Monday, August 12, 2013

Not Able to Write the Ballad of Duan Huego

I wish I could write satire. I can see Duan Huego galloping into the village; his steely eyes talking in the droopy draw-ed teenagers as he smiles at the peasant women who light up when they see him. Old spice in the noon day sun.

Yes, indeed, it could be a laugh riot. Cept I don't know how to write satire. And I don't do humor well. Still, I would kinda start out with something like:

The Ballad of Duan Huego

Imaging, if you will, the sound of a galloping horse, a mighty steed with a manly man in touch with himself. So in touch with the wisdom of the ages he is all knowing, all seeing.
Cue out of tune guitar, belching and 1/3 hand clapping.

In the little dusty brown town there are people. Some that wear belts and others that have droopy draws. Some that wear skirts and some that wear over sized peddle pushers.

I probably shouldn't pinch a bit of narrative structure from all those Saturday afternoons watching movies like A Fistful of Dollars. I probably can't do that without some attorney drooling over possible infringement.

To appropriate a saying from my UK friends, "bugger off " if any attorney is in litigation mode. I'm not writing it. 

Anyway, back to the non-story story:

I imagine that Duan Huego has come to fix the town. Not that anybody actually asked him to. The man has his public and private agendas and feels duty bound to express one or the other at the barrel of a gun.
First, he caps all the droopy draw-ed young men because, well, it is easier to dispose of young men than to deal with structural and environmental conditions that caused their pants to droop.
Sure, he could have allowed them to continue wandering around trying to find some way to support themselves but that would involve actual contact and conversation.
Duan Huego ain't got time for that. He just wipes them all out and tell the town to start again. Yes, there will be wailing and many of the town members would be upset. As Duan Huego clamps down on the Twinkie half hanging out of his mouth, he knows that sartorial appearances trump indigenous rights of existence. 

And speaking of rights, he....

Hmm. Perhaps Duan Huego doesn't have a Twinkie half hanging out his mouth. It could be a  Chocodile.  Yeah, I like Chocodiles.

Anyway, I can see him rolling and sucking on that Chocodile like a god possessed.

Duan Huego looks on as the town re-allocates money from the schools to the new sports stadium. Not sure who is gonna play in the big game seeing as how he whacked most of the local teams.
But he does support Title IX. In his wisdom, he settles in to coach the ladies basketball team.
One of the women in the town approaches him and ask if he can do anything about those laddie magazines in the supermarket. The ones that have all kind of nakedness and booblification on display at the checkout counter.
Duan Huego looks softly into the woman's eyes and tells her he feels her pain, her anguish and her frustrations of being surrounded by uncaring men in shark-skinned suits. At that very moment, Duan Huego central nervous system shifts to his inner femme.

You know, I don't think they had shark-skinned suits back in the day. Need more research on male fashions in dusty brown towns.

Other women start to approach Duan Huego and they like what they hear. They invite him to dinner, the Sunday lunch and the Fish Fry. Duan Huego doesn't do a dang thing about getting the laddie mags out of the supermarket but he talks so convincingly about the need to do so. Many of the women forget the harm that has been done by eliminating other women's male children.
They decide he is their voice; even though they have voices of their own.
One day, a woman came to town. She recognized the horse. The trail of Chocodile wrappers all up and down the street. The weeping widow whose husband ain't dead but might as well have been since she took up with Duan Huego.
The woman with no name talks to other women about what she knows about Duan Huego. They don't believe her. Some of the members of the basketball team also share that Duan Huego has been coaching a little too much in his after school workout. An elder testifies she has seen Duan Huego with a copy of T--ts and Bits while standing in the checkout.

Hang on, maybe Duan Huego is an asset dude instead of a rack man? Then again, the way he uses his tongue to get what he wants he could be orally fixated. Need to research names of straight male magazines that denigrate women but aren't violently disgusting.

The women on team Duan Huego fight for their man. Who still talks a good game but doesn't do jack. He does put the feel on Maria behind the bleachers as the game is in progress.

Maria has that kind of voice that carries so when the ref called "Foul" Maria followed up with "Oh, God, mmm, Good God Owwwwwww with the ow rhyming with foul.

That sealed it.  The woman with no name was telling the truth. As was the elder and all other women. Everybody could now see it and there was no denying it happened.
Or could it? Yes, even with evidence Team Duan Huego would not relent. Duan Huego himself did a duck and weave as he promised never to enter the stadium again. He still is gonna diddle his woman but this time in private.

No. Not a laugh riot. Not funny. It really sucks. Just like it does in real life. 

A savior by definition is someone who takes your side. Protects you. Doesn't have to be religious to save you or reflect what you believe in. There are people that groups and communities have anointed flawed people to be their spokesperson/public saviors.

Hell, we are all flawed.

And like a true love it is hard to let go of the person that you projected so much time and effort into making what you needed him or her to be. It is the real life version of Juicy Got 'Em Crazy. 

They can't let go. They won't let go. Saviors are really hard to let go of. Because it is hard to say that you made a mistake in judging a person.

The only way to let go is to be willing to listen. And step out of the comfort zone. Not many people are willing to take that chance. It is hard. There is no progress without it.

And that is where we stand at the moment. 

Cue out of tune violin, knuckle cracking and 1/4 hand clapping. Fade to Black.

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