Gravybelly Dunstan Is Doing Very Well

 

These are not railroad tracks.

 I can't believe I have to do this, again, Stitches The Railyard Sutureman muttered to himself as he approached a makeshift lectern made of stacked fruit crates, AGAIN. He looked out at the assembled hobo press corps - which here means the ten hoboes who could read and write - and sighed the sigh of a man defeated.

"Gentlemen, I'm pleased to report that Gravybelly Dunstan is doing very well. In the three days since sustaining his injury, in the Cumberland terminal hump yard, he has made great progress, and I am very, very impressed. I've never seen a patient make so much progress so soon after--"

"Excuse me, doc," one of the gathered reporters interrupted, "Did you say three days?"

"What?"

"You said it's been three days since Gravybelly's injury?"

"Oh, yes. That's correct. And as I was saying, given the nature of the injury, his recovery has been remarkable."

Another hobo raised his hand, sending a little cloud of dust into the cool Maryland air. "We were told that this happened early yesterday. It was all over the hobo telegraph. An empty boxcar came rolling down the hill from the hump and clipped him - took his left arm clean off."

The Railyard Sutureman frowned. "That's correct. Before dawn, yesterday. I cauterized the wound with a hot iron, which is an experimental technique I've invented--"

"I'm sorry," another grubby hobo reporter interjected, "to be clear - you're saying this accident happened early yesterday?"

"Correct. And he's really doing very great. So great. He's the greatest patient I've ever treated. I mean, to lose your right arm at the elbow, and and five days later, to be sitting up, eating beans and begging to be released from the hobo hospital camp - it's just amazing."

The raggedy press corps exchanged confused glances. The young reporter from Gravy Times stood up. "I think I speak for everyone here..."

"You don't," several others chorused, beneath their collective breath.

"...when I say that we are very relieved to hear this wonderful and encouraging news about everybody's most favorite hobo. Thank you for your wonderful work and groundbreaking new - what did you call it - cauterizing technique..."

Another hobo snorted. "People have been cauterizing wounds since five minutes after the discovery of fire - and did you say, 'five days later,' Stitches?"

"That's correct."

"But you just said it was early yesterday."

The hobo surgeon shook his head. He silently cursed himself for allowing his life to reach this point. In his pre-hobo life, he had been a student, two years into medical school at NYU. His dream of becoming a doctor had disappeared when his father was ruined in the first months of the Great Depression. His mother left them, one night, never to be heard from again, and his father contracted lethal hiccups soon after, and died from a combination of exhaustion and exasperation. 

Stitches (which was his given name), unable to pay for school - or to find work in the city - joined hobo nation in early 1930. He quickly gained a reputation as a skilled wound sewer-upper, and he wandered the eastern half of the country tending to hobo injuries large and small. He was admired. He was a contributor to hobo society. He came very close to respecting himself. 

Then, he was "hired" to be the private full-time sutureman to Gravybelly Dunstan, the most widely hated hobo since U.S. Fool. He paid in actual pennies, instead of the customary lint, but every other aspect of this "job" was terrible. 

He took a deep breath and looked at the hobo reporter who had asked the last question. "Correct. We cauterized the wound early yesterday. The incident that caused the injury occurred on Sunday. Simple explanation."

"Sunday was six days ago, sir," the reporter said.

"Exactly."

"So, you're saying that Gravybelly was maimed six days ago - not three or five or one-and-a half days ago?"

"Yes."

"And he's doing well?"

"As far as you know, yes."

"What?" The reporter shrugged at the hobo next to him and mouthed the words "Help me."

"As far as we know?" repeated the next hobo.

"It's very simple, fellas," Stitches said. "Gravybelly Dunstan was struck by a runaway caboose on the Western Maryland Railway outside of Frostburg a week ago Thursday, suffered a compound fracture of his lower right leg, was brought to me this morning for surgery, and is healing faster than anyone ever has from anything ever, because he is the strongest and smartest and best, and--"

"But--" 

"No further questions! God bless Gravybelly Dunstan!"

Day 254 of Double-barrel Unemployment: Lie To Me (about something other than flying cars)

August 11, 2009
(a Tuesday)

With no job prospects in sight, my unemployment switching from "regular" benefits to the double-secret probation that was Obama's "Emergency Unemployment Compensation" and the summer dragging on for me and killing [Maris] (now in full-on Vortex of Doom mode at her job), I re-watched the masterfully subversive "Hamlet 2," one of our favorite pieces of escapist ridiculousness. I cranked up the volume, not just for the best musical numbers since "Sweet Transvestite" and "The Time Warp," but also for bits of dialogue like "I could clean your rain gutters." "We have no rain gutters." "You're a LIAR - everybody has rain gutters!!"

[Maris] and I have incorporated that last line into our everyday vernacular. Upon hearing it this time, the desperation behind the word "liar" had a deeper resonance than usual. I started thinking everyone was lying - and not just about their rain gutters. I received one of my daily emails, informing me that I had "matched new jobs" and I promptly - alone in my house - barked "you're a LIAR - I didn't match anything!"

I was right. I opened the email to find a couple of dozen job postings, ranging from "I guess I can see why this one came up, maybe..." to "What words on my résumé led your software to believe that I should be a cyber security specialist with a top-secret clearance???" Every day this happens. And yes - I do know what I'm doing with my search terms.

It made me think of all the lies that surround me every day - many of which have been around since I was a child. Thinking back to this muggy August afternoon, I'm having trouble remembering all the lies and the lying liars who lie them, but I can wing it. It's getting late and the Braves are trailing :) so, briefly...

"We're converting to the metric system." Really! They taught us meters and liters and kilograms like it was an emergency. Hurry, children! If you haven't mastered this material by next Monday, you won't be able to measure a THING, ever again! I lost sleep over this stuff, and I'm still not really ready for the big switch. I know it's coming, though - any minute now.

"Breaking up AT&T and allowing more telecommunications providers to compete for your business will lead to lower prices for the consumer." Yeah - it didn't. Oh, these Baby Bells and their descendants went out of their way to make sure we couldn't compare their "prices" to anyone else's, but no, we did not pay less. This goes double for competition among cable TV providers.

Now, I am NOT going to start yammering about flying cars. Nobody promised me a flying car. EVER. I saw them in cartoons and maybe "Logan's Run" or the first "Star Wars" movie - although really, those just flew a couple of feet above the ground. But no one ever said "when you grow up, there will be flying cars" to me. So let's just get over this one. I'm talking to you, douchey Coke Zero guy.

What they did promise, however, was that technological advances would make our lives simpler and easier than those of our parents. "Computers will be in every home and will save everyone massive amounts of time," they said. Okay, so technology has made LOTS of stuff better. I won't try to say that it hasn't. BUT -- for most of us, it has done the opposite of making our lives simpler and easier, and we're not saving any time at all. Sitting here typing this drivel (mainly to share with a handful of Facebook friends), right next to my wife (who is using her laptop to play mah-jongg and listen to SiriusXM radio), I am certainly not SAVING time; I'm wasting it. We all are. Tons of it. And it's not just blogs and Facebook and games. I spend ridiculous amounts of time just trying to get this stuff to work at all. When it works, it's great, but I think we can count the "computers will make life easier" promise as officially broken.

Politicians. Yeah. Don't even need to cover this, do I? I will say - they used to at least fake it. They used to just twist the facts and deliver convincing half-truths. Now, they're not even trying. "Obama is going to turn this country into Stalin's Soviet Union." "Muslims are plotting to take over the country." "Republicans are going to deport ALL immigrants." "All the jobs lost and businesses closed in Maryland are due exclusively to the actions of Governor O'Malley." "If the Republicans take over, they're going to not only repeal Health Care reform, but they're also going to reverse the Civil Rights Act and send women back to the kitchen and reform our constitution so that it reads like the Bible, repealing all rights except gun ownership (men only, of course)." Not even trying. Lying right to our faces. Both parties are telling us their opponent's plan is going to destroy the world. They're both lying liars who lie. This is not funny. Moving on...

Commercials. I used to be skeptical of their claims. Now, thanks in part to Steve Coogan's brilliantly blurted "You're a LIAR..." line, I have achieved a certain peace with advertising. I don't care what they claim; I know - I KNOW - it's just a bold-faced lie. Oh sure, sometimes I still catch myself bellowing "how stupid do you think we ARE!" at the TV, but in general I'm okay with it. If I assume they're ALL lying, then it doesn't much matter whose ad I listen to, or if I bother listening at all.

One more (for now): Employers. This could be a whole separate post. OR... we could just include it in the advertising bit above. It's not a fun place to work. It's not fun at all. If it was, they wouldn't have to pay you to be there, would they? "A great place to work." Really? Work is for chumps. Yes, as you might have guessed, I'm losing momentum. Quickly. We'll revisit the lies of prospective employers, as well as those of job candidates (hey - I said EVERYbody lies, right?) in some later posts. Wait 'til you see some of the actual job board listings/descriptions I have saved up...

Latré!
-J