String Cheese - Article XXII

Assassins are rarely a hit

By ARYN CORLEY

Updated: 08.11.09

For the most part, hiring a hitman is a bad idea.

If you’re reading this article and thinking about hiring some goon, don’t. Goons can’t to do anything right.

Hitfolk are a bad idea.

They’re a bad idea because it makes the employer very interesting to government watchdog groups like the FBI, Secret Service, and local law enforcement, to name a few. The idea of a hitman also tends to make the target very angry indeed. For those out of the loop, the second worst gift one person can give to another is death.

The first is the official Barack Obama Chia Head.

Recently, a Florida woman was arrested for allegedly hiring a hitman to “rub out” her newly-wed husband of six months. I use the word “allegedly” in the same manner which Saddam Hussein was “allegedly” a madman. Fortunately for the young groom, the hitman was actually an undercover cop. Even more fortunate is the fact that the target of the plot won’t have to eat that nasty, freezer bitten top layer of wedding cake. I’m sure the poor sod was waiting for Ashton Kutcher to pop out of the bushes and tell him that he’d been “punk’d” after he’d heard the news that his new bride really wanted to add emphasis to the part of their vows which stated “‘til death do us part.”

What would drive a person to such depravity? It has to be one of two things: money or an insatiable desire to be mercilessly interrogated by the police. Either way, the young woman had no idea she was being set up like a bowling pin and about to be knocked down. Come to think of it, she was about as smart as a bowling pin.

Whether or not we choose to admit it, we sometimes wish bad on other people. It usually happens during rush hour. However, asking around the quilting bee for someone to “86” their significant other is a whole new level of dumb.

Furthermore, these idiots think they can go to Craigslist, Ebay, or Priceline to find someone to do their dirty work. It’s no accident that “murder-for-hire” has been conveniently omitted from the business listings in the phone book.

I blame television for romanticizing hitpersons (gender inclusive language). They are often portrayed as street level thugs who have the answers to every problem, work at a bargain, and usually have a really great tan. From a writer’s perspective, a hitman is just what the doctor ordered for jazzing up an otherwise tired storyline. Remember, when Beaver Cleaver made friends with that guy in the mob? How about the time Laura Ingalls hired a hitman to “whack” Nellie Olsen to make Walnut Grove a better place to live? The hitman has become a part of American pop culture.

There is an immensely popular series of video games titled “Hitman.”

My kids love a book titled “One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Sleeps With the Fishes.”

One of my favorite Norman Rockwell paintings is a cute little tableau called “First Hit: Badaboom Badabing.”

The sad reality is in the 21st century, there are still people using 13th century logic to find a solution for their own problems.

What’s even more sad is if this young woman really wanted to end her new husband’s life, she could’ve just stayed with him.

String Cheese - Article XXI

Yearly event is full of bull

By ARYN CORLEY

Updated: 08.05.09

I can’t think of very many things that are more dumb than the annual Running of the Bulls in Pamplona, Spain.

The event, which takes place every July, to put it bluntly, is on par with stealing copper, trying to catch a train with one’s teeth, or talking to Michael Moore while covered in Hershey’s syrup.

Every year people flock to this little town to run down a crowded, slippery street while being chased by several hundred pounds of angry hamburger.

Apparently, the town council of Pamplona doesn’t care what happens to the participants or any property and also has an extremely iron-clad insurance policy. I wouldn’t be surprised if the local emergency room gets some kind of kickback from the event’s organizers.

The ER doc is probably the one who bought the bulls from the local FFA Chapter.

There’s only speculation as to when, or even why, the event got started in the first place. If I had to guess, I’d say there were some drunks who didn’t know how to handle an angry bull and thought they could tire it out by letting it chase them down the street. The rest is history.

I’m a fan of adrenaline producing activity. Every year, my family and I go to Sea World to cheat death in a very controlled environment complete with refreshments and a gift shop.

While the threat of death is relatively low, it still exists. Heat exhaustion is a serious matter. However, dying from dehydration pales in comparison to being impaled by a bad tempered bovine who never really got over the fact that his uncle ended up as a Louis Vuitton handbag. On the other hand, if they were steers I’d totally understand why they’re so angry.

Speaking of fashion, the traditional garb for running with the bulls is all white except for a small red kerchief tied around the neck. Keeping one’s clothes white while running for one’s life must be a bothersome task. The all white must be so that the blood shows up easier. It’s popular belief that the color red angers the bulls, but really they hate anything that’s dressed like a busboy.

I guess the event lends itself to using bulls. There wouldn’t nearly be as many cool You Tube videos of the annual “Running of the Turtles.” A spectacle like that could take weeks! Although, I think the “Slithering of the Cobras” is sure to draw a crowd.

Nothing like that could exist here in the United States. As litigious as our society has become the Running of the Bulls would be immediately followed by the Suing of the Bulls, then followed by the Appeal of the Bulls, finally capped by the Undisclosed Settlement of he Bulls.

The whole thing would last for years.

In New Orleans every year there is a mock bull running where the participants dress the part and are chased by the local roller derby team called - you guessed it - the Bulls. For the stragglers, the roller derby girls carry foam core bats to give a little “encouragement” on the backside.

Whether one decides to tempt fate in Pamplona or tempt a really beefy roller derby girl named “Fate” in New Orleans, one thing is certain: Where there’s bulls, there’s plenty of bull... Well, you get the idea.