I’m noticing more and more that people certainly have a lot of opinions that they like to list in, well, lists.  I often want to refute or ask questions or just generally comment on these lists, be they standard “top ten” lists or bullet-style lists.  I mean, how does one rank things like “Hairstyles I’ve seen on Vegas trannies”?  How does one know where to stop when compiling a “list of ways to make flying better”?  Like, “no sweatpants” makes it on, but “the evening before your flight, eat a familiar meal without too much spice” didn’t?  I don’t know.

I’ve never been very good at/interested in ranking things, feeling that it puts too must trust in subjunctive things and momentary emotion rather than in quantifiable fact.  Some things you can put numbers to, of course (I weigh 190.7 right now), but others you can’t (today isn’t in the top ten most slovenly-feeling days I’ve ever had), and that’s fine, right? So why rank the latter group?

I love chocolate cake. Love it.  You probably already know this.  I couldn’t tell you what I consider to be the “best” chocolate cake on the planet, and I don’t care what the editor of Gourmet magazine thinks on the subject (although I’d probably try them all even if it was a list of the worst chocolate cakes on the planet…), no offense to the editor of that stalwart, maybe-real publication. I’m probably going to go get chocolate cake this evening now, actually, now that you mention it.  Chocolate cake and earthy Carneros pinot noir might just go together amazingly.

I’m not offended by lists, just baffled.   Probably about the same feeling you have as you finish this absurd screed.  Sorry about that.

Okay, where to start?

First of all, some caveats.  This is long. It’s boring. It’s probably profane. I should be embarrassed by much of it. But it all happened, and maybe writing it down will help me remember it.  And it feels right to start 2014 with a “State of the Wrangler” manifesto, so here goes.  You probably shouldn’t read this.