Ask Mr. Motzko
Dear Mr. Motzko
I was just driving home from the Burger King in Waukegan, and I thought to myself, “I really need a better shortcut to get home, because the way that I am going is definitely substandard.” Some of my friends suggested a GPS, but I consider myself a little more old school than that. Do you know any good shortcuts from Burger King to my house, or if not, what are your all time favorite short cuts?
Sincerely,
Cardiac Phil
Dear In-Need-Of-A-Doctor-Phil:
Before I dispense with the wisdom like some pale, fleshy Pez geegaw, I want to say how glad I am to be back writing for the Flipside. The writers strike has overthrown the Dickensian workhouse conditions to which guest columnists have continually been subjected. Frankly, it was starting to make the diamond mine from Indiana Jones and The Temple of Doom look like a tempting career move. However that is, to borrow from the song, water under the bridge over troubled water…
While I generally prefer the boot cut, to accommodate the occasional need to sport a python-skin cowboy boot, my favorite short cuts are as follows (in an order only understood by the highest level Stonecutters):
1) The semi-circle route over Greenland. It really cuts down on my daily commute between DHS and Finland. It is even faster with an I-Pass.
2) Robert Altman’s “Short Cuts”. Where else can you see Tom Waits and Huey Lewis in the same scene? It is like watching matter and anti-matter collide. Which is to say, sweet.
3) The short ribs at the Pig n’ Whistle (6048 Kerr-Rosemont Road, Millington, TN). Comes with a side of fried dill pickles, fried green tomatoes and a loaf of white bread for the sop. If you don’t know what the sop is, I have nothing but pity for your soul.
My Least Favorite short cut had to be the short cuts I received when I fell into a patch of Ocotillo cacti in the Sonoran desert. A hummingbird had flown up my pantleg (which happens when you wear boot cut jeans) sending me into a dance that would be the envy of St. Vitus. Angry creatures, those creatures. Eight drops of blood and all of them angry.
Dear Mr. Motzko,
I have spent months trying to fulfill my bucket list, but all I have been able to check off is “make a bucket list.” I mean, it’s not like Bigfoot will just show up at my door. I need more resources than these old snowshoes and two cases of Lugols’ solution. And why the heck can’t I find a Nintendo Wii? I see the stupid thing on TV all the time, but, according to those smart-alec sales representitives at Best Buy, they’re “never in stock.” I can’t even obtain a containter of all red Jelly Bellies, you know, the only good ones. Am I going about this all wrong? Or have I just set the bar too high?
Sincerely,
Lost in Walmart
The conceptual density of your query breaks the devil’s plow, son. If I were a licensed physician (and not just a licensed minister, notary public and jazz dancer), I would recommend that you sit back and take a chill pill. Seeing as how your insurance plan does not cover this, perhaps you can learn from the challenges I am encountering in fulfilling my own bucket quest.
1) 1 Bucket. In the form of a young English lad, first name Charles. Should be a metaphor for the deadly sin of envy. Needed to gain access to the chocolate factory such that I can avenge the demise of my half-brother, Augustus.
2) 1 Bucket of Popeye’s. Extra spicy. All neck meat.
3) 1 Bucket. Filled with the tears of the faithful. Must be collected every August 16th at the Meditation Gardens (3734 Elvis Presley Boulevard). They say that it holds the secret to eternal life. They also say it serves as a great marinade. Who exactly are “they” anyway?
4) 1 Bucket. Galvanized nickel. Needed to complete the costume in my one-man, off-broadway reinterpretation of “The Iron Giant”. You will be moved.
