Vincent Cahill was 42 and was proud of the uniform he wore and the badge that bore not the insignia or seal of any law enforcement agency but instead the name of a private security firm of which he was the sole employee. Each morning he’d polish the brass on each button to a high shine and iron the pants until the pleats were sharp enough to cut cans should he need to do that and not have the proper tool.
If he had a superior officer, he certainly would have passed inspection and if he’d had subordinates, they most definitely would have snapped to attention, confident in the authority of their commander and prepared to willingly leap to their death if necessary.
His duty was to guard, defend and keep safe the 5000 square feet of pavement in one of the city’s once finer neighborhoods but now had gone to hell. It was a position at which he excelled. After nearly a year, there had not been a single attempt to steal it, burgle it, bugger it or kill it.
Nonetheless, he patrolled this pavement as though it housed the riches of Fort Knox. Speaking to himself in military jargon of “Ten Hut.” “Right Face” “All Clear” and at the hours when he was least likely to be heard he would sound the top of the hour followed by “…and All’s Well!,” to the chagrin of the homeless men trying to sleep nearby.
The owners entrusted him with the duty of safeguarding this former office building space to keep it from becoming a parking lot. Prior to Vincent Cahill, that job had been entrusted to a 22 story building. Now, the building gone, only the empty space remained with no one to talk to. Sure, Vincent was there, but the empty space could not talk so the point was moot.
Had the empty space been able to talk it would probably have asked why it was not a parking lot already. The only thing keeping it from being a parking lot was cars parking on it. The answer was that the owners didn’t want that. That was what Vincent Cahill was there to prevent.
It occurred to Vincent Cahill to point out to the landowners that the same end could be accomplished by a fence. Then it occurred to Vincent Cahill that he would not have this job or the accompanying generous paycheck and cool uniform that went with a job that asked so little.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Anti-Bullying Program
There is one way to stop bullying, drug use and crime, but no one wants to do it because it seems a little harsh. It might be, but it would work.
Schools have bad kids go to tour prisons or have inmates come to schools and talk about how bad drugs are. It's not enough.
Here’s what they should do. Find the toughest kid in the school. The one who smokes, does drugs, picks on other kids. Makes them afraid to go to school.
Every school has at least ten of them. Find the baddest of the bad, put him on stage with the convict and let the convict tell his story and then rape him.
At the end, when the bully is rocking back and forth in tears with his arms around his knees like Glenn Close in the shower in Fatal Attraction, the convict puts it away, zips his pants and says, “Any questions?”
Schools have bad kids go to tour prisons or have inmates come to schools and talk about how bad drugs are. It's not enough.
Here’s what they should do. Find the toughest kid in the school. The one who smokes, does drugs, picks on other kids. Makes them afraid to go to school.
Every school has at least ten of them. Find the baddest of the bad, put him on stage with the convict and let the convict tell his story and then rape him.
At the end, when the bully is rocking back and forth in tears with his arms around his knees like Glenn Close in the shower in Fatal Attraction, the convict puts it away, zips his pants and says, “Any questions?”
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Fight Clubhouse
So the neighbors had a fight the other night so loud I could hear it through the floor.
The whole building could hear them going and it was the usual fight kind of thing like:
“GET THE F OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
“IT’S MY HOUSE.TOO!”
“I DON’T CARE! I PAID THE LAST MONTH’S RENT AND YOU OWE ME, YOU ASSHOLE!”
Better than reality TV.
And I have my ear to the door like a safecracker listening to it.
The only problem is, it got quiet and I couldn't catch the resolution of the conflict because by that time, they’ve stopped yelling.
It would have been nice if they could have finished the story they started by shouting. “WELL, PERHAPS I SHOULD BE MORE SENSITIVE TO YOUR FEELINGS!”
“AND I’LL TRY TO BE MORE CONSTRUCTIVE IN MY CRITICISM!
“YOUR MOTHER ISN’T A CUNT AND I’M SORRY I POINTED AND LAUGHED AT HER ARTIFICIAL LIMB!”
“I’M SORRY I FUCKED YOUR DAD!”
“IT’S OKAY, HE’S ALWAYS BEEN CURIOUS TO TRY IT WITH A GUY!”
The whole building could hear them going and it was the usual fight kind of thing like:
“GET THE F OUT OF MY HOUSE!”
“IT’S MY HOUSE.TOO!”
“I DON’T CARE! I PAID THE LAST MONTH’S RENT AND YOU OWE ME, YOU ASSHOLE!”
Better than reality TV.
And I have my ear to the door like a safecracker listening to it.
The only problem is, it got quiet and I couldn't catch the resolution of the conflict because by that time, they’ve stopped yelling.
It would have been nice if they could have finished the story they started by shouting. “WELL, PERHAPS I SHOULD BE MORE SENSITIVE TO YOUR FEELINGS!”
“AND I’LL TRY TO BE MORE CONSTRUCTIVE IN MY CRITICISM!
“YOUR MOTHER ISN’T A CUNT AND I’M SORRY I POINTED AND LAUGHED AT HER ARTIFICIAL LIMB!”
“I’M SORRY I FUCKED YOUR DAD!”
“IT’S OKAY, HE’S ALWAYS BEEN CURIOUS TO TRY IT WITH A GUY!”
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Wide Awake in America
"When you have insomnia, you're never really asleep... and you're never really awake. With insomnia, nothing's real. Everything's far away, everything's a copy." - Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club.
For about three weeks now, I’ve been getting by on about four to fivehours of sleep a night. I’d been used to being shocked out of bed by an alarm clock that sounds like one the angry aliens from Mars Attacks screeching by my bedside.It could be a lot of things. It could be the change in financial status since Melly is working full time again. It could be the tensionof rushing through my daily commute to get my wife and son in the sameplace at the same time. It could be that my five average cups of coffee are playing Texas Hold Em in my nervous system. It’s definitelynot the fine lineup of infomercials on TV at 3 in the morning or the unreal array of reality shows on On Demand. I wake up, usually to go to the bathroom, and that’s it. I can’t get back to sleep. I can lay down. I can close my eyes. I can pretend I’m about to fall asleep, but that’s where the charade ends.
For about three weeks now, I’ve been getting by on about four to fivehours of sleep a night. I’d been used to being shocked out of bed by an alarm clock that sounds like one the angry aliens from Mars Attacks screeching by my bedside.It could be a lot of things. It could be the change in financial status since Melly is working full time again. It could be the tensionof rushing through my daily commute to get my wife and son in the sameplace at the same time. It could be that my five average cups of coffee are playing Texas Hold Em in my nervous system. It’s definitelynot the fine lineup of infomercials on TV at 3 in the morning or the unreal array of reality shows on On Demand. I wake up, usually to go to the bathroom, and that’s it. I can’t get back to sleep. I can lay down. I can close my eyes. I can pretend I’m about to fall asleep, but that’s where the charade ends.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Farewell, Leslie Neilsen
From Airplane, the Naked Gun tv series and movies. You gave us all some great laughs and will be sorely missed. Even the ones that seemed to be cranked out like Wrongfully Accused, had some belly laughs. The kind we need. You left a great legacy. Thank you.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Anything wrong with that?:
Okay, I have three separate points to make here that seem to be the hot-buttom items in social and political arguments. I could have laid them out as three separate issues and presented them that way, but eight-year-olds who want to go swimming aren't interested in waiting for editing. They want to go swimming NOWWWWWWWW!
So, here we go.
First, a shit storm started a few years ago when Al Gore did a Power Point presentation demonstrating over how the polar ice caps were melting and the planet was being subject to the buzzword of global warming. It could have gotten people thinking. Instead it got people fighting.
Now, he was pointing out something we should think about. Maybe you didn't agree with it. But it was most definitely worth thinking about. Maybe you'd make some kind of an effort to slow the effects.
1) Maybe you car pool.
2) Maybe you get a hybrid.
3) Maybe you ride public transportation.
4)) Maybe, maybe, maybe it makes you help our planet last a little longer.
5) Maybe you believe it is the way it is supposed to be and either the universe has decided our time is done to go extinct. Maybe God will look around and say "Guess it's time for the judgement day."
But we're thinking that either something should be done. Is there anything wrong with this."
No
Second, we have people who want to defend their country. Their only sin is homosexuality. They are different. And they want to fight to defend to defend and represent the country they love. This is in a time of war, not just a time of peace for percs of scholarships and training to list on the resume. These men and women want to fight to defend the country they love that sometimes doesn't love them as much.
But we're thinking there's something something wrong with that.
The part that the Seinfeld episode left off after, not that there's anything wrong with that was damn right there isn't.
Now, third, and I was surprised Proposition 19 in California failed to legalize what grows naturally in many parts of that state and with help in many parts of many other states. If you don't want to smoke pot, here's a brainstorm, don't smoke it. Either way, you're not protecting the children because children aren't allowed to have it. Even the ones who sometimes know how to get it. There's no vote that stop the bad kids from being bad kids, only good parents.
There you go, now think.
Anything wrong with that?
So, here we go.
First, a shit storm started a few years ago when Al Gore did a Power Point presentation demonstrating over how the polar ice caps were melting and the planet was being subject to the buzzword of global warming. It could have gotten people thinking. Instead it got people fighting.
Now, he was pointing out something we should think about. Maybe you didn't agree with it. But it was most definitely worth thinking about. Maybe you'd make some kind of an effort to slow the effects.
1) Maybe you car pool.
2) Maybe you get a hybrid.
3) Maybe you ride public transportation.
4)) Maybe, maybe, maybe it makes you help our planet last a little longer.
5) Maybe you believe it is the way it is supposed to be and either the universe has decided our time is done to go extinct. Maybe God will look around and say "Guess it's time for the judgement day."
But we're thinking that either something should be done. Is there anything wrong with this."
No
Second, we have people who want to defend their country. Their only sin is homosexuality. They are different. And they want to fight to defend to defend and represent the country they love. This is in a time of war, not just a time of peace for percs of scholarships and training to list on the resume. These men and women want to fight to defend the country they love that sometimes doesn't love them as much.
But we're thinking there's something something wrong with that.
The part that the Seinfeld episode left off after, not that there's anything wrong with that was damn right there isn't.
Now, third, and I was surprised Proposition 19 in California failed to legalize what grows naturally in many parts of that state and with help in many parts of many other states. If you don't want to smoke pot, here's a brainstorm, don't smoke it. Either way, you're not protecting the children because children aren't allowed to have it. Even the ones who sometimes know how to get it. There's no vote that stop the bad kids from being bad kids, only good parents.
There you go, now think.
Anything wrong with that?
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
The Hack Diaries: Drugs, Deli and Underwear
So there was this dude, right?
I got the Call with less than an hour left of my Sunday shift.
“Car 5. Clear.”
“Car 5, 10 Dupont Terrace.”
“10 Dupont Terrace. Got it."
He was on the sidewalk. Not wearing a suit, but dressed the way you would if you had the money but didn’t want to look like you were throwing it around.
“This is just going to be a quick round trip,” he said. “I just need to go to Rite Aid and get a sandwich.”
I didn’t point out that both were not available at the same store as I didn’t like to argue with fares.
“I asked the guy at my building where I could find a good Jewish deliand he didn’t really know of any.”
That explained it. Next to Rite Aid was a place that made great deli-style food.
“Okay, I see. You’re going to Fruit Basket next to Rite Aid?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said they had really good sandwiches and soup there.”I concurred and explained to him that in Quincy and most of the South Shore we didn’t have “Jewish Delis” the way you would in a traditional neighborhood in New York but had mostly sub shops instead.
“The nearest I can think of one that calls itself a Jewish deli wouldthe S & S in Inman Square in Somerville. That would be a place where you could get a kreplach or matzo ball soup. But the Fruit Basket makes great sandwiches if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“Perfect,” he said. Relieved, but still seeming very uncomfortable.
“I broke my arm the other day. I thought I knew what pain was. I was wrong. Rite Aid has a prescription for my and I’m starving at the same time. Add to that, I have a stomach issue where I have trouble keeping pain medicine down.”
This explained the smell of pricey import I could smell wafting off of him. He’d had a few to grease the tracks, was feeling good and I wastaking him to get more pain medication. Good to be rich.
“Oh man, I’m glad you told me that. Is there anything else I can do?”
“No man, this is all I really need. Thanks. Hey, did you grow up in Quincy?”
“No Holbrook,” I admitted.“I grew up in Braintree, the whole place looks a lot different.”
“What year did you graduate?”“Thayer Academy, 79.”
“Ok, so you graduated before Jeremy Roenick and a whole bunch of girlfriends I had.”
“Banged the headmaster’s daughter my senior year,” he said like it was commenting on the weather.
“I got straight A’s but that’s what Iremember most.”
This guy was now my hero. And by hero, I meant Chevy Chase in Caddyshack.
“You’re kidding?”“Swear to God. The headmaster’s house was right across the street fromthe school in this historic building and he walked in on us in bedtogether. We were both 17, we were seniors and A students and had fullwalks to college. We were having fun.”
That’s awesome. First of all, he’s dressed like James Bond on his dayoff. He lives in a condo where a month’s service fee was more than myrent and car payment combined and he schtupped the headmaster’s daughter.
This guy was a little bit Fletch and a little bit older BillMurray.
“It sounds like you had the resume and impressive credentials, he should have been glad to see it happening,” I said, warming up to feelsafe in the familiarity.
“I know, right?”
“Hey this is going to sound like a weird question, but you seem toknow your way around,” he inquired. “The airline lost my luggage and Ihave no underwear. Is there any place in walking distance where Icould find any in walking distance to my place?”
This was one of the most interesting fare’s I’ve ever had. He’d mixedimself a Janis Joplin cocktail of alcohol and painkillers and now wewere on this magical mystery tour and I was his guide to good deli andunderwear.
Up until now, the only really interesting thing that had happened waspicking up a mother and two daughters at Stop & Shop in time to hearthe piercing fire alarm going off. I looked at the younger of the two daughters ear-muffing against the noise accusingly and said “What did you do?”
She looked at me, all defensively for a second, then started to laugh.
“You didn’t let the Keebler elves free again did you?” then I spokeinto my sleeve. “Lock down the hollow tree, we have breech. I don’t know, follow the trail of fudge. Do I have to do everything”She was my buddy from then on and her mother and I loaded the bagsinto the roomy trunk.So I take my rich, stoned, broken an inebriated fare to Rite Aid andpark, letting the meter run. Planning to take him to find fruit of thelooms at AJ Wright afterwards.So after about 20 minutes, I see my new hero make his way from RiteAid to Fruit Basket, 20 minutes later he comes back out.
“Ok, thanks for waiting. I can’t wait for this Reuben. It looks likethe real thing.”“They make a great Rueben,” I encouraged. “Did you get the Russian?”
“I did, and some extra from dipping.”
So I told him the best place to find underwear is across the street,but he was exhausted from this adventure so he said he’d rather justgo home.
I told him AJ Wright and even Family Dollar should be able tosupply the underwear he was looking for.
“Perfect,” he said. “I appreciate it.“I’d asked one of the guys who works for me but he told me about thisplace he goes to find $25 underwear. I was ready to fire him just forthat.”
“Sounds like he was bragging,” I said.
“Kind of a weird thing to brag about to your boss, isn’t it?”
Right.
“I’m just looking for a $5 pack of fruit of the looms. If I had the extra money, and I do, I’d take it to Father Bills and buy food forsome hungry people.”
“The guy’s probably just showing off.”
“Maybe, but like you said, it’s an odd thing to brag to your boss about.”
True.
So I take him back to his condo, and he asked me to rifle through hiswad of cash. He covered the fare and took care of me with an extra,generous 10 spot.
“Hey, thanks for everything, I appreciate it. Is that enough?”
“That’s perfect. I appreciate it. You going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. Just going to enjoy my sandwich and try to heal.”
“Well hang in there. Feel better and try to relax.”
I drove to the nearest gas station and filled the tank and drove itback to the cab garage, eager to share my adventure in downtown Quincy. Finally feeling I had a story worth sharing with a group of world weary cabbies who look like they’ve either seen it all or missed it all.
“Hey, Stoney,” I called to the dispatcher through the bullet proof glass ready to start a great story. “You know that guy from Dupont? We drove less than two miles but he needed narcotics, deli and underwear.”
“Is this the rich guy with the broken arm?” he asked. “I took him toRite Aid the other night.
“Right, kinda hammered but a pretty nice guy?”
“That’s the one,” I said.Behind me, Al, Yellow Cab’s equivalent to Coach from Cheers walked in,catching a piece of my conversation with Stoney.
“You guys talking about the rich guy with the broken arm?” Al asked.
“You got him too?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “He had me laughing my ass off."
Cash is usually the best tip. But sometimes a really good story lasts longer.
I got the Call with less than an hour left of my Sunday shift.
“Car 5. Clear.”
“Car 5, 10 Dupont Terrace.”
“10 Dupont Terrace. Got it."
He was on the sidewalk. Not wearing a suit, but dressed the way you would if you had the money but didn’t want to look like you were throwing it around.
“This is just going to be a quick round trip,” he said. “I just need to go to Rite Aid and get a sandwich.”
I didn’t point out that both were not available at the same store as I didn’t like to argue with fares.
“I asked the guy at my building where I could find a good Jewish deliand he didn’t really know of any.”
That explained it. Next to Rite Aid was a place that made great deli-style food.
“Okay, I see. You’re going to Fruit Basket next to Rite Aid?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said they had really good sandwiches and soup there.”I concurred and explained to him that in Quincy and most of the South Shore we didn’t have “Jewish Delis” the way you would in a traditional neighborhood in New York but had mostly sub shops instead.
“The nearest I can think of one that calls itself a Jewish deli wouldthe S & S in Inman Square in Somerville. That would be a place where you could get a kreplach or matzo ball soup. But the Fruit Basket makes great sandwiches if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“Perfect,” he said. Relieved, but still seeming very uncomfortable.
“I broke my arm the other day. I thought I knew what pain was. I was wrong. Rite Aid has a prescription for my and I’m starving at the same time. Add to that, I have a stomach issue where I have trouble keeping pain medicine down.”
This explained the smell of pricey import I could smell wafting off of him. He’d had a few to grease the tracks, was feeling good and I wastaking him to get more pain medication. Good to be rich.
“Oh man, I’m glad you told me that. Is there anything else I can do?”
“No man, this is all I really need. Thanks. Hey, did you grow up in Quincy?”
“No Holbrook,” I admitted.“I grew up in Braintree, the whole place looks a lot different.”
“What year did you graduate?”“Thayer Academy, 79.”
“Ok, so you graduated before Jeremy Roenick and a whole bunch of girlfriends I had.”
“Banged the headmaster’s daughter my senior year,” he said like it was commenting on the weather.
“I got straight A’s but that’s what Iremember most.”
This guy was now my hero. And by hero, I meant Chevy Chase in Caddyshack.
“You’re kidding?”“Swear to God. The headmaster’s house was right across the street fromthe school in this historic building and he walked in on us in bedtogether. We were both 17, we were seniors and A students and had fullwalks to college. We were having fun.”
That’s awesome. First of all, he’s dressed like James Bond on his dayoff. He lives in a condo where a month’s service fee was more than myrent and car payment combined and he schtupped the headmaster’s daughter.
This guy was a little bit Fletch and a little bit older BillMurray.
“It sounds like you had the resume and impressive credentials, he should have been glad to see it happening,” I said, warming up to feelsafe in the familiarity.
“I know, right?”
“Hey this is going to sound like a weird question, but you seem toknow your way around,” he inquired. “The airline lost my luggage and Ihave no underwear. Is there any place in walking distance where Icould find any in walking distance to my place?”
This was one of the most interesting fare’s I’ve ever had. He’d mixedimself a Janis Joplin cocktail of alcohol and painkillers and now wewere on this magical mystery tour and I was his guide to good deli andunderwear.
Up until now, the only really interesting thing that had happened waspicking up a mother and two daughters at Stop & Shop in time to hearthe piercing fire alarm going off. I looked at the younger of the two daughters ear-muffing against the noise accusingly and said “What did you do?”
She looked at me, all defensively for a second, then started to laugh.
“You didn’t let the Keebler elves free again did you?” then I spokeinto my sleeve. “Lock down the hollow tree, we have breech. I don’t know, follow the trail of fudge. Do I have to do everything”She was my buddy from then on and her mother and I loaded the bagsinto the roomy trunk.So I take my rich, stoned, broken an inebriated fare to Rite Aid andpark, letting the meter run. Planning to take him to find fruit of thelooms at AJ Wright afterwards.So after about 20 minutes, I see my new hero make his way from RiteAid to Fruit Basket, 20 minutes later he comes back out.
“Ok, thanks for waiting. I can’t wait for this Reuben. It looks likethe real thing.”“They make a great Rueben,” I encouraged. “Did you get the Russian?”
“I did, and some extra from dipping.”
So I told him the best place to find underwear is across the street,but he was exhausted from this adventure so he said he’d rather justgo home.
I told him AJ Wright and even Family Dollar should be able tosupply the underwear he was looking for.
“Perfect,” he said. “I appreciate it.“I’d asked one of the guys who works for me but he told me about thisplace he goes to find $25 underwear. I was ready to fire him just forthat.”
“Sounds like he was bragging,” I said.
“Kind of a weird thing to brag about to your boss, isn’t it?”
Right.
“I’m just looking for a $5 pack of fruit of the looms. If I had the extra money, and I do, I’d take it to Father Bills and buy food forsome hungry people.”
“The guy’s probably just showing off.”
“Maybe, but like you said, it’s an odd thing to brag to your boss about.”
True.
So I take him back to his condo, and he asked me to rifle through hiswad of cash. He covered the fare and took care of me with an extra,generous 10 spot.
“Hey, thanks for everything, I appreciate it. Is that enough?”
“That’s perfect. I appreciate it. You going to be okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” he said. Just going to enjoy my sandwich and try to heal.”
“Well hang in there. Feel better and try to relax.”
I drove to the nearest gas station and filled the tank and drove itback to the cab garage, eager to share my adventure in downtown Quincy. Finally feeling I had a story worth sharing with a group of world weary cabbies who look like they’ve either seen it all or missed it all.
“Hey, Stoney,” I called to the dispatcher through the bullet proof glass ready to start a great story. “You know that guy from Dupont? We drove less than two miles but he needed narcotics, deli and underwear.”
“Is this the rich guy with the broken arm?” he asked. “I took him toRite Aid the other night.
“Right, kinda hammered but a pretty nice guy?”
“That’s the one,” I said.Behind me, Al, Yellow Cab’s equivalent to Coach from Cheers walked in,catching a piece of my conversation with Stoney.
“You guys talking about the rich guy with the broken arm?” Al asked.
“You got him too?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “He had me laughing my ass off."
Cash is usually the best tip. But sometimes a really good story lasts longer.
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