A Frank Exchange Of Views

[Blogging under a professorial alter-ego with a real identity sometimes leaves us uncertain about posting certain things. Not private, salacious or inappropriate things, no not at all, but other things that could upset our students. More often than not we say, if in doubt, leave it out. We present the following true story because we love to tell stories and that’s one reason we blog. The prof would hold back this posting if he thought anyone might read it as a cry for help! It is not a cry for help. It’s a true story, a funny one. We Blog-Idoled a few trusted writer friends and they voted: Do It. So this is posted for your amusement. Enjoy!]

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Tangerine

By Andrew Goodwin

The professor of pop goes to the Berkeley Bowl, where he buys a can of Guinness & some dish-washing liquid, prior to Chelsea’s exciting & gripping (plug in your sarcasm update at this point, dear reader) draw against the mighty Liverpool (now upgrade that plug in) at Blandfield (and again). The express lane is long & slow, so the prof practices standing-meditation as he is waiting in line. Then a man arrives behind him, holding a single tangerine aloft as if it were the Olympic torch en route to the monk-torturing games this summer, and proceeds to yell: “Y’all mind if I jump line with this?”

Cheeky, we think.

The man – henceforth to be known as the Tangerine Customer With A Sense Of Entitlement – repeats the request, which now sounds like a demand.

Tangerine Customer With A Sense Of Entitlement: “Y’all mind if I jump line with this?”

Professor Of Pop (noticing all before him -- as is usual in this life – silent, unwilling or unable to speak their minds): “I do.”

TCWASOE: “Fuck you.”

PoP (after watching one breath & remembering he is supposed to be a buddhist): “Excuse me, what did you say?”

TCWASOE: “I said Fuck you. So fuck you.”

PoP (after observing another breath & turning away, turns back): “I think that shows a lack of respect for other people, and also a lack of respect for yourself.”

TCWASOE: “Fuck you.”

The unwarranted expletives continue without pause for what seems like some minutes as the line moves forward at a glacial pace.


TCWASOE: “Bitch.”

PoP (not observing a breath, turns around on a dime): “What did you say?”

TCWASOE: “Bitch. Fuck you.”

The PoP pulls over a Berkeley Bowl employee & asks him to have the TCWASOE removed from the store. The employee laughs & walks off.

TCWASOE (to PoP): “You must be gay.”

[The PoP is not gay. And occasionally he is sad about that. He sometimes frequents the best bar in the Bay Arena – the White Horse Inn on Telegraph Avenue – where his gay friends, male & female, tolerate his inability to be gay with good humour.]

PoP (who is protective of his gay friends & who is now, for the first time, angry): “What if I am?”

TCWASOE: “Fuck you. Bitch.”

PoP: “So what if I am gay? You know, in my experience, most men who are homophobic are secretly gay.”

TCWASOE (looking a bit sheepish, and backing away): “Fuck you.”

PoP: “Do you want to go on a date?”

TCWASOE is now frantically backing into the people in line behind him, who are hugely entertained by this free supermarket guerilla theatre.

PoP (advancing somewhat aggressively on TCWASOE): “Come on, do you want to go on a date? Where would you like to go? Let’s go on a date.”

TCWASOE is now completely silent. And is positioned several feet away from the PoP, who turns away & walks back to the checker, collects his change, thanks her, picks up his bag, and turns back to the TCWASOE.

PoP (now completely forgetting that he is supposed to be a buddhist): “I’m straight, actually. And, by the way. Fuck you.”

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