COLUMN: Immortality elixir for sale
After battling a continual viral harassment for most of this winter, I finally have given up the fight and am prepared to get sick for the next couple weeks. I’m not a wimp; I just don’t trust any of those silly remedies that old folks and granola people recommend. Plus, I’ve ingested so much Nyquil over the years that only an intravenous intervention would produce any viable results.
Experts (at something lame) might say my lifestyle is too sedentary, making me susceptible to illnesses. Rubbish. I wiggle my “groove thing” several times a week as a revolutionary in the dance world. Yes, you are correct, I am referring to the popular past-time helping fat kids get slimmer, aiding uncoordinated folks develop rhythm, and unfortunately assisting old people draw much closer to an inevitable heart attack. “Dance Dance Revolution” is a new way of life.
Truthfully, I’ve only been a part of the boogie coup d’etat on two occasions, both of which left me somewhat humiliated. I was convinced, mostly by a lot of sugar, incredible boredom, and the endless pestering from my buddies back home that this video game would magically help me overcome my complete lack of bodily rhythm. They were wrong. It actually just gave me a backache.
My friends ecstatically introduced the game to me, probably to help them forget a little work “incident” back home during the summer. Of course, I do not feel this is the appropriate place to share such a story, but … OWWWW! Fine, twist my arm a little more. OWWWW! I mean, STOP IT!
On a completely usual, deathly hot and humid day in Washington, D.C. last summer, I somehow “lost it.” I could attribute my mental decompression to the extremely toxic chemicals we were using to repair the glass roof of the National Air and Space Museum. Perhaps the blame could be affixed to the fact that the roof was 115 degrees Fahrenheit on a day with 85 percent humidity, and I had to wear long pants. More than likely it was probably an attempt to humor my co-workers, because at that moment I was sitting in the shade drinking Gatorade while they were on the roof,
blistering.
We had just received a whole bunch of new buckets for mixing waterproofing chemicals. I proceeded to juggle the buckets, toss them at my friends, put them on my head and build a tower with them. Then I danced, perhaps even pranced, around the plastic tower and sung, entirely off-key, a made-up song called “The Bucket Dance.”
Keep in mind that not only was the roof of the building glass, but all the walls were as well. This meant that my audience was not solely the two perched on the roof scaffolding, both of who literally almost fell off in delight at my antics, but rather hundreds of people enjoying a delicious McDonald’s lunch inside. Nothing seemed to matter during my unusual performance, yet I fear that in years to come, I may be blackmailed by a picture taken by some random Latvian tourist.
Whew … back to my original point, I really don’t think low activity level is the reason for my developing illness. Rather, I think it is complete disgust in what herbalists and other morons deem necessary to cure the common cold.
For example, one day while wandering the streets, I found my way into Jamba Juice, which is undoubtedly the most expensive place to buy anything fruity. Nevertheless, I indulged, but while waiting became nervous as I saw an employee manicuring a small lawn behind the counter. Fortunately I never had to voice my confused concern, because I found some literature explaining the turf phenomenon.
Apparently, Jamba Juice uses a product called wheatgrass to stimulate customers into shelling out more cash for something else potentially useless. After reading a long list in the undocumented pamphlet about the benefits of wheatgrass, I became more confused and rightly disturbed. Here’s why:
* Wheatgrass juice is one of the best sources of living chlorophyll available, and according to the list, “Chlorophyll is the first product of light and, therefore, contains more light energy than any other element.” What the crap does that mean?
* “Wheatgrass juice improves the digestion.” Of what?
* “Liquid chlorophyll gets into the tissues, refines them and makes them over.” At long last, Blaine and John can get makeovers – hopefully it turns them green.
* The most alarming statement in the list has to be, “Wheatgrass has what is called the Grass Juice Factor, which has been shown to keep herbivorous animals alive indefinitely.” Indefinitely? I’ve never seen any immortal cows, or even heard of a bovine fountain of youth. Where can I get some GJF?
* There is no way I will ever believe in alternate herbal remedies to the common cold. I prefer naps. Long ones are the best. In fact, forget finishing this column, I’m going to bed right now – assuming I can get that stupid bucket dance song out of my head.
Ssshhh! Garrett Wheeler, a graduate student in electrical engineering, is now sleeping. Please don’t disturb him with raucous comments, just mail them to wheel@cc.usu.edu.