It
just shows to go you, er, goes to show you
by
Robert LaFrance
With not a whole lot better to do
because the club was closed and my wife wouldn’t fight with me because of Lent
or Ramadan or something, I sat there in my easy chair, the one moulded to my
athletic frame, and thought about how places get their names.
I grew up in Tilley, where the
nearest community neighbours were Medford, Lerwick, and South Tilley. South
Tilley? Then why weren’t we called North Tilley? I’ll tell you why: I don’t
have any idea.
The naming of communities is either
an art or a sadistic exercise. Sometimes they are named after ‘important’
people who almost immediately are found to be horse thieves or some kind of
knave you wouldn’t want your dog to marry. Then you’re stuck on the horns of a
dilemma, as the saying goes – hoist on your own petard. This phrase comes from
Hamlet, by the way, just to show you I ain’t no literary dilettante.
During World War I, the town of
Berlin, Ontario, had to change its name to Kitchener; during the Gulf War, or
one of those U.S. (excuse me, UN) wars to save humanity, France wouldn’t
support the U.S. so some of the American intellectuals renamed several towns
that had the word ‘French’ in them, as well as renamed ‘french fries’ as
American fries. As H.L. Mencken wrote many decades ago: “no one will ever go
broke underestimating the stupidity of the American public”.
Andover, NB, used to be called
Tobique, and at the same time the beautiful Tobique River was named, well, the
Tobique River. So something had to give. The village of Tobique became Andover,
which didn’t protect them, because in 1966 they became the western part of
Perth-Andover. Meanwhile, Tobique First Nation is today often referred to as
Tobique.
Back to the subject of Tilley, does
anyone know where that name came from? I’ll tell you. It was named after one of
the Fathers of Confederation named Sir Leonard Tilley; he was also the Premier
of NB for a while. How he held these jobs I do not know, because he didn’t
drink. Alcohol I mean. Imagine. And Tilley was named after him.
*****************************
It is not possible to watch an hour's television
programming without having to endure a commercial for a miracle diet. Usually
the number is more like six commercials per hour, and there is no doubt that
each of the companies represented is making money, else why would they spend
millions for those ads?
Accordingly, after a certain amount
of research, I am here to report that there is a sure way to lose weight, one
that does not involve a fad diet, pills, exercise, or reading. With this
method, the average glutton will lose up to ten percent of his or her body
weight within a week. After the decades of individuals trying to erase the
avoirdupois deposited there by time and Burger King, a 'miracle diet' is
finally a reality. This diet is something each of us is capable of; at one time
or another we have all gone on this diet, but perhaps at the time we didn't
appreciate its full glory.
The great secret? Get a toothache.
Over the period of one week as I
struggled with the trauma of an aching molar, I went from a waistband of forty
inches – and God only knows how many kilopascals or ergs that might be – to one
of thirty-five. I started out looking like the late Luciano Pavorati as he was
about to launch into his favourite La Traviata aria and ended up looking like
something the cat had dragged in and wouldn’t eat.
Forget all those fad diet books like
"Dr. Atkin's Diet Revolution" and "The Great Carbohydrate Slaughter",
because with TTD (The Toothache Diet) one does not chew food, he eschews it.
The sight of a potato chip was enough to send me bleating for the Tylenol VIII
bottle. My weight loss plan didn't require weird menus containing things like
organic pomegranates, Tofu Lorraine, and mung bean sprouts. While I wouldn't
want to go through it again, it sure worked for me as a replacement for
pilates, poetry, and that weird elevator music those exercise shows always
feature.
The prospect of writhing in pain and
going into a fetal position in the corner was enough to dissuade me from taking
a big bite of that chocolate cake or apple pudding that would have resulted in
my mouth exploding. Therefore, once the antibiotics and codeine (with 1500-mg
of Motrin every 90 minutes) had relieved the worst pain, my stomach had shrunk
to the size of a tennis ball. It's totally awesome, copacetic, and organic,
man.
-end-
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