Monday, October 22, 2012

Mr Oberon

Original Thought us, after all, only an attitude.

From Evernote:

Mr Oberon

Looked much like a dumpy matron. Fiddled among his peach orchard in a droopy Panama hat. Had bizarre notions he considered meant he was an Original Thinker, did Mr Oberon. 

Conversations went much like the one with Smithy, the village mechanic. 

Oberon: It's the oil companies, They want to sell more oil, so they conspire with the automakers to build larger-than-needed crankcases. The pump can suck up a quart as well as three of them. 

Smithy: And what happens to your bearings and valves while that quart is in your filter?
Oberon: You don't understand! Oil pumps can pick up as little as one quart off the bottom of the crankcase!

Compost in trees. Not the cause, but effect, he declared. Not the root but the blossom. Thinking down limits your vision. Tied his garbage in bundles wrapped in soil from the garden center onto the branches of his peach trees. Let others do it the old stale ways, he declared. 

No peaches that season from Mr Oberon's orchard. Like most Original Thinkers, he sought near and far in an ever-widening perimeter from where he stood for the cause of his crop failure. 

Sat by his phone. Watched it, even. Had written to the local press about his idea for matchmaking. A complete and thorough survey must be conducted of all young adults and the results should be graphed and weighted and catalogued according to will and deferences, character and preferences, appearance and references. Marriages would be performed by computer, with text notifications, such as:

Congratulations! You have been found worthy to wed _________, and the ceremony was duly performed during Cycle 12 at 1100 hours this date. 

No more rival fights, mean girls, locker room lies, embarrassing date or prom nights. Kids won't even have to learn to dance in order to simulate sex; the matter is taken out of their hands, so to speak, with no more angst, tears, or loss. The relief of automating such a fraught function as mating will clear up complexes and completions overnight. 

He had emailed the suggestion and included his phone number. Mr Oberon had, despite his forward thinking, one of the last land lines in the village, so he remained in range of that instrument day and night, expecting a call at any moment from the school board, a think tank, perhaps one of those chirpy frothy morning tv shows. 

Mr Oberon consulted his copy of the paper, permanently folded to that day's Letters to the Editor page. 

Yes, yes, the phone number is quite correct as given.