Before launching BSNYC/RTMS Blogging and Investment Services, Inc. (NYSE: DOUCHE) and consequently becoming the sixth-most wealthy person in the world, I was in the employ of a small business concern, which meant that I had a boss. My boss was very much what people call a "self-made man," and he had built his successful business by the sweat of not only his brow but of his other body parts as well, which made our offices a moist and somewhat fragrant place to work.
I had a tremendous amount of respect for this boss. He provided me with a living, he taught me the business in which we were engaged, and he revealed much to me about the nature of life itself. Of course, like any boss he would occasionally abuse his power, and like any employee I would occasionally lapse into periods of puerile resentment, but for the most part it was a happy working relationship. In any case, I honestly believe that there are few more valuable experiences than working for and being shouted at by a self-made man or woman. It takes long periods of intense pressure to form things of beauty and value, as mountain ranges, coastlines, and diamonds prove.
Also, I made off with like $17,000 in office supplies when I finally left, so if you want a sweet, sweet deal on some printer cartridges then just email me here.
Anyway, if you work for a business comprised of more than one person you probably have "meetings," and this was also the case with us. Ostensibly, the purpose of these meetings was so that we could all apprise each other of what we were working on, but in practice they mostly consisted of my boss regaling us with tales of his latest achievements in his characteristically "flambullient" fashion. Certainly he was more than justified in doing so, since we all owed our livelihoods to the proceeds of his flambullience, but still I'd be lying if I said it wasn't sometimes a little difficult for me to watch. In fact, as someone who tends to think in metaphor, I could never completely shake the idea that the purpose of these meetings was so that my boss could wag his penis around in front of us and attempt to impress us with it.
"Wouldya look at the size of this thing?," I'd hear him saying as he recounted the value of his latest deal. "And it's not just the length, it's the girth," he'd further explain as he elucidated the finer deal points. Meanwhile, I'd just sit there squirming until he finally got around to sheathing himself and asking what I'd been up to lately, and my stomach would drop as I'd reluctantly unzip my metaphorical fly so everybody else could point and laugh.
Granted, this may be less revealing of my boss's personality than it is of my own profound insecurity and innumerable hang-ups, but whatever the case it should go a long way towards explaining why I retreated from the world of business and now spend my days hiding and blogging for free Scattantes with nobody but a helper monkey for company.
"So what does this have to do with, well, anything?," you may be asking as you either gag or experience the faint stirrings of sexual arousal. Well, those meetings were the first things I thought about when I read the following editorial in The Wall Street Journal:
As I mentioned this past Friday, recently The Wall Street Journal asked me to unzip and present to them my thoughts about bike lanes. I did so, and while they didn't exactly point and laugh, they did react with indifference and move onto something bigger--that "something bigger" apparently being the massive schlong that is satirist P.J. O'Rourke.Obviously there is much that is inflammatory in O'Rourke's editorial, but also obviously, as a work of satire, we would be foolish and humorless to be inflamed by it. This is because, to quote another (and vastly better) work of satire, "It's not meant to be taken literally, it refers to any manufacturers of dairy products."
What is frustrating though is that, while this editorial is satire, it's also an excellent example of someone calling a meeting so that he can show everybody his penis. However, unlike my boss, who wagged his dick over things he had actually accomplished in a field in which he was an expert, O'Rourke is just sort of rubbing his dick all over an issue with which I can't imagine he has even the slightest bit of experience. "What's that? Bike lanes?" I could hear him asking an editor. "Sure, I can rub my big, greasy comedy penis all over that one." Like Peter Max simply slathers some paint on a photograph, calls it art, and holds out his hands for a check, in this case O'Rourke just smeared some of his smegma on whatever his idea of people riding bikes is and called it satire. It's not even new smegma, either. He did the same thing back in 1987, when he presented chunks of dick cheese disguised as bon mots such as this, and he's clearly had no new comic insights on the subject since then:
I don't like the kind of people who ride bicycles
At least I think I don't. I don't actually know anyone who rides a bicycle. But the people I see on bicycles look like organic-gardening zealots who advocate federal regulation of bedtime and want American foreign policy to be dictated by UNICEF. These people should be confined.
I apologize if I have the wrong impression. It may be that bicycle riders are all members of the New York Stock Exchange, Methodist bishops, retired Marine Corps drill instructors, and other solid citizens. However, the fact that they cycle around in broad daylight making themselves look like idiots indicates that they're crazy anyway and should be confined just the same.
Stereotyping for the sake of humor only really works when you understand the stereotype. Obviously he has never ridden a bicycle in Central Park, since his second paragraph pretty much describes the membership of the CRCA.
None of this is to deny someone's right to capitalize on his own whimsical secretions. Indeed, our entire economy is based on commodifying the "stank" on our collective "hang-lows," and to deny this would be positively un-American. (Or, worse, Canadian). Still, you'd like to think that if a New York newspaper wanted someone to skewer the bike lanes in New York, they could have at least found a New Yorker instead of some guy who lives in "rural New Hampshire" and was edgy back in the 1970s. But then again, why should they bother? After all, cycling is still one of those things it's perfectly fine for the mainstream media to completely mischaracterize or else dismiss as a fringe activity despite the fact that millions of people do it. Just throw it to the novice reporter, or else the old satirist who's hopelessly out of touch, and let them do whatever they want with it.
Meanwhile, between running BSNYC/RTMS Blogging and Investment Services, Inc., tending to my sustainable urban chicken coop, and eking out sufficient time to ride my bicycle in a recreational fashion, I completely missed the Tour of Flanders, which by all accounts seems to have been tremendously exciting:
I did manage to save the race to my DVR, and I plan to watch it just as soon as I've gotten through my backlog of "Glee" episodes, but in the meantime I do find the phrase "Cramps on the Muur" whimsically evocative, and I hope Cancellara will consider penning a memoir under that title. He can even use a ghost writer, which is the literary equivalent of a Gruber Assist.
I did manage to save the race to my DVR, and I plan to watch it just as soon as I've gotten through my backlog of "Glee" episodes, but in the meantime I do find the phrase "Cramps on the Muur" whimsically evocative, and I hope Cancellara will consider penning a memoir under that title. He can even use a ghost writer, which is the literary equivalent of a Gruber Assist.Lastly, a reader informs me that the PistaDex in Seattle has just spiked dramatically, for you can now trade your track bike for a Picasso:
Date: 2011-03-31, 11:43AM PDT
Reply to: [deleted]
I know this may be a little random, but I want a new bike, and am team broke like most people in this economy, so, I am interested in doing a little trade. What am I offering, I have an original Picasso La Celestina etching that I purchased a few years ago from the Franklin Bowles Art Gallery in San Francisco, CA for $4,500 and I am interested in trading it for a nice Track Bike, Fixed Gear, Mountain Bike, or ? If you are a racer and have an extra track bike or tri bike, that is what I am most interested in, but I will look at other options as well. I am 5/9 so a Medium size bike is what I am looking for. Please e-mail me with your potential trade. Located in Seattle.
No word if Picasso also rubbed his manhood on it, but we can always hope.
