All Entries in the "Fractured Opinion" Category
The Least Influential People in Western Culture
By Ken Currie
Special from our archives
As a handful of Covid-tired, calendar-clutching fanatics watch another month fly by second-string journalists are scrambling for angles, scrutinizing the virus and its accompanying boredom. I, for one, was quite fond of the 20th Century, having spent most of my adult life in it. I did not stand in the way when the 21st Century arrived on the doorstep. I am not whining. We didn’t get enough. We didn’t accomplish enough. As others list and write about the great events and people of the past 1000 years, I too have compiled a list…not of important people, nor of lesser-known greats. My list does not contain the forgotten or the obscure, but is rather a roster of complete and classic nobodies. Here then is my contribution to posterity…last and least influential.
Alfredo Veducino (1102-1168)
Alfredo served as a monk in Spain. He maintained strict silence for fifty-five years although he never really took an official vow to that affect. The monastery where Alfredo lived was one where fellow monks unearthed and translated what was believed to be the grocery list of the prophet Isaiah. In later years the entire ordeal was downplayed when a senior monk pointed out that chicken chow mein was not available during that primitive Biblical period. This discovery and the subsequent dismissal of the said document shook the religious world of the time. Luckily for Alfredo he had had nothing to do with the research from the onset. He was bust keeping silent adhering to his daily regiment of sleeping until 3:45 in the afternoon and spending the remainder of the day engaging in what fellow monks called escucha de conejos or listening to rabbits.
Stefanos Meridan (1460-?)
Born the son of a destitute Portuguese eel trapper, spent his early years living on the beach with his father. His mother, a stout woman, would not allow either of them in the house do reportedly to the presence of an icky eel slime aroma. At age 11 a desperate Stefanos stowed away on a large merchant ship. After three days it became apparent that the ship had been abandoned. On the fourth day he returned home, cold and hungry, only to be locked out of the house by his mother who complained of a musty shipwreck stench that mysteriously followed the lad about. Later, as an adult, he claimed to have discovered a swift ocean-going route between Portugal and Spain. He set sail, bankrolled by the Italian court, centered in the city state of Sinatra, and three years later was swept ashore along the rocky coast of Scotland. He quickly claimed the land for the queen of Portugal and renamed in Stefanoland, after himself. Almost twenty minutes later redheaded Picts in plaid skirts made him sail away by hurling jagged rocks at his head. He was never seen again. Some one hundred years later a rough map surfaced at some insignificant Renaissance yard sale in a familiar writing style common to Stefanos. The map featured England and Ireland carefully drawn to scale, but named Meridanland and Stef’s Isle.
Ping Hi Pong (1225-1324)
As a philosopher in China, Ping taught meditation to children six years old and younger. He is credited with two metaphysical sayings. One was “The man who can boil a rooster’s egg will accomplish an impossible task” and the other, “To hear a beautiful woman sing, now that’s really something.” To this day no one has proven Ping wrong on either saying. As Ping neared his one-hundredth birthday, an acolyte asked him for the secret of longevity. He smiled, settled back into his easy chair and said, “To live a hundred years one must…” and before he could finish the sentence, he dropped dead.
Ivan Ivanivan (1850-1923)
As a distant cousin of Czar Nicholas, Ivan was extended privileges not often enjoyed by young men of his time. He got two extra potatoes per month and a full equestrian scholarship to Kiev Community College. While at school he penned Czar Wars…The Empire Strikes Us. This was considered controversial by the three people who actually read it (oddly enough they made up the majority of literate people in Russia at the time). He also wrote a collection of poems that the same three people began to read but found to be too controversial to complete. Ivan was traded to a Siberian minor league franchise for a warped landscape rake and lived in that barren place for his last 60 years because, as he put it: “In Siberia nobody expects you to grow a garden.”
Dr. Lisa Blackhart (1801-1888)
As the first female doctor in Boston to refuse to touch newborn infants, Lisa was encouraged by her brahman family to hit the Oregon Trail. After two difficult months in the saddle she decided to turn around and try heading west. She settled for a time in Kansas City doing odd jobs like radical amputation and liver transplants. Soon she became shocked by the illiteracy rate among two-year-olds. Determined to start a school to cure these social ills, she found her dislike of children to be a formidable obstacle. She moved on to Denver but found young children there to be equally annoying. She finally landed in Sacramento where she began a medical practice again. However, after only two months as a frontier doctor, she initiated a stern policy of refusing to see anyone who was sick or injured. With no patients to treat and no children to teach Dr Blackhart described her golden years as “the most fulfilling of my career.”
Wolfgang Jack VonStein (1679-1735)
As a boy in Hungary, Wolfgang (a long shot to make anyone’s list) longed to play the piano. Sadly, his parents could not afford to purchase such an expensive instrument but they did provide him with two chicken bones that he carried with him at all times. All over the village Wolfgang could be heard tapping the bones together to create increasingly complex rhythms. After a chance meeting with John Sebastian Bach at a local cafe the maestro offered to tutor the prospect free of charge. Once, at Bach’s home, the great musician demanded that Wolfgang rinse the chicken grease from his fingers before touching the piano. An enraged Wolfgang stormed out of the house never to return. In the years that followed he composed several symphonies to be performed entirely on poultry bones. Today a noted virtuoso, Rupkin Mensonich, performs VonStein’s work outside a sushi bar in Prague free every other Thursday unless it rains or something. Mensonich is number seven on our list.
Marcia Kreep (1821-1891)
Born in Vancouver on the wrong side of town, Marcia perspired to be an inventor. Among her drawings are elaborate schematics for what she called her “clock dismantler” and her similarly designed “pocket watch smasher”. Her early inventions were not well received and she found herself embracing poverty. Plus she was quite poor. This never changed. Other designs by Kreep were the “mechanized digital book dropper” the “self-sinking ponga boat” and one curious concept entitled simply “the thing that doesn’t work right”.
Jeff Singlehair (1946- )
A Flint, Michigan native, the idealistic Singlehair rejected his father’s offer to join him as a partner in an environmental engineering firm. Jeff said: “You engineers are wrecking the world with all that train smoke and other ungroovy stuff, um, man!” Jeff then joined the hippie movement but became disillusioned when, at age 20, all of his hair fell out. He attended a small Everly Brothers concert at Windsock, N.C. in the summer of 1969 mistakenly thinking (to this day) that he had been a part of the largest, most famous rock and roll event of his generation. Jeff currently lives in Chevy Chase in a Chevy van and makes candles for aromatherapy workshops around Southwestern Colorado.
Read more of Ken’s keen observations in his newest coffee table book “Norwood Exposure” which is exclusively for sale in Nucla and Paradox.
Watch for our Nine Billion Most Average People of the Last Millennium
in next month’s special insert site and see if your name is mentioned!
My Night on Camp Bird Road
It was a dark and stormy night or maybe it was the perfect summer evening. I really don’t remember. All I know is that I was hungry, that being redundant since I am a healthy, five-year-old, 300 pound black bear. The heavy rains have netted lots of berries but how many berries does it take to fill the stomach of a bear as big as me? Every so often I need something more substantial, something that sticks to the ribs, as they say.
Wait, there’s a cabin at the end of this lane and no light on. I wonder if anyone’s home? I wonder if the door is locked? It doesn’t matter since I am a bear and doors mean very little, even though we bruins know full well how to open them. Maybe I should break through a window and check out the provisions. It could be trouble but no one’s around and I am big and hairy.
I approach from the wooded side of the cabin and get up on my hind legs to have a sniff around. Boy, someone should firm up this porch. It barely holds my weight. I peek into the kitchen and notice that the furniture looks rough. The couch looks like second-hand but I don’t plan to take a nap. I plan to eat! These humans could really use a decorator.
If I exert just the right amount of pressure on the glass it will give in. A light push…There with a little crash I’m inside.
Now to the important part without further delay. I wonder what kind of grub these absent humans have stashed in the cupboards. The fools always leave something around in case of a big snow. Dispensing with formalities I tear off the cupboard door. Cheerios! I love Cheerios. The only thing better than cheerios is Sugar Crisps, which have a bear on the front of the package.
Now where have they hidden the honey? These kinds of humans always have honey around in one of those plastic bear jars for some reason that escapes me. They should have plastic bee jars. The jars are always real sticky and it’s hard to get the lid off without any thumbs on my paw. Here it is in a small cereal bowl. Real easy to eat. Now I have a feast and there are some grapes in the refrigerator too. I think I’ll go back out on the porch and chow down. Ahhhhh….
Moments after eating I hear a rustling in the bushes. What? It’s one of those humans with a cooking pot and spoon in her hand. Now she’s banging the pot with the spoon. What’s she trying to do? Wake up the whole neighborhood? If she thinks I’m going to run off because she’s banging around, she’s nuts.
Now she’s staring at me. Doesn’t she know how dangerous it can be to make eye contact with a bear? And why isn’t she wearing bells? Didn’t she read the little books that the rangers give out at the cute little campsites?
I stand and give her my best growl. Usually this works. Now she’s gone into the house. Maybe there are a few more boxes of cereal inside. I crawl back through the broken window taking care not to scrape myself on the jagged glass. Look, there are cans of soup but no opener. There’re marshmallows. And what’s this? Coffee? Bears don’t usually like to eat coffee but we eat garbage. I’ll try anything once. Now I hear the human upstairs on the phone talking about me. She’s telling someone on the other end of the line that there is a bear in her kitchen.
In a mater of moments a mob of these funny creatures is at the gate. One has a gun. They all look mad. I hope he’s not stupid enough to fire that thing near the house. Someone could get shot. Apparently he does not realize how dangerous firearms can be in the hands of a human. Now he’s aiming the gun in my direction. He lifts it and fires into the air. I charge without hesitation. I’m a bear, you know.
Despite their sophisticated technology the humans scatter. The bluff worked. I knew they weren’t really a threat. I quickly scamper across the yard and into the black timber and up the hill to safety. I’ll have to go back another night to finish the rest of the groceries. It’s nice to know they are there.
That was fun.
Snowpack demand in US creates cocaine wars down south
(Miami) The continued demand for cocaine in the US is the overwhelming reason for violence and ecological disaster in Colombia say leading international justice concerns.
Colombians are killing each other to determine who sells coke to the gringos. The only effective war on drugs is legalization, which is not profitable to the politicians in either country. Never mind the coke hounds in the US that effectively destroy their lives to snort the shit.
“People all over the world think we’re narcos,” said one taxi driver in Rio Negro. “We’re not. We’re just trying to survive like anyone else. The desire for the drug in the US and Europe feeds the production monster down here.”
Usage in most South American countries is dwarfed by consumption in “more developed countries. Most travelers will rarely come across the drug in most of Colombia and Ecuador, unless, of corpse, seek it.”
Meanwhile the situation is getting much darker while the nose pigs throw their dollars and Euros at the wretches of society who are becoming quite wealthy and more powerful in the exchange.
-Oral Waters
The Fisherman
Although I can see him still—
The freckled man who goes
To a gray place on a hill
In gray Connemara clothes
At dawn to cast his flies—
It’s long since I began
To call up to the eyes
This wise and simple man.
All day I’d looked in the face
What I had hoped it would be
To write for my own race
And the reality:
The living men that I hate,
The dead man that I loved,
The craven man in his seat,
The insolent unreproved—
And no knave brought to book
Who has won a drunken cheer—
The witty man and his joke
Aimed at the commonest ear,
The clever man who cries
The catch cries of the clown,
The beating down of the wise
And great Art beaten down.
Maybe a twelve-month since
Suddenly I began,
In scorn of this audience,
Imagining a man,
And his sun-freckled face
And gray Connemara cloth,
Climbing up to a place
Where stone is dark with froth,
And the down turn of his wrist
When the flies drop in the stream—
A man who does not exist,
A man who is but a dream;
And cried, “Before I am old
I shall have written him one
Poem maybe as cold
And passionate as the dawn.”
TAYLOR HALL SELLS FOR $2.6 MILLION
(Gunnison) In what appears to be a case of mistaken identity Taylor Hall was yesterday purchased by a Kansas couple. The buyers, who refused to be interviewed, will take possession of the property in early 2022.
Taylor Hall is the oldest building on the campus of Western Colorado State University. It currently houses most administrative offices including admissions, the college president’s chambers, alumni affairs, classrooms and many student support services such as a hair and body piercing salon and a state-of-the-art shooting range in the basement.
Myrna Beckerman, the Realtor who first listed then sold the hallowed hall, said she mixed up the property in a zip code meltdown and this week’s pandemic.
“How was I to know?” she whined. “Those photos in the Multi-Listings are always faded. They look like shots from a Manson family photo album. Who can blame me for doing my job. The price tag was negotiable.”
Prices for living eunuchs in Gunnison County have been in a mysterious upswing of late despite the high cost of survival and the lack of decent jobs.
“It’s not our fault,” said Beckerman. “It’s their fault.”
She did not elaborate or clarify to whom she was referring. In a canned statement her words were bottled up and somewhat jarred…all but recycled, clearly partisan.
As a result of the transaction the current residents of Taylor Hall may be looking for new digs come December. Although an appeal is in progress some there are dreading a move in the middle of winter.
“I have a nice little two-bedroom duplex on North Wisconsin that might be in their price range,” said Beckerman. “Otherwise I suggest checking out those cute storage units over by the airport.”
– H. L. Menoken
Why can’t the White Right
blacken its faces
and sit at the table
in the hall of the races.
Illegal juniper plants net bust
(Gunnison) A Western Colorado State University student was arrested this morning and charged with growing juniper plants in his basement apartment at an undisclosed location. Local police units say they raided the premises based on an anonymous tip. Soon after arrival they confiscated over 400 plants with an estimated street value of $100,000 in unprocessed and illegal and untaxed gin.
When contacted, attorneys for the man whose name has not been disclosed either, say they were not aware that the cultivation of juniper bushes was against the law in Colorado
“Sure a bi-product of the juniper is gin but at this stage the authorities will have to prove intent to distill and distribute. Our client does not have any of the apparatus associated with distilling or bottling the final product. He had five empty bottles in his entire house that were confiscated during the raid.
Meanwhile the suspect is being held at the local jail awaiting a preliminary hearing on Friday. The plants, which were uprooted at the scene, will be given to a local nursing home for replanting.
-Paula Pervenue
“Think it’ll rain?” – really bad pickup line in Sechura Desert near Piura, Peru.
