lundi, octobre 24, 2005


Sometimes, this world can really get you down. You get surrounded, engulfed, swallowed up in the cacophony--the idiocy--the punditry.
Events--or, rather, gross misinterpretations of what might be events--swirl around your head. Ignorant, one sided, venomous journalists stand on the roof tops of the flooded city of your mind and pelt you with sharp objects. The only question you get answered on the news is: What if Chicken Little had been a rattle snake?
Meanwhile, lost in the fray of oversimplified, overglorified, lukewarm ignorance, there are a few beautifully good people out there, mixing it up with a fiesty minority of truly nefarious evil people. The lukewarm majority chaffs under their title ("INFERIOR"). And somehow the prevailing doctrine becomes: trivialize the whole deal by making politics the dividing line.

And you open your mouth to scream and either nothing comes out, or nobody hears (which is worse).
Or you raise your hand to say something, and all you hear is that horrifying, indecipherable horn sound that Charlie Brown's teacher makes, and you realize you just don't speak the world's language. And you start to feel like a note that God wrote in the margin.

Then, at some unpredictable juncture, the clouds part, and light shines through in glorious clarity.
For me, this happened the other day when I dropped my keys. I bent down to pick them up, and noticed, for the first time, a really pleasant sensation.
The fabric of my pants had some stretch to it.
It made bending over a whole new experience. And I realized: These are the girls pants.
And I wondered: Where has this fabulous stretchy corduroy been all my life? The perfect cut, the perfect color and texture--AND they give a little when I need it? Shame on you, ladies, for keeping this miracle to yourselves.

Or, maybe not. It isn't for me to say who should be let into the circle and when. Really, the pants found me. It's not like I was out looking for girl pants. Even when they found me, I was wrong about what they had to offer. But here I am, finally taking that vital step past the mock enlightenment of "my ass is as hot as the day is long," to a greater truth: I am comfortable.
I don't know if the Universe put them in the men's section of my local Salvation Army on purpose. It would be presumptuous to assume such specificity in the grand scheme. But I do know this: I would never have come to the pants in their so-called "natural place." They had to come to me. This doesn't mean I'll be shopping in the women's section. But I will be keeping my eyes, and my mind, open.

Surely there are more battles to fight, more hills to climb, more barbs to endure, and more philosphical incongruencies to unravel. There is ignorance, and evil, in ever increasing quantities, encroaching daily upon the sanity of us all. But each time I bend over, I'll feel the Universe reminding me:
"No matter what else happens, child, you've experienced perfection in this fallen world. Treasure that, my child. Treasure it."

dimanche, octobre 09, 2005

I Have Thrust My Sword into the Arena of Ideas . . . or, My Existence Has Been Encapsulated Just Above My Exhaust Pipe

Bumper Sticker Conundrum Kills Three.
Three motorists were killed, and several more injured, in a multi-car pile up Wednesday afternoon. Police on the scene said the accident was the result of a "particularly inane" bumper sticker.
Roger Cralen, who received only minor injuries, which were treated on the scene, was interviewed by police as his wife was life-flighted to Sutter Roseville ER.
"This old Volkswagen passed us and we noticed the bumper sticker that said 'honk if you hate bumper stickers that say honk if you love something.' I was about to honk, because I really hate those bumper stickers. But my wife pointed out that by honking, I was sort of
approving of those bumper stickers. The next thing we knew we were flying over the center divide."
When the Cralen's vehicle careened into oncoming traffic, they were side-swiped by a stickerless SUV which subsequently rolled accross several lanes before coming to a halt on top of a Geo Metro, whose only bumper sticker was the controversial "Mean People Suck." These two vehicles were then smashed into the fast lane by a Lincoln Continental with too many bumper stickers to name, most of which had something to do with "boogers." Medical officials on the scene reported that the drivers of all three vehilcles, (whose names are being withheld until the families can be notified), were killed instantly. At least 12 other cars had locked bumpers as traffic along the I-80 corridor came to a total stand still. Bush/Cheney stickers smashed into their Kerry/Edwards counterparts, and the driver of a "pro-choice" Honda was found pinned beneath the back wheel of a Toyota Prius bearing the Jesus Fish with the Darwin legs.

Emergency crews were able to open the far right lane as police began taking reports from eye-witnesses and victims, but progress was slow due to rubbernecking and the occasional gesture made towards one of the victim's anti war stickers.
"I don't know what's worse," said Mr. Cralen before being escorted to the hospital, "the rubbernecking or all these goddamn bumper stickers. There ought to be a law."
Police on the scene refused to lay blame for the disaster, saying only that the insurance companies will decide who is at fault, and that bumper stickers are still legal in Placer County.

The Volkswagen that allegedly caused the accident could not be located.