Ricky Blue's Other Life
Ricky Blue
Ricky Blue
is a Montreal-based humorist, singer, and writer. He and partner George Bowser are the famous Bowser and Blue comedy act. Here's his bio from their Bowser and Blue website.

Ricky Blue was born in Liverpool, England, but raised in Maine, New Jersey, and Toronto. He has an MA in English from Concordia University. He has been involved in bands and media music in Montreal for over twenty years. In 1981 he won an international 'Clio' award for excellence in advertising.

He once appeared on television naked.

His life had no real meaning, however, until he began to play with Bowser and Blue. Rick plays guitar, mandolin, and harmonica, and sings in a rather pleasant baritone when George will let him.

His columns are archived here

Posted 09.21.05


Intelligent Design is where you find it, eh?

I was struck by how perfect it was. The air. The sky. The water. That intoxicating smell of the ocean.

I was walking on the sands at low tide at Hills Beach, Biddeford, Maine. The tides here are magical. Imagine if your lake in the Laurentians completely emptied out every six hours. And then you could walk across it. Like Moses.

And then imagine that six hours later it was full again. For boating and swimming. That's exactly what happens at Hills Beach.

My American cousins were up ahead of me, looking for sand dollars. There were many of us out there doing just that. It is what tourists do at low tide in these parts. When you think of how many real dollars it took for us all to get here, it seems kind of crazy. But we were trading real dollars for sand dollars. And it was worth it. Sand dollars are happiness dollars.

When I caught up with them they were involved in a heavy political discussion: If there is an Intelligent Design, how do you explain Paris Hilton?

I was so euphoric I just blurted out: "The ocean at low tide is like a lover who reveals herself to you."

They squinted at me.

"Yes," I continued, "She reveals all her secrets. The shells. The crabs. The old lobster traps. The sand dollars. They were always there, but now we see them."

"Look," my Maine cousin pointed at one with a quarter missing, "There's a Canadian sand dollar!"

"Maybe the ocean is just receding like your bald head," my Florida cousin teased.

I had interrupted their discussion of Intelligent Design: The theory that purports to prove that an Intelligent Creator lurks behind evolution. Is it true science or just a load of bunk?

My New Jersey cousin maintained that all they teach in high school is civics anyway, so why not this? It doesn't hurt anyone and makes everyone feel secure. It's probably better than the scary apocalyptic environmentalism that passes for science now.

My Atlanta cousin said it was wrong to teach a science that is really based on faith, not observation. It is just another way of teaching religion.

I have certain sympathy for those who wish to see intelligence behind creation. When I was a student at Concordia, I used to think that all I had to do was lift the veil and see.

I waded through explanations of society by Marx and Weber; mystical analyses of reality by Alan Watts; philosophical analyses by Plato and Sartre; and psychological treatises by Freud and Jung. Although they enriched my life I concluded that that they were all contradictory parts of a whole that I could never truly know.

The Curtain of Reality remained as obscure as the surface of the ocean at high tide, showing only my shadowy reflection. Behind, it was dark and foreboding.

"Too bad Humanity doesn't have a low tide: some reoccurring time when everything is revealed like this," I suggested.

"Maybe we do," my California cousin offered. "Maybe the problem is simply learning to see it. And to enjoy it. Like this."

Yes. We were in paradise, reuniting after many years as we walked barefoot looking for sand dollars; those little round white shells the size of a silver dollar. And when we found one, we felt happy. This is enough of an Intelligent Design for me.