August 26, 2008
If you read this paper, chances are you’re not engaged in real labor – at least not on a daily basis. Good for you. Sure, you may occasionally spend an hour behind a push mower or a weekend helping your buddy move out of his ex-girlfriend’s apartment. You might even spend 36 hours of horrible, agonizing, blood-splattered labor having your taint torn to shreds by a 12-pound-melon-headed freak of nature you’ll someday refer to as “the love of your life,” but that’s still a one-off, even if you get mad props for bearing down and gettin’ ‘er done. More than likely you bide the bulk of your time with your ass planted in a plush, ergonomic office chair designed with extra width to give that burgeoning badonkadonk some room to grow. Yes, you can go to spin class, water aerobics, Jazzercise, and krav maga; you can do Pilates, take yoga, lift weights, and run and run and run and run, but you’re always fighting an ugly battle with eons of evolutionary conditioning and genetic predisposition. Hey, isn’t it wonderful that you don’t have to work all day in the unmerciful sun busting rocks like Spartacus? Rest assured that even though Kirk Douglas looked totally ripped in that role, the real Spartacus would have pissed himself at the prospect of fattening his ass surfing porn, sucking down Red Bull, and eating Little Debbie snacks. Aside from being able to do his laundry on his abs, Spartacus probably didn’t benefit much from the lean, ropy, Abercrombie model look back in the days of the Roman Empire. Back then being fat was a sign that you could afford to lay around all day at the spa drinking wine, popping grapes in your mouth, and practicing wanton acts of pedophilia and bestiality. That may not particularly be your cup of tea, but it’s a safe bet that just about any Roman slave would have preferred fucking a lion to being eaten by one. The ancient Greeks … well, they were kind of kinky. Anyway, the point is that you’re probably not out on the range digging potholes, and that’s a good thing. In fact, you will probably get more exercise celebrating Labor Day weekend than you do on an average day at work. Part of the credit for that goes to some truly backbreaking labor done by some of your ancestors (Yes, that even includes folks like Kennedys and the Astors. Their progeny may have run liquor and chased beaver, but they surely didn’t have to work as hard at it). Regardless of how mentally, psychologically, and spiritually challenging your job is, you still have it pretty sweet, all things considered. By all means, celebrate! If you’re particularly removed from the blue-collar, chain wallet, Docs and Dickies crowd, you might appreciate the Wild Weekend Power Pop Festival going on Friday and Saturday at Beerland and Mohawk, respectively. Check out awesome skinny tie bands like Paul Collins’ Beat, Pointed Sticks, Nikki Corvette, and the Boys, plus relative latecomers Grand Champeen, Power Chords, Poor People, and Luxury Sweets. Night shows at Mohawk are a paltry $25 a night, and the day shows at Beerland are free. So if you’re employed or even if you’re unemployed, there’s a show for you.