He also who is slack in his work is brother to him who destroys. —Proverbs 18:9
So that clinches it: If you're slothful, you're supporting terrorism. Bible says so. Who knew doing nothing could be so evil? But I work my ass off, and if I want to spend my leisure time doing little more than lying on it, then dag-nabbit, I will! As far as I'm concerned, sloth is one of the least harmful sins, and everyone can use some primo veg time every now and again. So add an extra act of contrition to your schedule and feel free to indulge in some of these slothful activities.
Book 'Em Far and away my favorite sloth-like activity, curling up with a good bit of fiction can be considered by some a taxing mental activity. Obviously these people haven't looked at a summertime bestseller list in the last few years. Largely forgettable, most books released in the summer months can hardly be considered brain food. They're quick reads that require just enough mental agility to remember the name of the brave and beautiful women trying to resist the advances of the handsome rogue who's trying to take away the family farm. Riveting. You can also read the Planet, but all those adult ads might make you feel lustful, and that's a whole 'nother column altogether. (See Scratch the Itch.)
Web of Lies Chat rooms have also become a favorite lazy activity of late. But I don't actually chat; that would require work on my part. No, I just read the silly crap coming out of everyone else's keyboards. So it's like reading books, only in real time, with characters that are more realistic — or maybe not. In deference to my last birthday, I've been visiting "Over 30" rooms lately, full of moms talking about their bratty rugrats and favorite hair tips — who also happen to be "beautiful," "built" and boasting libidos the size of Belize. The guys are worse. Apparently only successful, single Adonis types venture into chat rooms. Who knew? It's all I can do some nights to keep from piping up and telling particular chatterers to get a virtual frickin' room, for pete's sake. But it's entertainment, and all for nothing more strenuous than signing on.
Voyeuristic Intentions Who doesn't love a mall? Me, that's who. I hate the overpriced shops, the screaming babies, the teen punks who damn near mow you down as you innocently make your way to the pretzel stand. But I'm attracted to them anyway, much like an over-coiffed 'do is magnetically drawn to AquaNet. It's something of a necessity. Ensconced on a bench or a comfy, overstuffed chair I've witnessed moms breastfeeding their babies, young boys hitting on young girls, old men hitting on young girls, yuppies arguing over which store to hit next and the occasional toddler puking next to the piercing pagoda. I can't look away.
Beached Bombshell Floridians, as any leather-skinned native can tell you, have an advantage over sloths from other parts of the country. We can lie poolside or on a sandy beach months after people in cooler climes have busted out their scarves and snow blowers. I prefer pools myself, which are usually less crowded. Few things compare with the utter idleness of lying prone on a blanket or hammock, letting the sun's rays amplify the effects of my ever-present alcoholic beverage. Beaches will also do in a pinch, if only for the foot traffic that can be surreptitiously surveyed beyond my Ray-Bans, simultaneously satisfying my people-watching fetish (see Voyeuristic Intentions).
For Your Viewing Pleasure These days, everyone has roughly 6,001 channels at home, so movie theaters are practically unnecessary. I can wait a few months to see the latest blockbuster if it means I can view it from the comfort of my own couch. With the flick of a single finger I can toggle from movies to game shows to cooking programs to cartoons as the mood strikes. Probably the most popular slothful activity in the world, watching telly could reasonably be blamed, at least in part, for another deadly sin: Gluttony. And of course, if you're watching Skinemax, that's a different sin altogether. In fact, you could probably achieve all seven deadly sins via the boob tube alone. Isn't technology wonderful?
Tools of the Trade I'd be remiss if I didn't include some of the implements necessary in your quest for passivity. Any one of these items will enable you to become a successful sloth: elevators, motorized carts and wheelchairs — in the words of Willy Wonka, "If the good Lord had meant for us to walk, he wouldn't have invented roller skates." Go with that. Remote controls: for TVs, fans, stereos ... possibly the greatest invention of all time. Drive thrus: There are even drive-thru funeral parlors these days. I'm just sayin'. Paper plates and plastic utensils: you'll save a mint on the water bill. Velcro shoes: because blood rushing to your head as you bend over to tie could result in unwanted rushes of energy. P.O.D.S.: ah, portable on-demand storage — bring the storage unit to you, the ultimate in laziness. Masturbation: singles bars are a pain. Electric toothbrushes: save all that wrist strength for the masturbating.
