Questioning reality

Each morning of mine is largely the same. After chugging a single ceramic mug of black coffee, it’s usually time for seconds. I yell for 2 minutes or until my voice cracks. I painstakingly wrestle over which robe to wear for the first hour of the day. Then I really get down to business. 

As the morning breaks over the rowhouses on my block, I begin sifting through reader mail. Digital comments are both rare and frowned upon. How these people found my address in the first place is a mystery I’m not at all interested in uncovering. I wade through the pile in the very same waders my great-grandfather spent many a summer afternoon fly-fishing on the Kennebec River. Waiting for a bite. Hoping for a bite. Needing a bite. Praying he packed sandwiches. So here are the best questions from my adoring fanbase.

Dante from Cedar Falls, Iowa asks, “what’s the connection between YouTubers and root vegetables?”

I’m glad someone finally asked this. And I’m glad it was you, Dante. If you casually browse YouTube these days you’ll see a company that’s completely lost its way. A company that’s forgotten its roots. They were healthy, they were earthy, they were grounded in reality. Firmly planted in the dirt and residing comfortably on terra firma. What happened? It became a chore to monetize videos about turnips and beets. Instead, they opted for the lazier solution, choosing partisan politics and pop culture over the radish and the rutabaga. It’s not set in sunbaked soil that the story is over for YouTube and YouTubers. But time is running out. We could use a mainstream sitcom about a vampire with a deep, forbidden love of garlic. Please send me the treatment when you have something worth sharing.

Jethro from Cedar Creek, Delaware writes, “What makes a better sound: a baseball shattering a car window or a chickadee whistling and wondering where his next meal is coming from?  

These are two very compelling choices. I am an avid baseball fan. However, a ball breaking a windshield results in a blaring car alarm. Before the advent of car alarms, most paranoid drivers hired birds (paid in seed and worms) to sit in the backseat and chirp should anything go awry. It was and still is the most natural security system out there. Over time, people got tired of the avian demands (frequent strikes and the threat of unionization) that made the whole endeavor no longer worth it. I miss it though.   

Penelope from Cedar Grove, New Jersey wonders, “If Shakespeare was the Bard, then what do we call his pet parrot, Christopher, who allegedly authored much of the First Folio?"

The Bird.

Young John Salmon from a Cedar Plank about to go onto a flaming hot grill, nervously asks, “How did I get here?”

Our lives are comprised of a series of seemingly random choices, decisions and events. Unfortunately for you John, this has led to a dinner date. Good luck.

That’s all for now. Until next time, so long.