What I Did On My Summer Vacation
So I get back. Crittenden Manor is a mess. A man’s home is his castle, and this one looks like it’s been sacked by Huns. Beer cans piled up in the corners and ashtrays overflowing. There’s a floozy passed out in the chandelier she was swinging from. God, I hope that’s passed out. Jeeves, bound, gagged, is whimpering in the broom closet, like he’s been too far up the Nung River and saw something evil. I can only imagine what. The cats have new paint jobs and the bulldog’s wearing a tutu.
So I ask Jeeves, “What the hell happened here while I was gone?”
It’s like Jeeves doesn’t even know his name anymore. Jeeves mumbles something unintelligible. Sounds pretty bad, but I can’t make out a word of it. Apparently Jeeves can’t get the gag out on his own, so I have to help him with that. What a bother! Then he starts to tell me.
Right. Well, Jeeves, enough about you. Get this place cleaned up, there’s a good man.
Now, let me tell you what I did on my summer vacation.
First, with all the steamer trunkloads of money I’m making blogging, I decided it was time to do the right thing for the wife. God knows she’s had to put up with a lot over the years.
“Honey, we’re flying to Milan,” I told her. “We’ve got tickets to the opera. ‘La Excruciata,’ your favorite. With Bianca Del Castafiore. They say her high notes can neuter strays at half a mile!”
Like someone else I could name, but I keep that to myself.
So I climb into the monkey suit, get in a good nap. It’s love.
Day Two, and we’re off to the Greek Isles! Only one problem. Someone else has another plan.
Enter three gentlemen I will come to know during my long ordeal as Farouk, Achmed and Ali. Fanatical evildoers.
I sensed a problem in the airport departure lounge, when these three, bearded and wearing skull caps, began praying loudly, drawing looks of post-911 alarm from the other passengers. Once on the plane, they start swapping seats, jumping up and running around the plane like an Islamic extremist firecracker drill. The flight attendants watched in horror, exchanging looks. I recognize the look. It’s the one that says, “We’ll get the pants prosecuted off us if we try anything.” This is Europe, after all. No John Doe law. In fact, it is a violation of local multicultural appreciation laws to attempt to interfere with any act of religious expression, such as this clearly is. The other passengers shrug in resignation, as if stuck in a seat next to an overbearing stranger who’s going to want to talk the whole way. What’re you gonna do.
Well, one thing leads to another, and the next thing you know we’re on the tarmac in Tehran. They collect the passports, and I think, OK, here we go.
Farouk: “Jooo-leeez Creetindin … Achmed, what kind of name is this? Is it a filthy Zionist name?”
Achmed: “No. Christian dog. Just as bad.”
Ali: “Wait a minute, my brothers. Did you say Joooo-leeeez Creetindin? He of the infidel blog upon al-Internet who writes mockingly of our Jihad? Is he not also a war criminal who raped the cultural heritage of Iraq?”
Uh oh. Well, Day Three is pretty much a hostage crisis writeoff. The wife and the girls are forced to put on headscarves and housecoats. Naturally, the first thing the wife says is, “Does this make me look fat?”
Well, yeah, honey, I think that’s the idea. But even the most suicidal jihadi in a martyrdom belt knows better than to say that to any of his four wives.
“Of course not, honey. You make the cutest little humiliated infidel hostage I’ve ever seen!”
Meanwhile, I have to hang out with a bunch of mullahs with bad teeth. While President Ahmadinejad pats my scowling boy on the head, I have to shake hands and make small talk for the video cameras, you know, apologizing for western civilization and assorted crimes against humanity, complimenting the locals on their hospitality, etc. Yeah, it was embarrassing, and I’m thinking, boy, I’m really going to catch it at home for sucking up to these guys. Though being on al-Jazeera again was kind of cool. But once President Obama, Secretary of State and Homeless Affairs Jimmy Carter, roving goodwill ambassador Bill Clinton assure A’jad that (A) the United States Navy will pull out of the Persian Gulf and (B) we’ll all convert to Islam on the National Mall, we’re back on the plane, unassing Iran in a jiffy! That didn’t take long at all! Thanks guys!
Day Four was a week at Disney World. It’s a small, irritating world after all! Crowded with screaming children, fat adults whose appearance would be greatly improved by use of burkhas, and large costumed characters that are dead ringers for Farfour and Nahoul, only lacking in their righteous spirit of Jihad and anti-Zionism! Allahu Akhbar, there’s a place that will benefit from the Extreme Islamic Makeover, compliments of the surrender policies of President Pelosi, whose mandate has forced the evil Cheney-Rove administration to cry uncle and valuted her into power. Even while she’s on vacation!
After that, we really needed a break, so Day Five, it was off to Bahamas. Very nice. But if you have a social conscience like I do, there’s only so much time you can spend luxuriating in the sun and drinking fruity concoctions of the forbidden devil water with little umbrellas.
“Howzabout a little eco-tourism?” I say to the wife, head compassionately tilted.
She gives me a sly look and says, “You’re so hot when you’re concerned about global warming!”
So on Day Six, we charter a jet and head north for a gawk at the shrinking polar icecap. I tell you, it’s awful. But you really ought to charter a jet and go see for yourself.
On the way up, I point out the herds of polar bears marauding suburban Toronto.
“Look, kids! See what an efficient predator the noble polar bear is! Isn’t nature fascinating?”
A little north of that, I see suburban Torontans clubbing baby seals. I jot a few notes on a cocktail napkin for future reference:
“Gangs of McKenzies bludgeon cuddly seals to death, yet still considered progressive, warm & fuzzy nation. How do they manage this?”
It’s like nature maintains some strange balance, too mysterious for us to understand.
But enough about nature. Once at the North pole, I direct the pilot to start circling we can get a really good look. There’s a Russkie icebreaker and a couple of minisubs full of Ivans camped out up there. Frigateloads of angry Canadians are steaming up and down the Northwest Passage … which looks like it’ll make a heck of a shipping lane now that all that dumb pack ice is out of the way! So are we going to have to pay tolls in Loonies? Ha ha ha! But seriously, I’m thinking, you know, it’s really important for all of us, as humans, as stewards of life on this planet, to get this global warming thing under control. I mean, us as human Americans, of course, seeing as everyone always expects us to do everything and blames us for everything everyone else does. Come on, people! American people, that is. You need to be concerned about the implications of climate change! Think globally, act locally! Quick, before the Russkies do! Or worse, the Canadians. The Russkies will just chisel us … the Canadians will chisel us for it and then expect us to defend it for them while cruelly mocking our Coca-Cola society! It’s a looming disaster of cataclysmic proportions! While President Gore, lofted into power upon the wings of angels, is wasting time banning peasant ownership of SUVs, these guys are moving in on the North Pole. And according to every Christmas special I’ve ever seen, that’s indisputably American territory, under well-established principles of cultural imperialism. You think dealing with two-faced Arab regimes is a nuisance? Wait till we have to buy our oil from Vlad or a pack of Canucks with chips on their shoulders!
This global warming thing has really got me bent out of shape now, so Day Seven, we fly south to Climate Change Central … the big ozone hole. Once there, I again direct the pilot to fly around and around and around while we look for it. No sign of it. I heard it was getting smaller, but I can’t see a damn thing, just the flocks of dancing, environmentally concerned penguins that I sense somehow are trying to tell me something. Unfortunately it is too subtle, I don’t get it. OK, moving on …
As you can imagine, everyone’s a little strung out by now. Being on vacation is exhausting, let alone trying to save the planet, dealing with Middle Eastern hostage crises, operas, Disney World and what have you.
That’s when we decide its time to head home. As the stretch Hummer pulls up the winding driveway, what do I find? Gateway semi-conscious and mumbling in the doorway. Teflon Don and Badger Six, giddy on non-alcoholic beer. That saucy strumpet Cassandra, all doom and gloom at this hour. I don’t know what Neoneocon did, but she’s leaving town! Argghhh!!!, mixing guns and alcohol … always fun! John Hawks and the Oxford Medievalist still up, debating whether Louis Pasteur or Alexander the Great had the greatest impact on western civilization, something like that, and Theo on a soapbox, spouting deep thots not about totty. Bad ice cube? Van der Leun, Paco, Surber, Tigerhawk, Barcepundit and Geras, having moved all the living room furniture out on the front lawn, playing drinking games. The Frogman chatting up Sister Toldjah, doing that twirly moustache froggy “enchante” thing. The Jungle Trader, outside hacking his way through the dense petunia undergrowth.
Thanks all! A quick glance around suggests nothing broken, just this colossal mess … all in fun … never mind … Jeeves will get that.
Topics: blogs
Posted by Jules Crittenden at 9:40 am on Saturday, September 1, 2007
13 Responses to “What I Did On My Summer Vacation”
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September 1st, 2007 at 10:35 am
Welcome back, Jules. Um… sorry about the chandelier.
September 1st, 2007 at 11:20 am
Welcome back, Jules! Love your carbon footprint! It’s so avant garde!!
And, please, Rebecca is being protective. Really, wronwright is to blame. The story involves a wayward bet, dwarfs, circus ponies, web cams, and a case of cheap mead. Rebecca merely held the cash.
September 1st, 2007 at 11:24 am
“…it was embarrassing, and I’m think, boy, I’m really going to catch it at home for sucking up to these guys…”
Catch it ain’t the half of it.
“Disney World…large costumed characters…”
I once saw Mickey Mouse on a cigarette break. He’d removed his giant head, of course. It was quite a shock to learn he never speaks, and a smoker, too ! Luckily, I was a grown-up and was not traumatized by this experience.
“…the Canadians will chisel us and then expect us to defend it for them while cruelly mocking our Coca-Cola society!”
Of course, Canucks know we’ll defend ALL of North America…right ?
September 1st, 2007 at 12:02 pm
LOL, JeffS! We won’t say anything about what we would have done to Jules’ car if we’d been able to find it, all right?
September 1st, 2007 at 12:51 pm
Jules,
Actually, Jeeves ought to have a word with Cook about a better labeling system for the spice rack(s). The Byriani turned into a Vindaloo by accident because the help mistook chinese mustard powder for curry…. Almost needed a HazMat team to deep clean the kitchen and dining room from the vapours. To be honest, I had never actually SEEN a plastic spoon melt like that, simply laying alongside the plate, too…..
Fortunately, there were several bottles of Patron to cool the heat and salve the blisters on my tongue. Somone had left them in a locked cabinet behind the bar, but once we pried the doors off, we could reach them easily. The claims adjuster says they should be easy enough to replace, once they find a new source for asian teak…..
Finally, about those holes in the carpet… I called the cleaning service and asked them to remove the stains. Apparently, Hidalgo and Jesus are new to English and took things literally. Originally I figured the blood would come right out with some Tide, but it proved to be set in. I’ve ordered more carpet from Home Depot. It should be there tuesday. I took the liberty of sending the bill to the Boston Globe, referenced to Ron Borges’ expense account. Anyway, that’s what Howie said to do.
Oh, and if anyone should call up asking about a piano. a Shriner’s go-kart and two monkeys, plead the fifth. Really. It’s best not to know.
Respects,
September 1st, 2007 at 1:23 pm
“Day Four was a week at Disney World.”
I humbly submit that every day at Disney World seems like a week. Or perhaps a month. I’ve done my time.
And even though I’ve gotten out of dodge, I’m actually a bit closer to you now Jules (geographically, that is). So watch out. It may be time for you to have a real party.
September 1st, 2007 at 6:15 pm
Better check the left wing of the manor JC. I think corndog passed out in there from an overdose of Milton Friedman and we painted a little Ho Chi Minh beard on him in indelible ink. He could still be in there.
September 1st, 2007 at 8:14 pm
We threw out the Vegemite because the cat was hurling in multicolor; the floozy was supposed to be a singing telegram but the fragrant scent of wine coolers and stale cigarettes rendered her in a state of unintelligible pique; Theo had some top-grade totty, until we found out that one of said totty had an Adam’s apple and “extra equipment,” and the only reason Jeeves was tied up was because he nearly came to blows with corndog over a stupid game of cribbage. Lots of brandy and cognac finally settled the poor man down.
Other than that, everything was cool.
September 2nd, 2007 at 1:38 am
yeah,
what OnlyInBostonKids said………
I plead da fifth…….
A fifth of Bourbon… Like mother’s milk…
Respects,
September 2nd, 2007 at 2:21 am
Hey Jules, welcome back.
PS. Any finger prints of mine that you find about your place were obviously planted, probably py Paco.
I am a good person. And, I didn’t try to break into your safe, no matter what RebeccaH says.
September 2nd, 2007 at 7:57 am
[...] 2nd, 2007 by Michael van der Galiën Jules Crittenden is back from vacation. Welcome back [...]
September 2nd, 2007 at 3:51 pm
Was going to trackback, but I don’t have the method down.
Here’s my post, in any case:
http://burkeanreflections.blogspot.com/2007/09/crittenden-makes-it-back-from-vacation.html
Welcome back!
September 2nd, 2007 at 10:23 pm
Really Jules, I would have thought Tim Blair’s experience of a few years ago would have convinced you not to let this crowd know in advance that you were going to be gone for some time.
I just want to say that I was not responsible for those scorch marks on the wall of the garage, no matter what Paco says. What’s more, I wasn’t eeven there, and I have a reliable alibi for the whole time.