So. Here we all are. It’s the day after the super bowl and conversation around the Johnson family breakfast table centered not upon what must have been a boring game, but rather the advertisements. Adult Americans have now been brainwashed to pay extremely-close attention to Super Bowl ads because, and here I’ll quote one of the pretty faces from a morning network news shows, “These will be the smartest, funniest and most social-oriented ads of the year.”
Really? I think that the ads are better because advertisers have convinced us that they are the best.
I didn’t actually watch the game or the ads, but I did sit in the TV room with everyone else. I started a John Lescroart novel, Damage, after lunch and couldn’t manage to put it down. So I named myself “designated fetcher” for the game, parked myself closest to the kitchen, and sat to read. I went to fetch things for the others so they wouldn’t have to miss any action.
I’m a seriously fast reader—I devour words on the page—but I’m not a speed reader. I didn’t take an Evelyn Woods course to be a good, fast reader. I am, rather, an ADHD-fueled rocket reader. I can consume 2,000 words in a minute-and-a-half, but I can’t remember anything about them. My eyes jump all over the place so I am forced to read shit multiple times to maintain any shred of plot or circumstance. I can be reading and, as is often the case be distracted from the reading, and when I return to the book I can’t find my place.
I’ve always been this way and it has always been problematic. I think I’m lucky I’m creative and imaginative because as a scholar I’m dumb as a rock. Which brings up an issue I’d like to address. I want to address the issue to two groups of people. The first group are those folks who think there is no such thing as ADHD or ADD. Those of you who think ADHD is a liberal plot to authorize lazy and bad behaviors.
The second group I want to address are those of you who are pretenders and use ADHD and ADD as an excuse to be lazy and behave badly.
ADD is not the cause when you don’t do something because you don’t want to do it. ADHD is not the cause when you get drunk and make a fool of yourself. When you choose to not perform a promised task you are either lazy or you’re a lying asshole. When the only times you act out are times when you’re drunk, then you are an asshole and quite possibly an alcoholic asshole.
There are not, I think, as many people with actual ADD as there are impostors. Using a false diagnosis for ADD and ADHD has become the “my dog ate my homework” excuse for lazy, rude shitbrains. One of my customers told me once that he wanted to thank me for showing him how to get away with shit. He said, “Whenever I don’t want to do something I just go all scatter-brained and skip around subjects and then I’ll say something like, ‘Anyway,’ and I can get away with almost anything.”
I told the fuckball that his prices just increased by 25% and I thumped him on his nose. I had just been released from Sheriff Woozy Wozniac’s jail for accidentally making a scene at the car wash over to that place on Burnett Road, so I didn’t thump him hard enough to draw blood. But I did tell him that rather than tell people he has the ADHD he needed to tell them that he’s a lazy asshole.
Then when I got the call from my major competitor in the compost business asking me if the guy was a good customer, I said to him, I said, “Please take him off my hands.”
The other guy says, “Why, what’s the matter with him?” and I said, “Oh, nothing at all, he’s my best customer ever,” and than he says, “Thanks, Mooner.” When I hung up the phone I told Gnat to send the customer a letter telling him that after a review of his account, we have decided to put him on a cash only program.
Anyway, I’m sitting there reading my very good book. It’s about a wealthy San Francisco family who thinks they are above both the law, and the common man. An underwear commercial played and Gram and Mother started arguing over its appropriateness. “Didn’t show ‘is pecker, goddammit. Ruth-Ann swored ta me ya could see his pecker.”
“Oh, sweet Jesus, Gram, please don’t use that word. You know how it offends me.” This came from my mother with the back of her wrist placed dramatically to her forehead, and an equally dramatic scowl on her face.
“Oh quit yer bitchy-aching. Everbody inna room’s either got a pecker or needs one.”
Since everybody else in the room knew that Mother was speaking of Gram’s using the Lord’s name in vain and not her use of peckers, we smiled in unison as Mother fumed. And speaking of peckers, Mr. Dave turned out to be a huge Patriot fan, and a vocal one at that. He was wearing his official Patriots workout uniform of Tom Brady jersey, Pats cap and sweatpants. He was jumping up and down from his seat—a sturdy pecan wood chair that my grandfather made when lightening struck-down a big tree out back that was placed squarely in front of the big TV—and Mr. Dave’s eight pound pecker was bouncing around the loose cotton pants like a dog’s tail wagging inside a plastic bag.
I noticed that all the ladies were moaning and sighing every time he jumped up. I guess size really does matter and I was reminded how grateful I am to at least have that old Johnson charm.
I didn’t catch much of any of the commercials, but I went to the kitchen before halftime to get some platters of food ready for the break, and when I returned to the TV room to tell the others a voice caught my ear. I knew the voice but didn’t place it at first. The voice was speaking of America’s economic woes in the manner of a halftime speech, and it turned out to be Clint Eastwood narrating a Chrysler commercial about Detroit.
That commercial brought tears to my eyes. With the specific help of President Obama’s loan program and the amazing cooperation between company management and it’s UNION employees, Chrysler Corp. has returned from the brink of extinction to profitability. Government, big corporate interests and a unionized workforce joined hands to create a remarkable success, and they did it when many conservative voices predicted dismal failure.
Chrysler’s success can be a formula repeated in many other areas and industries. This wasn’t a Detroit phenomenon, this was an American dream scenario come true. You say our President’s economic programs are failures, I say fuck you, looka right here.
It wasn’t a perfect reunion between the company, union and the Administration but it was an honest one. Each side gave more than it wanted and ended with more than it dreamed possible. That’s what happens when people work together to move forward with specific, mutually agreeable goals in mind.
And that, dear friends, is why our Congress is stuck in reverse. We have factions controlling the House who find all positions not theirs disagreeable. They either want everything done their way or they want nothing done.
I say fuck them too. Wake up, assholes, America needs more successes like Chrysler. Manana, y’all.