It is an amazing thing that people are suddenly out on the bay strolling from shore to shore. Your first instinct is to call 911 and tell them to send rescue people in wet suits and to bring jackets with extra long arms that tie behind for the idiots out there on the ice. From experience, you know better than to call 911 with your concern and instead you call an informant at City Hall and ask how people know if the ice is safe or unsafe.
“Ahh,” exclaimed the informant at City Hall. “We have the Wise Men of Babel to advise us of such matters. If you hurry down to the government dock at Babel’s waterfront, you will see how the Wise Men of Babel determine if the ice is safe for nature walkers, fishermen, Skidoo drivers and ice-boating enthusiasts. It is a very special event this year, in as much as it is an election year.”
There is nothing for it but your intrepid reporter goes forthwith to the Babel waterfront and the Government Dock. There, your reporter finds the Wise Men of Babel—all ten of them, joined at the hip, forming a semi-circle around the Mayor of Babel. The Mayor—a pathetic creature, at best—is wearing an old fashioned bathing costume and on the parts where the swimming costume does not cover his body, he has goose bumps bigger than Barriehill Farms’ strawberries. He is also holding a very large boat anchor that is tied around his neck.
Flashing his Press Badge, your reporter rushes into the middle of the melee and asks: “Mr. Mayor, what are you doing?”
The mayor draws himself up to his full 5-foot, 3- inches (160 cm) and says, “The Wise Men of Babel are allowing me the honour of testing the ice this year. Normally, the ten of them would stand at the end of the dock and push and pull until one of their number falls in. If the ice does not break from the impact and the Wise Man—so honoured—does not drown, the ice is declared safe. It is a time-honoured tradition and has only caused two by-elections for replacement councillors in Babel’s history. “
“But, Mr. Mayor,” your reporter asks. “What is the purpose of having an anchor tied to your neck?”
“That is just to even things up. The Wise Men know how light I am on my feet and this is just a weight allowance such as they give to race horses. They think I am running to succeed myself this year so they say I have to have a handicap,” he explains.
It is at this point that (it is claimed) the female Wise Man became impatient and pushed both the Mayor and your reporter off the dock and onto the ice. The ice, of course, fractured under the triple threat of the Mayor, your reporter and the anchor. Luckily, your reporter clung to the Mayor who rose to the surface and used the opportunity for his first bath of the year. One of the Wise Men standing on the edge of the dock looked down and said (we think of the Mayor), “Oh, just our luck, that son-of-a-bitch floats!”
And that is why that particular son-of-a-bitch is still serving his term of office and your intrepid reporter is home with a cold: “Kaatchoo!”
– 30 –
Complaints, comments, criticisms and compliments can be sent to [email protected]