I’m 70 years old today!. Everyone says that’s just impossible, that I don’t look a day over 50. OK. It’s Trump-speak. Alternative fact. The word Everyone should be more like “Everyone,” in quotes, which would then more accurately qualify the statement to include only those enduring nuclear cataracts and acquaintances afflicted with insufferable niceness. But still, looks aren’t everything. Sure I’m losing hair in areas desired and growing it in places that seem counter evolutionary. And the leathered skin on the backs of my hands has all the look of a Slinky in motion whenever I rotate a wrist. I’m considering an upgrade from bifocals to tris as well as another new knee, and what the fuck is that little lump doing on the inside of my calf. But guess what? My gut might be expanding, but so is my brain capacity. I know some shit. Inside my head is a treasure trove of facts and ideas straining to escape. After 70 years of storage, it’s difficult to contain it all.
Contemplating on Lake Tipsy
For instance, did you know a ten gallon hat will only hold 3/4 of a gallon. Is that a bunch of shit or what? And during your lifetime you will create enough saliva to fill a couple of good-sized swimming pools. That means if you hang around your local western wear store for a few days you could fill up one of those ten gallon hats. Serves those bastards right for dicking us over for so many years.
I Have an Axe & Know How to Use It
King Henry VIII slept with a gigantic axe beside him. Maybe you don’t find that surprising since the guy was known to have ended a marriage or two by utilizing the instrument. You would think any of his wives that still had their heads attached would have considered the practice a bit odd though. But I bet you didn’t know I sleep with an axe too. Well, not all the time. Just when I’m camping. And I guess you wouldn’t call it gigantic. It’s my camping hatchet. So far my wife hasn’t voiced any concerns. Another thing. Besides the hatchet on one side of my bedroll, I sleep with an ice pick on the other. Consider this knowledge fair warning if you have intentions of sneaking up on me in the middle of the night.
As you might have guessed I’m very much an outdoorsy kind of guy, so I know a lot of stuff about the animal kingdom too. Billy goats urinate on their heads, and birds don’t urinate at all. A flock of crows is not called a flock. It is called a “murder.” Look it up if you don’t believe me. Every human spends a half hour as a single cell, thus we are basically related to early protists like amoeba. Moving up slightly on the evolutionary ladder are the multi cellular Coelenterates which encompasses the animal phyla Cnidaria, although the validity of this classification is disputed since the relationship with it and the Ctenophora is not as distinct as once thought. But all you really need to know about Coelenterates is since they use their solitary orifice as both a mouth and anus, it has been determined it is from this phyla from which Donald Trump has descended.
I know a lot of science too, and not just piddly stuff. I’m talking about complicated shit, like relativity. E=mc2 my friend. If I wanted I could explain this to you, but it took Einstein himself an entire day to explain it to a bunch of smarty pants physicists back in 1905, and I haven’t got all day. To make it simple for you I’ve come up with my own postulation about relativity. Observe the following:
where R represents basic relativity, meaning relatives of the in-law dimension, god I hope you know what the two parallel lines mean, in this case means a regular pie that you might eat, not that math equivalent of 3.14, (although coincidentally that was the number of pies my uncle Ralph ate years ago at the church pie-eating contest right before he collapsed with a cholesterol induced myocardial infarction) and of course even you can figure out what a sad faced emoji represents.
Since they likely have no clear understanding of the physical laws and adaptations required in their new world order, I usually take a moment to explain my theory to any incoming fellow in-law. The other day I sat down and did just that with the most recent in-law addition, Steve, and though his mind tends to wander on occasion I think he finally has a decent grasp of how the whole thing works. In it’s simplest terms, what the equation postulates is that at any point in time, there exists the probability of an in-law of any dimension shoving a pie in your face. I derived my theory back in 2002 at the Old Mill laboratory on Green Lake MN. That’s when my sister-in-law Kim smeared my face with a piece of chocolate cake. Since this is my theory, I have taken the liberty to incorporate both pie and cake into the symbol . If you feel there are other variables that should be included in my pie/cake symbol, let me know and maybe we can work something out. I heard Nikki once threw a worm at my fellow brother-in-law Jim in the fishing boat, but it never hit him in the face, so obviously that would never survive scientific scrutiny.
The best thing about my theory is there is an applicable companion one that I call the Inverse Theory of Relativity. It is represented by this equation:
where every variable is the same as it is in my Regular Theory of Relativity, except that the sad faced emoji is replaced with a happy faced emoji because it is my face when I blasted Kim’s face with piece of chocolate cake in 2012 at the Long Climb House on Green Lake. You can not help but conclude from both of my theories there seems to be some kind of evolutionary displacement of pie by cake going on in the universe. I don’t know for sure if this is related to climate change, but rest assured I intend to get to the bottom of it all. I have deep affection for pie and would hate to see anything bad happen to it.
No researching slouch himself, here you see my nephew neck deep in some scientific inquiry of his own on the beach at Green Lake.
As you can see I’m a pretty deep thinker and obviously don’t just sit around doing nothing. Ok I do take a nap daily but that’s because there’s a lot of neuro-electrical activity going on and the generator has to be recharged. I realize there’s a good chance you might not be so equipped, so you probably don’t understand. If you ever want to achieve my level of intelligence by the time you are 70, it might be a good idea if you stop wasting your time reading shit like this and open up a book* for a change. Trust me it’s not going to kill you.
In parting, let me just say if you leave everything to the last minute…it will only take a minute. And worms taste like fried bacon.
*Should you be interested in other compelling information like this, buy my book “Fishing with Bobby and Mike” you cheap bastard. Geezus you’ve got Amazon Prime by now don’t you?