IN MY WORLD
jason pettus
In my world, professional sports are a seedy, underground profession, taking place in back rooms and slum tenements, while porn starts perform at the United Center and sign multi-million dollar endorsement deals.
In my world, you can drink a beer, smoke a joint, or pull the handle of a slot machine and never have to worry about becoming addicted to any of them.
In my world, your job performance is based on how well you perform your job.
In my world, there is a television station called “JTV” which runs nothing but shows I like, 24 hours a day. Then, when I got out and get drunk, I come back home and forget the channel exists and I’ll be flipping through the stations and there’s nothing but shit on until I get to my station and I go, “God, I love this show.”
In my world, non-smokers have to stand outside.
In my world, women are overwhelmingly attracted to kinda geeky guys who are intellectually pure and possess an insight into the human condition. Really, did you expect it any other way?
In my world, rape is a capital offense. Of course, so is whistling in public.
In my world, everyone at Kinko’s is well-trained, know what they’re doing, and never overcharge or destroy your originals in the copy machine. For that matter, all employees of McDonald’s always say “thank you” instead of me, and when I say, “I’d like a Big Mac and a Coke,” they never say, “And what kind of drink would you like?”
In my world, if you see someone across the el who you think is really attractive, you can walk up to them and say, “You know, I’m really attracted to you.” They then have the freedom to say, “You know, so am I!” or “I’m sorry, I’m not attracted to you,” and your feelings are never hurt.
In my world, fourteen year old boys are allowed to buy Playboy, because, real ly, they’re the ones who need them the most.
In my world, every poem at every open mike night is amazing and groundbreaking and just makes you go, “Wow.”
In my world, Robert Mapplethorpe never died. And neither did Keith Haring. And neither did Andy Warhol.
In my world, Liz Phair knows how much I love her. And... she loves me back!
In my world, you can buy pitchers for four bucks at Sweet Alice. Oh, I’m sorry, that’s in your world, too.
In my world, Sting is still putting out cool albums.
In my world, there is a special section of Chicago set aside where you can take acid. It is full of trees and grass and sand and there’s no rave music and there’s no virtual reality movies and no guys trying to fuck with you, waving their hands in your face, going, “Okay, you see anything? Okay, how bout this? You see anything now? Huh? How bout this?”
Oh, and in my world minimum wage is 16 bucks an hour, and middle management doesn’t exist even though the middle class does, and the phrase, “You got time to lean, you got time to clean” doesn’t exist, and if your boss says something stupid, you have the legal right to slap them as hard as you can and say, “What are you, on the dope train?”
In my world, the Personals section actually works.
In my world, men have an “on/off” switch for their penis. Then, if they wake up one day and think, “You know, I really don’t want to deal with my libido today, they can just turn their penis off, and the rest of the day beautiful women can walk by them and they can still remain focused and concentrated and productive.
In my world, there are hoards of “straight bashers” that roam the streets of Lincoln Park on Saturday nights, stopping guys on the streets and yelling, “Hey, what are you, some kind of hetero? You like to fuck women? You do, you like to fuck women, don’t ya?” Of course, instead of beating them up, they just yell, “Shame on you! You don’t know what you’re missing!” then go down the street and have a drink.
In my world, I never have to finish my stories at open mike nights, but instead I can just
