Boring

Excitement is greatly over-rated. Sometimes it’s nice to spend time relaxing and doing familiar things. Well, alright … so I didn’t do much this weekend.

APHA competitor

Over in Fort Worth, the APHA (American Paint Horse Association) were holding their World Championships (you’re right – their horizons are fairly limited, but, in fairness, a passport does cost $97 these days). Watching the juniors perform, I see prototypical mini-cowgirls, and have formed in my mind a brief stereotype: the skin is smooth and lightly tanned; the hair is usually blonde, tied back tightly in a bun, which is set low, because it can’t obstruct the hat; the outfit in juniors is usually simple, but brightly coloured, and will, in later life, evolve into tight blue jeans and sequined shirts. Don’t misunderstand me – these are “show” outfits. It’s just that the style that is considered “normal” in Texas would be way over the top in England. Their roots are pioneering stock, and they’re proud of it.

The shining!

I did manage to get my boots shined – an art that has disappeared on our side of the pond. Business is apparently slow this year, even for the “Doctor of Shineology”, but nobody knows why.

I came back to the hotel via a slightly different route, and saw a magnificent mural on the side of a carpet store – people here really are that proud of their town. I also saw another mural from the highway (“BRINGING THE WORLD TOGETHER ONE FRIENDSHIP AT A TIME”) that took me quite a while to find once I had pulled off. It was right next to a mission, outside which was a jumble of people, of every ethnicity, presumably waiting for food and somewhere to spend the night. These are the detritus of polite society. The mission is conveniently located on the outskirts of town. “Huddled masses” are all very well, but you don’t want them on your doorstep, do you?

Mural in Fort Worth

Welcome to Fort Worth

Marketing

Look out – here comes Captain Obvious. Thank you, Coors, for coming up with a beer bottle with a label that turns blue when it’s cold. I’ve always had trouble knowing when my beer was cold, and you’ve relieved me of that worry forever. It feels as though a great weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Who says progress is not always in the direction commonly referred to as “forward”?

Marketing is a funny business. Leaving aside the fact that it is beyond me how we ever got to the point of paying for clothes that are a blatant advertisement for the manufacturer, no matter how fancy their logo, some of the slogans make we wonder whoever dreamt them up, let alone whoever paid for someone to dream them up. (“We know why you fly” – American Airlines. Oh, really?)

Stella Artois is “Served reassuringly chilled”. Refreshingly, maybe, but reassuringly? I don’t find it reassuring at all, depending, I suppose, on exactly what they’re trying to reassure me about.

Lavazza is “Italy’s favourite coffee”, which is interesting, because countries don’t typically drink coffee – their inhabitants do. Even if this was grammatically correct, I doubt it’s true, but nobody is interested in bringing this minor porkie to their attention.

“A well rounded Portuguese red wine with a blend of grapes resulting is a smooth complex taste.” As Humpty Dumpty said in Alice in Wonderland: “When I use a word, it means just what I choose it to mean – neither more nor less.” Complex is something I leave behind at work – I don’t want to know about it when I’m eating dinner.

“Premium Bitter”. “Exceptional Ale”. “Triple Distilled”. When I was younger, I had a friend who worked in a petrol station. This was in the days of “mods and rockers”, and he told me of the time when a young mod pulled up on the forecourt in his Ford Anglia, jumped out (dressed in the requisite braces, boots and too-short trousers) and asked for “One of the rubbish, cousin”. At least he was honest. I don’t know what premium and exceptional mean any more, because the adjectival currency has been devalued to the extent that I have no frame of reference. If only someone would come up with “Crap Beer” or “Cheap Wine”, so that I had something to compare their exceptional equivalents to.

And don’t even get me started on “Fruit-on-the-Bottom Yoghourt”. How did they ever sell us that one? We never saw it coming, and didn’t get it when it arrived. It means we’ve got to stir it instead of them, thereby saving them money. And this would be better for us how?

They must think we’re complete morons. And they’re probably right.