Daily Archives: September 27, 2018

The Shawshank Redemption – 2018 Reboot

Imagine this in Morgan Freeman’s voice.

My friend, Andy Dufresne.  He was a kind and gentle man.  I’ll never forget when he walked into the doors of Shawshank all those years ago.  He told me he was innocent of the accusations that had landed him in the hoosegow.  You see, his wife was cheating on him with another fella when a random hoodlum broke in, shot the two dead and robbed them.  Poor Andy ended up being the patsy.  The fall guy.  The cops didn’t know who to pin the case on so they figured as a jilted husband, Andy had motive and that’s all they needed to make an accusation.

And so, the years passed us by.  After a couple of decades, Andy got it into his head that he was going to make an elaborate break for it.

I managed to procure a tiny rock hammer for Andy.  He was allowed to keep it on the idea that he was using it to carve chess pieces but in secret, why, old Andy would stay up all night, removing an inch of wall here and there and then sneaking the chiseled off cement out into the yard in his shoes.

After ten years of doing this, Andy had finally created a tunnel, which he had hidden behind a poster of Rita Hayworth.  When the tunnel to freedom was finally dug, Andy stopped and appeared to be lost, deep in thought.

“Well,” I said.  “Aren’t you going to make a break for it?”

“Nah,” Andy said.

“What?” I asked.  “Why not?”

“I’ve been thinking about it, Red,” Andy said.  “And, well, even though I did not shoot my wife, someone went to all the trouble of accusing me of shooting my wife and well, shucks, golly, it sure would be rude of me to offend someone who took the time out of their busy schedule to accuse me of something I didn’t do.”

“But Andy,” Red said.  “Your life has been ruined.  You didn’t do anything to deserve being sent to this Godforsaken place and look what has happened to you.  You were butt raped daily by psychos.  You became the warden’s bitch.  And a fellow inmate was even willing to testify to the fact that he once overheard his bunkmate admit to doing the crime you were falsely accused of.”

“Yeah,” Andy said.  “And I’m glad the warden shot that inmate to keep him from providing the testimony that would have secured my freedom because, hey, my life isn’t that important.  What’s really important is that all accusers, whether they are making true or false accusations, should be able to make them and why, if you defend yourself against the accusations, then that means you are a piece of shit who literally hates everyone who has ever been a victim of anything.”

“Holy shit,” Red said.  “The art of nuanced debate is dead.”

“Huh?” Andy asked.

“Nuanced debate,” Red said.  “When you say something like, ‘I agree accusers should be treated with respect, not dumped on, given their chance to make their claims and not received repercussions for doing so but that also people who are accused must be given a chance to defend themselves lest innocent men be put behind bars for crimes they did not do.”

“Right,” Andy said.  “People are too dumb to wade into all that, Red.  All I know is if I escape through this tunnel, I’ll be hurting the feelings of the people who accused me and albeit a false accusation, that still took a lot of guts to falsely accuse me, so I respect that.  I don’t want them to feel bad and I don’t want people making true accusations to feel bad and so, even though in this particular case, I didn’t do it, I’d be a piece of shit for standing up for myself.”

And so, Andy put the poster back up the wall and went back to bed.  Over the next ten years, he snuck the cement pieces he’d snuck out back into his cell, again in his shoes and patched up the wall like nothing had ever happened.

Nope.  Andy never achieved his dream of moving to Mexico and buying a boat.  Instead, he rotted away in that cell until he was 101 years old.  I should know because I lasted until 120.

Andy’s last dying words? “I sure am glad I stayed here and wasted the one and only life God will ever give me.  Escaping and offending my accuser would have been a total dick move.”

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To Kill A Mockingbird – 2018 Reboot

EDITORIAL NOTE: I’ll just leave this here, for no particular reason.

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And so, gentlemanly country lawyer Atticus Finch did call his client, Tom Robinson, into his law office.  Tom Robinson, a black man, had been falsely accused of rape and since it was the Jim Crow south, no lawyer other than Atticus was willing to help the poor man.

“I swear I didn’t rape that woman, Atticus,” Tom said. “I swear, I didn’t.  Do you think you’ll be able to save me at trial?”

“Well,” Atticus said as he sipped a mint julep. “I’m just a simple country lawyer who likes to sit on his rocking chair and enjoy a nice cool breeze on a summer’s evening, but I say, I do declare that whether we should save you is not the proper consideration but rather, the appropriate issue is should we save you?”

“Should we save me?” Tom asked.  “But sir, I have been falsely accused!”

“Sir!”  Atticus said.  “Lower your voice!  I shall not have such triggering hate speech in my office.”

“What?” Tom asked.

“You see, Tom,” Atticus said.  “It doesn’t matter if you were falsely accused or not because all accusers have the right to be instantly and automatically believed.  Why, if you don’t believe an accusation without further question or inquiry, then you are not just insulting the individual accuser in this case but anyone and everyone who has ever dared to stand up and accuse someone of anything.

“But Mr. Finch,” Tom said.  “I’m not trying to tarnish the reputation of anyone who has ever made an accusation.  I realize that for the world to keep turning that people need to be able to stand up and say when something bad happened.  I’m just saying that in this case, when my accuser makes a false accusation, I need you to present my case and prove the truth.  I didn’t do it, sir.  I’m innocent and that fact must be presented to the jury.”

Atticus brushed a piece of lint off his clean, white suit.  “Sir, I say, I do declare I’m sorry but I just can’t go on with this hateful discussion.  All accusers are to be believed, sir and frankly, whether or not you are guilty or innocent is immaterial.  If you do not skip this trial and skip straight to hanging yourself then your accuser’s feelings, as well as the feelings as anyone who has ever made an accusation against anyone since the beginning of all time will be hurt and we can’t have that, so please, go hang yourself now.”

Tom stood up.  “Sir, if I may be so bold, if you’re not going to defend me against an accusation then why are you here?”

“Why, I do declare I’m just here to sip mint juleps and look good in this white suit,” Atticus said.  “Good day, sir.  Please go see the proprietor of our local mercantile and acquire a length of rope.  I’ll see to it that your estate will handle the bill just as soon as you hang yourself promptly.”

Tom shook Atticus’ hand.  “Very well, sir.  You make a fine point.  I don’t want accusers to feel bad and even if the accusation against me is false, my life must be over now because if it isn’t then people with true accusations will feel bad and true accusers just won’t be intelligent enough to be able to figure out that in this particular case, the accusation was false.  I will go hang myself posthaste.”

“Glad to hear it,” Atticus said.  “Enjoy your hanging, Tom.”

Tom left the room.  Atticus’ young daughter, Scout, had been playing with a doll in a corner of the room the entire time.

“Daddy?” Scout said.

“Yes, dear?” Atticus replied.

“The world sure has gotten fucked up, ain’t it, Daddy?” Scout asked.

“It sure has, Scout,” Atticus said.  “It sure has.”

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Philosophers on Farting

I can’t believe all these philosophers stopped by my fine blog to share their thoughts on farts. Enjoy the words of these noble fart-losophers.

Bookshelf Battle

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Think before you stink.

Hey 3.5 readers.

I surveyed the following philosophers on the topic of farting.  Here is what they said:

Socrates – If you want to know whether or not you should fart, ask yourself if you should or should not fart.  The answer to this fart question dwells within you and by asking yourself about farts, you will draw out the answer about farts.

Plato – Before you are born, you get to chill out in Heaven, where there is a mold of everything in the world, including farts.  You forget about that mold after you are born, but the knowledge of that fart mold is still in you deep somewhere, so think real hard, and you will come up with the answer about farts.

Aristotle – The answer to a fart question isn’t with you but it does lie within the world somewhere.  Study farts and…

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Just Checking In

I hope all 3.5 of you fine readers are doing well.  I seem to be transitioning into more book writing than blog writing so we will see how that goes.

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