Glue Makers Sticking It to Us

It's been awhile since I posted anything and what I have today is definitely on the lighter side. I almost hesitate to do it with all the tornados, flooding, and other troubles in our land.

On the other hand, maybe you need to smile today. I hope you enjoy this over-the-top, tongue-stuck-in-cheek piece of writing.

Larry

GLUE MAKERS STICKING IT TO US

            I have discovered a widespread, low-down, highly unscrupulous practice in today’s modern world.  Someone named Elmer is ripping you off, sticking it to you, and generally taking advantage of millions of little kiddos, or at least their parents, who bought them a gluestick.  It’s not just Elmer’s either, but every gluestick manufacturer on the market.  Just stick with me for a moment, and I’ll explain myself.

            Have you ever noticed, while applying glue with a gluestick, that the last half inch is unusable?  You are gluing away, lost in your own little world of pieces of paper, or photos, or making a stubborn stamp stick on an envelope, and then you turn the little knob on the end of the gluestick one more time, and suddenly—it’s all over.  No more glue, it’s like—finished.

            But here’s the rub—it’s not finished.  This is where the glue company is making their profits, multiple thousands of dollars at your expense.  The gluestick is designed so that the ordinary consumer throws it away at this point, leaving the last half inch of glue unused because of the evil, diabolical, and fiendish design of the gluestick.

            That last half inch of glue is embedded in a little cup-shaped container that the plastic screw-up assembly connects to.  Now I’ve no doubt a gluestick could be designed in such a way that all the glue could be used, but no—the glue company prefers you just toss it and buy a new one.

            I’ve no intention of falling for the glue companies’ villainous plot, so I’ve devised a way to beat them at their own game.  I keep two gluesticks at all times, and when one runs out, I put it aside and use a new one, until the glue is down an inch or so.  Then I turn the new gluestick back down to the bottom and get out my old gluestick.  With a pocket knife or something sharp, I dig out all the old glue and put it in the new one.  Only then do I throw the old one away.  It can be a little messy at times, but it’s worth it, in my opinion.

            I may be tacky, but I’d rather do that than be taken advantage of by a stickum-up glue company.  The whole deception makes me angry—in fact, I’d like to paste somebody.