Hajde da zamislim da su svi uvek raskopčani (slobodni, srećni, nasmejani, otvoreni, opušteni, iskreni, empatični), i da se samo u retkim prilikama zakopčaju (zatvaraju, ćute, ne osećaju, ne misle, ne vole, ne razumeju) - kad dolaze izbori, računi, kad prolazi Tito, Sloba, Prestolonaslednik ili Mali.
Ne ide.
Previše su svi uvek zakopčani, preko trbuha, glave i ramena do kičme, zadnjice i kolena, i gutaju, ćute, trpe, tegle, primaju, kleče, a raskopčavaju se samo u prilikama fiziološkog pražnjenja. Nijedno drugo pražnjenje njima nije potrebno izgleda. Uskoro bi mogli i ovo da ukinu. Jer svi pišaju u gaće pred ''autoritetom'' i nude svoju podkičmenu regiju u zamenu za pomilovanje.
Evo sad mi se ide u wc. Od pomilovanja. Od autoriteta. I fudbala. I vremenske prognoze. I radnog vremena. I čestitki iz Gradskog Stambenog, EDB-a, Telekoma, Euneta. I rokova, blokova, šokova. Nemam ja toliko gaća za bacanje, ni da bih od straha urinirala odevena, ni da bih od muke prljala stražnji deo veša. Padale su mi na pamet pelene, kao preventivna mera, ali kad bolje razmislim, i to je skupa investicija. I ne rešava problem na duže staze. Pa čak i bebe teže ka tome da izađu iz pelena - što da trčim nazad u njih? A i pelene imaju smisla samo na bebama jer ih bebe trebaju zato što ih baš briga za sve, a ne zato što ih mnogo brine bilo šta. Pelene su za još uvek neusrane, koliko god paradoksalnim se činilo. A takvih je, kuku, mnogo malo bre.
Nekima spadaju gaće čim se najavi Autoritet. Kada se najavljen ne pojavi, tužno ih vuku nazad preko bedara i korišćenim toalet papirom brišu... suze. Kada se nenajavljen pojavi, gaće panično kidaju sa sebe kajući se što su ih tako tesne uopšte jutros (u najboljem slučaju - jutros) navlačili. I obećavaju pismeno, pečatirano, da nikada više neće ni nositi gaće. Samo da se ne zamere, jer jednom kad ti otvore dosije onog koji se zamera, teško da ćeš ikada više moći da priuštiš donji veš. Što je apsurdno, jer da bi zadržao platežnu moć moraš održavati status poslušnog bezgaće, i na kraju jedini oni koji mogu da kupe donje rublje ne kupe jer ni ne smeju. Možda bi trebalo da probaju s tangama. Spreda deluje kao da držite (svoje najintimnije delove) do sebe, a ostraga - koga već zanima - ipak zadržavate status platežno sposobnog. Tange su u stvari genijalan patent za 21.vek. Napokon mi je jasno zašto ih, osim zbog neudobnosti i slabe uloge u održavanju higijene, toliko ne volim. Utiču čak i na mentalnu i duhovnu (ne)higijenu.
Kad smo kod higijene, nisam kupila onaj burek juče. Popizdela sam na radnicu koja nije htela da mi proda parče praznog ubeđujući me da mi je pametnije da za iste pare uzmem sa bilo čim, samo ne prazan. Možda sam je šokirala kad sam bez reči i bez bureka napustila pekaru, ali to je bilo najhigijenskije što sam joj mogla odgovoriti. U moju odbranu, i ona je mene šokirala. Htela sam da je pitam zašto uopšte prodaje prazan ako ga ne da za iste pare za koje daje filovan, ali nije bilo šanse da bi razumela šta sam u stvari htela da kažem. Posle sam svašta mislila. Možda je trebalo da se cenkam? Ili da je pitam imaju li burek sa šargarepicom, kao onaj zeka u vicu koji danima smara pekara dok mu ovaj napokon ne napravi da bi ga zeka pitao:''Je l' da da je bljak?''. Ili bi možda najzabavnije bilo da sam rekonstruisala John Cleese-a u skeču ''Cheese Shop''?
Kad god se dotaknem prozivanja autoritetima vođenih i konverzacijsko-logički nedoraslih, neizbežno se koristim i pomažem Pajtonovcima. Nikad ih neću voleti manje od sebe, a to je ljubav pregolema, nek' se zna. Za uticaj na novčanik i asortiman Arilje ne znam, ali s njima je makar mentalna higijena za inteligentno obolele u čiju grupu se kvalifikujem, apsolutno zagarantovana.
Kad god se dotaknem prozivanja autoritetima vođenih i konverzacijsko-logički nedoraslih, neizbežno se koristim i pomažem Pajtonovcima. Nikad ih neću voleti manje od sebe, a to je ljubav pregolema, nek' se zna. Za uticaj na novčanik i asortiman Arilje ne znam, ali s njima je makar mentalna higijena za inteligentno obolele u čiju grupu se kvalifikujem, apsolutno zagarantovana.
SCOUT: Good Morning.
OWNER: Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the National Cheese Emporium!
SCOUT: Ah, thank you, my good man.
OWNER: What can I do for you, Sir?
SCOUT: Well, I was, uh, sitting in the public library on Thurmon Street just now, skimming through "Scouting For Boys" by Robert Stephenson Smythe Baden-Powell, and I suddenly came over all peckish.
OWNER: Peckish, sir?
SCOUT: Esuriant.
OWNER: Eh?
SCOUT: 'Ee, Ah wor 'ungry-loike!
OWNER: Ah, hungry!
SCOUT: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself, "a little fermented curd will do the trick," so, I curtailed my Scouting activites, sallied forth, and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheesy comestibles!
OWNER: Come again?
SCOUT: I want to buy some cheese.
OWNER: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the bazouki player!
SCOUT: Oh, heaven forbid: I am one who delights in all manifestations of the Terpsichorean muse!
OWNER: Sorry?
SCOUT: 'Ooo, Ah lahk a nice tuune, 'yer forced too!
OWNER: So he can go on playing, can he?
SCOUT: Most certainly! Now then, some cheese please, my good man.
OWNER: (lustily) Certainly, sir. What would you like?
SCOUT: Well, eh, how about a little red Leicester.
OWNER: I'm, a-fraid we're fresh out of red Leicester, sir.
SCOUT: Oh, never mind, how are you on Tilsit?
OWNER: I'm afraid we never have that at the end of the week, sir, we get it fresh on Monday.
SCOUT: Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, four ounces of Caerphilly, if you please.
OWNER: Ah! It's beeeen on order, sir, for two weeks. Was expecting it this morning.
SCOUT: 'T's Not my lucky day, is it? Aah, Bel Paese?
OWNER: Sorry, sir.
SCOUT: Red Windsor?
OWNER: Normally, sir, yes. Today the van broke down.
SCOUT: Ah. Stilton?
OWNER: Sorry.
SCOUT: Ementhal? Gruyere?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Any Norweigan Jarlsburg, per chance.
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Lipta?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Lancashire?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: White Stilton?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Danish Brew?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Double Goucester?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Cheshire?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Dorset Bluveny?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Brie, Roquefort, Pol le Veq, Port Salut, Savoy Aire, Saint Paulin, Carrier de lest, Bres Bleu, Bruson?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Camembert, perhaps?
OWNER: Ah! We have Camembert, yessir.
SCOUT: (suprised) You do! Excellent.
OWNER: Yessir. It's..ah,.....it's a bit runny...
SCOUT: Oh, I like it runny.
OWNER: Well,.. It's very runny, actually, sir.
SCOUT: No matter. Fetch hither the fromage de la Belle France! Mmmwah!
OWNER: I...think it's a bit runnier than you'll like it, sir.
SCOUT: I don't care how blinking runny it is. Hand it over with all speed.
OWNER: Oooooooooohhh........!
SCOUT: What now?
OWNER: The cat's eaten it.
SCOUT: Has he.
OWNER: She, sir.
(pause)
SCOUT: Gouda?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Edam?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Case Ness?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Smoked Austrian?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Japanese Sage Darby?
OWNER: No, sir.
SCOUT: You...do *have* some cheese, don't you?
OWNER: (brightly) Of course, sir. It's a cheese shop, sir. We've got--
SCOUT: No no... don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
OWNER: Fair enough.
SCOUT: Uuuuuh, Wensleydale.
OWNER: Yes?
SCOUT: Ah, well, I'll have some of that!
OWNER: Oh! I thought you were talking to me, sir. Mister Wensleydale, that's my name.
(pause)
SCOUT: Greek Feta?
OWNER: Uh, not as such.
SCOUT: Uuh, Gorgonzola?
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Parmesan,
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Mozarella,
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Paper Cramer,
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Danish Bimbo,
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Czech sheep's milk,
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Venezuelan Beaver Cheese?
OWNER: Not *today*, sir, no.
(pause)
SCOUT: Aah, how about Cheddar?
OWNER: Well, we don't get much call for it around here, sir.
SCOUT: Not much ca--It's the single most popular cheese in the world!
OWNER: Not 'round here, sir.
SCOUT: and what IS the most popular cheese 'round hyah?
OWNER: 'Illchester, sir.
SCOUT: IS it.
OWNER: Oh, yes, it's staggeringly popular in this manusquire.
SCOUT: Is it.
OWNER: It's our number one best seller, sir!
SCOUT: I see. Uuh...'Illchester, eh?
OWNER: Right, sir.
SCOUT: All right. Okay.
'Have you got any?' he asked, expecting the answer 'no'.
OWNER: I'll have a look, sir... nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno.
SCOUT: It's not much of a cheese shop, is it?
OWNER: Finest in the district!
SCOUT: (annoyed) Explain the logic underlying that conclusion, please.
OWNER: Well, it's so clean, sir!
SCOUT: It's certainly uncontaminated by cheese....
OWNER: (brightly) You haven't asked me about Limburger, sir.
SCOUT: Would it be worth it?
OWNER: Could be....
SCOUT: Have you --SHUT THAT BLINKING BAZOUKI OFF!
OWNER: Told you sir....
SCOUT: (slowly) Have you got any Limburger?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Figures. Predictable, really I suppose. It was an act of purest optimism to have posed the question in the first place. Tell me:
OWNER: Yes sir?
SCOUT: (deliberately) Have you in fact got any cheese here at all.
OWNER: Yes,sir.
SCOUT: Really?
(pause)
OWNER: No. Not really, sir.
SCOUT: You haven't.
OWNER: No sir. Not a scrap. I was deliberately wasting your time,sir.
SCOUT: Well I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to shoot you.
OWNER: Right-0, sir.
The Scout takes out a gun and shoots the owner.
SCOUT: What a *senseless* waste of human life.
OWNER: Good morning, Sir. Welcome to the National Cheese Emporium!
SCOUT: Ah, thank you, my good man.
OWNER: What can I do for you, Sir?
SCOUT: Well, I was, uh, sitting in the public library on Thurmon Street just now, skimming through "Scouting For Boys" by Robert Stephenson Smythe Baden-Powell, and I suddenly came over all peckish.
OWNER: Peckish, sir?
SCOUT: Esuriant.
OWNER: Eh?
SCOUT: 'Ee, Ah wor 'ungry-loike!
OWNER: Ah, hungry!
SCOUT: In a nutshell. And I thought to myself, "a little fermented curd will do the trick," so, I curtailed my Scouting activites, sallied forth, and infiltrated your place of purveyance to negotiate the vending of some cheesy comestibles!
OWNER: Come again?
SCOUT: I want to buy some cheese.
OWNER: Oh, I thought you were complaining about the bazouki player!
SCOUT: Oh, heaven forbid: I am one who delights in all manifestations of the Terpsichorean muse!
OWNER: Sorry?
SCOUT: 'Ooo, Ah lahk a nice tuune, 'yer forced too!
OWNER: So he can go on playing, can he?
SCOUT: Most certainly! Now then, some cheese please, my good man.
OWNER: (lustily) Certainly, sir. What would you like?
SCOUT: Well, eh, how about a little red Leicester.
OWNER: I'm, a-fraid we're fresh out of red Leicester, sir.
SCOUT: Oh, never mind, how are you on Tilsit?
OWNER: I'm afraid we never have that at the end of the week, sir, we get it fresh on Monday.
SCOUT: Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, four ounces of Caerphilly, if you please.
OWNER: Ah! It's beeeen on order, sir, for two weeks. Was expecting it this morning.
SCOUT: 'T's Not my lucky day, is it? Aah, Bel Paese?
OWNER: Sorry, sir.
SCOUT: Red Windsor?
OWNER: Normally, sir, yes. Today the van broke down.
SCOUT: Ah. Stilton?
OWNER: Sorry.
SCOUT: Ementhal? Gruyere?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Any Norweigan Jarlsburg, per chance.
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Lipta?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Lancashire?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: White Stilton?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Danish Brew?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Double Goucester?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Cheshire?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Dorset Bluveny?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Brie, Roquefort, Pol le Veq, Port Salut, Savoy Aire, Saint Paulin, Carrier de lest, Bres Bleu, Bruson?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Camembert, perhaps?
OWNER: Ah! We have Camembert, yessir.
SCOUT: (suprised) You do! Excellent.
OWNER: Yessir. It's..ah,.....it's a bit runny...
SCOUT: Oh, I like it runny.
OWNER: Well,.. It's very runny, actually, sir.
SCOUT: No matter. Fetch hither the fromage de la Belle France! Mmmwah!
OWNER: I...think it's a bit runnier than you'll like it, sir.
SCOUT: I don't care how blinking runny it is. Hand it over with all speed.
OWNER: Oooooooooohhh........!
SCOUT: What now?
OWNER: The cat's eaten it.
SCOUT: Has he.
OWNER: She, sir.
(pause)
SCOUT: Gouda?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Edam?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Case Ness?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Smoked Austrian?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Japanese Sage Darby?
OWNER: No, sir.
SCOUT: You...do *have* some cheese, don't you?
OWNER: (brightly) Of course, sir. It's a cheese shop, sir. We've got--
SCOUT: No no... don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
OWNER: Fair enough.
SCOUT: Uuuuuh, Wensleydale.
OWNER: Yes?
SCOUT: Ah, well, I'll have some of that!
OWNER: Oh! I thought you were talking to me, sir. Mister Wensleydale, that's my name.
(pause)
SCOUT: Greek Feta?
OWNER: Uh, not as such.
SCOUT: Uuh, Gorgonzola?
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Parmesan,
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Mozarella,
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Paper Cramer,
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Danish Bimbo,
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Czech sheep's milk,
OWNER: no
SCOUT: Venezuelan Beaver Cheese?
OWNER: Not *today*, sir, no.
(pause)
SCOUT: Aah, how about Cheddar?
OWNER: Well, we don't get much call for it around here, sir.
SCOUT: Not much ca--It's the single most popular cheese in the world!
OWNER: Not 'round here, sir.
SCOUT: and what IS the most popular cheese 'round hyah?
OWNER: 'Illchester, sir.
SCOUT: IS it.
OWNER: Oh, yes, it's staggeringly popular in this manusquire.
SCOUT: Is it.
OWNER: It's our number one best seller, sir!
SCOUT: I see. Uuh...'Illchester, eh?
OWNER: Right, sir.
SCOUT: All right. Okay.
'Have you got any?' he asked, expecting the answer 'no'.
OWNER: I'll have a look, sir... nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno.
SCOUT: It's not much of a cheese shop, is it?
OWNER: Finest in the district!
SCOUT: (annoyed) Explain the logic underlying that conclusion, please.
OWNER: Well, it's so clean, sir!
SCOUT: It's certainly uncontaminated by cheese....
OWNER: (brightly) You haven't asked me about Limburger, sir.
SCOUT: Would it be worth it?
OWNER: Could be....
SCOUT: Have you --SHUT THAT BLINKING BAZOUKI OFF!
OWNER: Told you sir....
SCOUT: (slowly) Have you got any Limburger?
OWNER: No.
SCOUT: Figures. Predictable, really I suppose. It was an act of purest optimism to have posed the question in the first place. Tell me:
OWNER: Yes sir?
SCOUT: (deliberately) Have you in fact got any cheese here at all.
OWNER: Yes,sir.
SCOUT: Really?
(pause)
OWNER: No. Not really, sir.
SCOUT: You haven't.
OWNER: No sir. Not a scrap. I was deliberately wasting your time,sir.
SCOUT: Well I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to shoot you.
OWNER: Right-0, sir.
The Scout takes out a gun and shoots the owner.
SCOUT: What a *senseless* waste of human life.
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