Oliphant Parts

Either he now has a real job or Fanatical Apathy is taking up way too much of his time, because Chris Regan still hasn’t updated mythstory for today. Despite the overwhelmingly awesome things that happened on this day in history, Mythstory remains mired in the events of June 26. For shame!

Who can forget the thrilling election of Pope Agatho on this day in 678 (mainly known outside of Catholic circles as “Pope who?”), the tragic death of Joseph Smith, Jr. on this day in 1844 (turning the leader of just another kooky 1800′s revivalist religion into a martyr and filling the streets of pretty much everywhere with pairs of freshly scrubbed young missionaries spreading the Word of Wisdom, Pearl of Great Price and intolerance toward a good cappuccino), or the kind of, but not really, retirement of Muhammed Ali on this day in 1979? Not me, because I just looked it all up and will have it stuck in my head for at least half an hour more.

I am not going to expound upon any of those events, or thousands of others (I think Genghis Khan may have defectated or killed somebody (perhaps both, simultaneously?)) that occurred on this day in history as well. Instead, I will plead with Chris to update Mythstory. C’mon, work’s really slow today and I need something to kill the time.

Damn. Rick’s still alive, and he hasn’t sold out. The bastard. Double-bastard. He probably even thinks about what he posts, unlike some of us. I feel if I don’t have to think at work, why shouldn’t I extend my natural lack of thought and reflection into my writing. I guess I’ll have to read this jiggle-thingy and almost snap out of my refusal to put any effort into writing. I could move beyond drivel, honestly, if it didn’t take any effort. Personally, I blame my parents for not leaving me less well-adjusted.

This was a breakthrough weekend for me. No yard work or housework, just adventure. I took the boat out Saturday (no, not a hot date at the Taco King, dammit!) and drowned some worms in one of the many beautiful lakes around here. The brothers in-law (my brother in-law and his brother, so that makes brothers in-law, right? Damn, I really should crack open Strunk and White this decade) caught basss, trout, crappie and bluegill. I steered the boat and peed in a Gatorade bottle. We ended up going catch and release for the trip, so I think we all ended up happy. Or as happy as three guys with no fish and a bunch of fish with fresh piercings can get.

Later that afternoon, we went to Post Falls pond so that I could catch something. While I finally caught some trout, the exciting part at the pond was my grand physics experiment. Early on, I decided to experiment with friction. Interesting stuff, friction. So pleasurable under the right circumstances, yet so painful when you’re sliding down a rock-strewn embankment on your hands, feet and arse, about to pitch into a pond. I ended the day with two trout, a bruised bum and some not-so-micro derm abrasion on my hands. Fun!

Not much happened Sunday in the fun department, although I did see something for the first time in the year I’ve been up here in Idaho: A fire truck had its siren and lights on, and most of the drivers on the road actually pulled over. Usually drivers around here just speed up or ignore ambulances (like the brilliant local tow-truck driver who ended up ramming an ambulance yesterday), but not yesterday. Must be something in the air. I’m sure it’ll all blow over by the end of the week.

I admit it: I am not a big fan of racing movies (or really stupid teen movies), so it is not going to be much of a stretch, but I think I’ll avoid this film.

So . . . my multitasking (or, as these folks phrase it, “childlike flexibility”) may just be a sign of the times. All grown up and immature — I’m not alone! Does this mean I can still pee in the pool?

In local news, Ironman Coeur d’Alene kicked off today, but I missed it due to sleep. I may be a child at heart and mind, but I’ve got the body of a 38-year old. Staying up to watch SNL just wiped me out. Or maybe it was discovering how unfunny SNL is these days. Bah, humbug! Anyway, I still have to stretch and maybe water the garden, or my child-like innocence will be shattered when the wife comes home and cries at the sight of all her plants dying in the 99f weather. In the words of Mahatma Ghandi, “Holy crap, it’s hot!” Or something to that effect.