You may be surprised to learn that, as of the posting of this blog entry, this website still has no official vacuum cleaner. Have plenty of companies sent signals about wanting one of their models to have that designation? Maybe. I wouldn’t know because I haven’t yet taken a course in how to read signals from vacuum cleaner manufacturers, who are notorious for using complicated signals that no one can interpret. Another possibility is that my lawyers have set up lots of bizarre hurdles for vacuum cleaner manufacturers to jump through before one of their models can become the official vacuum cleaner of this website, so they don’t even bother to send signals. For example, my lawyers are unwilling to enter agreements with any manufacturer that has the letter E in its name. Why? Because my lawyers are people with a bizarre need to erect outlandish hoops for vacuum cleaner manufacturers to jump through, just to see if they really are committed to being on our team. My lead counsel has pointed out that if, say, Hoover really wanted one of their top-of-the-line models to become our official vacuum cleaner, the firm could remove the E in Hoover and end up with“Hoovr,” which is sounds exactly the same, so what’s the big deal? Meanwhile, I have noted that if you take the two E’s out of “Meile” you get “Mil”. And my lawyers are like, so what?
I've been told by several analysts (indirectly, by reading other people’s letters and saying, hey, that sounds like me!) that each of us is unique and has something deep inside us that separates us from the rest of humanity, like some expertise, or maybe just an annoying quirk. In my case, I believe that I have becoming something of an expert in the making of fish tacos (although some people who would see my reputation ruined have gone on record to say that they’ve eaten my fish tacos, and they’re only so-so). But this isn’t about me; it’s about the basic need for everyone to have access to information about how to make excellent fish tacos. Hence, my idea of founding the “Center of Excellence in the Making of Fish Tacos". Details and logo to follow, once I raise the necessary seed funding.
One Sunday about eight or nine years ago, I decided to hit the links for nine holes of golf, as guys liked to do on Sundays in May eight or nine years ago. It was a beautiful day and my wife was like, “Sure, whatever.” What did she care? I’d be out of the house and less likely to accidentally send a 4-foot long drill bit through our living room ceiling, as I had done within days of our having moved in together. The month of May might be the finest month for weather in Boston, and going to a nice course on a beautiful Sunday in the middle of the day is a recipe for long waits at every tee, but for some reason I found myself alone, except for the occasional foursome of cheerful ladies. Somewhere midway through my round, it occurred to me what was up: it was Mother’s Day, and I was a rare fellow with no (living) mother and a wife who hadn’t (yet) given birth to our children. Needless to say, with two young kids who appreciate their mom (and a husband who appreciates her too), golfing on Mother’s Day is now a thing of the past.
I’ve visited New York City enough to know that you have to make use of every available means of travel to get around, especially feet. I’ve driven cars, taken taxis, subways, and the occasional bus across town, and of course have walked for miles and miles. Now, I can also say I’ve ridden a bike in New York. Sounds like lunacy: New York traffic is frightening enough when you’re encased in a womb of metal and glass, let alone exposed and vulnerable. But I’m a guy who’s not afraid to show his vulnerable (or lunatic) side. Turns out fretting over whether or not to bring a two-wheeler into the city is wasted energy. Biking in New York felt entirely safe to me, not to mention pleasant and extremely convenient. I was able to drop off my friend and our gear at a hotel in Times Square, then head to a garage in a quieter neighborhood, where I had a coupon.
Now free of the car, I pedaled 10 blocks back to the hotel (nervously, with sweaty palms and all that). No big deal! The avenues are wide and have dedicated bike lanes, many with designated “door zones” so you don’t get killed when drunk taxi fares come stumbling out of cabs in the middle of the afternoon. Sundays are especially good for cycling through town: a ride from Times Square to Chinatown for dim sum is a leisurely 20 minutes; from there, the Williamsburg Bridge beckons you across the East River and into Brooklyn’s unique watering holes (try Lucky Dog or Spuytin Duyvil – awesome places for refreshments). Just going north and south is a breeze on the Hudson River Greenway, which is entirely separated from motorized traffic. No doubt, my advice to pedal around New York will be heeded by almost none of the millions upon millions of people who read this blog, but that’s not my problem. From now on, whenever I go to New York, I’m bringing along a bike (unless I choose instead to make use of New York's “bike share” program).