The Green Red Green (2 page)

I
t seems to me that there’s an inherent design flaw in the structure of the human body. If you imagine that every muscle and organ is a tiny engine and the fuel is blood, then you can see that there is really not enough fuel to have all the engines running at the same time. That’s why it’s so difficult to watch television and think simultaneously. But with a book, you can stop reading and put it down for a minute and think about exactly why Jack and Jill went up that hill.

Because of this insufficient blood supply, the human brain must prioritize the muscles and organs to decide which ones should get the blood at any particular moment, why they need it, and what they plan to do with it once they have it. If you had special glasses that detected hemoglobin or whatever, you would be able to look at a man and see where the blood is going and have a pretty good idea of his intentions. You’d also be able to see why
it’s difficult for him to think about anything else. He doesn’t have enough fuel for that. If he had more blood, he’d be able to see all the options and make an informed choice. Mind you, that might make him less of a man.

A
ll right, you were at a party last night with your wife or your girlfriend or your female companion. And today you’re being informed that you didn’t have as good a time as you recall. This is because your partner did not appreciate you ignoring her totally, or flirting with other women, or doing that party trick where you play “God Save the Queen” by making loud, wet noises with parts of your body. It’s surprising how some people fail to enjoy live entertainment, but the point is that you’re now in trouble and you need some way to patch up the situation.

Whenever you can, blame the booze. Just tell her that you were over-served and weren’t acting like yourself. If you don’t drink, that’s unfortunate because it forces you to lie. You’ll have to blame your behaviour on being really upset about, say, the death of a close friend. But just remember that when she asks you who died, you’re going to be expected to come up with a name. Saying “old what’s his name” won’t cut it. What I do is name a friend I don’t mind never seeing again.

Or you could take the strong route and just tell her that’s the way you are at parties and that’ll be the end of that. And the end of going to another party with her. Or anywhere with her. Or anywhere with anybody.

L
ife is like a car—there’s only one driver’s seat. And you want to be in that driver’s seat as often as possible. Most of us get a shot at the driver’s seat when we get older, after we’ve retired and have done all our major spending and set up enough of a pension to support ourselves. That’s the ideal time to get a job.

It can be any job, but it’s better if you deal with the public, like say in a store or a post office or something. Because the beauty of this job is that you don’t need it. You can conduct yourself in any way you feel is appropriate. Be rude to people. Ignore them. See how mad you can make them. Use this job as your way of getting back at all the stupid clerks and officials you’ve had to put up with your whole life. You’ll get rid of all your frustrations (actually, you’re just passing them on). You’ll get up anxious to go to work, and you’ll come home refreshed and energized. Being cantankerous will extend your life.

Sure, you’ll eventually be fired, but they’ll have to pay you severance, and then you can go get a job you need even less.

I
f you’re a passenger in a moving car, with any luck somebody is driving. Drivers have a lot of responsibility. They shouldn’t be penalized for volunteering to stay sober at the party. They shouldn’t have to listen to you pointing out oncoming vehicles or red lights, or overdoing it on the random screams. Don’t bug the driver. He already has his hands full—of beer nuts. So here are a few tips that can save your life, especially if you don’t have an accident.

When you’re hunched forward, frantically scanning the approaching horizon with your fingernails dug deep into the armrest, it implies that you are not totally convinced of the driver’s competence. But you have to trust him. If he says he knows his way home in the dark and doesn’t need headlights, then you have to trust his judgment. Lean back, undo your belt, and pretend you’re asleep.

It’s often a good idea to talk to the driver. It keeps him awake and stops him from singing. Just be careful what you talk about or it could be taken as an insult. In general, don’t talk about traffic accidents. Don’t mention your uncle, who also drives with one finger and a beer gut draped over the wheel, and how he hit a pothole and jammed the turn signal arm deeply into his navel. Don’t mention the fog or the ice. If the driver hasn’t noticed them, you’re better off starting a prayer and trying to relax your shoulders while you brace for impact. If you have to talk, talk to other passengers or to yourself, perhaps about the weather or if anyone has taken courses in first aid or trauma treatment.

Cars are designed so that one person can operate all the controls. Just because you can reach buttons on the dashboard, that does not mean they are legally your vehicular responsibility. The radio tuner and volume controls are Driver Only. As is the heater. The comfort of the driver is paramount. If he’s warm enough, you just have to sit there quietly with your tongue frozen to the window winder. Don’t touch the sunroof controls,
the high beam switch, or the gearshift. If you have to adjust things or you go crazy, wear clothes with lots of buttons and zippers. Worry beads might help. You could also adjust the passenger seat a few times, but remember, a little of that goes a long way.

What kind of a message does that send? You think the goof is lost. And you could get motion sickness. Remember, vomiting never adds to the enjoyment of a trip.

As a passenger, you can sometimes get embarrassed by certain habits your driver practices: splashing pedestrians, or not signalling turns, or cutting across four lanes of traffic to run over an apple, or side-swiping hitchhikers. Once embarrassed, a passenger is prone to say things to the driver that will lead to a difference of opinion and a ninety-mile-an-hour hair-pulling incident. And any traffic expert will tell you that’s asking for trouble. Instead, wear a disguise like a false nose and glasses, or if yours are already false, wear a real nose and glasses. That way, other drivers will not be able to recognize you at the trial.

Avoid eye contact with other motorists, no matter how hard they’re honking or staring at you through the windshield, screaming, “Stop! Please stop and let me off!” If you do accidentally lock eyes, shrug your shoulders to imply helplessness or hold up your arms so it looks like you’re handcuffed, and they will assume you’re being kidnapped and focus their anger and lawsuits on the driver.

Another good trick to deter angry people is to dress like a cop. Or even better, become a cop.

As you sit quietly, watching the miles and bicyclists fly past your window, plan your escape route. Then you’re ready in the event of an accident—or a really big guy in an overturned tractor-trailer coming over to rearrange your driver’s face.

When you see an impending collision because the driver is passing on a hill or bouncing off guardrails or jumping a lift bridge, pretend you dropped something on the floor and when you go down to get it, stay there until the vehicle comes to a complete stop. It doesn’t usually take long. Then say, “Thanks, this is close enough. I’ll walk from here.”

If the vehicle is on fire, it’s okay to just say, “Thanks, see ya.”

If you’re older than eight (and if you’re reading this book, that’s unlikely), you should not be yelling “Cow!” every time you pass a cow. The world is an interesting place, but a running commentary from you doesn’t make it more interesting and may distract your driver from oncoming traffic, oncoming guardrails, or oncoming canals. So avoid the temptation to keep up a running commentary like this: “Oh look, that barn is burnt. That was some fire. Hey, look at that apple stand you drove through. Hey, look at that cop waving at you … Look at that cop shooting at you! Look, a cow. That’s some cow. She doesn’t look happy, does she? Maybe if you hit the windshield wipers, you’ll dislodge her …”

N
ow, I know that a lot of women like sports, but the vast majority of sports fans are men. And predominantly middle-aged men. We’re the ones sprawled out on the family room couch with an ottoman handy to catch the overflow. We’re the ones who will watch any sport, anytime, anywhere. And I think I know why: in sports, you are always living “in the moment.” While what happened in the past might have some relevance and what will happen in the future is tinged with hope, sports are mainly focused on what is happening RIGHT NOW. Middle-aged men love that. That’s where we want to be: living in the moment. Not living in the past, where we had more of everything, from freedom to hairstyle choices, and could be criticized for our uninspired career choices after graduation or our inappropriate behaviour at last night’s party. Not living in the future, where we will look back at our current physical deterioration as the good old days. No, we don’t want to think about that. The truth is, we don’t want to think about anything. But hey, that’s what sports on television are for.

Y
our anniversary, which you seem to recall is coming up, is not coming up. It’s gone by. It was yesterday.

Now, you could just admit that you forgot about the anniversary and you feel real bad about it and it doesn’t mean you don’t care and would she please forgive you? But she won’t. So instead, tell her that you had to postpone the anniversary because the special gift you got for her couldn’t be delivered until the weekend. Which gives you until the weekend to buy something. If you then forget to buy her the present … well, you’re on your own.

Or pull out your wallet and find last year’s calendar on one of those little cards and point to it and say, “There’s your problem: I had the right day, just the wrong year. I guess next year we’ll have to celebrate our anniversary twice.” That might work. If it doesn’t, you may not be celebrating even once.

I
n my early twenties I was in a rock band. We played different kinds of music, but all of it really loud. The slogan “How do we do it? Volume!” was a pretty good description of our approach. When you’re loud, you don’t get criticized. Or at least you don’t hear the criticism. But that was some time ago. Now I don’t like anything loud. I need to be able to hear what my wife is saying. I’ve learned that it’s better for everyone if I hear her the first time. Before I buy something else that we don’t need. And before she commits me to a social function. Or an institution.

I used to like loud things, like rock music and dragsters and explosions. Now I like quiet things—like babies not crying and phones not ringing and salesmen not knocking. If I worked at the
airport wearing those silencer earmuffs, I’d probably leave them on all the time. Except, of course, when my wife is talking.

H
ere’s an easy way to build an automatic, self-contained mobile washer that keeps your car continuously clean. Just like going to the car wash—except it’s free and you don’t have to go the car wash.

You will need a whole bunch of sprinklers. It’s that simple. You’ll find them on people’s front lawns long after they’ve gone to bed. Mount the sprinklers all over the car using bolts and rivets, or if you work for the government, you may have the time to sit and magnetize them. But if you like the chrome look, use duct tape.

Attach all the sprinklers together using garden hoses from the source mentioned above. Now you need a supply of water—one that moves with the car, so you can wash your vehicle on the move. And you have a source right inside the engine compartment: namely, the water pump and the radiator. All you have to do is tap into them.

Don’t forget that a mobile car wash does not have an unlimited supply of water, so what you’re going to have to do is recycle it (and I don’t mean the way people adrift at sea recycle their water). Measure the exact outside circumference of your car and get exactly that much eavestroughing. Attach the eavestroughs all the way around the car to catch any runoff. Run a hose from the intake side of the water pump into the eavestroughs to put the wash water back into the radiator, creating a completely closed system—except, of course, for evaporation. You can compensate for that by leaving your car out in the rain.