Fun Forces
Behind Words
My wife is a schoolteacher. I am a writer and
a factory worker. She’s the smart one. Certainly, I have never made
a claim to be overly intelligent (or educated). I make up stories,
sometimes, because I have to, other times, because I really have
to. However, I think the education system in this country needs
an enema. The gene that produces common sense really needs to be
found, exploited, and given whatever it is Barry Bonds takes to
steal records. I learned a great deal from reading and wonder if
such education can be a lost art.
In the factory where I work, there are great
examples paraded before me that the education system and the ability
to read is failing or the gene pool is getting closer to the concrete.
I will give you just a couple examples of how I can easily amuse
myself at work given the material presented.
A guy says to me, "Shrews, ya see that TROY
movie yet?"
"Yeah, I did. Not a Bred Pitt, fan, but it was
ok."
"Ya know what I hate about movies like that,
taken from the BIBLE?"
"HUH?"
Yes, dear reader, you heard correct. This fellow
indeed believed TROY came from the BIBLE. Sigh. Ok. I know not every
one is religious or reads up on stuff, but PLEASE! When they were
handing out brains was he masturbating with the SEARS catalog? Probably.
This guy, currently tagged for a kid he fathered two years ago (and
he couldn’t recall doing it) is the star of the forthcoming film,
DUDE, WHERE’S MY SPERM? That’s my idea, anyway, but I digress.
In a jaunty mood, I informed him he was mistaken,
and the man in the lion’s den did not take the thorn from the lion’s
paw either. I offered him twenty bucks if he could tell me either
name. He came up snake eyes on naming Daniel or Ardrocles (not in
the Bible).
Not ten minutes after this TROY revelation a
nineteen-year-old girl starts talking to me about a book they read
in school. "The one about the giant dog."
"Clifford?" I quipped (fans of the Big Red Dog
on PBS will get it).
"No," she explained. "A mystery."
Stabbing in the dark, I offered, "THE HOUND
OF THE BASKERVILLES?"
Yes, that was it. She could not recall the name
of the famous detective.
"Johnny Holmes?" I offered, making heads of
older men nearby turn.
She nodded vigorously. "Yes! That’s it!"
"Ya know," I said with a straight face. "He
went on to a career in porno after that. I stopped folks with his
powers of deduction and his sixteen inch penis."
"Huh," she said, enthralled. "I never knew that!"
I then informed her the book was written by
the Conan the barbarian dude, ya know, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
"Wow!" she replied. "I never put that together!"
Folks cannot believe how I did that with no
smile, or that I was that cruel. Someday I will tell her the truth.
I hope she never gets on Jeopardy and debates the fact that
Johnny Holmes really was an English detective.
My wife heard of my shenanigans, chided me for
being so mean while bored, and proclaimed, "May God have mercy on
your soul."
My response?
"You really don’t want to know what I told her
when she asked who fought the cold war. Ya know, back in the 80’s
when the glaciers advanced over Canada... and we have a native American
Indian uprising..."
Is it mean to shoot fish in a barrel? Sometimes.
Though quite sad in its own way, I find my mind wandering and their
words only appeal to the smart-ass gene in my body. Rumor is, this
has grown to incredible proportions and is indeed passed on. How
do I know?
Recently, we called my five and six year old
nephews in for dinner. No one responded. My son, John, six and a
half then, replies, "They can’t hear you, dad. It’s tough for them
to hear with their heads so far up their asses."
Now, why did my wife get mad at ME for John
saying that?
However, my son can read, really well. I read
to him. This is a lost art form. Read to your kids. Tell them about
tales and far away places, or some smart ass at work will someday.
Let them travel to places unknown and experience things no one else
can. The force behind words can be staggering, humbling, and yes,
educational.
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