Ski Ba Bop Ba Dop Bop ...
Once I had this really smug boss, the kind with purposeful strides and bad suits and a superior air. The kind that doesn't have time for you. Whose pleasantries are tossed-off, absent-minded, and frankly unpleasant.
So this one time I go to the bathroom to pee and I see his brown shoes in the stall. So I'm voiding myself, flowing out, minding the blank eggshellscape of the wall in front of me. And then I hear his bowels get moving. A less than superior air. He's conducting a symphony of shit, a veritable cacophony of crap. I wince. I finish and go to the faucet to turn it on hard. Drown it out. Then he comes out and I turn to grab some paper towels and our eyes meet and he is shamed, leveled, made base and animal. He knows my ears and nose have been privy to the fouls of his body underneath the necktie and the "oh...can you get me the..." And for that moment, that gleaming moment, the power balance has tilted. I'm the boss. I'm #1 and he's #2.
Bop bozadee bozadee bop zitty bop
So I think you can have your "cut me, do I not bleed," but it's our butts and their primal music that makes our pluribus unum. Shifty-eyed, embarrassed creatures. The lowest common denominator soundsytem. The intimate (b)utterance. Corporeal punishment. The scatalogy of eschatology, the final judgement. So when I have to do my backdoor business in a public bathroom and someone else walks in, I'll wait and dam the terrible rush at its sphincter gate until I've got the place to myself. And I suggest you do the same. I don't want to know you like that.
Chipa-Dee-Ba-Ba-Dow
[Sorry that was gross. Props to anyone who can identify the 2nd and 3rd "scat" samples ... In my head they go "bizzy bizzy bop diddy bop" and "Shooby do bop ba da" respectively but I actually looked up the lyrics.]
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