So, well… here we are then.
Are you sitting comfortably?
Not that I’m all that interested really. After all, I wrote this quite a while before you decided on your current seating arrangements, and I am off now doing something exciting with a bevy of nubile young research assistants on an exotic tropical island…
As for your comfort, I’m quite sure that you will have things well in hand on that matter. After all, who deliberately choses to make themselves uncomfortable for a spot of light web browsing?
Well, apart from them obviously.
We all know what they are like, and how they think that making themselves suffer for real or – mostly – imagined – wrongs makes them more virtuous.
Well, they very well may think that.
We, however, have other fish to fry… or to grill, or poach lightly, depending on personal taste. After all, who – apart from them – would prefer to eat food not cooked to their taste, and that they enjoy.
We all know those who make a virtue out of making themselves eat stuff – purportedly good for them – that no ravenous locust would contemplate, let alone a normal (ish) human being with fully functional taste buds.
After all, what is the point of living longer – healthier – if it is one long purgatory?
Ask them, not me.
Anyway, we seem to have strayed some distance from the point of this… er… whatever it is. It was not meant to be about them at all, despite – or even because of – the title.
It was meant to be more about that bevy of nubile research assistants and how they manage to combine intensive research with applying copious amounts of sun tan oil to each other in a manner rarely seen outside some of the more popular video websites dealing in a full frank and – often educational – manner with what those young….
Anyway, there will be disapproving looks by now from them of course, as they check their outrageometers for the first flickers of the needle into the red zone, as their fingers hover over Twitter or Facebook, ready to denounce the heretic against their imagined mores.
Anyway, enough about them.
Hang on, though…
There never seems to be enough about them, they are there all the time, waiting, waiting to dictate to the rest of us, intrude into our lives, question whether it is really wise for us to use that much baby oil in our games of Naked and Baby-Oiled Twister. After all, considering the number of babies it takes to make each bottleful – each plastic bottle at that. Since they have now apparently decided that plastic is worse than all seven biblical plagues rolled into one.
We all know as well that it will be them who are the loudest to complain when their locally-sourced organic grapes are all crushed because the produce is no longer allowed to be packaged in a protective plastic box.
See, it is always them who furiously complain – or dictate to others – about one thing or another and then when the unintended consequences rain down on them, it is them again who are the first to complain.
Of course, you are not one of them, are you?