Your Captain vs. the Volcano

In the passing fleetingdom of websurfing one day this weekend, I came across an MSN.com headline that said,

"WHY CAN'T WE JUST FLY UNDER THE VOLCANO CLOUDS?"

And, as I read this and pondered it a little bit, I thought to myself, "Wow-- now if that isn't a sentiment that accurately expresses what it's like to be an American, then I don't know what is."

Besides, maybe, "Give me back that fillet of fish."

By the way, you can have that as your ringtone. Just thought I'd mention it.

Anyway, I wasn't going to write about the volcano, because it's just all over the news, and as I think you know, I try my best to eschew whatever is all over the news, or all over the place, unless it's my dog's feces on the kitchen floor. I mean, that there's good blog fodder. Seriously, if you're ever feeling creatively cramped-- get a puppy. You'll suddenly have lots to blog about.

So, right, I wasn't going to blog about the volcano, because it's kind of hogging the spotlight and I don't think it especially needs another ounce of attention from me. Besides, its name is fucking impossible to spell, and my wife, (sometimes in conjunction with fellow reader/blogger Colleen) edit(s) these blog entries in her/their spare time so I don't want to give her/them too much of a challenge, especially when I'm always spelling "occasion" and "synagogue" wrong.

But, this headline made me think twice about blogging about the volcano. It struck such a negative chord with me-- such an unctuous, self-important, bratty statement. It was as if an angry, American child had its arms folded in front of its pouty chest, its face contorted in a butt-ugly frown whining,

"Can't we just fly UNDER the volcano smoke?" Immediately followed by, "I HATE you! You never let me do anything FUN!" The culmination of this tirade is the angry American child running upstairs (being sure to stomp on each step) and violently slamming his/her door before throwing him/herself onto the bed in the trademark "prone moan" position (this is opposed to the "supine whine position" favored by terminal ICU patients and Chinese prostitutes.)

I'm pretty amazed at how this particular volcanic eruption is being treated in the media. Far-off volcanoes are reported on with a mixture of awe and seriousness, especially when they kill or threaten to kill great numbers of people. Pompeii, anyone? This one is being treated in rather the same way as a fatal accident on a major highway during rush-hour is treated by traffic reporters: as a big pain in the ass.

I sometimes pray that, if I am to die in a car wreck to let it occur on some untravelled back road at around 2 o'clock in the afternoon. That way, my untimely death might be treated by local news reporters as the shocking tragedy that it is, and not an annoyance to sweaty, Nutrigrain-chewing cubicle jockeys who are lip-synching to "Like a Virgin" inside their used Acuras.

I want to be a little more in this life than an inconvenience. That isn't too much to ask, is it?

Well, this poor volcano is being treated that way. It's just a big pain in the fucking ass to the flying public. I get it-- you have places to be. Your mistress is waiting for you in Galway. You have a Looney Convention in London. You need to visit your sick gram-grams in Napoli.

I understand. Thank you for your patience. Your call cannot be completed at this time. Go fuck yourself.

See-- the thing is, Volcano, we're Americans. And we have somewhere to be. You're lucky you're a volcano with big goddamn smoke plumes and ash and shit and not just a big dirt hill, or we'd all just get in our SUVs and drive the fuck over your dump-ass. You know, on Day One it was like, Oh, cool-- a volcano. That's pretty decent. But then, on Day Two, we Americans were starting to get a little sick of your bullshit. I mean, Alyssa Milano's got a new show on ABC, and she's fucking hot. You're hot, too, Volcano-- but not in the same way Alyssa Milano's hot.

And now it's Day Five of your macho, I'm-gonna-spew-big-goddamn-smoke-everywhere-and-fuck-up-your-vacation-plans. And it's like, okay, we see you, you're really cool.

But we Americans are cooler. And, if this is some kind of pissin' contest, Volcs, whip it out and let's duel. I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours.