Subtle Coolness

Have you ever had one of those days when everything just costs too much? I have experienced that recently. I didn’t buy anything that day.

Actually (or surprisingly, whichever you prefer), I don’t spend money much. Just the occasional lunch out on the town is good enough for me. One thing concerns me, though. Suppose I were lost, stranded, deserted, or vacationing in a foreign country. There really is no difference as far as I can see. Anyway, how would I go about purchasing a Big Mac and fries with my good old American greenbacks? Any suggestions? Let me offer one: Unless I know how to say “Where’s the nearest tourist money exchange area?” I’m up a creek without a sandwich.

I think what Europe is doing with the Euro is a wonderful idea, and I support it wholeheartedly. I think that any land mass that size should at least use the same monetary unit throughout. In fact, it is my opinion that the States should follow suit and … oh, really? I didn’t know that! Well, yet another brilliant idea down the drain. Maybe next time.

I often find that ideas I assume to be my own have actually already been thought up by someone else. By the time the gears are turning, my would-be product is already patented, copyrighted, mass-produced, and marketed. For example, I once thought of the idea of hanging a CD holder from the visor of your car. Then, while I was driving around that day, I looked into the car in front of me, and there it was! My beautiful invention was already invented! So, I put up with it and went about my business thinking of some other wonderful thing I could produce to benefit mankind. Perhaps one day I will beat the competition. I think I may have it with my next device. I call it the “picture tube”.

Although the world may not realize this, society is built on the basis of right-hand dominance. Everything from the keyboard you type on to the books you read are structured around the use of the right hand. For instance, important keys such as Enter, Backspace, and the number pad are strategically place on the right side of the keyboard for the convenience of the majority. But what of the roughly thirteen percent left-handers found in society? I tell you, they are left to their own devices (pun not intended).

According to history, the left hand has traditionally been associated with evil thoughts and tendencies. Parents punished their children if they attempted to learn to write with their left hand. In fact, the French term for left, “gauche”, also takes the meaning “socially inept”. Therefore, the use of the right hand became more readily accepted. Soldiers salute with their right hand. Boy Scouts raise their right hand to recite the Scout Oath. The more frequently used cold water handle is found on the right side of the sink. The refrigerator door handle is on the right side.

Other conventions may be made to mislead the ill-advised, but beware! The steering column is on the left side of the vehicle so the drivers dominant right hand is free to adjust the air conditioning, radio, change gears, etc. Your heart is on the left of your body so you can place your right hand on your chest when reciting the Pledge of Allegiance.

The prominence of the right hand is further immortalized in the media. Have you seen the latest World War II movie? “Heil, Hitler!” What hand did they use? Find for me one computer program that places the vertical scroll bar on the left side of the window. What do you commonly say when someone is correct? You’re right! When you are picking teams for the kick ball game, no one ever wants who’s left.

I almost hit a skunk once. It was just sauntering across the road, not thinking of any dire consequences. I had to slow down almost five miles per hour under the speed limit. Aren’t there laws against that? Aren’t there designated “Skunk Crossings”? They have them for deer, moose, ducks, and small children. Why not skunks?

I have just been informed that when you see a sign that reads “Speed Limit: 30 mph”, it really means “Speed Limit: 30 mph, except when going up a hill”. I haven’t lived in this hilly country all my life, so I was unaware of this obscure traffic rule. Are there any others I need to know about? Tell me, please!

I friend of mine told me about the “hill rule” one morning on the school bus. Laugh if you will, I am a senior and I ride the school bus. I practically wear a sign that reads “No transportation and proud!”. Besides, this is my chance to “preside” over the bus. I’m in my high school prime! The privileges are just rolling in!

Anyway, as I understand it, when you get to the bottom of a respectably large hill, you should “punch it” regardless of any posted speed limit sign. I believe this behavior is already observable in today’s society. Just take a walk down to your local hill, and see for yourself. I recommend it!

I figure anyone can write a good fable, so I thought I might take a crack at it. Enjoy!

Once upon a time, in the far away land of Tucson, Arizona, lived a wealthy land owner by the name of Mr. Gimmelmore. Although he had everything he ever wanted, Mr. Gimmelmore was as greedy as the pigeons in New York City. He always wanted more money, more land, or more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. He could never be satisfied (he had obviously never discovered Snickers).

One day, Mr. G. heard of a rumor that a certain Ms. Spickenspan could turn mint flavored dental floss into gold thread just by running it between her teeth! He also heard that the same Ms. Spickenspan could turn cinnamon flavored floss into hemp twine and make hip jewelry! Mr. Gimmelmore wanted to be cool and wear hemp jewelry, so he extended an invitation to Ms. S. to visit his lovely summer home in South Dakota.

“Have you any idea how cold it gets up there?” replied Ms. Spickenspan. “I would never dream of spending a week up in the Badlands!”

So instead, Mr. Gimmelmore threw a big party on his ranch in Tucson, and the mysterious Ms. Spickenspan just happened to get invited. Now (because she crafted fine jewelry), Ms. S. was cool enough to never miss a groovy party, and everyone knew that Mr. Gimmelmore’s parties were the grooviest.

Much to her surprise, when she rang the doorbell, she was conducted into an underground laboratory (by a man not unlike Lurch), where she was locked in. Then, through a public address speaker built into the wall, she heard mr. Gimmelmore’s voice.

“Look in the cabinet behind you. Inside are several dozen rolls of cinnamon flavored dental floss. If you wish to leave, you must turn all of it into hemp twine by morning. Have a nice night!” This monologue was followed by maniacal laughter that only an insane and evil scientist is capable of (Mwu-ha-ha-ha!).

Of course, all those rumors were vicious lies, and Ms. Spickenspan couldn’t really turn floss into hemp, so she just sat and began to file her nails. Suddenly, a panel turned in the wall, and a short (pardon me, “vertically challenged”) man stepped into the room.

“I see you are in a bit of a fix,” said the man. “I believe I may be able to help you. You see, I can turn floss into hemp!”

By this time, Ms. Spickenspan, mildly terrified by the appearance of the strange character, had drifted to the far wall. “C-c-could you?” was all she was able to say.

“But of course,” replied the man. “For a price.”

“H-h-how about my laptop computer?” blurted Ms. S. “It’s a top of the line model, with a 400 Mhz processor, 128 MB of RAM, and built in DVD and Zip drives.”

“That’s sounds like a deal to me. Let me get to work now.” With that, the goblin-like fellow took the first roll of floss and pulled it through his mouth. Sure enough, it came in cinnamon floss and came out sturdy hemp twine, ready to be knotted and beaded and sold for outrageous prices.

With the goblin-man busy at work, Ms. Spickenspan inched along the wall until she came to the spot where he had first appeared. She pushed against the wall and felt it give. Silently, she crawled into a narrow tunnel and closed the secret door. She felt something under her. She looked down to find an acetylene torch and welder’s face shield. She quickly sealed the entrance to the laboratory, and began to crawl through the passages. Mr. Floss-to-hemp was too busy singing “Yellow Submarine” to himself to notice anything.

Ms. Spickenspan finally crawled into the main sewer area and found a man hole, which she climbed out of. Miraculously, her car was parked only a few dozen feet away! She got in a drove off into the sunset.

Moral: Don’t tell nasty vicious lies and rumors about people you don’t know. They could result in poor unsuspecting goblin-men to be trapped in underground laboratories, turning dental floss into hemp for all time. Also, next time you consider spreading a rumor, just think about where that hemp necklace around your neck has been. By the way, the goblin-man’s name was Jack.

What are fairy tales, really? Did the Brothers Grimm want to get back at everyone who was mean to them by changing their names and making them live unhappily ever after in some story? No, the Grimms had no enemies, remember? They were just trying to make a name for themselves, when it dawned on them. One Brother turned to the other and said, “I know, let’s rewrite all those stories and make them so adults will want to read them! We’ll make a fortune!”

Now the Brothers had to find a way to make them interesting. “Hey,” said one, “let’s set them in Twentieth Century America and give them computers, cell phones, Instant Messages, the works!” “No, that will never work,” said the other. So they turned to their name and grossed them up.

If you haven’t read the Grimm version of Cinderella, let me tell you, it’s quite an experience. Disney doesn’t show the half of it. Or the third of it, for that matter. Do you have any idea how much those ugly stepsisters wanted to force their feet into that glass shoe? It would be like Big Foot wearing pumps. Scary thought.

Why was it glass, anyway? Those writers had no sense of “practical fashion”. As everyone knows, glass is an excellent conductor. If it were otherwise, why is the bowl of peas always hot when it comes out of the microwave? If Cindy had been running on pavement, the heat would just soak up into the shoes, and it would be like she wasn’t wearing them at all. Also, they would get scuffed up and might break and … you get the picture.

Now, suede, that would have done the trick. If the Grimm’s had made it blue suede, boy, would they be rolling in the dough right now! “Oh, Prince Charming, don’t step on my blue suede shoes!” Can’t you just see the possibilities! That’s what Cinderella needed. Blue suede slip-ons and a conservative wear-around-the-office matching skirt and blouse would have really knocked them dead at the ball. None of that fancy-pants ruffles-and-lace-and-what-have-you that can easily tear or spontaneously combust at the stroke of twelve.

I would not want my fairy god mother to be so strict about my curfew. I suppose that if I was blinded by the flash of gourds growing into coaches I wouldn’t put up a fight, but we’ll never know. I still think it would have been better if she rolled up to the palace (or night club) in a white Cadillac De Ville with gold rims and one of those v-shaped antennas that limousines have on the back.

You can expect a rewrite from me in the next few weeks (or months, depending on how lazy I am). You can bet I’ll outdo myself.