Saturday, March 16, 2024

Courier Journal - Winter 2023-24

My wife has a folder in her desk called "Why I Do What I Do." It is filled with remnants from her years as a teacher ... drawings from kids, nice notes from parents or students, pictures, etc. I used to joke with her that if I had such a folder for my job in IT, it would have only one thing in it, my pay check. This is mostly true. While I have made some good friends, had fine experiences and I enjoyed the actual job (detective work solving computer problems for hospitals), ultimately, the biggest thing I liked about the job was the pay. The stress of the job always got to me. The corporate environment in general, was just uncomfortable to me. I felt so out of place, like a fish out of water, imposter syndrome abounds. I could feel the tension in my body simply approaching the building, the muscles tightening in my neck and shoulder. Even when I telecommuted, stress was bad but I admit not as much. I don't feel that now, at all. The money sucks as a courier, but I really do enjoy it. I feel very little stress. I might start a folder of my own. 

I have been delivering in the city of Burlington most of the winter so don't expect a lot of beautiful pictures of the VT landscape from me here. I have a few and the city is beautiful at times, but it is not like being out in the mountains for the day. I have delivered in Shelburne, Charlotte, Essex, New Haven, Johnson, Jeffersonville, Eden and Monkton this winter, but these are one-offs. I've spent most of my time in Burlington or South Burlington. South Burlington is technically its own city, but it is really just a big suburb of Burlington. I prefer the city or the countryside over the suburbs. Always have. 

The winter has been a mild one. I've had a few unbearable days. Mostly it is my hands that get cold. I wear layers but I need my hands free to use my devices for the job. I also fell on the ice once at an insurance company in South Burlington. As I write this, I still feel a pain in my left arm. The warm days are a problem because things melt and when the evening comes, it goes below freezing again and everything becomes ice, like this picture in Shelburne on Lake Champlain. 

Lake Champlain (Shelburne)
Camel's Hump (Waitsfield)
stream in North Ferrisburg

The dirt roads get muddy during the day and then freeze at night causing ruts that are difficult to drive on. The muddy roads aren't easy either. I've gotten stuck twice in the snow this winter, but almost got stuck in the mud once. It happens. I wouldn't have been the first driver to do so. 

Most of the driving I've done in my life has been in New England. So I don't know if this peculiar character of the roads are particular to New England or if it is like this everywhere. I am talking about how some roads change names for no apparent reason. I can understand a road changing name when it crosses a townline or perhaps when it crosses a major intersection, but here in New England road names, like the weather, change often. You could be driving on Greenbush Road in Charlotte Vermont, north for several miles, beautiful drive really. You go on for a few miles. All of sudden, the road name has changed and you are now on Bostwick Road. Why did it change? I don't know really. It might because the town changed. This is right about where Shelburne starts. You continue on Bostwick north, it turns east you can now see the Adirondack Mountains and Lake Champlain in your rear view mirror. You reach route 7 and guess what. Name change? You got it. It is now Marsett Road, but only for about 1000 feet. When you cross Mt. Philo Road, it changes again to Falls Road for another 1000 feet or so then it changes to Irish Hill Road. So in a matter of a mile, you haven't changed roads, but its name has changed four times.It stays Irish Hill Road for about a mile. When you cross Dorset Street it changes again to Pond Road. It travels by the beautiful Shelburne Pond, so lets rename the street, I guess. It stays Pond Road for a little over a mile and ends in St. George at route 116. I am grateful for my GPS.  

Luckily, I drive in Burlington most days and no longer need to use a GPS because I've gotten to know the city so well. An order does exist. Remember, it is still a Northeastern city, so it is not a grid like Midwestern cities. But once you figure out the order of things, it is quite pleasant. 

This is a city that is so messed up that it has both a North Avenue and a North Street. They are both major roads and they intersect. The planners were not thinking of visitors when they planned this city. 


Burlington pivots around Pearl Street. You think it would have been arranged around Main Street, which is one street away, but I am grateful it has some order so I won't complain too much. Streets that cross Pearl, have the North or South designation. On the North side is North Winooski, North Union, North Willard, North Williams and North Prospect. South of Pearl, you have the same streets but the South versions. Champlain Street doesn't ever reach Pearl, it must have at some point. Now there is a huge complex that includes the Marriot and the Hilton are where Champlain would connect, but there are still a North and South Champlain. 

The main West/East streets downtown are (going South to North) Maple, Main, College, Bank, Cherry, Pearl and North Street. I remember MMCBCPN. I haven't made a nifty mnemonic for it yet. The North/South Streets are (going East to West) Prospect, Willard, Union, Winooski, Church, St. Paul, Pine, Champlain and Battery or PWUWCSPCB.  It doesn't exactly roll off your tongue but I remember it. 

Getting oriented in Burlington isn't very difficult because you have a big lake. If you can see Lake Champlain, you know what direction you are facing. If you are driving towards the lake, you are facing West. You can see the Adirondacks, that's New York State. All else falls into place after you know that. If it is in your rearview mirror and you are facing the Green Mountains, you are driving East. If it on your left and you are going towards Colchester, North. On your right and headed toward South Burlington, South. 

I spend good part of my day driving up and down Pearl Street. If I get a package to deliver on ### North Willard, I simply drive down Pearl and turn onto North Willard and look for the number. if I took any of the other East/West streets, I would be taking the risk that I am going to turn the wrong way once I got to Willard.  

I time my day to be near Church Street around noon because I have a choice of about twenty (no exaggeration) amazing coffee shops where some of them even know my name now. Some of them even give me free coffee.  So far, life is good being a courier. 



Sunday, December 10, 2023

Courier Journal - Fall 2023

I know three people who died of heart attacks in my time as a software analyst/engineer. Some of them younger and in better health than me. So when I had a heart attack this past January, still unemployed from my IT career, I decided to find something that I enjoy to do that ... well ... won't kill me. One of the joys of my life is driving around Vermont. So I became a courier and now I drive all over VT and get paid for it. I don't get paid a lot, less than half my old salary. You could say I am working for benefits and winding down to my retirement. I am enjoying it.

After a regiment of training and tests, I started off delivering, solo, in the towns of Charlotte, Vergennes, North Ferrisburg and Shelburne, and occasionally in Panton and New Haven. These are all beautiful towns that hug Lake Champlain south of Burlington along routes 7 and 23. These are truly stunning places. 

Here is an example of a driveway I had back down in my truck.  It is not the most difficult one I've had to do either. 


I believe I was at the foot of Mount Philo in North Ferrisburg when I took this.  That is Mt. Mansfield, VT's largest mountain, in the distance. 


This is the Otter Creek taken from MacDonough Park in Vergennes (the smallest city in the US).

Taken from a covered bridge in Charlotte, VT (I believe):

This horse farm is in Shelburne. 

I believe this is West Charlotte.

I don't take pictures while I am driving. I have to pull over or sometimes, I am delivering something and I see something picturesque while I am at a stop ... I pull out my phone and snap it. I was planning on taking a picture of something beautiful everyday, but that is difficult when weather is bad.  Also, something else happened.

This is a long route which means a very long day. On some days, I was in at 6:30am and out at 7:30pm, not getting home until after 8pm while my son was going to bed. I was exhausted and made mistakes because of it.  I told my boss that I thought this route was a young man's route and I didn't think I could take it. He understood and we worked it out that I am a part timer now. This is actually great for me, because I get home in the afternoon now and can usually catch my son's bus. I keep my full benefits as well.

Now I am driving the Burlington priority route. I still really enjoy this, although it is less pretty, this is a really great city. I deliver priority packages all morning to the College, Church Cherry and Main Street area. I get a few non-priority packages in the afternoon and then I head home. I deliver blood to the Red Cross, drug and vaccines to pharmacies etc. It is a good living. 

I try to time it so that I am around Church Street for my break. So I can go to Muddy Waters for some chili and coffee or one of the other funky cafes. I am getting to know the business people on my route, some of whom I see everyday. While some of the drivers who deliver to Burlington seem to be burnt out on my place, I seem to love it more everyday, warts and all. Hopefully that doesn't change. 

I do have a suggestion for you if you want to make things easier for your delivery person. Make sure the number of your house is visible. If you are rural, try to put your number on the road somewhere. I waste a lot of time trying to find the correct house. It is not always obvious. On the days I do work late, finding a house in the dark is very challenging ... especially if the number on a brown house are also brown or just not posted. Make it obvious and easy to find and read. Safety is something to which we all contribute.

Monday, October 9, 2023

A Widow for One Year

When I pick up a John Irving novel, I expect a certain level of wittiness, maybe a small dose of silliness, some odd characters and maybe a dancing bear or two. I get none of that in A Widow for One Year, his ninth novel. My expectations aside, I should be able to enjoy one of his books that doesn't rely on these hooks. I understand a writer wanting to something new. If I had to characterize this book in his canon of work, I'd put in the category of experiment that failed, like his A Son of the Circus, which was published a novel before this one. 

One of the themes of the book is grief and how different people deal with it. Two of the main characters, Ted and Marion are the parents of two teenage boys whom they see die in a brutal car accident. Ted reacts to the grief by womanizing. Marion does so by bottling it up and eventually running away. She also seduces Ted's teenage writing assistant, Eddie. Ted and Marion also have another child Ruth who is four when Marion leaves the family in 1958. The rest of the book, takes place in the 1990's with middle-aged Ruth and Eddie still dealing with how Ted and Marion's destructive behavior affected their life. Ted and Marion's grief had infected another generation. Marion explains that "grief is contagious." 

Another theme of the book is whether a writer needs to experience what they write about or is their imagination all they need to rely upon. Every major character in this book is a writer (Ted, Marion, Eddie and Ruth) which gets tiresome. In one of Ruth's books she refers to one of her characters as "a widow for one year" and an angry reader complains that one is a widow for the rest of your life implying that Ruth is an imposter and doesn't know what she is writing about. 

I find this part of the book interesting because there is always a lot of Irving's life in his books. He wrestled at Phillips-Exeter as a kid and this appears in his novels a lot. They often are based in New England (he was born in New Hampshire and is now a Vermonter) or in Canada, partially, in which he also lives. The only Irving book I can recall that did not have a lot of his life in it, was A Son of the Circus, which was a crime novel set in Dubai and it was a disaster of a book. Perhaps A Widow for One Year was written in response to the criticism of that book. 

My attraction to Irving novels is usually the characters. I love Garp, Owen Meaney, Homer Wells and the kids growing up at The Hotel New Hampshire. This is a 500+ page book that mostly documents the sex life of a small group of self-obsessed individuals. When you have the ability to create a character like Garp and his mom, why create these tiresome people? Two thirds of the way into the book, the character Ruth takes a trip to Europe. I don't know why these 100 pages are even in this book. The end could have been rewritten without these pages entirely. When I got to this point, I wanted the book to end. If I didn't have a commitment to finish a book after I started one, I wouldn't have gotten through this one.  


Friday, October 6, 2023

Jon Lester's Eulogy (the cat, not the ball player)

In my house, when a baseball player wins the World Series for both the Boston Red Sox and the Chicago Cubs, you get a pet named after you. I am talking about Jon Lester, the pitcher who won the Series with the 2007 and 2013 Red Sox and the 2016 Cubs. Our cat Jon Lester was named after him. This is the cat's eulogy not the pitcher. I understand that the pitcher is doing fine and living out his retirement in the state of Georgia hunting, drinking a lot of wine and writing, last I heard.

When you live in a rural setting, you really need a cat. Mice do find a way into your home. Our cat Mavis kept them away. She wasn't a very good cat. She is probably the only pet I've ever had that I did not bond with. She wasn't friendly, she seemed to hate humans but loved our dogs. She would duck when we went to pet her but she would run up to our dogs and rub them. She would disappear for days, even weeks. We only deduced that she was dead when she failed to return, when mice started showing up and she wasn't eating her food. I didn't write her a eulogy. 

We replaced her with Jasper who was a truly awesome cat but we only had him for a couple of months. He was hit by a car in front of our house. I had to pick up his near dead body off the road with blood shooting out of him. It was one of the worse things I ever had to do. 

We had Wrigley for only a couple of months as well. We didn't let her outside because I didn't want to go through that again. She was a timid sweet animal. She got outside once and while my dog Hazel was home alone. When I got home with my other dog Woodrow. I let him outside to be with Hazel. A few minutes later, I looked out the back window and I saw them playing tug of war with something. This is one of my more awful images I have in my brain. 

2016 was very bad year for us. Our dog Max died, we had a drought here causing us to go without water for a few weeks and Trump got elected. If it wasn't for the Cubs winning the World Series, it would have been our worst year together as a couple. The other great thing that happened that year we adopted (Jon) Lester from the Addison County animal shelter.

We needed a tough cat that would stand his ground against Hazel who was kinda a bitch. He was a barn cat. The people who brought him into the shelter had too many cats in their barn. He ended up being the perfect cat. Gorgeous as well! 



Hazel was afraid of him. He swiped at her whenever she walked by which was perfect. He was a great mouser. He cuddled with me almost every night, sometimes on my shoulder, my chest, sometimes at my feet. He even played fetch. If you crinkled a ball of paper and threw it, he'd run and catch it then put it back in your hand. I still haven't had a dog that would play fetch but I've had two cats that have. Go figure! I was convince he was smarter than my dogs. If his water bowl was empty, he'd stand on the side of it and meow. My dogs, and even some humans I know, don't communicate that well.

It was early in the summer this year that he got out. He occasionally did this, but always came back right away. This time he did not. I put his food out for him. Something was eating it, but I had no proof it was him. So I set my wilderness camera up to verify it was him. I moved it closer and closer to the house until it was on the front porch. This is a video of him on June 4th. 


I borrowed a trap from one of my neighbors and the first night I had it out there, I caught him but because I didn't set the trap correctly, he backed his way out. Here is the video of that feat:


The panel behind him wasn't set properly so I am guess that he just continued to backed out of the trap. He was too smart for his own good. He appeared on my video for about month after that. He never got caught again. Then he stopped showing up around mid-July.

We assume he passed away somehow. Either a car, a fisher or a coyote got him. Maybe someone took him in. I only hope. I still look for him when I go out in the yard. I miss him very much. 

Wednesday, August 23, 2023

My Fragile Faith in Humanity / The Plague

I live with a fragile faith in humanity. I waiver, sometimes within moments, between being an all out humanist believing in humanity's unadulterated ability to overcome all to an occasional belief that humanity is a virus upon this planet. It is not an easy way to live, but I have growth to be accustomed to this dichotomy. I have adapted and it has become the norm for me. 

I go about my life like anyone else. I drive along picturesque, pastoral rural Vermont. I look upon the windmills on Georgia mountain and their awesome turning. I think of progress. I think to myself, "How wonderful we are leaning to live in harmony with our environment!" and then drive on and come across someone with a chorus of plastic blowup Walmart crap cluttering their lawn. It could be Christmas, there could be blinking lights with Santa, elves and reindeers. It is at this point when I change over to my other self. We are fucking doomed. I am in constant battle with myself. 

I just finished rereading Albert Camus' The Plague. It is a perfect book to read coming out of the pandemic. It is bubonic plague in the book but symbolically it is a different plague he is writing about. It is a plague of bad ideas. It is written shortly after World War II and it take place in his native Algiers in a small city called Oran in 1947. The world was fighting a plague of isms in mid-20th century: communism, socialism, capitalism and fascism. 

This is a philosophical novel so the journey is a personal one, one of thought and self reflection. Like most books of this nature it's soul, it's place where it sets the reader straight, it's denouement, if you will occurs towards the end of the book when the character Tarrou finally tells the main character Dr. Rieux what is on his mind. 

"... this epidemic has taught me nothing new, except that I must fight it at your side. I know positively ---- yes, Rieux, I can say I know the world inside out, as you may see --- that each of us has the plague within him; no one , no one on earth is free from it."
Life is a battle of internal dialogue in a search what is right and what is wrong. For me, the wind mills are right and a sign of progress, but the plastic blinking Santa on some idiot's lawn ... that is clearly wrong. All I can think is "What the fuck?!"  Plastic comes from oil. Roughly13.9 million acres, globally, are being used for oil production on this planet. All that habitat being destroyed so that blinking Santa can exist. Why is anyone buying this shit? If you bought it used or a long time ago, you don't have to use. You don't have to waste the electricity using it! I have to control myself not to pull the car over, in the dark, sneak their lawn and destroy this shit. I think of this each time I see one of these. My faith is fragile, but calmer minds do prevail in the end. 

The character Tarrou smiles a lot. He doesn't show his internal struggles. This is not true for me. My internal struggles are obvious. I bitch a lot, sometimes loudly. Here I go again, our plagues here in the early 21st century are different. We have global warming and the destruction of bio-diversity and it is capitalism that is bringing it on. The other isms are mostly gone but capitalism is alive and well and eating our planet, much like Galactus in Marvel Comics. Each time you buy some plastic crap, something you really don't need, you taking a bite, your bite, out of her. Capitalism is our plague. 

Camus' narrator says this early in the novel:
"In this respect our townsfolk were like everybody else, wrapped up in themselves, in other words they were humanists; they disbelieved in pestilences. A pestilence isn't a thing made to man's measure, therefore we tell ourselves that pestilence is a mere bogy of the mind, a bad dream that will pass away. But it doesn't always pass away and, from one bad dream to another, it is men who pass away, and the humanist first of all, because they haven't taken their precautions. Our townsfolk were not more to blame than others; they forgot to be modest, that was all, and through that everything still was possible for them which presupposed that pestilences were impossible. They went on doing business, arranged for journeys, and formed views. How should they have given a thought to anything like plague, which rules out any future, cancels journeys, silences the exchange of views. They fancied themselves free, and no one will ever be free so long as there are pestilences.

Camus is considered an existentialist, which is perfect for humanity's current predicament. We fight for our literal existence. But he didn't care for this term. He considered himself an absurdist, our search for meaning leads us into conflict with the world. This is me. Recently, I was having breakfast with some acquaintances and a young mother mentioned that she wanted to have five more children. I was screaming inside. I don't know why, but the pestilence of the plague is not obvious to everyone, even smart people. Denial is a lot easier than confronting reality. 

Let us not forget to be modest. 

 

Sunday, July 30, 2023

Try That in a Small Town

I have started going to a commercial gym lately. My time at the Cardiac Rehab gym, where they connected electrodes to my chest as I exercised, has expired. I will miss the crowd there. I signed up for Planet Fitness which is incredibly inexpensive and has all the machine I need to continue my progress. The contrast between the two places is striking. I was one of the youngest people at the Rehab gym, the employees were all healthcare professionals and the exercise equipment looked out onto the Adirondack Mountains. I could let my mind wander pondering the natural beauty. It was nice. Planet Fitness seems to be run by teenagers, I am the one of the oldest members, it seems, and the workout machines all faces televisions, not mountains. All the ellipticals, treadmills and stationary bikes face a line of  sixteen televisions.  All tuned to either ESPN, CNN, CBS, Discovery or Fox News among others. You can't get away from it. Closing your eyes is the only way to get away from the tyranny of the television.

This change is both good and bad. It is bad because I miss my lovely workout view of the Adirondacks. It is good because now I can see all the awful things that Fox News is saying about me.  As a liberal I have always found Fox News entertaining because it always implies that liberals walk lock step together on everything. It is my experience that if I get ten liberals together, I am going to have ten different opposing opinions with lots of nuance. Arguments will ensue about the silliest minutiae. The only thing those ten people would agree about Jason Aldean's song "Try That in a Small Town," is that it is really awful song. It being a racist song, that would be debatable. If "libs" are saying this, like Fox is saying, I can guarantee it is not all of them. Most of them have better things to ponder. 

Last Friday, I saw this on the Fox News banner: "Libs are saying that Aldean song is racist." Something close to that. I was on the treadmill for a half hour and they talked about it the entire time. I did another 15 minutes on the stationary bike and they were still on this. I didn't realize that I was suppose dislike this song, until Fox brought it up. I never even heard of the song or the musician until I saw this. I went back to the gym again after the weekend and they were still talking about it. The volume was muted so I don't know what they were saying but the banner was more of the same. You think they would have something more important to talk about ... like, say, a war in Europe etc. After all, they still claim to be a news network, even though most of us know that they aren't. 

Most of the people I know that I would consider liberal don't listen to country music, particularly those that live in the city. Who can blame them with country music bashing the city like it does? That is all this song by Aldean is. "Try That in a Small Town" is a just latest in country music attack on city folks.  Country life = good, city life =bad is a country music trope that goes way back as far back as Hank Williams, probably even further. If country musicians want city folks to stop being so negative about country music, they might want to start by not being such dicks about the city. 

Here are the lyrics of the song if you haven't heard it yet:

Sucker punch somebody on a sidewalkCarjack an old lady at a red lightPull a gun on the owner of a liquor storeYa think it's cool, well, act a fool if ya like
Cuss out a cop, spit in his faceStomp on the flag and light it upYeah, ya think you're tough
Well, try that in a small townSee how far ya make it down the roadAround here, we take care of our ownYou cross that line, it won't take longFor you to find out, I recommend you don'tTry that in a small town
Got a gun that my granddad gave meThey say one day they're gonna round upWell, that shit might fly in the city, good luck
Try that in a small townSee how far ya make it down the roadAround here, we take care of our ownYou cross that line, it won't take longFor you to find out, I recommend you don'tTry that in a small town
Full of good ol' boys, raised up rightIf you're looking for a fightTry that in a small townTry that in a small town
Try that in a small townSee how far ya make it down the roadAround here, we take care of our ownYou cross that line, it won't take longFor you to find out, I recommend you don'tTry that in a small town
Try that in a small townOoh-oohTry that in a small town

Like most bad writing, it over-simplifies. Hate is like that. Emotional in content, self-righteous in nature. I've lived in the big city (Boston) and I've lived in small towns. The town I live in now has roughly 2,000 residence, which is, by the way, much smaller than Aldean's home town of Macon, Georgia. I don't find people that different as individuals here than in Boston. The big difference is the number of people. Here in rural Vermont, we have a lot of room, fresh air and privacy. When you have the density of humans that a lot of our cities have, all of that is difficult to find. That affects a person. But I've had great neighbors in Boston just like I have them here. I know I am a better neighbor here than I used to be when I lived in Boston. This is mostly because the quality of life is higher and this has allowed me to be a better person in general. Traffic in Boston, alone, is a bad enough experience to change a person's outlook. Vermont, indeed, has made me a better person, but no traffic, more quiet alone time and cheap/free parking, had a lot to do with it. 

Unless you think that being anti-urban, by caveat, also means it is racist, then this song is not racist. It is simplistic, kinda idiotic and mostly just shit ... but racist, I don't think so. I've grown to like country music, some country music. This wasn't always the case. I grow tired of rock n' roll lyric being opaque and not very well written. The straight forwardness of a good country song is appealing and refreshing. Like rock, rap and jazz, most of country music is bad. But country also has its geniuses. Emmylou Harris' "Red Dirt Girl" is a masterpiece and Towne Van Zandt and Steve Earl are better song writers than most rock musicians which now leans towards tight assed and self-righteous. You don't have to find subtext to find racism in a country song because they are so direct, there is usually no subtext. But isn't being anti-urban enough to alarm you? Aldean's song is saying that if you live in the city, you suck or at least you are complicit. Also, you try that here, we'll kill you. This song praises vigilantism. That is alarming enough for me. You don't have add racism to make me concerned. 

I wrote most of this before I ever watched the video.

I admit the lyrics coupled with the imagery makes the song a lot more disturbing. It is clearly a right wing call for arms. Yes, disturbing. Racist, I still don't see it. I see a lot of referencing to racist "dog whistles" in internet chatter but I don't see it. I could be wrong. 

Wednesday, June 21, 2023

How To Defeat Trite Man

Nothing is so inane as small talk. On some level small talk is necessary. When I meet a co-worker, in the elevator perhaps, that I know nothing about and I don't feel like learning anymore, a nice quick conversation about the weather can come in handy. Sometimes I am just not in the mood, whether it is a lack of coffee on that particular morning or as a result of my anti-social tendencies. Weather, sports, keep it light, keep it quick, move on.

Trite Man over does it. Trite Man lives in a perpetual state of small talk. He lives and breathes it. Don't let him pull you in. I have been attending a rehab gym for my post-heart attack recovery and Trite Man has been attending the gym on the same days as me.  It is unbearable to hear. I have been blowing out my ear drum via earbuds just to drown him out. I took a short movie of his "performance" so that I could post it here but I decided not to post it. That was probably a good idea, so this clip from Star Trek: The Next Generation will suffice. 



Data is an android testing a new small talk sub-routine, so he has an excuse, but the other character is a perfect portrayal of Trite Man. He is terrifying. If Trite Man pulls you in, it can be very hard to escape. If you get stuck in a room with two of these fuckers, they can truly drive you to insanity. No shit, complete insanity. 

Think of Trite Man as a super villain, everyone of them has their weakness. The only way to defeat Trite Man is by ignoring him. He feeds on inane content and empty gestures. Answer him with one word answers or simply pretend you don't hear him. Put your headphones in your ears regardless if there is music playing. Starve the beast. It doesn't matter if he is dispensing folk wisdom or repeating something "witty" his aunt Tilly always says. Just say "Nope" no matter what he says, no explanation, this will diminish his power greatly. 

This can get difficult if he says something that you disagree with greatly. This almost happened to me the other day. I went to the urinal in the locker room and I had left my phone and headphones on the bench. Trite Man entered and said aloud, "oh no, someone forgot their stuff." I yelled back from the other room, "no, those are mine" Oh no, I had engaged him, how do I get out of this?  "Oh good," he said, "you can't be too safe these days." The giant sucking sound was pulling me in. I so wanted to tell him, "No, the world is a much safer place these days." This trite nonsense about the past being idyllic and safer than now is everywhere. Trite Man loves misinformation. I had data and historical analysis in my corner but he had fear and a popular saying in his. Surely I could convince him that he is wrong. But I did the right thing, I didn't engage. I walked away. 

Please help me in defeating Trite Man. Ignore him. It is the only way he'll stop.