Frank and his TV and fuck you America

Saturday, 26 July 2008

Back in ’Burque in the Black Widow haven known as the left side of the converted garage duplex at 340-something Harvard Dr SE a knock came upon the door.

A short stranger, 15 years my senior, was at the door. He wasn’t wearing a tie though so I knew I had nothing to be afraid of. He said, “Hi, I’m your neighbor. Frank.”

“Uh, hi.”

“I came over to tell you, I’m going to shoot my TV.”


“I just didn’t want you to be worried about the sound.”

“Sure. Great. Thanks for the heads-up.”

Sheepish and suddenly boyish, he said, “I’ve wanted to do this for years.”

I smiled for him as he headed off. True to his word, a half-hour or so later I heard either a .44 magnum or maybe just an enormous vacuum tube imploding. It was the sound of liberation. It was the kind of singular event in a life that makes ripples. An assertion of will, self-determination, and the joy of blowing shit up mixed with the moral high ground of it being relatively safe for all parties. I felt great satisfaction by proxy. An otherwise forgettable day was stenciled in my neurons forever.

In the news yesterday we notice that in Milwaukee, Keith Walendowski, 56, could not start his Lawn Boy while trying to mow his grass on his property. He fetched his sawed-off shotgun and returned and shot his lawn mower. No one was hurt. No one was threatened. Mr Walendowski’s presumable lack of protective eye-wear aside, no one was in any particular danger.

Walendowski could face up to an $11,000 fine and six years and three months in prison if convicted.

AP: “Angry man shoots lawn mower for not starting”
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