Hard Times

No. 23 of 31 - Thermometer series

It’s lately been a hard slog, hard times all around. But I’m not complaining, just trying to cut myself through the thicket, hoping very soon for a clearing, at least the ability to see the light of day and smell something besides the stifling air of jungle fauna gone bad, symbolically.

I’m keeping my mood as best as I can, which is tough in good times. And reminding myself of the various sayings and old family coaching techniques for when you’re discouraged. 'You can’t make a mud pie without a little rain. Every ape has his day. That tree won't climb itself. If you’re not bigger than your challenges, you’re too small. Pass the meat and don’t sniff it first.' That’s a good one from my memories; I had to smile; my brothers’ biggest fear was that someone would sniff their food. But what if I sniffed it and didn’t tell them? Such dirty little rats we were!

Hey, a smile! Here in the deepest jungle, surrounded by every challenge. Reminds me of the book “Head Hunters of the Amazon.” We think of Amazon as a big company, and that’s true. But, little known fact, it's also a river in South America...you're welcome. You might not believe it, but I always wanted to go to the Amazon. Notice the past tense. I don’t want to go there anymore. For one, it’s enormous. Two, the head hunters. Three, drug overlords. Four, enough mosquitoes and vermin to suck you dry in a second, if the drug overlords don’t get you first. In short, while I love South America as a continent, and hope everyone there likes my blog, subscribes or whatever (“Let’s blow them thermometers, South America!), I could never go there. Too wild for my domesticated blood.

But I do compare my problems to jungles and King Kong creatures run amok, and being so scared, so terrified I’m out of my mind with panic just thinking of it. Just today a few of my Rent-an-Associates and a few of the true believers (the men’s division as as well as the women’s auxiliary, the Ladies Aid) were coming to me with complications. Traffic from our reporting centers was slow. We were afraid it was being stymied upstream somewhere by Pashtun and Iraqi blogging competition. And as for the Ladies Aid, two of their washboards were nearly scratched beyond repair. Thank God we still had a pint of elbow grease, so the ladies are once again in the pleasant pink. So many problems at once. And that’s what always puts me in a stew and leaves me crawling for bed!

You should know I never did that great in school. I may fancy myself a brainiac in my old age, but don't ask me anything. In school I (even I!) was an average student. One, I didn’t like to do homework. I’d leave it till later and by then we’d run out of later. Two, I thought they had it in for me, from the devious principals all the way down to the devious teachers. But it surely wasn’t jealousy on their part. What would they have to be jealous of, a kid that didn’t know shit from Shinola? And wasn’t afraid to admit it, if only he had the vocabulary to do so. I would sit there and blubber, duh duh duh. And the only consolation I had was knowing a few other kids were dumber yet.

So I'm dumb about a lot of things, but smart about a few things too. Here's a thought piece: If the earth once was one continent, Pangea, why did the North American continent luck out and remain free of King Kong type monsters? Or is that what Bigfoot is, just a shrimpier version of his larger brother? That's pretty good thinking...just proved Bigfoot.

And now look at me; I could come up with theories all day. And write sentences about them without copying them out of a book. I’m essentially self-taught. Discipline, big discipline. I’d confine myself to my room for punishment, make myself sit in the corner, force myself to write sentences, which I’ve just been doing. “I will focus on the thermometer till ultimate victory... I will focus on the thermometer till the cows come home.... I will focus on the thermometer till every last person on earth and on other planets likes me and sets me forth as what a blog should look like, until my final hope, whatever I'm hoping for that day.

P.S. There's probably some tie-in with The Great Ape and this present abomination.

The Believability People

Here's my latest get-rich business idea, and remember, you heard it here first. We are "The Believability People!" If you believe it, whatever, or think you might believe it, we believe it, too! Absolutely.

They're already doing this sort of thing on TV, with the various ghost-search shows, but the only thing they pretend to believe is there's a ghost in every house they visit, and if they talk the ghost will talk back. That's tough to believe. The fact that in 100% of 6,000 cases the ghosts have never uttered a single sentence doesn't inhibit their "belief," because it's an idea done for money. It's a niche show. I like the idea. And I do believe the ghosts will speak to them next time.

But I myself might have to start out small. I could even be available for children's parties; I haven't ruled them out. As I recall, kids believe all kinds of things, things that are under the bed, in the attic, and especially in the basement. When I was a kid, speaking of ghosts, I used to get creeped out in the basement thinking a ghost might be there. It was creepy. My family bought some printing equipment from an old hunchback man, and his was the first funeral I went to, and we had actual bats flying around. It'd be a great setting for his ghost ... and a kid's party.

That actually makes me a long-time expert in the field of believability. And even if I couldn't believe it now as an adult, it shall be believed if it needs to be. I've got it right on my business card: "Credulity's Our Business, Our Only Business," along with another slogan you have to think about a bit: "Believe It or ... Not's Not an Option." Pretty ponies, angelic visitations, leprechauns, Bigfoot, UFOs, and snipe hunts. We're at your service.

I'd be a good one for believing stuff, not just because of the old dead man, but because I make snap judgments all the time. I've got lots of theories I'm thinking about. Then I search around trying to prove it so. I've found it's tough to know what the actual truth is. One big reason for that is, One guy's opinion is as good as the next guy's. That's how I see it, and if your opinion is I'm obviously wrong, I believe you, too. You make a great case. But "If It Can Be Believed, It Shall Be Believed." Why wouldn't it be true?

I'd like to hire an Einstein computer guy to build a super fast computer for me. I'd feed information into it, what people expect me to believe and the results they want, and it'd spit out a paper telling me precisely how to do it. That'd save lots of time, as well as tough mental work for me. It's bad enough that I have to put information in the computer; I'd like to have 2.0, where it already knows what I want. And I'd like it to be so intuitive, all I'd have to do is grunt in its general direction and get good information back. I believe it can be done.

You've probably noticed I like slogans. I've already given a few. How about these? "You Won't Believe Us," "We Ourselves Barely Believe How Good We Are," "Believable Results in Seconds," and "The Toast of Believability." Believability needs someone who's the toast of it. That's me. Raise a glass.

All right, let's work up a sample question, looking at it from every angle, being unbelievable and believable:

"Does Bigfoot exist?" My first instinct is to say no. Rationale: We can find anything if we look hard enough for it. We've been looking for Bigfoot forever. Presumably we have superior minds compared to Bigfoot as a beast. If he exists, we'll find him. Because we can't find him suggests he doesn't exist. Or he's invisible. If Bigfoot is invisible, he could exist. Except anything that doesn't exist will naturally be invisible. If he's invisible in that sense, then he doesn't exist. If he doesn't exist, who are we looking for? And how do we expect to find him if he's invisible. We might mistake air for Bigfoot. I'm right here in a room with air. If air's Bigfoot, I'm in danger!

But I don't want to scare off clients so quickly. So let me give my true belief: There isn't one Bigfoot, there's thousands of them. If there's one, there has to be mothers, fathers, children, a community. They're not just beasts, they're super beings who live underground. They have advanced technology, blocking our tracking devices. They monitor our TV shows about them and laugh. Mostly because we've sent out the stupidest single-tooth hillbillies to look for them. Still working off a fuzzy video from 1966. You want to know what else is underground? Water. Bigfoots are down there pissing in our aquifers. That's what's making us stupid. By the way, they think the aquifers are theirs.

Everything I've said, you can believe it. It's all true. "Changing Credulity to Credibility Since 2015."

Squatchs Is The Craziest People

I've seen a couple episodes -- bits and pieces -- of the TV shows about people looking for Sasquatch, Bigfoot. First, my opinion of TV drops by the day, with every moron (except me) having his own show. Don't you think I could have a show? We have cake shows, gator shows, turtle shows, hog-fishing shows, children with their own shows, redneck shows, Bigfoot shows ... there has to be room for one more. Me just staring at the camera till I get a cute idea. Who blinks first, me or the viewers? Sounds similarly smart...

It seems that finding Sasquatch -- or Squatch, as he's familiarly known -- is one dead end after another. There's one grainy 28 seconds film of him from 1966. The rest is commentary. Yes, they try to be proactive. They take their night viewers out in the forest and look for him. You can probably guess what happens next? Just missed him.

I was thinking what it'd be like to be the secretary of the Sasquatch Seekers Society. You'd go into it thinking, "Wow, I'm on the front lines of history. We're gonna find Bigfoot and be famous. How hard can it be? With satellite technology, heat-seeking gadgets, video cameras that can be placed in every tree, various entrapment devices along the way, high-powered weapons, and trained seekers, it doesn't seem like Bigfoot could remain elusive for long. Especially since he's a beast that doesn't actually know we're looking for him. And even if he has an inkling about it, he certainly doesn't share our technology and resolve. Piece of cake!"

Then the meeting starts. You're poised with your pen, only to take notes on a rehash on the '66 film, that indeed Sasquatch walked up a particular hill, looked back at the camera, then disappeared behind some brush. Let's review the film one more time, just to be sure. Yep, that's him walking up a particular hill. Yep, he's now looking back at the camera. And, by golly, there he goes, disappearing again behind some brush. Let's put the film away till next week. When we see it with fresh eyes, maybe we'll see something new.

Of course there's going to be skeptics, always the worst scourge for the true believer. Whom we want to convert as soon as possible. Here's the evidence, all gathered in this thin manilla folder, sketched out in as much detail as we could muster, on this handy 3" x 5" card. Hey, you say it doesn't look like much? It's enough to base an entire show on. Because the viewer never knows, this might be the week we get out there and something happens.

Really, I think that's what you need to do. Actually prowling around the forest, the green light showing your startled faces at every cricket is very dramatic. Don't they sell calls in the back of hunting magazines you can get to simulate the bleats of wounded animals? Various urine scents? That'd be cool. "Bleat, bleat... Pee, pee." And, yes, here comes a hungry Squatch, just broke the animal call, drank the pee, and stole the 3" x 5" card!

We could have a whole episode focusing in on our courage for having spent the night out there. Even if there's no such thing as Squatch, meaning the danger from him was minimal, still, a snake might bite you. Which I'd hate. Or mosquitoes. Probably worse. With snakes, you can see them reasonably well. But mosquitoes are so small and devious, it's tough to get a bead on them.

OK, so I'm the secretary, as described above. I need to summarize the many reports that are coming in from all over the forest. There's lots of noises, very eerie out here. What's that?! I'm checking it out. I heard a noise down there. OK, it was a family of grubs building a nest. Ouch, a family of grubs?! LOL. But let's get closer to the stream. Squatchs have to drink, right? Stands to reason. What's that?! I hear some rustling around over by that little dam. Which -- I'm getting closer, ever closer -- appears to be ... yes, it is ... a family of beavers sharpening their teeth on a sapling. Damn! A family of beavers and a family of grubs, all in one night?

Must-continue-believing! That in spite of scientists having had no trouble already finding most of the thousands of species of life on earth, this elusive creature is still out there, unseen, except for that day in '66. It seems to me -- and really, I'm nothing -- that if there's one, there has to be more. Like his mom, his dad, then their siblings, then the whole clan, the whole pack, going back many generations. Then home sites, places where they've gone to the bathroom, places where the females are busy nursing babies, etc., etc. Did one Squatch simply fall from space and is waiting for the ship to get back?

Of course we don't have to worry about all that. Because it's a show, and the show must go on! But for our loyal secretary, filling in the minutes and the findings, it's getting frustrating. Page after page reveals the terrible truth: "Same old story ... nothing." "Same old story ... nothing." "Same old story ... nothing." Then nothing but ditto marks all down the page and all the pages following.

He finally leaves the society, after dutifully filing the minutes book on the shelf, very disillusioned. He steps outside and is mauled and eaten by something, either a Squatch or some other UCT (Unidentified Creeping Thing), big as a house, which then walks up a hill, turns to look back, and disappears in the brush.