Wednesday, October 20, 2010
The People Player
(1)
First sip of beer at 1315. Gotta do some 'blog maintenance...' Maintenance done at 1340. Buzzing slightly. Time for beer #2. Sip. Face throbing, tearing, due to microwave radiation. Loud music above in the LR. Such nice neighbors I have... and very theatrical. Yesterday was a good example of 'theatrics:' I returned from grocery shopping sometime after noon. The boys' (tap) 'transportation' was parked next to the entrance walkway, facing in the wrong direction. I drove up to within 30 feet of it to unload the groceries. As I headed to the entrance with groceries in hands, one of the young idiots above approached the car, which was being driven by a much older woman (probably mama). I ignored them and delivered the loot to Kootch in the kitchen. On the way back to the car I saw them backing away very quickly and watched them park (still on the wrong side of the road). They waited there. I parked Kootch's Toyota in our parking spot and returned to the East entrance. They waited. Inside, Kootch was cooking 'Saba' (Japanese Mackrel) in her little electric grill. 'Take out trash because I have fish head in there.' I said, 'Yes master,' and grabbed the huge bag of trash and headed out to the dumpster. They were still waiting as I began to walk straight toward the trash bin, diagonally across the street. I was about 30 percent across when they suddenly accelerated in my direction, with the young (about 20 (tap) or so) idiot at the wheel. I decided to alter course ('discression' having been one of the acquisitions of a long life) as the car noisly gathered momentum in my direction. As they passed me (exceeding the speed limit) I flipped them a 'nose job' (middle finger extended, then into my right nostril as if to dig out a booger). They passed by me and then I heard the screech of tires on the pavement (boom above). Curious, I turned around to see what might have caused this sudden stop. The driver opened the door, put one leg on the pavement, then said something like, 'You have a real fucking attitude problem, you know that?' He then retracted his foot, slammed the door, and streaked away. I laughed and resumed my trek to the dumpster. I looked for some skid marks on the way back, but found no 'evidence.' Darn.
(Back from the fridge with beer #4. Sip. Buzzing very nicely now.) There were at least two of them in the car, and I didn't notice Mama, but she could have been with them, in the rear seat. I interpret the incident as another example of 'street theater,' this time based on an inti (tap) mate knowlege of the 'goings-on' in our apartment: (1) I went shopping and would return 40 minutes later. (2) I would park as usual while unloading booty. (3) Kootch would demand that I take out the trash (it's my job) because she didnt want dead fish stinking up the place. Based on that knowlege, Gerash was able to cook up a relatively elaborate scenerio with a simple and obvious 'death threat' message. I call them, VSDTs (Very Subtle Death Threats). Gerash has been 'issuing' these VSDTs for about the last 18 years or so. 'Street theater' is a Gerash specialty. Last time I looked at his web site It featured a picture of him standing (not sitting) at a chessboard poised to move. An ordinary person would probably think that this somewhat ridiculous pose indicated that Gerash fancied himself a very good chessplayer. Well maybe. But the pose is actually a metaphor for Gerash's talent for 'street theater.' Gerash 'plays people.'
First sip of beer at 1315. Gotta do some 'blog maintenance...' Maintenance done at 1340. Buzzing slightly. Time for beer #2. Sip. Face throbing, tearing, due to microwave radiation. Loud music above in the LR. Such nice neighbors I have... and very theatrical. Yesterday was a good example of 'theatrics:' I returned from grocery shopping sometime after noon. The boys' (tap) 'transportation' was parked next to the entrance walkway, facing in the wrong direction. I drove up to within 30 feet of it to unload the groceries. As I headed to the entrance with groceries in hands, one of the young idiots above approached the car, which was being driven by a much older woman (probably mama). I ignored them and delivered the loot to Kootch in the kitchen. On the way back to the car I saw them backing away very quickly and watched them park (still on the wrong side of the road). They waited there. I parked Kootch's Toyota in our parking spot and returned to the East entrance. They waited. Inside, Kootch was cooking 'Saba' (Japanese Mackrel) in her little electric grill. 'Take out trash because I have fish head in there.' I said, 'Yes master,' and grabbed the huge bag of trash and headed out to the dumpster. They were still waiting as I began to walk straight toward the trash bin, diagonally across the street. I was about 30 percent across when they suddenly accelerated in my direction, with the young (about 20 (tap) or so) idiot at the wheel. I decided to alter course ('discression' having been one of the acquisitions of a long life) as the car noisly gathered momentum in my direction. As they passed me (exceeding the speed limit) I flipped them a 'nose job' (middle finger extended, then into my right nostril as if to dig out a booger). They passed by me and then I heard the screech of tires on the pavement (boom above). Curious, I turned around to see what might have caused this sudden stop. The driver opened the door, put one leg on the pavement, then said something like, 'You have a real fucking attitude problem, you know that?' He then retracted his foot, slammed the door, and streaked away. I laughed and resumed my trek to the dumpster. I looked for some skid marks on the way back, but found no 'evidence.' Darn.
(Back from the fridge with beer #4. Sip. Buzzing very nicely now.) There were at least two of them in the car, and I didn't notice Mama, but she could have been with them, in the rear seat. I interpret the incident as another example of 'street theater,' this time based on an inti (tap) mate knowlege of the 'goings-on' in our apartment: (1) I went shopping and would return 40 minutes later. (2) I would park as usual while unloading booty. (3) Kootch would demand that I take out the trash (it's my job) because she didnt want dead fish stinking up the place. Based on that knowlege, Gerash was able to cook up a relatively elaborate scenerio with a simple and obvious 'death threat' message. I call them, VSDTs (Very Subtle Death Threats). Gerash has been 'issuing' these VSDTs for about the last 18 years or so. 'Street theater' is a Gerash specialty. Last time I looked at his web site It featured a picture of him standing (not sitting) at a chessboard poised to move. An ordinary person would probably think that this somewhat ridiculous pose indicated that Gerash fancied himself a very good chessplayer. Well maybe. But the pose is actually a metaphor for Gerash's talent for 'street theater.' Gerash 'plays people.'
