Friday, January 23, 2009
A couple of days ago, my lovely internet buddy, Lime, was interviewed over at her place. At the end of the interview, she said...
"If any of you want to be interviewed you can either steal this list of questions or I will generate 5 original questions. Just let me know your preference."
To which I replied...
"Oh, Lime! You have to be aware of the fact that I can't pass up such a self-aggrandizing opportunity. Yes, please interview me. I'll do my best to answer your questions in a way that will make you immediately regret being so kind."
She sent me the questions, as promised, and here are my answers, as threatened.
1 - All sports as we know it have been banned. All sports equipment and factories for their manufacture have been destroyed. All the rulebooks have been burned. All professional, amateur, and children's leagues have been disbanded. Invent a new sport to capture the hearts of a nation. You cannot pay any professionals more than the average factory worker makes, men and women have to be able to compete in the same league, and children have to be the coaches and officials.
Thanks for tossing me a softball on the first question. It’s always nice to be able to ease into these sorts of things.
Well, as every child knows, the funniest thing in the world are farts. So, since children will be the coaches and officials, I'm inventing the NFL - the National Fartball League.
There isn't actually a "fartball", but it sounds funnier that way, so that's what I'm calling it. The rules are simple. The object of the game will be to advance from your end of the playing field to the opponent's goal. However, you can only run while you're farting. And it has to be a big blatting fart, too; no silent-but-deadlies. If, at any time, you move without emitting an audible blast of gas, then your opponents get to try to score.
Training regimens for the athletes will consist of eating huge buckets full of baked beans, cabbage, radishes, broccoli, and beer.
Before every game, the crowd will stand at attention and sing the league's theme song:
Beans, beans, the musical fruit
The more you eat, the more you toot
The more you toot, the better you feel
Let's eat beans at every meal!
You win a game of fartball by scoring more goals than your opponent, of course, but you can also get a TKO if they pass out from your stench. Most of the kids won't care who wins; they'll be laughing so hard they won't be able to keep score anyway. Oh, and you can ONLY fart. You get thrown out of the game if you actually poop yourself.
I know some people don't find farting to be hilariously funny, and they will not be amused. That's OK, though, because the folks who don't find farting to be hilariously funny usually don't much care for sports to begin with, so it doesn't matter if they like it or not.
Well, this is off to a ripping start! What's the next question?
2 - What is the most fun you've ever had with your clothes on?
I don't understand the question. Fun? Clothes on?
Actually, it was probably in a parking lot in Connecticut. MY WIFE and I were in Hartford, on a short vacation built around a visit to Mark Twain's house. We had to go to a store for a few items. There was this place called Waldbaum's, a sort of combination supermarket and pharmacy.
Well, they had this system for delivering groceries to the parking lot for their customers. Basically, shopping carts loaded with food and drugs came rolling out of the store and into the parking lot. Nobody was pushing them; they just appeared from some sort of aperture in the store wall.
This struck both of us as absurdly funny. We lived in Dorchester (a neighborhood in Boston) at the time, and Dorchester was a fairly high crime area. We imagined what would happen in Dorchester if shopping carts full of food and drugs came rolling out into a parking lot at regular intervals, unguarded and fairly much free for the taking. As successive shopping carts appeared, we were reduced to paroxysms of braying laughter, tears literally running down our faces, as we pictured our neighbors of the time hiding behind the parked cars, waiting to scoot out and make off with a cart or two each.
As with most things of this nature, you probably had to be there to truly appreciate it. One thing I do know for sure is that if I ever find myself homeless, I'm going to make every effort to get back to that Waldbaum's parking lot and I hope they'll still be using the same system.
3 - An evil mastermind is going to destroy the world unless you can stop him. You are armed with a spoon, a rubber chicken, a can of Aquanet, and a bucket of peanuts. What is your plan?
OK, here’s what I’d do. I’d invite him over for dinner. I’d grind up the peanuts and put them into everything, and hope he has a severe allergy. If that doesn’t work, after dinner I’ll ask him if he wants to have sex with me.
(I’m as hetero as they come [no pun intended] but if the fate of the world is at stake, I’m willing to make some sacrifices.)
If the shock of me asking him for sex doesn’t kill him, I have another plan. Before he arrives for dinner, I will have cut a hole in the rubber chicken and sprayed the carcass full of the Aquanet, then patched it up. When he strips naked, I’ll jam the rubber chicken up his ass, light a match, and throw it at him. That ought to do the trick. Now, you're probably wondering how I would survive the resultant blast. I'll be hiding behind the spoon. You might say that's ridiculous, but you didn't specify how big the spoon had to be.
If he doesn't have a peanut allergy, or isn't interested in gay sex, I'll just whack him over the head with the really big spoon. As a matter of fact, I should probably do that first. I might not feel like cooking that night (although missing out on the chance to shove a rubber chicken up someone's butt might leave me sad. It's not often you get that sort of an opportunity.)
4 - What is the worst job you've ever had, who do you think deserves to have to do it for the rest of their natural life, and why?
Dishwasher. For the why, here's the story. For the who, go here.
That wasn't very funny, even by my minimal standards. I wouldn't be much of a Christian if I wished that job on anyone, but if I have to give you an answer, I guess I'll go with the person who invented how they package CDs.
5 - When I get myself back up to Boston where are we going for that drink?
After the answers I’ve given you thus far, I’m grateful that you still think being seen in public with me is something you’d like.
I’ll take you to one of my favorite places in the entire world, The Pleasant Café.
It’s a real old-time restaurant/bar, in the Roslindale neighborhood of Boston, and they serve (in my very humble opinion) the best pizza in Boston. If you don’t like pizza, then I’d recommend the spaghetti with meat sauce. I’ve heard they have other good things on the menu, but in all my time going there, which is over 45 years now, I’ve never ordered anything but the pizza and the spaghetti with meat sauce. Since I’ve ordered nothing else for over 45 years, either those things are very good or I’m insane. It could be both. MY WIFE says that the shish-kebob is almost as good to wear as it is to eat.
I said I wanted to have a drink with you, though, right? I guess neither pizza nor spaghetti with meat sauce qualifies (unless you dump the spaghetti out of the bowl and pour the meat sauce into a mug, and I certainly qualify as one of those) but the joint is a bar, too, so you can grab a shot of Old Granddad (which I’m not, so far as I know) and slug it down. I know they have Pabst Blue Ribbon, if you like beer or aren't particular about your water. Coming from Pennsylvania, you might like to stick with Rolling Rock. If you order something frou-frou, like an apple martini, I'll have to pretend I don't know you. Of course, by the time we get there, you might be pretending that you don't know me, which I can understand, and, as long as I have my pizza and spaghetti with meat sauce, I don't care.
And that's that. This has certainly been a pleasure, but I won't go out on a limb and say for who. I expect it was at least one of us.
Soon, with more better stuff.