The Shorty Club

Welcome to the Shorty Club!

In this cozy corner of contemplation, where the air is thick with the aroma of bourbon and the gentle wisps of a cigar, we gather to muse upon life’s curiosities. Here, there are no rigid rules, no prescribed paths—just the ebb and flow of conversation, like the amber liquid swirling in our glasses.

Bourbon Whiskey: Our faithful companion, aged to perfection, whispers tales of oak barrels and distant Kentucky hills. Each sip carries the weight of history, the warmth of camaraderie, and the promise of shared secrets.

Cigar in the Ashtray: Resting gracefully, its ember glowing like a distant star, the cigar invites reflection. Its fragrant tendrils weave stories of contemplation, of pensive evenings spent unraveling the threads of existence.

And so, my fellow Shorty Club members, let us raise our glasses—whether they hold bourbon or simply the elixir of thought—and toast to the musings that bind us. Here’s to wit, wisdom, and the delightful randomness of it all. 🥂P.S. If you happen upon a particularly intriguing topic, feel free to share it with the club. We’re all ears (and taste buds). 

 September 28, 2024

Hydration Nation

As I meandered along my usual route, basking in the seasonably warm temperatures and chuckling at Mike Rowe’s latest podcast, I couldn’t help but marvel at my daily walking ritual. It’s my one-hour, four-mile escape that keeps both my body and mind in check. And get this—I don’t carry a water bottle! Shocking, right? In today’s world, it’s practically a cardinal sin to venture out without some H2O on hand. It’s as if we’re all trudging through the Sahara Desert, with temperatures perpetually soaring above 100 degrees!

Next time you’re at the supermarket, take a gander at the soccer mom clutching her 64 oz Stanley tumbler like it’s a lifeline. You’d think the trek from the produce aisle to the dairy section was a grueling marathon. Or consider the gym-goer, decked out in spandex shorts and a barely-there tank top, lugging around a one-gallon Poland Spring jug. He’s channeling his inner Gunga Din, flaunting his hydration prowess as if to prove he’s working harder than anyone else.

The other day, I stumbled upon a Balenciaga “weekend bottle holder” online, priced at a mere $445! But hey, it comes with a detachable shoulder strap, so maybe it’s worth the splurge? And let’s not forget Burberry’s $510 offering, crafted from “recycled nylon fabric,” so you can hydrate with a clear conscience. Well, in that case, I’ll take two!

I grew up in an era where we drank from garden hoses, letting the water run for a minute to cool down after baking in the sun all day. We didn’t have fancy water or designer holders to tote around, ready to rescue us from sudden dehydration. We survived without constant hydration and lived to tell the tale. It seems to me that water bottles have become society’s crutch. Don’t want to talk to someone? Take a sip from your bottle. Bored with the conversation? Politely excuse yourself to refill your water bottle. And the pièce de résistance of all this fluid intake— “excuse me, but I gotta go.”

So, my ever-thirsty friends, continue to enjoy your refreshing, cold water each day. But remember, the average person can survive three days without it, so I’m sure you’ll manage just fine on your trip to the supermarket or leisurely evening stroll.