Philip K. Dick, �The Philip K. Dick Reader�
Here�s a collection of short stories that sat in my bathroom for a LONG time. I guess I�ve just been out more often when... well, you know.
It wasn�t that long ago that I reviewed another Philip K. Dick book, so I don�t feel I have to get into the back story with this. Bottom line: this collection of short stories was like any other collection of short stories � some stories were good, some were not so good, and some I read in another collection of short stories by the same author.
Okay ONE of the short stories I had read before in another collection, but seeing how this is put out by the same publisher, I mean, jeez... Rip off!
But back to short stories. Having finished a fiction writing class that consisted entirely of short stories, I remember how the entire class would go back and forth on whether the stories were any good. Sometimes we marveled on how much an author could put into a mere 15 pages, other times we wondered if there shouldn�t have been at least a little more exposition. But it soon became apparent that you could start off with a good premise, and have it go nowhere.
Take my life as of recently. About two weeks ago, I got an invitation to go to a wedding.
Whoop-de-do.
But, I should mention that this wedding was going to be held on a yacht.
In Hollywood.
For a member of the Turturro family.
Yes, I was going to a wedding in Hollywood � with the swimming pools, accompanied by movie stars. You bet your ass I was going. I don�t particularly think in terms of movie stars that I like, but I know I like John Turturro. I mean, come on! Jesus from The Big Lebowski? Bernie Bernbaum from Miller�s Crossing? Fucking Barton Fink? Hanging out on a boat, where he can�t get away from me?
Ooh yeah! I�m thinking about all the crazy things that are going to happen to me that I�ll be able to write about later, because crazy things ALWAYS happen to me, and this time I�ll be in Hollywood where crazy things happen all the time!
So we rent a car, drive down to LA, and the first thing that happens is a plane crashes into an apartment building two miles from where we were.
Good start, don�t you think?
We pull into the marina and board the yacht. Then we see that our names aren�t on the seating chart. We later discover that the couple hadn�t received Rich�s RSVP, meaning we�ve crashed the wedding.
Nice setup as well.
And then nothing happened. John Turturro wasn�t in attendance. Nick Turturro, who is apparently on some cop show or another and Aida Turturro from The Sopranos were there. Nobody cared. And as i haven�t seen these shows, I have no idea what they even look like.
The wedding, for being as obviously expensive as it was, was totally bland. Even the ceremony was by the numbers. You would think that if people were going to spend that much money, they might think to write some vows or put some personality into it, but they obviously chose Yacht Plan A, which went something like this:
�Do you?�
�Yeah.�
�How about you?�
�Sure.�
�Okay then. You�re married, and the bar is open!�
So we hit the bar with the boat tooling around the bay. We drank. And then drank some more. When the boat returned to the harbor, a few people invited us along to the hotel party, but we had to find a place to stay first.
Two hours and five full places later, I pulled into a small motel and asked for a room. They had one. We unlocked the door and saw that they had one double bed. I went back and asked if they had a room with two beds and got the strangest look I�ve ever received in my life.
We went back to our room, now too tired to think about joining the wedding party. We flipped on the television and holy hell! Isn�t that woman supposed to be on top of that horse, instead of the other way around?
Then I saw the custom printed matches placed in the ashtray.
- The Eclipse Motel
- Low Rates
- Movie Channels
- Mirrored Rooms
No wonder that lady looked like she thought I was a pervert when I asked for two beds.
But really, two nights in Hollywood, and that�s the most interesting thing that happened � we stumbled upon an adult hooker hotel?
PFFFFFTT!
On the flip side, we get back to SJ and I have a notice from DMV saying I need a smog check for my car. No problem, it passed two years ago and I�ve barely driven it since then, racking up less than 1,700 miles in two years.
So I take it in, they stick a rod up my tailpipe (of my car, you sickos) and I stand to the side and watch. Not that I know what the hell he�s doing, but I can see the screen from my position and all the lights seem in the green, and I can see the word PASS flash several times.
At first this was as nerve racking as an AIDS test, but I soon started to relax. Finally, to get out of the heat, I walked around the corner and read for a bit. Eventually the mechanic walked up to me.
�YooGroPooter.�
�Excuse me?�
�Yor Kar! GroPooter! GroPooter!� He shoved a piece of paper in my hand and circled some words at the top.
The words were Gross Polluter.
Great. I suppose this is Karma for always saying things like, �The world is my ashtray.� And today I get a notice that says that if I spend enough money on the car and it still doesn�t pass, they�ll renew my registration anyway. I suppose they do this because I contributed to the economy, or something.
The thing, I already felt like I was using my car too often, and now that the weather is back to being reasonable (I hate any kind of weather I can notice), I�ve been riding my bicycle more.
But now that I know that my car is a �Gross Polluter� and that the DMV is a bunch of fucking hippies, I�ve been driving everywhere, cackling like a madman all the while with toxic fumes spewing out the back like some B-movie villain.
Suck it up people!
