Tuesday, January 25, 2011

Marriage jokes

In Hong Kong it's possible to have your marriage in a McDonald's "restaurant", which is strange, because McDonald's "restaurants" have precious little to do with attaining a state of wedded bliss. Now if it were possible to get married at a McDonald's drive-through that might be more appropriate:
  • It would start with you talking to somebody who couldn't quite understand what you were saying
  • You might suspect they weren't well-qualified for the role, otherwise they probably would be doing it somewhere else
  • It would be over faster than you expected....
  • A few miles down the road, you'd discover you hadn't receieved what you'd expected
  • But by then it would be too late to go back and ask for what you wanted in the first place
  • And you're not allowed to throw it out the window.
Of course, some people say it's bad for your health, or that the government should regulate it more carefully.

Having written that, I can't work out if I'm doing a passable impression of a hacky comedian, or if I've finally elevated myself to being a hacky comedian. But I didn't stop there: no, it was time to find another unpalatable subject:
I've never been to prison. I've never given birth. I understand the two are fairly similar processes. It's difficult to smuggle things in there. Prisons are easier to go into than to get out of in a hurry. There will probably be lots of yelling, and people wearing uniforms, and in both cases, you're unlikely to end up pregnant.

Now, it's often held that men are embarassed when women talk about periods. I'm not. I'm happy to hear all about the Metazoic, the Paleolithic, the Jurassic, hell, even the Edwardian or the Elizabethan.

Before this spurt of bilge, I had walked around on Caine Road and looked through the window of the deli near Starbucks at the crabs and the lobsters in the tank. I felt great sorrow as I surveyed them, sitting in the water waiting for their doom. All except one crab, its front claws tied with elastic bands like all the rest, stepping from side to side over all the other crabs, but staying away from the lobsters. The other crabs didn't react to this - they didn't try to get out the way of this stumbling chap, or snap at his legs; perhaps they were resigned to their fate, while this one, sad, desperate crab kept walking up and down, his antennae fluttering pathetically in the water current.

There's a metaphor there, somewhere. I think I'll find it one day.


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