Someone is always pushing a lawnmower around outside my window. Left, right, down the street. I'm surrounded by lawns. Everywhere lawns. Horrible, needy lawns. If I run out of liquor on Sunday morning, I can't buy until noon, me a God-fearing Christian. Yet anyone with a randy-ass lawn mower and some fuel can get out there at eight in the morning and do the mini-grand prix like it was April. And apparently this is acceptable. I'm not mad at the person mowing the lawn. I'm mad at my other neighbors for not being mad. And besides, that dumb grass doesn't even need to be mowed for crying out loud. Whatever happened to supply and demand? Apparently, these home owners don't believe in Alan Greenspan, don't understand the basic principles of modern grass, or don't have the heart to tell a man the lawn actually doesn't need to be mowed three times a week. It's like failing to report a bad taco at Taco Bell. I mean, of course you don't want to cause any trouble. But if you don't say anything, how is there ever going to be any taco progress? This is why I can't have a lawn. I have enough guilt already without having to tell the lawn man I'm cutting back his work because it really is better for the economy in the long run. When do you think was the last time I got a haircut?

[2001]


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