Worst Staff Meeting Ever

Man, what a morning I've had.

Been back to work for the past week following two months off for heart surgery. I always like to ease back into work gradually just so I can get used to any new innovations or techniques which may have been made during my absence to the auto-body repair bizness.

No chance this time. I hadn't been back for half a day when my supervisor Dwight Happnstance walks in while I'm leafing through the new copy of Welders World. And right away he's on my case about getting out back and start grinding that old Plymouth that's been sitting there ever since I went in for my bypass operation. "And for Gawd sakes, Howie - get some primer on it by the time the day is done!"

"Yeah, how'd ya like to prime *this*, Dwighty?!"

I said to myself.

Two days later, I'm still doing some fine-detail grinding on that old Plymouth and taking my regularly-scheduled smoke break in the staff washroom with the other guys and Dwight comes in with a big smile on his face.

"Good news, fellas. Tomorrow's staff meeting is going to be a 'Team Building' session - and we're all meeting at Peter's Paintball Palladium! Bring your goggles, some turpentine and a lunch. It's going to be a long day."

So this morning we get there and right away Dwight starts riding my ass - right in front of the other guys - "Howie, let's see if you can do better with this kind of paint than you did with the mess you made with the primer on old lady Bumstead's Plymouth! Ha-ha!"

"Oh yeah, how'd you like to Bumstead *this* ya dipstick!?"

I said to myself.

So we divide up for teams. And as usual, I'm the last one to be picked. I end up on Dwight's team.

"Now, Howie - I want you to be my back-up. I want you to guard my rear. Stay on my ass at all times."

And the jerk says that with that weird leer that passes for a grin. Right in front of the other guys. And he's winking at them as he says it.

"Don't worry. I got your ass, shit-head."

I say to myself.

And as he turns to lead the troops, I hit him square in the back of the head with a burst of orange paint-ball.

"Whatthefuk!" screams Dwight in disbelief.

"Howie - did your fukkin' gun go off by mistake or are you just a dickhead?"

"Sorry, Dwight. But there was a fly on the back of your head. I was trying to help. You know how flies are attracted to shit."

Well, Dwight doesn't know what to think about that last part. Was I being serious about the fly? Or was I clearly demonstratng insubordination on a team-building session?

"Howie, I don't think I like your attitude. Now our team is without it's leader. Did you bother to think about that? Noooo. Because you only think about yourself.

"Well, listen up, buster," he continues in that high whiney voice of his when he gets upset - "Howie, because of your selfishness, YOU can sit out the game and I'LL take YOUR place. Because there is no 'I' in 'team.'

And that's when I said, "No, but there is a 'u' in 'suck.' "

And that's how I got to go home early today. Got to go home early from my whole career in the auto-body field as a matter of fact.

I don't really care. To tell you the truth, I pretty well sucked at body-repair. I was just putting in time during summer vacation till I could get into Bible school in the fall. Studying up to become a missionary.

I do feel a bit bad about what I did to ol' Dwight though.

I regret that it wasn't real bullets in that gun.

Ol' Dwight. Whatta asshole.

What Keeps Me Awake at Night

Been very worried since that dorky kid's recent 'Cry for Help' on these here Facebook 'walls.'

Can't help it. I care. Too much apparently. So sue me.

But the Kid's central query got me a-worryin' - Gad, I thought - ifn' he can't see and appreciate the beauty that's in a bowl of Lucky Charms (with or without a real-life Rainbow,) then how am I, of all people gonna help him!?

And when he asked me to join him "down at the river," what was I to think? Will he be going mop-al to the tune of an old Neil Young song? Or is he just getting into that 'Back to the Thames' stuff and trolling for possible Free Press story ideas? Or did he just want to pick my brains about the latest jest in the local newspaper by editor Paul Mxyzptlk Jr?

And that got me to reminiscing about my dinner with Wilbur - a man that I had literally been avoiding for years. ... One would occasionally hear that Wilbur had been following around at the heels of some Budhdish monk or else that someone had seen him at a party, and he'd been telling people that he'd talked to trees or something like that.

It was obvious that something terrible had happened to Wil, and the whole idea of meeting him made me nervous. I mean, I wasn't really up for that sort of thing. I had problems of my own - I couldn't help Wilbur - was I supposed to be a doctor or what?

Anyway, ten minutes after the salutations and into our conversation, Wilbur starts talking about conversing with trees and Buddhist monks who wear Gucci shoes - and then lays THIS on me -

WILBUR - "But anyway, we were all out in the country and went to Christmas Mass together. And it was, you know, one of those awful dreary Catholic churches on Long Island where the priest talks about Communism and birth control.

"And as I was sitting there in Mass, I was wondering. What in the world is going on? Here I am, a grown man and my job is going Nowhere and I don't know what to do.

"And all of a sudden a huge creature appeared, looking at the congregation, and it was about, I'd say, six-foot-eight, something like that, and it was half bull and half man, and it's skin was blue, and it had violets growing out of its eyelids and poppies growing out of its toenails.

"And it stood there for the whole Mass. I mean, there was nothing I could do that would make it disappear.

"You know, I thought, well, I'm just seeing this because I'm bored. You know, close my eyes and open them again - but I could not make that creature go away!

"Now, I didn't talk about this with other people, because they'd think I was weird. But I felt that this creature had come to me to somehow comfort me.

"In other words, somehow he was appearing to say, 'Well, you may feel low and you may not be able to write right now. But look what can come to you on Christmas Eve! Hang on, old friend. I may seem weird to you, but on these weird voyages, you know, weird creatures show up. It's part of the journey. You're okay. Hang in there."

...

...

... and the thing is, that a few Christmases ago, the same thing happened to me. Not in church but at one of those similar obligatory Spritual times of the year. Yes, I am referring to the Extended Family Christmas Dinner.

At some point in 'My Dinner With Andre,' even Wally feels the urge to tell Andre that he's full of crap. And I did too. Until that one Christmas when I saw my own Blue Creature instill in me an unstoppable giggling fit at the dinner table during one of those Extended-Family Christmas Get-togethers and Car Swaps.

No stopping it either. Once the giggling starts, there's no stopping it. Jack Burkhardt could have walked in and started reading the nightly news and I would have thought that to be the height of hilarity.

Some blamed it on the variance of the wines.

But I know better.

On that night, I was Touched by the Hand of God.

He works in mysterious ways, you know.

I still don't know just what He wanted to tell me. Who killed J.F.K.? How to buy real estate for no money down? The Meaning of It All? Or maybe He just realized that I was in dire need of a good chuckle.

Next time, I hope I have the presence of mind to touch Him back. And to personally give Thanks for the fact that when that long-ago giggling fit did happen, at least it was after I'd carved the meat. And had the presence of mind to give the drumsticks to my brutha's-in-law.

Afterwards, when my all my kin had headed back down the 401, Butch came over and shared some of the peyote buttons that Bettie had placed on his Christmas present of toss cushions.

Personally, I would have preferred to just stay at home and have my girlfriend Mavis cook me up a nice delicious Indian dinner. But for the past few decades, our financial circumstances have forced her to work five nights a week in Retail (see: Coopersretailblog.blogspot.com) Those plastic-coated paper clips don't come cheap, you know. Or envelopes for that matter. Yes, the life of a writer is hard.

And yet, for some odd reason, every time it's the second last weekend of June, I'll think of Wilbur. And sometime, some Sunday mornin,' maybe 'bout goin' to Service.

Overheard While Waiting to Meet Adam West

Went out to stately Plunkett Manor yesterday for Steve's annual Classic Car Show and to meet Adam ('Bruce Wayne') West and Julie ('Catwoman') Newmar of the 60s 'Batman' TV show. Originally, Burt ('Dick Grayson') Ward was to appear as well but he cancelled a few weeks ago.

TV's Batman and Catwoman were to arrive at 10:00 a.m. via the 'Bat-copter.' But it was more like 10:45 when they actually touched down. They were then driven via the Batmobile over to the front lawn where they would be signing autographs for the rest of the day.

But it was about 11:20 before they were actually sitting down with pens in hand. Me and the youngsters were in the loooonnng line-up when after 40 minutes of signing, it was announced that Adam West would be taking an hour-long lunch break at noon.

This did not go over well with the people who had spent most of the morning just waiting for them to even get there.

One of the loudmouths a few people ahead of us in line got quite miffed and vexed about the unexpected lunch break and she huffed - "Burt Ward would NEVER do something like that!"

Well, of course we all had a good chuckle about that.