Posted on 08/26/2007 6:36:26 PM PDT by llevrok
I’m generally not one to place much stock in conspiracy theories, but when an American institution comes under senseless attack from within, it gives me pause to reconsider my cherished beliefs. Events I’ve encountered over the past several weeks have left me no choice but to conclude there’s a conspiracy of hydra-like proportions slithering unnoticed through our country. It’s so far-reaching, it’s almost impossible to unearth its roots. And so insidious, it goes largely unnoticed.
One of the last testaments to American ingenuity, the venerable Zippo lighter, is systematically being dismantled by agents working under the auspices of homogenization. The network is vast, and so sublime that even its agents are unaware of its power. The average Joe — citizens like you and me — never sees the effects of homogenization — until it strikes us on an immediate level.
At first, I had no reason to suspect there were forces working in concert to undermine the proud tradition of the Zippo lighter. Thinking that the corner convenience store might stock flints or lighter fluid was a shot in the dark at best, even though this particular location carried every brand of cigarette known to man. Not surprisingly, I fared no better at the liquor store across the street. But I couldn’t help but note both locations offered a variety of refillable butane lighters alongside the obligatory disposable Bics and Scriptos. Undaunted, I went to a nearby drug store where I had purchased flints before, only to be met with a vacant stare from the post-pubescent clerk. Finally, I visited the tobacco bar at my newly remodeled neighborhood grocery store. In the course of the store’s makeover, photo processing and DVD rentals had been eliminated, but the floral section had been expanded as a freestanding kiosk within the store. The tobacco bar had been redone, too. Flints and lighter fluid had fallen victim to the consolidation process, but the selection of butane lighters and disposable lighters had been expanded.
Clearly, this was no mere coincidence. Only weeks before, I was able to purchase Zippo flints and lighter fluid with ease. Now, wherever I went, clerks extolled the virtues of disposables and butane. As tempting as it was to surrender to the inevitable, something I couldn’t explain — something innate, something American — spurred me to not forsake the Zippo. Bic lighters, and their imitators, lure unsuspecting consumers with promises of convenience. They neglect to mention how they’re actually little explosive devices. Only a few days ago here in Dallas, a disposable lighter was responsible for the decimation of an SUV. It had been left in the vehicle for hours in the Texas heat, and when the owner tried to use it, it exploded in his hand. Of course, he dropped the lighter immediately, but the little Chinese-assembled IED completely torched his vehicle.
I would never suggest that French companies like Bic, or American-based novelty companies dealing in throwaways, are undermining our way of life by outsourcing the manufacturing of their little flamethrowers to China. However, it’s blatantly apparent that 79 cent lighters don’t really represent convenience, and actually are potential environmental hazards. They don’t last very long, and when they do work, it’s only haphazardly, particularly in the outdoors. As a result, they’re routinely tossed aside by frustrated users, presenting fire hazards — and if they don’t combust, their plastic casings languish forever by the roadside.
Zippos, on the other hand, are an American engineering marvel, elegant in design, legendary for their reliability. This year marks the 75th anniversary of Zippo, and they’ve remained relatively unchanged since they first appeared. It’s impossible to improve on perfection, and for what it does, nothing has ever beat a Zippo. Assuming they’re fueled and the flint isn’t worn away, they will, as promised, light under the windiest conditions without fail. And if anything should ever go wrong with it, the company will replace it at absolutely no cost. After my father died, I came across one he owned, with the lid missing. I sent it to Zippo, and it came back from Zippo’s manufacturing plant in Bradford, Pennsylvania, good as new.
Zippos have been lauded by presidents, generals and soldiers for decades, and not without good reason. During WWII, Zippo suspended commercial sales, and only made the lighter available to the military. Eisenhower and MacArthur, as well as countless grunts, lauded it as the only flame upon which they could depend. There are stories of its metal case stopping bullets during battle. And of course, as per the unconditional guarantee, such damaged lighters were replaced with no questions asked.
A Zippo isn’t just a lighter — it’s an accoutrement that you selfishly guard. You might own several, with each one having its own backstory, but you never throw one away. Each one reminds the owner of a particular point in his or her life — a bittersweet romance, an affair with a fast car, a little social victory — all sealed with that distinctive click as the Zippo is closed. There’s a little piece of American history in every Zippo.
You don’t get that with a Bic lighter, and you don’t get it with a novelty butane lighter emblazoned with skull-and-crossbones or crude feminine silhouettes. All those give you are frustrations and bad memories of misplaced adolescence. In our throwaway culture, that’s how we mark time. We paste over our past with fiberboard facades and call it progress. It’s not evolution, though — it’s surrender to homogenization.
Trust me — the Homogenization Conspiracy is not a figment of my fevered imagination. It’s not relegated to the Zippo, either. The perfect little lighter is just a pawn in this. If the dark forces that dictate our tastes can covertly take out an American icon like the Zippo by denying us its fuel source, what’s next? Rise up, America! If you don’t do it now, future generations will be consigned to a world ruled by overlords whose only allegiance is to disposability. And the world will end with the telltale click of a Zippo slamming shut...
I have two of my own, and inherited one from my beloved Uncle - he who took all the wrath I could toss his way for making me drive again after my first and only car wreck -, and one from my Grandfather.
I’m lucky, my corner store still carries fluid, and you can find flint most times at Walmart, tho my corner store still carries flints too.
I’d hate to see an American tradition like Zippo fall by the wayside. It just wouldn’t be the same without the ‘snap’ of that lid to me.
Geez, forgot to mention the five Zippos that my Dad owns too. He’d kill me for forgetting that ;)
I’ve never felt ripped off by the rectangular ones and I’m not sure I’ve noticed that they crap out. I avoid them only because they have that cheap and trashy feel. The absolute most depressing ones are the ones with the name of the gas station on the side.
The smell of the fuel was terrific until they changed it to smell like cat urine. IIRC, it was because of a lawsuit alleging it poisoned some idiot who drank it.
My faithful Zippo was relegated to the junk drawer not long after that foul smelling lighter fluid came out.
Wal*Mart doesn’t carry buggy whips, either.
Bummer. I’ll bet it’s a conspiracy of
car manufacturers. Lord knows supply and
demand is just what they want you to believe.
About 10 years ago the hinge on my 10 year old Zippo lighter broke.
My son, who had given me the lighter, told me that every Zippo carried a lifetime repair warranty. I contacted them and they mailed me a postage paid envelope to send the lighter back to them. At no cost to me the hinge was repaired and the insides of the lighter replaced and returned to me.
Back then a child could buy a lighter. Consequently, this was one of their least expensive models...though of great personal value to me.
> BTW, a Bic can be used to open a bottle cap once you’ve got the technique down.
And a Zippo lighter can be used as a knuckle-duster, if you got the technique down...
http://www.vrazvedka.ru/main/learning/ruk-b/fairbairn-01_07.shtml
This technique actually works a treat!
*DieHard*
It's called the free market, dude.
My Zippo is still there in the top right hand drawer of my dresser along with all the other stuff I don't use anymore but can't bear to part with.
I also have an old Calibri lighter with a map of the Mediterranean Sea engraved on it.It never worked worth a hoot but was too pretty to get rid of.
i’ve got 8 zippos. love ‘em to death. never leave home without one.
sometimes it is hard to find real zippo fluid/ flints, but they sell the ronsonol stuff everywhere.
My Calibri was never any good either, LOL!
Finally, a really important topic ping...
;o)
Finally, a subject with gravitas..:-)
Back before the revenooers started their search and destroy missions on smokers, we bought our smokes from the Senecas in New York, who sent free Zippos with their tobacco. Ah, those halcyon days of yesteryear.
That Zippo "clunk" sound is like a punctuation mark, it's just got substance.
I think Zippos will always be with us unlike their unfortunate cousin, the churchkey.
[/sobbing] not the venerable churchkey!
I’ve done that. I don’t seem to remember it “lightly” burning though. Hurt like hell.
I'm ancient enough to remember when every used car came with one in the glove compartment.
I still use mine to open paint cans with, though.
Memories fade with time, you know....
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