It looks like I got a job as a security guard at a school.  Yay!   I’m actually torn about it.  On one hand it is thank God almighty I finally have a job, a decent job, albeit extremely low paying with no hopes of advancement, but a job.  The school thing is good news, it might get me back into teaching, & I’m exactly the type of person you’d want to teach your children history & government.  And it’s a job as a security guard, part of me, a very big part, instantly jumps to Armed & Dangerous with John Candy as my go to security guard reference & that seems like a lot of fun.  This is, of course, aside from the fact that the rational part of me completely understands that I won’t be living in a 1980s comedy.  That’s a damn shame.  A damn shame.

The only issue I have with the job is the sneaking suspicion that I wouldn’t make a very good security guard.  I don’t know if I am capable of being intimidating.   I’m a pretty big guy, but size doesn’t really matter when you are crossed with the need to be, well scary.  I also don’t want to be armed, at least not at a school.  I enjoy guns, but I really hope the conservatives lose the battle to have armed guards at a school.  I’ve worked at schools before; I can tell you that is not a good idea.  Thankfully, however, I don’t think that will actually come up.  I’d much rather laugh.

I have had three strong fantasies since I was a little kid, the first & strongest was the overwhelming desire to be an animated character.  Especially in junior high, I really thought it would be a lot of fun to be one of the Warner Brothers.  The second was the desire for life to warp into a musical, not really dramatic & I’ve been told by people that I consider to be authorities on the matter, that I should never touch a musical instrument again in my life.  I can’t sing to save my life, but I have long thought that I would enjoy a life where people randomly broke into songs over the most mundane think.  I really identified with that episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  You know, minus the demons & vampires.  But I wouldn’t mind walking down the street & encountering:

They got the mustard out!

I think that would be a hell of a lot of fun, you know?

The third was based entirely on Mel Brooks, ever since I was a little kid I hoped he would somehow become a God, or at least, I hoped that God would have his sense of humor.  It would be awesome.  I’d much rather live in a world where Blazing Saddles was based on a true story and Tombstone was a work of pure fiction.  The world would be a much better place.   I’m sure there’s a psychological disorder that comes with these fantasies, but I don’t think it’s anything damaging.  Maybe a Peter Pan complex?  Who knows?

Back in the day, my father had a hell of a delivery.  He was the Ellen Page of his day, he really was, & I mean it as a complement.  Ellen Page is my new hero; she has a beautifully dry & deadpan delivery.  She does comedy right, she delivers her lines perfectly & I firmly believe that she should have won an Oscar for Juno.  I’ve always thought that comedy is done best when the actors play it straight.

My father, for a time, had that belief as well.  His best was when, out of the blue, he told me: “I fucked your mother.”  Dry as a fucking martini.  But lately the stresses of life & age have gotten the better of him & he’s turned crotchety.  Now when he tries to be funny he’s too earnest.  My friends still get a kick out of him, they still think he’s funny, but they don’t have the exposure to him that I have.  They haven’t seen him try to make a joke.  It’s a shame what life has done to him.  His timing is off now, he refuses to make the dirty jokes he used to, & his delivery is too much like Adam Sandler.

Fidel Castro got me a job opportunity.  I’m going to hear back from them in the next couple of days.  That’s another thing that makes me edgy about the security guard job.  I got it on New Years Eve.  My mother always asks us what we want for Christmas & if we don’t reply we get a sweater.  I never wear sweaters but I have a closet full of them.  So I asked for a T-shirt with Fidel Castro on it.  A lot of my friends still wear the Che shirts with pride & I figured if I was going to conform to the anti-conformity crowd I might as well take it a step further.  So I asked for a Fidel Castro T-shirt.

Hardly any of my clothes have anything on them.  I have a Hunter S. Thompson t-shirt, a Rage Against the Machine t-shirt, a Nirvana t-shirt, a tuxedo t-shirt & now a Fidel Castro t-shirt.  The Nirvana shirt I was forced to stop wearing, at least around family.  Both my mom & to my absolute horror, my sister ask me what “Nirvana” means every time they see me wear it.    To my sister’s credit, “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” is all I have to say in order to jog her memory at which point I get to hear something negative about them.  She hates Nirvana, I just don’t understand it.   But my mother I handle differently:  “Remember that Indian girl I dated?  I wear it so she knows I respect her religion.”

I try not to get into pop culture around my mother, she has a desire to appear normal & hide her OCD, as a result she co-opts culture.  Thanks to slip of the tongue of one of my friends she now calls her cell phone a “porty,” she calls the police “po-po,” & thanks to that asshole Jerry, she watches Black gospel shows on Sunday mornings.

Jerry knows exactly what he is doing & has slowly been talking my OCD mother into co-opting his culture in her effort to appear normal.  It is bad enough when the wiggers do it, but it is absolutely horrifying watching a white woman of my mother’s age attempt to co-opt Black culture.  Jerry thinks it’s hysterical.  Jerry is an asshole that is no longer aloud around my mother.

At any rate, the Castro t-shirt proved to be a conversation point, especially sense I wore it with slacks & a jacket.  It caught the eye of a Polish guy at the party that has the same sympathies that I have.  It was a burst of fresh air meeting someone that understood the island as well as I do, it was nice meeting someone that could talk about Castro as both a hero & a villain.  In America, at least, you get mean looks & snide remarks when you say that Cuba is still free.  American’s don’t understand that the choices were a puppet government for America & a puppet government for the Soviet Union & Castro was able to traverse those waters & still keep Cuba out of both their hands.  One island against two super powers neither of which had Cuba’s best interests at heart, what Castro did was amazing & kept Cuba free.  You can’t argue against it & claim to understand that situation.  This is why you want me to teach history to your children, I know how to walk the line between propaganda & facts.  Castro has done some evil shit, no doubt, but he has also done some amazing shit & it behooves us to understand both sides of that & every other coin.

That conversation was able to snag me a reference & allow me to drop an application that wasn’t cold.  I should be getting a phone call from his firm in the next two weeks.  I’d be operating logistics & a decent & stable job with room for promotion.  I could have a career & I have to thank my mother & Fidel Castro & a drunken Pole for it.  That is something I never thought I’d be able to say.


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