Results May Vary

ALSOBYLANCEMANION

Merciful Flush

ii

 ResultsMayVary
TheLanceManionBlogs
LanceManion
BookstandPublishing http:www.bookstandpublishing.com www.lancemanion.com

iii

 Publishedby BookstandPublishing MorganHill,CA95037 3607_4 Copyright2012byLanceManionEnterprises Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced ortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeans,electronicor mechanical,includingphotocopy,recordingoranyinformation storageandretrievalsystem,withoutpermissioninwritingfromthe copyrightowner. ISBN9781618632029 PrintedintheUnitedStatesofAmerica

iv

 Introduction
OpArtisalltheragethesedays,artworkorpictureswhereyou bluryoureyestoseesomeintendedopticalillusionorvisual phenomena.Somepeoplecandoitandothersnot.Some peopleenjoyitand,usuallythosethatcannotsuccessfullyblur theireyes,don't.Thequestionis,canyoucreatethesame effectwithwrittenwords?CanIaskyoutotryandbluryour mindasyoureadthis? No.That'sstupid. Obviouslyanythingwrittendownwillimmediatelychangewhen passedthroughtheimagination,biasandlifeexperienceofthe reader.WhateverloftyintentionsIhadwhenIwasscribbling awaywillbehurledlengthwiseintothecesspoolyoucallyour subconsciousonlytocrawloutaswhateveryoutakefromeach story. Whybotherwithoneepic300pagesagawhenyou'rejustgoing tofuckitupanywayismypoint.Thiswayyoumightatleast enjoyafewoftheseblurrytales.

vi

hungandangry Whileit'sniceduringtheholidaystobeperchedontopofthe tree I'm guessing that the rest of the year sitting in that big cardboard box with the rest of the decorations must be awkward.Thereisnowaythatthe'star'isn'tcatchingattitude fromtheotherornaments. Especiallythereallyexpensiveorelaborateones.Theyhavegot tobethinkingtothemselvesthatjustbecausetheydon'thave5 pointsdoesn'tmeantheyshouldbeloweronthetreethanany otherornament.Wherethefuckdoesthestargetofffeelingall highandmightyjustbecauseitissittingontop? And don't tell me the handmade decorations the kids have beenchurningoutinschoolalltheseyearsdon'twonderaloud whythestargetsthebestspot.Somewhereamidalltheglitter andgluetherehastobeaseethingresentmentthatdespiteall the love that went into their creation that some storebought clichishoggingalltheattention. Every year when the closet is opened and the box hauled out intothelighttheremustbeatleastalittleanticipationonthe partoftheotherdecorationsthatthisistheyearthattheyget hoistedatopthetree,tospendtheholidayslookingdownonall their contemporaries. That this is the year they get to shine. That all the boys and girls will gather around and look up at them and pay attention to them and sing about them! At the veryleastI'msuretheyaresecretlyhopingthattheownersof the tree have found a new and better star and that the smug littlepricksittinginitsboxawaitingitsinevitableadornmentas the'star'willinsteadbecallouslyhurledintothegarbageasall oftheotherornamentshootandheckleandlaugh. But instead every year the same star is plopped atop the tree whereitspends2or3weeksbaskingintheglowofthecolored lights and tinsel while its plastic brethren hang beneath him incensed,lookingprettyandtwinklingandsuchastheyfightto controltheirunbridledrage.Iftheydoendupcontrollingitthen itwouldbeofcourseabridledragebutthetruthisoneofthese

daysoneofthemisgoingtosnapsoIfeeljustifiedinusingthe term unbridled. Maybe snap is actually what happens and explainstheonesthatmysteriouslyfalloffandplummettothe carpeting to be immediately stepped on with uncanny predictability by the dog. Either way, I needed a few more words to fill out the story so having to explain my bridled and unbridledrationalewasjusttheopportunityIwaslookingfor. Youwonderhowmuchmoretheycantake.Theonesdoingthe real work during the holiday. How it is they can bear to look festive as every year they hang in a different spot to view the holidayfromanotheranglethatisjustasunderappreciatedas theyearbefore? Thentobepackedupagainandforcedtositinthesameboxas the'star'. Mustberoughonthestar. doubledownthehatch I guess if I had to give a kid advice about steroids it would be this:doalotofthem.Haveyouseenthesizeoftheotherkids tryingoutforfootball?Holyshit,thereare16yearoldspushing 300 lbs. You really think you'll make the team, let alone excel, without putting helpful chemicals into your scrawny body? Forgetit.Steroidsarethewaytogo. It's like in blackjack, if the dealer is showing a 16 then you double down. Every time. Doesn't matter what card you have, atsomepointyouhavetoputyourmoneywhereyourmouth is.It'sjustsimplemath.Orscience.Oneofthose. You might be fast or strong or maybe you can throw or catch butatsomepointyou'llwanttocompeteatthenextleveland that level requires steroids. Will it negatively affect you? Probably. Just like doubling down. Although it's the right thing to do sometimesthedealerwillcatcha5andyou'llbescrewed. Atleastyougottoplayright?

Here is the mistake that most kids make when using steroids. They only use one kind. Or maybe a certain regiment of a few types.That'sthekindofthinkingthatwillputon20poundsof muscle and may get you atrophy of the testicles. Sure, that mighthelpyougetallconferenceonyourhighschoolteambut nobodyiswinninganyHeismantrophieswiththatattitude. Nowsomechickenshitkidmightask"Whatifthedealerhasa 16butyou'reholdinga6?Shouldn'tyoustay?".WhatdidIsay? Math (or science) says you always double down when the dealerhas16.Youhavetoplaythepercentages. Same with steroids. You don't take one or two kinds. If you're goingtodothemyouneedtodoallofthem.Swallowandinject everydamn kindyoucangetyourhandson.Ifsomearegood thanmorearebetter.HowbaddoyouwanttoplayintheNFL? Myself, I trust the anabolicandrogenic industry. Where would we be without pharmaceuticals? You're going to listen to the adviceofpeoplethatwantyoutobuytheirproductswhenyou have a drippy nose or a cough but suddenly you're crazy becauseyouwanttoputonafewpounds? Here'sthebottomline.Ifyouwanttoplay,youhavetopay.Get a blender. Throw in some milk, some eggs, some wheat germ and that other crap they sell at GNC and then throw is some Dianabol, some Primobolan, a little Clenbuterol, a dash of Stanozolol, a bit of Halotestin, a hint of Masteron, a liberal amountofClomidandperhapsaheapinghelpingofEquipoise. Andbysome,dashandhintImeanasmuchasyoucanafford. Getajobdeliveringnewspapersorpizzasorsomethingtoearn some extra cash so you can pack that blender with the good stuff.Shit,ifyoucangetsomethenbyallmeansthrowinsome oestradiol and progesterone as well. If it works for steers imaginehowitwillimproveyourgame. The goal is nothing less than turning yourself into towering psychotic hulking manthing. Your skin should always have a sheenandthereshouldalwaysbealowgrowlemanatingfrom your throat. Don't let a little water retention or gynecomastia

putyouoff.Moobscomewiththeterritoryandthatterritoryis theNFL. Money.Women.Cars.Assumingthatyoucanstillfitinacaror have the motor skills to drive one. Doesn't matter. Get a chauffeur.Livethedream. Lifeisshowinga6. Doubledown. puzzled Inspired by Stephen Hawking and his past fun with weightlessness I decided, because it was a slow day, to throw myself headfirst into some scientific pursuits. I would apply myselfcompletelyandseewhatIcancontributeinthequestto comeupwiththe'TheoryofEverything'. I have to admit, I was amazed at the groundbreaking stuff I cameupwith.Itjustshowshowanaveragemancanhelpshine the light of reason on even complex subjects. My first experimentinvolved3puzzles.1wasachild'spuzzleconsisting of8pieces.Itwasadrawingof2dinosaurs.Thenextwasa100 piece picture of a boat sitting in a canal. The last was a large 2000 piece puzzle depicting the Salvador Dali painting La Persistencia de la Memoria (or The Persistence of Memory). I thensatdownandattemptedtocompleteeach. Not only was I able to quickly finish the dinosaur puzzle but I founditverysatisfying.PerhapsitwasareminderhowfarI've come since the days where I would have found it challenging. The100piecepuzzleontheotherhandwasnotaseasy.Ittook me nearly an hour to complete and was not as much fun. Not only did it have more pieces but I found the drawings of dinosaursalotmoreinterestingtotheeyethanadulllittleboat seemingly stuck in some fetid Dutch channel. Then came the 'puzzle el grande'! I wasn't sure what was more surreal the melting clocks or the fact that after 3 hours I hadn't even finished the border. It didn't take a scientist to figure out

though that the experiment was a success and did not require metofinishthispainintheasspuzzle. Some of you more scientificallygifted types may already suspect my conclusionsbutfortherestofyouIwillilluminate you.EachpuzzletookadifferentamountofTIME. I'll let you digest that for awhile. Because each puzzle had a differentnumbersofpieces,ittookadifferentamountoftime to complete (or not complete). I went back and checked my notes, the box tops which stated the number of pieces each puzzle was and my watch (which DOES keep time down to a tenth of a second for complete scientific accuracy) to confirm my findings. Then, flush with my recent success, I decided to pushtheenvelopeevenfurther!TheoneflawIcouldfindwith my hypothesis was that perhaps a puzzle with fewer pieces mightbehardertofinish(andthereforetakeMOREtime)ifthe picturewasmorecomplexthanapuzzlewithmorepiecesbuta verysimplecartoon.Followingmehere?IknowItendtolose somepeoplewhenIgettootechnicalbutpleasetrytostaywith me. So what I did was to paint each of my 3 puzzles completely white so there was no picture at all. We in the scientific community call this a 'control'. Then I sat down and repeated the experiment. Well sort of I was able to finish the 8 piece puzzlebutabandoned the100piece puzzleafter anhour.This was a setback. Was this the blackhole of puzzles? I mean, technically I could figure out a formula for the difference in finishinga100pieceblankpuzzleanda2000pieceblankpuzzle butwherewastheproof?!Inowunderstoodthefrustrationof the scientist as he tried to bridge the gaps between Einstein's E=MC2andquantumphysics.IhatedtothinkthatIhadwasted anentiredayonafailedtheory. Thelast question was where to submit my findings, Scientific American or Dell Magazine (your source for topquality puzzle entertainment)? Who would be more receptive to this importantwork?Perhaps,andIwasgoingoutonalimbhere,I shouldsubmititasablogandlettheonlineworldbemyjudge

andjury.Whobettertojudgewhethersomethingisawasteof TIMEthanpeoplewhoreadotherpeople'sblogs? OK,wellI'mspent. isitwhatitis? So he figured he would just listen to some music to pass the time.Sittingtherewiththelittleearpiecesinhisearshehadn't counted on the music blaring out of the big speakers on each sideoftheroomfulofkidspracticingtheirkickingandpunching. Even when he turned up the volume on his Ipod the 2 songs wereaboutthesamelevel...andthat'swhenheheardit. 2 songs being played together. Most of the time it was just noise, the competing beats and melodies battling it out oblivious to each other and the listener, but every now and againtherewassomethingthere. He listened with more urgency, hoping to find what he was suddenly searching for in the cacophony. For a minute he wished he could pick the 2 songs that were being played and createsomethingeasyandbeautifulbutthenitoccurredtohim thatlifeneverworksthatway.Youtakewhatyouaregivenand find significance in that. You don't get to choose. You either makeitbeautifuloryouacceptthefactthatsongsaremadeto be appreciated in only one way and there is a mountain of evidencetosupportthattheory. His Ipod was playing "A Long December" by Counting Crows. Thekaratestudiowaspumpingoutabassheavy"BlackWater" by The Doobie Brothers. As unlikely a pairing as could be imagined and most of the time it was nothing more than dissonance.2songsinconflictwitheachother.Like2busylives thathavenothingtodowitheachotherbeingpiledoneontop of the other, full and forced to share the same space. The friction of notes tumbling and grinding together like illfitting gearsmeantforseparatepurposes. Buteverynowandthen...

 Yeah,keeponshinin'yourlight Andthefeelingthatit'sallalotofoysters,butnopearls Gonnamakeeverything,prettymama Allatonceyoulookacrossacrowdedroom Gonnamakeeverythingallright Toseethewaythatlightattachestoagirl AndIain'tgotnoworries...'causeIain'tinnohurryatall He didn't even know what he wanted. He felt like this feeling was somehow important but he had no idea why. Then it fell back into disharmony and it felt once again like a mirage. A fraud.Therewasnothinghecoulddoanyway,bothofthesongs belonged to other people anyway. So he sat and waited for them to synch up again and when they refused he would rememberthefleetingmomentsofwhentheydidandwonder iftheyactuallyhad. Andthenagain...thebassfromonewouldmovewiththedrums of the other and create something that seem to justify this longing he felt ashamed to admit. Transcendent. Sitting there amidst his real life, listening to something he would never be able to reproduce or explain to anyone if there was even anyonewhowouldcaretolistenwhichtherewasn't.Assdeep intherealityofbeingsomedorksittingcrossleggedwithapink Ipod, an old faded Bears jersey and an expression that was almost as frayed. Those around him just as lost in their own cares and oblivious to anything outside of their own concerns. ListeningonlytoTheDoobieBrothersandraucouslaughterand pantingoftheassembledkaratekids. Heallowedhimselfaquickselfimportantand/ordeludedsmile, theyhadnoideawhathewaslisteningto,beforeplungingback into the depths of the poignant discord that was seemingly thrust upon him by sweet and callous fate but truthfully was entirelyofhisowninvention. Maybethisyearwillbebetterthanthelast

Prettymamacomeandtakemebythehand Ican'trememberallthetimesItriedtotellmyself Comeanddancewithyourdaddyallnightlong Toholdontothesemomentsastheypass Iwanttohonkytonk,honkytonk,honkytonk...withyouall nightlong selfloathingmadeeasy You know I've never actually met a black person that doesn't thinkthatAlSharptonisajoke.Theyareasembarrassedofhim as white people are of Kim Kardashian. So why don't black people come out against him or at least tell him to shut up? Then it hit me it's because black people know how much Sharpton annoys white people. Why would anyone want to annoywhitepeople?!Weseemlikeaniceenoughbunch,why wouldanyonewanttocauseusannoyanceyouask?Thenithit me. There are 2 reasons why other races might want to mess withwhitepeople. 1.Whitebicyclists.Everythingthatotherraceshateaboutwhite peopleareallwrappedupinoneneatlittlepackagethewhite bicycle hobbyist. You see these douche bags clogging up the roads everywhere these days. It's not just that they insist on ridingonroadsthathavenoshoulderit'showtheyrideonthe roads with no shoulders. I swear it takes every ounce of restraintnottorunthemthefuckoverandthenbackupover theirtwitchingcorpses.You'reafuckingbike,getofftheroad! Weallrodebikeswhenwewere12thenwegrewup!Idon't eventhinkI'dmindsomuchifitwasjustsomenormallooking guy on a normal looking bike. Who doesn't enjoy a little wind whipping through your hair on a nice afternoon? But like everything that white people seem to do they overdo it. Overkillonanepicscale.Haveyouseentheoutfitstheseidiots wear?Aretheyhappywithatshirt?No.Ithastobeskintight scientific polyester microfibers with the latest perspiration

wicking for hot capillaryoncapillary action done in a combination of colors that cause small children to seize at the very sight of them and older people with an ounce of self respecttopointandlaugh.Getoveryourselves.Ifclownscould ridebikes. Thenyougettothebikesthisiswhereevenwhitepeopleare annoyedbywhitepeople.Hightechcompositeandalloyfames thatcostmorethanmostfirstautomobiles.Youwanttohatea whiteguy?Askthemabouttheirvibrationdampingcarbonseat stays or their Tektro dual pivot brakes. Then throw in every gadgetyoucanpossiblyimaginefrommirrorstoodometers,gel gripstorack&fendermounts.Therearepeoplestarvinginthe worldMr.WhiteGuyOnABikeTakingHimselfTooSeriouslyIn TheMiddleOfTheFuckingRoad.Ifyouwanttorideabike,go buy a Schwinn, put on some shorts and sunscreen and go ride around the park for a little while. Get it you fucking retarded whiteperson?! 2.Miniaturehouses.Justlikebicycles,whitepeoplelovetotake somethingthatisforkidsandthengoapeshitoverit.Takethe idea of a dollhouse. Very nice. Cute. Little girls buy them and keep them clean and play house with little dolls. Then white adults take over. The next thing you know you have grown adultsspending$50fora1/24thscaleTudorcribfortheir1/24th scale nursery in their 1/24th scale house! Use 1/24th of your fucking head and grow up. Get a grip on reality. There are peoplewhocan'taffordrealfurnitureandyou'researchingthe globe for a 1/24th scale working Victorian parlor stove. When youfinallyprocureitandgetitinstalledandfiredupyou'llstill bestandingoutsidelikeagiantfreaklookingintoyourbeautiful fakehousefilledwithexpensivepiecesoftinyshit.Gobuyareal personwhoneedsoneareal1/1thscaleworkingstove.They'll probablyagreetoletyoucomeovereverynowandagainand lookintotheirwindowandmaybeevenmovestuffaround. Given these 2 reasons I now understand why Al Sharpton isn't laughedoffanystageheeveryappearson.

theeulogy IhatefuneralsandwhatIhatemoreiswhenit'ssomebodyI'm closetoandwhatIhateevenmorethanthatiswhenI'masked to say a few words during the proceedings when I'm not prepared. OnthedriveoverI'dbeenthinkingaboutsomethingsoItriedto workitintomyopeningremarksbutIcouldn'tfigureoutagood metaphorforthefactthatdrinkingmilkisgoodforyourteeth becauseofthecalciumbutifyoudrinkaglassbeforegoingto bed without brushing your teeth it is very bad for your teeth becauseoftheacidicpH.Iknowthereisamilklifelessonburied in there somewhere but for the life of me I couldn't come up withit. Clearlythiswasnottheeulogypeoplewereexpectinganditgot evenlesseulogyishwhenImentionedthatIthoughtSeanPenn is only thought of as a good actor because he plays roles that youcan'tbetoocriticalof.Iexplainedbrieflythatthereasonit cametomindwasthatPennportrayedHarveyMilk,themayor whobecameamartyrforgayrights,inamovie.Sortofamilk theme.Anyway,howtoughisittoplayretardsandgayguys? A hush fell over the congregation. Looking up at the stained glassandcrossesIwonderedwhatthechurch'sofficialposition onretardswas.IknowtheyareantigaysoIwassafethereand I thought I remembered somewhere in the bible where Jesus says some antiretard stuff but I thought I'd better play it safe andmoveongivenitwassuchasomberoccasion. Icontinuedtalkingthroughtheorganistssecondattempttoplay me off like I was some longwinded Academy Award winner whoseacceptancespeechwasdraggingonandthreateningthe upcoming Viagra and Toyota commercials but I persevered. I knew my friend's funeral wasn't sponsored by anyone so they canallrelaxandtakeafewmomentstorememberhim. IhadahunchhehatedPennlikeIdidbutIremindedeveryone that I was sure that he loved Spicoli from Fast Times At Ridgemont High. Maybe that's what I was trying to say all

10

along...trytofindtheSpicoliinevenaragingassholelikeSean Penn. Iturnedthatoverinmymindanditdidn'tringtruesoIsaidas much. Milk as a verb. To draw... to extract... to exploit. If milk was goingtobe,forbetterorworse,mythemethanthesemourners as my witness I was going to find a way to make a poignant point. Did my friend, laying there so still and quiet, milk life for all it wasworth?Whatislifeworthanyway? Ibegantocry. I stared at him lying there, the empty husk of my friend. He would never drink a glass of milk before going to bed. He brushed twiceadayforgod'ssake.Hewasn'trecklessenough tofallasleepwithacideatingawayathisenamel. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my antagorganist (an antagonist who is also an organist) raise her hands up to once again start Amazing Grace but I caught her eye with a look so fulloffurythatsheslowlyfoldedthemandplacedthembackon herlap.Iprobablywouldhavewalkedoverandpunchedherin theface. Whatdidtheywantmetosay?Icouldn'thelpbutgrieveover spilledmilk. Fuck I love that Billy Bragg song Milkman of Human Kindness. Myfriendhadnodoubtneverheardit. Andneverwould. Inafewyearshewouldbedowntojusthishealthybonesand teeth.Thenjustdust. Fuckerdidn'tmoveamuscleduringthewholefuneral.Justlaid thereasIcouldn'tfindthewords...andIusedaboutallofthem beforeIfinallygaveuponfindingsomemilkanalogy.Gaveup onthinking myfriendwouldstepinandsavemefrommaking anassofmyself. Halfway back to my pew it occurred to me that I would soon havetoburyallthishurt andthat myfriendwasalsogoingto be buried and that somewhere in that there has to be

11

somethingmovingandbeautifulbutasIturnedtoheadbackto thepodiumIwasrestrainedbysomeofhisfamilyandmovedto thebackofthechurch. Theirloss. five (The scene: August of 2004 in a boardroom somewhere in Cincinnati) Fred Wilson shifted uncomfortably in his chair. That innocent lookingvinehehadsocavalierlypulledoutofhiszucchinipatch recentlyhadindeedturnedouttobethepoisonivyhiswifehad warned him about seeing lurking in his vegetable garden and nowhehadraisedredweltscoveringhisarms,stomachandleft thigh.Itwashisthighthatheldhisfullattentionnowashetried to nonchalantly claw at it through the Comme Des Garcons pants he was wearing. Outside observers would mistake his endlessshiftingandadjustingasnothingmorethannervesthe same fidgeting movements that those observers would recognize among almost every man and woman seated at the enormous conference table on this hot August afternoon in Cincinnati.It wasnotagooddaytobeseatedata conference table at the offices of Gillette. Rumor had it that Schick was working on a razor that had four blades. Four. Their current offering, the MACH3Turbo system, had only 3. Four would changeeverything.Howdidtheworldgetsocrazy?Atonetime talkofarazorthathadtwobladeswascauseforlaughter.Now thestreetwasbuzzingaboutfour.Madness. Therazorandbladeindustryhasworldwidesalesof$10billion annuallyandGillette'sChairmanwascomingdownforanswers. He wanted those answers from Fred and his team. Right now none of that mattered though. Fred would trade it all; the power, the glamour, the money that his position at Gillette affordedhim,foronehandfulofRhuliGelandtheblissfulendto thisitching.Forasecondhisminddriftedbacktotheearlytest

12

subjectsfortheMACH3thecrimsonriversrunningdowntheir horrified faces the screaming and eventually the Gillette black helicopters that were needed to "resolve" some of the litigation that resulted. Now there was talk about four blades? He could only imagine the slaughterhouse that Schick was planningtoturnbathroomsacrossthecountryinto.Madness. The Chairman, a short powerfully built man of about 60, stormedintotheconferenceroom.Itseemedhewasfreshfrom mortal combat elsewhere in the building and Fred swore he couldsmellthefearofhiscolleaguesdriftintohis nostrilsina slow,lazydancefromeacharmpit."Idon'tevenrememberthis fuckingguysname"Fredthoughttohimselfaspanicsweptover him.TheChairman'seyessweptbackandforthovertheroom likeprisonsearchlights.Hesaidoneword. "Four." It was at this moment that Fred became aware of two things; hisstomachbegantoitchlikecrazyandhisassistant,Jan,began toexhibitsignsofacomingpanicattack.Janwasasquatgirlin her early thirties with bad breath and a tendency to fold in pressuresituations.Hehadwitnessedoneofherpanicattacksa yearprioratthecompanypicnicwhenJanwasaskedtodecide thewinnerofthe3leggedrace.Ithadbeenaveryclosefinish andshehadbeenrightatthefinishline.Intheendtheracewas ruled a draw when Jan began hyperventilating and eventually stumbled and fell facefirst into a large bowl of potato salad. Therewouldbenosuchsaladtocushionherfallhere.Gripping hispenlikeasword,Fredbegantodragitbackandforthacross his midsection. Each pass brought him momentary relief followed by a quick return of the itching that seemed to grow witheachpassingsecond.Soonthesweatfromhisbodyurged therashesonhisarmstojointhefunanditwasallhecoulddo nottocryout. "Four"theChairmanrepeatedandhisgazefinallycametorest onFred."Doyourealizetheimportancethattherazordivision of this company has to the bottom line?" His voice began to rise. "Half! Half of what we sell is razors!". His hands became

13

fistsandaslightstringofspittleclungtotheedgeofhismouth. Thesilenceintheroomgrewdeafening."Thosefilthyfuckersat Schickarecomingoutwitha4bladerazorandallyoucandois sit here looking at me?!" he thundered. "In both manual AND batterypoweredmodels!".Fred'sthighwasonfire.Hecouldn't help himself, his hand reached down between his legs and grabbed his thigh like a drowning man clutches at a life preserver. He squeezed and scratched and wasn't sure if anythinginhisentirelifehadgivenhimsomuchpleasure. "FIVE!" Heheardthatwordbellowedoutandittookhimamomentto realizethatthevoiceheheardhadcomefromhim.Heroseup. "FiveMr.Chairman." TheChairman'seyesgrewroundandhegaspedslightly.Those atthetablepivotedtheirheadsasoneinFred'sdirectionjaws dropping all round. Time froze and for an instant even the rashescoveringFred'sbodytookatimeout. "Ofcoursewe'regoingtoneedlubricatingstripsandplentyof them" Fred said as he picked up a pad of paper and started franticallydoingcalculations."Perhapsonthefrontandback." SoonJanwasworkingfeverishlyonherlaptopalso."Theblades willhavetobecloser." "Yes"Alaninengineeringadded."Muchcloser." The table suddenly came alive. Almost as one they began scribblingandsketching. "Canitreallybedone?"askedTheChairman. "Youcomeinhereandsay'Four'tomeandexpectmetojustsit here and take it?" Fred turned on the old numbercruncher without mercy. "Just get the fuck out of here and tell your peoplethatwe'llbuildyourrazor!" TheChairmanstumbledback,hiseyeslockedwithFreds. "NotonlywillyougetfivebladesbutI'mgoingtogiveyoua single blade on the back to trim the hair under your fucking noseyoucocksucker!" TheChairman'shandfumbledwiththedoorknobhelplessly.

14

"We'll stick in a fucking microchip to regulate the voltage and blade action!" yelled Dick Hanson, a darkskinned man with thinninghair. "Andalowbatteryindicatorlight!"addedanAsianwomanwho Fredhadonlyspokentoacoupletimes. "Yes!Alowbatteryindicatorlight!Go!Goandtelltheinvestor that you bastard!" Fred barked as the Chairman disappeared intothehallway."That'sright.Five."Fredsaidashesunkback into his ergonomic chair. The itching was returning and Fred onlynownoticedthatJanwasslumpedfacedownonthetable. "Five". knuckledeepinthenight It occurred to me last night as I stared up at the ceiling that I spendalotoftimeawakeinthemiddleofthenightstaringup attheceiling.Maybeit'spartofbeinganadult.Ialwayswonder how many of my neighbors are awake and staring up at their ceilings. It's like a silent club we all belong to. Use to be that peoplewouldgetupat3a.m.andgoonlinetosomechatroom but then everyone discovered that people are just as dull as 3 a.m.astheyareatNoon.Evenbuyingglowinthedarkstarsto put on your ceiling in the shape of all the constellations only helpsalittle. Youfigurethatanyoneunemployedorstrugglingatworkisup staring at their ceiling in the middle of the night. Same goes with people unhappy with their marriage or primary relationships. People feeling slighted by fate or dealing with issuessurroundingtheirupbringingaresuretobeunabletoget a full nights sleep. Throw in those dealing with a shortterm crisis and I think everyone in my neighborhood is up with me andwe'reallsittingtheirstaringatourceilings. Whatagreatthought. Last night it was all because of an itch. Typically you scratch it and be done with it but I found myself upset that it wouldn't

15

just go away. Why won't an itch just itch itself out and then depart?Nope.Anitchwillsitthereuntilyouscratchit,oblivious towhateverothertrialsyouhavegoingoninyourlife.SoItried to wait it out. Thinking it would eventually subside or I could forgetaboutit.AfteranhourItriedthinkingofitasapet.Apet thatsatunmovingonmyleftbuttock.Itchingaway.Apetthatif IactuallyownedIwouldpurchaseafirearmandshoot.Iended uphavingtoscratchit. Stare at your ceiling long enough and eventually everyone thinksthesamethought;ifIaccidentallykilledsomeonewouldI have the intestinal fortitude to dismember them to get rid of the body? They couldn't kiss their lips goodbye if you were chopping them off but they could wave goodbye to one arm. Not both of course, although you could do it for them. When you'redonetheycouldevengiveyouapatonthebackwitha little assistance. I don't know about you but I always think I'd say something like "one sock too many" as I cut off the first foot. Ialwayslookatthe humanbodyasprettyeasyto cut up. Just snipatallthejoints;anklesandwristsandelbows.Child'splay. It's like we're made to take apart. All except the torso. Cleary toobigtostayinonechunk.Evenat3a.m.andwearyfroman hourofstaringupattheceilingIknowthatmuch.That'swhere the intestinal fortitude comes in. Would I be able to saw throughtheribcageandstomachandsuch? Idon'twantyoutothinkthatbeingawakeatthattimeofnight is all bad. On the positive, while I wrestle with life's big questionsI'mabletohavesomequalitynosepickingtime.Not thequickscratchbutsomeseriousknuckledeeptime. Idoubtmanyofmyneighborscoulddoit.AsIstareupatwhere the"LittleDipper"shouldbe,thelightfromthedaygloweffect havinglongwornitselfout,and,fingerburiedinmynose,Ifeel a sense of pride knowing despite the difficulty of hacking my way through the small intestine I think I'd be able to do it. Somewhere there is a great analogy about the "Little Dipper" and the small intestine and the "Big Dipper" and the large

16

intestineandintestinalfortitudeingeneralbutIcan'tcomeup with it. Twinkle twinkle little Ahfa al Farkadain, how I wonder whatthecryptsofLieberkunare. Ineedmoresleep. concealedweapons Iguessitwasinevitable.Putanymaninathingownandhave himsitinachairfordaysatatimeandeventuallyheisgoingto examinehisjunk.GiventhatDavewas87yearsoldandhadn't had a visitor in over a month who could blame him? Both his sonanddaughterlivedafewhours'driveawayandwerebusy withtheirownfamilies.Itstartedasanitchbutsoonhisgown wasaroundhiswaistandhisgenitalshadhisfullattention.He lookedathisshriveledpenisthewaysomeonewouldlookatan unfamiliarplantfromtheAmazonbasin.Ashisgazefellonwhat remainedofhismanhood,thetipthecoloroftheoatmealthat he was forced to eat three times a week, he couldn't help but remember when that tip was a fiery mix of red and purple almostmajestic,equalpartspeacockandsalami.Thetroubleit wouldleadhiminto.Thegirlsinbathroomsandinthebackof vans.Mindlessyetsingularinpurpose.Nowwhatsatinhislap would be considered the very definition of flaccid. Grey hairs covered the sack that threatened to ooze between his legs, downthesideofthechairandintoafleshypoolbeneathhim. Hetookhisdickinhishandandidlyflippeditbackandforth.He knew that even if a nurse walked in she would only laugh and tellhimtoputhisgownbackdown.She'dlaugh.Shewouldn't feelanything,noflickeroflust,nosuddenrushofdesirejust apathy at another old man playing with his dick. The thought depressed him and he began to play with it in earnest, desperatetofeelitstiffen,towatchitgrow.Hetriedtothinkof naked girls and sexy thoughts, anything to know the feeling of having wood between his legs again. It stretched like some obscenerubberband,upanddownasatrickleofsweatformed

17

onhisforehead."Ohhowtheyusetowhimperthewaythey looked at it at me" he thought to himself, determined to resurrectthemonsteronemoretimeandthenifthenursedid happentowalkinshe'dgaspandhewouldlookatherandsay "Behold my cock!". But, of course, nothing happened. It sat in hishandlikeadeadthing. Hewouldsoonbedead.Hewouldlayinhisbedaslifelessashis dick was now until someone happened to look in on him and findhiscorpse.Hiskidswillhavewishedthattheyspentmore timewith 'Pops'and therewillbeafewnicewordssaidathis funeral but the truth is that he's as good as dead right now. Most of the patients in his wing of the nursing home will be dead within a year or two. All of them are scared. The myths andliesofreligiondissolvelikesomanyfairytaleswhendeath issoclose.Daveknowsbetter.Allheishopingforissomeoneto holdhishandashepassesintothebig,dreamlesssleep. Hestaresouthiswindowattheminimartacrossthestreetand itissometimebeforeheremembersthatheisstillclutchinghis penis. "You sure did make 'em holler didn't you old boy?". He laughsathiscallingit'oldboy'.Heremembersbeingyoungand laughing at 'old boys'. He remembers masturbating so many timesinonedaythathisdickwasrawandhowithurttoeven touch it for days afterward. He grabbed the edges of his sack andstretcheditoutlikesomeagingBatmanlogo.Hiswifehad passedonalmostthreeyearstotheday.Heusetolovetochase heraroundandthreatentobeatherwithhiserectmanhoodas she howled with laughter and pretended to call the police. He liked to think about his wife because when he thought about the girls before her he was never sure ifthe eventactually happenedorifhejustmadeitupbecausehewanteditto.He was certain about that girl in Utah though. He let out a small laughandgrudginglypulleddownhisrobe. "I'mtooyoungtobeold"hethoughttohimself.

18

CubaRoadRedemption BackwhenIworeayoungermansclothes,themostJoelesque way I can put it, I lived neither in a suburb or off the beaten path.Ilivedsomewhereinbetween. What is Joelesque? Well, had I written Billyjoelesque it might havebeenclearerbuthopefullysomeofyougotitonthefirst try. Meaning "in the manner" of Billy Joel. Hence the esque after the Joel. From French esque ("ish, ic, esque"), from Italian esco ("like"), from Medieval Latin iscus, of Germanic origin,fromFrankishisc("ish"),fromProtoGermaniciskaz. Now that's been cleared up I can continue. Bit of a miscue to start off in the first sentence with a word like Joelesque but thereyouare.AsIwassayingIlivedsomewhereinbetween... which sounds a lot more inspiring than it was. In fact, I think given a choice I would always prefer to live 'somewhere in between' but in this case I simply meant I lived in a wooded areathatwasn'tquiteruralbutitwasn'tasprawlingsubdivision either. Myhousewasabout3turnsfrommajorroadandthelastone wasontoaroadcalledSpringDrive.Abouthalfamileinfrontof that road was another called Cuba Road and it looked a great deallikeSpringDrive.Bothweresmallroadspeakingoutofthe treeswithalittlegreensignannouncingthem.Youhadtolook close or you'd miss the both of them and I swear I must have almost turned onto Cuba Road about 100 times. Literally slowing down with my turn signal blazing away then realizing thatitwasn'tmyroadandsheepishlyacceleratinganddebating whetheritwasworthturningofftheturnsignalorjustkeepit goingforthenext20seconds. Thethingis,alotofroadscrisscrossedtheareaandhavinglived there for so many years I had pretty much set off in every directionatonetimeoranotheronmywayhereandtherebutI realizedyearsafterIhadmovedthatIneveractuallydroveon CubaRoad.Infact,lookingbackitseemedimpossiblebutIdon't remember the road intersecting any of the other roads that I

19

frequented. Surely it must have being only half a mile away fromtheroadIlivedoffofandknowingforafactthatCubaran all the way down to a town a good 10 miles away and in my headIcan'tseehowitgottherewithoutcrossingsomeofthe otherroadsItookbutthereyouhaveit. I've spoken frequently about how I see faces in everything. Particularly clouds and wall paper but also in things as odd as dirtandtreesandcarpetingandglassesofjustpouredGuiness beer. I'm not sure what role the lactic acid bacteria plays in it but those shimmering faces can be particularly tormented. What I don't often offer up is the fact that I hear voices in runningwater.Themorebabblingthebetter.I'msureit'snota coincidencethattheyusethetermbabblingbrook.Ifyoulisten carefully enough, or maybe the trick is not to listen too carefully, you can actually make out words as clear as a bell. Now obviously the cynics amongst you will assume that these words are created in the same subconscious factory as Ouija boards get their material but I have to disagree. If I must compromise then I submit that these factories have no idea whattheyaregoingtoproducefromonedaytothenext.That's thebestIcando. All those times I wanted to get home and never once did I actuallyturndownCubaRoad.ThereweretimeswhenIwasin norush.Icouldhaveaccidentallyturneddownthewrongroad anditwouldhavemadenodifference.Lookingbackdiditeven have to be an accident? Just like when I accidentally hear somethingintheflowingwaterthatmaybeIshouldn'thave.For therecord,I'veneverlistenedtotheoceanlikethat.MaybeI'm scaredofwhatithastosay? But the point is that I was always in a rush to get somewhere that would have always been there for me at the end of whateverjourneyItookanyway.Iactuallyregretnotmakinga wrong turn and seeing Cuba Road. Maybe it would have been anticlimacticbutnowallIcanimagineisthethingsitcouldhave been.Itcouldhaveendedinalittlestreamthatcascadeddown

20

bluegrey rocks and sent up instructions to me just where to lookinthecloudstoseethehappiestfaces. Andotherhelpfultipsaboutlife. ButIwasvigilantandobservantandalwaysinarushandalways madetherightturn. SowhatmademerememberCubaRoad?Iwaslisteningtomy fishtankgurglingthismorninganditbroughtitup.I'mgoingto ignoreitsadvicethough... notasspecialOlympics Please don't get me wrong, people are WAY too touchy about anyone who tries to talk about the Special Olympics. They'll string you up if you even mention something that's not 100% positive about it. That's fine by me. I'm all for the Special Olympics.Infact,I'malittlebitjealous.Haveyoueverseenthe athleteswhenthey'recompetingatthesetypesofevents?They couldn't physically look any happier. Then you have the 'real' Olympics.Whilethey maylookalittlemoredeterminedabout how they go about competing it's still very clear that they are enjoyingthemselves. IwanttocompeteinanOlympicevent! Just because I'm old and slow should be no reason why I shouldn't have the chance to run my fastest and feel the tape breaking across my chest as I cross the finish line (I have an amusinginsightaboutwhattheycallitinFinlandbutI'llkeepit tomyself)?Idon'tgetit.Ieitherhavetobethefastestfucking guyintheworldorretarded?Youknowhowharditistobethe fastestguyintheworldorretardedforthatmatter?Thesame ideabehindtheSpecialOlympicscouldbeappliedtounathletic couchpotatoesyouknow.Give'us'achancetofeelthethrillof victory or the agony of defeat! Break up the entire world into categories and let us ALL have our moment. It goes without saying that we'd only televise the good ones the 400500 lb. malepolevaultwouldbearatinghit.BeforeyouthinkI'mjust

21

beingmean,Ididn'tsay400500lb.blindmalepolevaultafter all,Ithinkyou'remissingthepoint.Iknowa450lb.guywould love to try the pole vault if he knew he was only competing againstotherfatguys.Imyselfwouldliketotryboxingagain, knowing I'd be put against another skinny pussy who can't throw a punch and bruises like a peach. Honestly, if I thought theoddswere50/50I'dthrowontheglovesandgiveitmybest shot.That'swhattheOlympicsareallabout!Weallknowthat intheSpecialOlympicsmostoftheeventsaregoingtobewon bythekidwhoisleastretarded.Nobigdeal.Atleasttheygeta shot. The other 99.9% of us are left to daydream and wonder whatit'sliketobeanamazingathlete.Oraretard. Lifeisn'tfair. dungbeetles Don'tgetmewrong.Iamabigfanofevolution.Ibuyintothe idea of macroevolutionary dynamics and that creatures can adaptbasedonopportunitiesintheirenvironments.Havingsaid thiswhatthefuckiswiththedungbeetle?! What kind of lazy fuck is this? They have legs and they have wings.Thefuckingthingscanflyandyettheychoosetoliveon shit. That was the best they could up with to eat the shit of other animals. Actually they don't even eat it, they use their mouthpartstosqueezeandsuckthejuicefromtheshit,aliquid full of microorganisms and other nutrients. Back in the day therehadtobethefirstbeetlethatsaid"Fuckit.I'msolazythat I'm not even going to bother looking around for a good niche. I'm just going to eat shit for a living". After that not one generation took stock oftheir situation and said "I have legs, I havewings,Icouldeatsomethingelse.I'mnotgoingtoeatshit anymore!" The first beetles were around with the dinosaurs 230 million yearsago.Withtheadventoffloweringplantsabout65million years ago, speciation in beetles occurred at an astronomical

22

rateastheybegantoexploittherapidlyevolvingangiosperms. Or in laymen's terms, this was the dung beetles 'money shot'. Nottosplithairs,butevenwithinthisgroupoflazyfucksthere are levels of lazy fuckness. You have some, known as Rollers, whoactuallymakeaballofshitandrollitaway.Someofthem thenburythisballo'crapanditactuallyhelpsimprovenutrient cycling and soil structure. For instance, a group of scientists, who must have really been the envy of their department, watched an elephant take a giant elephant dump and total of 16,000 dung beetles of various shapes and sizes had it completelyeatenorburiedinunder2hours.Thentherearethe white trash dung beetles, known as Dwellers, who don't do anythingbutliveintheshit.Thekingsofthescumbagsarethe Kleptocoprophages.Theyactuallystealtheshitballsfromother dungbeetles.Iwouldimaginethatifyou'vejustspentthelast 20 minutes making a giant ball made of shit the last thing you expectisforsomeonetostealit.Woulditevenoccurtoyouto keepaneye onit? Gettingbacktoevolutionaryaspectofthis, these beetles keep sinking lower and lower into insect expectations!Atwhatpointdothesebeetleslookaroundassay "Whatthefuckarewedoing?!We're eatingshithere!"You're telling me that not one of these little guys at some point has passed a dropped Twinkie on the ground, had a taste and suddenlycalledeveryoneoverandsaid"You'veGOTtotrythis. Itdoesn'ttasteatalllikeshit!" LetmetellyoubrieflyabouttheBombardierbeetle(Brachinus spp.)justto giveyouanideaofwhatotherbeetleshavebeen uptowhilethedungbeetlehasbeeneatingshitformillionsof years. They have developed the ability to inject an explosive mixture of hydroquinone, hydrogen peroxide plus several potent catalysts into a reaction chamber in the abdomen. Catalase breaks down the hydrogen peroxide into water and oxygen gas. Peroxidase oxidizes hydroquinone into benzoquinone. The mixture of chemicals and enzymes volatilizesinstantlyuponcontactwiththeair,generatingapuff of "smoke"" and an audible popping sound. This caustic

23

flatulenceistotallycontrolledbythebeetle,otherwiseitmight accidentally blow up its rear end. The explosive discharge apparentlydiscouragespredators,eitherbychemicalirritation, heatorrepugnance.The temperature oftheexplosivemixture ofgassesandfluidsisover100degreesCelsius,theboilingpoint ofwater.NowTHAT'Sacandoattitude.Thisbeetlegoeswhere itwantstoandtheotherinsectsgetthefuckouttheway.You don't see the Bombardier beetle eating shit, I'll tell you that much. I'mnotgoingtoboreyouwiththeevolutionaryexploitsofthe Meloidae family of beetles or the bringyourlunchboxtowork attitudeoftheshortcircuitbeetles(Scobiciadeclivis).Mypoint is simple. What the fuck is with the dung beetle? Actually it's not so much a point as um well did you know that a "Spanish Fly" is not a fly at all but a beetle? I've changed my mind about not boring you with information about the Meloidae family of beetles. Within that family is the blister beetle and in particular the body fluid of the European blister beetle contains cantharidin, a substance that causes severe irritationandblisteringofskin.Thischemicalisverysensitiveto mucous membranes and is the active ingredient of "Spanish fly". Be warned though, although it has been used as a counterirritant, its use as an aphrodisiac is very unwise unless youareraisinglivestockorchickens.Ilearnedthatthehardway butthat'sanotherlong,dullstory. Towrapup.Dungbeetleswhatthefuckiswiththem? MotionSickness IfI'mnotdrivingacarandIhavetositinthepassengerseatI get motion sickness. Strangest thing. I have parachuted in EnglandandquarrydivednearBoston,riddenonarollercoaster thathadmultipleloopsinFloridaandflowninagliderpushed high by thermals in Arizona. I've parasailed behind a boat in Virginia and experienced turbulence while landing at Newark

24

airport that had the overhead storage flying open and raining luggage down on my head. Apparently it's sitting quietly in a comfyseatgoing50mphonaroadthatdoesmein.Ifeelquite theweenie. ThenIgottothinkingaboutit.Weliveina3Dworld(Iwon't muddythewaterswithadiscussiononhowtimeisreallya4th point of reference) so it appears fair to say that in the above exampleI'mgoing50mphinonedirectionright?Butwait.The earthisrevolvingisn'tit?I'dbettergetmyGoogleon.Yepsays rightherethatit'srevolvingatwait,isthisright?900milesan hour?Shit.Theearthisturning900mph.Wow. Andthenearthisorbitingthesuntoo.Howfastarewegoing? 19 miles a second. Come again?! We sitting here revolving at 900milesafuckinghourwhileatthesametimehurlingthrough spaceat68,400milesanhouraroundthesun?Makesmewant tolayproneonthegroundscreamingandgrabbinghandfulsof grasstoavoidflyingoff. What's that Google? Our planet is located in the outer spiral armofagalaxy?Yeah,IknowthattheMilkyWayofcourse.I tookastronomyincollege.Ididn'tactuallygototheclassvery oftenbutthatwasbecausetheProfessorhadtheballstoteach itat10inthemorning.Anywayour'arm'isactuallyrevolving around galactic central point? You don't say. 40,000 miles an hour.Hmmmm.SoI'mdrivingat50mphonthesurfaceofaball thatisrevolvingonit'saxisat900milesanhourwhileitorbits around a larger ball at 68,400 mph while both balls and all of the balls we can see are hauling ass through space around a fixedpoint30,000lightyearsawayat40,000mph. Pardon? It's not a fixed point? Whoa slow down Captain Planet!Thewholefuckingthingisexpanding?Atamillionmiles aday?Holyfuck. IthinkI'mgoingtobesick. Imustfindawaytogetintouchwiththesebiggerforces.I've gotit.Iwillnowclosemyeyesspinaround5timesandthen jump as high as I can and free myself from the gravitational

25

constraints that stop me from feeling this smorgasbord of oscillatingmotion.InthenameofscienceIwillnowproceed. Eyesclosed. Spinning. Jumping. That'sanegativeGhostRider,thepatternisfull. Houston,wehaveaproblem. Didthatblowyourmind,becausethatjusthappened. launderingmykarma I'd like to talk today about laundry detergents. I was in the grocery store yesterday and I needed to pick up a jug of detergent.Easyenoughright?InsteadIwassubjectedtothefull furyoftheAmericanmarketingeffort.SuddenlyIstoppedbeing a man and was instead a consumer. Walking down the aisle I couldliterallyfeeltheghostsofadvertisingexecutivesandtest groups swirling around me and watching my every buying impulse. My psyche was being probed with every brightly coloredbottleIsawontheshelf. Who was I? Which detergent would appeal to me? Which detergentwoulddefineme? For whatever reason it was clear from the start that they only needed 1 word to get their various messages across. A single wordscreamedfromthefrontofeachdetergentbottle,eacha differentcolorandfont.Eachwithitsownstorybeggingtobe toldthroughmydirtyclothes. Myfilthyclothes.Onlyoneofthesedetergentswouldbeableto help me remove these hideous stains and blemishes from my life. Would I feel the pull of a product promoting the virtues of nature:Tide.Surf.Purex. Did I need to feel the product was working and go with the actioninsinuatingWiskorwouldabroadercontextsuffice...i.e. Biz.

26

AmIemotionallyinneedofsupportandgowithCheeroramI selfishenoughtojustpickuptheGainandbedonewithit? AmIhipenoughforEraorboldenoughforBold? Maybe Fab is good enough or is there some part of me that demandsUltra? ThenIsawit. All. Myheadswam. Never has a product implied such complete and utter satisfaction. All. I slowly sank to the cold tiled floor and wrestled with the concept of a detergent named All. The promises it made. No cuddlybearsorsmilingsoapbubbles.Nopicturesofthemighty oceanorababblingstream. Noneed.Noneedatall. Ihearditcooinginmyearlikealover,storiesoffulfillment. Contentment. All. Afterword: I'm not sure whether this story is intended as a scalding commentary of our culture of consumerism or some whimsicaltaleofonepersonspassionforthelanguagebutallI know is I like the image of a man sitting in a grocery store cradlingabottleofdetergent. takenout In a scene played out across this country every Sunday afternoon in the fall friends and neighbors gather together in frontofaTVandsharethecommunalexcitementofsport.The thrill of victory and the bitter taste of defeat the drama all playedoutbeforethecameraandeachdetaileagerlyanalyzed by announcers, galvanizing fans young and old. The players battling the pressure, the injuries, the expectations and the

27

othercompetitorsuntiljustonestandsvictorious.Theresultof eachgameindoubtuntilthefinalpinfalls. Yes pin. I'm talking about bowlingwhat were you thinking? Mylivingroomwasrockingyesterdayasweallsettledinforthe 20112012 Denny's PBA Tour Championship match! I won't go intothedetails,let'sjustsayIhaven'tseensuchshittybowling sinceDennisJacques'157156winoverSamZurichinthe1983 Molson Bowling Challenge. That isn't the point of this blog though.ThepointisthatImusthavemissedsomesecretclass that explained group dining etiquette because yesterday I sufferedthroughafullblownincidentwhenitcametoordering outdinner.Letmeexplain. Actually let me ask you a question. Where is it written that Chinese food must be shared? Now if we would have ordered out Italian, French or Canadian (just kidding Canada has no unique food or culture for that matter) nobody would have eventhoughtaboutriflingthroughthebagsandtakingabitof everything but just because we ordered Chinese suddenly everyone just assumes that we're going to line up the little boxes and have it. Hell no! I like sesame shrimp. I ordered sesameshrimp.Getyourhandsoffmyfuckingsesameshrimp! AmIwronghere?! IknowthehistoryofChinesefoodandtheinfluencethatboth ConfucianismandTaoismhadonitsdevelopment.Everwonder why Chinese food is cut into small bitesized pieces? Ask Confucius.Taoistsontheotherhandweremoreworriedabout thehealthbenefitsoverwhatitlookslikeandbetweenthetwo influences they ended up with menu that is equal parts craft and art. I would briefly describe the skill needed to master noodlepullingbutIfeelI'vespokentoomanytimesinmyblogs about noodle pulling as it is. Dig as deep as you wish into Chineseculinaryhistorybutnowherecanyoufindwhereitwas the norm to prepare 8 different entrees and then divide them allupamongstthediners. AnywaymypointisthatifIordersesameshrimpIdon'tcareif GeneralTsohimselfwalksinandwantsatasteI'mgoingtotell

28

him if he wanted sesame shrimp he could have ordered it! So thereIamdesperatelytryingtoreachmyshrimpasitlaidout sacrificially between the crispy Szechuan duck and hunan style lamb when I see some lamo in a CLR Windy City Classic tshirt andWalterRayWilliamsJr.buttonsinkinghisforkintomybox (Ididn'tmeanforthattosoundsodamnsexybutthereitis). The next few seconds were a blur but I ended up cradling my sesameshrimpamidacacophonyofangrycommentshurledin my direction. Apparently there had been a casualty in my attempts to secure my shrimp as a portion of beef & broccoli had not survived its descent to my kitchen floor having been knocked over in the tussle. I don't know why but the idea of eating only what you ordered seemed to really make some people irate. I tried to explain that I love sesame shrimp and had zero interest in barbecued spare ribs, moo shu pork or eggplant with garlic sauce. Does this make me some kind of monster?! When I was done with my impassioned explanation youcouldhaveheardafortunecookiedrop. I retreated back into the living room to watch the last few frames of the day and eat my sesame shrimp. The house had gonedeathlyquietpeoplewereobviouslyoverwhelmedwith theconceptthatChinesefoodcouldbeindividuallyorderedand consumed.Soonatrickleofpeoplestartedcomingintheliving room, their plates bearing testimony to this concept as each held a single entre with a splash of white rice next to it. I started to feel very validated when I noticed this group slowly encirclingme.Theyallsatdownandthen,almostasone,they begantoeatoffeachother'splates!Thesavages!Smilingatme as they did it. They gratuitously mingled sweet & sour chicken withchowfun,subgumeggfooyoungwithsautedtriplegreen jade!ItgotwhereIcouldn'ttellachowmeinfromlomein.Ihad never seen such wonton behavior. They were no better than jackalssurroundingtherottingcarcassofadeadwaterbuffalo andItoldthemasmuch. Wellthelessonhereisthatifyouwantacertainentrewhen you order Chinese takeout make sure you order 2 one for

29

yourselfandonefortheanimalsthatwillinevitablywanttheir share. Wantonwontongetit? growingupnerd Itwashardgrowingupnerd.Notlikenerdsinthemoviesnow that it's fashionable to be a nerd. I'm talking hardcore nerd. I was a nerd's nerd. Almost assumed in any conversation about nerdsistheircompleteincompetencewiththeothersex.That's whatI'dliketodiscusstoday.I'mreadytocastafingerofblame and it falls upon none other than comic books. Like any true nerd,Iwasahugefanofcomicbooks(MarvelnotDC.DCwas for fags) long after other children had stopped reading them andthereinlaidmyproblem. Have you seen how the female body is portrayed in comic books?Icouldn'tputthecomicbooksdown.TheScarletWitch, SpiderWoman, Wasp they all had the same body with different color hair and different skintight costumes. Apparentlytheyallhadacommonsuperpower.Gravitydefying breasts were standard issue and none less than a full C cup. Youcan'timaginemydisappointmentwhenIsawmyfirstreal boobs. The girl must have been a little upset with the look on my face as she unveiled her saggy barelyBs. I just didn't understand perhaps she was late getting her mutant titty powersIrememberthinkingtomyself. I still own the XMen comic where Jean Grey gets unlimited cosmicpowersanddestroyspopulatedplanetsandatthesame timegrowsafullcupsize(XMenissue135).Shekillsmillionsin this tight little burgundy and yellow number and I must have rubbed out an equal amount of innocent sperm. Who doesn't wantthebadgirlamIright?Alwayswiththespandexandnever a camel toe in sight. This is where I learned about female anatomy.Thesewomenwerethebest.

30

Andaboveallofthem,therewasMs.Marvel.Holyfuckwhata superbabe.Longblondehair,382236,thighhighblackboots and a thong that disappeared into her supercrack only to resurfaceinbetweenthemostsuperasscheeksevercaptured with ink and paper. Her alterego must have run a camp for overdeveloped cheerleaders it's the only possible occupation thatmakessense.Marvelwassowithoutsexualitythatitleftus nerdstofillinthegaps.Therewasnowaythatthissuperpiece of ass wasn't fucking somebody! Was she taking Thor's mighty hammerordidshepreferalittleIronManwewerealwaysleft towonder.Onetimeshewascapturedandshackledtothewall of the villain's hideout. I don't even remember one page after that. I was obsessed with that concept. The comic wanted everyonetobelievethatthesupervillainwouldtieherupthere andNOTtakeapeakunderhercostume.Noway!IfIhadbeen thatvillainI'mtellingyouwhenIwasfinallycaughtbytherest of the cockblocking Avengers and made to stand trial for my misdeeds against society you can be 100% certain that there wouldbesomesodomychargesinthemixsomewhere. Ms.Marvelwashot.FromthatpointonIwaspreparingmyself to go to bed with nothing less than this Amazonian goddess. Youcanseethedysfunctionstartingtotakeholdright?Iwasn't sureofmyownsuperpowerbutIwascertainishadsomething todowithexpendingasuperamountofenergylookingformy ownMs.Marvel. SadlytherearenoMs.Marvels.It'shardenoughtogetagirl to even wear one of those costumes let alone expect super featsofstrength,endurance,flexibilityorsuckingpower.Inmy heart I know Ms. Marvel could put both legs behind her head andMarvelmadeusbelieveit.Theysentusnerdsoutintothe world destined for disappointment. Playboy might have airbrushedalittlebutitatleastshowedwhatweweregetting into.Marvelsentusintothefraywithnoideawhatlaybeneath the spandex that no villain could punch off, aside or through. Thatprettymuchsumsupmyknowledgeofwomeneventothis day.DamnyouMarvel.Damnyoutohell.

31

hangingaround I had an interesting thing happen to me on my 13th birthday. I rememberitveryvividlyasyouwillsoonunderstandwhy.Upon wakingthatmorningIwasveryexcitedastheusualroutineon mybirthdaywouldbetogodownstairstofindmyMommaking myfavoritebreakfastandafewpresentsonthetableawaiting myeagerhandstounwrapthem.Ihadquiteafewthingsonmy wishlistsoIbarreleddownthestairscladonlyinmyCarlSagan 'Cosmos'pjbottoms.AsIhadnotyethitpubertyyettheywere free of the stains that would soon be visited upon them billionsandbillionsofthem. Ithinkitwouldbeanunderstatementtosaythatthescenethat greeted me as I rounded the corner and peered excitedly into thekitchenasnotwhatIwasexpecting. Where the kitchen table had been the previous evening there sat a tree stump (cottonwood perhaps?). Above this stump hung2rawhidethongsthateachendedinalargecruellooking hook. To the left of these hook stood my mother dressed in a striking brown pants suit with what appeared to be eagle feathers in her hair. To the left stood my Dad wearing a buffaloskullonhishead.Oddstarttotheday. Obviously I was little taken aback but I didn't want to offend themafterthey'dgonetoallofthistroubleonmyaccountsoI played along. Smiling broadly and yet deeply confused I was completely unaware of my grandparents sneaking up on me from behind. Who knew that old people could be so stealthy? Theyheldmetightasmyfatherexplainedtomethatalthough theywereamixofEnglishandIrishhe'dalwaysthoughtthatI wasafullbloodedAmericanIndian.Iwasabitlostatthispoint and would have asked for some clarification had not my Grandma's hand been tightly across my mouth. As my Dad continued he got more specific. Not just American Indian but one of the indigenous tribes from the plains. After more thought he settled on Hidatsa. "Ok then" I remember thinking tomyself"willthisaffectthetypeofcakeI'llbehavinglater?"

32

Indeeditwould. Iwasthenstrippedandinstructedtostandonthestumpand, after piercing my chest with the hooks, the stump was kicked awaytoleavemesuspendedbytherawhidestraps.NowIwas reallybefuddled.Hidatsa?ImeanI'dheardofSiouxandCrow but Hidatsa? The physical sensation of being hung by meat hooksthatpiercedmychestcavitywasabitoverwhelmingand thankfullymyMomwasthoughtfulenoughtoholdmyhandasI slippedbackandforthinandoutofconsciousness.Asthehours passed and it was explained to me that I would be hanging there until the hooks tore free from my flesh I was getting a littleputout.Again,Ididn'twanttoseeminconsiderateforall their efforts in putting this together but those hooks were beginningtoreallysmart.Abriefhallucination.Thekitchena motorcyclechickenajumpsuitEvilChickenKievnieveloh no!he'snotgoingtomakeitoverthesaladshooter! FinallymyskingavewayintheearlyeveningandIfellintothe slick pool of blood beneath me. "Some birthday this is" I thought to myself. My parents and grandparents, after having nothing to do all day but mill around and listen to my endless heartwrenching cries of agony, were visibly relieved to begin the next stage of my big day. Although I was quite ravenous after my long day of hanging in my kitchen it quickly became clear that food, let alone the Scooby Doo birthday cake I had covetedatthelocalBaskinRobbins,wasnotinthecards.Itwas timetodance. Once again I was held firmly as a variety of animal skulls were hung from piercings in my chest, arm and legs (again with the piercings?!Ilookedlikea Xmastreeif Xmaswascelebratedin hell)andwastoldtodance.Andnottostop. Atthispointyoumustassumethatmyparentshadatthevery leastgoneoutandboughtsomeNativeAmericanmusictoplay right? Nope. I would be forced to dance until I collapsed from exhaustiontoEarth,Wind&Fire.Thatreallywasthelaststraw. I mean, I had played along to this point but did they really expect me to dance until I collapsed from exhaustion to

33

Daydreamin'andAllAboutLove?Theydid.AndsointheendI didorfacetheriskofinsultingthem. As the hours passed I couldn't help but see some irony in my situationasHelpSomebodyandGetawayplayedonthestereo. My Mom, on one of her many trips into the kitchen to make coffee or get a tin of cookies for my Grandparents, would always give me a little nod of encouragement or comment on oneofmy'moves'.Frankly,after6straighthoursofdancingI'm sure she'd seen them all. I distinctly remember doing the 'lawnmower'toFantheFire,the'sprinkler'toCan'tLetGoand 'electric sliding' through the entirety of Reasons, Happy Feelings,SideBySide,andFantasy. Mercifully I slipped into a sudden and dreamless sleep somewherearoundmidnight. Looking back I guess the thing that really perplexes me is that the next morning I awoke in my bed to the smell of French toast. I staggered downstairs to find my parents and grandparents huddled around the table holding presents and singing me happy birthday. They tried to pretend it never happened!Isatthereinmybloodsoakedpajamas,fromallof my stilloozing wounds, and they denied the whole thing and said I must have dreamt the Sun Dance ritual. Even when I showedthemthemorningnewspaperclearlyshowingthedate was the day after my birthday the four of them just looked at melikeIwascrazy!IevenaskedaboutbeingHidatsaandthey alllaughedandtoldmeI'mhalfEnglishandhalfIrish. My injuries were blamed on bed bugs and my Mom hurriedly wentupstairstochangemysheets. So that was my 13th birthday. From that point on I refused to playaCowboywhenplayingCowboys&Indians.IfeltI'dearned Indian status. You might think I was a bit old for Cowboys & IndiansbythattimebutinthetownshipIlivedin,duetobudget cuts,theywereforcedtoendthebaseballandsoccerprograms and we played organized Cowboys & Indians each spring and fall.I'llneverforgetwinninganimportantplayoffgamewitha scalpingwithonlysecondsleftinthecontest.ButIdigress.

34

IusetowatchTheWonderYearsandwonderhowthatlittlekid woulddescribetheeventsofthatdayinretrospect.Iwonderif he could make the listener nostalgic for being rubbed with a dried buffalo penis by your Grandpa as you danced naked in your kitchen. I wonder how his grownup persona would describethescarsthatcrisscrossmychestandupperbody. Iwonderhowhe'dexpresshissearinghatredforEarth,Wind& Fire. Reddyornot For decades there has been an adage that has completely encapsulated the male spirit. A saying so powerful that it has been passed down from generation to generation. It has outliveddozensofsimilarcatchphrasesandhasputmeninthe rarifiedairofcoolnessthatwomencouldnotdreamof. TheexpressionI'mreferringto? Rockoutwithyourcockout. Womenhaveneverhaditsequal.Whenamandecidedthathe wasgoingtorockoutwithhis cockoutwomenhasnowayof following him into those rough yet exhilarating waters. While theymayhavebeeninthemoodtorockouttheyalwaysfound themselvesonecockshort. ThenIheardit. Itwasinabadmovie,whosenameescapesmeatthepresent, and when I heard the idiom spoken out loud it was like the Virginia Slim's "You've come a long way baby" ad and the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (as adopted by the United Nations General Assemblyin1979)allrolledintoone! Itwasasymphonytomyears.Asexualcalltoarmsthatsaidto the woman "I am here! I am queer" wait a second. I think I havethewrongexpression. ForwasitnotHelenReddywhosang?:

35

Iamwomanhearmeroarinnumberstoobigtoignore andIknowtoomuchtogobackandpretend, causeI'vehearditallbefore andI'vebeendownthereonthefloor andnoone'severgoingtokeepmedownagain. Oh,yesIamwise butit'swisdombornofpain yesIpaidtheprice butlookhowmuchIgained, ifIhaveto...Icandoanything! Iamstrong,Iaminvincible Iamwoman Youcanbendbutneverbreakme causeitonlyservestomakeme moredeterminedtoachievemyfinalgoal andI'llcomebackevenstronger Notanoviceanylonger causeyou'vedeepenedtheconvictioninmysoul Oh,yesIamwise butit'swisdombornofpain Oh,yesI'vepaidtheprice butlookhowmuchIgained IfIhaveto Icandoanything Iamstrong,Iaminvincible IamWoman Iamwomanwatchmegrow Seemestandingtoetotoe, asispreadmylovingarmsacrosstheland, butI'mstillanembryo withalong,longwaytogo untilimakemybrotherunderstand

36

 Oh,yesIamwise butit'swisdombornofpain Oh,yesI'vepaidtheprice butlookhowmuchIgained IfIhaveto Icandoanything Iamstrong,Iaminvincible Iamwoman I wanted to use just a little snippet of the song but I couldn't bring myself to edit out a single word. I mean look at that song!It'salmostasbeautifulasthephraseIheardinthemovie. Thereplytothemalebattlecry"Rockoutwithyourcockout!". Areyoureadyforit? Jamoutwithyourclamout. I honestly have my suspicions about whether or not it was Helen Reddy herself who coined that gem. It is I Am Woman boileddownto6words. 6beautifulwords. Ihadtearsstreamingdownmyfaceuponhearingitforthefirst time. Yougosisters!WhileIrockoutwithmycockoutI'llbehappyto lookoverandseeyoustandingproudlynexttomewithyour clamout. RIPJudithArcher AtfirsttheFuneralDirectorthoughtitwasapalehandkerchief thewomanwasclutchinginherhandsbutasheleanedintoget a closer look it turned out to be a folded note, the paper yellowingwithage.Itwasascrinklyandwornastheskinonthe hands that clutched it. It was not unusual for people to be

37

holding items as they begin their last journey; jewelry, keepsakes and even sports memorabilia. The Funeral Director made it a point never to disturb these items even though nobodywouldeverknow.Hehadadeeprespectforhisposition oftrustwithinthecommunityandwouldneverviolatethat. Buttherewassomethingaboutthewaythisnotewascradled. Evenashepreparedthecorpseforthewakehefeltalongingin the woman. A secret. Obviously her final instructions had included this note being placed in her hands before the coffin doorswungshut.Oncehestartedtowonderwhatwaswritten onthepaperhecouldn'thelphimself. Heliftedahandandslowlyslidtheagingpaperout.Gentlyhe unfoldeditandbegantoread. WenevermetbutIhaveaconfessionofsortstomake.Iwishwe had met and that we knew each other intimately but alas it wasn'ttobeandIcan'thelpbutfeelthatitismyfault.Yousee,I killedyourson.IknowthathediedinthewarbutIkilledhimas surelyasifIwastheGermanholdingtherifle. There was a woman, older and wiser than I, and she tried to warn me. To warn everyone. As we danced and sang with the boysbeforetheyshippedofftofight.Shewouldglareatusand scoldusandtellusthatweweregoingtogettheseboyskilled. Atthetime,underthecoloredlightsandbrightcrepepaper,the bandplayingandtheroomspinning,noneofuspaidhermuch mind."Theonesthatareloveddon'tcomeback"shewouldhiss atus."Tellaboyyoulovethemandyou'vedoomedthem".She wouldgetthislookinhereyes,allemptyandcoldandapartof me started to believe her. But I was younger and full of wild emotionsandthenImetyourson.Idon'thavetotellyouhow handsomehewasandsuchagentleman.Ifellhard andinthe weeksbeforehewasdeployedIwouldstandandwaitforhimto arriveatthehallwithsuchanticipation. IfeltIlovedhimwithacertaintyI'dneverfeltbefore. Thatwoman,thecrazyonewiththesadeyes,wouldalwaysbe thereto.Chasingthegirlsawaythatdaredtogettooclosetoa certain boy. Always with the same refrain about "only the

38

unloved ones come back". Finally I approached her and asked whatshemeant...howsheknew."Thesamewayeverywidow learns.Fromexperience.Ifyoutellamanyoulovehimbeforehe leavesyou'vekilledhim". And at that moment I believed her. So I never told your son. I never said it, the words couldn't leave my lips because I loved him too much. I tried to hide it but that last night I cried and shook in his arms and I was weak and I must have let it slip somehowbecause6weekslaterhewasdead. I'msosorry.IswearIdidn'tsayitbutmaybeyoudon'tneedto.I don'tknowhowitworks.AllIknowisthatIdidlovehimandhe diddieandI'dbeenwarnedandididn'tlistenandnowyourson isdead. I wish I had the courage to tell this to your face. To meet you andtalkaboutwhatmighthavebeen.ButIdon't.Ilookinthe mirrornowandIseethesameshadowbehindmyeyesasthat crazywomanhadandfeelI'vebeencursed. I only hope now that you can somehow forgive me. God bless you. promandthesoftstoolincident So it was I found myself walking by a nurse's office in a local school and it brought back a flood of memories. What child didn't occasionally fake a fever or cold to avoid a test or particularlyunpleasantgymclass?Icertainlydid,Iknowthat.In factIprobablydidmorethanmyshare. Icanrecallingradeschoolusingtheol'thermometeronthehot lightbulbtricktogetoutofgoing.OccasionallyIwouldholdit on too long and I'd end up in a tub of ice water because my temperature appeared to be 115 degrees. But as the years passed I got a little more sophisticated. After I'd used up the usualsuspects;stomachflu(gastroenteritis),earinfection(otitis media),andstrepthroat(thankyouMr.StreptococciBacteria),I wasforcedtobecomemoreresourcefulinordertoavoidashift

39

attheeducationalfactory.Iguessitwasabout7thgradewhereI wasforcedtogivemyselfpinkeyetododgeachemistryexam. WiththepropertrainingIwassoonabletovomitatwillandin onlyanhourIcouldwhipupabatchofdiarrheawiththebestof them. In turn my parents grew more sophisticated in treating such common ailments and the battle was on. They could disinfect and hydrate me like I was the 20 car pulling into the pits at Indy. If they thought a multivitamin and some fresh air wasgoingtokeepmehealthytheyhadanotherthingcoming. By 8th grade I was no stranger to chickenpox, impetigo, or mononucleosis. I sprinkled in a few rashes and a dash of ring wormandmanagedtomissover40daysofschool.Amasterat work. Thencamehighschool.Theschoolnurse,MissSeagul,wasex militaryandabigfanof'toughlove'.Shehadbeentonumerous infectioushotspotsaroundtheglobeandhadseenitall.Ihad toupmygameorfacethemiseryofweekafterweekofperfect attendance. Freshman year alone I hit her with shingles, arteriosclerosis, fibromyalgiaandGullianBarre.Shewouldseemecomingdown thehallandIcouldseeatwinkleinhereyeasshejumpedup withherlittleblackbagtomeetmeatthedoorandusherme intomyownprivatedecontaminationchambershehadsetup.I learnedIcouldn'tcomelightwithherorI'dendupbackinmath classbeforeIknewwhathitme. By sophomore year I was getting worried. She was almost getting cocky now I was running out of 'the good stuff'. I'd beentryingtoholdbackpseudomonasandcandidaforwhenI really needed them but I'd blown through them both before Thanksgiving break. I needed something to get me through Decemberanditwasonlyaluckychanceencounterwithsome infectedduckfecesthatIwasabletocontractavianflu.AsIsat recoveringonNewYear'sDayIwasataloss. Then I hit on it. The idea of ideas. Thus I began my long relationship with Sally (not her real name) at the CDC (Center forDiseaseControlandyes,thatistherealname)inAtlanta.I

40

foundmyhookup.NotlongafterthatIwasstumblingintoMiss Seagul with exotic influenzas and rare hemolytic infections. Soon it was nothing to collapse in her office with nothing less thantheplague.THATonecertainlywasaremindertoparents to get make sure their kids immunizations were up to date sorry again Mr. and Mrs. Walsh but if Betty and Billy had had theirshotsthey'dstillbewithus. I made sure the cash was mailed and 'Sally' made sure the sampleskeptarrivingatmydoor. Senior year was special. Looking back I can't believe it but I actuallynevercompletedafulldayofschool.Whethermissing chunksatatimewithbotulism,dysentery,tetanusandtyphoid feverorsimplyduckingoutearlywithasimpleanthraxscare(is thatBacillusAnthracisorareyoujusthappytoseemeleave?)I hadsailedthroughwithflying(albeitrunnyandoozing)colors. Prom was especially poignant. Given I had missed so much school I never really fit in well so it followed that my pool of potentialdatesforthepromwasquitelimited.Afteragreeingto accompanyayoungladytotheeventIatthelastminutefound myselfunhappywithmyselection.So,inthehighlightofmysick career, I was forced to ingest tiny intestinal parasites called Coccidia,typicallyfoundingoats,thatcausedmetofillmytux with bloody foamy diarrhea. Looking back I just wish I had known it would take so long to have this symptom kick in to not only save poor Cindy the embarrassment but save me the costofcleaningthelimousine.Who knewnewupholsterywas soexpensive? Goodtimes. I guess we all have our idle remembrances. I still have the yearbook. I don't care what follows "Most Likely To" it's still nicetoberecognized. Soafteralongwethackingcough,foroldtimes'sake,Istrode pastthenursesofficeandbacktomyregularlife.YouknowI neverdidgetmymoneybackforthemastitisbacteria.(Getit?I don'thaveudders!Thatonewasforyou'Sally')

41

Idolfeetarethedevilsplaything Dale shifted uncomfortable on his stool. To his left sat his gorgeous girlfriend Lanna. On his right was a stunning blonde, almost coincidentally named Layna, who he had just met and would be going home with them both later in the evening. He leaned over and a casual wave of his hand brought another round of drinks. Although the bar was crowded and most peoplespentatleast15minutestryingtocapturetheattention ofabartenderDalehadthecolorofAmericanExpresscardthat demanded attention and let the employees of the club know thatabigtipwasmorethanprobable. The music thumped endlessly and made conversation difficult but he leaned into Lanna and Layna with a smug confidence thathehopedhidhisoverpoweringenvy. Dale was a Senior Vice President of something or other at a hideouslylargemultinationalandearnedinoneyearmorethan a lot of people will make in a lifetime. He visited the gym at least 4 times a week and kept his body as goodlooking as his chiseled facial features. His girlfriend was a bisexual with a voracious sexual appetite who loved nothing more than to spend her evenings at the various dance clubs scattered throughoutthecity. Everynightwasafreshnewhellforhim. So what had Dale sitting there writhing in resentment this evening?Whatwastheobjectofhisboundlessjealousy? TedJohnson. Ted Johnson who had only hours ago hung up his blue blazer that signified his status as a managerintraining at the local supermegafurniturestoreoffI90. ForyouseeTedJohnsonwasabaddancer. Hewasatleast6foot2andweighednomorethan160pounds soakingwet.Hewasallelbowsandkneesandhadnosenseof rhythm. None. He was often the object of ridicule on the dancefloor and more than one observer had mistaken his

42

dancingforhimbeinginthemiddleofsomeseizureormedical emergency. But there he was. Out in the middle of the brightly lit floor flailing away amidst the flashing lights and the occasional belchingofthesmokemachine. BehindthecooleyesofDaleragedagreenmonster. Dale never felt that way about the good dancers. He watched their graceful swaying without emotion. Perhaps he felt that theybelongedoutthere,theirtimingappropriate,thecarefree cadenceinlockstepwiththebeat. ButnotTed. Tedwasanaberration. AndyouseeDalewasafraidtodance. NowtheDJwasfeedingthecrowdwhattheylongedfor.Large lengtheneddancemixesofFrankieGoestoHollywoodandthat song"YouSpinMeRoundRoundLikeARecord"(orsomething like that) by that band with the guy with the giant black hair whodressedlikeanescapedfigureskater. "Just look at him out there." Dale thought to himself his stomachturningwitheveryoutoftimetwirlorbadattemptto stir the pot. "Doesn't he need a break? Doesn't he need a drink?" Butno.TedJohnsondancedon. Everynightitwasthesame.Dalewouldwatchthebaddancer, therewasalwaysone,andstew.Howcouldthecrowdnotturn onhimandthrowhimfromtheirmidst?! Insteadtheyseemedtoembracehim. HewouldneveradmittohimselfbuthewouldhavehandedTed the keys to his AlfaRomeo 8C2900 in a heartbeat to trade placeswithhim.Hebithislipalmostimperceptiblyandfeltthe dreadthatcameaboutthistimeeverynight.Hislipcurledintoa tinysneerandhisfistpumpedgentlyasifadjustingthesleeve ofhisEtonshirt. LaynaorLanna,whatdiditmatter,begantotaphisshoulderto get his attention. Layna wanted to know if those were really

43

BarkerBlackshoes.Heassuredherhe'dneverwearaknockoff OstrichCapandreturnedhisfocustoTed. Ofcoursehedidn'tknowhisnamewasTedbuthelookedlikea TedoraMikeoraJohnandDalesatandawaitedtheagonythat wassuretofollow. Andhedidn'thavetowaitlong. Heylittlesisterwhathaveyoudone? And so it began. His darting eyes found Ted and he saw Teds facelightupinrecognitionlikethebaddancerseyesalwayslit up. Heylittlesisterwho'stheonlyone? "Makeitstop"Dalethoughttohimself. Heylittlesisterwho'syoursuperman? "Whywon'tIdance?!"Hisstomachtightenedandchurned. Heylittlesisterwho'stheoneyouwant? "Oh merciful heavens! He's doing it! That bastard is doing the BillyIdolfistpumpingthingfromthevideo!"Dale'sfacebecame apictureoftormentifonlyforabriefmoment. Heylittlesistershotgun! Dalebracedhimselfandstoodup.Helookedtowardsthedance floor.Tothemassofwrithinglimbs,theirbodiespulsingintime tothemusic.Hefeltthehandsofhiswomenslipintohisown, one on each side. Lanna of course wanting to dance but knowing that her boyfriend never would. It wasn't even worth asking. Itwasapparentlytimetogo.

44

Dalehesitated. It'sanicedaytostartagain. Ever so briefly their eyes met. Ted lost in a 1980's fog. Dale knowing that the only thing that this evening had left for him was a short drive to his 15,000 square foot penthouse apartment uptown followed by a nasty little 3 way with his girlfriendslatestfind. Heagainwouldnotbedancing.Hepaidhistab. It'sanicedayforawhitewedding. Tedhad2giantsweatstainsthatcreptoutfromhisunderarms and almost met in the middle of his back the final nail in his coffinofgettinglaidtonight. With a final look back Dale exited the club. His envy of Ted oozingfromeverypore. It'sanicedaytostartagain. goodsteamingmorning There might not be more interesting viewing than watching someone wake up. Those few seconds between sleep and consciousness make the hours of staring at them beforehand worthwhile. There are always those brief moments when they arebothawakeandnot.Theireyestwitchandtheirfacelooks all confused. I imagine that's what a computer would look like bootingupifithadaface. Sortoflikewhenyougotothebathroomandthepoopispast the point of no return but it hasn't quite dropped out. It's still withyoubutit'snolongeryours. Wait. Sorry. That's not a very good analogy. Although I think youreyesmakethesametwitch.

45

Morelikeabasketballgame. You'vegotafiniteamountoftime,like6or7billionyearssince thebigbang,beforethegamestartsandaninfiniteamountof timeafterit'soverbutfor2hoursthegameisactuallyplayed. Iespeciallylikethereallyclosegameswheretenminutesfrom that time you'll forever know the winner of the game but for thenextlittlewhiletheoutcomeisindoubt. I'vehaddumpslikethat. The thing is beautiful people look beautiful waking up. They can'thelpit.Justlikeuglypeoplecan'thelpbutlookparticularly ugly waking up. I wish it were different but I don't make the rules. I've seen ugly people wake up and I sit there hoping that somehowtheywilldosomethingadorablebutalltheydoissit therelookingmoreuglythanusual. Retardedpeoplewakinguparejustterrifying. That'sright. Youjustreadthat. IalwaysthoughtthatIheldinmyfartsallnightbecausethefirst thing I do in the morning is fart these big gassy farts but apparentlyIdothatallnight.Isthereanythingfunnierthanthe ideaoflayingtheresoundasleepandlettinggowhilesomeone is awake next to you? I think not. The shocked and offended facestheymustmake. I was in bed the first time that someone told me my feet weren't as nice looking as I had thought. I always felt I had handsomefeetbutthenthatbubblewasburstforme. No wonder the bedroom and the bathroom are kept separate fromtherestofthehouse.Alotgoesonthere.

46

AmericanMathvs.Pi Howdidthisneveroccurtomebefore?AllofEuclideanmathis proved beyond a doubt to be a fraud I never catch it until now?? We are told that Pi defined as the ratio of a circle's circumferencetoitsdiameter. Bullshit! Pi is an irrational number. You're telling me that the ratio of a circle's circumference to its diameter never ends or repeats? That can't be right. If I draw a circle I can measure everything withinit.Itcanbequantifiedandeverycalculationcapturedin 'rational',goodoldAmericannumbers.Don'ttrytositherewith a straight face and tell me that some transcendental mathematicalconstantcandothat. Piisascam.Themathematicianswerejusttoolazytofigureout the answer so they sold us all this boatload of crap about not being able to actually give us the area of a circle. I mean, I expectthatfromadinosaurlikeArchimedesorevensome18th century barbarian like Johann Heinrich Lambert but come on. We were inventing cars and phones and rockets and the best peoplelikeIvanNivenandMaryCartwrightcoulddoisexplain to the public that as much as we'd like Pi to be constructible theysimplydon'twanttoputinthetime&energytofigureout howtosquarethecircle? DoIhavetodoeverythingmyself?! Fuck Yasumasa Kanada and his BrentSalamin algorithm. Keep your64nodesupercomputersandits1terabyteofmemoryas well. I might as well be rejoicing about extracting individual hexadecimal digits by calculating preceding ones using some lameBaileyBorweinPlouffeformula.It'sallthesameshitbaby. Failure. My math, AMERICAN math, doesn't have room for irrational numbers.

47

I'mgoingtogodrawacircleinthedirtwithastickandmeasure how much area it has. Real numbers demand real solutions. Americansolutions. Nowtimetogetoffthiscomputerandkickitoldschoolwitha 2 pencil, some paper and the soundtrack toMythodea in the background.Imightevenwhipoutmyabacus.That'showIroll. menerupt,womenshake ApparentlymenarefromMarsandwomenarefromVenus. Interesting. Obviouslythisisametaphorgiventhatallofscienceseemsto believethatbothoriginatedonEarth.WhatIfindinterestingis thatthisbeliefstatesthattheyarefromratherthanlike.Ifthis catchphrasehadstatedthatmenarelikeMarsthenitcouldbe extrapolatedthatMarsreferredtotheRomangodandnotthe planetitself. This makes some sense given that Mars was the god of battle and the military and its easy to see the correlation between thoseandthetraditionalmalerolesinsociety. SamewithVenus.TheRomansidentifiedherwithlove,beauty andfertility. Butthebook,andthemovementthatsprungupfromit,clearly statethatmenarefromMarsandwomenarefromVenus. Interesting. Perhaps there is more here than the superficial syntax error might indicate. Could there be something deeper and more sinisteratwork? TheplanetVenusistheonlyplanetinthesolarsystemtorotate clockwise and contrary to its own orbit around the sun. Its atmosphere is a pressurecooker and the dense clouds, made upprimarilyofsulfuricacid,aresothickitisimpossibletosee thesurface.Theaveragesurfacetemperatureis847degreesF, hotenoughtomeltlead.

48

Ireallydontknowwheretobeginwiththecomparisonstothe femalepsyche. Mars on the other hand rotates counterclockwise like all the otherplanets,hasverylittleatmospheretospeakof(only1to 2%ofEarths)andanaveragetemperatureof81degreesF. Not quite the red angry little planet that most Romans imagined. Interesting. Iguessitshardtodrawconclusionsaboutthingsthataresofar removedfromdetailedstudy.Theywereforced,apparently,to make generalizations based on incomplete information that in turnresultedintheirdeitiesbeinginaccuraterepresentationsof theverythingsthattheyweresupposedtostandfor.Theplanet Venuswouldobviouslymakeamuchbetterwarrior. OrweretheRomanstryingtotellussomethingaswell? Perhapswedontgivethemenoughcredit.Perhapstheyknew that Mars wasnt full of mighty volcanoes spewing forth their hot payload. For any man that has Pompeiid a female you knowtheimageryImgoingfor.Youknow,loomingabovethem inaVesuvianfashionbeforeeruptingandall. Ironically the surface of Venus would feel neither the volcanic ash nor the hot mud that swallowed up 20,000 people. Just anotherdayonthatoverheatedbitch. Orisitironic? Ifitisntthenthatinandofitselfmightbeconsideredironic. Turnsoutthat17yearsbeforeitwasburiedinaneruptionthe entire city was destroyed by an earthquake and needed to be completely rebuilt. Ive always thought of an earthquake as a very female natural disaster. The unseen forces below the surfaceworkingtoshakeanddestroyanythingthatisnotbuilt on a solid foundation with only a slight rumble as a warning. Maybe itstheaftershocksthatdoitformelikea loversleg tremblingafterher7.8.Sureitlackstheclimaxofmagmabeing shothighintotheairbutyoucantargueabouttheefficiencyof theendresult.

49

So they rebuilt the city and less than a generation later is was destroyedbyavolcanodespiteundoubtedlynumerouspleasto both Mars and Venus to protect them. I guess they misread their intentions as well as the planets dispositions. Men may have been from Mars and women from Venus but they were bothsuffocatedtodeathbytheashjustthesame. PerhapsanallegoryfortheemotionaldeathofeveryVenusthat everwitnessedoneoftheeruptionsthatinrealityshouldnotbe what defines me and my masculinity but does just the same. I know it wasnt the Romans who coined she doth protest too muchbutitcertainlyseemsappropriatehere. Isithererotatingallredandangrylookingwhileyougirlskeep up the ruse that you are all about fertility when in reality the truthisyouneitherknoworcareifIamcapableofthevolcanic pyrotechnicsthatyoudonthavethecapacitytoappreciate. IsitanywonderthatVenusdoesnothaveamoon? ABriefHistoryofLint Really? You saw the title of the blog was A Brief History of Lint and you decided to read it? Is there a title that could possibly dissuade you from deciding to read it? If so, I cant imagine whatitcouldbe.YousawABriefHistoryofLintanddecided thatyouhadtoreadit.Idontwanttojumptoconclusionsbut maybeitstimetoreexamineyourfreetime? Anyway As Ive gotten older Ive started to have more trouble with collecting lint in my navel. Not a big problem I realize but curiousnonetheless.Iguessinthelast10yearsmystomachhas added a little girth and thus the sides of my belly button have grown steeper and therefore have been more prone to catch thefluffandfibersitisnodoubtcomingincontactwith.Sortof atinylinenfuzzblackhole.

50

Illadmitit.SomeyearsagoIstartedcollectingit.Iputasmall jarbymybedsideandeverynightIstickafingerintomynavel andeverynightIamrewardedwithasmallballoflint.WhatI found shocking was the uniform nature of my belly lint. My belly button gathers, like a pitcher plant, almost the identical amountoflinteachdayandbyfarthemostdominantcoloris blue. So what was the trouble I mentioned earlier? The trouble is thatasmystomachlosesitflatyouthfulappearancethelinthas beengrowing.NowIunderstandifIwearanewshirtorsweater that is bursting with loose threads and particles of cloth Im goingtogetabigballoflint.Imfinewiththat.Infact,notonly doIexpectitbutIactuallylookforwardtostrippingitoffatthe endofthedayandreapingthesmallfluffyreward. But what about the days where I wear an old tshort that has been through the washer 100 times? I spend a nonactive day sittingarounddoingnext tonothing.ThedayendsandIgoto bed.IcarefullypeeloffmyshirtandwhatdoIfind? Thesameballoflintsittinginmynavel. Wheredoesthatcomefrom? Doreallyfatpeopleharvestfistfullsoflinteveryday?Dothey needlinttrapslikesomesortoflumberingdryer? Isthatmydestiny? Ifyouveeverseenamousesnestthenyouknowwhatthejar nexttomybedlookslike.Icouldmakeatinylittlepillowoutof thecontents. Perhapsmycallingitatinyblackholemightbeontosomething. Weallknowthatthereismatterandantimatterintheuniverse andthatmanyscientistsusetothinkthattherewasacounter Earth in another part of the universe where a counter me might be wearing a giant new fleece sweater and the lint is moving back and forth between the worlds via our belly buttons. Nobody really knows where the belly button goes anywaydothey?

51

Or maybe the black holes in space that are swallowing entire galaxiesactuallythenspitoutthatmatterintheformoflintin trillionsofbellybuttonsthroughouttheuniverse. AllIknowisthatmyoldtshirtdidnotproducethatmuchclingy fiberandIdontcarehowbigmybellygets,itcantbereaching outundermyshirtandgrabbingshitwhenImnotlooking. I could always start doing situps and thereby lower the lip of mynavelandasaconsequencecatchandholdlesslint.Iknow. But I sort of like thinking that Im connected to the bigger universe through my belly button. Sometimes when my stomach is a little upset or noisy I prefer to think of stars imploding billions of light years away and swirling inside me. Perhapsthejaroflintnexttomybedactuallyholdstheanswer toallourfutureenergyneeds. Nexttimeyoupulloutflufffromyourbellybuttonjusttryand tell me that you dont think for 1 second that it could be star stuff channeling through you and that you dont like that explanationbetter. Andthenthinkaboutwhyyouweresoboredthatyouactually read a blog called A Brief History of Lint. You deserved this stupidity. Really. theshowerincident Whensomeoneoftheoppositesexwalksinwhileyoureinthe shower it can cause one of 2 reactions. 1. You panic because theywerenotsupposedtobeinthebathroomwhileyouarein theshower.Whatfollowsisawildseriesofshoutingandfinding something to cover up your private parts. 2. You suck in your gut and strike a casual yet erotic pose in the hopes that the sightofyournakedbodywillcausethefemaletosuddenlyfeel theneedtojoinyouintheshower. Irecentlydiscovereda3rdoption. Completeandtotalhumiliation.

52

Thispossiblycausedby,andImjustsayingthishypothetically, the female walking in while you are singing Ive Got a Brand New Pair of Rollerskates (and Youve Got a Brand New Key). Compounding the shame, again hypothetically I must make clear,youhaveshampooinyourhairsoyoureyesandshuttight and you are completely unaware of her presence. So not only do you continue singing said song, in a falsetto voice, but you continue marching around the shower twirling an imaginary umbrella. Whatanumbrellaandrollerskateshavetodowitheachother Imnotexactlysure. Everydoorofmyhousemakesaloudcreakingnoisewhenitis openedexcept,ofcourse,thedoorthebathroom.ItslikeIlive in a haunted house most people expect bats to come flying out from behind the door after the prolonged and tortured soundthedoormakesopening.Butnope,notthebathroom.It slidesopenlikesomefuturisticdoordesignedbyNASA. Icanonlyimagineherdrinkinginthesightofthisspectacle. Did she or did she not make that little gag signifying that she almostthrewupinhermouth? Why is the shower such a hotbed of unresolved musical conflicts?! Typically I have a CD player in the bathroom so I can actively control what I listen to and, by extension, sing in the shower. With the perfect acoustics I cant be alone in viewing every showerasanopportunitytoperformliveinfrontofastadium ofscreamingfans.IllevenadmittoburningmyownshowerCD. ManyatimeIvebeenforcedbytheappreciativemassesintoso manyencoresthatIleavetheshowerallprunyandmydogison theoutsideofthedoorconvincedIvebeeninthemidstofa45 minute prison rape. AC/DC Iron Maiden Van Halen my aquaticvocalgymnasticsknownobounds!OccasionallyIllslow thingsdownandtossinaInYourEyessothecrowdcanuse theirlightersandIcanpracticemysexyshuffleandgrindincase Ieverneedtowhipthemoutinreallife. ButmyCDplayerbroke.

53

It was either the humidity, my showers tend to run hot and long,orthemachinehurleditselfoffthecounterwhenIwasnt looking. SoIwaslefttomyowndevicestofigureoutwhattosing. Ive Got a Brand New Pair of Rollerskates (and Youve Got a Brand New Key) apparently has been lurking inside my head since I was a small child. I dont even remember hearing the song I just know that I know it. What made it bubble to the surfaceatthatexactmoment,againhypothetically,isanyones guess. Butwhatthefuckwastheumbrellaabout? Roxannethezombiewhore The slow trip through the swamp only added to his clients experience.HadhedecidedtokeepRoxannekeptinsomeback room off a main street in New Orleans it would have been quicker for everybody involved but it wouldnt have had quite thesamejenasaquaastheFrenchlikedtosay. Shehadawaitinglistsohemustbedoingsomethingright. Infairnesstotheotherlocalzombiepimps,hedidhavethepick of the litter. When there was an outbreak at the state beauty pageantyoucanbesuremixedinwiththecamogreenNational Guardsmenwhorespondedtherewasaliberaldoseofleopard printedpimpshopingtostealawayaprize. Hehaddoneonebetter.HehadgrabbedMissTeenLouisiana. Roxanne. Onceyouhadtheproductyourlifewasntwithoutrisksbutthe hardpartwasover.Someofthelocalsusedcheaprestraintsor failedtokeeptheirmerchandisefreshbutnothim. OnlythebestforRoxanne. His clients were mostly tourists. Men who traveled to Vegas may do things that needed to stay in Vegas but if you wanted the sick shit you needed to go to Southeast Asia. Or New Orleans. After the initial shock of the dead coming back to life

54

therewereenoughmenwhowonderedwhatitwouldbeliketo fuck a zombie that almost immediately a cottage industry sprung up. Not in New York or LA or even Vegas. But in New Orleansitbecamealmostanunspokenriteofpassageformany ofthepeoplewhomadetheirwaydownfortheyearlyAllTaints Dayfestival. He had her tied down on her back. Legs splayed open waiting for her paying customers. She had never made him feel anything but revulsion, with her private areas all blue and tattered,buttoeachhisown.Tohimshewasamockeryofsex. Amockeryoflife. Hewould,ingreatdetail,goovertheruleswiththeJohn.Oral sexwas,ofcourse,notonthemenuifthemanwantedtokeep hisjunk.Samewithlettinghergrabit.Shewouldtearitrightoff without a second thought as many unfortunate men had learnedovertheyears.Hewouldputaballgaginhermouthif they wished but most of them quite liked her snarling and snappingastheyviolatedher. Lastlyhewouldaddwithasmirkdontgofallinginlove. Andyettheydid. Beforetheinfectionbeganhehadbeenapimptolivewomen. Hehadbeennomoreorlessabusiveandpredatorythanmost in his line of work and he had seen his share of men who had developedfeelingsfortheirwhoreofchoice.Psychologistshad written a library full of books on the how and why these feelingsdevelopbuthednevermuchcaredeitherwayaslong as these guys brought the cash. Let them marry one for all he cared. Butthiswasdifferent. Fallinginlovewithanundead?Nowthatwasfuckedup. Andyettheydid. Roxannehadherregulars. A few knew her before she was turned. None of these would havehadashotwithherthen.Nowtheyhadtheirshot.

55

Some of them even swore that when they were with her that sheshowedsignsofherformerself.Thatsherecognizedthem andevenenjoyedherselfduringtheact. Hewouldlistenwithastraightfaceandthenmarchinwiththe fire hose and disinfectant after they left and hose her down readyforthenextcustomer. One of these dumb fucks actually tried to help her escape. Before he could get in the room to help this guy out Roxanne hadendedhislifebyrippingouthisthroat.Heprobablythought shewasleaninguptokisshimontheneck. Itwasntthefirstbodyhedthrownintothedarkwatersofthe bijouanditprobablywouldntbethelast. He stepped off the crawfish skiff and led his client down the dirty pier to the small cabin where Roxanne waited. He was handedasmallbundleofbillsandhetoldthemanthathehad exactly 30 minutes to complete his business. With that he openedthedoorandthemandisappearedinside. He walked slowly back down the pier and lit a cigarette. He lookedupattheskyandputintheearpiecefromhisIpod. As was so often the case, luck was with him and his favorite songstartedup. thesun,themoon,mymulletandme Isatinthechairandjustcouldnttakeitanymore.Forthelast 10yearsIhadbeengettingmyheadbuzzed,highandtight,and thethoughtofthetrimmeronceagaintakingawaymydesired appearance,thetruemewastoomuchtostomach. Whenthebarber,anexnavymaninhislate60swhosmelledof AquaVelvaandtalcumpowder,askedmeifIwantedtheusualI hesitated. I could hear the other men in the shop chatting about sports andwomen.Thelowhumofthetrimmerandthecrispsnipping ofthescissorsatwork. ItoldhimNo.Notthistime.

56

Hegavemeaquicklooksortofodd,hisheadtiltinglikeadog waiting to see what the ol Master has to give him from the table. WhatcanIdoforyouthen? I told him. I used great pains to describe it without actually usingthenamecommonlyassociatedwithit. Ididntneedto. The conversations around me dried up and the scissors fell quiet. Youwantmetogiveyoua.?hisvoicefaltered. Someonesittinginthewaitingareaspokeup. Ithinkhewantsamullet. It seemed an eternity until someone spoke again. The same manfromthewaitingroom.Itwasmoreofahushedwhisperto himself that escaped into all of our ears. All business in the front,apartyintheback. Damn it to hell! Im a tall skinny man and, heaven help me, I look good in a mullet! Im sick of denying myself just because therestoftheworldseemstohaveaproblemwiththemullet. Myregularbarberhesitated.Heheldhisscissorsasiftheywere anewinventionhedneverseenbefore.Finallyanotherbarber cameoverandslappedhisarmgentlyaroundhisshouldersand ledhimtoanearbyseat. IgotthisoneforyouJoe. Theawkwardsilencecontinuedashewentabouthisbusiness. Now keep in mind the length of my hair was nowhere near whereitneededtobeinthebackformetoclaimtoberocking thismulletbutitwasastart.Theclippersbuzzedmysidesand thescissorsstayedwellclearofthebackofmyheadbutmade shortworkofthetopofmyhead.Ifelttheeyesuponme. Was it envy or disgust I couldnt quite tell. Perhaps a little of both. IfeltIhadtoexplain. Gentlemen,thehairstylethatyouseebeforeyouisnotsome ode to bad 80s hair but a tribute to those 19th century mullet

57

fishermenwhousedthelengthofhairinthebacktokeeptheir neckswarm. They werent buying. I kept expecting them to suddenly warm up, perhaps start a slow clap that would end in uproarious applauseandacceptance.Noclapswereforthcoming. DowehaveanyProustfansintheroom?Iventured. Apparently there were no big Swanns Way devotees so my desired reference to Jean Baptiste Prosper Bressant was not goingtoswayanybody.Iwithdrewitbeforeitwasevenoffered. Then to hell with you all! I stammered out, rising from beneath my plastic protective cover. I could feel the tiny hairs againstmyneckpushingmeonlikea1000littlewhips.Goon thengetyourhairscut.AllofthemforallIcare! Ibunchedupthethinsheetinmyhands,thehairthatformerly occupiedmyheadnowspillingoutontothefloorlikesomany brokenpromises,andhurleditatJoedefiantly. Dontjudgemeoldman. Ithrusta$20attheonlymanbraveenoughtogivemeamullet andstormedout. Themoonwasoutbutthesunhadntyetgonedown.Sittingin mycarcollectingmythoughtsIswearitfeltlikeitwasjustthe4 ofusleftinthatoltown. makingananthilloutofamolehill Its funny how things pop back into your head. One minute youresittingatapicnicandthenextyourebackataballfield whenyouwerealittlekid. Justbecauseyouseeananthill. I was just a kid and yet I remember it like it was yesterday. Actually,mymemoryissoshittythatifithappenedyesterdayI wouldnt remember much so lets just say I remember it like yesterdaybutyouknowIdontmeanitliterally.

58

IwaswatchingthislittlekidandhisDadplay.Thelittleboywas crashing around and laughing and the Dad was hovering close by to make sure nothing bad happened. This was back when somethingbadhappeningwashewouldbumphishead.Now itmeanshewouldenduponthesideofamilkcartonsmilingall happy while everyone who saw the carton would imagine just howmuchhecriedashewasdying. Wow, that was a bit of a dark little sidetrack. Just shows it's dawnestbeforethedark. Anyway,thelittleboystartedpointingtothegroundandgothis Dads attention. He was looking at a big anthill and waving his footoveritasiftoaskifitwasoktosmushit.TheDadquickly ranoverand,inaverygentlyway,movedthechildsfootaway fromthepileofdirtandsand.Heexplainedinacalmandloving way that the ants had worked very hard to create that little mound and thats where they lived. You wouldnt want to destroy their house would you? he asked in an even tone, smilingdownathisson.Theboy,beamingback,indicatedthat thisistheverylastthingintheworldhewouldeverwanttodo. Then his father saw me watching this little scene. His eyes moved from me to the anthill and then back to me. My eyes followed his during this transaction and when they got back from the quick trip they had shared together we were back to staring at one another. I got the sense that he was suddenly very protective of the anthill and it was his hypothesis that I meanttodoitharm. Allfromaquickglance. This after hearing his heartwarming defense of said anthill. Whatever must he have thought of me? I was abruptly and withoutwarningfeelingveryinsulted! And, I hate to admit it now, also immediately filled with the overwhelmingurgetostepthefuckonthatanthill. Here is/was the strange part. I was not at the time, nor am I now, antiant. In fact I might go as far to say that I am firmly proant. In fact, as proof of this proant outlook, whenever I would put ants in my cardboard coliseum of death I would

59

alwayssecretlyrootfortheants.UnlessofcourseIwaspitting2 typesofantstogetherthenIwouldfindmyselfpullingforthe blackantsovertheredones.IguessIalwaysthoughtofthemas the underdogs, what with the fearsome and well deserved reputation of the badass red ants. In truth, the ants rarely needed my support and would routinely wipe the floor with their various insect and invertebrate opponents. In the death matchesIwouldusuallytrytokeepthingsfairbyputtinginan equalweightofeachparticipant.Thatwouldmeanthattheants would get about 20 when faced with the terrible might of the tarantula. IshouldatthispointmentionIlivedforastretchinTexasasa child.YoullnoteIsaidastretchasopposedtoacertainlength of time. That what you say when youve lived in Texas. Youve eitherlivedthereastretchoralongstretch.Thosearetheonly 2 options. Just the way it is. Sort of like when you say you did sometimeinJerseyorlivedforaspellinGeorgia.Throwoutthe ol Christian calendar and just try to follow the story the best youcan. For you see, there is no place better for a boy to grow up in thanTexas.Flipoveranyboardorrockandyouwillfindsnakes and scorpions or spiders or lizards. My cardboard coliseum is where I sorted out which uglyass creature was superior to all others. It goes without saying that snakes ruled, followed closely by lizards, but after that it was a tossup which crawly thing reined supreme. It was only after countless battles that theantwasnamedkingofthecardboard.Ofcourse,Illadmitit wasnt exactly fair that the poor scorpion was trying to sting these little bastards as they ganged up and nipped off his pincersandeventuallyhisface,butthatreallywasntthepoint ofthisparticularremembrancenowwasit? It was merely to establish that I wasnt, and have never been, antiant. But the way this guy kept watching me started to really frost me. He was playing with his son but he let it be known to me

60

thathewaskeepingawaryeyeonmeincaseImadeasudden dashtostepontheanthill. Thats the fascinating part well, fascinating to me anyway. Whyyourestillreadingthisismysterytome. I digress. Heres the thing. I didnt want to crush the anthill to crush the anthill. I wanted, for unknown reasons, to live down to this strangers expectations. He saw me as the kind of boy who would take pleasure in stepping on an anthill. The nerve! WhythefuckwouldIgetanypleasureinmakingabunchofants havetoredoanobviouslydifficultjob?Butthepointwasthatif thatswhathethoughtofmethengoddamnitIwasgoingtobe thatboy! Thehumanmindisquiteapuzzle.Imsurethisstoryisagood metaphorformanyoftheconflictsgoingonaroundtheworld I just cant be bothered to Google the psychology of low expectations. So that afternoon passed with me hovering around the anthill givinghimtheimpressionthatitwasmysoledesiretodoharm to the ants dwelling inside and at any moment I would stomp downonitwithglee.Hissmilebegantoshowcracks.Eventually hissongotboredandwanted toleaveandwhatcouldhedo? Hecouldntcomeuptomeandactuallyaccusemeofwanting to step on the anthill or really say anything at all to me. Wed neveractuallyspoken.Allhecoulddowaslookonhelplesslyas he walked away and I slowly made my way to the anthill. He kept looking back at me as I stopped right over the anthill, a smileunfoldingacrossmyfacelikearetardedkidunwrappinga pony. (What??) (Ironically mywordprogramhighlightedthatsentencesayingI should revise it because of the verb confusion. Thats why I shouldreviseit?) FinallyhewasoutofsightandIsighed.BrieflyIfelthissenseof loss, knowing that some rotten kid was going to squish his anthill. Then I realized that I was the rotten kid. You cant believehowtornIwasaboutwhatwouldtranspirenext.ThenI

61

realizeditwasaloselosescenario.Ionlywantedtosteponthe anthillwhenhewaswatchingtovalidatehislowexpectationsof me. Ihadmissedmy chance.Tostep onit nowwouldonly be actually living down to his expectations without him there to seeit.AndIwouldberuiningthedayofabunchofantsontop ofit. Tonotsteponitwouldmakethedayawastedbattleofsorts. SomeunseenCaesarwasholdinghisthumbdownwardandyetI couldn't bring myself to finish it. Both the angel and the devil who had occupied my shoulders for the greater part of the afternoonhadsplit,unsurewhichsideeachshouldbetaking. Thehumanmindremainsquiteapuzzle.SointheendIwentto the snack bar and bought an ice cream cone which I then droppedbytheanthillfortheantstoeat.Therewasnoreason to drag them into this quandary. One they were never even remotely aware of. Living in an anthill that was no doubt steppedonbyoneofmanyfeetlaterthatsamedayicecream orno. SoImatthispicnic.Lookingatthisbiganthillthatsitsrightnext to a blanket that someone has carefully lain out. The open containerofpotatosaladaneasyantsstrollawayfromthehill. ImstandingoveritwhenIcatchtheeyeofasmallboywhois looking at me. Our eyes both wander down to the anthill and backup ofwaspsandmen MynameisLarry. Iamanalcoholic. Amongmanyothersthing.Iwouldntsayalcoholdefinesmeper se.Ihaveotherissuesthatmightbeconsideredmorepressing. My friends call me Tug on account of when I was 15 and was caught masturbating at a friends sleepover. Ill try to explain whathappenedtothebestofmyabilitybuttherearepartsof the story I dont remember, parts I dont wish to remember,

62

andpartsthatIflatoutdontbelievemyselfbutweretoldwith astraightfacebywitnessesthatIfeelhaveverylittlereasonto lieorevenstretchthetruth. Itallstartedwiththedamnwasps. Ihadnoticedthelittlebastardsflyingtoandfroinmyfrontyard and after closer investigation it was discovered that they had startedinbuildinganestunderthesidingofmyhouse.AtfirstI foundthissomewhatamusingandspentmanyanhoursittingin alawnchaironthecementwalkwaytomyfrontdoorwithacan ofRaidinonehandandacoldbeerintheother.Iwouldwait untilquiteanumberofthemhadgatheredeitherwaitingtofly in or waiting to fly out and Id give the entrance a little squirt whichwouldsendtheonesthatwerestillintheairflyingoffall enraged and whatnot and those unfortunate ones that were standingonthesoilwouldstartflailingtheirlittlelegsandwings around and eventually curl up and die. The nest seemed to provide an infinite supply of wasps because there would be stacksofdeadwaspsbutsureenoughmorewouldcomeflying back from wherever they had been, doing Lord knows what. UnlikebeesIneversawthemactuallybringinganythingbackto thenestlikepollenorwhatnot.Theywouldjustgooutanddo the things that apparently nature has asked wasps to do, like land on potato salad at picnics and sting small girls when they leastexpectit,andthenheadonbacktotheirhome.Whichwas myhome. Whichgotalittleirritating. Aftertherewereabout10emptycansofRaidinmygarbage,I couldntfigureoutwhethercanslikethatarerecyclable(which mattered very little as I dont bother to separate my trash it wasmorelikeacuriositythatapracticalmatter),Istartedtoget a bit annoyed that these winged pricks were not getting the message I was sending (with the help of Tetramethrin and Peremethrin).Myhomewasnotbigenoughforallofus. WhileitistruethatIcouldntreallyblamethemforthedamage tomysidingthatfollowedmyattempttothrowenoughdirton their entrance to bury the problem once and for all it can be

63

saidthatIwouldnthavehadtothrowthedirtontheminthe first place if they hadnt been there in the first place. If you followthatlogic.Theproblemwasmydepthperceptionwasa littleaskewduetothelargequantityofshroomsIhadingested thatmorningandIkeptslammingtheshovelintothesidingas myfollowthroughwasabitlong.HadthatbeentheendofitI thinkIwouldhaveconsideredafewdentsafairpricetopayto getridofthewaspsbutsureenoughthenextmorningthelittle devils had just scooted a little further down my siding and resumedbusinessasusual.Maybethey'reinleaguewithantsor somethingandtheytaught'emhowtodig. Morebeers.MoreRaid. I woke up later that day and sure enough some of those little bastards had actually crawled inside the beer bottles surroundingmylawnchairandweregettingliquoreduponmy dime.Myhathadfallenoffandmyforeheadhadgottenanasty sunburnontopofallit. Obviously drug use is common during any war and, while Im nottryingtousethisasanexcuse,itdoesfollowthatgiventhe stress I was feeling it is perfectly understandable that I might indulgemyselfwhenfacedwithsuchawilyopponent. Ironically I had bought the acid and the M80s from the same guy.Ihadknowhimsincecollegesohealwaysturnedmeonto gooddealshewasofferingandhistunein,turnon,blowshit uppackagewastoogoodtoignore. Yeah,yeah,yeah.Hindsight.Easytosaynow. Hereiswhatthepolicereportdidnttellyou. IhadrunoutofRaidsotheonlythingIcouldfindwasScrubbing Bubbles. This in and of itself is odd as I can never remember actuallycleaningmybathtub.Nowsomeofyoubrainiacsmight askTug,whateverdidyouneedtospraythewaspsforifyou were going to blow them up? A fair question. But the reality wasthatIcouldntjustblowthemupbecausewheretheylived was really part of where I lived. I was just planning on scaring themandshowingthemImeantbusiness.

64

At least I think thats what I was thinking. I had taken a lot of acidjustbeforeIstartedputtingthisplanintooperation,allofit actually,soImalittlefuzzyonthedetails. TheScrubbingBubbleswasjusttokillenoughofthemsoIcould getcloseandplacetheexplosivedevicesaroundtheirlair.Iwill share with you a little bit of information I didnt know at the timebutknownow;ScrubbingBubblesdoesntkillwasps. Infact,itmakesthemangry.Foamyandangry. Its hard to say how much acid is too much but as a rule of thumballofitistypicallytoomuch. IwastoofaralongwiththeplantoquitsoIcontinuedtoplace the M80s in strategic locations in and around the siding, the waspsbedamned.Istartedtofeelthistinglysensationrunning upmyarmsthatIputdowntoexcitementandstartedtolight thefuses. TheyallstartedtohissandIpanicked,fearingIwasgoingtobe caught in the blast. How stupid was I? Lighting M80s in that condition? Iran. Andran.Fearoverwhelmingme.Iranuntilmylungsburned.I ran until I forgot why I was running. I ran until I was abruptly caughtinanenormousspidersweb.Itgrabbedmeandheldme paralyzed. Terror gripped me. I fought and screamed but only madethingsworse.IbecameentangledfrommySativastothe topofmymullet. Myscreamsalertedmyneighbors. Myneighborscalledthepolice. Thepoliceexplainedtheywerealreadyontheirwayasanearby housewasonfire. Myhouse. FuckingM80storeofthesideofmyhouseandsetthingsablaze prettynicely.HowmanyM80saretoomany?Again,allofthem isaboutagoodaplacetostartasany.Althoughmyneighbors wereniceenoughtocutmeoutoftheirvolleyballnettheydid askthatIreplaceit.

65

I would have said that I had bigger fish to fry but that didnt seem to capture the magnitude of the situation. I told them I hadbiggerkettlesoffishtofry.Thatseemedmoreappropriate. Ifinditfunnythatthepoliceblotteralsoforgottomentionmy faceandarmshadbeenstungover70times.Iguesstheimage of me hanging in a net with swollen hands and a grotesque puffyfacegoesagainsttheirbeliefthattherecouldbeavictim inavictimlesscrime. The firemen, and subsequently the police, found enough contrabandinmyhousetochargemewithavarietyofcrimes. Victimlessindeed! So thats why Im here at AA. If you take away Darryls barbeque,Ivebeensobergoingonaweeknow.Myhandsand face are all healed up now but let me tell you right now, memories are like scars on your brain. If I would have had insuranceImsureIwouldhavemovedandleftthisallbehind me.Leftwhatremainsofmyhousetothewasps. ButIcantsoIdidnt. SoImaweeksobernowandmeandthewaspsgetalongbest wecan. MynameisLarrybutyouguyscancallmeTug. songsofinnocenceandexperience IthinkImighthavestumbledonthemostannoyingthinginthe universe.Readyforit? Peoplewhopretendtobeasleepwhentheyarent. Drivesmecrazy. Idontcarehowmanytimesyoustudyhowpeoplesoundwhen theysleep,nobodycanpulloffthatdopeydeepbreathingstuff. Forsomeonetolaythereandtryisjustinsulting.Thentheytry thatlipsmackingthingtoaddanairoflegitimacy. Outrageous! I understand not wanting to talk to your partner(s) once in awhile but just have the decency to say Fuck off. Leave me

66

alone.Idontwanttotalkrightnow.Dontlaythereandstart lightly groaning and rolling around like youre in some deep R.E.Mcycle. Iswearitmakesmewanttopunchthemrightintheface.Isit there and glare at them. I can always feel when somebody is staringatmesoIknowthattheycanfeelmyeyesboringinto their empty head but STILL they lay there acting like they are asleep. I sit there wishing that I had one of those oldfashioned rifles withtheheavystock.Nottoshootthem,justtoclobberthemin theheadwiththebutt. SometimesIjustsitthereholdingmymiddlefingerupinchesin frontoftheirheadforafewminutes. Actually, there might be one thing that is more annoying. Peoplewhocantclap.Everseethesepeople?Howhardisitto clap just bang your appendages together. But theres somethingaboutthewaytheydoitthatisinfuriating.Someof them only move one hand. The other one sits there frozen, taking it like a bitch in prison. Then there are the people who almostmisseveryclap. ThisisthereasonIcantenjoyawardshowsonTV.Ispendthe entiretimescanningthecrowdforthefucktardswhocantclap. I hope this makes you selfconscious about your own clapping becauseImsicktodeathwithallthebadclappersoutthere. Ohandanotherthing.Whatthefuck weretheJewsdoingin theSinaidesertforsolong?Foranyonethathasreadaboutthe ExodusoftheJewsfromEgypthastoadmititmakesforagood read. You got your violence, you got plagues, it has summer blockbuster written all over it. Maybe thats why there are so manyJewsinHollywood. Maybenot. But one thing that has always troubled me was the Jews crossingtheSinaidesert.Ittookthem40years.TheSinaidesert is200milesacross.Theywereheadedtothepromisedland. Youdthinktheycouldhavemadebettertime.

67

40 years to go 200 miles. Thats less than 25 YARDS a day. Escapingslaveryandheadingtothepromisedland.Whatthe fuckweretheydoingoutthereinthedesert??Imnottryingto suggest that they were lazy or unmotivated Im just at a loss astowhatthehellabunchofJewscandofor40yearsinthe desert. Now for those who might wonder what they ate all that time the answer is simple. God sent down Manna from heaven for them to eat for the entire 40 years. Whatever Manna is, apparentlyitwasfree.ImsuretherewereJewslineduparound thetenttobellyuptothatdailybuffet.Theobviousquestionis what do you tip a waiter on a bill of $0? The notsoobvious questioniswhetherornotanyonegotsickofthesamethingto eatfor40straightyears.Freeornot,fromheavenornot,ithad to get a little old. You think that alone might be enough for someone to suggest that they pick up the pace. Now I think aboutitImighthavehadtheobviousquestionandthenotso obviousquestioninthewrongorder. 200 miles in 40 years. Not really a great use of the word exodus if you think about it. Nobody talks about the glaciers exodus across North America. Actually, if you think about it enoughitmightnotbeacoincidencethatglaciersaremadeof ice.Whenicemovesitiscalledaniceberg.SoundsveryJewish tome. Ok,sowhatweretheJewsdoingoutthereintheheatandsand for40years?Wellforstarterswecanruleoutgettinggoodat sports from the list of possible explanations. Maybe accounting? Whatever it was they were up to no good. Why else wouldnt someoneclearupexactlywhyittakesthem40yearstogo200 miles.Theyreveryvagueonthetopic.Somewherethereisan explanationandIbetitsnotgood. (OfftopicbutImprettysurethatifIwasblindIwouldwear2 eyepatches.) You think Im the only petty person in the world? Think again. Just last week I was at a bid opening at a major architectural

68

firm when this guy walks into the room everybody just freezes.Nobodyknowswhattosaysonobodysaysawordand this fuckface just sits down completely unaware that he had missed a loop on his belt. You heard right. His belt went right thefuckoveroneofhispantloops.Theairwassoheavywith tensionthatIthoughtpeopleweregoingtostarttoleave. Somehowweallmanagetogetthroughthemeetingand,asit turns out, this guy actually was low bidder. Obviously his bid waslaterthrownout.Areyougoingtogiveabigcontracttoa guy who doesnt even know how to put a belt on properly? I heard he was fired a few days later. You cant have a guy runningaroundrepresentingyouwithhisbeltsittingontopofa loop. People think Im arrogant and have a high opinion of myself. They couldnt be more wrong. I have a decent self image only because I think so poorly of other people. I grade myself on a curve. It doesnt take too much to look good when you are surrounded by primates and retards. I really think that shrinks dealing with clients who have poor self images should spend less time trying to build them up and more time trying to tear downothers.Imtellingyou,itworks.Nexttimeyoufeelalittle insecuretakeadeepbreathandthentakeagoodlookaround. Ifyoutakeaminuteyoullnoticeallthepeoplewhocantclap orputonabeltright.Itmightbesubtlebutit'sthere.Theworld is full of idiots with their uneven sideburns, lame bumper stickersandjeansthataretootightfortheirfatasses. Relax. Yourefine. I know this guy who isnt fine though. One time we were at a party and he looks at me and says he wants to find a girl to takethebusinessendofhisdick.NowImaprettycrudeguy attimesbutthatoffendedevenme.Notjustforthecoarseness oftheexpressionbutbecauseoftheuseofthewordsbusiness end.Ishetryingtomakemebelievethathisdickhas2ormore ends?Theresjustoneendtoadickright?Andbusinessend?Is thereanyuseofadickthatcanreallycalledbusiness?

69

Im sure that doesnt stop him from unzipping his pants and announcingthathesopenforit.Whatsworseisthatthereare womenwhofrequentthatestablishment. CallingthelapsedSoul, Andweepingintheeveningdew Thatmightcontrol Thestarrypole, Andfallen,fallen,lightrenew thedangerousbusinessofpooping And so I guess it begs the question can you be haunted by someoneyounevermet? Orbetteryetcanpeoplecommitsuicideonawhim? Perhapsalittlemoreinfoisinorder. Statistically speaking, if you went to a large university then thereisapreponderanceoflikelihoodthatyouknewsomeone that was killed as you attended school. Its almost part of the experience, the dealing with the fact that life is short and we are frail portion of your education. It leads to much drinking andsoulsearchingandhavingsexwhileyoustillcan. I almost had 2 lessons in this except for some lucky grounds keeping.Nolie,agirljumpedoutofher22ndstorydormroom but landed on some sod that had just been laid down and somehowwalkedawayfromit.Iswear.Youcouldactuallysee herimprintinthegroundfordaysafterwards.Theremainderof thatentireday,inatellingexampleofhowcollegekidsprocess such human tragedies, people opened their windows and crankedVanHalensJumpandthePointerSisters,youguessed it,Jump. Butshelivedsosheisnotpartofthishaunting. Althoughitdoesmakeyouwonderifpeoplehavetoactuallydie to haunt you. I mean, shes still up here in my head kicking aroundisntshe?

70

Sloshingaroundinmymemorywiththeguythatdidntlive.He was a very close friend of one of my close friends. Therefore I got this big life lesson second hand, which is almost the best waytolearnanything.Maybethatswhyittooksolongtoget hauntedbyit. Hewas,byallaccounts,agreatguywithalottolivefor.Isit me or does that seem to describe most collegeaged people that die? He got hit by a train. The tracks ran right through campus but this was out in the middle of a corn field in the Midwest so there were no Japanesestyle magnetic monorail 200 mph haulass trains hauling ass through town. They were justslowfreight trainsblowingour mindsregularly asthisone littleengineupfrontwouldbedragging100carsfilledwithiron andothersuchheavyobjects,seeminglydefyingeverythingwe were learning about objects in motion and getting them that waytobeginwith. Obviously he was very drunk when he got hit but it was still amazing that he got hit at all. The Midwest is flat as fuck and youcouldseethesethingscomingfordays. Buthewasverydrunkapparently. Whichiswhysometimestheideathat hesteppedoutinfront of it on purpose would seem to make sense. How else can someonegethitbyatrainlikethat?NowyouseewhyIasked about whether or not you need a lot of time to contemplate suicideorifitcansuddenlyoccurtoyouandseemappealing.Of course,nobodyatthetimewouldevenwhisperthatmaybehe justlookedattheoncomingtrainandwonderedwhatitwould feel like to have himself cut in half. Actually I dont even rememberedthinkingitatthetime. Theschoolgrieved.Hehadworkedfortheschoolpapersothe 'press' made a point of remembering him as the greatest funniest sweetest human being that had ever walked the planet. But even before that, the very night it happened, you could see that it shook everyone pretty deeply. Back when we could all be so easily shaken. In particular my friend who was oneofhisbestfriends.

71

She laughed long and hard at the stupid way he died, laughed until tears were rolling down her face, and then we didnt see heragainfor2days. After48hourswewonderedifwewouldeverseeheragain.We allfoughttheurgetocheckforhernearsthetracks. This was before the politically correct days of college so we didnt have to endure subsequent lectures and articles about alcoholandtrainsandhowtheydontmix,evenincountryand westernsongs.Especiallyincountryandwesternsongs. Unlessthereisadogoranexwifeinvolved. Idontrememberhisname.Isthatcallousofme?Ireallydont. Noideaatall.NotevenGooglecouldhelp. Sooneminutehewasfulloflifeand cheapbeerandthenext hesacorpse.Andthenexthesamemory.Andthennoteven that. Andafterthatisitfairtosaythatafteryouforgethimandthen suddenlyhecomesbackintoyourheadthatheishauntingyou? Notinascary,chaseyouaroundthehouseatmidnightway,but still giving you goosebumps as you sit on the toilet and he makesanappearanceoutofnowhere. The lesson he was trying to teach has been taught so many times now that I no longer give a flying crap about the obituaries because now they are only filled with better them thanmefaces.Readmostofthemandsuddenlygettinghitby a train when youre drunk doesnt seem so bad. So, whenever possible,don'treadthem. I wonder if he still sneaks up on my friend when shes on the toiletmindingherownbusiness. Iknowmanyofyouarestillwonderingaboutmyclumsyuseof the word preponderance in my sixth sentence. I dont know, I justwantedtousethewordwithoutfeelingobligedtofollowit withofevidencewhichistheonlywayIveeverseenitused. Iwonderwhohewouldhavebeen. I wonder about the girl that jumped 22 stories into the soft grass,gotupandthenleftschool.Eventhoughshedidntdie,I wonderwhoshewouldhavebeenifshehadntjumped.

72

Ibetshedoestoo.Shesavesastepandhauntsherself. notsameasiteverwas So I saw this ad for a mens cologne yesterday. This good looking albeit slightly effeminate fellow is extolling the virtues of getting lost. I guess the point of this commercial was to associatethecarefreeattitudeofahunkyyoungmanwiththe fragrance contained within their cute little bottle, leading the consumer to believe that if they go out and purchase this cologne they will become not only more hunky with its applicationbutalsoconsiderablemorecarefree. Im sorry but all I got out of the ad was that this product captures the scent of being lost. And by lost I mean leaning against a car while sitting in an area that can only be the salt flats of Death Valley which brings up the question can you actuallybelostifyouknowwhereyouare?Imean,youmight not be where you want to be but youre not exactly lost are you? He seemed very comfortable and in no great rush to get unlost. Now if his car was out of gas sitting in the middle of DeathValleyIthinkhedbeexperiencingamuchdifferentscent and one I think the manufacturer would be a great deal more hesitanttomarket. Now this whole conversation to this juncture has been a digression from the actual point of the story but as I started withwhatoriginallygotmetothinkingofthepointofthestory and not what the point of the story actually was you are excusedfornothavingnotice. YoucantreallybelievethatIwoulddedicateanentireblogtoa cologne commercial can you? Well, it is true that I have dedicatedmanymorewordstoevenlesssignificanttopicsyou canproceedreadingwiththeutmostconfidencethatthisisnot one of those cases and what follows, while perhaps not profound,isatleastmorepalatablethanmullingoverapretty boyandwhathesmellslikeaftersittinginadesert.

73

The idea of not actually being lost if you know where you are, despite it not being where you wanted to end up, got me ponderingotherissuesrelatedtobeinglost.How,youask,can you tell the difference between when Im merely thinking and whenImpondering?IbelievethatwhenImponderingIweigh more.Icertainlyfeelheavierandtherecanbenodoubtthatthe wordponderingsoundsheavierthanthinking,eventakinginto account that it is one letter longer I think youll agree that it soundsevenheavierthanjustoneletterlonger. NowobviouslyInotonlydigressedfromtheupcomingtopicbut this time you were aware of it and my guess is you didnt appreciate it given your piqued curiosity about what the actuallypointoftheblogis. I will delay no further. Obviously the holidays are a busy time and I would hate to think that I held you up any longer than absolutelynecessaryafteryouwereniceenoughtotakeafew momentsandreadmybloginthefirstplace.Ofcourse,ifyou are a regular reader of said blogs than it serves you right for having stopped and read it in the first place given my track record of wasting both time and effort. I guess then I am only feeling the guilt of holding up a freshlyscrubbed new reader whostumbleduponmyblogbyaccidentandhadnoideaabout whattheyweregettingthemselvesinto. Soforthem,hereitisthepoint!InfactIwilljumprightintoit and let the savvy reader figure out how I got from the last discussionoflosttothisnewtakeonthematterwithoutany furtherdelay. Ididanexperimenttoday. Ever hear the expression about looking for something that is losthowitsalwaysinthelastplaceyoulook?Sureyouhave, everybody has not only heard that expression but lived it out numerous times. Misplacing things is such a common occurrence that somehow the science behind that expression has never really been tested. Were unable to find something. We search everywhere. We finally find it. And, so the theory goes,itsalwaysinthelastplacewelook.

74

Why? Because after we find it we dont keep looking do we? Simple.Evenachildcanunderstandthat. Orcanthey? TodayIdidagroundbreakingexperiment. I couldnt find my keys. After tearing the house apart I finally foundthem. ThenIkeptlooking. Thatsright.Ifoundthemandthencontinuedlookinganyway. TostartwithIwasthefirstpersontoeverfindsomethingnotin thelastplacetheylooked.Thatsprettyawesome. I could tell you that in fact a little while later I found them again,thistimeinmypocket,orIfoundanothersetofkeysId lost years earlier but that wouldnt be true. Then again, how manytruethingsareasinterestingaswhatsnottrue? Is it true that David Byrne, of the band Talking Heads, was talking about brine pools (areas on the ocean basin that have veryhighsalinityduetothemotionoflargesaltdepositscaused by salt tectonics and gives the appearance of lakes under the ocean) when he sang There is water at the bottom of the ocean? IthinkIvejustscratchedthesurfaceofthisinvestigation.One day people might shrugs their shoulders and say things are usuallythelastplaceyoulookallbecauseofme. CompetitiveeatingcomestoAfrica My name is Dirk Gintly and I am the Vice President of CommunicationfortheWorldCompetitiveEatingAssociation.I amtakingtimeoutofmybusydaytorespondtosomenegative feedback our latest event is generating. While I understand someoftheconcernsraisedbyourhavinganeventinEthiopiaI mustalsosaythatIthinkitisunfairtolabelit'cruel'or'callous'. Infact,onecouldmaketheargumentthatourbringingsucha highprofile happening to an impoverished country is exactly what the doctor ordered. Think of the revenue and publicity

75

we'llgenerateandI'msureyou'llagreethatevenBonoandhis otherdogobuddieswouldgivetheirthumbsup...if,ofcourse, theyweren'tsuchoutspokencritics. I think it disingenuous of these bleeding hearts to want to affectchangeandthenfightattemptsatprogress. IwillbethefirsttoadmitthatwegotofftoarockystartbutI'm not sure Mondaymorning quarterbacking is going to help. Clearly we didn't have enough security when the first shipping containerfullofhotdogsarrivedbutwhocouldhaveforeseen 10,000 hungry people breaking through the barriers and not only eating the hot dogs but our guards as well. Believe me when I say the families of those involved have been compensated. Once we moved to razor wire and live ammunitionthedeliveryofthesecondcontainerwentwithout ahiccup. Hereisthething.IwishBonoandhisgangwouldgetonboard and see what we're trying to do here. The fact is that the starvation makes a poignant backdrop to 15 of the world's greatest eaters trying to cram down as many hot dogs in 3 minutesastheycan.Thestarvationisn'tgoinganywhereBono, itwillstillbetherewhenyouwanttopromoteyournewalbum witha'free'fundraisingconcert.HonestlyIthinkhecouldhelpa lotmorebysupportingourevent...andlcan'tbetheonlyone who'scuriousabouthowmanychickenwingsheandtheboys fromU2canthrowdown. This Saturday Ethiopia will see the likes of Joey Chestnut and Takeru Kobayashi demonstrating the beauty and passion of competitive eating in the Nathan's Hot Dog Eat Hot Dog Chowdown.Ihavenodoubtthecrowdswillenjoywatchingso much food being consumed in such a short time by so few people. Truly it will be an inspiring afternoon. After that we move to Zimbabwe in March for the Corned Beef Sandwich Showdown followed by, and tell me that you're not dying for this one, the lovely Democratic Republic of Congo hosting the KingCakeEatingChampionship!

76

In conclusion, I hate to see a few narrowminded people ruin thingsforeveryone.Competitiveeatingisagrowingsportandif theruckusatthedockswasanyindicationthereisplentyofup andcomersinEthiopiatokeepoureyesoutfor. Visit our website for further information and all your tshirt, hatsandaccessories! Oh...andgivetohungerrelief.Googleit,there'sgottobealot ofwebsitesorsomething. Ilovegoodbyes I've found that in important conversations, especially the importantpartsofimportantconversations,it'salotlikepulling the rip cord on your parachute. Words can act like a nylon canopy or an anvil. Having experienced the latter frequently I alsoknowhowitfeelstofumbleandpullthebackupcordonly to see a grand piano emerge. A Steinway at that... at least I'm elegantinmyineloquence. Words have always been a problem. This need to fill a conversation the same way you'd overstuff a piece of luggage forashorttrip.Justputtingtoodamnmuchin.Insertyourown 'baggage'metaphorhere. That'swhyIlovegoodbyes. Beating fate to the punch. My memory is filled with incidents that I wish didn't happen. Incidents that would never have happened if I'd have gone to goodbye earlier. Most of my regretscenteraroundtheissueofsayinggoodbyetoolate.Or, evenworse,havingitsaidtomewhenIshouldhavebeenthe onesayingit. Ruininggoodmemoriesforever. SoIsaygoodbyeearly.ClosingthingsoutwhileIstillhavethis nice little memory instead of rolling the dice. Sure I wonder occasionally about what might have been but it's still a safer playtosaygoodbye.

77

IrememberinNewBrunswickalotofyearsbacktherewasthis girlatthebar.Beautifulgirl.Wetalkedandsheseemedabout as perfect as a girl can get. I asked her what he favorite song was and she blushed and replied "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald". I turned and as I walked away I looked back for a momentandsaidgoodbye.Tothisday,ifsheevenrememberit herself,shemusthavethoughtshesaidtheabsolutegodawful wrongthing...andtothisdayIthinkabouthowthatanswerwas the absolute godawful right one. It was the perfect one. So I stillhavethatgirlinmyheadallprettyandperfect. BecauseIsaidgoodbye. Someone once told me that the pain you feel upon having someoneleaveyourlifeisagoodthingbecauseitshowedthat you'dexperiencedsomethingwiththatperson.Itwasthecheck comingafteranicemeal.Thesomethingyouexperiencedcould beanything,goodorbad.Itwaslifedistilleddowntoaseriesof interactions.Whatbetterwaytoenditthanwithawellthought outgoodbye. Think about all the people that have left your life and think about how few got the goodbye they deserved. Isn't there a part of you that wished you could jump back in time and actually say the things that you would have wanted to leave themwith? Words will always be a problem. Each with their double meaningsandsubtext.Ourtonguesshapingtheairleavingour lungs in a clumsy attempt to convey meaning. Groping in the darktofindjusttherightwaytoturnaphraseorwishingthat you'dhaveleftthatairasanexhaleasopposedtoasentence. Spewingoutenoughverbalropetohangourselves5timesover so we use the extra to hang others that find themselves with the misfortune of being within earshot and unlucky enough to careaboutthewordsstumblingoutofourpieholes. So keep a goodbye handy at all times. Practice on people you don't care about and it gets easier. You'll find that cutting peopleoffdoesn'tmakethecommunicationsashollowasyou'd think it would. In fact, when you start adding people to your

78

mental scrapbook in tidy caricatures you'll appreciate them more.Seemstomethemoreweconnectwithpeopletheless poignantthosemomentsbecomeanyway. Ever wonder why the best romance movies end after an hour and a half? Who wants to live out happily ever after? Even buddy movies get dull after a couple hours after the and car chasessubside. Interact.Appreciateit.Credits.Seewhatelseison. Ilovegoodbyes. turkeyscan'tfly The other night I woke up in the middle of the night. It's impossible to tell the middle when it's a cloudless night and everythingoutsideisclearandbright.Tofindthemiddleofthe nightyouneedacloudynightwherewhenyouwakeupit'sthe kindofdarkthatmakesyousurethepowerisout.Thepower doesn'thavetobeout,itjusthastofeellikeitis.Thecomfort of the nightstand light being within arms reach suddenly evaporates and you suddenly listen hard for the buzz of electricity somewhere telling you that you can push the darknessbackanytimeyouwantonlytoworrythatitmightnot bethecase.Peoplesaythatit'salwaysdarkestbeforethedawn but in the middle of the night it's obvious that these people havenocluewhatnightisallabout. I woke up smack dab in the middle and I knew this because thereisshitburiedinyourbrainthatisonlyaccessiblewhenit's that dark out. You can lay awake and search every corner of your head for this stuff before and after the middle with zero success.It'slikethatsceneoutofRaidersoftheLostArkwhere the sun hits the staff at just the right time and it unlocks the exactrestingplaceofacertainmemoryoremotion. I opened my eyes and there was no difference. Blackness. I blinked and waited for everything to come into focus but nothingdid.

79

Iwasinthemiddleofthenight. Ilistenedforthehumoftheairconditionerortheclockorthe noisystreetlightoutsideandheardnothing. Yep...itwasthemiddle. Ashaftofdarknessshotthroughsomeunseenstafforcracked gemorwhateverandIbracedforwhateverhorrorwastocome next from the depths of my brain. I thought about burying my head under the covers like a kid but I knew that didn't work anymore.Somethingwascomingbutitwasn'taseasyasabeast emergingfromtheclosetorscalytalonsdraggingupthestairs. Itcouldn'tbehiddenfrom.Itwascomingfromwithin.Iwasnot disappointed. WKRPinCincinnati. AsakidIusetolovethatshow.Youmightnothaveeverseenit but it was funny and had some very memorable characters. Truthisthough,Ihaven'tthoughtaboutitfor20years.Sowhat mightyouaskisterrifyingaboutrememberingasitcomfrommy youth? Surely episodes like the one where as a publicity stunt the radio station drops live turkeys out of a helicopter over a shoppingcenterasaThanksgivingDaygiveawaycouldn'tinvoke anyfearright?Eventhoughdomesticturkeys,whichcannotfly, plungetotheirdeathsasshoppersrunfortheirlivesitwasdone without any intention of being scary. In fact the entire event occurred entirely offscreen as nerdy Les Nessman described thesceneinwordsreminiscentofHerbertMorrison'sreporting oftheHindenburgDisaster.MaybeoneofthefunniestshowsI ever saw (rivaling an episode of Taxi when Jim tries to get his driver's license). So why would this trip down memory lane causemeanyupset? Thethemesong. A theme song I heard week after week without taking any noticeofit. Inthemiddleofthenightyouhearitdifferently. Baby,ifyou'veeverwondered, Wonderedwhateverbecameofme,

80

I'mlivingontheairinCincinnati, Cincinnati,WKRP. I read them back now and they seem harmless enough but in the middle of the night they resonate on a much deeper and darker level. Suddenly I feel the angst. I wonder if there is anyone wondering about me. Am I worthy of being remembered? Itgetsworseinthesecondverse. Gotkindoftiredpackingandunpacking, Towntotownandupanddownthedial Maybeyouandmewerenevermeanttobe, Butbabythinkofmeonceinawhile. Suddenlyit'saplea.Ifinallyunderstoodwhatthewritermeant. LikesomeemotionalDaVinciCode.ForafewmomentsIshared hislonging,thismiddleofthenightlongingthatduskanddawn knownothingabout.Thevocalistmaskingthepainwithabright andcheerymelody.Knowingthatthesongwilldeflectthrough theRaidersstaffinjusttherightwayyearslaterinaninkybeam toplungeintotheexposedbreastofaformerfan. And then the last line, the terrible last line. The stuff of nightmares. I'matWKRPinCincinnati... Thereisnowheretoruninthemiddleofthenight.Noanswer totheobviousquestionof"isthismyWKRP?".Whycouldn'tit have been zombies chasing me or werewolves stalking me in theshadows? Thehorror. Thehorror

81

jogging Don'tkidyourself.ImightwriteyoungbutIamoldasfuck.With thatinmindIdecidedtostartjoggingagain.LastyearIwenton afitnesskickanditlasteduntilthetemperaturesdippedbelow 50somaybeit'sjustthetimeofyearbutIrummagedthrough theol'closetandlocatedmyjoggingshoesandthenspentthe betterpartof3daysputtingtogethera'soundtrackofsuffering' onmyIpodsoIwouldhavesomethingtogetmethroughthe30 minutesofpain. There are a lot of ways I could spin this story but I prefer an honestreviewoftheincidentsthatmadeupmyattemptatself improvementsoIwillproceedwiththatapproach. Just like in real estate the 3 most import things to remember beforestartingoffonajogarestretching,stretching,stretching. Ahealthydoseofgoodintentionsdoesn'thurteither.Iwillnow relatewhyIstartedoffsopoorly. 1.Iboughtkneebraces.Notaprobleminandofitself,infacta very logical decision based on my history of sore knees. The problemwasthatIboughtLargekneebracesbasedonthefact thatIamtallasfuck.BUTthesizeofkneebracesisbasedonthe girth of your knee and not the length therefore, because I am skinnyasfuck,theykeptslidingoffmykneesanddownmylegs. 2. The button on the flap of my underpants had come off. Usually no big deal, I would estimate that a full 50% of my underwear is missing a button, but in this case for some unknownreasonmydickkeptpoppingoutasIranandthenit would wedge itself between my underpants and my sweat pants. I wasn't sure what was more difficult to deal with; the whyitkeptdoingitorthehow.Eitherwayitfeltweirdasfuck with my penis bouncing up and down in the little underwear doorway, the head of which was being raked up and down on theinsideofmysweatpants. 3.Myleftearmustnotbeasdeepasmyrightbecausealthough the right earpiece of my Ipod was nestled happily in my ear

82

canaltheleftearpiecekeptpoppingoutandswingingbackand forthacrossmyface. All 3 of these events started about 10 feet into my run and continuedrelentlesslyuntilIstoppedmyrun. NowIcouldplaythisoffassomefunnythingthatiscompletely unbelievableandhaveyouthinkingIammakingthisupforyour amusement but the terrible truth is that it happened and I couldn'thavelookedlikeabiggerretardjoggingdownthepath trying to pull up each knee brace nonchalantly while trying to grabthelittlewireholdingtheearpieceatthesametimethetip of my dick was being filed down in the crotch of my pants. Anyonewho hasevertriedtowranglehishosebackinsidehis underpants while jogging and doing the aforementioned activitiescancommiserate. Itdidnotstartoutwell.Worse30yardsofmylife. SoIstoppedtoregroup.Takeinventory.Pullittogether. In doing so I got to look around a bit and see what else was going on in the park. Fortune had smiled upon me because it appearednobodyhadbeenwitnessto'theshow'Ihadputon.I walkedbacktomycartomakesomechanges.OnthewayIsaw thestrangestthing.Abigfatwomantryingtojogwithherdog. Theproblemwasshehadabigfatdog.Iswear,shehadevery intention of jogging. She kept trying to start but every time dogzilla would just stand there and she would be tugging helplesslyon his/her leash and the dog would just sit there. I gotsoenraged.Hereshewas,tryingtochangeherlifeforthe better, run off a few pounds and start down the road to a thinner future and this piece of shit dog was too lazy to help! ThereshouldbeashowcalledTheBiggestLoserDog,thisfuck would be voted off the island the very first weighin. Poor womankepttuggingandthedogkeptbeingfatandneitherof them were making any progress. Maybe the saddest thing I've everlaughedhystericallyat. SomehowIendedupinspiredsoIstrippedoffthekneebraces, grabbedasafetypinfromthecarandshutthedownstairsbarn

83

door and then smashed the earpiece of the Ipod so far down intomyearcanalthatIwillprobablyneedsurgerytoremoveit. Itwastimetojog(again). Itstartedtodawnonmeafterafewminutesofrunningthatit's notsomuchthatIenjoylisteningtomusicasmuchasitisthatI amafraidtobealonewithmythoughts.Originally Ithoughtit was the sound of my feet crunching on the pavement that somehow made me more cognizant of the fact I was actually joggingand,therefore,mademylegsandlungsawareofwhat they were doing and, more therefore, made them revolt and want to turn the metaphorical ship back to port where they couldsitandwatchTV,butitturnsoutIjusthavetohavesome distractionfromthestupidshitthatisrunningthroughmyhead at all times of peace and quiet. As long as the music played I wasn't thinking and could plow along without much problem but if I was to take away the soundtrack I would be forced to actuallypayattentiontomyself. So obviously I got offended at this notion and immediately turned off the music that I had so carefully selected for my journeyof30minutes. Quickly thereafter I thought about how the Air Force could dramatically lower the number of planes that were shot down during wars... they could just taxi to wherever they were headed.Thewholeway.Neverleavetheground.Nobodywould suspect it. Just drive up, drop off their bombs and then drive away.Nobodygetsshotdown.Not1ofthem. Brilliant. Iturnedthemusicbackon. Heeding some advice given to me by one of my annoyingly fit friends, the kind of friend that competes in Ironman competitions where, if memory serves, they have to run 26 miles, swim upstream like a fucking salmon for 26 miles and thencarryaflamingpianoup3flightsofstairsonaunicycleor something. So fit they annoy you. But anyway, I lamented to themaboutmysorekneessometimelastsummer,whenIwas tryingtogetbackinshapeforthe20thtimeinmyunfitlife,and

84

theysuggested(inacompletelynoncondescendinglytonethat mademeevenmorepissed) thatIrunongrassasopposedto pavement. Made a lot of sense so I slipped of the trail and startedtorunnexttoit. Muchbetter. Ifeltveryrelaxedandtheburninginmylungshaddieddownto justthefeelingofhavingswallowedamixtureofjalapeosauce andliquidfire.CaptainHealthoutforastroll. SoinspiredwasIthatIleftthecomfortofthetrailentirelyand suddenly sprinted out into adjacent field. It was awesome. My spirit soared as I crashed through grasses and flowering plants ofeverymakeandmodel.Itwasthefloweringpartthatwasin theendmyundoing.ApparentlyIwasnottheonlylivingthing enjoying the blooms because I quickly became aware of how upsetthesefellowcreaturesgetwhenyougallopthroughtheir flowers while they are gathering nectar or whatever fuck else theyaredoing.Ilookeddownatmylegstoseenumerousflying insects clinging to them, all ready to lodge a complaint simultaneously. Which,almostoncue,theydid. Theimageofmerunningwithmykneebracesslipping,myjunk poppingoutmyunderpantsandmyearpieceswingingwildlyin myfacewasnothingcomparedtothesightofmyexitfromthe field. Shrieking and flailing as every bug sporting a stinger had madetheirwaytomylegsandhadbegundoingtheirbestwork. My legs were covered, it was a writhing mass of insects (and I swearIsawacrowinthemix)allconvincedthattheonlywayto savethenestorhiveorwhateverelsetheycalledhomewasto stickthelivingfuckoutofme. ThenIsawthem. Twins. Twinoldmen. Bothaboutaseccentricasyoucanimagine.Butbeforeyoustart inimaginingthemgivemeasectohelpoutabit.Baldingwith white hair and big bushy mustaches. Normal shorts and shirts, normal for Bavaria anyway, and socks pulled up to their knees

85

that can only be described as lederhosen. Honestly I have no idea what lederhosen are but they looked like what I would think they are. Big thick crmecolored socks. Iknow,Iknow.Youimaginedthemmuchmoreeccentric.That's whatIgetforstatingittoomuchlikeachallenge. Anyway,theyweresuddenlyjustthereinfrontofmeandthey were so odd that for a brief moment I forgot all about my painfullegsandjustsortofnoddedatthem.Theylookedmeup anddownandthennoddedback.Theireyesslowlymadetheir waydowntomylegsasiftosay"doesn'tthathurt?".Iraisedan eyebrowasiftosay"youhavenofuckingidea". Theybothsmiledbroadly,pulledtheirsocksdownaroundtheir shoes as low as they could go and, I am not making this up, sprinted into the very field I had just departed. My face must havebeenapictureofpuredisbeliefasIslowlycranedmyhead andwatchedthem,kneeshigh,plowthroughtheveryblossoms andtheirgueststhatIhadrecentlydisturbed! As I slapped, crunched and flicked the last of my winged adversaries off my lower extremities I listened to them howl andlaughastheyweresimilarlyassaulted. Eventhemiddleagedguywiththemetaldetectorcombingthe areaundertheswings(whatthefuckdoeshethinkhegoingto find????) couldn't distract me from watching them until they returned.The3ofusstoodandsilentlycomparedthethrobbing andswollenwoundsonourlegs. Oneofthemsaid"sametimetomorrow?". Inodded. No pain, no gain. So now I sit here redoing my Ipod trying to figurewhatmusicgoeswithgettingstung. Don'tsay"anythingbySting".Justdon't.

86

uglyatprom This is not something I wanted to write. It's been more like a fart I've been trying to hold in while surrounded by decent company.Hopingtheurgetosharethiswouldpassbutinstead itgrewstrongeruntilIsitdownhereanditstartstoescapelike some metaphorical gas about to pollute anyone dumb enough tobenearby. The problem started, like it does every year around this time, when I see the local boys and girls getting all dressed up for prom.WhyitalwaysleapsintomyheadI'mnotsurebutitdoes, the powerful realization that it must really suck to be an ugly girlonpromnight. I'm not saying that life is a party for the other 364 days but prom must throw some existential spotlight on being unattractive. Then I saw her. The High Priestess of Ugly. Poor fucking girl lookedjustlikeTomPettywithalongblondewigandtwosmall titties.NoteventheHardPromisesTomPettybuttherightthis minuteTomPetty.Itwasn'tthatIwastryingnottostareather, staringwasassumed,Iwastryingnottohavemyjawhangslack withdroolpoolinginthecorners. Shewasoutsidetakingpictureswithagroup.Thatcamerawas in for a long evening. Then I did a quick headcount. 5 girls. 4 boys. Ohshit. Shedidn'thaveadatebutwasgoinganyway.Icouldhavecried. I totally admired her pluck in not letting the fact that she was toouglyforwordsstopherfromenjoyinganimportantevening with her friends. That wasn't why the tears were gathering forcesbehindmyseeminglyimpassiveeyes. I was crying for the boys. They had, unknowingly and against theirwills,enteredintoagameofcockblockroulettewitheach other. One of their dates was going to have to hang out with thisuglygirl andkeepherentertained.Oneof theirdateswas going to have to take this ugly girl home so while they all

87

laughed and smiled for the camera they also were shooting each other looks to see which of these poor condominthe wallethopingtobeusedbastardsitwasgoingtobe. AndallthewhileshewasgallopingaroundwithherTomPetty faceruiningeveryfuckingpictureshewasin.Youcouldseethe parentstryingtoinventreasonstoseparatethekidsforphotos so she didn't have to be in them. Each parents gripping their camerawitha"CanIgetONEfuckingpicturewithoutthatTom Pettybitchinit?"lookontheirface. ItsoundsasthoughI'mmadatherwheninfactI'mreallynot. Myheartachesforhercarryingaroundthatfaceeveryday.The problem is I imagine that she's the kind of girl that likes her marshmallows at room temperature so when she is sitting around a campfire she won't even bother to stick it on a stick andpretendtoroastitforevenasecondandwilljustsitthere eatingthemrightoutofthebagwhileeveryoneelseisdutifully holdingtheirsovertheflamesuntil itinevitably catchesfireor fallsin. Seewhatuglydoes?Itmakesyoufeellikeabadpersonbecause ifthegirlisuglyenoughyoubecomeabadperson. Especiallyatpromseason. She probably doesn't mind that TV and movies are fagging up vampiresandwerewolves. See?Thereitisagain. I went to prom. Luckily the world doesn't mind ugly guys too much.Istillrememberthebluetux,blueruffledshirtandone sizetoolarge blue velvet bow tie. What a fuckin mess I was... butitwasok.Therewereuglygirlsatmypromtotaketheheat offme. ButnobodyintheleaguewiththegirlIwasstaringattheother day.Ineedsomesortofmentalminttogetheroutofmyhead. Her face disproved a loving god right there and then. If someoneaccidentallyshotherthey'd walkbackandshoother intheheadjusttomakesureshewasdead. Andprobablynotdoanyjailtime.

88

I'mreallynotasterribleapersonasIamwhenIseeanuglygirl atprom. TopChefmuch? SoIhadthisweirddreamlastnight.IwasontheTVshowTop ChefandsomehowI'd madeit down tothestage whereIwas facing off against this very wellknown and popular restaurateur. For those of you who don't watch the show the basic idea is that each person must create a dish using secret ingredientsthattheyfindinabasket.Theydon'tknowwhatwill beinthe basketsuntiltheyopen themand then theyhave30 minutestowhipsomethingupforthepanelofculinaryexperts. Usuallytheitemsinthebasketsareidenticalbutinthecaseof mydreamtheywerecompletelydifferent.Iopenedmybasket andfoundajarofpeanutbutter,ajarofstrawberryjam,aloaf ofbreadandalargebagofpotatochips. Iimmediatelywenttowork. Myopponentopenedhisbasketandfoundalitterof3adorable kittensandaballofyarn. Icarefullylaidouttheslicesofbreadandbegantoapplyathin layer of peanut butter to one piece and then an equally thin layer of strawberry jam to another and then, after carefully lining them up and deciding to leave the crusts on for a more rugged meal, put the two slices together to form a sandwich. HavingplentyoftimeleftontheclockIthencarefullyplaceda handfulofpotatochipsoneachplatenexttothesandwiches. Done. On the other side of the kitchen things weren't going as smoothly.Myadversarywasnevergoingtowinbackthejudges aftertheywatchedhimstretchout themewingkittensoneby oneandthenwithahard,sharppullbroketheirnecks.Hisnext mistakewascuttingofftheirheadsandlettingtheblooddrain out of them in full view of the shocked panel. One of the womenactuallyhadtoexcuse herselfashecutoffthefeetof

89

eachofthekittensandbegantopulltheskindownandforward overthebody.Theshowhadtoabruptlycuttoacommercialas he then made a cut from the kittens anus to his ribcage and begantofishouttheintestinesandlungs. With15 minutesstillleft ontheclock Inervouslyadjusted the chipsonmyplates. Completely lost on the audience was the effort my rival was putting into assembling his ingredients; apple cider (hard), bacon, butter, flour, vegetable oil, heavy cream, Calvados, pepper,parsley,andahalfdozenotheritems.Theoneitemin playatthejudgestablewasgettingalltheattention...smelling salts. 15 minutes later I was giving the panela pithy and delightful history lesson about John Montagu, the 4th Earl of Sandwich. There's just something about those 18th century British aristocrats that make them my goto topic when faced with a paneloffoodcritics.Theyateupmypresentationbothliterally andfiguratively. Mychallengerbegantoexplainhisdecisiontobraisethekittens but the judges wanted to hear none of his 'old French recipe' nonsenseandkeptcuttinghimoffwithcommentslike"youcut off their (beep) heads right in front of us" and "you're a monster". So that's my dream. I beat a worldrenown chef with a PB&J. Obviously it means I'm watching too much Food Network but whykittens? ants,musiciansandchemicalmessages Theyhadcalledoutantdetective47Q17Htoinvestigatesoyou know it wasn't the usual run of the mill ant disappearance. 47Q17H had been with the colony for over 60 days and had seen it all. He headed out following the chemical trail left by scout 45R62A and felt certain he would have answers for the queen in only a few hours. 45R62A was a legend among the

90

foraging crowd , he was not only responsible for finding the dropped spare rib a few weeks back but he also warned everybodyofthetermiteinvasionthatwassuccessfullyturned backthankstohisquickthinking.47Q17Hputhisantennaback tothegroundwithsteelydetermination. Therearenomusiciansinanantcolony.Whatdoesthishaveto dowiththefateof45R62A?Plenty.Thefactisdespitehaving6 legs there are no musicians. Certainly with that many appendages there could be if they wanted one. Ants are amazing insects and can pretty much do anything that they wantto.It'sscientificallyproven. Thereareplentyofhumanmusicians.Infact,itcouldbeargued (very easily) that there are too many musicians. Why do I say that?BecauseasIwasjoggingthroughtherainthismorningit suddenlydawnedonmethatmusiciansarecarriers.Carriersof a disease far worse than Epidermodysplasia Verruciformis or Calcinosis. I'm talking about discontent. If you think about its effect on human society just imagine how it would sweep throughananthill. Oneminuteyou'resittingthereallcontentandthenextyou're listening to The Replacements Unsatisfied and thinking "Hey! I AMunsatisfied!".Don'tbelieveme?Idareyoutotryit. And there it is. The discontent has been spread... and what's worse is that you're now a carrier. You think poetry slams just happen?! Normally happy and upbeat youth transformed into turtleneckwearing, fingersnapping douche bags huddled around candles trying to remember their lives before hearing FireandRainbyJamesTaylor.Iwanttobreakintothecluband grab a halfdecent guy and extol the virtues of just going out and getting laid! "Really, it feels great!". Then I'd find a not horrible looking girl and explain that if a penis isn't her thing thereareplentyofpenisshapedobjectsthatshemuchhaving lyingaroundthehousethatwilldothejob.Thepointbeingthat discontentmustbefought. But the unfortunate truth is that halfdecent guy will probably listentoColinHay'sIJustDon'tThinkI'llEverGetOverYouon

91

the way to the bar and suddenly an exgirlfriend will pop into hisheadandhe'llfeeldiscontent. Turningacertainphraseoverandoverinhishead,clingingtoit like some underinflated floatation device. Lost at sea. For the world is riddled with war and poverty and plagues and famine buttheseedsofdiscontentaremovedmosteasilythroughthe victims heart and these sickfuck musicians know it. For example, more people are infected through Pink Floyd's Wish YouWereHerethantheirlesserknownsongUjuluCouldReally UseASandwich. Obviously any hue and cry to stamp out musicians would be a wasteoftimesothat'sexactlywhatIamsuggesting. 45R62A had come upon a Kerengga Jumper of the genus Myrmarachne. A spider that looks like and mimics an ant. Pheromoneswereinvolved. 47Q17H came to where the trail ended. Typically there was somechemicalsignatureofwhattranspired.Somelastwilland testamentscentlefttogivethecolonyanideaofwhytheantis no longer with them... usually who ate or stepped on them. There was a chemical here but it was one that 47Q17H had never detected before. He walked around and looked for additional clues but could find no markings, no indication of violenceandnocorpse. Had 45R62A come upon a male Kerengga his fate would have been easy to determine. Unlike the female, the male lacks the ability to inject their paralyzing venom and must instead hold downtheantandstabittodeathbeforesuckingupthefluidsof their mangled prey. 47Q17H had no way of knowing this because it was a female. And the only scent left was one that 47Q17Hhadnevercomeuponbeforeinhislong60daysasan antdetective. So are you infected? There is an easy way to tell. You can believe that the female spider paralyzed the ant and then carried off his body to eat at her leisure, content that the ant would be so confused as to leave a final chemical explanation thatwasequalpartsstunnedandwhatthefuck.

92

Or you can believe that the spider felt something for the ant that she had never felt before and the ant had felt something for the spider that he had never felt before and they had left togethertostartawholenewlifeandtheanthadleftthefirst andonlyknownchemicalinterpretationoflovethat47Q17Hor anyotherantinthecolonywillevercomeupon. Do I have to explain which explanation means that you're contaminated? Spoileralert!Thetruthis45R62Ahadcomeuponthespiderand hadfeltthingshe'dneverfeltbeforebutthespiderjustsawhim as lunch and approached and injected him with her fangs. 45R62Aacceptedthisandleftthefirstandonlyknownchemical interpretation of love that 47Q17H or any other ant in the colonywouldevercomeuponbeforedyingandbeingdragged awaytobeconsumedlaterinthedaybytheKerenggaJumper. Atleastyoucanhopeforthesakeofcolonieseverywherethat thisisthelasttimethatanyantcomesuponthisscent. goodwithkids SoIwasaskedtochaperoneatriptothelocalartmuseumfora group of preschool kids and, like an idiot, agreed to do it. I arriveandlikesomethingoutofabadsitcomI'msuddenlyass deep in small kids. We walk over and get herded into a conference room while the museum finishes exhuming our 2 tour guides. We get saddled with the older of the 2 relics, smellingofaliberalamountof'ReallyOldSpice',andhebegins toshuffleusthroughthegalleries.Likeourguide,itgotoldfast andthekidsweregettingrestlessaswasI.Weenteredanew hall and the guide asked the group if anyone knew what Abstract art was. I raised my hand. He called on me. His first mistakeoftheday. "Abstract art is for people who want to be artists but can't paint"Ioffered.

93

Mortwasunamused."Incorrect"andthenhewentontodefine itinsucha waythatmadethekidsimmediatelysidewithme. Wethensliduptoapaintingthatseemedtomethatanyoneon this planet with enough money to afford the brush, the paint, the canvas, and a skull bong could have painted. Mort bravely started to ask what the kids saw in the painting. After about 27,503answers,eachstrangerthanthenext,Mortwasgetting rattled. Trying to steer the kids in the right direction he then asked"whatmusicalinstrumentdoyouseeinthispainting?"A freshfacedyoungladshothishandupandanswered"aturkey" to much giggling. Trying to regain his composure Mort asked another sweet little boy and the boy answered "a turkey". Pandemoniumbegantobreakoutasadozensmallhandsshot up into the air. Amid the cacophony of children's laughter I quietlyraisedmyhandandMortwasonlytoohappytocallon me.Mortrepeatedthequestiontomeasoureyeslockedand afterashortpauseIlookedatMortandsaid"aturkey".Howls oflaughterrangthroughthemuseumasIbaskedintheglowof my newfound godhood status with the preschoolers! The teachers and other parents glared at me for such a gross violation of the chaperone code but it made no difference to me.Thekidslovedme! Bythetimewebeganourwalkthroughtheoutdoorgardento look at the sculptures I had a bigger following than Mort. I patiently explained to the kids the difference between 'real' sculptures and hunks of crap welded together by talentless frauds. I was in my element and not a fellow parent dared to correct me. It was then that a young man let out a yelp and started to wave his hand around as if it were badly burned. It turnedoutthatabughadlandedonitandhedidn'tlikebugs.I thought that this would be a good opportunity to explain that onlywimpykidsfreakoutaboutbugslandingonthemandIwas sure that this lesson would serve them all well as they went throughlife.Thenithappenedachancetoputmywordsinto action. Not 2 minutes later a bee landed on my arm. The childrengaspedinaweasIdidnotpanicorflailaround.Instead

94

I calmly explained that bees are our friends and that he was only landing on me to see if he could find any pollen. The childrengatheredaroundmetowatchournewfriendwalkup anddownmyarm.Thenthebeestungme. "FUCKER!" Little mouths fell open around me as I became a whirlingblurofsquealsandprofanity."Fuckthishurts!Howthe fuckdoesalittlefuckerlikethatstingsofuckingbad?"Iqueried perhaps a little too loudly. Teachers and parents hustled in to begin psychological damage control as I waved my throbbing limb around in an attempt to stop the agony. Then I did somethingthatIregret.MiffedattheballsofthisbeeIthenran into the middle of the flower bed and began punching and kicking the offenders brethren. In the course of taking my revenge on all that was yellowandblackstriped I may have alsodecapitatedsomeinnocenttulipsI'mnotsure.Itallwent bysofast. AfterIwasretrievedbytheparentsandbroughtbackintothe museumtorejointhetournodoubtmystatuswiththekidshad taken a blow. They were back to paying attention to Mort. Crusty old Mort! In fact, at some point during a discussion of colors he told the children that most artists have a favorite colorandaddedthathetakesalotofpicturesandhisfavorite colortoshootwasred.Thenoneofthegirlsaskedifhewasan artist. Before he could answer I barked out "no, he's a tour guide". The look of hurt on old Mort's face was terrible to behold.Butprettyfunny. Finally it was time to leave. I collected my charges and began theblissfulwalkoutofthemuseum.AsIhadonestepoutthe dooramuseumworkerthrustacertificateintothehandsofone of my boys and said it was good for one free art class at the museum. "No thanks" I said as I crumpled it up in my hand. "He's straight."

95

AGardeningStory In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of gardening.Inparticular,oneaspectofit. Weeding! Strong and wellshaped men locked in mortal combat with natureherself.Theseedsofherhandiworkcarriedonthechilly fall winds finally rising to start the dance anew. The powerful playgoesonandIgettocontributeaverse! So my Japanese 3 prong cultivator rake in hand I walk out my doorandjointhefray. Ok ok ok. I had to weed and I'm trying to make it interesting untilitgetsinteresting...soshootme.Itwashotandafterabout 2 friggin minutes I was sweaty and every known small buzzing insect had decided to come over and see how far up my nose theycouldgetbeforeIstartedtorakemyselfwithmyJapanese 3prongcultivatorrake.Irealizethatgoingfromanattemptto incorporate great literary quotes in describing my weeding to usingrakeasbothaverbandanouninthesamesentencemay be a dizzying fall but otherwise I'd have had to go back and change the Japanese 3 prong cultivator rake to a drop grip 2 tinehandcultivatorandthatwouldhavetakenfarmoreenergy thanitwasworth. Justtobringyouuptospeedallofmyperennialswereoffand running so I wasn't actually going to be planting anything this year.AllIneededtodowasweedandthensitbackandenjoy thefruitsofmypriorlabors.Ofcourse,assoonastheicehad thawed the forces of weedom had sprung fully into action. Before I could even sat down I saw Wild Chicory, Broadleaf Plantain and Mouseeared Chickweed making a claim to prime flowerrealestate. Iwashavingnoneofit. IcrankedupthevolumeonmyIpodanddoveinlikeachamp. Soon the beaten and bedraggled bodies of Yellow Woodsorrel and Low Hop Clover began to pile up. For the first time I saw somePurpleLoosestrifemakingaplayinmygardenandletme

96

tell you... I was not impressed. What a little bitch of a weed! Talkaboutshallowroots.Youpulloneoutandthe2nexttoit fall over on their own. Not at all like my arch nemesis taraxacumofficinale. TheDandelion. Hats off to whatever secret government lab created this bad boy.Rootsthatgoonforever.Iswear,youpullabigDandelion hardenoughandyoucanknockafewceramicfiguresoffanold ladies table in Germany. Don't let those happy yellow flowers foolyou,Dandelionsareallbusiness.Theyevenstartedarumor that you could eat them, make a salad out of their leaves or somehorseshitlikethat,totrylegitimizethemselves.Notgoing toflyaroundmyhouse.TheyknowitandIknowtheyknowit. That'swhyeveryyearit'satradition...theweedingthrowdown. Agardeninggrudgematch.Mevs.them. AtonepointmyJapanese3prongcultivatorrakewasprobably warmtothetouch.Iwasamachine.TheonlyweedIfearmore thantheDandelion?That'seasy.Solidago.Verged'or. CanadaGoldenrod. But I had little to fear that day as I was almost done weeding and seemed to have everything under control. Oh, life is like that.Sometimes,attheheightofourrevelries,whenourjoyis at its zenith, when all is most right with the world, the most unthinkabledisastersdescenduponus. That'swhenIcameuponit. The mother of all Goldenrod. It had sprouted behind a shrub literally on the path to my front door unnoticed until I was almostdoneweeding.RashlyItuggeditwithallmymightand heardthesicklysnapasitcameoffinmyhand.Theroots...the lifebloodofthisvillainstillfirmlyentrenchedinmysoil,certain to once again come thrusting itself up to annoy and agitate again. Notonmywatch. Perhaps at this point I should stop and point out a couple things. 1.Iliveoffthebeatenpathandrarelyhavevisitors.

97

2.Becauseof1.Iusuallyspendtheentiretimeweedingsinging alonginfullthroattowhateverI'mlisteningtoonmyIpod. Ok, these 2 points may seem unconnected to the simple and mundane task of weeding but allow me to continue and enlightenyouastohowallofthesethingsconspiredagainstme andwhyafterI'mdonerelatingtheseeventstoyouIwillbegin work on my apology letter to Girl Scout Troup #141 and 3 Cadettesinparticular. My back was to the path leading to my front door. I was engaged for a full 5 minutes in alternately digging around the enormous root and then pulling and tugging with all my strengthtouprootit.InmyheaditwasaheroicbattleandasI fought it I was belting out a song with all the... heroicasy (?) I couldmuster. Ifeltitgivewayandwithonelongfinaltugitslidfreefromthe earth!ForgivemeifIquicklyreturntomixinginaquickliterary referencebysayingthatIletoutwhatcouldonlybedescribed asabarbaricyawp.Ithenturnedaroundtosee3youngladies standing there, each wearing a familiar green sash over their shoulders. Iwasstillsinging. The song quickly died on my lips... but not until a particularly inappropriateverseof"ITouchMyself"bytheDivinylshadbeen delivered. 3 mouths dropped open and 6 eyes slowly made their way to myhand.Ahandthatwasclutchingathick8inchGoldenrod. For what seemed forever I stood frozen until finally the obligatoryscreechinganddroppingofcookiesandorderforms andretreatingfromwhencethey'dcamecommenced. Nowlethewithoutsincastthefirststone.Obviouslypullingon a Goldenrod for 5 minutes to "I Touch Myself" is fraught with Freudianperilstobeginwithbutwhataretheoddsthat3god forsaken Girlscouts are going to come wandering up in the middleofit?!

98

Iguessofferingtodosomegardeningforthemtomakeamends wouldprobablybeabadidea.Withmylucktheirheadquarters wouldbeoverrunwithYellowRocket. nahnahnahnah So today I'm driving through the rain at noontime, always a melancholyexperienceinandofitself,listeningtoaselfmade CD brimming with melancholy songs and singing along in my usual melodramatic (aha! Thought I was going to say melancholydidn'tyou?!)wayandenjoyingthehelloutofit.So much so that even when I was caught carsinging by other motoristsIcarriedonasiftheyweren'tpointingandlaughing. Theraincontinuedtocomestraightdownasifithadnowhere elsetogo(ok,thatsentencewasparticularlybadjusttryingto regainmybadwritingchopshere)andafteratimeIneededto stopforgassostopIdid.Therestofthisiscompletelytrue. Really. Itendtoexaggeratealotaswellaslieevenmorebutthispart is true. I got out to pump gas but left the car door open so I could continue listening to the song. That song being "A Long December"byCountingCrows,whichbecomesmoreimportant inonlyafewsentences.Ichanceuponapumpwherethelittle thing that is supposed to catch the other little thing on the pump to allow you to stop squeezing the handle yet still have gaspumpingintoyourtankactuallyworked.Usuallyitworksfor onlylongenoughforyoutodecidethatitworkssoyougooffto thesnackmarttobuyachocolatePowerBarandastrawberry Crushbutthenwhenyoureturnthepumpreads$0.09andyou stillhavetostandtherelikeadouchebagandholdit. Firstletmeapologizetothosepeoplewaitingtohearwhythe name of the Counting Crows songs was important. I really did thinkitwascomingupinonlyafewsentencesbutIgotoffona rantaboutthelittlethingsthataresupposedtoclickontoother littlethings.Mybad.

99

Second.hmmm.Ihadasecond.Whatwasit?Damn.Anyway thelittlethingthatgrabstheotherthingtoallowmetoletgoof thepumpwasworkinglikeacharmsoitallowedmetowander backtothedoorandlistentothesong.Thenithappened!Ihad a 'feels like I'm in a movie' moment. I was singing away as if I was in the ending of some moving romantic comedy and this wasthescenewhereeveryonecompletelyempathizedwithme. WalkinglazilyintotherainIclosedmyeyes,lookedupandsang the "nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah. Nah nah nah nah yeah" part (see, I told you the song would be important. If you don't know the song you are completelymissinghowpowerfulthissceneis.Dick.).Iwanted to spread my arms and slowly spin but I was aware that I was being watched by many people at the gas stations, some who werenotbigfansofthetypeofromanticcomedywhoseending Iwasnowlivingout,soIdidn'tgothatfar.Itwasawesome.My onlyregretwasthatIdidn'tspreadmyarmsoutandslowlyturn aroundmyadvicetoanyonewhofindsthemselvesinthatspot in the future is this: fuck who's watching and end your movie thewayyouwantto.Andanotherthingit'sperfectlynormal to see faces in clouds and wallpaper and bathroom tiles. Can I help it if I see faces in everything?! But I digress back to the gas station. Almost on cue I looked back at the pump as the songfinallywounddowntosee$0.23. Idon'tregretathingevenasIsitherewith thefirstsignsof hypothermiasettingin(whowouldhavethoughtthatraincould be so chilly) and my shoes still soggy. "nah nah nah nah nah nahnahnahnahnahnahnahnah.nahnahnahnahyeah" indeed. Thefacesinthenearbytreeslovedmeinthatone.

100

gettingsmaller When I was a kid one of my favorite comic books was Micronauts.Thepremisewasthatwhatwesawasatomswere actuallyjusttinygalaxieswiththeirownplanetsandlifeforms. It was the ol' "inside your fingertip could be a billion galaxies" argument.AtthetimeIlovedtheideaanditdidn'thurtthatthe storieswerewellwrittenandoccasionally,throughsomecrazy scientific accident or villainous plot, they would pop up in our worldandwreckhavoc. ItgotmeinterestedinquantumphysicsandI'vespentalotof time reading up on different theories about how small matter can get. I could bore you with my own ideas about subatomic particleslikegraviphotonsandleptoquarksbuttheviewheldby most of the big brains is that there is a limit to how minute thingscanget. Try telling that to the Greek philosopher who determined that you can never actually arrive anywhere because however fast you travel you are endlessly getting "half way there"... so you canneveractuallyarrive.Hisnameescapesmebuthisideawas funtothrowaround.Itwaswiththistotaldisregardforreality that I somehow became comfortable with the idea that you could always shrink down further. Once you saw an atom you couldjustshrinkawayuntilitlookedlikeaplanettoyou.Now it's true that some particles are a trillion trillion times smaller thananatombutthat'swherethingsseemtopeteroutabit... mathematicallyspeaking.InmyheadIcan'tseehowbutIhave toassumethattheseeggheadsarejustahairbrighterthanme soI'mgoingtobelievethem. That's the problem with science. It can be a bummer. I think mostpeoplehaveanoddrelationshipwithscienceforthatvery reason. It's like the depressed person... nobody wants to actually get involved in their lives but everyone wants to read thesuicidenote. So we leave it to the big brains to squabble about waves and stringsandmasswhilewesitonthesidelinesandhopesthatin

101

the end they don't trash every flight of fancy we've ever had. You wonder how many of them want to come up and ask us normalfolkaboutdaytodayissueslikewhetheraheartcanbe brokenagainandagainorifthereisalimittothataswell.Isthe heart like your Mom's porcelain figure that you broke while playing ball in the house but didn't want her to know so you glued it together in the hopes that she wouldn't notice but in the end it looked like shit? Once it's broken it is forever diminished and any further damage is just making something alreadycheapenedworse? I remember one issue of the Micronauts where this green bug guyhadhisgirlfrienddieinsomeconflictandhesatholdingher inhissubatomicarmsandyoucouldfeelhisheartbreakintoa trilliontrillionpiecesandyouhadtowonderifhe'deverbeable toputhisHumptyDumptyromanticismtogetheragain.Maybe thatGreekphilosopherhadhisnormal100%heartbrokenonce, thenhis50%heartbrokenagain,andthenhis25%heart...until it dawned on him he could always fall in love again because therewillalwaysbesomethingleftofit...evenifithasalotof cracksandyoucanseetheglueoozingoutallovertheplace. Soyoucan'tjustcutsomethinginhalfendlessly.Whydoesthat notion fill me with such angst? I don't walk up to physics professors and start telling them about broken hearts, why do theygettounravelallthemysteriesthatI'dliketostayraveled? Iliketheideaofalternateuniversesandadditionaldimensions butthelittlethingsthatseemlikecommonsenseandgiveusa sense of (false?) understanding about our world as well as a deep connection to our childhood idealism should remain off limits. Isthattoomuchtoask?

102

theAgonyoftheLeaves The leaves and buds of the Camellia Sinensis were plucked by smallteamsofsweatymenworking5,000feetabovesealevel on a tea plantation in Sri Lanka. Once picked the tea leaves werespreadonarackquicklytoreducetheirmoisturecontent. The tea leaves were then rolled in order to break down their structure and release their natural juices and enzymes. This began the fermentation process which took place when the leaves were spread on a tray in a cool, humid atmosphere to oxidizetheleaves.Itchangedthechemicalstructureoftheleaf, andallowedthetea'scharacteristicflavortoemerge.Afterthat theleaveswerefiredmeaningtheleavesweredriedandthe fermentation process was retarded. In this stage, the leaves movedthroughhotairchamberstostabilizetheleavesandlock intheflavor.Thencamethegradingstage.TeaproducedinSri Lanka carries the "Lion Logo" on its packages which indicate that the tea was produced in Sri Lanka. Each and every consignmentisinspectedbySriLankaTeaboardofficersbefore beingshipped. Throughnumeroushandlersanddozensofshipsandtrucksthe tea moved slowly from faroff of Sri Lanka to my local supermarket. After being loaded in an enormous freight container in Colombo it made its way across rough seas to arrive in Newark, NJ, stopping to change ships and containers no less than 3 times. It is loaded and unloaded from there, countless hands toiling to make sure it reached its intended destination.Finallythelastpairofhandslifteduptheboxoftea bags to my grocer's shelf awaiting my patronage. To be perfectly honest, one more pair of hands did handle the box thecheckoutgirlslidingitacrossthescannerbeforedepositing itinabagnexttomyotheritems. Aweeklater. Iremovetheteabagfromtheboxandboilthewater.Minutes later I climactically pour the boiling water (212 degrees Fahrenheitgiveortakeafewdegrees)overthebagandallowit

103

to steep. As the tea leaves unfold ("the Agony of the Leaves") theygiveupvariouspartsofthemselvestothewaterandthus thetasteevolves.IdeallyIshouldhaveallowedittosteepfor2 3minutesbutinthiscaseIwentintotheotherroomandforgot allaboutthefactthatIhadmademyselfacupoftea.Therefore when I found it later in the morning I was forced to pour it downthesink. ahornlessdilemma I have to admit that I was not aware at the time I got the original idea that the rhinoceros was so endangered. I mean, I knew it was sort of endangered but I didn't know it was endangered endangered. You would think I would have gotten theschemefromseeingastoryonMichaelVickorabadPETA adcompletewithsappymusicsungbyadoeeyedmusicianthat can'tfindworknowthatLilithFairisnolongerinvogue.Butno, IactuallythoughtitupwhilewatchingashowonAnimalPlanet. I swear, at the time I almost jumped off the couch I was so pumpedup.Ithoughtitwasafoolprooflittleplan. Iwaswrong. Letmelayitoutforyousoyoucanseewhatgotmesoexcited. Ifpeoplewillpaytopdollartoseedogsandchickensdukeitout in a pit in someone's basement or backyard imagine how popularrhinofightingwouldbe.See?Doesn'tit,atfirstglance, seemlikeasurefirewinnerasfarasbrightideasareconcerned? Iknowright. Nowobviouslyyou'regoingtoneedalargerfightingspace.You can't expect 2 giant ceratotherium simum to throw down in tight confines. I was on it. I was able to rent an indoor equine riding arena for pretty cheap. Not exactly the Coliseum but problemsolved. The next obstacle is getting people to show up. How do you advertise an illegal event? Good question, I've never been invitedtoanundergrounddogfightingeventinmyentirelife.I

104

wouldn'tevenknowwheretogotoseeone.Theanswercame intheformofmyneighborwhowashavingagaragesale.Isaw him putting these little signs all over, sticking them into the ground or taping them up on telephone poles. Genius! Marketingfortheevent...done! I even played the race card. I didn't even know at first there were white rhinos and black rhinos but as soon as I did I promoteditlikeRockywithhorns!I'mnotmuchofanartistbut Isortofmadethewhiterhinolooklikeaskinheadandtheblack rhinohadalittlebitofanafro.Hey,Ihaveseatstofill.Neither Barnum nor Bailey had anything on me when it came to promotion. AsthedateofthefirstrhinofightingeventdrewcloserIstarted to get a little nervous. I was almost sold out but nobody had enteredarhinotofight.Notasinglesolitaryone.Ievenrelaxed therulesonJavanandSumatranbutnothing.Icouldn'treturn themoneyfromtheticketsalesbecauseI'dalreadyspentiton the arena and a bunch of tshirts and hats I had planned on sellingatthedoor.ThreedaysbeforetheshowIevendoubled theprizemoneyto$400butnotasingleentry. Wherethefuckarealltherhinos?Itwaslikenobodyowneda rhinooriftheydidtheydidn'twanttoseethemfight.Amajor miscalculation on my part to be sure. Zoos in the area just laughedwhenIcontactedthem,thinkingIwaskidding.Itriedto sell them on the idea of crosspromoting it but when they realizedIwasserioustheyjusthungup.Apparentlythoseinthe wildlifemanagementfieldlackacertainvision.Nowonderthe fuckingthingsarealmostextinct! SoIwasgettingseriouslyworried,thesmellyarenahadalmost 200 people in it and they were getting restless, when all of a sudden I saw the lights from the trailers coming up the dusty road.Apparentlyintherhinogameit'sconsideredcooltoshow upatthelastminute.Asthedinofthechantingcrowdsoared across the nearby stalls I saw 12 magnificent rhinoceros being unloaded,eachoneeagertofighttothedeath.

105

I'mjustkidding.NorhinosenteredandIamnowsneakingout the back before things get ugly. Who could have seen this coming?Imeanreally. exceptionallypointlessblog TodayIwouldliketotalkaboutlanguage.Morespecificallythe words we use to communicate. For example, if I were unsuccessfully fishing at noon on a cloudless day and another angler walked by and asked how I was doing I could answer "Not well. I guess the fish don't like the bright sunshine". By sayingthatIamtellinghimthatitismyopinionthatmylackof successcouldbelinkedwiththelackofcloudcover.Nowonthe otherhandifIhadreplied"Notwell.Apparentlyfishdon'tlike the bright sunshine" I would be telling him that the fish don't like the bright sunshine and if he harbored any other opinion thenheisaretard. See how by using italics on the word any I made the sentence funnier?Also,Iwon'tapologizeforusingthewordretard.Itis the definition of someone with an IQ under 70 and until recentlywasaperfectlyacceptablethingtosay. SeehowbyusingitalicsonthewordperfectlyIdidn'tmakethe sentence funnier in the least and by using italics on the word wordImadethissentencehardertounderstand?IfIhadgone withitalicizingdidn'tyouwouldnowbesmilingbroadly...orat theveryleastsmirking. Exactly. So back to fishing. When I was in middle school I remember fishingandhaving2bulliesstumbleuponmeandtheyendedup throwingmeinthelakebecauseearlierIhadencounteredone of their younger brothers who had continued to cast his line across mine until I was forced to move to a different location. Obviouslyyouarebewilderedastowhythisoffensewouldlead tomebeinghurledintothelakesoyoucanimaginemychagrin. Ironically it was a very sunny day and the fish had not been

106

biting but I can't pretend that this was intended to move the story along. I was going to say that as far as communication goesitwasaninterestingexampleofhowwhatissaidisalmost irrelevantcomparedtowhatisdone.Inordertosavesomeface Irecallstandinginthewaistdeepandtauntingthemthatthey were"realtoughondryland"andevensplashingthemalittle until I feared they would toss my tacklebox into the lake with me. It did not come off as tough because all the relevant information had been communicated with the simple act of flingingmeintothelake. Ifeltretardedstandingtherewaitingforthemtoleave.Thisis nodisrespecttothosewithlearningdisabilities,onlythatIfelt forthosefewminuteslikemyIQwasbelow70.Thisdoesbring upthequestionwhetherornottheywereheartlessenoughto have thrown me into the lake if I was actually retarded. Or, betteryet,iftheyoungerbrotherwasretardedandthat'swhy hekeptsnaggingmylinewithhiserrantcasts. Ifthatwasthecaseitmighthaveledtothefollowingexchange had the bullies asked my how the fishing was. I might have responded "Not well. I was forced to move from a better spot because some retard kept casting over my line". Then I could understand,onceitwasmadeclearthattheretardinquestion wasrelatedtooneofthebullies,whytheywouldchuckmeinto the drink. I would have felt deserving of the aquatic incident andbeenokwithit.InsteadIwasleftsoggyandbewildered. It'sallaboutcommunication. As it turns out I saw one of the bullies years later when I was visitingmyhometown.Hewasworkingatabookstoreinamall andasIturnedthecornerIsawhimonhiskneesplacingsome new arrivals on a shelf. Behind him was the entrance to the store and right outside the store was an enormous fountain. I offerthenextinformationpurelytokeepthestoryaccurateand innowaytomakemyselflookgoodortoughoranythingelse. Since the incident in middle school I had grown at least a foot andhehadnotgrownaninch.Infact,itappearedthatyearsin

107

theemploymentofamallbookstorehadactuallyshrunkhiman inch. IstoodtherelookingathimandwonderingifIcouldgrabhim and throw him in the fountain before mall security could intervene. UnfortunatelyInevergottheopportunitybecausesomeretard triedtowalkoutofthestorewithabookhehadn'tpaidforand setoffthealarmandmyformertormentorwentspringingafter him.BeforeIcouldputmygrabbingandhurlingplanintoaction myintendedquarrywaspreoccupiedandsurroundedbyrenta cops. No matter. I felt vindicated knowing that while he is a lowly stock boy at a mall bookstore back home I am an assistant manageratanAmericanEagleOutfittersatthemall. Muchcooler. Doesthatsoundedretarded? therestherub The first thing that Frank noticed as he entered the room was the smell. Something was not quite right. It has the usual scentedoil smell of a massage room but behind that lurked another smell that he couldn't quite place. Whatever it was it made him think of urinal cakes and caused him a moments unease. His friend Tim had recommended the 'massage therapist' ("whatever happened to the term masseuse?" he wonderedtohimself)andtoldhimtojustrelaxandjustenjoyit. Tim had said it with a small grin so Frank had assumed that whoeverhewasgettingamassagefromhecouldexpectsome sort of 'happy ending'. Frank had been going to massage parlors, chiropractors and spas for decades and had tried numeroustypesofmassage.Acupressure,Watsu,NihonKaifuku Anma,Lomilomi,Champissage,AyurvedicAbhyangayouname itandhe'sprobablytriedit. "Thiswomanisalittledifferent"isallhisfriendwouldsay.

108

The obligatory calming music played lightly in the back ground as his masseuse entered. She was a striking woman no older than her mid20s, long blonde hair and the body of a runway model.Hecouldseeimmediatelywhyhisfriendhassuggested her. He was told to strip down manner and get under a white sheet in a very businesslike way and with that she departed. Soon he was lying on his stomach under the thin blanket and the stiffness in his back had a little company as his masseuse walkedbackinandshutthedoorbehindher. She introduced herself as her hands lightly slid up and down Frank's back. Her name was Greta and she'd been a licensed massage therapist for 6 years. Originally she had started out learning Proprioceptive Neuromuscular Facilitation techniques, mostlyhavingtodowithskeletalalignment,butatripdownto Peruacoupleofyearsbackhadchangedeverything.Herhands pressed firmly into his lower back and Frank could feel it loosening under her skilled touch. She then asked him to flip overontohisbackandbeginbreathingdeeplyinandoutasher handsmovedacrosshismidsection. "It was in Peru that I learned a traditional Mayan abdominal massage"shesaidasherthumbspushedintoFrank'ssidesjust under his ribcage. "Is this too hard?" she asked as she began workingherthumbsdownward."No.I'mok"Franksaidquietly. "Good.Nowyoumayexperiencealittle"andwiththatFrank feltalittlefartslipout. He could only imagine how crimson his cheeks must have gottenbecauseGretaimmediatelytoldhimthatitwasperfectly fineandthattheywerenolongerinasocialsetting.Theywere therapistpatient and that he should just relax and in no way feelembarrassed. Hecouldn'tbringhimselftoopenhiseyesandlookatwhatever she was doing, he could only sense the motion and hear the slightrustlingnoise,butsoonherhandsreturnedandclutched his stomach with such force that he could swear she was holdinghissmallintestineinherexperiencedgrip.

109

"ThistypeofmassagedatesbacktotheNorteChicocivilization, waybackinthe30thcenturyB.C.".Hecouldhearherbreathing nowassheworkedherhandsonhisabdomenwithavigorthat had his head spinning slightly. "I'm not sure why" she continued,"it'snotmorewellknown."Aquicksqueezeofwhat Frankcould onlyguesswashiscolonsentatrumpetlikenoise escapingfromhisass."Holyshit!"heexclaimed"I'msosorry" butheronlyreplycamebywayofoneofherelbowssuddenly driving into his stomach and, before he could control it, a hot streamoffecalmattershootingoutofhisrectum."Ohmygod!" Frank stammered, his eyes snapping open as he felt the warm wetnessgrowbetweenhissplayedlegs.Herhandsneverlefthis abdomenandthesightthatmethiseyeswasbeyondhisability at that time to process intelligently. Greta lovely Greta.. standing infrontofhimwearingwhat couldbestbedescribed as some sort of butchers smock and a plastic welders mask. Behind her he thought he could make out a shimmering sheet ofSaranWrapbutbeforehiseyes couldfocusshe pushedher fiststogetherintotheregionofhislargeintestineandsuddenly a long burst of shit fountained out of Frank and splattered acrossthefrontofhis'masseuse'. "What the fuck are you doing to me?!" Frank half whimpered, halfscreamedatherasalongstrandofspitclungtohislower lipandstretcheddown tohisnaked chest.AsiftoreplyHelga pressed her foot on some unseen device and suddenly Frank felthislowerhalfslowlyrisingup."PleaserelaxFrank.Giveme anicedeepbreath". Frankhadnoideaifhecomplied,onlythatafewsecondslatera light tap by Helga on his sternum resulted in him releasing an eruptionofcrapthatsprayedpastherheadandlandedonthe walls a good 8 feet behind her. A long stream of nonsensical profanity issued from Frank's lips as he finally felt her hands moveawayfromhisgut.Sweatstoodoutonhisforeheadashe watchedasHelganonchalantlytookdownthetranslucentdrop cloth,removehersmockandheadgearand,inamannerwhich

110

seemtoindicatethatshefoundthisinnowayunusual,deposit theentirebundleinanearbyhamper. Itwasonlythen,ashelaidtherelimply,thatFrankrealizedthat he was feeling pretty damned amazing. Part of him expected her to climb up on the table with him and announce "my turn cowboy"butinsteadshesimplytookacanofairfreshenerand quicklygaveitafewblasts. "Throw those towels in the hamper. You'll find the shower 2nd door on your right down the hall. If you need shower shoes you'llfindthemunderthetable."Withthatshelefttheroom. Now, given the nature of this story, I could easily say almost anything about how it went from there. I could tell you Frank soontraveledtotheSupeValleyinPeruandchangedhisdietto include heaping amounts of guava and pacay but he didn't. Just as believable would be that he fell in love with Helga and spenttheweeksafterhismassagepiningforheruntilhefinally workedupthecouragetoaskheroutonlytoberejected.That toodidn'thappen.Whatdidhappenyouask?Hepaidhis$150, threwina$20tipandnevertoldasoulaboutwhathappened thatafternoon.Tim,ontheotherhand,camebacktovisitHelga onceamonthuntilafewyearslaterwhenhewastransferredto anotherstatebyhiscompany.Acompany,asitturnsout,that innowaywasconnectedtoPeru. arosebyanyothername... Doyouevernotknowhowtofeelaboutsomething?Or,worse yet,feelstronglyaboutsomethingbutyou'renotsurewhyand then you're walking around not knowing if it's misplaced and you should really be feeling something for something completelydifferent? Thereisanentireschoolofthoughtbuiltuparoundnoticingthe "little things". Whether it be in business or personal relationshipsyouhearthatexpressionalotandyetwheneverI

111

takethetimetonoticethe"littlethings"Iendupwastingalot oftimeprocessingwhetherthesethingsaretruly"little"ornot. Ok, ok, I'll get to the point. I'm beating around the bush for 2 reasons.First,I'mnotsurewhatthepointisand2ndithastodo withabush. You see, I'm a bad landscaper. When I go to buy a flower or shrub I just buy what I think looks nice and I routinely ignore warningsabouthowmuchsuntheplantdoesordoesnotneed andhowbigitwillget.Ibuythingssomyyardwilllooknice10 minutesafterI'mdoneplantingeverything.Thisishowitcame topassthatIboughtarosebushandplanteditbetween2nice lookingshrubsthat,5yearslater,grewfromleafylittleballsthe sizeofacattoenormousentitiesthatcanbeseenclearlyfrom space.Thusbeganthesagaofmyrosebush. Forthefirstcoupleyearsittrieditsbesttoproduceflowersin thecrampedandgettingcrampederbitofsoilitcalledhome.It flexed its thorny muscle but it was no match for the twin shrubasourasus I had sandwiched it between. Gradually as the yearspasseditstoppedtryingtoflowerandinsteaddevotedall itsenergytotryingtogrowfastenoughtograbalittlesunshine nowandthen. AcoupleyearsagoIguessIjustforgotallaboutit. ThenInoticedthisyearthattherosebushIhadboughtsomany yearsagowasnothingmorethanasinglestemthatreachedup over8feethighnow.Ithadoutgrowntheshrubsandnowhad leavessittingatopthembothsoakinguptherays. 1long,thick,thornymiddlefingerrisingup.Ilookedatthisrose bush/stem and was just filled with this feeling that it was somehow heroic beyond all measure. It had, however, completely given up on actually being a bush and producing roses. I distinctly remember the first couple years it had 10 or 11 stems and 4 or 5 nice roses. It got all rosebushlike in appearance and probably had no sense of the impending dangerfromitsflourishingneighbors. Nowitwasasinglestalk8fuckingfeethigh.

112

Thequestioniswhy.Whycontinuetofightforexistenceifyou enduphavingtoleavebehindallthethingsthatmakeyouwhat youare?Arosebushthatdoesn'tproduceroses.Isn'tthebattle alreadylostatsomepoint? OfcourseIfeelguilty,thewholethingbeingmyfault.IfonlyI had read how big the other shrubs were going to get I could haveplantedtherosebushsomewhereelse.Somewherewhere itcouldbeabigbeautifulrosebushwithdozensofflowers.My entire garden is diminished because there isn't the smell of roses wafting through the air. I robbed this rose bush of the chancetobethebestrosebushitcouldbe.Iturneditintothe8 footfreakitnowwas. Digging it up now and moving it is out of the question. Where thehellandIgoingtoputan8footbranchcoveredinthorns? Don't kid yourself, these thorns mean business. With nothing bettertoinvestitsenergyin,itmadeitsthornsextralargeand extrapointy.Perhapsinthehopesofstabbingtheencroaching shrubs.Ormaybethosethornsaremeantforthedumbbastard whoplanteditsobadly. Me. SoI'mleftwiththisfeelingthatmyrosebushisheroic,fighting thisvaliantfightthatnobodyevennotices.Andyet,thisfeeling hassomevaguebitteraftertaste.Therearemetaphorsliningup inmyheadtogetinonthisaction,eachonepitchingadifferent moral. Some urging me to cut down the shrubs and give the rose a fighting chance to reclaim some semblance of a normal rose lifestyle. Others rejecting that out of hand and saying the shrubs are only being shrubs and that the merciful thing is to take the snips and with one clean snip end this mockery of a rosebushonceandforall. MaybeIseetoomuchofmyselfinthisrosebush.

113

thisisonlyatest The story you are about to read is true. I know because I was there. Only a former Vice President for Personnel at a major pharmaceutical company would have this kind of firsthand information. Before joining the company I received my BA in Industrial Psychology, a Masters (M.Ed/C.A.G.S) in Applied Behavior Analysis and my PHD in Experimental Social Psychology. I then accepted a position in human resources for $35k a year at my former firm because one of my professors said that it was "where the action is". I remember taking the personalitytestmyfirstdaythere. It wasacheap knockoffof theMillonClinicalMultiaxialInventoryandIknewexactlywhat theywantedtohear.AfterfinishingitIwasquicklysummoned intoanadjoiningconferenceroomandintroducedtothehead ofhumanresources."Iguessyouthinkyou'reprettycutehuh?" wasallhesaidashegazedacrossthelaminateexpanse. BeingyoungandtoostupidtoknowwhatIwasgettingmyself into I smiled and replied "I had an Eysenck Personality QuestionnaireforbreakfastandwasheditdownwithaOxford CapacityAnalysis." His eyes never left mine but I sensed something change about his demeanor. "So I guess you don't think much of our personalitytest." "WebothknowthatitwilltakemorethanasimpleAbikatestto bringoutanydementiapraecoxImighthavelurking." Bingo. I was in. I spent the next 3 years working on a new revolutionarypersonalitytestforthecompany.Webrokeallthe rules and pushed the boundaries of 'the process'. We started wheretheMinnesotaMultiphasicPersonalityInventoryleftoff. Therewere,ofcourse,setbacks.Wehadasecretunderground bunker known as PSY6 that we used to administer our early teststofreshfacedjobcandidatesstraightoutoftopIvyLeague business schools. Unaware that their every move was being recorded we got to watch our tests in action. Some of the results were hard to watch. In one case we returned to the

114

room to find one of our applicants sitting naked in a fetal positioninthecorneroftheroomdrawingonthewallswithhis ownfeces.HewasimmediatelyhiredandnowrunsWestCoast Operations.Notallofthetestswereassuccessfulhowever.We learnedearlyontomakesurewecouldremovethedoorseasily after one subject, a Charles Bartlesworth from Dartmouth, barricaded himself in and, after raving about the industrialization and internationalization of the Spanish economy,drove2pencilsintohiseyesocketsandrepeated"did Ipass?didIpass?"untilwewereabletogetinsideandsedate him.Ironicallyhelateracceptedabetterofferfromoneofour competitors but did not make his sales goals and was later terminated. In the early days it was all about the Tscales. These were enough to weed out the hypochondriacs and the deviants those with interpersonally exploitative behavior might as well have been wearing tshirts stating as much. (Ironically we did endupprintingupafewofthosepriortothe2001Xmasparty butthat,inretrospect,wasprobablynotingoodtaste.Noone partieslikeclinicalpsychologists,amIright?)Itwasn'tuntilwe caught the connection between past membership in fraternities/sororities and disturbing questions ofselfworth andselfidentitythatwemadethebreakthroughthatledtous changingour'infrequency'coefficientandtherebymakingourF ScalethegroundbreakingFUScale.Stillwithmeonthis? Human psychopathology was from that point on a game we could not lose. We held all the cards. Soon the government came sniffing around. We had tests that could, within 30 minutes, have test subjects openly weeping or vigorously masturbating,abandoningtheirfaithorspeakingintonguesand 'the man' wanted in. After realizing what we had I knew it couldn't fall into the wrong hands. If the government was to everusethistestandonlyhirequalifiedandcompetentpeople I knew Washington would shut down within weeks. The depressed,schizophrenic,andparanoidhadtoworksomewhere and that somewhere had always been the local and federal

115

bureaucracy.Wherewouldalltheworkerswhoarenowatthe DMVgo?IknewwhatIhadtodo.IhadtoburnitalldownandI did. Youneverevenheardaboutthefire.Liveswerelostanda$40 million dollar facility was burned to the ground and it was all hushed up. Big money in action. I went into hiding. They were looking for me you see. I still held the answers they were lookingfor.Iwasforcedtoacceptajobataretailclothinggiant at the mall. Knowing that they would be watching every personality test on the eastern seaboard looking for me I was forcedtothrowinalittlelackofacceptanceofauthorityanda hintofsocialalienationtoavoiddetection.Myresultswerestill good enough to get me an assistant manager's position and whilelifeisalittlelessexcitingit'saliving.Istilltinkerarounda bitandtonightI'mgivinganeighboralittle'test'toseeifthey aretrustworthyenoughtowatermyplantswhileI'mawaynext week.Itshouldonlytake30minutesorso. (IwaslookingforalittleHannibalwalkingoffattheendofThe Silence of the Lambs feel for this story I guess I should have started it with a description of myself that made you think of AnthonyHopkins.CouldItroubleyoutorereadthewholething withthatinmindnow?) alwaysdawnestbeforethedark Youknowthatlittlevoiceinyourheadwhenyouwakeupinthe middle of the night? The one that is filled with apprehension andanxiety?That'stheoneyouareleftwithwhenyourtimeis usedup.Youdiealonewiththisvoice. You. Trappedbehindyoureyes. Stuckbetweenyourears. Totrymakesenseofitwithyoursensesissenseless. Wordscanbeliesandyoureyescanplaytricksonyou.Tasteis a strictly a matter of taste and there is seldom anything

116

touching about touching. Maybe a million years ago our noses knewbutnotanymore. Whatarewetobelieve? Thatwearealoneinsideourheads.Yourfeethangofftheend of you but they aren't you. Some days they seem so far away. Cut'emoffandyou'restillyou. Alonelyvoiceinyourheadsayingyouwerebetteroffwhenyou hadfeet. Sometimeswhenpeoplearetalkingtoyouareyouscreamingat the top of your lungs inside your head? All the while smiling a vague smile and pretending to care what words are tumbling outoftheirface?AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAfuckyou. Reacting to stimuli like you're watching a movie that you wouldn't pay $12 for. Interacting with other voices in other headsinonlytheloosestmeaningoftheword.Cutoffsomeone else's feet and if you're completely honest with yourself it makes no difference to that lonely voice in your head... unless you want to pretend it does to try and make your $12 movie moreinteresting. IsawapicturewhenIwasakidinatextbookofapileoffeet. TheywerethrowninabigpilebyCivilWarsurgeonswhowere amputatingthem.Realfeetfromrealpeople. Butnotrealtothevoiceinmyhead. Justafunnypicture. 30DaysofNisiPrius Primus Wulfscore, the eldest and wisest of the council members, sighed and rubbed his chin. It had been nearly 200 yearssincevampireshadoverthrownthehumansruleandfrom that day forth it had been the council's responsibility to safeguard the species. Despite concerns that had led the vampirestospendcenturieshidingamongthem,theoverthrow ofthehumanwasactuallyeasierthananyhadimagined.Once defeated they proved to be a tame lot and they live (and die)

117

under the careful watch of their masters no more a threat than a herd of sheep to the sheppard. But they left behind a virus and that is what has Wulfscore sitting in the darkness of thecouncilchamberworriedtodeath(?). He had stridden the earth for 700 years before the vampire takeover. He watched the sickness take hold of the human's society. He knew firsthand the dangers he now faced. It had startedwithrumorsoflitigationinthenortherncolonies He knew that this cancer would have destroyed the humans if thevampireshadn'tcomealongtoputanendtotheirmisery. Fully 55% of the gross national product the year before the revolutionwasgoingtofeedingthisvirusandthemortalslived in constant terror of coming in contact with its carriers. "And theycalledusbloodsuckers!"hemusedtohimself. For200yearsthecouncilheledhadenforcedvampirelawand life, however you define it, was good. The council went unchallenged and their new society prospered. Until the virus returned.Nowtermslikecoramnobisandhabeascorpushave begunto be whisperedindark places. Hewouldnotallowthe council to ever need counsel. Not as long as there wasn't a breathleftinhisbody. Hewouldhavetohuntthemdown.Allofthem.Aslongasone lawyerorevenathrallclerkwasleftthevampirenationwasnot safe.Hemustactswiftlybutwithcompletesecrecylesthegive them the opportunity to file motions, petitions, writs and appeals.Hehadseenthepowerofthisevilbeforeandevenhe wouldbeparalyzedtofightit. The sun was down now. He wordlessly slipped from the room and went out into the night. Tonight he would hunt and the futureofhiskinddependedonhissuccess.

118

myhotweekend Somyfriendsaresittingaroundthislastweekendwhenoneof them, under the influence, won't start yapping about vacuum fluctuations. You know how people get when they've had too much.Oneminutetheyarecompletelyreasonableandthenthe nexttheyareopenlydoubtingelementsofspecialrelativity!So, of course, I tell him to shut his cakehole or I'll take away his bottleofmintschnapps.Thenhedoesit.Hekillstherestofthe weekend.Howyouask? He does the ol' locking his mouth shut with a key and then (here's where the shit hits the fan) he opens his mouth and swallowsthekey. Asiftoshowthathismouthwouldnowstaysecurelylocked. If his lips were indeed sealed how did he open his mouth to swallowthekey?ThatwasthequestionIimmediatelyposedto himandthesurroundingparty.Asiftocompletelyvalidatemy concernsabouttheintegrityofthismouthlockinggesturewhat does he do then? He starts talking! Obviously clouded by the effects of the peppermintflavored liqueur he starts telling me thathecouldinfacthavethekeypassthroughhismouthwhile still keeping it locked. The drunk fuck has the balls to try to lecturemeaboutbarriertunneling!Istarttoscreamathimthat Iwasn'targuingthatthewavefunctionassociatedwiththekey couldn'talsobecontinuousonthefarsideofhislipsdespitethe exponentialdecayinsidehislipsbuthetriestoshoutmedown withSchrodinger'sequation.I'msureyoucanimaginehowthat feels. It's always like this when you try to mix alcohol and quantummechanicsright? Anyway, by the time I calm him down and explain I was only talking about his conscious decision to open his mouth and swallow the key instead of challenging the nature of the DeBroglie Hypothesis the night was shot. The girls had left, chased off by our manly posturing, and the Dr. McGillicuddys and Goldschlager was almost gone. All that was left to do was takeoffmypaperhat,wipethedirty"cavityradiation"jokeoff

119

thewhiteboardandputawaythecoastersuntilthenextparty anyway. longtripdownashortroad I found myself driving down this country road that had grown upintoabigstrappinghighwaybutitwasn'tfoolingme.Iknew acountryroadwhenIsawone.Sort ofdesolateandI gotthis exposed feeling as I drove down it. Not a lot of other cars. In fact,thelast headlightsI'dseenhad comeupfrom behindme fast.Oddthingwasthattheyseemedtogetclosertogetherand then farther apart in my rear view mirror until finally they passedmeoneoneachside.Oncetheywerebymetheleftone wentleftandtherightonewentrightandtheybothhurriedoff towhereveritwastheydidn'tcomefrom. ItwaswiththismindsetthatInoticedofftothesideoftheroad thislargefencedinareathatseemedtocontaineverydiscarded RVandmotorhomeinthetristatearea.Theremusthavebeen 30or40ofthemlikesomeWinnebagograveyard.Thesedidn't evenseemtobeabuildingorevenanofficenearbythatwould overseethecollection.JustthisbigRVholdingpeninthemiddle of nowhere. Obviously I had to make a quick turn and take a closerlook. LaterasIsatontheundercarriageofmyoverturnedcarasaw birdshithitthegroundonlyafewfeetawayfromme."Missed"I saidinavoicethatinvitedhimtocirclebackandtakeanother shot. It was a bit chilly out but I'm betting it was a full degree colderwherethe"missed"hungintheaireversobriefly. When people tell me that you can't truly know anyone else or predict their behavior I have to laugh. We can't even know ourselves if we want to just come right out and put it on the table.It'sfunnythataftergenerationsofsciencefictionwriters grabbingthetailandwaggingthedogbytellingusthatrobots will someday outthink us because they will lack emotions and emotionsseemtocloudourjudgmentitturnsoutthattheonly

120

reasonwecanreachanyconclusionsatallwiththeinformation oursensesprovideusisbecauseoftheseverysameemotions.I guessthatmakesthedoganiguanaandthetailhasbrokenoff in their scifi hands. Robots can suck it until they learn how to ask themselves whether they can really know themselves and answerhonestlyno.Anythingwedoisbasedonhowwefeelat the time; happy, sad, horny, mad, etc, etc. Different emotions will result in different reactions to the same circumstances. Throw in chemicals or other foreign stimulus and we can act completelydifferentinanygivenenvironment. For instance, when the tires stopped spinning entirely and an eerie silence fell over Winnebago graveyard it was only the bizarresetofpreviouseventsthatwouldhavemelookingatthe metal hulks inside the fence and feeling envy. I was outside while they were inside and suddenly I felt a great need to be insidesoIclimbedthefence. Once inside I stared at the largest of the motor homes. A real giant.AgiantmotorhomeIwasoutsideof.Isuddenlyfeltthe needtobeinsideitandwalkedoverandfoundthedoorhandle unlocked. The radio didn't work. I was really in the mood for a Wolf Parade song. Turning the oldfashioned radio dial and hearing nothingmademefeellikeallthemusicinthewholeworldwas gone. Then I saw an old dirty sleeping bad in the corner of the RV. I didn't like being outside of this sleeping bag so I immediately gotinsideofitandzippeditallthewayup. Isuddenlythoughttomyself"They'llneverfindmehere."

121

LazyEyeLarry LarryHugowasintroducedtotheterminthe4thgrade.Hewas having his school picture taken when the photographer took a step back from his camera and casually said to him "Do you knowyouhavealazyeye?"Whysomeonewouldsaythattoa9 yearoldboyhecouldn'tfigureoutespeciallysincetechnically hedidn'tevenhaveone.Hislefteyeliddroopedatinybitthat was all. Amblyopia is a problem with how the brain acknowledges the information it receives from an eye not the droopingeyeliditself.Larry'sproblematthatmomentwasthat behind him stood Jenny Jenkins and she had heard the photographer. As kids that age will often do she immediately cameupwithacreativemonikerandthus'LazyEyeLarry'was born."DamnthatJennytohell"thoughtLarry. Althoughhisvisionremained20/20throughouthisyouthinthe 8th grade his other eyelid began to droop slightly which gave him a slightly dopey look. In the right light his eyes had the appearanceofabassethoundbeingheldupsidedown. Then he began to lose his hair. It was sophomore year of high school that it became noticeable and immediately his peers suggestedthatperhapshehad'lazyhead'aswell.Althoughhe highlydoubtedthefactthathisskincouldactuallybetoolazyto hold hair follicles in place he did sneak into the library a few timestoseeifsuchaconditionactuallyexisted.Thepopularity of 'Lazy Head Larry', although never high, began to sink even lower. He even imagined that his lower lip was beginning to showfaintsignsofsagging. He was happy when it came time to go to college and leave behind his old antagonists to start fresh somewhere new. Unfortunatelyhiseyelidconditioncontinuedtodeteriorateand soon he required an oddlooking set of glasses to hold up his eyelids. As if this wasn't bad enough it also required him to spraywaterontohiseyeballseveryminutetokeepthemmoist. Obviously this made him very popular with students and teachers alike. Where his college nickname of BMHOC (Big

122

MeltingHeadOnCampus)camefromnooneisquitesurebut soon everyone knew him by that name. His social life never reallyhadafairshot.Tocompensateforhisnowbaldheadhe sportedheavymuttonchopsthatitwassaidweresoheavythat theyactuallycausedhislowerliptosag. It was his senior year on the last day of classes before the holiday break. He was sitting by himself, as usual, when a studententeredthesmallauditoriumholdingwhatappearedto be a rifle. Larry recognized him as a visiting exchange student who was known to be a bit high strung and almost as big a social leper as Larry himself. The student looked agitated and begantoyellatthestudents.Oncethoseintheclasssawthat he was holding a weapon pandemonium broke loose with studentsscreaminganddivingforcoverorhurriedlymakingfor the exits. In the melee Larry's 'glasses' were knocked from his faceandallwentdarkashiseyelidsfelllikeheavycurtainsover hiseyes.Heheardtheriflefireandheranblindly. Heheardit fireagain. Theshooterapparentlyhadanissuewithoneofthegirlsinthe class. Esmeralda didn't even know him and yet he knew everythingabouther.Shewasprettyandpopular(sheofcourse dated the captain of the basketball team) and she now lay on the floor hysterical. On top of her lay 'Lazy Eye Larry'. The gunmanhadbeenwrestledtothegroundby2membersofthe school Swing Choir but not before he had found his intended victim and gotten off 2 shots. The first shot had been fired harmlesslyintotheceiling.Thesecondwasshotplannedforthe pretty girl but instead found Larry as he ran blindly in front of her. She wriggled out from under him screaming and his head hitthefloorwithadullthud.Thenfromoneeye,hithertosodry andburning,wasseentorollabigtear.Therewasnoneedto pullhiseyelidsclose. Larry received a moment of silence at halftime of the school's basketballgameagainsttheFightingIrish.

123

goodolJustice Blame it on the unseasonably warm weather. Otherwise none of this would have happened and I'd still have my dog Justice herewithmenow.Letmestartatthebeginning. If I have one small character flaw it's my boundless rage at smokerswhodrivearoundsmokingandthenthrowthebuttout the window. I don't care if they want to kill themselves but when they casually make the rest of the planet their own garbage can I swear I just want to pull up next to them and shootthemintheirempty,selfish,inconsiderate,selfabsorbed heads with a shotgun. Not even a handgun will suffice. I want something that will turn their head into a pulpy red mist.I swearIalwayshavethisfantasythatassoonastheythrowtheir cigaretteoutthewindowtheirentirecarburstsintoflamesand rollsintoaditch.InthisdaydreamIstopmycarandrunquickly totheirdoorsoIcanholditclosedandwatch,pointandlaugh astheyburn.Whatdothesescumbagsthinkisgoingtohappen tothatcigarette butt?It'snotafuckingFrenchfrythatwillbe eatenormeltawayinafewdays.Thatcigarettebuttwillstillbe sittingonthegroundtensofthousandsofyearslaterwhenmen nolongersitatopthefoodchainandthePlatypushasmadeits way up to the top of the evolutionary ladder. And every time the egglaying, venomous, duckbilled, beavertailed, otter footed mammals see one on the ground they'llremember whytheywipedusofftheglobewhentheydid. ObviouslyIcan'tactuallystartshootingpeoplesoIdidthenext bestthing. Igotadog. Justice. Here's what I did. I trained Justice to bite people who throw cigarettes out of the car window. Really. He would sit shotgun aswedrovearoundandthenwhensawsomeoneleaningoutof theircarwindow,cigaretteinhand,hewouldgetallexcitedand press his face against the window. Once this inconsiderate fuckface would flick his used cancerstick out into my world I

124

wouldpullalongsideofhim,gentlydepresstheswitchlowering thewindowforJusticeandhewouldnotsogentlyleanoutand bite the living fuck out of this douche bag. They never saw it coming. I still can't believe that after all the times that Justice remindedthesesmokersnottopolluteIneveroncegotcaught bytheauthorities.Iguesstheoffendersweretoopreoccupied withstoppingthebleedingfromtheirmangledhandstothinkto get my license plate number. I actually have a few rings from the severed fingers that Justice occasionally brought back into thecarwithhim. Ican'tlie.Therewereafewhiccupsbeforewe(Justice&I)gotit down to a science. There was the young woman who was wavingapenoutherwindow,apparentlyshewas'conducting' theclassicalpieceshewaslisteningto,thatJusticemistookfora cigarette. Truth is a girl driving around waving around something that looks like a cigarette should expect to get mauledbyaviciousdogatthestoplight.Ifyou'regoingtomake anomeletyouhavetobreaksomeeggsright? So now the sad news. Today Justice and I were on patrol, enjoying the beautiful weather and making those tough decisions you don't have to make in the winter. You know the onesdoyoupumpupthesongyoulikeordoyoucrankupthe song that will make you look good when people drive by and hearwhat'sonyourradio?Criticsbedamned,whenJusticefell outofthecarIwasblastingout"TearsOfAClown"bySmokey RobinsonandtheMiracles.That'srighthefelloutofthecar. He was just sitting there enjoying the wind, there wasn't a smoker within miles. It was just one of those freak things I guess. I had always taken precautions against this very thing due to the violent nature of our expeditions, I never lowered the window without doublechecking that his leash was on. I had the other end wrapped around the steering column and thought this was a great way to make sure that if he lost his balancehe'dbepulledrightbackin.Theproblem,inretrospect, wasthatIboughtoneofthoseleashesthatletsoutalotofline before it stops the dog. Judging from the scene I saw in the

125

rearviewmirroritwasatleast20yards.WhydoIalwayshave to get the largest size of everything?! I can still see it in my mind it looked like a hairy Italian midget water skiing behind mycar.Exceptforallthebloodandyelping.Ifrozeforasecond; Ididn'tknowwhattodo!HereIamonabusy4lanehighway draggingmybestfriendtodeath. Youknowhowtheysaythatwhenabutterflybeatsitswingsin Asia it causes a naturalist somewhere on the other side of the world to wonder if he shouldn't have gone to school for physics?Isawalittleofthatinplaybecausethecarbehindme, seeingthishorriblescenegoingoninfrontofhim,locksuphis brakes to avoid hitting what was left of Justice being towed behind my car at 40 mph. That caused the impatient driver behind him, completely unaware of the dogdragging going on only1carlengthaway,toaccelerateandpasshim. ItwasatthismomentthatInoticedthestrainthattheweight ofhaulingalargedogwashavingonmysteeringcolumn.Tobe preciseitwasstartingtocomeoff.Thewheelthatis.Justice,or what was formerly Justice before speed, friction and the pavement had its way with him, was pulling off my fucking steeringwheel.SonowI'mtryingtoslowdownataresponsible ratewhiledesperatelypushingdownmysteeringwheeltokeep itinplace. Thensomethingunbelievablehappens.BecauseIwasdistracted tryingtokeepthewheelonmycarasIdroveIdidn'tseethat mostofwhatremainedofJusticehadlongsincebeentornapart and spread evenly over the last mile I had driven and all that hadbeenleftofhimwashiscollar.Acollarthathadbouncing wildlybehindmycarasIstartedtorelaxasthetuggingonmy wheel had eased and I could take a deep breath and let the panic subside. A bloodsoaked collar that had bounced up and had gotten lodged in the grill of the sports car that was now accelerating past me oblivious of the drama that had just unfolded. Thepanicreturnedandbroughtfriends.

126

I remember when I was young I enjoyed fishing and I'd get up early every Saturday morning to watch the Babe Winkelman outdoors show. I'd always marvel at how he could catch the biggest bass in the same types of lakes I use to fish but never getthesameresults.SoI'dsitinfrontoftheTVenrapturedwith his descriptions of water clarity, depth and temperature. The reason I mention this is because I had a Babe Winkelman flashbackasInoticedtheleasharoundmysteeringwheelstart to grow rigid again. What the fuck pound test is a dog leash anyway? Will it snap before my entire wheel is ripped off? I quickly swerved behind the accelerating car that I had hooked andtrieddesperatelytountietheleashbeforethelinegrewtoo tightagainbutasfastasIdrovethisothercarseemedtogoa littlefaster.Holyshit!DoIletoutline,doIreelitin?Comeon Babe,alittlehelphere!TheleashwastautandIstartedtohear agroancomingfrommysteeringcolumn.Unfuckingbelievable! Canyouevendriveacarwithoutasteeringwheel?Igotready tobailout. Then I saw it. A tiny little white thing fluttering out from the driver'ssidewindow.TimeslowedasIwatcheditsoarendover endtowardsme. Acigarettebutt. You'rekiddingmeright? "This is for you Justice old buddy" I thought to myself as I slammedbothfeetdownontothebrake. Iguesstheydon'tmakesportscarsliketheyusetobecausethis dog leash tore the whole fucking front end off of the asshole smokermobile.Mycarendedupinaditch.Mysteeringwheel andmyfrontwindowendedupaboutaquartermileupahead of me when they finally stopped skidding. The car holding the smoker didn't so much as touch the brakes and went 70 mph intoalargesugarmaple(althoughtobefair,itmighthavebeen ablackmaple).AsIstaggeredoutofmycarIsawalittlesmoke coming out of the car wrapped around the Acer saccharum (although, as I stated previously, it could have been an Acer nigrum)andIbegantoruntowardsitdespitemybruisedshins.

127

"Pleasepleasedon'tletmebetoolate"Irepeatedagainand again as I saw the smoke grow thicker and turn from a pale white to a darker and more sinister grey. My legs pumped furiouslywell,asfuriousasaslowguycanpumpthem. Igottherejustasthecarwentup.Therewasnoneedtohold thecardoorshutitwascrushedbeyondanycapacitytoopen. "Your car isn't nonsmoking I guess" I yelled to the man inside the burning vehicle. He clawed madly at the door and for a seconditirritatedmethathewasn'tpayinganyattentiontomy needlinghimbutthenIrealizedIwasjustbeingpetty. "Got a smoke?" By now the car had completely filled with a thick black smoke which obscured my view of the screaming manbeingburnedtodeathandstartedtostingmyeyesalittle soIslowlyturnedandtriedtofindthefrontendofthecarand, withit,myfriend'scollar. Before you say it I'm going to stop you right there. I'm not a hero.TherealheroofthisstoryisJusticeandthat'swhywhenI get my rental car my first stop will be the pound where I will selectmynewbestfriendJusticeJr. Andbuyamuchshorterleashofcourse. wegotafloater! Howfuckedupisitbeingmale?Letmetellyouastory.Astory so horrific it shames me to the core that it is 100% true. It hauntsmetothisveryday.Hopefullyitwillanswermanyofthe questionsfemalessometimeshaveaboutmenandwillmake othermenrealizethatitsnotjustthem. Thisishowthemalemindworks.Idontcondoneit.Idontwish ituponmyworstenemybuthereitisinallitsglory. BackwhenIwenttocollegeIhadthese3femalefriends.They wereallverypetite.Nonestoodtallerthan55andnonetipped thescalesatover115.AtthispointIusuallygointogreatdetail about other features that define a female but in this case its notimportanttothestorysoIwontmentiontheircutefaces,

128

tightabsorapplebottoms.Wellactuallytheapplebottompart mightcomeintoplaybutIllleaveitatthat. So anyway. One day Im over their apartment, they lived off campus in a nice little 3 bedroom. Were just hanging out playingcards,drinkingafewbeersandkillingtime.Igetupto use the restroom and heres where the crap hit the fan literally. I walk in and see a floater in the toilet. Whats the big deal about that? It happens, no reason for me to remember it so manyyearslaterright? Itwasafuckinglog.ItlookedlikeabrownCokecanfloatingin the water. Id never seen a turd with such girth. And heres wherethebeingmalethingcomesin.Not2secondsafterIsee this giant in the toilet my mind has come to one inescapable conclusion:oneofmyfriendstakesituptheass. Iswear,itwastheonlyreasonableexplanationforshitzilla.One oftheseyoungladieswhoIdknownforyearsmustbegettingit up the rear and, from Exhibit A bobbing around in the commode,fairlyregularly.Fromasizablepartneratthat. I spent the rest of the afternoon looking each of them up and down wondering. Which of them liked anal? Which of these seemingly tight asses was in fact capable of expelling what looked to be an entire Thanksgiving meal in one shot? Maybe theyalldid!MaybeIwassittingintheHouseofAnalandhadno idea. Thatisthemaleexperiencerightthere.Sneakingpeeksatagirls (andafriendsatthat)asstotrytoseeiftherewereanycluesto thisbackdoormystery.Thatiswhatitisliketobeaguy. So I really did spend the days, weeks and months after that fatefulafternoondyingtofigureoutwhichofthesegirlswasthe culprit.Truthistheyallshotupafullpointofthehottiescale. ThatsafterIsawafloater.Theyallwentupinhotnessbecause Isawabigdump. Welcometomylife. And no, I never found out which of the apple bottoms was responsible.EvendrunkIcouldntbringmyselftoask.

129

Thinking back I bet she flushed but this fucking thing couldnt get sucked down the first time. It was that big. It was like a dinosaurturdorsomething. Really.Afullpoint. thecattrap SoI'mmad.MadbecauseIinventedsomethingthatisawesome but there is no demand for. Just imagine that feeling. Your momentofpuregeniuswasted. Whatistheinventionyouask? WellIguessIcantellyouhereinapublicforumbecauseifthere was ever a sudden demand for the product I could reference this blog and I think legally that means the idea is mine or something. Let's just say I'd sue you for every penny if I ever walked through a mall and suddenly saw my idea with your stupidfaceonthepackage. Gotit? Anyway. The demand that these is a shortage of is the demand for cat traps.IftherewaseverademandforacattrapthenI'dbethe toastofInventorland. Mycattrap,withoutbraggingtoomuch,isfuckingbrilliant.It's actually 2 traps in one. In the front is a mechanism that looks likeamousetrap.Youevenhavetoloaditwithabitofcheese or peanut butter. The mouse walks up and POW it smashes theirhead.Nowhereistheawesomepart.Thistrapisactually justthesmallonesittingunderthebiggertrap.Thedeadmouse is the bait for a cat and when the cat comes to eat the dead mouse, no doubt thinking to himself "What a dumb fucking mouse.Gettingkilledbysuchanobvioustrap",hesetsoffthe largertrapwhichcomesslammingdownandsquasheshishead. Weusethecatsarroganceagainsthim! Holy shit. Even as I'm writing this I suddenly had another brilliant idea. I just invented a kickass dog trap! A 3 part

130

apparatusthedeadcatbecomesbaitforadogandstillathird powerful steel bar crashes down and kills the dog. There is no way a dog would suspect the third trap even if he figures out thefirsttwo.Dogsareevenmorearrogantthancats.He'dwalk rightupwithoutthinkingandhaveatthecatcorpse. Waitjustatickisthereanythingintheanimalkingdommore arrogant than a bear? Fuck no! Ever see those guys walking aroundtheforestliketheyowntheplace?Addafourthspring loaded bar and you suddenly have a bear trap! You can kill a bearforthecostof1ofmytrapsandasmallpieceofcheese! Imagine the thrill of watching as each of the unfortunate creature succumbs to my ingenious trap until finally Yogi himself saunters up and gets creamed. Transform a simple camping trip into something the whole family, as well as the park rangers and (no doubt) the local law enforcement authorities if some nosy dog owner wanders by wondering whereol'Rexgotto,willneverforget! I just want to live in a world where there is a market for this typeofthing. reallydeepseafishing Asthoseofyouwhoknowmewillattest,whichisnoneofyou, if I do something I like to do it big. If not big than different. Samegoeswithfishing.Youcangrabyouroldrodandreeland head out to the local lake if you want, digging up a pail of worms and spending the day baiting hooks, swatting mosquitoesandtryinginvaintohookafishnobiggerthanyour pecker(or,fortheladies,yourleftbreastwidth,notgirth)but notme. IfIcatchthefishingbugit'sofftothecontinentalshelfforme andafewofmybuddies.You'veneverfisheduntilyou'vespent thebetterpartofaweekgettingtothemiddleoftheocean.I findthat13,000istheluckydepthformyfavoritetypeoffishso itgivesmeplentyoftimetothrowbackafewcoldsonesasIlet

131

out almost 50,000 feet of line approx. 12 hours actually. DuringthattimemyfriendsandIhuddlearoundandactoutthe scene in Jaws where they all compare wounds they have receivedduringtheirvariousinteractionswiththesea.Thoseof whomhavebeenwithmeonapreviousfishingtripwillattempt towindthingsupbeforeitgetstoocompetitivebutnewcomers whocontinuetopresstheissuewillendupseeingmyscarfrom wheredoctorshadtoremoveaparasiticalfishthatswamupmy junkafewyearsbackintheAmazon. Early the next morning, flush with excitement, I will sprint out onthedeckandseeifmylurehasreachedthenecessarydepth. When it does I will stand over the edge and pinch the line between my thumb and forefinger and hold it there waiting forthetelltaletugofmyaquaticquarry.AndthereI'llstandfor mostoftheday. WhatfishisitI'mafter?Noneotherthantheelusiveseadevil. Of the family Ceratiidae. You may know them better as the anglerfish. That's right the one with the little bioluminescent lurestickingoutofthetopofitshead.Imean,ifyou'regoingto fish why wouldn't you go after a fish with a bioluminescent thingstickingoutofhishead?Thisbabyisallteeth.Ifyouknow the fish I'm talking about then you know it's the most badass fishever.Ifyouhadn'tseenityou'dswearIwasmakingitupifI satdownanddrewoneforyou.It'slikesomethingyou'dexpect to have at the end of your rod if you were fishing somewhere likeIdon'tknowhell! I have to pause at this point in the story to point out how fuckingcoolIam.Iamananglerangler.Evenamongthosethat fish for angler I'm known as a legend which would then make me an angler angler's angler. Make a tshirt of that Roland Martin. Sometimesafteronlyafewhoursofstandingovertherail,my body buffeted by cruel waves and my mouth caked with dried salt,Iwillfeela'hit'.That'swhentherealactionbegins. Everseethosepussiesthatstrapthemselvesintoachairtofight afish?Notme.IhavealuckylawnchairthatIplopdowninto

132

and get ready for the coming battle to reel in my prize. This takesaslongas18hourspausingonlyforbreakstosleep,eat andcrapoffthebowoftheship. Truthis,afteronlyafewhoursthefishstopsfightingbecauseas Ipullittowardsthesurfacethepressurechangesorsomething and it kills the fish. Apparently where they live it's only a few degrees above freezing and it has the pressure of several hundredatmospheres.How'sthatforagreatincentivetofight? Some fishermen say that it's ok to fish because it doesn't hurt the fish. I hate that moral grey area. I like to know that every inchIpullthefishupisonemoreinchcloseritcomestohaving itsheadexplode.That'sgottasting! So anyway. Later that same night, or early the next morning, I finallygettoreelinmyprey.Mostofthetimemyfriendsarea little disappointed as they expect to see some magnificent denizenofthedeephauledintotheboatbutafterthelongtrip up the fish is almost unrecognizable due to the fact that their bodiescan'tcopewiththewaythingsarehereintherealworld, some enzyme problemor other, and they basically turn into a big glob of jelly. That is unless other fish have picked them to theboneasI'vebeenreelingthemup,whichisusuallythecase. Sometimesallthatisleftisthiskillergiantjawbone.Thoselittle fucks even eat the bioluminescent thing sticking out of their head. Afterafewdaysofthiskindoffunit'stimetosaygoodbyeto thesubmarinecanyonsoftheabyssalplainandheadhomewith afewmoredorsoventrallycompressedtrophiesformycase. Stillthinkfishingforbluegillsiscoolnow?! Asasidenotewhenitismature,themaleceratioidsdigestive system degenerates, making him incapable of feeding independently, which necessitates his quickly finding a female anglerfish or else dying. When he finds a female, he bites into her skin, and releases an enzyme that digests the skin of his mouth and her body, fusing the pair down to the bloodvessel level.Themalethenatrophiesintonothingmorethanapairof gonads, which release sperm in response to hormones in the

133

female's bloodstream indicating egg release. And can you believethatsomeofmyoldgirlfriendscalledmeclingy?!Iguess some girls can't handle a little sexual dimorphism no matter whatchickflickstellus. Seadevilsshedevils..justacoincidence? badreceptionatDQ Because I've been known to tell a tall tale now and again I sometimeshaveacredibilityproblemwhenitcomestorelating a story that just so happens to be true. That's the case in the nextlittlenarrative. I will avoid the usual clichs about how the day started off innocentlyenoughorhowitwasthekindofdaywhereanything outofthenormwaslikelytohappen.Allmydaysarelikethat soitisunnecessary.InsteadIplungerightintotheheartofthe subjectmatter. Me. DairyQueen. Astrongdesireforalargechocolatemalted. I went to order. I did a double take and then slowly and thoroughlyrubbedmyeyes. Therewassomethingwrongwiththeyounggirlservingme. Thebitchwasblurry! At first I couldn't figure it out. Obviously my first thought was that it was my eyes. Something must have flown in them or something. When I opened them everything came into crystal clear focus again until I looked at her. Her features were slightlyoutoffocus.Isquintedmyeyesandhadanotherlook. Nope.Herfacewasstillfuzzy. My mind raced for possible explanations. I thought of a hot desert road where the heat creates a haze on the pavement. LookingaroundIcouldn'tseeanysourceofheat.Certainlythey can melt that creepy chocolate topping that quickly hardens

134

aftertheyputitonyouricecreamwithoutablastfurnacesoI quicklyruledthatout. Her coworker coming out the back was not afflicted with this oddconditionsoafterafewseconds mylogicalmindraced to oneinescapableconclusion:Imustbestandingtooclose. Itookastepback. Thebitchwasstillblurry. She asked again what I wanted and I wanted to yell "How the fuck can I concentrate when you're standing there all blurred andshit?!" Toofarawayperhaps? I took a step forward and leaned over the counter my face nowinchesfromhers. Itwasn'tatrickofthelight.Shewasoutoffuckingfocus.There wasnootherwaytodescribeit.Icouldn'tmakeoutoneclear feature.Evenherfreckleslookedliketinybrownsmudgesona shadowycanvas.Herponytaildidn'tsomuchendasfadeoff. Iquicklylookedaroundateveryoneelseinlinewitha"Isitjust meoristhisbitchblurry?"lookonmyface. NoonepaidmuchattentionandIcouldhaveswornIsawafew "Canyouorderalreadyfuckface?"facesstaringbackatme. Itookadeepbreathandslowlyorderedwithmyeyesclosed. Istaredatthecounterasshewentaboutmakingmymalted. Sheaskedmefor$4.56. Ilookedup. ShewaslikeacharacteronaTVstationthatdidn'tquitecome in. Iwantedtoshakeherorsticktinfoilonherhead. She just kept looking at me with her big dull blurry eyes and outoffocus hands holding my completelyinfocus chocolate malted. The next customer stepped up and began ordering. I was watching his face, wondering when he'd turn and give me a commiserating gesture about the blurry state of the bitch in frontofus.

135

Nope.Hedidn'tseemtogive2shitsaboutherbeingoneblurry bitch. I left but then couldn't help but wonder if it was something in theicecreamtheywereservingthatmadebitchesblurry.Was sheevenawareofhowfuzzylookingshewas? Ithrewawaymymalted.$4.56downthedrain. AllbecauseofthatstupidgirlatDQ. Shewasonefuckingblurrybitch. losingapetisnevereasy Ihaveapet. HadapetIshouldsay. Givemeamomentit'sbeenatoughcoupleofdays. His name was GP. The initials stood for Guinea Pig. Which worked out great until a friend of mine told me he was a hamster. Whatever. IlovedGPalot. A couple weeks back he started acting a little odd. He didn't seemtohavethesamezipinhisstrideisthebestIcandescribe itsoIdidwhatanyresponsiblepetownerwoulddo.Icalleda veterinarian. Turns out that hamsters are considered 'exotic animals' and a visit would cost a minimum of $60 instead a normal dog or cat visit of $35. Exotic? A fucking hamster? So that'swhatIscreamedatthesnottybitchonthephone. "I said HAMSTER not tiger or monkey! Did you hear me say HuacayaAlpaca?NoIdidnot.Isaidhamster.For$60Icouldgo buyahalfdozennewones!" ShesuggestedIfollowthattrainofthoughtanddisconnected. WhoneedsavetwhenIhavetheinternetright? AfewGoogleslaterIamassdeepinhamsterknowledge.Turns outthathamstersonlyliveacoupleofyears.I'vehadGPforat least a year so what I mistook for a case of hamster sniffles

136

turnsouttobejustoneofthose'circleoflife'things.Mylittle friendwasonlynearingtheend. Just like if he was a terminal patient or really old person I did whatanyhumanecaringhumanbeingwoulddo.Idecidednot to let him suffer. It was just his time. I would let him slip his mortalcoilwithoutaprolongedfight. Andso,althoughitwasadifficultdecision,Icutoffhisfoodand water. Brave little GP. After a few days I suspect he realized that his timewasshortbecausehesuddenlygotaburstofenergyand spendhisdaysandnightsrunningupandbackacrosshiscage,I suspect had he had a cup he would have dragged it back and forthacrossthebarsliketheoldprisonmovies,andsqueaking everytimehesawme.Obviouslyhewasdistraughtatlosingme as a friend because when I went to comfort him with a little nuzzleoftheol'fingerhelashedoutandbitme. Itwashiswayoftryingtohelpmeletgo. "You know what they say about biting the hand that doesn't feed you right?" I said to him as I backhanded him across his enclosure and into his wheel. That little bastard could really bite. WhenIstartedthismissionofmercyIhadnoideaitwasgoing to be so hard. GP squealed and whined for what seemed the betterpartofaweek.FromthetimeIarrivedhomefromwork tothetimeIdepartedagaininthemorningthatlittleguywas putting on a brave face for me. At times I would be forced to turnuptheTVtodrownhimout. FinallythepatheticlittlenoisesstartedtodiedownabitandGP had slimmed down a few hamster sizes. His eyes had both crusted over and his coordination was for shit. He would hear meapproachhiscageandhe'sslowlycrasharoundlikehewas drunk,hittinghislittleheadoneverythingheapproached.Even histeethcouldn'tbreakmyskinasI'dholdhiminmyhandsand hewouldgentlytrytobiteme. Itwastimetodotherightthing. Iplacedhimonatowel.

137

Ikissedhisheadandfoldedthetoweloverit. Itookoffmyboot. HoldingtheheavybootinmyhandIbroughtmyarmalltheway backbehindmyheadandthendownashardasIcouldwhereI thoughthisheadwouldbe. Itwasfinallyoverformyhamsterbuddy. Hissuffering,andmine,wasatanend. OrsoIthought. OnlywhenIstartedtoliftthetopofthetoweloffhisbodyIsaw thathewasstillbreathing! I was so sure I had hit him flush on the noggin how could I havemissed? IpulledtherestofthetoweloffandfoundthatIhadn't. There'sthisguyIsawonaYoutubevideothatcanpopouthis eyes.Theybothjustpopoutandhangtheiroutsideofhishead. Imaginethatsameguyifhewasahamster. That was GP. The fucking warrior was still alive but both his eyeballs had popped out. Tiny black balls sitting on top of his crustysockets.Noblood.Justhiseyespoppedoutandhislittle chestmovingupanddownirregularly. MercifulJesuswhathadIdone? GP was still alive and I was late for work. I couldn't leave him there.Thatwouldbecruel.SoIquicklywrappedhimupinthe towelandbroughthimwithme. I'mamailmansoIthoughthecouldjustridealongwithmeuntil he expires so that when the time comes I could be there for him. Even a hamster doesn't want to go to the great beyond withoutsomeoneshotgun. ObviouslyIcouldn'tputhimanywherewherehe'dbeseen,I'm sure there are a bunch of rules and regs about driving around withpets,soItuckedhimnearthebackbetweensomesacksof mail content that I would check on him at the end of every subdivisionIwork. InretrospectIseenowwhypeoplealwaysputanimalsinboxes. I'mnotsureifheheroicallywasabletomoveonhisownorifit wasjustoneofmysuddenstopsthatshookhimfromhiswarm

138

towelbutthenextthingInoticedwasmypalslidingacrossthe floor of the mail truck when I stopped. He looked like a fuzzy hockey puck and before I realized that it was him that slid up and slammed into the front of the truck I had accelerated and hewassuddenlyslidingbacktotherearofthevehicle.Thiswas confirmed seconds later with a small thud. I panicked and slammed on the breaks which sent my seemingly frictionless pet once again hard into the metal panel at the front of my vehicle. I scooped him and started to pick off all the dirt and shit that wasstickingtohiseyeballs.Poorlittleguy. Andstillhischestroseandfelltellingmethatthebreathoflife wasstillwithinhim. "WhatthefuckGP?!"wasallIcouldsay. I'mnotsurewhatitisahamsterhastoliveforbutwhateverit wasitwasstrongwithinGP.IwonderifIwouldfightthishard tostayinalifewhereallIeatispelletsandmyonlyactivityis running in a wheel. Perhaps there is something to this simplicity.Imustremembertoconsiderthislateronduringmy nightlyexistentialexplorations. AtthatmomenthoweveritwastimetoenditforGP. LovinglyIplacedhiminfrontofmyfrontrightwheelandthen ranhimover. As much of a fighter as he was there was no amazing escape from the icy grip of the Reaper this time. There was no last meaningful glance either. I wedged him in there under the wheellikehewasadoorstopandIneededthatdooropenbut good. "Neithersnownorrainnorheatnorgloomofnightstaysthese couriersfromtheswiftcompletionoftheirappointedrounds". To that list you may add "death of their pet hamsters" for I took one look back to make sure my comrade was indeed squishedflatandthenIcontinuedonmyroute. Ihadmailtodeliver. GPwouldhavewanteditthatway.

139

billionstobeserved Maybeitwasthefactthatitwasthe4thofJuly.Maybeitwasn't. Maybe it had just been lying dormant inside me, building up. Waitingforaspark. SoI'mstandinginlineatBurgerKingthismorning.Waitingand watchingthislittlekiddropdimesintothisbucketthingonthe counter.Ifoneofthemlandsontheselittleplatformshegetsa freeWhopperorsomething.Iftheydon'tallthemoneygoesto somecharitythatBurgerKingsupportsprobablysomethingto dowithhelpingallthefatkidsthatBKcreated. Anyway,thiscutelittlekidactuallyhasoneofhisdimeslandon thetinyplatform(againstlongodds)andhegetsallexcitedand tellshisDad.HisDadactslikehecouldgiveacrapandtellshim to go get a manager to claim his prize. So what happens? The kid does just that but while he's waiting to get the managers attention his Dad leans over and jostles the bucketthing until thedimefallsofftheplatform. Whenthemanagerfinallycomesoverthekidcan'tbelieveit. NofreeWhopperforhim. Whatthefuckwouldmakeamandothattohisownson?! Whatwouldyouhavedone? Igrabbedatrayfromthestackonthegarbagecanandtapped theguyontheshoulder.WhenheturnsIsmashhimrightinthe facewithit. Giventhattheyareplasticitdidn'thavethedramaticknockout effect I was looking for. Not like one of those ol' metal prison serving trays I'd have rather been wielding. Instead it just stunned him and made a nice loud whacking noise that had everyone in the restaurant (do you call a BK a restaurant?) lookingatus. Noworries.AtwistofthewristandIfollowedupwiththetray goingwhistlingthroughtheairsidewaysintohisAdam'sApple. Thatworkedmuchbetter.

140

Long story short a few more shots and the villainous father collapsedtothegroundgaspingandholdinghisneck.Blahblah blahyougettheidea. Ileft.I'dlostmyappetite. SoIheadedforthepooltocooloffwithaquickswim. Nothingbetterthanaquickdipandalittlepeoplewatching. I'm watching this kid play with someone that is obviously his younger brother and a few friends his own age. The little boy just followed his every move with adulation, enjoying the attentionoftheolderkidsandthefeelingthathisbrotherwas takingcareofthem. Ismiled. Thentheyalldecidedtoplayhideandseek.Thelittleguywas thefirsttolookandwhileheclosedhiseyesandcountedallthe otherboys,laughingtothemselvesastheydidit,gotoutofthe kiddiepoolandwenttoswiminthebigkidspool.Needlessto say when the smallerlad looked up to see they had allabandonedhimhewasheartbroken. Theolderbrothergaveaquicklookbackandthenmadesome commentthathadhisfriendsalllookingathisyoungerbrother andlaughing. NowthemostdifficultthingtobelieveoutofallthatIamabout totellyouisthis: I was still carrying that plastic brown tray from Burger King. I hadneverdroppeditforsomereason. Destinyperhaps. WhateverthereasonIwasabouttoputittogooduseagain. Iswamovertothegroupofboys,Icouldn'thelpbuthear the musicfromJawsinmyheadasIdidit,andbeganbeatingthem aboutthefaceandneckwithmytray. MyTrayofJustice. The sound of it hitting wet flesh was invigorating and I highly recommend it to anyone with a hankering for a little righteousnessmixedinwiththeirnormalaquaticendeavors.

141

I was, of course, asked to leave but isn't that always the case with the misunderstood hero. I accepted my fate, dressed and departed. LuckilyformethatallowedmetocatchtheendofasetbyKeb' Mo'atalocalbluesfestival.Funnyhowthingsalwaysworkout. Thing is, near the end he does a Junior Wells (written by Mel London)songcalledMessin'WiththeKid.Happenstobeoneof my favorites. Anyway, the real cool part of the song is when Keb'Mo'playfullyaskseveryoneintheaudienceiftheywantto messwiththekidandweallyellback"No!". Allofusbutthisoneguyinback. Heyells"yes!"likeacompletedouche. Nobodyreallynoticed,leastofallKeb',butitreallyirkedme.He couldn'tjustplayalongcouldhe?Hehadtobedifferent. Hewantedtomesswiththekid. Canyouimagineanythingassillyashavingsecurityatabigfest like that and force everyone to wait in a long line while they frisked everybody one ata time and then let someone walk in with a plastic serving tray? What exactly constitutes a weapon these days anyway? What does it take to arouse a little suspicion from the bouncers these days? The sloppy attitude towards crowd safety almost earned these rentacops a taste ofmyTrayofJusticebutintheendIwasgladIhadheldmyfury incheck. Iputittobetteruseonthemanwhowantedtomesswiththe kid. Today I was that kid. And the kid brought with him a brown plastictray.ABKtray. ATrayofJustice. Lesson learned Mr. YellTheWrongThingOnPurposeAtA Concert? Ihopeso. WhenIgotthecallitallsuddenlyfellintoplace.WhyIhadgone intotheBurgerKingthismorning.WhyIhadpickedupthattray amongallothers.Thorhashishammer,CaptainAmerica....his

142

shield.Thistownhasanewprotectorandwithhimcomeshis trustyTrayofJustice. IflippeddownthefrontofmycellphoneandknewwhatIhad todo. Myagentneededabeatdownofthehighestmagnitude. You see I'm an actor. Well I'm trying to be an actor. Mostly community theater, although you might remember me as the 3rdadmiring friendontherightinthe Smilin'Bobcommercials forEnzytenaturalmaleenhancement. Anyway. I just tried out for something and got the part but it wasn'texactlythepartthatIhadbeentryingoutfor. Myagenthadtoldmethat,muchliketheBlueManGroupdoes, there was this Australian show that was looking to open a branchinLosAngeles.SoIspentcountlesshoursinfrontofthe mirror preparing myself for it. Physically and mentally althoughmostlyphysically. You see, he had told me that I was auditioning for the West CoasttroupeofPuppetryofthePenis. He had sent me a thick book with 'dick tricks' I needed to master. I knew the audition had been a hit because all of the 30 or so men in the room had been very supportive. The man running theaudition,aMr.Johnson,toldmeIcouldauditionagainright afterwards but I'd felt I'd nailed it the first time. The hooting andholleringmencertainlyagreedwithme. Anyway it turns out it wasn't an audition for Puppetry of the Penisafterall. SonowI'msittinginataxi,withmytraysittingonmyverysore lap,onmywayovertoseehim.It'sbeenafulldayofdispensing justice but I have one final stop maybe 2 if Mr. Johnson is unwilling to sell me back the audition tape(s) that I saw being made. It'sthe4thofJulyandI'mbringingthefireworks.

143

TheArtofLawnMaintenance IknewIwasgoingtolosethebid. IevencalledthemarginbywhichIwasgoingtoloseit. Inmyindustrythereisasenseofrespect,dareIevensayawe, about how accurate I am in predicting the outcome of bids. NobodyknowshowIdoitbutI'mgoingtotellyoumysecret. I get the home addresses of all my competitors and then I get upearlyeachweekendanddrivetotheirhouse.Isitandwatch andwaitandeventuallyIknoweverythingIneedtoknowabout wheretheirnumberwillcomein. Howyouask? You can tell everything about a man by the way he mows his lawn. AssoonasIpulledupandsawhisyardIknewIwasintrouble. Soonmyfearswereconfirmedashisgaragedoorsmoothlyslid uptorevealmynemesispushingouthismower. Iwasbeautiful. Itwassomethingyou'dseeatafarm museum.Thekindyou'd visit if you were stuck in some awful state like Iowa and you literallyhadnothingbettertodo.(NooffenseIowait'snotmy faultyou'reboring.)(Alsodon'tgetabigheadNebraska.You wereontheshortlist) His mower looked about 70 years old and at the same time seemed to purr like a kitten. Now compare this to my mower. Every year or 2 I need a new one because I refuse to put any effort into maintaining it. I will literally mow until it stops and thengobuyanewone.Neighborswillpulltheirchildreninside whenIstartmowingbecauseIwillpusharoundamowerwith black smoke pouring out of it if need be. Once, when I was almost finished with the lawn, I was pushing around a mower completelyengulfedinflames. Notthisguy. Hecuthislawnwithmilitaryprecision.Itwasajoytowatch. As I sat hunched and hiding in the shrubbery, the smell of freshly cut grass filling my nostrils, I got a sudden rush of

144

comfortthatmenlikethesestillexist.IknewIcouldn'tbeatthis guynomatterhowIcutcornerswithinstallationorwarrantees. He'dseeitcoming.Itdidn'tmatter. I wasn't surprised when he disappeared after mowing and returnedwiththetrimmertotakecareofthetallgrassbythe fence. Icanonlyassumethefenceisstilltherebetweenmyneighbor and me. I haven't seen it in 3 years. Honestly, I didn't know grasscouldgrowthattallbutIthinkafterthefirstfootitstarts toundergosomesortofplantevolutionbecauseIhavefivefoot tallgrassnowthathasacircumferenceofalmost3inchesatits base. SoIdon'tmindlosingtoaguylikethis.Ijusthavethisfeeling thattheworldneedspeoplelikehim. Hethenturnedhisattentiontohisgarden.Heweededinaway that brought tears to my eyes. There are bonsai trees that get less attention than his 2 hanging plants. And the little garden surroundinghismailboxIwon'teventellyou. It'sjusttoopainful. All I will say is that my mailbox is surrounded by grass. I tried andIfailedtobrightenupthatlittlespotofearthandallIgot formytroublewasacitationfromthecounty. In fairness to my mailman, I understand his issue. How was I supposedtoknowthattheparticularspecimenofclimbingvine I selected to adorn my mailbox had a bright, beautiful flower thatalsoseemedtoattracteverybee,waspandstinginginsect inasevenmileradius?ByJuneIknewthatmymailhadarrived every afternoon by the shrieks and anguished cries of my mailmangettingswarmedashetriedtoopenthemailbox. Eventually it was time to go. I could no longer feel my lower extremitiesduetotheneedtokeepconcealedandtheposition I needed to maintain to ensure such a result. My 'friend' was stilltoilingawaybutIhadseenenough. Iknewifhislawnneededwaterhewouldhavethesprinklerout beforethefirstbladeofgrassfeltevenatinybitparched.

145

ByAugustthelocalfiremarshaldrivesbymypropertyatleast onceadayknowingthatthesmallestsparkandmylawnwill setoffawildfirethatwillmaketheeveningnews. I knew in the fall he would be there with a rake in hand only momentsaftereachleafhittheground.Ireadsomewherethat dead leaves act as fertilizer so that was all I needed to rationalize letting the leaves pile up. Hopefully dead grass also acts as a fertilizer because those leaves usually kill everything underthemandit'sonlyafterastrongwindthatthegrasswill seeanysunafterOctober. Howdoeshekeephishangingplantsalive?! I buy them and actually water them every day and they never lastaweek.ThenI'mstuckwithbighideousbrowndeadplants hangingthereasifawarningtoallotherplantsthatmightwant togrowonmyproperty. SunTzusaideverybattleiswonorlostbeforeitisfought.Smart man.Iwonderifhehadalawnservice. Mybid?$287,450. Hisbid?$285,300. weareinfinitemonkeys Forthosenotinthemoodtodosomeintellectualheavylifting I'dadviseyoutoskipthisblogforI'dliketorambleabitonthe topicsofinfinityandprobability.InparticularI'dliketolookat theoldexpression"givenaninfinitenumberofmonkeyssitting at an infinite number of typewriters they would eventually rewriteeverybookeverpublished".Quiteaclaimandonethat no doubt most people don't really believe in their heart of hearts. Let'schangetheruleseversoslightlyandsaythatwegivethese monkeys special keyboards that only have letters, punctuation and a space bar and we do not hold our hairy friends responsible for proper capitalization. Given these parameters they only have a 1 in 34 of starting off Joao Magueijo's Faster

146

Than the Speed of Light with the correct letter I. Chances that thissamemonkeywouldthenhitthespacebarandfollowitup with the letters A and M are only 1 in 1,336,336. You can imagine the frustration of watching the monkey go ahead and correctly hit the next 263 pages of words only to end with "univerce".Soclose. Probabilityofamonkeycorrectlytappingoutacompletework isindeeddauntingsolet'smeetourmonkeys. ObviouslyaninfinitenumberofmonkeysissizablebutI'dliketo at least try to get a handle on it. Let's say we have a large building. Large enough where each floor is able to house 100 billionbillionupandcomingprimatewriters.Eachbuildinghas 1000 floors and I am able to get 100,000 of these building placedineachcity. Don't worry about food, I have a reliable vendor who can deliver an infinite amount of bananas on a daily basis. Sanitation, on the other hand, is a bit more dicey as I have another vendor that has promised an infinite amount of ape portapottiesbuthastodateonlydelivered14. ButIdigress. Let'sassumethatIcanplace6trillioncitiesfullofthesebuilding on every planet I have access to and it turns out that I have accesstoover900billionbillionbillionplanets.Thisamountof monkeys makes up less that .0000000000000001% of the monkeys I would need to even make a reasonable run at infinity. I realize I am assuming that I could control all these monkeys and have them feverishly typing away for at least 12 hours a day.I'dhateforyoutothinkIwouldbecomesomesortofevil monkeytyrant lording over all these hapless chimps and gibbons but these books aren't going to write themselves you know! Itreallyisamazingtothinkabout.Probabilityisanaweinspiring force,whetheritbewhenyou'reclutchingyourlotteryticketas theballsbouncearoundonTVorlookingovertheshoulderofa Mandrill that is 2 paragraphs away from finishing Scott

147

Aaronson'sWhoCanNametheBiggerNumber?.Isupposeitis somewhatcomfortingthatthesmartmoneyisonyouwinning the big bucks and Mandrillus sphinx botching the very next sentence if the likelihood of the 2 events are put to the ol' either/orscenario.DoIneedbothertomentionwhowouldwin ifMr.LightingStrikingYouisaddedtothemix? So there we have it. If you actually tried to think this through thenyourbrainshouldbethrobbingandyourvisionswimming. Interestingly enough, to me anyway, the largest number that the human brain can actually entertain (quantified by the number of separate thoughts it is capable of) was for the longest time thought to be only slightly over 3 billion. Then Mike Holderness came along and suggested that our brains contain about 10 billion neurons, each of which sends out feelers, or axons, to link it to about one thousand others. He suggested that one way of estimating the number of possible thoughts that a brain could conceive is to count all those connections. Scientists today put the Holderness Number at 10^70,000,000,000,000. Theironythatyourbrainisnowalmostshutdowntryingtoget a handle on just how many thoughts your brain can hold is probably completely lost on you. Before you get too full of yourselfbeawarethatthelargestnumberthehumanbraincan comprehend without countingorguessingis4.5elementscan be quickly counted but everything after that can only be guessed at unless you have the time to count. Proving that despite our enormous capacity to process data our ability to grasp the number of objects in a group is quite limited. Rememberthathumilityifyouevercomebeforemeinterested in one of my many monkeywrangler positions (I'm eternally hiring). Justimaginethedisappointmentofthemonkeywhowaslucky enoughtocompleteDialoguesofPlatoonlytofeelthestingof the critic's pen when his follow up jmscfl sh cjfvlkcahwfb was not received as warmly. If you think that observation was

148

stupidI'veapparentlygot10^70,000,000,000,000morewhere thatcamefrom. For instance "given an infinite number of monkeys sitting at aninfinitenumberoftypewriterstheywouldeventuallywritea muchbetterblogthanthis". Noargumenthere.Thisonegotawayfrommeundoubtedly. mygift I've had this gift as long as I can remember. The seemingly uniqueabilitytocapturethings,toturnaphraseordescribethe indescribable. As far back as grade school I would have my teachers weeping openly as they read my papers. I recall the lined paper bubbling and buckling trying to contain the words thatflowedfrommy#2pencil. Inhighschoolateacherconfidedinmethatasshereadapaper Ihadwrittenaboutthedepthsacharacterhadfallenandtheir subsequentclimbtodizzyingheightsthatherearshadactually popped. By college I had progressed to the stage where I didn't even needwordsanymore.Iwaspastallthat.Mythesiswas40blank pages for which I received an A. My gift could no longer be constrained by the language. I would take my thesis down to thebigtankatSeaWorldandnotreaditaloudandthedolphins would squeal their delight and flip and do somersaults and drenchmeintheirappreciation. Ofcoursethewomenresponded. At first it would take a few minutes of conversation to sway them but eventually even a glance became too much. As I would enter a bar I would have to take great care as not to make eye contact for more than a few second else they fall unconscious and lay slumped across their stool before I could whiskthemoutintothenightwithme.Onceatmyapartment theywouldsquealtheirdelightandflipanddosomersaultsand drenchmeintheirappreciation.

149

Thisgift. Thiscurse. Ihavereadallthedictionaries.Eagerlysearchingthepagesfora word that I might have missed. Hunting down their roots and histories in the hopes of finding some new way of saying something,addinganotherbullettomyarsenal.Butalas,Ihave wrungthelastdropfromtheEnglishlanguage.Ihaveexhausted allthecolorsonthepalette. Don't kid yourself though, I realize how brilliant my blogs are. YoushouldreadtheonesIhaven'twritten.Iknowtheychange lives.Theyarealifelineforsome,alastandsingularreminderof thebeautythatliveswithinhumanity.Iamblackandwhiteand read all over. A poignant counterbalance to reality TV and Shamwowcommercials.Ireadtheoffersthatcontinuetopour in like an unwelcome thundershower; TV, movies, books, children's parties. But they hold no allure to a man with a gift likemine. You just can't imagine a life like mine unless, of course, you arecomfortableimaginingachameleonlivinginaplaidjungle. Achamaeleonidaemessengeraskingthatyoukillthemessage. Themessage? Ileavethattoyoutofigureout. I'llgiveyouahint(consideritagift)chameleonschangetheir color an expression of their physical and psychological condition, not, as is commonly believed, to match their surroundings.

150

monkeybusiness Doyoueverhaveathoughtthatoffendsevenyourself?Imnot talking about a secret desire that you wouldnt want anyone elsetoeverfindoutabout,Imeansomethingthatrunsthrough yourheadandyoucantbelieveyoueverthoughtaboutit. ImsittingtherewatchingTVtodayandacommercialcomeson that has these chimps in it. Cute little monkeys pretending to work on a car. No big deal. Suddenly I wonder to myself if I couldactuallygetapetmonkey.Thatwouldawesome. ThenIwondertomyselfifIcouldteachittojerkmeoff. WhatthefuckdidIjustthink?! Ifyouveeverseenalarge,strongmancutalogin2withone cleandownwardstrokethenyoucanpicturewhatwasgoingon in my head. One log flying in one direction, the other hurtling throughtheairintheother.Onelogbeingcompleteshameand revulsion at my own thought, the other log imagining the chimpshands.WonderingiftheyaresmoothorroughandifI wouldenjoygettingjerkedoffbyachimpanzee. Iknowthatthehumansubconsciousisacesspoolofimmorality andselfishnessbutIcouldntbelievewhatwasgoingoninmy ownhead.Iactuallymadeadisgustedface. ThenIwonderedifitwouldhelpifthemonkeydressedupina littledressorcheerleaderoutfit. WHATTHEFUCK?!Whatiswrongwithme?Ihadnocontrolof my own thoughts. I wanted to punch myself in the face. I actuallyadjustedhowIwassittinginsomevainattempttolook myselfintheface.OneminuteImsittingonmycouchwatching TVanddrinkingaDr.Pepperandthe nextImimaginingsome poor chimp dressed up like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz playingwithmyjunk.Iswear,itwasntevensexualpersejust some weird self appraisal of whether I could enjoy getting a handjobfromamonkey. WordscannotexpresstheshameIfeltsittingthere. Thenmydogwalkedintotheroom. Evenheimmediatelysensedsomethingwaswrong.

151

Irubbedmyeyesandlookedagain. The jar of peanut butter that had previously been hanging under his chin like those emergency supply kits that Swiss mountain rescue dogs used to wear in the cartoons disappeared. Heturnedaroundandlefttheroom.Heactuallybackedoutof theroom.Neversawadogdothatbefore. IhadtoseethethoughtthroughtoitsconclusionotherwiseId be forever haunted by the question. Swallowing my disgust I stoppedfightingitandranthescenariotoitsfinishinmyhead. The verdict? I dont think I would enjoy it due to 1. the noises chimps make. 2. The possibility it would smile at me midway through with those giant ape teeth. And 3. Chimps are amazinglystrongandifitgottooexciteditmightripitcleanoff. Theshitthatgoesthroughmyheadsometimes mindblowingit Anyonewhoknowsmeknowsthatgettingmassagesaresecond only to a good haircut on my list of pleasurable things to experience.ThereisnothingIlikebetterthantoslipoutofmy clothes and lay on a heated table while some female with strong hands and a working knowledge of the male anatomy goestoworkonme.Thisbeingcommonknowledgemeansthat everyholidayseasonmymailboxischokedwithgiftcertificates tomassageparlors.Itendtohoardthem,holdingontothemas long as possible so as not to blow through 4 massages in Januaryandthenbelefttomyowndevicestherestoftheyear. Suchwasthecasethisyearwhen Iheldoutuntilyesterdayto cashinthefirstone.Itwastoanewspot,oneIhadneverbeen before despite the fact that they were apparently a national chain with 500 locations throughout the continental United States.Imarchedrightin,slappeddownthegiftcardandasked fortheworks.AfteralittlepaperworkIwasshowntomyroom and introduced to my masseuse, a perky little thing but I

152

noticedwithalittletrepidationthatshewastheownerofsome smallhands.Ohwellantscancarrystufftwicetheirsizeover theirheadssowhoamItojudgestrengthright? SoIstripoffandImlayingthereunderthelittlesheetlooking up at the ceiling tiles listening to the slightly orientalsounding musicwiththebabblingstreaminthebackground.Waiting. Thenithappens. NowIknowyouvebeenwaitingfortheThenithappenssince the first sentence. Any time someone starts off so tediously yourewaitingforthestorytoslipofftherails.Thereisnoway someone is going to typing away about their massage in such painful bland fashion unless they are setting you up for some crazy twist that will repay you for your patience in hearing aboutsmallhandsandbabblingstreams. Of course, now Ive gone and messed it up because no matter what I type now youre going to be somehow disappointed because Ive to the time and energy of making you think that the Then it happens is going to be total unbelievable and mindblowingwheninfactitsreallynot. Infact,hadyoubeenpresentatthemassageyouwouldnthave noticed anything at all. Why? Because the mindblowing was goingoninmyownhead,i.e.mymindblewthefunoutofthe massage.Theperkygirlwiththesmallhandsprobablythought shedidagoodjobbecausetherewasnooutwarddisplayofthe stupidity going on in my head. Had she had the proportional strengthofanantI probablywouldhaveaskedhertouseher smallbutmightyhandstocrushmyheadinIwassofrustrated. Atwhatyouask? Nowweregettingsomewhere. Im lying there before she comes in looking at the ceiling tiles and suddenly I start to wonder if this is what it feels for the corpsejustbeforetheautopsystarts.Assuming,ofcourse,that being dead and all will remove the pain from the procedure I couldnthelpbutwonderifthisiswhatawaitsmostofus.Take awaytheheatedtableandreplaceitwithacoldmetalsurface and whats the difference really? Nobody can say with 100%

153

certaintythatwerenolongeroccupyingourbodieswhenthey decidetostartinwiththescalpels. Normallythisisthekindofstupidshitgoingthroughmyheadat alltimessoIthinknothingofituntilIseemymasseusewalkin and I suddenly become aware that Im still thinking the same stupid shit about the autopsy. I swear, I can hear her idly handling the steel instruments on her tray as she starts the procedure. I panic. Not because I think that she is actually going to start carving me up but because I am thinking when I should be layinglimpandenjoyingthemassage.Imstillthinking!Nothing couldbeworse! At least, thats what I thought until I start imaging her cutting open the front of my chest and reaching for the device that cracksopenmyribcage. Icouldntstop.Therewasnopain,justthehollowfeelingasshe startedtocutoutandremovemyvariousorgans. I couldnt turn it off. I was almost half way through my massage/autopsyandIwasntevenpayingattentiontotheoils and squeezing, instead I just kept looking at the ceiling and feeling the feeling of mourning that a body must feel as it is stripped of its parts like an expensive car left in Newark overnight. IwonderwhatIdiedof.WhydidIevenneedthisautopsy? Istartedtorundownthelistofsuspectswhohaddeliveredme tothiscoldfate. Finally!Itwastimetoturnover.Icouldforgetaboutthestupid autopsystuffandatleastenjoythelasthalfofmymassage. I rolled over and stuck my head in the little facehole and prepared for some quality rub time. She needed to adjust the neckthing because of my height so she could elongate my neck. Ohfuck. Wasthiswhatitfeltlikejustbeforeyouweredecapitated? NOOOOOOO! Youstupidfuckingmind.

154

Icouldnthelpbutwonderwhatthefinalsecondswouldbelike beforeaguillotineoraxefellandseparateyourheadfromthe restofyourbody.Honestly,Ithinkitwouldbeoneoftheeasier ways to die. Youd think that right? One second your head is attachedandthinkingawayandthenextitsrollingaroundwith your mouth probably making the same faces that a fish does whenitisoutofthewaterforalittlewhile.Assumingthatthe bladeisrelativelysharpIcantimaginetherewouldbemuch,if any,pain.Justonethudandyouresuddenlyonehattoomany. Thats assuming that the shock and blood loss makes your quicklyloseconsciousness.Butwhatifyoudidnt? THATisthenewstupidshitthatwassuddenlygoingthroughmy head to replace the old stupid shit that was going through my head!Allthetimemypreciousmassageminuteswereslipping byunnoticed. I could go into detail about what occupied my mutinous mind for the next half hour; the thoughts of a brave speech before thedecapitation,thestrangespinningviewyoudsuddenlyhave asyourheadrolledandbouncedaroundbeforecomingtorest onthegroundlookingupattherestofyourcorpse,yougetthe idea. What I was thinking wasnt half as important as the fact I was thinking.Thinkingandruiningmymassage. WhywouldIdothistomyself?ArentIthemaster ofmyown mind?CantItellittoshutthefuckup? Apparentlynot. I spent the whole time thinking stupid shit and ended up blowing the whole massage. Even the part where she rubs my scalp.Thehighholypartofthemassage!InsteadIwasthinking howstrangeitwouldfeeltohavethetopoftheskullcutopen withabonesawandremovedcompletely. Ipaidandevengavehermynormalgeneroustip.Itwasnther faultthatIfuckedupmyownmassagebecauseIcouldntshut offmybrain. Thatsit.Nocutepithyending.Justsittingheretyping

155

Wondering what it would be like if I worked as a typist for a coroner Age: Sex: Race: Dateofdeath: Timeofdeath: Causeofdeath: Dueto: Identification: Internal examination: The body is opened with the usual Y shapedincisionblahblahblah thedemonicsubconscious I think one of the more interesting places to be as an athlete andahumanbeingwouldbeachampionatacertaineventin the Paralympics. For those who dont know, the Paralympic Games are for athletes who have physical disabilities; spinal injuries,mobilitydisabilities,amputations,etc. Here is the part that would be weird. You are the best at a certain event but only until someone who is better at it gets paralyzed or an arm lopped off. Imagine working hard and training for the Paralympics and at the same time hoping that nobody at the last minute gets hurt that happens to do what you do. If a bus full of football players flips over on a highway

156

somewherealltheParalympicathleteswhothrowtheshotput fromawheelchairwouldsuddenlyfeelterribleaboutthiscrash butatthesametimetheydbegoingOhfuck!Ihopenobodyis paralyzedfromthewaistdown.Theniftheyhearthatoneof the lineman was in fact paralyzed from the waist down they would, as a fellow human being, be filled with the desire to reach out to them and tell them the wonders of competing in theParalympicsandhowitgivesyouareasontokeepworking andstayinginshapebutmaybenotwantingtoreachoutuntil the next Paralympics was over because you had been training sohardanditsonlyafewmonthsawayandyoureallywanted thegold. If a van filled with Olympic athletes ever crashed you know everybodywhocompetesintheParalympicswould beshitting themselves. The onearmed volleyball players and the legally blindarchers.Eachofthemwrestlingwiththeirowndemonsas theywaittohearhowbaditwasandwhicheventseachofthe victimscompetedin.Ibetsomeofthemactuallywakeupfrom thatnightmarefromtimetotimejustbeforetheGamesbutits sohorribletheycanneverevenmentionittoanybody. You have to wonder if the favorite in Swimming No Vision event heard that an Olympic swimming champion was just hit by a bus and, among many critical injuries, suffered complete blindnessandwasinthehospitalandhislifewashangingbya thread whether or not the thought Oh please die already wouldntfloatthroughhishead. Howcouldhelivewithhimself?Perhapshewouldthenfeelhe had it coming to him if by some strange oversight (oversight getit?)theyforgottopullthepoolcoveroffbeforetheystarted hiseventand10blindswimmerslaunchedthemselvesontoit. Take a second to think about that and then tell me that it wouldntbethemostviewedYoutubeclipever. Nottobeselfabsorbedbutthismightbeagoodtimetoshare with you a strange dream Ive been having for a couple years now.Itstartedwiththisshortlittledream/nightmareaboutnot beingabletorun.Justaquickglimpseofmewantingtorunfor

157

some reason but not being able to. I just couldnt put the movements together. Nothing to think twice about, which I didnt, but very odd when I had the same dream a few weeks later.EachtimeIwokewiththeideathatassoonasIgotupthe next morning I would immediately throw on some shorts and spring up and down my street to exercise this phantom disability. ButIalwaysforgot. You know how that is, life is busy and you never actually rememberwhatitisyourethinkingaboutinthemiddleofthe night.Howeverimportantitmightseemat3ambymorningit disappearslikesomuchfog. ButthenIstartedhavingthisdreamregularly,eachtimemore vivid and almost telling a larger story. Was I dreaming about some future self where I was too old to run? I didnt think so becauseIalwaysfeltyoung.WhateverthecaseIsithereatthis verymomentrealizingthatIhaveactuallynotrunsinceIstarted having this dream. I guess I should be happy that I lead a life where Im never late and never chased but I still find it unbelievablethatIhaventruninsolong. I actually remembered the dream one day when I was at the park.IfeltsillythinkingIshouldrunjusttoprovetomyselfIstill couldsoIdidnt.AfterIgothomeIwishedthatIhadjusttaken off and sprinted across the grass just to put these groundless fearstorestbutobviouslyIdidntfeelstronglyenoughaboutit to actually go back outside and just take a quick jog up and downthedriveway. What was it I was scared about? It couldnt be that Ive forgottenhowtorun.Anybodywith2workinglegscanrun.The coordinationrequiredisminimalright?Onelegsinfrontofthe other,justabitquickerthanawalk. Sothisdreamcontinuestohauntme.Iforgethowtorun. Prettystupid. SowhydontIjustgetuprightnowandgooutsideandrunup anddowntheblockjusttoendit?

158

Maybe for the same reason I will endlessly reference Miltons ParadiseLostbutwillneveractuallyreadit. MaybeforthesamereasonthatIputatinfrontofreasonby mistakeeverytimeItypeditinthisblog.Thatsaprettystrange typotomakemorethanonce. MaybeitsbecauseIwonderifRagnhildMyklebustandIshare anyotherdreams. McOdd Strangest thing happens the other day. Im out with some friendsandwewanttogrababitesoIsuggestwegotoBurger King but it turns out there isnt one within 20 miles so somebodyelsesuggestsMcDonalds. McDonalds?Isayinquisitively. Isthatsomelocalplace?Theyhaveburgers? TheyalllookatmelikeIhave9heads. What? Iendupfeelingalittlestupidinretrospectbecauseitturnsout McDonalds is a pretty popular hamburger franchise. Youve probablyheardofthembecauseonce Iknewwhotheywere I startedtoseethattheyareallover.Ievensawanadforthem on TV yesterday. Up until that day though I guess Id never noticedone. ImfarfromashutinandIhaveeatenattonsofWendysand ArbeesandDQsbutMcDonaldsmusthavestayedunderthe fastfoodradarsomehow. Weird. Thenitgetsevenweirder. IgouptoordermymealandaskforaPepsiwithitandtheysay theydonthavePepsi.TheyhaveCoke. Coke? The girl behind the counter looks at me like I, again, have 9 heads. IsthatlikePepsi?

159

Myfriendsstoppedtalkingandslowlygatheredaroundme. What? Idrinksodaallthetime.MountainDew,Dr.Pepper,SpriteI've hadthemall. So this Coke is like Pepsi? I ask sincerely. I shrugged my shouldersasiftosayIwasopenmindedandifittastedsimilar toPepsiIwasgame. Apparentlya10thheadwasmakingitswayoutofmyshoulders. Ok,IllgivethisCokeatry. How is it that suddenly Im the weird one because Im not familiarwitheverybeverage?Ievenstumpedafewofthemby asking if theyd ever tasted a Mello Yellow but they still wouldntgetoffmybackaboutit.TheyevencalleditCocaCola insteadofCokeafewtimeswhichisitthen? Somepeoplejustliketobustballsapparently. Justoneofthosestrangedays. Memoir:hearingmyparentshavingsex. Ithinkeverybodyhasastorysimilartothis.Theuncomfortable memoryofoverhearingyourparentshavingsex. I was about 10 at the time. I remember it all very vividly. We livedinNebraskaatthetime,inasmallhouseattheendofa culdesac. Our little development was surrounded by farms soybeansandcornIrecall.Itwasanovercastmorninginspring andmyyoungerbrotherandIwerewatchingcartoons.Thiswas back before there were 100 channels and kids use to look forward to weekend mornings because thats when you could seeScoobyDooandsuch. Itstartedwithjustafewcreakingnoisesthat,atfirst,Ichoseto ignore. When they persisted both my brother and I started to look around for their source. After some minutes we realized that the noises were coming from above. The family room sat rightovermyparentsbedroom.

160

MybrotherandIlookedateachotherandwonderedwhatthey couldbeupto.Hewasonly8atthetimesohehadnoideabutI wasstartingtofigureitout.Icanstillfeelthehairsonmyarm starttostandstraightupatthethought. Well the creaking persisted and was later joined by a low thumping noise. Jesus Dad, let her catch her breath I remember thinking to myself. Thats when the TV got all fuzzy forasecondandthenwentdead. Justgreat. Nowtherewouldbenothingtodrownoutwhateverwasgoing onupstairs.Ifeltthisdullpressureinmyearsthatsoonbecame afaroffroar.Thewindowbegantorattleeversoslightly. ShitDadisananimal! SomewheredeepinsidemeIfoundanewrespectformyfather startingtotakeroot. My brother started to look worried so I took his hand and led himtothekitchenwherewehuddledunderthebigoakdining table. The walls seemed to vibrate as if made of cardboard and the roar became louder in our ears. Mom was clearly getting the poundingofalifetime. It seemed as if every piece of wood that made up our house begantogroanatonce.Suddenlyawindowexplodedinwardin a shower of glass fragments. The curtains were immediately sucked out and the roar became deafening. A cacophony in tributetomyDadsprowess. Onebyonethewindowsblewoutandthehousewasfilledwith fiercewindsanddebris.Itfeltasiftheveryfloorwasgoingto be ripped out from under us. My brother was crying but all I couldwassmile. Itriedtostand,grabbingtheheavylegsofthetableforsupport. I felt the sting of twigs and shards of broken glass cutting my arms and face as I finally was able to get to my feet in the middleofthemaelstrom. Our furniture was sliding wildly around the room and the smaller pieces were being hungrily sucked out of the house

161

through gaping holes that had once been windows. Everything aroundmewasshadowsandviolence. I threw my head back and yelled Get her Dad! Tear that shit UP! Iheardaterribleandgloriouswrenchingnoisethatcouldonly beourroofbeingtornoffandflunghundredsofyardsaway.It feltlikemyheadwassurelygoingtoexplodeandthenjustas quicklyasitbegantheroarbegantofadeandthewindsbegan tolosetheirgriponthevariousobjectsflyingaroundmyhouse andIwatchedastheytumbledtotheground. SothatwaslovemakingIthoughttomyself.Holymoly. Soon after my parents came crashing down the stairs to make surewewerealright.IgavemyDadaknowingwink,whichhe pretended not to understand, and went outside to see the damage that his glorious manhood had wreaked on the surroundingneighborhood. Needlesstosay,thismemoryhasstayedwithmemywholelife. Obviouslythishasputatremendousamountofpressureonme to perform at the same level of my Father but I do feel I have thistypeofeffortwithinme. OnetimeIwasabletoknockoveraglassofwateronthetable nexttothebed. astone'sthrowfromsuccess CarlwasthesingularsourceofwindowsfortheentireLewiston area.About30,000peoplelookedtoCarlforthewindowneeds, beitforinstallationorrepair.Thereusetobeanothercompany thatwasalittlebiggerthanCarlbuttheyrecently foldedtheir tentandmovedtoanotherpartofIdaho. LikesomanysuccessfulbusinessmeninsmalltownsCarlhada secret. Itstartedwithanidea.Sosimpleithadtowork. Throwabrickthroughsomeoneswindowandtheywouldneed someone to replace it. What other business could so easily

162

create their own demand? All he would need is a supply of bricks.Peoplewouldassumethatvandalswereresponsibleand hecouldbasicallycreatealittlecashflowanytimethingsatthe storegotslow. Then he thought a little more and realized that he couldnt control who the person with the broken window would call to replaceit.Hedidntwanttobehelpingouthiscompetitionand he couldnt exactly attach a flyer for his company to the brick couldhe? Hewasstuck.Nobodywouldbuyareplacementwindowfroma companythatbroketheirwindowinthefirstplaceright? Thehethoughtalittlemore. Whataboutifheattachedaflyerforhiscompetition?(Nobody would buy a replacement window from a company that broke their window in the first place right?) They would pick up the phoneandcallhim!Outragedathiscompetition. Butthenhethoughtjustabitmore. Nobody would be dumb enough to actually attach a flyer advertising their own business to a rock that was destined to end up sitting among broken glass in someones living room. The aggrieved party would figure it out. There would be backlashandinquisitiveglancesinhisdirection. Thatwasrightout. Thenhethoughtonelasttime. He was right the first time. He would attach a flyer for his companytotherock. Sohedid. At first he got some enraged calls but he immediately acted completely innocent and even a little indignant that people would think he would lower himself to such a thing. People in townstartedtalkingandagreeingthatnobodywouldbedumb enoughtoactuallyattachaflyeradvertisingtheirownbusiness to a rock that was destined to end up sitting among broken glassinsomeoneslivingroom.

163

Carlevenofferedtofixafewofthewindowsforfreebecause hefeltsobadthathiscompanynamewasbeingbesmirchedin suchaway. Thensuspicionstartedtofallonhiscompetitor.Youknowsmall towns. AndCarlplayeditoffbeautifully.Wheneversomeonewouldask hewould takethe highroadandsayhedidntbelievethathis competitorwouldeverstooptosuchaterriblething.Itmustbe theworkofvandals. But not everyone believed Carl and some people actually stoppedgoingtohiscompetitorandbegantouseCarlfortheir windowrequirements.ThemoreCarldefendedthehonorofhis competitor the more people liked Carl and saw him as a good man. AndallthewhileCarlwouldslipoutinthemiddleofthenight andthrowbricksthroughpeopleswindows.Hewasevensmart enoughtostartthrowingbrickswithflyersfromhiscompetitor attached, figuring that that is what he would do if he was actually throwing bricks with his competitors flyers attached and he wanted to take a little suspicion of himself. But the public werent fooled and they continued to assume that his competitorwastheonethatwastryingtotaketheheatoffby throwingbrickswithhisownflyerattached. SoCarltookoverthemarketandhiscompetitordecidedtoskip townandstartoversomeoneelse.Rumorhaditthathesettled downnearNampa. Carlboughtabiggerhouseandevendivorcedhiswifeandgota betterlookingone. Lifewasgoodandthevandalismstoppedwhenhiscompetitor lefttown(furtherimplicatinghim). Butthenanewstartupcompanystartedupsellingwindows,as startupshaveahabitofdoing. Carl was actually in the process of wrapping rubber bands aroundbrickswithhisflyersattachedwhenithithim.Nobody would believe that this new startup would do the exact same thinghisoldcompetitordid.

164

So he had to lower prices and work a bit harder to keep his clients.Heevenstartedtoseehisoldwifeontheside. Thenthefirstbrickcamethroughhisneighborswindow. Withhiscompetitorsflyerattached. sexandflyingsaucers When people would ask Carl what he did to get locked up he alwayssaidthesamething;Gotcaught.Henevertoldanyone thetruth,afraidthatitwouldntbeasexcitingaswhattheyhad conjured up in their heads upon hearing he was a convict. Sometimeshecouldseeitintheireyesthattheywererunning down a list of things that could get a man imprisoned for that lengthoftime. Thosefewsecondswereawkwardbuthelikedthatfeelingand wouldneverbreakeyecontactfirst. Thetruthwashewaslonelybeforehewentinsidesothatpart didnt bother him as much as some people. It was always the whatifsthatdrovehimcrazy.Whatelsehecouldhavebeen doing. He would watch shows about being in prison and they were always violent and somewhat romantic and prison was none of those things for him. Carl wasnt a small man and he knew that if someone had messed with him he would have to make an example of him and he had no doubt that he would have.Maybetheotherssensedthatandlefthimalone.Maybe hewasjustlucky.Eitherway,thethreatofviolencemighthave actuallyhelpedkilledthetimebutitneverreallycameup. When other in mates asked him what he did to get inside he justsaidgotcaughtinsuchawayastoendtheconversation. Hisonlysecretthathekepttheothermeninprisonwasthathe was a chronic nose picker. He didnt think that would sit too well with the characters on the yard so he fought to keep it undercontrolunlesshewasbackinhiscell.Ithelpedhimcalm down.Hewasconvincedthathedevelopedthehabitwhenhe was young. The first time he remembered doing it was at a

165

rodeo when he was no older than 6 or 7. He had been eating churros all day and his fingers must have tasted sweet or something.Funnyhowthingslikethatstaywithyou. He had worked in the laundry room after a few years of good behavior.Itdidnttakehimlongtoseeaneasywayforhimto escape. He figured it must have been 2 years he sat in his cell everynightandpuzzledoverwhethertotryornot.Hecouldnt seeanyflawinhisplanbutlackedconfidencesoattheendof the day he figured that there must have been something he missedanditwasntworththerisk.Itwasaboutthistimethat hisDadpassedaway. His Mom would come and visit him fairly regularly but his Father pretty much wrote him off after hearing of his conviction.HisDadhadtoldhimlongbeforeheranintotrouble that he would run into trouble. He had hoped his Dad would come see him so he could explain but he never did. After his Dad died him Mom moved to the other side of the country so shedidntvisitafterthatbutwrotehimletters.Thiswasoneof thosethingsthathecouldhavebeendoingifhewasntinjail makingthingsright. Before he went to jail he was pretty obsessed with sex. He wouldthinkaboutwomenalmosttothepointofdistractionand thatdidntendwhenhestartedhis5yearstretch.Hefeltlikea dogwhosetailwaggedinfront.Hedidntreallythinkthatwas abnormal though and it seemed like every cell was decorated with half naked women. The odd thing about him, he thought anyway(whenhetookthetimetothinkaboutit),wasthathe neverdreamedaboutsex.Ever.Hedreamtaboutflyingsaucers. Not every night but a lot. He never saw aliens or actually had any interaction with the enormous spacecrafts that he saw moving over his head, he just felt the awe and terror of these UFOsfloatingby.Whenhewasakidhehadnightmaresabout thedevilwhoalwayscametohimasacleancutmaninanice business suit. The man in the suit never actually did anything overtlyevilbuthejustknewthatthemanwasbadandhaditin forhim.Thosedreamsendedjustafterhequithighschool.

166

Ayearafterhewasreleasedhestartedtofeelthebitternessof theyearshelostinsidethosestonewallsandsteelbars.Finally he started to look into his escape plan to see if it would have worked. Right about the time that he was figuring out that it wouldhaveprobablyworkedhesawontheTVthataninmate had escaped from the very same prison he had been incarcerated in. A prisoner that had worked in the laundry room.Hehadactuallyfainteddeadawayjustlikeinthemovies. He had zero fear of germs. He never understood what all the fuss was about. He remembered lifting the toilet seat up at a truck stop bathroom and feeling a wetness on his fingers. He wipeditoffonhispants,pissedandthenwentbackoutsideand finisheduphishamburgerwithoutasecondthought. Aftertherevelationthathehadspentimportantyearswasting awaywhenheneednthavehislifeseemedtogetdarker.When he went on job interviews he felt like he was stepping to the plate with the count already 32. They wanted to know what got caught meant. He could never settle on a story that seemedtoanswerthequestiontotheirsatisfaction. TherehadbeenanAsianguyheknewinprisonthathadtriedto give him some advice about getting out. His name had been Gook. Carl wasnt much of a racist and was uncomfortable callinghimthatbuttheguyseemedtolikeit.Hecouldneverbe sure if it was selfloathing, irony or whether the guy was just fuckedupinthehead.HehadtoldCarlsomethinglikeyoucant useupgoodtimeregrettingbadtime.Somethingtothateffect anyway but Carl chose to ignore that particular advice and started to drift from place to place, convinced that his cowardice about escaping had directly led him to this lowly state. ItwasntexactlytruethathisDadhadnevercometovisithim inside.HehadonetimeafterCarlhadtradedwhat wasleftof his cigarettes for a blotter of acid. Soon after his Dad had suddenly showed up sitting on his bed across from him. Legs crossed.Silent.Afterawhileheleanedupasifhewasgoingto saysomethingthensighedandlookedupattheceilingforabit.

167

AtthispointhisDadhadbeendeadforoverayear.Hehaddied of a heart attack or aneurism or something. Carl was glad he hadnt suffered. Carl wanted to say something but the words wouldntcomeoutandthetearskeptfallingdownhischeeksall hotandwet.Hebadlywantedtopickhisnosebutheknewhis Dad wouldnt stand for it. Finally, after what seemed hours of silence,hisDadlookedhimsquareintheeyesandsaidSon,I justwantyoutoknowandCarlclosedhiseyesandbracedfor whatwascomingnext. When he opened them his Dad was gone. He was alone again with the bars, mattress, peeling paint, sex and flying saucers, and the yellowing pictures of people he barely knew anymore taped to the wall. Alone with the hundreds of other men who werejustasalone. 3yearsafterhisparolehewasworkingatagrocerystorewhen heheardthatthemanwhohadescapedfromthesameprison thathehadspenthistimeatwaskilledbypoliceinagunfight whentheytriedtoapprehendhim. He wanted to feel that this news would lift off all the bad feelingshedbeenhavingaboutnotescaping.Hewaitedtobe releasedfromtheguiltofnotbeingabletoruntohisDadand explain. Released from his life sentence of cowardice. More than anything to start feeling like those 5 years would have madeadifferencehadtheygoneanyotherway. But he didnt feel free of any of it. He just kept sliding the packages of SteakUmms and boxes of Wheat Thins across the scanner. Hewantedtodreamaboutsexandnotfuckingflyingsaucers! And above all he hoped that this feeling of envying the man wouldpass.

168

economicpeptalk IknewtimesweregettingtightwiththeeconomyandallbutI hadnoideathatthingshadbecomegenericcerealbad.Assoon as I swung open the back of the station wagon I saw it. OccupyingthespacethatshouldhavebeentakenbymyLucky Charmswasaalienbox.Icouldntquitemakeoutwhatitwas untilIpickeditupoutofthebagthatwaspartiallyconcealingit. MagicStars? What in the name of Christ is this? What the fuck is Magic Stars? I want something that is magically delicious and I get this? And what the fuck is that on the front of the box? An alligatorfloatinginspacewithanastronauthelmeton? Myheadwasspinning. Ifeltallthestrengthdrainingoutofmeatpreciselythewrong moment.Imnotsurehowmanyotherguysdothisbutbringing in the groceries is my weekly manly litmus test. Its where I make sure that I am still a man. I will look at the back of the stationwagon,see17bagsofgroceriesandsay2trips. I am the Magnus Ver Magnusson of bringing in groceries. For thosethatdontfollowtheWorldsStrongestMancompetition, Magnus is an Icelander who won the competition 4 times. Neighborshavenotedsimilaritiesinhowwebothmovewhen carrying large weights him with 130kg anvils and me with meat, vegetables and soda. Shuffling up the driveway to the frontdoor. SonowIsatwithatleast15bagsofgroceriesbeforemeandmy arms hung weakly, dare I say limply, at my side. Not even Jon PallSigmarssoncouldhandlethatmanybagsknowingthenext morninghewouldbesittingdownathistrainingtabletoabowl brimmingwithMagicStars. IrememberwhenIwasaweelad,theaccentonaccountofmy currentfixationwithLuckyCharms,timesgottightandgeneric foodstartedtocreepintothepantry.Backthenitatleasthad the integrity not to try and pass itself off as a real product. WhenmoneywasinshortsupplymyMomwouldmarchinwith

169

aboxthatsaidCerealonit.Thatwasit.Cereal.Andagreenand black stripe on the top. Everything generic had this green and black stripe. There wasnt a lame attempt to disguise it as somethingotherthancerealandtherecertainlywasntaspace going alligator trying to pass himself off as a real marketable character. Butnowthereisnoshame.Theartworkishorrible,itlookslike thecoverartwasdonebythewinnerofanelementaryschool contest.Eventheexpressionofthealligatorisbaffled.Likehes wondering why he is floating in space, how he got the helmet oninthefirstplaceandwhoonthedistantplanetbeneathhim would buy a box of cereal emblazoned with his picture. The alligatordoesntevenhaveaname. 7trips.Ittookme7tripstogetinallthegroceries.Ididnteven dare peek in to the other bags to see what horrors they contained. If the Lucky Charms werent sacred I cant even imagine what else I was bringing into my home. When I see thoseoldpicturesofpeoplefromtheGreatDepressionstaring aheadwiththatsadglazedlookIcanstarttounderstandwhat theyweregoingthrough. This is America! Were better than Magic Stars! We should be shipping that shit to Africa or something. How can I get my Mariusz Pudzianowski on fueled by the thought of some B grade namelessreptilianpimped whole grain oats with marshmallows?Icant!Comeoneconomy!Wemustrebound. Wemustrecoverandrebuild. WemustalwaysbeafterourLuckyCharms.

170

greydayssuckinwinter It'sbadenoughthatit'scoldoutsidebuttherearedayswhere the ground looks frozen even without the snow and the trees are bare and look like they are upside down with their roots sticking up. The sky just sits there featureless and grey as if tryingtomakeyougiveuponeventheideaofspring. Thosearethedaysyousitinsidewithnothingtodobuttryand figureouthowmuchitwouldcosttoproduceasequeltoFast Times at Ridgemont High. Anyone who's seen it knows why it should be made but the biggest obstacle has to be the cost of gettingthatcastbacktogether. First and foremost will be getting that uberdouche Sean Penn toadmitthatJeffSpicoliwashisgreatestroleever.Oncehehas cometotermswiththatfacthe'llneedatleast$10Mtodothe picI'msure.WithoutSpicoliwehavenomovieso,asmuchas we hate Sean Penn for being the douche he is, we'll have to coughitup. Speakingofbigticketactors,we'llneedatleast$5Mtopursue Forest Witaker do reprise his role as Charles Jefferson. Do we reallyneedCharlesJefferson?Yes.WeneedCharlesJefferson. Nowhereistheproblem.FastTimeshadmorestarpowerthan mostpeoplesuspectandthat'swhatisgoingtokillourbudget. For every Phoebe Cates who we can get for a decent amount thereisanEricStoltzlurkingwhowillwantsomeseriouscash. Remakingthemoviewithouthimwouldbelikewritingasequel andnothavingPhoebeshowhertitsagain.Unheardof!Ihavea feelingthatseeingherbreastsagainmightbetheonlywaywe cantalkJudgeReinholdintocomingbackandtheBradHamilton character is what holds this whole new movie together. You have to figure another $10M for the Eric, Phoebe & Judge package. Andspeakingofboobs...howwouldyouliketohaveshownthe worldyoursonlytohavethembeupstagedbyPhoebe's?That might be an obstacle in getting Jennifer Jason Leigh on this project. Someone will have to sit down with her and explain

171

that without her breasts Fast Times would not have been the movieitwas.Perhapswecantalkherintohavinganotherquick look.That'snegotiable. Getting back to the expensive actors you might not have noticed in the original but will need to sign on the dotted line forthistowork.Wemightneedupwardsof$25Mtoget"Brad's Bud" and "Stoner Bud" to sign on. That's right... Nicolas Cage and Anthony Edwards don't come cheap! We could try and replace them with lesser talents but I'm telling you it won't work.Don'tyoueverwonderwhythatscenewhereSpicoliand hisstonerfriendsfalloutofthesmokefilledbuslookssoreal? Maybe because it was shot with some of the finest acting talents to grace the silver screen? We'll have to pony up the $25Mtogetthesamerealismforthenewfilm. You might have noticed the cost of this movie is starting to spiral upwards. True but look at who we can get for cheap: BrianBacker(MarkRatner),VincentSchiavelli(Mr.Vargas)and James Russo (Robber). I think we can probably get all 3 for about$3,000plusmeals. Which brings us to Robert Romanus. Better known as the glorious Mike Damone. When I watch him ply his craft as the ultrahip mentor to 'Rat' Ratner I can only feel awe at the effortless way he brings the character to life. Only Robert Romanuscouldmaketheline"Yeah!Theattitudedictatesthat youdon'tcarewhethershecomes,stays,lays,orprays.Imean whatever happens, your toes are still tappin'. Now when you got that, then you have the attitude." come alive. Who can forgettheimmortalwords"FirstofallRat,youneverletonhow muchyoulikeagirl."Oh,Debbie.Hi."Two,youalwayscallthe shots. "Kiss me. You won't regret it." Now three, act like whereveryouare,that'stheplacetobe."Isn'tthisgreat?"Four, when ordering food, you find out what she wants, then order forthebothofyou.It'saclassymove."Now,theladywillhave thelinguiniandwhiteclamsauce,andaCokewithnoice."And five,nowthisisthemostimportant,Rat.Whenitcomesdown

172

to making out, whenever possible, put on side one of Led ZeppelinIV."? NotonlydoweneedhimforthesequelbutIwanttooverpay him for it as payback for his being underappreciatedin the original.That'sright,hegets$50M.Notapennyless. Ok, now for the finishing touch. The cherry on top of the greatestsequeltoeverbeconceived.Intheroleofthesternbut somehow lovable teacher Mr. Hand... none other than the incomparableRayWalston! What'sthat? He'swhat? Dead?! RayWalstondiedin2001?! January1,2001. Wow, that blows. Mr. Hand is dead. And so then is Return To RidgemontHigh. Greydayssuckinwinter. soulpatch Hours before the gig he had finally shaved off that stupid soul patchhehadbeensporting.HehadtriedforaTomWaitsvibe butheendeduplookinglikeadouchyDaveMathews.Theblack porkpiehathadnthelpedatall. He leaned into the mic and as much whispered as sang rememberingdreamslikememoriesweavingwhatwaswith whatIwantedittobe...intoanemptybasket. Heasmuchfeltthedistancebetweenhimselfandthecrowdas saw it. The lighting didnt allow him to see much but he could feel them all out there. They were breathing together. In a rhythmthathecontrolledliketurningonatap. Success wasnt sudden but it was unexpected and it allowed himtoreviseanumberofexperiencestofitinwithhisbio.He hadlosttheloveofhislifetomusic.Totheroad.Hehadmadea

173

harddecisionandnowhadtolivewiththeconsequenceslikeso manytroubadoursbeforehimhaddone. Butheknewitwasalie.Hehadlostherbecauseshedidntlove himandnoamountofhitrecordscouldchangethatfact. There is beauty in the heart of madness. Winding down. Windingdown. Hestoodinthespotlight,bathingintheadorationthatfollowed eachsongandquicklysneakingpeeksathiswatch.Somewhere on the East Coast events were unfolding just as they were playingoutinhishead. Hestartedanothersongaboutherandtheminutesslippedby andhisvoicegottighter.Thetensionsatonhischestlikeapair ofdoubleDs. Myheartinmythroatandmydickonmysleeve. Heaskedthecrowdhowtheyweredoingandagreatapplause roseup.Theyellingandscreamingandwhistlingswelledintoa singlepassionatevoice.Helookedathiswatchagain. He asked that the house lights be turned up. His lighting man, following the nightly script to the letter, hesitated and wondered what he was saying. Finally he did as he was instructedasthebackingbandstoleglancesbackandforthasif each of them alone had somehow missed some change to the routine. Heclearedhisthroatandlookedoutintotheseaoffaces. Right now in New York City the girl who I love is marrying another man. Right this minute she is walking down the aisle andabouttosayIdotohim. Itseemedimpossibleforsomanypeopletobesoquiet.Theyall staredathim.Mouthshungopen. MostofthesongsIvesungtonightareabouther. Now they were all not breathing together. He looked down at hisfeet. Hehadtoadmitthathehadrehearsedthisinhisheadbuthe couldnt find the words he had chosen. He felt his bottom lip trembleslightly.

174

IguessImnotsurewhatgooditdoestotellyouotherthan tosaythatifIcantshareitwithyouthenwhatgoodisallthis anyway? Therewasasmatteringofawkwardapplauseandafewpeople hehadnevermetyelledtheirsupport. Shesstandingthereinwhite.AndImstandinghereinfrontof you.AndIswearIwouldtradeyouallinaheartbeat. Suddenly it was all very real to him. He could see the grimy ampsandthecolorgelshanginginfrontofthelights,waitingto make things red or blue. He felt like he should apologize or something to everyone for being honest in the middle of a show.HonestywasfortheBleekerStreetbands,tuckedawayin small coffee houses, down dark stairwells and announced only by flyers pinned to telephone poles and abandoned buildings. Thiswassupposedtobearockshow. If its all the same to you, Id like to play my opening song again.My'bighit'.Justme. Asifoncue,asinglespotlightshonedownandtherestofthe stage was lost in shadows. The guitar sounded like an old bus with faulty brakes trying to come to a complete stop. Without thethunderofthedrumsandtherumbleofthebassthesong lost of all its Top 10ness and instead became a lamentation. Maybesomehowshecouldhearhim.Wherethereshouldhave been a second verse there was only the choked and strangled sobs of a brokenhearted man. A longing that was communicatedasclearlyasanypyrotechnics. Hecontinuedtostrumtheguitarevenafterthelastwordshad been sung. On and on, slower and slower. On and on as if he couldntbeartohaveitend.Untilhewassurethatshehadsaid IdosomewhereinNewYorkCity. Heleftthestagewithoutanotherwordandnobodyhadtotell the crowd that the show was over. Somewhere rice was going to be thrown. Any minute now it would fall to the ground in slow motion amid laughing and unbridled joy and nobody wanted to be there for that. They filed out in a respectful

175

silence without the usual stamping of feet and holding up of lightersforanencore. Backoutintotherealworldthatifonlyforthatonenightthey allsharedalittlemoreintimately. legs WheneverIseesomeonewithnolegsIwonderifinthebackof theirmindtheyexpecttoonedayfindthemagain.Iwasgoing tosay"stumbleuponthem"butgiventheyhavenolegsIdidn't think it was the appropriate word. What I'm saying is that somewhere inside them they have to think that they'll be cleaningoutaclosetorsomethingandsuddenlyseetheirlegsin the back underneath the wrapping paper and scarves. They'll feelthissuddensenseofreliefandthinktothemselves"Wow, that's going to save me a lot of pushing myself around in that wheelchair" and maybe even "I bet Mary will go out with me now". For girls the relief would be even greater given that having no legsgreatlyeffectstheirsexlife.Beyondeventheguysthatwill orwillnothavesexwithagirlwithnolegs.Imeantheactitself. Without legs you can't spread your legs and that seems to be thezenithoftheexperienceforbothpartners.Thementaland physical act of opening the legs, of offering that area to the man,isaboutasintimateasthesexgets.Withouttheabilityto allow and give permission I'm guessing it's a lot less erotic for theman.Agirlwithoutlegsisalwaysopenforbusiness. You can even extrapolate the experience of finding legs to a creature that never had them. Let's say for instance a slug. Perhaps even more interesting would be trying to make sense ofaslugfindingtheminaslugclosetbeneathwrappingpaper and scarves. Why he would need wrapping paper and how he could successfully wrap anything without arms isn't even as confusingaswhyheorshewouldownanyscarves.Puttingthat aside for a moment, imagine the unbridled joy as a slug

176

suddenly found himself or herself with the ability to sprint around.Maybeevenfind grasshopperlikelegsand gohurtling throughthegardenattopspeed.Aslughopperisborn. And a female slug... with the ability to cross her legs and stop justanyslimyRomeofromslitheringupandhavingather.Now if any male slug wanted to copulate there would have to be chocolateandflowersandsoftmusicandflickeringcandleslike therestoftheanimalkingdom.Well,alloftheanimalkingdom exceptthoseanimalsthataren'thumans. I guess the reaction would be completely different for those people who had legs and lost them and those that never had themtobeginwith.Youhavetowonderifanyonewouldlookat thelegsunderneaththe wrappingpaperandscarvesforafew moments and then slowly close the door and forget they ever sawthem. coolstorybro Weinvent peopleall the time.JerrysatintheBarnes&Noble doing it right at that moment. The girl who had given him the mochachinothathe'daskedforbuthadmeantthehotvariety instead of the iced beverage but was too embarrassed to correctherforfearthatheusedthewronghipwordwasnow thefrumpygirlwhowasoverweightinonlyafewoddareasbut had a face that made her realize that she would never have a manfeellustforherandshewasnotalrightwiththat. Hesatnexttothegirlthatwasdeeplyinlovewith amanand yet was waiting for any other man to notice her so she could flirtandthensleepwithhimforsomereasonshedidnotfully understand. She was scribbling away in a little journal and he had no doubt it was some romantic reflection on how when a shoe gets lost the other shoe might as well be lost anyway becausenobodyisgoingtowearthatshoeagaineither. Weinventpeopleweknowaswell.Wecreatewhotheyarein our head and then tweak them when it becomes necessary to

177

beconsistent.ThecaricaturesatJerry'sofficebegintoliveand breathe as the years pass and he accumulates information about them, grudgingly filling in gaps that often times don't need filling and make the person less understandable than before the information gleaned from an overheard conversation,drunkenrantataholidaypartyorstolenglanceat apersonalemailmakesitselfavailable. Weinventthepeoplewelove.Jerrytendstobreakthemdown into2groups.Thepeoplehe'slovedforawhileandthepeople he hopes he loves. Maybe he has 2 types of love, he's never sure because just when he thinks he's invented a version of someonethatcanpassfromthelattergrouptotheformerthey go and reinvent themselves in a way that puts them in a distinctlythirdcategory. Jerrydoesn'tholditagainstthegirlbehindthecounterthathe's drinkingacolddrinkthathedoesn'tparticularlyenjoywhenhe wantedsomethingentirelydifferent.Justashewouldn'tholdit against her if he fell in love with her when what he really wantedwasthecutergirlwiththenotebookandcommitment issues. Right now they both resided in the aforementioned third categoryof'everyoneelse'. Every morning he invents the man looking back at him in the mirror.Hisgreatestproject.Helongagogaveuponfiguringout the cesspool of subconscious motivations and has instead just focusedonhowtofrostacakehewillnevercomprehend.The truthisthateverymorningtheinventiontakesadifferentturn based almost entirely on chemical and electrical interactions that nobody can claim they understand. He is left to stand on theshouldersofmidgets whocame beforehimwithideaslike happinessandsadnessandselfactualization. The only constant in an everchanging universe is that when Jerry steps out of the shower he strikes a rigid and fearsome karate pose, his left arm makes a sweeping crescent in the air whilehisrighthandmimicstheactofmasturbationashesoftly

178

utters the phrase "wax on, whacks off" to himself and then giggles. Everyactofinventionneedsamantra. Imadeasandwich Sometimesthoughtsjustgetawayfromyou.Ihadthisniceidea aboutablogwherethewholethingwouldbeabouthowevery decision changes your life in irreversible ways, not just the big ones,andthewholethingwouldbewrittenjustsoIcouldwrite the line "I went into the kitchen and made a sandwich... and nothing would ever be the same". Maybe not a sandwich, maybe something else completely insignificant but definitely it wouldendwith"andnothingwouldeverbethesame". ForsomeoddreasonIfoundthatlineveryfunny. ButthenIstartedwatchingaglutoftelevisionprogramsabout theuniverse andblackholesandsuch.SuddenlyalldecisionsI was making became completely insignificant. All decisions everyonewasmakingwereinsignificant. Notasfunny. But watch enough of these programs and the terrible truth beginstosinkin;consciousnessisnotonlyanaberrationbutan irrelevant one at that. We have the bias towards life that is completely out of whack to its relevance in the universe. Just because there might be spots where matter has gained self awarenesswethinksomehowthisis'progress'wheninfactit's just a fluke. It means nothing to the universe. A black hole a billion miles across, consuming galaxies as it moves through space,doesn'tcareaboutwhoisgoingtowinanOscaronEarth. All of our gods and ghosts and poems are pathetic indications thatwereallyjustdon'tunderstandshit. Soon, in cosmic terms, our sun will run out of fuel, swell, and then incinerate our planet. This will happen whether we are here or not. Hydrogen and helium and their little friends rule theuniverse.Wearejustbystanders.Bystandersthataresoill

179

suited to understand what is going on around us that we still usetermslike"blackholesbreakeverylawofphysics". No they don't. They break the laws as we understand them because we haven't figured them out yet. Everything that happens does so under the strict supervision of math we haven't even started to figure out. And when we finally do? Whocares.We'llstillbesittingstaringupintospacewaitingfor aroguemeteortocomehurlingoutoftheinkydepthsandput usoutofourmisery. So you can see how this one got away from me. One minute chuckling about things that could make things never be the same again and the next realizing that even if humanity unleashes complete nuclear war on the planet nobody (or nothingtobemoreprecise)wouldcare. Life.Consciousness.Selfawareness.Theyaretheanomaliesina muchbiggerproduction. Thenithitme.Onlyindeathdowerejointheuniverse.EarlierI saidthateverythingfollowslawsofbehavior,allmattermoves in a great dance with time and gravity. All matter except that which has selfawareness. In these cases the matter crashes around inventing needs and dramas outside the simple rules andwhileitcannotbreakanyofthelawsinandofitselfitcan and does act in a completely random manner. This inability to predict the machinations of these lumps of consciousness wouldannoythefuckoutoftherestofthenonawareuniverse ifitwasinfactaware. When we die our molecules are no longer hijacked and can onceagainjointherestoftheuniverseinactingandreactingto everythingelse.Wearestardustwaitingtobefreed. Hmmmm.Headystuffindeed. I wrote a blog and nothing and everything would be the same again.

180

H2Omgthisisdumb I'mstandingthereintheshowerdryingmyheadandsuddenly wondering if I'd dried my lower extremities yet. My eyes are closedandthetowelisvigorouslyrubbing my hair andforthe lifeofmeIcan'trememberifIhadstartedlowanddrieduporI wasstartingatmyheadandgoingdown. Ikeptmyeyesclosedandtriedtofeelanywetnessonmylegs orstomach... Impossibletotell. You'dthinkiftheywereatallwetIwouldfeelitsoIstartedto suspectthatIhadindeeddriedoffthesouthernmostpointsbut ifIhadIwasfindingithardtobelieveIwouldn'tremembersuch drying.Itwasstillhumidintheshowersotherejustwasn'tany wayofknowingwithoutcheckingandsomehowthatmademe feellikeIwaslosingmymindalittlebit. Then I realized I had overdried my hair. My scalp went from saturatedtodownrightthirsty. WhichmademethinkofthatpoorlittleweedIfuckedoverthe otherday. IwasmovingthistoyhouseoffofadeckandoutofthewaysoI threw it over to a little patch of exgarden that wasn't being used. You know the little houses kids play in that are 1/10th scaleandhavethe2littlewindowstheycanopenandshut?The deckwasneededsoIjumpedinandofferedtohelpoutandget ridofthatgiantplasticthing. Anyway,whenIfinallyloweredittothedirtInoticedIhadsatit right down over a big weed that had grown up where flowers andsuchusetobe.Iwonderifonsomelevelitlookedupatthe house and wondered if it had finally hit the big time and whether or not its friends would notice that it now lived in a house. If it did it would soon realize that inside this big plastic house it would get no sun and no water and would die a slow painfuldeath. Ahthetrappingsofsuccess.

181

So instead of doing the merciful thing and just yanking it up I leftittheretodieinitsownplantmansion/prison. The whole time I was remembering this little story I was also continuingtorubmyheaddrywhichthenledmetowonderif myhairwasalsowonderingwhatthefuckithaddonetometo deservethistypeofabuse. Sothisweedisoffdyingsomeplace,myhairiswaytoodryandI stillcan'tfigureoutifmybellyandfeetaredryorifIstillhave someworktodobeforeemergingfromtheshower. Anotherbusyday. themonanM&M HowdotheyprintthatlittlemontheM&M? Howindeed. Itisatalefraughtwithemotionalhighsandlows,asisanytale worth inventing. Be warned, there is a some profanity in this tale.Alltoldthereisafuckand2cuntsbutastheyonlyappear in this paragraph you are past them now. (thank you again MontyPython) M&MoriginatedintheUSin1941andarenowsoldinover100 countries.Literallymillionsofthelittleguysaremadeeveryday. What's interesting, assuming you have a liberal view of the word interesting, was that the little m wasn't printed on them until1950. From1941to1949theMarsCompanywastryingtofigureout howtodoit. Originally they did it by hand and Forrest Mars Sr., founder of thecompany,employedhundredsofimmigrantstoindividually painteachmon.Thefloorofthefactorywherethisworkwas done stretched the length of 3 football fields and the entire thinghadtobechilledto50degreestostopthelittlechocolate pellets from melting. A quick review of the costs involved in applying the m in this fashion put the total at over $14 per M&M.Givenanaveragebagheld35itputthepricetagat$490

182

beforethebag,printing,shippingandhandlingwereadded.At the time a bag of M&Ms sold for 5 cents... so that solution clearlywasn'tgoingtowork. Nextcamethemassproductionfix.Mr.Marsfoundastamping machine that at one time had been used to stamp hood ornaments out of sheets of steel. He figured with a little tweakinghecouldhavetheM&Mbeingspitoutlikeclockwork. Problemwasthatthelittlecandyshellwasn'tstrongenoughto survivethehammeringdownofthispowerfulapparatus.Infact, the brown stain that came out the other end of the conveyor beltwasn'tevenrecognizable. Obviouslytheyneededastrongershell. Yearsofexpensiveresearchwentbybeforetheyfinallycameup withashellthatcouldsurvivethestampingpress,allthewhile theMarsCompanywasforcedtolose$489.95foreverybagof M&Ms sold. The conditions were grueling and it was said the only people left to work on the project were those scientists intoS&M&M. The new candy shell was introduced but the reception was frostyatbest.Turnedoutthattosurvivetheapplicationofthe mthecompanywasforcedtoswitchfromtemperedchocolate to a compressed allotropic carbon. The process, including the 5000metrictonmultianvilpressrequired,putthefinalcostof each M&M at over $3000... but there was a slight savings in costduetothefactthatitbecameunnecessarytofillthemwith chocolate due to the fact that it was impossible to crack the new coating. Unfortunately the public was not willing to swallowacandythattastedlikeaballbearingandwouldcrack theporcelainofanytoiletthatwasusedinpassingthem. Thensomeoneatthefactorysuggestedthatperhapstheywere going about it all wrong and that maybe buying a different machinetoapplythemmightmakemoresense.Thatemployee was, of course, promptly fired and never worked in the confectionary again. Still, the idea stuck and soon a machine wasfoundthatdidexactlywhattheywanted. ItappliedalittlemtoeachM&Minasafeandinexpensiveway.

183

Ironically, in the 70's they discontinued making M&Ms in the colorredduetotheperceptionthatthedyeusedwasamaranth Red #2, a suspected carcinogen, when in fact in wasn't. The company didn't want to worry consumers. Red candies were later reintroduced after the scare was over... using a dye containing Allura Red AC, a chemical not recommended for consumptionbychildrenandbannedinmanycountries. WhatthathastodowiththelittlemonM&MsIdon'tknow. TheNapLapkinTrilogy Part1:MitcheltreeRidge As far as detention centers it was pretty much as Harold had alwaysimaginedthem.Somethingoutofanoldspymovie,cold andcrampedwithjustenoughlighttolettheoccupantknowhe wasinacrappyspot.Hehadbeeninthiscrappyspotforwhat seemedlikeweeks.Helostcountofthedaysafterabout5and there were no windows to let him know if it was daytime or night. Hadhebeeninformedofthenameofthebuildinghewasbeing heldinhestillwouldn'thaveknownwherehewas.Noneofthe sexy Leavenworth or Alcatraz imagery, this place was off the grid. Whentheyfirstthrewabagoverhisheadatthebankhetruly hadnoidea whyhewas being hauledoff.Aftera dayorsoof beinginterrogateditdawnedonhimthismusthavebeenabout all the stamps he had been taking home from work. The bank didalotofoverseasbusinessandhewouldroutinelyscanthe incomingmailfornewstampsthathis collectiondidnothave. Obviously the bank frowned on this behavior because for 3 hours straight there were shadowy men taking turns waterboarding him. He gasped and spluttered and begged for themtoaskaquestionthathecouldanswerbuttheyonlywent abouttheirworkinthesamewaythatmenmighthavestacked

184

boxes or audited someone. Wildeyed he confessed to taking homepostmarkedstampsand,afteranotherhour,avarietyof other sins both real and imagined that the shadowy men had littleinterestinhearingabout. This went on for days. Finally after about a week someone actuallyspokeandaskedhim"Doyouhaveanythingyou'dlike totellus?" Harold nodded his head and told them all that they had the wrongmanandthattheycouldallgofuckthemselvessideways. Whenthatgotnoreactionheaskedaquestionhimself. "Whyme?" They answered with a syringe full of the latest truth serum in thehopesthathewouldanswerthatveryquestion. You see, they wanted to know why recently an automated robotic vehicle on Mars that had until recently been dormant and considered dead had sprung back to life. Why you ask wouldtheythinkthatHarold,abanktelleringoodstandingat The National Trust for the past 7 years and who considered astronomy a slight interest at best despite owning a very nice telescope which he received from his parents for Christmas a few years back, would have any idea about why this have occurred? "EverbeentoMarsHarold?"themanaskedhiminavoicethat waseerilyflat. Haroldstaredback,assumingthatthechemicalsthattheyhad injected him with was causing his hearing to be less than trustworthy.Inafogheanswered"Pardonme?" "Mars Harold. Ever been to Mars?" he again asked in a somewhat less flat tone that suddenly made it clear that Harold's faculties were indeed working and he had heard correctly. "No...?" "Doyouknowanyonethathasbeen?" Harold pretended to give it some thought. Had our astronauts beentoMars?Hewasn'tsurenow,perhapstheyhadbeenand he had met one of them at some bank function. He shook his

185

headtoclearthecobwebsandthenfeltfairlycertainthatwhile Americans had in fact walked on the moon we still had either been unable or not interested enough in the endeavor to actuallygettoMarswithanythingotherthanafewmechanical toystoprobeandrecordandsuch. "Nosir.NobodyknowsanyonewhohasbeentoMarsasfarasI know." See,thisisthestrangebit.Thereasonthemaninthedarksuit was asking what seemed like odd questions of Harold was becauseheknewsomethingthatHarolddidn't. Soon after the robot on Mars had suddenly began respond again the Deep Space Network had it back to work collecting samples and moving deeper into the crater it had been exploring.Soonafterthatitsawanobjectthathadeveryoneat NASA and the Jet Propulsion Laboratory at the California Institute of Technology gasping and fighting to comprehend what they were seeing. What they couldn't be seeing. They werealllookingatsomethingthattheycouldn'tbelookingat. On the surface of Mars, on the edge of the Mitcheltree Ridge, there was what appeared to be a small white square. As the robotapproachedneareritstartedtolooklikeitwasaPolaroid picture. The President was notified of what they couldn't actually be looking at. After 4 torturous days of getting the rovermaneuveredcloseenoughtotakeabetterlookitbecame clearitwasapictureofHarold. Smiling and holding up what appeared to be some sort of tropicaldrink. Atthispointyou'reprobablyexpectingtohearhowthatpicture of Harold got there and I hate to disappoint but the truth is I have no idea myself. I can only assure you that neither does Harold.Icouldgofurtherandtellyouthattheshadowymenin the dark suits never quite believe him but that might be a bit depressingtryingtoimaginewhatwillbecomeofHarold.

186

TheNapLapkinTrilogy Part2:TheEscapeGoat It was obvious to everyone concerned that they were getting nowherewiththeprisoner.Infact,ifyouweretoasksomeof them off the record to even call him a prisoner was a gross mischaracterization.Theywouldhavetoldyouhewasavictim offateorevenacrueljoke.Butthatwasofftherecord.Onthe record he was a tough guy who wouldn't tell them what they needed to know. Even still, there were people at the even highest places in the government that would have been shockedatwhosatbehindthewheelofthedarkblue1978Le Mans that was now pulling into the detention facility that officiallydidn'texistandthereforecouldn'thaveaname. Nap Lapkin turned off the engine and began to compose himself. Why he insisted on listening to his mixtape of David BowieandAnnieLennoxdoingUnderPressureliveatWembley beforeabigmeetingwithhishandlershedidn'tknowbuthere hewasallchokedup. "Shit! Nap is here." The guards looked at each other and watchedastheminutestickedbyandtherewasnomovement intheLeMans. "NapfuckingLapkin...righthereatourlittlebase."Asmilecrept acrosstheruggedfeaturesofthetallerofthe2men. "You'dbetterwipethatsmileoffyourfacebeforehedoesitfor you." Thesmileevaporatedasifitwereneverthere. Napclimbedoutofthecarandmadehiswaytothesidedoor. He pressed his thumb against the small pad and he heard the lock mechanism click. He had no idea where he was going but there wasn't a door in America that didn't jump to attention whenitgotawhiffofhisfingerprints.Hegavethedoorapush and slipped inside a brightly lit corridor with 2 large men standingoneithersideofasmalldesk. "Sign here Mr. Lapkin." He slid over a large book that would havelookedmoreathomeatabadMidwestweddingandtried

187

to hide his eyes, which screamed "Holy fuck, it's Lapkin right hereinfrontofme!". The same Nap Lapkin that once broke into a zoo and stole a tigeronlytoslipbackinwithitanddeposititinwiththezebras after he had the orange stripes genetically altered to appear white.Justtowatchtheconfusedlookonthepeople'sfacesas it massacred the whole herd. It cost a fortune and had jack to do with nation security but there wasn't an accountant inside thegovernmentwhohadthestonestorejectanexpensereport fromNapLapkin. Hewalkeddownthehallwayandmadehiswaytoanunmarked door. Behind the door was a set of stairs that led down. He cursed himself for watching the ending of Armageddon last night because it was all he could think about. The way Bruce Willis gave his life for everyone on Earth... he leaned on the handrailforamomenttocollecthimself. Soon after he had arrived a car driven by Madonna Axion had roared into the parking lot and slid clumsily into a handicap spot.OutjumpedMadonna,anAmazonofawomanwithbright red hair and curves that would make mountain climber dizzy. She ran as fast and as gracefully as a woman in 5 inch heels could and quickly made for the same door that had recently givenentrancetoNap. "Ishehere?!"shebarkedatthe2guards. Finallyoneofthem,neitherwassurewhichafterthefact,was abletoinquire"Who?". "Lapkin!IsthathispieceofshitLeMansIseeoutthere?" "YesMaam.Hearrivedafewminutesago." "Damnit to hell!" she roared in a way that made it clear that NapLapkinhadhadhermorethanonceandleftherwithouta secondthought. The 2 men waited until she was headed down the stairs in pursuit of Nap before they allowed themselves to whistle and gigglelikeschoolboys. SixstoriesbelowtheenragedMs.Axion..."Lapkin.Wherehave youbeen?I'vebeencallingyoufordays".

188

"SorryGeneral,wasgettingalittlerestandrelaxation.Afterthe littleincidentwiththespidermilkgoatsI'dsayIearnedit." The General grunted almost imperceptibly while Nap looked through the 2way mirror at the man slumped in the metal chair. "Thatourboy?" Withoutwaitingforananswerhewalkedintofindoutwhythis fellowinsistedonlitteringotherplanetswithhispicture. TheNapLapkinTrilogy Part3:HeadingEast Itwasthemostsensiblesenselessacthe'ddoneinalongtime. Aheartlessactiondonewithalltherecklessprecisionofahug. He knew the moment he walked into the room that the poor bastard Harold knew nothing but he also knew that he would never be allowed to leave. So he did what came unnaturally naturaltohim. Hesworeathimandthenbrokehisneckinafitofmockrage. He just had to hold it together until he was off the base. He couldn'tallowthemtoseetheachethatwasspreadingthrough hischestlikeacancer.Evenworse...weakness.Ordoublesecret worse...compassion. The first time he had killed a man he was only a boy. And the man was a boy to be completely accurate. The kid had teased himabouthisname.HisnamewasNapLapkin.Theyoungman calledhimAssNapkin. Hehadkilledtheboywithacasualnessthatbecamelegendary incircleswherekillingpeoplecasuallywasadmired.Evenwhen the government shrink had repeated the name Ass Napkin during his initial evaluation his upper lip trembled and danced like a Hollywood version of a fault line giving way in a big budgetearthquakemovie.Theshrinklefttheroom,retiredand

189

as far as anyone remembers lives in a mobile home with no wheelsinOmaha. So he killed Harold to save him the pain of endless imprisonment and torment. When the General watching outsiderushedinfullofhellandfuryNapsimplylookedathim andshrugged. "This one was a hard one Boss. He would have never talked. Never."AndthenmettheGeneralsgazewithalookthatdared himtochallengehisdiagnosis. "Never?" "Never.Askhimyourself." And with that Nap headed towards the stairs. Only to be interrupted halfway up by a tall redhaired woman who's face seemedtobeindistinguishableinhuefromherhair. "Nap!Pleasetellmetheprisonisstillalive." "He'salive." For a second her demeanor relaxed and she almost looked relieved and then suddenly her body stiffened and her eyes dartedbacktothemantryinghastilytryingtomakehiswayby her. "Nap!Areyoulyingtome?" "Youaskedmetotellyoutheprisonerisstillalive." "Lapkin...youbigdumbanimal!Iwantedashotathim." Napsighedasighequalpartsfuryandresignation withadash of condescension throw in. His eyes rolls almost imperceptibly buttheymightaswellhaverolledrightoutofhisheadasfaras MadonnaAxionwasconcerned. Like every encounter Nap had ever had with an attractive womanthesexualtensionwassothickisthreatenedtoswallow them both up. He knew that if he didn't leave at that very instanthewouldmountherrightthereonthestairsandaddto hisalreadyimpressivesecuritycameracollection. "IgotthisthingIgottogetto." AndwiththatNapslippedpastherandmadehiswaytohis'78 Le Mans. Before he knew it he had cranked open the sunroof,

190

slipped in the Head East cassette and was free to cry his eyes out. Savemylife,I'mgoingdownforthelasttime. Whoaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! Savemylife,I'mgoingdownforthelasttime. Savemylife,I'mgoingdownforthelasttime. Savemylife,I'mgoingdownforthelasttime. Savemylife,I'mgoingdownforthelasttime. Savemylife,I'mgoingdownforthelasttime.

191

 ABOUTTHEAUTHOR AtremendousfellowthisLanceManion.Currentlyresiding inahousehecouldbe,muchlikeSchrdingerscat,eitheralive ordead.Ofcourse,ifyou'rereadingthisintheyear2060or beyondthenhe'sprobablydead. Ihopethatdidn'tspoilthis'AbouttheAuthor'sectiontoo much.

192