By: staniel
[2001-09-07]
Duck Hunt
part two in the peculiar childhood experiences series
One could not accurately describe me as squeamish. I guess I was properly desensitized before I made the acquaintance of this one kid in grade school named Paul. I actually had two redneck friends named Paul when I was a 10, but this one was far more
Gummo-esque than the other.
I always just thought of him as a little bit "off," but fairly harmless. I could get past the urine smell that pervaded his room, his older brother who, now that I think of it, bore some resemblance to Crispin Glover's character in
River's Edge, and even Paul's habit of manually stimulating his dog with a rubber hand puppet. Unusual, certainly, but I've always been fascinated by backwards people. I never would have survived the Shack otherwise.
The favored pastime among both of my circles of friends at the time was the vandalization of construction sites. Nothing too horrible, just moving marker poles around, mixing cement and dumping piles of it on foundation slabs, hiding tools... okay, we were rotten kids. The point lies elsewhere.
Despite our efforts, one job had recently been finished, and the buildings opened for business, but had a lot behind it that eventually became a public park. Though it now has baseball and soccer fields in addition to a small playground, at the time it was just a field bordered on three sides by sound-absorbing trees, and equipped with a pond and a pile of dirt.
The remoteness of one corner made it a popular practice spot for a few amateur skeet shooters, so despite the loss of construction equipment to harass, it was still a good place to loaf or have adventures looking for shotgun shells. I recall that the only live one we found got taken away by a responsible adult, which was probably for the best.
Paul's house is the office of a junkyard now. It was kind of headed in that direction when he lived there, too, and though I don't know the particulars of his home life, he was a bit less right in the head than I had originally estimated.
One day we were wandering about near the pond for a forgotten reason, when he espied one of those ribbed iron bars that are frequently set in concrete that has been poured into holes for no reason (common wherever workmen are to be found). It was not set in the customary hole-shaped concrete cast.
I remember vividly that it was rusty and slightly bent, and also that soon after finding it and carrying it around for a few minutes, he spied a duck, yelled "FUCKING DUCKS, I HATE THEM!" and went about battering one of them to... not death while I was there, though it was obviously mortally wounded. Still conscious, too.
If I ever go hunting, which, though not exactly likely, is not something I'm opposed to, I plan to use the most humanely powerful and accurate gun available, and even then, make sure I'm hunting something that doesn't have the capacity to scream like that.
Not squeamish. No vomit, no tears. Just, "you're a fucking psycho," and a hasty exit.
Maybe a little squeamish. A few months later, my other friends wondered why I wasn't into slipping lit firecrackers into the mouths of fish caught at the local lake.*
* in this case, a body of water formerly used as a sewage repository, then sold to the next town over for $100, which, trust me, is about $100 more than it's worth.
You got to read the book, "The Magic Christian," by Terry Southern; or see the movie version with Peter Sellers and Ringo Starr. There's a scene where they go pheasant hunting in the Scottish Highlands with the guys that wear tweeds and have fine shotguns, and they unload on the pheasant with heavy artillery, much to everyone's chagrin. It just isn't done. Har! Also, W. C. Field's once killed a swan with a golf club.
I was going through my junk, and I found a Swiss Bird Whistle still in the original red and white paper package. A schwazzle!
That lake was something else. 90% of the time, you'd catch a snapping turtle or piece of misc. refuse. To clarify, 90% of the things you'd bring up from underwater. Most of the time, you'd cast and hit a lily pad. "Salad again tonight, ma!"
That's a great movie!
"Gentlemen, you are all fired. In these envelopes, you will find your pension, and three clues as to your current location. Good luck!"
I wonder what Paul is doing for a living these days?
He's the Mayor of Ducktown?
This memory of your childhood makes me relish the fact that I stayed in the unlit caverns of my bedroom playing Metroid for most of my childhood. Nothing good can come of going outdoors!
Would that be... rebar?
I think the reason builders make those little pieces of art is Because They Can, and because if they left the concrete in the wheelbarrow it'd dry there. Probably the rebar is to help pry it out later.
Which makes me wonder why they don't spend a few seconds more and dig, say, a heart-shaped hole. Then they could give the resulting chunk of concrete to their girlfriends! If there's one thing kindergarten taught me, it's that everyone needs paperweights, whether they realize this or not.
There are water-cooled diamond saws for cutting concrete, and cut polished concrete is much more interesting than plain. Once, a diamond saw guy came up to me and held out a rock the size of a potato, then the rock fell into two dozen polished slices! What the diamond saw guys do in their spare time.
Now my plans for the poured concrete tower I wish to build if I ever have ludicrous amounts of money have gotten even more bizarre. Thank you!
Each Spring on the Potomac River, the civil engineering students from George Washington University have a concrete canoe race. When I first heard of this, I was sceptical. But it turns out that not only can one make canoes out of concrete, but also very nice sailboats. The concrete that is used for boat hulls often is aerated and has fibers of steel and/or fiberglass half to an inch and a half mulched into the mix. In tunneling and other kinds of construction, shotcrete is being used. It is also possible to make freeform shapes out of rebar, chicken wire, and burlap and shoot mud into them to make them rigid. So, if one wanted to build a tower, it could be done with pre-cast and shotcrete. There are buildings over 200 stories high now, a quarter-mile straight up. There is a machine that spiral coils rebar for cylindrical columns. One advantage to aerated shotcrete is that it is fairly lightweight, the structural frame can be erected and shoot on the "skin."
http://www.shotcrete.org/
In recent news, George Washington U. is planning to close and give the students $600 to go away while the WTO protests are going on. It turns out the GWU owns the land on which the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund stand. Three times as many protestors are expected as last time. Nine-foot high fences are being constructed at various parts of the city with signs proclaiming, "Arby's Macht Fries"
Could someone please get blind stinking drunk, then watch childrens' shows on the Mexican TV station, and tell me what happens?
I'd do this myself, but I never acquired a taste for alcohol.
.."River's Edge" was a cake-toss compared to the lunatics who made their home and sometimes last stand on that malformed comma. He's dead now, I will tell you how in one moment, but Sal DeFranco was my favorite. He had long clumpy red hair and a snake. Sal loved that goddamned snake. He took it everywhere, and people would give him some room because they knew he was crazy. Once I ran into Sal as a great big fella was cracking his head into a parking meter. He could only be concerned with the welfare of the snake. "Don't hurt her!" he howled. Much later his body would be found behind Flower Hill school. He was hung, throat slit, and on fire. There were so many more. The "Fallen Angel," Jimmy Richards, who sodomized and murdered his best friend with a chunk of cement (he didn't sodomize him with the cement, I think), and of course Ricky Kasso (SAY YOU LOVE SATAN), whose father I had for History in High School, before he went mad. Kasso killed one of his pals by stabbing him a few dozen times and putting out his eyes in a Mescaline fueled rage. Anyway Kasso was so fucking stupid he mis-spelled SATAN as "SATIN" as he spray-painted the side walls of dozens of 7-11's. Perhaps it was on purpose. We will never know. He hung himself in jail with his underpants. OK this is a bit of a downer, I had meant to tell Staniel that I enjoyed his story, and it brought back some memories of people long time gone, but got all mixed up. Also I found this site by looking for "FURRY+RABBIT MEAT+ KICKING KICKING MACHINE."
SATIN RULES interrobang
I take this opportunity to use one of my favorite expressions: sweet holy hogshit!
I have just concluded my Twin Peaks marathon, and am therefore more prone to such exclamations. But dude, that was the kind of info saturation we've come to expect from König, with a scary twist! Also thanks.
Lou, I will get back to you on the drunken Mexican children.
In Mexico, they have a bebida called 'flor de caña' that is 194.6° sugar cane alcohol with a slight undertaste of burnt sugar cane. In Mexico, they have many old American cartoons, most of which are no longer screened here for PC reasons; Bosco cartoons, and cartoons with Rosita, the Fat Mexican Mamacita. They also have a comedian called 'Cantinflas' who had a popular film titled 'El Barendero.' But I have become a big believer in Karma and Satin Ruling because of events like this: there was a wacko street bum on the waterfront and I once let him sleep on the boat. Later, I noticed that there was some water on the below deck, and I wasn't sure if the boat had a leak or the bum took a leak (being too lazy, and of low moral hygiene.) When I voiced my concern over whether or not the boat had a leak, or the bum had taken a leak, he replied that I should taste it and see if it was salty. Later, when the bum was sleeping in Golden Gate Park, the Punks clamped the zipper on his sleeping bag and lit him up. Fortunately, he survived to go on to greater bumly exploits. The Punks were also fond of tossing bums of the pier where Otis Redding wrote "Sitting on the Dock of the Bay" ...nature has a way of fixing things. I don't think that it's Satin, although I am skeptical. The Mexican Indians don't like the Smurfs at all! They call them "Los Pitufos" and they think that Pitufos are like duendes. Los duendes son pequeños, midesnudos y con el vientre abultado que lo utilizan y lo hacen sonar como si fuera un tambor.
Oh, yeah! More fun than getting drunk and watching Mexican cartoons is reading the Mexican 'Fotonovelas'
http://oversight.com/chicanoville/TEXT/foVelas/
Many years ago (probably 1985 or so), Marvel Comics did a big crossover story called "Secret Wars II", in which a nigh-omnipotent alien took human form to understand mankind better. Very early into things, this alien (known as The Beyonder) visited Peter Parker's apartment, and complained of a feeling of weight in his lower torso. In the next panel, PP is saying: "I don't believe it! I just taught the Beyonder how to go to the bathroom!"
So your koan: exactly how did PP do it?
In preperation for this school year, my girlfriend had to do some intensive chem/biochem/etc crap in the summer, part of which I got/had/didn't really help her with. Anyway, one of the many indecipherable things she had to learn about were hemoglobins. No doubt they are very interesting things, but due to lateral memory associations that are created when one is young, and so rarely if ever disappear, hemoglobins -- at least the word -- will always and only conjure memories of the Spiderman villian the Green Goblin.
What's even more interesting (as far as I'm concerned anyway) is that the word "hemoglobin" has always reminded a friend of mine of the Green Goblin's successor, the Hobgoblin.
I think it's clear what exactly is important to us arts students...
As regards the question though, I am for whatever reason reminded of the Red Dwarf episode involving Kryten's polaroids.
"Now how do you suppose that happened?"
Re: Spiderman and the Beyonder. I figure Peter Parker taught the Beyonder to go to the bathroom much like mother cats teach their young: by licking and massaging his belly until everything started moving.
Re: the "DNA" episode of Red Dwarf. You may recall they fought a creature made out of vindaloo, and discovered the only way to kill it was with lager (same as with all vindaloos).
a reference somewhere to a "hemogoblin." Yes I do.
The Mutton Vindaloo Beast! But I think that lamb vindaloo may be quelled with ale.
I was just thinking about that movie the other day. Weird. I haven't seen it in years. I should ask for it for Christmas. Also for another movie called The Point, which is narrated by Ringo Starr.
IS THE POINT A CHILDRENS CARTOON SORT OF..IM NOT FAMILIAR WITH THIS SITE..SO SORRY IF I SCREWED SOMETHING UP.I WAS LOOKING FOR THE POINT AND I WAS DIRECTED HERE...CAN SOMEONE EMAIL ME BACK!!!!
Don't look here for the point, you can search all you want but no one ever gets around to it.
First off, I think the movie River's edge is some creepy ish. Second I also had a brain dead soon to be junkie freind that came around every once in a while as me and some freinds would play in the park. I remember one time there was construction going on in the park across the street from my house. We had a dirt clod fight and he came in the middle trying to fight both sides. Needless to say things got out of hand and someone grabbed a concrete shard and hurled it toward his head. He now paints pictures of cats and lives with his mother.
