Smitty’s Loose Change #15

There are many people in this country today who, through no fault of their own, are sane.  Most of them are Atheists.

***

And God created the universe it expanded exponentially. Then god divided this sky from the sea that then created life and he told it to multiply. After this he added man and subtracted his only son.

Standing back he looked on in confusion and wondered why this equation didn’t work… At this point a mathematics teacher came over and said, “You forgot the brackets ( ).”  And that was the last time God worked with BEDMAS.

***

I recently got within touching distance of two original Volkswagen Beetles, within hours of each other.  I found the first at a French fry wagon.   (Don’t tell the wife! She thinks I’m still on my diet.) It was greenish-yellow, in decent shape, with a little rust, mostly in the rain-gutters above the doors.  The owner said that it was a ’75 model, and it had custom license plates that read KAFER VW.  That’s a deficiency of the License Bureau.  Kafer, translated from German, means ‘coffee(maker).’  What it should have read, was KӒFER VW.  The addition of the umlaut over the A, changes the meaning to ‘beetle.’

The next one I saw was Fire-Engine Red, and in pristine shape.  I saw no rust.  Even Beetles had year-to-year (tiny) model changes.  Slightly smaller and different-shaped tail-lights told me that it was pre-’73.  It had Historic license plates, and its owner said that it was a ’68 version.

FUN WITH NAMES

The service tech at my Kia dealership is named Faucher.  It’s a French verb that means to mow (grass) the lawn.  His Father worked for, then purchased and ran, a landscaping company, all his working life.

A farm boy that the school bus picked up on one side of my town, was/is named Coulter.  I recently discovered that a ‘coulter’ is a plowshare, a cutting wheel or bar, in front of an actual plow.

A farm girl that the school bus picked up on the other side of town, was/is named Collard.  Back then, I did not know of the cultivation and, mostly Southern culinary, use of collard greens.

***

To err is human, but to really fuck up, you need a computer – with a bureaucrat running it.  Locally, we have been blackmailed into recycling green waste.  Garbage pickup has dropped to every two weeks, but blue-bin and green-bin waste is collected every week.

The region has issued every dwelling two green bins – a small one to put kitchen scraps in, and a larger ‘garage’ one to repeatedly dump the smaller one into.  Compostable-plastic-lined paper bags to hold wet waste are available at all local stores.

The larger bin is 12” X 13 ½”.  The Region-approved bags are 8 ½” X 12 ½”.  No wonder it must be dragged to the curb each week – the bag isn’t big enough to fill!  The smaller one, which I use for cat-shit – (it’s compostable) – is 6” X 7”.  The bureaucrat-authorized bags for it are 3 ¾” X 7 ½“– so long that they partly collapse when inserted, causing loss of volume, and barely half wide enough, causing more lost space.  I sense two different departments, each too self-important to communicate with the other, (You change!  No, You change!) involved in this, and Dilbert in the middle, shaking his head.

***

We’ve all seen the movies, or TV shows…. The CSI forensic technician enters the crime scene.  He/she plucks one dust mote from the air, and a couple of tension-filled moments later, gives the age, sex, name, address, phone number, and shoe color of the culprit.  What then to think of this newspaper story??!

A body was pulled from a lake.  She (at least they got the sex) was 28 to 50 years of age.  28??!  Why not 25?  Or 30??  How in Hell did anyone come up with 28?  Was someone converting from metric??  She was between 4’ 5”, and 5’ 1”.  😯  😳  Put her on an autopsy slab and measure her!!

They didn’t give her weight, but did publish a nice photo of a bead bracelet she was wearing…. Oh, and she might have been Asian, based on the keen observation of her yellow complexion, and lycanthropic epicanthic fold at the eyes.

Remind me, if I die of suspicious causes, I should do it in the big city, not in West Hickstowne, where an exciting day for police is one that has a moose fall into someone’s pool.

***

N.B.

In the above VW story, I downloaded a capital A with an umlaut over it, and put it in my post.  For some reason, WordPress separated the A and the two dots, into two adjacent spaces, and I don’t know how to get them back together.  Just try to visualize it correctly.   😳

Small Town Boy

Small Town

I was born and raised in a small town.
How small, you say? I’m glad you asked.

Baskin-Robbins only has three ice cream flavors.

You had to step out of the village limits in order to change your mind.

The nickname for the city jail is amoeba because it only has one cell.

McDonalds only has one Golden Arch and the nearest one is 15 miles away.

Instead of a 7-11 they have a 3.5 – 5.5.

The New Year’s baby was born in April.

The “Welcome To” and “Thanks for Visiting “signs are front and back of the same sign.

You have to go to the next town to find 2nd Street….

A “Night on the Town” only takes about ten minutes.

The Subway restaurant that serves foot-long sandwiches cannot fit within the village limits.

You do not bother using turn signals because everyone already knows where you are going.

Big social events are scheduled around when the high school gym floor is being varnished.

You call a wrong number and the person who answers can give you the correct number for the person you are trying to call..

There is no point in high-school reunions because everyone knows what everyone else is doing anyway.

School gets canceled for Provincial sporting events.

It was cool to date someone from a different high-school.

The golf course had only three holes.

Anyone you are looking for can be found at either the Dairy Queen or Wal-Mart, over in ‘The Big City’.

Directions are given using the one and only stop light as a reference – after they finally installed one.

Weekend excitement involves a trip to the grocery store.

Your teachers remember when they taught your parents.

The best burgers in town are at the four-lane bowling alley. 

Flash Fiction #91

Water

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

HOW DRY I AM

Mankind is a blight upon the face of the Earth. I believe the line in The Matrix which says Humanity is like a virus.

This was a nice little town, until someone drilled a large-bore water well. Even then, it was happiness and prosperity for thirty years – till the aquifer went dry.

Then there was no more water for drinking or manufacturing. The water-dome collapsed, the soil compacted, and entrances at ground level, now needed ladders to get up into.  People moved away, plants and animals died, and the town, with its proud history and spirit, died with them.

***

Go to Rochelle’s Addicted to Purple site and use her Wednesday photo as a prompt to write a complete 100 word story.

 

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Birthday Cake

As threatened promised last week, this is my birthday-blog roast-post. What have you got to say about it?

71 years ago today, I burst upon the scene in a small Ontario town, and I haven’t stopped talking since. Today, I promise to keep it down to just my Elvis impression – Thenk yoo! Thenk yoo vurry much! This is your day to make any and all comments, suggestions, and (humorous) insults.

Do I feel lucky, punk?? Well, do I? Go ahead – make my day!

I hope I enjoy this as much as you.

Lay on MacDuff,
and cursed be he
who first cries,
Enough!

Welcome, and thank you to all my visitors!

 

ARCHON

Click Clique

E-F Dictionary

That title is mostly for my American readers, and any of the rest of you who have not been afflicted with the French language.  I studied Parisian French in high school for five years; therefore I pronounce that second word as Cleek, not Click.  I also pronounce the word ‘niche’ as Neesh, rather than Nish, or Nitch, the way most Americans do.

Jim Wheeler’s most recent comment about ‘Tribalism’ made me think back to life in my small home town.  I have previously written about how just about everybody got along with just about everybody.  Some people have complained about moving/retiring to a small town, and not being accepted, ‘Yea, verily unto the third generation.’

The reason for all the comity was the (lack of) size of the population.  There just weren’t enough people to form ‘us’ and ’them’ groups.  The old couple who owned and ran the local movie theater finally retired and sold it to a businessman from Toronto.  He and his wife moved during the summer school vacation.  They brought their son, another “Bob”, a year younger than me, who started Grade 11 that September.  It was a Hell of a culture shock.

Football

Bob had played High School football in Toronto.  Bob was good!  Bob thought he would just come north and play football on our high school’s football team, and be a star.  Bob was absolutely astounded that our school didn’t have a football team, or a hockey team, or a track team….or a track!

There were more students in his Toronto high school (3500), than there were people in our entire (2000) town.  Our Regional high school, located in another nearby (2000) small town, didn’t have jocks, or dweebs, or keeners, or Goths.  If we had, there’d only have been enough for one of each.  At a tenth the size of Bob’s school, our little 350-body school just had students, most of them poor, dumb and untalented.  Somebody gotta pump gas fer them tourists.

Canada and the United States are the two largest diversely acceptant countries on earth, although, some subtle, unexpected, unanticipated tipping point seems to be looming.  I have ranted about exclusion vs. inclusion, and questioned why ‘we all’ can’t just get along together.

Psychologists and sociologists have done studies on that thought, and the answer seems to be on a sliding scale.  Individually, and as part of the hive-mind of a group, there seems to be a cumulative limit as to just how far we can stretch our acceptance.

It seems to be related to the strength of belief and faith; the stronger it is, the smaller the groups get.  The Republican Party begot The Tea Party.  Christians split into Catholics and Protestants.  The Muslims split into Shiite and Sunni.  Christians started to get funny with Mormon and Jehovah’s Witnesses.  The Muslims responded with al Qaeda and Boko Haram.  With the Christians, the strong belief/small groups have come down to Westboro Baptists and Duck Dynasty.  I’m probably fortunate not to know what the Muslim equivalents are.

As with everything else, there is a fine line between not believing in anything, and believing too strongly in the wrong things.  The apathetic would vote for a guy who might be Superman – if he were smart enough to find his way out of the phone booth after changing.  The faithful believe in bringing on ‘End Of Days’, so that they, and only they, may ascend to Heaven.  Me??  I believe I’ll have another beer.   🙄

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