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Other Peoples Tragedies...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1894
"There is always something infinitely mean about other people's tragedies" - Oscar Wilde.
And the tales of the tragedies wrought by the recession are legion...
"I had to lay off 64 people" begins one regular, no word as to the fate of those he laid off, merely that we should somehow feel for him, empathize that his profits are almost entirely reduced to the work of his own hands. Another has had to sell his car, buy a cheaper model, yet another cancelled his annual trophy hunt in Europe. The best, a customer complaining about the cost of a new windshield for his Bentley - "Guess how much" he asks us, "$1500" guesses one, "$5000" I guess, "$7000" he tells us, "Use my car" I generously suggest, offering the keys, "Once around the block and you'll return to your world a changed man...".
These people, other peoples tragedies, they haven't got a clue...
The Great White Hunter
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Conversations
- Hits: 2258
We've a late table, another one that doesn't understand when exactly we close, and makes an afternoon of a "business lunch". The one, an elderly Italian, the other, a strapping, blousy tart, coworker of the Italian.
The owner discovers them, he's in a rare temper today, swinging between extremes, sits down, begins to work on the tart...
He tells her of his hunting, he's bagged a trophy whitetail deer. I can hear the conversation from where I stand watching the table, trying not to eavesdrop, but they're the only table in the restaurant...this is true.
When she goes the bathroom he confirms with the guest that she's not his lover...doesn't want to be too forward...indiscreet...
He's shot a couple of elk, they've gotten away...true. "Coyote Food" is how he describes them to me, they won't live, but somehow they eluded his stalking...
But the story's just gotten a whole lot better, he's drawing in the blousy tart...
"I tracked it for 4 hours through the snow, following the blood, I was amazed it lived, and then I discovered the scent had been picked up by a grizzly bear...it charged me...what was I to do? I didn't want to shoot it, although it was charging me, so I fired into the air..."
And we've crossed the line here into complete and utter bollocks, but if she buys it, well, good for him...
Mickey Mouse Via Public Domain
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Ideas & Questions
- Hits: 2415
"Adam Ruins Everything" explains how corporations have seized and monopolized the right to public domain artworks. Well. And maybe you guessed who the culprit is?
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'96 VW Jetta
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2028
Every day another miraculous resurrection, it starts, I'm amazed, but not nearly as amazed as I am when it goes...
20 below outside, 19 below in the car, the snow never melts inside, never enough antifreeze to stop me from freezing, but it''s quicker than walking...
It's been over 2 months since my last prospecting adventure, 2 torturous months trapped in Calgary, the car, it isn't going to make it, I know this, every trip to work that I arrive safely and in a single piece, that's another miracle, soooo many miracles, my cars' a veritable Jesus on wheels....
The noise, even louder than before, deafening, it's like a Jet engine or 747 taking off right over your head, at intersections people check the car out, think that I've customized it this way, pimped my ride, I'm a street racer, hot-rod enthusiast, nahhh, it's just the car, lacking an entire exhaust system, muffler, look at it, really, who would spend money to customize this?
It's depleted on every fluid, antifreeze twice a day, oil, gas, I complain to the other waiters at work, if they win the lottery they'll get me my jeep, "Still..." warn's A*****, "you might have to put gas in the next car too you know..."...I know, I know, I just don't want to be over-committed to this, with every trip quite likely, almost certainly it's last I don't want to risk losing a full tank of gas in the bargain...I have to watch the gauges like a pilot, exhaust, fumes, the restaurant is about the outer limit of it's reach, the temperature starts to climb when I reach the first shoulder of the hill, every red light thereafter is a torturous wait, watching the temperature fluctuate, Will it make it? Will it not?...
It's done, done, done, 4 liters of antifreeze a day, more antifreeze than gasoline, I've been using water, it's too much, this hand-mixing of the artisnal antifreeze, guessing at the temperature, I don't want to crack the engine block, maybe it's already cracked, there are the sounds for sure, the rattles from every direction as I drive, engine rods, ball joints, the junk in the trunk, shocks that jar and jolt over every protruding manhole, idiot lights all ablaze, bare tires make the hill down an easy thing, but by the time I start heading up the next hill the fumes in the cockpit are overwhelming, exhaust pours in through the passenger floor, the fumes of burning antifreeze and oil, every cylinder and head gasket straining against the pressure, looking over the storm clouds billowing over the hood, I gotta drive faster if I'm gonna escape, the temperature warning gauge is climbing, the windshield wipers won't clear the smoke...I'm a WWI pilot going down in flames, "I'm the Red Baron!" I scream, but no one can hear me over the galloping of the engine...
...If it'd just survive until the daughter arrives and gets her learners license we could wreck it together, tenacious, this shuddering, smoldering, wreck of a car, i have to grudgingly admire it, it's served me well, no Volvo for sure, but it's done it's best, the daughter and I, we'll lay it to rest, give it a proper funeral and explosion before resigning ourselves to the bus...
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