Coffee For Thought
You may all blame Facebook for this. Seriously.
There I was, innocently wondering what to rant… er… write about, and the garish headline: NYC Pastor: Starbucks is flavored with the Semen of Sodomites pops up (as it were) on my feed, with an observation by the poster that he’d wondered why they label them “tall” and “grande” rather than the old-fashioned “medium” and “large”.
Now, whether the good pastor is a fine upstanding citizen who is concerned for the welfare of his flock or not, I do have to wonder how he discovered this disturbing piece of information. Is he perhaps unhappy that his donation to the cause didn’t meet Starbucks quality control? Did he do his hands on research as a producer or a supplier (and seriously, the question of how Starbucks ensures they get it from sodomites, and only sodomites leads to some mental images that have me wondering just how much I can get away with on this blog).
There is unquestionably a story in this, and I leave it to any of you who wish to write it, because (as you might have guessed) I’d go so far past bad taste I’d end up with a plodding bit of mush.
Yeah. For some reason when I deliberately try to be funny I make a complete mess of it. When I just go for silly with snark, it works – and this is a topic that silly-with-snark simply can’t handle.
There is a point in all of this, strangely enough, which is that story fodder can be found in the strangest of places. Like drone-generated pornography (apparently with actual actors, but if you’ve got the right contacts in one of the three letter agencies you probably wouldn’t need that), or the guide to correctly squeezing zits, complete with massive model (I may be officially terrified now)
Of course, if you want food for a horror story, you could use the mega-spiderweb that’s been doing the rounds. Or (if you’re from the social justice warrior side of the fence) the horror of this poor woman who discovered that nobody gave her any catcalls when she set up a hidden camera to record the depravity of the male of the species.
Speaking of female things, there’s really no way a female-only-wearable-sensor could go wrong, right? Yeah. Right. Combine that with self-aware AI, and you’ve got a dire need for the world’s first AI psychiatrist (“The only time she ever interacts with me is to stick me in her whatsis.” “Stop whining. That’s what you’re supposed to be for.”)
In view of all of this it’s probably a good thing that most people are decent and want to help others – even to the extent of, yes, wanting to pay people for books and art they enjoy. If you only follow one of this collection of links, I’d suggest making it this one. Ms Palmer has some very good points, and her experience as a street performer where there was no obligation for anyone to pay is quite instructive (as well as helping to inspire a bit of hope in those like me who tend to get discouraged and depressed) (Oh, and yes, I know who she is. That doesn’t mean she’s incapable of making sense. This post makes sense and says good things. Period.).
So, go ye forth, find your story fodder, and feed your favorite artists, authors, musicians, and others.