The One About Monks and NASCAR

Category: weekleez

The One About the Monks and NASCAR
March 14, 2002

hi keeds!  everyone ready for some weekly drivel?  

cookie magoo says she bought me a sticker that says, “blame canada” how cool is that?! cookie is boss.  

well, i’m sure you guys are sick of me making fun of my work so maybe today i’ll make fun of my relatives instead.  i’m kidding. well, no i’m not.   

so i’ve got this relative, right? and she’s evil, right? i mean, on a scale of one to evil, she’s like, uber evil. i’ll not go into why she’s evil, if i did you would all need therapy, so just trust me. evil.  but every year she sends me a birthday card.  she used to send the card every july.  i don’t know why.  my birthday is in october. but hey, it’s the thought that counts right?  well, in any other person’s case that would be true. 
anyway, the past two years i’ve gotten my birthday card in october, so the crazy old bat is improving, but the cards have changed. drastically.  y’see, for the first twenty-two (22) years of my life she would either send a Garfield, Snoopy, or Ziggy card.  which is cool, normally, but this lady seems to think that i’m still eight years old y’know?  but hey who cares right? as long as i send her a thank you note everything is cool right? i mean, i may be cruel and ungrateful, but she doesn’t have to know it.  

but things have changed.  y’see, the last two years the cards have been… evil.  the envelopes look harmless enough, but when i open the card and take it out… there’s no longer a cynical orange and black cat… there’s no longer a white dog with a yellow bird…and there’s no longer a…a…round little, um, big nosed…uh ziggy… thing…staring up at me.  nay nay my friends, nay nay. the cartoons have been replaced by a “holy” icon of Mary. 
Mary as in Jesus’s mom Mary. Mary as in the Madonna of the Flaming Heart Mary.  yikes!  and on the inside the card explains that this unfortunate misguided relative of mine has given a donation in MY name to the monks of the Order of Perpetual Prayer of the Madonna of the Flaming Heart, AND that these monks will be perpetually praying for me for a whole year! what?!  hokey smokes.  

aura pointed out to me the other day that i’ve had some of the worst “luck” in the last two (2) years and that my spiritual life (if that’s what you call it) has been totally wacky at times and she said, “maybe it’s the monks.” and i said, “what monks?” and she said, “the monks that crazy lady pays to pray for you.” and i said, “oh yeah. but i’m not even catholic.” and she said, “i don’t think that has anything to do with it.” and so between laura, liz and i, we figure the monk prayers have got to stop.
so i think i’m gonna call up the monastery and in my best Tony Soprano imitation i’m gonna try to make them an offer they’ll have a hard time refusing. “uh yeah, whatevah my crazy gramma iz payin’ you ta pray for me, well, i’ll double it if ya stop.”

i wonder if i really could pay them to stop praying for me. i wonder if they even have a telephone.  

on a random note, if you look up the word pumpernickel in a really good dictionary, one of those dictionaries that has the origins of the root of the words and all that mess, you’ll find that pumpernickel comes from two early german words, pumpern which means “to break wind” and nickel which means “goblin”. isn’t that just silly?  

so the other day i’m at a restuarant with my father and there is a TV close by and well, you can’t help but glance at a TV right? and i notice that it’s a race.  and i don’t watch race cars or anything and neither does my father. in fact, i know so little about racing that all of a sudden had to know as much about it as i possibly could. and let me just set the record straight, it wasn’t actual racing. it was NASCAR (that oughta make some people mad).  

so i’m sitting there crammin’ nachos in my face and i see that this “race” is about to start and i ask my father, “why are they driving so slow?” and he says, “they’re getting lined up. when that pace car in the front moves off the track then the race really begins.” and i said, “oh.”  

so then the cars start to go fast and i notice that there’s like, 50 or so cars on the same track.  what the crap is that all about? the track isn’t that big. i mean, the shemp in the back of the line has no chance. unless some freak accident takes out the first 40 cars, not bloody likely.  i point that out to my father who replies with, “yeah. i guess so.”  

and then i ask him about the cars themselves. do they all have the same specs? are the engines pretty much the same? is the speed regulated? and dad said, “um, you know i don’t watch racing. why are you asking me?” but you know, he’s a dude, so he really did know some things about it. guys know things about race cars. so he told me that the engines are kinda regulated and they can’t go over a certain speed.  and i thought that was horrible. 

where’s the challenge!? he told me it was supposed to be more about “driving skill”. then we burst into maniacal laughter.   

i mean, come on. they should make racing more like wrestling or something.  those drivers should be out there racing every night. dirty racing. little races with like, four or five cars. and then all the winners from the little races get to race in the “big race” on sunday afternoon. and the “big race” isn’t on some circle “track”.  what’s that all about? i think we could learn a lesson from the european racing.  have the cars race from like, atlanta to tampa or something.  pit stops are for sissies.  the driver should have to fix his own car.  now that’s skill. that’s racing.

my fella, jimmy, said that they ought to throw in a genetically engineered T-Rex on the track to make it more interesting. heck, a genetically engineered T-Rex would just about make anything more interesting.  now that would be a Survivor show worth watching. 
Super Bowl MCXI: Buffalo Bills Vs. a T-Rex.
Barbara Walters interviews J-Lo and a T-Rex.
Emeril Live! tonight Emeril grills sturgeon and asparagus with a raspberry vinegrette salad, with special guest: a T-Rex.
In Search of…Dinosaurs. Mr. Spock gets eaten by a T-Rex.
Temptation Island 3. the lustful contestants find out they aren’t the only ones on the island!
the PGA golf championship has T-Rex written all over it. 
MTV spring break! malibu beach babes, warm sun, gorgeous water, and a hungry T-Rex.
Country Music Awards? you bet i’d watch ’em! that’s not Garth’s belt buckle! that’s a T-Rex!  

well, that was just silly.  

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