There Was Another Group In The East End Called The Originals…

The funny thing about awards is I never get tired of them. Recently I was nominated by Tom of Tom Being Tom–although I sometimes suspect Tom of being someone else, but then when I look closer he just turns out to be Tom but wearing a Thanos mask for some reason, but that’s another story–nominated me for the Blogger Recognition Award. And I’d like to thank him for the award. In fact I’d like to thank him so much I’ll just say, thank you, Tom. It’s nice to be recognized. It reassures me I’m still recognizable even after the surgery. I’d also like to thank all the little people including, but not limited to Merry, Pippin, and tardigrades.
One of the requested responses when one is the recipient of a Blogger Recognition Award is to provide an origin story. Well, mine is so common as to be almost cliche, but I’ll offer it anyway.
It was in Poughkeepsie in August, 1920–I forget the exact date, but I was leading the field in a goldfish-swallowing contest. I was so far ahead, in fact, that more goldfish were needed, so a batch that had been bred in a Revigator was provided. Having been thoroughly irradiated these goldfish had developed mutant powers which they passed on to me.
Another requirement is that I’m supposed to offer two pieces of advice, but, really, once I’ve told you that if you ever want to bury a body in a shallow grave you should use quicklime, what else do you need to know?
Here’s some advice: take wooden nickels. I know the expression used to be “don’t take any wooden nickels” but when was the last time someone offered you a wooden nickel? The last time I was offered a wooden nickel was in Poughkeepsie in 1920–in fact a bag full of wooden nickels was the grand prize in a goldfish swallowing contest, and now they’re antiques and worth about a dollar each, which just goes to show you.
I seem to have splintered off from the main topic, so let me close with a bonus word of advice: don’t hem your skirt with chewing gum in the summer.
The final step in this process is that I’m supposed to nominate other bloggers, and at least for this award, unlike some others, there’s no maximum, which is great because I feel there are so many bloggers that are deserving of recognition, but at the same time I never want anyone to feel obligated to respond in kind. Some may even respond in unkind if they felt obligated, and I’d rather go around handing out wooden nickels. So I’ll just conclude by saying that you should feel recognized if you’re so inclined, and don’t if you’d rather not, and always go out on a song if that’s your style, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.
Sorry about the conclusion. It’s still a work in progress.

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6 Comments

  1. Tom

    Well played, Christopher! I had never, not once – so not twice, either – heard of a “revigator.” For that matter, I had to Google “tardigrades,” too. Thanos I knew, and I have to admit having a striking resemblance to the Mad Titan. Not physically, of course, he’s much larger with more wrinkles. Not spiritually, either, since he’s mad enough to destroy half the population of the universe with a snap of his fingers and I’d only use infinite power for good (and to rid the universe of Donald Trump). Emotionally, we have similarities, though, as we both really just need a hug and someone to laugh at our jokes. The way we are most alike, of course, is mentally. Neither of us really know what the hell is really going on, despite constant study and meditation, so we use reason and intuition to come to extreme, often unjustified, conclusions (however obverse ours may be).

    The entirety of that may have been desultory but it winds back to a very important question, and one that cannot be forestalled: who won the goldfish contest?

    I’ll take my answer off the air.

    Reply
    1. Christopher Waldrop (Post author)

      Fortunately revigators were finally recognized as the quack science they were–the wealthy steel tycoon Eben Byers drank a bottle of radioactive water for his health every single day for years and, as his obituary noted, it worked great until his jaw fell off. Maybe a return of such quackery would be a good thing, but only if it could be directed at those who, er, need it most.
      Anyway, yes, we do both need someone to laugh at our jokes, and the occasional hug too–although for me a laugh is often just as good as a hug. The need for laughs reminds me of Spinal Tap’s Viv Savage who, when asked what he’d do if there were no rock and roll, said, “I’d probably jump around and get a bit stupid because there wasn’t a stage for me to go on.” Some of us just need an audience.
      And I’ll give you an on-air response to who won the goldfish contest: a clodhopper from Sri Lanka, by way of Toledo, who won the first prize: a raccoon coat.

      Reply
  2. Ann Koplow

    I love Chris being Chris, especially when he mentions tardigrades. Congratulations and thanks for all the goldfish.
    Ann Koplow recently posted…Day 2595: Other people’s painMy Profile

    Reply
    1. Christopher Waldrop (Post author)

      I don’t mention tardigrades often enough, and thanks for all the comments.

      Reply
  3. Arionis

    Congrats on the award! Well deserved. I want to know what powers you got from the irradiated goldfish?
    Arionis recently posted…Things Not Groin The Way I HopedMy Profile

    Reply
    1. Christopher Waldrop (Post author)

      The irradiated goldfish gave me the power of a three-second memory. The irradiated goldfish gave me the power of a three-second memory. The irradiated goldfish gave me the power of a three-second memory. The irradiated goldfish gave me the power of a three-second memory. The irradiated goldfish gave me the power of a three-second memory. The irradiated goldfish gave me the power of a three-second memory.

      Reply

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