Let us discuss the state of the bands. Not the ones that hit the stage and make noise or music respectively defined by your otitic makeup. Rather those that are available in myriad hues and sizes and shapes and are designed to advertise your allegiance to a non profit, collective euphoria over capitalism or are just plain non sensical latex extrusions that had to find a place other than the local garbage dump.
Of course I refer to the mass hysetria over wearing colored affiliation defining bands around your wrists. There seems to be a craze going on in America (not sure I have seen it around the world yet, although there are metallic and other fabric based incarnations galore on the Indian subcontinent wandering wrists - materials for another blog) that leads otherwise sensible minded folk to don or adorn themselves with these plug ugly rubber bands.
Silly bands brought the craze to an all time capitalistic high where people ranging from new borns to those of advanced age found themselves wearing them in varying volumes. These competed for attention with all those charities including the likes of one run by a former cyclist who attained all manners of noteriety recently. Now having decided to dump that foundation he has put all the yellow band toters in a quandary. What pray do we do with these goofy bands? Perhaps find a V-shaped piece of wood and combine it to ply the craft of hurting the offending cyclist with a sling shot.
Cancer and a number of crafty ailments that plague modern civilizations have all found a voice in the rubber band. Pink, Red, Black and Blue they are everywhere and taking on proportions beyond comprehension.
There is a special chartruese one for the Go Green or Go Home folks. If this color rainbow does not make you crazy like a Bandit then perhaps you ought to join a band - a real Band.
Here is another essay on the subject of first names. As in birth names. Or names provided to an offspring at birth. While the developed world tends to shy away from the exotic like Refrigerator or Coca Cola for their new production there is a plethora of Jims and Johns and Bobs or Robs. Speaking of which I do not think there is a categoric decision point at the time of birth if a child will be hereafter called as Bob. I mean have not yet met a toddler called Bob or Rob for that matter. At some point though the parental instinct to mouth out multiple syllables runs out and they switch from calling the crawler Robert to simply Robbie to Rob. Now speaking of - it is strange that the name sounds like something you would not want Rob to do - i.e. Rob anyone. Then why call someone that? After all Rob Peter to Pay Paul is not exactly a maxim to live a young life? Is it? Perhaps Peter or Paul might want to have a say in it? Then there is this matter of going to the John. Why degrad...
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