Monday, April 13, 2009

CM PRESS # 664

(Back by popular demand)

As Joey Bigears and I are walking down the street on the Eastside this fine April day, a small ugly dog starts following us while nipping at my new imported five buck shiny shoes manufactured of all man made materials in China.

Joey Bigears asks why I do not just kick the noisy beast. Joey Bigears is like this. He is a man of the streets who packs a shiv in his belt and who has a tattoo of a green squid on his right arm.

Now, do not ask me why Joey Bigears has such a tattoo of a green squid on his right arm. I do not know the answer to this question and I do not care to ask Joey Bigears about this subject. It is of no moment. I do not care. If Joey Bigears wishes to volunteer this information, I will, of course, perk up and listen attentively, as the most polite and genteel person that I am. But I do not wish to disturb Joey Bigears with small talk questions about the green squid tattoo on his right arm as we walk down the street on this particular fine day.

Joey Bigears, you will understand, is a good fellow. But, he lacks finesse and refinement, as we say in the polite and genteel company to which I am more accustomed at Skosh Monahan's fine establishment for Bog Irish gentlemen.

Joey Bigears does not know that this word Skosh is not Gaelic, but Japanese, and I do not choose to tell him this fact that I know, lest he think the joint may not be an authentic Irish pub.

I do not often bother Joey Bigears with such dissertations of my extensive knowledge, for this would be a digression and I do not wish to be perceived as a know it all. In addition to running this gin joint, the proprietor, one Skosh Monahan by name, also serves on the Costa Mesa Sanitary District where he recently voted to raise our sewer rates. And, he also serves on the Costa Mesa City Council where he regularly votes to spend our money.

I tell this information I posses to Joey Bigears and this does not make him very happy. I sense the loathing coming from Joey Bigears at having his sewer rate raised. Being that Joey Bigears is a man of action, often known for taking matters into his own brawny hands, I quickly tell him that he must not write bad words on Skosh Mohahan's bathroom walls about this troubling turn of events.

"Kick it?" I retort, as I finally deign to answer the most probing question that Joey Bigears asks me about this dog nipping at my shiny new shoes . "I will not kick this creature, my good Joey Bigears. This would be a most ungentlemanly thing to do. I pity this dog that is so ferociously but impotently nipping at my shiny new shoes. It is, I divine, trying to get attention to put some meaning into an otherwise meaningless life.

Says, Joey Bigears: "Boss, with all due respect to your superior and most excellent way of looking at things in the world around us, which comes from your most excellent observations of nature, I do not think that this mutt is doing that which you say that it is doing. I think that this mutt is just intent on masticating your new shiny shoes. I sense in my innermost self that this dog is not very existential. I believe in my being of beings that it may just be as nasty inside as it is outside."

"Joey Bigears," says I, "you must try to understand the finer points of the psychology of those who are born as losers and you must attempt to be compassionate toward them. We must treat this poor creature with all the noblesse oblige feelings that we can call up from our souls. It is indeed sad that nature has not been very kind to this canine that you see right before your squinty blue peepers at this very moment; which is most busy nipping at my shiny new shoes.

"This is obviously a stupid creature. It is most indubitably very ugly. It is clearly weak. It smells bad. It has a foul disposition and it is old. On the plus side of things, well, in truth, Joey Bigears, I cannot, at this moment in time, think of anything on the plus side of the ledger for this nipping dog."

"Now," says I, to Joey Bigears, after a few moments of silence, as we are continuing to walk down the street, "I happen to know the history of this particular dog. You see, in addition to the clearly visible problems of this most unfortunate mutt, it is also sterile."

"Says Joey Bigears to me: "You mean it does not got no germs, Boss?"

"No, my dear Joey Bigears," says I, "and, despite your most unfortunate and uncouth double negative, this is not what I mean at all. I mean that Mother Nature has a way of keeping such problems from being passed on--Mother Nature has let this dog live, Joey Bigears, but has made it so that it can not reproduce to pass on its many afflictions. There are no more little nasty dogs born of its loins in its foul image. When this one is gone, it is gone for all eternity."

I continue: "This poor despicable mutt already has one paw in the grave. It is not, as we say, Joey Bigears, in the best of health. But, the real problem that I discern with this mutt, is that it has wasted its life in being bitter and hateful. Now, Mother Nature is coming around the corner with a handful of Karma to return the favor. Mark my words, Joey Bigears, there is a balancing in the universe that takes strange forms and surprises those who do not understand the unseen and interweaving forces as they work upon each other and flow and swirl eternally.

"The big wheel just keeps turning. What you put on it here, comes back around. Do not try to understand this Joey Bigears, I speak of physics and the subatomic particle world."

"You mean that it is like a Lazy Susan, Boss?" asks Joey Bigears."
"Indeed," says I to Joey Bigears. "It is like a Lazy Susan or like a merry-go-round. Put something bad on it here and it'll come back around. Put something good on it and that will also come back around. You decide what you put on it in life. This most despicable mutt nipping at my shiny new shoes has put bad on the merry-go-round. Stand back, Joey Bigears, lest you receive some of that bad that is coming back around.

"You must remember, Joey Bigears, that I am a respecter of all life. This is why I will not kick this unfortunate dog as you have suggested. Even though it is not my fault that this mutt has so many things wrong with it; out of my most wonderful kindness, I will let it nip at the heels of my shiny new shoes and I will let it think in its tiny brain that it is important. But, just as I will not kick it, I will also not acknowledge it. I shall walk on and I shall do nothing to it.

"Mother Nature has a higher purpose for this mutt. The higher purpose is that it is a walking bag of fertilizer. That is its purpose and that is its only purpose. You do not think it would be fitting for Mother Nature to simply hike up her skirt and carry bags of fertilizer from one place to another so the earth would be fertile, do you Joey Bigears? That would be most unladylike. That is why she has designed mangy mutts like this. The mutts do the job for her and in return, she allows them to live out their lives, miserable though they may be. So, you see, Mr. Bigears, Mother Nature is the big Sanitary District in the sky, and she flushes all according to her own schedule and never raises the rates."

"You do wax very philosophical, and maybe metaphorical with a touch of allegory added in, Boss," says Joey Bigears.

"That, Joey Bigears, is why I am the Boss," says I.

"But Boss," says Joey Bigears, "what do you say to those who say this has no point?

"Says I: "That is the point, Joey Bigears, that is the point. Any purpose beyond the basic purpose of making more like ourselves, is a purpose that we must invent. And, if we haven't fulfilled the basic purpose, all is for naught. Nothing else matters and is dust. We are the vehicles of the code, Mr. Bigears, and it speaks to us if we have ears to hear; no affront intended, Mr. Bigears."
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