How come Belcher wasn’t vaporized immediately by Cecil’s Perfect Radiance? Hadn’t he been transfigured yet?
I don’t think Cecil evolved into a higher lifeform until some time in his mid-thirties.
You know, kinda like Jesus.
You mean all those stories about the infant Cecil strangling snakes and aspiring editors are fabrications?
Hey - I used to work in a locomotive shop - Union Pacific in Omaha. It was my summer job during college, and I had to walk under (and slightly ahead of) the damn overhead crane when it was moving large objects, like cylinder heads or engines, shouting “overhead, overhead”, above the din in the shop, so that nobody else would walk under it. I always wondered what would happen if the crane operator didn’t stop.
Of course the old timers in the shop were always sending the smart ass college boy after tools like ‘sky hooks’, ‘board stretchers’, and ‘virgin oil’, in various tool rooms at the far ends of the rail yard. I never could find any of that stuff!
friedo writes:
Last personal story. Then I gotta get some work done.
It happened in 1976 or 1977. I had just attended the early show at a well-known jazz club off Rush Street in Chicago. As we filed out, the crowd for the late show was waiting to file in. I noticed two young guys in the late show crowd dressed in, if not tuxedos, then fancy dinner dress–obviously it was a big night out. As I passed them, the two started swinging at each other. This wasn’t just chest-butting, shoving, etc.; they were going at each other big time.
For some reason I decided I was going to break up this fight. Don’t ask me why; all I can say is that in my younger days the struggle against ignorance sometimes took physical form. I waded in and said something along the lines of, “OK, you guys, let’s knock this–” At this point a third party intervened. He was a big black guy built like a fricking truck, probably weighed 240, 250 pounds, dressed in (I think) a sport coat and tie. I have no idea who this guy was. Possibly a bouncer, although it seems unlikely you’d put an excitable guy with a gun at the entrance to your club. Maybe a bodyguard. Maybe just a fellow freelance peacekeeper.
Anyway, he’s pissed. He starts screaming at me, “OK, motherfcker, get your motherfcking ass out of here,” or words to that effect. He’s pointing a revolver at me, either gold- or brass-plated. I did not have an opportunity to do a detailed metallurgical analysis. I also did not count the chambers and thus cannot definitively state that it was a “six-shooter.” I had a lot on my mind at the time. Be that as it may, there was no question that my departing the premises was a priority concern for this individual.
So I’m thinking: This is a fine how-do-you-do. I decide we need to discuss the situation. Without moving from the spot, I put up one hand and state, “Now, come on, let’s not get excited here.” The little color commentator in my mind is saying, “Whoa, young Cecil is showing exceptional calmness here.”
However, Big George is not in the mood for chatter. Seeing that I am not cooperating, he picks me up bodily and throws me through the doors of the club into the street. (I don’t recall what became of the gun during this process.) I was not in a position to put up much resistance; he outweighed me by a good 80 pounds.
The club doors close. I pick myself up off the sidewalk. “Well,” I think, “I have done what I can.” My date has been watching in horror the entire time. “Are you all right?” she asks. “I could use a drink,” I say.
We go to a little bar down the street. After a minute or two the adrenalin wears off and I get the violent, uncontrollable shakes. My teeth are chattering, I don’t dare pick up the glass. It takes me a good five minutes to calm down. Then we went home.
No, I didn’t get lucky. Some women are impossible to impress.
That would’ve impressed me.
Cecil, let me buy you a drink.
Swoon
But were you high on dope? And was there a little girl riding a bicycle in front of the post?
Thank you, Cecil Adams. I greatly enjoyed both of your stories, as well as the clumsy ingratiating fools who insist on hijacking these threads with their pitiful attempts at out-brown-nosing each other. Very entertaining.
Now that I have your attention, though, let me compliment you on your excellent taste in music; jazz is often underappreciated by the Teeming Millions. Let me also say how I admire your commitment to honour. I’m sure it’s taken a great deal of dedication on your part to avoid repeating your performance with the crane, but you’ve kept to it because you gave your word. While I could go on about how wonderful a role model you are, I’m sure you have a lot of ignorance to fight, so I’ll let you get right back to it.
Keep up the good fight, sir.
That, and repeating the crane incident could seriously threaten his life, if the wall actually gave out.
Cecil, whoever you are, thank you for humoring us. It’s always good form to pretend like you’re not the Perfect Master for fleeting moments, so the Teeming Millions can be reinvigorated with the juice of non-ignorance. I’m sure these parables have a true meaning lying beneath the surface. Lo, let us pray we are able to dechipher them.
[Beavis]Huh-huh. She said “piscatory.”[/Beavis]
Who is this newbie Cecil Adams?
He really isn’t as good as Scylla at telling a funny story.
Now I will duck and run.
Thank you, ** Unca Cecil **. If either incident had killed you, I’d be here working instead of on The Straight Dope.
Never before in my life have I stood so close to greatness
And that ungrateful woman should have PAID WITH HER SOUL the chance to bask in the warming magnificence of your ignorance purging aura Uncle Cecil, the Enlightened.
If at any time you are in need of a faithful manservant/hired thug please do not hesitate to summon, I am at your disposal
Hey, I am listeing to Jazz, right now
Duke Ellington actually.
Nice to see some fellow dopers, including Unca Cecil sharing that interest.
And both stories were quite entertaining. Glad to see nothing badly came of either.