Rethinking Electricity

That’s a joke! Ha ha! I can’t rethink a snack choice. What I would like to rethink is the electric stove, which, when viewed from above, looks like it will either kill you or hypnotize you if you touch its little nubs.

Most people like to play with the stove, particularly young children if you are Facebooking while you cook, or you may be Twittering while something goes very wrong with your dinner. Each produces an unwanted outcome, ranging from burned child “a la ER” or you just confirm your secret fear that you can’t cook your way out of a Campbell’s can.

If you go into the guts of the “range”, you find that there are four, uh, places for you to put the glowing hypno-eyes into. If you fail to clean the hypno-eyes, they will eventually begin to burst into flames. And if you fail to clean the little discs underneath, so shall your chances of fire be raised by two. We use big assed-kettles here, so I have to be a little more careful with cleaning those fuckers from now on.

See, we just can’t leave well enough alone, from Japan to Wisconsin, to the road to my house and its range. It’s a dirty shame, and one that may prove dangerous for all of us. We keep pressing and pressing and things go pop. Devo runs through my head briefly, as my wife continues to lose at solitaire in the background.

About The Head Seminarian

I might be the nicest person you'll ever meet, but if you don't believe me, that is because I hate you. I went to war, I went to father, I came, I saw, and it is a mess. I wouldn't have it any other way. Shitty people amuse me, people who act like human volcanoes fascinate me like fine art. Life is beautiful, and it is under attack in a manner heretofore unseen in history. I came to remind you of this, not make it worse. I might be writing a blog. Yes, that's all I am doing, now that I think about it. If you have a bad memory, you will forget this. Even I forget sometimes, so we're cool.

Posted on March 16, 2011, in Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. Losing at solitaire much the same way I lose at life.

    Like

  2. Ouch, I was supposed to provide one. Sorry about that little mix-up.

    Like

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