Thursday, November 11, 2010
In Which I Confess I'd Like To Rappel Into Your Penthouse
Are you mega-rich? Do you live in a luxury high-rise with state-of-the-art security protecting millions of dollars worth of objets d'art which you purchased with mega-bonuses paid to you after you destroyed the U.S. housing market? No?
Fine. Get back to me when you do.
My criminal leanings grow out two aspects of my character.
First, I possess a kind of Robin Hood worldview which holds that we need to take from the Wall Street douchebags who got rich destroying our economy and then whined on CNBC that we were being mean to them because we think they ought to be held accountable. Except we didn't ever get around to holding them accountable for their (should be) crimes. Instead we gave them billions of dollars, which they used to get even richer while continuing to press their Esquivel loafers to the throats of people who actually work for their ever shrinking livings. And then thsee Wall Street douchebags congratulated themselves on their cleverness for being in the right place at the right time to receive billions of dollars in exchange for committing their (should be) crimes. Also, more whining on CNBC. So, yeah, those people, I want to take their ill-gotten gains and provide a little economic justice to those of us for whom there is so little despite how hard we actually work, especially when compared to those entitled douchebags.
Second, I want to swing between skyscrapers from monofilament lines while wearing a ninja suit.
Many years ago, I was living in Cincinnati with a friend. We both worked evenings, and one summer night we came home about the same time, maybe 1:00 am. Because it was nice out, we sat on the porch of the old Victorian apartment house where we lived and talked for a couple of hours. I don't remember much of what we talked about, but I do remember at one point looking at a building across the street and saying, "You know what I want?"
"What?" my friend said.
"I want a grappling line to shoot out of my belt, attach to the roof of that building over there, and then I want to swing off into the night."
He regarded the building for a moment, then said, "Yeah, me too."
I suppose what I really want to be is Spiderman, when you think about it. Technically, in real life, I have a fear of heights, so I wouldn't be able to really and truly swing around on monofilament lines in a ninja suit without suffering the shrieking willies. But if I was Spiderman, well, with my spider strength and spider sense and web slinging, I'd probably also be sanguine about whipping around on my wrist-emitted webs.
(Side note: We are lucky actual spider powers aren't transferred to us when radioactive spiders bite us, because the web silk wouldn't conveniently shoot out of our wrists—it would shoot out of our ass.)
Now, where were we? Right. Economic justice for people who actually work, and I'm Spiderman. Natch.
Maybe I should shut up now.
But first, speaking of doing good things, I'd like to share the following message from friend and great writer Simon Wood:
This is for the animal lovers out there.
I doubt anyone is aware that my wife and I foster animals for the ASPCA and other organizations. We usually take the no hope cases, where the animals aren't expected to survive or need specialist care. Over the last few years, we've rescued dozens of cats and dogs and found them new homes. Our family pets are all rescues -- ones that we couldn't give up after the care we'd given them.
Our cat, Bug, was one of those rescues we couldn't let go of after we'd taken him in. After five fun fill years, Bug died last week. He was a great cat and a lot of fun to have around the house. We're going to miss him a lot.
In Bug's honor, I'm going to donate all eBook royalties earned at Amazon and Smashwords.com for the next two weeks to Best Friends, an organization I truly admire. This applies to the following titles:
The Fall Guy
Asking For Trouble
Dragged into Darkness
Thanks for listening,