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As my descendants will proudly tell
you, I can be a bit slow on the uptake. But now I found the “I Can’t
Do Any of This” channel on cable television, and it opened my eyes.
It’s like shopping in an army surplus store. Lots of fun just
cruising around, trying to figure out what this little thing does. A
lesson in belittlement?
Faugh! I say.
No, for the up-to-date old cowboy and columnist, it’s simply a
challenge. I always try to figure out what the little gizmo does
before throwing myself on the mercy of that young girl at the cash
register.
It’s much the same with the “No Can Do” channel. I’ll turn it on in
the morning while ingesting coffee, and they’ll tell me, “Don’t
throw away that old fan until you’ve filled it with cement.”
Then out comes some 12-year-old kid they found in the jungles of
Laos or somewhere and he gets right to work, mixing up stuff that
will set and look like a real goal in about half an hour.
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I’m only left in the lurch for the
first 29 minutes, however, as I watch him put the finishing touches
on a flower pot/lamp stand/mirror prop/dog feeding bowl/heavy jar in
which to someday store your ashes.
But again, if it were that simple to figure out, why bother? Hey,
who of us can be certain that we won’t find ourselves alone in the
jungles of Laos with no way to survive the plane crash except for
the concrete and the broken fan?
That’s why we were made superior to other mammals. At least that’s
what I tell myself and my dog Minnie before starting the day’s work. [Text from file received from
Slim Randles]
Brought to you by
my books, none of which deal with broken fans or concrete.
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