America is a land of endless hate. It is here that the Easter holiday is celebrated by filling hundreds of shopping carts with boxes of dried potato mash, lighting them aflame and hurtling them, en masse, off rooftops and piers. All the while, choirs of homeless men – 40 strong in some cases – grunt the theme to Mission Impossible. Here in America, children are taught to explode on cue. And all the cartoon shows are made of Old Men. Even the President must watch them. They are drawn by the blind out near the meat freezers. In America, hope is a mattress factory. There the afternoon foreman breathes on each employee. The breaths make them fatter. Nothing is done about this at the federal level. Here in the counties, though, the man that refuses to inhale his boss’ odor is...
Author - Chris Weagel
Chris Weagel writes about the intersection of technology and parenting for Wired Magazine. No he doesn't. He can't stand that shit.
Out there you’re subject to Man’s Law.
In this Living Room — You’re subject to Couch Law.
Now recite your alphabet.
The Elks Club had a sign up all week: “Crazy Hat Party & Rib Dinner – 2pm Sunday.” Well. More like Manic Depressive Hat Party. For every valedictorian with a working Swiss coo-coo clock on their head there were 18 or 19 “Hoof Arted” and “CRS Sufferer” ball caps. One lady was going on and on about “Oh how crazy – I can’t believe – can you believe my hat, my goodness. My stars.” You know what her hat said? “Florida” Some of them weren’t even wearing hats. They just had bad haircuts. And of course, by the time I got there – I had to stop off at the Comcast Store and trade in my Box so I could get my Channels – by the time I got there: No Ribs. Just little cups of Mac and Cheese. I had...
Old Man Kraatz had his two-headed dog out for a walk this fine Holy Saturday. He had it wearing the little boots again. Each boot jingling and jangling, bright red as the devil.
Kraatz drives that two-headed dog over to town and forces it to look at itself in the mirrored storefront windows. That dog doesn’t like that. It starts going wild. Barking and carrying on. Kraatz stands there smiling and nodding at everyone. He’s forced every animal he’s had to confront its existence dead on and none of them enjoy it.
“Kids love this!” Kraatz cries out to everyone and no one. “They’re offa school now and they love a good show! Come on everybody! I’m giving away boots tomorra!”
He never gives away any boots.
What is the emotional content of a Saddle Factory?
Camping Equipment Department of Fear. During these in-between months, it’s easier than usual to scare yourself. To inadvertently frighten, startle or otherwise upend your own emotional well-being is another of God’s Correctives the lesser mammals never enjoy. Long hair in your peripheral vision or even your own shadow is enough to quicken your pace. Convincing yourself you’ve forgotten a child’s birthday, even while watching him blow out the candles, can make you eager to give them all up (wife included) to the state and hide yourself deeper in the bayou. Misinterpreted woodgrain patterns can leave you fruitlessly stabbing furniture during dinner parties with trusted clergy. John, we can’t live this way. The only – and obvious – solution to this...
Total Humiliation.
Complete Incompetence.
In-Depth Shaming.
Panoramic Denial.
Limitless Cramping.
Overwhelming Stagnation.
Intense Acceptance.
Certain paths are proscribed for us in life. Despite all our efforts, we cannot stray. Forging new, unmarked roads leaves you with little more than bloody hands and flea bites. It’s best to be content with a life of opening unmarked jars, looking inside and rapidly drawing a tiny sketch of whatever you see, be it corpse or canary. It’s best to stick with such a scheme for 50, 60, even 70 years. Even with the knowledge that most of your drawings will be immediately torn up by the next man in the line. And that those drawings that do survive will be placed in pre-stamped envelopes, alone, with no explanatory note and mailed to random addresses circled in the White Pages Directory by the man seated across from you. You were chosen for this task, just as the other men –...