Videotaping The Competition

I was sitting in the Hummer in the parking lot of the Starbucks (where I often stop on my way to work), sipping my Vente Verona and reading the newspaper that I had stolen from the stack of papers when the clerk was looking the other way. I know what you are thinking: If you can afford the Hummer then you should be able to afford the paper. Well suck on this factoid, dude: The Hummer was stolen too! Hah! Not that anyone who is alive today is going to report it stolen... if you gather my meaning.

Look, go ask Obama how he got his house - Ask Hillary about how she made a skillion in the market - Ask McCain how he got rich as a US Senator... the facts is: when you have power opportunities sometimes come your way to acquire things... You don't ask questions.

When you run a busy suburban dump, certain people seek you out and start talking about how "one hand washes the other..." - unless your name is Lardass (he hasn't washed his hands since Bill Clinton was in office, "getting his ashes hauled by at least the one intern in a blue dress, lying under oath, dismantling the military, giving secret technology to China." as Clooney likes to remind us.) Anyway the point is that you do favors for people and... well, one day you have the keys to a new Hummer. It's the way life works.

So, I guess some day, I should tell you about how I came to be driving the Hummer. Some day.

Not today. Today I had this huge idea while I was reading the freshly purloined copy of the Globe Sports section. I was searching in vain for a piece on Bull riding, which has become the fastest growing non-team, spectator sport involving bovine animals in America (at least by the 23 fans who attended the rodeo in Worcester last week. The previous year only 10 fans came to the event so that is a 30% increase, if my math is correct.)

Browsing, idly while sipping and munching on the pumpkin cake free samples that I grabbed, my attention was caught by an article bemoaning last year's flap concerning the New England Patriots who were caught red-handed filming the defensive signals of the opponents. The writer of the article wanted the readers to "get over it." I was just about to think, Dude, It might be easier if you news whores would stop writing about it.

And that's when I had this killer idea. Eureka! I need video of competitors' dumps. How can I expect to keep my facility "State of the Art" when I don't know the state of the other guys' dumps?

When I arrived at the FEMA trailer that I call my office, I was excited to tell the crew about the idea. Strangely enough the usual gang was out working when I arrived. Achmed the new guy was sweeping up, sucking around the boss like most new guys do, looking for more work so he could show-up the rest of the crew.

I handed him the old recycled Super Eight (millermeter) camera and told him to go out and get some footage of some of the other local dumps. Natick, Needham, Newton.

"What ever you say, dude. " he said as he grabbed the camera and headed out the door.

I yelled. " ...and stop going around calling everbody 'dude.' It makes you sound like a damned Valley Boy." He grimaced. I'm sure he didn't know what a valley boy is, but it sounded kind of unmanly. He was raised in Kabul under Taliban rule, so anything that smacked of androgeny was both feared and loathed.

This was his first job since sneaking into the USA. He had been hired to replace Clooney while he was out for the "operation." After Clooney returned, unexpectedly, I did not have the heart to fire him, so I found enough work for both of them to do. It was easy to fudge the budget for the first few months, since I paid Achmed in Canadian dollars. Now the shit was beginning to hit the fan, because the dollar has fallen and - according to my calculations the Looney is now the bull goose currency - having increased by about 30%.

"And for Chrissakes, don't let them catch you with the camera!" I yelled.