Classic blogstuff

I feel so cultured: this morning I washed my hair with Classic Prell. Not just your ordinary run-of-the-mill Prell for the unwashed masses, but Classic. It looks and smells the same, so maybe its distinctiveness takes time to appreciate. For sure, it still stings when it gets in your eyes. We're a discriminating household — we also have a bottle of Classic Ivory dish liquid.

Perhaps I'm overly sensitive, but adjectives like "classic" should be reserved for less pedestrian objects than soap. And it should never apply to things you grew up with. "Classic rock and roll" ought to be an oxymoron. The Rambler Classic my folks had back when Kennedy was President was unremarkable except for how hot the seats got in the summertime. Classic Coke was the retreat from a colossal marketing faux-pas. Don't get me started about the "classic" iPod.

Perhaps the reason manufacturers are so free with the word is that they can't come up with anything better to say about their product. "Yep, it's the same old stuff we've been cranking out for the last 37 years" doesn't have the same ring, but at least it's honest.

The vending machine down the hall has bags of Original Fritos. I think I'll pass: that first batch must be pretty stale by now.