Let’s Just Hire Bounty Hunters

668px-Bounty_Hunters_SWGTCGI’ve discovered a new way to catch Osama Bin Laden.

Intergalactic mercenaries.

Some call them “Bounty Hunters.” Most call them “Scum.” Others simply don’t call them at all. They exist on the fringes of the galaxy, bouncing mercilessly from bounty to bounty, alone and without a care for any species existing in and around them. Unless of course, there’s a monetary investment to be collected.

Bounty hunters take all forms, from renegade hunter-killer droid to the cloned and abandoned son of a Mandalorian warrior. They are also extremely well-armed, daring to live outside the traditional roles of morality and law, and more often than not, pretty damn good at killing and or capturing.

I have never met any bounty hunters in my life, but from what I’ve seen and read, they would do a good job at capturing Osama Bin Laden. They are well equipped with a plethora of creative weapons that would do plentiful damage in the mountains in and around the Afghanistan/Pakistan border, including double pronged Amban phase-pulse blasters, Valken-38 blaster rifles, concussion grenades, BlasTech DLT-20A blaster rifles, paralysis cords, stun gas blowers and tractor beams.

And even better, according to Article, sub-section 6 of the Bounty Hunter Guild‘s rules and bylines, bounty hunters are not allowed to drink on the job (Section 6. Intoxication whilst on duty shall be defined as any hunter found intoxicated whilst on duty. Intoxication includes substances such as alcohol or spices.) This would not only make for a more effective hunt; it would be beneficial in the acrid desert conditions where Bin Laden is reportedly hiding. Basically, they wait for more appropriate times to get their drink on. (In this case, after Bin Laden was frozen in carbonite and safely delivered to George W. Bush.)

But I’m only just getting started. I haven’t even mentioned their work ethic. Yes, we’re going to need to pay them a little more, but as is always the case, you get what you pay for. Bounty hunters wouldn’t be caught dead dangling from shelves in the local dollar store, but they do know their way in and around an effective kill. In fact, I’ve even procured a quote from one of the most notorious bounty hunters in the galaxy to substantiate that claim: “I’ve killed virtually everything that moves, one time or another, a hundred different species, sentient and dumb; if it breathes I’ve probably killed it or something like it. But I’ve killed clean. I’ve killed without stretching it out,” says one Mandalorian armor-clad bounty hunter, who single-handedly captured Han Solo, escaped the Great Pit of Carkoon and even made his way in and around New York City about two years ago.

He was good at what he did. And he didn’t rest until the job was done. Of course, he was a clone, and may not have required the necessary essentials of human life such as sleep or food, but I think we’ve exhausted all other options. And let’s face it, right now, with the economy in the tank, Jersey Shore on top of the ratings chart and Tiger Woods in rehab for sex addiction, a bad ass bounty hunter with a jet-pack capturing Osama Bin Laden, freezing him in carbonite and delivering him in a spaceship named Slave 1 to The White House would definitely bolster some morales among the people.

In closing, I wish to quote the ever-creative words smith George W. Bush, who said, just before Christmas in December of 2001, “We’re going to get [Bin Laden] Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter to me.”

Yet, following nine years of Bin Laden-less justice, I think now is the time to assemble the scum of the universe, implore the “No disintegrations” rule, issue some Imperial Peace-Keeping Certificates (if need be) and hopefully, free up some time on the Nat Geo Channel in the process.

(I hate to be that guy, but those ‘Hunt For Bin Laden‘ documentaries are killing me.)

By the way, this is sarcasm, so don’t take it too heavily. Thanks.

RIP: These Arms Are Snakes, 2002-2009

“There’s an audience, and someone will remember this.” -TAAS

I’m a little late on this one, but I wanted to at least mention that one of my personal favorites, a Seattle band known as These Arms Are Snakes, called it a day late in December, followed by an official announcement on or around January 12 of this year.

I didn’t exactly take it personal or anything. I understand the nature of bands, and how fragile the arrangement of personalities can be. Not to mention the constant uphill battle a touring band undertakes, from broken down vans to countless nights spent sleeping on people’s floors. But I will miss them.

And I can’t help but think that in the wake of these circumstances, swift and deliberate confrontation took a direct kick to the head. Those that have ever attended a TAAS show can attest to this. Even when the band seemed internally disjointed, the music grabbed each audience member by the throat, shook them violently and never let go.

Still, priorities change, people move on and bands break up every single minute of the year. These Arms Are Snakes leaves behind a lasting legacy of recorded music, scathing live shows and a heavy dose of confrontational influence. And, if nothing else, I’ll always have the memory of them driving through Northern Philadelphia, blasting the They Might Be Giants CD box set on the way to their next show, getting it done the only way they knew how.

(The above video is a few years old, from North Six in Brooklyn. I loved each and every time I saw the band play, but the above performance turned me into a true believer.)

The Conversation (i wish) I Had At The Bar (the other night)

Jules Winnfield

(Man walks in. African American, approximately 50-60 years old, mustached face, tightly curled hair.)

Man (to me): Is this seat taken? (He points to the stool next to me. He speaks in a halt and concise borderline shouting tone.)
Me: Not as far as I know.

Man: The name’s Jules. Jules Winnfield.
Me: I’m Brian Tunney, how are you?

Man: I’d be a lot better if it wasn’t so mutha fu**ing cold out, I can tell you that.
Me: I heard that. I’m never ready for winter. So what brings you in here tonight?

Man: I’m just walking the Earth, meeting people, getting into adventures… like Caine from Kung Fu.
Me: Really, that’s awesome. My story isn’t nearly as interesting. I prefer riding bikes to walking, try to keep to myself and like the Jedi before me, do my best to not crave adventure.

Man (Amused): That’s some funny shit right there, you know what I’m saying? So what’s on the menu in this place anyway?
Me: I think there’s some kinda pork chops as the special today. I don’t know, I wasn’t really paying attention.

Man: I don’t eat pork.
Me (Attempting to make a joke): What, are you Jewish?

Man: Nah, I ain’t Jewish, I just don’t dig on swine, that’s all…. This reminds me of a conversation I once had with a former colleague about 15 years ago…. It was a very strange day.

Me: Example?
Man: I can’t really go into the specific details. I left that behind long ago… I will say this though: on that day, myself and my former colleague, we witnessed a miracle…. He’s not with us anymore, but I won’t ever forget that day I spent with him.

Me: Sorry for your loss man. That sucks.
Man: Shit, it’s cool man. That was the line of business we was in, if you see where I’m coming from.

Me: Oh, uh. Maybe that’s all you need to say then.
Man: You telling me man. But I left all that mutha fu**ing shit behind years ago. Got out of L.A., made a new life for myself. (He grabs for the peanuts on the bar, swallows a handful and continues chewing.) Mind if I have some of your tasty beverage to wash this down with?

Me: Not at all Jules. It’s a pale ale, I hope that’s okay.
Man: Shit man, that’s cool. Say, you know where someone like me could find a place to stay around here for a while?

Me: I don’t really know. Have you tried Craigslist?
Man: I’m trying Ringo…. I’m trying real hard.

Me: Who’s Ringo?
Man: Shit man, I just don’t dig on Craigslist.

Me: Well, there’s an apartment building near our house that does month-to-month rentals, and I think some of the apartments are furnished too. You’re gonna get, well, you know, that transient element, but what else would you expect from that kinda place. At least it’ll be cheaper than the city.
Man: If you would be so kind as to give me directions to this esteemed place, I would be most grateful my kind sir.

(I write down directions for Jules on a napkin and point him up the hill.)

Me: Here you go Jules. If you need anymore help, I’m here most nights.
Man: Thanks man. You’ve been like Fonzie to me.

Me: Huh? What do you mean?
Man: What’s Fonzie like?

Me: Cool?
Man: Correctamundo. And that’s what you’ve been to me. Thanks.

(The man starts to exit the bar.)

Me: Jules, I got one question for you before you leave?
Man: What’s that?

Me: What was in Marcellus Wallace’s brief case anyway?