Thursday, May 22, 2014

Things I Don't Want to Know

I understand why straight people get queasy when confronted with the mechanics of gay sex. It's the same reason I let out an audible "Ewwww...yuck" when I am watching a movie with a sex scene and the man's head slowly sinks below the beltline of a woman. There are things we don't need to know unless those things fall directly within our range of interest. For instance I know that my Mom and Dad had eleven children. However, in my mind I do not want the exact nuts and bolts of how my siblings and I came to be. As far as I am concerned, my parents had sex but eleven times. In fact I would be quite happy to believe in the old myth of the stork dropping babies down the chimney. The only problem with that would be the gas fired furnace at the bottom of it.

            There are a lot of things I do not want to be aware of. I don't want to know how sausage is made. I do not want to know where my poop goes when I flush the toilet, that it makes it out of my house and off my property will suffice. Some local television news shows seem to think that I want to know what the kitchen of my favorite restaurant looks like. I do not. They call it Dirty Dining, and the reporter seems almost gleeful pointing out the rat turds, cockroach carcasses, and kitchen help leaving the bathroom without washing their hands. If I haven't died from eating in the hundreds of greasy spoons I've visited over the years, then nothing is going to hurt me. What really pissed me off yesterday was a news report about airplanes. The evening news seemed to think that I would like to know that airplanes are flying germ factories, pointing out that germs were on your tray table, arm rests, and just about every other surface on the plane. Of course they are, damn it! It's a flying tube overstuffed with living, breathing, belching, farting humans. I just don't want to think about it. Did you know that the armrest that you are fighting for with your travel companion has e coli on it? You do now. Goddamn news people seem to love ruining things. Now when I fly to Chicago this summer all I'll be able to think about is those germs. Unless I get some disinfectant for the trip. No, not to disinfect the entire plane, internal disinfectant. Grey Goose is a good choice, but I'll settle for Stolichnaya.


  1. who are those people on the plane?

  2. A bunch of German nudists.