I used to think that “Question The Answers” was the ultimate Mighty Mighty Bosstones album. I no longer think this.
I reached this conclusion while I was driving home from an involuntarily protracted visit to a bulk/warehouse store known as “BJs.”
I was involuntarily detained in the BJ’s parking lot because there was an accident at the light. Right there. I was going to go off to Wal-Mart to purchase a crock pot because I need said Crock for a shank stew I intend to make at some point. However, since I was so detained, I went back into the BJ’s and purchased said appliance there.
Traffic was still backed up by the time I returned to the car, however, so I figured I would go visit the weirdly unfriendly used CD store nearby.
This place is always strangely unfriendly, at least it has been every time I went in there. There always seems to be some guy standing there talking to the guy at the cash register and making what he imagines is incredibly hip observations about popular music, and the cashier has to stand there and listen. Then when the third guy walks in, the other two guys are too into the conversation for the shopkeeper to acknowledge your presence.
It’s a weird approach to retail.
“People will always know who Bob Dylan is,” the guy is saying. “I mean, do you think they’ll know who Justin Bieber is 50 years from now?”
I quickly spy a pretty healthy section of used ska CDs (that means there are about 8 of them), including a Mustard Plug comp I’m drooling over, but I end up picking up a Madness CD I’ve not seen anywhere and “Pay Attention” by the aforementioned Mighty Mighty Bosstones. As I’m browsing, I decide how I’m going to get back at this fucker for not so much as nodding at his third customer there.
I approach the counter with my purchase. I say in the friendliest voice I can muster, “Hi, Jerry. How are you doing?”
Then I look at the other fellow, and I say, “George! How’ve you been?”
George looked like he’d like to have kilt me.
Anyway. As I indicated. From my summary listen on the way home from that little adventure, I would have to say that I think “Pay Attention” > “Question the Answers.” Also, from this point forth, if I don’t know your name, chances are good that I may decide call you by the name of a character in “Seinfeld.” Just seems like a great way to break the ice.
I didn’t mean to start yelling at people this morning. It just happened. I’ve been trying to be downright spoony about the fact that half of my apartment hasn’t had power since Saturday evening.
But there is massive renovation going on in my building. So I got out of bed early (10 a.m. is damned early for me) to inquire about the progress of restoring my power, and I came down to the eerily dark and ripped up lobby to find that the front office was closed, or rather, it had moved, and the location to where it had moved had a big ladder blocking it with a fella on top of the ladder changing light blubs. The girl was on the phone, rifling through papers, her eyes down, and there were two glass doors between me and the titular person in charge.
This would be my third inquiry since Monday morning, so yes, “what the f is this” were the words that found life from my mouth.
“It’s from me,” said the fella on top of the ladder. “What’s going on?”
“I haven’t had power in my apartment for since Saturday, that’s what!”
My voice’s tone convinced me that I probably should have had breakfast before engaging in this encounter. But I was more pissed about perceiving that I was being ignored than I was about the power.
The girl fought her way to the previous office entrance and placated me well. She said she’d the fellas right up. I decided to get out of their hair, so I threw on some clothes and went across the street for some coffee and a muffin. I discovered that I make better coffee and better pastry than this joint, but it was pleasant to have found a table to sit outside, to take in the beautiful day, and to enjoy reading the local paper.
I was about wrapping up breakfast when a little robin landed on my table. He looked at me then hopped over to my muffin. He grabbed a crumb of it and headed off. The young ladies at the next table who were writing on staff paper noticed and laughed. “I’ve been burgled!” I exclaimed.
They still don’t know what’s wrong with my power, and, in fact, they may have to rewire the whole damned thing.
But I did learn one thing this morning: The birds are certainly brave this year.
Beer, for lack of a better word, is good. Beer is right. Beer works. Beer clarifies, cuts through, and captures, the essence of the evolutionary spirit. Beer, in all of its forms; beer for life, for money, for love, knowledge, has marked the upward surge of mankind and beer, you mark my words, will not only save Teldar Paper, but that other malfunctioning corporation called the U.S.A.