Big Shot
By Mark Crantz
I’m back at the monastery. I’ve reaffirmed my vow of silence. In my absence, I was made assistant to the assistant to the assistant to the brewmaster. In other words, everybody else’s serf. But that’s OK. Beer is the second biggest thing at the monastery, right after drinking it. I’m glad to do my fair share by drinking on the job, nine to five and taking those second shifts when asked.
I was studying the importance of hops, when I looked out my mountain window and what to my wondering eyes did appear, but Jeff Bezos. Wow, I thought. The guy’s a marvel. He did what all us short guys dream about. He got up there high enough to look down on everybody else. It seems a bit excessive to go up 64 miles to do that when a pair of ordinary lifts would suffice. I tried lifts once and never heard the end of it. My wife said, “Take off your shoes.” I replied, “Yippee. No headache tonight?” Through clenched teeth she said, “You’re my headache. Tonight at the party, you’ve been a big, bad husband by looking down on other women’s cleavage all night long. Those lifts go or I go.” I took a steadying breath to muster the courage to hold my ground. I stammered, “It’s a new experience. I got carried away. I promise, it will never happen again. Honey? Where are you going? Bring back those shoes.”
In my defense, guys will be guys. We can’t help that we have 8,000 sexual thoughts a day. This figure compares to women’s 10,000 thoughts of finding ways to say “no.” The important thing is that both sexes are thinking about the same subject. Sooner or later will get on the same page—this page says no—try the next page…nein…non…née. Whew. How did this book get on Oprah Winfrey’s book of the month club. I guessed the ending half way through.
Monastery life is difficult. The vow of silence does not allow you to share thoughts. That’s why there’s the second vow, the one of celibacy, to banish those inappropriate thoughts. Did anyone notice that Bezos’ spaceship, the Blue Origin, is in the shape of a penis? A circumcised spaceship to be exact. Oops. My bad. What? Nobody else had that inappropriate thought. Let’s move on. The launch was exciting…10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…lift-off. It works. Minutes later, Jeff Bezos flew past my monastery window. I leaned out the window for a better view and realized too late that my monk’s robe opened at the top and swore that Bezos’ smile had little to do with the historic flight and more to do with my old man cleavage. Yuck. That’s no way to use a spaceship. His life partner needs to take that spaceship away from him.
Bezos is a private citizen and paid for this trip to space. He now belongs to a small and exclusive group of 600 people who have gone. This is not the first club Bezos joined. His first club was the largest on earth, the Hair Club for Men. Obviously, it didn’t work out and he redirected his efforts to space.
An alert Indy reader wrote a letter to the editor and asked, “Who do you think will be the first Laguna resident launched to space?” That’s a good question. I gave it some thought. I couldn’t make up up my mind. So, I was surprised when an Indy Poll showed 99% of the residents voted me the most likely to go and even agreed to make it so, by paying the Bezos price.
Assistant to the Assistant to the Assistant Friar Crantz tells the Indy that he will abide by the Indy Poll’s results and go even though the village didn’t pay for a return ticket.
