Eight Feet Deep

Here is a dispatch about a good, old-fashioned Christmas:

WELLINGTON, New Zealand (AP) — A group of 40 people dressed in Santa Claus outfits, many of them drunk, went on a rampage through Auckland, New Zealand’s largest city, robbing stores, assaulting security guards and urinating from highway overpasses, police said Sunday.

The rampage, dubbed “Santarchy,” began early Saturday afternoon when the men, wearing ill-fitting Santa costumes, threw beer bottles and urinated on cars from an overpass, said Auckland Central Police spokesman Noreen Hegarty.

She said the men then rushed through a central city park, overturning garbage containers, throwing bottles at passing cars and spraying graffiti on office buildings.

One man climbed the mooring line of a cruise ship before being ordered down by the captain. Other Santas, objecting when the man was arrested, attacked security staff, who were later treated by paramedics, Hegarty said.

The remaining Santas entered another downtown convenience store and carried off beer and soft drinks.

Alex Dyer, a spokesman for the group, said Santarchy was a worldwide movement designed to protest the commercialization of Christmas.

“Some privacy for crying out loud!”

Mr. Whipple started squeezing the Charmin when I was a young kid. I thought he was kind of creepy but perhaps he was just subversive. I think he’s dead and — as we all know — you’re supposed to say only good things about the dead.

Charmin — which makes one heck of a TP by the way(I’m in a dash mood)– has been definitely subversive with its animated bear commercials in which the large but lovable animals trek to the woods with a roll of toilet paper. I mean, it could be a coincidence that bears going to the woods with TP in paw was just something the ad people came up with and sold to Charmin. But I don’t think anything “just happens” in the advertising world. Surely they were going for the joke, that old retort of the most obvious: “Does a bear s**t in the woods?”

So I thought that if Basho was here today — and he’d be really old — perhaps he would celebrate in haiku the clever joke that the evil advertising geniuses developed to sell us squeezably soft Charmin. He would be much more eloquent than I, but here’s kind of a rough draft:

Bear goes to the woods
Takes a crap in the cold wind
Loves Charmin tissue.

Which raises a whole new question: “Does a bear wipe in 17 syllables, or perhaps 5-7-5?”

One other little task that Rita the Storm managed to disrupt was my timely reading of Tom Robbins’ latest book: “Wild Ducks Flying Backwards.”

It is a collection of short pieces — mostly past magazine articles and a few poems — rather than his richly written and hilarious fiction. Robbins celebrates words and uses them to tell a story as if he were taking those words to an opera and an elegant dinner. Because of that, anything Robbins writes is worth reading. But Ducks cannot be confused with works like “Another Roadside Attraction.”

Robbins also provides a glimpse into his personal world by providing some answers to questions readers wanted to know. One piece I found interesting was his discussion of how his work turns out translated in other languages. He talks about “back translating” or translating the translated words which shows the English doesn’t always compute even though, said Robbins, the translation into a language other than English sometimes improves on the message he has written. That made me think of how my writing comes across in other languages. It is a subject I had not really given a lot of thought to because I figure if someone is reading something I wrote they are most likely reading it in English. But who knows? Things are passed all over the Internet and I know people from other countries stop in at this blog practically every day.

So I used an online translator. I don’t use such services for definitive translations but rather to get a ball park idea of what is being said. I used a recent post and translated it into Spanish and then had the Spanish version translated back into English. I did the same in Portuguese, primarily because for some reason I get referrals to my blog from places where Portuguese is the major language.

This is what I wrote Tuesday:

“Sometimes I get the photos mixed up. Right caption. Wrong picture. Thank goodness this isn’t a newspaper where it might end up on the page for the ages. And then you have to write a correction and listen to some old retired engineer rant about the mistake over the phone. Here on the blog I can go back and correct the mistake. It’s not like real life. That’s what I like about blogging: It’s not like real life.”

Here is what it says translated into Spanish and back into English:

At times I obtain the photos they mixed. Correct title. Wrong portrait. Give thanks the kindness that this is not a newspaper where it perhaps finish for in the page for the ages. And then you have to write a correction and to listen some bombastic language retired old of engineer about the error on the telephone. Here in the blog I can return and to be able to correct the error. Is not as the daily life. That is what I want about blogging: Is not as the daily life.

Well, I do like bombastic. I think it’s much stronger word than “rant.” Here is the passage in English after being translated back from Portuguese:

“Sometimes I receive the pictures confused itself. Caption correct. Wrong chart. Thank kindness this is not a newspaper where is able to end for top in the page for the ages. And then should write a correction and some listening desvairo retired old of engineer about the error about the fone. Here in the blog that I can come back and correct the error. It is not like real life. That is what do I eat about blogging: is not like real life.”

That is a good excuse that “I receive the pictures confused itself.” Those damn pictures are the problem! I don’t really know “what do I eat about blogging” but I know I am going to eat something. It’s a good idea, eating. I think I shall do that now. Ta.

Paid for by the Bush-Cheney President for Life Campaign.

A RED light. Is it because blood is red, that if you don’t obey the red light’s command your red blood could very likely spill? You got me. But it’s all about stopping. You can make the case that it is a traffic light. However, it is known more by its function of ordering that you STOP your automobile. You wouldn’t call it a GREEN light would you? It might turn the color green although green appears to have little else to do with matters.

The traffic light, stop light, red light, call it what you will. Those lights are seemingly all that is keeping anarchy at bumper-to-bumper’s length. Society would crash and burn like an old acid head were it not for the stop light to make you STOP THE DAMN CAR!!! Or so one would think because red lights seem to be everywhere.

Stop lights are the bane of my daily life. I hate red lights. I have my own little jihad against red lights. It is not a violent jihad nor does it involve vandalism. But it’s a mental holy war just the same. It stems from the fact that 90 percent of this city’s traffic lights turn red when I approach them. It’s maddening first and foremost because it impedes my progress toward arriving at Point B from Point A. Sure, I like to drive sometimes but I don’t like having to stop at every red light during an expedition.

I also have some practical concerns about excessive stopping for traffic lights. Doesn’t a lot of fossil fuel burn up because of stopping and starting? In the city in which I live — Beaumont, Texas — a major concern over the years has been the high ozone levels that seemingly have improved. Stopping your car at every red light would appear to be counterproductive in fighting ozone.

What’s the answer? I am not in the answer business. Sorry. But we still must have traffic lights and they still must stop cars at some juncture. Could the traffic light system of the city be improved? Beats me, but I would think so. Would society break down if all traffic lights were removed? I wouldn’t think so, in the short term at least. Many drivers did pretty well without red lights in the aftermath of the hurricane. It did seem to take forever to get through some intersections where the signals were not functioning. And do you want to know something? Waiting in traffic is something I despise even more than red lights. So there you have it. Just what do you have, I don’t know. The world is a mysterious place isn’t it?