A Smattering of WD…

I don’t typically engage in much Doctrine-flavored discourse on this side of the pond, but today I make an exception: I need to go a little further than I think is fair to do in a blog comment’s length. So, in my yard I can stretch out a bit.

A few days back, I was watching my neighbor Louie while he mowed his lawn. Nothing very notable about that. In Doctrine terminology, Louie is a scott, and I won’t bother with any qualification of that term. You can visit the WD for all that.

So… Louie is a scott, and over the years has been through a collection of experiences that might have completely derailed a…quieter constitution. But no… watching Louie is akin to perusing the antics of  Charlie Sheen. Two divorces, kids moved out, chopper bikes, chopper bike shop in his living room….wanted me to compose a theme song for the bike shop; bought a guitar and amp because he knew I would show him how, gave it all away ( not a big loss- he arrived for his first lesson with his Dean Camouflage Dimebag Darrell…Mother of God…) when he saw that there was work involved, and he truly doesn’t have time for  all that…

Bought a huge set of lion statues for the front walkway…and had then chromed. Bought three dogs, because his two were lonely. Let them all run free, because he can’t be part of chaining their spirit, man…two were lost, and one got hit by a car, barely surviving.

Let his new-found biker-dude friends live in the house; after all, their rides were already in the living room. Then there was the arrest for stealing someone’s chain-link dog enclosure. And the cars…he started buying cars to resell, to support the bike shop. There were dozens of cars all up and down the street, on lawns, in driveways…with “for sale” signs everywhere. Old GTO’s Corvettes, a Mini-Cooper, a Datsun 360Z….a banana-yellow Humvee.

He only ate at the pizza place on the corner, but that went out of business…so he kind of stopped eating. Lost about a hundred pounds. Stayed awake for days and days at a time…Really started looking like Eddie from the Iron Maiden covers…but with issues.

And then… it all went away. Cars, bikes, bikers, lions…all of it…gone. The four stops a day from UPS with new stuff…guitars, TVs, furniture, appliances, more dogs, bike parts…all over. The descension of absolute cemeterial quiet. ( That alone served to re-affirm my belief in a benevolent God.) The bad pizza place re-opened as a barbecue place ( yes, in Cranston…) and he started to eat again. Two dogs, on leashes. No lions. Got a job running a pizza delivery crew. Started being civil to the neighbors again.

Louie was back on his meds. Thank God, because that was some scary #@*&  he had going on over there. The old Italians ( pretty much everybody in these parts ) were all convinced he was possessed. (But  he was such a nice boy…I went to school with his mother…I’m so glad she can’t see any of this…oh, my Anthony wanted to ask…what’s he want for the GTO? He sold it already? Cabbadoste…)

So all was well, finally.

Until Sunday.

On Sunday, in an infernal heat wave,  Louie started mowing the lawn.

He was wearing a huge Charlie Daniels-style hat; sunglasses; black Western riding boots. No pants…but the silver-sequined lame’ wrestling robe, complete with a giant WWF belt buckle seemed to say…” we don’t need no stinking pants”… Sometimes in life, there just aren’t any words at all… although the phrase ZZ Top‘s transvestite landscaping service came to mind. I realized with dawning horror that… maybe the bikers weren’t so bad after all…

Buckle up, kids. Give your ticket to the nice man, and hold on. For God’s sake, hold on.

And while I observed the newest Louie emerging from his inner whatever that is, I thought to myself…what would that ol’ WD say about this? A normal scott…  who slowly turned into a 178-mph scott?  Who took a few months off, and then doubled back again to start anew with a vengeance? What are his chances of survival? And I thought to myself…

Does the WD have anything to offer to people who have real, debilitating, terrifying mental  issues to contend with?  Would an awareness of the Doctrine be helping or hurting someone like Louie right now?

Published in: on July 26, 2011 at 11:25 pm  Comments (8)  

Don’t Overthink It…

At work the other day, there happened to be several people standing around enjoying a brief respite. As small groups will, they were discussing a light but common subject matter; in this case…favorite pizza toppings. It went pretty much the way you might expect. The standards were defended, and a few exotic ones were debated…etc, etc.

As the conversation circled around to the universal kid’s favorites ( pepperoni and cheese…or maybe just cheese ), one of the participants ( Oscar, originally from Austin, Texas ) mentioned what is apparently a stock favorite for every kid from Texas, and most of the adults too… Frito Pie.

Others guessed at what the recipe might consist of; a bed of crushed Fritos with essentially some version of Shepherd’s pie on top, probably baked to a golden brown. Other variations were sworn to, on various grandmother’s graves.

No, no, Oscar said… not even close. He said you really had to be a Texan to get this, and Latino to boot.

Take a single-serving sized bag of Fritos; cut the top off with scissors; shovel some of your mother’s chili in there ( there was always a bucket of something that his mother made), maybe some cheese and stuff if you were lucky, and mix thoroughly with a spoon. Walk around eating it with the spoon. When done, toss the bag. Frito Pie.

Kind of makes you look at all those little bags of chips and stuff in a new light, doesn’t it?

Published in: on July 16, 2011 at 11:12 am  Comments (5)  

Say What??…

Ok, this is just a quick explanation of the cryptic language references I just left over at the WD.
There are many regional accents in the US. Texas twangs, Southern drawls, New York, Valley girls…Midwesterners speak with a slow and kind of formal clarity.
And then, there’s Rhode Island.
Rhode Island has a very unique accent. It is based on the premise of taking as much work out of actually having to speak at all as possible.
Hard consonants can be problematic. A Midwesterner will pronounce them all; full- tilt English. Very impressive; also takes them two weeks to finish a sentence.
The Rhode Island accent is the polar opposite of that. Where a New Yorker will generally soften the consonants ( New York becomes” New Yawwk “), a Rhode Islander will toss them out altogether. It is the laziest approach to language on the planet Earth.
Soften the consonants, or avoid them completely when possible, then speed up the actual speaking itself so that as little time is used as you can manage. We Rhode Islanders are very self-important. We have things to do and places to be, and those precious moments spent pronouncing consonants are lost forever. So we squish them down, leave them out, step around them. Ship them to Ohio. We sure don’t need no stinking consonants.
So… ‘Rhode Island’ becomes ” Rodilun.” Say that as fast as you can; it’s been honed down for speed. The Rhode Island phrase ” did you eat?” eventually becomes ” Jeat?” Hence the restaurant…
May I direct any interested readers to the cartoon works of Don Bousquet ( pronounced ‘baaskay’ in Rhode Island ). He has several volumes of cartoons in the world, all based on the lazy, sloppy, reprehensible Rhode Island accent.
His first-ever cartoon showed two Johnston girls talking; caption reads ” Chevul got PSDS.” ( Cheryl got pierced ears). Just say “PSDS” as fast as you can. See?

OK, that’s all I’ve got for now.
Gubuy( Goodbye). Seeyiz layta-on. ( See you later on).