Author: wdfyfe

Before WD called himself a writer, he worked at a number of different jobs from stacking lumber to interior design. He studied English at UBC and creative writing at ASU where one of his teachers, Rita Dove, taught him the importance of the tale. He has written for radio, magazines and newspapers, but never television. He’s published both fiction and nonfiction in Great Britain and the US. He reads French passably and speaks enough Spanish to get from A to B and find the toilet. He has interviewed John Cleese, Peter Ustinov, Margaret Drabble, Kenneth Branagh and enough other famous people to make him a hopeless name dropper. His not-so-secret passions are history and trivia, and he has never lost a game of Trivial Pursuit — although he did come 4th one drunken Quiz Night at the Uxbridge in Notting Hill. He lives on the Pacific Ocean, although, not close enough to see, so he spends his days looking at a computer screen. It’s a wonderful life and he has only one regret: he can’t type faster.

Why We Need Cowboys!

This year is the 100th anniversary of the Calgary Stampede.  For those of you who are unaware, the Calgary Stampede is the biggest rodeo in the world.  Take that, Texas!  I grew up with rodeos, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  First of all, they’re fun.  Nobody has a miserable time at a rodeo.  (If you do, it’s your own damn fault.)  And they’re sexy.  Over and above the uber-obvious thousand pounds of Freudian bull riding thrust between your legs, rodeos are spilling over with that tidy, hometown, walking-around libido that most of us prefer anyway.  Look around you!   Everybody’s wearing tight jeans and those loud and proud, bustin’ out all over pearl button shirts.  And I don’t know anybody who doesn’t get a little extra swagger when they put on a cowboy hat.  Most of all, rodeos are an essential part of North American culture.  They feature the fantasy we all want to be: the “aw shucks” self-reliant cowboy who rides his own trail, not beholden to any man.  Without the cowboy, North Americans would just be leftover Europeans who didn’t get it right.

The cowboy, as we know him, is actually the result of a strange historical coincidence.  After the American Civil War, thousands of newly unemployed soldiers migrated to Texas – which, at the time, was big and full of cows.  They were (to misquote Trevanian) ignorant, Victorian, migrant, agricultural workers — hired hands, if you will.  They walked (yes, walked) into two particular species practically indigenous to the state: the longhorn, a muscular bovine with a mean disposition and the vaquero, a Mexican dandy who’d been working on the Spanish rancheros since the days of Coronado.  The immigrant Americans might have showed up west of the Red River with the knees out of their britches, but they weren’t stupid.  They realized that if they could move these longhorns in great numbers to places where city folk could eat them, they were money on the hoof.   They also saw how utilitarian the style of the fanciful vaquero was and adopted it — lock, stock and big Jesus hat.  The cowboy was born, and he immediately rode into our cultural mythology.

So here’s the problem.  In the 21st century, the main domain of the cowboy, the rodeo, is on the skids.  Our increasingly urban world simply doesn’t see calf roping or bulldogging as a sport.  We’ve come to believe that if you’re going to go out there and break your neck like a man, you should at least wear a helmet — not a Stetson.  A million people might go to the Calgary Stampede this year, but most of them aren’t going to be anywhere near the action – they’re there for the Midway and the food.  Plus, we’ve developed a very vocal animal rights lobby, who take the position that jumping on a steer at 20mph and wrestling it to the ground is not very much fun for the steer.  I’m no friend of the animal rights people.  As far as I’m concerned, they’re a bunch of has-been celebrities with time on their hands.  Besides, I’m almost certain that people like Bob Barker (whose only contribution to our society is the phrase, “Come on down!”) thinks animal cruelty happens when the butler forgets to feed Muffy her Kibbles.  However, much as I disapprove of them, they do have a point — that strap across the hindquarters of the bronco isn’t there for decoration.

Of course, the knee-jerk reaction is to ban rodeos, tear down the grandstands (condos, maybe?) enroll the cowboys in community colleges and set all the animals free.  (Our society is big on pie in the sky.)  Unfortunately, that doesn’t take into account the reason we have rodeos in the first place.  We need cowboys.  We need to remember that, once upon a time, North Americans were an independent and resourceful people.  We were willing to stand or fall on our own merit.  We could work together (witness the cattle drive) without ever losing our individuality.  But mostly we need to remember that there was a time (not so very long ago) when we rode for the brand, took pride in what we did and saw projects through — no matter what the circumstances.

There are no shortcuts on an eight-second bronco ride — no excuses, no justifications and no buckles for just showing up.  You stay in the saddle, or the pony plants your jeans in the dirt: it’s that simple.  We need cowboys to remind us that this is the attitude that got us here, and regardless of how complicated our society becomes, it’s still something to strive for.

I hope rodeos survive and evolve the way circuses and carnivals did.  It would be a shame to lose just a large part of our heritage.  More importantly, though, it would be a shame to lose the ideal, the myth, the lore that says, “Saddle up, pardner.  It’s 40 miles to good water, and we’re burning daylight.”
Translation: Quit whining!  There’s work to be done.

Wrestling with the Anti-Christs

I’ve had enough!  The next person who gives me the anti-Christian tirade is going to get an earful – and beyond.  It’s getting so that you can’t go to any social function, no matter how innocuous, without some clown calling down Christianity.  I’m talking about everything from cocktail parties to backyard barbeques.  These anti-Christs are getting worse than the Jehovah Witnesses, for God’s sake!  And they won’t take yes for an answer.  They always have to tell you why Christianity is crap.  I’m not particularly religious; as a child of my generation, I was raised to believe in nothing, and I’ve still got most of that left.  However, the last time I looked, tolerance included all religions, not just the ones that don’t have Jesus in them.

It’s not that I mind people expressing their opinion about religion (or anything else for that matter.)  Knock yourself out!  However, there is a time and a place; not every Christian reference demands a pit bull response.  Sometimes, it’s not appropriate.  Besides, anybody with half a brain already realizes that Western spiritual values are based on mythology — Greek, Norse, Hebrew etc. etc.  They don’t need enlightenment.  Nor are they hearing your pronouncements for the first time.  It’s been open season on Christians since long before John Lennon imagined ten million dollars in record sales.

That’s the real problem.  Despite wholesale claims to the contrary, most anti-religious dissertations are not about religion at all: they’re about Christianity.  People tend to preface their remarks with a bunch of mumbo-jumbo about organized religion, but in the end, it’s only Christians who get a kicking.  I have yet to hear anybody tie into Buddha, for example, or Guru Nanak or the thousand and one African gods.  The very same people who would blow a gasket if you so much as smirk at the pantheon of deities some religions have on offer think nothing of ridiculing Christians — to their face.  To hell with tolerance; that’s just bad manners.

I’m way out of my depth here, but for my money, if we’re going to give spiritual room to any religion, we should give it to them all – including the one our grandparents had.  That’s why we call it Freedom of Religion.  There are people in this world who worship trees (I don’t want to get into it, but if I was going to choose a God, I wouldn’t pick one who’s afraid of termites and tent caterpillars.) and they get way less trouble than your average “I’ll-go-to-church-when-I-get-there” Christian.

There is no particular insight involved in denying Noah’s Ark, the Virgin Birth or Moses parting the Red Sea.  These are allegories which all religions use to try to explain our human self-aware existence.  Nor does it take intellectual prowess to question what cannot be proven; sceptical doesn’t automatically mean smart.   Actually, I find most of the anti-Christs quite ignorant about the Christianity they so fervently decry.  But mostly there is no honour is attacking another person’s beliefs.  If we are comforted by what we know in our heart to be true (whether it be eternal salvation or Mother Nature’s bounty or multiple reincarnations until you get enough points to get into Nirvana) does it really matter if it is true or not?

The burning need to discredit Christianity is simply bigotry and intolerance dressed up as an intellectual exercise — and I can prove it.  You never hear these anti-religious people bad mouthing Muhammad.  Is that because Moslems bite back?

Why Are We Taking Syria Seriously?

I can say, without much fear of contradiction, that Bashar al-Assad is a punk.  Back in the day, Sinatra could have taken the guy!  Yet, here we are, eighteen months into the Arab Spring, and he’s still kicking around.  Muammar’s gone; Hosni’s on his last legs; and both of those boys ate ruthless for breakfast.  Yet there’s old Bashar, still bashing away at the opposition as if he didn’t have a care in the world.  He looks like Monty Python’s idea of an accountant, for God’s sake!  And he didn’t even seize power like a proper tyrant; he inherited it from his dad!  Just like you and I got the gold watch and the antique power tools.  So why is he getting treated like the bogeyman he never was?

The problem is everybody’s taking Syria seriously.  We’re all acting as if Bashar dines at the Head Table.  He doesn’t!  In any place other than Damascus, the waiters are shouting, “Ba’ath, Party of none.”  (In case you’re keeping score, Assad’s Syrian Ba’ath Party is the last fragment of a crowd of regional secularists, whose only other claim to fame was Saddam Hussein.)  The country might be strategically placed in the Middle East and have a few powerful friends, but that’s about it.  Syria hasn’t been a player on the world stage since right around the time Nero was getting his first violin lesson.  So let’s just put things into perspective, historically speaking, shall we?  This is the decaffeinated version, but it’s close enough for our purposes.

Syria sits on a multitude of ancient civilizations.  Humans have thrived there since before we quit hunting and gathering and started planting cash crops.  The brag is Damascus is the oldest continuously inhabited city on earth.  It’s easy to believe, since Syria sits on the crossroads of the old land routes from Egypt and Africa to Europe and the Far East.  Two millennia ago, it was so important that Rome sent Pompey the Great to conquer it, which he did in the 1st century BCE.  At one time, Antioch was the third largest city in the Roman Empire, right behind Alexandria and Rome itself.  In the 3rd century AD, there were two (and perhaps even three) Roman Emperors born in Syria.

However, on the “What have you been doing lately?” front, when the Roman Empire collapsed so did the fortunes of Syria.  Across the next two thousand years, the local environs were a battleground for any itinerant thug with an army.  For one brief, shining moment after the Moslem conquest, Damascus flourished again, but that came to a screaming halt on a sunny day in 1260 when a horde of Mongols showed up and put the boots to the whole area.  (Mongol devastation was so complete that it wasn’t until the early 20th century that Syria regained its pre-Mongol population.)  After another couple of centuries of chaos, the Ottomans came calling, around 1510.  However, by then, the trade route from Europe to the East had shifted to the sea.  Syria became a backwater, where it languished for 400 years.

In the early 20th century, the Ottomans were falling apart at the seams.  To complete the decline and fall, they allied themselves with Germany in World War I.  Syria was once again conquered by a marauding adventurer – this time, Lawrence of Arabia.  After the Ottoman surrender, the entire Middle East was chopped into bite size by British and French colonial bureaucrats, and Syria was given to France.  One World War later, the French went home; Syria was on its own for the first time since 64 BCE.  Not surprisingly, they weren’t very good at governing themselves: for the next twenty-five years, they pretty much played presidential musical chairs.  In 1970, Defence Minister Hafez al-Assad (Bashar’s daddy) said, “To hell with this noise!” and took control of the country — permanently.  He died in 2000, and here we are.

History shows us that Syria has always been easy pickings for anybody with a sword and an attitude but the plain truth is that, for the last forty years, it’s been punching way above its weight class.  Syria’s powerful “friends” have been using it as a surrogate; first Nasser and his Pan Egyptian nonsense, then the Soviets and now the Iranians and their minions.  Separated from its benefactors, Syria has neither the economic nor military heft to be anything more than a pain in the ass – even regionally.  I don’t know how we forgot that Bashar and his cohorts are nothing more than street corner gangsters, but we better remember that soon.  The guy’s a punk and he’s capable of anything he can get away with.  That makes him dangerous.

 Last Week’s Puzzle Answers

Here are the answers to last week’s puzzle.  I’ve left a space after the first two in case you want to go back and try your luck again

24 H in a D
24 hours in a day

90 D in a R A
90 degrees in a right angle

 

 

 

 

Zero A in a F H
Zero atheists in a fox hole
There are 2 S to every A
There are 2 sides to every argument

6 S. on a S S
6 sides on a Stop Sign

3 S and you’re O
3 strikes and you’re out

There are 8 N in an O
There are 8 notes in an octave

8 P in the S.S. plus P
8 planets in the Solar System plus Pluto

1 P is worth 1,000 W
1 picture is worth 1,000 words
7 W of the A W
7 Wonders of the Ancient World

1 W on a U
1 wheel on a unicycle

64 S on a C B
64 squares on a chess board

20,000 L under the S
20,000 Leagues Under the Sea

G and the 3 B
Goldilocks and the 3 Bears

1 is the L N
1 is the loneliest number

12 L of H
12 Labours of Hercules

28 D in F except in a L Y
28 days in February except in a Leap Year

Every C has 9 L
Every cat has 9 lives

12 D of C
12 days of Christmas

4 S in a S D of C
4 suit in a standard deck of cards

2 is C; 3 is a C
2 is company; 3 is a crowd

76 T led the B P
76 Trombones led the Big Parade

12 M in a Y
12 months in a year

K 2 B with 1 S
Kill 2 birds with 1 stone

13 in a B D
13 in a Baker’s Dozen

3 B M
3 blind mice

1001 A N
1001 Arabian Nights

4 H of the A
4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse

3 P in a H G
3 periods in a hockey game

40 D of R in the G F
40 days of rain in the Great Flood

4 Q in a D
4 quarters in a dollar

6 P on a S F
6 points on a snow flake

12 S of the Z
12 signs of the Zodiac

S W and the 7 D
Snow White and the 7 Dwarfs