Nurse the Hate: Hate The Mink

When the Ohio skies turn that soupy gray that is indistinguishable from the horizon line, and each drive on the highway is a new horrible experience of carnage and bad driving, a man's mind can wander. A few things I have been dwelling on...

* If we are indeed headed into another Great Depression, will there be "Hoovervilles" again? Will old slang like "aces", "The Big House" and "Pally" come back into fashion? Will it be common to say things like "Hey Pally, I heard Mickey's in the Big House! That's aces, just aces! Now let's shake a leg and give the big kiss off to that Stool Pigeon that put him in stir!"? Will life be black and white again? That would be pretty interesting. I'd like to sit at a baseball game in a suit and hat and watch the players run around the field in fast motion like those old film clips. Maybe "Little Rascals" can make a big comeback, assuming we shoot it in Orange County and give Darla breast implants. Let's monitor that situation closely...

* What do you think the people at the very back of the Inauguration gathering talked about? "Hey, if we move up another mile, maybe we still won't be able to see anything. That would be great though... We'd be up there instead of here." I can tell I am getting older when I look at that scene and immediately say "no way". Can you imagine cramming into a subway train car at 4am to go stand around in 20 degree weather for eight hours to not actually see anything? What a waste of time. I understand about "wanting to be part of it", but there comes a point when you have to realize, you're just not. If those people had a good time, then God Bless. I'm just a bit more cynical. For example, I don't think I would go see Jesus at the Quicken Loans Arena if I didn't have club seats and a parking pass.

* I regret not saying something to that giant Mexican guy that farted on me for three hours over the skies of Nevada and Texas. Why is it we all sit there like whipped mules and pretend that sort of thing isn't happening? Sure, the start of the conversation might be awkward, but next time I am getting something done about it. "Excuse me...excuse me...I know what just happened here mister, and if you want to play that game, I'm coming off three days of draft microbrew." Speak softly and carry a big stick.

* It took me about 12 years, but I finally get the Brian Jonestown Massacre. Still, I played all those clubs they did back then. Where the hell was I? I watched that documentary "Dig!" which is awesome. If you want to see a bunch of fuck up guys make the wrong decisions and self destruct, this is the movie for you. It's unbelievable. They are about to get a big label deal, so they get into a huge fistfight on stage in LA at the Label Showcase. Guys stay up for days on various hard drugs, and then drive around in a cramped van together and fight. But somehow, they make this Velvet Underground meets Donovan meets Blur melange that's really cool. I picked up a two disc compilation called "Tepid Peppermint Wonderland" that hits on most of the obvious high points. Where was I? What was I doing? I think I thought they were some kind of fuck up noise band (which I guess they were/are), but it's pretty interesting stuff. I am on board, but regret not seeing them in 97-98.

* If you hit a puddle in your car and splash someone that is walking on the sidewalk, is it your responsibility? Example: I was driving downtown and I hit a puddle on one of these battle scarred NE Ohio roads that sent a wave of water onto this guy on the sidewalk. If this had been some working stiff, he would have thought "Shit. I should have been looking for that. There is a lot of water on the road." However, this was a neighborhood guy from 30th Street in a white fur coat, smoking a swisher sweet, and probably not walking to his day job. He didn't have the same point of view I did, which he made very clear when I parked a half block away and he waited for me to walk by him.

Him: "Hey man! You splashed me with water!"

Me: "I did? Damn, these roads are terrible. I'm really sorry."

Him: "Yeah man! You got me."

Me: "I get your coat? What is that? A mink?"

Him: "Nah...You just got my pants."

Me: "That's a damn shame. A damn shame! I'm really sorry about that. Well...See ya later."


Assuming he's not waiting to kick my ass when I go to my car tonight, I'd say that went pretty well. The question is this: Should I have offered to pay to clean his clothes? I'm saying "no". This world is unfair. Sometimes you are the one in the car, sometimes you are the one with the mink. Last week some guy farted on me for three hours. This week, I'm driving instead of the one walking into the slush tsunamai. Next week, maybe that guy gets the last sheet of the toilet paper at the Speedway men's room. Meanwhile, I'll probably get an icicle in the eye. I think these things all work out in the end. Ying/yang and all that kharma crap, you know?