I don't mean to beach, but...

... I'm just not that enamored of spending more than an hour by the sea's sandy edge. I did this today, for the first time all summer, at the behest of my family. We only walked around searching for shells, so the experience was somewhat bearable. Trust me, any more of a commitment on my part would benefit no one.

For starters, the thought of my bare torso is enough to send the Pawleys Island Police Department into a frenzy; what with my decided stoutness of shape, not to mention a golf shirt-shaped tan line (my fair Greek skin needs no sunscreen, so my bronze arms are the only evidence of outdoor activity) that would send onlookers to area hospitals with cardiac troubles resulting from either uncontrollable laughter or crippling fright.

Another part of the beach which does not at all agree with me is sand. While the idea of walking barefoot in the sand, feet sinking in at every step may be a liberating one to some people, I just find it annoying. The whiteness of the sand did not help either, as I found myself waddling (more pronounced than usual) along, expending a great deal of energy in the unstable sand, squinting and sometimes closing my eyes altogether.

Perhaps I will eventually see in the beach what others see; they're nice to look at, but after a short while, my eyes are ready to find some other stimulation. But for now, I'm content to make a once-a-year pilgrimage to the sandy expanse, just to confirm that nothing has changed. Today, my favorite part of going to the beach was my footlong hot dog and onion rings afterwards. Besides, if I wanted to go nearly blind and come home sticky, there are probably other, less common alternatives.

Thoughts After Visiting a Mall

I was made to go to the mall this afternoon, after watching the end of the Open Championship. The five of us (myself, plus my parents, sister, and sister's friend) walked around for a couple hours, and then caught the 4 PM showing of 'The Devil Wears Prada,' a sappy, modestly entertaining comedy. Anyway, whenever I am at a mall, I leave feeling less confident of the moral fortitude of my fellow Americans. Two sights were of particular outrage.

First, a woman of about 25, wearing a black tee shirt woth the famous PLAYBOY Bunny on the front. This alone is not really an outrage, however, the combination of a less-than-centerfold-quality figure and four young children in tow was most rather distressing. I don't mean to condescend the overweight--after all, I am no hunk of a youth myself--but I am thoroughly disappointed in those who choose to wear a symbol which, in maternity, connotes a very distinct irresponsibility and evokes a certain concern from onlookers. Three of this woman's four children were girls. Will they follow in her muddy footstep? Will she bestow upon them the wantonness that inspires her to admire the unattainable standard of superficial beauty? I should hope not, but I am unsure.

Second, a girl no older than myself wearing a tee shirt saying, in formal script, "Looking for a cowboy for a midnight rodeo". I coughed aloud when I saw this, taken aback. The fact that the 1st Amendment is abused in such a way by tee shirt companies upsets me, but to see a girl of approximately my age wearing it stuns me. Were it legal, would she sell herself into prostitution? I'd imagine this is probably not so, but then what kind of message does such a phrase send? What does she want to prove by wearing it? That her parents can't kep her from being an individual? The notion of sex at a relatively young age does not bother me at all, but such blatant suggestion is disconcerting.

Is it the mall? Does the prospect of seeing a large number of unknown people lower one's inhibitions? All I know is that there is an intersection between free speech and public decency. The aforementioned young women did not see and STOP sign, for sure.

Horror Movies

I just saw the trailer for the new horror movie, "The Descent." As Jerry Seinfeld would say (picture the signature ascent in the pitch of the voice): WHAT is UP with THAT? I'm just a simple suburban wimp, but I like to think there's a little common sense in me. Who wants to see people get gored beyond reality by creatures who prey on hapless spelunkers? What fascinates people about seeing the undead feast upon the brains of unsuspecting thrillseekers? Furthermore, why would people pay $9.50 (not counting the $6.00 bag of popcorn or the $4.50 32oz soda) to sit through 90 minutes of blood-spatter, guts-munching, and other depraved violence? If it wanted to lose sleep, have nightmares, and/or become severely paranoid, I'd watch a full episode of 'The Simple Life,' but that's a rant for another time.

Horror movies have nothing to contribute to one's mind, as movies are meant to do. I read a review of Eli Roth's recent sex-fest-turned-torture-orgy "Hostel" which maintained that the movie actually had a message: What would YOU do if there were no rules? If anyone's answer to that question echoes the events of that movie, he/she is advised to seek psychological aid. Basic human morality should answer this question before any though need be given. I'm not saying that if you like scary movies, you're mentally unstable. But, the few times I go to the movie theater, I see more shady characters exiting the Eli Roth movie than the Wes Anderson one.

I blog, therefore I am (without anything better to do).

Hello. My name is Tim, and I have many opinions. So you're going to hear some of them. Some will be society-related, politics-agitated, or sport-motivated. I am brutally honest. Read at your own risk, but don't be a wimp.