Aesop's Unpublished Tales

While many of Aesop's fables are still with us today and empart their wisdom to generation after generation, there are a few that only recently have come to light when a Greek gentleman by the name of Mr. Xanthus Iadmon found them when cleaning his dad's garage. They were authenticated by experts at the Knowmordenudo Institute of Research and published in the historian's trade magazine "Scrolls & Tablets" with great fanfare. While much of the article was dedicated to the writing style of Aesop with various learned critics chiming in, as well as the acid content of the papyrus it was written on, it is very academic and of little interest to the casual reader. The fables themselves are printed below and are not academic.

The Cat and the Kangaroo:
The cat was eager to get to the freshly mowed field as she was sure that it would be full of mice since the men had just cut the wheat. The only problem was that a great river was between her and the field, and everyone knows that cats hate to get wet. As the cat pondered her predicament, a kangaroo hopped up and took a drink from the river. "Please Mrs. Kangaroo," the cat pleaded, "you are so strong and hop so far, would you put me in your pouch and take me across the river, for there is where I will catch my dinner." The kangaroo took pity on the cat and let her climb into her pouch. "You are ever so kind and will be rewarded for your generosity," the cat purred. The kangaroo lunged a mighty leap only to land in the middle of the river where the water was swift and deep. As the two of them were drowning, the cat cried out, "What have you done? You have killed us both!" The kangaroo said, "I told you I could jump but I never said I could swim!"

The moral of the story: Cats and kangaroos are both idiots but only the kangaroo is swayed by flattery.

The Rook, the Raven, and the Crow:
A rook, a raven and a crow were all sunning themselves on the same branch of an olive tree when they began to chat. "I have a tough life," the rook began, "I am black and in the summer sun, I roast in these feathers. Sometimes I find some seeds or some berries but most of the time I go hungry. I think being a rook is the toughest life of all!"

The raven said, "You think you have it tough. I am a raven and sometimes I am forced to eat what the vultures won't. I am constantly harassed by the hawk who would eat me, and when I try to get a little grain from the farmer's field, he throws rocks at me and curses me. The hand of every man is turned against me. I think being a raven is the toughest life of all!"

The crow looked at the rook. Then he looked at the raven. Then he said, "Negro please! Shut the fuck up and eat an olive, because you know all that shit you are spouting is just the dove tryin' to keep you down!"

The moral of the story is: that Aesop had been a slave and he said "Fuck Whitey!" which was very progreesive for his time.

The Rabbit and the Bear
A rabbit stopped in a clearing in the woods to relieve himself. As he sat, a large, brown bear lumbered into the clearing and squated next to him and began to relieve himself as well. After a few moments of silence, the bear turned to the rabbit and asked, "Do you have trouble with shit sticking to your fur?"

The nervous rabbit managed to stutter out a shaky, "N-, n-, no!"

So the bear reached over and wiped his ass with the rabbit.

The moral of the story is: Rabbits stutter and frequently give out Too Much Information, while bears are just pricks.

The Fable Maker and the Milk Maid:
What follows is a lurid tale of Aesop when he was at the court of Croesus and dined in the company of the Seven Sages Of Greece in Corinth and how even the Corinthian hookers who were hired for the occasion wouldn't lay him so he was forced to seduce the lowliest of the household servants, despite how ugly she was, so the Seven Sages wouldn't make fun of him the next day. It is very lurid and detailed in it's description of the deed.

The moral of the story is: that it all looks the same in the dark and The Seven Sages Of Greece really know how to throw a party.

Doc

The Parable of the Coo Coo Clock.

Now it is seldom that I am accused of fostering a good idea, or for that matter any ideas, let alone coming up with anything that remotely resembles a pearl of wisdom, but I sit here before you so accused.

I was chatting with an old friend here as of late and he was telling me of his new-found dilemma. He was contemplating entering into a new relationship, but was more than a little leary as his last couple had ended so poorly. "What if this one doesn't work out? I don't know if I can take it again," he said with a groan.

"Well, it's kind of like buying a new coo coo clock," I responded.

"Huh?" he raised one eyebrow and gave me a look that told me he wasn't following my train of thought at all. For me, this is not an uncommon reaction to most of the things I say. "How so?"

"Well picture it this way: You are in the shop and you are thinking about buying a new coo coo clock. You pick out a nice one that has a wonderful chime and the carving is beautiful, but you hesitate to buy it because you know that at some point in the future it is going to break. It might break as soon as you leave the store, or it might last long enough that your great-grandchildren will get to grow up listening to it's wonderful sound, but some day, that clock is going to break."

"Yeah, so?"

"I don't know about you, but I'd rather take the chance, and perhaps listen to that clock for years, than to sit in silence and wonder how much richer my life might have been with that pleasant little chime every quarter hour."

He scratched his cheek and blew out a long plume of smoke from his cigarette and thought a minute. "That's quite a parable," was all he could say. After that he turned and began to walk away.

"Where are you going?" I asked with a little surprise, as I thought our conversation was just getting started.

"I'm going to go buy a coo coo clock," he said with a smile and a wave.

Doc

Jes' Thinkin'

"Man is a rope, tied between beast and overman--a rope over an abyss. A dangerous across, a dangerous on-the-way, a dangerous looking-back, a dangerous shuddering and stopping. What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not an end: what can be loved in man is that he is an overture and a going under. I love those who do not know how to live, for they are those who cross over."

-- Friedrich Nietzsche,"Thus Spoke Zarathustra"



There are two things a real man likes, danger and play. That's why he likes women, they are the most dangerous of playthings.

-- Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche



No wonder he lived all his life with his mother and sister. Imagine trying to find a blind date for this guy.



Doc

P.S.- I didn't add the speech bubble to the photo. I found it that way.

The American Center

This morning I was awoken by the telephone. I opened one sleepy eye to glance at the little screen to see who was calling. The screen read "The American Center", and cut off there. I'm sure if I bothered to answer the phone I would have learned what center they were refering to, but even half asleep, I knew they were going to want some of my money, and I just don't have any to spare.

So I hung up on them and went back to sleep.

As I drifted back into slumber, the words "The American Center" kept rolling around in my head. I wondered what I would find at the American center? As I drifted into R.E.M. I knew what I'd find.

Nougat. Lots and lots of nougat.



Doc

I Hate A Liar

The picture above is a representation of the Roman god, Janus, who presided over doors, doorways, gates, beginnings, and endings, who was usually shown holding a key. From Janus, we get the name for the first month of the year, January, a time to look back over the past year as well as forward to the new year. It is also where we get the name of one of the most under-valued and overlooked professions: Janitor, caretaker of doors and halls.

Now I told you all that to tell you this: Janus is two-faced, a term we often reserve for liars, and if there is one thing I hate more than anything else, it is a liar. (And Nazis) I am not a hateful person. Anyone who knows me knows I'm pretty easy-going and am a tolerant, open minded person. Like my Grandmother used to say, even the most wretched and nasty person you could name has one good quality: they can be used as a good example of how not to be. But Damn! I hate a liar!
Now having said that, I have made myself a hypocrite, as I am a liar as well. According to Flannery, I am a very good liar. I have an honest and innocent face, and I use that to my advantage. I will spin a yarn woven of bullshit and bologna, and pass it off as coin of the realm. I am good at it. It is not a skill I'm proud of, nor do I do it often, but when pressed, I can make a whopper sound like something Abraham Lincoln might have said. I am no George Washington. I can lie like the proverbial rug. But there are only a few occasions I allow myself this liberty with the truth.

• When I am under the scrutiny of Law Enforcement Officers. Let's face it, these folks hear more lies than any other profession, and me getting one past them is slim, but I can justify it with the reasoning that I am protecting Flannery and the kids from public shame.



• When Flannery wants to know where I've been, why I'm home later than I said I was going to be, and what was X amount of dollars spent on. I would have a better chance at parallel parking a sperm whale than getting one past her, but it is usually worth a shot.



• When I am setting you up for a joke.

Since I've been married, I have not had the need to exercise the first one. My run ins with the boys in blue are long behind me and the wild life that I once lived is a fond, but distant memory, a bit hazy in a few places, but still very fond.

I almost never engage the right of the second liberty. Much like a trolley car, I have a few places I am likely to be and I never stray from them. Home, work, gas station, burger joint, the in laws, the Moose Lodge, or the Tiki Bar. That's it. I don't go anywhere else, and all of these places are less than ten minutes from the house.

The third one I do all the time, but in the end, I will ALWAYS tell you that I have been "pulling your leg" or "putting you on". I do not leave half-truths, fibs, or complete and utter bullshit unexposed. Who knows? I might want to run for office someday and I don't need this kind of malarkey screwing up my expensive campaign. I will try my level best to make you laugh, and if I need to construct some hokey story to do it, I will. I will do my damnedest to convince you that what I am saying is the truth, but only for the guilty pleasure of seeing you break into a grin and chortle like a hyena when you discover that you have been had. Everyone has their faults, and this is mine.

It wasn't until I got to college that I realized I had a deep and abiding hatred of liars. I met a girl in speech class, (where else?) and we dated for a while. She was smart, well-spoken, built, wealthy, a mortician, and she could do things that would make your eyes roll back in your head and scream your own name. She was the full package. She was eager to get married and she was convinced that I was IT, and for a short time, I even considered it myself. But she had one drawback. She was a chronic and unreformable liar. I couldn't believe anything she said. She lied just to have something to talk about. She lied about anything. She wasn't lying to keep herself out of jail, or to preserve a relationship, or even to tell a joke. She would lie about what she had for breakfast. It didn't take me very long to decide that this wasn't the wagon I wanted to be hitched to forevermore, regardless of what she could make me scream. I called her a liar, wished her luck, and turned her loose.

I have never regretted this decision, and I have often thanked God that I had the presence of mind to do so. What a nightmare that could have been. I don't know where she is now, or what has become of her, but I hope she found a Bullshit Artist on the same grand scale as she was.

I thought of her the other day after seeing a picture of our President on the cover of the newspaper.

Doc

P.S.- Don't miss out on the caption contest below.

WACKALOONS: The Best Idea I've Heard All Damn Day.

Please, take eight minutes of your time and give this a gander. I have always respected George Carlin for his wit and insight, but after seeing this clip, I think he needs to be on the ballot. Although, should his idea be put in place, my next post may be from Colorado, but that's okay. I like Coors beer.

I don't know if this would work, but T.V. would be a lot more interesting.

Doc

I'm No Good At Being Good.

Ever since I recovered from wrestling the Coiled Dragon, I have been trying to take better care of myself. You know, the usual, eat better, sleep more, take my vitamins, and get some exercise, etc. Nothing too strenious, but just a general over-all healthier lifestyle. After all, I'm not a kid anymore, and my bloom of youth has long since gone to seed.

I haven't had much luck. The pull of old habits is too strong.

I quit taking the vitamins after three days. Horse-pills that big could not be healthy. I tried drinking less. That lasted the better part of a week. I cut back on my smoking and kept it to a few every day. I'm back to my most of a pack a day habit. I started to head to bed earlier so I could start rolling out of bed at a decent hour. Insomnia set in and I started watching the sun come up time and again after another sleepless night. Now I was getting even less sleep than when I headed to bed late. I quit drinking coffee, but this became even harder with less and less sleep. I've gotten out of the habit of eating, just something quick and simple before bed and I was good. I can't eat breakfast. My stomach gets up three hours after I do and if I send down anything other than coffee before that time he gets cranky and bothers me the whole day. I only eat lunch if it is convienent, i.e. someone else is cooking and cleaning up afterward, and this rarely happens. I work in the evenings through what most people would consider dinner time, so that's out. Often it isn't until I'm climbing into bed does it occur to me that I haven't eaten all day.

I thought the real crux of the problem was there was never any food in the house that I like to eat, as Flannery and the girls have very different palates than mine, and she does most of the grocery shopping. So to remedy the situation I spent $200 at the store and filled the house with things that I like. I packed the cupboards, shelves, fridge, and freezer to the brim. It's still in there and I've nibbled at it. The problem wasn't the food, it was the fact that I am much too lazy to fix it and clean up afterwards.

The exercise is the only thing I have had any success with. Mind you, I'm not running marathons like Bubs, or rowing like Pezda, or mountain climbing like GetkristiLove. No. I have made enough trips up and down the stairs doing laundery to wear out a stair master. I have toted most everything we own to the curb in an effort to rid ourselves of our flea problem. Not to mention the rigorious workout I get tapping these little keys. My constitution and stamina are improving, just ask Flannery.

So in an effort to help ease my mind about how badly I'm failing at this, sit down next to me at the bar and light up a cigar, and have a cold one with me. Tell me a few dirty jokes and remind me how we are going to start our new diet and work-out plan on some far-flung and distant "tomorrow".

"To your continued Good Health! Cheers!" (clink)

Doc

The Best Compliment I've been Paid in Awhile

I've heard a lot of good advice in my time. Such as "Go with God and don't take any wooden nickels." Or "Watch that last step" as well as "Bring Cash". These are all good advice, but damn my poor education, I only heed these warnings in the after-the-fact. It has been my experience that good advice only appears good in hindsight. Yes, I have ignored good advice before. I like to think that I've grown and learned, but the truth of the matter is I'm still learning, and probably will be until they shovel 6x6x4 over me. I gotta admit, it is worth getting out of bed for. Like my dear ol' Dad used to say, "If you ain't learnin', you ain't livin'", or something to that effect. I wasn't listening. I was too busy with my action figures.

Anyway, I was set to celebrate a small milestone here at Social Zymurgy. I was all set to ring the bells and set off lots of illegal fireworks for the 400th post of SZ, but out of nowhere, I was struck with a whole new concept, a whole new world-view.

My life changed.

A buddy of mine said his congratulations for this milestone. Then, out of nowhere, he threw in one more piece of advice, as well as a compliment, all in one. This doesn't happen very often to me, where you find a wonderful slice of truth wrapped in well-wishes.

His phrase was this: "Up Your Leg"

To use Flannery's word, I was dumbsquizzled.

This rates as some of the best advice/congratulations/compliment I've ever gotten. If Freidrich Neitzche can build a philosophy out of his superman, than the world needs an oppurtunity to choose Cooper Green and "Up Your Leg". I would read any book he wrote with this title. Perhaps this is a common phase among Canadians, much like "ain't", "grits", and "hind-end" is to American hill-billys/rednecks/country people.

Maybe this is a regional thing, like the way natives from Boston pronounce "harbor" or "baked beans". I don't know. I don't get out much and I don't watch T.V.

Should I ever get a tattoo, I'm thinking of a large crow with ruffled feathers and the quote "Up Your Leg", provided I can overcome my fear of needles, and Coop hasn't copyrighted it by then.

So with a heart-felt "Up your Leg", toast the one you love. If you find yourself in cross-town traffic, just roll down your window and share this philosophy with the car next to you. What about a long elevator ride, or a seemingly endless line at the grocery? This is the perfect time to convert the masses.

Ladies and Gentlmen, Up your Leg!

and then some.

Doc

P.S. Check out my interview below.