The Muddled Male

Truth???   Or a Double Dog Dare?

 

By Bob Stevens, The Muddled Male

        I was standing on my deck the other day trying to shovel snow in a freezing wind when I began

to think about June, a warm month considered by many to be the month for brides.  If June is the brides’ month, then the preceding May might be considered the groom’s last month.  Now I don’t mean to imply that getting married for men is like dying.  I just mean that the month before the nuptials is the last time the groom will be allowed to stand around and freely swap tall tales with a bunch of friends.  Men, you see, feel comfortable exaggerating just a little if it makes the story better.  Most women, however, demand total accuracy of facts, right down to the most minuscule of jots and tittles.  I was once regaling a group with a really funny story about driving when I said, “I must have been doing at least 200 miles-per-hour.”  Before I could begin the punch line Ann, my wife said, “Actually he was doing less than fifty because we were on a sharp curve at the time and besides, he never drives over 40 because he is a doddering old man who drives most of the time with his left turn signal on.”  Then she said, “Go on with your story dear, you had just started to tell us the funny part about what happened when you were driving faster than your ability.”  Well, by now everyone was focused on “doddering old man with his left turn signal on,” and began to wander away.  So I gave up and decided that from that point forward I would always tell the complete and total truth. 

        Which leads me to the gauntlet thrown down recently in this very paper by the Un-Muddled Mathematician in an article dripping with the same type of sarcasm used by my kindergarten buddies when they found that I was afraid to climb to the highest point in the playground monkey-bar set.  My buddies were also afraid to climb to the highest point, but they still delighted in standing below on firm ground singing, “Bobby is a scaredy-cat, Bobby is a scaredy-cat.” 

        You may remember that the Mathematician’s gauntlet consisted of a double dog dare for me to be roped together with my friend cautious-Kam and walk out onto the frozen lake at least as far as the Rock Pile where Chris, the Mathematician, and Scott, the fish counter, would be angling for fish through a hole in the ice.  If Bobby, the scaredy-cat, and cautious-Kam would do that then he, the Mathematician, would donate $50 to a college scholarship fund he was setting up to help some deserving student from our area pay their college tuition. 

        Well, to show that an engineer can’t be out flanked by a mere mathematician, I am hereby accepting the double dog dare and will contribute $60 to the fund provided that the following conditions are met prior to my daring walk: Condition-1 our mutual friend Mark will drive Scott’s favorite camouflaged pickup truck out to the Rock Pile and back to check the structural integrity of the ice prior to my walk.  Condition-2 Chris and Scott will hold hands as participants in the annual Polar Plunge and jump into the icy water of the Marina together while singing one verse of that famous 1943 novelty song by Milton Drake, All Hoffman, and Jerry Livingston, Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey.  A kiddley divey too, wooden shoe.  To avoid embarrassment I suggest that they jump in fully dressed rather than to stand there in only a swimsuit and goose bumps. 

        In keeping with my new goal to always tell the truth, I am admitting that I made some of the above up.  I leave it to you to determine which part.  Those wanting to contribute to the College Fund should contact the Mathematician prior to the plunge. 

Ed Note: I will make the first donation if all conditions are met! The Mathemetician has met his match!