Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.
CP: It's very late summer, when fresh ideas disappear faster than a grasshopper with a tail wind, so let's trot out the old reliable Would It Kill You? theme. As in, WIKY, oh, chatty one, to pause, take a breath and pose a question once every 20 minutes or so? And I do not mean you, Rick.
RN: Uh-oh, you were cornered by one of those Social Zeros, eh? My sincere apologies. And while we're at it, WIKY to lay off the Axe body spray in the locker room? Some of our gym-going brethren are fumigating the place with it. When I'm not losing countless brain cells — and gasping for breath — I wonder why they don't put the can down, walk 20 feet and avail themselves of the gym's showers. There's even hot water. And soap.
CP: WIKY, pharmaceutical industry, to develop a nasal spray that works like the ones currently available but does not turn you into a drooling, gape-eyed (but free-breathing) junkie if you use it more than two days in a row?
RN: WIKY, fellow drivers, to stop texting, put the phone down and drive? I fear for my well-being every time I hit the road. And WIKY to put a few car lengths between your bumper and mine? The last time I had powerful lights that close to the back of my head, I was having some minor dermatologic surgery.
CP: WIKY to try to speak without starting every utterance with the entirely unnecessary word "so"?
RN: WIKY to stop #speakinginhashtags? Said the guy who is increasingly sounding very #getoffmylawn.
CP: Believe me, I would never stand on your lawn uninvited. WIKY, airlines, to ditch or simplify the increasingly ridiculous levels of air passenger classifications — elite, super elite, junta premium, oligarch gold, potentate uberplatinum — so that we might once more claim to be a democratic union?
