Cavemen, Cavewomen, Rodeos

Part 23 of 30

The Mam & Pap

Royal Splendid Traveling Rodeo

While we do not possess records of the exact day they invented the rodeo -- for all we know it might've taken a week -- the very existence of the rodeo points to the definite fact that it happened. And like so many things in history, it may even have happened more than once! Because in millions of years many things can happen, the idea fizzles when they put it on hold, then it's taken up by a later generation.

We are not completely in the dark, though, because there are cave etchings from some of the world’s best and oldest caves that reveal all sorts of things. Naturally we know about domesticity from cave etchings. Early man sitting on the couch and the kids underfoot. The division of labor between the sexes, men getting the kids off to school while the women took the more natural path of hunting and gathering and protecting the community.

Then there’s the famed etchings of animals, animals of prey, animals for food, for domestic use, and, more interesting for us today, the first glimpses of pens, bleachers, crowds, in short the whole rodeo in rudimentary display. Archaeologists only wish they could see more, for instance to be able to read the programs they held in hand, apparently telling of the events, the performers, and even the communities involved. The mere etching of a single vertical line has been interpreted as the first claim of a particular rodeo that “We’re Number One;” imagine what we could do with a whole file cabinet.

My own thought on this is that while it is interesting, I wouldn’t pin too much research on etchings. My first thought is always “People are people, whether they lived 10,000 years ago or last week.” Which simplifies things considerably, so we’re not just gazing at scratches but observing living people -- some of the same characters we know today, the good, the bad, the ugly, the really ugly, and the so-ugly we move to different bleachers. My basic overall theory is what we do now, they did then.

This theory's a great time-saver, too, because we can skip caves all together. Examine what we do and there's your answer. The only point of discomfort I’ve seen so far is having to explain it continuously to the various idiots at shows. They demand, “What are you doing under the bleachers?,” thinking we’re trying to look up their wife’s dress. “Nope, nope, just anthropological research, we’re exploring primitive rodeo attendees from 10,000 years ago by observing you in this modern day!”

While the research is extensive, it didn't take long to determine that ancient man at ancient rodeos were very finicky about researchers observing them that closely. Even back then they were anxious about their privacy. They may have worn skins nothing like our clothing today, but they still didn’t want anyone getting peeks, particularly at their women. Then as now, they wanted to enjoy the show without having to worry about researchers crawling the crowds pretending to document their lives while they were busy looking for action of a more carnal sort.

The Trouble With Swag

Part 7 of 30

The Mam & Pap

Royal Splendid Traveling Rodeo

Forgive me if I’m a little clinical on this post. I’ve done some work over the years in the field of challenges and accomplishments, not so much with setting goals and fulfilling them but the personal ramifications of having accomplished the task. Primarily what it means in terms of pride, self-image, comparing yourself to others, and boasting.

So when I find evidence of Mam and Pap, and especially their underlings, puffed up with pride not only for what they’ve done in terms of the rodeo but the social markers of recognition for their several accomplishments — in this case, blue ribbons — I’m interested. I suppose most people who are recognized for an accomplishment can barely forego a moment of pride. What is more interesting are the ones who accumulate those tokens of recognition and see that as a greater accomplishment than the actual accomplishments themselves.

It’s one of those unconscious, subversive traps — depending on your psychology, no doubt, with parenting issues, whether you still peed your pants in your 40s, etc. — that so many of us, well-balanced and happy but not necessarily insightful as to what drives us individually, fall into. Of course it’s part of the Human Comedy, and I can be as ridiculous as the next guy, and for that reason alone it’s part of the fun. You go to someone’s house and they have bowling trophies over the course of a successful pursuit of the hobby over the decades. It’s hard not to think, “You poor deluded fool,” even while smiling two-faced, praising him for such a great game in 1965 with the evidence of the memorable victory still front row center.

Traveling rodeos of course are not a competitive thing in tournaments and contests that pass out trophies or ribbons. They’re a capitalistic enterprise that, beyond the normal interpersonal fun they have, are in it for the money. They get their money, and if they’re in management, they reinvest in the rodeo. If they’re employees they save a little, send a little to parents and kids. If they’ve crossed the line somewhere they pay off whomever’s on their case. And life goes on. But getting to the rodeo in a permanent capacity, most of the talent has gotten blue ribbons and other recognition. And to a lot of people that swag means something.

The fact that it has this whole fictitious side is what interests me. Because it’s hard to go back and contextualize the scene when you won the swag. Were you up against real talent or was it you and four halfwits? The records aren’t great on these things. You performed feats of strength. Was one of your competitors Superman? Or just a couple of PE dropout squirrels? You won honors in a cake-baking contest. How do we know you didn’t pay of the judges? So many questions, potentially meaningless.

In conclusion, your swag — be it blue ribbon, red ribbon, trophies, or a Billy Bass fish flopping back and forth on wooden plaque — ain’t worth squat. Like they say in the old religious classic, The Old Rugged Cross, “Till my trophies at last I lay down.” Or equally profound, Billy Bass himself, don’t hang him on the wall when he’s clearing saying, “Take me to the river, put me in the water.”

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I’m submitting this post to an academic/humor blog site to see how it fares in the competition. (The biggest competition I get are guys still stuck on Polish jokes.) I promise that any swag I get I'll put on a fence post and let a friend with a high-powered rifle blow it to bits.

Lion Goes Berserk At Rodeo

 

Part 6 of 30

The Mam & Pap

Royal Splendid Traveling Rodeo

This one was supposed to be just something fun Mam and Pap put in the show once. Thinking they'd have a real distinction to be the only rodeo with a lion riding horseback. But instead for a while they were known for a tragedy. Unfortunately, the whole thing was a great disaster, and there may still be a few victims somewhere still waiting for settlements. The rudimentary sketch just before the mayhem show a lot of potential for a decent show, but lion/horse acts now seem doomed from the get-go.

In my opinion, and I see some of the trouble in the sketch, the horse was fairly afraid. And the way it is with animals — it’s the same with us — fear is contagious. The horse was afraid, the lion picked up the vibes, the horse became more afraid, the lion took on a bad vibe overload, and next thing you knew the lion leapt to the rafters of the rodeo tent. Swinging back and forth on the horizontal beam, he slipped into the stands. The panic of the crowd, while they should have remained calm, good advice always, was out of control. It’s a terrible thing to spook a lion. He went ballistic, his natural instincts being a predatory outlook when provoked, he took this very convenient opportunity to act out, and — please bow your head for a moment’s silence — several spectators were … unfortunately … lost… And a couple others got refunds.

Naturally, the horse was somewhat to blame for the mayhem, since when the lion leapt for the rafters he went straight up the horse’s neck, digging in for traction. Without featuring violence for violence’s sake — something I hate seeing in anything I read — a lion’s claws can do some serious damage and cause substantial grief in anyone or anything unfortunate enough to bear the brunt of one's earnest takeoff. Remember, a lion’s nothing but an overgrown cat, and like cats at home, they can rip your couch to shreds without even trying. The house cat, though, is quiet, unlike this roaring lion and the cry of dereliction from the horse in its terrible agony. I wouldn’t have wished that on my worst enemy, if there was ever a horse I considered an enemy.

Once in the rafters — again, the lion being an overgrown cat, really good for nothing but living in the forest — he was at a dead end and leapt for the side of the tent, completely out of desperation. His claws hooked in the cloth firmly, but with his weight he went right down the side, ending up with a rift in the tent from top to bottom. Screaming people fled through the hole. The lion, having freed itself from the cloth entanglement, fell the last 20 feet and crushed a young family who’d unfortunately faced some bad times just recently — little Ted’s pet mouse, a school project, had died, earning Ted a trip to the rodeo as payback.

Those with any sense — most lacked the sense not to scream during the onslaught of an injured lion — dove into the animals’ water tank. One guy — damn the luck — allergic to water immediately perished. Which you’d think he would’ve thought of before diving in. They later found a tag around his neck telling of his allergy, and advising, “If it’s raining, get me inside.”

Our hearts go out to him. Because when it rains, it pours. In a very real sense Tragedy and Violence mated that night and bore Death. Pap put it in his journal, underlining a rule that they adhered to for years after: “Do not allow lions within a country mile. They’re nothin’ but god-derned trouble.”

NOTE: No animals were injured or killed in the retelling of this fictional event.