We All Have Met ‘Em. . .

By Tommy Clarkson from the April 2013 Edition

. . . you know that sort of individual, the guy who knows and has done it all – everything you’ve experienced, he’s done it better. Recently while flying home, trapped at an altitude of 39,000 feet, one such (large and loud) person sat next to me. The following is a continuation of this unending experience.

Had we really been airborne for such a short period? Could my ears – nah, the entirety of my sanity – take much more of this harangue? How could one person say so much, for so long, about so many things that ALL seemed so improbable – if not completely impossible?

Yet on he prattled.

“. . . then there were those gene splicing projects I initiated for the International Arbor Association, Audubon Scientific Society and the World Health Organization. (I braced myself for yet more of the unceasing verbal assault.) Coconut Palms with Cottonwood Trees, seeds so that the large, edible nuts can now gently float earthward rather than plummet from high above; Pelicans with Woodpeckers so that they can carry off their chippings for recycling; and, that wonderful new plant the ‘Ilac’ – the melding of Aloe Vera with Lilac so that when one smears Aloe sap on a burn it has a most delightful smell.”

Then, without warning, he did an abrupt verbal about face.

“But something of which I am particularly proud was none of those dabblings but rather how I was able to interface the molecular structure of rain with that of dust.

Just think of it,” he enthusiastically exclaimed, “Saharan

Dust Storms could become a delightful deluge of precious H2O, returning that bleak vastness of nothingness to a veritable Garden of Eden!”

“But,” he groused. “None of the countries of the Mideast appreciated my efforts. They claimed that not only didn’t they have curbs or gutters to handle that much rainfall but they didn’t want the ‘Infidels’ coming there to water ski and pursue other aquatic sports. . . . narrow minded ingrates,” he mumbled, through a clouded fast of utter disgust.

“Ya’ know,” I fleetingly thought, “he acts as if that’s really true. I wonder . . .”

But before rational thought could prevail in that briefest of momentarily pauses – and it was but that – on he vocally charged. (But I must admit that even with the, somewhat soft yet incessant roar of the jet engines, that tiny cessation of his harangue seemed a quiet oasis in a vast wilderness of oratory chaos!)

Appearing to shake off his momentary aggravation, with a broad and bright smile, onward he plunged, inquiring,
“Did I tell you about my telepathic endeavors?”

Without pause for my response he proceeded.

“As all know the normal human, of average intelligence, uses but 3.752% of our brain’s capacity. . . though, of course, experiments and comprehensive tests have shown I use nearly 20% what with my IQ of 314 .” Before I could even remotely process this claim he continued, “Well, once while on retreat for meditation atop the peak of Mount Kilimanjaro I decided to communicate – solely by thought – with my buddy, Ban Ki-moon, the Secretary General of the United Nations.”

With raised eyebrow, and what can only be described as a prideful smirk, he intoned, “Actually, it was rather easy.

I merely focused on a mental image of him – from the last time we’d been together doing Hip Hop Street dancing on the Lower East Side in New York – and I mentally heard him respond, ‘Sexmeister’ (his longtime nickname for me because of how – as he says – I’m an international chick magnet) is that you?”

Well, we had quite a nice – though brief – chat. He was a bit occupied, at the time, addressing the General Assembly. He was endeavoring to convince the world body of my idea to redistribute the wealth of the world’s richest 5% to meaningful UN endeavors such as macramé sun bonnet construction by impoverished Aleut Eskimos, house training Himalayan Yaks as house pets for the mine injured masses of Palestine and hydroponic tulip growing in the Antarctic by unemployed ghetto youth of Chicago.”

He actually paused long enough to take a breath then went on – though it took me a moment to recover from the preceding ideas of his and to, once again, follow his original thought, “I have since honed these telepathic skills and am now able to “call up,” if you will, anyone at any time.

(One could but fail to notice it was not through this “mind communication” venue that he had long been barraging me. Furthermore, he certainly had made no effort to show this ‘talent’ off by telecommunication with me!)

I believe he realized this chink in his story as, quickly, he changed subject saying, “Might I have mentioned my work as an Egyptologist?”

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Manzanillo Sun’s eMagazine written by local authors about living in Manzanillo and Mexico, since 2009

Manzanillo Sun Writer

Manzanillo Sun's eMagazine written by local authors about living in Manzanillo and Mexico, since 2009

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