Your Body is a Zombieland

Your body is a zombieland
You give me feelings I can’t stand
Everything about you seems like fun
But when you touch me I know I’m done
You’ve killed this undead-lovin’ man
Your body is a zombieland

I bet you didn’t know
When we first began I
Should have stayed indoors that day
Oh that fait accompli.
You had just been infected
You came to me rejected
And ever since I have been ordained to die.

Your body is a zombieland
You give me feelings I can’t stand
Everything about you seems like fun
But when you touch me I know I’m done
You’ve killed this undead-lovin’ man
Your body is a zombieland

If only I had seen if coming
In the audience of my life
Someone should have yelled “Don’t go in there!”
“She’s got a knife!”
I had great intentions of sin
You soon took me in
But you only wanted to consume and cause me strife.

Brains!
Like a poison flower
Brains!
You sapped my power
Brains!
You play me for a sap
Brains!
Don’t forget the double tap
[Boom Boom]

Your body is a zombieland
You give me feelings I can’t stand
Everything about you seems like fun
But when you touch me I know I’m done
You’ve killed this undead-lovin’ man
Because your body is a zombieland

A Man Named Vengence

CURTAINS OPEN

SCENE [STAGE RIGHT]: The living room is dark and smokey.  There is not much of a decor to speak of; just a ram-shackled hodgepodge of old dusty photographs, out-dated furniture, discontinued knick-knacks, and a layer of grime from decades of tobacco smoke.  In fact, the smoke carries through the room just barely concealing the small kitchen beyond.  All the lights are out save for the television flickers bouncing off the walls and back-lighting the smoke clouds emanating from the other side of the room in regular intervals.  The couch is tattered and stained.  At one time it was plush and comfortable, but close to a half-century of use had eroded the fabric and flattened the stuffing.  An aluminum TV stand supports a half empty beer, a metal ashtray with a handful of butts, and an empty plastic plate where a frozen dinner had been recently consumed.

The television is tuned to the local news station where an anchor is reporting on a story of no particular importance.  The volume is barely audible anyhow.

BACKLIGHT ILLUMINATES A SILHOUETTE OF A MAN SITTING ON THE COUCH: A cherry glows brighter then fades.  Soon after the exhale of deeply inhaled final drag pours out of the same mouth.  The cigarette is then snubbed in the aforementioned ashtray.  The last half of the beer is quickly guzzled and the empty bottle placed back with a hard knock on the TV tray.  A satisfied belch and a grunt are let out as the old black man; complete with his meal, lays back in his seat on the dirty couch.  Shortly after he breathes deep, garners his last strength of the day and stands up.

EXIT STAGE RIGHT

SCENE [STAGE LEFT]

MAN IN CAP AND GOWN SITTING IN CHAIR FUMBLING WITH HIS HAND IN HIS POCKET.  PULLS OUT TINY BOX, INSPECTS IT AND PUTS IT BACK.  REPEATING THE PROCESS SOON AFTER.

MAN TURNS TO THE AUDIENCE AND APPROACHES:

SOLILOQUY:  “Some might say I have been blessed with many small miracles, others would simply refer to it as good luck.  What I did not realize was that all my miracles, my good fortune, and ultimately my journey had been orchestrated by that kindly old black man.

“Actually, as I reflect on my incredible journey and the blessings I have received, he really was not all that kindly.  The school janitor was reclusive and rarely interacted with the students.  When he did it was most often in short grunts or impatient hand gestures.  The old black janitor simply did his job and thus was the target of ridicule by some of the students.  They made up stories, called him names, and even played pranks on him.  Most of the students just ignored him, some were mean.

“Even though my group of friends were in the mean crowd, I treated most of those uncomfortable situations with apathy.  It was not that I had a sense of injustice or empathized with the man, I just did not care.”

CHECKS POCKET, PULLS OUT INSPECTS AND RETURNS THE BOX:

RETURNING TO AUDIENCE:  “I had often noticed slight glances from the man or felt his glare from across the hallways and classrooms, but I never really thought much about it.”

LONG PAUSE IN REFLECTION:

TOM:  “When I was younger, I was often bullied.  The other kids would beat me up and take my sneakers, rob me of my backpack, or relieve me of my lunch money.  I would return to my locker later to find my returned sneakers, backpack, or a few dollar bills.  The only other person with access to the lockers was the janitor.  I knew this but never really cared to put two-and-two together.

“Eventually I would come to find answer keys or small gifts.  For example I had taken a liking to a certain girl.  After confessing to a friend in the hallway that I liked her but did not have the confidence to ask her on a date, I returned to my locker to find a note signed by her and with her phone number on it.  Score.

“I was doing well in school.  I excelled in basketball thanks to the playbooks from the competition inexplicably placed in my locker.  I was the most popular kid in school and a rousing success.  Over the years I had gotten used to the gifts.  I never questioned where they came from.  In fact, I had come to expect them.  I never demanded them and if I never received another, I would be content.  But they sustained me and I had grown atrophic to my dependence on them: on the old black janitor.”

SCENE [STAGE RIGHT]

SEVERAL PEOPLE ARE SITTING IN A ROW OF CHAIRS.  CLOSEST ARE AN OLDER COUPLE, (TOM’S PARENTS), AND A YOUNG WOMAN, (TOM’S GIRLFRIEND).  THEY ARE PAYING ATTENTION TO THE GRADUATION CEREMONY BEHIND TOM.

TOM ACKNOWLEDGES HIS FAMILY, CHECKS POCKET, PULLS OUT INSPECTS AND RETURNS THE BOX, CONTINUES SOLILOQUY:  “The old black janitor had taken on my cause from a young age.  He assumed an obsession with making me successful.  An outsider might look at the situation and argue that the janitor had “adopted” me and wanted to propagate my achievements to amend his own failures.  His motives notwithstanding, I was living a life served to me on a platter.  

“Near high school graduation, the old black janitor had somehow procured my acceptance at a top university that happened to be only a few cities over.  I had not even considered applying to such a prestigious school, but the application had already been filled out; along with cash for the application fee and a stamped envelope, and was sitting in my locker awaiting my signature.  My top grades and perfect SAT score, courtesy of the old black janitor, helped land me in the college I dared not dream about only months prior.

“The old black janitor followed.

“I recognized him about the school and on into medical school; but like the mole on your face I simply accepted and overlooked it.  My fortune has continued until this very day; graduation day.”

CHECKS POCKET, PULLS OUT INSPECTS AND RETURNS THE BOX.  

GRADUATION SPEAKER:  “Doctor Thomas Jacobs.” 

AUDIENCE APPLAUDS.

TOM WALKS STAGE LEFT TO SPEAKER AND TAKES THE DIPLOMA.  AUDIENCE CONTINUES APPLAUSE.  TOM RAISES FISTS IN VICTORY POSE, THEN WALKS OVER HIS GIRLFRIEND.  HE KNEELS ON ONE KNEE AND PRESENTS TO BOX WITH THE RING.  EXCITED SHE SHOUTS ‘YES!’ AND EVERYONE STANDS TO GUSH OVER THE  COUPLE.

TOM’S FATHER WALKS STAGE LEFT.  CURTAIN DRAWS ON STAGE RIGHT.

TOM’S FATHER: “I could not be any prouder.  My son is living a story-book life.  After all these years I will get to see my only son become the embodiment of my life’s ambitions.”

REFLECTING PAUSE

CONTINUES:  “In what seems like a lifetime ago, I was a privileged youth.  My father was wealthy, but I deeply envied those who seemed to have all the luck.  Those that did not seem to have to study hard to make good grades, those who got the girls, scored the touchdowns, and had lots of friends.  My envy manifested in rage.  I would molest and malign the weaker kids.  I later turned that aggression into a successful career as an attorney.  I preyed on the weak and continued to molest and malign the opposition through the legal system.”

GUILTY PAUSE

CONTINUES:  “My aggression turned to guilt and when Tom was born.  I prayed that my son’s life would be more peaceful and beneficial to the world.  And today, that prayer was answered.  My son is the consummation of my dreams.  Through apathy, Tom had not negatively affected anyone or made any enemies as I had.  Later tonight; unbeknownst to Tom, I plan on giving him an all-expenses paid trip to Fiji for him and his betrothed as an engagement gift.  The plan is to meet Tom in the study and hand him the plane tickets in some sort of passing the torch / coming of age ceremonial.”

TOM’S FATHERS MOTIONS TO STAGE RIGHT.  HE WALKS ACROSS THE STAGE AS THE CURTAIN IS PULLED BACK HALFWAY.  TOM’S MOTHER AND FIANCÉE ARE LAYING ON THE FLOOR IN A BLOODY POOL. TOM’S FATHER RUSHES OVER TO THEM AND DROPS TO HIS KNEES.  

A LONG DRAMATIC PAUSE AS HE STRUGGLES FOR HIS BREATH AND DRY HEAVES.

HIS HEAD BECOMES TOO HEAVY TO LIFT AS THE DEPRESSION SWEEPS OVER HIM.  SPINNING HIS HEAD AROUND HE LOOKS RIGHT AS THE CURTAIN IS PULLED BACK THE REST OF THE WAY.  TOM IS UNCONSCIOUS AND HANGING FROM A RAFTER.  THE OLD BLACK JANITOR IS ON A LADDER STRINGING HIM UP.

TOM’S FATHER BLINKS TRYING TO ADJUST HIS VISION, STUNNED AT WHAT HE IS WATCHING.  AT THAT MOMENT, THE OLD BLACK JANITOR RELEASES THE ROPE AND TOMS FALLS TWO FEET TO THE END.  A BRUTAL JERK SNAPS HIS NECK AND WITH A TWITCH, TOM DIES.

THE OLD BLACK JANITOR CLIMBS DOWN THE LADDER, SLOWLY PUTS THE LADDER OFF STAGE AND RETURNS TO INSPECT HIS WORK.

AFTER A PAUSE, HE ACKNOWLEDGES TOM’S FATHER:  “Why?”  PAUSE:  “Why?  You want to know why?  I’ll tell you why.  You don’t remember me.  That’s why.”

TOM’S FATHER CAN NOT PROCESS IT ALL.  HE IS TOO WEAK TO RESPOND OR EVEN MOVE.  HIS EYES DART BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN HIS LOVED ONES.  HE IS OVERCOME.

THE OLD BLACK JANITOR:  “You don’t remember me because you are a selfish, evil, and racist jerk who walks all over people and uses them for your own sordid ends.”

TOM’S FATHER LOOKS UPON THE OLD BLACK JANITOR WITH CONFUSION AND DESPAIR.

THE OLD BLACK JANITOR:  “You don’t remember me because back in grade school you beat up a little black kid and kicked me while I was down.  You told me that I would never amount to anything and I was doomed to a future of cleaning the defilement of the successful.”

THE OLD BLACK JANITOR STARTS PACING.  WITH INCREASING VOLUME:  You don’t remember me because you never bothered to know who I was.  You never made eye contact, and you robbed me of my future.  You don’t know me because you took my hopes and dreams and it meant nothing to you.”

THE OLD BLACK JANITOR WALKS OVER TO TOM’S FATHER AND RAISES A GUN TO HIS HEAD.

THE OLD BLACK JANITOR:  “You don’t know me because I was just ant to you.  And you gathered me up and crushed me in an insignificant moment of entertainment for you.”

THE INEVITABLE ARRIVES.

THE OLD BLACK JANITOR:  “What you took from me that day I multiplied in you and will now take back.  I made everything Tom has become.  I softened your heart and I made you vulnerable so that you can know and feel the pain ten fold over that which you made in me.

“My name is Vengeance and you will NEVER know me!”

BANG

END

A Cool Glass of Water

With the death of Osama bin Laden the world and especially America has taken a step back and appropriately began to ask some important and introspective questions.  "Is the war on terror over?"  "Should we leave Afghanistan?"  "Are we prompting more attacks?"  "What are Truthers, Birthers, or Deathers?"  Or, "Should our phones be tracking our movements?"  To say the least it has been an interesting few weeks as the nation struggles to come to grips with these questions.  And with some long overdue harmony over the bin Laden raid the issues have not been as divisive or malicious lately.  Right now the two sides have taken a respite from the rhetoric and there is a calm like that cool glass of water after working outside in the heat.  You take a drink, plop down in a chair, congratulate yourself on a job well done and relax before you have to get up again and start the clean up process.  Right now America is finishing up their water and convincing themselves it is time to get back to the madness before it gets too late; after all, the election is only eighteen months away.

So before we get back to work let us reflect on the respite and properly address an issue that came up last week.

The morning after the bin Laden raid a pre-coffee debate ensued over the appropriateness of the celebration over the man's death.  One person compared it to the televised celebrations from Afghanistan when the American journalist was killed.  Another took the moral stance that one should not celebrate the death of another human.  And yet another held that it was not the death that was being celebrated in the streets of D.C. and Times Square but an outpouring of pent-up emotion stored up over the past decade.  Be it fear, terror, anger, sadness, anxiety, frustration, or feelings of injustice; in the moment we found out the Osama was dead we could all finally release our baggage.  In that moment our burdens were lifted and we could relax and let down our guard, plop down on the couch and congratulate ourselves.  And you could probably tell which side of the argument we were on.  But the question remained; was it appropriate to celebrate as a direct result of a man's death regardless of motivation?  Well, let us ask the opposite.  Is it appropriate to mourn when a person dies?  Certainly it is a societal expectation, but it is not required or mandated.

Mourning is a deeply personal coping mechanism that cannot be taught or influenced that provides an individual a way to deal with the feelings and emotions stirred up in the loss of someone or something special.  In the past month we at II have experienced some personal tragedies and have had a first hand look at mourning.  One of our writer's friends lost his father a few weeks ago.  That man's wife lost her closest grandmother.  Their mutual friend lost his caretaker grandmother just days ago.  And the writer's aunt is being lost to dementia from a few recent strokes and taking the health of her loving husband with her.  And we have noted how each of the survivors have made their own grieving style.  The writer's friend wore all black clothing for two weeks and needed to socialize with other people while his wife needed solitude.  When our writer lost his father as a nine year old boy friends and family became afraid because his grieving was private.  It is not normal for a child to not cry when he loses his father and hero.  And therein is the keyword: normal.  We all recognize that people grieve in different ways, but there are certain characteristics that have come to be expected during the process like sadness, depression, quietude, or solemness.  But is celebration far fetched?

Our writer had a good friend in college named Robertson McQuilkin.  The man was in his eighties when they met and his wife had been suffering from decades of degenerative Alzheimer's.  McQuilkin's house was a small and humble home on the corner of a well traveled street.  On the days when his wife would recognize him he would fly a flag out on the front of the house to signify that he was having a good day.  When visited, he would leave his wife in the bedroom and close the door in order to give his full attention to his guests.  When talking with him you would never tell if his mind was wondering because he dedicated himself to the situation or conversation at hand.  He was a rare breed of man that would make you feel special and loved even if he did not know you.  So it was easy to empathize with him and his situation with his wife.  He dedicated the last decades of her life tending to her every need and loving her wholeheartedly.  Even now it is difficult to hold back the emotions of sadness and grief at his Sisyphian struggle.  And as you can imagine in the latter days, the flag flew less and less.  However when she finally died there was little grief and almost non-existent sadness.  In truth there was a collective release of emotion as this both man and woman were freed from their crushing and overwhelming afflictions.  There was the deliverance of a woman whose millstone had been lifted and of a man whose albatross had been cut away.  The celebration that followed her death was altogether cleansing, healing, mourning, and very appropriate.  It was the same sort of rejoicing the world experienced when Mandela was released and the very same when bin Laden was killed.

Two weeks ago we wrote a hurried essay as the southern storms that brought several tornadoes bore down on II headquarters.  We compared the news coverage of the severe weather to the royal wedding of William and Catherine.  The piece was not good enough to publish but the point was that just as we could set aside the non-essentials and inwardly reflect while being engrossed in the storm coverage, so should we let ourselves be caught up in the fantasy of the marriage between the Prince and the pauper girl.  Not everything in life demands critical analysis or commentary.  Just relax and enjoy.

And from this relaxation period the world has been able to refocus and begin to ask some genuine questions.  So it is only befitting that we close with with some words from an eloquent, pro-revolution, black panther associated, Muslim from Chicago, and honorary Impudent Iconoclast; Wasalu Muhammad Jaco.

The official song of The Impudent Iconoclast:


"It’s so loud Inside my head
With words that I should have said!
As I drown in my regrets
I can’t take back the words I never said
I can’t take back the words I never said

"I really think the war on terror is a bunch of bullshit
Just a poor excuse for you to use up all your bullets
How much money does it take to really make a full clip
9/11 building 7 did they really pull it
And a bunch of other cover ups
Your childs future was the first to go with budget cuts
If you think that hurts then, wait here comes the uppercut
The school was garbage in the first place, that's on the up and up
Keep you at the bottom but tease you with the uppercrust
You get it then they move you so you never keeping up enough
If you turn on TV all you see’s a bunch of “what the fucks”
Dude is dating so and so blabbering bout such and such
And that ain't Jersey Shore, homie that's the news
And these the same people that supposed to be telling us the truth
Limbaugh is a racist, Glenn Beck is a racist
Gaza strip was getting bombed, Obama didn’t say shit
That's why I ain't vote for him, next one either
I’ma part of the problem, my problem is I’m peaceful
And I believe in the people.

"It’s so loud inside my head
With words that I should have said!
As I drown in my regrets
I can’t take back the words I never said

"Now you can say it ain't our fault if we never heard it
But if we know better than we probably deserve it
Jihad is not a holy war, wheres that in the worship?
Murdering is not Islam!
And you are not observant
And you are not a muslim
Israel don’t take my side cause look how far you’ve pushed them
Walk with me into the ghetto, this where all the Kush went
Complain about the liquor store but what you drinking liquor for?
Complain about the gloom but when’d you pick a broom up?
Just listening to Pac ain't gone make it stop
A rebel in your thoughts, ain't gon make it halt
If you don’t become an actor you’ll never be a factor
Pills with million side effects
Take em when the pains felt
Wash them down with Diet soda!
Killin off your brain cells
Crooked banks around the World
Would gladly give a loan today
So if you ever miss payment
They can take your home away!

"It’s so loud inside my head
With words that I should have said!
As I drown in my regrets
I can’t take back the words I never said, never said
I can’t take back the words I never said

"I think that all the silence is worse than all the violence
Fear is such a weak emotion that's why I despise it
We scared of almost everything, afraid to even tell the truth
So scared of what you think of me, I’m scared of even telling you
Sometimes I’m like the only person I feel safe to tell it to
I’m locked inside a cell in me, I know that there’s a jail in you
Consider this your bailing out, so take a breath, inhale a few
My screams is finally getting free, my thoughts is finally yelling through

"It’s so loud Inside my head
With words that I should have said!
As I drown in my regrets
I can’t take back the words I never said."

9:04am

9:04am.

I rolled into the office bypassing all the drones hoping to wish me a good morning and compliment me on my recent haircut. Their intent; however, was not to laud my personal hygiene, but to make me aware of the fact that they had noticed something different about my appearance hoping to boost their own personal satisfaction that they have reached out and made a foreign soul feel somewhat significant. God I hate them. I quickly clock in taking delight in having exploited my employer’s five minute grace period at the beginning of the work day once more. Another cycle at this draconian dystopia has begun. I log into my various work platforms taking notice of the images of the company’s apotheostic founder and CEO encouraging us to conform to various corporate sentiments; the most contemptible of which is to “Think outside the box” when my workspace is confined to a box, (or “cubical” as they call it).

I do not want to give the impression that I am in anyway dissatisfied with my current situation in life, I rather enjoy my job. I get paid for a full day’s work when in actuality my assignments only take a fraction of that time. I have mastered my duties and can do in thirty minutes what would take a thousand monkeys on a thousand laptops a thousand years; with which, by the way, I am surrounded. Not wanting to seem unoccupied and thereby unnecessary, I divide my three main tasks to be completed at different times of the day. As a database administrator I am responsible for inessential database merging, superfluous code parsing, and altruistic data mining. Despite my efforts to prolong my efforts, I find myself occupied with surfing the internet; searching for various bits of information to keep my mind from atrophying. From looking for travel deals on aa.com to being redirected to the Nissan website at z.com, I tirelessly quest for that which I have not seen or experienced.

10:33am.

I have reached the end of the internet. Staring down the precipice of the edge of the info-space, I half-chuckle to myself as I reflect upon the billions of websites I have viewed and how similar the situation is to cable TV where there are two-hundred and fifty channels but nothing interesting to watch. Reluctantly, I take notice of the time longing for it to be lunch when times seems to move faster, albeit my attention somewhat preoccupied. But I cannot concern myself with that now as it will only make me hungry and exacerbate my impatience. I long for something sweet. So as not to spoil my appetite, perhaps some type of confection that will serve to distract my thoughts and to assuage my hunger for one more hour. The anxiety of the moment forces me to begin my second assignment ahead of schedule with a vain hope that some variant job might present itself later in the day to occupy my time.

11:15am.

Still a bit too early to mention lunch to my fellow worker bees; I do not want them to think I cannot control my hunger and therefore consider my corpulence. I scour the various internet news providers hoping for some tragedy somewhere or another professional athlete’s arrest. Being a slow news day, I regrettably read updates on the latest reality shows and the current libidinous affairs in Hollywood. Sacrificing my well-being and flirting with self-effectuated mental retardation, I scour the gossip for topics that might spur a conversation within the hive. Hearing the chair of a nearby neighbor’s cube roll out and followed by footsteps, I quickly switch screens back to my work terminal to perpetuate my continual working exhibition. I have been able to secure for myself a higher position than those in my immediate vicinity and as the inter-office hierarchy dictates, those who are “below” me do more work for less pay; therefore, although they understand this concept, it still would not be beneficial to allow my subordinates to see behind the curtain. Therefore, maintaining the illusion is necessary to the proper functioning of the colony. Two pair of footsteps cease behind me and recognizing the voices, I pretend to be preoccupied with work and fain random keystrokes to uphold my charade. The nuisance comes from two of the most droll and annoying wet-blankets on the entire floor and although I am initially perturbed by their proximal conversation, I acknowledge that their intercourse is no more harmful to my mental stability than searching the tabloids. Sigh. I turn my chair and engage.

1:32pm.

Finished with lunch, I clean off my desk and continue my ritual internet perusing secretly longing for some news making event to have taken place during my hour absence such as a political scandal or a natural disaster. To my delight, I find an engaging story on a local newspaper website outlining the details of certain police activities over the weekend near my home. Outraged by this egregious attempt by the local authorities to circumvent several amendments and recent Supreme Court decisions, I immediately write a reply explaining my viewpoint. Thoroughly distracted, I take satisfaction knowing that I have meticulously debunked the writer's story while writing in such a tone to encourage others to argue my seemingly intransigent viewpoints; thus occupying my time for the next few hours. As I wait for the responses, I realize that I have managed to stave off the conclusion of my assigned responsibilities until the afternoon, and so I begin task number three faute de mieux.

3:33pm.

The insulin rush that followed my carb-heavy lunch has subsided and my awareness has slowly returned. To flush the fluid from my knees and get in some exercise, I decide a walk outside the building would be quite salubrious, if not for my mental health as well. I make my way through the corporate maze and extend salutations to the disparate hoard as if my artificial cheerfulness is anything more than a bagatelle to them. Stepping outside and squinting my eyes, I longed for my sunglasses and consign to bring them next time if ever I decide to take a walk again. I walk past the handful of smokers and try to hold my breath until I have escaped the haze all that much more grateful to breath deep the fresh city air. I cannot help but smile at the realization that I have just considered the city’s air to be fresh.

4:54pm.

As for the local website, I have taken on all those who opposed me with their naive notions and overpowered their foolishness with logic, resourcefulness, and le mot juste. Victorious, I end the debate and return to the hive to check the clock. I yearn for the conclusion of the day. I yearn to go home and relax in front of my TV. I yearn for an early bedtime. This is my life; and yet, I am happy?

Cricket: A Sonnet

A Friend's dog died recently
















How Cricket lived is quite unique
Born through adversity and through stress
From whence a life altogether bleak
To a home replete with love in excess.

Her affection was not easily given or gained
And to most her pathetic story was without hope
Yet her will could not be constrained
As she'd sprint o'er the fields at only a lope.

But doth the brightest flame burn out the most abrupt?
And the distressed grape bear the greatest wine?
So her significance on our lives did erupt
Who knew she'd be the quickest to the finish line?

Cricket: the dog who we'll never forget,
The canine pilgrim; the living vignette.

The Heretofor Uncovered Collection Part 1

By my Father

SONNET: TO A FALL

When God his first progenitor did make
To sally forth a seed to live of grace;
No thought could be enough of Woman's sake,
And Man to fall from sense, emotions base.

To tempt a weaker sex by appetite,
Seems now more moot if asked how she could stand;
And by her essence, wanton lovely sight!
Tis no wonder Satan tempted not the Man.

Ah, but Man fell not in ignorance,
Deceived and shorn with others there to blame.
Man fell by love in human Bacchantic dance,
By reason lost his liberty in shame.

And so the grace that Man doth find in love,
In Woman comes, beneath, from not above.





IF WE WERE OVERRUN BY CAMELS

There would be camel dung in the streets
Depriving the cities of their famous clean and neat
The would eat entire lawns for their eats
Everyone knows camels don't eat meat.

Traffic could stop anytime for a crossing
And they have this thing about spitting
What really gets us is their chewing
And they never ever say a damn thing.

So to stop this hullabaloo
We locked them all in a zoo
And now we don't even "phew!"
What would happen if we were overrun with you?





THE BEAUTIFUL MORNING

The mothers licked the sleep from her fawn's eyes,
And smiled to reassure through winter's guise.
The snowy bed whereon they lay was nature's velvet;
Much more beautiful in light than at sunset:
Sun twinkling off iced branches and glittering drops,
Snow was earth's virgin blanket and evergreen's tops.
But this wet and cold dropping served to hide the food
And left peculiar designs on their winter's suit.
Beautiful as it was, this cold white could be bad.
Driving away birds and adding to the air a sad.
To their feet mother and son arose to forage and search
Their morning repast neath umbrellas of fir and birch.
The cross hairs zeroed in and the face smiled
The report boomed into the cold air and echoed for miles.
The mother went to her knees and screamed,
The fawn jumped and stared.
On her side now she gazed up at her son.
The blood gushed from her neck,
Flowed onto the stark white with brilliant crimson.
Terror was in the morning air!
Understanding though not knowing the son fled,
Fled and escaped where his mother bled.
And heard in the distance two more smaller reports.





LEONIDAS' ADDRESS TO HIS SPARTANS AT THERMOPYLAE

"Spartans!
Three days ere we vowed never to cross yon wall;
That we shall not.
Three days ere we vowed to fight here in the pass;
That we shall not.
Xerxes' Immortals are round behind us,
The will soon trap us in this pass;
I have dismissed all Greeks,
But not Spartans.
Spartans will never retreat.
Spartans will be victorious or die.
On you shields you hold the Spartan legacy:
'Victory or Death,'
And in your hearts is the spirit to uphold it.
We stand alone,
One three hundred to one million Persian;
We stand alone, for Sparta and for Greece.
We have no chance to hold the pass;
Therefore
We advance.
We advance onto the plain and into the Persian ranks,
We advance to kill Xerxes.
Advance, Spartans!
On your spears is the fate of Greece
and the honor of Sparta;
When your spears break -- use your swords;
When your swords break -- use your fists;
When you hands break -- use your hearts!
Here is our glory and our victory in death!
Here obedient to Spartan laws, we fall.
Advance!"





UNTITLED

This is a man of questionable and infamous repute,
This is the proverbial story of the Absurd Fool.
A man who believed in right and love incompute,
A man who was used as a disposable tool.
He trusted in men, their nature and their love
For him, he never harbored a thought of deceit,
As if all men were he, to be governed from above
By night - his peers said this of him - conceit.
He took for granted a love and built thereof upon,
He took for granted friendship and borrowed from
It.  Until friendship met love, and behold! Anon
The granted was ungranted - they told him not come.
But come he did and suffer more because
The love and friendship had tricked him again
Into a parley, and laughed while digging their claws
Into his heart, his soul - nevermore to begin.
Cry all you deem, you fool, you imbecile of man!
Cray and bemoan yourself for it was only you
That hurt you and relied upon the whim that love can
Carry all.  Learn your lesson?  I doubt it, you fool.
The world slaps you in the face with blatant pessimism,
And shows you that you yourself are the key;
But you look for more to eat of this cataclysm.
O gods hark this!  The fool is me.

Dear Five Guys

Dear Vice President Matt Murrell,

I would like to start by thanking you for all the hard work you and your family have put in to building a business around such a delicious and wonderful burger.  I can honestly say that Five Guys is top of my list for best burgers and when the mood for a good meal strikes me I seek out the nearest franchise.  And while your burger may not be the best I have ever had, I definitely rank it high on my list and it is most assuredly the best chain burger.  I will go out on a limb and say that I enjoy your burger more than the iconic In-N-Out Burger restaurant; both for its taste and for the fact that unlike In-N-Out, your stores accept American Express credit cards.

Another one of the reasons I really appreciate the Five Guys' burger is that I can get it with fresh jalapeños.  Not the pickled ones, but fresh.  I even go so far as to ask you to grill my jalapeños which brings a nice smoky char to them and perks up the burger without the vinegar taste.  My meal of choice from you is the cheeseburger with grilled jalapeños and barbecue sauce only with a side of peanuts and a cherry Coke.  In fact, I just had that meal only a few hours ago.

Consequently the reason I am writing to you is that I had some interesting thoughts while I was chowing down on my dinner tonight.  I happened to get to the restaurant at a time when I was the only customer there.  As always I ordered my meal, paid, got my peanuts and drink and sat down to crack into as many shells as I could before the burger was delivered.  While eating several more people came in to have the same experience and I starting making some associations to the type of customer that you serve.  I remember remarking in a few cities that I have traveled to in the past that some of the patrons are unpleasant to look at due to their physical compositions.  (I want to be careful here and note that I am not mocking, degrading, or being rude; I simply want to point out an observation that I think may hold some value to you and your company.)  I personally do not find it pleasant to watch obese people eat, especially such high calorie foods.  As a person who shades to the quite corpulent side myself, I can relate to the unattractive and unappealing scenes that someone like me sets when waddling through a restaurant and scarfing down large quantities of food.

While eating I starting feeling really bad about myself.  I starting to feel guilty for coming in to your restaurant and ordering the big instead of the small burger.  I doubted whether I should have went with the high calorie soda instead of the diet.  Watching the other customers elicited feelings of shame and guilt which I doubt are the feelings you want your customers to have.  The worst part is that while examining my feelings I began to remember I have felt that same way before when eating at your restaurant and that it has affected my decision to patronize your establishment in the past.  I remember thinking how disgusting some of the guests had been and that I did not want to enter that particular establishment again, (or at least not as often).

And that got me thinking, I cannot be the only person to have these feelings and maybe there is an opportunity here.

Recently I read a study about mayonnaise bottles.  Some company had tested two new squeeze bottles on supermarket shelves.  One squeeze bottle had convex sides and the other concave.  They both held the same amount of mayonnaise and the only difference was the shapes.  The company found that the concave bottles were selling better and upon further testing discovered that subconsciously people associated the bottles with body shape and they felt better about themselves buying an unhealthy product if the bottle appeared slimmer; concave, instead of the plumper convex ones.  It may be the case that I am alone on this one but I think I would feel better about dining with Five Guys if I was not reminded of my bad choices when looking at the other guests.  As the vice president in charge of store development I think you are in a unique position to address this issue.  If people feel better about their decisions to eat with you they will be more likely to come back more often and spend more money.

People need a distraction.  I think this is best achieved through physical alteration of the premises.  Currently, the only action in the Five Guys restaurant is the patrons.  If people had something else to look at; for example a television, they could forget about their weight or the calories and simply enjoy their meal.  However that might not be the atmosphere your company is trying to establish.  Last year I went to visit the much hyped Heart Attack Grill in Arizona were they celebrate obesity.  However people there do not have time to dwell on themselves as they offer sexy female servers dressed as naughty nurses, tilted mirrors behind the counter so you can peek up their skirts, mandatory scrubs for the guests that serve to equalize everybody's appearance, TVs with music videos, constant attention, and interesting artistic pieces almost to the point of sensory overload.  It was quite the experience.  But even though I probably ate worse there than I ever would at Five Guys, I never once felt self-conscious.  Alternatively your layout is simple, clean, and certainly less stimulating.  There is something to be said for a churn and burn atmosphere.  Playing up-tempo music such as you do gets people to conduct their activities faster; and without distractions like TVs people will complete their visit faster clearing room for more guests, increasing throughput and ultimately revenue.  As a former restaurant manager I can appreciate increased turnover.

So if visual stimulus is not the right suggestion I would like to suggest concealment.  I recently visited a Smash Burger and noted that their store layout is different in that they have booths, large plants, and physical barriers to divide people.  Even the registers where somewhat segregated from the customers.  Retrospectively this might be a brilliant move that as a customer I would feel less guilty ordering a large meal because I would not feel as through the sitting guests were watching and judging me.  Think about other franchises: McDonald's, Wendy's, or Johnny Rockets; they all use dividers.  And I do not think that is by accident.  The only chain I can think of with an open floor-plan is Subway, but their stores are quite small and they have successfully marketed their product as healthy and a good decision so patrons can feel better about eating there; subconsciously or not.

Therefore I feel that making alterations to the physical layout of a typical Five Guys establishment will help increase sales by making your customers feel more comfortable patronizing your business.  By either adding visual distractions or obscuring sight-lines I believe people will enjoy their experience more and would be more inclined to return and spend more money.  I understand that as a franchise company this idea will be difficult to implement or even test but I encourage you to at least consider it.  Remember we come to Five Guys for the burgers, not the atmosphere.

Thank you for your consideration,

The Impudent Iconoclast