JUST A FEW LAUGHS: A sour disappointment
As I am writing this column, it should be known that I am in a grumpy mood. A very grumpy mood.
By rule, it is not smart to get me upset. I pack a series of furious punches – that is, if by “punches” you mean comparisons to overweight bullies in teenage sitcoms, and that includes Donkey Lips from “Salute Your Shorts” – and I definitely won’t pull them. Luckily for you and the general reading public, however, I tend to keep my emotions at a manageable level. But amid all of the effort, there are still occasions where my brain gets frustrated, my goat gets gotten and I am given no choice but to let my angry voice take effect.
Today was one of those occasions, and was brought into course from a source that is devastatingly not all too uncommon. Of the many things I hope to rid the earth of – one of those being the Sega Dreamcast – this experience careens itself very much toward the front.
I had a bad orange.
And believe me, it was really bad. I would even say it classifies as what my old high school classmates, but never myself, would call a “sucky” orange. It was one of those oranges in which one can’t tell if it was under or over ripe and built itself upon even more chronic depression because it seemed to be defiantly on the up and up during the peeling phase. The end to an above average lunch once had promise, but glumly ended with a citrus fruit that was better off being a turnip.
Oranges are by and large the riskiest crop in the known and documented history of commercial produce. Investing time, fingernails and taste buds in an orange is a lot like investing in a “Bernstein Bears” book – you think you are getting a quality product every time until you are stuck reading a book about the struggle of taking off a band aid.
No, of course, this is rooted from the fact that we know what a worthwhile orange tastes like. It has an exuberant tanginess, with enough sweetness to for a refreshing summertime tasting marriage. If ska music formed citrus and became edible, it would assuredly be an orange. A good one brings energy while drowning you in nourishment. It’s the “Howard the Duck” of fruits.
This may be why I act so hostile like toward a bad-tasting orange. Unlike any other fruit, it comes with an expectation. Few fruits come with so many standards of a worthy experience. Orange juice completes the perfect breakfast, and an Orange Julius is the pinnacle of smoothies. How can one survive Christmas without a chocolate orange in their stocking? Heck, Disneyland, one of the most dominating tourist attractions in the known universe, is in Orange County, California.
The biggest frustration with the world of downtrodden navels and valencias roots in the knowledge that one cannot simply abort a bad orange experience. For one reason or another, oranges are a well-founded commitment. With an apple or peach, and almost definitely a banana, it is fully commonplace to dispose of a less than stellar eating experience, but there is something about an orange that ties us up personally and professionally.
I, for one, blame it on the peel. If you think about it, oranges are the most peel-intensive produce in modern Americana. Other citrus fruits have peels but don’t require the action and other peel-required morsels, say, the banana, run a much simpler process. Peel and orange takes work, it takes initiative and it takes getting peel stuck in your fingernails for upward of six days. If you make that much of a sacrifice to eat a Florida-dwelling snack, you best stick to it. We have standards.
So maybe I do live a simple life, but I know a trial when I see one. And if I have seen anything troublesome in my life, it is the risk take when indulging in the pulp and juice conglomerate than is an orange. Happy peeling.
Steve Schwartzman is a senior in communication studies and linguistics. When he isn’t trying too hard to make people laugh he is usually watching sports, watching 90’s cartoons or experiencing all things Aggie Life. Got a good idea for Steve to rant about? Hit him up at steve.schwartzman@aggiemail.usu.edu
or on Twitter @SchwartZteve