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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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