A Load of Hooey (4 page)

Let's look at some of the paintings. What's the first thing you notice about the paintings in the Louvre? That's right: the frames are fancy. Some of them are nicer than the paintings! Guess what else they are? Dust magnets. It's crazy. It's like they generate dust! These things have to be dusted, gently, like every three weeks. You can't use Pledge on them, either, you have to use this super-gentle approved wood-oil concoction or they'll rot. I'm not making this up! It's a real pain in the ass. Still thinking of starting your own museum? You must be crackers.

Have you seen the paintings on the ceilings yet? Some of these rooms have as many paintings on the ceiling as they do on the walls! How did they get them up there? They have these giant scaffoldings and they have to put them together each time they check or clean or change a painting. The paintings are so far away you can hardly see 'em anyways. Plus, at least twice a year some French guy has to poke around up there with this long broom-handled duster or it would be cobweb city!

You may be wondering as you wander these halls, why did they have to make it so fancy? Let me tell you something, bub, people long ago, they had a lot of time on their hands. If I had lived five hundred years ago I wouldn't have spent my time carving a bunch of wood so it could be hung forty feet in the air somewhere, I would have been trying to invent air-conditioning.

Well, that's the basics of this place. After you see it, you have to admit, the Louvre is a heckuva museum—a real piece of work. If you find an open bench, grab it. Here's how many benches there
are in the Louvre: not enough. I've suggested they put in a bench for every painting that's boring or just “eh,” but no one listens to me or any of my “ideas” anymore. Whatever. You're probably pooped by now. Believe me, I know how you feel, I work here.

I think I'll play you some music now. Au revoir.

P.S. There's a Starbies in the lower level—see you down there.

PUTTING IT OUT THERE

If I were running for president, the first thing I would do is hold a press conference and get all my skeletons out of the closet and onto the table. A skeleton table, if such a thing exists—big enough for a couple skeletons
.

B
efore I announce my candidacy for president of the United States I want to comment on some rumors and accusations that I'm fairly certain will come to the fore as my campaign gains steam. I will warn you, I'm going to be more open than any candidate has ever been, so please usher the children out of the room now.

The first and foremost accusation will be that I have cheated on my beautiful wife, Betty.

I
have
cheated on my beautiful wife, Betty.

I have cheated on her more than once. More than twice. More than three times. I could go on like that, but you get the gist.

I have cheated on Betty in brief, one-night affairs, and a few long-term ones. I have cheated on her with men and women, and groups of men and women, and one person who was kind of an “either/or,” if you know what I mean.

My beautiful wife, Betty, doesn't know about this, but we will be discussing it in private soon after this press conference ends, and then, later, in public, and finally, possibly, in a court of law.

Now, I have not always been a willing participant in these—how shall I characterize them?—“sex games.” Sometimes I was drunk. One time I had a blindfold on. Twice I was paid. Once I did it on a dare. But in at least thirty instances that I can recall I was cooperative and willing, so don't get the idea that I'm a quick lay or easy to blindfold. In fact, I put that blindfold on myself! The media will, no doubt, suggest that there is something weird about me wearing a blindfold while having sex with two people I'd only met a few hours before, but I assure you that I was on Ecstasy and I would have tried almost anything.

darn these ol' books!

Now, a further word about my beloved wife, Betty. I have been married to this same wonderful, understanding, occasionally oblivious woman for thirty-two years. Through it all—all the sex with other people, all the awesome nastiness—I have
stayed
married to her, with a quiet pride in myself and what a good guy I am. In all these years I have married only
one
other woman, and had but one second, secret family, and this was in another state, more than thirty miles away—and believe me, the added responsibility, as well as the commute, was no picnic. My enemies will try to twist this and accuse me of polygamy, but it's not polygamy because neither wife knew about the other wife and I think polygamy usually means the wives know about each other, right? I'm not sure if I'm right about that,
but I'm sure I will find out soon after this press conference and I will get back to you with a definition clarified by a court of law.

So there you have it. I have committed adultery, pickpocketing, and general scumbaggery on a semiregular basis, and now you know. Did I fail to mention my pickpocketing? Well…I'm a pickpocket. I do it all the time. Can't help myself. I'm sure with the Secret Service around I'll be forced to cut back on that exciting little hobby. Then again, maybe they'll make it easier—it might provide cover for me…yeah, this is going to work great. Vote for me, and let the pocket picking begin!

Famous Quotations—Unabridged

“
Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results
. Also, if you see your friend's face mutate into all four members of the rock group the Beatles, that's a sign as well.”

—Narcotics Anonymous Saying

MY MANIFESTO

I
f you're reading this, then I am dead. If my plan has been carried out with any degree of success, then there are more than a few disgruntled people left in my wake, as well as a few disgruntled people AT my wake
*
—for reasons that will become obvious later in this document.

This is my Manifesto, the Rosetta Stone that will give meaning to my actions and sacrifice—so read it carefully. All CAPITALIZED words are meant to have greater significance than the other words that gather at their feet. Please read the CAPITALIZED words in a slightly louder voice inside your head to get the full effect.

I will now enumerate the ways in which I, and others, have been APPALLED, ANNOYED, and ASSAULTED by the WORLD in its current state of FESTERING ROT. Firstly, TECHNOLOGY has misled us, our INFRASTRUCTURE is crumbling due to neglect and malfeasance, CHEMISTRY is in a state of chaos and disequilibrium, and SOCIAL GRACES are practically nonexistent. These are just my bullet points—I have a lot to say, so wish me well, here are the SPECIFICS…

1. TECHNOLOGY must be DESTROYED or at least LOOKED UPON WITH SKEPTICISM. The TURNING POINT was the manufacture of the MOST RECENT iPHONE. Everything up
until then was PERFECT, and perfectly in line with Nature and God's wishes, but these new iPhones are just…well, I don't have the latest one yet, but…it seems TOO good, if you ask me. God is not blind, and he's VERY sensitive, and his wrath is manifest in many ways, not the least of which is THE WEATHER, which has been far TOO HOT lately—does that tell you anything? Think about it.

2 (or 1B). The INFRASTRUCTURE of our modern society is completely compromised due to overbuilding and LACK OF RESOURCES. The entire grid is compromised and cracking, its weakness showing everywhichawhere. There is a solid three-foot-in-diameter brick of pavement at the end of my street which is being pushed UPWARD, teetering, literally TEETERING on the PEPPER TREE ROOT that is growing violently upward underneath it. This is scraping the BOTTOMS of cars. Including MINE. Somebody FIX IT!

2B. CHEMISTRY has also failed and bewildered us as a people, and continues to baffle and bum me OUT. What is it? At what point have you broken things down enough and now you're just playing with increasingly SMALL PARTICLES that no one can see or even remember the name of? Everything smaller than “a teaspoon” is really not necessary and only serves to ANGER me and fuel my PLAN, which I will get to in a second.

3. Point three has been CUT. You WILL NEVER KNOW what point three was. I have NO PITY for you and am perfectly happy
to confuse the masses who seem to like terrible TV SHOWS as much as they like GOOD ONES. TV has gone down the craphole…and NO, that was NOT the third point.

4. MY BELT is too long. I had to add a hole to it and it looks homemade and crappy and the excess belt just hangs out there, FLAPPING ABOUT.

CONCLUSION: THE POLITICAL SYSTEM in America is the best in the world. Our Forefathers had FOREsight and we owe it all to them. But the ELECTORAL COLLEGE is the most outstanding aspect of this system. It keeps the IGNORANT masses from voting into office the latest YAMMERING IDIOT whose razzle-dazzle they fall for. PLEASE KEEP THE ELECTORAL COLLEGE. If the electoral college is STILL IN PLACE when I die, then you will know I completed at least one part of my PLAN as PLANNED.

MY PLAN

My plan is that I WILL participate in our unfair, unjust, technologically deficient, chemistry-burdened, politically superb society AS IT STANDS, without making WAVES. I will deviously and cleverly CARVE out a life of quiet acquiescence to the grave INJUSTICES that I have enumerated as this social order BENEFITS ME GREATLY as a WHITE AMERICAN MALE. How and ever, all the while I am living, I will WRITE DOWN MY IDEAS and keep them hidden from the world UNTIL MY shocking and preplanned DEATH from OLD AGE. This
plan will call for steadfast patience and some degree of QUIET DESPERATION, but I am up for it! You have been WARNED!

I am sorry it had to end this way, but I needed to teach the world a lesson. I hope you enjoyed reading this interpretation of my travails and hero's journey, and that it has filled your memory of me with significance and purpose, and that you liked the capitalizations.

*
UPON MY DEATH, at my wake, if you're going to have a small coffee-service area, somebody put a bowl of BRUSSELS SPROUTS out AS A SNACK…that'll show everyone.

I THINK I JUST MET GOD

I
t was down on the railroad trestle, over the river. I was minding my own business, taking a leisurely Monday-afternoon stroll.

This was, like, half an hour ago. Maybe forty-five minutes. It's about a twenty-minute walk, but I was waylaid.

Do you doubt me? I understand, but believe me when I tell you: I say it happened.

I was throwing rocks at other rocks in the water below, hoping to hear that magical “clunk” sound that rocks can sometimes make when they smack together. It was a contemplative, and at the same time violent, time waster.