The Untouchable (a.k.a. The Last of the Cokehicans)

Do you remember the time that you came home from school, came in from playing ball, or came in from mowing the lawn on a hot summer day; waiting with anticipation for the refreshing, cold Coke that would be waiting behind the refrigerator door - only to find its aluminum exoskeleton drained of the precious nectar inside? Maybe it was your punk-kid brother, or perhaps it was the bum that you had the honor of sharing your college dorm room with, who, when confronted said something like: "Geez, Sorry,"; "I didn't know it was yours,"; "You mean, that was the last one?"; or simply, "Heh, I know." Those jerks! Why, if you like Coke sooo much, then why didn't you eat the can, too? Here, I'll help you!

I think memories like these (not necessarily the ultra-violent fantasies we had afterward) shape our behavior in our adult lives. We try to be kind, considerate, and giving to others. We want people to think of us as being fair, generous, and honest. We don't want to be the guy who takes the last Coke... This is why I believe the last Diet Coke in our office refrigerator will remain there for the rest of eternity.

For those of you that don't know me, I work in a small, three-person engineering firm. The refrigerator at the office is apparently the final resting-place for a small package of frozen chicken nuggets, a half-used bottle of Italian vinaigrette, and several fast food condiment packages. Oh, and there is one lonely Diet Coke can, separated from its former carton compatriots for over three weeks. His comrades have all moved away, were consumed in their jobs, and are spending their retirement together in the recycling bin. The only respite from the chilly darkness of the top shelf is when one of us opens the door. As the light comes on, and the warm air rushes in, you can almost hear him, "Oh, thank you! Please, please take me out of here! I can't take it anymore! I'm delicious and refreshing! I know you want me! Wait, no! No, don't close the door aga-" Day after day, the routine continues. As long as nobody takes the last Diet Coke, no more will take its place. This has compelled me to actually wish that someone, anyone, would take the last can. Please take the last Diet Coke! It's the only way! (It's the complete opposite sentiment of yesteryear.)

This is not a unique story. It has happened countless times during the past four years that I've worked there. Someday, somebody, filled with reluctance and self-loathing, will do their duty and take the last Diet Coke. Soon two or more cartons will take up residence in the refrigerator, though assuredly one can will have the miserable experience of being The Untouchable.

Surprise!!!

[Singing] Happy Earth Day to you, Happy Earth Day to you, Happy Earth Day dear lifeform, Happy Earth Day to you! [End Singing]

Yes, once again it's Earth Day,

[Singing] ...and many moooooore! [Really, I mean it, End Singing]

Okay, it's Earth Day, again, and I don't know if I'm supposed to feel happy, thankful, hopeful, or mournful. I'm not really any of those, as far as Earth Day is concerned. I'm not an environmentalist, by any stretch of the imagination, but I also think that we should do a better job of conserving our natural resources and preserving nature. I really don't understand why everyone seems to be on either of the two sides of the environmental issue. On one extreme you have the tree-hugging, the-world-is-ending crowd, and on the other, you have the everything's-fine, I'll-pollute-if-I-feel-like-it bunch. I don't really reside in either camp.

I don't believe that we're causing global warming, but I do think that we can do a better job keeping pollutants out of our air, water, and soil. We should care about the Earth and all of its inhabitants. We should take a little extra time and effort to dispose of trash and wastes properly. We should find cleaner and more efficient ways means of production and transportation. We should strive to use less, and reuse more. Think about all the energy that we could save if everybody watched a little less TV, and let their computers go into standby mode when not in use. Imagine the savings in energy, materials, and landfill space if we would repair electronics and other household items, instead of replacing them with newer ones.

We should take care of what God has entrusted to us. I just don't think that more legislation, higher taxes, and misinformation are the tools we should use to reach the goal of a cleaner environment.

Cinnamon

Yeah, I know what you're thinking... "Another food post?"  Well, you're right... this time.  Hopefully, there will be something else that you can take away from this than, "Boy, that Todd really loves his food."  That would be correct, too, I suppose.  Quit being right all the time!

Okay, so try to remember the last time you had cinnamon.  Was it earlier today?  A couple of weeks ago?  Maybe it was a nice warm cinnamon roll; maybe it was a piece of cinnamon-flavored candy; or perhaps it was a nice big bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch?  Okay, got it?  Well, you're wrong.  Or, at least, you're probably wrong.  You see, those of us in the States probably have never had "true cinnamon", as it is called.  Almost all "cinnamon" that we consume is actually a relative of cinnamon, called cassia.  That cinnamon roll you had? It's a cassia roll.  The Cinnamon Toast Crunch?  More like Cassia Toast Crunch.  Those cinnamon sticks at the grocery store?  Yep, you guessed it; cassia sticks.  In fact, if you were able to do a side-by-side comparison, you would find that cassia really doesn't taste like cinnamon at all.  True cinnamon has a lighter, almost citrussy flavor compared to the harsh, hotter flavor of cassia (or so I've read).  This is not to say that cassia doesn't taste good.  It's just not cinnamon.  It's considerably cheaper than true cinnamon, and that's why it ends up in all of our spicy candies and yummy baked goods.  We've been sold on cinnamon, but what we end up buying is a cheap approximation called cassia.

This made me think.  How many other things in life do we end up buying, because the world says it's good, only to find out later that it's a cheap substitute for the real thing? How many times have we bought into the lie that acquiring more money, or more stuff, will make us happy? How often do we confuse religion with godliness?  How many times do we accept the substitute of lust for love? How often do we try to be popular instead of building closer friendships?

Cassia isn't bad; it's just a good metaphor for what we allow ourselves to accept.

You Say Tomato?

Is the tomato a fruit or a vegetable? A friend referred to an article a while back that attempted to solve the apparent controversy, entitled "The Truth Behind Tomatoes that Scientist Don't Want You to Know". For those of you that are short on time or attention, here is the author's conclusion: Tomatoes are vegetables because the Supreme Court says so. Sound ridiculous? It's true! See Nix v. Hedden 1893.

So what's the truth behind the tomato? That's an interesting question. Why is "the truth" always behind something? Why can't "the truth" be in front, on top of, to one side, or under something? Also, where would one look for "the truth" behind a tomato? A tomato doesn't even have a front or back (or sides for that matter, unless of course we're assuming a particular perspective). And if "the truth" is always behind said object, what can we assume is out in front, on top, to the sides, and underneath? Falsehood (or "anti-truth"), we would have to conclude. So in order to find "the truth" behind the tomato, we must first assume a fixed orientation of the tomato to the observer, and then assume that whatever is on the back side of the tomato must be true. Sounds like pretty shady reasoning to me. I mean, how big is "the truth", anyway? If, for example, we're wanting to find "the truth" behind a tomato (a standard-sized tomato), and "the truth" is the size of a pea (a standard-sized pea positioned behind the tomato), then looking behind the tomato (from a fixed perspective) one would see an awful amount of "untruth" compared to the relatively small amount of "truth". If, however, "the truth" could be represented with, say, a beach ball, then one could argue that "the truth" is not only directly behind said tomato, but also behind and off to either side. And what if "the truth" and "untruth" aren't really all that discernable from one another, as in the case of Tomato: fruit or vegetable? ? Then the border between "truth" and "untruth" gets all fuzzy and confusing. Do you see the problem here, or is it just me?

So, is the tomato a fruit or a vegetable? Oh, let's call the whole thing off!

Boggan FAQ

Well, this is my first blog post, so I guess I should explain the nonsensical title of the blog. So, without wasting any more of your time, may I present to you, the official Boggan FAQ!
What?
Boggan is short for toboggan, which is not a sled, but a knit cap one would wear while using a sled, working a dock, doing a Michael Nesmith impression, or taking solace in the warm, woolly, accessory that has a tight hold on your cranium.
Why?
One of my favorite things is my dad's old Indiana Hoosiers toboggan (hat) that he passed down to me while I was in high school. It was a necessary evil at first; not being the most comfortable, but offering sufficient insulation against the cold weather of winter (and honestly, a good part of fall and spring, too). I kept it in my golf bag in the spring, and my friends started calling it the "lucky boggan" for some reason. I never really made the connection there (as the boggan, or lack thereof, never translated directly to my golf prowess), but legends often have mysterious beginnings. So, fast forward (or chapter skip) a few years, and you'd see that I was wearing the boggan while playing Trivial Pursuit (yes, I realize that is a very bizarre combination, but at that time it seemed perfectly logical... It was cold, and I needed to stay alive long enough to finish the game). So, after pondering and successfully answering the truly trivial questions, the boggan was again deemed by my friends (a different, nerdier set of friends) to be lucky. It must be true! Seizing the opportunity to create a legendary object out of a ratty, old, head-warming piece of cloth, I proclaimed that it was "The Boggan of Solitude".
Okay, that's nice, but why is this blog called "The Boggan of Solitude"?
Well, that's a much shorter story (lucky for you). First, it's a reference to something very dear and personal to me (sniff). Second, it is probably the only thing I could name this blog that is truly unique; which has become increasingly difficult lately with the billions of typing monkeys moving on from their Shakespeare work, and starting to take every other decent name for a webpage. Third, and most relevant, is that this blog is analogous to the mythological properties attributed to the "Boggan of Solitude". This blog allows me to gather my thoughts into something tangible (and hopefully useful), which will hopefully help combat the my-head-is-a-thought-maraca effect. This, like the boggan, is my refuge from the crazy world outside. How's that?
Fine, I guess.
That's not a question. Next question, please.
When?
Well, starting now (obviously), but probably continuing often (or not so much) over the coming days, weeks, and months to come.
Where?
Here. Geez, where else do you think?
Who?
Me! See the About Me section.
To what extent?
Probably longer than what anyone would be interested in reading, but hopefully long enough to express something worthwhile. One blog I remember looking at had frequent posts consisting of, "I'm tired. Nothing to write." That was it. It made me think, why is this person going through the effort to post, "I'm tired. Nothing to write."? Obviously, he had something to write. Also, since it was a blog apparently followed by several people, why would they be interested in the fact that he is often tired, and has nothing to write? I won't do that to you! There will be days when the posts are long and rambling, days when they are short and funny (or troubling), and probably long expanses of time where nothing will be posted.
Taco?
Sure!