Soccer.
Either use your hands or start scoring more.
Car talk. Both the show and car talk in general. Yes, I know the car talk folks are geniuses. I don't care. That beings said, I have a way-cool car talk coffee mug.
Talk about dieting and nutritional fads.
I can take ninety seconds tops. After that, I just start craving ice cream sundaes--both to spite the diet crusader and also to hasten my death as a means of escape.
Museum displays.
I love art. I love reading about art. I have dozens of books about art. I like looking at art in museums. I like museums in general, more or less. But good grief, do I ever hate reading museum informational displays.
Here's how my ideal museum experience would unfold. I'm walking along and I say, Oh, that's a Manet. Cool. I know something about Manet. And you know, I think I'll learn more about him later when I read about him in a book. But here I am at the museum with the original Manet right in front of me. Hmmm....I think I'll actually look AT the Manet. Now...moving on.
But the read...read....read...reading aspect. Ugggh...
Neighbors.
Yes, I know this makes me a bad bad man. I'm sorry.
You know, virtually every neighbor I've ever had in my life has been so sweet. Just very nice and kind people. But what are we going to talk about? I mean, really. And let's just face facts: I'm doing them a big favor by shielding them from myself. I don't know what to say to them, and if they knew what I wanted to talk about, they'd never leave their house again. I can see them now, peeking out through their window blinds. "There's that bad man who keeps whining on and on about his soul. He gives me the creeps."
Politial pundits and, more specifically, political talk shows.
They're noisy and obnoxious and less informative than you'd hope. I'll pass, thanks.
Sermons.
I know, I know.
I know.
I'm just being honest. I'll save the reasons why for another time. But let me just say here that it's me, not them. It's me. Sometimes I hold my breath during in a sermon to see how long I can do it without letting out a loud exhale noise.
My record? Two minutes.
I'm serious.
Musicals.
All right, this takes just a little explaining. My in-laws love musicals. I've always said that "The Pirates of Penzance" is like catnip for them--just the mere mention of it gets them giggling and singing and quoting lines and rejoicing in the fundamental lightness and goodness and bounty and joy of life. It energizes them and makes them happy as song birds and generally intolerable.
But here's my thing about musicals. I've seen plenty of them. PLEN-ty. Well over 50 different musicals. I know because I once counted them to prove to my in-laws that, yes, I do know musicals and my negative judgment of them isn't based on lack of experience of them--rather it's based on that experience.
Here's a very simple test for a movie. Imagine that you're at the theater (or at home) and you're in the middle of the movie, preferably nearing the end. Now imagine that the electricity dies out and you can't see the rest of the movie. What's your reaction? Now the typical reaction to that for a decent, or even average, movie is one of disappointment--and that independently of the money you plunked down. You're upset because you're wrapped up in a narrative, and that narrative has taken hold of your imagination. You thirst to know how the story resolves. But here's what I'm saying about musicals. I can think of no more than five of those fifty musicals I've seen about which I can that if the electricity went out I'd feel more disappointment than relief.
I'm serious.
Actually I can't think of five (or three), but it's better to err on the conservative side.
I've seen musicals. They don't appeal to me.
But let's remember in all fairness that I don't judge those people who do like them as showing bad taste. That would be wrong.
No, it's not, because they do display bad taste, and I do judge them.
I'm teasing.
(No, I'm not.)
Stories about shopping.
I trust you made a good purchase. Congratulations.
Discussions with others about their home furnishings and the hard choices they had to make to select juuuuuuuust the right pick.
You did great. It was a hard choice, I'm sure, but you did well. Congratulations.
Now let me tell you about my soul.
