I have nothing against the environment. I wish it only the best. Clean air, stable weather, the occasional bird that knows when to be quiet. What I object to—strenuously—is the assumption that I must now conduct my grocery shopping with a sack that appears to have been sewn from regret and stored in the trunk…

Let us speak plainly: soup has become far too confident. Once it knew its place—an introverted liquid, content to lurk in bowls and nourish the sickly. Now it strides about restaurant menus as if it were the emperor of cuisine. “Artisan bisque,” it declares. “Wildcrafted broth,” it preens. Soup was never meant to peacock. It…

Once, in the civilized era of my youth, a doorbell was a modest creature. It chimed politely, announcing visitors with the subdued dignity appropriate to unexpected human contact. Today, however, I find myself assaulted by a menagerie of electronic noises masquerading as greetings. Melodies! Chirps! The simulated bark of a dog who, I assure you,…

I have lived long enough to remember when sidewalks had the decency to be treacherous. A respectable pavement once possessed cracks, heaves, and the occasional malicious tilt designed to test a person’s reflexes and character. These days, however, I step outside and am confronted with something far more sinister: perfectly smooth sidewalks stretching into the…

Let me be perfectly clear: I have had quite enough of white cars. Yes—white cars. The bland, bleached, personality-deficient tin cans currently cluttering our streets like albino beetles with no sense of direction. Every morning, without fail, I am confronted by a parade of these rolling refrigerators, each one gleaming with the smug confidence of…