Time - but especially drunken neckties

26 Apr 2005  around evening time  Matt Winckler

Time is a strange thing. You think you’ve got it one minute, and the next it’s gone. It seems to me that time should march on at roughly the same pace, but it does not. Since starting at Battelle, I seem to have no time. I get up in the morning, I spend a day at work, I get home in the evening, I eat dinner, then all of a sudden it’s nine o’clock and I start thinking about going to bed. Crazy!

And what is more, I seem to have no time for writing entries here. The phenomenon is as disturbing as it is strange, but I lack topics on which to write. I have various ideas, of course, but all of them consist of things I have sworn to myself I would never write about. If I’m going to have a Red Book, after all, it’s not going to be just any angsty blog about how “life sux and my dog ate my Simon & Garfunkel CD yeah well that sux too that’s all for now bye”. Nay! If a reader is going to spend quality time reading this here Red Book, I’m going to make sure he gets his money’s worth!

So then, here I sit, contemplating the things on which I might write. And now they come:

Firstly, I will discourse on the nature of hard alcohol. I have come to the conclusion that hard alcohol is a waste of liver space. It gives you–well, me–all the impairment with none of the pleasant side effects. Wine produces the most pleasant buzz, good beer the second best, and hard liquor the worst. Note that the Matt Scale of Righteous Rating (MSRR) does not allow for “best, second-best, good”. No. It goes “best, second-best, worst”. There is nothing good about the side effects of hard liquor.

Furthermore, said side effects are not sportsmanlike enough to come on in a gradual and pleasing manner, such as with the better wines and beers. Instead, hard alcoholic impairment hits you like a Mack truck, after some indeterminate number of drinks between 1 and 4.

So much for hard alcohol then.

Secondarily, I pontificate to you, good reader, concerning neckwear that is dubious. My attention alighted this evening upon a post by the man Patrick, claiming to own some notorious gentleman’s accoutrement. However, I have utterly failed to give the story behind Dubious Neckwear, and what it really constitutes, instead choosing to let the reader infer what he will from the Red Book theme. I see now that some explanation is in order, because the reader is taking off on the wrong tack.

Some months ago, I struck upon the brilliant wardrobe demonstrated in this photo: blue jeans, blue shirt, and white necktie. I had need of a wardrobe especial because I was on tap to chair a CDA all-staff meeting, and I needed people to be paying attention to me while I was running the show. So naturally I devised this most excellent and tasteful combination of attire, and wore it to the meeting. Of course, then the esteemable Mr. Robinson showed up, and felt obligated, after setting eyes upon me, to stagger about cringing in a fashion that suggested he had been punched in the spleen by a leprous marsupial. He claimed, in a pained voice, that he had been blinded by the sheer ugliness of the tie, and surely this was all some terrible joke, and I couldn’t really mean to wear the object during the meeting.

I did, of course, keep the tie on, and I noted with satisfaction that it did its job admirably. Nary a one of the attendees could keep their eyes off the effusive accoutrement.

The following Sunday, I found an interesting item in my church mailbox. It was a necktie, golden and yellow, with a pattern of squares, and some little blue squares accenting it. Accompanying the tie was a handwritten note with a derogatory message, something along the lines of “To the man who needs some fashion taste in ties”, or something like that. It was, in short, the Necktie of Insidious Motives.

Yellow is not my color, so what was I to do? I wore the tie once or twice for the good man Eric’s sake, but then made a show of giving it back to him as his birthday present, with a note indicating that yellow really wasn’t my color.

Some weeks passed, but dropped comments here and there suggested I had not seem the last of the Necktie of Insidious Motives. Then, during a CDA board meeting at my house, the sly Mr. Robinson had the nerve to slip the necktie into my computer room, draping it inelegantly over the ceiling fan. I noticed it before the meeting was over, but let the offense slide. The following Sunday, I passed off the tie to Robinson’s eldest daughter (a second grader) with strict instructions to hide it, then present it to him when they arrived home from church.

Some weeks passed with no sign of the NIM. Then, a CDA board meeting was held at Robinsons’. As I departed, I noted that Eric was hanging about the front porch somewhat later than usual, bidding me farewell. He then waved as I pulled out of the driveway. Here was strange behavior indeed! Never had this fellow proven so sanguine in his demeanor. My mind began working, but it didn’t have long to work. On the way to the highway, there began a horrible flapping noise outside the car. What should it be but–the Necktie of Insidious Motives! That pernicious piece of neckwear had got itself tied in a knot around my windshield wiper blade!

I saw now that this little rivalry of fashion sense had escalated to nothing short of an art form. The next move would take something truly unique. I pondered for some weeks. Fortunately, board meetings are frequently held at my house, so I had ample opportunity to make my move. One evening whilst the CDA board sat in discussions upstairs, a covert operative slipped out the back door downstairs and into the front yard, depositing a certain item aboard the vehicle of a certain board member. I imagine that Eric was somewhat surprised to be accosted by the NIM during his next trip to the gas station, for I had instructed my covert operative to place the tie, sealed in a ziplock bag, atop his gas tank’s cap (inside the outer door).

Then came the Robinson roofing job. In return for all my hard work, I found, amidst my tools, none other than this persistent tie. And here it sits, even now, upon my desk. I gaze at it, but stay aloof from its vile influence. Frankly, I think Eric’s method of returning it was something of a cop-out–it was far too easy to accomplish. So I contemplated. My next move would need to be something of great magnitude, something truly creative. In a war of escalating wit and ingenuity, I now have the opportunity to decisively take the upper hand. And indeed, my move is plotted out. I wait only for the perfect opportunity to present itself. I am patient in my waiting, for I know that eventually the time must come. It might be days, it might be weeks, or it might be months, but the NIM will not remain sleeping forever. No. My vast network of minions spreads far, and will find just the right chink…and when they do, I guarantee you will hear all about it. But for now, we must cut our conversation short, for the line is not secure.

So then, that is the story of Dubious Neckwear. At some point along the line (I think it was right after Eric left the tie hanging from the ceiling fan) I decided to make the Red Book theme to commemorate the infamy. And that is why not all neckwear is Dubious.

And finally, I would say something derogatory about the political correctness and business-speak of large companies, but I’m just not in the mood. It’s overdone anyway.

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