When you are at a dinner event listening to a speaker, and
there is cake on the table, you are going to think about rubbing that cake in
the speaker’s face. You are going to envision yourself doing it; you are going
to map the route from your chair to the podium; you might even put your hand on
the plate just to create the feeling of a plan in progress. Think about it –
his face all gooey with frosting, wouldn’t even know what hit him! He’d be all
like, “I’m saying something real important, look at me, I’m the speaker, I think
that –” BAM! CAKE FACE! YOU THINK NOTHING!
This past weekend I was in Washington, DC for a fellowship
on the study of the office of the Presidency. I wore a suit the whole time.
Fellow fellows used words like “furthermore” and “ergo.” All I could think
about was throwing some cake. Oh, you are a respected author and former Special
Counselor to President Reagan? Well, what are you going to do when you’re
making your big ole speech and all of a sudden you hear “pthhwwwbbbbttttt!” from
the audience? That’s right, a two-palms-to-the-mouth-fart-sound! Who’s the
Special Counselor to President Reagan now, hotshot?
I know that you are also paralyzed by these incessant
thoughts when listening to a speaker. “How will my life change if I smush my
apple strudel into this retired Colonel’s crotch?” you ask, at which point the
person next to you glares and moves away. The train of thoughts rumbles on.
“What about if I just scream STRUDEL NOODLE and clap twice? Things might be
real different for me after that.” It’s the same thing as when you hold a baby
and can’t stop thinking about how you could smash its head in. I’m not saying
you would do that, but of course you’d think it. And illustrate it in your
journal. A lot.
The fact that many of the fellows were from West Point,
Naval Academy, and the Citadel was instrumental in me not following my burning
instincts. These people are trained for these situations and I don’t want a
broken neck just for hurling a muffin at the guy from the State Department or
flailing and yelling “BOOBIES!” while the woman from the Heritage Foundation
talks about OPEC. But then I saw a fellow from the Coast Guard – but not just a
regular fellow- a fellowess, a woman! She was pretty and wore a uniform
and a hat and said “hi” to me causing me to start urinating wildly. I was
tongue-tied and intimidated and aroused and the only coherent thing I said to
her was, “So…you like boats?”
She gave me a polite smile but essentially ignored me. I
guess “Ms. Maritime Law” is too good for “Old Pastry Tosser” over here. I guess
“Ms. Blue Uniform” is too good for “Ol’ I Smell Your Hair When I Sit Behind
You;” I guess that’s how it is. As she walked away I whispered, “I love you,”
and started to think about my tie. That tie had no functional reason whatsoever
to be around my neck and its very presence implied that no rules or logic exist
and that everything is fair game. Hang a piece of material around my neck but
tie it in an elaborate knot first? Fine, but then no one has a right to take my
slide whistle away while the Brookings Institution scholar is speaking. Last
time I checked this was a free country! My ancestors fought bravely against the
British for me to have the right to play my slide whistle.
My point is this: when you are in a big lecture class, sit
in the back of the classroom and, midway through the class, cup your hands
around your mouth like a megaphone and yell “Booorrrrring!” It seems so
obvious! It seems like everyone would already be doing that! It would kill;
people would laugh; the Professor wouldn’t know what to do. If you have done
this or will do this, e-mail me and my next column will tout you as the hero
that you are. THEN I’LL NOOGIE YOU! No one expects the noogie anymore.
I wouldn’t really knoogie you, but I’d think about it and
curse the social inhibitions that prevent me from doing it. Sometimes you have
to give those inhibitions the old “skip-to-my-lou” and do what that increasingly
demanding voice inside your brain is telling you to do. For me, that voice is
named “Soup Dog.” Soup Dog cares very little about studying the Presidency or
adhering to hotel rules about sleeping in elevators. Soup Dog likes instinct,
irresistible inclination, and Elyssa Panchico.
Soup Dog knows he is not alone and that you are reading
this and thinking “that’s exactly how I feel!” You are not alone. We are all
in this together. Hand in hand, cheek in cheek. And ya know what? We are
going to win. Because we are as strong as we’ve ever been, and the future is
now.