Some tiny creature, mad with wrath,

Is coming nearer on the path.

--Edward Gorey

Location: Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, U.S. Outlying Islands

Writer, lawyer, cyclist, rock climber, wanderer of dark residential streets, friend.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

Product Endorsement, GLAD ForceFlex

In a test you won't likely see on TV any time soon, and a propos another generation of attorneys having just taken their bar exams, I would like to note that the new GLAD ForceFlex line of bags, my relatively arbitrary choice of disposal package for the de-garbaging of my dusty apartment, kicks ass.

I just loaded into one of these bags something like six phonebooks and relatively airy sundries, and it managed ably. This turned out to be no more than a warm-up. Next, I inverted one of these bags over a tower comprised of the entire 2003 Pennsylvania Bar Exam curriculum relied upon by BarBRI patrons that season, with attendant loose hand-outs, a few hundred rubber-banded index cards, and a legal pad and a half worth of sample essay outlines. Successfully sheathed, like a giant condom'd penis ready to penetrate a recent law grad's constricted sphincter, I knocked it over. It thudded loud enough to rattle china in the downstairs neighbor's pad, and I cringed, the hour growing late. (I only even bothered with it tonight because I had trouble imagining how such an odd tower would appear to any prospective renter who might pass through tomorrow (like some weird law student conflation of Close Encounters' mashed potatoes with Poltergeist's stacked kitchen furniture), and it's in my interest that someone ink this apartment for September right quick.) The bag was almost too heavy for me to lift with both hands, and yet the bag held. Finally, I cinched it down, hoisted it up to shoulder level, and walked it down to the curb sagging over my shoulder like a fat wet sleeping black lab; and hotdamn if that sumbitch didn't make it intact.

So GLAD ForceFlex = good.

And, for those of you who just took the bar, the second you recover from your post-passage hangover some fine October morning, hunt down your corresponding volumes and throw them out. I let them stress my apartment's floor joists for two years thinking for some odd reason they might come in handy. I'm a moron. They only ever just took up space. Get rid of them as soon as you can, take it from me; all those cheap paperbound tomes serve to do is remind you of one of the more unpleasant summers you have ever endured, and all the crap you learned that has virtually nothing to do with the law in practice.*

* See also, The Worst Alibi Ever


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