The third rule of blogging is: don’t apologize for having gone months without updating your blog.
Very recently, I helped organize my 10-year high school reunion. Tenure reunion. I won’t really say anything about it, because this guy does a much better job. I love this guy’s writing, and suddenly I remembered that Laura, Stephanie, and I have this here blog.
Here’s something I’d like to know: just what the hell is everyone talking about? I was headed into the city on the L train the other morning, and some seemingly half-drunk, Brooklyn version of a redneck in his 40’s was ranting to his friend about … his son having too many dresser-drawers to choose from? I mean really, I have no idea. This guy was practically yelling on a crowded train, and it was about 8:00 AM. Dude: Shut. Up. He said (yelled) something like, “Man, he’s got a drawer for socks, he’s got a drawer for shirts, he’s got a drawer for pants, and he’s got a drawer for boxers! What the fuck!? In my day, your socks, boxers, and shirts all went in the same drawer!”
You guys. There’s a lot going on in the country and in the world these days and therefore a lot to get fired-up about. However, enraged commentary on this generation’s dresser-drawer luxuries has no place in my ear at 8 in the morning. First of all, calm down. Second of all, is his son recounting the same story to his friends somewhere on the playground in an equally unnecessary volume? “I said to my dad, ‘Fuck you, old man! Times have changed! I’m putting my shit in ALL the drawers!’” Probably not.
More than feeling sorry for myself being trapped less than 2 feet away from this guy for an entire 10 minutes, I felt bad for his friend. The friend was doing his best to be supportive in what was clearly this asshole’s time of need. “Yeah, man. I hear you. What is with all the drawers these days?”
The truth is: people on the subway who grandstand are quite aware of what they are doing. People – stupid people – love to get worked up in public, especially on the train. Whether they have something worthy to rant about or not, they will speak loudly and boast with all they’ve got. “So I said to him, ‘I said WITH CHEESE, mothafucka!’” They know there is a captive audience on the subway, and so they feel they must perform, turning a just-to-pass-the-time story into torture for everyone else. I wish I could tell you that there was something you could do about it, but there’s really not. Perhaps a mocking slow-clap?
Authors note: Allow me to apologize in advance to Will Smith for all of the ‘swears’ in this post.
Friday, October 9, 2009
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