The Two Morons of Heligoland

From May 19, 2020.

In 2010, I took a writing course at SFU with Stephen Osborne, the Co-founder of Pulp Press in 1971, and the founding editor and publisher of Geist magazine from 1990, where Osborne oversaw and managed Geist with his partner Mary Schendlinger until 2015.

Osborne is a writer, book publisher, editor, photographer (usually under the one-word moniker Mandelbrot) and publishing consultant. He was born in Pangnirtung on Baffin Island in 1947 and grew up in Edmonton, Kamloops and Vancouver as the son of a doctor.

The Two Morons of Heligoland is ostensibly a fictional set up for an old punchline, written in the style of Thomas Bernhard.

THE TWO MORONS OF HELIGOLAND

Identical twin boys of little intelligence were born to Heisenberg, the physicist from the archipelago of Heligoland in the Northern Sea, and actress Jane Fonda, the most famous descendant of the predominant tall, big-boned and blonde haired ethnic group of Heligoland, the Frisians; Fonda was formerly called Hanoi Jane, due to her youthful activism, but became better known later in her life for looking good in spandex; she arrived in Heligoland after hearing about the mild climate, its beautiful cliffs, and the relative lack of pollens in the air ( this feature being beneficial for her allergies), and so, she fell in love with Heligoland and the much older physicist Heisenberg, who was the author of the Principle of Uncertainty, which postulates “the more precisely one property is known, the less precisely the other can be known”, a principle that encapsulated the many personal doubts that Heisenberg struggled with when the famous actress “fell” for him.

It was commonly understood by all Heligolanders, both Upperland and Lowerlanders (most Middlelanders being undecided in this matter) that Heisenberg’s inner doubts and demons may have physically manifested themselves in the birth of their identical twin sons, who were unfortunate to be possessed of little intelligence; in fact, the two boys were morons, a more accurate term describing their relative intelligence in comparison to the average Heligolander.

As the identical twins grew older, their  moronic adventures brought much embarrassment to the highly intelligent Heisenberg.  Too many times, their daily walks upon the edges of Heligoland’s strange triangulated cliffs, in particular, the southwestern cliff that drops over 50 metres to the ocean, and then another 56 metres to the ocean floor would be the talk of Heligoland; the moronic twins loved to get as close to the edge as they could without falling to their deaths, and would peer across the cliffs to the most famous free standing rock column of Heligoland, the "Tall Anna". Many Upperlanders believe that while the beauty of Tall Anna may have drawn the brothers to the edge of the cliffs, surely, it was pure dumb luck that saved one of the boys that fateful day, the day that one twin got too close to the edge and fell to his death; the Lowerlanders, being Frankish descendents of Charlemagne, had openly cheered for both boys to plunge to their watery grave, for the Lowerlanders disdained Heisenberg and his famous Frisian wife, and had made them the butt of a rather racy but convoluted Quantum Mechanics joke, one that compared Heisenberg’s wife with Einstein’s Slit; however, it was the Middlelanders, who having survived the repeated bombing of the Big Bang in WWII, reasoned the survival of the one moron brother was most likely due to the simple fact that one of the moron brothers was a little “more on” the cliff than the unfortunate moron brother who fell off.

**************************************************************************************Another Osborne connection was the article co-authored with Peggy Thompson for Geist Magazine in July of 2013.

Dennis and Peggy Review Patti and Neil

Old friends, both senior citizens, recall the 2012 dream tour of two musical giants.

https://thetyee.ca/Life/2013/07/12/Patti-Smith-Neil-Young/

“Peggy: That afternoon, outside the Ritz Carlton, we talked with one of the mad-scientist roadies, a well-travelled man in his sixties with long white hair and beard. He told us that a few nights ago when they were playing one of the new songs, “Walk Like a Giant,” he had a moment of revelation: “Being in your sixties is like being in the Sixties -- you just don’t give a fuck!” This was not an excuse for not caring; it was a message of freedom.” Geist Magazine July 12 2013

I have used that line about “being in your 60’s is being in the Sixties—you just don’t give a fuck” many times in the past 10 years. At the time of that article, I was 55.

Now I am 65. And I have had a triple bypass a year and a half ago, and now I have cancer. So pardon me, but I don’t give a fuck. To quote Aaron Trory, I am running out of fucks. No fucks left to give. Fuckless on Fraser. Yesterday, as I got up out of my chair at work, I felt the familiar feeling of a lower back spasm coming on. This is a condition I have experienced since my 40’s, but not so much in recent years. Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends!

Actually it is so bad, other than waking up at 2:00, and not being able to go back to sleep. This one I can’t even blame on the dog. I did get back to dreaming until around 5, then fuck it, I am up. The dog is still sleeping so I am trying to be super quiet. I got some multigrain bread from the Artisan Bakery, made toast, having some with my favourite Langley honey from C.P. apiary.

My seven minute egg just boiled for 8 minutes as I was writing.

It is in the not quite runny, but not yet hard stage.

Sort of like being in your 60’s.