A little while ago I was sipping on a bowl of
McClelland's Blackwoods Flake, watching my wife
click on the remote for her 52 inch (measured
diagonally) "Blabber Box" television. She was
frantically searching for something decent to watch
and I was struck by the difference between her
anguished state and my own calm, serene demeanor.
I attribute my cool state of mind to the effects of the
Flake. She paused for awhile on a program about
young vampires - all about neck biting and teen-age
angst. And I began to think about Vlad the Impaler,
who they say was the inspiration for the Dracula
stories. Vlad became famous as a murderous tyrant,
his victims numbering in the tens of thousands, and
his cruelty would give pause to a hardened NYC
homicide detective. What, I thought, sent this son of
privilege on such a murderous course? What fatal flaw
sent his brain to bedlam? How could he have been
stopped? And then it came to me in a flash - if
Blackwoods Flake would have been around back then,
and if someone would have offered Vlad a bowl
before he grew so sick, the world would have been
spared a great deal of trouble. The tangy sweetness
would have broadened his smile, the spicy nip would
have gladdened his brain, and the campfire
smokiness would have calmed his heart. He surely
would have become a kindly philosopher instead of a
murderous monster. Maybe I should start carrying a
pocket pipe filled with Blackwoods Flake wherever I
go - just in case some beautiful neck-biting
cheerleader wants to suck my hot heart juice away. I
could light up and hide behind the creamy, billowy
clouds, and when she stopped for a moment to enjoy
the oh so fine room note, I could safely make my
getaway.
McClelland's Blackwoods Flake, watching my wife
click on the remote for her 52 inch (measured
diagonally) "Blabber Box" television. She was
frantically searching for something decent to watch
and I was struck by the difference between her
anguished state and my own calm, serene demeanor.
I attribute my cool state of mind to the effects of the
Flake. She paused for awhile on a program about
young vampires - all about neck biting and teen-age
angst. And I began to think about Vlad the Impaler,
who they say was the inspiration for the Dracula
stories. Vlad became famous as a murderous tyrant,
his victims numbering in the tens of thousands, and
his cruelty would give pause to a hardened NYC
homicide detective. What, I thought, sent this son of
privilege on such a murderous course? What fatal flaw
sent his brain to bedlam? How could he have been
stopped? And then it came to me in a flash - if
Blackwoods Flake would have been around back then,
and if someone would have offered Vlad a bowl
before he grew so sick, the world would have been
spared a great deal of trouble. The tangy sweetness
would have broadened his smile, the spicy nip would
have gladdened his brain, and the campfire
smokiness would have calmed his heart. He surely
would have become a kindly philosopher instead of a
murderous monster. Maybe I should start carrying a
pocket pipe filled with Blackwoods Flake wherever I
go - just in case some beautiful neck-biting
cheerleader wants to suck my hot heart juice away. I
could light up and hide behind the creamy, billowy
clouds, and when she stopped for a moment to enjoy
the oh so fine room note, I could safely make my
getaway.
