Sunday, June 01, 2008

Extreme Bubbacity

I learned a valuable life lesson yesterday when a homeless street urchin burst out from between two parked cars, grabbed my jacket lapels and informed me that when joining two independent clauses, I should “be goddamned sure to use a comma followed by a conjunction, a semicolon alone, or a semicolon followed by a freakin’ sentence modifier!”


Like so many aspects of life, art is a mystery to me… I know very little about it, but I do know what I like. In fact, I’ve become so adept at identifying such work, I’ve recently been appointed Curator of the Midwest Museum of Art That I Like.


Quit telling me that everything you like is illegal, immoral or fattening. All that says to me is that you’re a sanctimonious Puritan with no glands.


I’m not being judgmental— only God can do that— but I have to tell you, He’s been appearing to me and a lot of your friends, telling us what an a-hole you are.


Most of the time I don’t pay a lot of attention to abandoned offshore drilling platforms. I can’t remember even once mentioning the subject. So why is it that lately, everyone keeps reminding me how perfect one might be for me to take up permanent residence?


There is most certainly a purpose and meaning to the universe, even if it is far too complex and beyond my ability to understand. I take solace in the fact that for one fleeting second right before I die, I might gain a minute spark of insight.


My joy is beyond verbalization. Today, Federal Express delivered my Medieval Catapult Kit! At first, a couple of my neighbors were a tad nervous, but I put their fears to rest by explaining that I couldn’t possibly hit anything that close.


Life in rural America can be complex. Virgil Peebie’s mother stopped by today and spent a half-hour explaining to me all about how the new love in Virgil’s life kept making him ‘misty-eyed’ all the time. Turns out that he mistook passion for the onset of glaucoma. As I explained to his mama, I tried to tell him that little ewe wasn’t right for him, I don’t care how attractive he found her to be.


While walking by an antique shop recently, an odd, irregularly shaped glass sculpture caught my attention. When I walked in and asked to see it, the proprietor seemed a bit hesitant to show it to me. After holding it and examining it closer, I noticed that he started to sweat when I asked him the price, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman whom I perceived to be his wife, peeking out from behind a hanging tapestry.

Hands visibly shaking, the little man put his finger to his mouth and peered deeply into my eyes, undoubtedly testing my resolve. “I couldn’t take a penny under $200, mister”, he replied, his brow steeled to his work.

Once again, I rolled the strange object of my affection in my hands, its smooth surfaces warming my hands and heart. Sure, that was a lot of money, but for this stunning beauty to grace my mantel— I would have paid twice that amount. I ignored the little voice in the back of my mind trying to tell me to put it down, and casting caution to the wind, I blurted out “SOLD!”

Receipt in hand, I closed the shop’s front door behind me and stepped on the sidewalk. As I turned to walk away, an older lady grabbed my arm and smiled. “I see you’ve been to The Dollar Store, too… I bought seven, myself. At $1.98, I couldn’t pass them up. They’ll make lovely stocking-stuffers this Christmas.”

Somewhere behind me, from inside the antique shop, I heard raucous laughter.


Jo said...

My favourite:

I’m not being judgmental— only God can do that— but I have to tell you, He’s been appearing to me and a lot of your friends, telling us what an a-hole you are.

Thanks for the laugh....

shirley said...

Great life always. I like you opening. Boy, am I in trouble with the homeless people! Say nothing about the grammar police.

paisley said...

nothin' quite like the world according to bubba... this should be a weekly column over here... i loved this.....and would definitely read more if you got em.....

Scot said...

haha--you know the saying--ask P.T. Barnum...

kaylee said...

That is why I never let
my husband shop alone
or that is the way it would
be if I had one of those.
I love the Bum grammer
police, they are so judgmental.


Jo Janoski said...

Oh I love the first one. It reminds me of a Woody Allen bit--something about a guy who hires hookers to read Shakespeare. Am I rambling?

Bubba said...

Johemmant-- You're welcome, ma'am... glad you enjoyed it.

Shirley-- Yea, the grammar police are everywhere. I personally have one staked out in a tree in my back yard, scoping me out with binoculars, as we speak.

Paisley-- Actually it was, at one time. I published a column called "Bubba Speaks" on the internet for six years.

Kay-- Aren't they, though? And persistent, too...

Jo-- Was that "Mighty Aphrodite"? Hmmmm... can't remember.

Anonymous said...

A-humina-humina-humina! LOL