Part 24: Accounts of the Life of Edmund Callipeaux

Contributors:
Edmund Callipeaux – artist, college instructor, lives in St. Louis Park.
Quarter Dutch – primetime television producer, Edmund’s studiomate, lives on the East Side.
______________________________________

Edmund Callipeaux – 24 July 2009, 6:30 p.m.

I’ve been sighting personal hygiene products as I’ve been out and about on my day-to-day. – EC

A blue comb at the Target parking lot.


One of those teeth things at the Target parking lot.


A Q-tip at a Pizano's parking lot


Another tooth thing at the Post Office parking lot.


An empty box of Cruisers at the Post Office parking lot.


______________________________________

Quarter Dutch – 31 July 2009, 1:00pm

“You have to play to pay,” said Edmund Callipeaux as we stood next to my drafting table in the art studio that he and I have shared for many years.

“Oops, sorry. I meant to say, Pay to play. You’ll have to forgive me, I’m only operating on about 90% brain-power…my thinking has been messed up all week,” said Edmund.

Edmund had been struggling with the sleep disruption caused by his recent overseas air travel - - a disruption of his internal clock, otherwise known more commonly as jetlag. This is a condition, or rather, a clause that is in the contract one typically signs with the Devil upon purchasing aeroplane tickets to far and distant lands. The blood-agreement commits the signee to a post-holiday week of not being able to 1) form complete thoughts, 2) utilize short-term memory, 3) simple mathematical calculations are out of the question, and 4) speaking in complete, coherent, and easy to understand sentences is damn near unpossible.

But it’s worth it, right?

Travel, fun, excitement, adventure, and exotic luncheon experiences – all these luxuries come with collateral costs that are not necessarily deducted from your bank checking account.

The situation that Edmund Callipeaux found himself in, reminded him of some advice that one of his uncles had once given to his mother…advice regarding cars and buying them from car dealerships.

The exchange went a little like this:

“You walk into the dealership and you sit down across the table from the salesperson,” began Edmund’s uncle.

“Yes,” said Edmund’s mother.

“You found the car you want, now it’s time to work out the details,” continued Edmund’s uncle.

“Right,” replied Edmund’s mother.

“As you sit down on the other side of the table from this guy, you have to understand that you’re sitting across the table from the devil himself,” said Edmund’s uncle.

“Right,” mused Edmund’s mother.

“Do you understand what I am saying?” asked Edmund’s uncle.

“Yes,” confirmed Edmund’s mother.

“He’s the devil…and so, therefore, you will be screwed by this transaction. There’s no way around it,” said Edmund’s uncle. “You can’t win!”

“Right,” said Edmund’s mother.

“You’re following me here, right?” said Edmund’s uncle.

“Yes,” replied Edmund’s mother.

“So, at these negotiations, no matter what you think may be happening, the fact of the matter is: you will be screwed in the end. There’s no way to avoid this when you’re dealing with a car salesperson. That’s the way the devil works,” said Edmund’s uncle.

“Right,” said Edmund’s mother.

“You just have to be comfortable with the degree in which you’re getting screwed,” said Edmund’s uncle.

“Yes,” said Edmund’s mother.

“That’s the only way to deal with it. It’s you, and it’s and him. He’s the devil. He is Satan. The Dark Prince. Beelzebub. You’re just you - - there’s no way to win. Machiavelli himself wouldn't last five minutes with these guys. And don’t be fooled by the dumb, innocent look on his face, or the mustard stain on his shirt; it’s all part of the ruse,” said Edmund’s uncle.

“Right,” said Edmund’s mother.

“So, getting screwed is just part of the cost of buying the car,” said Edmund’s uncle.

“Yes,” replied Edmund’s mother.

“You’ve got to pay to play.”

“Right,” replied Edmund’s mother.

Edmund's uncle went on to say, "It's what we in the concrete business call the rub."

So, the jetlag is just part of the bargain that is struck at the crossroads where adventure meets lunch in exotic locales.

I looked at Edmund as I saw him struggling to dial his phone, and I said, “Well, I don’t want to seem Pollyannaish, Edmund, but 90% brainpower is better than the 80% you usually run on during the other 51 weeks of the year.”

“Hey, that’s true…I hadn’t thought of it that way,” replied Edmund as he put the phone into his pocket after giving up on trying to make the call. – QD