A review of my thoughts on topics of interest for the day.
In the parking lot of the local HyVee Supermarket there is a mound of filthy snow as big as two large houses pushed together and at least two stories tall. Some days I wonder what kind of equipment they used to pile it that high, but mostly I just think about buying myself a metal detector and a pick ax and heading up there to plumb its depths for spare change and rusty bottle caps. I think that I could really work up a good sweat and maybe scavenge enough to buy myself a six-pack of tootsie rolls. Of course I might also end up spending a couple of weeks in the psych ward of the Veterans Hospital where I could entertain the crowd with ribald religious jokes and bad impersonations of Jimmy Swaggart. In preparation for all of this I’ve been spending late nights guzzling cheap coffee and cramming for the eventuality of future psych exams. When I do finally fall asleep I’m awakened every hour or so with the pressing urge to burp the kielbasa. (Which reminds me – I wonder what it means when your urine begins to smell like Richard Armitage?)
The Iowa legislature is working away at increasing the taxes on cigarettes by a dollar a pack. I wrote to my local State Representative to complain and she wrote me back that her father had died of emphysema and if she had her way cigarettes would be out-lawed. If I’m still alive and kickin’ (and smokin’) twenty years from now I’ll sure as hell end up spending my evenings cruising the gravel roads of rural Iowa, looking for a cigarette bootlegger who will no doubt be selling cartons of Luckys out of the trunk of a rusted-out Chevrolet Cavalier. Of course by then I’ll probably be livin’ in a shack somewhere, back in the woods – a place with an antique wood stove for a heater – someplace where nobody will notice the smell of my cigarettes. Although, it’s even more likely I’ll be a fugitive from the law – living on the lamb, hiding my cigarettes tucked into the top of my socks. There’ll be pictures of me smoking a home-made cigarette made out of toilet paper and dried petunia blossoms in every post office with the caption – "Wanted. Dead or Alive." Of course if I keep up my smokin’ they’ll most likely catch me dead. Parents will haul their kids into the post offices to show them my picture and use me as a cautionary tale: "Look Billy. See that ugly mug? That’s what happens to you if you smoke!"
One of the things I’ve learned about Iowans since I moved back to Iowa City nearly two years ago is that many of them really do take politics seriously. This evening I was walking in the mall when I happened upon two couples in one of the seating areas discussing John Edwards. Both of the couples looked to be in their mid-fifties. I found a seat nearby and discreetly listened in for awhile. For more than 15 minutes they debated back and forth Edwards’ stands on different issues and the merits of his presidential candidacy. One of the couples clearly favored Edwards, but the other was apposed. They argued back and forth until the one man finally blurted out, "He’s just got too many damn Jews working for him!" With that the conversation ended, the two couples got up and walked away. That was my cue – I adjusted my kippah and got back to my walking.