Stupid, stupid humans

I was walking around outside today, and it was raining. As I got more and more soggy, I started looking around at all the happy pedestrians, with their nice umbrellas. And I got to thinking. And I did a little research about our friend, the umbrella. My results may shock you.

So I’m going to save them for a few minutes. And we’ll kind of ease into the whole umbrella thing, with some animal trivia.

Some species of birds have been known to use tools.

Chimpanzees use tools.

I bet mountain gorillas do too, but I’m not totally positive. I was going to do some online research, but I don’t really want to do a search for “gorilla tool”.

Otters use rocks to break open clams and mussels. (On a related note, otters eat 20% of their bodyweight every day…a fact that has earned these plucky sea-mammals the nickname “Inlet Pigs.”)

Even some types of crabs can be said to make use of tools…and you don’t exactly run into them playing chess (by themselves) at the nearest MENSA meeting. (Hey, did you hear what happened to the poor woman who had sex with that filthy old prospector who lives by himself in a shack up on the mountain? She got hermit crabs.)

Our own species, humans, has been using tools for about 2.5 million years. To give you an idea of how long that is, imagine sitting through the extended DVD version of “Fat Albert”. Now imagine having to watch it again.That gives you an idea of how long 2.5 million years is.

So, for a very, very long time, we have been theoretically capable of making and using rudimentary objects to better our lives.

And yet, we didn’t develop any sort of umbrella until 4,000 years ago, when the Ancient Egyptians finally figured the thing out.

Now, hold on. You’re thinking, “hey, 4,000 years ago. That’s pretty good.”

It’s not pretty good at all. It’s pathetic. Now, I don’t want to cast doubt on the intelligence of our ancestors, especially the Ancient Egyptians. I love what they did with lapis-lazuli. And Hieroglyphics are neat. (I wanted to spell out “neat” in Egyptian Hieroglyphics, but I can’t seem to find that font).

But the fact remains, for the first 2,496,000 years of tool-using human existence, nobody ever thought: “It rains, and it would be nice to have a little device to keep the rain from soaking my tunic.”

I’m not saying they should have invented a retractable aluminum shaft, with a nylon covering and a handle with fold out tooth-pick, flashlight and little scissors. No, I’m just thinking some kind of rudimentary wood and cloth contraption.

I imagine the conversation between the the person who finally put together the first umbrella, and his buddy, went something like this.

TUT: What’s that?

RAMSES: It’s an umbrella. I use it to keep the rain off my tunic.

TUT: It hasn’t rained since Exodus.

RAMSES: Well, the umbrella can keep the sun off too. But if you use it for that purpose, I’d like you to call it a parasol.

TUT: That’s actually pretty cool. I’ve just been holding a big piece of lapis-lazuli over my head. But it’s really quite heavy.

RAMSES: See here, there’s a little pair of scissors that folds out from the handle. You can use it to cut up your marijuana.

TUT: That’s great. Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you. I want to have sex with my wife, but I’m sick of having kids. Can you invent some sort of sheath to put on my penis?

RAMSES: Come with me back to my pyramid. I have some extra sheep’s intestine lying around.

Colourized

Here’s a couple thoughts about some popular colours:

Red: The first (and only) guy I ever kicked in the balls used to wear a Red t-shirt all the time. I give this colour 1 out of 5 stars.

Orange: Can’t rhyme anything with it, and the juice gives me cold-sores on the inside of my mouth. 1 out of 5 stars.

Yellow: I’m tempted to say I hate it, because it’s the colour of cowardice. But I own four Yellow shirts. I’ll pass on this one.

Green: It’s the colour of the great outdoors, money and envy (which is, if nothing else, a great motivator)…I give Green 5 out of a possible 5 stars. It's hard to actually think of anything green, that is bad.

Blue: This colour reminds me of the giant, Blue exercise ball sitting in my back-room, and how little I use it. And how unfit I am, and how I told everyone I was totally going to do yoga, and then quit after eight (8) sessions. Also, it's the favourite colour of the Blue Man Group. ½ out of 5 stars.

Indigo: This colour is so much like blue, it doesn't deserve its own spot on the rainbow. A few people can tell the difference between Dr. Pepper and Mr. Pibb. But most can’t. Same goes for Blue and Indigo. I’m not even going to give Indigo a rating.

Violet: Smallest member of the violin family. 2 out of 5 stars.

Tawny: I was in “Tawny Troop” in cub-scouts. There was “Red Troop”, “Blue Troop”, “Green Troop”, “Black Troop”. And then us, “Tawny Troop”. It was a bit like playing in the NHL on a team called the Pittsburgh Piggybanks. 1 out of 5 stars.

Peach: This is the colour that used to be called “Flesh” by the racists at Crayola Crayon. 1 out of 5 stars.

Homeless, with honeys

You know something you just don’t see very often?

A homeless guy pushing a shopping cart full of empty cans, with a couple of nice-looking ladies on his arm.

I’m no sociologist, but I could guess as to the socio-economic realities of mating in our society that make this scenario unlikely.

But I won't.

Instead, I’m going to imagine this scenario as a performance art project.

Imagine a regular guy - like me, for example - dressing up in the finest street-guy chic. I’d be wearing sweatpants (don’t worry, those are chocolate stains) and mismatched gumboots. Plus a wool hat, a pair of those gloves with the fingers cut off, and about two months worth of facial hair (complete with cigarette ash and twigs, natch).

Then I’d buy gifts for my girlfriend and another lady friend, to convince them to dress up as what the kids today call “hotties”. (Thong? Check. Baby-tee with a slutty saying like “Eleven inches deep”? Check.)

I know you’re probably thinking the two women should be wearing mini-skirts and halter-tops, but you’re wrong. Because then I’d look like a homeless guy who had saved up six weeks worth of Sprite cans just to hire two hookers to help me dumpster dive. And that’s not the effect I’m going for.

Me and the sweet ladies would get us a shopping cart (they give them out for free at the supermarket) and some empty cans, and we'd take to the streets. We’d all take turns pushing the cart, and just cruise around town blowing people’s minds.

Good plan? Lousy plan? Let’s examine the pros and cons.

Pros:
It will cause people to question their dearly held concepts of the importance of economic stability (and personal hygiene) to North American females in search of a mate.
It’ll blow people’s freakin’ minds.
It’ll give me a chance to finally return all those empty Rock-a-Berry Cooler bottles.

Cons:
It’s the kind of idea that Johnny Knoxville probably thought of for “Jackass”, but then rejected as being too sophomoric.
It’s fundamentally mean-spirited, rude and stupid.
Doing this would make me a performance artist.

Well, that settles it. I’m not going to do it.
And its not because I’m too lazy. I’ts because I’m mature.

The origin of the name.

Yesterday, my friends gave me a t-shirt for Christmas. It was January 11th, but that’s not important.

The shirt reads: “Bacon is a Vegetable.”

For the record, I’m a sometimes-vegetarian who likes the taste of hickory-smoked bacon

Today, as I was walking to work, thinking about the t-shirt, I finally figured out how I should identify myself, to those who ask.
I am a baco-vegetarian.

“Ha-ha. baco-vegetarian, that’s pretty funny,” I thought to myself.

But then I got to work and googled “baco-vegetarian”.
And wouldn’t you know it…Lisa Loeb coined the term first.
I bet she doesn’t even eat bacon. She was probably just trying to be edgy, to make up for song-lyrics like “You want me to dance with the angels? Then embroider me with gold, and I will fly with the angels.”

Anyway, nobody’s heard of Lisa Loeb, so I think I’ll still sound original if I call myself a baco-vegetarian.

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But how, sir, can you call yourself a vegetarian (even with a non-capitalized “V”) if you eat bacon?

Well, it all comes down to a little theory first put forth by an acquaintance of mine named Jim Pulluzi.

He figures that you can consider yourself a vegetarian, as long as you consume meat at a slow enough pace, that the animal could survive its removal.

So, say you imagine a large pig (we’ll call him Wilbur) roaming a hillock somewhere in the midwest. It’s sunny, warm, with a relative humidity of a manageable 60%.

Sure, there’s a fence around him. But he’s got enough room to stretch his stubby little hooves. And he’s happy.

Once every week or so, I come along with a stainless steel cheese-slicer.

“Hold still Wilbur,” I say.

And he does, because he likes me.

I gently carve off three thick slices of flesh (from his rump, because that’s the moistest).

He bleeds a bit, but within an hour or two he’s recovered, and climbs up into his pig-house for a little nap. (Oh, did I mention that he sleeps on the 2nd floor of a little wood pig-house? On the bottom floor is a small woodstove that is always burning, to keep him warm while he sleeps. Coincidentally, the woodstove burns only hickory.)

So, I’ve got my three slices of bacon for the week and Wilbur’s happily sleeping in a plume of delicious hickory smoke.

Am I still a vegetarian, even if I go home and make a WilburLT sandwich? Fuckin’ right I am.