Just for Grins

Just for grins

Many think that Medulla Oblongata is the capital of Uganda. A few think it is the name of the second cousin of the deposed leader of Congo who was caught cheating on his wife while on a business trip overseas to lobby for investment in his country and is currently facing jail time. What a hoot! Even a second grader knows it is the name of one of the moons orbiting Jupiter. OK, I obviously made up the above story to illustrate the amount of ignorance that afflicts people in general.  I can handle ignorance but I have a hard time with dealing with stupidity.

It gets worse when you strike a conversation with the rednecks whose numbers are on the increase. To the uninitiated, the ‘rednecks’ are the uneducated, white farmers aka hillbillies. If you saw a person compulsively picking his skin, stroking his young beard thoughtfully and burping at an alarming rate in public places, you just ran into one. A redneck typically likes unlimited beer, Jesus, pick-up trucks of ungodly size, and country music - not necessarily in that order though. Don’t let his thoughtful look deceive you because he is mostly stoned. He is the walking one page executive summary of the part of human race that badly needs some overhaul.

The other day I walked in to a local store to buy a few things and there was this redneck couple in front of me in the check-out line arguing heatedly whether they should pay for their purchase with a twenty dollar bill or two ten dollar bills. While the woman strongly advocated the two ten dollar bills strategy our man Bubba (If you threw a stone in a redneck congregation it is certain to hit a ‘Bubba’. If you knew ten rednecks you can bet your bottom dollar six of them will answer to the name ‘Bubba’) was more in favor of the twenty dollar bill approach.  Tension was building and the atmosphere was kind of charged with electricity of the worst kind.  While the belcher-in-chief stood his ground busy scratching, his girlfriend sported a deer-in-the-headlights look, anxiously waiting for the next shoe to drop.

Check-out lines are where the angel in me goes AWOL. I am a nice guy and but there are chinks in my armor. It is difficult to believe but true. People whip out their check books and IDs and start writing the check and balancing their accounts at the same time while maintaining an amiable social conversation with the sales clerk. They become completely oblivious to their surroundings and do not care much if you, just right behind them in the line, are having a cardiac arrest.  My patience was wearing thin for I had a bad round of golf in the morning and was not going to put up with any more shenanigans in life. So, I decided to make my move.

I tapped on the shoulder of Bubba and asked him with an engaging smile if there was anything I could do to alleviate the situation. Bubba explained to me what was going on between his burps.  I assured him that there was no need for him to further elaborate for I was closely following the on-going development.  I asked him to come clean and cut to the chase and disclose the purchase price. He proudly showed me his latest acquisition in the making –a beer cozy- with a price tag of $ 24.

The penny finally dropped and I realized that they were both beyond help. It was time to pull in the drawbridge and let the Bubbas fend for themselves.

Snakes or Snacks?

I was on a business trip to Amsterdam last week and a very funny thing happened.

It was a long working day and it was close to 9.30 pm when I returned to my hotel in Zevenbergen, a small town 90 km south of Amsterdam, totally exhausted. I was counting on stopping on the way for a nice supper on the water front but there was thunderstorm activity and the rain was falling hard, so I decided pedal to the metal was the best strategy.

As soon as I reached my hotel, I made a beeline for the pub and was promptly told that they were closing in fifteen minutes and I must hurry up with my order. I quickly scanned the menu to see if there was anything vegetarian. I then realized the menu was in Dutch and sought the help of the only waiter cleaning the tables nearby. I asked him if the restaurant had anything vegetarian to offer. He smiled and said ' Of course, do you eat chicken?" I plead guilty for not putting chicken in that category and urged him to try again. " How about shrimps?" he inquired. I said negative and launched in to a vegetarian 101 for him. He looked constipated for a moment then quickly recovered to ask me " can you eat 'snakes'?".

Ah, I forgot to mention that the gent in conversation with me was a man of Indian decent from Surinam. I have actually seen 'snake stalls' in Goa so it is nothing new to me. You know finger foods are affectionately called 'snakes' in northern India. I knew what he actually meant so I asked him what was available and he said he could make a plate of spring rolls. I joyfully agreed to the plan and proceeded to sip the divine wine he had just served. With the wine in hand, I was beginning to look like the cat that ate the canary. That is when things began to unravel a bit.

An elderly lady sitting close by was apparently watching the whole back and forth. The lady was probably in her eighties and had a gentle demeanor. She smiled at me and asked ' Do you mind if I asked you a question?".  Unable to contain my curiosity, I nodded my head affirmatively and urged her to go ahead.  Looking somewhat confused she said " You say you are a vegetarian. You do not eat chicken or shrimps but you can eat snakes?"

I had just taken a small sip of wine and was swirling it inside my mouth to get a good handle on the taste when I heard the lady pose that memorable question to me. I had to part with the wine in my mouth in a hurry for I guffawed so hard and ended up splattering the table that had just been cleaned.

A generous tip to the waiter became necessary.