A Memo Concerning: Ripe Avocados, George Harrison and Jihad.

Tonight I was dancing by myself in a supermarket checkout line when I couldn’t help but become fascinated by the gentlemen in front of me. He was mysteriously tan, rocking a fancy collared shirt with half the buttons un-buttoned so as to unveil his nipple to nipple shag carpet, sandaled and holding a wad of cash that would have humbled Michael Corleone. Obviously I had to know what this walking cliché was purchasing so I looked up at the check out monitor see three items. 1. A box of Trojans 2. Female contraceptive inserts and 3. What I had already noticed, a massive floral arrangement. Hmm, what was on the itinerary for this fellow? And so we have A Memo Concerning: Ripe Avocados, George Harrison and Jihad.

About a month ago I found myself showering with George Harrison. It was one of the most kick ass bathing experiences of my life and although George passed away years ago, I know he was feeling it to. The simple facts of the matter are that as I was digging shampoo into my pelt I found myself consumed in a beautiful duet of “As My Guitar Gently Weeps” with Mr. Harrison. My apologies to George though because in the bathroom my voice carried much stronger than his. During the course of our rendition I found myself captivated by one particular lyric that sings “I look from the wings at the play you are staging.” I am extremely fond of the wings and sometimes I wonder if the most entertaining things in life occur there. I guess that is why later in the day I was curious if my co-workers could tell, judging by my appearance, that I had bathed with a deceased member of the Beatles that morning.

Now if we consider my supermarket experience I believe that a majority of US Americans would conclude, after judging the gentlemen’s appearance in relation to his purchased items, that this man was looking to engage in coitus at some point in the next 24 hours. And so I wonder if the same holds true if I was found purchasing all three items at once. The answer, not surprising to many of you, is no. If I was purchasing all three items at once there would be only one conclusion—I was attempting to stop the spread of FSTD’s. (Floral Sexually Transmitted Diseases for you poor ignorant fools.) Let us consider this epidemic for a moment. These colorful beings have been breeding irresponsibly for millions of years virtually unchecked. If Margret Sanger, Karl Rove, and Magic Johnson aren’t going to take a stand I feel it my patriotic duty. And don’t think I’m not holding the bees responsible for their role in this terrible and reckless cycle as well. My anti-virus jihad will strike them with equal doses of vicious retribution.

So what items would I purchase if I was looking to fully engage myself into a female? Well some of you chosen ones already know the answer, but for the rest, the list is as follows: one warm, ripe avocado, two gallons of peanut oil, the latest issue of The Economist, three squirrel pelts, one 24 once container of homeopathic Vaseline, a blow torch, the HD DVD of Disney’s Fantasia, and one purple glue stick. If I had a well-balanced breakfast that morning I’d also throw in a bow staff and at least one VHS tape issued by fitness legend John Basedow. But that’s just how I roll.

Reading back through this Memo I realize that things got a little bit weird. Weird as in probably not appropriate for the play that you are all staging. I’m okay with that, I’ll happily stay in the wings ladies and gentlemen. Recently I told a dear friend that the things I love most are those which develop the most passionate opinions—those things or people that you either absolutely love or absolutely hate. Indifference is what I have a problem with. Show them your wings and they may hate you, that’s the fear isn’t it? That is what this play you are all staging is about right? Well just know that I respect the things I hate a whole lot more than the things I don’t have an opinion about. So I look at you all and see the weird there that is sleeping, all while the rest of the world gently weeps for it.