My demented editor (I know he doesn't swim, but I can only hope he isn't a closet masters swim forum lurker) has recently proposed sending me to Afghanistan, which I can't even spell, in order to do a story not on the resurgent Taliban or even the ups and downs of the opium trade, but rather on the enduring popularity of male body building in that ruined country. Supposedly, despite all the troubles over there, muscle gyms abound in Kabul--testimony, in my editor's eyes, at least, to the ineradicability of male vanity.
Why he wants me to write about this is a more complicated story, but I replied that I thought his essential premise was flawed--that men don't body build out of vanity/desire to impress the distaff gender; they do it (in my opinion--must check with evolutionary psychologists for verification; the attached poll is a way of gauging feminine sentiment regarding hypermuscularity) to keep other guys from beating them up. The largest per capita rate of male body building in the US goes is in prisons in states where the respective state legislatures have not banned barbells (hoping to prevent super criminals from being released en masse upon the flabby public when their sentences are over.) My editor was undeterred by my theories and objections--he still wants me to go.
For a variety of reasons, including a probable State Department ban on tourism to countries we're at war with (again, more research needed), I doubt I will actually be going to Afghanistan. But in the remote case I do go, does anyone know places to swim over there?
If I am to be the first "journalist" beheaded during the Global War on Terror, not for investigating this, to be sure, but while reporting on muscle gyms, I would like to at least be able to get some final relaxing laps in before losing my head.
PS if anyone is interested in coming along as a personal masseuse on this junket, let me know your measurements for the prerequisite burka (I think Amanda Beard might model these on the Speedo web site, but I'm not sure.) I'm thinking a good neck rub might serve to relax the cervical muscles, eliminating any knots that might otherwise impede the scimitar's progress, making my moment of dispatch as speedy and pleasant as possible
In this way, I--and not my demented editor--will get the last, albeit very short-lived, laugh!
I do apologize if anyone was offended.
There is just something so utterly grotesque about the "Operation: Enduring Oil Glut" that our ventriloquist dummy and his suddenly nowhere-to-be-found neo con puppet masters (the con here apparently stands for connive) got us into that inclines the likes of me towards somewhat bitter attempts at self-deprecating humor. In my defense, I weighed the odds that anyone reading this forum might have a first-degree beheaded relative and concluded these were nil.
Granted, the Rush Limbaugh ranks and other assorted patriots probably know someone who knows someone who has heard of someone who might have had a cleaning woman at some point who has a first-degree relative in Iraq or Afghanistan, and take great offense.
My sensibilities are a bit frayed.
The other day, my 18-year-old son received his second notice from the Selective Service Administration (I destoyed the first one that skittled like a bubonic rat into our mail box) telling him that he faced prison time if he didn't register for the non-draft. To me, this kind of thing is what's truly offensive.
Along these lines, if anyone is looking for a great read, check out Louis Ferdinand Celine's Journey to the End of the Night. "You can be a virgin in horror the same as sex," he writes.
Again, sorry for the scimitar crack--clearly the thoughtless words of a horror virgin. Here's hoping all of us--and our sons--can keep our horror hymens in tact for the rest of our natural lives.
I do apologize if anyone was offended.
There is just something so utterly grotesque about the "Operation: Enduring Oil Glut" that our ventriloquist dummy and his suddenly nowhere-to-be-found neo con puppet masters (the con here apparently stands for connive) got us into that inclines the likes of me towards somewhat bitter attempts at self-deprecating humor. In my defense, I weighed the odds that anyone reading this forum might have a first-degree beheaded relative and concluded these were nil.
Granted, the Rush Limbaugh ranks and other assorted patriots probably know someone who knows someone who has heard of someone who might have had a cleaning woman at some point who has a first-degree relative in Iraq or Afghanistan, and take great offense.
My sensibilities are a bit frayed.
The other day, my 18-year-old son received his second notice from the Selective Service Administration (I destoyed the first one that skittled like a bubonic rat into our mail box) telling him that he faced prison time if he didn't register for the non-draft. To me, this kind of thing is what's truly offensive.
Along these lines, if anyone is looking for a great read, check out Louis Ferdinand Celine's Journey to the End of the Night. "You can be a virgin in horror the same as sex," he writes.
Again, sorry for the scimitar crack--clearly the thoughtless words of a horror virgin. Here's hoping all of us--and our sons--can keep our horror hymens in tact for the rest of our natural lives.
