Christopherson Column - There are a lot of ‘two types of people’ in this world

Mike Christopherson
Crookston Times

    In the immortal words of Britney Spears... Or, wait...is it, in the words of the immortal Britney Spears...

    Who knows? All that matters for the purposes of this column is, oops, I did it again.

    Several months after authoring a column in which I contended that there were “two types of people in this world,” good story-tellers and poor story-tellers – a whimsical piece that spurred a dose of reality that manifested itself in a considerably longer list of “two types” of people in the world – I mentioned two more types in another column, those who frequently interrupt other people, and those who don’t.

    The latter one spurred some feedback.

    Once it was published, a couple readers questioned the global-scale behavior pie that I had cut into only two pieces. Some suggestions were provided, which I catalogued, while also adding my own contributions to other strains of “two types of people” with which we share this planet.

    Where do you see yourself among the following sampling of the wide variety of “two types of people”?

    • People who drive over rumble strips on highways approaching stop signs at intersections, and people who will engage in whatever evasive measures are necessary to prevent one molecule of rubber from any one of their vehicle’s four tires from touching even one millimeter of a rumble strip:

    I’m most definitely in the latter category. If I fail to notice a series of rumble strips in time to avoid them or I somehow don’t perfectly position my vehicle so as to avoid them, I see it as a life low point. Worse yet, if I’m a passenger and my wife is driving, she nonchalantly drives over every inch of all of them, maybe because she knows the RUMBLE-RUMBLE-RUMBLE sound is, for me, a nightmare to endure eclipsed only by the sound of two pieces of Styrofoam rubbing together.

    • People who sleep in silence and those who can only sleep with some sort of white noise in the background:

    I once belonged to the former category but for around 30 years have been in the latter, and I owe the switch to a college roommate I once had.

    My girlfriend/roommate and I broke up and I needed help paying the bills, so, pre-internet and social media, I advertised for a roommate on a bulletin board in the student union. It was a one-bedroom apartment, but the bedroom was unusually massive, so putting two beds in there was doable. But, when my quirky new roomie, a stranger to me until a couple days prior, went to bed on the first night, he fired up an enormous, industrial-level fan that sounded like 50 food processors going at once and was powerful enough to push that stuck cargo ship through the Suez Canal.

    “What’s with the fan?” I asked, as the force of its Category 5 hurricane wind splattered my sudden cold sweat on the wall at the opposite end of the cavernous space.

    “I have to have noise when I sleep,” he replied.

    That did it. I’ve slept with a fan on since, and when one isn’t available, I have an app on my phone offering a variety of white-noise options.

    • People who say “a historic,” and people who obliterate all laws of grammar by saying “an historic.”

    There’s no debate here. If you also wish that members of your family, your friends or colleagues have “an happy” birthday, then you go right on saying “an historic.”

    • People who speak in redundancies, and those who don’t:

    You know who you are. You say things like “past history” and “end result.” But perhaps the most widely abused, yet least challenged act of verbal redundancy is “in-between.” If you’re between two things, you’re already “in” the middle of them. Another beauty is “ever since.” Since all alone will suffice, my friends.

    • People who fully appreciate the wonders of mixing ranch dressing and your favorite salsa and using it as a condiment with all of your Mexican culinary delights, and those who simply refuse to make their lives infinitely better and continue to use only salsa, or maybe sour cream instead of ranch.

    I owe my mom a debt of gratitude on this one. She made this particularly delectable Mexican taco salad-type meal when I was a kid, and she mixed Litehouse ranch dressing with Pace picante sauce for the dressing. For me, it was love at first taste. Over the years, I’ve used other brands of salsas as well as my dad’s homemade salsa, but the ranch has always been Litehouse.

    Please, don’t even inquire as to the worthiness of Hidden Valley as a substitute. And, also, if you make a point to alert me to the fact that you can now buy something known as “salsa ranch” dressing at the grocery store under a variety of brand names, don’t be surprised if I ghost you.

Mike Christopherson, Crookston Times managing editor