I like to leave messages on the air sickness bags on airplanes.
Messages like PRIZE INSIDE! and CONTENTS SOLD BY WEIGHT, NOT VOLUME!
But my favorite message of all is 100% RECYCLED.
I rarely need the bags myself… because I’ve already thrown up in the bathroom at the airport.
I thought about signing my work, but security is nuts on airplanes these days.
What I do is a harmless and innocent kind of weird, but all too easily misunderstood.
I’d hate to get detained and interrogated.
It makes me sick to my stomach to think about it.
Where’s that bag?
Tag: commentary
Fly? No.
I don’t like to fly.
I used to not mind it at all, but now, I can’t stand it.
I tried hypnotherapy, virtual simulations, and all kinds of drugs and New Age crap.
None of it works. It only seems to make things worse.
So, I stopped flying.
And then I realized that I like where I live. It’s a really nice city, with a seaside resort a short train ride away.
Except that I now don’t like to ride that train.
Or in a bus.
Or car.
I’ll just sit here at home.
It’s quiet. And safe.
(I hope.)
Choices
Myst and Bruwyn got along great.
They slept together.
They groomed each other.
They went outside and hunted together.
Now, it’s Tinny and Myst.
They don’t sleep together.
They don’t groom each other. Their ears are filthy.
And we only let Myst go outside to hunt.
She whines at the back door to be let out. So, we do.
Then she stares through the glass to be let in.
We open the door, but she runs off again.
She keeps doing this over and over.
It’s not right to wish that Bruwyn was alive, and not Myst.
But I do.
Sports
Back in high school, if you weren’t lettering in a sport, you had to take gym. Although, gym classes weren’t called gym.
Instead, it was called Life Sports. Activities you’d likely take up when you got older.
Except that I fucking hate golf. And tennis. And softball. And basketball. And lifting weights. And running.
Pretty much every activity I hate. Except horse riding. But they didn’t have horses. Thank God.
What do I like to do? I like to walk and throw darts in the pub.
That’s it.
Now get your fucking horse out of here. It’s blocking the dartboard.
Kiss Me
Johnny went through the whole bar, kissing everyone who had on a Kiss Me, I’m Irish button.
Some kissed him.
Some pulled away.
And a few screamed and slapped him.
One girl’s boyfriend threatened to punch out Johnny’s lights.
But the boyfriend had on one of those Kiss Me, I’m Irish buttons, so Johnny kissed him, too.
And the boyfriend punched out Johnny’s lights.
The incident got in the paper, then started a debate on dressing provocatively and free speech.
It wasn’t like shouting fire in a movie theater, but they wore those buttons, right.
Promises, promises.
Johnny’s still laughing.
Bow Wood
The best musical instrument bows are made out of the Pernambuco tree. They hold their shape for centuries, and they draw the most beautiful sound out of the instrument they are played with.
Sadly, the Pernambuco, or the Brazilwood, is a rare tree in Brazil that has been exploited to near-extinction.
Thankfully, traditional bow craftsmen are working to conserve the Pernambuco and plant new groves of the tree.
But rival carbon-fiber bow makers, threatened by all that is natural and pure, go around chopping down the Pernambuco and burning them for firewood.
The lesson to be learned?
Play the oboe.
Boston Marathon
The political science professor used to say “one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter.”
Now, he just sits in the special care ward, not saying a thing.
He crossed the finish line at the Boston Marathon when the bombs went off. The concussion and head trauma messed up his brain something fierce.
Still, they give him meals and baths, and physical therapy to keep him from withering away completely.
In case he’ll get better. Which he won’t.
The one bright spot in all of this was: It had been his best time ever.
Too bad he’ll never beat it.
Free Elephant
I don’t want my elephant anymore.
I don’t remember why I wanted an elephant in the first place.
I remember when I got my elephant and how happy I was, but I’m not happy anymore.
Maybe I should have just rented an elephant.
I tried to return my elephant, but the store does not allow returns without the receipt and original packaging.
I thought about recycling my elephant, but he’s not paper, glass, or plastic.
And the zoo has too many elephants already.
“Maybe you need another elephant?” asked the zookeeper.
I bought an ad: Free elephant.
Want an elephant?
The Wobbly Wheel
The old homeless lady who’s always pushing a shopping cart around the neighborhood is stuck.
Her shopping cart has a broken wheel.
She can’t push it to the store it to move to another cart. And she can’t leave her stuff.
So, she’s stuck under the freeway, screaming.
I ponder bringing her a new cart to move her junk to.
But I remember when I helped her get the cart she has now.
She screamed and bit and scratched.
And she rammed the cart into my car a few times.
I won it in our divorce settlement, fair and square.
Name Calling
Oh, the nasty name-calling!
Everybody calls Denzel an Oreo because he’s black, but he acts white.
Sung gets called a Twinkie because he’s Japanese, but he acts white.
Then there’s Morito. She’s gets called a coconut because she’s Samoan, but she acts white.
As long as there’s food that’s white on the inside, there will be racism.
Heck, there’s a food lab in New Jersey that’s working on a green food that is white on the inside so we can insult Martians who act white.
All these food-based insults explain why people are so damn fat these days.
And racists.