Saturday, May 24, 2014

Oil patch musings


Illustration by Luis Rey

This roughneck from the oil patch went to the hardware store. The attendant asked what he needed and he told him he needed a wrench. When asked what type of wrench, the roughneck replied “It don't make no difference I'm going to use it for a hammer anyway”.

Just as military and commercial pilots have long told of UFO sightings, oil patch workers have long told of emanations rising up out of the hole. Most of these apparitions have long necks and are covered in feathers. It has always been said that if you gaze into their eyes the world changes and you find yourself alone in an alien landscape of very strange trees and grasses and a sky with eyes as blue as a blue eyed girl. And these blue eyes in the sky take your soul and lead you to a sandy shore where feathered creatures of every size and shape majestically parade their exquisite reds and greens and bright yellows and every variation in between colours from one horizon to the next. As you sit there enraptured you notice your body is also covered in beautiful coloured feathers and you feel the urge to also parade your colours up and down the vast landscape into the astonishing realms. The only way to bring back these elated victims to reality is to bong them on the head with a wrench.

Now these stories have mercifully been debunked by psychologists as these poor fellows are always sure that the visions they encountered were as real as the bump left on their heads. Oil patch workers, at least in the days of old, lived a very isolated existence and were known to have a few drinks to pass the dark hours. It was claimed this combination with a mix of toxic fumes from the earthy oil gases could cause one to find themselves in a strange states of mind.

Just saying though, is there a chance that dinosaurs had an afterlife, and the naughty ones got stuck in purgatory in an oily grave yard to ponder their shortcomings? Free at last, these emanations are warning us like the ghosts of Scrooge, to watch our footprints or we'll end up in a world of fire and brimstone with our global warming and all. It would sure be neat to bring them back and find out, or just let some oil patch roughneck languish in a feathery haze a bit longer before giving him the bong.
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