Outside the building, there is a bird feeder. It's 18 degrees outside, and a confused, bright red cardinal was feeding. There was also a small cohort of pidgeons present. It made me think about how blown away I was last night by this passage in, Infinite Jest, wherein DFW describes a young James Incandenza speaking with his increasingly inebriated father in a communal garage beside their 3,900 lb Montclair. His father is lecturing him about objectivity, the sport of tennis, and control over his own body -- haranguing him, really. The father rips open balls to demonstrate their object-ness. The whiff of stale air is like a "rubber hell"
I wonder how many bright red cardinals had to be ripped open and sniffed before their maleness became an objective truth. The pidgeons are really restless. City pidgeons are ungainly and fat; they're also fearless. You can trample past them with a Great Dane or a Pit Bull on a leash, and they won't give you a second thought. But in flocks, they're nervous, and bolt easily. Mass hysteria for birds.
These ungainly, fat birds take off like rockets. Faster than a Dodge tomahawk, they're gone.
I wonder if the same principle holds for fat women. I mean, individually, on the sidewalk, You can trample past them with a Great Dane or a Pit Bull on a leash, and they won't give you a second thought - hell more likely than not, they'll get in your way.
But maybe in flocks, they're nervous, and bolt easily. It's hard to tell. Chicago's sidewalks are so narrow, that you very rarely see plump women in more than twos or threes.
I just wonder. I wonder how fast can a fat woman really run?
Bryan said at 9:28 AM 01-15-2003: You can often see female humans with their male mates in Target, when they are feeling lonely and unfulfilled, and drag their mates by the digits. Male humans often seek solace in the tool department, but are often tasked with the carrying of shoddy appliances and loud linens, after giving in to the items' supposed need.
Harley [ url ] said at 8:44 PM 01-15-2003: I am fat. I can run, but not gracefully. I am surprisingly fast. Before you know it I am bearing down on yer skinny pussy ass like an apocryphal
mack truck in an art house movie that's made it to the big screen through sheer pluck and a heavy dose of senseless sex and joyus violence.
brandon [email] said at 9:15 PM 01-15-2003: Interesting, *scratches, skinny, aids-victim shrunken face* Now, as a woman of no mean size, would you say that you would be more likely to bolt away from danger in a group situation than you would be if you were alone? Do you feel that you are less likely to take flight when not distracted by others of your kind who may or may not be more skittish en masse than alone? What would you say your top, bursting speed is singularly? Is there a differential between it and the sort of burst your muscles provide when fueled by the panic of others, when, if you ever are in a group?
Lastly, and this is hypothetical in the extreme? If you attached yourself to an airfoil, do you believe that you could take flight - if only for a short distance - after reaching the speed plateau in a flock scenario escape?
milky [email] said at 11:41 AM 01-16-2003: Hmmm...You've seen and met my gal, Brandon.
I wouldn't mess with her. You think anyone would? Would you? I mean, I can't honestly say I'd take her in a fair fight if I randomly met her on the street and had the inclination to hit women. Cause I got the feeling when I met her that she had more than just the simple complexity to knock my punk ass out.
When she lifts weights, I have fear. I get accidental injuries from all the love she gives me (jabbed jaw with shoulder, knees all over my body, a love slap on the ass that had me howling like a cartoon character).
I think if, hypothetically, me and Michelle threw down, I'd need to fight dirty and use any blunt instrument available. I'd go for the eyes, but she'd snap my fingers like twigs.
brandon [email] said at 11:59 AM 01-16-2003: Today I clocked a gaggle of hefty-sized women traveling at a sustained rate of speed, approximately 35 miles per hour, over an eight mile distance. This was for the Purple Line. I suppose that the more frequent starts and stops on the Red Line would bring that average down considerably.
Evidence of a threat was ambiguous. Homeless men were present at the Belmont stop, but did not seem to be targeting the porcine women in particular. This, perhaps, lends credence to my hypothesis that the fear threshold is sufficiently lowered in a group context to cause otherwise non-stressful situations to induce a state of panic in a group of fat women, causing the fleeing behavior to be expressed.
