Weird to be Wired
Teofilo: Don’t be a putz with the futzing about, you mung nut. Pass me the spud gasket.
Bob: Shut up! Your voice is sharp as a yeast infection.
Teofilo: Tangy, is it?
Bob: Hey, did you know one of my favorite singers and lyricists died last week?
Teofilo: Nah. One of those punk nuts, I betcha!
Bob: Yeah, his name was Mark E. Smith and the name of his band was The Fall.
Teofilo: That’s tough shit, man. I’m sorry for your loss.
Bob: My loss? It’s your loss too, you know.
Teofilo: What do you mean? I’d never heard of the guy before you spoke his name.
Bob: Man, he wrote “Totally Wired.” Can’t you see? I’m totally wired. So totally wired…
Teofilo: Bud, I wish I could help you, but no. We’re master plumbers, man. We’re a different lot.
Bob: I know what you mean, bud. It’s ok.
Fenty: Tough shit, bud. This o-ring seal is a goner.
Teofilo: Did you know they used to call me “thee tough shit” on account that my initials are T.S.? Yeah, T.S. Vosquerichian. No shit.
Bob: No shit? So what got you into the shit business?
Teofilo: It ain’t just shit, bud. Come on. Did you ever think you’d ever be here in the state house cleaning out Governor Christie’s septic? Not many get to. Hey listen do you mind if I call you Bobcat?
Bob: Why would I? that’s my name Bob Katt.
Teofilo: Well that’s not what I mean. I mean bobcat like the cat you find in the forest bobcat. You know you’ve got these whatyamacallit? These fine feline eyebrows and these little whiskers here.
Bob: Hey, T.S. get your mitts offa’ me. If you ever touch my face like that again, I’ll kill ya.
Teofilo: I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just very nice in you. You know, becoming.
Bob: Yeah, ok. You know they use ta’ call me the Panther in school. You know so I got that cat thing going, I guess.
Teofilo: yeah. We’ll be the master blaster gas fitters t.s. and bobcat — tough shit and the panther. We’ll do ya HVAC and your gastrointestinals.
Bob: No shit.
Teofilo: You know who’s a master? This cat Christie here. Yeah, the quantity of shit these folks is putting out … phenomenal. Jeez, I haven’t seen turds like that since I took that emergency call at the Watergate back in ‘72. How ‘bout you?
Bob: Well, I was really impressed by the fine quality of waste over at Mayor Giuliani’s place. You know, what they might call the finest quality feces. You know you’re a college boy: exquisite excreta! Hey, you think we’re fixated on fecal matters, chief?
Teofilo: Let me tell you about fecal matter … this is what they told me at the union office when I was an apprentice — you know that tongue twister in our plumber’s pledge — you know the one that’s goes “cloacal offal, excrement effluvia — that part was written by the poet T.S. Eliot. He was also known as “Tough Shit Eliot” when he was a youngster. You know before he moved to London and worked at the bank, and became a flannel wearing poet of “ragged claws” and such. He was one of us. He knew his way around a drain pipe, he was expert with rad-ee-ators, and grease traps? Like the back of his hand! In fact he reverted to the old ways in that first draft of that “wasteland” poem. That line that ended up I can connect nothing with nothing actually first appeared as “I can connect gaskets to gaskets.” And that last line “shantih shantih shantih” was actually “shitty shitty shitty.” And that other Hollow Men poem actually first ended “this is how the world ends, not with a bang but with a fart.”
Bob: True that. You don’t have to be weird to be wired.
What I’m Reading, or: What I Just Finished Reading (a continuing series)
Sweat / Lynn Nottage (2017)
Gritty blue collar story — and winner of the 2017 Pulitzer Prize for Drama. Topical play set around economic and labor issues, with a race relations leitmotif. A troubled human story at its core. Bookended by the penultimate two economics busts—the tech bubble and the home loans and market Great Recession.
“You can’t be a writer if you’re not a reader. It’s the great writers who teach us how to write … Just write a little bit every day. Even if it’s for only half an hour — write, write, write.”
— Madeleine L’Engle