Excellent Nachos

Thank You!

Good Evening!

I’m Rusty Pliers.

If you could please hold your tumultuous ovation until the end…

…I’d appreciate it.

Thank you.

(Laugh,

Clear throat.

Big breath. Be Rusty.)

Television Really Pisses My Zen Off!

I hear some of you in the audience asking…

“Rusty, you’re a zen man. 

So tell me.

How much zen is there

In broadcast television?”

That’s a good question!

I’m glad you asked me that,

Because it segues nicely into a poem I wrote,

And by a strange coincidence

Happen to have with me here tonight.

But seriously,

I understand your reason for asking.

Especially with all the crap that’s on TV these days.

Six-Hundred Channels of What?

Electronic babel of the lowest order,

Interrupted every four minutes

With a word from our sponsor,

A soulless multinational corporation

Which would like you to buy its product.

A motorcar.

A pizza.

Beer.

TV Reality Shows?

I hope not.

For what kind of reality do they offer?

Greed and narcissism!

We’ve got plenty of that already.

TV Sporting Events?

Where money is god!

Rigged or played 

By drugged-up cheaters and wife beaters,

With their under or overinflated balls.

The Six O’Clock News?

Where insincere anchormen

(For they are hardly ever women)

Adopt a crocodile look of mock concern

Over the destruction wrought by a typhoon in China

That is projected on the screen behind him…

…Before they turn to the camera,

Unctuously smile their million-dollar smiles,

And make a little quip about 

Grandma’s cat being rescued from a tree,

By a true American Hero.

Oh, brother!

After just five minutes of this baloney,

I didn’t need an anchorman to tell me

That with TV…

No news is good news.

Nature Documentaries?

Where moralizing filmmakers 

Constantly preach that I am singlehandedly

Endangering the habitat of some poor creature

Or noble primitive tribe. 

(Like I was a Nazi or something

Because I own an automobile!)

Meanwhile these same filmmakers

Crisscross the globe in air-polluting corporate jets,

To land from above and make deals 

With local warlords or corrupt officials,

That they might film a rare bat or an endangered frog

In its pristine natural surroundings.

Thus spreading a different kind of pollution,

Called greed and cash and graft,

Before they fly away home,

And to hell with 

All the bats and shit,

Pristine or otherwise,

They leave behind!

They’ll sleep well on the jet tonight,

Up there in First Class,

As they wing their way back to NYC

And its all-night discotheques,

Knowing they’ve created a beautiful, hi-def slo-mo video

About bats or something it’s not important to them,

Which is sure to garner

Yet more Prestige, Money, and Fame!

…As well as remind me, 

One more time, 

How I’m the one on this planet… 

We could all do without.

TV!

Its bright light and tremendous power 

Attracts every kind of pestilent Vampire and Pirate!

And I don’t mean the kind of vampire you see on TV,

With harmless fake fangs and ketchup for blood,

Young and beautiful and yearning for love 

Like Romeo and Juliet…

But REAL Vampires and Pirates,

Without human feeling in their deathless hearts!

Who stride this earth as if they owned it!

And who would sell your child 

If it could be done for a profit.

So To Protect Myself From All This Crap…

I’m going to turn off 

My TV.

But it won’t be easy. It’ll hurt.

It’ll be like putting down my favorite dog.

Like in Old Yeller…

Which ironically I first saw on TV.

So Long, TV!!!

Goodbye old friend!

I cannot begin to count

All the hours we’ve spent together.

Farewell, Faithful Companion!

Adieu, (electronic) light of my life!

With all you have to offer,

I’m sure you’ll find someone 

To replace me very soon.

In the meantime…

I’ll let you know how it’s going,

You who read 

Or hear of this.

Living without television I mean.

I’ll let you know how it’s going

When I come round to your place

From time to time

To raid the refrigerator…

… And watch Monday Night Football.

Thank You!
I’m Rusty Pliers.
Good Night!

I read this at Stardust Cafe 

In Orlando, Florida, on Wednesday night.

Just as it’s written here.

These are the actual notes I used.

(Except I printed them larger, 

So I could read them 

As I stood on the stage 

Wearing my eye patch.)

It was one of my best readings, I think.

It really felt like I nailed it!

I reached deep inside myself

To strip my artist’s soul bare!

“You really engaged with your audience, man,”

Said Trooper, my Creative Director.

(He’d come down to video me reading.)

“That was your best yet, Rusty!” he added.

Hmmmm, I thought.

Two weeks to write, 

Three days to tighten and polish,

Another day to memorize, 

Four terrifying minutes to recite…

… And no one even looked up from their nachos.

Ah! The writer’s life!

If you'd care to see Rusty reading this, go here;
Rusty Reading Excellent Nachos

Twenty to a Pack

   From Orlando to Honolulu via Los Angeles is a long way. 

   By the time we’d sorted ourselves out at the airport we didn't arrive at our Waikiki hotel until 11PM. We were kindly received and shown to our room. Saucy Boy (a nickname for my wife) quickly unpacked and put away her things. 

   “I don’t like people touching my things,” she said as she unpacked.

   “That’s not what you said last night!” I boasted. 

   “You!” she laughed. “Don’t you ever think of anything else?”

   “Nope!”

   Believe me, with Saucy Boy, it’s difficult not to. 

   “Good!” she answered, and we embraced.

   Then she made us gin and tonics. Within minutes Saucy Boy can work miracles in any kitchen. And a good gin and tonic is a miracle of sorts, don’t you think? Her eyes sparkled as she handed me the drink. She loves to travel. It’s when she’s happiest. 

   With our stuff put away and drinks in our hands, we felt at home on our travels.

   Ah, those gins hit the spot and eased out some of the kinks! 

   We stepped through the sliding door. The night was warm. I bumped my head against a tree limb that overhung the patio, and we laughed. We sat in chairs beside the pool and spoke of things we hadn’t spoken of in a long time. After awhile we dropped into a comfortable silence, both of us staring into the shimmering black water of the hotel swimming pool. 

   It was well after 2am. They had turned off the pool lights hours ago. I lifted my tired eyes from the water. 

   “I need some sleep,” I said. 

   Saucy Boy did too. Her sparkling eyes had dimmed and were slowly closing.

   “C’mon,” she said. 

   We returned to our room, undressed and fell into bed.

  “KA-TWANG!” 

   “What the…?” I asked.

   “Ice-maker,” explained Saucy Boy.

   “KA-BOING!” The ice-making machine next to our room was making ice. “KA-THUMP!” it groaned. I lay awake and listened to it. Where does all that ice go, I wondered? “KA-TWANG!” it croaked. Saucy Boy had closed her eyes and looked to be asleep. What had they done to cool their libations in times before ice machines, I wondered? “KA-BOOM!” it crashed. Saucy Boy didn’t move. Once she was asleep she could sleep through anything. “KA-PHOOEY!” it sputtered. What is it about some machinery that it must be loud to get the job done?

   Ha! Ha! We humans are often guilty of that. 

   “KA-THUMP!” it coughed. It continued to rattle and sputter and crash through the night.

   Somehow, I fell asleep…

   I was awake before daylight thinking about breakfast.

   But before food, a smoke. 

   You cannot smoke within and around buildings in Hawaii, so I got up and threw on some clothes and went out. Saucy Boy was asleep so I left her in bed. The ice machine was silent, so I left it there too. Within a few minutes I was puffing contentedly along as I ambled toward the all-night Denny’s. 

   A pair of drunken young men lurched up from the opposite direction. 

   “Got a spare smoke?” asked one. 

   I was startled and without thinking I answered “No.” Which was pretty stupid considering I was smoking at the time. My answer also surprised me. Why had I refused?

   Why is it so difficult to be a kind person all the time, or even most of the time, or even more than barely some of the time? 

   “There’s twenty to a pack, asshole!” said his friend. He was very intoxicated and slurred out his words with a grand gesture more to the street and the towering hotels all around us, rather than at me, the actual asshole.

   How bitter this retort rang in my ears! 

   “Hey guys,” I answered. “Hold on a minute.”

   We stood together and shared a smoke. Extracting one for later, I handed over the packet, telling them to keep it.

   “Mahalo plenty, man,” they said as they walked on. 

   Mahalo means thank you in Hawaiian.

   “Sure,” I answered. “Aloha!” 

   They waved and turned back on their way. 

   I watched them go with a smile on my face. Phew, I thought, that was a close one! I had almost been that worst of bastards, a cheapskate bastard. Funny how life throws up these cosmic moments. You’re walking down the street minding your own business when suddenly wham! 

   Hey You! To be or not to be! Are you a decent human being capable of sharing, or are you something else? Time to choose! 

   “Show us what you’re made of!” demand the gods, and they lean in, ready for a laugh.

   For a moment my soul balanced on the edge.

   Then the wise man said, “There’s twenty to a pack, asshole!”

   Bringing me back to my senses.

   That day Saucy Boy and I sunbathed on the beach in front of the Royal Hawaiian. That’s a hotel, not a person, by the way. The ocean was warm and clean. We splashed and played in the surf. Later, we ambled up the beach and stopped for a beer to cool off. On the ground by some giant bamboo I found a small, overturned bird’s nest and gave it to Saucy Boy. 

   (She brought it home carefully wrapped in her luggage and has it to this day.) 

   At sunset, sitting together under a Banyan tree with a wonderful view of Diamond Head, we sipped $15 Mai-Tais and watched the waves rolling in. It was very romantic, but we couldn't drink long at those prices, so we left to walk the beach hand in hand. 

   As darkness fell we were on the beach, watching Venus rise out of the crashing ocean. A sliver of moon hung in the sky over our shoulders.

  Later we swam in the hotel pool together. Petals fell in graceful arcs from the nearby plumeria trees. Some of the petals landed in the water. One of them stuck to Saucy Boy’s shoulder, perfect and pink against her smooth brown skin.

   After swimming we went to our room. 

   There we kissed and made love. 

   Soon afterwards we fell asleep, not hearing a sound from our mechanical ice-making neighbor, as if it understood that tonight, right next door, the night was young and the stars were old. 

   Shhhh, nighty-night, little tourists.