Keep in mind, this happened over ten years ago, so my memory may be a bit fuzzy (pun, kind of!).
This was around April or March of 1999, The Phantom Menace was about to disappoint millions, Limp Bizkit was not a joke yet, and and we were coming to the end of the reign of the only President in US history to have a surplus at the end of his tenure. Our neighbors were friends with my older sister, close enough that when they went to go on vacation over spring break, they asked my sister if our family could take care of their dog while they were on their week long sabbatical. My sister agreed.
I came home from school to find a strange creature running around our house. It looked as if a Jawa was on all fours and wore a jacket made out of assorted carpet samples half-assedly stapled together with no rhyme or reason. In its fur was every possible nature color and every possible texture put together as if “Mad-Libs” also made wigs (after a Google search, I can confirm that they do not). This was Bandito.
Bandito would never stop barking. Ever. It would either lick and chew on everything in its path, or it would scream incoherently at any form of matter that entered its vision. I recall many games of Super Mario Kart ruined over this dog’s distractions.
The first night Bandito spent in our house, it did not sleep. It felt a more appropriate use of it’s time was to bark into the dark as if it had some sort of Bat-like-sonar (which I am 70% sure it did not have). My parents were agitated, but they put up with it; assumedly because it was a Friday and no one had work or school the next day.
I read that dogs destroy your shoes because they feel that if they destroy your shoes, you can’t leave the house (since the last thing you do before you leave is usually putting on your shoes), but what does it mean when a dog wants to destroy your feet themselves? Bandito had it out for my feet on Saturday. There was either a creepy bestiality foot fetish or this creature genuinely wanted to ingest my feet.
The second night Bandito spent in our house, it continued the pattern of barking at absolutely nothing. My parents once again put up with it since no one had work or school on Sunday, so a good night’s sleep wasn’t really in the cards.
The third night Bandito spent in our house, it felt the best use of its time was to bark and this was the final straw. Bandito was picked up, and tossed into the garage.
Monday morning, I wake up and come downstairs to find my father eating in the dinning room. I found this weird, since he worked today.
“Where’s Bandito?” I ask. My Dad inhales deeply and replies solemnly “Bandito died last night”.
I laugh. Hard.
“No, seriously, where’s Bandito?” I ask again. My Dad puts down his fork and says “Somehow, Bandito became caught in the wine rack in the garage and hung himself. He’s dead.” A shoebox in the garage with tufts of fur sticking out of the corners confirmed his story.
At the end of the week, the neighbors returned and wished to have their dog returned and they were handed the shoebox. “Oh” the parent says, “He was getting really old. He probably had a seizure”. Deadpan, my Dad says to them, “That is exactly what happened”.
This dog is actually better looking than Bandito.
While at work today I saw a customer wearing a shirt that said “Baseball, Pie, and the Second Amendment. Can’t get more American than that.”. While I’m not opposed to the Second Amendment, I feel that the third item on that list was the odd ball and that there are many things that can be more American than the Second Amendment.
- FOOTBALL (American)
This is a purely American sport. While there are people across the globe with guns, American Football is played almost exclusively in the United States.
While movies exist in other countries, we mass produced it. Hollywood is the main source of films for the entire planet. That’s all us, baby.
- THE BALD EAGLE
Guns aren’t the national symbol, this endangered bird of prey is. That definitely trumps the Second Amendment.
- THE AMERICAN FLAG/SUPERMAN
The reason why these two are paired together is because they both symbolize the United States. Superman might as well be on the United States Flag. In a thousand years, he’ll probably end up in the Bible.
- THE SIMPSONS
Joking aside, in the distant future, Archeologists will watch The Simpsons to learn about the American Culture of the 20th and 21st century. Other Countries have culture in their history, we have the Simpsons.
- THE AIRPLANE/AUTOMOBILE/LIGHTBULB/ELECTRICITY/TELEPHONE/ATOM BOMB/COUNTLESS OTHER INVENTIONS
Yes, the Automobile was invented elsewhere, but Americans perfected it and mass produced it to the extent that the automobile ran our economy for the past 100 years. No other invention has sculpted the world the way the Car has.
- THE FIRST AMENDMENT
It received top billing, so that flat out confirms that it’s more important to what makes America what it is over guns.
- ENLISTING THE HELP OF FRANCE TO GAIN OUR INDEPENDENCE FROM ENGLAND AND THEN MAKING FUN OF THEM FOR 300 YEARS
France is the reason we won the American Revolution. A few thousand colonists did not defeat the largest army in the world by themselves (we are not a nation of John McClanes, as awesome as that’d be. Man, Bruce Willis should be on this list, he’s definitely more American than Guns).
It’s only the most successful drink on the planet, served in over 200 countries. It’s headquarters are nestled in Atlanta, Georgia. Coke is pretty epically huge, and it’s American.
Well, if we’re doing brands from America that are super successful, then Disney has to be on that list too. Mickey Mouse is one of the most recognizable characters on the planet, up there with Jesus and Mario (which would make one fantastic cage match).
- THE SPANISH LANGUAGE
The are four million registered legal guns in America. There are thirty million legal United States Citizens that speak Spanish as their first language. The Spanish Language is definitely more American than Guns.
- ROCK ‘N’ ROLL
Just about 9/10ths of what’s out there right now came from America. Love Rock? Thank Elvis. Love Punk? Thank Iggy and The Stooges. Love Country? Love Jazz? Love Blues? Love Electronica? All American creations.
- OPPRESSING NATIVES
It’s not like Voting is the cornerstone of the fifty nifty United States (from thirteen original colonies). Oh, Wait. Yeah. That is America (unless you’re Black or a Woman). Bill Clinton once said “There is nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America”, I can’t think of a quote that summarizes this country any better than that.
The funny part about that shirt talking about what is American is that, odds are, that shirt was made in another country because it’s cheaper to outsource. You want to complain about foreigners stealing your job? It’s because they’ll work harder and cheaper than you. Who would you hire?
This is a symbol of America, just like the Bald Eagle and Superman. The Cowboy mythos are some of the most interesting and dominant images in American History. Don’t act like you think westerns aren’t awesome (because you know they are).
- THE FUCKING MOON
Yeah. We own that.
I really hope it becomes the 51st state. You know that’d be amazing.
I’m walking down Washington from the Parking Garage to Mainstreet in the pouring rain. I received an umbrella for my birthday days prior, but I left it at home in my camera case (I can’t explain the logic of putting it there, but I promise that there might of been some). I’m soaking wet; my hoodie and jeans are glued to me and my high tops are filled with water. It’s raining felines *and* canines.
“Good Afternoon!” calls a middle aged man hiding from the rain in the entrance of a bar. “Good evening!” I call back, being polite. He extends his left hand holding a joint. “Want some?” he asks. “No, thank you; I’m in a hurry” I say, continuing the theme of politeness. He informs me that I’ve misunderstood, that it’s not a cigarette that he’s holding, but a joint, “a joint with marijuana”. I laugh and thank him for the offer and continue on my way.
I like the idea of a city friendly enough where people are comfortable to share their illegal substances with completely strangers on the streets. I’m not sure if that cancels out the karma of doing something illegal, but it’s interesting at least.
“Why are you covered in blood?”
“That’s not important!”
“Yes, actually, yes it is. In fact, I would argue that you being covered in blood is the most important thing in the world to me right now”
“No, it’s not important; what is important is that we have the suitcase and that they’ll never even know that it’s missing”
“…You killed someone, didn’t you?”
I got it! I’ll sell my organs on eBay! I’ll set the minimum bid to $15,000 and have it be a requirement that I have two weeks to spend all the money before I give them my organs (and more than likely die in the process), or I could invest the money and change my mind; giving the money back but keeping the profit. So what I don’t know anything about investing money and might be unable to give it back. Fuck them, they’re dead.
Making money is such a chore.
This used to be an entire story, but only the first stanza seems to have survived (ripped pages and whatnot). It was about six hundred words or so. I think I’ll try and complete it later.
Johnny was a special boy who dreamed of being dead. He said goodbye to his parents (they’ll never see him again). His parents didn’t believe him; no, they thought it was a joke, but then they found him in his bedroom with a belt around his throat.
I found a letter to a girl I thought I was in love with but never mailed. Not a love letter, just a letter. Interesting. A few pages later is a check list for things I needed to do before going to Chicago to see Rage Against The Machine.
THINGS TO DO BEFORE CHICAGO ROAD TRIP
- Oil Change
- Fuel Filter
- Clean Car (throughly (and trunk!!))
- Rotate Tires
Get a bumper
- Pay for speeding ticket (I didn’t)
- (scribble I cannot read, looks like “Lavvie”?)
CRAP YOU NEED TO PACK
- CDs (incidently, I didn’t pack this; Jake and I had to listen to the same mix CD the entire way. I’ll always associate The Stiff Little Fingers with road trips now)
- Antibacterial/First Aid
- Energy Drinks
That was a fun trip.
I’m going through all my notebooks, seeing what’s worth keeping. Untitled Poem, now titled “Salvaged #1”
This emotional violence,
It echoes through silence,
Destroying what has been,
Killing the beautiful,
Hurting the weak,
But you say nothing,
Still, you won’t speak.
I didn’t write much in that notebook, onto the next one!
I am a child before Christmas, unable to sleep.
“And I was all “Don’t mess with me, sucker!” and I did this sweet karate move, you should have been there”