Anybody Else Got a Complaint?

Posted By:	The Boneman
Posted On:	Sat Oct 27th, 2007

In the last issue of the Independent the editorial staff published a complaint leveled at an article that I wrote 5 months ago entitled "Losing My Religion." The plaintiff, "a California Woman just passing through," expressed brief and general offense at my playful treatise on the Pope's not-so-recent decision to discontinue the traditional Catholic after-life destination known as Limbo. It wasn't terribly clear if the woman took offense at what she may have deemed a disrespectful reference to Catholicism or perhaps "said reference" wasn't sufficiently humorous to merit publication. Then again five months is a long time, maybe she's changed her mind - if she's still alive.

First of all, I'd like to say in my defense that I have nothing but the highest regard for the Catholic church. After all they've given us some of the greatest horror films of all time, (The Omen, The Exorcist) and how about that Spanish Inquisition, huh? That wasn't boring. As religions go, Catholicism is downright action-packed. What's not to like? In any case the woman was thus inspired to contact the paper (presumably by Pony Express) and suggest that I apologize to those readers of the Indy who might be similarly aggrieved. Not that I would'nt willingly comply with her request, it's just how could my penitence ring sincere if I know not what I'm apologizing for?

Add to this the fact that the woman's status as a non-resident leaves it highly unlikely that she'll ever realize the satisfaction of personally putting a smart aleck hayseed, such as myself, back to the moldering ranks of obscurity where I obviously belong. I hate to make any kind of sweeping condemnation, but in the interest of fair and objective journalism I may be forced to dabble in that newfangled term that politicians, lawyers and other trusted and beloved Americans now use when words like racism, prejudice and bigotry come off sounding kind of, well . . . bad. You guessed it, we're going to do a bit of "profiling." Come on along, won't you? It'll be fun. We'll pretend I'm all important and that this crap I write is worth the five months it takes to complain about it.

As a matter of fact, I spent 12 years of my adult life in southern California (right in the heart of the O.C.) and am thus qualified to speak with some authority as to the general nature of the post-menopausal California girl. Not all of them are embittered pinchfaces who own the road and must therefore be forgiven their tendency to drive with all the courteous regard for their fellow motorists as a fleeing bankrobber. No, some have been divorced enough times to have amassed such great amounts of wealth, that they're just too damn rich to be bitter and if their face starts to pinch up, they just swing in for another round of botox. They often reside in palatial estates, that invariably have one room reserved for a rustic log-cabin motif. It is there, above a stately mantled fireplace, where they proudly display the stuffed buttocks of their ex-husbands. It certainly puts a twist on the old expression "trophy wife." It's a simple process really, the huntress need only kiss the derrière-area of the prey for one to two years, then call a divorce lawyer trained to thoroughly fleece this most tender skin and, and then what a convenient coincidence it is that "tax accountant" and "taxidermist" are right by each other in the phone book.

These two examples represent but a few of the myriad stereotypical varieties - not polar opposites but on different ends of the spectrum, to be sure. There are so many more I might profile, but I find it invariably wise to heed the Savior's admonition to turn the other cheek. Alas, have we not been commanded to love our neighbor? Even if their dog's endless, nocturnal barking is driving us out of our freakin' skull and they're too busy cooking up the meth crystals to be bothered to rake up the hundreds of droppings which are collecting in rancid, festering piles so foul that we're tempted to take up cigarette smoking just so we can hang out in our back yard without gagging. On the other hand using a lighter this close to those explosive Methy chemicals? So much for the barbeque. Commandments can be tough. But we've all been there and thus it is meet that we forgive the ignorance of the interloping "Prunie Prude" for it could not have been possible for her to grasp the fragile temperament of the Bone machine. Nor understand that the nature of its often intermittent output is as enigmatic and elusive as the Northern Lights or the School Voucher Referendum.

The bottom line is that I don't feel all that comfortable making fun of other people (at least not from this immediate area). Sure, I don't have too big a problem going after cross-dressing Aborigines of the Australian Outback (or bi-sexual Congressman as long as we're down under – or outback for that matter.) Still, any measure taken to prevent the potential displeasure of every last reader out there is doomed to failure and ultimately a self-defeating endeavor - especially if I hope to get any laughs. Take for instance the recent example of a story torn straight from today's headlines (and I mean someone actually took a newspaper and carefully ripped this story out - without using scissors mind you - and afterward presented it to me neatly folded in a lovely basket of cheeses, fancy crackers and zucchini bread). It's a side of Britney the Paparazzi choose to ignore. Sweet Kid.

As it turns out, a remark made in a recent episode of Desperate Housewives has caused quite an uproar. Frankly I was shocked when I read the story (I had no i"dea" Desperate Housewives was still on the "air." I thought it was replaced by Dirty Filthy Sexy.) I guess all the fuss was caused by a recent episode where the DH played by Teri Hatcher went to the doctor for a checkup and was surprised to the point of shock when she was diagnosed with that most inevitable of all female conditions - menopause. Whereupon she became indignant and spouted, "OK, before we go any further, can I check those diplomas? 'Cause I would just like to make sure that they're not from some med school in the Philippines."

On the face of it, you would never imagine that such a simple utterance would bring about such a crapstorm of controversy. If anything it's a fairly weak cliché of a joke – certainly not funny enough to risk pissing off an entire country. But that's just what it did. Evidently our friends the Filipinos have had quite enough of being the butt of this particular bit of medical mirth and have launched a massive campaign against ABC. Funny how people can suddenly get so touchy. After all this wasn't a derogatory remark made at the expense of the Filipino people or the Philippines as a nation but rather a small sector of the country involving, what I'm sure are well directed institutions of medical education - entirely above reproach. Even so the uproar has been widespread and most vehement. It was front-page news in the Philippines, and national leaders spoke out angrily against it. "Enough with the lousy Med School jokes, pick on somebody else already!" Everyone was in the mood to bitch!

You would think no one had ever made fun of the Philippines before - or that their former leader "Imelda Marcos" didn't have 7000 pairs of shoes. The big splash came when Kevin Nadal, (no relation) a Filipino-American college lecturer in New York, posted an online petition demanding an apology from ABC, and it raked in more than 30,000 online signatures. He told the Associated Press he was so shocked by what he witnessed on the show, "I had to rewind it over and over again to make sure I got it right." Which I'm sure was entirely unrelated to the fact that Teri Hatcher was wearing a piece of paper.

Actually when I first heard Desperate Housewives had caused a stink I suspected that some feminist group had finally gotten around to pitching a fit about the portrayal of American housewives as hard-up, sex-obsessed Jezebels eagerly willing to throw away their lives and families for a couple minutes of Naughty Body with the guy who blows the leafs. But that's neither here nor there, I just want to say "no hard feelings" to my California critic, it's too bad you're not in town though because it's just so stunning this time of year. In fact, I just stepped over to the park and wouldn't you know it, a gust of wind came up and literally covered me with a layer of lovely Autumn leafs. Head to toe. I suppose I could just go ahead and toss them off myself or even better I could wait for that certain someone to come along and blow me.