When I first stumbled over the playground in The Path, I went all “what an outlandishly bizarre idea.” Well, the idea might still be bizarre, but, well, look for yourself:
Right in the middle of them bloody woods. Woah. Switzerland is weird.
If you can’t catch up with my perambulations even though I take pictures and light a fag from time to time you should consider a different sport. May I suggest the Swiss original Extreme Kafichränzli™?
Table manners aren’t rocket science. The rules are arbitrary, snobbish, and impractical? Or the one thing that distinguishes Man from Ape? Start using the grey goo between your ears, it’s not meant as a delicacy for certain remote tribesmen only. Who probably wouldn’t use the proper spoon to get going, either. Them sauvages!
What cutlery to use in what order or how to hold a glass of wine might seem overly codified. But there’s good practical reasons to adhere to what pragmatic minds thought of centuries ago. Take the wine glass thing, for example. In Survivor, Chuck Palahniuk used his protagonist’s obsessive-compulsive disorder for laughs. Remember the bit where the narrator threatens to shoot anybody who holds the white wine by the bowl and the red wine by the stem? Funny, ennit? Well, yes. But there’s a sound reason for the narrator’s insistence:
White wines are usually served cold, red ones at warmer temperatures. It doesn’t take a genius to realise that the beverage probably stays colder if you hold it by the stem and gets a tad warmer if not.
That wasn’t too difficult, now, was it?
What many seem to miss is that Chuck isn’t primarily poking fun at the narrator for being such an anal character. He’s criticising the Wannabes who need to hire said narrator to learn how to eat a lobster. And can’t distinguish nonsense from common sense. The book splendidly fucks with them idiots who use a Code (here: table manners) for heightening their status and being able to look down at others. There were critics dismantling Survivor for this alone; it was “unrealistic” and “over-the-top” to hinge the moral on table manners, they said.
I think it’s brilliant. And very much part of our real life. Dinner rules, okay, but for chrissakes stop using them where they don’t belong. You don’t eat a sandwich with knife and fork. You don’t sniff the rubber cork of your $ 5 bottle. (Or any rubber cork to begin with.) But also stop holding your glass of brandy by the stem, little finger extended. Or somebody might shoot you, especially if you’re on a hijacked plane.
Misusing a code, especially table manners, makes you look like an idiot first. Afterwards, it raises questions about your self-esteem and your compulsory need to appear greater than your fellow human beings. In short:
Stop being a sodding ass, for fuck’s sake.
The Swiss IV or Invalidenversicherung, social services specially targeted at the disabled, need to spend less. Billions of Swiss Francs drain from already tight pockets, more and more residents need to apply for financial support. Or, as certain parties like to stress in the blindness of voters’ loyalty, apply with no need but loads of criminal energy.
But do the blind need guides? Apparently, not.
Hey, who asked them blind people to get dogs? There’s loads of Accessibility Services in modern computers, screen readers, and GPS that talk to you! And well, you have a family, don’t you? Okay, your sister lives in Morocco and can’t go shopping in your stead, but – tough luck! Why should social services, the public pay this much for food an medical care for a dog? Dogs are pets, hence: luxury items. You have more important things on your mind than remaining self-determined. We paid asked dog health specialists, and they said our rates are well beyond the reasonable. Hey, there’s always tidbits from the slaughterhouse if you really think you need a guide dog, so stop complaining. We have mucho real issues to deal with. Here, have a leaflet, and don’t vote SP or Green, thanks a bunch.
It’s quite clear why the IV sticks with the label “invalid” to describe both its insurance system and its clients. In-valid. I agree with 50 % of that.
With the force of a rabid Böser, the epiphany hit me during a five-days-trip through Switzerland. Equipped with nothing more than about 150 fags and pile of single-use Bic razors.
Many things annoyed me during my holidays, things such as backpackers, burkas, Dutch automobilists, and hotel rooms reminiscent of 1970s naughty movies. The one thing that did not piss me off was my decision to go Simple in the shaving department. To wit, single-blade razors and a tin of soap.
I don’t want my shaving gear to vibrate like an adult toy or use system blades that cost a bloody mint. What are they thinking? The results aren’t any better than with single blades, a steady hand provided. Actually, they are worse. And them damn system razors force stores to lock up the blades next to ciggies and hardcore booze as too many refills get stolen. Because they are too fucking expensive.
Give simplicity a shot. Or rather: a shave. You’ll never move back to the future. Also, you might start to wonder about the Power of Marketeers™. More than you already have wondered, that is.