Faster and More Furious

It's another beautiful day in the anus of the Universe. It doesn't happen that often. When it is a gorgeous day, all the office buildings empty out-every building empties out-and people throw themselves onto any spare piece of grass and lie there until they develop skin cancer.

Yesterday I took advantage of the sun-we are so used to seeing rain and more rain that the sun seems almost alien-and I went to the park to enjoy the good weather. I took my book, a bottle of water, and my can of mace. One can never be too careful.

I had a few good, peaceful hours before the juvenile delinquents got out of school and stormed the park. I can still remember my teenage years (back in the Jurassic period), when teenagers pushed a bit, jokingly. These kids punch each other, jump on each other, and generally try to rip each other's faces off. And these are the children who will grow up to be thieves, rapists, murderers, pedophiles, serial killers, and, in all likelihood, Prime Minister. Where do you think he and all his cabinet came from, anyway? Drink to the future. Or just drink.

On Thursday, I went with my friend to see the film I wanted to see: Fast & Furious 7. Oh, it was great: terrific stunt work, great special effects (I'll travel to see a film with great stunts and great effects), and the good guys beat seven kinds of crap out of the bad guys. We were the only people in the cinema who were actually going "yeah!" and punching the air every time the good guys won. Of course, this is England. I remember being at a dinner party recently where people were talking about their favorite television shows. One that came up time and time again was CSI- the original CSI (usually people in this country just dissect the weather, so this was a treat and a half). I asked the man sitting next to me if he had a favorite character. He said he did: Nate Haskell. And the rest of you can google that-because as soon as I could I moved as far away from him as I could. Nothing tells you more about a person than their favorite show and favorite character. This man was clearly a mass murderer-or a wannabe-interesting. Ish.

Now tell me: why is it that some of the ugliest men drive the most expensive cars? Many-not all, but many-certainly in this country. We were having this debate after the movie-because this huge black SUV rolled up in front of us. It looked like a hearse. It was a BMW; so it looked like an expensive hearse. Useful for a second career in case the owner found himself on his uppers.

Who on earth needs an SUV in the city of London? It takes several mortgage payments just to fill up the gas tank (once). Then you have to find a road that is wide enough to take the thing. And the driver-was he ugly, or what? Not only did he look like he'd been hit face first by a bus, but he must have had three people shoehorn him in behind the wheel. We watched him huff, and puff, and turn purple-and his stomach left the vehicle ten minutes before the rest of him.

What is it? Is it the desire to flaunt wealth (either real or imagined)? Is it penis envy (wanting to have one that is bigger than a gherkin when erect)? Wanting to impress everyone (massive insecurity)? Or simple stupidity?
Perhaps he was a politician-so that would have to be a mixture of all of the above. We just laughed-especially when  the lardo nearly fell out of the car. That would be terrible if there was a fire: he would easily feed a family of eight.

The end of the film provided a tribute to Paul Walker, who died before the film was finished. It was sentimental, but quite respectfully done. I couldn't help but feel a bit sad-and that started me on a weekend of rumination. There is so much I want to do, so much I want to accomplish. I just need the time - and the energy - and the inclination - to do it all.

Meanwhile, I have paid for the Easter transgressions: my clothes are too tight. Here comes the diet-or at least avoiding all the junk food. I walk down the street and I look over my shoulder to see if I'm being chased by Captain Ahab and his harpoon. In fact, yesterday three people stood very close-too close- as I waited to cross the road. I wasn't sure if they wanted to mug me or if they were just searching for the blowholes.

Sadly, the munchkins will have to start without me.