"Here's what I have to offer, folks, although it's not much, really, just two simple concepts, and the first one is: oatmeal."
From out of his suit he pulled a bowl and a box of oatmeal, and filled the bowl with the oatmeal and held the bowl up.
"Simple, nourishing, inexpensive," he said. "This represents your soul in its pure state. Your soul on the day you were born. You were perfect. You were happy. You were good.
"Now enter Concept Number Two: crap. Don't worry, folks, I don't use actual crap up here. Only imaginary crap. You'll have to supply the crap, using your mind. Now, if someone came up and crapped in your oatmeal, what would you say? Would you say: Wow, super, thanks, please continue crapping in my oatmeal? Am I being silly? Im being a little silly. But guess what, in real life people come up and crap in your oatmeal all the time -- friends co-workers, loved ones, even your kids, especially your kids! -- and thats exactly what you do. You say, Thanks so much! You say, Crap away! You say, and here my metaphor breaks down a bit, Is there some way I can help you crap in my oatmeal?
"Let me tell you something amazing: I was once exactly like you people. A certain someone, a certain guy, who shall remain nameless, was doing quite a bit of crapping in my oatmeal, and simply because he'd had some bad luck. Simply because he was in some pain, simply because, actually, he was in a wheelchair, this certain someone expected me to put my life on hold while he crapped in my oatmeal by demanding round-the-clock attention, this brother of mine, this Gene, and whoops, there goes that cat out of the bag, but does this maybe sound paradoxical? Wasn't he the one with crap in his oatmeal, being in a wheelchair? Well, yes and no. Sure, he was hurting. No surprise there. Guy drops a motorcycle on a gravel road and bounces two hundred yards without a helmet, yes, he's going to be somewhat hurting. But how is that my fault? Was I the guy driving a motorcycle too fast, drunk, with no helmet? No, I was home, studying my Tacitus, which is what I was into at that stage of my life, so why did Gene expect me to consign my dreams and plans to the dustbin? I had dreams! I had plans! Finally --and this is all in my book, People of Power-- I found the inner strength to say to Gene, 'Stop crapping in my oatmeal, Gene, I'm simply not going to participate.'
..."Now, what about you folks?" he said softly. "Is now the time for you to win? Are you ready to screen off your metaphorical oatmeal and identify your own personal Gene?"
#
Taken from Pastoralia, by George Saunders
#
I fucking live by this. I know that's a little bit wrong, but it works for me. If given the chance to read the whole story, by all means do. It's super hilarious.
If the Apocalypse ever happens, it'll be easy to pick me out of a crowd. I'll be the one shaking my fist at the sky and shouting, "Stop crapping in my oatmeal!" and, "Now is the time for me to win!"
From out of his suit he pulled a bowl and a box of oatmeal, and filled the bowl with the oatmeal and held the bowl up.
"Simple, nourishing, inexpensive," he said. "This represents your soul in its pure state. Your soul on the day you were born. You were perfect. You were happy. You were good.
"Now enter Concept Number Two: crap. Don't worry, folks, I don't use actual crap up here. Only imaginary crap. You'll have to supply the crap, using your mind. Now, if someone came up and crapped in your oatmeal, what would you say? Would you say: Wow, super, thanks, please continue crapping in my oatmeal? Am I being silly? Im being a little silly. But guess what, in real life people come up and crap in your oatmeal all the time -- friends co-workers, loved ones, even your kids, especially your kids! -- and thats exactly what you do. You say, Thanks so much! You say, Crap away! You say, and here my metaphor breaks down a bit, Is there some way I can help you crap in my oatmeal?
"Let me tell you something amazing: I was once exactly like you people. A certain someone, a certain guy, who shall remain nameless, was doing quite a bit of crapping in my oatmeal, and simply because he'd had some bad luck. Simply because he was in some pain, simply because, actually, he was in a wheelchair, this certain someone expected me to put my life on hold while he crapped in my oatmeal by demanding round-the-clock attention, this brother of mine, this Gene, and whoops, there goes that cat out of the bag, but does this maybe sound paradoxical? Wasn't he the one with crap in his oatmeal, being in a wheelchair? Well, yes and no. Sure, he was hurting. No surprise there. Guy drops a motorcycle on a gravel road and bounces two hundred yards without a helmet, yes, he's going to be somewhat hurting. But how is that my fault? Was I the guy driving a motorcycle too fast, drunk, with no helmet? No, I was home, studying my Tacitus, which is what I was into at that stage of my life, so why did Gene expect me to consign my dreams and plans to the dustbin? I had dreams! I had plans! Finally --and this is all in my book, People of Power-- I found the inner strength to say to Gene, 'Stop crapping in my oatmeal, Gene, I'm simply not going to participate.'
..."Now, what about you folks?" he said softly. "Is now the time for you to win? Are you ready to screen off your metaphorical oatmeal and identify your own personal Gene?"
#
Taken from Pastoralia, by George Saunders
#
I fucking live by this. I know that's a little bit wrong, but it works for me. If given the chance to read the whole story, by all means do. It's super hilarious.
If the Apocalypse ever happens, it'll be easy to pick me out of a crowd. I'll be the one shaking my fist at the sky and shouting, "Stop crapping in my oatmeal!" and, "Now is the time for me to win!"
I'm an OED fan though.