Tag: society

The Voter

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The moron holds a ballot in his hand, looking down the list of names.
It doesn’t make a lick of difference. The moron does not know how to read.
He refuses to admit it, though. He’s too proud to admit it.
He also doesn’t watch the news on television. He likes to watch sports and movies.
As long as they don’t require much thinking, he’s fine. Never did like thinking much.
He steps into an open booth next to yours and begins to punch out his choices.
And in the end, his vote counts as much as yours.
Tragic, no?

Despise

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I despise you now, but one day, I will stop despising you.
You see, I plan on living forever, and once you meet your doom, there’s not much point in despising you, is there?
There will be so many new people, young and fresh, that will need despising and there’s no sense in wasting despise on the dead.
They’re, like, dead, you know? What’s the point in despising a dead person? It’s not like they can feel your despise.
I just wanted you to know.
Here’s your cheeseburger and fries.
Would you like some ketchup and salt for the fries?

The Bag

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I am sitting on a park bench, and a really nasty, grizzled bum sits down on the park bench next to me.
He raises a paper bag to his face every few seconds.
I try to ignore him, but I just want to yell at the guy to go away… leave… go drink in some alley.
Before I can say anything, he takes the bottle out of the bag and offers me the bag.
“You look like you’re about to hyperventilate,” he says. “Breathe into this a few times and you’ll feel better.”
Then he gets up and walks away.

The Milk of The Storm

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Why do people rush to buy milk before a snowstorm?
This, we do not know. The invaders stole and destroyed many historical tapestries, and the oral tradition is lost.
Still, when the weather gets cold and the radio says it will blizzard, we rush to buy milk.
Even the lactose intolerant. The urge is deep in our blood. It is second-nature, like sneezing or smiling at babies.
When the snowdrifts rise against windows, we sit in the dark, starting at the milk.
It just sits there… until we pour in cereal…
Like firecrackers! Gunshots!
FIESTA TIME!
Viva la breakfast resolution!

Nose hairs

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The chief of the Yil-Doi tribe lays on his buckskin stretcher, facing the stars with lifeless eyes.
His son takes his badge of office, a bag made of woven strings of brightly-colored beads, and places it on his belt.
“I am the new chief now,” he says. “You warned me that I would cry at your passing into the darkness, father, but I have not.”
He is immediately grabbed by two braves.
They place tweezers of antler bone into his nose, pluck out three hairs, and place them in the holy bag.
Tears and snot ran down his aching face.

What wine goes with pterodactyl?

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I look up at the display on the wall to see that the time machine is back from the ancient past.
Just a few minutes to match atmospheres, and they’ll unload the goods.
The last time, they brought back statues from Atlantis, but this run was for me.
It’s a part of the contract. I fund the research and pay the electric bills, and they keep the kitchen stocked.
Tonight, we dine on roasted pterodactyl.
Not quite like snake, maybe a bit like alligator.
Perhaps we should fry it?
I select a deep red wine from the cellar and grin.

The Tribe

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For thirty-two years, in this lush and beautiful valley, members of the Tse-E Tribe have been singing “Row Row Row Your Boat” continuously.
When one tribesman in the group tires or needs to eat or sleep, he leaves and another takes his place.
Not that anyone gets much sleep. These guys sing pretty loud, no matter how much wool you stick in your ears.
This will probably continue for a few more years. The younger generation tends not to stick around, and the remaining singers are old and frail.
No respect for tradition, these kids. Even if it’s really stupid.

Piano on the bus

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When I was little, I played the cello.
It was too big for me to carry, so I switched to the violin.
When I got older, I tried to play the piano.
The piano is not very easy to carry, but that was not one of my selection criteria.
Besides, the piano has wheels. You can roll it places.
Just don’t try to take it on a city bus.
Sure, an upright piano can fit in the doors, but they won’t let you roll it on.
Even with the wheelchair ramp.
So that’s why I have this iPod.
Wanna listen?

The Elders

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The tribal elders are angry.
Schools, telephones, roads, Internet.
All are broken, slow, outdated.
The Bureau ignores them. The utility representatives ignore them.
“No budget. Go away.”
So, they come up with a plan.
They follow bureau chiefs and utility executives on their vacations.
They perform rain dances and ruin the vacations.
No helicopter tours. No skiing. No scuba diving. No sight-seeing.
Just restaurants, museums, and the hotels.
They are still ignored.
So, they dance harder. Angrier.
Lightning storms and a hurricane come.
The surviving chiefs and executives yield.
Schools, cell towers, roads are all built.
The elders smile.

Utah

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Wyoming is a rectangle. So is Colorado.
Nobody knows what the hell Oklahoma is shaped like. Rivers and valleys will make that kind of contoured mess on a map.
But Utah… it’s not quite a rectangle, but not quite a squiggle, either.
It’s a regular hexagram, all ninety degree angles, but uneven sides.
It’s got to have a name. Besides Utah-shaped. Or “Big Thick L.”
I ask the local math professor what that’s called.
He takes one look at the map.
“A polygamygon,” he says.
I thank him, and write this down for my report.
Yeah, I got an F.