Dubious Quality

The Olympics are a dumpster fire. Blizzard responded to California alleging that they have a frat boy culture that is both sexist and illegal by responding in the most douche-bro libertarian way possible, which seems unwise? Some college athletes are going to be making over a million dollars next season (yay), which raises interesting questions that are worth exploring. 

So, obviously, I'm going to talk about eyeglasses.

I've always subscribed to the cantaloupe-sized lenses philosophy, because my I have to look through the Keck I Telescope to see anything, so I want as much lens surface area as possible.

Recently, though, as I am a single individual, I decided that it might be time to retreat slightly from the Mr. Magoo look. Not completely--hey, I'm not crazy--but just slightly. 

This means, for the first time in a very long time, that I needed to look at frames. 

I had no idea that glasses frames were a rabbit hole. A deep, dark rabbit hole. 

I'm fairly certain that the number of different frames is equivalent to the number of people currently residing on Earth. I'm used to a slightly different era:

"We have six frames. Which one do you like?"

"Uh, none of them."

"To hell with you. Go somewhere else."

It's equivalent to sorting through all the writing produced by an infinite number of monkeys banging away on typewriters and trying to find the one sonnet. 

Plus, who are some of these frames for? An example:

I can't quite grasp the target market for these frames, unless it's circus clowns needing a reliable set of eyewear for their next show. 

Even worse, I kind of like them, which sort of tells me that writing was the wrong profession. 

Other frames are hard to imagine looking good on anyone. A kangaroo, perhaps, or a bear, but tremendously difficult to picture otherwise.

I'm still looking at frames. I may never emerge. You've been warned.