DIARY
Astronauts are liars
by
Robert LaFrance
One young gaffer I know gave me an
idea for a name to call those who go to yard sale after yard sale after yard
sale – they are ‘yard sailors’. He got the idea from Gregg, a friend of his who
used that name to describe a break in billiards or pool. When the balls all go
zooming around the table and none goes in, that’s a yard sailor.
After having recently done some
actual research, I have found that all those astronauts who said they went to the
moon were lying. In July 1969 Neil Armstrong was allegedly the ‘first man on
the moon’ but in actual fact he landed in a field near Riley Brook. Some
canoeists on the Tobique River took photos, but didn’t know who it was at the
time. A recent look at those photos showed Armstrong stepping down out of the
‘spacecraft’ and greeting Elvis, who wasn’t dead yet.
I sure miss the old Duffer, that is,
Mike Duffy. He (literally) filled the TV screens for a year and helped Canada
get rid of The Evil One, but as of late, since he was found ‘not guilty’ (not
to be confused with ‘innocent’) in court of 7,812 charges of corruption, theft,
using eye makeup etc., the journalists who had been trashing him for months and
years were falling all over themselves to lick his rejuvenated boots.
On the subject of translators, or
more properly interpreters, I recently watched a conference held in Spain and
was quite amazed that the Spanish language apparently needs 17 words to one
English one to say the same thing. A Senor Rodriguez, who plays for the Blue
Jays in Hamilton or wherever they’re located, was being interviewed by a CTV
reporter who was aided by an interpreter. “How did you feel about the umpire’s
call in the sixth inning?” asked the reporter. The interpreter asked the
question in Spanish and, I am not kidding, it was at least 75 words, possibly
125.
It seems as if we’re safe for a
while, but it probably will be less than two years before we are subjected to
another election, provincial and then federal the next year. Indeed the
imminent convention for the NB Tory leadership promises the same thing. Here’s
one thing we can count on for every candidate to say: “We promise to lower
taxes”. Here’s an idea: All candidates should be obliged to sign a document
promising to “leave taxes as they are and don’t raise them but use what we have
in the most efficient way possible”.
Leftenant or Lootenant? How do you
pronounce it? How about shed-yule or skedule? I have to admit I don’t know the
proper way – if there is one – to pronounce words like that. Tomato?
Tomaaa-toe? Some even say tamayta. Anyone who has any inside knowledge about
this, please send a postcard to me in New Zealand. I won’t be there, but it’ll
give ya something ta do. English is a strange language, but it’s mine.
I know that nobody cares about this,
but sometimes, only sometimes, I miss the penny. Giving it up, as well as the
one dollar and two dollar bills, ripped my life apart. That might be a slight
exaggeration, but every once in a while I wish I could go to the store and pay
the exact amount for my purchases. When my bill is $27.87, I feel like a
cheapskate when I only give them $27.85.
I may have mentioned this before,
but our house is quite close – too close for comfort – to the American border.
Out the bedroom window I can see Mars Hill Mountain which is of course in
Maine. Quite a coincidence because the town of Mars Hill is over there too.
Since we moved here in 1984 (I’m still an outsider) I have noticed there are
hundreds of the birds called American Goldfinches. The difference now is that
they’re all carrying tiny guns.
As one who regularly watches TV
news, I am struck by the recent policy of the producers to have news readers
like Peter Mansbridge do their reading while standing. No more sitting at a
desk. What’s that all about? What if Peter or Wendy Mesley had corns, or heel
spurs, or blisters from a too-long hike in the wilds of Toronto? Inconsiderate
I call it.
About ten years ago I received a
Tilley Hat for Christmas and have been quite pleased with it, especially with
the feature that says I can get a new one free if it gets worn or gets
indigestion or something. That very thing happened last week, and now I want to
warn all owners of Tilley Hats that their promise is worthless. I drove all the
way up to Tilley, NB, the community where I was born, and could not find the
factory that makes those famous hats.
-end-
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