fine whine

In an odd turn of events, I just noticed that my toothpaste tube has a cap that can both be flipped open and screwed off. I know this only because it says so in little letters right on it. My only question is, "Why?"

I lied. I have more questions:

• Are there people out there so dedicated to flipping or screwing?
• Would these people rule out a potential toothpaste just because it has the wrong type of cap?
• Are there people out there who need to be told how to use the cap of a toothpaste tube?
• Where are these people and can I sell them things?

And in other news, I made it through the library's entire stock of Transmetropolitan, and enjoyed it thoroughly. My forays into graphic novels have been somewhat limited, but this time around Warren Ellis and Darick Robertson really impressed me. It's funny, it's witty and intelligent, and ultimately optimistic for the future. Sure, Ellis paints a pretty oppressive picture of The City and its downtrodden inhabitants, but also reveals that they are somewhat avid readers, and also that acid rain has been eliminated entirely. Not too bad, really, when one thinks about it.

My personal vision for the future (at least one that I'd try to write into a poor imitation of Blade runner) is of illiterates who rely entirely on spoken and pictorial communication. This is not a new idea, though the way I envision it happening is new and edgy: Say the media producers of the world are really trying to capture the youth and 18-24 year old male markets. They shrewdly turn to the video game industry, whose designers and artists have long littered visual displays and scenery with pseudo-language gibberish. Broadcasted video is littered with these meaningless hieroglyphics interspersed with real information but to a varying degree until the real information is wiped off the screen and only the gibberish remains. It looks cool, though, and without needing it to watch TV nobody gets around to learning how to read, since books have long since been replaced by video media. Of course the e-book makes an appearance, but only as a stepping stone to having some dullard just read the damn thing out loud. Surprisingly, nobody complains.

Anyway, while you can still read, pick up some volumes of Transmetropolitan. And if you notice some recurrent graffiti, say, "FREE STEVE CHUNG", you can search the internet to find out what it means. At least, I did.

And speaking of revelations, apparently the proper term for screwing off the cap of a toothpaste tube is "twisting". So now you know.