Delayed Borgarigmys and High School Madness
DELAYED BORGARIGMYS AND HIGH SCHOOL MADNESS
In 1973-1974 I was a senior at John H. Francis Polytechnic High School in Sun Valley, California, a community in the San Fernando Valley in the City of Los Angeles.
To say my high school years were not academically rigorous would be an understatement. I don’t recall ever taking a mid-term or a final exam in high school (or before), or that I even had heard of those terms until I attended college at Cal State University, Northridge (for which I was – not surprisingly – woefully unprepared as a freshman).
My main goals while attending high school were to:
Get stoned
Make money at my job as a grocery clerk at Dale’s Market
To Try to Learn How to Talk to Girls
Did I mention getting stoned?
I managed to accomplish the first two goals, and quite successfully. Getting stoned almost every day starting in 10th grade (thank you, Marc Chaton for initiating me to the wonders of cannabis) fit quite nicely with making a boatload of money in a union supermarket job. This was back when the retail clerk’s union was strong, and its members were very well compensated. Thus, I could afford to purchase abundant and decent pot (and later some harder drugs), and then some.
Unfortunately, being high most of the time wasn’t conducive to overcoming my shyness with girls, and it was a habit I continued through my first three years of college. I didn’t have my first real girlfriend until I was a senior in college. Thus, I failed miserably at goal number three, above.
By the start of my senior year in high school in September of 1973, my not-so rigorous academic schedule of classes was down to:
Cooking (that obviously didn’t stick, as I still can’t cook)
Photography
Physical Education
Political Science
And that was it. An easy-peasy schedule, perfect for the likes of a student who at the time didn’t give a crap about going to school.
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Even with an easy schedule, as I mentioned school was the last place I wanted to be. I was shy, introverted, didn’t know my way around girls, felt like I never fit it, and pretty much all I wanted to do was hang out with my friends and get high. I wasn’t a jock, nor a “soc’s” (the social/popular kids). If anything, I fit into the Jeff Spicoli/Fast Times at Ridgemont High-type clique.
If memory serves me correctly, I cut class around 35 days (plus or minus) as a senior in high school. Rather than being where I was supposed to be, among the many places my buddies and I went instead was getting stoned and hiking on the “Rain Forest Trail” off of Laurel Canyon in the Santa Monica Mountains, driving to Haines Canyon in the Angeles National Forest (and maybe getting out of the car to hike, or not, but definitely smoking pot), or visiting the home of my friend Jeff Phillips where his at-work parents had a beer keg conveniently stored in a backyard refrigerator.
Other times during school hours, we would head over to Marc’s house, flip on the turntable and listen and laugh to the comedy of Cheech & Chong (“Dave? Dave’s not here”) or The Firesign Theatre.
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Over the decades, the comedy of The Firesign Theatre has been variously described as counterculture, surrealist, subversive, wicked satire, dope humor of the 70’s, and weirdly cool. From a 2017 online article from KCRW: “Between 1967 and 1975, The Firesign Theatre put out nine albums that carved out a new space somewhere between comedy, sound art, literature, and rock and roll. The music critic Robert Christgau called them “a comedy group that uses the recording studio at least as brilliantly as any rock group.”
Being stoned a lot as a teenage (have I mentioned that yet?), my friend Marc and I (or occasionally my older brother Jeff and me) would sit for hours listening to such Firesign albums as “Don’t Crush That Dwarf, Hand Me The Pliers” or “How Can You Be in Two Places at Once When You're Not Anywhere at All” or “I Think We're All Bozos On This Bus”. One of the many unique aspects of TFT’s comedy was their clever ability to twist words (or deliberately mispronounce them), resulting in made-up words or completely ridiculous sentences and, delivered in a deadpan way, leading to laughter for the listener.
The Firesign Theatre would parody old movies, radio show serials and commercials, while at the same time subversively targeting and skewering almost anything mainstream at the time.
A few of the countless funny lines (taken completely out of context here, so they may not produce a laugh in you like they did and do with me):
- Butler to house guest: “You can wait here in the sitting room, or sit here in the waiting room.”
- Obnoxious Car Salesman: "Hiya, friends! Ralph Spoilsport, Ralph Spoilsport Motors - the world's largest new used and used new automobile dealership - Ralph Spoilsport motors - right here in the city of EMPHYSEMA!”
- Doctor: “You have shortness of pants, high stool, seat cramps or even ‘Delayed Borgarigmys’ (also known as Strausman’s Syndrome or Hartman’s Palsy)....the only cure for which is death.”
- Government Official: “Your food, housing, and insecurity will be guaranteed by your Department of Redundancy Department, and the Natural Guard.”
If you aren’t familiar with The Firesign Theatre, I’d recommend the following link as a launching point---a very short five minute episode/”game show” called Beat the Reaper.
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My parents had no idea I missed over 35 days of school as a senior. I am the youngest of three boys; my theory is that by the time I was in high school my parents were so pre-occupied with their own shit and their difficult marriage that they barely paid attention to what I was doing in school, or not doing.
And their lack of attention directed towards me wasn’t just during school hours. I had virtually no curfew; I could stay out until all hours of the night, any night of the week. Keep in mind that this was well before the days of cell phones, pagers, tracking devices, or any other means for my parents to know where I was.
Not only were they not paying attention, but I was also forging my parents’ signatures on the numerous absence notes that I would turn in to the school attendance office.
But how many “Chris was out with a cold (or the flu, bad stomach ache, horrible headache)” notes could I write? At some point, I had to vary the excuses and come up with something different.
In early February 1974, I missed a school day to drive to Mt. Wilson in the Angeles National Forest for a hike. That night, laughing to myself and thinking of The Firesign Theatre’s “doctor” character, I penned my absence note for an in-person delivery the next morning:
February 7, 1974
To Whom It May Concern---
Please excuse my son Chris Joseph from school yesterday. He had a severe case of Delayed Borgarigmys and needed to rest.
Please call me with any questions.
Sincerely,
Paul S. Joseph
781-3933
That next morning, I handed my carefully crafted and forged note discussing my fake illness to the attendance office clerk.
Me: Hi, here’s my note for missing school yesterday.
Office Clerk: Thank you (unfolds note and begins to read). Delayed Borga-what? What is this? How do you even pronounce this?
Me: Delayed Borg-a-rig-mas.
Office Clerk: What is that? I’ve never heard of this.
Me: (trying to think fast on my feet for a question I didn’t anticipate): Um…uh, it’s a bad ear infection that can get really, really painful.
Office Clerk: Wow. You know what? I think my son may have had that!
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