I remember my dad’s dad, Pop, watching me cut a steak, shaking his head in dismay. “The hands,” he lamented. “You don’t have the hands.”
It’s a forgivable sentiment. Pop’s a blacksmith, a craftsman, an artist of the oldest tack. I was born lefty, forcibly converted righty, as dextrous as I was sinister — neither quite great, as my steak cutting showed.
Then I recall my own dad, planning the future. “Well, after mom retires, we’re going to move to Virginia. I think I’ll try my hand at blacksmithing and carrying on Pop’s business.” Didn’t quite end up like that.
I’d have hated to have seen the fires of Pop’s forge die down for good. But instead, it’s continuing on in a new light, with a new flame, one I didn’t quite expect:
It’s almost March, and I’m sure your New Year’s weight-loss/fitness/fad diet resolution is already hosed, your sorrows washed down with buttermilk, doused with Dorito dust, and your guilt suppressed by gobs of Nutella Lite™ with a side-sleeve of Thin Mints.
But no, you’re not a quitter. That’s not it at all. You’re just looking at it from the wrong angle, like a selfie aimed upward — which, come on, no one looks good from that vantage, right? And thus you take another look in the mirror, turn this way and that, slap on a dark shirt, and begin to reason to yourself.
You use one word, one simple interjection.
And that’s why you’re still fat.
Dr. Ben Carson is not just a gifted neurosurgeon and professional twin-separator; no, he’s quite possibly one of the most creative Presidential candidates out there. I like the guy as a person, and regardless of where you might fall in the political spectrum, you can’t dismiss his impressive medical credentials and body of work in his field. But beyond that body of work is his more impressive body of beliefs, ranging from the unusual to the flat-out preposterous.
But as we all know, you’re not allowed to espouse a few odd beliefs as a Presidential candidate, especially as a Republican. But that doesn’t mean we can’t stand in awe of not just Dr. Carson’s brilliance, but also his brilliant imagination.
“It’s well established that Jesus rode pterodactyls during his earthly ministry.”
Let’s take a peek at Ben Carson’s catalog of amazing beliefs, some of which are well-nigh unbelievable:
What do William Shakespeare, Robert Frost, John Keats, and Hart Crane all have in common?
“2B or not 2B, that is the question / whether uppercase is worth its entropy“
Their passwords are better than yours. Here’s why:
Do tell: since when did Sriracha become a popular flavor?
In my school days, Sriracha was an uncommon currency. You could only get it from Asian grocers or from one of the many Indonesian students. We had it for dorm room ramen (which was against the rules at our college, I kid you not), chicken tenders, and Hungry Howie’s pizza. It felt like we’d shared a best-kept, lesser-known secret. Hipsters didn’t exist back then, so don’t even start.
Now? Far from the oblique status it once enjoyed, Sriracha is everywhere. In your chips. Your ranch dressings. Your OREOs.
Pictured: Not hipster Tabasco.
But rather than decry the outing of a great, mid-2000s flavor secret, I think it’s cause for celebration. Every decade brings new flavors to the forefront, and I’m excited for what’s next:
I have only one “good story.” This is it. Save for embellishments, it’s 110% true.
I’d always heard that you couldn’t see your audience from the stage. But I could hear them, their raucous roars once compelling me there now dying down as Slim Goodbody welcomed me to the platform.
Yes, that Slim Goodbody.
“So, what can you do?” he asked.
I froze. That was not why I was up there.
Not only was I unprepared, I was incapable of doing what he was asking. Big difference. Public speaking is something you can actually do off the cuff, prepared or no. But if you physically cannot dunk a basketball, then there’s no way you’re walking off that stage with your dignity. Incapable.
I was prepared to kiss my dignity goodbye. To a dude wearing a this:
I needed a miracle. What I got was magic:
In the last round of thrashing the wheat and chaff of résumés, we talked about three things to lop off for maximum hiring potential.
Made those edits yet? Good.
“This job seeker described his work experiences with emoji!” — Résumé Vivisector Mark VII™ by Hammermill
But wait, there’s more! Here’s where to keep on chopping: