It's hard, sometimes. really hard. Last night I had a short exchange
with the spousal unit that illustrated the vast intellectual gulf that
can still exist with non-believers, regardless of cup size. We were
slack-jawed on the sofa, tiny tendrils of root-flesh exploring the
phabric for nourishment (well, MINE were, at least), when this REALLY
pink commercial for Carnival Cruise Lines came on and whacked my
brain-stem with a load o' hooey. Our US readers will know the ones,
Kathy Lee "my husband sleep walks to the maid's room" Gifford? Well, she
does her spiel, and I'm thinking, "Hmm, yeah, I think I'd do her, but
only if she kept her damn mouth BUSY" when the worst part occurs:
WILLARD FUCKING SCOTT! This guy just causes my sphincter to pucker.
For those in the un-know, ol' Willard is a "popular" weatherman
associated with the Regis & Kathy Pink Fest on TV. He is the very
embodiment of a PK Dickian NewsClown. An entertainer with a weather
motif. He wears stupid costumes, uses stupid voices, and displays
idiotic "cutsie" graphics during his abortion of a weather bit. He
nearly SCREAMS at his audience "YOU CAN'T UNDERSTAND WEATHER, SO I'LL
JUST DANCE AROUND AND YOU PRETEND TO UNDERSTAND". He looks like the
jolly sort who volunteers in children's organizations and is later
discovered to have a large collection of videotapes, all showing a
first person view of his distended naked belly and the top of a young
boy's head. I hate this guy.
So anyway, whilst he yucks for the camera, I remark to my wife as follows.
ME: "Ya know, Willard should have his scrotal sac removed and made
into a change purse."
Wife: <glances at me sideways> "Whatever for?"
ME: "cause he's a clown. A no good PK Dick NewsClown."
Wife: "So what? He enjoys life. Why would you want to do that?"
ME: "So that everytime he has to pay for something, he has to take
out his scrotal change purse, and it will remind him that he's
a clown."
WIFE: <shakes head, disapproving frown>
I do try, folks. But it's really hard. I'm glad I didn't REALLY say
what I wanted to.
Andy Testa
testa@hou.moc.com
"rhubarb Xenu rhubarb"
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Subject: Re: Mixed marriages, again.
From: i.stang@metronet.com (Rev. Ivan Stang)
Well, it's the age-old problem. They (our NICE spouses or relatives or
friends) just don't HATE like we do. Actually, I think they hate more, but
they swallow their hate. It's not CLEAN Hate. Sure, Willard Scott never
did anything to you, besides insult your intelligence. Or rather, your
FUCKING HORSE SENSE!! He's just doing his job. And yet you HATE him. Well,
why not? He'd probably hate you FIRST. But in our Hating, we accidentally
offend those who hate far less than we do, indirectly. We belittle
practitioners of things they might hold some belief in... the feel
belittled. They wonder at the SIZE of our Hate and the ALL-ENCOMPASSING
NATURE of it.
And that's just when we're making WISECRACKS. You're right, if we spoke
our Full Hate aloud, they'd lock us up. If they had mind reading machines,
we'd all be dead now.
But... can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
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Original file name: Mixed Marriages Again
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