The Thrill of No Frill

I wrote a post a few years ago about a vending machine that I thought was quite witty. At least one reader disagreed, saying, “This is one of the most dull stories I’ve ever read, give me the 2 minutes of my life back.” I responded with, “You must be a speed reader.” I was tempted to send him links to even duller posts but decided that would have been self-serving and overwhelming, especially after eleven years of this blog’s existence. I don’t mind listing some now, though, for your entertainment and moral edification.

To wit, in addition to the vending machine, I’ve written about subway seats, tarps, ants, overcoats, mustaches, galoshes, snow sleds, sidewalks, checkout stands, watermelons, broccoli, and trousers, to name just some of the topics covered.

I know what you’re thinking: that’s a lot of dullness. You’re right; that is more than anyone might expect. But don’t assume I haven’t been conflicted about including posts of the mundane (see How Can You?). After all, it must look like I’m trying to fill space, to which I answer, “Well, of course I’m trying to fill space. That’s what writing is all about!” The exclamation point, though emotional, is intentional.

So, it was with great pleasure that I came across an article this week about the “Dull Men’s Club.” This is a loose association of Facebook groups dedicated to the quotidian, mundane, and ordinary. In a word, it’s about being, doing, and thinking dull. The article described it as “a gentle antidote to pouting influencers and the often toxic internet; a bastion of civility; a polite clarion call to reclaim the ordinary. Above all, it is whimsical, deeply ironic, self-effacing and sarcastic humour.”

How dull is the Dull Men’s Club? you ask. By its own admission, some of its members could “bore the ears off you.” I assume these are key figures at the highest levels. As mentioned, it has none of the toxicity and barbarism of social media, with members vying to outdo each other only in dullness. It goes beyond tongue-in-cheek to cheek-in-cheek. The fact that I just made that up may make me eligible to join immediately.

I believe I’ve found my tribe—especially when it comes to humor, though I spell it without the Gallic “u.” Of course, a deeper philosophical question remains: Can there be humor without u? I’ll leave that for another post. Still, I’m confident club members would welcome me with great affection if they were to read my paean to lima beans. How could they not?

My favorite story is the time the club charted a tour bus that didn’t go anywhere. Instead, the members toured the parked bus, walking around the outside and listening as the driver explained the intricacies of tire pressure and windshield wipers. Imagine the thrill. It reminded me of the story of how the editors at Mad Magazine once flew to Puerto Rico to convince the lone subscriber there to renew his subscription, which he promptly did.

There is a thrill in no frill. It consists of being present to the wonder of little things and appreciating their intrinsic value, because they reflect something greater, something transcendent–the divine. “We should not mind so small a flower,” Emily Dickinson wrote, because it has the power to bring back what we have lost.

To be present to that wonder, you have to stop in silence and stand in the moment. This is one of the reasons I gave up riding a motorcycle years ago. Although I was won over by the freedom of the road and the exposure it provided, you can’t muse at high speeds on so small a flower, or you might crash into a wall.

I could easily be one of the dullards touring the bus and learning about windshield wipers, because–really-do you know how they work? And while my favorite ice cream is and always will be pistachio, I enjoy plain vanilla, too. It doesn’t even have to be natural bean or that fancy French version. It can come right out of the nozzle on the Mister Softee truck. Just don’t give me the vanilla-chocolate swirl. That, honestly, would be too much.

Content credit: Susan Chenery, “Meet the members of the Dull Men’s Club: ‘Some of them would bore the ears off you’” The Guardian (June 8, 2025). Image credits: Orissa Humes, Jumpei Mokudai, Paul Campbell. Want more? Click on Amazon above right for other publications or go to Robert Brancatelli. Visit other blog readers under “Who You Are.” Leave a comment by clicking on the Comment tab above.

Happy Birthday to Lillie “Granny” McGee and Giovanna Deanna Brancatelli. This is the eleventh anniversary of The Brancatelli Blog–many thanks to all who have contributed time, posts, and comments over the years. And heartfelt appreciation to all readers and subscribers.