Awkward Encounters of the Third Kind

Have you ever found yourself in a conversation with someone you haven’t seen in a while and out of the blue, the person tells you about someone that died. Like:

“Heyy, Steve, long time no see, man. How’s it going?”

“Hey, Dave. Can’t complain. I got a good job, been with my girl for over a year now, all’s good.”

“Right on, man. I’m glad to hear it.”

“My grandmother died last month, so not everything has been good.”

And you’re just like, ughhhhhhhhhhhhh. Well that fucking sucks. But we all tend to have the same response when someone else mentions the death of a friend or family member, and we always say: “Oh. I’m so sorry.” Every once in a while the person will respond to that aggressively and say, “Why? You didn’t kill her.” Which immediately puts you on the defensive but you can’t get mad because you’re still talking about his dead grandma. But seriously, who the fuck says that? Are you suggesting that I am capable of killing someone? And if I had killed her, what kind of sociopathic shit would it be for me to just casually walk up to you and apologize for killing your grandma. “Hey, sorry about Nanna.”

“You should be sorry! You fucking shot her in the face!”

“Yeah. That’s why I said sorry. Christ, why don’t you freak out about it.”

 

But anyway, so we instinctively say: “Oh. I’m so sorry.” But you’re not. Unless you knew the person well, you don’t really give a shit. What you really want to say is: Well, this is awkward. I don’t want to be a dick, but while we’re on the topic of death, you totally just killed this conversation. I was just about to tell you about this big-titted slut I hooked up with at the bar last night, but that seems to be a little crass, now. Fuck.

The worst part about it is after we say sorry and there’s that awkward moment of silence or acknowledgement, we then go and ask the dumbest, most rhetorical question possible: “How are you doing? Are you OK?” What the hell is anybody supposed to say in response to that? (very excited and happy) “Couldn’t be better. I fuckin hated that bitch. Always pinching my cheek and ruffling my hair. Left me a bunch of money, too, so that’s pretty sweet. May she now rest in peace.”

 

You know what annoys me? When a person dies and no matter what, someone says, “may he rest in peace.” Rest in peace suggests that the person’s life was tough and chaotic, but that’s not always the case. Not everyone works for a living. I had a friend of mine die recently (wait for reaction from audience). No, no, it’s fine. He served absolutely no purpose in this world. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the guy, but he was the laziest and luckiest motherfucker I ever met. First off, he was rich. And not like, live in a big house and wear preppy clothes rich; I mean never have to work a day in his life, have maids that clean up after him, oblivious to what living a real life actually means, rich. He spent every day since he graduated from high school in his own, separate wing of his parents’ mansion playing video games, listening to music, and giving girls free coke in return for blowjobs. Dude drank, smoked weed, took ecstasy, acid, and blew mounds of coke on a regular basis. Died in his sleep at age 28. Cardiac arrest. Doctors said he didn’t feel a thing. So when I was at his wake and his mother put her hand on his cold dead shoulder and said: “may he now rest in peace,” I was like… “NOW?!? May he NOW rest in peace? That’s all the fucker did his whole life! Do you know how peaceful blowjobs are?” I felt bad after that because clearly, she will never know how peaceful blowjobs are since she’s the one doing all the work.

 

Isn’t it funny how felatio is referred to as a blow-JOB, but cunnilingus is never called a lick-JOB. Think about the diction here, women give handjobs and blowjobs; men finger and eat out. I know what you’re thinking ladies: it’s a job so we should get paid! Just remember, even if you did get paid, you’d only get 75% of what gay guys would get.

 

Anway, back to my dead buddy. What his epitaph should have read was, “Lazy cocksucker should have exercised more.” All he had to do was go for a run every once in a while instead of lying around on his wrap-around sofa, and he’d still be blowin coke off of some skank’s tits right now. So you know, the moral of the story is: reserve the “rest in peace” thing for those who deserve it.

 

My parents caught me high once. I came home and they were watching TV and I was all fucked up. I mean I didn’t even know what was going on, I just stood in the living room doorway with my mouth open, shoving chips into it, crumbs falling all over the floor, a little drool coming down my chin, trying to figure out what was on the television and oblivious to the fact that my parents were both staring at me, watching me shove my fingers into my mouth and sucking the salt off like it was the greatest thing in the world (mimic sucking on fingers in an exaggerated way). When I realized they were both looking at me, and I saw the looks on their faces, I knew I was busted, but I was so high that I just started laughing hysterically. My parents had very different reactions to this. After a few seconds of me standing there laughing like an idiot, my dad walked straight up to me so his face was right in mine, which was not helping me keep a straight face, and he started sniffing like a hound dog (mimic). He looked at me after he got a good scent and whispered in this angry, clenched-jaw tone, “Are you on dope, right now?” Now, when he said this, I was caught between two very opposite emotions: one was fear. My dad hates drugs and thinks that all drugs: weed, crack, heroin…are all the same, so even though I was just stoned and did’t drive that night, I was as bad as a meth head. I knew he was pissed and I was terrified that he was going to knock my ass out. On the other hand, I already had a case of the giggles so when he asked me if I was on dope I almost lost my shit. I was so high I was laughing with fear. The ONLY time you can laugh with fear is when you are REALLY high. Have you ever broke out laughing during a really scary horror movie? If you  So there I was, emotionally confused and unable to say anything with my dad so close to my face I could smell the nachos on his breath. Of course, it smelled delicious but I managed to hold back from asking him if I could have some. Then he said, “You better smarten up because if I ever catch you like this again, I will take care of the few brain cells you have left in that empty head.” And that’s what fathers do: they scare and intimidate to keep you from doing stupid shit. But notice how he didn’t say, “don’t ever do this again.” It wasn’t an ultimatum, I mean it was a threat, but it was also kind of a dare, you know, “IF I ever CATCH you again…” I read between the lines. My dad wasn’t telling me not to do dumb shit, he was saying don’t get CAUGHT doing dumb shit. So thanks, Dad. I took your advice and smartened up and over the past ten years you haven’t caught me high once. And I was high plenty of time. I’m high right now! (to the audience) Didn’t notice, right? Yeah…smart.

 

My mom had a very different reaction. Parents are funny like that – it’s like they subconsciously play good cop/bad cop. My dad was always bad cop. But it’s not just with punishment. Kids know they can manipulate their parents, so when they don’t get the answer they want from one parent, they go to the other one to get what they want. In the education world, we call that splitting, and if you know any married couple you know that turning them against each other is easier than convincing a fat kid that cake frosting makes you smarter (mimic a fat kid stuffing his face with icing). So my mom, who sat quietly as my dad threatened to knock my head off, told me to sit down then very calmly and very gently said, “Well I feel dumb. I just thought you were a bit tipsy from drinking and had bad allergies.”

Time Travel

I think about time travel a lot. But in a completely narcissistic way. Like, I’d go back to all the times I got beat up, and find the person that kicked my ass five minutes before my younger self showed up and just beat the shit out of the guy, you know? Just like, punch him in the face and kick him in the ribs kind of shit. And I’d win, too. I’d definitely win this time because the last legitimate fight I was in was in middle school, so the oldest guy I’d have to fight would be 13, and I can definitely kick a 13-year-old’s ass. I’d be worried though, that I might hit him too hard and put him in a coma or something, or worse, I’d have a flashback to when he kicked my ass, even though he technically hasn’t yet because my younger self hasn’t shown up yet, but anyway, what if I had a flashback and just totally lost my shit? I’d grab the kid by the collar and force him to stare into my eyes and be like:

“Yeah, bitch. Look at me. Look deep into my eyes. Do you recognize me? Huh? (in a higher pitched voice) How about now? Do you realize who I am yet?”

And he would. He would realize that I’m me, except 17 years older. And then 30-year-old Dave would run off and hide just when 13-year-old Dave shows up, and completely fucks this kid’s mind up. That’s how narcisitic I am: Instead of doing something that would change history or make the world a better place, I’d go back in time and completely destroy a kid’s life just to prevent getting a minor black eye.

 

But you know what’s stupid? When people talk about time travel and say dumb shit like: “I’d go back and kill Hitler and prevent the Holocaust, or, I’d go back and meet Jesus.”

OK. First of all, let’s go through a few scenarios involving Hitler.

  • You go back to 1938 or 39, just before concentration camps start up. How are you going to get to Berlin? Like, what? You’re just going to hop on a commercial flight to Germany, take a taxi to his house, because at that time, every taxi driver in Germany knows where Hitler lives! And then you’re going to get out, walk right past his SS body guards who just ignore the person wearing strange clothes and who can’t speak German, and just showed up to Hitler’s house unannounced, just walk right by them, knock on the door and when Hitler answers, you what? Pull out a random gun that you just so happen to have stuffed in your pants? I guess it would have to be a Luger since you’re in Germany unless you somehow snuck it by security at the airport, and while I’m sure security wasn’t as crazy to get by as it is today, considering the world is on the brink of war, I’d imagine they’d spot a gun in your pants, but let’s ignore that fact and just get to where you shoot Hitler in the face, because, you know, killing someone is EASY. Just point the gun at his head and pull the trigger. BAM! No more Holocaust! WRONG! You know what would happen even if you managed to do all that? First, all those guards would shoot your body with their bullets until there was nothing left of you. And then, upon hearing that an American killed Hitler, all of Germany would rally to declare war on America before we had a chance to build up an arsenal. Oh and preventing the Holocaust? No, the only thing you’d succeed in doing is pissing off Goebbels and Himmler, who would honor their dead furher by killing all the Jews in Europe as quickly as possible, skipping the concentration camps and just going with blow torches and machine guns instead. So, well done. You helped Germany win WW2 and made the Holocaust even worse than what it was.
  • Second scenario; and I love this one. Kill Hitler when he’s a baby! Because that’s totally fine. Not only do you have to go through the same trouble of getting to Germany, but then you have to sneak into his parents’ house, go into his room, and kill a fucking baby. I know it’s Hitler, but it’s pre-Nazi psychopath Hitler. I doubt any of you would actually be able to go through with it, so you’d come back to present time and get so depressed that you let Hitler live and allow the Holocaust to happen that you’d kill yourself, and according to Christian belief, go to Hell, where you’d then see Hitler every day for eternity.

You know what I’d do? I would go back to the moment just before Hitler got rejected from art school, put a gun to his professor’s head and tell him: “You will accept Adolf into school and give him straight A’s until he graduates, or I will find you and kill you and your family. Oh, you also have to convert him to Judaism. Good luck!”

 

Then you have people who say they’d go back and meet Jesus. Again, explain to me how the fuck you are going to get to Jerusalem? Planes won’t be invented for another 1800 years, and I’m pretty sure a boat would take two years to get across the ocean, not to mention once you got across the ocean you then have to figure out how to communicate with the locals, none of whom speak English because the language hasn’t been invented yet, and you’d have to trade your Tevas for a camel – and yes, if you’re the type of person who says you’d go back in time to meet Jesus, you wear fucking Tevas – learn how to ride the camel, and navigate your way through the desert without any GPS or even a map – just using the stars as guides to travel hundreds of miles of uncivilized, dangerous terrain. No big deal, right? So, you get to Jerusalem, you find Jesus, who also doesn’t speak English but he’s God so he must be able to understand, and you say:

  • “Hello Jesus. I just traveled here from THE FUTURE to meet you.” Effectively making you history’s most epic one-upper. You meet Jesus and you’re like “Wow, you’re amazing. You cure the blind, turn water into wine, you cure leprosy, you can walk on water…I just TRAVELED 2000 YEARS THROUGH TIME! No biggie. Oh, and with modern medicine and technology, I can actually do all the things you do. Well, maybe not me directly, but I can do it vicariously….you know what, nevermind.”

And of course, others get wind of this and Jesus loses all credibility. People are like:

  • 1st person: “The son of God? Please. This man (or woman) came from the year 2014!
  • 2nd person: “2014? What year is it now? Negative 5?”

And of course, you tell Jesus that billions of people still worship him and know him to be the son of God who was crucified and died for all our sins, and Jesus is like:

  • Jesus: “Crucified? Wait, did you just say crucified? When do I get crucified? (Looks up) Dad? DAD! Who is this person and what’s this about being crucified for all of man’s sins? DAD!

So yeah, well done. You one-upped Jesus, took away all his credibility, changing the course of history and now we all worship Kevin, the one and true time traveling savior!