Friday, October 24, 2008

from a very gifted writer i know

Just this evening I went to Central Market to get some chicken and vegetable kabobs for grilling. I'm wearing an Obama t-shirt that says "VOTE NOV 4th" on it and I'm just passed the bokchoy and Chinese eggplant, when a nebbish man in his late 40's approaches me.
"I just voted!" he says in fortissimo. An "I VOTED!" sticker on his shirt confirmed this.

"Great, I voted on Monday", I responded, now passing the hot house cucumbers.

"...but I didn't vote for that guy" he continues, pointing to my shirt. Editor's Note: (the post thought scenario has me slapping him like Sidney Poitier in In The Heat of the Night at this point)

"How long have you hated America?", I asked curtly.

He is clearly taken aback by my jab, but his retort is undecipherable.. drowned out by the guffaws of my fellow Austinites (arrugula eating liberals, whose ears had perked from beyond the pummelos and blood oranges). His lips kept moving, but I was relentless with scathing commentary that crescendoed at "Javoll, mein führer! Javol, mein führer!'.
...And that's when he reached for the onion.

It was the size of a baseball, and his thumb rubbed the dry skin like a pitcher waiting on a sign. He must've thought he was an "old guard" Texas gun fighter until the snickering made his blood boil right there in front of the comice pears. In the end it was less like Sergio Leone in the produce aisle and more like a grade school stand off. After he threw the onion back into the pile (knocking several to the floor), both parties walked away upset. I felt a little like a bully, partly because the crowd was on my side. But don't bullies always start the fights? I didn't start this fight, but I didn't stop it either. I wanted it. Palpable catharsis. Revenge. For 8 years of selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors. Guilty and shamed by my soiled reputation as a citizen of this world. So... I let Joe the Plumber have it. I stuck the knife in and twisted off the handle, deepening the social divide I so despise (and have repudiated) in an unconscionable attempt to assuage my anger. But still "the blood dries slowly" Kafka said...and old wounds die hardly.

I hope he doesn't beat his wife.