BRAINPAN LEAKAGE

A few years back I was in a shoe store. Yeah, I do that sometimes. Not in the creepy, shoe fetish sort of way mind you. I actually have to go in and buy myself shoes every now and then. I could go into all sorts of details about how I wear out my shoes differently than most folks because of an old, severe injury that causes me to favor one leg – and I’d be telling the truth – but that’s not really what this blog is about.

Well… Except that I was in a shoe store because I had worn out my shoes and it was time for a new pair. That part is what it’s about… sort of.

Anywho… There I was in the shoe store and I’d picked out a pair of not so terribly expensive tennis shoes. Next to me was this bin, and in said bin were those reptile shoes. You know… Crocs. Actually, these were Crocs Knockoffs… Crockoffs, as it were… So, just for grins I dug through, found a pair in my size, tried ’em on, and since it was BOGO day at the shoe store, bought them. I figured if nothing else they’d make good shower shoes or something, given that I am booked at a lot of outdoor, weekend festivals  in state parks and such…

Well, as it turns out, I found these things to be pretty damned comfortable. So much so, in fact, that I wore them around the house, when I was taking out the trash, and even when I’d go to the store. Eventually, like all other shoes, they wore out. The straps broke, the treads wore off, etc. However, I still have them. The straps weren’t anything that couldn’t be fixed with a couple of heavy duty snap-ties. The treads – well, as long as I stay away from slick surfaces I’m all good… On that note, I forgot about that once, and ended up sprawled on a parking lot in the rain.

I haven’t forgotten since.

But, moving right along. E K – you knew E K would come into the mix at some point, right? So, anyway, the evil one was out shopping the other day and ended up in the official Crocs store. This prompted her to call me because they had a sale bin, and certainly I needed a new pair of Crocs. Obviously she was feeling magnanimous on this particular day, because she was willing to spend 10 bucks on the real deal instead of 5 bucks on the knockoffs.

After much kibbitzing, during which I explained that I should probably be present to try them on first, she bought me a pair anyway. You see, when E K has her mind made up, it’s pretty much made up, and there’s no dissuading her from her evil plan.

Unfortunately, what she brought home was more in line with something the Jolly Green Giant would wear. Given the old adage about shoe size, I can only assume this was wishful thinking on her part, if you know what I mean.

So, anyway, fast forward a week or so. Against my will, as usual, I was forced to go shopping with E K and the o-spring. Part of the grand plan was to exchange the gun boats at the Croc store for something a little more along the line of normal sized shoes. However, no matter which pair I tried on, none were just right. Either they were way too big, or just plain too small.

So, I suggested to E K that she either exchange them for something she wanted, or simply return them.

Did you know that Crocs Store employees apparently work on commission?

I didn’t then, but I do now.

Yeah. I have a new pair of Crocs. They don’t fit me worth a damn, but the fifteen-year-old behind the counter guaranteed me that within 3 days they’d be just fine, because they are, after all, Crocs.

I wonder if I could just cut the soles off and glue them to the knockoffs?

More to come…

Murv

NOTE: This blog entry has been edited. None of the original material was removed, however there have been comments added. You will find them italicized and within parentheses. For the record, I did remove my note of 1/19/11 instructing people to stop trying to engage me in pedantic pissing matches over the origin of duct tape just because they are humor impaired. I’m still instructing you all to not engage me in pedantic pissing matches whether you are humor impaired or not, so that hasn’t changed. However, I thought maybe I’d add some more to it… Here goes.

It seems that there is a sudden upsurge in searches for both Duct and Duck Tape. Per the search terms logged it would appear that there is a rather robust “duct/duck tape fetish” community out there. Wish I’d known before writing this particular entry. Probably would have been much funnier than just the serial killer and stupid people angle. At any rate, due to the enormous number of searches leading to this entry, I have been taking heat from some folks who want to point out to me the errors in this piece. It seems they didn’t get the satire. In at least one instance, said individual even elected to be especially nasty about it. For the record, the name/email address he/she entered remained intact. That was not my doing. Obviously it was aimed at me, but he/she missed.

So here you have it. The original blog intact with some added commentary to help the humor, satire, and parody impaired. You probably don’t know who you are, but trust me, we do.

*     *     *     *     *

Have you ever wondered about duct tape?

I mean like wondering why it’s so popular with serial killers, kidnappers, and the like? At least, that’s how it is on TV. Oh, and just so we are all on the same page, no I’m not a serial killer. Nor am I a kidnapper. Never even played one on TV. Yeah, yeah, I know… I write fiction novels about them, but that’s different.

Also, just so we have our ducks in a row, we are talking about duct tape. Not duck tape. “Duck” tape doesn’t exist (Yes, actually, it does). Duct tape does. (Yes, actually, it does too.)

I have a friend (yeah, I know, amazing eh?) who worked in the music biz as a road manager. Her husband still does, and he handles cameras, lights, and all that jazz. Big deal stuff. They actually swear by “Gaffer Tape.” This stuff is great… You see, gaffer tape is kinda like duct tape on mega doses of steroids. In fact, it makes anything major league baseball players have been using to jack themselves up look like a placebo. Seriously. My friend has even noted that gaffer tape will hold someone on the side of a tour bus, at highway speeds, for at least 50 miles. She refuses to go into the exact details as to how she knows this, except to say that she has irrefutable anecdotal evidence. My guess is someone made her mad and she taped said individual to the side of the bus. She’s dangerous like that… In fact, she and E K get along really well, which is pretty scary.

She also tells me that it works great as a depilatory too – as long as you don’t mind losing the first three layers of skin along with the unwanted (or even wanted) hair. Good thing she’s never given a roll to E K, or I might be bald…

But, as usual, I digress…

The thing here is duct tape. It was originally designed to seal up duct work, hence the silver/grey color AND the name, duct tape. Makes sense all of a sudden, doesn’t it? I mean, “duck” tape was really kind of a WTF kind of name, dont’cha think? After all, what would a duck need with tape? Besides Donald, I mean. And, even though they make glue out of horses, and gelatin out of beef, it was really hard to fathom making tape out of ducks. (This part here, in bold, would be the joke. The part where it talks about making tape out of ducks. If you don’t find it funny, hey, no worries. I don’t hit them ALL out of the park, and we all have different sense of humor, as you will see below…)

So, anyway… I think maybe I need to run down to my basement and grab up a roll of duct tape to keep right here on the corner of my desk.

Why?

Because, like I said at the outset, it seems to be the prime choice for serial killers and kidnappers – not only as a restraint, but to keep their victims from screaming for help. Just slap a slice of the ol’ silver sticky stuff over the mouth and no sound escapes. Of course, these days if you happen to be a more fashion conscious criminal, designer colors are available, but I’m a purist. Just give me the silvery-grey stuff and I’m good.

But, I still haven’t answered your question, have I? I mean, why would I need duct tape on hand?

Exactly.

“Huh?” you grunt.

I need it for my hands. I figure if it works to “gag” victims, maybe I can tape my hands together so I won’t be able to get myself in trouble by answering stupid emails. (This would be yet another part of the joke. For, as you can plainly see from the comment thread below, I didn’t get out my roll of duck, duct, 100 mile per hour, gaffer, scotch, masking, packing, or any other tape soon enough.)

Of course, it might not work. I might need something stronger. Wonder if my friend has an extra roll of gaffer tape laying around… Something in a nice, yellow “caution” sort of color would be good…

More to come…

Murv

NOTE: In reality, Mister Arendt, who commented below, has the real story.  Apparently, however, he didn’t see the humor in my post since I revised history for my own uses. Regular readers here know when to take a post seriously – which isn’t often – so I can only assume he was new to the Leakage. For the whole story about DUCT/DUCK tape go to http://www.ideafinder.com/history/inventions/ducttape.htm

Mister Arendt’s Canadian counterpart didn’t see the humor either. I had once heard a rumor that Canadians, as a general rule, were the most polite people on the planet.  That has been my personal experience up until now…