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The poster on the wall describes how to aid someone who is choking. Meanwhile, the guy in the blue shirt looked to be demonstrating the best way to choke someone. Hypothesis: the two men just came from work where the Mr. Blue Shirt had wanted to strangle that idiot intern who had dumped a Slurpee on Mr. Blue Shirt's laptop.
The following is a wonderfully strange little poem that involves choking by Kent Johnson:
I
was having dinner with Francis Picabia, Kurt Schwitters, and the Count
of Lautreamont. Some other minor poets of the pre-war years were there.
Lautreamont was dead, of course, and his boiled body was being served
in thin slices stuffed into baguettes the shape of milkweed pods.
Everything was going famously, Picabia was making Vvvvv sounds, holding
the severed wheel of his crashed Belogna; Ball was flapping his
papier-mache wings at top velocity; and Man Ray’s three girlfriends,
with their pointed, penitent hoods, were drinking absinthe and
whispering mysteriously near the lime tree. Then it happened that
Breton gave his ten year old, bowl-cutted son, Aragon, a slice of the
Count’s perfectly shaped derriere.
The child swallowed and immediately
commenced to gag and retch, his little hands going to his throat, like
the hands of a shot head of state, and he turned violet throughout the
whole area of his body. Nadja began to scream, and Breton began to
shout, though not words, but primal commands. The sounds coming from
the child were those of crows, or something else I cannot yet name. In
this moment of crisis, I didn’t choke, nosiree, I did not: I sprinted
over and performed the maneuver I had brought with me from the future,
the Heimlich, as it is known, wrapping my arms around the little
Stalinist brat and squeezing and lifting his rib cage with all my might
in five rapid successions. It worked. There on the parquet floor,
ejected and writhing, covered in a film of slime, was a baby shark.
"How on earth did that get into him?" cried Lacan. "I don’t know, but I
could give a shit," said Gertrude Stein. "Pass the butter."
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