A Hodgepodge Of Random Thoughts
The terrorists are feeling…Bashful…today.
Airport Announcer: The Department of Homeland Security has declared the current threat level as orange…all travelers are advised to…
Sister Sara: What does that even mean?
Nat: It’s below red.
SS: But colours? Come on. How is orange threatening? Pumpkins aren’t threatening!
Nat: I think that’s yellow…
SS: Well then yellow should be above orange!
Nat: Yeah. Clearly the DoHS should go with something less abstract. [Ruefully] It’d be more effective if they named threat levels after the seven dwarves.
SS: Did you just use a personalized acronym in casual discourse?
Nat: It’s okay: I’ll be writing this down later.
After a few rebellious giggles, Sara and I thought about it some more and realized the efficaciousness of this offhand comment. A recent conversation with her led me to write up a quick primer—if you disagree, clearly you’re a threat to my way of life:
Grumpy—We bombed their goat—and it was two days from retirement. If you were a terrorist, wouldn’t you want revenge? Threat level: High
Dopey—The terrorists’ broker invested in something ridiculous…like Squirrel Futures. No worries today. Threat level: low
Doc—The terrorists are planning something to go down at the Docks; the airports are okay. Threat level: wet
Sleepy—*Yawnnn* The terrorists may have something planned for later today, but right now they’re sleeping in—it was a late night at the oasis. Threat level: medium
Sneezy—The chemical weapon sprung a leak and infected all terrorists involved. Threat level: medium/low, and go back 3 spaces
Bashful—The terrorists are feeling adorably shy today. Threat level: low
Happy—The terrorists have succeeded! Save yourself! Women and children are shields! Threat level: Ground Zero
Why don’t we ever see anything like this when some nutjob shoots up a public place?
Acquaintances Remember Slain Asshole
MINNEAPOLIS, Minn. (AP) – Ronald Wizowski, the sole casualty of Monday’s “tragic” bus stop shooting, when a troubled teen opened fire at the Greyhound bench on the corner of Elm and Pine, was laid to rest today. Those who knew him offer their remembrances.
“He was kind of…an [expletive]. Creepy, too.” said neighbor Tracy Stillins, 37. “One time he banged on my door, drunk as a skunk and smelling like he rolled in dog [expletive] and asked when I did my ‘nude-a-robics.’ I said I didn’t and I think he was going to say ‘Why not?’ but he threw up on himself, passed out, and hit his head on my walkway. I had to take him to the emergency room, but when they released him he never said ‘Thank you’ or even apologized.”
Wizowski’s offsetting antics weren’t limited to his neighbors, either. A frequent patron of the Bar-B-Cue Steak-and-Pool Palace, customers and staff alike were fair game for Ronald’s disturbing brand of antagonism. “He never tipped and would grab everyone’s [expletive]—girls and boys. I asked him to stop and he’d say, ‘Papa Bear needs his honey.’” recounts server John Morgan, 18. “It’s nice to know he won’t be coming back.” Owner Warner Hudson, 54, recalls a fight Wizowski once picked with a customer. “He just took a pool cue and cold-cocked some guy for no reason. Who the [expletive] does that? That psycho kid did us a big favor.”
Likewise, Ronald’s family was equally relieved to hear news of his demise. “Ronald was a spiteful man who really didn’t love us. His death is like the time he was five and ran away from home, but like ten times better.” says mother Helen, 70.
Vinnie Morita, Wizowski’s killer, had this to say: “I only wanted to ice some dudes so people’d remember me, but now they’re like lovin’ me and all that. This turned out way better than I could ever hoped.”
Jesus Is An American
Back in ’04 Sister, Mother, and I were driving down some back road of the Home Town when the discussion oddly turned to Country Music. I’m an unabashed hater of contemporary country music and gleaned from the subsequent tirade were the workings of my as-yet-unsung Slam Country Hit, “Jesus Is an American”:
I wuz sittin’ on my backporch, tippin’ back a few, when the Good Lord made the world black, and I saw me a sight or two,
In the not-so distant future, in a not too far-off land, I saw a stirrin’ figure, with the red white blue in hand,
So I staggered to my two feet, and I gave my best salute, but the figure kept on marching, like an old and wise recruit,
I could tell he was on a mission, in battle real high-priced, defendin’ this land’s freedom, is a man named Jesus Christ,
Oho Jesus is an American from his head right to his feet, he drinks himself some PBR, and on Wednesdays he shoots skeet,
He’s got his favorite bar, and he drives a pick-up truck, oh, Jesus is an American cuz all the other countries suck,
Jesus is an American cuz all the other countries suck,
He ain’t no goddamned Frenchman, ain’t a Kraut or spic or Jew; he’s a good old-fashioned Christian, jes’ like me and you,
He loves this land and Uncle Sam, mom an’ apple pie, an’ he’s signin’ up for duty with a twinkle in his eye,
He’s white as God’ll make ‘em, and mad as gosh-all Hell, well he heard a’ nine-eleven, and didn’t take it all too well,
So now he’s come for freedom, gonna fight the war on terr’, he’s gonna visit a strange, new country, and lay its forces bare,
Oho Jesus is an American, he’s a good ole country boy, got a sweetheart name a’ Mary, and he doesn’t support homosexual marriages,
Oho Jesus is an American, an’ he’ll fight for freedom’s due, Jesus is an American, ain’t ye glad that you are, too?
Ain’t ye glad that you are, too?
From the Halls of Montezuma, to the shores a’ Tripoli, he’s comin’ fore to kick some ass, back in Galilee,
He’s a wholly Christian soldier, marchin’ on to victory; he’s a one-man walkin’ army, crucifian’ his enemy,
So I just stood there watchin’, as a tear came to my eye, and I remember wakin’, to a red white and blue sky,
And right inside my bottle, which I’d used as an ashtray, was little note from Jesus sayin’ “God Bless the USA,”
“God Bless the USA”