FunctionalAmbivalent

Couches Don't Kill People. People With Couches Kill People.

A Russian woman, disgusted with her drunken, couch potato husband, kicked a handle on the hide-a-bed and watched as the couch folded up with the husband inside. There is no word on whether she turned the TV off.

The woman then walked out of the room and returned three hours later to check on what she thought was an unusually quiet sleeping husband.

The husband, of course, was dead. There is this account of the television coverage:

Video on the television channel's website showed emergency workers sawing away the side panels of a couch to remove a man in his underwear lying headfirst between the cushions.

This is, by the way, the reason I simply will not have a hide-a-bed in our house. It's not that someone would deliberately use it to kill anyone else, but statistics show that most people who are killed by couches in the home are killed in accidental couchings.

Plus, if I'm going to be on TV in my underwear, it's going to be because I've done something a whole lot more regrettable than dying.

My Foray Into the Marketing of Men's Grooming Supplies

A while back I got a free sample of a Gillette razor that has five blades. Because it was free, and because I am cheap, I used it until the blades got so dull they no longer cut anything but skin.

So, while shopping at my local discount grocery, I stopped off in the surprisingly large men's personal grooming section to buy new razor blades. They were over there between the mustache dye and the body foam.

Anyway, I searched for the Gillette five-bladed razor blades and found them beneath a sign announcing:

On sale. $12.95.

In any tale of woe, there is a moment in which the protagonist makes a fateful decision, and this was my moment. I could have turned away. My initial reaction was, "$19.95! Are they freakin' outa their minds!" But then I thought of the smooth, five-bladed shave (it's kind of like shaving with a pillow) and the fact that I really didn't want to be one of those people who stands in grocery stores thinking real hard about men's grooming supplies. So I grabbed a box of blades and returned to my shopping.

When I got home, I showed my wife my new razor blades and marveled at their exorbitant cost. My wife, who is a sensible woman, wasn't the least bit interested.

The next morning I tried to shave, and discovered that Gillette has not one but two different formats of five-bladed razors. One is blue and one is orange. I had received the blue for free but had purchased the orange, so I was pretty much out of luck. So I shaved that morning with the free blue razor, hacking my face to bits.

Last night, I returned to the store to buy an orange five-bladed razor, which was also on sale. It cost $14.95.

Now, for the record, I don't know that I would spend $14.95 on my face if I were in dire need of re-constructive surgery. I might opt, instead, for a beekeeper's hat and veil in order save a couple of bucks. But apparently in a low-key men's grooming supplies frenzy, I swallowed hard and bought the razor.

This time I didn't tell my wife, being as I was ashamed of my behavior and regretting having bought the first box of five-bladed blades when there were perfectly good disposable two-bladed razors right there below the athlete's foot ointments.

And this morning I discovered something about my new orange five-bladed razor: it vibrates. When I opened the package a battery fell out. "What's this?" my internal voice said, "What's a battery doing in box with a razor?"

I followed the instructions -- I object, by the way, to razors that need instructions -- and I turned the razor on and I shaved. And I have to say: I don't get it. I'm close to $30 into this high-tech razor and blades and my hand is growing numb from the vibrations. My shave is not smoother, or faster, or anything else not attributable to the fact that I'm using new blades rather than old.

I put the razor back in the drawer, but I find myself wondering: will I ever use the razor's vibrating function again?  I seriously don't think so. I think I'll just use the razor like a regular razor.

Meanwhile, Down In the Nerd Kingdom

The network is down and work has ceased. The accountants are crowded around, watching Battlestar Galactica on a cell phone.

Celebrity Guest Appearance

Last night, I dreamed I was in the world's largest McDonald's with Patrick Swayze. It was like a mall, and he walked really fast and I was having trouble keeping up with him.

The Time Between

I think I'm going to take a break from politics for a while because there's really nothing happening. I sat down in front of the cable nets last night and the big story was John McCain complaining about the people who are handling the paperwork for Barack Obama's Vice Presidential vetting. McCain was feigning outrage about something and the media were covering it as if it were an outbreak of cholera.

If one assumes that the Vice Presidency is, as has been said, an office not worth a warm bucket of spit, then arguing about the worthiness of the people who're scheduling the job interviews for Vice Presidential hopefuls is probably not something that a grown-up ought to spend a lot of time on. I, personally, have better things to do and so do you. And even if you don't, you should.

Maybe I'll delve into policy or something, but the tactical part of politics I'm going to try to avoid for a while.

Eerie

The spell check in my Firefox doesn't recognize "Condrieu" as a word, and suggests I replace it with "nondrinker."

Not Everyone In the Oil Business Is Getting Rich On High Gas Prices

I was driving across southern Indiana a couple of days ago when I nearly ran out of gas. I stopped at a tiny, out-of-the-way filling station, a 10-by-20 frame building with two battered mechanical pumps out front. I started to fill my car when the guy came out and explained it wasn't self service, and stood with me watching the car fill.

I noted the price of the gas -- $3.99 -- and to make conversation I asked him how high prices could go before his pumps would no longer be able to go higher.

"Next increase," he said. "Next time it goes up I'm out of business."

We stood there in silence for a few seconds, and then he said:

"I been tryin' to sell the place. Thought I had it sold a couple months ago, but nothin' come of it. Don't do enough volume to pay for new pumps."

It cost $40 to fill my little car. Somebody's making money, but not that guy.

It's Kind of Like an Internet Marriage

Best blogbuddy NewMexiKen celebrates our 4th Anniversary together. No one knows why.

In Which We Celebrate the Passing of This Cowboy's Trusty Mount

After almost 20 years, we're getting a new living room couch. Somehow, I think I'll feel disloyal sitting on it.

My Day In the American Air Transportation Infrastructure: Things People Said To Me

"Your rental car has a scratch and we're going to have to charge you. Move your suitcase behind the yellow line. That's Terminal A sir; this is Terminal B. Take the blue bus. I'm sorry, sir, this is the kiosk for people who don't have any luggage to check. You're going to need to stand in that line over there. Your briefcase strap is stuck in the rollers and you're holding up the whole line. Would you like me to cut it loose for you? I'm sorry, sir, but there are no more seats on the plane. I can get you on a flight to Indianapolis and you can drive to Louisville. It's boarding right now at gate B-23. Take the blue bus. There are only middle seats left. We're out of Diet Coke. Please stay in your seats because of turbulence. We're running a little late. It's the last car-rental desk on the right. Back in 10 minutes. That'll be $88.10. What do you mean there's no car in space number 102? Excuse me, sir, do you know how fast you were going? You're going to have to wait a minute before filling up, sir; we're raising the pump price. Your rental car has a scratch and we're going to have to charge you."