Goodbye HummerAP – “Lagging sales of trucks and larger cars have caught General Motors by surprise.”

The news has been grim of late: GM asleep at the wheel, American corporations lured away like cheap whores, the dollar down on it’s knees, ass in the air, Americans reeling from the hellish drain of high fuel prices, and there’s nary a hybrid on the lot.

If only someone had seen this coming. There are whispers Barack Obama and his followers will slaughter a Hummer with the name “Bush” painted on its side, then dip their fists in motor oil and scream “death to Republicans.” It doesn’t matter if this is just the idle talk of stoned liberals. People say Barack Obama’s Muslim and black. So he’s surely capable of something like this.

I knew a dark-skinned Muslim once, a rich Iranian named Majid. This was back in the winter of ’77, and we were working at Beacon Hill Gulf. Majid had some BS story about how America’s buddy the Shah of Iran and his torture squad (SAVAK) had marked him for death. Like Obama, he was a big talker, but not much of a Muslim. There was no mention of virgins, sweater bombs, or Mohammad. All Majid talked about was pussy and beer.

He was dating Elsie, a skinny stripper from the Combat Zone, and like any good Muslim, Majid didn’t want her getting naked for strangers while he was off banging someone else. He got her a job at BHG and she ended up working the night shift with me. At about 3 am we’d throw up a sign that said “No Gas”, lock the doors, smoke up a fat blunt, and fuck.

Outside the streets were filled with dirty ice and snow. Inside, paradise. “Majid gets crazy jealous,” she said after soaking the managers desk with cum. Apparently petroleum’s more explosive then dynamite. And you know how Muslims can get. It was a potentially lethal combo. Elsie seemed genuinely afraid. I think the fear turned her on. I was 18, and a coward. But I was banging my first stripper. Orgasms were more important than death.

Not that sex on the job was unusual at BHG. Most nights a whore or stripper would offer me a blow job for a tank of gas. Not surprising really, OPEC had limited world oil production, gas was expensive, I was unbelievably handsome, and President Jimmy Carter had just bitch slapped America with a very un-American plan:

“… It (the energy crisis) is a problem that we will not solve in the next few years, and it is likely to get progressively worse through the rest of century … I’m asking you for your good and for your nation’s security to take no unnecessary trips, to use carpools or public transportation whenever you can, to park your car one extra day per week, to obey the speed limit, and to set your thermostats to save fuel …”

Carter then lowered his own thermostat, installed solar panels in the White House and took to wearing a sweater ala Mr Rogers. He wanted government to set the tone. He needed us to understand how important it was to ween ourselves off foreign oil. That was 31 years ago. At the time people thought Carter was a big pussy. In history’s rear view mirror Jimmy Carter’s a fucking visionary.

You know the rest of it. Majid returned to Iran after the Shah fled to Panama. Elise disappeared. I went mad from the syphilis. Reagan and the Republicans followed Mr Peanut with their government-needs-to-get-out-of-the-way ethos. Conservation? Fuck conservation. Take off that sweater, turn up the heat, drive fast, buy a Hummer, start a few wars. Ronnie, Republicans and big business knew what America needed: talk tough, spend baby spend, and let the market sort it all out.

And so it has.

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2 Responses to “Orgasms More Important Than Death”

  1. 1 SinisterDan Says:

    I’m still trying to figure out how, but you made me want Jimmy Carter to come back.

    It feels so wrong…

  2. 2 Cojito Says:

    i know man. but i guess he had to get something right.

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