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We all know a few, and we are usually aware that most of them are totally unaware of their rare talent to bum out the general populace.
Those who are conscious of their grating aptitude for ruining other people’s day take great pride in it.
The ones who are unaware may be pitied for one reason or another, but that does not change the fact that they should be tactfully avoided.
The bummer plague in American politics is longstanding and refusing to do anything but get worse. I decline to dwell on it, however, so I will just pretend that all current politicians are wearing big, red Bozo the Clown noses. That seems to be the only way I can bestow a shred of dignity upon their egotistical, bummer-spawning noggins.
There are 184 Americans named Bummer, with Montana leading the per capita count with four per 100,000. That comes out to 37 Montana Bummers. I don’t know if there is a married couple with the names Drummer and Summer Bummer, but if so I really hope they drive a Hummer.
A short tale from the 70s still pops up now and then in certain local circles.
The Moyie Club was a Moyie Springs, Idaho, hotspot then, and one of its patrons was a very friendly fellow who had the misfortune of being toothless. Drinkers being what they are, he was nicknamed Gummer. He didn’t even mind, I guess it seemed inevitable.
One Saturday night he didn’t show up and word got around that he had suffered a fairly serious misfortune. My brother then exclaimed the semi-immortal words, “Wow, bummer for the Gummer!”
Take care of your teeth, folks.
My head scratching interest in bummers proved fruitful during my research, for I discovered an intriguing story from 1860s San Francisco. At that time, thousands of stray dogs roamed the streets, and the common policy was to poison or trap and kill them. Not always though.
A male Newfoundland adopted Montgomery Street, which fronted a popular saloon, earning the admiration of the saloon patrons and street residents for his prodigious rat killing ability and engaging personality. He was dubbed Bummer, most likely because he was a bum, and declared off limits to poisoners.
After cementing his safety, Bummer soon saved another dog from a vicious dogfight and nursed his new sidekick back to health. He brought food to him, slept next to him to share his warmth and in no time the almost dead dog recovered and was roaming the street with Bummer. He was named Lazarus for obvious reasons.
They
were inseparable, and were such a good team that
they once killed 85 rats in 20 minutes.Besides ratting, they stole other dog’s bones, mooched shamelessly and were known to sneak into local shops before they closed so they could help themselves to whatever they wanted overnight. Even these crimes were not held against them, so they continued with their seemingly carefree lives.
Many journalists, including Mark Twain, frequented the saloon at the center of their turf and Bummer and Lazarus soon became city celebrities. Four newspapers competed with each other to glorify their exploits, endowing the pair's adventures with thrills and comparisons to human situations.
They were once declared heroes for stopping a runaway horse.
Eventually Lazarus was killed, some said by a kick from a horse but most thought he was poisoned for biting a boy.
San Franciscans put together a reward of $50, the equivalent of $1,500 today, in an attempt to find his killer. It didn’t work, but Lazarus did merit a lengthy obituary in the newspaper, titled “Lament for Lazarus.”
Bummer continued on his own, and while still popular on the street, his status as a loner quickly diminished his interest to the press. Two years later he died a lingering death after being kicked by a drunk, and to avoid violence his attacker was arrested. The sot did not escape a form of country justice though, for his cellmate learned of his deed and “popped him in the smeller.”
I think journalists back then had even more fun than they do now.
Bummer and Lazarus still have a plaque on Montgomery Street, commemorating their life and devotion to each other. It concludes with these words: “TWO DOGS WITH BUT A SINGLE BARK, TWO TAILS THAT WAGGED AS ONE.”
I guess not all Bummers are bummers.