A universal gesture . . .
I present my current three favourite tales as the best examples of what is surely one of the world’s favourite gestures — thumbing our nose at fuddle-duddle-ocracy; weird-ocracy, eerie-ocracy, industrial-ocracy, judicial-ocracy and government-ocracy all whose goal seems to be to kill the “I’ll-do-it-my-way” sourdough approach to life, liberty and the pursuit of whatever our pursuit is, was, or will be.
Yes, I have made up some silly words merely mimicking the frequent regulations, which the “Ocracies” promulgate prodigiously “to save us from ourselves.”
Trained lobsters . . .
Jimmy was walking on his Newfoundland village wharf carrying two lobsters, when he ran smack dab into a fisheries officer he knew.
“Well, now,” says this fisheries fellow, “got you cold, Jimmy; the season being closed these last two weeks.”
“No, my son,” says Jimmy. “You’re wrong! These are trained lobsters I caught weeks before the season closed.”
“Trained? How?” says the man.
“Well sir, every day I takes them from my small pond at home here to the wharf, and put them into the salt water; they like a swim in bigger waters you know. I has a smoke or two then I whistle them back, and take Jim and Mary, that’s what we calls them, home.”
“Likely story,” says the fisheries man. “Prove it. Show me.”
Jimmy drops Jim and Mary into the sea, and lights up a smoke. After Jimmy’s second smoke, the impatient officer of the fish, says, “How about whistling?”
Jimmy says, “What for?”
“To call them lobsters, what else?”
“What lobsters?” says Jimmy, flicking his smoke past the fella’s face into the water.
The law is the law, is the law, is the law, so there . . .
They walked in tandem, 92 grad students, their rich maroon robes giving them a mature look, causing dads to swallow, and moms to brush tears from their eyes.
The speakers gave inspirational and motivating speeches, all obeying the law. None included, nor invoked, divine guidance. A recent court ruling had expressly forbidden such utterances.
The final speaker, a student, walked slowly to the lectern, stood silent at the microphone as if waiting for something. Suddenly all 92 students sneezed!
The young man at the microphone smiled broadly at the audience, said, “God bless you,” and walked off the stage.
The audience exploded into applause including a standing ovation.
This grad class invoked God’s blessing without breaking the law, but surely thumbing their nose at somebody, or something, eh?
A quiet time on the lake . . .
Celina and Jack were at their favourite place, their cabin at the lake. Jack was out on the water hoping to kill some fish; Celina was soaking up the peace and quiet reading in the cabin.
Jack came back with nothing but nothing, picked up a hammer and started fixing. Celina traded places and had mid-lake quiet surrounding her all comfy in the boat.
A quietly purring motor broke into her reading trance, and there was the fish-and-game fellow, uniform and all, hanging onto the side of the boat.
A polite opening, “Howdy Ma’am,” followed by, “May I see your fishing licence,” changed the mood quickly.
“Don’t have one,” said Celina, don’t fish, and I’m not fishing.”
Now Jack had left his rods hanging over the edge of the boat, baited and ready for his evening shot.
“Well, I’m sorry ma’an,” said the uniformed fellow, “but you’ve got all the equipment ready to go, how do I know you’re not going to use it? I’ll have to give you a summons.”
“Oh, that’s alright officer,” says Celina, who is not a lady to mess with. “When we get into court I’ll be accusing you of rape.”
“Well now ma’am, that’s ridiculous. I have done no such thing.”
Celina shot back, “Officer, you’ve got all the equipment, how do I know you’re not going to use it?”
He tipped his official hat, and said, as he started his motor, “Have a good day, ma’am!”
A tip of the hat all of these spunky, quick-witted folk, and all their mates. May their number increase as fast as the global warming warnings, lest we be overcome by the world’s rapidly increasing bureaucracy in our search for common sense.
(Oh, yes, the lobster story is an “encore” presentation, which is CBC spin-talk for it’s a repeat performance. The sneeze story is true; it was a grad class at the University of Maryland. The others? Well, maybe I should whistle.)