The Green Red Green

by Red Green

  THE DOWNSIDE OF COMPETENCE

  Often in life, what we’re told flies in the face of what we know to be true. Take, for example, the areas of professionalism and competency. We are told that everyone wants you to excel in these areas, and that whatever you do in life, it is your duty to do it to the best of your ability. But I don’t think that’s entirely true. Oh sure, when you need something like open-heart surgery, you want the surgeon to be competent and professional. But when it’s an activity that doesn’t affect you in any way—like watching your neighbour have a pool installed—you enjoy it more if the bobcat operator is incompetent and amateurish. That’s because competence is boring, and incompetence is always interesting. And when it doesn’t have a negative impact on your life, it’s downright entertaining. So if you’re hiring someone to fill a useless redundant position in your company, go with the bumbling incompetent. He’ll give everybody a lot of laughs and never quit to go to a better job.

  TRAFFICKING

  I was driving in the middle of a pack of cars on the highway this week. We were all speeding. No problem. Suddenly, a police car pulled onto the highway and we all hit the brakes, trying to subtly ease our way down to the speed limit. Luckily, the cop didn’t notice. He just thought his car must have tremendous power to be able to catch up to all of us that quickly. So we all moved at the same speed in a huge mass joined together by guilt. Thankfully, the cop got off a couple of exits later and we could all get back to breaking the law. But we’re not criminals. We just think there are a couple of laws that you obey only when a policeman is present. So when officers are around we pretend we always drive at a safe speed. And they pretend to believe us. It’s kind of an unspoken agreement between the two sides—like not swearing in front of your kids and vice versa.

  HOW TO TELL WHEN YOU SHOULD STOP TALKING

  Whenever you’re talking to someone, it’s important to watch his body language to make sure he considers the conversation a worthwhile investment of his time. Here are a few signs that may indicate it’s time for you to stop talking:

  • The listener makes that “yak yak yak” hand gesture while you’re talking.

  • He turns his back to you and stares at the wall.

  • He blinks and his eyes stay shut.

  • He grabs his nose and looks at you accusingly.

  • He pretends to see someone he knows in the distance, even though you’re shipwrecked on a desert island.

  • He excuses himself to take a call on his cellphone, which is actually an ashtray.

  • He swallows a pickled egg whole so he can be rushed to the hospital.

  • He reaches to his side, hoping to find a holstered gun.

  TIME CHANGES EVERYTHING

  Einstein proved that time is relative, even though you may not have time for some of them. It’s a theory that becomes more relevant as we age. I’d try anything in my twenties, because I knew I had lots of time to heal or apologize or do community service. But now I’m very fussy about what I spend my time doing. I’m running out of it, so it’s becoming much more valuable. I used to view life as a timeless adventure. “What do you want to do?” “I don’t know. What do you want to do?” Now I treat it as a conjugal visit. “Let’s get this over with—I need my sleep.”

  TAKING THE BS OUT OF CEOS

  As I was washing a thin layer of ash and metal particulate off my boat last week, I got thinking about pollution and how people will say anything for money. Yes, the CEO of that big factory insists that all its emissions are inert and harmless. But he says that from his hermetically sealed office just prior to jumping into his Mercedes and speeding home to his million-dollar house—which is forty miles away and upwind. Well, I’ve come up with a plan to make sure these people are telling us the truth.

  The Queen has to live in Buckingham Palace, the president has to live in the White House, and ministers have to live in the manse. It comes with the job. I say that CEOs of polluting companies should have to live on the grounds of their own factories. That would cut through the rhetoric pretty fast. Being ordered to live in the environment they create is a great way to force people to be honest. (With the apparent exception of those in the White House.)

  HOW TO MEASURE WIND VELOCITY

  It’s important to know how windy it is if you plan to fish, sail, hang-glide, or wear a toupee. Meteorologists (who know nothing about Meteors, even though they were darned decent cars) measure wind speed using the Beaufort wind scale, invented by Admiral Francis Beaufort in the 1800s (which is called the nineteenth century—go figure).

  Beaufort based his scale on the amount of canvas that a full-rigged frigate could carry. I don’t have a frigate—although I have been known to say something similar. So I use the Wind-o-meter Scale.

  Code # Wind Speed (Knots) Description

  0 0-1 Calm. Too calm. People get edgy. Smoke from the BBQ rises straight up, attracting buzzards. You can smell yourself.

  1 2–3 Light air. Leaves on trees don’t move. Smoke from BBQ rises at a slight angle. You can still smell yourself.

  2 4–7 Light breeze. Leaves on trees move. You can smell the guy next to you.

  3 8–12 Gentle breeze. Everyone can smell everyone. Oriental wind chimes get on your nerves.

  4 13–18 Moderate breeze. Nuns make flapping sound. Leaves fly all over your yard.

  5 19–24 Fresh breeze. Leaves fly all over your neighbour’s yard. He yells at you, but you claim you can’t hear him over the wind chimes.

  6 25–31 Strong breeze. Difficult to walk. Drunks are blown over. Smoke from BBQ blows horizontally, right into your eyes.

  32–38 Moderate gale. Trees move moderately. Boring uncle asks, “Windy enough for you?” Cheeks flap when you yawn. Aluminum patio furniture on the move.

  8 39–46 Fresh gale. Nuns blow over. Falling-down drunks are held upright. Clothes blow off clothesline. BBQ is blown over—smoke from burning deck blows horizontally. Trees move rapidly.

  9 47–54 Strong gale. Trees move slowly—across your lawn. Boring uncle says, “Windy? This is nothing. When I was young …” Your favourite toque blows off.

  10 55–63 Whole gale. Your favourite shirt blows off. Neighbour’s gas BBQ comes through your window. Your newly sodded lawn is now someone else’s newly sodded lawn.

  11 64–75 Storm. You regret not hiring a pro to build your chimney. Boring uncle claims, “I’ve seen worse!” and is carried off by wind. People in trailer parks appear on nightly news. Your underwear blows off.

  12 Over 75 Hurricane. Your underwear blows off while you’re indoors. People from trailer parks fly past your house. Your nose hairs whistle even when you’re not breathing. You can’t close your eyes. Even if you wanted to.

  MAKING AN OLD FRIEND

  I recently made a new friend who’s six years older than me. He’s bright and fit and has all his hair. He may even have some of mine. He’s witty and laughs easily and the women seem to warm to him. Other guys in my situation might be jealous, but not me. This guy gives me hope. I think to myself that when I get to his age, I’ll be just like that. I get thinking that the current balding, overweight, boring me is just a phase I’m going through, and if I can just wait it out by finding an interesting hobby like watching television, I’ll eventually change from a slug in a grungy cocoon to a stylish butterfly like my new buddy. Maybe old age is like going through puberty. But in reverse.

  THE GAB OF GIFTS

  Always take a close look at any gift you receive on your birthday or at Christmastime because it might well contain a hidden message. Here are a few examples:

  • A full-length mirror

  • A comb

  • Dry-cleaning coupons

  • A car air freshener

  • A tube of whitening toothpaste

  • A dog-training DVD

  • A job offer in Africa

  • A skateboard

  • Nose hair clippers

  • A gift pack of bath soap and disinfectant

  • A
lawn mower

  KEEP IT IN THE FAMILY

  In my experience, nothing is all good or all bad. It’s always a mix of the two in various quantities. Even good manners can have a bad side. I’m thinking about the good manners of not arguing with a family member who is always spouting his theories of human behaviour and galactic interaction. I know it may be impolite to disagree, but by saying nothing, we are implying to Uncle Bob that we agree with him, and that can be a very dangerous message. His ridiculous viewpoints get even more entrenched and his determination to express them increases. When you see a loudmouth in person or on television, you can be pretty sure he comes from a family of people who were just too darned polite for their own good. So if you’ve got someone like that in your house, please be rude to him at every opportunity. Otherwise, you’re forcing the rest of us to do it for you, and that’s not polite.

  SMOKE FROM YOUR CAR AND WHAT IT MEANS

  Smoke from the Grill, Rad, or Hoses

  This is actually not smoke. It’s steam. It can be caused by one of two things: Something Being There or Something Not Being There.

  The Something Being There category includes anything that overheats the engine or impedes the flow of water through the engine cooling system, such as a small dead rodent or work sock wedged inside one of the hoses; a seventy-five-foot house trailer hooked to the rear bumper of a Nash Metropolitan on the upside of Pikes Peak; a gaping hole in the rad as the result of rear-ending a pole vaulter; a solid block of ice clogging the rad tubing (mainly in winter); the desert sun at noon in July; a large, furry rodent-type creature embedded in the radiator cooling fins; a thermostat rusted shut from never being serviced or replaced in the thirty years the car has been in your family.

  The Something Not Being There category obviously includes the disappearance of anything necessary to allow the flow of water, such as a complete lack of said water; the absence of antifreeze in the water (see “solid block of ice” above); the missing drive belt for the water pump; the hoses you took off to make a tuba for your sister’s wedding.

  Smoke from the Dashboard

  Unless you’re driving an early experimental car that runs on wood, dashboard smoke is probably an electrical fire. In most cases, it’s caused by driver negligence: a spilled cup of coffee or even more volatile liquid, or coins dropped down the defroster vents. Maybe you dropped tinsel down there on your way home from Liberace’s estate sale. Or maybe you’ve been impatient with the radio or heater performance and have randomly kicked under the dashboard with steel-toed shoes. Perhaps you’ve driven through piles of leaves for fun, shredding dried pine cones on the red-hot heater core.

  In any case, you have a short-circuit causing a wire to overheat and burn. It will probably blow a fuse and go out. Or it could go out once the wire burns and opens the circuit. Or it could turn into a massive automotive fire that totally engulfs your car. But you’ve got a two-out-of-three chance that it’s not serious, so just roll down the window and keep driving.

  Smoke from the Engine Crankcase

  When you see smoke coming out of the dipstick hole or the oil filler cap, that means you have a fire in the engine crankcase. If you’re wondering what that is, think back to the oil fires in Kuwait. That’s basically what’s going on in there, except that no one will help you put it out. The engine has overheated and ignited the oil, which is usually caused by an extreme shortage of oil, which is usually caused by you buying self-serve gas and not checking the oil for seven years. If you have a crankcase fire, pull over, remove the licence plates and all other identifying features, and find an alternative mode of transportation (see tips on hitchhiking).

  Smoke from the Trunk

  Unless you’re hauling manure, this is probably a fire. Before you open the trunk lid, try to remember what’s in there. A lawn mower? Fireworks? Any type of missile? Maybe you’re better off just to keep driving and keep the fire behind you. It could be burning for a while because the gas tank is back there, but on the bright side, nobody will tailgate you.

  Smoke from the Wheels

  Smoke from the wheels is very rarely a fire. It is usually rubber burning from friction, which 90 percent of the time is caused by you pushing down too hard on one of the pedals—either the gas or the brake. Ease back on your stops and starts, and that should remove the tire-smoking problem. It could also be that one of your rear wheels has locked up. That usually happens when an ordinary guy tries to change his own differential fluid. Remove the cover and look inside, and you’ll recover that wrench you’ve been missing. Take it out and everything should be fine.

  If it’s the front tires that are smoking, you may have an alignment problem. Turn the steering wheel to go straight and get out and look at the tires. If they are pointing directly toward or away from each other, you need a front-end alignment. And so does your car.

  Smoke from the Exhaust Pipe

  If it’s a cold or a damp day, this is probably steam and nothing to worry about. However, if the smoke is black and full of charred metal slivers with the occasional multicoloured flame ball, there could be a problem. The exhaust pipe is the off-ramp for the unburned gases from the engine. Be careful what kind of gas you use. Don’t buy it on the black market from a guy with a German accent. His prices are way out of line. And don’t just assume that old cans of paint and hairspray and homemade beer will automatically work in your car. Take your exhaust problems very seriously. As all mechanics and proctologists know, there is no better clue to how things are working than what comes out the back end.

  Smoke from the Back Seat

  When you notice smoke coming from the back seat, you have to remember if you have thrown anything over your shoulder in the past few hours. A lit cigarette? A cigarette lighter? A propane torch? Bowls of kerosene? The Olympic flame? A BBQ? Church candles? Roman candles? Cans of napalm?

  If the answer is no, then check to see if anybody’s back there. If you discover a passionate couple, find out their ages. If they’re between forty and seventy, look out—it’s smoke. If they’re under forty, relax—it’s steam. If they’re over seventy, ignore it—it’s dust.

  THE UNKINDEST CUT

  I know many factors make people what they are, but chemistry has to be a big part of it. And if you’re a man, testosterone must be the most influential chemical. If you take a normal man and drastically reduce his testosterone level, you get either an ugly woman or a guy who walks funny and never shaves. Testosterone is a key ingredient in the man recipe, and that’s why I’m concerned about the negative messages that we see targeting testosterone every day. Take, for example, all those ads to promote animals being neutered.

  Now, I can understand the rationale of castrating pigs to fatten them up in the belief that they’ll eat more if they have nothing else to think about, but the idea of having your dog neutered to make him more manageable upsets me. Some days I’m a little unmanageable myself, and I don’t want my wife looking at our friendly, obedient dog and getting ideas.

  NO NEED TO EXPLAIN, EVEN IF YOU COULD

  There are many great things about being married to the same person for a long time, and I’m a grateful husband on a fairly regular basis. One of the best perks is the evolution of communication between two people over time. It eventually reaches the point where words are unnecessary. What a bonus! Life is hard enough, but having to explain every little setback or accident—or why the police are in the driveway—can get very tedious. I truly appreciate being able just to go quietly to bed with a couple of aspirins and a cold compress. It’s great to be with someone who knows you so well that you don’t need to come up with an explanation. The downside of that relationship is that when you’ve screwed up so badly that you do have to come up with an explanation, it had better be a dandy.

  THE MEN’S ROOMS

  While men and women are doing more things together than ever, which is a good thing, there is obviously still a need for each to spend time with their own kind—to be with people who share their physiology and
experiences and, in many cases, attitudes. Women seem to do this much better than men do. They have shopping trips or quilting bees or spa days or sleepovers. The list for men is less impressive: hunting and fishing. We seem to have to be killing something to have a good time. And men having a sleepover really gets the rumour mill going. So instead, why don’t we start a men’s club where we could relax and be ourselves and bond? Here are some suggested features:

  • The TV Room: Built on top of an open dumpster. The television screen occupies one whole wall, and everybody gets a remote.

  • The BS Lounge: You’re allowed to tell any story you want, and nobody has to pretend to believe it.

  • The Observation Room: Men sit in elevated bleachers and watch other members assemble items without reading the instructions.

  • The Garage: A place where men lean under the open hood of a car, beer in hand, staring blankly at the fuel injection system.

  • The Model Room: A pool for racing model boats and a slot car track. Reckless speed with limited liability.

  • The Decompression Room: No eye contact. No talking. No chairs facing each other.

  • The Hot Stove Lounge: A place to burn things, including trees, old furniture, unsuccessful projects.

  • The Underwear Room: Relaxed dress code.

  TO SEE OURSELVES AS OTHERS SEE US

  I was at a social event and a fat, bald middle-aged guy was pointing out all the beautiful single young women who were at the event. And he capped it off with “Just my luck, I’m married.” And he was so right.