Edmund Callipeaux – artist, college instructor, lives in St. Louis Park.
Merle Higgins – curmudgeonly outdoorsman, lives in Minneapolis.
Kidpowertool – unemployed dairy professional, lives in Key West, FL.
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Edmund Callipeaux – 30 September 2009, 8:00am
I got stuck rush hour traffic yesterday.
As I sat and waited, I glanced around at the other cars within my general vicinity while I played with the radio dial in search of some good traffic-jam music. Looking through the rear windshield of the beat-up sedan ahead of me, I noticed something that struck me as unusual. At the wheel of the car sat a man who was silhouetted by the brightness of the exterior daylight. Oddly, he had his right elbow raised into the air with his forearm and hand extending back toward his head. And he was moving this arm rapidly back and forth, horizontally, in front of his face…. almost as if he were scraping frost off the interior of his windshield.
As I tried to puzzle out what the guy could be doing, the DJ on my truck’s radio started to run through the current weather conditions - - exclaiming that it was a beautiful, sunny afternoon with a temperature of 73° that would top-out later in the day at 79.
“Can’t be frost he’s working on in there,” I thought to myself. “Unless he’s got his air conditioning really cranked up!”
I wondered what on earth was he doing in there.
Is he talking on the phone?
Maybe.
Is he eating something?
Who would jab food into their face like that?
Is he having a seizure or a heart attack?
I hope not.
Is he singing along to music while pretending that he’s holding a microphone?
Maybe he’s a famous rock star?
What is he doing in there?
And why does he keep bending forward and crouching down every once in a while?
Just as my disc jokey was moving from the weather to the next top 40 hit, the mystery-man in the car ahead of me leaned forward and over to his right once again, at which time his right hand went up into the air. As his hand went up into the space between the driver and passenger’s seats, I saw that he was not holding an ice scraper, or a phone, or a sandwich, or an imaginary microphone, but rather, clutched within his fist was a toothbrush (with dripping white foam).
Gross!
For about the past ten years, the most unsettling thing I have seen another driver do is to be steering a car while eating a bowl of milk and cereal. Actually, I’ve seen this happen on two separate occasions. Once in the late ‘90s, I saw a guy in St. Paul have a hell of a time making a left-hand turn while both his hands were occupied with a bowl of cereal and a large spoon (I think that he was steering the car with his legs). And recently, this past summer, I watched as a woman made her way through several blocks of heavy Minneapolis traffic…down Lake Street and eventually turning onto Hennepin Avenue, all the while she shoveled spoon-full after spoon-full of Honeycomb into her mouth.
With Led Zeppelin blasting on my stereo, I inched my truck forward while comparing and contrasting tooth brushing vs. cereal eating. What is stranger and more disturbing?
And then I thought, “Hey! That reminds me, I spotted a few more personal hygiene products while I was out and about, on my day-to-day, the other day.”
A toothbrush on the sidewalk at 25th and 1st, in Minneapolis.
A ponytail hair thing at 25th and Lyndale, in Minneapolis.
Then, this morning as I drove home after dropping my wife, LeTigre off at work, I passed a white minivan traveling down the road in the opposite direction. Again, I was listening to the radio, and the DJ was saying, “Good morning Twin Cities! It’s 7:30am and it’s a bit chilly out there…40° in fact. So wear layers today…it looks like fall weather is finally here.”
As my truck passed the white minivan, I glanced over to see that the man at the wheel wasn’t wearing a shirt…he was bare-chested…and possibly not wearing pants (who knows?).
“Nice try,” I thought to myself as I considered the nude man in the minivan.
“But, if your goal is to impress me with your weirdness, then you’re going to have to try a lot harder than that,” I exclaimed to no one in particular as I cranked up both the truck’s heater and the volume on a CCR song rock’n on the radio. – EC
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Merle Higgins – 23 September 2009, 4:00pm
To whom it may concern:
I quit!
Warmest regards,
Merle P. Higgins
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Kidpowertool – 23 September 2009, 12 Midnight
Merle Higgins hand-delivered the above resignation letter to the offices of Specious Reasoning earlier this afternoon. He’s upset and it appears that he is steadfast in his resolve to never write for this blog again. We are disappointed by Merle’s decision to end his tenure with us, but we feel that we must respect his decision. As editor, I can say that Merle’s point of view has been both valuable and unique. He will be missed. When asked why he felt that he needed to sever his ties with us, Merle said one word that seemed to sum up his interactions with Edmund Callipeaux: Frustrating.
When pressed further on the matter, I was able to coax him into sharing with us the reason for his resignation….
“I couldn’t believe my ears,” said Merle.
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” replied Merle.
“Humor me,” I said.
“It’s infuriating to think that I’ve wasted so much time hanging around with that idiot…. That Edmund!” continued Merle.
“He’s is a complicated guy,” I said.
“Complicated? More like simple beyond belief!” said Merle.
“How’s that?” I replied.
“Do you know what he asked me yesterday?” Merle yelled.
“Easy, Merle…calm down,” I cautioned.
“That dolt Edmund asked me if I have ever wondered why it is…that when I close one eye…that things don’t appear to be half-size?”
“Seems like a valid question,” I said.
“You’re all a bunch of goofs,” screamed Merle as he stormed out of our offices.
So I guess that’s it for Merle Higgins. Specious Reasoning will never be the same. – KPT
Edmund seen on a beach with two eyes.
Edmund seen on the same beach with one eye closed.
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In honor of Merle’s contributions to our blog, we’ve reprinted below one of our favorite of his many essays. A story we fondly refer to as - - Liberal Blindness.
Originally published on 18 March 2009.
Merle Higgins – 15 March 2009, 11:30pm
Got a flat on Hennepin Avenue earlier today. I steered my truck into the nearest parking lot and got out to take a look at the damage. Tire’s shot…picked up a roofing nail that some liberal bicyclist probably left in the road to mess with traffic!
I cracked open a bottle of homebrew that a buddy and me make and began to get my spare unhooked from under the truck. Looking over my shoulder, I saw what parking lot I was in. You’ve got to be kidding me! This is a co-op grocery store parking lot.
Two seconds later I saw Edmund and LeTigre Callipeaux walking not thirty feet from me.
I yelled, “What are we now, a bunch of Communists?”
Walking over to my truck, Edmund said, “Hello Merle. What a surprise to see you here. We’re just stopping by the co-op to pick up a few things.”
“Hand me that jack,” I said as I threw my empty into the bed of the truck. “It makes sense that you two shop here. I suppose the next time I see you, you’ll be coming out of a dumpster telling me that you’ve turned Freegan.”
Holding up the hubcap so that Edmund could throw lug nuts in as he loosened them from the flat, LeTigre said, “Do you want us to pick you up anything while we’re shopping, Merle?”
I told her that once Edmund was finished tightening all the lugs on the spare, I’d might as well go in there with them to see for myself what this whole co-op business is about.
After inspecting Edmund’s adequate work on the spare, the three of us ventured into the store. They grabbed a basket and we walked into the fresh produce area. I looked around and this is what I saw: people with tattoos; people with radical haircuts and piercings; people wearing bicycle helmets; hippies; freaks; good-for-nothings; liberals and more freaks – all standing around talking about what wonderful organic produce they had!
Organic?
What the hell is that suppose to mean? Organic. Stuff that grows from the ground is organic, right? You can’t tell me that these people think that a head of lettuce is machine fabricated or something. Their brains are all probably all mush from all the pesticides that are sprayed on their precious vegetables. As an outdoorsman, I’ve never eaten any produce that I haven’t either grown myself or bought from a farmer buddy of mine who doesn’t use that crap.
Those damn Callipeaux’s – how did they talk me into this?
I made my way quickly through the produce area. Everyone I walked past was touching five or six things for every one item they placed into these little plastic bags. Don’t these people know how diseases are spread? Those little plastic bags aren’t going to protect them from the woman I watched wipe drool from her baby’s cheek and then proceed to squeeze fifteen or so avocados. Damn.
At the end of the produce area, I found the meat counter. You’ve heard of snow blindness, right? Well, I’m prone to liberal blindness. (It happens every time I bring my cardboard boxes and beer cans over to the recycling center near my house.) It started to happen again as I stood next to the glass display cabinet of butchered meats and a sign that read Organic Beef. There’s that word again – organic – where do these people think beef comes from? A beef machine? What the hell?
Personally, I get all my beef once a year when I go in with a few buddies and buy an entire cow from a farmer up north. The farmer’s son is a butcher who has his own shop, so we can get our cow cut into steaks exactly as we like them. I’ve known their family for years. We hunt on their land, and as an outdoorsman, I’ve rightly advised the old man that the best cattle are free range and corn and grass fed - AND not pumped full of antibiotics and crap. (I was also the one who told him to put up a windmill on his farm, and now he’s off the grid and selling his extra electricity back to the same power company that was robbing him for years with their rising fees and taxes!)
Some guy bumped into me. I stepped to the side as he nudged me again while he tried to get a better view of the meat counter. He was talking on a Bluetooth thing stuck in his ear, he had a bicycle helmet on his head, and he was wearing a full business suit! The liberal blindness was taking hold and my right eye began to completely close down. Adding to my mounting anxiety, it seemed that everywhere I went in the store, someone would try to get in front of me, or look over my shoulder wherever I stood. And the store wasn’t even that crowded!
Even though I was quickly losing my eyesight, I decided to test my new theory. Dairy isle – someone went right for the cheese I was next to. Canned vegetables – someone needed a can of peas so badly they couldn’t wait for me to move past them. Pasta area, same thing happened. Hot dog area, same thing. Laundry detergent. Hair products. Deli area. Bread isle – all the same thing. I began to seek out the most vacant parts of the store, and every time I found a place, someone would come right over to me and practically push me to the ground to get at whatever random item I was nearest. The frozen food isle – that proved my theory once and for all – walking into the frozen food isle, I saw that I was completely alone. I was the only shopper in the entire section. I randomly opened a freezer door and sure enough, some hippy kid appeared at my side and began to reach into the cooler door before I even had a chance to see what sort of crappy microwave dinners were in there.
Dizzily, I found Edmund way down at the end of one isle. I said to him, “Edmund, what are you trying to do to me?”
He replied, “Look Merle! Isn’t this great.”
He then proceeded to show me a can of beans, a can of sliced green olives, a can of soup, and a bottle of dish soap.
Controlling my anger as much as I could, I said, “Edmund, don’t tell me that you’ve never seen canned food before…or a bottle of dish soap. What kind of yuppie freaking world do you live in that you’ve never had to eat food out of a can?”
I was now about 50% in my left eye and completely blind in the other.
Walking with Edmund and LeTigre up to the checkout counter, Edmund set his basket down and walked over to the bagging area. Personally, I never use those cheap grocery store bags…I bring my own canvas bags to the store each time I shop and then I don’t have to worry about some idiot putting my food in some bag made in China or somewhere.
The girl behind the checkout counter turned to Edmund and said, “Sir, could you take your items out of the basket for me?”
I squinted at the blurry basket as it sat right in front of the teller. What in Sam Hill is she talking about? The stuff’s right there! Ring it up so we can get the hell out of here! I can barely see…and the last time this happened, I stayed blind for three days!
Edmund began to remove the three cans and the bottle of dish soap from his basket. My vision dropped to 25% as the teller explained, “Everyone has to take their own items out of their baskets so that we don’t get repetitive stress injury.”
Repetitive stress injury? Repetitive stress injury! Try walking for an hour in the shoes of the guy who picked half the crap you’re selling in this place! Then you can talk to me about repetitive stress injury!
I could barely see six inches in front of my face as we made our way for the door and out into the parking lot. But it was too late, just as we were clear of the doors, a guy wheeled by on one of those recumbent, lay down bicycles and everything went dark – Total Liberal Blindness.
I had to let Edmund drive me back to their place. And it was a tight fit for the two of us. I had the cab of the truck packed pretty full with a couple of cases of homebrew and a stock of material and a new sewing machine. As an outdoorsman, I learned long ago from some friends up north that I can repair the clothes I currently own and make pants and shirts stronger and more durable with my own two hands. And then I don’t have to spend my hard-earned money on any of that cheap crap they make in China or somewhere.
When my vision finally returned, I was sitting in the Callipeaux home. Edmund was placing his cans of beans, olives, soup, and the bottle of dish soap on a shelf near the kitchen ceiling.
“What are you doing now, Edmund?” I asked.
“I’m adding these items to The Strange Food Collection,” he replied.
“You mean to tell me that I lost my eyesight so that you could buy food that you’re not even going to eat?!”
I got the hell out of that house before another attack of blindness could overtake me. That’s the last time I let the Callipeaux’s drag me anywhere with them. The whole afternoon was shot and I completely missed the carpenter I was driving to meet when I got that flat tire. I’m looking at having solar panels installed across the entire south-facing roof of my house. That way, when Armageddon comes and society collapses, I’ll be able to keep the lights on. – MH
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