Tuesday, April 25, 2006

April the 24th


Today as my friend Joe and I drove from the Hollywood Home Depot back to our little canyon, we saw swarms of cars bearing those flags along Sunset Blvd. At first I thought they might be celebrating our reader, Huckleberry's, birthday, but then I remembered I was in Little Armenia.

I reminded Joe of a rather hideously funny memory I had of the equal opportunity bigot, Jesus (the unmistakably gay Mexican friend, and when I say he's predjudiced, that includes his ilk), calling me on the same spring day, a couple years ago. Responding to the chafing tone in his voice, I asked him what the matter could be.

"Well, Blanche..."

I must interrupt the progress of this story to inform you that Jesus is primarily obsessed with five particular movies, all of which he likes to (mis)quote with an alarming frequency -

Vanilla Sky - "When you sleep with someone, your body makes a (promise), whether you do or not, David."
Mommie Dearest - "Christina! Bring me the axe!"
Fatal Attraction - "You won't answer my calls, you change your number. I mean, I'm not gonna be ignored, Dan!"
Reform School Girls - "Keep your fingers above the sheets girls, we only change the beds once a week!
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? (with Joan Crawford and Bette Davis)

"Blanche: "You wouldn't be able to do these awful things to me if I wasn't in this chair."

Jane: "But ya-aahr Blanche, ya-aahr in that chair!"

Any noticeable recurrent themes you can discern therein, are quite recurrent with the lad, I assure you. Anyway, he calls me, among others, "Blanche." Or rather, "Blan-shh, " and as sibilantly as one can with that "ch." And, if something is making you unhappy, he will needle, "Why are you being so tragic, Blanche?" This is a good friend.

So, I asked him what the matter could be.

"Well, Blanche, it just took me an hour and a half to get across Hollywood back home. The traffic was crazy. All those Armenians and their so-called Genocide Parade."

I was confused, "Why 'so-called' ?"

"Well, they're still around, aren't they?"

Wow.

I just wanted you all to know that, as Joe put it, "Archie Bunker is alive and well," and he's even more vitriolic, probably because he's trapped inside a gay Mexican.

Anyway, as bitterly comedic as that was to me, it was as much the laughter of nervous fear as anything. I am always amazed at the way suffering people lash out against others bearing hurt. Maybe sympathy or even empathy, if you can bear it, comes only when you have cleaned out your own wounds.

I have to remember this too, when I'm angry at Jesus for his negativity.

Bless the Armenians. And may God bless you too, Jesus-Blanche.

6 comments:

whosyourhuckleberry said...

Ya, when I first saw the flags and the impassioned marching, naturally my first reaction was that it had SOMETHING to do with observing the day of my birth, and probably not in a celebratory manner, but than I found out about the genocide.
There's a message in that coincidence, I think...

kissyface said...

Oh no! What's the message there, do you think?

Those flags are really amazing for their hot colors. Garish, even. The Armenian kids (and it seemed to be all teenagers), were out in throngs.

I love how I have to do "word verification" to post on my own blog. Well, rules are rules, I guess.

Broken said...

I am not sure if you meant it to be, but that is quite an amusing post.

kissyface said...

Yes, I intended it. I thought it was perilously funny, and I felt sheepish about it. Let's face it, ain't nothin' funny about genocide, but there is something tragi-comic about his reaction to it. Mostly in the pain-diverting sense. Sometimes that's what makes you laugh the hardest. But not joyfully.

whosyourhuckleberry said...

I think the highlight was invoking the image of Archie Bunker trapped - quite comically (karmically?) - in the the body of a gay Mexican.
Would only be funnier if he were a hippy to boot...

jt castleton said...

so it's the female black widow spider that poses a threat, but the male duck billed platypus that retains its spurs? intelligent design my ass.

so if you're ever concerned with the correctness of these quasi-publications, you can always reach me at jtcastleton@hotmail.com. that'll give you a chance to really say some crazy shit without the fear of social and/or moral ostracism.

and who names their kid "augustus noble"? talk about giving someone puerile delusions of grandeur with which to rule the playground.