|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
July 2007 - Waters Wins
2nd Place In Robert Benchley
Humor Prize Competition!
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Dave Barry, the judge for the 2007 Benchley
humor writing contest, and longtime Benchley fan, has awarded my
attempt at writing in the style of the great humorist "second
prize," in a photo finish which humor writing contest entrants
will be talking about for years to come. All that remains now is
for me to whack* the guy who won first.
[*whack: (verb) To congratulate heartily]
Click here
to view the other award-winning essays. Below is mine, in which
I attempted to evoke Benchley's love of giving idiotic instructions
in a very authoritative manner on a subject about which the writer
knows nothing.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
T'ai Chi For Beginners,
or War and Peace
By George Waters
© 2007
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
If there is one thing I cannot stand (and,
really, is one ever enough?), it is sloth. That is why I took up
the ancient Chinese art of T'ai Chi in an effort to improve my backswing.
Some people believe that T'ai Chi is only
good for providing work for words which end in "i." This
is malarkey.
T'ai Chi consists of a series of slow-motion,
choreographed exercises (developed some 1200 years ago by Anonymous,
and don't think for a minute he ever lets you forget it) in a state
of relaxation so complete you could do them in your sleep, which
would certainly be preferable.
Every human being, you see, is filled with a life force called "chi."
(Some of us are more full of it than others).
Performing T'ai Chi helps this life force
flow through one's body freely, especially if one keeps in mind
the simple proportions of gin and vermouth required for lubrication.
As Karbunkel discusses in his "T'ai
Chi Ist Fur Die Verliebten," the T'ai Chi enthusiast increases
his flexibility, longevity and flatulence, if used as directed.
To begin with, you must first become acquainted with your "dan
tien." (A simple "How's the Missus?" will do). The
dan tien is your energy center, a point located two to three inches
(or .29 fathoms) below the navel.
"Move from the dan tien!" is the
common cry of the T'ai Chi instructor, especially if the dan tien
is blocking the drink cart.
To begin T'ai Chi, take a stance on your front lawn, placing your
feet about shoulder-width apart and breathing deeply into your dan
tien, until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.
Next, swivel your hips in a "hula"
fashion while gradually bending your knees until you are attracting
small children laughing scornfully. Now you are on the right track!
Extend your arms outward as far as you can.
If you find it hard balancing, remove the olive from your martini,
and you are back in business.
Finally, well, this is usually as far as
I get before I start chasing the children with a stick, but you
get the idea of the thing.
You, the T'ai Chi novice, will soon be learning routines like "Stretch
Bow to Shoot Tiger (Then Run Like Hell)" and "Flying Bees
Through Leaves," although the latter is one procedure which
is best left to T'ai Chi experts. Believe you me, the honey is not
worth it.
However, during my years touring with "Pinafore,"
I perfected a few of my own exercises, like "Arising With A
Hangover" and "Hiding A Dropped Ash With Your Shoe."
My "Drawing To An Inside Straight" is not half bad either,
if viewed from a prone position.
In conclusion (where I always go this time of year, for the dry
heat), I stand behind T'ai Chi as a wonderful aid to health.
I will admit, however, it has insinuated
its way into my chip shot something awful.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Nov. 2006 - Waters Wins First
Prize In Will Rogers Writing Contest, Proclaims
"I'm going to Oklahoma!"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I am proud to announce
that the judges for the Will Rogers Writing Contest named my essay,
"A 21st Century Rope Trick," the winning entry in 2006.
The contest required writers to craft an original essay capturing
the homespun wit and wisdom of the great man while mimicking his writing
style (complete with misspellings and his other trademarks). First
prize was registration in the Will Rogers Writers' Workshop in Oklahoma
City in March 2007, which brought together some of the top columnists
in the country. I learned a lot, met many fellow writers, and had
a great time. Yonder is my homage to Will, in which I imagine him
a little amused by the technology of today. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
A 21st Century Rope
Trick
By George Waters
© 2006
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I read in the papers where
they have jobs now in what they call the "technology sector,"
where a fellow can sit at a desk all day, not do anything that
any reasonable workingman would call "work," and get
paid top dollar for it. Kinder like a Congressman. What I want
to know is what these technology birds do at that desk all day,
so I can do it too.
I got one of 'em to show
me his computer gadget, which he acted mighty proud of, like he'd
just hatched it himself. These computers just seem a lot like
typewriters to me, but with all the soul siphoned out, sort of
like the Democratic Party these days. But what do these computer
boys actually do to get paid better'n a dentist? At least with
a dentist, he hands you the tooth he just pulled and you have
something to show for what you paid him.
So I went down to that Google
company to poke around a little bit and figger out what these
gentlemen consider work. One fellow told me he "codes"
all day. I felt a little better then, because I know a little
something about encryption. The wife practices it on me every
time she talks to one of her lady friends on the telephone inside
my earshot. Next thing you know, I'm signed up to go to somebody's
wedding.
These Google boys tell me
that they've had a lot of success with what they call their "algorithm."
The wife learned me about that too. So now every time I go to
one of these weddings, I have to demonstrate mine out on the parquet
floor. But mine don't net me $400 per share like theirs do.
I ain't one to criticize,
mind you, but a sap who lays out $400 for one tiny piece of a
company that don't produce nothing is on a collision course with
what we call in Oklahoma a "life lesson." You just look
at the price of Google stock and you wonder whether P.T. Barnum
was being conservative regarding the birth rate of suckers.
Modern technology is a mighty
fine game, but the problem with it is, as soon as you buy a fancy
contraption, like one of these cellular telephones, you just know
next week they'll make one that's cheaper and smaller. The way
technology is headed, eventually that phone will cost a nickel,
but you won't be able to see it.
I heard a speech last week
by this fellow Bill Gates. You might know him as the comedian
who started up a company that's famous for making windows that
cause people to pull out their hair. Now that's what I call a
real 21st Century rope trick. Any man who can sell like that ought
to be in politics. Well, Bill said that pretty soon your computer
and your lamp and your toaster will all talk to each other and
your life will be as easy as pie. That gag got over pretty good
with the crowd, but I ain't biting. I figure the day I see my
toaster talk is the day I walk right down to the Capitol and ask
them to reinstate prohibition.
I've been around the block
enough times to know that folks pretty much get what's coming
to 'em, though. If it's high technology they want, that's what
us red-blooded capitalists will give 'em, until the next great
fad comes around, like farming, or voting Libertarian.
Speaking of which, the November
elections is just around the corner, and Thanksgiving too. The
first is almost enough to ruin your appetite for the second, but
I guess we'll muddle through like always. Politicians talk a good
game, but they're mostly harmless. The incumbents, anyway. They'll
tell us all the great shakes they are that the other scoundrel
ain't, and you can believe 'em too. About 10% worth. It's like
anything else in life. Ten percent is about all you can get your
rope around for sure. The rest is just a whole lot of applesauce.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|