Taking the trash out tonight, I stumbled over a normally
jolly old elf, who was curled up in a foetal ball and
whimpering in the snow in my back yard.
(Really--after 65F Monday chinook winds, it began snowing
across Colorado Tuesday night. I can show you the snow if
you're doubtful.)
Anyway, Santa was lying there in the snow, moaning something
incoherent about "Too many . . . too many!" while his
reindeer chewed their cud indifferently.
(I noticed that Rudolph's blinking red nose was in front,
which might cause Sheldon a twinge. I couldn't tell if it
was an LED or not.)
The pathetic figure sobbing in the snow was surrounded by a
dozen mail-order bicycle catalogues. Since I was already
taking my own trash out, I picked up the catalogues that
Santa had dropped just before his breakdown.
Every product in each catalogue had been circled, some of
them several times, from front to back.
A question occurred to me after I tip-toed back into the
house past the example of what excessive choices can do to
the best of us at this happy time of the year.
What part of a bicycle do you think varies the least? And
why?
Choose your own standard--mechanical design, practical
effect, size, weight, cost, material, whatever--and enjoy
the glory of your own theories while suppressing your horror
at the twisted logic of the other numbskulls.
For inspiration, amusement, and reassurance that the variety
is not altogether a recent phenomenon, here's what Santa was
thumbing through almost a century ago:
http://www.fixedgeargallery.com/morley/index.htm
http://www.instantattitudes.com/images/sears1908pg170.jpg
http://www.brooksarchives.info/brooks%20/catalogs/1914%20brooks/page8.html
Merry Christmas!
Carl Fogel