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April 8, 2014

'Primitive' isn't such a bad thing

By Chuck Pinkey
The Daily Star

---- — In a letter to The Daily Star, a gentleman named Bud from Fly Creek wrote a rather scathing article about my conservative beliefs, and compared me to a caveman.

Bud wrote, “I’ve just finished reading Chuck Pinkey’s column titled ‘Obama just isn’t cut out for president.’ I’m having a time-machine moment. Primitive Pinkey! I picture a little caveman running around, club over his shoulder, and a Glock tucked in his lionskin loincloth.”

I thought I’d have a “time-machine moment” myself, and interview my ancestor, “Primitive Pinkey.” I found this happy fellow and his family gutting a Mastodon (hunting prowess is hereditary), and read them Bud’s letter. Primitive Pinkey said, “Me like letter. Cave woman like too. Glock tucked in. It Ice age. Frostbit bad. Mm, Primitive Pinkey in lionskin loincloth? Ugh! Thought make clan sick.”

I asked him about the power structure of 10,000 BC, and he replied, “Leader of all clans is Rock Obama, and local clan leader is No Mo.” “How do you choose your leaders? “ I questioned. “Do you vote? Have universal suffrage?”

“Huh?” he said. Not giving up, I repeated slowly, “How do you choose your leaders?” He answered, “They have most clubs. Most arrows. Most wives. Most lies.” Well, some things never change.

“Rock Obama give meat, hides and firewood to cave people too lazy to hunt or fish. They sit in cave all day and eat and puxel.” he said. “Puxel? What is puxel?” I asked. Primitive Pinkey exclaimed, “You stupid. Not know puxel? Make baby cave people! Soon there be dozen clans eat and puxel all day.

“Local leader No Mo. He cave-skunk. He say we can carry only seven arrows in quiver. My brother stupid. He obey. He shoot mastodon seven times. Mastodon very mad. Stomp brother to mush.”

I thought this might be a good time to inquire about Stone Age healthcare, so I asked, “Do you have a doctor or medicine man in your neighborhood?” He answered, “Huh?” I countered, “What do you do when you’re sick or injured?” He answered, “Sacrifice virgin.”

Moving on, I noticed a scruffy, somewhat dimwitted looking fellow dragging the carcass of a giant tortoise. I asked Primitive Pinkey who this might be. He said, “That new clan. They Neanderthals. They stupid too. Bad hunters. Stink. Can’t fish. Eat turtle. No work. Will become liberals.”

“Really, but he looks like a friendly enough guy. Does he have a name?” I said. Primitive Pinkey answered, “He Bud.”

Ripping off a rib from the Mastodon, Primitive Pinkey asked, “Eat?” I said, “Ew! No, thank you! My, ah, cave woman is cooking tacos, and I don’t want to spoil my appetite.” “What taco?” he asked. “Well? Ah? It’s a shell filled with meat.” I explained.

He cried, “You eat turtle too? Like Bud? Bad hunter! You Neanderthal?” I quickly answered, “No, no, no, a taco is filled with beef. You know, a cow. You know, ‘Moo’.”  

“Mm? What is cow?” he questioned. Scratching my head, I continued, “Cows are like a … baby … mastodon!” “You bad hunter like Bud. Hunt baby mastodons.” he chided. “No! We don’t hunt cows!” I stated. “They come to Pinkey to be killed?” he asked.

This isn’t going at all well. I tried to explain, “No! We raise them like a … a … cave dog!!!” “You worse than Bud. Eat cave dog! Too lazy to hunt, or fish? You sit in cave all day and puxel?” he screamed. “Wish I could, but when I could, I didn’t, and now that I can’t, I wish I could. You know what I mean?” I asked. “You stupid. Liberal too!” he yelled.

“How old Pinkey?” he asked. “Me?” I questioned. “You very stupid,” he said. “Okay, I’m 64 years old,” I answered. “Moons?” he said. “Oh moons! Let’s see … 768 moons!” I answered. “Very old. Ugly too.” he said.

“Eh! Here come Bud,” Primitive Pinkey exclaimed. “Probably try cracking turtle shell with head again.” Bud approached and said, “Tan con Neanderthal cu!” “What did he say?” I asked. “Tan con Neanderthal cu!” Primitive Pinkey answered.

“Okay, wise guy. What does that mean?” I asked. He answered, “Bud wants to know if any Neanderthals in future?” “Yes, there is one,” I answered, “in Fly Creek.”

Chuck Pinkey is a retired area businessman. He can be reached at The views expressed in this column do not necessarily reflect those of The Daily Star and its editorial board, but the author thinks they ought to.