WEEKLY DISPATCH #8
5-7-04:
Hi.
LINK OF THE WEEK. Hello My Future Girlfriend
It's hard for me to know how to react to this, because for all I know it's a crude joke put on by some conniving bored Internet denizen. Whatever the case, the page offers sound evidence that computers have made it possible for the human race to be even scarier and more obnoxious.
The voice loop that loads along with the site reminds me of nothing so much as what HAL must have sounded like before he matured into a full-blown killing machine. "If you are going to be my girlfriend please don't dump me after I like you." "I know that you and Frank were planning to disconnect me, and I'm afraid that is something I cannot allow to happen." The bottom of the page has a link that says "Want to learn more about me?" and no, Michael, I most certainly do not.
VOCABULARY WORD OF THE WEEK
deflate (vb.) - contract from an abnormally high level
I kicked him because I wanted to see if he would deflate.
I FOUND IT ON THE ROAD
One of the mysteries that plagues me in my long days and nights at my job is the story behind this sign, which used to hang on our case to assist the customers when that fateful "How do you want that sliced?" question was asked.
Problem is, the numbers here don't correspond to the numbers on our slicers, so it's a rather futile gesture and my boss ripped it off the glass. It's been sitting behind the counter ever since and something about it still haunts me... that is, why is the text in quotes?
What great philosopher, wordsmith, or great thinker composed the advice starkly imbedded on this clunky plastic? The nominees are:
Abraham Lincoln, who could have been comparing the slicing of meat to the attiude of the Confederate states.
Benjamin Franklin, an enlightened enough man to predict the existence of deli slicers a couple of centuries in advance.
Karl Marx, who felt that it should be the right of the people not to have state-imposed thicknesses.
William Shakespeare, from that one play nobody reads. "Coriolanus," or whatever.
Socrates, contemplating the plight of humanity and free will.
René Descartes, who advocated slicing the animals while they were still alive.
To cast your vote for one of these great men or to submit your own nomination, email me here or here; the winning historical figure's name will be added to the sign with a Sharpie to mystify coworkers and patrons alike.
FROM THE ARCHIVES
Since we're on a roll with this work-related stuff (I'm even writing an essay about my store but it won't be ready until next week), here are some warm and fuzzy shots from my family album. These were taken when the entire case depicted broke, forcing removal of all food within, repair by the maintenance guy, and replacement of all food within. The first and last tasks, of course, fell on me since it happened in the afternoon. These products aren't just strewn about in there, we actually have requirements for where everything's placed. That's what the pixxx, taken with a Polaroid camera my boss retrieved seemingly from thin air, were designed to help me with, but they didn't provide much relief, mainly because the case is just a bitch to put together. Why am I telling you all this? Because I wanted to present something bland to match my personality. Thank you for listening. And I ended up getting the case done with plenty of time to spare. The forces of evil lose again.
ENEMIES LIST. John Grisham
It's useful to read this page... but I'd add, first of all, what a dullard. Most predictable career since Sue Grafton, who got past the naming bug early on and I'm sure is praying she'll die before she gets to X. Grisham's just as bad. His seemingly endless army of legal thrillers have the clever distinction of a "The ___" formula; fill in the blank with a random legal term. Did he ever get around to "The Bench" or "The Gavel"? Or am I stealing that joke from MAD?
Actually, there's no real reason I'd single Grisham out. His books do bore me, but no more than Tom Clancy's or Jeffrey Archer's or Danielle Stelle's, etc., and if anything they're not as contemptible as any given paragraph of Clancy. But he also breaks the cardinal rule: he's an author who is a proponent of censorship. Therefore, he's not an author at all... he's a fucking scumbag.
Read on: Grisham was a pal of this guy Bill Savage, who was killed by a young couple who, in 1995, went on a crime spree after multiple viewings of Oliver Stone's NATURAL BORN KILLERS. They also paralyzed a convenience store clerk. Initially she filed a lawsuit against her shooter's parents... then she added Oliver Stone and Time-Warner, since NATURAL BORN KILLERS was so clearly at fault for her shooting.
And Grisham advocated this. He says Stone and Warners should be held liable since films are product just like seat belts and food. If the product causes death or injury, then the creator of it -- in this case a work of art, so to speak -- is responsible. Did Grisham have any clue what this meant? Judging from the way his books are written, I'm not sure he has a clue about anything.
Censorship is not a civil right. A bestselling author asking that fellow writers and other creators all take full liability for anything that might possibly have resulted from their work is, pure and simple, an idiot. Last year when his face graced a million smug advertisements for his big "change of pace" novel, Skipping Christmas, I wanted to puke on his stupid rich face.
Anyway, I think I'll go watch or read A TIME TO KILL then go drive to the South and rape a black girl. Will Grisham throw himself in jail?
At least then he might not write any books for a while.
Love,
n.