There's something to be said for telling a story obliquely. I'm not referring to the BS politicians use to say a whole lot of absolutely nothing, but the time-honored show of sensitivity known as the slow unfolding of the truth. It's a handy tool whenever some firestorm or other could be brewing, as it gives you a way to gauge your audience.
And it can cover your arse in the event of litigation. This was the case on the original Saturday Night Live show when Chico Esquella, as imagined by Garrett Morris, was in the midst of a paternity suit. The resident sportscaster, and pretend ex-baseball player, Esquella wanted to comment but had been advised not to do so. He retreated to the thing he knew best to tell his story, sports. After showing footage of NBA players doing various things, he played and replayed tape of a big time dunk complete with bursted backboard. Chico then ends the broadcast with ideas for a new material that would prevent this hazard of the court (pun intended), and I paraphrase: You could use fiberglass or plastic, but not rubber because rubber breaks, but I can't talk about it.
Dr. Joel Fleishman, Rob Morrow's character on Northern Exposure, employed this round-about method to tell Maggie O'Connell that yet another boyfriend, this time Rick, had been killed in some bizarre fashion...by a satellite. He starts out with a joke, again, paraphrased: So my friend was watching a friend's cat while the guy was on vacation and the cat died. My friend just comes out and tells the guy this which shocked him. He said that sort of news ought to be told more gently and with all the details. So he tells the friend the long version which culminated in the cat going up onto the roof and meeting its demise. The next time the friend goes away on vacation his grandmother dies. My guy sits him down and starts out with: Well, your grandmother went up on the roof and... Maggie laughs and expresses her surprise that Joel has actually, and accurately told a funny joke. Then of course Joel's next words are "Rick went up on the roof..."
I know that there has been a big story in the news lately which has set a lot of people off for different reasons and has driven a wedge between Liberals, Progressives, Democrats, whatever label you favor, and I have stayed away from it. The tale involves a very serious matter and features a main character with a compound word of a name combining a winter variety of precipitation and another word for parlor or sitting room. And while I've followed most of the details and have heard reasoned arguments on all sides, I have yet to mention it here.
Now I won't tell you that this person has "gone up on the roof" because he hasn't, but he has gone somewhere and that is what I choose to focus on. The biggest point of contention (setting aside the important aspects) is whether or not this is a good guy or a bad guy. Let me say this: He's a stupid guy. If I'm living in Hawai'i with a honey, knocking down a good three-figure salary and not even 30-years-old yet, I'm not hanging my butt out to dry in a Moscow Airport no-man's-land for two weeks. I mean, dude, come on. One day you're having plate lunch the next borsch? Please.
Think whatever you will of secrets and spying and privacy and your Constitution-given rights--and you should--but realize that this guy is in desperate need of a life coach or a travel agent or both. I was pretty well stupid at his age too, but I did know better than to go where I wasn't invited. And I knew not to piss off at least half of my friends, or the world. And I never, never, ever went up on the roof!
No comments:
Post a Comment