shod.
the geniuses are coming!
i am a liar!
early this morning (too early for talking politics if one hasn't been drinking and, being as though he was at work, this one hadn't) one of the contractors decided to hang out at the loading dock for a while. i think he was waiting for someone. i was pretty content to sit there and read my book (vonnegut's sirens of titan, if you wanna know) but this would never, ever do for the mountain of a man that decided to talk to me.
"gonna be a hot one today."
"yeah, heard it's going up to 104. i'm ready for this to be over with."
"me too. i'll tell you one thing, though: that al gore is an idiot. i don't see how someone so dumb ever got to be vice-president."
uh-oh. so much for ten seconds of shooting the shit and going back to reading. if you didn't just hear a sound like a needle being jerked off a record, you should have. what do i say to this? it's obvious that el gigante and his views are looking for an airing and i'm kind of captive at the loading dock desk. i could walk outside for a smoke but there's nothing to keep him from following me and everything to limit my movement. so ... what? a lecture on the ignorance of the typical american electorate? a tirade against the top two executive positions being tied together when voted for? a little comparative history, said in some strange aw-shucks manner that will hopefully dissuade him from further statements?
"hell, i think they're all dumb. remember dan quayle?"
"but he never did nothin' dumb. he just got picked on."
fuck me. that trick didn't work. before i can think of anything else to say, my new found fountain of punditry decides to plunge ahead:
"at least we got us a good president now."
i leap from the chair and, building keys laced through my fist, begin pummeling this jackass in the eyeballs while screaming, "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG LIES LIES LIES LIES NO NO NO NO NO!" he tries to shield his bloated face with chubby hands that are easily knocked aside. this is all on camera: the blood flying, the spittle launching, the little-girl screaming of a fat man scared of losing his life that sounds like so much porcine begging for another bucket of slops. i got yer slops right here, pal! IT'S CALLED YER FACE! NOW FUCKING DIE!
all this takes a third of a second in my head and i quickly swallow the urge to act on it. if it weren't for that camera, though, i have to admit that i would have contemplated it for a full two-thirds of a second. instead, i manage to casually say, "you think so?"
"yeah buddy! he's been good for the economy ..." and before i can let my jaw hit the floor, " ... and i totally agree with him on being over there."
my eyes involuntarily narrow. "being over where." it's far more of a statement than a question.
"in iraq. he's right. we don't need to quit until the job is done."
"what job is that, anyway? i've heard like fifteen different reasons for being there since this whole mess started."
"we have to leave them with a democracy so they can take care of themselves. that's why we went there."
at this point i am both angry and confused. who SENT this asshole, anyway? where's the black helicopter that's controlling his statements? would crushing his windpipe barehanded be more satisfying than the bludgeoning-with-keys scenario? i keep my cool and say:
"i thought it was because we were going to get blowed up with wmds."
"they're just doing that to themselves now."
i can totally measure the cut of this man's rather large jib right now - isolationist or imperialist? place yer bets, ladies and gentlemen!
"so why should we care? if they blow each other to damn kingdom come, what does it matter to us?"
"because if we leave them with our kind of government, they won't attack us."
fuck. i like isolationists so much better - they're less mad-dog about their uninformed stances.
"you think so?"
"i think iraq peoples won't. but you listen to me: it's gonna happen here again. it's just a matter of time and something else here is gonna get attacked. even when we take out the source of terrorists in iraq there's still gonna be more."
dear murder: please stop seeming like so much fun. i am not as strong-willed as some might think. thanks! your pal, stvn.
"i guess you're right. i mean, there's never been a time in this country when there wasn't some crackpot blowing things up or climbing a bell tower with a rifle."
"i ain't talking about that. i'm talking about taking them out at the source."
you know, he's got a point. timothy mcveigh, the weather underground, the lindbergh baby kidnappers, the klan, the japanese-american internment camps, the u.s. army during the indian wars - i don't know why SOMEONE hasn't gone to Terror Distribution Centers, Inc. and just blown the fuck out of it. it totally makes sense. now i can't murder him; he's a genius that will save us all from scary terror! and far be it from me to end the life of this beacon of reason, sound thought, upright citizenship and what-we-ought-and-are-duty-bound-to-do-ness.
"like how?"
"i say you take all your trouble spots and nuke 'em ..." when i tell people about this, it's totally going to sound like i'm making it up. damn not having a tape recorder on me. "your places like iran and syria, just blow 'em off the map. that'll stop the whole thing."
"so what about, say, that part of the pakistan/afghanistan border where they say bin laden hides out?"
"nuke that too."
"and then maybe north korea? sudan? what about, say, venezuela?"
"boy, we could take out that venezuela guy real easy. wouldn't even have to nuke 'em. wanna know how?"
o prophet, bless these, thy assembled rabble, that they might sup upon thy enlightenment!
"i guess. i'm pretty sure no one really wants another castro." considering that the CIA couldn't kill him for decades on end and he basically thumbed his nose at a superpower less than 90 miles from its coastline - wait, those are reasons that i like castro. oh well, it's not like this guy can tell the difference.
"damn right. so we send a couple hit men down there, put a bullet right between the eyes."
it is to laugh. oh, it is to laugh.
"i guess that would take him out of the equation ..."
this went on for another ten minutes. then, thankfully, it was time to rotate posts. as i was walking away, he was still talking. something about talking with "real americans." all i can say is yikes.
later i'm eating breakfast and glancing at news sites - seems some 8th-grade kid in arizona got suspended from school for drawing a gun which, according to the principal, is an implied threat. does this mean that if i draw the principal minus a brain, they'll be removed for incompetence?
this is the part where i should wind things up with something pithy. instead, i encourage you to go out and eliminate terrorists at the source. i imagine it strikingly resembles a super wal-mart.
crossposted.
i am a liar!
early this morning (too early for talking politics if one hasn't been drinking and, being as though he was at work, this one hadn't) one of the contractors decided to hang out at the loading dock for a while. i think he was waiting for someone. i was pretty content to sit there and read my book (vonnegut's sirens of titan, if you wanna know) but this would never, ever do for the mountain of a man that decided to talk to me.
"gonna be a hot one today."
"yeah, heard it's going up to 104. i'm ready for this to be over with."
"me too. i'll tell you one thing, though: that al gore is an idiot. i don't see how someone so dumb ever got to be vice-president."
uh-oh. so much for ten seconds of shooting the shit and going back to reading. if you didn't just hear a sound like a needle being jerked off a record, you should have. what do i say to this? it's obvious that el gigante and his views are looking for an airing and i'm kind of captive at the loading dock desk. i could walk outside for a smoke but there's nothing to keep him from following me and everything to limit my movement. so ... what? a lecture on the ignorance of the typical american electorate? a tirade against the top two executive positions being tied together when voted for? a little comparative history, said in some strange aw-shucks manner that will hopefully dissuade him from further statements?
"hell, i think they're all dumb. remember dan quayle?"
"but he never did nothin' dumb. he just got picked on."
fuck me. that trick didn't work. before i can think of anything else to say, my new found fountain of punditry decides to plunge ahead:
"at least we got us a good president now."
i leap from the chair and, building keys laced through my fist, begin pummeling this jackass in the eyeballs while screaming, "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG LIES LIES LIES LIES NO NO NO NO NO!" he tries to shield his bloated face with chubby hands that are easily knocked aside. this is all on camera: the blood flying, the spittle launching, the little-girl screaming of a fat man scared of losing his life that sounds like so much porcine begging for another bucket of slops. i got yer slops right here, pal! IT'S CALLED YER FACE! NOW FUCKING DIE!
all this takes a third of a second in my head and i quickly swallow the urge to act on it. if it weren't for that camera, though, i have to admit that i would have contemplated it for a full two-thirds of a second. instead, i manage to casually say, "you think so?"
"yeah buddy! he's been good for the economy ..." and before i can let my jaw hit the floor, " ... and i totally agree with him on being over there."
my eyes involuntarily narrow. "being over where." it's far more of a statement than a question.
"in iraq. he's right. we don't need to quit until the job is done."
"what job is that, anyway? i've heard like fifteen different reasons for being there since this whole mess started."
"we have to leave them with a democracy so they can take care of themselves. that's why we went there."
at this point i am both angry and confused. who SENT this asshole, anyway? where's the black helicopter that's controlling his statements? would crushing his windpipe barehanded be more satisfying than the bludgeoning-with-keys scenario? i keep my cool and say:
"i thought it was because we were going to get blowed up with wmds."
"they're just doing that to themselves now."
i can totally measure the cut of this man's rather large jib right now - isolationist or imperialist? place yer bets, ladies and gentlemen!
"so why should we care? if they blow each other to damn kingdom come, what does it matter to us?"
"because if we leave them with our kind of government, they won't attack us."
fuck. i like isolationists so much better - they're less mad-dog about their uninformed stances.
"you think so?"
"i think iraq peoples won't. but you listen to me: it's gonna happen here again. it's just a matter of time and something else here is gonna get attacked. even when we take out the source of terrorists in iraq there's still gonna be more."
dear murder: please stop seeming like so much fun. i am not as strong-willed as some might think. thanks! your pal, stvn.
"i guess you're right. i mean, there's never been a time in this country when there wasn't some crackpot blowing things up or climbing a bell tower with a rifle."
"i ain't talking about that. i'm talking about taking them out at the source."
you know, he's got a point. timothy mcveigh, the weather underground, the lindbergh baby kidnappers, the klan, the japanese-american internment camps, the u.s. army during the indian wars - i don't know why SOMEONE hasn't gone to Terror Distribution Centers, Inc. and just blown the fuck out of it. it totally makes sense. now i can't murder him; he's a genius that will save us all from scary terror! and far be it from me to end the life of this beacon of reason, sound thought, upright citizenship and what-we-ought-and-are-duty-bound-to-do-ness.
"like how?"
"i say you take all your trouble spots and nuke 'em ..." when i tell people about this, it's totally going to sound like i'm making it up. damn not having a tape recorder on me. "your places like iran and syria, just blow 'em off the map. that'll stop the whole thing."
"so what about, say, that part of the pakistan/afghanistan border where they say bin laden hides out?"
"nuke that too."
"and then maybe north korea? sudan? what about, say, venezuela?"
"boy, we could take out that venezuela guy real easy. wouldn't even have to nuke 'em. wanna know how?"
o prophet, bless these, thy assembled rabble, that they might sup upon thy enlightenment!
"i guess. i'm pretty sure no one really wants another castro." considering that the CIA couldn't kill him for decades on end and he basically thumbed his nose at a superpower less than 90 miles from its coastline - wait, those are reasons that i like castro. oh well, it's not like this guy can tell the difference.
"damn right. so we send a couple hit men down there, put a bullet right between the eyes."
it is to laugh. oh, it is to laugh.
"i guess that would take him out of the equation ..."
this went on for another ten minutes. then, thankfully, it was time to rotate posts. as i was walking away, he was still talking. something about talking with "real americans." all i can say is yikes.
later i'm eating breakfast and glancing at news sites - seems some 8th-grade kid in arizona got suspended from school for drawing a gun which, according to the principal, is an implied threat. does this mean that if i draw the principal minus a brain, they'll be removed for incompetence?
this is the part where i should wind things up with something pithy. instead, i encourage you to go out and eliminate terrorists at the source. i imagine it strikingly resembles a super wal-mart.
crossposted.