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Showing posts with label Uncle Gnarley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Uncle Gnarley. Show all posts

Tuesday, 26 December 2017

THE NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS


The loud and intemperate knocking on the front door didn’t just announce Uncle Gnarley’s arrival. It was a sure sign that Nav would have no peace this Christmas.

Suddenly, broken Christmas lights and spouse’s irksome claims regarding Nav’s diminishing utility were forgotten amidst an overcharged sense of anticipation, one that the old man instantly inspired. Nav had not felt so happy since Gnarley visited a couple of years ago on his way to the Charbonneau Commission Hearings in Quebec.

“My god, man, I thought you were going to leave me out here the whole bloody winter.” Gnarley‘s first words exploded with the gale force of a Wreckhouse wind.

He and his single worn suitcase soon filled the foyer, along with myriad ornaments. Spouse was a tiresome devotee — of St. Nick.

Monday, 23 December 2013

'MAD HATTER' COMPETITION OVERSUBSCRIBED

The rrrrrr…ing of the telephone became insistent.  A peaceful short snooze, after dinner, suddenly seemed too high an expectation. 

Leaving my warm couch I wondered why a bloody email couldn’t have done the trick.  Hello! I answered with as much equanimity as I could muster.  “Hello, Nav! It’s Uncle Gnarley. I didn’t disturb your little cat-nap, did I? Now that you’ve surpassed 100,000 hits on “my” web site, must even I give you fair warning before you pick up the phone”, he teased. 

Gnarley chuckled but gave me no opportunity for retort.  “I am coming over to spend Christmas with you, Nav.  Those single malts beckon.  I presume you have adequately re-stocked, he bantered mischievously.  Anyway, make sure you let me in” and abruptly disconnected.      

No sooner had the receiver landed in its cradle than the doorbell initiated its own intrusive summons.  I opened it quickly and the big framed, slightly balding, old professor pushed his way inside.  “Merry Christmas, Nav”, said Uncle Gnarley, shaking my hand vigorously.  “Aren’t these cell phones wonderful? Everything is so fast these days!” 

Wednesday, 26 September 2012

THE BALVENIE AFFAIR (Part 2)

Note: Uncle Gnarley wishes to acknowledge and thank "JM" for having written today's Post.  "JM" will also write part 3 of this Series.

JM took the bottle of Balvenie and placed it on the board room table.  He placed good catholic disbursements to each of us, as he seemed to collect the thoughts in his head. 

“Uncle Gnarley this issue is a complex one indeed.  It is difficult to argue the Premier’s position that it is prudent to invest our current oil wealth for future generations of Newfoundlanders.  It is a noble effort and I believe that the Premier is sincere when she speaks these words.  Yet, with rumor of recent cost increases, I am more troubled by this great project that they call Mush-rat Falls”.
With that JM took the first sip of the golden nectar.  Despite his preference for Rum his response confirmed that he was well accustomed to the peaty taste of the Scottish juice.  “Muskrat Falls represents one of the greatest public works projects in our province’s history, the type of project that engineers and tradespeople dream of working on.  Yet our economy is booming, labour is in short supply, and project costs are increasing due to the other resource based projects.  If you remove all the arguments about demand forecasts, and overall feasibility I just don’t know why the government is doing this project now.

“Roosevelt built the Hoover dam during the great depression.  It provided a livelihood and hope for a generation of Americans.  However, we are completing Muskrat Falls in a time which is so busy that Newfoundlanders will not be able to truly benefit from its construction, despite the fact that their tax dollars will fund it.  Why are we doing this now?”
It was clear that Uncle Gnarley was animated, and eager to long join a debate with someone near his own caliber.  But as I thought he was about to embark on one of his own lengthy discourses, he seemed to rethink.  Happy to hear more from JM he asked what, at first, seemed simple enough.  The question was not just loaded, it was lobbed, as if it was a test for JM:  “But don’t we need the power now?”