrate the use of the safety equipment aboard this Boeing 757." What a fucking joke. If this aircraft goes down then you'd better accept that you're going to die. You'd be better off spending the time deciding what you'd do with the minute before you hit the ground. Select one of the following:

a) Attempt to shag the least unattractive passenger of the opposite sex.
b) Kill the most annoying person on the plane.
c) Watch your life flash before your eyes.
d) Shit yourself.

I always like it when I get the exit row seat and the flight attendant comes around to ask if I'd be willing and able to help in the event of an evacuation. I look up, smiling sincerely, and say "yes", because otherwise they get all pissy and want you to move seats. However, in the event that the plane was on fire and I was next to the door you can pretty much take it for granted that I'd be off like a shot if I got out. I mean that thing is a fucking bomb, so standing inside like some extra from Airport 77 (or whatever it was called) telling people to "remove their shoes and jump" seems like a really stupid plan.

Of course, in the event that the oxygen masks descended during the flight I'd be the one looking at mine like it was a dead haddock, with no clue what to do with it. I suspect, however, that I would not be alone. If airlines really wanted you to be safe they'd fly planes that were made sometime in the last three decades rather than the ancient relics that seem to be standard, at least on flights out of St.Louis. When that happens I'll start paying attention to the safety demo, OK?


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Drink Up!

Remember that advice on safe levels of alcohol consumption? No more than 21 units of alcohol a week for a man and 14 for a woman? Well it turns out to have been bollocks. There was never any good data at the root of this advice - the health brigade basically made the numbers up - but studies conducted subsequently have established that you can probably drink more than this without any ill effects. Moderate alcohol consumption is not just "not bad for you", it's positively healthy. In fact you are much better off drinking than not drinking (unless, I suppose, you are a recovering alcoholic); there is one study which shows that the "break-even" or the point at which you are no better off drinking than being a non-drinker is 63 units of alcohol per week.

Think about this - you would be better off drinking thirty pints of beer a week than not drinking at all. Now I'm not suggesting you drink and drive - people who do this are wankers - but it would appear that you should get a few drinks in for the good of your health. Funny how you never heard that advice from your doctor isn't it?

Anyway, if you're going to drink you could do worse than the sixteen year-old McClelland's Highland malt whisky I had the other day. It's not that it was a great scotch (I tend to prefer more peaty Islay varieties) but it was very drinkable in a leafy fall setting. Plus it's not too expensive, and at up to sixty shots a week you'll want to watch that!

Crap No-one Needs, #6

Wind Chimes

It's fall in St.Louis, that tiny but pleasurable season between miserably hot summer and scrotum-shrinkingly cold winter. Right now you can actually sit out on your deck and enjoy the experience. The trees are arrayed in leaves of many shades; bright greens, rich red, warm brown and brilliant yellow. The wood is quiet - even the annoying woodpecker that has just made two new holes in the side of my house has fucked off for the afternoon. What could spoil the ambience? I'll tell you what. When a gentle breeze moves through the trees the air is assaulted by the tinkling clang of wind chimes.

Why do people buy this shit? Who decided that what was needed to complement a really nice day outside was a tuneless jangling thing hanging from the back of your house. Or your neighbor's house. And just to add insult to injury, you have to go to wanky stores full of dreary people and pay through the nose for the kind of badly assembled crap that is absolutely guaranteed to fall apart within a year of purchase. If you want sounds when you're outside how about the sound of burgers sizzling on a grill? Or the click of a can of Boddingtons opening? Or maybe the sound of a high-powered air rifle picking off a woodpecker before it fucks up my entire house?


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Crap No-one Needs, #5

Get Rich Quick Infomercials

There's some dick on the TV peddling his "system" for becoming a multi-millionaire by investing in real-estate. You don't need any money up front, and you can get a free copy of some shit he's offering just by dialing this 800 number. Not sold yet? Well here comes a parade of "real people" who actually got rich using his system, and they're all lined up to tell you hw wonderful their lives have been since they stopped queuing for foodstamps / selling blood plasma / sucking off strangers for money in Greyhound bus stations.

For a split second you are attracted by the idea of becoming a millionaire real-estate investor yourself. And then it hits you. If this guy is so fabulously wealthy what the fuck is he doing making cheesy infomercials to pitch his system to losers with nothing better going on in their lives? I don't know about you but if I had a system that was guaranteed to make me money I wouldn't bother setting up a business to sell books, tapes and seminars about it. I'd just use it to make some more money wouldn't I? It's not like he's running a charity to get people wealthy!

I hate to burst anyone's bubble but I suggest you save the money and put it towards something useful. For instance breath mints, especially in the event that you plan on heading back to the bus station tomorrow...


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Famous First Date Lines

Occasionally it is necessary to live vicariously through unmarried friends. One of my mates from the gym, Doug the Dog, in spite of having entered his sixth decade on this earth, still graces our conversation with occasional highlights from the dating front line. This week's classic, from a first encounter with a 33 year-old he met online, should be filed under "Things Most Men Only Wish Were Said To Them."

"Since this is kind of our first date I wasn't sure about swallowing but I didn't want to make a mess on the bed."

Now isn't that thoughtful? Makes you glad to know that there are still women out there who really care about house cleanliness. Especially as it was Doug's bed, not hers. Wonder what advice Oprah would have given?


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison

Crap No-one Needs, #4

Skymall Magazine

So there you are, stuck on a plane. You've worked your way through the entire in-flight magazine, from sudoku puzzles to restuarant recommendations and are now bored shitless. At this point you'll read just about anything - the back of a soda can, vomit bag instructions and even the evacuation card. You're now ready to appreciate the Skymall magazine, possibly the definitive guide to Crap No-one Needs. I know you've come across this delight, dog-eared and sticky, residing in your seat-back pocket, and unless there's something seriously wrong with you I'm guessing it spawned the same question we all ask ourselves: who the fuck buys all this shit?

I hardly know where to begin in describing this mother-lode of tacky shite, but if you've seen it, explanation is unnecessary. My personal favorite is probably the All Weather Wicker Pet Step that allows small dogs to climb up on your bed, presumably in all weathers. I don't know about your bedroom but the incidence of rain in mine is pretty low so I think I could probably survive without the all-weather feature, even were I to want a dog on my bed. Still, I'm sure it's excellent value for the best part of $100.

I could go on. And on. And on. I could write Crap No-one Needs up to #1001 without ever forsaking the contents of the Skymall catalogue. Suffice it to say that the fact that Skymall is not only still in business but apparently profitable and successful provides conclusive proof that the world is indeed full of fuckwits. Poor taste, large wallet, no brain fuckwits. And they're on the plane with you. Look around - I think you know who they are...


Copyright 2007 Edward Bison