Big Brother

03-12-00

John had to be at the squadron this morning by 6:30, to catch the bus to Atlanta and play at the Cracker Barrel 500. Damn these Southerners and their auto racing! Damn them and their Cracker Barrel! What's so great about Cracker Barrel, anyway? I've never been there, I've just seen them on the news for refusing to serve African-American customers, or something like that. And one of the women who worked at the bus factory with me had "a collection" of Cracker Barrel sweatshirts—she had two.

I got up some hours later, fed the dogs, and settled in for an afternoon of cough drops and PBS fundraisers. Becky called and asked me to go to WalMart with her, since she's medicated for allergies and unable to drive. We bought cat accessories: some toys, some treats, and some oat grass seeds. Also picked up grown-up house shit like toilet paper. Went to lunch, came home, and went to work planting "cat pot."

Between us, we had only two flowerpots. I decided not to use my Siamese cat planter, and I dropped the other pot on the kitchen floor when I tried to get it down from my overstuffed cupboard. One more thing I won't have to pack next move, I guess. So we planted oat grass in two halves of a football-shaped tin coin bank. Before we filled the football with dirt, we spray-painted it silver. SO Martha Stewart. Mine is all covered with fingerprints because I couldn't wait till it dried. We also planted some snapdragons in half of a rubbermaid container that didn't close right. Spray-painted whatever else we could find, just for fun. (Becky's TV remote basket and a pine cone. And Becky's hand, but that was unintentional.)

Now what? Becky complained that her new neighbors let their rat terrier poop near the front of the building, right where she walks to her car. We flipped on the computer and drafted a letter asking residents to be considerate and remove their pets' waste from walkways and around apartment buildings. We signed it from the apartment community management and made three copies. Then we posted them under the clips at the door of each apartment in her building, so the offensive poopy-people wouldn't know they were being singled out. We put one on Anna's door just for fun.

And it was fun. It was so much fun that we wanted to do it some more! Hmmm.

We composed a second letter and posted it on the doors of a few guys we know.

We have been contacted by BellSouth regarding the inappropriate use of the Internet in your building. Some of our residents have been downloading excessive amounts of pornographic material. This is overloading the system and causing other residents to have problems connecting with their internet service providers. Please be a good neighbor and use your internet privileges in a mature manner.

Thank You, Apartment Management

To me, this letter is obviously a joke. Come on! How is BellSouth going to know what we download? Why would it affect other residents? But I guess I can see where someone not reading so closely might fall for it. It's worded exactly like the memos we get from the management on a regular basis. One of John's friends fell for it. He called us minutes after he got home, incensed that the apartment complex was monitoring (and attempting to control) his internet habits. Fight the system, man.