The Folly Of Backspin
Yeh-uh, it was on impulse that I drove along the fence line in search of knowledge regarding fences. I was on my way to take a shower and I thought--I'll just drive my truck where I've never driven it before, look at fence, ruminate, and then go back to the house and clean up so I'll be fresh for the evening's beer drinking. I might have thought that I would be wiser for this experience, a wise old beer drinking fool, scratching his chin and chuckling about all the tidbits of wisdom floating around in his skull.
One might occasionally ruminate before doing stupid things, reconsider motivation, and finding none, abort mission.
I however don't always aspire to avoiding stupidity.
Off the path I saw standing water, drove just beyond it and to an elevation lower than it and turned in its direction. This I did to avoid getting stuck in the mud. I drove into a soggy bog to avoid getting stuck in the mud. And what I discovered was something wonderful, a world of untold mystery unfolded before my eyes; it was a magical time encapsulated inside a few ticking seconds; my heart beat wildly as I gazed upon the profile of her fulsome breasts (they say a man has a sexual fantasy every fifteen seconds).
But my fantasy was just a brief prelude to self-degrading, vitriolic, profane self-abuse. I cussed myself. You stupid f-ing d-head.
I walked to the top of the hill where the vaguely eastern-european day helper was sweeping the porch and I said, come on son, we got work to do, and I briefly described the predicament, telling him we would use the little jeep and try to pull the truck from the mud. You will try to use little jeep for this purpose? the vaguely eastern-european day helper said and I just grunted back, yeh-uh.
The little jeep has mostly been considered a toy for ferrying about the property visiting dignataries and it was a long shot to consider that it would have the strength to pull a medium sized truck stuck, or unstuck, in mud. With the broken-english-speaking vaguely eastern-european day helper driving the jeep and me behind the wheel of the truck and a tow rope between us, we conspired to extricate.
This proved to be a successful venture followed by me feeling so much the wiser. I showered but decided not to shave so there would be a few gray beard hairs to scratch that evening while I drank my beers.
The vaguely eastern european day helper said, now we play bocce? Sure kid, I said, and proceeded to school him regarding the folly of affected backspin.
eastern european? you sure it wasnt one of them helper monkeys? now there is a hominid with a heart. i look forward to more tales of this plucky primate.
when helper monkeys go bad
some future "stars" buried in that cast -- stephen root, stanley tucci and janine turner.
And it happens in real life too.
"As we speak, a rogue monkey and its unrepentant owner sit in the comfort of their home”
And you gotta love the neutrality of the reporting: "Steven Seidler, who contends he needs his biting macaque..."
"Seidler, who lives alone and depends on the monkey to groom and bathe him, claims he has never seen Darla get angry before ..."
Can I saw "ewww!"?
Hominid Habilis?
Darla may be handy, but she's not even a
Hominoid. Regarding "helper dude", we'll have to rely on your judgement as to whether he's
Homo
habilis.
The lead sentence of the New York Post story is "The owner of an attack macaque monkey is a criminal, having served nearly nine years in a federal penitentiary for cocaine dealing." Guy can't catch a break from the tabs. And whatever happened to saying "alleged?"
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Yeh-uh, it was on impulse that I drove along the fence line in search of knowledge regarding fences. I was on my way to take a shower and I thought--I'll just drive my truck where I've never driven it before, look at fence, ruminate, and then go back to the house and clean up so I'll be fresh for the evening's beer drinking. I might have thought that I would be wiser for this experience, a wise old beer drinking fool, scratching his chin and chuckling about all the tidbits of wisdom floating around in his skull.
One might occasionally ruminate before doing stupid things, reconsider motivation, and finding none, abort mission.
I however don't always aspire to avoiding stupidity.
Off the path I saw standing water, drove just beyond it and to an elevation lower than it and turned in its direction. This I did to avoid getting stuck in the mud. I drove into a soggy bog to avoid getting stuck in the mud. And what I discovered was something wonderful, a world of untold mystery unfolded before my eyes; it was a magical time encapsulated inside a few ticking seconds; my heart beat wildly as I gazed upon the profile of her fulsome breasts (they say a man has a sexual fantasy every fifteen seconds).
But my fantasy was just a brief prelude to self-degrading, vitriolic, profane self-abuse. I cussed myself. You stupid f-ing d-head.
I walked to the top of the hill where the vaguely eastern-european day helper was sweeping the porch and I said, come on son, we got work to do, and I briefly described the predicament, telling him we would use the little jeep and try to pull the truck from the mud. You will try to use little jeep for this purpose? the vaguely eastern-european day helper said and I just grunted back, yeh-uh.
The little jeep has mostly been considered a toy for ferrying about the property visiting dignataries and it was a long shot to consider that it would have the strength to pull a medium sized truck stuck, or unstuck, in mud. With the broken-english-speaking vaguely eastern-european day helper driving the jeep and me behind the wheel of the truck and a tow rope between us, we conspired to extricate.
This proved to be a successful venture followed by me feeling so much the wiser. I showered but decided not to shave so there would be a few gray beard hairs to scratch that evening while I drank my beers.
The vaguely eastern european day helper said, now we play bocce? Sure kid, I said, and proceeded to school him regarding the folly of affected backspin.
- jimlouis 8-06-2004 5:05 pm
eastern european? you sure it wasnt one of them helper monkeys? now there is a hominid with a heart. i look forward to more tales of this plucky primate.
- dave 8-06-2004 7:28 pm [add a comment]
when helper monkeys go bad
- tom moody 8-06-2004 7:36 pm [add a comment]
some future "stars" buried in that cast -- stephen root, stanley tucci and janine turner.
- dave 8-06-2004 7:41 pm [add a comment]
And it happens in real life too.
- alex 8-06-2004 8:43 pm [add a comment]
And you gotta love the neutrality of the reporting: "Steven Seidler, who contends he needs his biting macaque..."
- tom moody 8-06-2004 9:49 pm [add a comment]
"Seidler, who lives alone and depends on the monkey to groom and bathe him, claims he has never seen Darla get angry before ..."
Can I saw "ewww!"?
- mark 8-07-2004 1:07 am [add a comment]
Hominid Habilis?
- jimlouis 8-07-2004 1:57 am [add a comment]
Darla may be handy, but she's not even a Hominoid. Regarding "helper dude", we'll have to rely on your judgement as to whether he's Homo habilis.
- mark 8-07-2004 2:31 am [add a comment]
The lead sentence of the New York Post story is "The owner of an attack macaque monkey is a criminal, having served nearly nine years in a federal penitentiary for cocaine dealing." Guy can't catch a break from the tabs. And whatever happened to saying "alleged?"
- tom moody 8-09-2004 4:27 am [add a comment]