SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME – the book

“Well, I do declare! Mr. Andrew Lowry, as I live and breathe! Time to riiiiise and shiiiiiine!”

That was Luke. He was being loud while standing over me with a sloppy grin.

“Was I not asleep ten seconds ago? Who are you? Sorry. Who am I? What time is it?”

“Yes. Luke. Drew. 6 am. You have sixteen questions left. Let’s go, Bro! We need to put you to work.”

I was not pleased.

Get lost. I traveled two days to get to this dump. I almost died getting here, could’ve gotten tossed in jail for dragging around a couple of pounds of weed (courtesy of your half-witted errand boy), ran over who knows how many chickens on the drive, spent a few hours in a church mourning the loss of some flea-bag pot dealer and got assigned a hotel room so as not to disturb your domestic bliss, such as it is. Shove off.

“You are evil, and you must be destroyed. Coffee?”

“Café is in a thermos in the jeep where you need to be! We have a long drive. Rick dropped off all coloring books from your room.”

“Rick? Who’s…., oh, the hotel guy who really, really really wanted to send me two 14-year-olds for some all-night mattress testing. And, no, I didn’t take him up on the offer.”

Luke laughed. “Ah-ha, that’s why he told me you’re gay. So, now that we have solved that mystery, get up. Time’s a wasting.” 

You couldn’t be bothered to come downstairs last night to say hello. Now it’s time for me to be free labor. 

“Yes, Mother. May I, pretty please, go tinkle first?”

Luke pretended to be annoyed. “Oh, sure, fine, there you go. Putting yourself ahead of needy children, as usual. Go ahead. Oh, I forgot to mention, it’s great to see you, Big Guy.”

“And you, my friend. This will be an express tinkle. I’ll do the self-service option.”

“Hi-yeeeee!” Sara entered the room. “While you two were busy caressing each other, your Auntie Sara loaded everything in the jeep. What’s up, Sleepy Head?”

“Oh, me. I’m astonishingly refreshed after my nine solid minutes of sleep. My immediate plan is to do number one. I shan’t be long.”

Sara jumped up and down in mock excitement. “I wanna watch, I wanna watch! Pleee-yeeez?”

I feigned grave concern.  “I’m worried about you.”

“Well, join the club!” Sara looked at Luke. Luke looked back and abruptly walked away. 

Two minutes later, we were destined for parts unknown in their 300-year-old open-air jeep filled with boxes, including the coloring books and my suitcase with all its contents. 

Luke casually mentioned, “We’ll be staying overnight. It’ll be fun. You get to pass out the coloring books. Every kid in the forest will love you.”

“Sorry. Every kid in the what?”

“Forest. Listen, why don’t you get some shut-eye? We’ll stop in a couple of hours and get you some food in a few hours.”

The forest. Well, that’s just….jolly.

So, I slept. I was jammed between boxes on the jeep’s flatbed while Lukey announced ways to fix Mexico’s problems, improve the lives of the oppressed, and return peace and love to the valley. 

This reminds me that I am currently working on two critically important projects to better the lives of my fellow citizens! One will exponentially increase the country’s GDP in a matter of weeks. It involves urine. The other will finally unite the political parties to pursue one common goal. It involves hats. 

When these projects are complete, I guarantee that the “Land of the Free of the Brave” will ascend to unthinkable heights of wealth and happiness. 

It’s the least I can do for my country. 

This first one is ingenious.  When you apply for a job in the good old USA of America, you must provide a urine sample. We want to make sure you aren’t taking illegal substances. You can be a violent criminal. That’s fine. We’re good with that. You can storm into work with a machete and threaten to kill all the administrative staff. The worst that’ll happen is a manager might suggest you contact Employee Assistance. However, thou shalt not bring thine filthy drugs to our holy and sacred workplace on accounta drugs are bad.

This fixation with drugs in the workplace is, of course, ridiculous and a complete waste of time. Drugs aren’t the problem. People are. Plus, it doesn’t keep anyone from taking drugs after getting the job. If you stood up in a corporate office and said the drug testing would start in five minutes, then 80% of the employees would promptly urinate on themselves. 

There’s a reason for that. 

Corporate America urgently needs a urine test for stupidity, willful ignorance, laziness, and corruptibility. Just think about what your company could accomplish if you eliminated those people. 

If you had a urine test that identified the losers ahead of time so you could avoid hiring them, then your net earnings would quadruple. 

My breakthrough AJUT (Anti-Jackass-Urine-Test) will come to the rescue. I’m getting close. We completed a first trial with the Nestlé Company. Unfortunately, all the employees at the company tested positive—all of them. Perhaps Nestlé wasn’t the best company to run our beta. It turns out that a consortium of Mafia families refused a merger opportunity with Nestlé, saying, “Yes, fine, we’re criminal, but we’re not THAT criminal.”

It needs a little fine-tuning. 

My other project relates to the pathetic state of politics in this country. Politicians aren’t chosen based on qualifications, accomplishments, experience, ability, or personal conduct in the good old USA of America. The political ads are meaningless. They all say the same thing: “Vote for me, and I’ll give you whatever you want. PS, my opponent sells child porn to finance his campaign.” No rational person takes these ads seriously.

Before you get tuned up, I’m neither Democrat nor Republican. I’m an Independent. Primarily because Democrats and Republicans scream the answer at you before you’ve even had a chance to ask the question; plus, this entitles me to change my mind. I might receive new information that may cause me to reconsider my position on specific topics.

It classifies me as a DIBWOC (Duplicitous, Irrational, Bed-Wetting, Obtuse Centrist), which is fine.

For those unfamiliar with the major political parties in the Land of Milk and Honey, Democrats are the ones who keep making the same stupid mistakes as they refuse to learn from the past. Republicans are the ones who come off as knuckle-dragging morons as they refuse to stop living in the past. They only agree on making it impossible for a third party to get anywhere.

Regarding politics in the USA, everything that should be meaningful isn’t. 

Look at Donald Trump. What public policy experience or political expertise did he have? None. Other than filing for bankruptcy a lot, what did he accomplish? Very little. Did he mention any specific domestic policy? No. Entire foreign policy? Build a wall. Personal conduct? The guy is an HR manager’s worst nightmare. 

However, Donald had a hat. It was a baseball hat that said MAGA (Make America Great Again) on the front. Other than the hat, he had nothing. Yet, he became president thanks to that hat. Half the people who voted for him didn’t know what MAGA stood for. It didn’t matter. People rallied around that MAGA hat. Hillary Clinton didn’t have a hat. Case closed. 

All you need to do is determine a unifying thread. A notion upon which all Americans strongly agree. Identify that one issue, make a ridiculous slogan about it, pull an acronym out of your whatnot, put that acronym on a hat, and you, my friend, can be elected president. 

And I think I found the perfect acronym: 

MEGA – Make Excellence Go Away.

All Americans are prepared to defend this great country against anyone’s pursuit of excellence. On this point, we’re solid. We are firmly resolved in our WASTE (War Against Striving Towards Excellence).

MEGA will unite all Americans to a single cause.

I kid thee not. 

Exhibit A: The MIAC (Minnesota Intercollegiate Athletic Conference), which governs collegiate sports for the state, recently threw STU (St. Thomas University), a member school, out of its football conference. Their football team kept beating the other teams in that conference, and those other teams didn’t like it. 

Do you think I’m kidding? 

ABOVE: I am not kidding.

It made the students from other schools feel bad about themselves. They were sad, probably all ended up in therapy, were diagnosed with PTLD (Post-Traumatic Loser Disorder), put on medication, and remained unemployed because they couldn’t pass the drug test.   

Now, I know there may be some lowbrow, mouth-breathing, radical, anti-slothers out there right now asking, “Gosh, wouldn’t the people on the other teams be motivated to work harder, work smarter, improve their performance, and become a better team so they can beat St. Thomas University?”

No.

Hell, no.

Are you out of your mind? In America? Where Amber waves her grain upon these fruited planes [sic] over Dawn’s early light in the home of the bombs bursting in air? We have the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of feeling good about ourselves without having to do anything to feel good about. It says so in the Constitution’s First Amendment, which we refer to often but never actually read.

ABOVE: Did you hear about the professor being fired because his class was too easy? No, you didn’t. Because it never happened.

Exhibit B—Public Schools. Schools in the States teach all children that everyone’s a winner. No one is a loser, ever. We give all children trophies, saying they are winners. 

Of course, some flatulent free-market types will make threatening and demeaning statements, like, “If EVERYONE is a winner, then no one’s a winner. Stands to reason.”

Fine. Okay, okay, okay. It’s a tie. Everyone is tied. 

Here’s how it works in public schools:

Let’s say you have two 5th graders. One is called Natalie. The other is named Jasper.

Natalie shows up 30 minutes early to school every day, gets 100% on all her tests, is 50 weeks ahead on her homework, helps her classmates with their homework, is the third-ranked chess player in the world, and was recently published in the top science journals, where she repealed Avogadro’s Law.

Then, there’s Jasper. Jasper couldn’t find his ass in a dark room with both hands. He shows up two hours late. He can’t remember the name of his school, is 36 months behind on his homework, still isn’t toilet trained, has a GPA of -0.5, and vomits on his desk. 

As far as the school is concerned, there is no difference between Natalie and Jasper. They’re both winners. They both get similar trophies. Natalie gets one for her breakthrough quantum theory of gravity, enabling scientists to determine the universe’s origin. Jasper gets one for zipping his pants up after going to the bathroom.  Jasper is lavished with prizes and awards when he’s only 45 minutes late for school. 

Jasper gets an “A” for effort, and Natalie gets detention. All her excellent work and success make Jasper feel bad about himself, a prosecutable offense under the WIG (Worthlessness Is Godliness) statute. 

The school administrators encourage the other students in the class to beat up Natalie because she’s thoughtlessly overachieving, which is in direct violation of the school’s SHIT (Schools Hate Independent Thought) mandate. 

The parents of Natalie’s classmates run a smear campaign against Natalie, claiming she slept with the entire high school wrestling team one night and speculating she’s a direct descendant of Satan. 

Eventually, Natalie decides pursuing excellence is more trouble than it’s worth, so she goes on a tequila binge for the rest of the school year, receiving a trophy every time she makes it through the day without vomiting on her desk. 

So, now that Natalie has gotten with the program, everyone’s a winner again. We can all go back to doing nothing and feeling good about it. 

As you can see, everything is back to normal in our public school system:

ABOVE: The best part about this is that even though the student is now in 9th grade, the school system proudly announced he’s on track to finish 12th grade next year. You think I’m kidding. I’m not.

One more thing. Did you know all children are considered “special in the good old USA?” That’s another insight public schools insist on bellowing:

“All children. Special. No exceptions.”

What no one tells you is when you are no longer special. There must be an age where you transition from “special” to “just another useless, fornicating little jackass who’s holding up the line.”

Of course, if they’re all special, then none of them are special, so what’s the point of telling all the children they are special since none of them are…. oh, never mind.

Where was I? 

Right. Mexico. We were driving somewhere to see kids in a forest.

When we arrived in the town of Tuxtla Gutiérrez, Sara woke me up with another not-so-brief kiss on the lips. I surveyed the environment for a minute. We were stopped in front of an open-air market. I didn’t see Luke anywhere. 

“Did we just end up on page 20 of ‘Animal Farm?’”  This was an appropriate question. In the middle of a state filled with extreme poverty, Tuxtla Gutiérrez was home to the excesses and decadence of the state’s filthy rich. These were the privileged few against whom the animals in Orwell’s book rebelled. Lovely homes and communities were behind large iron gates and protected by armed security guards. According to Sara, 1% of Chiapas’ wealthiest residents accounted for well over 50% of the state’s income; most of that 1% could be found in Tuxtla Gutiérrez.

Regarding wealth, Tuxtla Gutiérrez wouldn’t have been confused with Monaco. It was comparable to an upper-middle-class neighborhood in El Paso.

But, juxtaposed with the rest of Chiapas, the residents were billionaires, and they looked the part: ridiculously dressed, unaware of their surroundings, flabby, and possessed with the same vacuous, dull-eyed facial expressions most bored rich people have. 

Sara’s face was about six inches from mine when I woke up. 

“You’re cute when you’re asleep.”

“You’re cute when you’re awake, so we cover all 24 hours with cuteness cooties. What did you do with Lukey?”

“Uh-oh. I knew I had forgotten something. I think I left him in a porta-potty an hour ago. Darn. We can pick him up on the way back. For now, you’re mine, all my-yiiiine!”

“Is the youngster okay? From what I overheard last night, it seemed his neurons were misfiring. Badly.”

“You heard us?”

“The entire ordeal, including him shouting his eternal love and you doing a fine job faking a big one.” 

“Gawd! I told him to shut the door.”

I smiled. “I heard that, too. Hey, it’s okay. I lived in the freshman dorms. Heard it all before.”

“Do you think he knew I faked it?

“He was way too busy being self-conscious to notice. I understand he’s insecure, but whoa. Why is he pretending to be so happy, and can you make it stop? I mean, he’s the one faking.”

She stared at me briefly, rested her head on my chest, and ran her finger lightly around my face.  

I was worried Luke would see us. “Shall we saunter along the promenade and cast aspersions upon the local hordes?” 

Sara did the nose twitch girls seemed to do when I said something incomprehensible. “Once more in English?”

“Yew wanna go for a walk ‘n make fun uh duh natives?”

“If we’re not here when His Hiney gets back, then he’ll break into a million-billion pieces and all the king’s horses and all the king’s men….”

“Couldn’t put Hiney’s ugly backside together again. Got it. Are you two wacky kids thinking of staying here and getting married?”

Sara’s facial expression was of someone sitting on a thumb tack.  “Oh, pul-eez. This little girl? No, no, no, no, no. Uh-uh.” She continued in a mock Mexican accent. “Ah, don wanna get the marrieeeed. Ah don wanna live here ’til I a ol’ señora. Ah don’ wanna deal with all dis sheeeet. Ah don’ wanna be bossed around by Meeeester Perfecto.”

“Hmmmm, what do you want?”

“You.”

She gave me a soft smile. “I so wanted to sleep with you last night.”

I was flattered that Sara took an interest. I was. Sara was charming, funny, unpretentious, good-natured, and pretty. However, even in different circumstances, I’m not sure I would have inflicted her with my stunning romantic charm. I don’t know. Probably not. Besides, we had been friends for a few years, and I was never interested in rocking that particular boat. In my experience, the best way to muck up a lovely friendship is for all parties to take their clothes off and exchange recipes for a night or two. To make things more convoluted, Lukey had made some recent noises about marrying her. In my opinion, It was a hornet’s nest best left undisturbed.

Before I had time to reply, we heard Lukey talking with someone in the distance.

Sara quickly and inconspicuously moved back to the passenger’s seat. She looked back at me, smiled, and said, “To be continued.”

“May not hurt to talk with the young man. I don’t think he knows how you’re feeling about….”

“We’re not talking at the moment.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” 

Without saying a word, Luke jumped into the driver’s seat, gave me a couple of burritos, didn’t acknowledge Sara, started the jeep, and floored it. 

The tension was thick with Sara and Luke. I ate and then pretended to go back to sleep. 

It’s working out well so far. Is this how people on the Hindenburg felt once they understood there might be a bit of turbulence during the landing?

On the other hand, they’re good people. They mean well enough, and maybe they can find their way together.

Tricky thing, love is. You’re dancing on a highwire, hanging on the trapeze, diving through hoops of fire, flying out of a cannon, walking on stilts, and standing on galloping horses.

And here’s the rub: You’ll be doing this with someone you may not know very well or at all.

You’re going to fall. 

How often do you want to scrape yourself off the floor before saying, “To hell with it?”

—END OF CHAPTER FIVE—

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