Since I was a young child I wondered: if you sit a million monkeys in front of a million typewritters for a million years, would one of them write the complete works of Shakespeare, or would you just end up with a room full of decomposing monkeys?
I've always had a thirst for knowledge. Forget curling irons, as a young child I wondered if you were to use a smaller and smaller chute each time you went skydiving would you eventually reach the point where you would need no chute at all?
I think I know what makes El Paso tick, but I believe my thirst for knowledge has been translated into a language I don't speak. No matter, as I am currently fixated on writing this column. Unfortunately, I have neither a subject, nor the desire to find a subject. I could drive someplace, but that would take effort on my part. Besides, I'd rather stay home. That gave me an idea. I know El Paso like I know the back of my hand, so I thought I would concentrate on me.
First things first, who am I? To find out I pulled out my wallet and took a peek inside. There was a driver's license, two credit cards, and an old ticket stub to the Justin Beiber movie.
Don't judge me. It was the special edition.
I walked to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Besides the usual staples, I found a half-eaten Chicken MacChicken. Wouldn't you know it? I hate chicken. Especially Chicken MacChickens. So I guess your typical El Pasoan's typical diet consists of things he typically doesn't like to eat, but are cheap enough that he does. Wait a minute... what's that? Two six-packs of Wicked Beer! I guess this typical El Pasoan knows how to live after all.
I continued my tour. I walked into the living room. It was sparsely furnished. The couches looked old. The pictures on the wall were of the Pic-N-Sav variety. Apparently, the typical El Pasoan has recently been divorced, and his ex-wife absconded with all the good furniture.
I walked through the three bedrooms. Two of the bedrooms were essentially empty, used more for storage than anything else. The master bedroom had a flat-screen TV, DVD player, and the first season box-set of Saturday Night Live.
Hmm... that's odd. No bed, just a mattress on the floor. That can't be comfortable. I'll just lay on it for a few seconds so... I can...zzz...
I was wrong. It wasn't a mattress, after all. It was a time machine. When I lay down on it it immediately transported me approximately 8 hours into the future. It would seem your typical El Pasoan isn't so typical. And, hey, lookee there: pictures of his kids. I bet he misses them. This gives me hope for El Paso.
The typical El Pasoan is not such a bad guy after all.
I am Jim Duchene, and you're not.
Fifty Shades of Humor