Thank You

// A million.

By Tristan Smith .
11.15.09 // Thank You

The man in the coffee shop to the counter girl.

The exiting church-goer to the priest.

The sportsfan to God.

The lover to the lover.

The sound system to the full theater.

The guests to the host.

The victor to the voters.

And 999,999,993 more.

View Comments / Nov 15.09 / Thank You / by Tristan Smith

// Out of Nowhere

By Charles Hodges .
11.14.09 // Thank You

I count to seven, and then I see her standing there.  She is not a genie.  She is a paramedic.  Why seven brought her to me, I do not know.  I have no idea how many times I counted, but, for some reason, eight wouldn’t do.  Maybe seven was the number of telephone poles that I counted in sequence on the bus on the way to school.  Maybe seven was the number of kids in my class when we played duck-duck goose.  It is my own personal, unexplainable one-two-three.  It is odd.  It is prime.  I hate math.

She inserts a tube into my throat.  I feel it go down into my esophagus.  Red liquid fills the tube flowing out of me and goes up the tube.  It is either blood or dark cherry kool-aid. I haven’t had kool-aid in years.

I am strapped down to the board.  Against the dark clouds above me, I see swirling lights.  I hear sirens.  I hear many things that I do not pay attention to; however, my ear does isolate one thing.  It is a cricket.  In all this, whatever this is, I hear a cricket.  Only at this moment, it is not his silent orchestra to lead.  This is not the quiet backyard of suburbia that he usually claims as his sovereign territory.  Nevertheless, he is there.

“Hello cricket,” I say, but no one hears me.

There is so much commotion, yet all I can concentrate on is how dirty my socks feel.  They feel sticky.  I should do more laundry, I think to myself.

They lift me up into the ambulance.  When they do, I see the two parts of my car.  I see the miles of traffic on both sides.  I see the school bus.  Blue and red and white and yellow lights – they all flood my vision.  People talk on radios, yet I still hear the cricket.

Driving now, I count the lights on the road.  One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.  Still, she sits by my side, this beautiful stranger with dual-colored bangs.  This is my tax money hard at work.

They roll me into the hospital.  Doctors gather around my face and scream my name.  They shine flashlights.  They are like the lights from the road, except not in as many different colors and not as predictable.  Human versus machine, I think to myself about the difference between the lights.  Takes one to fix one, but I don’t know which one is which.  Maybe both are both.  The doctors speak words and I lose all consciousness.

I wake up in the bed.  I feel much better.  I am handcuffed to the bed.  I look at the clock.  It is 4:38 in the morning – a dark time for anyone.  My mother is asleep in the chair next to me.  In the hall, I see a police officer walk back and forth.

I listen to my vitals monitor beep.  I count the blips out in sevens and stare at the ceiling.  This time, she does not appear over my face.  I close my eyes.

“Thank you,” I say to her, but no one hears me.

Outside, a car’s lights come through the window.  I must be on the ground floor.  The car’s ignition shuts off.  I hear a door slam and footsteps go away.  Then, I hear him – the cricket.  His chirps are in a different cadence than my vitals monitor, than my heart.

I close my eyes and think of the school bus.  Physically, emotionally, I feel as if I am crying, but no tears roll down my cheeks.  Whatever comes next, I think to myself, I deserve.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

View Comments / Nov 14.09 / Thank You / by Charles Hodges

// Thanks, For The Manipulation

By Joey Camire .
11.13.09 // Thank You

I’m not usually the cynic, in fact, more often than not I’m quite the opposite.  However, when I was thinking about the topic of “Thank You” trying to find an angle, the B.F Skinner in me sprung to life.  Why do people say thank you?  What is the motivation for this behavior? How is it conditioned?  In my mind I had transformed into an older gentleman with white hair, a lab coat and a clipboard.  No ordinary clipboard either, no this one was top of the line, made of gold and mahogany.

With these questions in mind, I started to think about it.  And then I realized.  What had always seemed like a statement of gratitude and respect, excepting the ironic use of the term, was not that at all.  Hear me out.   You say “Thank You”  to someone  when they do something for you that you like.  Maybe it’s something you couldn’t do on your own, maybe it something they did out of kindness.  No matter the act, you want it to continue.  You want someone to keep bringing you hot fudge sundaes or telling you how good your hair looks,  so you say “Thank You”.  The sole purpose of the words are to get people to keep doing things for you that you like.  You are trying to shape their behavior toward your desires.  You are a big fat manipulative jerk, and I will not be bring you any more banana splits!!!

But it’s true, and behaviors we would otherwise label as “Pro-Social” or “Polite” are just efforts to bend others to your will.  “Please” is no different than “Thank You”, oh no, when you say “Please” all you are saying to people is give me what I want in a way that may actually get them to do it… Just thinking about yourself again. You are so selfish!

Think of the most polite person you know.  Think hard.  Bring that person into your head.  You have them in your mind?  That person is a conniving little weasel.  They have manipulated you.  You would never do anything to that they didn’t like in any way.  You’re probably thinking, “But they’re so nice, I should help them” and that’s exactly what they want you to think.  You are their sheep, and they are herding you with MANNERS!

In the end, politeness is just a ploy to mask peoples otherwise self-serving manipulations in a way that society deems OK.  Well don’t try to fool me with your politeness any longer.  I won’t be tricked by people “Minding Their Ps & Qs”, mostly cause I don’t know what that phrase actually means, but also because I’m smarter than that.  Instead, I will only observe your behaviors, and decide if I will buy you a birthday gift based on that alone.  I’ll stick to the Golden Rule, and you can stick your etiquette book right up your ass.  I got a little old testament there.  I kind of liked it.  I’ll leave you with this video, cause if you love manners you will probably love this woman, and I hate you.  That’s wrong.  I strongly dislike you.

View Comments / Nov 13.09 / Thank You / by Joey Camire

// Newlywed Gratitude

By Alex Aloise .
11.12.09 // Thank You

View Comments / Nov 12.09 / Thank You / by Alex Aloise

// In The Immortal Words of Jay-Z…

By Jake Dubs .
11.11.09 // Thank You

It’s 1:45 AM and I just came home from work. It’s been a rough week.

Approximately seven minutes ago, I rolled out of bed, shivered over to my desk chair, flipped open my laptop screen, cursed myself for being a forgetful idiot, and sat here, on the other side of where you’re now reading this, for a full four minutes before realizing I was too tired and angry to think of something clever involving the words, “Thank You.” I was not, however, too tired and angry to drop a little sarcasm.

So, for making me come over here and have to write something clever for you…

Thank you, thank you, thank you, you’re far too kind.

In all seriousness, I’m sorry, and I promise next week will be better.

Knibb High Football rules.

View Comments / Nov 11.09 / Thank You / by Jake Dubs

// My prediction for the future.

By Ben Cheney .
11.10.09 // Thank You

In 45 years we will be saying thank you to the robots that bring us our orange juice and bathe our children.  They will be $1,500 each and will be available at most mass retailers.  Contrary to popular thought, they will be less like Rosie from the Jetsons and more like Theo Huxtable or Topanga Lawrence.  They will be brilliant at service oriented tasks and really excellent at card games.  This new breed of robots will be powered by thank yous and will therefore revolutionize our world, bringing back an underestimated and unappreciated form of politeness.  Thank you will become ingrained in our culture once again, bringing on a short stint of world peace and 50′s era haircuts.  That is, until the robots get greedy and begin to demand that all our requests include please as well as thank you.

View Comments / Nov 10.09 / Thank You / by Ben Cheney