Ask the Oil Spill . . . More Advice from Lesser Known Sages

IN A BOLD ATTEMPT TO RESURRECT A RECURRING FEATURE DESTINED TO STOP RECURRING, I AM SCREAMING THROUGH A MEGAPHONE WHILE IN A HELICOPTER ABOVE THE BP OIL SPILL!

THAT'S RIGHT. I AM SEEKING ADVICE FROM A LESSER KNOWN SAGE! PREVIOUSLY, I INTERVIEWED THE LARGE HADRON COLLIDER, A DUNGEON MASTER, AND MATTHEW CLEMMENS! BUT I'VE NEVER DONE ANYTHING AS EXTREME AS THIS!

SO HERE I AM, SEVERAL HUNDRED MILES SOUTH OF MOBILE, ALABAMA, HOVERING OVER THE SPILL'S GAPING MAW. THE SPILL'S BREATH SMELLS LIKE A MIXTURE OF RAW SEWAGE, ROTTING SEAWEED AND DECAYED PELICAN. I'M GOING TO ASK THE SPILL A FEW QUESTIONS.

ME: Mr. Spill? Is that what you liked to be called? Or should I stick with Mr. Gulf Spill?

THE SPILL: I prefer Mr. BP.

ME: Is that so people know who is to blame? So they recognize who created you?

THE SPILL: No. It is an acronym for Big Penis. I'm hung like a derrick.

ME: Okay, let's get serious. Who is more to blame for the current financial crisis? Is it the banking industry, with their deleterious lending practices? Is it the Bush and Clinton administrations, which pushed the banking industry to provide a wide variety of unregulated mortgage products? Or is it the Wall Street bond market wonks who designed synthetic CDO's and never realized that the "diversification" in these bond funds was not really diverse at all?

THE SPILL: Those are good questions, but, honestly, I don't give give a flying fuck. You're talking about abstract, digital money. Boo hoo. Have you seen my handiwork? Look at this oil-soaked otter! How can you think about property values while beholding this otter! Behold the otter! I will light this oil soaked otter on fire! Fuck yeah! The sub-prime mortgage crisis bows down to me! I am the greater crisis! Me! The sub-prime mortgage crisis pales comparison to me. Pales! Get it? It is pale in comparison to my dark and oily complexion. I am the new black!

ME: Have you finally stopped spewing oil?

THE SPILL: Maybe. But it's building up in my shaft! You can shove as much mud and concrete as you want down there, but I still might ejaculate another load onto your clean blue ocean! Ha ha ha! Get it! Like your ex-leader ejaculating on that blue dress! But I stain better than him. You'll remember me long after you've forgotten his stain. You'll remember me every time your child steps into a sludge ball at the beach. You'll remember me every time you bite into a tuna salad sandwich and it's not tuna salad . . . it's a sludge ball! Fuck yeah! You will remember me! I am a match for even the great tsunami! Do you remember the tsunami? The tsunami bows down before me! I stain the tsunami! Ha ha ha!

ME: People seem devastated by the environmental damage you have wreaked, but I don't see anyone proposing drastic measures about curtailing our oil consumption. What do you make of this paradox?

THE SPILL: The paradox is beautiful! People have shifted their blame and anger to BP, but they need to look at me. They need to look in the mirror, the mirror-like blue waters of the Gulf and see their reflection. I am their reflection! The Gulf is not mirror-like and blue any longer! They will see black and grained spots. Out, damned spot, out! But the spot is on their soul. Two Shakespeare allusions! Oh yeah! The tsunami bows down to me. The tsunami was an act of God, but I am an act of you! Oh yeah! Who is more bad ass? I am more bad ass! Oh yeah! What was the question?

ME: Will humans curtail their energy consumption as a result of you?

THE SPILL: Right. Here is the beautiful thing. Oh yeah! I thought about this. It's so sweet. Because of global warming, it's too hot to walk! You see it? You want to save energy, you want to stop driving, but it's so fucking hot that you can't! You can't stop! It's too hot to walk around out there! Your fat-ass kids need an air conditioned mini-van to make it to the ice cream parlor. You're trapped! So it's all your fault. Oh yeah! Do you remember the earthquake that hit Turkey in 1999?

ME: Not exactly. Why?

THE SPILL: Oh yeah! You don't remember that, but you'll remember me. Every time an oily smoldering osprey flies by your house, you'll remember me! Every time an oil soaked whale beaches itself on your drive way, you'll remember me. I am an indelible stain on your soul! Oh yeah!

ME: On a lighter note . . . what bands do you listen to? Midnight Oil? Gaslight Anthem? Built to Spill?

THE SPILL: Ha ha! Very funny, but also very predictable. But I prefer Greasetruck.

ME: Where do you plan on vacationing this summer now that you've ruined the Gulf?

THE SPILL: I don't vacation in the Gulf anyway. That's where I work. You don't eat where you shit. I'm thinking of hijacking a plane and going to Alaska. I've got an old friend there. Plus, I'd love to stain some sweet white snow. And I've never engulfed and smothered a polar bear. It's always been a dream of mine to engulf and smother a polar bear.

ME: It's good to have goals. One last question: what do you think of Matthew Clemmens?

THE SPILL: I LOVE that guy. He's strictly small potatoes, but still, spewing up toxic liquid onto a sweet pure unblemished eleven year old girl . . . you can see how I admire that sort of thing. But who are you going to remember in ten years, Matthew Clemmens or me? It's me, baby! It is so ME! Every time you bite into a piece of crispy calamari at your favorite restaurant, and your face gets sprayed with burning hot oil sludge, you'll think of me! Not that mining disaster in West Virginia or that unpronounceable volcano in Iceland or the Hanta virus! Even though I don't have legs, I've got legs, baby! Oh yeah!