Thursday, January 1, 2009

Now we know who's been fucking the guru

Send all complaint letters to sexmahoney@gmail.com.



Every once in a while, someone is bound to say to you that you’ve had too much to drink and you’re tempted to say back to them, “Hey, listen, mister kindergarten teacher, I think I know when I’ve hade enough.”

Fuck that guy and his naptime.

It’s like when you’re sitting at an airport bar and a man in an official looking FAA uniform asks you if you’re qualified to land a plane in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport and you say that you are but you’re actually a mentally-handicapped, socially-maladjusted convict who’s just escaped from a nearby institution.

All I’m saying is that there’s no reason to panic on an airplane.

Sure, when the plane shakes, the wings are usually bouncing up and down like a small, inbred, child that flaps its arms in a futile attempt to fly, which is kind of cute to watch, until it blinks a cyclopean eye, and waves a hoof, at you.

Don’t sleep with your close relatives.

Well, I’m not such a hard hearted man to say, “Don’t sleep with your blood-relatives,’ because I’m not the kind of guy who looks down on someone just because they have intimate relations with their brother, sister, mother, or father; that’s family, and you don’t mess with a person’s family. My mother used to collect spoons and that’s not so different that I can’t understand a person who likes to nail Grandma at the family reunion.

That’s not what I’m saying, but it is important to pay attention when your stewardess explains the emergency safety procedures on an airplane, especially if you’re sitting in an exit row. In a situation like that, seconds count.

When it’s not an emergency, then you don’t have to react fast at all; in fact, you could take your time and probably do a few errands on the way. There’s always something more that you could do with your free time, whether it’s picking up the dry cleaning or convincing the nice couple that moved in across the street that it would be really hot if they let you watch them have sex.

That’s not something I want to do, mind you, it’s just on my list and beyond my power to change. I’m not the boss around here; I take orders just like anybody else. I tried explaining that to her husband, but it was hard to hear over all the strangling and punching. I think he got the gist of it though; why else would he have stopped beating me shortly after I lost consciousness?

In an emergency, you have to be on the ball. If you hesitate, and someone dies because of your negligence, then you can really get in a lot of trouble. They might even make you write a letter of apology to the dead person’s family, which is most likely not a problem, unless it was a kid that your inability to act in a crisis ended up killing; that would be, probably, the worst circumstance in which to write a letter.

What could you even start with, in a letter like that?

You can’t start with a joke, I’ll tell you that much.

Well, you probably could… if it was a tasteful joke. If you opened with something like, “Who’s got two thumbs and killed your son?” then flashed them the thumbs up, pointed your thumbs self-ward, and said “This guy” that would probably go down like a lead balloon. You’d have to start off with something that’s funny and touching at the same time, “Why did the chicken cross the road? So it could follow your son to heaven” which is a nice turn, without being too morbid for the average audience.

But they probably wouldn’t make you write a letter; you’d probably just have to pay a fine and go on your way, which is the fair thing to do. In an emergency, not everyone is equipped to be a hero. I certainly don’t carry tights or a cape on me all the time, and it’s damn near impossible to inconspicuously change into said garments if you’re in an airplane disaster.

That’s why, in a disaster situation, I prefer to sit back and let more competent people handle that which I would otherwise turn into potentially lethal situations.

It’s nice to be able to trust in other people’s strength, you don’t have to think about things, or remember what your parent’s paid professional therapists lots of money to forget. Now my memory is no good and I can’t recall if my family harbored an alien fugitive from a planet called Melmac or if that was something I read about in a volume of TV guide.

To be fair, other people can’t do anything worse to you than you already do to you; okay, they could kill or embarrass you, which are both things to avoid, if you can help it.

It’s just that, other people weren’t the one’s who drank too much at your office Christmas party and puked down your boss’s wife’s shirt for the third year in a row. They’re not the ones taking an extra piece of cheesecake, lighting you that last cigarette, or masturbating to cooking shows while your spouse is out holiday shopping.

It would be nice if more people were willing to whack you off, that would pass the time on a long airplane ride. They should offer that service, or, at least be more relaxed about people doing that on the plane. Things that you do in the air don’t count.

My greatest fear is that, someday, I’ll be in an emergency situation and I’ll be the most responsible and qualified person to deal with the tragedy.

So, I’ve done my best to dull my logic and reasoning, with a combination of alcohol, drain cleaner and repeat viewings of the High School Musical trilogy, to make sure that never happens.

Which is why I’ll say when I’ve had enough, by the way, the plane is crashing.

Sex Mahoney for President


Currently listening to:

Way To Normal
by Ben Folds

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