Pure Writerly Moments 2 (Short Stories, Essays, Book Reviews, and More)

In Defense of Silliness and Frivolous Nonsense

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the age of mounting paperwork, it was the age of "Fuck it I'm going to play frisbee with my friends. "

There are a lot of things that are eating away at my soul these days: no girlfriend, political polarization, mounting rejections (if one were not a devotee of silliness then one might see this as evidence of failure), a general sense that things are not going my way.

But I do have one thing in my favor: I maintain my devotion to silliness and frivolous nonsense. There is no other defense against the cruelty of the world.

I get up at 5:30 in the morning to practice my fish-slapping dance: fish slap him, fish slap her...at some point during my work day I may need to fish slap a boss or two for some minor offense, so I believe this practice will come in handy!

Not quite silly enough...I craft a cheese mustache for myself so that I may keep up with the latest style. If I fail, well at least I will have some cheese on hand for my lunch...wait, that is too rational. I need to get sillier still!

I decide to make a suit and tie for my pinky finger. I pay a premium to fly first class to Italy where I get the finest tailor to take measurements for my pinky finger. He informs me that his established shop does not do suits for pinky fingers. I give him the middle finger. He replies in Italian, "That is much better" (È molto meglio!). Thus, my middle finger now has the finest Italian suit money can buy. But having used all of my savings to fly to Italy and buy a suit for my middle finger, I am stuck.

Should I use rational thought to get out of this situation? What a silly idea! It is quite obvious that the best way out of this problem is to take the Italian civil service exam. I steal some books from a local bookshop and study the pages under a bridge. When people look at me in disgust, I show them my well-garmented middle finger!

On the day of the Italian civil service exam, the man at the exam asks me if I have showered in the past several months. I show him my well-garmented middle finger and he seems impressed. But not impressed enough to let me into the test hall.

He asks me another question, something that I am not quite able to make out in Italian but for which I am sure I know the answer. "Ogni volta che cago, mi ricordo di tirare lo sciacquone," I say in confident Italian.

"Well that is better than most civil servants around the world," he replies in almost perfect English. Then he laughs. I am not sure what to do so I laugh as well. As we both laugh I see that the Italian has motioned for a security guard to apprehend me.

I make to lift that well-garmented finger of mine and as I do, I find that it now has a mind of its own. I am flying...the middle finger, with its custom-made suit has now become a bird...no, the bird.

And as I fly away, I declare my answer to all things, including the most difficult question on an Italian civil service exam: "Ogni volta che cago, mi ricordo di tirare lo sciacquone."

And you should too!