I was out on the Mendocino headlands, and I took some pictures of this gopher who was pulling dandelion leaves down into his hole.
It’s hard to imagine the degree of havoc these tiny little creatures wreak, but it’s fair to say that the cliffs along the entire coast of California would have had a far different topography if gophers hadn’t been around. Carl Spackler gets it.
Oh, yes. They're cute...
... But Spackler understands that no matter how cute these varmints are, varmints are varmints. And the only good varmint is a dead varmint, I think. Ironic, considering Spackler’s destiny with Nirvana...
"So we finish the eighteenth and he's gonna stiff me. And I say, 'Hey, Lama, hey, how about a little something, you know, for the effort, you know.' And he says, 'Oh, uh, there won't be any money, but when you die, on your deathbed, you will receive total consciousness.' So I got that goin' for me. Which is nice."
And down he goes.
“In the immortal words of Jean Paul Sartre, 'Au revoir, gopher.'”
And up he comes again.
“I have to laugh, because I've out-finessed even myself. My enemy, my foe, is an animal. In order to conquer the animal, I have to learn to think like an animal. And, whenever possible, to look like one.”
Spackler has the look-like-an-animal part of this equation dialed. But I'm not so sure he has a good grasp on thinking like a gopher. I mean, gophers have a deeply-complex psychology, but I don't think they fantasize about winning the Master's...
Plus, no matter how you dice it, gophers, like Spackler, are incredibly adorable.
So I'm thinking that maybe Spackler should just let that gopher play through.
Happy father's day to all of you dads out there. My wish for you is that none of your children turn out like Spaulding Smails.
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