The Waiting Game

You know what they say that about good intentions.

This morning I posted my satirical, goofy piece titled “Castro Gives Me Gastro”.  I’ll admit it wasn’t my very best work, but it had some merits.  Most specifically, it was under 500 words, and that’s short for a windbag like me.

Normally when I post something, I check the various categories to make sure it showed up somewhere in WordPress.  Next I go to Facebook and make some witty remark about it to try to get some of the zombies there to pull themselves away from looking for unicorn eggs in Castleville and, I dunno, maybe READ SOMETHING?!  Then I go to Gmail and fire off the link to a bunch of coworkers and acquaintances who I’ve bullied and begged into giving me their email addresses.  Once that’s all done, there’s nothing left to do but sit back and wait to see if people read it.

After 30 seconds of that, I click the refresh button on the dashboard page and check to see if anything’s changed.  On a side note, this is the same way I fish.  I bait the hook, cast it into the briny deep, then 30 seconds later, reel it in to see if anything’s on the hook yet.  To those of you who don’t understand fishing, I’ll give you hint – that’s NOT how to do it.

Anyway, back to my dopey Castro blog.  If you didn’t read it, I’m about to spoil the one small joke that was in it, so you might want to avert your eyes – or better yet, click on the title link above and read it, then come back to this.  We’ll wait.

…. It’s only 400 and some words, how long can it take him?!…what the hell!…still not back?….I bet he moves his lips when he reads…Oh!  You there??…Great to have you back with us!

So as I was saying, the sad little joke I made in the Castro piece was about a news story where Obama is going to go to some summit and wear a guayabera shirt.  As I learned from the article, a guayabera shirt is supposedly originally from a region of Cuba.  Castro was not invited to this Latin Summit and he found it amusing that Obama would be wearing a Cuban shirt to a party that Cuba was excluded from.  I’ve never knowingly seen a guayabera shirt, but I’m guessing it’s one of those blousey numbers with the plunging neckline and puffy sleeves like Fabio used to wear on the cover of romance novels.  Obama will look dashing in one of those.

Anyway, my joke was to mix up guayabera with chupacabra.  The chupacabra is a mythical beast which supposedly terrorizes the desert southwest and parts of Mexico.  I know, it’s a pretty sad excuse for a joke.  Maybe that’s why I kept it under 500 words.  You can only beat a dead chupacabra for so long, even if you throw in a few Pamela Anderson references.

So anyway, now I’m waiting for it.  Under normal circumstances, I clamor for comments on my blogs.  I prefer witty ones from people who know how to use spell check, but generally anything will suffice to feed my pathetic ego.  This time it’s different.  I know that it’s only a matter of time before some person with good intentions writes me a comment which tells me that I got it wrong.  They’ll tell me they liked the piece, to put me at ease, then they’ll “just let me know” the difference between a Cuban shirt and a mythical cow maiming dog-beast.

"No my friend, you're mistaken. While your blog was humorous, I'm afraid you were thinking of the chupacabra. The guayabera is in fact a type of shirt.. Don't beat yourself up over it - it was an honest mistake." (Einstein image from uidaho.edu)

The longer I wait for this inevitable comment, the more my brain churns out strategies on how to address it.  I treasure each and every one of my loyal followers.  For the record, I have enough of them now to form a basketball team with substitutes!   I wouldn’t want to lose one by embarrassing him or her in the quasi-public realm of the comment section.  I’m thinking that maybe the best way to address it is to respond with some glib quip like “Ooops!  Ya got me!” or “I knew I should’ve read the whole article! Doh!”

The suspense is killing me.

Castro Gives Me Gastro

"Dead men tell no tales, right Chica? Whaddya say?"
(Image from subverted nation.net)

Reading the news lately has been interesting.

The other day I read an article about Fidel Castro poking fun at President Barrack Obama.  Apparently, Castro found great amusement in Obama’s plan to wear a “guayabera” shirt at some Latin American summit.  I found this to be an amazing story on a couple of levels.

For one thing, Fidel Castro died years ago, didn’t he?  It blows my mind that dead people can come out with these statements and grab all sorts of headlines.  Though in theory, I suppose dead people making statements is actually pretty big news, since the vast majority of them say so little.  Castro was never exactly the quiet type to begin with, so I guess you’d have to expect him to still be a little bit of a loud mouth even in death.

The other astounding aspect of the story is that up till now, I thought the guayabera was only a mythical half dog, half honey badger which roamed the American Southwest and parts of Mexico killing livestock and drawing pentagrams with their blood.  Apparently one of the stories I’d seen on the cover of those gossip rags had actually been true and guayaberas really had been caught.  The thought that there are enough of these incredibly scarce critters to use to make Obama a shirt tells you how out of touch I am with both political and mythical beast news stories.

I really don't see a shirt here. You're gonna have to dry clean it, and it's not going to breathe like a woven natural fiber would. (Image from skepdic.com)

I didn’t read enough of the story to see why Barrack needed one of these animal pelt shirts, but since he’s the President, I’m sure he has a very good reason.  Considering the never-ending game of one upsmanship in Washington, it’s only a matter of time before certain high ranking members of congress start showing up in the halls of power wearing Sasquatch loafers with the little tassels on them.

It’s kind of surprising that Pam Anderson and her PETA hippy sorority haven’t shown up with water balloons filled with red paint crying about the inhumane treatment of the guayaberas and the cruelty of skinning such a rare creature for something as frivolous as a shirt for a head of state.  So many American men had fantasized about her a few decades ago, most of them are shaking their heads today in silent thanks that they don’t have to listen to her yabbering about how wrong it is to rectally electrocute cows.  Time sure gives you perspective doesn’t it, fellas?

So yeah, Castro’s corpse is talking smack about my president.  Pretty mouthy for a dead guy.  I’m considering going back and reading the rest of the story, provided I don’t get distracted by something else first.  I’ll keep you kids posted.