The Deist… a nominee for the Darwin awards?

There’s a joke that yankees will sometimes say about Texans. It goes kinda like this.

“hey, what are last words you’ll hear from a Texan about to die?”
“i don’t know… what?”
“Hey. Hold my beer and watch this.”

ok, I’ll admit, that’s kinda funny. Probably because there is some truth to it.

What does that have to do with me and being nominated for a Darwin.

This story is dedicated to my recent visitor Mike over at I’m Intelligently Designed, who it seems his sole purpose is to discredit evolutionists. Mike… this one’s for you. Survival of the fittest and natural selection is no theory buddy. It’s the God’s honest truth! (irony in that statement intended.) : )


Well, believe it or not, I still have some damage from Hurricane Ike, which rolled through town almost a year ago. There’s a piece of 1×4 that failed to get fixed that is a piece of facia that attaches to the roof on the second floor.

Well, over the past several weekends I’ve been trying to get on the roof so I can measure it and put a new one in it’s place but with no success. And it isn’t because I had a beer while trying to do this, Ombudsben. The pitch of my roof is too steep.

Well, I’d finally had enough of my half ass attempts at trying to get on this steep pitched roof and set out with what I thought was an ingenious plan.

So I begin telling The Deistette (for new visitors, The Deistette is my wife) how it all happened that I finally conquered getting on this 45 degree pitch roof.

First I get an extension ladder that I braced against our neighbor’s house which is only about eight feet away from mine.

“But isn’t that where those roots are kind of showing and where you had old bags of leaves turning into compost for a couple of years?”

“um, yeah but I had the feet of the ladder steady. It wasn’t too wobbly.”

So I climb up the ladder with a nylon rope in hand with the handle of an old weedeater tied to one end. Once I get to the end of the ladder I began tossing the handle up towards an exhaust vent that is near where I want to be.

“Sooo that was all the loud banging I heard on the roof,” she says through squinting eyes as she tries to peer into the rational I have for doing this.

“yeah, it took me a few times to get it where I wanted it.”

So in the dozen or so attempts to get the weedeater handle to go around the exhaust vent it gets caught and won’t really come back down.

No problem! My mind is racing as I can see in my head exactly how this will all play out.

I head down the ladder and to the garage and come back with my telescoping tree trimmer. I extend that baby as far out as it would go and try to hook the weedeater handle to start pulling it down.

The Deistette rudely interrupts again by asking, “is that the same telescoping saw that has the rusty, yet rather sharp blade at the end of it?”

“um, yeah… anyway…”

So I’m able to hook the handle and start drawing it down.

“now here’s where it gets interesting.”

“oh,” she says, “HERE is where it gets interesting.”

“just listen, ok.”

So I wrap the nylon rope around my wrist and begin working my way up. But because the roof is so steep I still can’t really walk. I’m having to shimmy up on my knees and forearms. Even then, being on my forearms, belly and knees the composite shingles are still pretty slippery despite all the surface area I’m trying to use to keep from falling. The exhaust vent looks like it’s holding but it strains a little as I intermittently put weight on the rope to make my way upward.

I grin a five year old’s grin and kinda chuckle as I say, “good thing I went to the bathroom before doing this, huh.”

She looks at me with a look like she has to go to the bathroom and says, “yeah… good thing.”

Well, I finally get up as far as I can go and as I try to stand up I realize I just can’t do it. My shoes are too slippery and my fear of heights is kinda preventing me from pushing myself in my attempt.

I start to head back down the roof watching the exhaust vent to make sure the rusty nails holding it in place aren’t going to give. I felt like Indiana Jones holding on to a rope that is beginning to unravel as he hastily tries to make it to safety.

Whew! I made it. I look back up at the roof to see the only thing I’d managed to accomplish was leave a trail on the shingles where I’d been.

After telling The Deistette the story of how I finally got on the roof using this ingenious plan and my superior, highly evolved intellect I asked her what she thought… you know, kinda looking for the recognition I duly deserved.

Her response was… “Darwin Award.” And she walked away.

😐 [blink, blink, blink]

[The Deist thinks to himself, “whatever… Darwin Award. Ppft. That was ingenious.”]

One response to “The Deist… a nominee for the Darwin awards?

  1. nice problem solving. btw, linked back over to you over at my blog in post before last. went to a uu church this weekend and dug it!

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