That's not very nice, little Stevie.
here's the full excerpt from the book:
There was one brief intrusion of reality into my tunnel vision. Like every other guy my age who didn’t go to college, I got drafted.
Everybody had a different idea on how to get out of it. None of them appealed to me. I thought for a minute, Maybe I’ll go. But who was I kidding? I couldn’t take orders from anybody my whole life. When I got into the draft-board room, I decided to just deal with it.
My anxiety spilled out in a nervous monologue.
I said, “Listen, man. I don’t really have the brains to bullshit you, you know? I mean I’ve heard of people successfully doing that, but I just can’t get into it, man, so you’ve got to, you know, like, help me out here. I’m not that crazy about killing people, I’m being honest with you, as opposed to those guys in the other room, who, you know, can’t wait. They are looking forward to killing people, and I’ve got to believe that’s the cats you want. And the room is full of ’em. I, on the other hand, don’t have that thing that just wants to kill people. So you’re gonna have to explain this to me.”
We were the last group and it had been a long day. The guy from the draft board squinted. “Whaddya mean, son?”
“I mean, explain it, sir. What’s the story with Vietnam? Start there.”
“Well,” he says. “It’s Communists, boy!”
“OK,” I said. “So what’s a Communist and why are we killing them? And all the way over there?”
“Well, a Commie is a… a… a dictator and uh, bad people, son. Bad people. And we’re fighting him there so he don’t come here.”
Really?
“I’m sorry, sir, but I still don’t get it. They’re coming from Southeast Asia to take over New Jersey? For what? Our tomatoes? I just cannot buy that. They land on Bradley Beach, I’ll be the first one there, but I ain’t going halfway around the damn world to shoot people just because you say so. All due respect.”
He stared at me for a long time. I figured, I’m going to jail. It wouldn’t be the first time. The first time was when the local cops planted marijuana on me to try and get the only freak in town off the streets. Luckily, my parents believed me when it was discovered they had loaded the wrong brand of cigarettes. Soon after that I started smoking weed. I figured if I’m already being punished, I might as well do the crime.
Finally…
“OK, son.”
“Check those boxes in the right-hand column,” he said, “and I’d better see you on Bradley Beach when the time comes.”
I said, “Yes, sir, you will, sir.” And that was that.
Maybe he knew I was trouble. Or maybe I was the small fish that got thrown back into the pond.
I didn’t have to hide in a college or run away to Canada. I was free to pursue my impossible dream.
But what were the odds of a kid from New Jersey becoming a Rock star? A million to one?
No. Worse.
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