An English In Kentucky


















January 13th 2010    Tim Candler

    I share the concern that Saran Wrap is the tip of an iceberg that began to emerged when the pantry and the exterior toilet entered decline.  

    However, unlike a majority of my comrades in this community of thinking, I do not share the view that refrigerators are intrinsically evil and that Louis Pasteur was an agent sent by the Devil to feather the pockets of the medical profession. 

     Tempting those these arguments might sound, Saran Wrap for me, belongs deep inside another and more dreadful sort of iceberg.  This other place is where time and resource is devoted to packaging.  I picture well educated men and women in committee, observing me through the miracle of satellite technology.  Passionately they watch and if I can remove the new thing from its container then packaging is deemed tampered with, and instructions are issued for a redesign. 

    Then there is Saran Wrap itself.   A hideously perverse concept that requires the innocent to practice their own packaging in order to better grasp an infinite nuance those in the packaging industry themselves have to contend with.   These people also have a satellite in a geosynchronous orbit above the kitchen here in Kentucky.  Twenty four hours a day the devoted watch, and if I am able to dispense Saran Wrap from the Saran Wrap dispenser without rage or damage to my own flesh, phone calls are made, designers are dismissed, new blood is hired.

    Some might apply the "question why" to this predicament.   And it would make perfect sense to do so.   But instead we hang around at the end of the lane mumbling about Goat's milk and brown paper and real cheese and bacon fat and distant water towers which distress winter horizons.

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