[The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind] I Got Your Answers Right Here, Buddy!

As you can see, the poor Cheeseheads here in Wisconsin (and, whatever those things are that live in Minnesota and Iowa are called) have vanished beneath a mountain of white. The news people have been hyping the hell out of this storm for the better part of a week, so I'm not really terribly surprised or anything. In fact, about the only thing that surprised me was waking up to the sound of a snowblower this morning.

It filled me with an odd feeling of dread and panic and a sort of subdued annoyance.

However, when I peeled apart the curtains and looked out the window, I saw my neighbor standing in the somewhat-still green grass of his backyard with a screwdriver in his hand and a slightly disassembled snowblower in front of him.

Anyway, since I am sitting in my little hovel awaiting the inevitable onslaught of winter weather, and since it's been a week since you asked whatever questions were on your mind, I figure now would be as good a time as any to just sit back, grab some coffee and see what it is you guys have to ask.

The first question comes from Bill (or JustPlainBill if you're nasty), and he wants to know:

"Dan, why do you always ask us to ask you questions?
I think you are just fishing for info not input."

You're right Bill. But, don't worry. My intentions are actually honorable. You see, if you ask me enough questions, eventually, I will learn enough about you to where we will both feel comfortable when I show up at your front door with a bottle of whiskey in my hand, a body to hide, and the police hot on my tail. After all, you have no idea how many times people have said
they were my friends only to turn me in when it comes time to hold the flashlight while I dig a shallow grave by the railroad tracks, Bill.

Next, Rachael Anne has a proposal:

"Will you marry me?"

Maybe. Are you rich? You see, unlike most people, my love can be bought. Some people pay by the hour, but if you'd like to set up some sort of long term account, I'm sure we could work something out.

I accept most major credit cards (as well as Diners' Club).

Now, Barry (not Bob), on the other hand, went in a completely odd way and got his questions off the wireless. So, from Barry, by way of Radio Free Europe comes:

"Desert Island Discs is a radio programme that's been going for eons over here. Celebrities are asked "if they were stranded on a desert island what would they hope to have with them".
They must name:
8 discs
1 book
1 luxury
1 inanimate object."

Gyaaah!

I suppose the discs I'd take would have to be:

1. Some sort of Jimmy Buffet's greatest hits CD. I mean, this is an island, right?
2. Dave Matthews' Central Park Concert.
3. Joe Cocker: Live
4. Carlos Santana's greatest hits.
5. Umm... If there's an audio book out there that explains how to make rum, add that to the collection.
6. Oh. And an audio book that describes what can and can not be eaten on a desert island.
7. Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon
   
8. Southern Culture on the Skids: Dirt Track Date. If I'm going to ever be rescued, I think the song "Camel Walk" should be playing.
   

One book:
Aside from the liner notes of the CDs I've procured, I suppose a good novel to read time and time again would have to be The Ultimate Hitchhikers Guide.

One luxury item:
I was going to say a bed, but considering I've got all these freakin' CD's on hand, I suppose I have to say that I'd like a nice, big, ridiculously powerful stereo of at least 3,500 watts and speakers the size of a Hummer.

Then again, if the CD player is included in this abandonment deal, then I'm going to have to say that my favorite luxury item would be a nice bar stocked with an infinite amount of top shelf booze and peanuts.

Of course, that changes number 5 above, so instead of an audio book on how to make rum, let's make it an audio book on how to get the hell off a desert island once the booze runs dry.

One inanimate object:
You mean aside from the book, bar, stereo, and cds?

Okay. How about a 3,500 square-foot house with all the trimmings (i.e. fireplace, picket fence, laundry room)? That would be a dandy inanimate object.

I hope that answers your question Barry. Thankyouverymuch!

Next up is Gaz, and he would like to know:
"If you could live in any country, what would it be, apart from France?"

I'd have to say New Zealand. I've not heard anything but really great things about the place. Plus, they drink like maniacs and eat food off the road there, so that's pretty much right up my alley.

Oh yeah. They also invented bungee jumping.

If you ask me, it sounds like a very crazy place.

Now, Indigo would like to know:
"Whatever happened to the on again/ off again ex girlfriend? Is she in residence in your life or is that just wishful thinking?"

Your guess is as good as mine, Indigo. She and I are still good friends, and until JustPlainBill lightens up and, for the price of a bottle of good whiskey, lets me bury my emotional baggage in his back yard, I imagine she's most likely going to be in and out of my life for a very long time.

Then again, that desert island thing of Barry's has a certain appeal to it. Of course, she'd find me. Oh yes. She would hunt me down and make me do things like shave my face and stand up straight and stop calling her mother a bag of gas. In fact, until I can figure out how she managed to low-jack me, that woman is probably going to be a part of my life until Death's sweet embrace whisks me away.

Hey neat! Psychfun asks:
"If you do plan to come back from the creepy death, what would you like to come back as?"

A unicorn. And, I'd keep that point on my head phenomenally sharp. I mean, can you really beat four legs, a fluffy tail, and a gleaming weapon of death on your forehead?

I think not.

Oh, yes. I'd also grant wishes.

The next one comes from SouthernMush:
"Since its almost December 25th wouldn't you like to be out Christmas shopping ???"

Umm... I'm going to say "Hell No."

Yep.

Hell... freakin'... No!

In fact, I think I'd rather be having 24 root canals between now (December 1st) and Christmas Day.

Now, before that whole shopping thing gets to me, I think it's best to see what Beth would like to know.
"When driving, have you ever had that stray thought of "What would happen if I veered over into the opposite lane?" or "What would happen if I drove off into that ditch?" It's odd, because I am not one iota suicidal, and I would never in a million years do something like that, especially if it would harm someone else, but do you ever have that weird, out-of-nowhere thought?

I have those sorts of thoughts pretty much all the time, Beth. And, they aren't limited to my car. For example, just the other day, I was standing in line at the grocery store, and I was starving. The first thought in my mind was, "Hey! I have a nice steak in my cart. I wonder if I could cook it if these people in front of me were on fire. I should have picked up some charcoal starter."

So, if it helps, Beth, you're not alone!

Next, we have Rachael again with a full-blown, tie-me-to-a-chair interrogation straight out of Gitmo:

was there ever a time in your life when you did believe in god(aka the great sky-fairy)?

Nope. The house I grew up in was pretty much the least religious house in town. Although, we were encouraged to go forth into the world and find our own conclusions. Oddly, all my brothers and I have the same exact notions of god.

how much bacon IS enough bacon?

Well, when the women and children weep as a result of a dog eating your face because your sweat smells like bacon, that's usually the first sign that you've had enough. After that, well, your heart starts looking into tickets to Israel.

other than your blog, have you published something somewhere that would be accessible for your blog readers (aka me) to read?

I don't know how accessible they are, but I have published some short stories in various little magazines here and there. I have no idea where the play I wrote wound up. There's also a poetry manual out there somewhere that has a few contributions and an essay from me. Also, you could try Penthouse Letters.

Seriously, though, I have been tinkering with the notion of slapping some of my crappy old short fiction up on this blog, but it's all on hard copies, and I'm a lazy bastard who isn't exactly a huge fan of typing. Eventually, though, perhaps I'll get around to it.

what is your favorite thing to eat with butter?

More butter. In fact, I would make a butter sandwich. Take some room-temperature, soft butter, spread it on two slices of hard, cold butter and garnish with lettuce.

do you have any incriminating pictures of yourself? will you share one?

No... And, no.

Sorry, but due to my political ambitions, I must protect this well-constructed façade. Think Manchurian Candidate.

Wow. Meme-Queen Dawn has a question (or two or three or...):
Will you play something on guitar and upload the video to youtube and put it on your journal for us to enjoy??? Please???

Oh gads, no! I've stopped being a part of recitals more than twenty years ago. The groupies are too much for any human to take, and it's damn impossible trying to play "Inchworm" loaded up on heroin and vodka.

Plus, I'm shy. I don't want people to watch a video of me. I'm not video material.

Dear god, woman! Don't... make... me...

If you come to Ny/nj area will you come visit me?

Does the Pope poop in the woods?

You bet I'll come and see you. Stock the minibar, fire up the hot tub, call your single friends and tell Bon Jovi I'm in town. Bastard owes me money.

Now, Mush is back, and she wants to know:
"Have you been to the Journals Chat Room ? Jeannette and Yasm and Lisa are there from time to time. I hope you are feeling better. "

Thanks. I am feeling better in spite of this pointless, annoying winter weather.

Unfortunately, no. I've not been to the Journals' Chatroom, and I don't plan on going. I'm not big on those sorts of things. I mean, a person can blow a lot of time in a chatroom. Plus, I can never follow any of the conversations going on.


Next up: A riddle (I think) from Sillyokio:
A young girl is at her mother's funeral. She meets a young man she had never seen before, but who's there as a part of family. She instantly falls in love with him. A few days after, she kills her sister. Why?

Let's see here... Young girl... mother's funeral... young man... fall in love... girl kills sister.

I've got it!

The young girl is a freakin' psychopath!

The next question comes from Robin who would like to know:
"If you were going to Atlanta this weekend, would you aim for the outdoor skating rink, "the" aquarium, "the" Christmas parade, "the" football game Saturday night (some big conference thing), visit the Southern Region Oireachtas (hint, my child is dancing there), find a good bookstore and some local brew (and cheese), just chill with room service and enjoy the hotel pool, or some combination of the above?"

Sorry, but I would do none of those things, Robin. If I were in Atlanta, I'd be hiding in some bar in The Underground where I would do my best to stay true to my drunken Morlock tendencies. May even do a bit of clubbing. But, ice skating is right out.

Let's see... Here's a why I don't like religion question from Stormypassionzz:
"My question is....why do you always feel the need to tell Christians how wrong they are (in your own subliminal way) in believing in their God? I'll go on and say also, is it because you always have Christians telling YOU how wrong you are or because you feel the need to tell US how wrong WE are? Just wondering....."

Hmm... I don't think I tell Christians that they are wrong in believing in God. I tell them why I don't believe in God, and I do, at times, point out the hazards of allowing a belief in god dictate aspects of your life that it really shouldn't.

Now, there are definitely Christiansâ„¢ out there who feel the urge to constantly tell me that I am going to burn in hell, suffer for eternity, be forced to endure an endless torment listening to the music of Ricky Martin. They tell me that I don't deserve the same rights they enjoy because I don't believe in god, and if I only just believed in their god, then I could call myself an American.

Those Christiansâ„¢, Stormy, are the ones I most rail against, and I believe they deserve to be smacked in their gurgling little mouths if they would so openly endorse the wholesale oppression of citizens of this free nation based solely upon the inarticulate scribblings of sadistic Bronze Age itinerant sheep and goat herders. They are terrorists who bomb clinics, murder innocent people, and brainwash their children into this cult of irrational hatred.

They are, if nothing else, the very worst our society has to offer, and every american should be ashamed of these relentless hate-mongers.

Then again, maybe it could just be because I'm a colossal asshole.

Awesome! Mushy's back in the hizzhouse!
Why haven't you talked about your Christmas shopping and decorating ??? Have you done anything in the way of Christmas shopping and putting up decorations ??? Where is your yuletide spirit ???

Well, I've probably not talked about shopping and decorating because I'm a guy, and I like things like golf, football, boxing, meat and pretty much anything deep-fried (seriously. I'd eat the engine block out of an old Buick if it was battered and fried in some sort of fat). Christmas-y stuff just isn't in my manly-man wiring.

However, I did hang a few wreaths out front, and it looks deeeee-lish and festive!

Bring on the eggnog!

Finally, to wrap this madness up, we have a question from Paul:
"Power tools...or beer? Really, which is the better Milwaukee?"

Now, do you see this Mush? It's a question not only about beer, but about power-freakin'-tools as well. Paul knows man-stuff. This is a question coming from someone who's not afraid to use bacon as a substitute for lettuce in a salad.

Anyway, Paul, I don't know where to begin with this. This is perhaps the most difficult question I've faced in ages. It's even more difficult than the time the doctors asked "would you like to keep your grandmother on the ventilator, or should we pull the plug?"

They make beer in Milwaukee. They make LOTS of beer in Milwaukee, and by god do I love beer! However, any beer with the word "Milwaukee" in its name is utterly worthless, and I wouldn't even wash a dog in that nonsense. It's a vile concoction of goat piss and whatever urine they can squeaze out of the reptile cage at the local zoo.

Ptooey!

But there is also good beer in Milwaukee that we don't usually share with the rest of the world. We've got hundreds of microbreweries putting out stuff that will make your head spin. And, we've got sausages. If you've got two hands, dinner is usually a bratwurst in one hand and a bottle of something yummy in the other, and you just keep repeating that formula until you're stuffed, and you're good to go out dancing.

How else do you think we survive long winters of losing sports teams?

We drink. A lot. And we do it very, very well...

But, when people around here are sober enough, we also make power tools, and Milwaukee tools are some of the best in the industry. They're indestructible. I've dropped (or thrown) some off the roof only to plug them in and watch in awe as they somehow still managed to work. There's not a lot of plastic on them, and they last forever. Hell. My buddy's sawsall belches out the mysterious and hypnotizing blue-white smoke of a potential electrical fire every time he presses the go button, and that thing will still chew through a six-by-six like a hot knife through a butter sandwich.

When I was doing roof work, one of our favorite post-workday pastimes was to use our power tools to open our bottles of beer. Hammers work fine enough, but let me tell you, there is no greater joy than taking an impact wrench to a twist-off. In my world, that's an efficiency unattainable by anyone's chosen deity.

However, a decision must be made, right?

This is tough Paul. I hate you for this.

The thing is, I'm going to have to say that beer is the better Milwaukee product. I mean, as fun as it is to play with power tools, beer is the great equalizer, and you can drink it at six in the morning without worrying about waking anyone up. It's not only a vital component on the road map to world peace, it's also the performance enhancing compound which helps ugly people like me dance, sing karaoke, and get laid.

Trust me. I'm a very attractive man in the dark after a boatload of beer. I mean, when I've got a full tank of hoppy social lubricant running through my system, I look a hell of a lot like Brad Pitt. And, if the woman I'm hitting on doesn't agree that I look like Brad Pitt, her eyesight is easily repaired by pouring more and more beer into her head until we both agree that I am a damn, sexy beast who's pals with George Clooney.

And, that's the beauty of living in Milwaukee. During a night out drinking beer, you just never know how many celebrities you'll bump into.

Unfortunately, as a result of beer, Milwaukee is a very ugly town on Sunday morning. It's as if the whole city was made of shattered glass that's being crammed into your eyeballs by someone with big, sweaty hands. But, you know, you take the bad with the good. And beer is very, very good.


Well, I think that should answer all your questions. I had a lot of fun with these, so thank you so much for asking.

Have a great day. I'm off to shovel. ACK!

-DP


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Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 12/01/2007 02:40:00 PM