Taboo's Junk Trunk: A Storage Dump for Taboo's Random Literary and Cultural Blatherments
It Does Not Show, Trust Me.
Published on November 15, 2004 By TaBooTenente In Politics
Do you work for the government? Ever worked for an agency with the name _____ _____ Services?

First: I'm sorry. I know you never expected things to work out that way ("Okay, Billy: now it's your turn to tell everyone what you want to be when you grow up." "Yes, Mrs. Hoover. I want to be a Services Coordinator!")

Second: Let's say you're at a meeting on Wednesday morning, drinking coffee from a Stop-N-Go, trying not to shove your watch directly into your eye socket. Let's say you're 30-55 years old. Maybe you have two children, both living at home-- maybe they'll be living there for awhile (Hey, you voted for Bush. What did you expect?).

Third: Some oddball punk half your age sitting across the meeting table from you slouches as deep into his chair as the torn vinyl will allow, and, from time to time, he glances between his feet (perched on the table) to check you out.

Here's the kicker: That guy is me. Or someone like me, killing time before he pulls his head together enough to go on to graduate school, earning beer money, remembering occasionally to shower in the mornings.

Oh yeah. He's looking at you and wondering: "I wonder if that guy's had sex in the last five, maybe six years. If he has it does not show. Damn."

Do not feel too bad. He's also looking at your table neighbor, Suzanne from HR, and thinking: "She's never had sex. I've got ten bucks which says she's 100% virgin at 44 years."

Here's what happens next: 15 minute Union Break. You go for a doughnut in the break room; Suzanne breaks out the wheat grass and the largest tank of Green Tea you ever care to encounter. Meanwhile, YoungPunk takes his break Outofdoors.

Outofdoors is a special place, occasionally a green, growing place where the light comes from the nearest star to our planet instead of humming, flourescent tubes. Scientists refer to the star as "Sol". Most people familiar with Outofdoors call it "Sun". Sadly, the YoungerPunks still living in your home may never know "Sol", or "Sun", due to continued striplogging and oil drilling in places as unstable as the arctic rim. As CO2-breathing trees are stripped from mountainsides, and more CO-producing vehicles are manufactured, the odds of your YoungerPunks, or their YoungestPunks enjoying clean views of "Sun" shrink.

Unfortunately, YoungPunk has no real idea how to help stop things like pollution. His elders think that prohibiting same-sex marriages should take priority over funding schools adequately, or protecting what little natural environment remains. His elders think, for some reason, that accusing other people of peeking into inappropriate holes somehow makes G-d forget that you might not, actually, be without sin, and you probably ought not to cast that stone; indeed, it might be the first stone.

Also, YoungPunk suspects, after spending three hours poring over his voter's pamphlet trying to interpret the different ballot measures, that maybe some people believe the measure is going to REQUIRE everyone to marry someone of the same sex. Ah! Now YoungPunk understands! People are afraid that if certain ballot measures pass, they will be required to marry their neighbor's same-sex ass. No, no! Listen, thinks YoungPunk: The measure has nothing to do with you! You can still marry someone of the opposite sex!

Hmm, thinks YoungPunk. It's not clear that they are enjoying unions with opposite sex partners, YoungPunk thinks. They don't look like they're having loads of sex, at least. Maybe none at all. It certainly does not show.

Copyright ©2004, ©2005, ©2006 Joshua Suchman. All rights reserved.
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