• Alex Ganon

Alex Ganon Reviews: Legacy Cavepeople

The Curse of the Caveperson...cavepeople...whatever...


We're funny little creatures, aren't we? We do weird things like crushing organic things between our teeth until it's a bolus and swallow, only for it to be seen again later before flushing. I know you all take a peek! As well you should. If watching 'House' has taught me anything, it's that you should always be on the lookout for blood in your stool.

We do other weird things that I think are funny; puking can be quite comedic. Our ability to change the shape of our body can be frustratingly funny at times. Hair in places there shouldn't be, reactions to seeing something the fraction of our size scurry past, unprecedented emotional outbursts…well, just emotions in general, can be hilarious when viewed logically.


We are stupid, funny things that do stupid and funny things. All these traits were handed down to us by our ancestors…they are a curse given to us by a caveman or cavelady...cavepersons.

In all honesty, all things alive are funny when you think about it. Take this thing called a Rustler…wtf? How does this thing even exist? (Somehow, from his face, I can tell he knows I'm making fun of him.)


But let's dive a little deeper into the Curse of the Caveperson...


Part 1: Why do I want to puke when I see you puke?


Watching someone wretch. Smelling someone's spew. Beholding the bile. If you're close enough to the action as it's being committed, it's completely normal to get a tingling in your own throat. Some of us have no choice but to join right in with what I guess you could call a disgusting duet. My experience tells me you have to be close, though. Just the sight of it is not enough. You need that smell too. God in heaven help you and your gut if you are graced with the opportunity to touch it as well.


This reaction has its reasons. This curse handed to us serves a super simple purpose.


Once upon a time in a cave, we all sat together around a meager fire, deep in existential thought, no doubt. Jason, who was just about finished his explanation on the proper etiquette when entertaining guests in the cave, suddenly clutches his stomach and screams out, "Oooowweee my tum tum ahhhhhrrrr it hurts!"


He curls up into the fetal position, and he whimpers. Tears run down his eyes as his body heaves. As you would guess, he begins to vomit. All of you crowd around, not sure of how to help the poor guy. The smell of bile and dinner reaches all of you. Between the guttural noises and the smell of his puking, half of you turn away and involuntarily start your own gagging, which leads to the emptying of your own stomachs. It was just too gross for those people. The other half of you have a stronger constitution. That half of the tribe is not bothered by the smell or the sight of it. Too bad for them.


It turns out you were all sharing the same festering pile of meat. It was contaminated. The half lucky enough to start puking recovered to pass their weak stomachs on to their children. Those tougher ones met a cruel end and died vomiting and shitting themselves to death. Jason, too, unfortunately, even though he was puking. I think he was sneaking extra rotting meat when no one was looking.

From then on, the sight or smell of vomit was a clear sign of sickness. All the cave people share the same food, so if one gets poisoned, there's a great chance the rest of you did too. The sooner you get the poisoned food or water out of you, the better your chances.


I mean, I'm not an expert, though, so please don't believe me—but come on! Doesn't this make sense? See, I'll prove that witnessing the act of puking is an indicator of danger.


It's my 25th birthday, and I'm wearing a white sweater. This choice will be a mistake. After some pre-drinking, we naturally go to the bar. For some reason, I'm being fed Jager in various forms. To this day, more than a decade later, even writing its name is enough to stutter my throat. By the end of the night, my innocent white sweater is tainted brown. As the bars closed up, the next stop was obviously a Denny’s, a business whose model seems to be built around drunks.


I don't remember what I ordered, but I clearly recall what the so-called friend next to me had ordered. As the waitress handed out our meals, she passed this friend's food before me—a steaming bowl of grits. I have no bloody clue what grits are, but it looks kind of like potatoes and porridge. Disgusting stuff, possibly baby vomit.


The sight of it gave me that feeling, and I knew my time had come. Mumbling, "Be right back," I head to the men's room

Immediately I start emptying my stomach. I may have had a little nap in there too. A friend comes in to tell me it's time to go, so I guess I was there quite a while. As he's helping me up, I notice how clean this bathroom floor is I had just been sleeping on. The Denny’s staff is to be commended. A clean Denny’s bathroom at 3 or 4 in the morning is undoubtedly a remarkable accomplishment.

Next thing I know, I'm on the grass outside on my knees. I guess our ride is still on the way. Our group is all around me; I now have an audience. I begin retching again, this time surely embellishing the act to make it a performance. There's a nice mix of laughter and words of disgust. I look up to see two pretty girls right in front of me. My age, attractive. They do not look impressed. I did what any Alex would do at the age of 25.


I smiled at them.


Said "Hi."


I clasped my hands to my nose.


And blew out all the residual puke and snot straight into my clasped hands as if I were holding a tissue and laughed uncontrollably till they walked away. A person can assume they walked away because the smell and sight of my fluids triggered the cavelady instinct that this guy is contaminated. Get away now…see it saved them from…well, something.


Immediately after they walked away, a big lady named T…something I forget her name, actually, picked me up by the belt and tossed me into her SUV. I'm pretty sure she grew up on a farm. She drove us where we needed to go, and I thank her for it.


The self-induced poisoning wasn't done with me yet, though. As I went down for the night in a friend's basement, I must have gotten up to puke a few more times. Unknowingly the basement bathroom was being renovated. It was at the halfway complete stage where the new toilet is in but just not hooked up to anything yet…Doesn't matter.


...One more for good measure....

There ya go. Moving on.


Part 2: Why I hate spiders.


I don't know if this needs an explanation. I'm positive this is obvious.


Meet Pete…yes, I'm aware it's a female spider, but who are you to assign gender. This is Pete because that's his name.

Note from the (young and cool) editor: Sorry about the image quality. Alex is old and I'm pretty sure this was taken on a prehistoric phone.


I found him in the garage. Right by the freezer where the meat was stored. For weeks I had been going in there with lights off and trampling on his webs, not even thinking about how close I was to getting a shitty surprise. On a random day, I turned the light on and saw him dangling there, red mark presented, and I screamed. I hadn't seen a black widow in real life before.


No one will believe me, I thought. So I tucked my pants into my socks. Put on some rubber gloves and grabbed a jar and a broom. We had an intense battle, but I was victorious. Pete was defeated. He would remain my prisoner for several weeks until his execution (it was an accident, please no one be mad. I was a dumb kid. I didn't know what to feed him, and he wouldn't eat the ants I gave him.)

There is something wrong with the little creepy crawly things in life. Something that triggers us. I've seen my son scream in fright at the surprise of seeing a multi-legged critter scuttle by before he even knew how to speak. We have an instinct to be cautious when dealing with bugs.


** I'll admit babies do weird things too, like that same son probably that same age, was also seen giggling at a large wolf spider crawling up his arm…it could have been the same day for all I remember**


Point is, there’s a curse in most of us in regards to these creatures. How many of our cavebabies got weird sores and infections from bug bites before their caveparents got wise? How many of our tribe died painful, itchy deaths all because a tiny crawly got into our skin? It feels like just yesterday when Jason and his friends died from rotting meat that seemed heavily laced with flies and maggots.


Cavepeople knew that the best course of action, when greeted by an insect, was fight or flight…well, swat or jump anyway. Those that had the urge to begin their cavethesis in caveentomology got bit and hopefully died off before their curious genes could be passed on. Today we have entomologists, but surely this is a freak mutation because who the hell would enjoy that job.


I live in Canada, it's not Australia, but we have our Hobo spiders, Brown Recluses, Black Widows, etc. Want to live a full and happy life? Follow this rule.


If you ever see a spider, kill it! Fast! Don't think about it. Whatever you have will work as a weapon. A shoe, a broom, even a coat hanger will work. My God, if you have nothing, use your fist even! If you don't…if you lose sight of it....it very well may be that the next time you see that spider, it will be in the middle of the night on your face.


Now, Google images of Hobo spider bites and tell me we aren't better off with this caveperson curse.


Part 3: Why girl's menstruation cycles line up, but zero girls believe me.


….Apologies.


Lookit, before anyone gets…emotional, let it be known that I tried my damnedest to get female input on this. Wife and her friends seem to want to keep this a secret.


Every attempt I make at discussing this mystical event, I am met with either a change of subject or name-calling.


Honestly, it really seems to me there must be a conspiracy.


Here are the facts. I mean, all I know...


If women are around each other long enough, their menstruation cycles will line up.


Note from the (female) editor: I could have just corrected this, but I choose to point it out instead. Alex, it's menstrual cycle. Not menstruation cycle. Now, carry on...


If one woman does not live with another, her cycle will line up with whoever she hangs out with the most. In my wife's case, her friends at work. This is all I know. It is terribly frustrating that no woman in my life wishes to discuss this. It seems suspiciously like moon magic, and I'm sincerely curious to know the why. Yet all the girls I ask just shrug their shoulders at me in annoyance that I even raised the subject.


Naturally, I must solve this mystery on my own. I have been left with no choice and with no support.


This seems like a caveperson...no...cavelady curse to me.


So, it must go like this….imagine you are a tribe of 8 adults. 4 males and 4 females. None of the female's cycles line up, so basically, continually, there is always one female having their time of the month. Cavemen are still too stupid to know when to shut up and stop being idiots. There is constant fighting. That would be manageable. I mean, the cavemen would smarten up eventually if given the time to be adequately trained by the caveladies.


Unfortunately, there are also cave bears.


Now I'm not making this up—this is actually fact. Bears and other predators have a great nose for blood. Even a female's menstruation cycle can be a factor for attack (google it, it's true).

Goddamn cave bears. Monsters really. This tribe of 8, when not fighting among themselves, spend the remainder of their lives fighting off predators. Continually over and over, there is no respite. Lisa, who just wants to finish designing her round rock, an idea she's had for a while now, where she plans to attach two of these circular rocks on a stick to move objects with ease. She plans to call it the 'lifty.' She's out of luck, though. Every time she sits at her cavedesk to begin the invention, another cave bear pokes its snout into her cave. Not much later, and not for lack of effort, this tribe dies off.


Next door, the neighbors are doing a bit better. Also, a tribe of 8 but the 4 cavelady's cycles have lined up. This has its pros and cons. The pro is the bears only come 1 week out of the month. It's easy to prepare for. The cave can be sealed up for this time with no fear of starvation, and everyone can relax. The con, however, is the cavemen will take much longer to learn their place. You'd think it would be a linear 75% longer, but turns out it's not that simple. It's more exponential and will take almost 400,000 years.


This tribe flourishes to pass on its menstruation genes. Helen has time to invent the circular rock but calls it the 'Wheel.' Her intention is not to move a heavy load but to give it to Jason, who has really been pissing her off lately. To her relief, like the cavemanchild he is, it works, and he runs off with it to play.

This only solves half of the conspiracy, unfortunately. It explains the why, but I'm still not clear on the 'How.'


Lookit, I'm sorry. Now, although I would readily admit my wife has a sixth sense (she definitely knows when I'm about to say something dumb), we humans only have 5 senses. For this part of a female's biological function to line up, the body needs input from the other person. It must be in the form of one of these 5 senses. There is no other way for your body to receive input from the outside world.


Hearing? I asked, and no, my wife does not tell her friends the moment her period starts. Sight? She said "NO!" and then I got in trouble. Touch? I didn't want to ask after getting in trouble with the last one. Taste...? fuck, even I'm not that dumb.

That leaves…smell, people.


I mean, if you don't know you do, you do, though, because saying it's not smell means you think it is one of the others I listed. So naturally, with this conclusion, I asked my wife, and the look I got was exactly the look you would get from the leader of a secret organization who has just had an outsider discover the cornerstone of their conspiracy. I will most likely be poisoned in my sleep soon in a malicious attempt at a cover-up.


Keep in mind, I'm an idiot, and my wife has not given me any wheel to play with…so really, it's her fault I had the time to think or write this.


Please check out previous Reviewing Things...that are not in any way reviews…please share if you like it, hate it, think it's dumb...if you think it's smart? Well, ya share it but then take a second look at yourself in the mirror next time you brush your teeth.



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