Just Off Center

I got an email a little while ago with a few of those questions about what I’d do in certain tricky situations. I think they were from that “Book of Questions”. It’s a book that asks hundreds of situational questions that test your moral and ethical standing. I can see how most people would have difficulty coming up with answers to them. However, being the super decisive ass that I am I found them surprisingly simple.

DO YOU THINK THE WORLD WILL BE A BETTER OR WORSE PLACE 100 YEARS FROM NOW?

Better…way better. I mean let’s look at history here. Anyone remember their world history from 1905? Ok, not much was going on, but look at all the advancements since then. Technology, industry, medicine, etc. Just knowing that I’ve got that whole Smallpox thing covered makes me think that the year 2105 will be better than today. But then I’ll be long dead, so what the fuck do I care. I just hope that I can get a few cybernetic implants before I die.

If you had a button that whenever you pressed it increased your bank account by $20,000 but also caused an innocent person to die, would you press it? How many times?

Are you kidding me? I’d put that button smack in the middle of a fucking trampoline! What the hell do I care if some “innocent person” dies as a result? Maybe that’s a bit cold, but it’s not like the innocents are immortal anyway, right? And I’ve heard this one before. When I gave my answer someone in the room said, “what if it was your wife that died. How would you feel then?” Then she gave me that annoying head-cocked bug-eyed look your mom gives you when she thinks she’s made a point. How would I feel? I’d feel sad, dumbass! But rich too! I don’t have any life insurance in her name. At $20,000 per push, I can’t afford let her live.

WOULD YOU PLAY RUSSIAN ROULETTE FOR $1,000,000.00?

Again with the money for potential death, huh? The answer is yes, I would. Now we’re talking a one in six chance of dying right? That gives me more than an 83 percent chance of living. And if I take the slug in my temple, so be it. Why should I be afraid of dying this way? It would be by my own hand, my way, my choice. If I live, I get a million simoleons. If I die, then what difference does it make? I don’t look at dying like the end of anything really. The truth is I have no fucking idea what’s going to happen. None of us do. Shit, I’m pretty jazzed that no matter what happens in this life, at the end I get to see what’s on the other side, no matter what. Next!

WHAT IS YOUR MOST TREASURED MEMORY?

I’ve been sitting at my desk here pondering this one for a while. I suppose they don’t all come to me so easily. I find that every memory I recall cherishing is in some way tinted by the events that transpired before or after. And that really does affect how much I treasure it. So all things being equal, I’ll just say that there was a time once when a girlfriend of mine had cheated on me with this loser asshole she’d befriended. After a couple of days of fuming I took a heart full of boiling blood and drove to his house. His roommate saw in my eyes that I was coming in regardless of his permission so he just opened the door and told me he was asleep in his room. I walked upstairs, entered the dark bedroom, flipped on the light and took a perch on the foot of his bed, my feet at each side of his knees. He woke slowly and wasn’t quite sure that he wasn’t dreaming. I gave him the chance to talk. He remained silent. Then I jumped to my feet, smacked him around a bit, and finally got a good grasp on his throat with one hand while the other deflected his attempts to free his trachea. At that moment I knew I had control, absolute control. His life was in my hands. I had every moral right to strangle the life out of him. I saw absolute fear in his eyes with a hint of acceptance. I took his gaze for a moment and released him. I gave him a choice. He could either take a broken nose now and call it even, or I could come back sometime when I was a lot more drunk and feeling a lot less generous. He started crying and begged me to just leave. Then I turned off the light and walked out. It wasn’t the greatest thing I’d ever done and I certainly don’t look back with regret for not killing him. But the sheer power and absolution that swelled in me gave me an insight I had never known. If you get the chance, I highly recommend the strangulation of your enemies.

Would you have one of your fingers surgically removed if it somehow guaranteed immunity from all major diseases?

Hell yes! It would have to be one of the middle ones though. The thumb and pinky are too easy to lose in an accident. Then I’d go home and tell Nina that I’d lost it in a fight with a man who had insulted her honor. “I had the upper hand until he pulled out a blade and lunged for my throat. In a flash I shoved my hand toward the blade, losing the finger but getting a firm grasp on the hilt. Seeing my fearlessness and rage he released the knife, turned and ran. As he ran I exclaimed ‘You forgot something!’ then I hurled the blade into his back. He yelped and staggered away in defeat. And so I returned home to show my wife my wounds gotten in her defense and to see if you would still have me in this crippled, mutilated form.” Then I’d make a fat living injecting myself with diseases on stage. That would rock!

FINALLY, WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU STOLE SOMETHING? WHY HAVEN’T YOU STOLEN ANYTHING SINCE THEN?

About thirty minutes ago I stole a Caffeine Free Diet Coke from the snack bar down the hall. They’re $0.35 each so I just opened the cabinet, tapped the quarters and then the dimes and took my soda. Why haven’t I stolen since? I’m neither hungry nor thirsty. Nor do I see anything in the general vicinity that I want.

# posted by Mike @ 2:55 PM