New Math in the Capital of Contradictions
The other day I’m sitting at a cafe reading the paper. At a table next to me are
three people: two young men and a girl. They start telling jokes to each other.
The Mexican-American man tells a joke about Jews. The white girl tells a joke
about blacks. Finally, the Asian man tells a joke about blondes. As the two men
laugh, the girl fixes them with an icey stare.
I am so mad at you right now!
“Why?” Asks the man who just told the blonde joke.
“I used to be a blonde!”
Now
I laugh. They look over at me because, after all, who is this creepy guy
listening in?
The blonde says, “What are you laughing at?”
I clear my throat.
“Well, first of all, you just proved why there are blonde jokes, and second of
all I find it interesting that you were not offended by any of the other jokes.”
Now it’s awkward. But I think it demonstrates something about San Francisco
that bothers me.
Political correctness, like a colored plastic wristband, is
just a fashion accessory to be worn in public. Be honest: When it’s just you and
a few friends, you tell the same jokes. I admit to doing it too. This time, it
was only because the girl was outrageously offended by a dumb blonde joke, that
I had to say something.
After another moment, the girl looks at her friends who
are now looking sheepishly down at their feet, and then says to me, “I face
prejudice every day as a blonde. But when I dye my hair, people treat me
differently. You do the math.”
“You have to be shitting me, right?”
At this
point, a few more patrons are listening in over their papers and lattes.
“So
you’re saying that the prejudices you face are equal to those that black people
face, so that makes it okay to tell jokes about them?” I am almost laughing when
I say this.
“Well, when you put it that way.” She says.
“Unless there was some
march for blonde rights on Washington that I missed. Like, I have a dream, too.”
A few people who are pretending not to listen laugh.
So begins another day in
the capital of contradictions.
Last time I was at the airport, I noticed all
the warning signs: no liquids or gels of any kind allowed past this checkpoint.
All I could think was: How does Mayor Gavin Newsom get his hair on the plane
now?
In the category of phrases I don’t want to hear any more I nominate: “You
do the math.”
People only use it when there is absolutely no math required.
“The victim’s blood was on his shirt. We found his prints on the knife. You do
the math.” No. There’s no math to do.
“He said they haven’t talked in months
and now I see her number on the phone bill. You do the math.” I can’t. The only
time people seem to not use the phrase is when math is actually called for.
“All right. You had the extra drinks, and you guys ordered the appetizers. So
what’s the tip?”
Now is the time to do the math!
The other day I am at the
Whole Foods on California Street. I was running low on attitude wrapped in
spandex and decided it was time to stock up. All around me are androids with
pony tails sticking out the back of their GAP ball caps and carrying yoga mats
like M-16s at their sides, babbling into cell phones thinner than they are about
last night’s episode of Lost. I am trying to eat better. When I take vitamins,
my urine turns this amazing glow-in-the-dark yellow. People tell me it’s because
my body can’t absorb all the nutrients. When I drink a Mountain Dew and go to
the bathroom, my urine is clear. You know what that tells me? It tells me that I
have lived so long in this brave new world that my body needs whatever is in
Mountain Dew but put something healthy in it and my body rejects it. So, I’m
here at Whole Foods.
I wish I had more interest in the gubernatorial election
coming up. I am not a fan of Arnold, but how good can the other guy be? I can’t
remember one of his movies.
Did you know that Al-Qaeda was run like a
corporation? After being there for a year, you get a two-week paid vacation.
Those are better benefits than I get! Still, it is a terrorist group.
“Good
news! Your vacation came through.”
“Why are the plane tickets one way?”
“You
do the math.”
By Joe Klocek
You can check Joe Klocek’s calendar at
joeklocek.com.
Joe