Potpourri, Part II

By Sean McVeigh

It’s one of those weeks again … Let’s do it, Ken. I’ll take “Potpourri” for $2,000!

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Commercials could — and I’m sure someday will — earn their own solo column. The gap between the good ones and the bad ones is immense. But one component of a very specific kind of commercial has really been grinding my gears lately.

Let’s talk about drug commercials. Surprisingly, I hear people complain about them all the time. The refrain is usually something like, “Oh, this is why drugs are so expensive? All these incessant commercials!”

I guess if these companies are going to spend billions of dollars on research for new life-saving drugs (or drugs to make fat people look skinny and skinny people look sick), they also need to sell other drugs to fund that research. But that’s beside the point I’m trying to make.

In nearly every drug commercial now, after the cheery intro and before the parade of side effects, the first warning is always the same: “Do not take X if you are allergic to X.” Have we really become that stupid? I understand the legal necessity of listing side effects, but have we reached the point where someone would knowingly take something they’re allergic to unless explicitly told not to? It’s not like they’re warning you about a generic ingredient you might not realize is in the drug. That would at least make some sense.

I have to assume all those warnings come from past experience. These companies have been sued by people claiming they weren’t warned about this or that effect. So does this new warning — don’t take the thing you’re allergic to — mean that this has actually happened before? What’s next? Street signs that say, “Do not walk into oncoming traffic”? Have we really sunk that low as a species?

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The Winter Olympics are nigh upon us … and I just don’t care.

Historically, I’ve been a much bigger fan of the Summer Olympics than their winter counterpart. But in years past, I’ve always found myself easily swept up in a furor of national pride when either comes around. This year, though, there’s no such fervor.

I’m not entirely sure why. Maybe the incessant whipping wind this winter has me down on all things cold-related. Or perhaps the fact that they’re in Italy puts me in the wrong frame of mind, because all I can picture is a Vespa overlooking the Amalfi Coast — not exactly biathlon weather. This could all change once the action begins in earnest: a bruising USA vs. Canada hockey battle, or a high-octane curling showdown between the always-dapper Norwegian squad and their despised Scandinavian rivals, the Swedes.

I suppose only time will tell.

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My wife is a big fan of organizers. Organizers in the cabinets, organizers in the closets — you’d think we were a very organized household.

But here’s the thing: organizers are a scam. And I’m on to them.

Mostly, they just set boundaries. That’s helpful during the initial setup of a space. The problem arises when you don’t put things back in the exact same way with the exact same items. I don’t know about you, but I like to switch things up every once in a while. Variety, after all, is the spice of life. But when I go to put away a new can of soup or a new pair of sneakers, it’s like trying to fit a square peg into a triangle-shaped hole.

Without an organizer, things are fluid. They shift, adjust, and fill space naturally. With an organizer, there’s no room for such extemporaneous behavior. The script has been written, and it must be followed to the letter.

To hell with organizers. Those videos of people with “perfect” kitchens are either complete nonsense or the product of a tragically humdrum lifestyle.

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Another potpourri down. Many more to come.

Until next time, dear readers.