Spring Break
No use grasping at weak straws
Eamonn Rockwell
Issue date: 4/27/07 Section: Ed-Op
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I've come to a point in my life where I want to annihilate all the cities of Earth. Not even the music of appropriately-titled Rage Against the Machine can accurately express my rage. There may be angrier people on the planet right now, sitting in their rooms brooding about the reasons why mom, dad and teacher are douchebags and how they'd like to beat up varsity-quarterback Lance Greene for giving them a wedgie that very afternoon right in front of Coach Conroy, but the odds of that are slim. This anger stems from a combination of broken technology and improperly mixed medications, but it resonates with any American who has faced the frustration of having problems with straws.
Straws have been used for millions of years to help humans and sufficiently evolved apes enjoy refreshing beverages without the hassle of having to bend our necks down or lift up the beverage container. In pre-Columbian Aztec culture, the story goes that King Montecuhzoma I would often drink delicious melted chocolate out of a giant stone vat, but could not dare to get chocolate all over his face for fear of looking foolish at the daily public sacrifice to Huitzilopochtli, the God of War. Naturally, this put him in a difficult position. "How can I consume the drink of the gods and yet retain my perfect appearance?" he asked his council while munching on the still-beating heart of one of his enemies. "Chalchiuhtlicue tap-dancing Mictecacihuatl, people! It's not like someone's just going to come from the sea and just hand us an answer! Get cracking or I swear to Tecuciztecatl, there will be hell to pay!" After ordering the execution of fifty million prisoners, he was finally presented with a straw made of the finest straw-making materials available at the time. His thirst for an easy way to drink chocolate was quenched, but his thirst for blood lived on.
Irregardless, the straws in those days were mighty and durable seeing as how the alternative was having your heart ripped out by a man wearing a hat made out of quetzal feathers. But in this age of cell phones, iPods and sarin gas, our straws have become weak. Yesterday I bought a delicious Oreo milkshake and grabbed two straws on my way out. After unwrapping the first straw and trying it out, it was almost impossible for me to drink any of my milkshake through it. I knew it wasn't my fault because I was the first person in history to get a degree in Sucking from Cornell in only one year, so I know that when I wrap my lips around something long and cylindrical and use the full power of my lungs, liquid is going to erupt come Hell or high water. To my non-surprise, I found that the straw I used was full of holes big enough to swing a cat through. The backup straw had the exact same problem, which further added to my fury.
Straws have been used for millions of years to help humans and sufficiently evolved apes enjoy refreshing beverages without the hassle of having to bend our necks down or lift up the beverage container. In pre-Columbian Aztec culture, the story goes that King Montecuhzoma I would often drink delicious melted chocolate out of a giant stone vat, but could not dare to get chocolate all over his face for fear of looking foolish at the daily public sacrifice to Huitzilopochtli, the God of War. Naturally, this put him in a difficult position. "How can I consume the drink of the gods and yet retain my perfect appearance?" he asked his council while munching on the still-beating heart of one of his enemies. "Chalchiuhtlicue tap-dancing Mictecacihuatl, people! It's not like someone's just going to come from the sea and just hand us an answer! Get cracking or I swear to Tecuciztecatl, there will be hell to pay!" After ordering the execution of fifty million prisoners, he was finally presented with a straw made of the finest straw-making materials available at the time. His thirst for an easy way to drink chocolate was quenched, but his thirst for blood lived on.
Irregardless, the straws in those days were mighty and durable seeing as how the alternative was having your heart ripped out by a man wearing a hat made out of quetzal feathers. But in this age of cell phones, iPods and sarin gas, our straws have become weak. Yesterday I bought a delicious Oreo milkshake and grabbed two straws on my way out. After unwrapping the first straw and trying it out, it was almost impossible for me to drink any of my milkshake through it. I knew it wasn't my fault because I was the first person in history to get a degree in Sucking from Cornell in only one year, so I know that when I wrap my lips around something long and cylindrical and use the full power of my lungs, liquid is going to erupt come Hell or high water. To my non-surprise, I found that the straw I used was full of holes big enough to swing a cat through. The backup straw had the exact same problem, which further added to my fury.
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