Hola, amigos. What’s doin’? I know it’s been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I’ve had a mess of trouble lately.
First off, I quit my job at that fast-food joint. Now, ordinarily, I’m a patient man, but I just couldn’t take my jackass manager anymore. I swear, if I heard him say, “If there’s time to lean, there’s time to clean” one more time, I was going to deep-fry his head. Nobody’s gotta pretend to be busy all the time. That’s just a load of crap designed to make me go nuts.
Me and my co-workers had been bitching about that manager for a long time, and we decided that the next time he said fed us that “lean-clean” line, we were all gonna walk out. Well, last Friday, just like clockwork, he said it, and I walked out. But when I got outside and turned around, none of my chicken-shit co-workers were behind me. I yelled back to them, “Screw you, you pussies!” and just hiked. I had to go back to return my uniform, though: otherwise they weren’t going to give me my damn check. I hate that fucking place. I’m never eating there again.
I landed on my feet, though. I got another job delivering free coupon papers to local businesses. It’s sweet. I just run into the stores, drop off the papers and split. Every morning, I load up my car with the papers, get the Led out, and nothing bothers me.
Only problem is, driving around with 2,000 pounds of papers in my back seat is hell on my car. As if I don’t have enough problems with it already. It’s about half Bondo and rusting to hell. The tranny is slipping a lot lately, and my brakes are squeaking. So I gotta be careful, ’cause if something goes wrong, and I don’t have wheels, not only can’t I cruise, I can’t make money, either. And if I can’t make money, how the hell am I gonna buy a better car? That, hombres, is what you call a tight situation.
Now, since I’ve been driving a lot, I’ve been thinking a lot. I’m a pretty deep person, and cruising gives me a chance to be alone and think. As a result, I’ve got a lot to say to you right now. Pearls of wisdom, you know what I mean? So pay attention, ’cause this is just from me to you.
First of all, I have to set everyone straight on something. I’ve been hearing a lot about Seinfeld these days. “Seinfeld this” and “Seinfeld that,” and, “What are we gonna do when Seinfeld is off the air?” What a bunch of babies! That was the stupidest show I’ve ever seen! Everyone says, “Oh, that’s because it was a show about nothing.” Seinfeld wasn’t a show about nothing: it was a show about four jackoffs who needed to get their asses kicked. I’m glad it’s off the air. I only wish they would stop showing Seinfeld reruns before Star Trek, ’cause nothing’s worse on my buzz than seeing that junk before Trek.
Okay, here’s another thought I had. Ah, forget it. That one’s too good for you. Try this one instead: “He who goes to bed with an itchy butt wakes up with smelly fingers.” Man, that used to crack me up. Wes “The Bomb” Baumgarten told me that one night while we were all hanging out and going one toke over the line. I laughed so hard I dropped the joint. It landed under the couch and burned the carpet a little, but we didn’t lose much weed.
That’s another thing I think about while I’m on the road. I think about the good times. I remember this one time, Ron and I drank some cold Miller Genuine Draft beers and went out to the arcade. All these kids were playing the games, but they got kind of spooked when we went in, especially when Ron threatened to beat the snot out of one of them just for looking at him. That was a blast. Ron wouldn’t have beat on that kid, but, man, the look on his face was priceless. We played Tekken all night, and I whupped Ron’s ass. That was a good time.
I think about all sorts of other deep shit, too, like, if I was driving at light speed, and I turned on my headlights, would anything happen? Or I’ll listen to a song I never understood, and, all of the sudden, it’ll all make perfect sense. For example, I used to think Foreigner sucked, but then I heard “Urgent” in the right frame of mind, and I had to rethink my position. Now I think they’re okay. Not great or anything, but definitely okay.
Anyway, I don’t really have much more to share with you right now. But don’t think that just because I’m going quiet I don’t have any more thoughts. It’s just that a man’s gotta keep some stuff to himself. You know what I mean? I don’t want anybody to get inside my head. That’s like some Invasion Of The Body Snatchers stuff. I ain’t ready for that.
Jim Anchower joined The Onion’s editorial writing staff in 1993 after several distinguished years on The Come Back Inn dishwashing staff. He comments on community-affairs, automotive, and employment issues. He attended LaFollette High School in Madison, WI.
