27

Happy Daze.

Bob awoke to the rays of a golden dawn, in his comfortable bed, in his comfortable house in Billings, Montana. He yawned and stretched - ooh it felt good to be alive! It was Saturday and he was going to have a great day! He lay snuggled in the duvet and listened to the birds outside and dozed for a couple of hours. After a hearty breakfast, Bob decided that it was about time to mow the front lawn. He could hear that his neighbour had already fired up his chainsaw, and as he wandered through the house, cup of coffee in hand, Bob wondered whether he’d want to come over later and watch the ball game. The morning was warm and very sunny. He waved to his neighbour, David. He was pollarding the cherry tree in his front yard and raised a hand from his saw and waved back.
“Morning. Lovely day!” Bob called.
David smiled and called back, “Best I can remember”, then carried on with his tree. He was a nice guy - tall and hairy (some might even say he looked a bit like a polar bear, but that was a bit ridiculous, whoever heard of a polar bear living in Billings?) - but a nice guy. Across the street, Bill Williams was waxing his car.
“Hey, Bob!” He called, waving his rag.
“What’s up?” He replied, wandering over, still drinking his coffee.
“You ain’t gonna cut your grass are you?”
“I was thinking about it, why?”
“Could ya’ wait ‘til I've got my car back into the garage? I don’t want any stray cuttings blowing onto the new wax.”
“Sure thing.” Bob said, looking down at his short, bearded neighbour. “Good wax job!” It was stupendous, as if his car was brand new and never been driven.
“Thanks. You know, a good looking car is worth a lot in this world. People respect a man driving a well-waxed car.”
“Very true!” It was true. Bob had often admired well-waxed cars himself and thought better of the drivers for it.
“Y’see, Bob, some people would say ‘Who cares about what your car looks like? It’s just a trinket, and trinkets aren’t important. What’s important is who you are inside’, and do you know what I say to them, do ‘ya, do 'ya?”
“What?”
“‘Ha!’ That’s what I say to ‘em - ‘Ha!’ They are so wrong. Image is everything! If you don’t project the right image to the right people at the right time, then you’re never going to get anywhere in this life.”
“A truer word was never said, Bill.” Bob agreed. “Take us, for instance. I look on you as a good neighbour...”
“Why thank you, Bob, and so are you.”

“Thank you... You’re a neat man, considerate, a member of the same golf, gun and tennis clubs as me, and that’s all I know about you, and that’s what I like about you. I don’t want to know whether you’re a good person deep inside, because I’ll never need to see the person deep inside. Because we only see each other on the surface, it’s that surface person that I want to be a good friend and neighbour. So what if you beat your wife? So long as I never see the bruises, so long as that aspect of your deeper personality don’t impinge on my life, then why should I care what you do inside the doors of your own house?”
“Exactly! And those surface relationships are what make this great country of ours ‘this great country of ours!’ If everybody started inter-acting on a deeper level, things would just unravel. But try telling that to therapists or lefties and they don’t believe you, but it’s true.” Said Bill, stroking his beard.
“It is true!” Bob agreed, nodding his head. “It’s like David over there. Now he looks to me like he’s a polar bear...”
“No getting away from that, he certainly is big, white and hairy.”
“But I can take him on face value. He keeps his yard tidy, drives a great car, plays a mean game of poker and supports the same baseball team as me. But if I knew that deep down he really was a polar bear, I’d have to shoot him out of hand...”
“I’d be with you on that one.” Bill pitched in.
“And what good would that do any of us, eh? Eh? None. None good.”
“Yup. God, if I knew what people were like deep down, my gun would be busy all day and all night. But you try to explain that to these people who want us all to get in touch with our deeper selves, and they think you’re crazy.”
“But we both know that they’re the ones who are crazy and they’re threatening our very existence.”
“Right!” Bill said adamantly. “Makes my trigger finger right itchy.”
“We could go down the club later, pop off a few rounds, let off some steam.”
“Great idea Bob, but only after I’ve waxed my car and listened to the ball game.”
“Why of course...”

Bob awoke to the rays of a golden dawn, in his comfortable bed, in his comfortable house in Billings, Montana. He yawned and stretched - ooh it felt good to be alive! It was Saturday and he was going to have a great day! But then, of course, it always seemed to be Saturday and he always had a great day. As usual, he lay snuggled in the duvet and listened to the birds outside and dozed for a couple of hours. After a hearty breakfast, Bob decided that it was about time to mow the front lawn. He could hear that his neighbour had already fired up his motormower, and as he wandered through the house, cup of coffee in hand, Bob wondered whether he’d want to come over later and watch the ball game. The morning was warm and very sunny. He waved to his neighbour, David. He raised a hand from his mower and waved back.
“Lawn’s looking good, there!” Bob called, wandering across to him. David stopped his mower and left it idling and came to meet his neighbour. Bob took another slug of coffee. “How do you do it?”
“The secret’s tender loving care.” David replied. “If you let the grass know you care, then it’ll grow for you. Anyway, your lawn’s not too bad.”
“Yeah, but look at yours - it’s lush and such a deep green. It’s impressive, Goddammit!”
“So, you gonna do your lawn today?”
“Why of course! It’s Saturday - always cut the grass on Saturday. It expects it. You can’t break a regular habit like that.”
“Uh huh.” David assented, then pointed over to where Bill Williams was waxing his car. “Like Bill’s regular habits with that car of his. I can set my watch on a Saturday by when Bill starts waxing and when he finishes. And you know what? I like that. Makes me feel secure. But some people would say it’s boring.”
“Yeah, but wadda they know?”
“I don’t know what they know, and y’know? I don’t wanna know what they know!” David affirmed adamantly. “Some people, they say you should break old habits, get out of your rut, look around you, see the wider picture in the world. Why? I don’t know where Madagascar is, and I don’t give a shit!”
“Why should you give a shit?”
“No reason. Shit! People in Madagascar don’t give a shit where they are, so why should I give a shit about it? They don’t give a shit about where I am. I don’t even give a shit about where Mexico is. I don’t need to - it’s not like I live near it or have Mexicans coming into my property. Now Canada, I know where that is, but I don’t need to know where it is.”
“Yeah! So long as you know where you work, where you live and where the nearest convenience and liquor store are, what more do you need to know?” Said Bob.
“Maybe I don’t want to expand my horizons. And that’s the trouble with this country. Too many liberals wanting to know too much. But I say, there are only so many things I want to know, and after that...”
“You don’t give a shit.”
“You got it, buddy. Now, what say we do whatever we gotta do this morning and then get Bill and go play golf this afternoon?”

Car waxing? A nice round of golf! Is this really it for our heroes, or can they break out of this middle of the road hell? Or are they lucky now they don't have to worry about all the guff the rest of us have to put up with?

Find out in the next perfectly buffed chapter...