The Babymoon Part 2

One of the perks of taking a cruise ship is the extravagant dinners. Entrées featuring steak, lobster, duck, and lamb are included in the price of the trip allowing middle class Americans to eat like a Roman emperor without concerning themselves with the check. The one miscalculation I made was assuming that my wife’s pregnancy cravings would momentarily subside while we were in international waters.

So one evening while the rest of the boat gorged themselves on gorgonzola and fillet mignon, my wife experienced an insatiable urge to consume a bowl of Frosted Flakes. Being the dutiful husband, I called room service and requested a bowl of her desired cereal. I did not foresee this being an issue since that particular item had been freely available on the breakfast bar every morning of our journey.

However, when I requested Frosted Flakes there was a long pause before the gentleman informed me that they could only provide Raisin Bran or Corn Flakes. After being reassured by my wife that no substitute would be accepted, I again pleaded that they simple grab a couple of boxes destined for the next morning’s buffet. Again, I was met with strong opposition and they told me that they “did not have access to those boxes at this time.” Given the staff’s propensity for going above and beyond, I was somewhat taken aback by the refusal to comply and even more concerned about the apparent security precautions concerning a children’s breakfast cereal. 

Deciding to take matters into my own hands, I went to the deck with the breakfast bar thinking if the door was unlocked I could swipe a couple of boxes and no one would be the wiser. Finding the outer door ajar, I walked in but was immediately confronted by a nearby employee who kindly informed me that I was not allowed in that area and suggested I take advantage of a different culinary offering.

Undeterred, I went to the upstairs balcony which featured a pizzeria and overlooked the dining room I had just been kicked out of. I then approached a young gentleman who was cleaning a table and I explained my situation. He digested my request for a moment, replied he would see what he could do and then instructed me to “go stand over there and not follow him or make eye contact.”

I obediently sat at a table and pretended to read e-mails on my phone for the next few minutes. When he finally emerged from the back he was empty-handed and I assumed that he had been unable to obtain “the goods,” but as he approached me he cut his eyes toward a nearby corner. Once we were only a few feet apart he reached into his pockets and produced two small pouches of Frosted Flakes that he had apparently de-boxed in an effort to avoid detection.

As we completed the transfer he reminded me that I “hadn’t gotten these from him, and didn’t know where they came from.” I assured him that I would never divulge my source and he quickly slinked away. The gravity of the situation was so overwhelming that I half expected our stateroom to be tossed for breakfast paraphernalia.

In my haste, I had also forgotten to acquire a bowl, spoon, and milk so once I was back in the room I called room service again. Undoubtedly thrilled to see my room number on their caller ID, they asked if I had finally decided on a cereal. I responded that I wished to simply have a bowl, spoon, and milk delivered to my room since I wasn’t willing to admit I had acquired my desired cereal by nefarious means.

Concerned that I was now ordering cereal accessories out of spite, they reminded me that if I wanted milk they could provide a glass instead of me drinking it out of the bowl. I replied that I preferred my milk in this manner. They again clarified that I wished to have all of the necessary components of cereal consumption without any actual cereal. I again confirmed. There was then a short pause and I began to wish I had simply ordered Raisin Bran to assuage their suspicions. Finally they agreed to make the drop.

Once I ended the call, I took some cash and went back upstairs to slip my source some money for his trouble. I walked around the area with my hand in pocket long enough to make several people uncomfortable, but was still unable to locate my co-conspirator so I decided to try and locate him the next day.

Despite several attempts to compensate the young man, I never saw him again. Perhaps we simply kept missing one another but I couldn’t help but wonder if, given the draconian nature of Frosted Flakes dispensation regulations onboard the vessel, the captain hadn’t had him executed. I can just imagine the poor guy being water-boarded while the cruise director paces back and forth saying, “Don’t be a hero Ralph, our breakfast canine alerted on your work chinos I won’t allow a repeat of the Carnival Cruise Corn Pops scandal of ’99 on my watch.”

The Chef

I have been following the case of 28-year old NYPD officer Gilberto Valle with some interest. After all, it isn’t every day you see someone accused of “conspiracy to cook and eat women.” According to the prosecution, Mr. Valle kept a detailed list of at least 100 women (complete with photos) that he planned to “kidnap, rape, and torture” before dinning on their cadavers. He allegedly used his access to the law enforcement NCIC database to acquire personal information about his culinary interests. 

Chef Valle

Apparently Valle, who had been discussing these plans at length with other members on a cannibalism fantasy website, had created a document titled “Abducting and Cooking [Victim 1]: A Blueprint.” The document contained a checklist of items he needed (car, chloroform, rope) and detailed information about the victim. In his electronic exchanges with other Internet cannibalism enthusiasts, the prosecution claims Officer Valle discussed the amount of “meat” one could get from a grown woman (around 75lbs was the consensus) and haggled over the price for kidnapping a victim (he wouldn’t take a cent under $5,000).

Gilberto’s defense attorney argues that his client did not actually harm anyone and that all the electronic evidence against him amounts to nothing more than “harmless, idle talk” insisting “at worse, these are sexual fantasies with people he knows." He has been suspended without pay pending the completion of the investigation. There is currently no word on the identity of his alleged co-conspirators and custody of his 1-year old son has yet to be determined.

I am not sure which aspect of the story is more disturbing: the fact that a police officer entertained fantasies of rape and cannibalism or that he discovered enough like-minded individuals to constitute an online quorum. How does a discussion group like this get off the ground? Was it the result of a chance meeting between two former college roommates?

“Dave! How have you been?”

“Can’t complain. You?”

“Not bad, what have you been up to?”

“Funny you ask, I have really gotten into fantasizing about cannibalism but I can’t find any websites that specifically cater to heterosexual men who consider it a pseudo-erotic activity.”

“You’re tellin’ me! I joined this one chat-room and it was a real freak-show. Some dude went on for ten minutes about his Thanksgiving recipe for two sautéed Englishmen with giblets.”    

“There should be a place to go for regular guys who just want to kick back, relax, and trade recipes for soccer-mom stew. Let’s get organized!”

There was even a quote from the chat-room where the guys would share pictures of proposed victims and comment on how “tasty” they looked. There has always been a lot of frightening stuff on the Internet, (my wife once Googled “Peek-a-pooh” trying to recall the proper name for a Pekingese/poodle mix) so perhaps I shouldn’t be so shocked, but this group could make members of an amputee fetish club appear well-adjusted.

I suppose it is possible the conversations were nothing more than verbal bluster meant to impress his friends, as we have all been guilty of exaggeration around a group of our peers. After all, what guy hasn’t stretched the truth a little when recalling how much they bench pressed in college or how exactly they came about the scar on their chin? However, I generally try and avoid the company of people who are only impressed by someone’s ability to plan and execute a rape/murder/dinner trifecta.

I realize that the defense attorney has a job to do, but I am concerned that he and I are operating under different understanding of what constitutes a “worst case scenario.” If your client is openly planning the kidnapping, rape, execution, and consumption of enough women to staff a Costco, I assure you that amassing zero victims and a pair of felony charges is nowhere near “worst case scenario.”

His best defense is probably the rudimentary nature of his “blueprint.” If Valle needed a Microsoft Word checklist to remember to take his car with him on a kidnapping, it is certainly plausible that he isn’t the criminal mastermind the government envisioned. I wonder if the list was the result of a failed test run whereby Gilberto found himself on foot outside the victim’s home with rope and chloroform trying to understand how to load an unconscious woman into a wheelbarrow.

I hope for all of our sakes the attorney was right and this was nothing more than an unusual culinary interest that got out of hand. Either way, if this guy starts hosting a show on the Food Network called Vixens & Vittles, I will be writing a letter.     

Sponsored Posts

As many of you may already be aware, Facebook is now testing a new option in the United States called “sponsored posts.” For a fee of $7, you can ensure that your post rides atop your friends’ news feed for an extended period of time and gets noticed by more people. The feature is already available in twenty countries and Facebook hopes that it will take off in America and help bolster the company’s revenue stream.

They believe that the feature will be utilized for birth announcements, yard sales, or even death notices, since many people already pay for this service in their local newspapers it seemed like a logical extension of that model. Of course, there are no real parameters as to what the feature can be used for, which led me to an interesting question: What could go wrong with this?

Let’s say that you just emerged from a vicious breakup with your high school girlfriend and wish to publicly slander her reputation. Sure you can simply post a status update and hope that enough people haven’t hidden you from their news feeds, but that’s not good enough for you. You want results.  So you login to your account, drop $7, and suddenly half the school sees “Suzie is an illiterate skank who is carrying a member of the chess team’s baby.”

Now I am not condoning this as an admirable use of Facebook (or $7) but scorned teenagers are rarely accused of exhibiting too much integrity on the Internet. I also wonder if such a feature could open Facebook up to cyber-bullying lawsuits since someone with nefarious intent and disposable income could easily make sure their taunts have a wider audience.

The logical next step is purchasing fabricated “Likes” for your post. This would create a facade of favoritism amongst your intended audience without actually needing anyone to agree with you.  Before long, you might be able to buy Twitter followers or drop a few bucks for some non-existent acquaintances to comment on how fetching you look in your profile photo.

At the very least, it will be an interesting method of identifying which of your friends are the most narcissistic. Sure we would all like to believe the only life-changing events would make the cut but before you know it every political opinion and semi-clever meme will be sitting astride your feed until the perpetrator’s checking account is overdrawn.

Perhaps they should entertain the notion of a reverse model, one that actually charges the user a fee if their post is extraordinarily asinine or includes the term “haters.” Their friends could anonymously vote and once the tally reaches a pre-determined threshold the owner of the Facebook account would be billed. This model of intellectual community policing would most certainly reduce instances of Rickrolling and the fines would double if you are found guilty of attempting to have a one-on-one conversation by replying to a group message.         

Facebook has an uphill battle by trying to monetize the world’s greatest advertising database without alienating the people from which that data originates. Personally, I would suggest a tariff on unsolicited game invitations or incorrectly attributed quotes but I doubt that idea would gain any real traction at the home office. Maybe this is truly the beginning of the end for Facebook or maybe this is simply another change we will all begrudgingly accept as our new reality, like Timeline or a world with a Hulk Hogan sex tape. Either way I doubt anyone is reading this since it will be promoted through an un-sponsored post as my $7 went to Wendy’s before the bacon shortage wreaks havoc there.

The Power of the Irrelevant Anecdote

Like many of you, I have been watching the presidential and vice-presidential debates. And while I do not wish to enter into a policy discussion, I do wish to highlight a long-popular technique of all politicians regardless of party affiliation: the irrelevant anecdote.

It works something like this: You are asked a direct question that requires only a succinct, direct answer but decide that your campaign would be best served by ambiguity disguised as a folksy narrative meant to ingratiate you with “everyday people”. While the particulars vary, the overall structure is universal and usually begins with the phrase “just the other day….” This phrase, meant to slyly assign topical urgency, is followed by the details of a “chance encounter” with a middle-class citizen whose plight is meant to be representative of the voting populace’s frustration as a whole.

For extra effect, contact with this disenfranchised tax-payer should mimic the Messianic tones we have come to expect from New Testament narratives of miraculous healings by having the person “touch the candidate’s garment” or “grab their hand” as if their very epidermis radiated justice and pragmatism. Once contact has been made, the candidate is exposed to some variation of Princess Leia’s soliloquy from Star Wars (help me senator, you are my only hope) at which point the weary campaigner becomes re-inspired in their quest.

By the time the candidate stops talking so much time has passed that the audience has forgotten the original question and the speaker has deftly avoided divulging the specifics of a plan that he or she does not possess. Let me give you an example of a common “town-hall” exchange:

“Senator Trundlepea, how would you reduce our dependence on foreign oil while still maintaining a balanced approach to sustainable energy that doesn’t add to the deficit?”

“Well Susan that’s an interesting question. You know, just the other day I was in Scalawag, Michigan when a coal-miner/single-mother/disabled veteran  grabbed my arm and told me that they were struggling to afford medical care for their daughter who was injured while attempting to salute the American flag in a local soup kitchen. They begged me to revitalize domestic energy policy so that he could earn enough to get their daughter to a specialist and make sure they did not lose their family home. I looked this person in the eyes and promised that if I was elected, I would put the power back into the hands of the people that make this country great!”  

This reply is as inspiring as it is elusive since it cannot be fact-checked but makes the candidate appear to be more “in-touch” with their demographic. I have often envied the acceptability of such answers in politics since enigmatic answers do not seem to be tolerated elsewhere. For instance, can you imagine a conversation with your physician that transpired in this manner?

“So doc, was the tumor malignant?”

“You know Edward. Just the other day I was strolling through a Pottery Barn when a woman with fungal malaria grabbed my arm and begged me to update the current standard of care for Polish invalids in South Dakota. Even though it is not my area of expertise I looked her dead in the eyes and promised then and there that God as my witness I would not rest until each and every Polish invalid led an existence of dignity. Now I will see you in 2 months for a follow-up and make sure to leave the yellow copy with the nurse up front.”