roadrunner
May 17 2007, 08:05 PM
The Butcher Dance
A guy spent five years traveling all around the world making adocumentary on Native dances. At the end of this time, he had every singlenative dance of every indigenous culture in the world on film -- or so hethought. He wound up in Australia, in Alice Springs, so he popped into apub for a well earned beer.He got talking to one of the local Aborigines and told him about hisproject. The Aborigine asked the guy what he thought of the Butcher Dance."Butcher Dance?" he said, confused. "What's that?""What? You didn't see the Butcher Dance?""No, I've never heard of it.""Mate, you're crazy," the Aborigine replied. "How can you say you filmedevery native dance if you haven't seen the Butcher Dance?""Umm. I got a Corroborree on film just the other week. Is that what youmean?""No, no. The Butcher Dance is much more important than the Corroborree.""Oh," the man said, his curiosity piqued. "Well how can I see this ButcherDance then?""Mate, the Butcher Dance is way out in the wilderness. It'll take you manydays of travel to go see it.""Look, I've been everywhere from the forests of the Amazon, to deepestdarkest Africa, to the frozen wastes of the Arctic filming these dances.Nothing will prevent me from recording this one last dance.""Ok, mate," the Aborigine replied, shrugging. "You drive north along thehighway towards Darwin. After you drive 197 miles, you'll see a dirt trackveer off to left. Follow the dirt track for 126 miles till you see big hugedead gum tree -- the biggest tree you've ever seen. Here you gotta leave car,because it's much too rough for driving. You strike out due westinto the setting sun. Walk three days till you hit a creek. You follow thiscreek to the northwest. After two days you'll find where the creek flows out ofsome rocky mountains, but it's much too difficult to cross the mountains there,though. So you head south for half day until you see a pass through mountains.The pass is very difficult and very dangerous. It'll take you two, maybethree days to get through it. On the other side, head northwest for fourdays until you reach a big huge rock -- twenty feet high and shaped like a man'shead. From the rock, walk due west for two days, and then you'll find thevillage. You'll be able to see the Butcher Dance there."So the guy grabbed his camera crew and equipment and headed out. After acouple of hours, he found the dirt track. The track was in a shocking state,and he was forced to crawl along at a snail's pace, and so he didn't reach thetree until dusk, where he was forced to set up camp for the night.He set out bright and early the following morning. His spirits were high,and he was excited about the prospect of capturing on film this mysteriousdance that he had never heard mention of before. True to the directions hehad been given, he reached the creek after three days and followed it foranother two, until he reached the rocky mountains.The merciless sun was starting to take its toll, and the spirits of bothhimself and his crew were starting to flag; but wearily they trudged on,finally finding the pass through the mountains. Nothing would prevent him fromcompleting his life's dream. The mountains proved to be every bit astreacherous as their guide had said, and at times they despaired of evergetting their bulky equipment through. But after three and a half days ofback breaking effort, they finally forced their way clear and continued theirlong trek.When they reached the huge rock, four days later, their water was running low,and their feet were covered with blisters, but they steeled themselves andheaded out on the last leg of their journey. Two days later they virtuallystaggered into the village. To their relief, the natives welcomed them andfed them and gave them fresh water, and they began to feel like new men. Oncehe recovered enough, the guy went before the village chief and told him thathe came to film their Butcher Dance."Oh mate," he said. "Very bad you come today. Butcher Dance last night. Youtoo late. You miss dance.""Well, when do you hold the next dance?""Not till next year.""Well, I've come all this way. Couldn't you just hold an extra dancefor me tonight?""No, no, no!" the chief exclaimed. "Butcher Dance very holy. Only hold once ayear. You want see Butcher Dance, you come back next year."Understandably, the guy was devastated, but he had no other option but tohead back to civilization and back home.The following year, he headed back to Australia and, determined not to missout again, set out a week earlier than before. He was quite willing tospend a week in the village before the dance is performed in order to ensurehe was present to witness it.But right from the start, things went wrong. Heavy rains that yearturned the dirt track to mud, and the car got bogged down every few miles.Finally they had to abandon their vehicles and slog through the mud onfoot almost half the distance to the tree. They reached the creek and themountains without any further problems, but halfway through the mountain pass,they were struck by a fierce storm that raged for several days, during whichthey were forced to cling forlornly to the mountainside until itsubsided.Then, before they had traveled a mile out from the mountains, one of thecrew sprained his ankle badly, slowing down the rest of their journeygreatly. Eventually, having lost all sense of how long they had been traveling,they staggered into the village right at noon."The Butcher Dance!" the man gasped. "Please don't tell me I'm too late tosee it!"The chief recognized him and said, "No, white fella. Butcher Dance performedtonight. You come just in time."Relieved beyond measure, the crew spent the rest of the afternoon settingup their equipment and preparing to capture the night's ritual on celluloid. Asdusk fell, the natives started to cover their bodies in white paint and adornthemselves in all manner of birds' feathers and animal skins. Once darknesshad settled fully over the land, the natives formed a circle around a hugeroaring fire. A deathly hush descended over performers and spectators alikeas a wizened old figure with elaborate swirling designs covering his entirebody entered the circle and began to chant."What's he doing?" the man whispered to the chief."Hush," the chief whispered back. "You first white man ever to see mostsacred of our rituals. Must remain silent. Holy man, he asks that the spiritsof the dream world watch as we demonstrate our devotion to them through ourdance, and, if they like our dancing, will they be so gracious as to watchover us and protect us for another year."The chanting of the holy man reached a stunning crescendo before he removedhimself from the circle. The rhythmic pounding of drums boomedout across the land, and the natives began to sway to the stirring rhythm.The guy became caught up in the fervor of the moment himself. This wasit. He realized beyond all doubt that his wait had not been in vain. Hewas about to witness the ultimate performance of rhythm and movement everconceived by mankind.The chief strode to his position in the circle and, in a big boomingvoice, started to sing: "You butch yer right arm in. You butch yer right armout. You butch yer right arm in, and you shake it all about...."
roadrunner
May 17 2007, 08:06 PM
There was this paint firm in Brisbane, Australia. Business had been slow recently, and in order to drum up sales, they decided to run a competition. The prize would be 1000 gallons of paint, to whoever could produce a dog that had exactly 1000 hairs. Several people entered, but nobody had a dog with exactly 1000 hairs.
Eventually news of the competition reached Bill and Tom, two sheep farmers in the outback.
"Hey Bill," said Tom, "why don't we enter this competition, our farm could do with a lick of paint, and we've got 5 dogs, maybe one of them has got exactly 1000 hairs."
"No harm in trying, I suppose.", Bill replied.
So they called the dogs in, got hold of the first one, and began to count its hairs. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail. Nope, that one didn't have 1000 hairs. So they got the second dog. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail. Nope, that one didn't have 1000 hairs. Third dog. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail. Nope. Fourth dog. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail. Nope. Fifth. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail. Nope, that one didn't have 1000 hairs either. "Oh well, it was worth a try.", said Tom. "I'm going out to check on the sheep now, will you get the supper ready?"
"Sure." replied Bill.
So Tom went out on his horse to check the sheep were all safely fenced in for the night. A couple of hours later, as he was on his way back, his horse suddenly reared up, as a shaggy, dishevelled black animal crawled out of the bushes. Tom dismounted, and went to check it out. As he got nearer, he heard a faint whimper, and he could tell the animal was in some pain. It wasn't till he was almost on top of it that he recognised what it was. "Well, I'll be.." he muttered. The animal was old Rex, the lead sheepdog on the farm, who had gone missing several months ago. He had obviously been living wild, and was half starved and injured.
" Come on Rex, let's get you back to the farm, see if we can fix you up."
He carefully picked up the dog, and was just about to strap him onto his horse, when he had an idea. What if Rex had exactly 1000 hairs? So he quickly but carefully started to count them. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs!
Tom galloped back to the farm, and burst through the door. "Bill!, Bill!" he shouted, "you'll never guess , I've found old Rex...."
"What, old Rex?, used to be our lead dog, went missing several months ago?" interrupted Bill, "I thought he'd be dead by now."
" Well he is, nearly, but..."
"Well, bring him in then, let's fix him up, and hurry up, your supper's getting cold." interrupted Bill again.
" Bill!! Will you listen!? he's got exactly 1000 hairs!"
"What?!"
" 1000 hairs! You know, the paint competition!"
"You sure?"
"Yes, count them yourself if you don't believe me!"
So Bill started to count Rex's hairs. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs!
They made plans to catch the train to Brisbane in the morning, and went to bed. When they awoke, they had a hurried breakfast, and got Rex ready. He was looking and feeling a lot better after being washed and fed. Just before they left they decided to check one more time, just to be sure. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs!
They arrived at the train station, and went up to the window to buy tickets.
"Two returns to Brisbane, please." Tom said to the attendant.
"That dog going with you? You'll have to pay extra for him, you know."
" He certainly is coming with us, and we don't mind paying extra, he's going to win us 1000 gallons of paint."
" Oh yeah, how's that then?"
"This is the dog with exactly 1000 hairs" said Tom proudly.
"1000 hairs? Nah, don't believe it." sneered the attendant.
"Well count them yourself then!."
"All right, I will!"
Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs!
They left the dumbfounded attendant and boarded the train. After a few stops, a businessman boarded the train and entered their compartment.
"Would you mind moving that mutt off the seat, I'd like to sit down." He said.
"That's a very valuable dog, I'll have you know." replied Bill.
" Doesn't look like it to me, what's so special about it?"
" He's got exactly 1000 hairs." said Tom proudly.
"1000 hairs? you're kidding, aren't you?"
"Count them yourself if you don't believe it."
So the businessman started counting. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs!
When they got to Brisbane, they realised they had no idea how to get to the paint firm's offices, so they asked a passer by for directions.
"What do you want to go there for?" he asked them.
"We've got a dog with exactly 1000 hairs."
"What, really? Can I count them?"
"Sure."
Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs!
"So, can you give us directions?" asked Bill when he'd finished.
"Sorry mate, no idea." said the man.
They decided the best thing to do would be to take a taxi. They flagged one down, and got in with the dog.
" I'm not having that mongrel in my cab!" snarled the driver.
" This dog is going to win us a big prize." said Tom.
"Oh yeah, why's that then?" asked the cabbie.
"This dog has exactly 1000 hairs."
"Nah."
"Yeah. Wanna count them ?"
"All right." Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs!
They eventually arrived at the paint firm's offices, and went up to the reception desk.
"Good morning, how can I help you?" asked the receptionist.
"We've come for the competition."
"What, you mean the Hairy Dog competition?"
"Yes, that's right, we've got a dog with exactly 1000 hairs."
"Have you indeed? do you mind if I count them?"
"Not at all."
Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs!
" Amazing! Looks like you're going to win the prize! Take the elevator to the 35th floor, go in the 2nd door on the right, marked Hairy Dog Competition Waiting Room, and wait for the judges to call you in."
So Bill, Tom and the dog went over to the elevator and waited. When it arrived, the doors opened and the lift attendant said,
"Which floor, Sirs?"
"35th, please."
"35th? That's the The floor where they judge the Hairy dog competition! don't tell me you've got a dog with exactly 1000 hairs?!"
"We certainly have."
"Is that it there?"
"It certainly is."
"Can I count them?"
"You certainly can."
Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs!
They got out at the 35th floor, found the waiting room, and sat down. After about 5 minutes a man came out of the judging room, carrying a rather sparsely - haired poodle.
"Er, you haven't won the competition have you?" asked Bill anxiously.
"No, Fifi's only got 500." said the man." I didn't think she'd win really, but I thought I'd enter her just in case. Why, do you think your dog's got a chance?"
"It's a dead cert, mate." replied Tom.
"How can you be so sure?"
"Why don't you count them and find out?"
"OK, I will."
Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs!
After a short while a judge poked his head through the door and called, "Next please.", and Bill, Tom and Rex went in. Inside the room was a big table with 12 rather bored looking judges sitting round it.
"Name?" asked the chief judge.
"Bill." said Bill.
"Tom." said Tom.
" No, I meant the dog." said the judge exasperatedly.
"Oh, sorry, it's Rex." said Bill.
The chief judge put Rex on the table, and all the judges had a turn at counting his hairs. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs! Gradually, as each successive judge arrived at the same total, the atmosphere in the room got more and more intense and exciting. When it got to the last judge's turn, the atmosphere was at fever pitch. The last judge began to count, very slowly and painstakingly. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997, 998, 999, 1000! Exactly 1000 hairs! A mighty cheer resounded around the room, and everyone was slapping each other on the back, until the chief judge banged the table to restore order. " Well it certainly seems that you've won the prize, BUT, in accordance with the rules, and just to make it official, we have to put Rex in the Automatic Hairy Dog Counting Machine. It's just a formality really."
"Fine." said Bill and Tom.
Two technicians then wheeled the machine in, which looked like an oversize fish tank, with a motor on top and a mechanised hand inside. On the side was a number counter. The chief judge put Rex in the machine, closed the door, and pressed the start button. The machine began to click and whirr, and the mechanised hand came down and started to count Rex's hairs. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail.......whirr.. click!.. 997,......whirr.. click!... 998,......whirr.. click!... 999,......whirr.. click!.......... ..................The machine stopped!! Stuck on 999!! Bill and Tom ran over to the machine and started to bang and shake it, to no avail.
"I'm sorry," said the chief judge, " but I can't award you the prize. The rules state that the dog's hairs have to be counted by this machine, and your dog appears to be one hair short of the required total."
"What?!!" screamed Bill and Tom, getting hysterical. "You can't be serious! There must be something wrong with your machine! we KNOW that dog has exactly 1000 hairs! We counted it ourselves! The ticket attendant at the station counted it, a businessman on the train, a man we asked for directions, the taxi driver, the receptionist downstairs, the lift attendant, the man with the poodle, and all 12 of you judges, and each time it had exactly 1000 hairs! We demand a recount!"
The chief judge thought for a minute, then said, "OK, as you've come so close, I'm prepared to make an exception. Here's what I propose. The 12 judges and you two will all count the hairs again, together. But you must agree to accept whatever total we arrive at. Do you agree?"
"Fair enough, we agree." said Bill and Tom, and signed a form to that effect. Rex was taken out of the machine, and the fourteen people all crowded round and began to count the hairs. Up the front legs, over the head, down the neck, along the back, down the back legs, along the tail....... 997,..... 998,....... 999,................... That was all!!
The dog definitely had only 999 hairs! Bill and Tom burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. The judges, who had hoped that Rex would win, so they could all finally go home to their families, started to cry as well. The atmosphere in the room got to Rex as well, and he started to whimper and howl and cry. The Automatic Hairy Dog Counting Machine began to make mechanical crying noises. Even the moth on the wall started crying.
Ever seen a moth bawl?
