From: gwb
To: Hank Blakely
Sent: Monday, April 22, 2002
Subject: You always knows who your friends is when you don't have none
If it's true what they say, 'bout today bein' the first day a' the rest a' your life, then I wonder if I couldn't just skip to the end right now.
This 's been a definite soggy-biscuits-cold-gravy week for me. I give up tryin' to count the things that gone wrong. Now I'm just countin' the ones went right. It's easier and it don't take near as many fingers. That's a joke.
The biggest disappointment's been Colin's trip. Nobody here held much hope for it anyhow, but it was truly breath-takin' to see just how bad it could really get. Went even worse than our most pestiferous estimates.
I seen this kinda thing before. The world's gonna make Colin a human pin-cushion for a little while, sayin' he mishandled things. But I can't say I blame 'im much. Yassir's in one a' his martyr snits. And, I swear to God, talkin' to Ariel 's like visitin' some other planet. I always try speakin' to the man in my simplified way -- slow and patient, like you do a third-grader -- and he answers back in Klingonese.
And arrogant? I say "Ariel, this ain't no good. You got to pull back, boy. You got to pull back now!" And he as much as tells me to stick my thumb up my ass 'n let him know what the weather's like in there.
I remember back when I was a boy, bein' impressed how strong Poppy was. I 'member how, 'round Christmas time, Poppy 'd hold two walnuts in his hand and slowly squeeze 'em till they cracked wide open. Rememberin' that always sets me to thinkin' 'bout Christmas.
Ever' discussion I has with Ariel makes me think 'bout Christmas.
Anyhow, Colin comes back carryin' this big bag a' empty, and 'nough egg on his face to make Huevos Rancheros. And then he tells me I should go 'fore 300 million sometimes-God-fearin', sometimes-votin' Americans 'n say we is "deeply disappointed" in the actions a' our good friend Israel — which is made us look stupid, and worse, weak — and now we is reevaluatin' our support for her.
Yeah, right.
Nothin' to be done with advice like that, so I does the only thing I can do: close my eyes tight and call Ariel "a man a' peace" — as fast as I can 'fore the laughin' gets too loud. Then I open my little eyes wide 'n say that Israel is fully complyin' with our pull-out request and the mission been a success.
Sayin' things like that's a important part a' my job.
Oh, well. I guess in the long run It don't matter all that much. A great man — I think it was Henry Ford — said "History is more or less bunk." Well, to hell with more or less, I say it's all bunk. It all depends on who's tellin' it, 'n when they tells it. So you might 's well get your version in 'fore the rush starts.
Thank God I gotta mind for disaster. I saw this one comin' waaay down the pike, n' put it out quick that Colin had "maximum flexibility," which is executive-ease for "It's his to screw up."
And they say I'm stupid.
Don't take no genius to see ain't no other way this thing could 'a played out. Ain't neither Ariel or Yassir got the least intention a' makin' peace. I never seen two fellas with a bigger burr up their butts 'bout one another. Each one thinks the game is goin' his way, and they ain't no chance a' convincin' 'em otherwise.
And let me tell you, I don't trust that SOB Arafat as far as I can throw 'im. Ain't no way I'm gonna be nice to no bomb-throwin' terrorist. Ask me, I think Yassir was on the wrong side a' the truck when they was handin' out brains.
Ain't nothin' more despisable than a stupid 'n dishonest leader.
But it don't actual matter how much I contempts and mistrusts 'im, 'cause it wouldn't matter if he was a angel come straight out a' the sand dunes. 'Cause, when it come down to choosin' sides we ain't got no choice: it's gotta be Israel ever' time.
That ain't 'cause we partic'lar love Israel, it's more 'cause Jewish is such a 100% American thing to be. Practical every gentle in America knows somethin' 'bout them people. We knows their food, their jokes, their music, and near ever'thin' else. Whereas we don't know nothin' 'bout Arabs.
Looka here: Jews give us bagels; what'd the Palestinians give us, falafel? Jews give us Jerry Seinfeld; who'd the Palestinians give us, falafel? So natural, nobody here got a lotta sympathy for Palestinians 'cause, far 's we concerned, they might as well come from the moon.
I guess unfamiliarity breeds contempt.
Get back to me when you finds me a Palestinian Shecky Greene. Then we can talk.
From: gwb
To: Hank Blakely
Sent: Monday, April 22, 2002
Subject: You always knows who your friends is when you don't have none
If it's true what they say, 'bout today bein' the first day a' the rest a' your life, then I wonder if I couldn't just skip to the end right now.
This 's been a definite soggy-biscuits-cold-gravy week for me. I give up tryin' to count the things that gone wrong. Now I'm just countin' the ones went right. It's easier and it don't take near as many fingers. That's a joke.
The biggest disappointment's been Colin's trip. Nobody here held much hope for it anyhow, but it was truly breath-takin' to see just how bad it could really get. Went even worse than our most pestiferous estimates.
I seen this kinda thing before. The world's gonna make Colin a human pin-cushion for a little while, sayin' he mishandled things. But I can't say I blame 'im much. Yassir's in one a' his martyr snits. And, I swear to God, talkin' to Ariel 's like visitin' some other planet. I always try speakin' to the man in my simplified way -- slow and patient, like you do a third-grader -- and he answers back in Klingonese.
And arrogant? I say "Ariel, this ain't no good. You got to pull back, boy. You got to pull back now!" And he as much as tells me to stick my thumb up my ass 'n let him know what the weather's like in there.
I remember back when I was a boy, bein' impressed how strong Poppy was. I 'member how, 'round Christmas time, Poppy 'd hold two walnuts in his hand and slowly squeeze 'em till they cracked wide open. Rememberin' that always sets me to thinkin' 'bout Christmas.
Ever' discussion I has with Ariel makes me think 'bout Christmas.
Anyhow, Colin comes back carryin' this big bag a' empty, and 'nough egg on his face to make Huevos Rancheros. And then he tells me I should go 'fore 300 million sometimes-God-fearin', sometimes-votin' Americans 'n say we is "deeply disappointed" in the actions a' our good friend Israel — which is made us look stupid, and worse, weak — and now we is reevaluatin' our support for her.
Yeah, right.
Nothin' to be done with advice like that, so I does the only thing I can do: close my eyes tight and call Ariel "a man a' peace" — as fast as I can 'fore the laughin' gets too loud. Then I open my little eyes wide 'n say that Israel is fully complyin' with our pull-out request and the mission been a success.
Sayin' things like that's a important part a' my job.
Oh, well. I guess in the long run It don't matter all that much. A great man — I think it was Henry Ford — said "History is more or less bunk." Well, to hell with more or less, I say it's all bunk. It all depends on who's tellin' it, 'n when they tells it. So you might 's well get your version in 'fore the rush starts.
Thank God I gotta mind for disaster. I saw this one comin' waaay down the pike, n' put it out quick that Colin had "maximum flexibility," which is executive-ease for "It's his to screw up."
And they say I'm stupid.
Don't take no genius to see ain't no other way this thing could 'a played out. Ain't neither Ariel or Yassir got the least intention a' makin' peace. I never seen two fellas with a bigger burr up their butts 'bout one another. Each one thinks the game is goin' his way, and they ain't no chance a' convincin' 'em otherwise.
And let me tell you, I don't trust that SOB Arafat as far as I can throw 'im. Ain't no way I'm gonna be nice to no bomb-throwin' terrorist. Ask me, I think Yassir was on the wrong side a' the truck when they was handin' out brains.
Ain't nothin' more despisable than a stupid 'n dishonest leader.
But it don't actual matter how much I contempts and mistrusts 'im, 'cause it wouldn't matter if he was a angel come straight out a' the sand dunes. 'Cause, when it come down to choosin' sides we ain't got no choice: it's gotta be Israel ever' time.
That ain't 'cause we partic'lar love Israel, it's more 'cause Jewish is such a 100% American thing to be. Practical every gentle in America knows somethin' 'bout them people. We knows their food, their jokes, their music, and near ever'thin' else. Whereas we don't know nothin' 'bout Arabs.
Looka here: Jews give us bagels; what'd the Palestinians give us, falafel? Jews give us Jerry Seinfeld; who'd the Palestinians give us, falafel? So natural, nobody here got a lotta sympathy for Palestinians 'cause, far 's we concerned, they might as well come from the moon.
I guess unfamiliarity breeds contempt.
Get back to me when you finds me a Palestinian Shecky Greene. Then we can talk.
Traveling Light
The train has left the harbor
© 2001- 2, Hank Blakely
