Merle here, your master of well thought out opinion. By now folks probably understand that I’m a pretty thoughtful guy and well read to boot. I come by the reading instinct naturally as my Mom always had her nose in a Readers Digest or a Betty Crocker’s cook book in the sixties. Myself, I can’t ever get out of the check-out line down at Pat’s Jack and Jill grocery store until I’ve had my fill of the Star, The National Enquirer and People magazine. By the way that Patrick Swayze guy has just about bought the farm and Opra’s getting a fat hiney again. Oh, and that Octo Mom gal is a planning on sellin those kids of hers for a hundred grand a piece! Who in their right mind would even pay twenty bucks for a diaper poopin squallin brat and then have to feed their butts for the next twenty years? Well, sorry, I got side tracked there for a minute. Anyways, I like to run in intellectual circles and that leads me to my friend Johnny.
He’s a Canadian feller I met last year and he’s supposed to be pretty damn smart. That leads me to today’s intellectual discourse in this here column. Johnny’s a feller from Nipowin, Saskatchewan. Christ, I hurt my jaw just trying to pronounce that. I’m figuring those folks came up with these goofy names cause they were damn cold up there and they stuttered or something, but he insisted he was from Nipowin. Ok, whatever suits ya, I guess you’re from Nipowin. Well Johnny was one of them really bright fellers and he was an Engineer and we’re not talking about one of them guys sitting on their ass ends, tooting a whistle and scaring the hell outa folks. No he was supposedly an electrical engineer and a physicist and he worked with radio telescopes which don’t make a lick of sense to me. I mean why the hell wouldn’t you just listen to a regular radio with good Country and Western music and dispense with the telescope stuff completely? Well, because he was a physicist and because he looked at stars with that telescope that was a radio or something he tried to pretend he was a lot smarter than the rest of us folks down here in the States. Hell he certainly wasn’t pullin the wool over my eyes, I mean for Christ sakes he was a Canuck. All they do up there is play hockey and fight and such. I saw that movie Slap Shot several times and there certainly weren’t any thespians in that bunch. Why, those Hanson brothers in particular were a bunch of droolin fools if you ask me.
So Mr. Smart britches comes into Ernie’s Tap one day and tells us he’s been selected to work for one of them multinational companies down at the South Pole. Well he’s a sittin there lookin all important and everything and I’d had enough, so I decided to put him in his place. Now don’t get me wrong, I like Johnny but I’m not about to tolerate somebody actin like he’s smarter than me, not when I read the things that I do. Why hell, he didn’t even know that four Arkansas duck hunters had captured Hitler and that he was hiding out right there under everybody’s noses working as one of them Senior Greeters at Walmart right outside of Little Rock. So I asked him, “Let me get this straight, you’re going to go spend thirteen months working right on the South Pole?” He smiled this big Canadian grin and said, “You betcha der eh.” Well, I looks him in the eye and says, “So tell me a bit about your assignment.” He kept on a grinning and said he and forty seven other people were going down there to do all this science stuff, like look at radio waves through telescopes and that the South Pole was the coldest, driest, windiest place on earth. I looked at him and kind of shook my head. Why anybody in their right mind would leave the Hawkeye State to go live there was beyond me. Then he said the following and I quote: “There’ll only be seven women and forty one men.” I looked at him straight away and said, “You’re a dumb ass, a bonafide, blue chip dumb ass. You’re tellin me you’re goin to a place that’s sixty below with eighty mile an hour winds and you’re takin only seven women?” He looked at me like a guy with his fly down. Just like that ole Merle had him disarmed and shown him for what he was, a “Nincompoop Canadian.” If it was ole Merle going down there I’d be takin forty seven women and eight cases of Jim Beam and the hell with those other fellers. Then once we all figured out that it was boring as hell to look at radio signals with a telescope me and one of the ladies would snuggle each evening if you get my meaning.
That’s what’s wrong with this country! We call people smart that would go freeze their ass ends off just to look at radio waves rather than a nice pair of earth bound celestial orbs. I gotta wonder if the guy can even feed himself for crying out loud. What other crazy thing is he hiding, maybe a skunk for a pet or something? No wait, that’s right, he did have a skunk as a kid and he named it Stinky. Oh well, I know the name of that multinational company he’s a workin for and that’s some stock I ain’t touchin with a ten foot pole. Don’t ever try and match brain waves with ole Merle cause I’ll hand you your intellectual ass each and every time. Well, I gotta go it’s time for some WWE wrestling on the ole boob tube. Hah! Boob tube! Beam me up Scotty! Oh and Johnny, I hope you’re freezing your ass off!
He’s a Canadian feller I met last year and he’s supposed to be pretty damn smart. That leads me to today’s intellectual discourse in this here column. Johnny’s a feller from Nipowin, Saskatchewan. Christ, I hurt my jaw just trying to pronounce that. I’m figuring those folks came up with these goofy names cause they were damn cold up there and they stuttered or something, but he insisted he was from Nipowin. Ok, whatever suits ya, I guess you’re from Nipowin. Well Johnny was one of them really bright fellers and he was an Engineer and we’re not talking about one of them guys sitting on their ass ends, tooting a whistle and scaring the hell outa folks. No he was supposedly an electrical engineer and a physicist and he worked with radio telescopes which don’t make a lick of sense to me. I mean why the hell wouldn’t you just listen to a regular radio with good Country and Western music and dispense with the telescope stuff completely? Well, because he was a physicist and because he looked at stars with that telescope that was a radio or something he tried to pretend he was a lot smarter than the rest of us folks down here in the States. Hell he certainly wasn’t pullin the wool over my eyes, I mean for Christ sakes he was a Canuck. All they do up there is play hockey and fight and such. I saw that movie Slap Shot several times and there certainly weren’t any thespians in that bunch. Why, those Hanson brothers in particular were a bunch of droolin fools if you ask me.
So Mr. Smart britches comes into Ernie’s Tap one day and tells us he’s been selected to work for one of them multinational companies down at the South Pole. Well he’s a sittin there lookin all important and everything and I’d had enough, so I decided to put him in his place. Now don’t get me wrong, I like Johnny but I’m not about to tolerate somebody actin like he’s smarter than me, not when I read the things that I do. Why hell, he didn’t even know that four Arkansas duck hunters had captured Hitler and that he was hiding out right there under everybody’s noses working as one of them Senior Greeters at Walmart right outside of Little Rock. So I asked him, “Let me get this straight, you’re going to go spend thirteen months working right on the South Pole?” He smiled this big Canadian grin and said, “You betcha der eh.” Well, I looks him in the eye and says, “So tell me a bit about your assignment.” He kept on a grinning and said he and forty seven other people were going down there to do all this science stuff, like look at radio waves through telescopes and that the South Pole was the coldest, driest, windiest place on earth. I looked at him and kind of shook my head. Why anybody in their right mind would leave the Hawkeye State to go live there was beyond me. Then he said the following and I quote: “There’ll only be seven women and forty one men.” I looked at him straight away and said, “You’re a dumb ass, a bonafide, blue chip dumb ass. You’re tellin me you’re goin to a place that’s sixty below with eighty mile an hour winds and you’re takin only seven women?” He looked at me like a guy with his fly down. Just like that ole Merle had him disarmed and shown him for what he was, a “Nincompoop Canadian.” If it was ole Merle going down there I’d be takin forty seven women and eight cases of Jim Beam and the hell with those other fellers. Then once we all figured out that it was boring as hell to look at radio signals with a telescope me and one of the ladies would snuggle each evening if you get my meaning.
That’s what’s wrong with this country! We call people smart that would go freeze their ass ends off just to look at radio waves rather than a nice pair of earth bound celestial orbs. I gotta wonder if the guy can even feed himself for crying out loud. What other crazy thing is he hiding, maybe a skunk for a pet or something? No wait, that’s right, he did have a skunk as a kid and he named it Stinky. Oh well, I know the name of that multinational company he’s a workin for and that’s some stock I ain’t touchin with a ten foot pole. Don’t ever try and match brain waves with ole Merle cause I’ll hand you your intellectual ass each and every time. Well, I gotta go it’s time for some WWE wrestling on the ole boob tube. Hah! Boob tube! Beam me up Scotty! Oh and Johnny, I hope you’re freezing your ass off!
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