Thursday, August 30, 2007

My Buddy Pic with Owen Wilson

We’d be depressive cops fighting crime and our own demons with wit, fast-paced car chases and cognitive behavioral therapy--but never by the book. I’d use outrageous comic rejoinders and “Redirect Negative/Irrational Thoughts into Positive/Rational Ones” worksheets to help Owen track down Santos, find the missing girl and steer him away from destructive self-medication towards more focused psycho-pharmaceuticals and talking cures.

But there’d still be room for some questionable dark humor. Damn straight. I’d gently rib him about slit wrists and pills being kinda girly. “Was there a copy of The Bell Jar on the mantel?” But then most comedians are assholes—that explains the demons being not-so-subtly masked in forced smiles and gallows humor. Like when Family Feud host Ray Combs committed suicide and some local comic—I always thought it was the subtly deadpan Eric Hunter but he never remembers saying it—noted “He was on suicide watch. Who was watching him Richard Dawson?” Or when that guy from Suddenly Susan downed a six-pack of beer and then hung himself and I “joked,” “Well, he was on Suddenly Susan. And as if that weren’t soulless and tepid enough, that empty six pack? It was Bud Lite. Not even an import.”

But this isn’t meant to make light of hardship but to de-glamorize self-demise. “It’s a permanent solution to temporary problems, buddy,” I’d tell Owen. “You’re right, pal,” he’d ultimately agree. “Now let’s get that Santos!”

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

Unsafe At My Own Damn Speed!

'77 Pinto Asks "Who is John Galt?"

This is a variation on a theme.

Back in my stand-up days, I did a bit about seeing one of the shittiest cars I'd seen in awhile--cracked windshield, rusted out roof, an old jack sock for a gas cap, even UNDER-INFLATED TIRES!--but on its back was a "Vote Libertarian" bumper sticker. I admired the man's commitment to principle. To believe in a world where money is the sole judge of every man's true worth and be reminded every morning that you ain't worth shit.

Then I'd segue into a bit about Eminent Domain captured here in all my rushed, panicky awkwardness at the Five Spot:

Monday, August 20, 2007

Jaded Shape Note Singer Just Making Jerk-Off Gesture

Again, the Onion influence is too pronounced, but this blog needs some Americana.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

"No Meetups scheduled"

Oh, what an active life we lead/

When select serotonins re-up with speed.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

I've Been Seen On Ponce

The Ponce guy posted a pic I took on his turf. He also said some nice things so let me repay the kindly conquistador. His blog deserves its recent acclaim. It has both a sense of place and an expansive vision. Plus a Whitmanesque celebration of both the grand and the gritty. To see the totality of humanity in a spent needle by the John Lewis tribute sculpture may be the real fountain of youth.

But Ponce itself sure has changed over the years. Why, I’m old enough to remember when this check cash used to be a Church’s Fried Chicken. I wonder if you can still get honey biscuits with your money order? Once my $15 Quicken rebate comes in, I’ll be sure to check it out.

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Euclidean Olfactory

Walking down Euclid, just past the park that leads to the Inman Park MARTA station, a strange, pungent odor caught my nose. Someone had been smoking something near the treeline. Intrigued, I lingered a bit and whiffed awhile. Finally the nature of it’s strangeness came to me: it wasn’t weed. It was pipe tobacco. Someone had been smoking a pipe in Little Five Points.

Hmm. The hippies, rastas and bike lane advocates smoke weed, the homeless guys smoke the cheapest Dutch Masters cigars you can get at the BP, the Ron Paul ’08 guys smoke their own weed and never share and the Paideia high school girls all smoke American Spirits. Who smokes a pipe?

Eventually I guessed it must have been one of those Church of the Subgenius members paying some kind of homage to J.R. “Bob” Dobbs. I’ve never quite gotten into Bobism—that whole postmodern thing of mocking religion by creating a religion. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but why not just mock religion. But that pipe tobacco did smell sweet.

I’ve always had a dream that one day I’d become a pipe smoker, but … ah, who’m I kidding. That’s never gonna happen.

Monday, August 06, 2007

If I Were an Animator...

Holier Than Cow

A devoutly Christian Holstein campaigns to end Partial-Birth Veal.