I went to a yoga class yesterday. I didn’t mention that.
it was me, a couple of 50-year-old men, and the instructor. I was the least flexible of the bunch running away.
right. so anyway, I’m still pretty sore. my hips are killing me, and I can feel it in my shoulder blades. and that’s good, I need this. I’m going back next week.

and the sink got fixed.
I woke up at the crack of 10 am for that shit. stumbled around the apartment for 15 minutes, then walked for the paper and left the door open. when I came back, there was a plumber in my kitchen. hooray!
he was an alright guy. he said the faucet was hosed, and checked his van for a spare. didn’t find one, so he left to pick one up. okay.
he came back, and as he was working tearing the old faucet out, we got to talking politics.
it’s hard to feel people out sometimes. it isn’t wise to come right out and say, “hey, howabout that dickhead George Bush, eh?” not with unknown quantities, it’s not. it isn’t polite. but through a little conversation on the trillion dollar economic revamp that’s getting batted around, he came around as a liberal. or a progressive. to the left, you got me.
and then he asked me, “what do you know about physics?”

I took physics in high school with Mr. Iatarola, a disheveled genius of a man who had no business teaching children. nice guy and all, but his mind was elsewhere. he was built for college, working with grad students. Mr. Iatarola would show up to school with bedhead, one shoe untied. he’d wear Izod shirts with mustard stains on them. basically sleepwalk through the basics of the science.
now I’m not constructed for the sciences, in particular, but even with that in mind, I didn’t learn shit in that class. the only thing I remember is the story that Mr. I wrestled a muzzled bear at a county fair. he told it a lot. and that I got a C.

anyway,the point is that I don’t know much about physics. I didn’t tell the plumber about Mr. I, but, and I forget how we actually got to this point, he sketched out the twin towers for me on the back of a scrap of cardboard. the twin towers, as in the WTC center. and then the plumber — the plumber — explained how it was physically impossible that the towers could have collapsed under their own weight. they had to have been assisted — by charges, placed in the elevator shafts, shafts that were completely reworked in the months before the attack, and set off remotely in a controlled detonation. all of this was done  in order to give the U.S. reason to attack the Taliban government in Afghanistan, a band of violent religious zealots that had completely stifled the billion-dollar international opium trade centered in that country. this, in turn, lead to a sequence of events that eventually allowed the American government to set up forts in the Middle East. “close to the oil.” the plumber explained this to me while he installed the new faucet.
this, uh, train of thought, it raised a lot of questions. I sat on the one where I asked him if he was always this batshit crazy, and he referred me to a Web site that I haven’t bothered to read. maybe it’s because I’m happy to be ignorant, but probably not. either way, the faucet in my sink is kickass now.


5 comments so far

  1. Anonymous on

    if there was ever someone you should’ve gotten baked with, it was definitely this guy.

  2. Desmond Dekker on

  3. Smith on
  4. Kirk Cameron 1, Smith 0 on

  5. Smith, getting worked again on

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