Another thing that happens in my BBC radio play contest entry, soon to be written (due date 1/31/2020!), is that the border guards at US-Canada crossings are full of misinformation. “Each adult is allowed to bring two children, half a pound of cheese, and a loaf of black bread across the border.” There’s no truth to this, but we comply, since most of us couples don’t have more than four children total. (But imagine if we did!).

Other border guards get it into their heads that you aren’t allowed to enter if you’re not bringing with you, per adult, two children, half a pound of cheese, and a loaf of black bread, which gets everyone very confused. There’s this major snafu in which people are barred from entering the US from Canada without these items. Many have exactly two children and half a pound of cheese, but fail on the black bread. They get hollered at by the border guards: “This is pumpernickel!”

And there’s more.

If I were going to write a play for the next BBC radio play contest, I’d make it the about the ridiculously porous border between our country and our neighbor, Canada. And how cheap Canadian moose antlers are flooding our market and getting passed off as “Genuine Maine Moose Antlers,” which is a total joke! Maine Antlers are known to have a much higher tensile strength than those weak-ass Canadian moose antlers. They make better coat hangers and look much better when you mount them on your bike handlebars. If you needed to make crutches from moose antlers, you’d want to make them from Maine antlers because of their strength and the striations in the “grain” of the antlers, which add a highly desirable element of design.

And, frankly, Maine antlers make much better flails. You think you don’t want a flail, but you want one for the coming moose antler war, trust me on that. Can you imagine being in the antler crossfire without a flail?

Anyway, I’m going to write a 53-minute radioplay about the war of the antlers in the next two weeks.

I’m not one to talk about the future, but that doesn’t mean people don’t look to me to make sense of it. It’s almost like I actually can look into the future, like a have a crystal ball.

Did you know that ducks will be able to speak English in the future?

Just joking. Ducks won’t be able to speak English any better than they can now. Come on, think about it! Just because I mention something in this highly-respected blog doesn’t mean it’s true. Use the crystal ball that’s your own brain and you’ll see that it’s impossible for ducks to be speaking English in the future. Or else, if your brain isn’t working well and you don’t have access to an actual crystal ball, you can try to use an old bowling ball, but you’ll really have to make sure it’s well-polished, preferably by a professional. I’ve looked into old, poorly polished bowling balls and I can tell you it’s very hard to discern anything about the future in them.

Meanwhile, I’ve come to see that geese will be able to speak several languages in the future. You’re thinking, come on, why would the gift of speech be given to geese but not ducks?

Please don’t put geese in the same category as ducks. Ducks seduce you at first with their odd sense of humor, but soon enough you come to see them as a bunch of bozos who couldn’t speak English if their lives depended on it.  

On the other hand, several goose scientists I know have told me, over pints, that it won’t be entirely strange to see geese chatting about world events at little cafes with French human beings within the next few decades.

Look, I’m just telling you what I see in the tea leaves and what people I know – highly respected people – tell me about geese and ducks.

Let’s reconnect about this in the future.

When I was a young kid way back in the mid-1800s, the term “impeach” surfaced many thoughts in my young mind, not the least of which was of peaches. I somehow then connected those peaches to bald heads, because peaches have fuzz, and if you were impeached the authorities were going to shave your head as a punishment.

And maybe tar and feather you.

This reminds me that my old friend Bond told me a story of when he was taking a boat from Spain to Morocco in (let’s call it) 1984, and some hippie-sort on the boat started smoking a joint and mouthing off, which caused a boat-official to haul his ass underdeck. When the hippie emerged, his head had been shaved. Which is sort of what I had thought happened when you got impeached. Also, this now shaved-hippie was still smoking weed. And the joint was stubbed out into someone’s eye.

Who knows how many stories I’m conflating into one? Maybe God does. My guess is between 3 and 5; the stories of my young and sordid past, with joints, hippies, and a shaved head here and there tend to ooze into one another at this point in my (extremely high-functioning and mainstream 50-something) life.

Still, those were the days! Smoking a joint was rewarded with free haircare back then. Try that now. Now, you’re lucky if anyone cares if you smoke a joint. The police hold the door open for you when you emerge from the weed store and advise you to mind the steps. (Or so I’m told.)

Just don’t sip a snifter of whiskey in view of a 17 year old because you’ll get a full body cavity inspection.

Anyway, everyone wants to know which side I’m hoping will win, and I know it’s cliché but I have to say I’m just hoping for a fun impeachment.