Because I'm terrible at communicating with friends and family I quasi-periodically write a long email
about something I've been up to recently. By request of my lovely mother I'm putting some of these on
this website...
G'Day All,
I owe so many people emails that I originally decided to write a joint one to everyone. Then I realised that
was useless, because you're all at different levels of familiarity with my present existence. At the moment
I'm trying to get a few papers finished, so in lieu of a boring summary of my news I decided instead to treat
you all to my latest paper:
A TREATISE ON THE USE OF AVIAN GAMETES LAUNCHED ALONG PAROBOLIC
TRAJECTORIES FOR THE PURPOSES OF SOCIAL COMMENTARY.
Sunday, 14th May 2000
Last night, in fact 4:10 this morning to be exact, my slumber was disturbed by a raucous thumping from
outside my window. Since I presently live well beyond my means on the 10th floor of an apartment building in
a really nice neighbourhood, it seemed unlikely that a rave party had started on a helicopter right outside - but
that was certainly the impression I got. I staggered out of bed and looked out the window. Curses be on my
old eyes. I staggered back to find my glasses. Wrong side of the bed. Trip over box of guitar music. Get
glasses. Back to window. Ten floors below me, parked on Bay street, are four cars - one of which is playing
terrible music (the sort of junk one of my current roommates Jalani listens to) at a level which is causing my
whole room to vibrate. Ahh the poor young men below me, I thought as I went back to bed, they mustn't
have anywhere else to go... Come on people, you all know me better than that. Sizing up the situation I
realised that because of the funny angle of my window, I would have to be left handed to make the
shot.........but now I get ahead of myself....
An Historical Perspective
I first conceived of using Avian Gametes (hereafter referred to as hen's eggs or simply eggs) for the
purposes of expressing displeasure when I lived on the eighth floor of an apartment building at 40
Fountainhead Rd, which is on the outskirts of Jane and Finch [For the Aussies: one of Toronto's worst
neighbourhoods]. Below us was a large parking lot, and thoughtless people would have car alarms which
were so sensitive that another car driving by (or a pedestrian brushing the car) would set them off. These
alarms would go on for many minutes, with a well defined series of shrieks and wails that change every thirty
seconds. Their pattern is forever imprinted in my brain. How can five different car companies all produce
exactly the same annoying alarm? One day, during such an episode, I mentioned to my roomate Ron that I'd
like to egg that car. He looks at me with that expression you only see when you suggest something
mischievous/illegal and the other person (who wants to do it too) wants to be sure you're not joking before
they concur. He recognised that I recognised his expression, and we went to the fridge. Two eggs apiece, a
lot of adrenaline - our first foray was over quickly and we were ducked behind the balcony railing. I knew I'd
hit a car with the first and the ground with the second, but I'd been too nervous to watch them until impact
and therefore had no idea if I'd actually connected with the right car. Many minutes later we sneaked a look
over - in fact there were at least two eggs on the right car.
Flustered by our first taste of success we almost took to just throwing eggs at cars for the hell of it, but
fortunately checked our emotions and adopted a true Robin Hood mentality. Although we were thwarted
from egging a few cars which were beyond our range, the majority fell within our purview, and we had many
enjoyable months of dealing with our frustration in this manner. Only once did I throw an egg at a car that
wasn't specifically disturbing the peace. The local drug dealer bought a lime green convertible, and parked it
illegally in a prime spot near the front doors. (He knew the building superintendent was too spineless to tell
him to move it). The prime spot just happed to be within range, and I figured if I egged it he'd probably get
mad and go off and kill another drug dealer. So I did. The amusing thing is that I knew he wouldn't have the
skills required to work out which of the 180 apartments on that side of the building was the perpetrator. If
only I could have thought of a way to let him know I was a physicist and could help. Oh well. The next day
on my way out of the building I casually walked by the car (which he'd moved). I was stunned by the
damage - the egg had taken off a good-sized strip of paint. On another occasion Ron hit the wrong car and
set its alarm off. I was now left with one of those imponderable moral dilemmas, which if dwelt upon for too
long results in long contemplative trips around Tibet. I could not decide if a punishment before the crime
(even though innocent at the time of the crime) really redeemed the guilty party, or whether another egg was
in order. What would you have done?
After two years at 40 Fountainhead I moved right into the heart of Jane and Finch. Here I was on the 6th
floor of an apartment building at 35 Tobermory Dr. This was a bad area - gangs, lots of drug dealers, rapes
and murders in the buildings around. There was no car park below, but now I found a new hatred. People
who sat in their cars and honked their horn when picking someone up. If you're that scared of the
neighbourhood you shouldn't drive in it. I egged a few, but tried to be more circumspect than at Fountainhead,
since eggs are a poor match for bullets. Then one day I was about to enter the building when a car pulled up
and started honking. I walked up and banged on the window. There was a very fat Jamaican woman inside. I
courteously explained that at least 300 people lived legally in the building, and they probably didn't care to be
disturbed by her. The lobby phone, I explained, was 5 metres away and I'd be quite happy to get a can
opener to help remove her from the car if she'd go use it. She started to retort, and a brief altercation ended
in me telling her that if I heard her honk again I'd throw eggs at her car. She was quiet for about 10 minutes
as I went upstairs, but then she summoned the courage and honked again. I went to the fridge; only one egg
left. That always puts the pressure on - I needed the equivalent of a kill shot with only one bullet. Our
apartment was at the edge of the building, and I had to shoot the egg sideways, between the branches of a
pine tree and past a flapping cable. [The outside of the building was festooned with these cables - everyone
was tapping Cable and Satellite TV from the one poor sucker that was paying. Once, around 10pm, I took a
broom, grabbed one of the main "hub" links and yanked very hard. I just wanted to see how many people
were actually watching TV at the time as they all came out on their balconies to see why their network was
down]. Anyway, as I lined the difficult shot up the car began to move, and I had to fire prematurely. I just
caught it on the rear, but the noise was loud enough to make her stop. Oh the folly. I had some tomatoes I'd
grabbed as backup, and I hit her three more times in rapid succession.
Back to last night.....
So by now you'll have guessed the general line of my thinking as I looked out my bedroom window last night.
It's been a long 2 years since I left that world behind me, two years since I used this old arm - one always
worries about old weapons which haven't been properly looked after (I only play squash infrequently at the
moment). Furthermore my eyes have weakened, as have my powers of intense concentration - I turn 27 next
month people. Some sympathy please. By one of those miracles you know just have to be more than
coincidence I happened to have eggs in the fridge. This may not sound amazing to most of you, but realise
that I virtually never cook. In fact I only had eggs because last weekend I had to pack a lunch for a canoe
trip, and in a fleeting fanciful moment I purchased the eggs thinking that hardboiled eggs might be nice. What
was I thinking? - I don't know how to hardboil eggs! I took the eggs out. These eggs were perfect
workmanship - not battery hen eggs which have weak shells and may explode in your hand - these you could
get a good grip of. They were also brown which is ideal, you cant risk the glint of light from a white egg
warning your prey. As I went to the kitchen window looking for the easiest shot, I calculated that I was two
floors higher than I'd ever thrown from before, which corresponds to a minimum of 2 extra joules of potential
energy per egg, and requires the appropriate adjustments. Although three of the cars were far out of range
(oh for my younger days), one of the cars was directly below. Furthermore the owner was outside leaning in
the window of one of the other three cars. Even more unbelievably perfect - the owner of that car turned the
music down to talk to his friend. Now they would hear the impact. I launched. The egg sailed through the air,
clipped a small branch of the tree he was parked under and exploded right above his car. My first ever such
splattershot - egg all over the car and yet didn't actually damage it! The owner ran back to his car, saw the
egg and then foolishly ran back to tell his friends to get the heck out of there! Was he crazy? Did he think
eggs only come in packages of one? Or does he just epitomize the failure of the North American education
system...
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to:
MUM for teaching me patience and tolerance
DAD for teaching me to throw
CODY, TANYA, MINUTE and RON for putting up with me at 40 Fountainhead
ROB for putting up with me at 35 Tobermory
JALANI, PHILLIP and DEAN for putting up with me right now.
Thats all from me folks - hope to hear from you all soon.
Best Wishes
Tez
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