Everbody remember the ol’ saw about a camel bein’ built by a committee? Well ain’tat about whuts goin’ on everwhair these days?
Lookitat mess ey’re makin’ worse ever day in at Gulf oil spill. First of all it ain’t hardly a spill. A spill is whutchy got when y’hitchy coffee cup with y’elbow. At thang in the Gulf is a underwater gusher! An who’s tryin’ to fix it? Who’s t’blame fer it happnin? Looks like everbody’s got a CYA story. An a hot shot PR gang t’back it up.
The gummint didn’t regulate enough, at BP outfit didn’t think ahead enough… oh, wait, they hired somebody else to drill it an build it, an’ Hally Burton (scuse me while I look at’n up)… Oh, scuse me agin! Dang! At’s Haliburton, a oil an luggage cumpny. LUGGAGE?! Whut’s at got t’do with oil? Well ‘em boys still cain’t figger out whu’tay wanna be whe’ney grow up. No wunder they got problems!
Anyhow, that whole bunch is jis runnin around flappin’eir jaws while at gusher keeps on gushin an’ everbody keeps on doin’… nuthin. BP keeps comin’ up with cockamamie schemes t’try. TRY?! Ain’tat the same as sayin’ they ain’t got a clue about whut t’do? Wouldn’ y’thank a big cumpny like at would know whut t’do before they ever buil’tat monster?
I mean ‘ey did know where at sucker was gonna be before they started didn’ay? An’ everbody, ebm my dumb cousin Roscoe, knows oil wells blow out sometimes don’tay? Yeh! So much’a the time at they got whole gangs at specialize in stoppin up em thangs. An’eyr ready t’go in a nanosecond. An’ ding dong! Ey gitat thang handled. Ain’t no runnin’ around figgerin’ out whut t’do.
Now it don’t take a good ole boy a New York minute t’figger out they’s sumpm bad wrong with this pitcher.
Them boys HAD to form a committee t’decide that bein’ a mile deep in the water a oil well couldn’t blow out. Nah. At oil’d be afraid a’the water wouldn’t it? Everbody knows oil an water don’t mix. Yehyeh, at’s it! We cain’t not drill iss thang jis cause we don’t know how t’plug it if it blows. At don’t make no sense. So go ‘head boys. Drill at sucker. We’ll jis play like air ain’t nuthin gonna happen. Go ‘head boys, all together now. Less all whistle at tune we learned… “We cain’t be wrong, so it cain’t go wrong.” Thair y’go. Less jis sell oil an’ party.
Now ain’tat jist the pluperfect place to put in at sayin Siggy made up when he wuz inventin’ his famous slip? “…we men… find reality generally quite unsatisfactory” – Sigmund Freud, Psychoanalysis (1910)
