Ham On Rye - Charles Bukowski [90]
“Breed a plow horse to a race horse and you get an offspring that is neither swift nor strong. A new Master Race will evolve from purposeful breeding!”
“There are no good wars or bad wars. The only thing bad about a war is to lose it. All wars have been fought for a so-called good Cause on both sides. But only the victor’s Cause becomes history’s Noble Cause. It’s not a matter of who is right or who is wrong, it’s a matter of who has the best generals and the better army!”
I loved it. I could make up anything I liked.
Of course, I was talking myself further and further away from any chance with the girls. But I had never been that close anyhow. I figured because of my wild speeches I was alone on campus but it wasn’t so. Some others had been listening. One day, walking to my Current Affairs class, I heard somebody walking up behind me. I never liked anybody walking behind me, not close. So I turned as I walked. It was the student body president, Boyd Taylor. He was very popular with the students, the only man in the history of the college to have been elected president twice.
“Hey, Chinaski, I want to talk to you.”
I’d never cared too much for Boyd, he was the typical good looking American youth with a guaranteed future, always properly dressed, casual, smooth, every hair of his black mustache trimmed. What his appeal was to the student body, I had no idea. He walked along beside me.
“Don’t you think it looks bad for you, Boyd, to be seen walking with me?”
“I’ll worry about that.”
“All right. What is it?”
“Chinaski, this is just between you and me, got it?”
“Sure.”
“Listen, I don’t believe in what guys like you stand for or what you’re trying to do.”
“So?”
“But I want you to know that if you win here and in Europe I’m willing to join your side.”
I could only look at him and laugh.
He stood there as I walked on. Never trust a man with a perfectly-trimmed mustache…
Other people had been listening as well. Coming out of Current Affairs I ran into Baldy standing there with a guy five feet tall and three feet wide. The guy’s head was sunk down into his shoulders, he had a very round head, small ears, cropped hair, pea eyes, tiny wet round mouth.
A nut, I thought, a killer.
“HEY, HANK!” Baldy hollered.
I walked over. “I thought we were finished, LaCrosse.”
“Oh no! There are great things still to do!”
Shit! Baldy was one too!
Why did the Master Race movement draw nothing but mental and physical cripples?
“I want you to meet Igor Stirnov.”
I reached out and we shook hands. He squeezed mine with all his strength. It really hurt.
“Let go,” I said, “or I’ll bust your fucking missing neck!”
Igor let go. “I don’t trust men with limp handshakes. Why do you have a limp handshake?”
“I’m weak today. They burned my toast for breakfast and at lunch I spilled my chocolate milk.”
Igor turned to Baldy. “What’s with this guy?”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s got his own ways.”
Igor looked at me again.
“My grandfather was a White Russian. During the Revolution the Reds killed him. I must get even with those bastards!”
“I see.”
Then another student came walking toward us. “Hey, Fenster!” Baldy hollered.
Fenster walked up. We shook hands. I gave him a limp one. I didn’t like to shake hands. Fenster’s first name was Bob. There was to be a meeting at a house in Glendale, the Americans for America Party. Fenster was the campus representative. He walked off. Baldy leaned over and whispered into my ear, “They’re Nazis!”
Igor had a car and a gallon of rum. We met in front of Baldy’s house. Igor passed the bottle. Good stuff,