Editor's Note: In a more articulate universe, this blog, and the next 50, would concern the Roger Waters show at MSG last night. However, due to universal/human limitations, I am incapable of speaking on the topic. For a better understanding of this phenomenon, please click on the following link:
What I'm talking about today is of vital importance to anyone who's ever worked in an office, spilled coffee in one's car, or complained that soda cans are impractical because they're impossible to reclose once they're opened. Yes, you guessed it: pornography.
No, but really, I'm talking about something almost as erotic, but more legal vis a vis children and prisoners: beverage covers. If you don't think they're relevant to your everyday life, then get out of your selfish hole and realize that they're important to mine. As I type, I'm taking small breaks to sip hot chocolate through the perforated divet in my cup's plasitc tempo-cap, which, as you will see shortly, rates highly among the competition. In front of me is also an empty cup of water, sans cap, which makes me think that, if I were its father, I'd be very disappointed in how it turned out.
But another word about drink covers: no articial cover is as useful as an intrinsically built-in cover. That's just science. For instance, a bottle cap, regardless of how well-conceived you might think it is, doesn't pack the same pragmatic punch as, say, a wine cork. In other words, an internally appearing cap always trumps an external add-on. If you disagree, you are stupid.
Now, then, to the ratings:
The bottlecap: For my money, the bottlecap is one of the most effective beverage-closing devices on the market. Its easy-close design ensures that only your own negligence can cause a spill, and it's extremely workable in tight spots--driving, running, standing on a subway, hovering over a multimillion dollar carpet, etc. However, bottlecaps have their drawbacks, most of all their metallic smell when they come in to contact with human skin. Also, they lose mega-points for housing Snapple "Facts," which are neither informative nor amusing. They're like the Craig Kilborn of bottlecap literature. Rating: 7 out of 10.
The snaptop (milk bottles): One of the most antiquated forms of topfoolery (nice invented word, props to me) is the plastic snaptop, which is deficient in two critical areas: ease of use and spill prevention. Who hasn't accidentally "exploded" a quart of milk by incorrectly handling the closing process? Slight reprieve for being great elementary school classroom weapons, but the reprieve is negated immediately for fostering violence in school. A pathetic excuse for liquid protection. Rating: 3 out of 10.
The perforated top: The most intriguing of all cappers is the perforated top, because it achieves two simultaneous advantages: keeps you from spilling and keeps your drink hot/cold. The only problem is that they have a tendency to pop off, which dramatically equalizes the clean suit:splotched suit ratio in the workplace. My favorite part of all is the small airhole punched in to the middle, perfect for manageably foamy drink volcanoes. A real winner. Rating: 8 out of 10.
The squeezebottle top: Heed my word--the absolute perfect top. It leaves nothing to be desired, as it can easily and quickly be opened and closed, one can alter the emission rate from drippingly slow to thirst-quenchingly fast, they're fun to chew on, and the spill risk is nill. Not to mention the chic design/color oppurtunities, or the reusability potential with subsequent bottles. Proof of God's existence. Rating: 10 out of 10.
The tin foil waterfall cap: It won't quench your thirst, but it will save you money and supply, especially relative to bong hits, bubblers, and other water pieces. Especially effective around kitchen sinks, and, like the squeezebottle tops, is reusable. Proof of Pink Floyd's existence. Rating: 9 out of 10. It loses a point because it necessarily gets you WRECKED, and you don't always want to be that stoned.
(Alright, now I satisfied my responsibility to say something about Floyd. Speaking of Floyd, kudos to MSG for reeking of pot in every stairwell, concourse, and 50-year-old privately reliving the 1966 Haight-Ashbury scene, especially the businessman next to me, who called me "baby" the entire first set. Also, not that I mind--I think I have early-onset tinnitus from shows and band practices--but why are concerts at the Garden always so quiet? I've never once gone to a concert there that was anywhere near as loud as shows I've seen at lesser places. I could hear everything just fine last night, but I still wonder if all the sound drifts towards the ceiling.)
Stay silver-haired, Roger Waters,