Johann's all greased and ready.

You are truly doing yourself a disservice if you've never seen Das Boot. Clear yourself 5 hours, get the DVD, and enjoy. There is a moment in the film when a ranking officer asks the torpedo launcher? (gunner? firer? triggerman? Shannon Burke?) if he has prepared his payload. The question translates, roughly I assume, as "Is Johann all greased and ready?" Well, kids, let's have some fun...

7 weeks ago I returned to the working world. Where I work has two basic groups of employees, goofy-looking men and good-looking women. I like most everyone I work with. But, and you know where this is going, there is this one guy.

For sake of discussion we'll refer to him as "Owen". This is not his name, I know no one of this name, and I bear no ill will toward people of this name. But anyway, Owen's a douche. That's about as simple as I can put it.

Owen's tallish (6' 2"?), thin, and perhaps slightly-above-average-looking (as a comparison, I consider myself average-looking). He's cock-sure, neither particularly smart or dumb, reasonably comfortable with who he is, and outgoing, perhaps to the point of insincerity. This is what I see from him, in the 10 or so times I've met him.

Should I hold any of this against him? No, and thanks for vicariously asking. It conveniently sets up the rest of the discussion. What I take from all of this is interpersonal relationships have always come easy for him. This is a good thing. And not something I begrudge.

I have always sucked at interpersonal relationships. I am reasonably shy, poor with names to the point where I use "sir" and "ma'am" excessively (not from lack of effort, but usually because I figured I'd not need to remember the name because why would they need/want to talk with me in the future), oftentimes too smart for my own good, and otherwise awkward in social scenarios. Why? Who knows: being overweight, being 3-4 grade levels ahead in math and reading as a student (true story, I was absent from first or second grade one day, and a kid in my class put a dictionary in my chair and joked that I was, in fact, present), failing in attempts to establish dating relationships, having those failings cause you to lose other opportunities (as an aside, when the single funniest thing anyone's said about you is "Someday I want to marry someone just like Luke", you had better make some money to pay for therapy. That makes for a great story, and hopefully, I'll get paid money to tell it someday.), etc.

What does this have to do with Owen? A few nights ago, he put a mozzarella cheese stick and two hard-boiled eggs in a latex glove to make a penis and testicles. This made people laugh at work. I didn't. It's a throwaway gag, picking up something in a moment of boredom simply because he couldn't find anything better or more important. And if people didn't laugh, he would have thrown it away, and tried something else. Because it's a luxury he can afford. If funny's not working, go with plan B. Or C. Or F.

As a kid, getting made fun of sucks. And there are many different ways of coping. I realized that the kids who made fun of me weren't very funny, or original, or for that matter any good at making fun of me. I was better at it. Smarter. Funnier. Quicker. So that's how I coped: I made fun of myself, I made fun of other things, even other people (hypocritical, yes, but I always made sure I came after myself with more vitriol. I will always be my easiest and most frequent target.). This realization was the start of what I am, and, for lack of a better phrasing, is the image I present to the world.

Humor is my talent. People I can't make laugh don't stay in my circle for very long. It's why I try so hard to make people laugh. It's why I try so many jokes that die slow and painful deaths. I depend on humor. I will yield to the floor I'm intelligent. But I counter with this: I use my intelligence for humor more than anything else. When I've impressed someone with intelligence, it has always meant more to me if that impression is relayed to me with a smile; as if my knowing what actress played what character on Baywatch is as laughable as it is remarkable.

What infuriates me most is when someone devalues humor. I've worked on it the whole of my life. It means more to me than any other talent, skill, ability, or character trait that I'll ever have. And Owen, and people like him, who can simply do something infantile without a thought process, without an art for the craft, and entertain the brutes with it devalue what I hold most dear.

I don't hate people. I can't stand Owen. I repeat, I think he's a douche. So why and how did this simple act of blue "comedy" rile me so? Is it jealousy? Envy? Frustration? I don't know. I suppose it could be. Whatever it is, I guess it's humorous. I'm not laughing much, though. You probably guessed that.

I had the opportunity to go into an actual German U-Boat in a museum a couple of years ago. It's dark, cramped, uncomfortable; an altogether unpleasant place to be. But once you're in there, all you can do is grease up the chute and get ready to fire the torpedoes. Make the best of what's around. So here I am: Luke's all greased and ready.

Fire in the hole.