Not So Clever After All

Appendix

There was a time when I was having intense pains in my midsection. I was certain it was my appendix. Turned out it was probably just gas. It passed.

It got me wondering what the hell we even need an appendix for, if we can live just fine with it removed. It seems to me it’s just full of extraneous junk we’re never going to read.

I often try to guess what might be in my appendix, but every time I imagine it, I always picture stuff I’ve heard “could” be in there, and not stuff that actually “might” be in there. Here’s my list:

1) a big multi-colored wad of gum (chewing and bubble), swallowed through the ages and collected, like Violet Beauregard would, to be chewed again at a later date. It’s possible. I’ve swallowed gum before.

2) a nickel. I always picture a nickel in my appendix, though I am 100% certain I have never swallowed a nickel (or any coin). I would never put a nickel in my mouth, because someone probably had that nickel up their butt (at least that’s what my friend Sam would have you believe - and I believe it. The world is full of perverts who imagine people putting coins up their butts like some sort of ass piggy bank in reverse).

3) a bullet. I once heard a story about a man who had his appendix removed and they found a bullet in there. He was as surprised as I would be if there was a bullet in mine, so it’s possible, though to my recollection I’ve never been shot (yet).

4) seeds. Everyone inadvertently swallows seed (not man-seed - you know when you swallow that). There are bound to be some apple seeds and orange seeds and watermelon seeds just sitting in my appendix waiting for the day I swallow a shovelful of potting soil so they can grow into trees and sprout out my ears.

5) a surprise! I bet there is one totally unexpected thing in my appendix. If I ever have it removed, I can’t wait to have them crack it open like a piñata at a Mexican kid’s birthday party, so I can see what kind of fun pours out. Hey, it’s grandma’s glass eye!

So, that’s it. The contents of my completely useless appendix (as I imagine them to be). We should find a way to make the appendix of use. Maybe install a zipper and make it an internal change purse.

“Hey, homeless guy, sure I’ve got some loose change,” (unzip), “here you go.”

“It’s got gum and bile all over it.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“I was going to stuff that up my butt, but not now. Gross.”

Movin’ On Up

Years ago I had a chance to see the Broadway musical “Movin’ Out”. I didn’t know anything about it, other than it was set to the kick-ass tunes of Mr. Billy Joel.

It turned out to be the funniest show I’ve ever seen (and I’ve seen “Rent”).

Evidently back in the late 60s, tough guys would dance ballet/jazz for their tough guy friends to convince them to hang out with the dudes instead of their girlfriends. They didn’t use words to express themselves, they didn’t need words, not when they had … dance!

The show was essentially two different productions: one a tribute concert to Billy Joel (sans Piano Man (say what?)), and the second a loosely-plotted danstravaganza about some guys going off to Vietnam, their before and after relationship troubles, the death of a friend, one guy turning gay tricks on the docks (who didn’t see that coming?), and the ultimate reconciliation of all involved.

It was like they took a bunch of talented people and convinced them to participate in a horrible plan to make them all look ridiculous. They’re making money though, so I guess that makes me the ass.

Maybe I should come up with my own asinine scheme … The Jeffersons on Broadway … all mimed … white actors in black face … black actors in white face … Sean Penn as George Jefferson … Jeffrey Wright as Harry Bentley … set to the music of Public Enemy (but without Bring The Noise).

I’m going to be rich!

Reverse Sexism

Everywhere I go I see these Curves gyms for women. No men allowed? That strikes me as discriminatory.

I’m going to open up a chain of gyms exclusively for men. I’m calling it Bulge.

The Man

If you ever find a loophole or system error that allows you to gain advantage over The Man, exploit it, and for the love of Pete don’t tell anyone else the secret. If you do, the word will spread and The Man will find out and cut you off (like every bartender at every bar you’ve ever been to, you Angry Drunk).

Let’s say you work in my building and you’ve discovered that one of the three ATM machines (Automatic Teller Machine machines?) isn’t configured correctly and doesn’t charge the stated $2 usage fee. It’s like free money! (from your bank account!) Let’s say you’re tempted to tell that cute girl approaching one of the surcharge-active ATMs that she can save $2 by using the machine you hold secret. She can take her chances (like a game of 3 Card Monte or that shell game that hoodlums play with bottlecaps now because no one eats walnuts like they used to), but the house usually wins, and you’re a sure bet.

Let’s say you tell her. Nice job, Casanova, you’re gonna get screwed (because it turns out she’s a $2 whore and you just earned yourself a freebie. After you knock boots, you feel pretty satisfied with yourself (because you’re a dirty whoremonger) and you go back to work whistling like a coalminer with a canary up his mineshaft. A couple days later you get a rash and some burning and warts on your sack. You also get a call from your boss’s boss because it turns out you defiled his sixteen year old daughter (whore though she is). Statutory Rape charges will be filed. And you’re fired. Oh, and she told her daddy about the ATM and he called the bank and they fixed the problem. $2 charges are re-instated, and remunerations are required for all prior unpaid-for transactions (that’s like $20 for the ten withdrawals you’ve made). I warned you. You got screwed!)

This has all been the premise of my new cable access show Pran’x. The twist is that all this stuff really happens to you. We just get it on tape.

You got Pran’x’d!!! (and some nasty STDs to share with your new prison boyfriends)