Freddogg Off The Chain

“Snakes On A Plane” is one of the summer’s biggest hits along with "Talladega Nights"? There is no question that here in the New Millennium three hundred years beyond the Great Enlightenment period we have sunken to the depths of moronic escapism.
The Age of Reason has given way to the Age of Unreasonableness. Snakes on a mother fucking plane starring a black action hero? Black people may be the same as all other people when it comes to combining the fear of flying with the fear of snakes and throw in a few phobias while you’re at it but I instinctively believe that some stupid assed white people would be snatching snakes by the back of the head then getting bitten before fucking crying about it. I don’t have the same vision for black passengers.

Back in 1973 I was sitting in our West Chester apartment with 11 foot ceilings watching the "Untouchables" on a black and white television. Santa was ringing a bell on a Chicago street corner. “Santa, Santa “toddler Davey said with enthusiastic recognition. A car load of Frank Nitti’s boys standing on the running boards came around the corner and machine gunned Santa to the pavement. He quaked and quivered before coming to eternal rest

“What happened Santa?’ Davey asked. “Santa just got waxed son. Lit the fuck up! Santa is now Swiss cheese!”

Just when my wife told me to stop, that it wasn’t funny, a bat flew into the big room. We all screamed! I sprang from the couch to the toy chest where I snagged a waffle ball bat. Oh the irony of bat versus bat. It was game time!

I was the designated batter and I didn’t need the rage from Roids, I was instantly in homicidal hyper drive. I wasn’t sharing my niche with a hideous bat that kept flying from one end of the room to the other, the sonar sounding freak.

Talk about batting practice combining bat speed with hand eye coordination against a speeding target with sonar. It was a classic match up, lost by the bat as I knocked his ass silly into the cast iron radiator for a ground rule double.

He was still alive because ugly dies hard but I took the bat and pushed his head against the cast iron. The bat looked back—“keep on squawking and don’t look bat” and made this clicking sound as blood began to ooze from his eyeballs. It took him a minute to die as veins popped from my forearms.

My own family was slightly scared because they had never seen me snap before. I’m killing snakes on a plane by whatever means available but making a movie of such an unlikely scenario is frivolous appealing to what in our basic nature? The fear we may go psycho when threatened?


Professor Freddogg