Words and Thoughts: Bananas, The Club

If Brad eats 50 million bananas at once, Brad will be exposed to 5,000 millisieverts of radiation. The radiation will be detrimental to Brad’s health; however, it will be beneficial to power generation if Brad is placed inside a nuclear reactor, probably. Call Three Mile Island to let them know Brad is coming.

Hello again, alleged readers!  Sorry about that!  I appear to have mixed up my shopping list & to-do list with my usual fax to all of you. But I should be all set with the list at this point.

Bananas and Brad. And clean energy generation.

Anyway, I have some big news to announce:  I have officially joined a highly exclusive club. Ol’ Stav is climbing the social ladder, nobbing hobs with a stratum of social elite that, in the before times, I could only watch from the proverbial* trash can, in the proverbial* alley, behind the proverbial* Pizza Hut.

I am proud to say that I am now an esteemed, card-carrying member, of the Chevron Texaco Rewards club. This isn’t like the Wynn-Dixie card club; this one is fancy; this one is exotic: “Chevron”… “Texaco”. All great, exclusive, clubs have names that mix the nonsensical with the mysterious: New York’s famed Knickerbocker Club, Newport’s demure Elwood Club at the Pendry, Bentonville’s classy Sam’s Club. The list goes on, and the Chevron Texaco Rewards Club is certainly on said list.

Now that I’m a member, let me tell you, alleged reader, the perks are so choice!  I am now permitted to waltz into any Chevron Texaco that I please. I still have trouble with the automatic doors, but once I’m inside, oh the delightful dialogue and engaging conversation I have with fellow members. Even the staff love to speculate on matters of global finance. I find myself asking the maître d’ no fewer than five times a day where he thinks crude prices are headed. “Look man, it’s still $3.14 a gallon for regular” he’ll reply with dry, Mr. Belvederian wit.

Often, I’ll take supper, of rolled sausages and blue raspberry sorbet out of the machine with the polar bear on it, to the upstairs dining area in the evening. Their commitment to industrial chic is really something. I’ve fallen through the drop ceiling twice, alas, this is the form over function je ne sais quoi that is the unmistakable hallmark of the wealthy.

I suppose it is gratifying to finally see the fruits of one’s labor pay off. After fourteen attempts to properly fill out the application form, you know what they say about the fifteenth try: “Sometimes they run out of applications and will just issue you the membership card and then you’re a member of the Chevron Texaco Rewards Club”. That is what they always say.

Well, take care now, I’m off to ask the maître d’ to help me buy some bananas.

* Read: Literal