Occult Knoswledge: Opening Plastic Bags
Occult Knoswledge: Opening Plastic Bags
Some lifevital knowledge is deliberately kept occult, ie secret, so GOD can be amused by watching us thrash around in helpless frustration as we struggle to accomplish Very Very Simple Tasks. Such as opening plastic bags.
If this, for you, is effortless, then Congratulations! I award you the Pripiltzi, glitziest and most coveted of all the merit badges in the city of Gorbograd.
For lesser mortals, my mission today is a Promethean one: to reveal to Humanity the Truth of exactly how those wretched supermarker bags can be Forced To Open.
Back in New Zealand, in my BBC Days (my Before Brain Cancer Days), I could never figure this out, until the day when God, operating in His Japdester mode, fooled me with a False Revelation.
In the supermarket I was permitted to see a cashier place the top of a plastic bag between the flat palms of her two hands and riffle it this way and that until the static electricity which was clamping it shut gave up the Unholy Ghost and consented to answer.
That, I thought, was the Answer. But it was not. Rather, it was a Japester joke. Sometimes effective but usually not. this year, there are times when I have become so frustrated by an incalcitrant plastic bag that I have lost my onion and have physically ripped it apart.
Sometimes, oldsters of Alzheimer' Age will embarrass me by intervening and, seemingly effortlesssly,doing the necessary riffle.
Then, eaarlier this week, an alert cashier came all the way from her station to assist me. I watched closely so I could emulate, and saw her briefly dab each hand on something before doing the riffle.
Later, after she had departed, I found aa damp flannel on the packing table.
Experimenting at home, I found that if you spit on the palm of each hand then the palm will stick to the bag and the riffle succeeds.
Do NOT do fhis in your local supermarket because (aa) the locals may use it as an excuse for a pogrom afainst members of your ethnicity, and
(b) the cops may arrest you under the terms of the Avian Flu Pandemic Prevention Protocols.
Today, in the supermarket, I dabbed decorously at the damp blud flannel provided, riffled, then headed home feeling very pleased with myself.
Subsequently my ego took a knock when I got totally lost in broad daylight in streets very near our house, and blundered around for the better part of an hour before finally finding the gateway that is ours.
Some lifevital knowledge is deliberately kept occult, ie secret, so GOD can be amused by watching us thrash around in helpless frustration as we struggle to accomplish Very Very Simple Tasks. Such as opening plastic bags.
If this, for you, is effortless, then Congratulations! I award you the Pripiltzi, glitziest and most coveted of all the merit badges in the city of Gorbograd.
For lesser mortals, my mission today is a Promethean one: to reveal to Humanity the Truth of exactly how those wretched supermarker bags can be Forced To Open.
Back in New Zealand, in my BBC Days (my Before Brain Cancer Days), I could never figure this out, until the day when God, operating in His Japdester mode, fooled me with a False Revelation.
In the supermarket I was permitted to see a cashier place the top of a plastic bag between the flat palms of her two hands and riffle it this way and that until the static electricity which was clamping it shut gave up the Unholy Ghost and consented to answer.
That, I thought, was the Answer. But it was not. Rather, it was a Japester joke. Sometimes effective but usually not. this year, there are times when I have become so frustrated by an incalcitrant plastic bag that I have lost my onion and have physically ripped it apart.
Sometimes, oldsters of Alzheimer' Age will embarrass me by intervening and, seemingly effortlesssly,doing the necessary riffle.
Then, eaarlier this week, an alert cashier came all the way from her station to assist me. I watched closely so I could emulate, and saw her briefly dab each hand on something before doing the riffle.
Later, after she had departed, I found aa damp flannel on the packing table.
Experimenting at home, I found that if you spit on the palm of each hand then the palm will stick to the bag and the riffle succeeds.
Do NOT do fhis in your local supermarket because (aa) the locals may use it as an excuse for a pogrom afainst members of your ethnicity, and
(b) the cops may arrest you under the terms of the Avian Flu Pandemic Prevention Protocols.
Today, in the supermarket, I dabbed decorously at the damp blud flannel provided, riffled, then headed home feeling very pleased with myself.
Subsequently my ego took a knock when I got totally lost in broad daylight in streets very near our house, and blundered around for the better part of an hour before finally finding the gateway that is ours.
posted by Hugh Cook at 1:25 AM
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