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Rant #133
(published May 8, 2003)
Girls, Girls, Girls
by ivica

John "Nobody passes Jackson" Jackson was in town. We picked up his former brother-in-law Manuel "Radar" Martinez. (He doesn't speak a word of Spanish...but he always meant to re-learn it someday....) He was desperate to settle down again and he called on us (it's awful when you get a reputation) to help. Jackson said: "You gotta advertise, man!" I said: "Lower your standards, man!" We went for a ride in a tinted black Mustang.

Jackson suggested that we narrow it down a bit and "how about a blonde?" "Oh, everyone's got at least one, these days, that market's flooded. And the depreciation is murder as soon as you're off the freakin' lot." I suggested a teacher. He didn't "wanna get graded every day!"

"Liberty means responsibility. That is why most men dread it."
-George Bernard Shaw

"It is to be remarked that a good many people are born curiously unfitted for the fate waiting them on this earth."
-Joseph Conrad

I had brought along a tape. I called it my "dirty" tape: bits and pieces of songs from the radio, with parts of commercials and the weather/traffic and DJ talk left in, weird sounds, static, songs extended in the intro or the chorus or the ending, a real collage of AM oldies, and without any careful taping.... I put it on whenever we were in "the Mustang without a year" (cause it had been put together and replaced so often).

A walk around the Curtain Canal was in order. We parked by the Stadium. The Mallard ducks were out even though the water level was still low. (By Friday, enough water will have been stolen from the Curtain River to flood the Canal.) The ducks usually prefer the Curtain River where they gather around you by the dozens to get free food (and the gulls too, but in their own segregated areas). They loved to hang out in pairs. The pretty colourful male and his housewife of a mate. In another month or so, the female would be leading a loyal line of 9 or 11 little ducks without the male. Jackson: "Man, I hate it when the guy is prettier than his girl." We nodded back and sighed.

An otter sailed by, looking for some meat. Some girls stomped past us. Radar wondered what ever happened to finishing schools "where girls were taught how to do things...like a lady." I suggested a jogging girl. Radar shuddered loudly. (Jackson and I shrugged our shoulders at each other.) Jackson started talking about rich girls. But Radar was NOT interested "ONLY in money". (Jackson and I shrugged our eyebrows.)

The birds were noisy today. A woodpecker was heard every now and then. We argued over some birds in the distance. (They were either swans or herons.) Jackson: "I wonder if female woodpeckers ever get a headache?" We looked around...and then laughed our way off the Canal.

We hit the library. "Not looking for a girl who reads sexy romantic novels, but one who writes them!" We grabbed some coffees there anyway, trying to look erudite and deep. (I must admit the poor guys were both failing miserably in both departments.)

I mentioned "Two-Time" Darlene (she had won $70,000 in the provincial lottery last year) and Radar said: "No thanks, Chernobyl is still ticking...." (Boy, you work in a nuclear power plant just ONCE and people think your kids will come out missing half a chromosome or become social workers in the rich part of town.) (And the Russian authorities STILL maintain that (to this day) only 31 people have died from that little accident....)

Back in the car Jackson brought up Shakespearean chicks and immediately picked Juliet. Radar nodded but went for Kate. While I whispered: "Portia." Jackson hummed in: "Hmmm...great car...."

To my favourite painted lady, Olympia by Manet, Radar countered with "any Rubens honey", and Jackson (as I feared) went for Picasso's Demoiselles d'Avignon.

I whispered: "Jessica Rabbit!" Radar sang back: "Betty Boop." Jackson proudly announced the syllables in "O...live...Oyl." (I have to agree with you ladies out there...some boys are way too weird....)

"He was a verray parfit gentil knight."
-Geoffrey Chaucer

Two grackles flew by hounding a crow. (Those two gangs have been at war for as far back as I can remember.) The grackle is a black bird with a shining dark-blue hood. This is not of course to be confused with a cowbird, who has a brown hood. The cowbird sneaks its eggs into a neighbour's nest and lets the foster parents raise its children. Then it goes on its innocent way.

Radar was complaining that he gets to see his little boy every second Saturday but he gets to pay support every single day, so we steered him into a bar. (Just to talk. Girls in bars are only after one thing....)

Jackson (chalking up his cue) came up with the name of Audrey "I saw the light" Carbone who goes to church EVERY Sunday, even when it's not mandatory anymore. "No thanks, I don't like competition."

I pointed out the cuteness factor in his former wife's best friend Presbyterian Pam. Jackson jumped in chuckling: "Why do you think that he got divorced in the first place?" "Whooooooooa...." :we harmonized.

Jackson brought up the name Tina Finkhausenfeier. (They called her the Owl, not just because she preferred working the night shift, but because she had no sense of smell (apparently some sort of freak accident after a Monkees concert (after their prime, in the Seventies, when Michael Nesmith refused to play along anymore)).) Radar claimed she was a freak: "Did you ever take a look at her from knee to heel? comPLETEly out of proportion, man!" We called it an evening.

"For honest men and bonnie lasses."
-Robert Burns

Jackson and I got him a black cotton T-shirt the next day. On the front Jackson chose the words: HELP WANTED. And on the back I chose: NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY.

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