Archive for the ‘Mike’s Rambling’ Category
Mutton-Bustin’ Zander
Posted by Mike | Filed under Mike's Rambling
Zander walked reluctantly up to the office door. He hesitated a moment, then knocked gently. The door swung open, and he was dismayed to see that his rodeo trainer was watching the game film from last night.
“You wanted to see me, coach?”
“Yes, Zander,” the grizzled old cowboy replied, “have a seat, son. I wanted to talk to you about your ride last night.”
Zander shook his head in disgust. “I know, I didn’t stay on very long.”
“Are you kidding? I was going to congratulate you! Do you know who that was you rode for almost two seconds?”
“No, they didn’t tell me.”
“It’s a good thing they didn’t, or you might not have gotten on him at all. Only two other riders have even made it out of the gate, and neither of them lasted more than half a second on that monster! That was Crazy Fluffy you were riding!”
“Crazy Fluffy? Are you sure?” asked Zander in amazement.
“That’s right. The Devil’s Q-Tip himself. You set the record, son, and it’s going to last forever. They’re retiring that walking death-trap immediately. Something they should have done long ago. It’s a wonder no one’s been hurt. Now sit down and watch this ride, son.”
Zander watched with new-found pride as the film looped over and over.
“Do you see right there, at the point seven second mark?” the coach said, “That little bushwacker is trying to bite off your right leg, so you leaned over and rode him sideways for the next eight tenths of a second. I haven’t seen riding like that since Yakima Canutt perfected that trick in ‘Riders of the Dawn’ in 1937.”
“Yeah, that’s right, I did that on purpose,” Zander quickly agreed.
“Where’d you learn to ride like that? I’ve only been working with you for a month.”
“My Mom taught me.”
“Well, I’m tellin’ you, Zander, you’ve got a real lucrative career ahead of you if you stick with it.”
“I don’t know, coach. Do you think mutton bustin’ will ever become as big as soccer?”
“Of course it will! Once those idiots at the networks stop ignoring my letters and start showing action like this,” pointing to the screen, “why, sponsors like Wrangler and Stetson will start beating a path to your door. You’re gonna be rich!”
“But coach,” Zander protested, “I’m only five years old!”
“You don’t ride like it, son. Now, do you want to stay for lunch?”
“What are you having?”
“Lamb chops, boy! Crazy Fluffy has thrown his last rider.”
Goodbye, Dad
Posted by Mike | Filed under Mike's Rambling
I said goodbye to my Dad last night around 7:30. At around 9 in the morning the hospice nurse had said he didn’t have much time left, but she underestimated how much he loved being alive. He fought for every breath he could until the cancer took the last one away from him. He loved everything about his life: his home, his wife, his children. He loved sitting in his easy chair watching a football game. He loved doing volunteer work, helping people out. He especially loved the outdoors. Put a fishing rod in his hands and a lively trout on the line and he simply couldn’t worry about what the rest of the world was doing. Even in his illness he took pleasure where he could; his eyes would light up when I’d arrive with his favorite chocolate-iced doughnut. The best things I know were learned sitting beside him in a freezing duck blind or on a boat trolling for salmon. My greatest triumphs came as he grudgingly doled out three or four dimes after one of our viciously competitive golf games (“That’s a slow putt, Mike; better hit it hard!”) My worst defeat came last night at around 7:30. Goodbye, Dad. Wherever you are, I hope the fish are biting.
Tumescent Camponotus Pennsylvanicus
Posted by Mike | Filed under Mike's Rambling
A significant number of my loyal readers expressed surprise and dismay at my use of the phrase “an ant with a boner” in a recent post. One went so far as to say, “I guess you aren’t really a nice guy after all.” Trust me, dear readers, I am a nice guy. I agonized for hours (well, a few minutes) over that very phrase. It is true that I generally avoid the risqué, but I felt in this case it was essential to the story.
When I first heard this ancient joke about overconfidence, I was probably playing kickball on a grammar school playground. I believe the phrase used was “an ant with a hard-on.” I doubt any of us at the time were even old enough to know what a hard-on was, but it was clearly dirty so we enjoyed it immensely. Just as clearly, it was too crude for my sophisticated blog. Whatever should I call the appendage in question? I remember Steve Martin struggling with an equally perplexing matter: What to call the female mammary organs. Melons? Headlights? Yabahoos? He finally concluded (correctly) that the proper term was “hooters.”
Sure, I could have gone with the clinical term, erection, but that didn’t seem as funny to me. “Big Johnson” seemed pretty funny, but that joke has been worn threadbare by all the T-shirts and other references (even my father used it in a lovely poem he wrote to my mother on Mother’s Day.) “Woody” probably would have worked. “Chubby” might have been too obscure. I’m not particularly fond of the equipment-related references such as “package” or “tool” or even, yes, “equipment.”
In the end, I resorted to the authoritative wisdom of one of my favorite web sites, Cracked.com. Not a day goes by without several boner references in that fine entertainment venue. If it’s good enough for Cracked, it’s good enough for me.
That said, I apologize for my shocking incivility, and promise to be more circumspect in the future.