"For my money, the most parochial, unwholesome
aspect of contemporary civilization is the life led by the average urban
dweller. Cooped up in a stuffy, overheated hotel suite with nothing but a bowl
of cracked ice, a blonde, and a fleet bellboy poised on his toe like Pavlova
waiting to run errands, he misses the rich, multiple savor of country living.
He never knows the fierce ecstasy of rising in a sub-zero dawn to find the
furnace cold and the pipes frozen, or the exhilaration of changing a tire by
flashlight in an icy garage. No wonder his muscles atrophy as he lies abed
until noon, nibbling bits of toast over the latest edition. No wonder his
horizons shrink and his waistband swells. And no wonder he'll live twice as
long as I will."—American humorist S. J. Perelman (1904-1979), Acres and Pains (1947)
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