Oh For Crying Out Loud

I read something many years ago about an elderly redneck who was hospitalized for something.  His doctors became concerned when the man didn’t “move his bowels” for a few days. Somebody realized that the poor guy hadn’t been chewing tobacco, as was his custom.  They brought the man some chew, he chawed contentedly, and crapped anon.

Draw from this anecdote what you will, but I haven’t written much worth a crap since Easter.  We could assign blame a couple of ways. One one hand,we could blame The Easter Bunny and/or Jesus. Honestly, the Easter Bunny and I have maintained a cordial deténte since our 2003 dust-up. Jesus, despite eating all my food and playing His music too loud… well He’s just all right with me.

Or we can posit that I haven’t been able to write because I haven’t had Casablanca playing.

Yup. I might be verbally constipated without Claude Rains’ crisp, perfect diction, Peter Lorre’s…well, whatever the hell you’d call his voice, and Bogie’s world-weary slur.

Poor Major Strasser. He got off the plane, and smiled quite genuinely when Captain Renault welcomed him to Casablanca. All I could think was, “You’re toast in 90 minutes, douchebag, and then I can sleep.”

I wonder if Major Strasser would have reformed after the war, had he not been kacked.

One of the former guitarists for Finland’s legendary glam-punk band Hanoi Rocks is named “Nasty Suicide.” I can just imagine his wedding announcement. “Mr and Mrs Thorbjörn Jørgesson and Mr and Mrs Harald Suicide are happy to announce the wedding of Sofia Jørgesson and Nasty Suicide, Saturday at St Michael the Archangel Lutheran Church.  Ms Jørgesson graduated from Helsinki University with a degree in Information Technology. Mr Suicide toured the world in a constant, decade-long haze of drugs and alcohol. After retiring from the music business, Mr Suicide cleaned up, ultimately earning his degree in Pharmacy. He now works for a major Finnish pharmaceuticals firm.  The Suicides will reside in Helsinki, following a honeymoon in Majorca.”

So if Nasty Suicide can become a pharmaceutical researcher–no, REALLY!–then perhaps Major Strasser could open a cafe, TGIHitler’s, maybe.

Reinventions are amazing when we can pull them off.  But sometimes, a hand comes stretching through the mists of Time and tears off our masks. Big deal–one of the researchers at Finnske Pharmaceuticals plays the occasional Hanoi Rocks reunion. And maybe after the Hanoi Rocks reunion, you stop by Strasser’s TGIHitler’s franchise for a Bacon Blitzkrieg Burger and a couple Albert Speer-Mint Schnapps shooters.

This morning, a German court found a 90 year-old retired U.S. Auto Worker guilty on 28,000 counts of accessory to murder. John Demjanjuk was previously convicted in Israel for being “Ivan the Terrible,” a notorious Nazi death camp guard. He was sentenced to death, however his conviction was overturned, because it turns out he wasn’t “Ivan the Terrible” after all.

I don’t know if he’s guilty. I don’t know what his conviction will accomplish.

At this point in my life, I feel like I’m in a state of self-reinvention.  Here, at the start of a new relationship, our pasts reach spectrally across the years. We revisit our old, failed relationships like so many ruins. We point out our scars preemptively, hoping those old cuts can be forgiven.

There won’t be a trial. I won’t stand there, facing the Devil-Bitch, the Little Red-Haired Girl, Crazy Debbie, ad nauseam. 

Somehow, as time erodes away the sharp points, we grow more comfortable handling our pasts.  The scars have healed over. We’re ready to risk new cuts, hoping this time it works out.

It’s not a perfect metaphor–God knows, I never committed war crimes.  I’m grateful never to have faced that situation. 

The guy’s 90. He’s been convicted of being involved in stuff that happened 65 years ago, even though he wasn’t “Ivan the Terrible.” Maybe this brings closure to his victims’ families. Maybe the bin Laden assassination did too.

For my own closure, Major Strasser has been shot. I’m off to sleep. Tomorrow, the constant evolution of tom will continue, one baby step at a time, and I hope my crimes and misdemeanors remain in the foggy past.

(PS: I have added a Tumblr page called “The Crunchy Center,” referring to its space between a 140 character Tweet on @tomzonets and a full-blown verbal poonado here. I’ll probably just add little pieces, like individual Mental Chex Mix parts. Post #1 is a quote from Sherlock Holmes. Stop by if you like: http://tomzone.tumblr.com/ )

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3 Responses to “Oh For Crying Out Loud”

  1. “crapped anon”.

    Love you and your verbal poonadoes!

    • “Crap Anon” would be a great laxative name, except that it also sounds like a support group. 😉

      And woo-hoo for verbal poonadoes! “AUNTIE EM! Get into the storm cellar. That weird guy in Florida’s watching Casablanca, again, and it’s a verbal poonado a-coming!”

  2. You definitely have to wait until the sharp edges are worn down a bit and some of the burrs are knocked off and then you may still get a splinter every so often. I’m a big fan of justice but if hundreds of others who do terrible things today are left to run amok because we’re chasing shadows of the past, that’s not justice. There’s a time when you just have to let it go, Indy.

    I probably wouldn’t pop into a TGIHitler’s even if Herr Major was having a two-fer on Jack Daniels flavored everything. But that’s just because those chain restaurants with the McDonald’s weapons grade nutrition options make me think I could spend my dollars more wisely at Wendy’s or Taco Bell.

    Praise the Lloyd and pass the crap-anon! May you spew forth bountifully in whatever manner your choose but remember – some choices are more equal than others.

    And that’s why I should have gone to sleep four hours ago.

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