Now that we are safely a full week into the month of March, I have a confession:
Long ago I resolved that if I heard anyone say “the days are getting longer” before the end of February, I would sucker punch, deck, pounce on, and continue to pummel him or her until he or she or anyone else could stop me. Or until I became hungry and went to make a sandwich.
Every New Year’s since, it has been added to all my usual, obligatory, laughable resolutions–losing weight, exercising more, learning German, reading War & Peace, trying to reason with people who fall for simple-minded crap like “Make America great again” and “cancel culture”–that disappear as soon as the next morning’s hangover wears off.
Maybe I’m guilty of selective hearing–as many ex-girlfriends, employers, co-workers, neighbors, students, editors, readers, musicians, artistic directors, a few cousins, two of my parole officers, and at least one state representative have claimed–but it remains a punch I’ve never had occasion to throw.
To be honest, I’m glad I’ve never had to follow through and hit or hurt anyone, especially myself. Still, I remained resolved. Until now.
In addition to punishing someone for stating the painfully, aggravatingly obvious, I had an ulterior motive: To be taken to court where my defense would be that I was doing the world a favor by punishing someone for stating something painfully, aggravatingly, maddeningly, intolerably, unforgivably, excruciatingly, gratingly, insipidly, agonizingly, and so on and so forth obvious.
Yes, I’m fully aware that small talk is the lubricant for big talk, the first gear that takes us to the full throttle of thought and action. James Madison, for instance, would have never written the First Amendment had he not first said “Hello Tom!” and “What’s up, Alex?” to his collaborators and asked about Jefferson’s inventions and crops, Hamilton’s Broadway blockbuster and bad luck with a pistol.
And then there is the First Amendment itself which guarantees everyone’s right to say something stupid. After two books, 500 newspaper columns, and 200 blogs, I’ve had way more of my share of 1A protection for stupidity alone.
For example, I have claimed that the nearest state highway to Plum Island is numbered 1A because I live here. Now, I’m old, but not that old, so the claim is as stupid as it is false. The point is that I can say it on the chance someone might laugh.
Worst that can happen is that they’ll roll their eyes–like when I say that my street, Jackson Way, is named for me but will be changed, thanks to the November election, to Tubman Way. Not true, but there’s some truth to it, so it is worth a laugh and not just an eye-roll.
That was the problem with watching someone look out a window on Groundhog Day or Valentine’s Day and announce, “Oh, look, the days are getting longer!” as if its a miracle on par with a Massachusetts driver using a directional signal. No only is there no laughter, but it forces agreement. Don’t know about you, but I have a hard time saying yes while rolling my eyes. Like taking a turn with my knees on the bottom of the steering wheel while eating a burrito and drinking a beer. What directional signal?
But I relent! No more does anyone have anything to fear from me if he or she remarks aloud on a February sunset as if it’s the second coming of Benjamin Franklin. In fact, I’m joining the ranks of those who state the obvious. Not only that, but I want to recruit you–yes, you with the two eyes and one nose!–to do the same.
This is something that the November election actually did change, and its aftermath has made that more and more, well, obvious. To wit: The denial that Biden won, the denial that it was a fair and clean election, the denial that the pandemic exists or that masks and distancing are necessary, the denial that the rioters were, in fact, Trump supporters, followed by the downplaying of it as not all that serious an event by Republican senators no more honest than emails from Nigeria or robocalls from the FBI and IRS.
No telling what it will take to counter all that, but it appears that the only way to begin is to state the obvious.
So I’m sorry for ever having thought that I might jump someone for such an innocent observation. With luck and pluck, I now resolve to redeem my repentant self by reiterating repeatedly, relentlessly, redundantly, and, most satisfyingly of all, obnoxiously the obvious to the obtuse, the oblivious, and the uber-observant.
Ob-la-di, Ob-la-la-di-da!
-30-
Mouth of the River 
“But not every one can be like me, Obviously” Jack you open up a can of worms with most of your entries. I’m ignorant of Blog etiquette so I try not to respond with what would be another full entry. But…. it’s Sunday and I can’t resist something from The Wayside Pulpit.
Weather or not. Here I come/Here we are!. My response to the New Englander’s fetish for talking weather. Yup, it’s an ice breaker. The days are getting longer. No, they are all 24hr.s and that light dark thing is relative to whether it’s raining, I pull my shades up or am only up during dark time. But I do have fun with those comments. But. This response will be full of Buts. No if ands or buts about it. Get your red pen out if it’s not already. The Wayside Pulpit writes how it speaks. What is traditionally called good writing can be found in The New Yorker, your blog and countless other grammatically correct locations. My only goal is to amuse and delight but can also provoke thought if one chooses or is inclined to do so. But I over-explain myself. Only my therapist knows why even though I don’t have a therapist. Maybe that’s the problem. But…
My problem was I didn’t know I was/could be violent. Your terms for inflicting harm in response to remarks made by others remains in those clouds of mystery. I don’t know what they mean. You see by the time I was 12 yrs old I decided violence was not on my menu. By that time I had had a modicum of fights and felt sick when I won and demeaned when I lost. I quit. I walked away. Or…I usually resorted to reason. that was my Trump card.
I would say to the perpetrators, what happens after this? After you win or I win? So what then? They usually thought I was crazy and walked away. If they insisted I would say I’m a little guy and you will beat the shit out of me in front of all these people and what will they think of you after beating a small guy who can’t fight. If they didn’t walk away their friends would tell them to stop. If I was in an urban area and got jumped or confronted I would stop cold and stare. To date they have walked away. But…I digress or the flow of consciousness rules?
By the time I learned my lesson I was 18. That;s when I realized I was more than capable of acting in a violent manner. I was hanging out with friends on a summer night listening to music provided by the city’s Summer World program. After an hour or so another friend and I realized the wine we had been drinking was tabbed. I was peaking and feeling good. The music ended so 4 of us went back to our neighborhood where we fashioned ourselves in the manner of Black Panthers. This is our turf and the cops are not welcome although we welcomed other kids from other parts of the city with open arms. We were socially egalitarian at Tatnuck Square. “All together now, all together now”. A benign anarchistic street corner society (Documented in my book, The Wayside Pulpit: urban folk tales). The pot smokers, the beer drinkers, the jocks, the junkies the B&E rip off artists all communed without conflict and I might add respectful of each others proclivities. But there are how many stories in the Naked City. Too many for here right now. Besides I got the rest of my life…I am optimistic, yes?
Well we get to the square and there’s lots of other kids there. Two of the junkies were sitting on the big concrete block at the corner of Mill and Chandler, a main intersection. We were right out front and in your face. Here we are the kids of cops, judges, lawyers, tradesmen….”Oooh Oh, whatchya goona do about meeee?” The junkies were smacked out and swilling beer. Slow motion kids. (I might add one became a big time union leader in Boston. Most did well from our neck of the woods}. But…trouble in paradise. The blue meany arrived and quickly put the one who was the most gonzo in the back of his cruiser. This was before the cops figured out how to do these things properly. The officer was alone. There were at least 15 kids around the cop car now and we don’t care if you have a gun.
The other junkie who wasn’t arrested protested. He yelled out that if our brother was going to be arrested the cop would have to take him also he got in the back seat with the other kid. Now the real show started. We don’t let our own down without a fight and don’t worry, I’ve got your back. The two in the cruiser each got to one side of the back seat and began to open the doors to escape. The cop couldn’t stop the both of them so he went for the first guy who was gonzo.
He grabbed him by the neck. Looked at the crowd surrounding him. Took out his billy club and split the kid’s head open. Blood. I saw red. The boys always let the girls attack cuz the cops didn’t beat on them then. Two of them jumped on the cop’s back and pummeled his head. He was facing me. This was my chance. I was juiced…”and I felt just like Jesus’s son”. I picked up one of the GQs and threw it at the cop’s face. But…the bottle missed him, hit his windshield and skimmed off of it and on to the ground. Unlike my friend’s head, the bottle didn’t break. But…
My friends dragged me away put me in a car and drove away as the Paddy wagon swept the lot throwing anyone in who was around Weather they had something to do with it or not. A big mistake. The cops got screwed in court for unjust arrest…en mass. Nothing happened to the girls. The wise guy junkie got away and the gonzo kid was charged with assault on a police officer even though the kid couldn’t even stand up he was so monkeyed out.
And me? My adrenaline is rushing now as I write this. Yes Dave you do have the capacity for violence even though you…..But but but.
That’s only one story in this Naked City. Others are even more…..but…”until tomorrow but that’s just another time”
Have fun with the red pen…keep in practice. I’m an equal opportunity employer who pays everyone the same wage. 0. But I do enjoy grammatical/spelling critiques. I’d rather learn from someone rather than something.
Enjoy the Spring Beach Boy!
*David Nader*
Virus-free. http://www.avast.com
On Sun, Mar 7, 2021 at 9:07 AM Mouth of the River wrote:
> buskersdelight posted: ” Now that we are safely a full week into the month > of March, I have a confession: Long ago I resolved that if I heard anyone > say “the days are getting longer” before the end of February, I would > sucker punch, deck, pounce on, and continue to pummel him” >
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Be assured that the opening line was hyperbole meant to grab attention. On the other hand, if a third person present did it to someone who made that remark, I wouldn’t exert myself to stop it.
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Once again… your posts! So very rich. I need to read them several times over, to catch more of the imagery, the flow, the clever observations… Meanwhile, all’s quiet on Delwood Ave. where the woman is active, the man is inventive, and the weather is just right!
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