Makhniashvellian deeds


 Posted on November 30th, 2010 –

Okay, so before we begin, I have to come right out and say that this is an interactive blog post so I have to insert some caveats right up front.

First, make sure you’re physically able to perform a moderate jumping motion. To those of you who mock this warning, you’d be surprised. To those of you not surprised, I urge you to consult with a physician first.

Next, make sure you’re wearing comfortable athletic footwear and clothing and that the area around you is clear.

Stretch your calves, hamstrings, quadriceps, biceps, triceps, glutes, and anything else that stretches or jiggles. Especially if it jiggles.

Now get ready to do a little leaping!

Right down to a little village on the border between the U.S. and Mexico, a spec of mud on a dusty plain known as “concluçions”. The English pronunciation is, as usual, bastardized.

You see, in this lawless land, a man must carry the scales of justice in his own back pocket. I do. Nice, shiny set engraved by my pappy. And that can be a euphemism for whatever you like, darlin’.

I’m using the scales on old Vakhtang Makhniashvili and they’re tellin’ me this guy’s a scoundrel.

If you don’t know the guy, the original story or subsequent events, or how to pronounce his name, I can sum it all up for you in a paragraph.

The name is pronounced: “Vak-zHTeng-toænGgH   (K-CHT)   MЋë-Shnee-Shmia-Shmeely-Vooly”. The “K-CHT” is an optional clearing of the throat following the first name. He was initially famous because his daughter went missing from her high school just over a year ago (still no sign). And ‘cuz he stabbed someone ‘cuz the dude got too loud.

At that time people were all, like, “he’s under a lot of stress and he’s probably having trouble fitting in anyways on account of being an immigrant, and blah blah blabbidy blah.”

Well I ain’t from around these parts neither, missy, but I’ll tell you whut … that’s horse manure out where I come from.

So, daughter’s missing and he’s languishing in jail, seems like a crappy sitch, no? What I’m getting at is that I wouldn’t stab the people who bailed me out of there, ya know? Like he did to his neighbours, pretty much strangers until they put up the money.

So now Vakhtang’s stuck three people like so much spicy Georgian sausage and I’m starting to think to myself, hmm, you know, it wouldn’t surprise me one bit to think he might’ve stabbed his daughter too.

Is that such a far leap? I dunno, how did it feel for you?

Alls I’m saying is that most oftentimes, the obvious is correct. Occam’s razor et al. And speaking of knives, who told buddy that slashing your way out of a fight is the “in” way to resolve your differences? Knives can do a lot more damage than a pistol can so if you pull one in a fight, one of you is liable to not be walking away. Pretty sure that’s true anywhere in the world.

Stress? Pshyeah right! One stabbing, maybe … but three? Is this how he relieves stress? Well, fuck, I’m glad he’s not doing it for the sexual pleasure.

Basically, it’s summed up by that famous quote from George Bush:

“There’s an old saying in Tennessee – I know it’s in Texas, probably in Tennessee – that says, stab me once, shame on – shame on you. Stab me – you can’t get stabbed again. Heh heh.”

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