Absofuckinglutely apropos of nothing (except tweaking Greenpeace noses everywhere!)
Yep, just like the proverbial blister – showing up after the work is done. That is in fact JOB staying the hell out of the way of men who actually know what they’re doing as he heads to Twin Cities for something called the Argument of the Month Club as chauffeur for ten good men in Driver 8, including Matt Korger, Wisconsin’s Own Blogging Superstar of the Catholic Blogosphere, who was there to document the crash course with zaniness.
We were done in under 20 minutes with plenty of time for beer and appetizers…
Enough to make even the Old Man proud.
Me, to a kid who just ran a block to catch my bus, “You know, if you pulled up your pants, you might be able to run a little faster.”
Kid, to me after he gets off the bus, “You know, if your mouth was a little bigger, you might be able to suck my dick.”
“English poetry and biology should be taught as usual, but at irregular intervals, poetry students should find dogfishes on their desks and biology students should find Shakespeare sonnets on their dissecting boards. The latter, upon reading upon her dissecting board, ‘That time of year thou mayst in me behold when yellow leaves, or none, or few do hang’ might catch fire at the beauty of it.”
— Walker Percy, “The Loss of the Creature”
Wisconglish for “Mass Transit System Career Opportunities – Now Hiring!”
Jobe?
Webb?
Lucrative Perks…the parking lot in which the vehicle is located belongs to a newly opened microbrewery…Sunshine more than three days a year (even when it’s 40 degrees below zero!)… and, as always, unique camping experiences.
To be sung to the tune of “Driver 8”
With apologies to Berry, Mills, Buck, Stipe.
The van, it speeds up, drifting lane to lane
And the kids assigned seats one by one
And the homeschooling dad says
“Shut up you kids back there! You kids back there shut up!
We’ve been on this trip too long!”
And the homeschooling dad says
“Shut up you kids back there! You kids back there shut up!
You’re driving me to drink again! and AA’s still a ways a way!”
I saw an orphanage on the outskirts of that last town,
I’m thinking of getting my tubes tied so I won’t get snagged
Into buying a Grumman bus next time
The children look up, all they hear is my homeschool-daddy rant.
And the homeschooling dad says
“Shut up you kids back there! You kids back there shut up!
We’ve been on this trip too long!”
Way to feel my middle age
Way to drink myself to sleep
Way to feel my middle age
Way to drink myself, my children to sleep.
I fathered each one in a van like this one
But now she sells cold showers and NFP crusades
Ford Fifteen, Econoline, hear the horns blare again,
Out of whisky, out of gin
And the Homeschooling Dad says
“Shut up you kids back there, you kids back there, shut up!
You’re driving me to drink again! and AA’s still a ways away!
Still a ways a way
Still a ways away
Still a ways a way…”
Driving home from the screening of The Counselor last night (ooofgoseeit), I found myself driving through a trail of pages. Not a cloud as in the clip above – just one, two, maybe five at a time, strung out over the course of a couple of miles of interstate. I thought about pulling onto the shoulder and picking one up, just to see. The thought made my heart break a little, and I kept driving.
Let’s get some good work done for Gerasene ’14.
A follow-up to Cars Kill:
“Psychopaths are abundant on Russian roads.”
Idea for a novel: The Brothers Karamazov re-imagined as a modern Russian road-trip narrative.
Starring Mel Gibson in the film adaptation.
Warning: Do NOT watch this if you’re squeamish about video footage of real people dying in bad ways. Remember to slow down when you’re out on the road this holiday season.
Parked outside the county courthouse in Spokane.
People may be asking (or maybe they aren’t), Why doesn’t that guy put up more posts? Well, what happened is that I started working on another essay and presentation on the way Walker Percy used the work of so called existential philosophers in his novels, this time Kierkegaard. Naturally, I moved to Copenhagen to do research at the Søren Kierkegaard Research Centre Foundation (FSKC).
And naturally, I drive a bus to support my independent scholarly activities. Yes, I grew a mustache.
The shadows
of buildings fill the street
like lovers lying back onto sheets, woes
dashed.
…but Jeb O’Brian, the soon-to-be famous poet/novelist who appears beside a bumper crop of shining lights in the newest installment of Dappled Things. Step right up, step right up….
A nod to Kierkegaard and Walker Percy: existentialist tomfoolery, political satire, literary homage, word mongering, a year-round summer reading club, Dylanesque music bits, apocalyptic marianism, poetry, fiction, meta-porn, a prisoner work-release program.
Søren Kierkegaard
Walker Percy
Bob Dylan
Literature & History
Letters from an American
Beau of the Fifth Column
This American Life
The Writer’s Almanac
San Diego Reader
The Stranger
The Inlander
Adoremus
Charlotte was Both
The Onion
From Empty Hands
Ellen Finnigan
America
Commonweal
First Things
National Review
The New Republic
All Manner of Thing
Gerasene Writers Conference
Scrutinies
DarwinCatholic
Catholic and Enjoying It
Bad Catholic
Universalis
Is My Phylactery Showing?
Quotidian Quintilian
En pocas palabras
William Wilson, Guitarist Extraordinaire
Signposts in a Strange Land
Ben Hatke
Daniel Mitsui
Dappled Things
The Fine Delight
Gene Luen Yang
Wiseblood Books
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Race Relations in Seattle
So I’m waiting for my ride at 5th and Jackson, when my bus driver friend Gary (older black gentleman, very nice, but very formal) drives up in the #14. A lady with tattoos on her face staggers towards the bus as I’m talking to him, so I step back to let her on, rolling my eyes to let Gary know he’s got a real winner coming on board. She’s just trashed, and being Caucasian, I guess that makes her White Trash (in this part of town, it’s probably 50/50 odds the inebriated person is black or white. The Asians are rarely wasted, or they never show it, and I won’t even mention the Native Americans).
Anyway, after the drunk Caucasian lady stumbles past Gary, he looks at me and says, “That’s one of your people, Finnegan.” Then he closes the door and drives on up Jackson.
Maybe you’d need to know Gary, but it was funny as hell.
Now, if our roles were reversed, could I say the same thing, and would it be funny? Obviously no, and I think it could be justifiably considered a racist comment. Doesn’t that mean that Gary’s comment is racist as well? What’s fair (or unfair) for someone on the basis of race must be fair or unfair for someone of a different race, right?
Only if you’re an idiot. The manner in which people of different races, especially blacks and whites, view one another has a long history in this country, and ignoring it, or trying to ignore it, turns us into fools. People are different. We treat different people differently, and that’s just the way it is.
No, it doesn’t mean racism is a laughing matter. Neither, in most or at least many circumstances, are drunkenness and tattooed faces. And I’m not sure how well this story would play in front of a crowd, told by a comedian. In fact, this seems like a pretty good illustration of the difference between what’s funny for professional comedians, and what it means to have a sense of humor in the midst of whatever life happens to throw at you. The former can be enjoyable, but the latter is necessary so that life doesn’t become unbearable.