Like Granola for Chocolate

4 Jan

by Roger White

Do we ever take the time to look at progression? To study the A to B to C and analyze the end result? It is at this sentence that you may be asking yourself, “What the Richard E. Nixon is he talking about?” Or, more correctly, “Has he been on a bender at Scooter’s Coffeehouse again?”

The espresso at Scooter’s, by the way, can grow hair on a cat’s-eye marble. Instant overdrive. (They said I get a freebie for every mention.)

I’m talking progression, progression—and the absurdities that lie therein. Let me give you an example: Granola. I may need a trademark symbol here, so pretend you see one. Granola was concocted by tie-dyed tree-hugger types sometime in the ’60s or ’70s as a natural substitute for sweets. Little chocolate donuts and candy bars didn’t cut it with the tofu crowd. Wasn’t healthy, didn’t come from the earth, had bad karma, man. Therefore, granola came into being. Little bits of oats and bran and virgin molasses and twigs and pine tar and small rocks. Good for the soul, warded off dental caries, honed the incisors to a razor edge. Chocolate be damned, man.

Hah! You know what they have now? Have you perused the snack food aisle? Chocolate-covered granola! What’s the meaning here, what’s the purpose? Where’s the manager? Where’s Abbie Hoffman? Free the Chicago Seven, man!

(Another espresso? Yes, please, and hold the peel.)

Chocolate on granola. That’s like bicycles with engines (oh, they have that); OK, it’s like, it’s like cartoons without anything that blows up. It is like those disgustingly cute designer ceramic Christmas yard lights made to look like homespun candles in paper bags. Ceramic paper bags! Just use paper bags, for God sakes!

Nothing makes me more insane than store-bought homespun. Ernest H. Tubb, I’m pissed.

(No more espresso, thank you. I think an infarction’s coming on.)

Or how about this? Technological wizardry and man’s creativity have taken us incredibly far from the days when we actually had to get up from our chairs to change the channel to another of the three TV stations we had to choose from, yes? Well, no. Now, we have five remotes, 5,000 channels, and television programming that makes “Gilligan’s Island” look like “Masterpiece Theater.” I mean, “The Marriage Ref”? “Cavemen”? “Skating with the Stars?” Dear Lord. Who comes up with this stuff? And personally, my ultra-high-tech television glitches out more now than when I was a kid adjusting the rabbit ears! Every 6.3 minutes, the screen freezes or morphs into some hideous pixelated zombie monster. My cable company (I won’t mention the name, but the initials are AT&T) sends a guy out so often he’s started bringing pizza and beer. We’ve become buddies.

(Whooo. Just a warm-up, no cream. Did the lights get dim?)

You want another example? And stop staring at me, you’re giving me the creeps. Have you seen those digital clocks fashioned to look like the older clocks with hour and minute hands? Now just what in the hell is that? For crying out loud, they invented digital clocks so you could instantly see the time. Hey, look, it’s precisely 3:01 a.m. And I’m not even tired! Could be the joe.

Digital was meant to save us from having to interpret the big hand/little hand position; saved us a good three-tenths of a second. And here they are with DIGITAL BIG HAND/LITTLE HAND CLOCKS. It almost makes me want to be a gun owner! Mother of pearl!


Chocolate-covered granola. Give me a break. Is it hot in here to you?

[Published in the Oak Hill Gazette, December 1, 2010]

5 Responses to “Like Granola for Chocolate”

  1. Pam January 3, 2011 at 2:06 am #

    Gosh Roger, could this column be a little more disjointed? I didn’t realize you had such a big caffeine habit–I thought it was just the booze!

  2. oldspouse January 3, 2011 at 3:19 pm #

    Funny, Pamela. Very funny.

  3. Austin Coffey January 6, 2011 at 10:29 pm #

    I’m still stuck on the AT&T thing…. I literally (not teenage slang usage) laughed out loud. You have my congratulations, roger; you will receive an envelope soon. This is a very special envelope; not just because of it’s self destruction properties, but because it’s figuratively just as explosive content. The content of this envelope will be a house to be found somewhere north of Austin and South of Corpus Christi. (yes, that’s a joke.)
    No, this house will be located in Austin. If you survive the perilous perils inside (one of which you will require a holy hand grenade to dispatch) you will reach a stairway; after the first step, there’s no turning back. If, and only if, you reach the top of the stairway before dying of heat exhaustion, you shall the chance to take a test that will make you a possibility for another test which will make it likely for you to be invited into the highest echelon of society; the HOC society of bachelordom or non-bachelordom.
    I may be hasty by saying this before you pass all the tests; however, let me be the first to welcome you to the Heirs’ Of Caesar association of bachelordom or non-bachelordom.

  4. Austin Coffey January 7, 2011 at 6:52 pm #

    You will require much more definitive responses when you’re a member of the Heirs’ of Caesar.

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