Saturday, 11 January 2014

Shoe polish is not quite 'organic (Dec. 25/13 column)

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Hanukkah, Ramadan!

                                                            by Robert LaFrance

            I hope everyone has a joyeux Noel and all that stuff, and I wish I could get this shoe polish off my good pants – trousers, whatever they’re called these days.
            Enough on that subject for now; I will surely find a way. Shoe polish is an organic product, right? So…
            “Bob, shoe polish as about as organic as an aluminium car bumper. Why don’t you just face the fact that your only pair of pants is ruined and go buy another pair just like them? She may not notice.”
            Flug, being single, had just spoken the four words that husbands the world over have uttered since Adam said: “She may not notice that it’s from the tree of forbidden fruit”. Wives notice everything that we husbands don’t want them to notice and I have the rolling pin scars to prove it. It’s a phrase like: “I know a shortcut”. Watch out!
            Some readers might be asking if I really have only one pair of pants – trousers, etc. – but it’s true. One pair of pants that, until yesterday, weren’t stained, torn or otherwise mutilated. Now I have an entire wardrobe that’s ready for the ragman, until I remember that a ragman is someone from a by-gone era. He won’t be by to help me out, but I will soon need the services of a good bandager.
            (I just remembered why I thought about ragmen. About a month ago I read a book called “The Ragman’s Son” by the actor Kirk Douglas, who was born Issur Danielovitch Demsky, the son of an illiterate immigrant Russian-Jewish ragpicker and junkman.)
            Back to my dilemma about my pants: what am I to do? Flug offered to lend me a pair, but since he’s about half my size and much taller, that might not work to perfection. By the way, I am not going to explain how I got shoe polish on my only good pair of pants, so don’t bother trying to find out. Let’s just say lemonade was involved.
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            Still on the subject of clothes, I wonder who came up with the idea of ties for men?
            I have thought about this for several seconds and cannot come up with any reason why a human being should be required to take a piece of narrow cloth and tie it around his neck in a certain way, then appear in public like this. It doesn’t meet the requirements of my ideas for fun.
            Indeed, I would cheerfully throw my tie into the river or burn it, but Environment Canada has issued strict guidelines for that sort of thing. Seriously though, are men’s ties just something the ‘clothing industry’ came up with so they could sell them and make big money? I remember when I was a kid I would usually buy my father a tie for Christmas – or maybe some after-shave lotion – because it’s all I could think of. By the time I was 25, he took all the ties in his dresser and made a warm blanket for his horse King. As to the after-shave lotion, he used dump that, three bottles at a time, into the tank of our 1957 Chevvy. True stories.
            I often think about the uselessness of things like neckties, and the vast sums of money spent on other useless items, like high-end pet food. Whether this is high-end food for pets or food for high-end pets, I can’t even guess, but I do know that some people spend a lot of money on their dogs and cats under the impression that they’re human. These same people don’t have any qualms about buying a chicken at the grocery store, or chowing down on a hamburger, but I suppose hens and cows aren’t human. It’s all part of the giant con jobs we live with, like bottled water.
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            Along the same line of useless items, or at least items that, once purchased, do not get used, I include treadmills and other exercise equipment. We had an exercise bicycle AND a treadmill here at our estate for years, until finally someone noticed that nobody here likes bicycles and when we walk we actually do it on the road. We own raincoats and snowcoats.
            If you don’t believe that everyone in New Brunswick already owns a treadmill, put an ad in the paper for the one behind your basement door. You can start out at $100 and go down to a dollar seventy three and you ain’t gonna sell it. Everyone else has one they want to sell you.

            Here’s how I know for sure: I wanted to GIVE AWAY our treadmill, so I put it on several Facebook sites for two weeks. I am not joking, I received not one call even though all they had to do was drive here and pick it up. Finally I gave it to an itinerant ragman and junk picker. I believe he said his name was Demsky.
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