Monday, October 27, 2014

Help Wanted

Have you ever come home from work and said, “This job is killing me!”? I do it all the time, but I tend to be dramatic. For some people, however, their jobs really are a hazard to their health.

In honor of Halloween, here’s a spooky tale of witches, curses, murder and really crappy jobs, courtesy of ATG. Read on if you dare…

It all starts with a man named Giles Corey. You may remember him as a character from The Crucible, but he was actually a real dude. A real angry dude. He was also a Salem, Massachusetts farmer, who made the unfortunate decision to be alive during those infamous witch trials. Not so surprisingly, both he and his wife, Martha, were accused of being witches. Martha pled not-guilty and was hanged – because, duh, it was clear to everyone who was paying attention that, based on absolutely no evidence at all, she was obviously a liar and clearly a witch.

Giles, on the other hand, refused to plead either way, which, by law, meant that he couldn’t be tried. Unfortunately for him, it also meant that he could be tortured in an attempt to force a plea.

Those silly Puritans. Better not show your ankles or miss a church service, but torture? No biggie.

So, at the command of Salem’s sheriff, George Corwin, Corey was taken to a field and stripped of his clothes, which sounds like just another Saturday night to me, but was apparently considered a punishment back in the day. He was then forced to lie down in the field and a board was placed over his naked body – not so much to protect his modesty, but more so they could pile huge rocks on top of him, in effect slowly crushing his insides. This act was referred to as “pressing” and was intended to get the pressed person to spill his guts – figuratively speaking, of course; although, a literal spilling of the guts was sometimes a fun byproduct.

Corey, however, refused to spill anything. When asked if he was ready to plead, he reportedly responded with, “More weight.”

His torturers complied.

This went on for two days; and, according to legend, with his dying breath (or thereabouts), Corey cursed Sheriff Corwin and all of Salem.

Big deal, right? I mean, who hasn’t cursed and/or been cursed by your executioner/an unpleasant human being. The difference here is, Corey may have had an in with the big guy downstairs because it appears that his curse may have done some real damage.

For instance, four years after Corey’s death, Sheriff Corwin – he who stood over Corey as he died – was he himself dead. Of a heart attack. At age 30. But it was a different time then. Life expectancy was shorter. People didn’t take care of themselves. Medicine wasn’t what it is now. Blah, blah, blah. There are a million reasons why a 30-year-old could suffer a fatal heart attack. It’s not so weird.

But how about this?

Enter Robert Ellis Cahill, local historian and former Essex County sheriff. In 1978, after suffering a heart attack that forced him into early retirement, Cahill decided to do a little digging into the history of the sheriff’s office. What he found was interesting, to say the least. According to Cahill’s research, every Salem sheriff for nearly 300 years either died in office from a heart-related ailment and/or blood disease, or was forced to retire for one of those very same reasons.

That’s a little weirder. I mean, it’s 300 years worth of coincidences.

Even weirder? In the 90’s, the sheriff’s office was moved so that it no longer overlooked the field in which Corey was killed. Since then, no sheriff has reported suffering from any heart or blood ailment.

So is the curse real?

Honestly, does it matter? I say, why risk it? Even if you think the whole curse thing is a load of bunk, the fact remains that a large percentage of Salem sheriffs have experienced health issues and/or death while in office. I’m not sure that’s a risk I’m willing to take – even if it has absolutely zero to do with Giles Corey or his alleged curse. I mean, maybe it’s just a really awful job. A really stressful job. A really soul-sucking job. I’ve certainly taken jobs that I immediately wish would have come with a warning, something to the effect of: “This job will kill you…if you’re lucky.” Perhaps these guys should have taken advantage of the giant warning sign that accompanied their offer letters.    

The second part of the curse, the piece cursing the entire town of Salem, may also have some validity. Local legend says that before any major tragedy befalls the poor town of Salem, including the Great Salem Fire of 1914, Giles’s ghost is seen walking through Howard Street Cemetery, which now occupies the area in which he was killed.

Death and destruction. Man, what a bummer this guy is. I guess that’s what happens when you beat your farmhands to death and then throw your wife under the bus – or horse-drawn buggy, as it were – encouraging people to believe that she is actually a witch. (Later, once things were sufficiently out of control, he tried to change his story – that is, to tell the truth – but it was too late. The damage was done.) All that bad karma is heavy and will really weigh you down – in much the same way that tons and tons of rocks on top of your chest will do.

Perhaps the Golden Rule doesn’t translate well into Puritanese.

But, besides highlighting the importance of the Golden Rule, something most of us learned in utero, there are several other takeaways from this haunting tale. First, if you’re going to accuse someone of witchcraft and then torture them to death, make sure that he or she is a kind, happy, unaggressive human being – who’s obviously also a dirty, nasty witch.

And, two, if you happen to find yourself taking a casual stroll near Howard Street Cemetery in Salem, keep your eyes closed.

After all, what you don’t see can’t hurt you.

Right?

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

Stuck on You

Dating horror stories. We’ve all heard them. You may have even experienced one or two. Or four. Or 50. They can certainly be enough to put you off dating for awhile. So I wonder how long it’s going to take for a California man to get back on the dating horse after finding one of his casual encounters STUCK IN HIS CHIMNEY. I don’t know what kind of gift she thought she was bringing him, but seeing as how he had chosen to end their relationship after several dates, I’m fairly certain he didn’t want it.

She sees you when you're sleeping. She knows when you're awake.

Was she there to surprise him? To break in? To put his underwear on her head and roll around in his sheets? To boil his bunny? (That’s not a euphemism.) I don’t know. What I do know is that she had already been caught on his roof once. I feel like at that point you take out a restraining order. You don’t wait for her to pull some psycho Santa trick out of her big Santa bag.

Listen, I’ve made some questionable decisions in my life – even boy-related decisions – but can someone please explain to me why going down the chimney would EVER sound like a good idea? First of all, if you do make it down, you’re covered in filth. I know some guys are into that, but this isn’t sexy filth; it’s soot. Even Bert, the chimney sweep in Mary Poppins, couldn’t make soot look good. It’s a very hard look to pull off. Is this really the way you want to greet the man who has recently dumped your soot-covered behind?

And second, the likelihood of you actually getting down the chimney is very, very small, because in order to get through such a small space, you have to be very, very small – and the flue creates an entirely new set of issues. In fact, I don’t think even Kate Moss herself could successfully make that journey and she hasn’t eaten since 1983.

And you know what happens if you don’t make it all the way down? You get stuck. In a chimney. There are pictures of this woman being stuck in a chimney and it’s almost enough to give me a full-on panic attack. I know Santa makes it look easy, but successfully navigating a chimney is actually very hard work and should only be handled by magical professionals. 

I can't. I really just can't.

The truth is, although she’s now landed herself in a steaming pile of trouble and humiliation, she’s actually really lucky that the object of her unrequited affection was home. Another California woman (a doctor, no less) once tried this little trick. Unfortunately for her, her target was out of town, which meant there was no one to hear her cries for help.

She died.

In a chimney. 

I think there’s a lesson in this for all of us. Don’t be this woman. If and when your relationship ends, move along with dignity. Don’t get stuck looking like a crazy fool.

Or in his chimney. 

Friday, October 17, 2014

On the Topic of UFOs, Big Foot, and Gluten Allergies

Jennifer Lawrence is an idiot.

And worse than just being an idiot, she’s an idiot with a very large platform from which to spew her idiocy.

And even worse still, people are actually listening to her. Like she actually knows what she’s talking about. Because, you know, healing Peeta with some weird voodoo herbs in The Hunger Games pretty much makes her a medical expert.

JLaw knows best. Just ask her.

But, wait. Let me back up.

Jennifer Lawrence, a woman who’s famous solely for archery and braid-wearing (and, more recently, for nude photos and dating Gwyneth Paltrow’s husband), apparently fancies herself a bit of a health guru as well. In fact, she’s so medically gifted that she can diagnose you as having an eating disorder without having ever met you or even knowing you exist. She demonstrated this skill in a recent Vanity Fair article when she said that the gluten-free lifestyle was just “the new cool eating disorder, the ‘basically I just don’t eat carbs.’”

Impressive, no?

And, seriously, when did avoiding carbs become the same thing as voluntary starvation and/or purging? I’ve been trying to avoid carbs since the 90’s; I wasn’t aware that I had an eating disorder. Maybe I should check myself into a clinic of some sort.

Unlike me, however, and the rest of you gluten-avoiding folks, JLaw just isn’t about the eating disorders, but she IS all about the carbs. She loves carbs almost as much as she loves sexting. And to prove this fact, she dropped a little gluten-filled nugget into the interview about how she had started that very day with spaghetti and meatballs.

So, you see, because Jennifer Lawrence doesn’t suffer from any type of gluten sensitivity, allergy or intolerance, it simply doesn’t exist. Sorry celiac sufferers. It’s all in your head. You need therapy, not diet modification. A few sessions on a shrink’s couch and you’ll be able to ingest all the pasta, bread and beer your little heart desires.

Makes sense, right? Totally medically sound advice.

Listen, I don’t have celiac disease, which I am exceedingly grateful for. (By the way, Dr. Jennifer, in case you were unaware, celiac disease is an autoimmune DISEASE, meaning your body actually attacks itself, making gluten quite dangerous to celiac sufferers, but why get bogged down in facts?) I am, however, fairly sensitive to gluten – which you can read very briefly about here – and therefore try to avoid it. But you know what I get for my incredible display of will power and bravery? (Hey, if Kate Middleton can be brave for having a baby belly the day after giving birth, I can be brave for forgoing gluten.) I get judgment - and lots of it. I can’t tell you how many eye rolls and derogatory comments I get when I’m asked why I’m passing on the company pizza party or friend’s birthday cake. In the past week alone, I’ve had at least three different people tell me that gluten intolerance isn’t a real thing. I’m assuming these people got their information from the same place that the CDC got theirs when they said that we shouldn’t worry about Ebola here in the States. (I’m not saying we should or shouldn’t be concerned about Ebola; I’m just saying that the CDC sure is singing a different tune now.)

Sure, some people choose not to eat gluten because it’s a trendy thing to do, but for a lot of people, it’s not a choice. Like, for instance, when it could literally kill you. I mean, who would choose to encounter such judgment on a daily basis? Not to mention the inconvenience – to both you and anyone who makes the unfortunate decision to host you for dinner. Those glutenous boogers are everywhere, and they’re oftentimes hidden, like in licorice and soy sauce, so just forget about eating out. With very few exceptions, restaurants are just a fond memory once you hop the gluten-free train.  

Sounds pretty fun, doesn’t it? I can see why it’s so trendy. I mean, seriously, would I much prefer to be able to participate in gluten-filled activities? Yes. A hundred times yes. But you know what I prefer even more? Being able to button my pants, which becomes nearly impossible with the Gluten Gut – a joyful combination of distention, constipation, and all manner of other thrilling abdominal issues. (You’re welcome for that visual.)

Let me be clear: I haven’t stopped eating gluten because it’s fun, because it’s cool, because it makes me skinnier, or because I enjoy engaging in forms of dietary self-flagellation. No, I do it because it makes me healthier, which should be the goal for all of us, right?, even those among us who are self-important, egocentric, judgmental, ignorant, overpaid actresses masquerading as dieticians.

And you know what we who are trying to make ourselves healthier absolutely don’t need? To be judged and belittled in the public square for our choices – especially when they’re not particularly easy choices to begin with.

But enough about me. The point is, Jennifer Lawrence is an idiot. She needs to just shut up and take her gluten-indulging self back to District 12 where it belongs.

That’s my view, at least. But maybe it’s just my gluten-deprived brain talking.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

Boyfriend of the Week

It appears that the New England Patriots only have two criteria on which they judge prospective quarterbacks: 1) their ability to throw a ball and 2) their ability to have a second career as a Calvin Klein model (assuming, of course, that they don’t have too many Marcia Brady, football-to-the-face moments).

And after watching Tom Brady’s performance on Monday night, I’m not so convinced that the football-throwing part is even that important anymore. 

Being Tom Brady is really, really hard.

What also became apparent on Monday night was the fact that Tom Brady may no longer be the World’s Prettiest Patriot. In fact, it was due to Brady’s major league suckage, that this shocking revelation came to light.

Let me set the stage for you. It’s Monday Night Football. A featured game. The Patriots, those Super Bowl darlings, are down 41-7 to the Kansas City Chiefs – who are good, but not that good – and Tom Brady gets benched. Should I repeat that? TOM BRADY GOT BENCHED.

Benched.

As in, no longer invited to play.

For those of you who don’t speak football, this would be like Barbara Streisand being ushered off the stage mid-Tonys performance for being pitchy. Or Eric Ripert cooking a meal fit only for McDonald’s. Or Taylor Swift recording a good song. It just doesn’t happen. Ever.   

The benching in and of itself is a very big deal. But it got better. In comes rookie quarterback Jimmy Garoppola, who not only throws a touchdown on his opening drive, but manages to look like a flipping Abercrombie model as he’s doing it. 


Wow, you're incredibly good-looking; maybe you could do that for a career.
Or...you could just stick to football.

I sense that the Patriots may have just increased their fan base by quite a lot – and they managed to do it even after suffering a humiliating loss, with the final score being 41-14. You don’t even have to speak football to know how awful that score is; although, the OCD in me appreciates the symmetry.

But, back to Jimmy. He’s an Illinois-born lad (love those Midwestern boys) and a graduate of Eastern Illinois University, which, incidentally, is also Tony Romo’s alma mater. Another fun Jimmy fact is that he was born in 1991. 1991. Are people who were born in 1991 even walking yet? Eating solid food? Using the big boy potty? How is that possible? Wasn’t 1991 approximately five minutes ago?

Can you believe all this fuss over little old me?

It didn’t take long for the rumblings of a New England quarterback controversy to start, but I think that talk is a little premature. I certainly don’t expect Brady to lose his spot on the field anytime soon. His position off the field, however, that of the hunkiest hunk in all of football, well, that may be in some jeopardy. And it is for precisely this reason that I predict Tom Brady will have a great game this weekend, in an effort to erase any lingering memories people may have of his backup – not that his backup is a competent football player, no, but instead, about just how dang pretty that Jimmy Garoppola is.