June 30, 2005
Mr. Taxi Driver, You Don't Happen to Know Where I Can Get Some Vodka, Do You?
On Tuesday, while riding in the back of a taxi, the driver pulled out what appeared to be an old water bottle and started drinking from it. He informed me that he was drinking green tea. He then told me that he freezes the tea every night and grabs the bottle in the morning, which allows him to enjoy ice cold green tea throughout the entire day. I made some comment about that being a pretty smart idea, especially when the weather is horridly hot and humid (guess what the weather was like on that day!). The driver responded by saying, “Well, I used to put a bottle of vodka in the freezer and drink that all day while driving, but that’s not encouraged anymore.”
Not encouraged anymore???
Ummmmmmmmmmmmmm...
I know times have changed, but was drinking vodka while driving a taxi EVER encouraged? I guess I forget sometimes that I live in a city that used to be run by Marion Barry.
Posted by fool at 01:25 AMJune 29, 2005
Random Childhood Story #1: It Seemed Like a Good Thing to Say at the Time!
One time I was at a birthday party for an elementary school classmate. This particular classmate’s family had a pool and just about everyone was swimming - everyone but me! The classmate’s dad, Mr. W, tried to get me to go into the pool, but for whatever reason, I didn’t want to swim at the time. Mr. W kept pressuring me until I finally said, “Look, it’s embarrassing, but I don’t know how to swim.” It was obvious that Mr. W felt bad for pressuring me, and needless to say, he stopped pressuring me immediately and left me alone. About thirty minutes later, Mr. W returned to the backyard and saw me swimming in the pool. He looked at me with a tinge of anger in his eyes and said, “I thought you couldn’t swim?” I replied, “Oh, well, I kind of made that up.” I’m sure Mr. W thinks I’m a nice person to this day.
Posted by fool at 12:00 AM | Comments (3)June 28, 2005
I Really Wanted to Love Batman Begins (Sigh)
Over the last month, Bar/Bri has tried to convince all California bar-takers that our futures will be much brighter if we behave like sheep on the exam. For example, on one exam, applicants were required to write a closing argument. A professor told us that a former test-taker who failed the exam said she dropped literary references into her closing argument. “Good ideeeeeea? Good idea to drop in Shakespearean quotes on the bar exam? NO! Never! You NEVER want to draw attention to yourself!” We’re to behave like sheep because apparently the exam graders are half-comatose when they read our essays and give higher grades to applicants' answers when they don't actually read the answers carefully. (That's a hell of a system, huh?)
Speaking of blockbuster movies, I went to see Batman Begins on Saturday. Recent superhero movies have not really been my thing (Superman and Superman II were awesome, yet not recent!), but as mentioned in a previous post, I will generally see just about anything that finds its way into theaters. Sometimes this results in unexpected joy (e.g. I loved Elizabeth, Collateral, Love Actually, and The Notebook (feel free to start making fun of me now for loving The Notebook). Sometimes it results in unbelievable boredom (e.g. The Aviator, Spider-Man 2 (I liked the first one, but thought the sequel sucked more than a hooker in Vegas), Godsend (note to Robert DeNiro, I assume you need money for some strange reason, which would explain why you’re choosing some of the films that you’re choosing. If this is in fact the case, you should fire your money-manager, pick any company that advertises on CNBC, and have it handle your finances. Am I the only one who thinks DeNiro has no discretion when it comes to choosing films anymore?) and The Forgotten (this was one of the absolute worst films ever made. I understand that all people see things differently and that movies are highly subjective to interpretation. Nevertheless, even the family members of the people involved in the making of this film have to admit that it was absolutely atrocious. Wouldn’t it be great to host a television show and have an actor on to promote a bad film? Hosts always say, “Oh, I saw it and loved it; it’s fabulous; you’re fabulous!” If I were a host, I think I’d say something like, “Look, Julianne Moore, you’re a fantastic actress; we all know that. However, I went to see The Forgotten the other day, and I have just one question for you. "Did you lose a bet or something? How could you make a movie this bad?" (Naturally, the television hosting stint would be short-lived!)).
Batman Begins has received so much praise from critics, friends, and family members (i.e. a wide cross-section of society) that I entered the theater on Saturday truly expecting to love the film. Unfortunately, I did not. The movie was just marginal in my opinion. I enjoyed the first thirty minutes of the film because it told the story of how Bruce Wayne became Batman, but once the Bat was born, I started losing interest. I realize that I’m in the strong minority in not leaving the theater feeling completely orgasmic about this movie, and I’m fine with that (even if I’m supposed to be thinking like a sheep these days).
Katie Holmes (way too young for the role) played a District Attorney.
She was horrible.
Some clown named Cillian Murphy played an expert psychiatrist in the film. He did a nice job with his role, but Mr. Murphy is twenty-nine years old in real life and looks like he is about nineteen on screen. His youthful appearance served as a complete distraction to his role. (I realize it’s a superhero movie and that you have to suspend belief, but why not cast an actor who actually looks like he is old enough to legally purchase alcohol? I’m supposed to believe this joker attended college AND medical school AND is now some hotshot psychiatrist? To quote Eric (track 19), the piano tuner from the first Jerky Boys cd, “I don’t think so!”)
Morgan Freeman and Michael Caine were awesome, but they're always awesome.
To summarize, if you like the adventure that superhero movies take you on, you’ll love Batman Begins. If you get bored with action/adventure films and can only handle so many death-defying movies and fight scenes, this might not be your cup of tea. Either way, to the best of my knowledge, no one has EVER seen or refrained from seeing a movie based on my advice, so my opinion doesn't really matter. In any event, the Thinking Fool’s Final Grade for Batman Begins: C.
Posted by fool at 04:08 AM | Comments (4)June 26, 2005
If I had this Man by my Side, I wouldn't be afraid to Mouth off to ANYBODY!
If you were forced to walk through the roughest neighborhood of a major city at night, but were given the opportunity to have one person walk by your side (for protection purposes), whom would you choose? If the person could be fictional, I think you'd have to go with Batman (more on him and his latest film soon) or Charles Bronson’s character from the Death Wish films (must-sees!), or maybe even Michael Myers of Halloween fame (of course with Myers, you’d bear a very high risk of having him kill you). If we’re talking about real people, then I think you’d have to consider going with Shaquille O’Neal (it’s hard for me to imagine that many people are going to mess with you when you’ve got a 7’1” 325-pound man strolling by your side) or maybe some badass U.S. Special Forces Soldier. Obviously, there are a ton of possibilities. However, if I'm the one doing the picking, I'm not going with Shaq. I'm not going with Batman. I'm not even going with O.J. Simpson. (With him, at least you're guaranteed to get someone who knows how to use a knife! I can't believe that bastard is still alive. Seriously, aren't you surprised that Fred Goldman hasn't had O.J. murdered?)
I'm going with Kenya's Daniel M’Mburugu!
Daniel who?
Daniel M’Mburugu is not a famous Kenyan marathon runner, nor a brutal warlord overseeing a civil war, nor some famous war hero. Nope, he’s just a 73-year-old grandfather who happens to earn his living by farming. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “Fool, you’ve got to be dyslexic. You meant Thirty-Seven, right? You can’t possibly want a SEVENTY-THREE-year-old serving as your protection on the streets of Harlem or South Central Los Angeles.”
Let me explain. Last week, M’Mburugu was tending to his farm in Kenya when a sneaky leopard suddenly attacked him. When the leopard sank its teeth into M’Mburugu’s wrist and started mauling M’Mburugu with its claws, M’Mburugu did NOT take the machete that was in one of his hands and start striking the animal with it. (If it had been me, I would have gone with the "Let me hit this thing with my machete" course of action instead of pursuing the following.) Instead, M’Mburugu decided to take care of business by reaching his hand into the leopard’s mouth and pulling the animal’s tongue out. Think about that. He pulled the leopard's tongue out.
(If you're a leopard and you lose a fight to a human because that human pulls your tongue out, don't you just have to die at that point? Even if the wound isn't fatal, you can't possibly show yourself to the other leopards can you?
Leopard without Tongue: "Guys, I'd meow (or whatever the hell noise leopards make), but I really can't make a lot of sounds because I don't have a tongue anymore."
Other Leopard #1: "Oh really, what happened, did you get in a fight with a lion again?"
Leopard without Tongue: "Ummmmm, actually a human beat me up."
Other Leopard #2: "Those dirty bastards. He used a knife on you, didn't he?"
Leopard without Tongue: "Ummmmm, actually, no, he kind of, well, he kind of dropped his knife."
Other Leopard #3: (Very confused) "He dropped his knife?"
Leopard without Tongue: "Yeah."
Other Leopard #3: "Well, son. What in the hell did he use to cut off your tongue then?"
Leopard without Tongue: "Well, he didn't exactly cut it off."
Other Leopard #2: "He didn't?" (Said with a skeptical tone very similar to the one used by the main partners in The Firm when Mitch (Tom Cruise) had a meeting with them alerting them to the fact that the FBI had contacted him)
Leopard Without Tongue: "No, he, ummm. Well, he sort of just ripped it out of my mouth with his hands."
Other Leopard #1: "My dear boy, why didn't you attack him?"
Leopard Without Tongue: "This was all sort of going on when I was attacking him."
I'm pretty sure if that sort of conversation ever took place among a group of leopards that the tongue-less leopard would get excommunicated from the community immediately. In other words, he'd be eaten pretty quickly.)
I don't know much about how Kenya handles its finances, but if I'm the President or Prime Minister or whatever they've got over there, I'm immediately setting aside about ten million dollars to erect a fifteen story monument in tribute to M’Mburugu's courage and bravery. In other words, I'm erecting a monument that is a replica of M’Mburugu's testicles. You just don't get tougher than this guy. If the people at Successories (that company that makes those cool pictures about "courage," "teamwork," and a bunch of other goofy things) aren't comatose, they'll contact M’Mburugu immediately and ask if they can use a photo of his testicles in a new poster revolving around courage. Envision it. You've got a poster-sized picture of a leaping leopard on the left side, M’Mburugu's testicles in the center, and a dead leopard on the right. Think up a witty caption and I'm telling you, Successories could make a fortune off this concept.
Needless to say, as long as M'Mburugu is alive, I don't care how old the man is. If I ever need someone to back me up, I want him by my side.
Posted by fool at 01:38 AM | Comments (1)June 23, 2005
How to Raise Children: Ten Necessary and Practical Rules
Raising children is a difficult job. Last time I checked (which in the interest of full disclosure was never) hospitals didn’t give parents instruction manuals on how they should raise their kids. (From a utilitarian perspective, it would be very helpful if certain people just refrained from having kids in the first place. Yes, I have a couple people in mind. For starters, if you have ever flown on a commercial airplane (especially if you flew from Louisville to Baltimore-Washington International Airport on Fathers Day 2005) and voluntarily chose to wear a shirt with the phrase “I LIKE TO SWING” plastered across the front, you should NOT procreate. (I was quite tempted to ask this particular woman if her shirt referred to the type of swinging that we all enjoyed when we were children or if "swing" had some other meaning in this context. Because I didn’t want to get punched by the woman, nor her traveling companion, I refrained from asking the question, which is really a shame because I imagine the answer would have been quite colorful.) If you have ever attended a Major League Baseball game with your son and run onto the field and attacked one of the umpires, you should not procreate. (Unfortunately, the guy who did this already has a son. I’d personally donate money to help fund a study dedicated to tracking that man’s kid(s) over the next several years. I have a feeling the son will turn out to be one of the community’s finer upstanding citizens.)
There can’t be a universal How-to-Raise-a-Child manual because children are unique human beings who respond differently to different situations. Whereas one kid might respond extremely well to being beaten with a belt and a mace (think medieval torture weapon, not stuff you spray to temporarily blind someone) as punishment for staying up one minute past his bedtime, his younger brother might react in a less positive way, perhaps crying, perhaps calling Child Protective Services, or perhaps even blowing his parents’ brains out with a shotgun. Nevertheless, even though no two children are the same, I firmly believe there are some universal truths that should be taught to all children. By teaching children the following basic ideas, I think parents would ensure that their youngsters would grow up to be better citizens of the world.
I'm not saying these should be posted on the wall next to the Ten Commandments, but you might want to post them on the fridge!
Rule #1: Never talk to a stranger, especially if the stranger is a man who is driving a windowless van in close proximity to your school. Windowless vans are evil and should be banned by Congress in accordance with its power to regulate interstate commerce. If you don’t understand what “interstate commerce” covers, you should go to law school. Law school won't teach you what "interstate commerce" means even after studying the concept for a full semester, but don't fret. You will learn and understand the concept in about one day when you take a bar review course.
Rule #2: Never take candy from a stranger under any circumstances.
Rule #3: Rule number two doesn’t apply on Halloween. This should help teach you that there is almost always an exception to every rule.
Rule #4: If you plan to toilet paper the neighbor’s house and/or yard, please ask your mother and/or father to point out what property belongs to the neighbor and what property belongs to your family. Accidentally toilet papering your own property does not make for a fun morning the next day. (Hey, I was young and an idiot and it would confuse you too if you were in the single digit years, so lay off or I'll be forced to invoke the advice in rule number nine.)
Rule #5: If a stranger ever approaches you and asks if you’ll help him find his lost dog, you are to respond by saying, “I’d love to help you search for your dog, but after spending several years in Korea, I’ve grown accustomed to eating dogs.” At that point you are to pause and flip off the stranger while saying, “Best of luck with your search, you pervert.” Yes, you may say this even if you've never been to Korea. Lying is appropriate in limited circumstances. This is one of those circumstances.
Rule #6: Never put pieces of human crap (as in poop) on a pizza. If you must put pieces of human feces on a pizza, never proceed to take that pizza to school administrators and blame a rival cheerleading group for placing the crap on the pizza. If you can’t refrain from placing the crap on the pizza AND taking the pizza to an administrator AND blaming a rival cheerleading squad for placing the crap on the pizza, please tell your mom and/or father about what you’ve done immediately. At that point, we will enter ourselves in the “Biggest Failures as Parents” competition.
Rule #7: Do not ever date Tom Cruise. Yes, I know he’s engaged. Don’t worry. He’ll be divorced soon. Son, pay attention. This rule applies to you too. (Riddle me this. How do you think Chris Klein is feeling these days?)
Rule #8: If you ever get separated from your Boy Scouts Troop and find yourself stranded in the middle of the woods in Utah for more than three days, disregard the rule about not talking to strangers. Yes, I know you’ll be worried that you might get kidnapped. And unfortunately, I’m not telling you that you won’t be kidnapped. However, at that point in time, there will be thousands of people looking for you, and if you just happen to be found by a pedophile, well, I don’t know how to break this to you, but let’s just say that God's ready for you.
Rule #9: At least one time in your life, when you’re having a heated confrontation with a classmate, coworker, or colleague, follow the lead set forth last summer by Dick Cheney, the Vice President of the United States, when he told Senator Patrick Leahy, “Go fuck yourself.” Note, this rule does not apply to conversations that you have with your boss, nor does it apply to conversations you have with your parents.
Rule #10: If you ever find yourself needing to negotiate a new lease with your landlord, feel free to use pornography as a bargaining chip. (Yes, I'm serious.) If in the process of negotiating the new lease, you happen to run across a Chinese Diplomat in the building, NEVER tell that diplomat that someone else lived in his apartment before he did.
Posted by fool at 05:49 AM | Comments (5)June 21, 2005
What to Look for in a Woman...According to Saddam
According to Saddam Hussein, the former President of Iraq and previous occupant of a spider hole, there are some certain qualities that a man should look for in a wife. A U.S. Soldier, who served as one of Saddam's prison guards, is quoted as saying that Saddam told him, "You gotta find a good woman. Not too smart, not too dumb. Not too old, not too young. In the middle. One that can cook and clean." Saddam proceeded to tell the soldier that you also need to spank a woman from time to time just to keep her in line. If you missed the story, you've got to read it. It's absolutely fantastic and contains a wealth of interesting information! I definitely hope Saddam takes a page out of Colin Ferguson and Slobodan Milosevic's books and represents himself at his upcoming trial. (For those of you who don't know, Colin Ferguson is the guy who shot up a Long Island commuter train one evening, killing six, and injuring nineteen. He ended up representing himself at trial, which resulted in some of the greatest unintentional comedy moments in the history of the world. (Unfortunately, New York didn't have the death penalty at the time, so the bastard will get to live out his natural life in prison.)) A televised Saddam trial would be absolutely priceless. The guy is so delusional that he's inviting the U.S. Soldiers who serve as his prison guards to visit him at his palaces once he regains power. I'd like to know what he's drinking!
Posted by fool at 01:34 AM | Comments (2)June 20, 2005
Happy Father's Day to a Little Old Man in Kentucky
I headed to Louisville over the weekend to visit some friends and flew back to the District of Columbia on Sunday morning, which (for those of you who are idiots) happened to be Father's Day! As I was approaching a security checkpoint at the Louisville airport, I noticed that the initial line of defense between Al-Qaeda and the United States (i.e. the first person who checks your boarding pass and identification) was a little old man who looked like he was about 125 years old. (Over the weekend, I learned that about 98% of the population of Kentucky smokes. Given that information, the guy was probably only 70 or 75 because smoking, after all, makes one age more rapidly. (Last week, there was actually a news story about how smoking makes people age faster. Is there any adult with an IQ above 7 who didn't know that already? If so, how can we prevent these people from breeding?)) Anyway, like most people in Kentucky, the man was very friendly. Given his age and the whole Father's Day thing, I decided to ask if he was a dad.
Thinking Fool: Are you a father?
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: Yes, I am.
Thinking Fool: Well, then Happy Father's Day!
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: Thank you. Thank you very much.
Thinking Fool: My pleasure.
At this point, I thought our conversation had concluded. Why? Well, two reasons. First, a few seconds of silence had elapsed. Second, I had turned my body away from the security guard and faced forward. In other words, I didn't know if the guy was still looking at me, but if his eyes were fixated on my body, they were looking at the back of my head, the back of my neck, my back, my buttocks (he didn't seem like the type), etc. I've had enough random conversations with complete strangers to know when a conversation is usually over. Since we did not have to occupy a space in close proximity to each other (think the inside of a subway car or the inside of an airplane), nor did we have to continue to interact (think awkward silence on a first date), there just didn't seem to be more conversation on tap for this man and me. I was wrong.
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: I actually have got about five children!
Thinking Fool: (Turning around and thinking, "How can someone have 'about' five children? Either you do have five children or you don't have five children." Thinking a little more, "Well, I guess if you're a professional athlete or a rock star or a sperm donor, then you might have 'about' five or 'about' ten or 'about' some number of children because I guess you just wouldn't know. Wow, was this little old man with no teeth a total player in his day? He might have spread more seed in Kentucky than all the farmers combined. I wonder if I should explore this with him?" Deciding against it...) About five! Wow, that's quite a few.
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: You betcha!
Thinking Fool: (I think he expects me to say something back because he's looking at me like a coyote looks at a rabbit. Hmm...) Well, I sure do hope all of them call you today to wish you Happy Father's Day. (Okay. That should end the conversation.)
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: Oh no, sir. I haven't talked to any of them in about ten years. They won't talk to me no more.
Thinking Fool: (Ten years??? Well doesn't this guy sound like a hell of a dad! After all, it's one thing to fall out of touch with one child. It's another thing to fall out of touch with two children. It's quite another to fall out of touch with three children! But to fall out of touch with "about" five kids??? What the hell did you do to them? Beat them? Touch them? Verbally abuse them? Not share your cigarettes with them? (When I got off the plane on my trip TO Kentucky, I immediately thought, "I didn't realize there were still airports that allowed people to smoke anywhere they wanted to within the terminals." It turns out that the stench that I smelled was not of people currently smoking, but was just the leftover odor from people who must have smoked fifteen cigarettes each immediately before entering the terminal. It was insanely horrible smelling.) What am I supposed to say to this guy at this point?) Wow, you have about five children and aren't going to get to talk to any of them today?
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: No, sir. They won't talk to me, not for ten years.
Thinking Fool: (Well, he's said it twice now, so I guess he's not kidding around. WWTDD? What Would The Donald Do in this situation? I know! I could try to get him to write a book and use me as an agent. Hell, I could even ghostwrite the title for him. My Kids All Hate Me or No One Ever Told Me that Touching Horses is Okay, but Touching Kids is Not, Now Where are My Cigarettes? I really need to get the hell out of here.) Well, that's really too bad. Tell you what. I'll wish you Happy Father's Day on behalf of all of them. (Please don't think you can touch me now.)
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: Thank you. Thank you very much. I appreciate that very much.
Thinking Fool: My pleasure.
You really have to wonder how parents can lose touch with their children. I can't even fathom that possibility. I'm incredibly close with both of my parents and talk to each several times throughout the week. For example, yesterday, my dad called and left the following message: "Thank you very much for your really sweet Father's Day card. It was very special." Turns out I haven't sent my dad a Father's Day Card yet, so he was just trying to be an asshole! (We have a great relationship like that, however, where we can go back and forth and kind of roast each other. So when we're assholes to each other, it's in a kind, fun way, not a vindictive one.) And my mom, we're totally tight too. I guess if you're a real douche bag as a parent, your kids will end up hating you. As a society, we really need to figure out how to keep certain people from procreating. More importantly, I need to go to bed.
Posted by fool at 04:15 AMJune 17, 2005
Friendly Advice for Tourists
Here's a friendly piece of advice for people who push their children around in strollers. When navigating the D.C. Metro system with your child, if the stroller's width happens to exceed the size of the space between fare gates, the proper course of action is to venture about ten feet to the "special" fare gate. The special fare gate is much wider than the standard ones because it was designed for disabled people as well as those who need extra space (e.g. those pushing wide strollers). The IMPROPER course of action is to just keep ramming the stroller into the fare gate, hoping that somehow the stroller will eventually fit through the narrow space. I witnessed this firsthand moments ago as I exited the Metro at Woodley Park (doors opening on the left). Some brilliant mom who was pushing a stroller that was designed for two just kept ramming the stroller into the fare gate, seemingly assuming that she'd eventually make it. The result? Well, obviously the stroller didn't get through (it's called physics) and her son who was sitting shotgun ended up crying profusely, undoubtedly wondering why his caretaker kept ramming him into some unmoveable object. This is the type of parent who probably would send her children to Michael Jackson's pad for the weekend and be surprised if anything unsavory took place. Naturally, I wanted to turn to the woman and say, "Excuse me, you apparently are a complete idiot and need some assistance. May I help you?" However, I decided that I wasn't in the mood to interact with strangers today.
Posted by fool at 03:29 PM | Comments (4)June 16, 2005
Two Must-Reads from the Sports World and an Excellent Chicken Recipe!
My interest in sports has diminished over the years. Nevertheless, I still try to keep up here and there, and I definitely know a good story/article when I see one (e.g. any instance in which Shaq speaks about that thug Kobe Bryant usually makes for an interesting story. In addition, any coverage of tennis star Maria Sharapova, especially if pictures are involved, also is quite captivating.). Over the last couple weeks, I ran across the following two must-reads (even if you aren't a sports fan!). The first piece is about NFL superagent Drew Rosenhaus, who is despised by his fellow agents! When I was reading it, I almost felt as if I had been transplanted back to junior high and was watching the girls turn on one another like rabid beasts in the wild. (No one disputes that girls do this, correct? There really ought to be a reality show in which young teenage girls and their mortal enemies are taken to the Colosseum and thrown into an auditorium with tigers. I honestly think the tigers would just sit and watch the girls fight each other. They can be THAT nasty!) The second story is an opinion piece about Mike Tyson in which the author details why Tyson was NEVER a great boxing champion. Needless to say, if Tyson ever sees the writer in person, Tyson is liable to kick the crap out of the guy! Because the boxing columnist basically dubbed Tyson a chicken, I thought I'd share a tasty and fairly easy chicken recipe that I made for dinner tonight (courtesy of recipezaar.com). (Yes, that's a horrible transition, but how else could I make a chicken recipe relevant to this post?)
Without further ado...
Bourbon Chicken
4 servings
35 minutes with 15 mins of prep (I don't how "prep times" are calculated because my prep times CONSISTENTLY take at least twice as long as recipe pages predict, but this is probably largely due to the fact that I am an idiot.)
2 lbs boneless chicken breasts, cut into bite size pieces
1-2 tablespoon olive oil
1 clove garlic, crushed
1/4 teaspoon ginger
3/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper flakes
1/4 cup apple juice
1/3 cup light brown sugar
2 tablespoons catsup
1 tablespoon cider vinegar
1/2 cup water
1/3 cup soy sauce
1. Heat oil in a large skillet.
2. Add chicken pieces and cook until lightly browned. Do not put your finger in the oil or you will get burned. (See comment above in which I refer to myself as an idiot.)
3. Remove Chicken.
4. Add remaining ingredients, heating over medium heat until well mixed and dissolved.
5. Add chicken and bring to a hard boil.
6. Reduce heat and simmer for 20 minutes.
7. Serve over hot rice and ENJOY. (It's easier to perform this final step if you actually have rice.)
Yum.
Posted by fool at 12:41 AM | Comments (2)June 15, 2005
Random Ramblings on the News: Jacko, Danger at Disney, Mother Nature’s Menopausal Flashes, the Tragedy in Aruba, and Beauty in the Americas!
I didn’t follow the Michael Jackson trial very closely, but like most people, I was very interested in Monday’s verdict. What baffled me on Monday was the utter euphoria that many in the black community expressed over Jackson’s acquittal. Even though I think O.J. Simpson nearly decapitated his ex-wife and bludgeoned Ron Goldman to death (Goldman’s father, Fred, works at an upscale department store in Scottsdale and actually sold me a tie a couple years ago), I understand why the verdict polarized the races – whites generally expressed unbelievable disdain; blacks generally expressed great jubilation. At the time, even though I felt (and still do feel) the verdict was a travesty of justice, I “got” (I think) why many in the black community felt the way they did. If members of my race and I had negative experiences after negative experiences with police officers and horrendous experiences with the judicial system, I probably would be excited to see a famous man from my race get acquitted as well (I write "probably" instead of "definitely" because I like to think I am colorblind to "wrongs" - a wrong is a wrong is a wrong). To me, the Michael Jackson case seems completely different from the O.J. deal. For one, does anyone actually think the D.A. went after Jackson because he is black (well, kind-of black)? Whereas race completely saturated every part of the O.J. Simpson trial, there just didn't seem to be a racial element in the Jacko case. Accordingly, I just don’t get why SOME (certainly not all) people are reacting to this case along racial lines. Why do any people - black, white, brown, yellow, red (commie bastards), etc. - empathize or sympathize with this "man"? At a minimum, he shares his bed with young boys and has transformed himself into a cross between a nice-looking black man and an ugly white woman. At a maximum, he's playing "Cover the unripe banana" and "Pin my tail with your young donkey" with young boys. Why is this person still popular with anyone? And is it possible to pay people who still adore Jackson to get themselves sterilized? And are you as surprised as I am that Fred Goldman didn't hire someone to kill O.J. Simpson? And if Fred Goldman had paid someone to kill O.J., don't you think that would have been the perfect time for jury nullification? And isn't it a shame that The Naked Gun, one of the all-time funniest films, will forever have a stain on it due to O.J. Simpson's role in the movie?
The Michael Jackson verdict wasn’t the only thing that happened on Monday. Monday was also the day that a four-year-old boy died after passing out aboard Walt Disney World’s “Mission: Space” ride (located at Epcot Center). This isn’t the first time the land of Disney has been unkind to four-year-olds. In September 2000, a four-year-old suffered severe brain damage after getting trapped underneath a vehicle in Roger Rabbit’s Car Toon Spin ride (GE Friend forced me to go on this ride when we went to Disneyland several years ago and like most Disneyland rides, it is simply awful). In September 2003, a Disneyland patron was killed while riding the Big Thunder Mountain Railroad when the coaster actually derailed. (Big Thunder Mountain is actually one of the few good rides at Disneyland). What’s my point? Go to Knott’s Berry Farm if you must go to a theme park in the Los Angeles area. Not only are the rides better (especially Supreme Scream), the lines shorter, and the cost of admission cheaper, you’re also much less likely to get killed (by the rides; gangbangers are a totally different story).
Speaking of getting killed, nasty earthquakes can lead to death. Over the last few days, there have been some major rumblings along the Pacific edge of North and South America. On Monday, a 7.9 magnitude earthquake hit northern Chile. On Tuesday, a 6.8 magnitude quake struck Alaska, and that was followed by a 7.0 magnitude tremor off the coast of Northern California (which resulted in a temporary Tsunami warning for the entire Western edge of the United States). I got a "C" in geology (“rocks for jocks”), so I’m not up on Mother Nature’s inner-workings, but to me, it sounds like Mother Nature is in the midst of menopause and is suffering from some serious hot flashes. Is the safe money betting that a huge quake will pound the Left Coast sometime soon? I don’t think California will break off into the Pacific in the next few weeks, but on this particular day, I’m quite happy to be studying for the California bar exam in Washington, D.C. instead of the Golden State!
More than two weeks have passed since Natalee Holloway disappeared in Aruba and as of this writing, Natalee hasn’t been found. From what we can piece together, on the night before she was supposed to return to America with her high school classmates and chaperones, 18-year-old Natalee left an Aruban bar with three Aruban locals ranging in age from 17 to 21. So you’re in a foreign country on your last night and you decide you’re going to leave a bar with three guys. Obviously that’s a dumb decision in its own right, but for crying out loud, is it just me, or is anyone else wondering where the hell this girl’s friends were that night? Talk about letting down your amiga. I won’t even get started on the trip’s chaperones. Clearly they did one hell of a job. Maybe we can get these people jobs as foster parents in Florida – oh no, wait, the goal is to decrease the number of kids that go missing.
Finally, a couple weeks have passed since Miss Canada was crowned as the new Miss Universe (a fine choice). The top ten finalists consisted of contestants from the following countries: Puerto Rico (not part of Europe), the Dominican Republic (not part of Europe), Mexico (not part of Europe), Venezuela (not part of Europe), Peru (not part of Europe), Latvia, Switzerland, the United States (not part of Europe), and Israel (not part of Europe). Is it just me or is Europe failing on multiple fronts these days?
Posted by fool at 03:42 AM | Comments (1)June 14, 2005
Mr. & Mrs. Smith Come to Washington
I am proud to say that of the more than $50 million dollars that Mr. & Mrs. Smith rang up over the weekend, $20 came from me! It should be noted (which is why I am noting it) that I will see just about any movie that Hollywood releases, even if I think I will be completely bored and leave the theater quite disgruntled. As with most rules, there are a few exceptions. For example, I wouldn’t see The Adventures of Shark Boy and Lava Girl in 3D - yes, there is such a film in theaters right now - even if you paid for my ticket and promised to put a hex on my soon-to-be-ex degenerate brother-in-law. (In case you're confused, he won't be an ex-degenerate; he'll be an ex-brother-in-law. I'm not the type who thinks it's right to poison children against their parents; thus, I don't plan to speak poorly about my brother-in-law to my nephew at any point in time. However, the fact that my nephew is barely one ensures that I can trash his father online indefinitely (and trust me, there are some GREAT stories which will be shared in the future). Anyway...) I also generally won't see any movie made by Oliver Stone because, well, Oliver Stone makes horrible movies. (Note to Oliver – a little less time spent ingesting drugs might help.) Back to the issue at hand, Mr. & Mrs. Smith was one of those movies that I expected to be bad. The plot didn't seem remotely intriguing to me and I just wasn't jazzed to see the film. Thus, it was MUCH to my pleasant surprise that I didn’t find myself looking at my watch several times during the movie. Instead, I actually enjoyed the film and found it quite entertaining from start to finish (especially the scenes at the marriage counselor's office). I don't think the movie would have worked with two different leading actors. There's just something about Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt! In fact, after seeing Pitt and Jolie share the screen for a couple of hours, I will admit that I hope the rumors that the two are dating are true because if they are dating, there is a chance that they will make a “home movie” (in the tradition of Paris Hilton). If they do make such a "home movie" and that movie happens to get released to the public, even though I have never purchased such a video in the past (truthfully), I will absolutely purchase that video and might even buy several copies to give as gifts! Imagine that...
Sister: Let's see what your uncle gave you, [Nephew of Thinking Fool]. (Unwraps present expecting it to be a Baby Einstein DVD or some other children's video.) (GULPS). Umm, it's a DVD porn featuring Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.
Thinking Fool: I wanted to get him something he could use.
Sister: He's not even two.
Thinking Fool: It's like a U.S. Savings Bond. It will be worth much more in the future. (Pauses to combat dirty look) Trust me, in the future, he'll be very glad that I took the time.
Seriously, can someone explain to me what Jennifer Anniston and Billy Bob Thornton were thinking? Jennifer Anniston should be a nobody - she's not a particularly good actress and she's a dime a dozen in the looks department and Billy Bob Thornton, well, he's a great actor, but come on! If you didn't know better and saw Billy Bob Thornton's name next to Angelina Jolie's, you'd think you had identified the correct answer to one of those "which one doesn't fit" questions that the SAT loves to feature. Speaking of tests, I must resume studying for the evil bar exam. (Though I complain about that exam, I realize that there are many things worse than studying for the bar, such as being in rehab, being in Iraq, being in prison, being in mourning, having cancer, being my degenerate soon-to-be-ex-brother-in-law, etc. Still sucks though!)
Thinking Fool’s Final Grade for Mr. & Mrs. Smith: B+
Posted by fool at 04:42 AMJune 10, 2005
Maybe I should Write Questions for the Bar
The second day of the bar exam features 200 Multiple Choice Questions on the following subjects: Torts, Property, Criminal Law and Procedure, Constitutional Law, Contracts, and Evidence. (Sounds fun, doesn't it?) Unsurprisingly, part of studying for the bar involves doing numerous multiple choice questions. Although many have interesting fact patterns, the following Torts question is hands down the best question I've seen thus far!
During the Miss Metropolis competition, the judges announced that Wilma was first runner-up and that Kerry was the winner. As the auditorium quieted for Kerry’s acceptance remarks, Wilma said loudly, “You only won because you slept with all of the judges, you slut!” Kerry immediately slapped Wilma forcefully in the face.
Wilma brings an action for battery against Kerry. Who will prevail?
(A) Kerry, because she was provoked by Wilma’s comment.
(B) Kerry, because a reasonable person would have slapped Wilma under the circumstances.
(C) Wilma, unless Kerry’s slap was totally spontaneous.
(D) Wilma, because Kerry intentionally caused an offensive touching.
Think you know the correct answer? It will be revealed below.
During my final semester of law school, I taught two street law classes. One class was comprised of teenagers and took place at a juvenile detention facility in Northern Virginia. The other class consisted of adult felons (all male) and took place at a D.C. Halfway House. One night, my teaching partner and I decided to teach the men about the different theories of punishment (i.e. why do we punish people? If you are wondering, here are the reasons: (1) to deter others as well as the individual criminal from committing crime in the future, (2) to perform an act of retribution against the criminal (i.e. eye-for-an-eye), (3) to incapacitate the criminal (i.e. keep the lunatic off the street so it is impossible for him to commit more crimes), and/or (4) to rehabilitate the criminal (if I have to elaborate on what this last one means, you really ought to ask your mom or dad if it's okay for you to be surfing the Internet all by yourself).).
The basic method of teaching in the Street Law program is to get students to learn by doing and by thinking, not by the teacher telling. (Sometimes you have to tell students various information. For example, when I gave the students the number for Legal Aid, I didn't say, "Let's play a guessing game. Who can guess the first digit in the telephone number for the local Legal Aid office?" Obviously, it would be ridiculous to waste time having students guess telephone numbers like they were playing some whacked out version of The Price is Right. Though now that I think about it, such a game might have been quite entertaining.)
To get students thinking about why we punish people, my teaching partner and I distributed ten short hypothetical fact patterns that consisted of some sort of crime being described and then asked the students what kind of sentences they would hand out if they were judges. By doing this, the idea was that when we debriefed the exercise, the students would have to give reasons for their sentences and would start enunciating the different theories of punishment (if not by their formal titles, at least by their concepts). For example, if Doc (yes, we had a student named Doc and he actually hit me up for five bucks on the subway one morning. He was holding a huge piece of luggage, even bigger than the bag that the female football player brought to class the other day and asked me for some money. After I gave Doc five dollars, I thought, “Hmm, I wonder if he’s in the process of ‘escaping’ from the Halfway House right this minute? If he is escaping, can I be held liable for ‘aiding and abetting’ a felon?" Turns out Doc was not escaping and had actually been released that morning....Anyway, back to the example. If Doc) said he sentenced a burglar to ten years for breaking into a person’s home, we'd force him to enunciate a reason for his sentence. If he said something like, “Man, if you don’t make a lesson out of him, you’re going to have a ton of people committing burglaries,” Doc would have just enunciated the concept of deterrence (we'd fill in the formal names at that point and talk a little bit more about the concept).
One of the hypotheticals that we used was something like the following: “Charles gets in an argument with his girlfriend; so he goes to his closet, takes out a baseball bat, and hits his girlfriend in the head several times with the bat. The girlfriend ends up being in a coma for two months before being released from the hospital. If you were the judge, what sentence would you give Charles?” This is your chance to shine. Play street law student for a minute and think about what sentence you would give Charles if you were the judge.
I’ve asked this question to several people (who were not Street Law students) and have received answers ranging from, “Twenty years, anger management control, monetary restitution, and lifetime parole” to “One year and castration.” Most of the answers seemed quite sensible to me and were what I was expecting to be generated by the men at the Halfway House. To the contrary, do you want to know what the most frequent response was to the scenario in which the boyfriend beat the girlfriend in the head with a baseball bat? Simple. “What the hell did she do to him?” Lovely. Absolutely lovely. If that happened to be your first thought, you too might enjoy life at a Halfway House one day.
As promised, the correct answer to the “Beauty contestant slapped her competitor after being a called a slut” question is (D)! The contestant who got slapped will win the lawsuit because the slapper intentionally caused an offensive touching. To put it another way (which might have a little more street cred), “Wilma's gonna have to pay because she bitch-slapped the ho!”
Posted by fool at 04:11 AM | Comments (2)June 08, 2005
Wow, Football Players Really Don't Have Much Shame!
After being entrenched in a bar review class for exactly one week, I’d say studying for the bar is kind of like being an abortion doctor. I'm sure it's rewarding on some level. I just haven't figured out how.
Remember the tale of the former football player who urinated into an empty water bottle during a law school class because of a dare? Well, I now know that football players are daredevils regardless of gender. Yesterday, I arrived about fifteen minutes before my class began and found myself loitering in the lobby talking to people. (GE Friend is undoubtedly thrilled that I actually was early to something.) While loitering, one of my fellow law school graduates, who happens to be in my bar review course, arrived holding a bag that was so big that I thought she might be heading to Europe for a six month sojourn. Being inquisitive to a fault, I asked why my classmate had such a big bag on this warm Tuesday afternoon. Without saying a word, my classmate unzipped her bag and yanked out a full-sized football helmet. With the exception of Kathy Ireland in Necessary Roughness (Ireland was the best looking placekicker in the history of football movies - in fact, she might be the best looking "athlete" in the history of sports movies, period), this was the first time I had ever seen a woman actually hold a football helmet. Naturally, I asked why she had such an object in her possession. She responded that she was on a football team and that she had practice later that afternoon. Forgetting a truth learned in law school – never dare football players to do anything – I told the woman that if she would wear the football helmet AND stroll into the bar review class right as it was beginning AND keep the football helmet on her head for ten minutes, I would pay her $20. (I should have told her she had to wear it for an hour!) One minute before class was scheduled to start, the female football player came strolling in, her head completely covered by the football helmet. With no shame, she walked to the front of the classroom (we enter from the back and have to walk at a downward slope to reach the front of the room), deposited her bag in a corner, and took a seat right next to me. As you can probably imagine, the expressions on the people in the room were priceless! With looks that ranged from complete amusement to utter disdain, the law school graduates stared at the football player and undoubtedly thought, “What in the hell is wrong with this person?” When the football player sat next to me, I placed twenty dollars under my cell phone and began monitoring the time. After ten minutes passed, I took the twenty dollars out from under the phone (cell phones are great paperweights) and slid the money over to the football player. The football player took off her helmet and shot me a nodding, "You should have known better" smile. Yes, I should have. For now on, I'll remember that football players, regardless of gender, all have titanium sets of balls.
Posted by fool at 12:55 AM | Comments (3)June 06, 2005
Saddam and Nixon - When Your "Friends" Speak!
According to Newsweek, Saddam’s former aides are singing like canaries! Senator Norm Coleman (recently the recipient of an ass-whipping (click for video link) from British Member of Parliament George Galloway that was so severe that even Rex from Desperate Housewives might find it disturbing – if you don’t watch Desperate Housewives, you won’t understand the reference; why exactly don’t you watch Desperate Housewives? It’s a phenomenal show! Anyway, Senator Coleman) said, “In interview after interview, the [former Iraqi] officials were generally forthcoming and quite proud – even boastful – of their creativity in undermining U.N. sanctions.” Tariq Aziz even told David Kay (former leader of the team that hunted for weapons of mass destruction) that if he were released from prison, Aziz would tour the United States giving speeches to journalists and the American public about the horrific deeds that Saddam’s former regime carried out. (I don’t know how the U.S. government refrained from releasing Aziz immediately with that sort of offer on the table. Hell, Michael Jackson ought to go to prosecutors and say, “If you drop all charges against me before the jury finishes its deliberations, I promise to go to daycares throughout the country talking about stuff that you already know.") When asked why the United States could be sure he would keep such a bargain, Aziz said, “Mr. David, because you now own me.” Wow! For some reason, “because you now own me” strikes me as one of the coolest things I’ve heard (or “read” to be technical) in a very long time. Can you imagine the new Miss Universe looking at someone and saying, "You now own me?” (Kind of paints a nice image in the mind - more later in the week about how the Miss Universe pageant is further proof of Europe’s deterioration...) With his former friends offering ownership of themselves to U.S. officials, it should come as no surprise that Saddam’s spirits are pretty somber these days. If my “friends” were helping lead me to a death sentence, I probably wouldn’t be in the most chipper of moods either. Is anyone – even people who are staunchly anti-death penalty – opposed to the idea of Saddam Hussein being executed? Clearly the man doesn’t want to die. He proved this by acting like the wuss of the century when he refused to fight U.S. forces when they found him cowering away in a spider hole. If nothing else, at least his lunatic sons showed some guts by actually engaging in a firefight at the end of their lives.
If I were Saddam and could slip into a time machine, in addition to seeing a shrink early on in my life, I would have found a way to put Bob Woodward, Carl Bernstein, and Ben Bradlee in key positions in my regime. As opposed to singing like canaries, those three men know how to keep their mouths shut! Last week’s revelation of Deep Throat’s identity – in case you slipped into a coma, it was Mark W. Felt – was a highly anticipated story and surprised most people! (It’s been really amusing watching former Nixon aides trash the living hell out of Felt. I don’t condone the trashing; I just find it interesting to watch, sort of like a train wreck unfolding before your eyes, but a wreck in which no one gets injured.) In a completely unsurprising part of the story, “Deep Throat’s” daughter (let’s call her “Deep Throat In-Training” for now on, okay?) stated that one of the reasons her family decided that the time was right for unveiling the identity of her father as “Deep Throat” was to make money! Umm...how about the ONLY reason you decided to come out with this information was to make money! I don’t begrudge the Felt family the opportunity to make money, but let’s not pretend that this information was released because as “Deep Throat In-Training” would like us to believe, “[I]t’s so important for a person getting into elder years, when death is somewhere around the corner, to be unburdened.” Hardy Har Har! It very well might be important for a person near death to unburden himself, but it’s a hell of a lot more important for that unburdening to take place if it will make your family a ton of cash, isn’t it? Deep Throat In-Training is using her father more than Hailey Nichol ever used her dad on The O.C. (there’s another show that is worth watching). Think about it. Over the last few decades, despite numerous attempts by Bob Woodward, Mark W. Felt consistently refused to be publicly identified as “Deep Throat” and actually denied the “accusation” on more than one occasion. Now suddenly Deep Throat In-Training would have us believe that her 91-year-old father, whose competence has been questioned by Woodward, Bernstein, and Bradlee due to the fact that Deep Throat has had a stroke and suffers from dementia, decided that he wanted to unburden himself! Give me a break! Deep Throat In-Training claims her father is lucid and feels reassured that he made the right decision to go public, but don't you think if the guy were really lucid, we'd see or hear him give one interview to a television or radio station? Unfortunately, the guy simply isn't competent enough to give interviews at this time. As Don Imus put it, these days Felt probably spends most of his time “looking at the dryer thinking [he’s watching] the Honeymooners as the clothes spin around!” If you really want to know why Deep Throat In-Training "convinced" her father to go public with his secret, do what Hal Holbrook (Deep Throat) told Robert Redford (Bob Woodward) to do in All the President's Men. Just follow the money.
And (unfortunately) that’s the way it is...
Posted by fool at 06:00 PMJune 03, 2005
The Spelling Bee has Come and Gone
Yesterday, 13-year-old Anurag Kashyap spelled “Appoggiatura” correctly to win the 2005 National Spelling Bee. My friend who just got promoted at GE (hereinafter “GE Friend”) shared two excellent thoughts about the spelling bee. First, a new rule should be introduced that prohibits the competition from using words that the moderator has difficulty pronouncing. GE Friend has informed me that the moderator at this year’s event had trouble pronouncing several words, which really shouldn’t come as a shock to anybody. After all, who wouldn't have trouble pronouncing words when the words aren’t used by anybody...EVER? If Merriam-Webster can add words to new editions of the dictionary (e.g. “headbanger” (defined as both a hard rock musician and a fan), “dead presidents” (paper currency), “McJob” (low paying and dead-end work - hey, at least you don't have to study for the bar exam)), we really should start eliminating words as well, if not from the dictionary, at least from the National Spelling Bee. Second, my friend has a little advice for spellers on how to deal with words about which they have absolutely no clue how to spell. Just say some other easy word, spell it, and go back and sit down with the other kids who passed the current round. If GE Friend had been a contestant in this year's Spelling Bee, I imagine his appearance would have gone something like this...
Moderator: "The word is 'ceraunograph.'"
GE Friend: "Ha ha. What's my real word?"
Moderator: "'Ceraunograph.'"
GE Friend: "Are you serious? (Pauses) Of course you're serious. Hmm, will you repeat the word?"
Moderator: "'Ceraunograph.'"
GE Friend: "'Cyramic?'"
Moderator: "No, not 'cyramic,' 'ceraunograph.'"
GE Friend: "Can you use it in a sentence?"
Moderator: "The man thought..."
GE Friend: (Interrupting) "No, I don't mean can you use it in a sentence if a sentence is provided to you. I mean, can you personally, without any help from any other source, use it in a sentence?"
Moderator: "Young man, that's not the point of this competition."
GE Friend: "I see. (Pausing) Well, would you please repeat the word."
Moderator: "'Ceraunograph.'"
GE Friend: “Any chance you'd spell it for me?"
Moderator: “No. (Not seeing the humor.) Please spell the word. The word is 'Ceraunograph.'”
GE Friend: "Okay. (Takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes. Takes another deep breath.) Alright, here goes nothing. (Pauses) 'Walking.' W-A-L-K-I-N-G, Walking." (Pumps fist as though he got it right, darts the bell-ringer a glance and says, "You won't even think about ringing that stupid little bell if you know what's good for you," and returns to his seat with the rest of the troubled contestants.)
Such occurrences would definitely make ESPN’s coverage more exciting! (Why does ESPN televise this again?)
Two final thoughts on the Spelling Bee. One, if you haven’t seen the movie Spellbound, you need to get on that, ASAP! Spellbound is a documentary about a handful of kids who competed in a recent spelling bee. The film is not only interesting, it’s laugh-out-loud funny at times, and also provides excellent evidence to support my assertion that when babies are born, human beings (i.e. the newly minted parents) all of a sudden have the crazy gene activated within their bodies. Second, no spelling contestant should be allowed to have a mustache. Yesterday, on Pardon the Interruption (very high on my TIVO season pass), Tony Kornheiser and Michael Wilbon showed footage of a teenager with a mustache that was no less bushy than the one sported by Gene Shalit. Okay, so maybe it was a little less bushy, but this kid didn’t have some peach fuzz above his lip; he had a full stache that would have made any 1970s Major League Baseball pitcher envious! The Spelling Bee should institute a new rule banning mustaches in the future. They’re way too intimidating to the other contestants, and if you’re sporting a full mustache before you graduate from high school, the chances of your becoming a serial sex offender/killer increase dramatically, don't they? I'm not coming down on mustaches in general. Several men look great with them. They key word, however, is "men." Teenagers, stay away from the mustaches.
Posted by fool at 02:21 AM | Comments (2)June 02, 2005
My Run-In with the Chinese Diplomat
The building in which I reside is home to quite a few diplomats. One of several Chinese diplomats lives on my floor in a corner apartment. Before he moved in, his apartment was occupied by another Chinese diplomat and that diplomat’s wife. My nature is to talk to strangers when opportunities present themselves (don’t worry; I draw the line at accepting candy). Thus, I always try to make small talk with the diplomats and try to test my foreign language skills in the process by attempting to drop a few words in the diplomats’ native languages. (This is far easier with diplomats from Central and South America because I actually speak Spanish somewhat well. By “somewhat well,” I mean I am capable of speaking broken Spanish in the present tense, swearing, and cracking jokes (mostly involving the word "verga" - it's slang for a portion of the male anatomy). Chinese, on the other hand, is far more difficult. I only know three Chinese words/phrases, and I’ve already used them about a dozen times on each Chinese diplomat: "knee-how" (hello), "share-share" (thank you) and "dzeye-jenn" (good-bye) (these are all spelled phonetically, which really ought to be obvious to you due to the fact that the Chinese language doesn’t use any characters or symbols that even remotely resemble any letters in the English alphabet)).
The other night around midnight, I found myself in the elevator with the diplomat who resides in the corner apartment. I didn’t know what to talk about, so I asked him how long he had lived in the building. (I was tempted to ask, “Are you a spy?” However, that doesn’t seem like it would endear me to the man. Maybe if I started drinking, I’d loosen up a little bit.) He told me for two years. I asked him if he knew the Chinese diplomat who had lived in his apartment before he and his wife moved in (I assume the woman who frequently emerges from the corner apartment is the Chinese diplomat’s wife and not some random woman with whom he is living in sin). When I posed this particular question, befuddlement overcame the diplomat’s face.
Chinese Diplomat: “I’ve lived here two years,” the diplomat said, his words saturated with a “Where do you get off asking me about someone who lived here before I did when you haven’t even been here as long as I have been” tone!
Thinking Fool: “I know you’ve lived here about that long. I’ve lived here for almost three years and remember when you moved in. (I pay particular attention to the diplomats, douche bag, because, well, let’s just say that I’ve been to the Spy Museum more than once)!” (Comments in parenthesis were “thought,” not “said.” Surely you know this, right?)
Chinese Diplomat: “I am the first person to live in this apartment.”
Thinking Fool: “Actually, there was a Chinese diplomat and his wife living in the apartment before you moved in.”
Chinese Diplomat: “I am the first person to live in this apartment.”
Our conversation ended there for a few reasons. One, I sensed a smidgeon of anger from my Chinese Diplomat neighbor over the fact that I had made what he must have thought was an absurd accusation that someone occupied his apartment before he did. (I don’t know why he would find this so troubling, but in the words of the Lindsay Lohan types of the world, “Whatever!”) Two, I was standing in front of my apartment with about ten bags of groceries and just wanted to get inside and cook something; it was midnight after all! Three, unfortunately, I can't remember the third reason. (I'm going to attribute this lapse in memory to mental fatigue from studying for the bar - what a joy that is! In any event, just make something up for three, or don't; it really doesn't matter to me.)
I kind of wish I had continued the conversation because I imagine it might have gone something like this:
Thinking Fool: “Look, you are not the first person to live in that apartment. There was a different Chinese diplomat who occupied (vigorously pointing) that apartment with his wife. I might be an ignorant American, but I assure you I'm not the type of ignorant American who cannot differentiate between two Chinese men.”
Chinese Diplomat: “I am the first person to live in this apartment.”
Thinking Fool: “FYI, the Jedi tricks aren't going to work on me, bud. I can see we’re not getting anywhere. Look, if it makes you feel good about yourself to think you’re the first person who has ever lived in your apartment or to think all of the maintenance man’s visits to your apartment in the middle of the day are really to take care of maintenance needs, knock yourself out. I don’t want to strain relations between our countries (as if they aren’t already), but truth be told, you are NOT the first person to live in that apartment.”
Chinese Diplomat: “How do you know? I’ve lived here for two years.”
Thinking Fool: “AND I'VE LIVED HERE FOR THREE! For crying out loud, we’ve been over all of this.”
Chinese Diplomat: “Why are you causing trouble? My wife and I are the only people who have lived in this apartment.”
Thinking Fool: “Hmm, let me try a different approach. Okay, how about this. The White Zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only; there is no stopping in the Red Zone.”
Chinese Diplomat: “Excuse me.”
Thinking Fool: “The Red Zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only. There is no stopping in the White Zone.”
Chinese Diplomat: “I do not follow.”
Thinking Fool: “You know perfectly well what I’m talking about. You want me to have an abortion.”
Chinese Diplomat: “WHY MUST YOU BRING UP ABORTION? AMERICA DOES NOT UNDERSTAND CHINA'S POLICY!”
Thinking Fool: “Lighten up, I’m just quoting Airplane!"
Chinese Diplomat: “AIRPLANE?!?! THAT AMERICAN PLANE CRASHED IN CHINESE TERRITORY AND WAS A SPY PLANE. WE SHOULD HAVE SHOT IT DOWN!"
Thinking Fool: "Woah, woah, woah. Let's not get testy, my friend!"
Chinese Diplomat: "I AM NO FRIEND OF YOURS!"
Thinking Fool: "Wow, I didn't mean to make you angry. It's late, we really should call it a night. But first, do you happen to know the name of the Chinese diplomat who lived in your apartment before you did?”
Chinese Diplomat: “I WILL NOT TALK TO YOU EVER AGAIN!”
Thinking Fool: “In that case, can I ask one more question?”
Chinese Diplomat: “NO!” (Walking away).
Thinking Fool: “Are you a spy?”
If John Bolton doesn't get confirmed, maybe they'll nominate me.
Posted by fool at 01:44 AM | Comments (2)
