by STEVE MARTIN
“There is a natural fear of sledgehammers,” says the National Sledgehammer and Broken Toe Society, which, in response, has been charting the most common accidents and offers tips for the sledgehammer’s safe use. The over-the-head position, for example, often leads to excruciating lower body pain, caused when the sledgehammer wedges itself between the thighs at the end of the backswing. There is also the self-inflicted back-of-the-head knockout on lateral swings, which is very rare, and only afflicts—to use the researcher’s lingo—“really dumb people.” There are also cleaning accidents. A home hobbyist in Valdosta, Georgia, reported that while he was removing paint from his sledgehammer, it suddenly went out of control and destroyed his living room wall, even though he never let go of its handle.
Despite all these drawbacks, the world of the sledgehammer is rife with enthusiasts. “I find the sledgehammer very erotic,” says Jane Parpadello, who is a stockbroker with Smith Barney and wants everyone to know her home phone number is listed. “I think it’s because my father was shaped like a sledgehammer: the long wooden body and big metal head. Today when I see a man with that shape, I want to pick him up and swing him against an apartment wall.”
The sledgehammer king, Marty Delafangio, whose net worth has been estimated at forty-two thousand dollars, was recently summoned before Congress to defend his reasons for attaching a mandatory Web-browser to his market-leading product. “I smelled money to be made,” said Delafangio. “The combination of a Web-browser and a sledgehammer is a natural.” Congress disagreed, and now the Web-browser can be sold only as an option, although, as a compromise, the powder-puff attachment remains.
Roustabouts have also noted a sharp increase in sledgehammer interest. “We used to raise a circus tent pretty much on our own,” says Toby, a twenty-four-year veteran of Barnum and Bailey. “Now I have crazies every morning from the local sledgehammer club, watching me plug a spike; it’s a disgusting, circuslike atmosphere. One of them interviewed me for his newsletter. I let him take a swing too. He looked like Tinker Bell trying to lift a semi by its hood ornament. But it’s not all bad; at least there’s a never-ending supply of chicks. Although once some woman picked me up by the ankles and slammed me against an apartment wall.”
In the last ten years, the sledgehammer has come into its own, finally recognized for what it is: a tool, a thing, and a heavy object. Hundreds of years from now, when technology has altered the sledgehammer’s appearance into a sleek, digital, aerodynamic uber-machine, it will no doubt function as it does today, toppling the mighty and denting the hard.
The Paparazzi of Plato
Tabloidus. Socrates, I wanted to show you
my new Nikon fmbleb with its
six-hundred-millimeter lens. Socrates. Thank you. It looks fine for
taking pictures of ducks flying off in the
distance. Mo-ped. That is a very fine purpose in combination
with a speed bike and infrared night scope. Cloolus. What else do you photograph,
besides nature studies? Tabloidus. I love to photograph children. Socrates. That is a good and noble profession. Tabloidus. There is nothing more beautiful
to photograph than a mother breast-feeding her
baby. Especially if it’s Madonna. Cloolus. You photographed Madonna
breast-feeding her baby? Tabloidus. Oh yes. Socrates. What was she like in person? Tabloidus. Well, I actually didn’t
meet her. Socrates. Was she so full of herself that she
wouldn’t speak to you? Tabloidus. Oh no. Because of the lens,
I had to be three hundred yards away and
shoot through her bedroom window. Cloolus. It seems odd to me that Madonna
would agree to have herself photographed this way. Tabloidus. Her agreement was tacit. Cloolus. But it seems to me you have invaded her
privacy. Socrates. Cloolus, what is privacy? Cloolus. Privacy is the state of being
secluded from the view of others. Socrates. Are you private when you are alone
in a crowded market? Cloolus. Certainly not. Socrates. Are you private when you’re alone
in a car? Cloolus. More so, Socrates. Socrates. Are you private when you’re in a
car with tinted windows? Cloolus. That is starting to be private. Socrates. Are you private when you’re in your
home? Cloolus. Certainly. Socrates. Is it not true that if you tint your
windows or stay home, in some way you are
protecting your privacy? Mo-ped. It cannot be otherwise. Cloolus. But Madonna was in her home. Socrates. Yes, but her windows were not tinted with
UV 40 Reflecto-coat, nor was she
alone. Mo-ped. She was with her baby! Socrates. Therefore, she was not protecting her
privacy, and how can one invade what is not
protected? Cloolus. I am confused. Socrates. Can something be tinted and not tinted at
the same time? Cloolus. It would be impossible. Socrates. Can something be private and public
at the same time? Cloolus. They are mutually exclusive. Socrates. And is it not true that privacy and
UV 40 Reflecto-coat are one and the
same? Mo-ped. He has proved it! Socrates. Tabloidus, where were you when you
took the picture? Tabloidus. I was hiding on a rooftop.
Further, I was wearing black clothing and a
hood. Socrates. So you were merely protecting your
privacy, while Madonna invaded your
camera lens? Tabloidus. I cannot argue otherwise,
Socrates. Cloolus. But is it not wrong to spy on a
woman breast-feeding her baby? Mo-ped. When you become a singing star, it is
wrong to want your breast-feeding to be private. Cloolus. But why? Tabloidus. Because of the public’s right to know. Socrates. Is it not true, Cloolus, when
the public is shopping in a supermarket, very
often at the checkout point, it has an
overwhelming desire to see Alec Baldwin’s
newborn or Frank Gifford having sex? Cloolus. I cannot deny it. Socrates. This desire, known in a
democracy as “the checkout point of
freedom,” is important, because without it,
Frank’s children would never have known about his
transgression. Cloolus. Your argument is flawless. But why was
there never a similar desire to see, say,
Jimmy Stewart having sex? Socrates. Because Jimmy Stewart didn’t have
“that special something.” Tabloidus. Alas, Cloolus, the
public’s taste in those days was not so
sophisticated. Cloolus. So I am living in a wonderful
age. Mo-ped. There could not be one finer! Socrates. Let us now try and get a
snapshot of Plato and Aristotle cavorting
on a nude beach. It might pay for lunch.
Side Effects
Dosage:
Take two tablets every six hours for joint pain.
Side Effects:
This drug may cause joint pain, nausea, headache, or shortness of breath. You may also experience muscle aches, rapid heartbeat, or ringing in the ears. If you feel faint, call your doctor. Do not consume alcohol while taking this pill; likewise, avoid red meat, shellfish, and vegetables. Okay foods: flounder. Under no circumstances eat yak. Men can expect painful urination while sitting, especially if the penis is caught between the toilet seat and the bowl. Projectile vomiting is common in 30 percent of users—sorry: 50 percent. If you undergo disorienting nausea accompanied by migraine with audible raspy breathing, double the dosage. Leg cramps are to be expected; up to one knee-buckler per day is allowable. Bowel movements may become frequent, in fact every ten minutes. If bowel movements become greater than twelve per hour, consult your doctor, or in fact any doctor, or anyone who will speak to you. You may find yourself becoming lost or vague; this would be a good time to write a screenplay. Do not pilot a plane, unless you are in the 10 percent of users who experience “spontan
eous test pilot knowledge.” If your hair begins to smell like burning tires, move away from any buildings or populated areas and apply tincture of iodine to the head until you no longer hear what could be considered a “countdown.” May cause stigmata in Mexicans. Do not sit on pointy conical objects. If a fungus starts to grow between your eyebrows, call the Guinness Book of Records. Do not operate heavy machinery, especially if you feel qualified for a desk job; that’s good advice anytime. May cause famine and pustules. There may be a tendency to compulsively repeat the phrase “no can do.” This drug may cause visions of the Virgin Mary to appear in treetops. If this happens, open a souvenir shop. There may be an overwhelming impulse to shout out during a Catholic mass, “I’m gonna wop you wid da ugly stick!” You may feel a powerful sense of impending doom; this is because you are about to die. Men may experience impotence, but only during intercourse. Otherwise, a powerful erection will accompany your daily “walking around time.” Do not take this product if you are uneasy with lockjaw. Do not be near a ringing telephone that works at 900 MHz, or you will be very dead, very fast. We are assuming you have had chicken pox. You also may experience a growing dissatisfaction with life, along with a deep sense of melancholy-join the club! Do not be concerned if you arouse a few ticks from a Geiger counter. You might want to get a one month trial subscription to Extreme Fidgeting. The hook shape of the pill will often cause it to get caught on the larynx. To remove, jam a finger down your throat, while a friend holds your nose to prevent the pill from lodging in a nasal passage. Then throw yourself stomach-first on the back portion of a chair. The expulsion of air should eject the pill out of the mouth, unless it goes into a sinus cavity or the brain. WARNING: This drug may shorten your intestines by twenty-one feet. Has been known to cause birth defects in the user retroactively. Passing in front of a TV may cause the screen to moire. While taking this drug, you might want to wear something lucky. Women often feel a loss of libido, including a two-octave lowering of the voice, an increase in ankle hair, and perhaps the lowering of a testicle. If this happens, women should write a detailed description of their last three sexual encounters and mail it to me, Bob, trailer 6, Fancyland Trailer Park, Encino, CA. Or e-mail me at “hot-guy.com.” Discontinue use immediately if you feel your teeth are receiving radio broadcasts. You may experience “lumpy back” syndrome, but we are actively seeking a cure. Bloated fingertips on the heart-side hand are common. Be sure to allow plenty of “quiet time” in order to retrain the eye to move off stationary objects. Flotation devices at sea will become pointless, as the user of this drug will develop a stone-like body density; therefore, if thrown overboard, contact your doctor. This product may contain one or more of the following: bungee cord, plankton, rubber, crack cocaine, pork bladders, aromatic oils, gum arabic—pardon me, an Arab’s gums—gunpowder, corn husk, glue, bee pollen, English muffins, poached eggs, ham, hollandaise sauce, and crushed saxophone reeds. Sensations of levitation are illusory, as is the feeling of a “phantom third arm.” User may experience certain inversions of language: Acceptable: “Hi, are how you?” Unacceptable: “The rain in Sprain slays blainly on the phsssst.” Twenty minutes after taking the pills, you will experience an insatiable craving to take another dose. AVOID THIS WITH ALL YOUR POWER. It is advisable to have a friend handcuff you to a large kitchen appliance, ESPECIALLY ONE THAT WILL NOT FIT THROUGH THE DOORWAY TO WHERE THE PILLS ARE. You should also be out of reach of any weaponlike utensil with which you could threaten friends or family, who should also be briefed to not give you the pills, no matter how much you sweet-talk them. Notice: This drug is legal in the United States only when the user is straddling a state line.
Artist Lost to Zoloft
Performance artist Shelf Head 3 has decided to cancel his work “Frog Slave” and instead open a creperie in Brooklyn so he can live closer to his parents.
“This change is not related to my recent prescription for the mood-elevating drug Zoloft,” said Shelf Head 3, who now prefers to be called Jeremy. “I find I can say things with a crepe that I just couldn’t say through urine writing. The first day on the job, I created—and I say created because that’s exactly what I did—a croissant distant, loosely translated as a “faraway pie.” Because that’s what we are, really, aren’t we? At night, after dinner with the folks, I would listen to Yanni, but I stopped because, well, he’s so angry.
“I’m also changing my mural in Bilbao. Murals don’t really have to cover an entire wall. It’s obtrusive to the weekend driver. Why not a picket-fence-high depiction that the eye can choose to see rather than be forced to see? Maybe with tips for the marooned motorist on how to change a tire; perhaps with line three having a satirical swipe at the current administration. I’d like that. Touche! In fact, why not an infomural? A product tie-in would make a point.
“My early works “Parent Kill” and “Why not me, Mom?”’ have been criticized as “juvenile, wasteful, boring, and why leave out disgusting?”’ Which was exactly the point, and subsequently, “juvenile, wasteful, boring, and why leave out disgusting?”’ became the name of our movement. Let me remind you that at one time impressionism and fauve were derogatory terms. However, my new work, which I will do on Sundays, when the creperie is closed, makes the same point in a stronger way: I’m going to darn a hundred pair of socks while watching The Brady Bunch. The point is self-explanatory, which is part of its meaning. Obscurity used to turn me on, but I’m either through with that phase or high. I also won’t be doing my performance piece “Ear Slice” anymore—I’ve done it once, and I would like to retain my remaining lobe, as I’m finding it useful for hearing orders at the creperie.”
A Worrying Effect The use of Zoloft in the artistic community has a worrying effect on art dealers selling to the “anger market.” “I can sell antiparent symbolist stuff all day,” said an unidentified dealer, “but the artists aren’t delivering it anymore. One artist, who used to give me birth canals with fangs, now sends me paintings of dogs playing poker. Who am I going to sell that to? English decorators who need fifty puppy pictures for a theme in the den, and that’s all. The artist says his point is that although dogs playing poker has been painted many times before, it’s usually bulldogs playing draw poker; there’s still much to explore in lowball and stud. He also wonders why there’s never been a wiener dog in these paintings. I just stare at him. I hate to think what would have happened to Jackson Pollock when the Zoloft kicked in. We may have to divide downtown galleries into zones, so that the collectors on Prozac can easily find the galleries on Prozac, and the ones on Zoloft don’t accidentally wander into a Valium gallery. I used to worry about these issues, until I started on Zoloft myself so I could understand just what exactly my artists were painting.
“I have actually resorted to breaking into my artists’ medicine cabinets and substituting their Zoloft with placebos, just enough for a week or two,” continued the dealer. “This sudden withdrawal sends them on a wild emotional ride. Then I call Ernie’s Artistic Supplies and have them deliver canvas, paints, and palette knives while the artists are still bouncing off the walls. Two weeks later, I get half a dozen canvases that are at least salable. Then the artists get back on the real pills, not knowing what hit them, and I start getting the Lassie-at-the-card-club stuff. I ship them off to Asia and tell the artists they were sold, crossing my fingers that they never go shopping at the Thailand airport mall.”
The artist Screaming Mimi, now Kathy, has summed up this problem nicely in her recent work “I Enjoy Being a Girl.” The work consists of a lovely moonscape, with an accompanying explanatory note that hangs beside it. It should be noted that the effect of the Zoloft was wearing off as the painter reached midsentence:
I hope you all enjoy this painting, where the moon symbolizes the light of mystery, the misty damp air recalls the fog of ignorance, and the sea below it represents my desire to put you on a plate and eat you with a power tool.
How I Joined Mensa
I started with the phone book. L
ooking up Mensa was not going to be easy, what with having to follow the strict alphabetizing rules that are so common nowadays. I prefer a softer, more fuzzy alphabetizing scheme, one that allows the mind to float free and “happen” upon the word. There is pride in that. The dictionary is a perfect example of overalphabetization, with its harsh rules and every little word neatly in place. It almost makes me want to go on a diet of grapes and waste away to nothing.
Being a member of Mensa means that you are a genius, with an IQ of at least 132. This enables you to meet other members, who will understand what the hell you are talking about when you say, for example, “That lamppost is tawdry.” That’s the kind of person they’re after. Joining Mensa instills in you a courtly benevolence toward nonmembers who would pretend to know what you know, think what you think, and stultify what you perambulate.
I worried that the 132 cutoff point might be arbitrary until I met someone with an IQ of 131, and honestly, he was a bit slow on the uptake. If you have a dinner party of 132’s and there’s a 131 attending, you can actually feel the 131er hit the wall of stupidity. He acquires that dog look—the one with the wide eyes and the cocked head and the big grin—which tells you he’s just not getting it. But unlike a dog, your guest cannot be put out in the yard to play with a ball, unless it has been agreed on beforehand.
I gave up on the phone book, which led me astray time and again with its complex passages, and then tried blind calling, with no success. Next, 1-800-MENSA, which weirdly brought dead silence on the other end of the phone. A week later, while volksvalking, I realized that MENSA didn’t contain enough numerals to be a phone number and knew it must be some kind of test: any future member should be able to figure out the next two digits in the sequence. I tried dialing MENSANE, MENSAIL, MENSAFE, and MENSAPS, but I got three rebuffs and a fax tone.
