But no. They offer no guidance, no instruction at all. I honestly don’t know what to do. Sometimes I resort to evil thoughts: I wish my seatmates ill fortune in days to come; I fantasize about standing naked in front of the Lincoln Memorial and becoming sexually aroused; I picture thousands of penguins being hacked to death by boatloads of graduate students. More often, though, I wind up bored silly, searching for something to occupy my thoughts.
One time I inventoried the pimples on the neck of the man in front of me, hoping to find one with a hair growing through it, so I could quietly pluck it out during the confusion of halftime. On a happier occasion, I once found myself staring at the huge but perfectly formed breasts of the woman to my left, her fleshy mounds rising and falling softly in the late October sun. And my thoughts turned tenderly romantic:
“Holy shit! Look at the fuckin’ knobs on her! Great fuckin’ knobs! I think I’m gonna go to the refreshment stand, buy myself a weenie and hide it in my pants. Then, during halftime, I’m gonna whip out the weenie and force her to watch while I eat the bun and stuff the weenie up my . . . naaah! She’s probably one of those uptight chicks who’d think I’m weird. She doesn’t know the problem is I’m shy.”
Those are my thoughts, and I can’t help it. During a moment of silence my imagination runs away with me. I don’t know what to do. And why is it silence they’re looking for? What good is silence? The ones being remembered are already dead, they’re not going to wake up now. Why not a moment of screaming? Wouldn’t that be more appropriate for dead people? Wouldn’t you like to hear 60,000 fans screaming, “Aaaaaiiiiiieeeeeaaagghh!!” It sure would put me in the mood for football.
And one more criticism. Why honor only the dead? Why this favoritism? Why not the injured, as well? There are always more injured than there are dead in any decent tragedy. What about them? And what about those who aren’t dead or injured, but are simply “treated and released”? How about, if not silence, at least a moment of muffled conversation for those who were treated and released? It’s an honorable condition. Personally, I’ve always wanted to be treated and released. Usually, I’m treated and detained. Perhaps it’s for the best.
TERRORISM MISNOMERS:
DOMESTIC TERRORISM
When they talk about domestic terrorism, they often cite the Oklahoma City bombing. But that wasn’t terrorism. Terrorism involves a series of acts intended to put a civilian population in a state of panic, fear and uncertainty, in order to achieve some political goal. Oklahoma City wasn’t terrorism, it was payback. Revenge. Timothy McVeigh wanted to punish the federal government for what it did at Waco and Ruby Ridge. Revenge, not terrorism.
TERRORISM EXPERT
Television news channels will often present some guest they identify as a terrorism expert. But you can take one look at him and see that he’s clearly not a terrorism expert. He’s a guy in a suit who obviously works in an office. And I say he’s not a terrorism expert.
You wanna know who’s a terrorism expert? Osama bin Laden. Ayman al-Zawahiri. The people they hang around with. Those are the terrorism experts. Has this guy in the suit ever blown anyone up? No. So why is he a terrorism expert?
I’m sure the TV people would say, “Well, because he’s made a study of terrorism.” Oh, I see. So really, he’s an expert in the study of terrorism, the subject of terrorism. But can he make a suicide vest? Fuck, no. And if he can, he should make one, put it on and press the button. Then he’ll be a real terrorism expert. Like those people he now only reads about.
SUICIDE BOMBER
No. Sorry to disagree; it’s anything but suicide. A person who commits suicide is someone who places no value on his life: “My life is worthless, I’m going to end it.” These so-called suicide bombers don’t feel that way. They feel their lives are worth something, and that by giving them up they make a statement to the world, furthering a cause they believe in deeply. In their eyes, their lives (when sacrificed) have value. And, by the way, the “suicide bombers” themselves don’t call it that. In a stunning example of euphemism, they call it a sacred explosion. Holy smoke!
“HOMICIDE BOMBERS”
And in spite of what Bush has been ordered to say, they’re not homicide bombers, either. All bombings are intended to kill people, to produce homicides. Anyone who packs a bomb with nails and bits of steel, and sets it off in a public place, is hoping to commit homicide. This is true of any bomb, whether you drop it out of an airplane or leave it on a doorstep; you’re hoping to kill people. That’s the purpose. Killing people. In the case of these so-called suicide bombs, what’s different is that the people setting them off are intentionally ending their own lives in the process. That’s why we confuse the act with suicide.
HUMAN SHIELDS
During bombing raids in Iraq, the media liked to say that Saddam Hussein used people as human shields. That’s not accurate. Although it’s true they were used as shields, the fact is they were humans already. So if these humans were used as shields, they were human shields. They weren’t being used as human shields.
Got that?
COWARDS
Bush calls the al Qaeda people cowards, and says, “They like to hide.” Well, isn’t that what the American Continental Army did during the American Revolution? Our beloved patriots? They hid. They hid behind trees. Then they came out, killed some British soldiers, and ran away. Just like al Qaeda. That’s what you do when you’re outnumbered and have less firepower than the enemy. It’s called “trying to win.” It’s not cowardly.
Bill Maher may have stretched the point a bit when he said that air force pilots who release their bombs from hundreds of miles away are cowards; flying combat jets doesn’t attract many cowards. But it’s not nearly as courageous an act as deliberately strapping a bomb to your chest and heading for the disco with no intention of dancing.
I will say this. Getting out of the Vietnam war through Daddy’s connections and then not living up to your end of the bargain is probably a form of cowardice.
“HEROES” WHO “DIED FOR THEIR COUNTRY”
The Port Authority of New York and New Jersey said that changing the name of Newark Airport to Liberty International Airport would be a way of honoring “the more than 3,000 heroes who died for their country in the World Trade Center.” Pardon me for pointing this out, folks, but stock traders, clerks, receptionists, cooks, waiters and building maintenance people in the World Trade Center didn’t die for their country. They died because they went to work. Not one of them would have shown up for work that day if you had told them they would die as a result. Try to get your heroes straight.
Not everyone who died in 9/11 was a hero. Hero is a very special word, that’s why we reserve it for certain special people. Not every fireman and policeman who was on duty that day was a hero. The ones who risked or lost their lives trying to rescue people were heroes. They acted heroically. The others probably did a good job and were very helpful, but heroes?
If everyone’s a hero, then the word doesn’t mean much anymore. And sooner or later we’ll have to give the real heroes (the heroic ones) a new name, to distinguish them from the rest of the pack. Too bad “superheroes” is already taken; it would have been perfect. But relax, folks, if I know us, “megahero” can’t be too far over the horizon. Although to be honest, I kind of like the alliteration in “hyperhero.” Let’s shoot for that.
WAR, GOD, STUFF LIKE THAT
These anti-war demonstrators are really unimpressive people. They’re against war? How groundbreaking; what a courageous stand. Listen, angry asshole, pick something difficult. Like religion. Why don’t you get out on the street and start marching around against religion—something that’s really harmful to mankind. War is simply nature’s way of doing things; of keeping down the count. Religion is the problem. Get rid of religion and you’ve done the planet a favor. So how about getting out there next weekend and marching around with a sign that says HO HO HO! RELIGION MUST GO!? Come on, protesters, show some balls.
; . . . AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON
I can’t understand what it is people like about John Wayne movies; I think they suck. I find him inauthentic. Sometimes, when I’m clicking around the channels, looking for the least objectionable program, I come across a movie scene in progress. It’s in black and white, it’s clearly a Western, and it looks old enough that it could actually be fun to watch. I see guys like John Ireland, Barton MacLane, Ward Bond, Anthony Quinn, Charles Bronson, Dan Duryea, Thomas Mitchell, Lee Van Cleef and Brian Donlevy shooting each other, drinking and playing cards, and I get this great nostalgic feeling. Then John Wayne rides up. And I have to reach for the remote. It’s a fuckin’ shame. He spoils war movies in the same way. By the way, I feel the same about Jimmy Stewart. These people should not have been allowed to spoil so many perfectly good movies.
DON’T ASK THE DOCTOR
ANNOUNCER: Good afternoon, folks. This is Pedro Fleming. Welcome to Don’t Ask the Doctor, America’s only medical advice program based on questions that are not pertinent to the field of medicine. Here is our medical expert, Dr. Ned Gittles. How are you today, Doctor?
DOCTOR: Not bad, Pedro, considering all the sick people I see. How about you?
PEDRO: Well, I have a malignant tumor inside my nose.
DOCTOR: Don’t ignore that. Take some pills. Do you have any pills at home?
PEDRO: Sure, lots of different kinds.
DOCTOR: Good, take some of them. That’s my advice.
PEDRO: And good advice it is. Well, let’s get started. Here’s a question from Elaine Trickler in Frog Balls, Tennessee. She writes, “Doctor, my car seems to hesitate a little when I accelerate from a red light, and I’m afraid it will stall. What should I do?”
DOCTOR: Don’t ask me.
PEDRO: That’s right. Don’t ask the doctor. How would he know? That’s obviously a question for a mechanic.
DOCTOR: Righty-ho!
PEDRO: For having her question used on Don’t Ask the Doctor, Elaine Trickler will receive a free rectal thermometer by Recto-Swell, the last word in rectal thermometers. See the new Recto-Swell line of monogrammed thermometers at leading rectal equipment dealers in your area. Try Orifice Max or Brown’s Personal Items for Inside the Rectum.
DOCTOR: Recto-Swell is a good one, Pedro. Sometimes I use mine when I’m cooking a turkey.
PEDRO: Great idea, Doctor. Well, folks, that’s it for today. Tune in again tomorrow when Dr. Ned Gittles will answer the question, “How can I increase my soybean yield?” on America’s favorite medical advice program, Don’t Ask the Doctor.
Stay tuned for Video Magazine, as beauty expert Mavis Davis shows a young albino girl how to keep her hair from turning prematurely brown. You’re tuned to Elaine and Joe’s Radio Network.
IT’S NO USE
USAGE-USE
I object to the use of usage when it’s used in place of use. There’s nothing wrong with using use; it’s been in use a long time and I’m used to it. It isn’t that usage isn’t useful; I simply have no use for its current usage. The use of usage should be consistent with good usage: I’d prefer to say, “My use of the Internet” rather than “my usage.” If I meant it collectively, I might say, “American usage of the Internet.” But so far I haven’t meant that.
And, as I’m using space on usage, I’ll use some more on utilize. Using utilize instead of utilizing use is one of those attempts to make things sound more important than they really are. Sports announcers do that all the time; they misapply big words: “He’s not utilizing all his skills.” They don’t understand that an athlete doesn’t utilize his skills, he uses them. The coach utilizes his players, but the players use their skills. Don’t use utilize when you should be utilizing use.
MAKING A DIFFERENCE
Another sports-announcer crime is the use of the word differential when they mean difference. “There was a twelve-point differential at halftime.” No. Sorry. There was a twelve-point difference. Differential is a mechanical or mathematical term. And by mathematical I don’t mean Knicks 55, Pacers 43. Difference and differential are different. Go Knicks!
ON THE LINKS
It also annoys me that people sometimes claim to see a linkage when they actually see a link. I think link is fine. Linkage reminds me of my car’s transmission. In fact, I think my car’s linkage is located somewhere near the differential.
STOPPAGE
Stoppage is another ungainly word. The most frequently heard euphemism for a labor strike is work stoppage. Apparently, labor strike sounded too Marxist for loyal Americans. But stoppage sounds like an obstructed bowel. And stoppage is much too close to sewage for my comfort.
OUTAGE
Usage, linkage and stoppage remind me of outage. This is a word I simply dislike. It’s an awkward, ugly word. Outage. It sounds like something that’s done when a gay person’s identity is revealed. But actually its most frequent use is in describing a loss of electricity: power outage. We used to say power failure, but I guess Americans don’t like to admit failure—even when it’s manifest. Regardless, we ought to find a better way to answer the question, “What happened to the lights?”*
*I recently heard the following sentence on CNN: “Because of high winds, about 250,000 people in New England are without power.” I thought, “Gee, when you think about it, about 275 million people in the United States are without power. They just aren’t aware of it.”
UNCALLED-FOR EDITORIAL COMMENTS:
WHO’S RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?
When reporting a bombing by some radical group, the news media will often inform us that “No one has claimed responsibility.” Why is this wording used instead of “No one has taken credit”? To save the feelings of the dead people’s relatives? The people who did the bombing surely see it as credit. Let them have their moment in the sun. Look at all the trouble they went to.
UNFORTUNATELY, THEY ALL GOT OUT ALIVE
Here’s another gratuitous editorial appendage often heard on the TV-news coverage of a fire or an accident: “Luckily, no one was hurt” or “The good news is no one was injured.” I consider those to be editorial comments. After all, I may not think it’s such good news that no one was hurt. I’m entitled to decide for myself whether or not injuries to strangers are good or bad news. I may prefer hearing, “It’s a shame no one was hurt.” It’s entirely possible. Please save the commentary for the editorial page.
PUT ON A HAPPY FACE
And I could also do without these grim, mock-serious facial expressions and sad voices the television-news people affect when reporting these so-called tragedies. Diane Sawyer is one of the worst offenders. She lowers her voice dramatically and puts on this really sad face and tells you all about the baby who died in a washing machine. If you weren’t listening carefully, you’d think the goddamn “tragedy” happened to her. Is that good? I don’t think so. Just let me have the news, please; I’ll get Meryl Streep to handle the sad faces.
THOUGHTS ON “THOUGHTS”
Another empty sentiment concerning the death of people; you hear it on the news, and you hear it in real life: “Our thoughts are with the family.” What exactly does that mean? Sympathies I can understand; prayers, as ineffective as they are, I can understand. But thoughts? Why thoughts? What kind of thoughts? Just thoughts? Like, “Gee, he’s dead”? How does that help?
When first reporting on Michael J. Fox’s Parkinson’s disease, one newslady announced that “Everyone’s thoughts are with Michael.” Well, I’m by no means happy that he’s sick, and he happens to be one of the few celebrities I genuinely like. But to be perfectly honest with you, for most of the day my thoughts were definitely not with Michael. I wish him well, and I admire the way he copes. But at any given moment, my thoughts are probably on pussy.
THE EXPLICIT TV CHANNEL
The satellite service I get has this great channel, Explicit TV. It’s not nearly as limited in content as the standard channels you see. Here are a few excerpts from their program guide:
DAYTIM
E DRAMA
Harper Darrow and Mary Jane Crotchjockey star in the continuing story of hardship, sorrow, fear, pain, disillusionment, guilt and suicide in a blue-collar family living in a run-down neighborhood. Don’t miss the acclaimed daytime drama Fuck This Shit. In tomorrow’s episode, Velma is given a cesarean section by Nick and Artie, two neighbors who are handy with tools, only to discover that she wasn’t really pregnant. (Partial nudity, heavy drinking, spousal abuse, despair, home-improvement tips)
When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops? Page 16
