Recently I’ve been working outside, clearing a buncha trees which have appeared on the edge of our lawn over the past 7-8 years, since the last time I did this. These speedy bastards can grow like 2-3 feet a year, which means that some are now 20 feet tall. After detailed research (I asked my wife, who knows things), I determined that these are mulberry trees. In addition to sprouting up everywhere, mulberries produce dark, sweet berries, much loved by birds who then shit purple on your vehicle and trousers.
I hate mulberries. Hate ‘em. They grow so fast that they can crowd out crops in your garden. That’s not normal. I believe they were created by terrorists because they hate our freedom.
Anyway, I’ve taken down maybe 10 trees, with 20 or so more to go. I’m using a ripsaw and chainsaw, which is fun, but I’ll soon be left with the corpses of 30 trees to deal with. That’s where the wood chipper comes in. I’m thinking about renting one.
Of course any time there’s a wood-chipper, one immediately remembers that scene in the movie, Fargo. You know, the one near the end in which that creepy dude did That Thing with it. The scene with the sock.
And that brings to mind Dick Cheney.
I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention lately, but things have been going quite badly in Iraq. The country is in danger of being overrun by psychos from Syria. Plenty of people are saying that the US is at least partly at fault and that we need to immediately bomb something or drop troops somewhere or at the very least let loose Sly Stallone and Arnold Schwarzenegger with some rpgs and wearing sweatbands and wife-beater t-shirts. Something, dammit.
One of these critical people is Dick Cheney.
Let that sink in. Dick Cheney.
He’s criticizing President Obama’s actions in Iraq.
Critical of somebody’s handling of Iraq.
While wearing a cowboy hat.
I’m not going to go into all of the reasons this is outstandingly ridiculous and mind-numbingly infuriating, because I bet you know ‘em already. But if not, check out this HuffPost article. It links to Jon Stewart’s brilliant commentary. If it doesn’t make you mad, you must be Paul Wolfowitz. Hi, Paul. Thanks for reading! Go fuck yourself you incompetent tool.
Anyway, the point is, when I consider wood chippers, I begin thinking about Dick Cheney. And this is disturbing. I’m not a violent person. I find it difficult to discipline a dog when it poops in my shoe. I have been known to hurl a kitty into the Outer Darkness when it leaps onto my groin from a great height in the middle of the night, but that’s a matter of reflex rather than rational thought. But when it comes to Cheney, I begin fantasizing about doing Things. Bad Things.
And I feel guilty about this. I feel that somehow I’ve cheapened myself by even in fantasy adopting Cheney’s stupid, cruel, and ultimately fruitless advocacy of violence to solve difficult problems.
So no more wood chipper, Imagination. I’m better than that.
Happily, that does leave me the steaming piles of horse excrement we have strategically deployed in our pastures and barn. And if that vicious, murderous son-of-a-bitch comes within 10 miles of this place I’ma load up a huge pitchfork full of righteousness and dump it on his evil, scheming, lying, ugly, war-criminal noggin.
It’s good to have dreams.
P.S. About Iraq? I haven’t got a clue what we should do there. But I DO know that we shouldn’t listen to advice from the very assholes who got us into this mess in the first place. That’s all I’m sayin’.