THE WALTERS POST

Only On The Walters Post

You know, while I was working in my shop today, the radio was on and the news came on. Carney had just cut Trudeau’s tree plan in half… two billion down to one. I shook my head. The funny thing is, I don’t think any money should have been spent on it in the first place. We’ve got hospitals that need to keep running, roads crumbling, schools crying out for repairs… but apparently, trees take priority somewhere. With that in mind, I wiped my hands on my apron, picked up a carving chisel, and smoothed the edge of a flute block, wondering how any of this made sense.

Then another story came on: Orcas hunting young great whites just for their livers. Brutal, efficient, and…. if you think about it long enough, almost funny. It reminded me of fishing at the lake last summer. I tried to reel in a bass that was too big for the boat and ended up letting it go. Thing is, Nature doesn’t care about budgets or politics… just like those Orcas. I grabbed a fine diamond file and refined the flue ramp inside the flute, shaking my head at how weird the world can be.

By midday, the radio switched to talk of something called Eurovision. They were saying maybe Canada might get an invite this time around. From what I gather, it’s a big singing contest overseas — countries sending songs to see who can outdo the other with lights, noise, and enough drama to fill a week’s worth of TV. The kind of thing folks either love or can’t sit through.

Later, there was news about Hooters going back to more modest uniforms, calling it a “re-Hooterization.” They say it’s all about bad taste. That made me grin. I remembered walking past one years ago—neon signs peeling, a waitress rolling her eyes at my corniest joke. It was a small, ridiculous moment, but it stuck with me. I picked up a sanding dowel and smoothed the bore of the flute, thinking about how simple, honest craft feels better than all the big plans and announcements on the radio.

Then—CRASH & BURN. Moms petitioning Wheel of Fortune over some innuendo. Buy a vowel, get stuffed. Funny or depressing? I’m not sure. It reminded me of my own mother, trying to keep a straight face while doing crossword puzzles that were anything but wholesome. Humanity is ridiculous and relentless. I set the flute aside and looked at the block and chambers, shaking my head at how much nonsense we put up with every day.

Evening brought more absurdity. Thieves stole $80,000 worth of whipped cream from a fridge trailer in Guelph. Alberta wants to define what makes an Alberta whiskey—not antifreeze and Clamato aged in a Stetson hat, apparently. And there’s a 30-year-old Quarter Pounder asking for donations to the Home for the McAged. Even burgers get old, I guess. I wiped sawdust off the flute, adjusted the block strap, and thought about how the world never stops piling up little ridiculous things.

By the time I shut the shop lights off, the day’s news felt like a jumble of odds and ends—trees, orcas, Eurovision jokes, whipped cream heists, neon signs, and an aging Quarter Pounder. None of it makes much sense, but it’s all just the world piling up absurdities. All you can do is shake your head, maybe laugh, maybe grumble, and then get back to finishing the flute—sanding the final ramp, tightening the block, sealing the bore, and checking its voice before the next storm.

Until next time: Keep Your Minds Open & Your Stories Alive.