Regular readers will be pleased to know that try as I might I cannot transmit an actual soapbox through the internet.
It is a strange and difficult thing, to have an epiphany, and I have been poor company this week since I had by brain snap about CO2. I’ll try not to get on that soapbox again, but I have found it tangled around my feet a bit lately. Poor Bertrude was so consistently browbeaten with my insights and opinions for three days that he went out and got a job just to get away from all the talk about global warming. And who said I couldn’t change the world?
Anyway, I’m sorry if I bored you with my rant. I’ve now managed to channel most of that energy into the manifesto I’m writing and which I’ll be uploading to google docs the second it’s done. Johnboy, you’ll be the first one to get the link, okay?
At the Hippo Lounge this Thursday I stepped into the breach when our regular door bitch couldn’t make it. I’m not sure I really performed my task as well as I might have done… I probably shouldn’t have been asking the familiar faces if they’d like to join me in my battle to save the world, but instead, asking the unfamiliar ones for their ID.
Having said that, I have nothing but the utmost respect for those who work regularly in the industry of drunk and overexciteable people. The security guard was a decent young chap. I asked him lots of questions about himself, (in a slightly desperate attempt to avoid talking about the end of the world) and he revealed some interesting things. He was in the Navy for several years, and while there learned a very long and complicated rule called Charlie 1, which he could still recite verbatim. I couldn’t actually understand what it was he was saying, it came out as such a rush of militaristic jargon, but still, I could see it was an achievement and he was justifiably proud of it.
His inspiration for this feat of memory was a particularly unpleasant officer who drilled the young sailors in navigation (I know some readers might see “drilled the young sailors” and think I meant some crude double entendre, but I didn’t, honest). It seems obvious, therefore, that if rude and unlikeable people can inspire others to feats they previously thought unattainable, perhaps I shouldn’t be worried if I needle people a little about their willingness to accept a terrible lie and ultimately perform a great injury against themselves and others. Maybe I can nag for justice. I can just picture the flocks of people who will want to follow that slogan.