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October 31, 2005
It Halloween….and I’m scared…..of the drivers….
They’re all around me. It’s like I’m a magnet for them.
Bad drivers. And they’re getting worse.
Vancouver Island is like, the ‘Elephant’s Graveyard’ for the nations drivers. This is where they come to die. I’m sure of it.
Ok, I admit, I am not a slow driver. I am, technically speaking, a very good driver. I drive in the left lane because I belong there.
Not, because I want to go the exact speed limit and stay right next to a driver in the right lane going the exact same speed and who’s….oh wait….not the speed limit…oh no…he’s going slower so I better go slower too, I don’t know why but there is probably reason and thinking about what that reason could be scares me and I don’t want to be scared and there are cars very close to me and I don’t understand it and I better slow down even though I’m on the highway and I don’t know why everybody is in such a hurry anyways….70 seems like a good safe speed to go…..
And that happens on dry pavement.
They’re like cholesterol in the nation’s arteries. I hate them. In Europe, they’d be dragged off the roads and sent home on foot. They gave up pistol whipping the buggers sometime in the early fifties which is too bad, because it never had a chance to catch on here.
I guess it’s not just that they’re slow. It’s that they’re stupid as well. They have no concept of driver’s etiquette. I don’t mind if they drive the speed limit or a little slower. But they should learn to drive in the right lane. Or at least move over as you’re coming up behind them. Not ten minutes later. There seems to be a general lack of awareness of what’s going on around them. And that scares me. I don’t know how they can live, because complacency like that must enter into other facets of their lives. I picture them walking into walls or taking their toasters into their bathtubs with them. Evidently not enough do however, and so we must live with them, somehow.
Anybody who has ever tried to drive to the west coast knows what it’s like to get behind some Winnebago or some dingbat with a fifth wheel who won’t use the damn turn outs. I’ve heard them in bars complaining about how upset they are with other drivers who want to get by.
“We have just as much right to the road as they do,” is the usual fallback position.
Well, I guess that’s so, but as I’ve said to them, “Yes, you have a right to use the road, but you have an obligation, to use it the right way. Giving consideration to those around you who you inconvenience by virtue of your choice of vehicle or the speed at which you choose to drive.”
They never like to hear that. But I stand by my position.
But what really scares me however, is when the weather gets really bad. That’s when I try to stay off the roads. I swear, the drivers here seem to become one of two things:
1) dangerously incompetent
2) just plain dangerously stupid
I’m not worried about me. I learned to drive in Winnipeg. In the winter. I perfected the art in the mountains during winter storms. I can handle it. What I can’t handle are morons in badly weighted pick up trucks who think they’re invincible because they have four wheel drive, and so they go way too fast.
Thankfully Darwin’s law takes care of some of the problems before they’ve had a chance to breed.
Then there’s the ones in their little cars with bad tires who figure front wheel drive will keep them safe regardless of how fast they go. Sure…..at first the speed does get them through the snow easier. Until they meet Mr. Logging Truck coming around the corner and they lock up their brakes.
Thank you again Mr. Darwin.
Nooooo….its not my skills I question when it gets bad out there. It’s everybody else’s. So I always try to have a couple of day’s provisions on hand. Full tank of propane handy so I never run out in the BBQ. After the first 36 hours or so, the ditches become littered with the remains of the bad drivers and or their cars and then it’s ok to venture back out.
And of course there’s the other extreme end of the spectrum…. Victoria on a summer’s day. During the week. When you have to get into town and back out on business. Those are the moments when I think to myself, “I’ll bet this is how postal employees feel just before they begin shooting…”
If I had to pick a worst of the worst though, I think I’d have to go with Richmond. Yep. Downtown Hongcouver. They don’t even watch where they’re going. It’s not safe to drive there. It’s not even safe to walk there. Provincial statistics prove this out. If you’re ever there, god only knows why that would be so, stand back a safe distance from the street and watch the drivers. They’re talking with their hands and not looking at the road. They seem to move as if members of a hive, sensing movement around them and just going with it instead of making independent decisions based on situational awareness.
But there are times when it can be fun. If you want a good thrill, drive north on the Pat Bay highway past Sydney in the last fifteen minutes before a ferry sails. It’s like the gates of hell have sprung open and demons therein are making a break for the souls of the innocents. Nascar has nothing on that scene. Nothing. You almost want to find someone close and ask, “Was it good for you too?”
Oh well. I guess I’ve gotten it off my chest. Years of pent up frustration bursting out like a….naaaa….let’s not go there. It’s ugly and I’m done. Besides, I don’t really expect anybody else to understand, since the bad drivers seem to gravitate around me. There can’t possibly be more of them, can there?
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 11:37 PM | Comments (0)
October 29, 2005
Moments when things change forever…………
They happen to all of us. Those moments. Those moments when things change forever.
Sometimes they are because of something completely new, like watching your first child come into the world. And holding this new person for the first time and feeling something you’ve never felt before. Unequivocal, absolute love and devotion to another person that goes beyond what you’ve known before. Knowing from that instant onwards and for the rest of your life, that there is someone who you would sacrifice yourself for if it could save them.
Those kind of moments.
Now that was probably the big one. But there are others. The moment you realize your parents are human and mortal. Every dad is Superman, for a while. Every mom is the world’s best doctor and cook, for a while. The moment you find someone and suddenly know that here she is. I’m no longer a ‘me’, but part of a ‘we’.
And the moment you’re no longer part of a ‘we’.
But sometimes the moments seem more mundane, but strangely still profound. The times where you are doing something you’ve done a thousand times before and then suddenly, you stop for a moment and say to yourself, “Hey…..this isn’t…..right.” And yet it is right. It’s more right than you could ever have imagined. And you know that it’s possible that you may never experience this same thing again. And so you keep going till it’s over. Neither prolonged nor hurried. Just…..so very right.
So it was for me three weeks ago, the last time I went golfing.
All summer when you head out golfing, you book a specific tee time. And heaven help you if you miss it. Every eight minutes a group of four tee off. So sometimes you end up playing with strangers, which when you’re as strange as me to begin with, can put a whole frightening spin on things. And then everybody is expected to keep up or they move you along. I guess when you get used to it, it doesn’t seem so bad. Sort of like back pain or blisters on your feet. But it makes it tough for people to actually learn the game. It makes it annoying when there is pressure to hit a ball rather than just play.
But there I was on Sunday, October 9th, 12:15pm, getting ready to tee off. Just my partner and I, on a slightly overcast, threat of rain kind of fall day. The leaves were beginning to fall and there were a few more ducks than usual on the lakes in the course. A few swans and geese had joined them as they swam around searching for food and mocking the quality of our play. Which I thought was most unfair by the way, as our days of burning worms seem to have passed. **Though numerous banana slugs and a couple of squirrels would try to convince you otherwise.**
After three or four holes we came to realize that with the exception of a fast moving pair three holes back, we were the last to tee off. The game was going well. Fantastic in fact. The rain had held off. The wind was non existent and the whole course was smelling with the sweetness of the fall maple leaves.
The group that had teed off behind us caught up as we finished the ninth hole. We stopped for a drink, ok two, and headed back out, not having to wait to tee off and not having to worry about someone coming up behind.
We were taking the time to learn and play. Sometimes hitting two or three balls. But always taking the time to talk. The time to curse and to laugh. The time to be….most human, instead of just golfers.
I guess it was somewhere around the twelfth hole that we paused and looked around. And there was nobody else. Nobody. We were playing a great golf course, and it was all ours. There was literally nobody else in that world right then.
The moment…..
It was surreal. Never, in all my years of playing the game, had I ever enjoyed myself more. Playing at whatever dreadfully slow pace we were, and nobody to tell us to hurry up. Stopping to search for golf balls, when you know there was no way you could do so in the middle of the summer. And nobody to tell us to hurry up. Totally in synch with what we were doing, instead of doing it in synch with what was expected. I have played golf better than I did that day. And I have played worse. But I have never, ever, enjoyed a round of golf as much as I did that day.
We mused that if you had the wealth of Bill Gates, you could buy yourself a course or twenty, and keep it all to yourself. And I suppose he could. But even so, it wouldn’t be the same. Finding yourself in a magical moment is far different from orchestrating a moment for selfish pleasure. Sort of the difference between finding a ten dollar bill on the ground instead of working for it.
No, we won that one. Not even Bill with all his billions could have had what we had that day.
So we played on, far too late. Feeling guilty for keeping the owners there well beyond their due time. But only a little.
Eventually the day came to an end and we each went our own ways, the smiles never leaving our faces. And I have been trying to explain the day to others for three weeks now, with only limited success. I’ve been trying to figure out how to write this for three weeks now, with limited success.
And then it hit me…….
It wasn’t just the golf.
See, I could have been out there all alone. The course all to myself. But it wouldn’t have been the same.
Somewhere between the first tee and the eighteenth green, the game changed. Keeping score became secondary to reaching for a submerged ball, just six inches too far away. Not spilling the last beer became more important than where the shot went. The ‘Rules of Golf’ became ‘Suggestions’. And though those specific circumstances may never happen again, the memory of that day will never leave and will always make the next round of golf better. It wasn’t a competition, it was an experience.
So now, when I teach my own son and daughter this game, I have a new ideal for them. If I can somehow pass along even a small bit of the spirit of that day, they will be better golfers and better people for it.
Twice in the past, I hung up my clubs, seemingly forever. But because I wasn’t playing alone, for the first time in my life, I miss this game I have known so well.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 03:40 PM | Comments (0)
October 28, 2005
Air Canada Humor.....soooooo true.....
A guy sitting at an airport bar in Atlanta noticed a beautiful woman sitting next to him. He thought to himself, "Wow, she's so gorgeous, she must be a flight attendant. But which airline does she work for?"
Hoping to gain her attention, he leaned towards her and uttered the Delta Slogan, "Love to fly and it shows?"
She gave him a blank, confused stare and he immediately thought to himself, "Nope, not Delta."
A moment later, another slogan popped into his head. He leaned toward her again, "Something special in the air?"
She gave him an angry look.
He mentally kicked himself, and scratched American Airlines off the list.
Next he tried the United slogan, "I would really love to fly your friendly skies?"
This time the infuriated woman turned to him and said in a loud voice,
"What the hell do you want?"
The man smiled, and said.... "Ahhhh, Air Canada!"
*******************************************************
I didn't write it, but I had to share it 'cause lord knows I've lived it.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 02:19 PM | Comments (0)
October 26, 2005
Honey, I gotta go….back in a minute…..
And then sometimes, it just feels better than others when you’re drinking beer, or to be more specific, un-drinking it. Not that I, y’know, would ever need such adolescent affirmations of that which I am literally holding so dear.
Now maybe it’s just the sick and cruel bar owner in me coming out to play. But wouldn’t it be fun if after the pictures have been up for a few weeks to change them to the same girls pointing and laughing or recoiling in horror. Or even worse, to be holding a magnifying glass instead of a camera.
Yeah, I think I have a new mission in life….
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 10:15 AM | Comments (1)
October 25, 2005
The Buffalo Theory…..proof
Recent events in my crazy and yet incredibly wonderful life prompted the discussion of the “Buffalo Theory”. Of course I am referring to the buffalo theory as it was explained by Cliff to his good friend, Norm, during a ‘Cheers’ episode. They were sitting at the bar discussing the merits of drinking beer. It went like this……
"Well you see, Norm, it's like this... A herd of buffalo can only move as fast as the slowest buffalo and when the herd is hunted, it is the slowest and weakest ones at the back that are killed first. This natural selection is good for the herd as a whole, because the general speed and health of the whole group keeps improving by the regular killing of the weakest members. In much the same way, the human brain can only operate as fast as the slowest brain cells. Now, as we know, excessive drinking of alcohol kills brain cells. But naturally, it attacks the slowest and weakest brain cells first. In this way, regular consumption of beer eliminates the weaker brain cells, making the brain a faster and more efficient machine. And that, Norm, is why you always feel smarter after a few beers."
Now sure, some of you may actually scoff at this piece of wisdom, treating it with loathing and disdain as if it were none better than a well scripted chunk of sitcom lore. But, I believe it is true. I believe that with only one simple piece of evidence, along with your consideration of that evidence, you too will agree with my conclusion.
Please click here: BUFFALO THEORY PROOF
Now can anyone out there consider that evidence and NOT agree that the subject contained therein did not wake up SMARTER than before she fell asleep? (passed out is such an ugly term isn't it?) I think she woke up waaayyy smarter. In fact, I think her brain was probably hurting from all the extra smartness. And why? It could only have been because of all the beer she consumed. If you feel smarter after only a few beers, imagine how smart she must have felt.
“Bartender…yes, I will have another beer after all…I feel like getting really smart tonight.”
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 10:55 PM | Comments (0)
October 23, 2005
My Father Has Strong Hands……
I glanced at a picture that I’d seen a thousand times before. I know I had. I’d seen it all my life and yet for some reason, I saw a picture I hadn’t realized was there all this time.
It seemed simple enough, an old black & white picture of me being held out in my father’s hands when I was still a new model. Maybe it was because I was alone and not distracted. Maybe it was because I haven’t seen my Dad in four weeks. Maybe it’s because I miss my own son and haven’t seen him for longer still. Maybe it’s all that and more that I have yet to realize, but this time, when I looked at his hands holding me, I saw something more. I saw the strength there. A strength that has always been present, but not always visible. I saw something in my father’s hands…….
My Father’s hands are strong.
Strong enough to turn the earth,
And bring beauty to the world where none existed before.
My Father’s hands are strong,
Strong enough to give love to a girl,
To take her as wife and bring life where none existed before.
My Father’s hands are strong,
Strong enough to hold a son,
And daughters in a way that they would only know comfort.
My Father’s hands are strong,
Strong enough to steer and guide,
Yet strong enough to ease away when it was time for us to grow.
My Father’s hands are strong,
Strong enough to hold a son’s son,
And daughter, as he did his own so long ago.
My Father’s hands are strong enough to move stones,
And build bonfires and chop wood and play catch,
And wipe a single tear from a baby’s cheek,
And never rough the skin.
Always giving, never taking,
My Father’s hands are strong.
And so I look upon his hands,
Searching for my own,
Knowing one day I’ll need his strength,
Now that I have grown.
My Father has never needed me,
Though someday that may turn,
And my hands will be there, strong for him,
Because of his lessons that I’ve learned.
Strange isn’t it? How we can see so much if we only take the time to look.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 12:28 AM | Comments (0)
October 22, 2005
“I got a cat…..”
I love the English language in all its wide variety of styles and usages. Especially trendy slang terms that seem to have little to do with reality. Today proffered such an opportunity with one of the more popular terms in recent years, “Pimp.”
I was covering the front desk when one of my staff came out for a credit card authorization. While waiting for the electronic terminal to give the go ahead, I was making idle chat with the young lady. “So what’s new?” I said.
“Not too much,” was her initial reply. Then she added, “I got a cat...” she went on and added, “…it’s pretty pimp.”
“That’s nice,” I replied, not quite sure what else to say. Fortunately the terminal spat out approval and off she went to look after the customer, leaving me relieved at not having to respond further to the image a “pimp” cat. But I couldn’t get the image out of my mind.
See, when I was growing up, the term ‘pimp’ wasn’t usually used in a positive way. Due largely I figure to the fact that pimps were, well, pimps. Sure they were always pictured with a lot of flash and, what’s that new term, ‘bling?’ But in speaking from my own experience with the, um, Mo’fo’s, (that’s me pimping up this post…I think) I can tell you that they did not embody a lot of positive traits. They were not role models and their lifestyle, although the equivalent of yesteryear’s rebels and gunslingers, was not one to be envied or copied.
And yet here we are in today’s world, and ‘pimping’ your ride or getting a real ‘pimp’ outfit is a good thing. If a band puts out a ‘pimp’ album, you go out and buy it. And apparently, if a nice young lady gets a cat, it can be pretty ‘pimp.’
I love it……
But still, the image wasn’t quite working for me. I couldn’t shake wondering if her cat wanders around her home going, “Meow….Bitch!” And then I found this, and it all made sense.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 11:47 AM | Comments (0)
October 19, 2005
Idle musings…..Atheist Sex….
I think the worst part about being an atheist would be trying to figure out what to say while having sex. Like, would they remain true to their lack of faith? Or would they get all religious sounding like I do with lots of “Oh God” this and “Oh God” that?
It seems to me that if they were serious atheists, they would be more like, “Hey! What are you trying to do, convert me? Stop moving like that it feels too good. I said stop moving God dammit! Oh no! Look what you made me say. No wait, stop. Oh Jesus Christ yes!! I mean NO!! Oh….too late…..never mind.”
I don’t ever want to be an atheist. Not in bed anyway.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 12:50 AM | Comments (0)
October 18, 2005
Notes for my son, #12 - addendum
It never hurts to ask and sometimes hurts if you don’t. You want to tell her what feels right for you don’t you? So ask her. There is no room for pride in the bedroom. Ask. She’ll thank you for it in ways you can’t even imagine.
“If it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.” Nowhere is this rule more important than when you’re with someone special.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 10:08 PM | Comments (0)
Notes for my son, #12
Check her toes. They never lie. If you want to know if you’re doing something right, check her toes. If they’re not curling up tight, do something different till they do. You can sleep later.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 12:46 PM | Comments (0)
October 17, 2005
Things that make me scream…..
This valley. Look, I’m not saying I’m smarter than everyone else in this valley. That statement alone would be so stupid as to immediately disqualify the person making it. But it is mentally numbing living in a place where a triple digit IQ seems to be a rare and precious thing. A person can only talk about salmon fishing, chainsaws and pickup trucks for so long before you feel like you’re going to snap and take a chainsaw to some moron’s pickup truck and dead salmon.
This valley can be a dead zone for literacy and eloquence as well. A place where more often than not, ‘good grammer’ is not so much a learned skill, but rather what the local rednecks say when their father’s mother brings them a beer while they watch a hockey game. Good people all of them I’m sure……but sometimes it’s just maddening.
Today was a good example. I was driving into work and listening to the local radio station. They were running their “Nearly Impossible Question,” contest. You know the type. Call in for a chance to win a cheap prize, in this case a $25 dollar gift certificate from a lingerie store. That alone kills me….. If it’s good lingerie, what can you buy for $25 dollars? Half a pair of panties? I don’t know which question begs asking first: Why? Or Which half? Either way, it wasn’t of much interest to me so I was content to listen.
They told the world of listeners what the question was before going to another song and then taking calls. The question, the answer of which was so obvious as to make me laugh, was put out: “Sixty Nine is the most of these that any woman has ever had.”
So sure enough the song ends and the callers begin. The first was a lady from Lake Cowichan.
“Moles,” she said.
Moles? Sixty nine moles? Most denizens of any given senior’s center have that many on a single arm. How can she not know this? That was just a dumb thing to say.
The second caller wasn’t much better. He was from Cowichan Bay. His answer, “Dolls.”
Fuck. Ok, not everyone’s sister had sixty nine dolls. But you have to know that sixty nine is not that many dolls for even a recreational Barbie aficionado. Dolls….give me a break.
Number three, well, at least he sounded smarter. Until his answer at least. “Parking tickets,” was the best he could come up with. Now look, I’m not advocating the collection of citations, but sixty nine is just not a big enough number to qualify as a world record. Every year or so a newspaper will publish a list of the ‘worst’ ticket collectors and last time I saw one, the numbers were in the hundreds. Don’t other people notice these things?
The obvious answer was of course children. A Russian woman from the Ural mountains area in the 1860’s, was documented as having 16 sets of twins, 7 sets of triplets and 4 sets of quadruplets. An obviously friendly and busy little baby factory, she set a standard for women of the world to follow. Talk about Grrrl power eh?
And even if the answer wasn’t obvious, couldn’t they come up with something better than moles? Maybe whales, or diamond mines or private islands. Something that said, the lights are on and the wheels are spinning and at least I have the ability to imagine. The fourth caller got it right and the agony ceased. For today at least.
There. I feel better now. Probably sound like an arrogant ass, but I’ll have to live with it. I’m prepared to as well, because I lived with that (the stuff up there) for long enough now.
If there’s a bright side to all of this, at least I know the right way to transport a chainsaw in a pickup truck when going salmon fishing……
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 12:04 PM | Comments (2)
October 15, 2005
Notes for my son, #79
Border guards and dentists are very different. A search for cavities is not the same as a cavity search. A free cavity search will not help your teeth in any way. So if somebody offers you a "free cavity search," JUST SAY NO!! And if you do find yourself in a painful and uncomfortable situation, it helps to pretend that the dentist is your friend and imagine yourself on a nice beach somewhere.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 08:53 AM | Comments (0)
October 13, 2005
Immediate Openings….Full & Part Time Positions…..
I’m pissed off. Really. Over this past month, one of the central themes at work has been how hard it is to find people to fill the job openings in my business.
You can barely have a conversation in a bar or listen to the news without reports of how high unemployment is or have to listen to legions of whining, lazy ass motherfuckers complaining that there’s no work out there. Losers with a cause, carrying signs and chanting all the way to the line up for their welfare cheques.
Hey, listen, there will always be some people out there who need a boost, and I don’t begrudge them. But if you’re reading this, then you probably have a computer and probably have a job and probably work waayyy too hard for your money, the same money you have to share with these career losers who complain about how the system puts them down while they do nothing to support it or themselves. Well to hell with them. They can all go camp on the west coast till they are taken away by terminal syphilis or a rogue wave in a winter storm for all I care.
I was almost ready to begrudgingly accept this state of things until a couple of days ago when I read a report through Reuters from Dubai. In the report, it says that Al Qaeda is advertising job openings on the internet.
WTF?!?!?! Al Qaeda?? “It can’t be true,” I thought. But sure enough, it is. And as anybody with even a small amount of cognitive capacity who has the strength to turn on a television knows, Al Qaeda seems to have no shortage of eager employees.
Well, just call me a crazy if you want, but somehow advertising a position in the obvious and truthful manner just doesn’t seem like a real motivator to me.
WANTED
People to blow themselves up so we don’t have to.
Must be willing to have dogs and flies pick at the small scraps of what will be left of them.
Apply at Mosque
And yet they seem to have no problem whatsoever getting people to work for them. Me, I just don't fucking get it. I guess just running a good business with fair wages and pleasant working conditions just isn’t good enough. I wonder, is it a lack of flair and pizzaz? No promise of immortality? No assurance of a house in paradise with 50 virgins? What am I missing?
***Brief digression time…… I don’t get the 50 virgins thing. It’s hard enough to get one good relationship from the awkward first steps to a comfortable ‘anything goes if we agree its ok’ place. But to have to spend eternity trying to teach 50 different virgins how to do that special and unique ‘thing’ that’s gets everybody off just doesn’t sound like anything but a lot of work to me. ‘cause you know that as soon as one or two start getting it right, then they’re gonna want it all the time. Then comes the jealousy and the fighting and the tears and…..well, you get the picture. Give me one perfect person and a weekend in Vegas and I’ll start to think about it.***
Back to reality…
So all I can think of is how they advertise the positions. And maybe they go something like this:
IMMEDIATE OPENINGS
Progressive and highly visible employer has immediate openings for motivated individuals willing to work in a fast paced environment. Unlimited opportunity for advancement for the right people willing to go that extra mile. Full dental, health and extended medical coverage. Company paid pension plan and matched RRSP contributions. Salary commensurate with experience. Employees must have valid drivers license and supply their own vehicle. Must be willing to travel…..once.
That’s it. That’s all I can think of. Carefully misleading advertising. Sort of like those ‘Management Trainee’ positions at McDonalds or door to door insurance sales. They should say, ‘Indentured Slave’ needed for five years or until you burn out, whichever comes first.
So the next time I hear somebody tell me how tough it is to find a job, I think I’ll just stick them on a plane to Iraq with a fake drivers license and a voucher for a rental car.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 02:21 PM | Comments (0)
October 12, 2005
The cocaine in Spain does not fall from planes…..
MADRID, Spain (AP) - Nope. It arrives by luxury yachts full of….Canadians.
Spanish Civil Guards arrested four Canadians a few days ago, bringing to an end a five month investigation that also involved U.S. and Canadian police. They seized the yacht, along with a ton of cocaine. A ton for God’s sake. That’s almost enough to supply Nanaimo for an entire week!
One of the Canadians, identified only as M.M., was “one of the most important drug traffickers in Canada,” Spain’s Interior Ministry said.
Well, I for one am glad this happened. See, beneath my caustic veneer of cynicism, I’m really a “glass half full,” kind of guy. I try to find the good in a situation. As I do here.
Now besides the fact that this says, “Canadians are stupid enough to get caught,” for me, it’s a step up the social ladder. Luxury yachts and cocaine. Man, that’s like, Al Pacino crime class. Ugly, but up there.
Not like the typical impression the world has of Canadian drug peddlers which is pretty low brow. For instance, the last time a local dealer was stopped at a road block spot check, the officer recoiled at the pungent stench from the back of the van and found 50 kilos of the Island’s finest. When he questioned the driver as to where he got all the marijuana, the driver simply replied, “The bathroom man. It was harvest time. But it’s for personal use so you can’t arrest me anymore….can you?”
It doesn’t help that half the English speaking world thinks ‘Trailer Park Boys’ is a documentary. Sure it’s a great show and all, and where else can you learn the proper etiquette for drinking a rum and coke while shooting a gun at your neighbors? Its just that it tends to give the world the impression that this is what Canadians are like, when clearly, its no more than 30 or 40 percent of us. Except for Lake Cowichan and the Alberni Valley where the percentages are much higher and children are sometimes heard saying things like, “Mommy, that man is scary. He says he doesn’t smoke dope.”
Yeah, I can almost see it now, “Today on Jerry Springer…..CANADA!!”
So hats off and three cheers to our moronic half wits in Spain. They may well have changed the way the world thinks of us. And for the next 20 years or so, they can think about that while avoiding large tattooed fellows named Allejandro who beckon them over with a friendly cry of, “Usted va a ser mi perra de la prisión.”**
~ AP
** you’ll be my prison bitch
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 12:00 AM | Comments (0)
October 10, 2005
Thanksgiving Day……yeah, it’s all good…..
It’s a theme that’s been done to death, but so what. Thanksgiving Day. So what’s it about?
Dead turkey? For sure. The first official turkey night of the year. A seasonal harvest feast that marks the beginning of the season where the lingering smell of turkey won’t completely leave the house till the second week of January next year.
But like so many other holidays and festivals, we often get caught up in the act of celebrating, lost in the details to the point that we lose sight of the root of it all. A day where it was a celebration of thanks for good that had happened to both individuals and the society around them. Literally, a day of giving thanks.
And so in this spirit, I reflect today on what I have to be thankful for. It’s a good thing to do I think, a good exercise when it is easy to convince yourself of how miserable your lot is or how lonely you are. Because sometimes, what you realize, is how very wrong you really are, and just how good you have it.
Me, I’m thankful for my parents,
With me still and who care enough about me,
To make me work for what I have.
I’m thankful for my Grandmother,
Who will sit and tell me in her quiet voice,
For probably the hundredth time,
How it was to grow up in Saskatchewan,
In a house made from the very ground they farmed.
I’m thankful for my children,
Perhaps them most of all,
They give me two reasons to keep on going,
When I’m ready to simply fall.
I’m thankful for all the people who have loved me,
You must know I’ve loved you all.
I’m thankful for the places I’ve been to,
And the places yet to come,
Some in the cold and high in the mountains,
And some by the ocean warmed in the sun,
Where children can play and splash in the water,
Like they do in the memories of my own son and daughter.
I’m thankful for having people in my life,
I love enough to miss.
I’m thankful for having people in my life,
Who I’m glad to hug and kiss.
I’m thankful for the things that I have,
That I can share and enjoy with a smile.
And I’m thankful for the things that I don’t have,
That give me a reason to dream for a while.
Happy Thanksgiving…….
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 10:59 PM | Comments (0)
October 08, 2005
Somebody didn’t get laid……
Phones. Love’em. Hate’em. Gotta live with them.
I don’t like having a phone by me at all times. But I have to. Because of what I do I am the ‘on call’ emergency go to guy any time, every day, 24/7 - 365. So when my phone rings and wakes me up at 1:58 in the morning, it is usually because of an emergency at the business. Usually some piece of crap thief breaking a $400 window for twenty bucks worth of whiskey. Bastards.
Last night was different though, and for once I laughed myself back to sleep.
“Ring, ring….” My ring tone is actually “Sweet Dreams” by the Eurhythmics…..
Instant alert awareness, check clock, 1:58, god damn. Friday night. It must be the hotel.
“Hi. What’s up?”
Now instead of my trusty and masculine night staff I hear a girl (woman’s?) voice, “Hey where are you? You said you were coming over to my place?”
Instantly my mind retraces the evening’s events wondering if I possibly had enough to drink that I would make such ludicrous promises to someone who’s voice I do not recognize. Still too asleep to do any better, all I come up with is, “I did?”
“Yeah and I figured you’d be here by now.”
Waking up and sensing an opportunity for fun…..”I honestly don’t recall making a promise exactly.” I’m starting to grin…..
I could tell by the pause a teeny tiny little light is going on somewhere in telephone land….”Um, like who is this?”
I identify myself.
“Oh My God! I’m sorry! I must have the wrong number. I’m so embarrassed.”
“Hey, don’t worry about it. It’s late. But if you call and wake me up again, I’m coming over.” I'd like to think she was laughing with me, not at me as I hang up.
I don’t know what was better, the laugh I got from the call or the relief of knowing that the hotel wasn’t burning down.
I guess it's good that the phone didn't ring again. Still, it might have been fun if it had.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 10:52 AM | Comments (0)
October 06, 2005
My mouth is having a party…
That’s right. An orgy of dental delights. If teeth could have orgasms, my teeth would already be chain smoking. And why? Simple.
The Oral-B Triumph Professional Care 9400 toothbrush.
I picked it up a couple of days ago. In a previous post I referred to it as a ‘Sonic Air’. So sorry. So sue me. This thing is great. And it’s got me worried.
See, all my life, I have treated dental care as a necessary evil. A mildly unpleasant task that needed doing on a regular basis. Barely more tolerable draining a blister. In other words, something that you’re not supposed to like. Sort of like pain.
Now, I admit right here that I have strong teeth. Healthy teeth that have defied the norm and prospered where they should have failed. I believe it was long a point of frustration for those around me, some of whom would labor for hours just to keep their teeth in their heads. I actually thought my ex had a sort of fetish for suffering the way she would floss and brush and care, seemingly without end for her teeth. So I always thought it a little odd and preferred to stay away from such deviant behavior. It didn’t help that when I asked her simple questions like, “Will Christ return before or after you’re finished flossing?” that she would start making horrible sounds like she was the central character in an exorcism. And I knew they were directed at me.
Me, I could open beer bottles, chew through bones and not go to the dentist for three or four years and always the same thing. “Well, you have a bit of scaling and no new cavities Mr. Pundit. We hate your kind.” Then they’d start punching at my face in an effort to drum up some business for themselves. They were easily dispatched but still, it was a little annoying.
But now…..now along comes a device that feels so good to use that it scares me. It has a built in timer to let you know when the recommended two minutes are up. Damn that sucked. Well, I kept it up for a while longer till I realized, “Hey! What the hell are you doing? You’re not supposed to enjoy cleaning your teeth. Turn this thing off.”
And so I did.
It just seemed so wrong to ENJOY doing something that I have been raised to believe was unpleasant and disgusting. I wonder if that’s what a gay guy feels like after the first time he finds himself on his knees, wiping the corners of his mouth and thinking, “Oooohhhhh….that just can’t be right.”
And so here I am, out of the closet. A newly admitted dental fetishist, looking forward to the next time I can clean my teeth.
Well, as you may have gathered, the good news is that it worked and worked well. The bad news is I was covered in splatters of white foam. As was my counter, sink, mirror, hand towels, and pretty much everything and anything within three feet of my mouth.
It turns out that there is a natural human tendency towards curiosity. In my case, curiosity about whether the damn thing was working on my teeth. Well, the best way to check is to open your mouth and check your teeth, right? Wrong.
The brush oscillates and spins at like, 40,000 rpm. This is great for cleaning teeth. Bad for you and your bathroom if you pull it out of your mouth. I can tell you that if forms a sort of cloud of toothpaste as the stuff flies away from the bristles in every direction but your teeth. Remember to turn it off BEFORE you pull it out of your mouth.
I suppose if there’s a silver lining, my bathroom is minty fresh and somehow, it seems whiter than before. And that’s a good thing. And so there sits my Oral-B marvel of technology next to my Gillette M3 Power marvel of technology. My face will never stop vibrating…..I love it.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 09:37 AM | Comments (0)
October 03, 2005
The Dangers of Beer and Oral Hygiene……
Ahhh,,,,the pursuit of oral hygiene and physical beauty. A noble and rewarding cause if ever there was one for domestic man. And I dove right in today. Why? Hey, because as much as I love having some ham fisted ex-prison guard scraping away at my teeth every few years, I think I can do better than Ilsa, “She Wolf” of the dental clinic by becoming a little more personally proactive in my own dental care.
Ergo, a counter full of stuff I didn’t know I needed in my life until I confirmed it with my dentist, Dr. Mengele if I recall right. But I can’t be too sure, as the nitrous oxide canister was tantalizingly close when the hygienist left me alone for a few minutes. So there I was, quizzing him on the best way to maintain clean teeth. He was talking about a ‘Sonic Air’ high tech toothbrush as being the cat’s ass of toothbrushes. I remember telling him that I had no intention of brushing my teeth with a cat’s ass. That was just before the first wave of pain swept through my mouth and down to my toes. “He means business, this one,” I thought to myself and decided not to mention the cat again.
“See Doc, if it’s a matter of brushing longer I don’t mind. I don’t mind at all if I have to turn it into a real ‘Marathon’ session of brushing.”
He said that the Sonic Air toothbrushes were very fast. “Two minutes and you’re done,” he said.
“Two minutes?” I thought. That is fast. And then it hit me, hmmmmmm…. “But Doc,” I said, “Is it safe?” He didn’t get it at first. “Is it safe?” I repeated and begun making high pitched buzzing noises like a dental drill.
He must have realized I was onto him then because I felt something sharp dig into my gums just before he got up and told the hygienist to, “finish up here.” Of course I was in too much pain to complain and just sat there and took it. I got out of the office as quick as I could, but not before discovering that Crest Whitestrips were indeed safe and recommended and that you’re not allowed to sample, borrow or rent the nitrous oxide canister. “Too late,” I cried as I left the office, probably for the last time, hopeful that they would never learn the truth.
So here I was at home, eager to begin my journey towards whiter teeth. With a rather dangerous looking ‘sonic air’ toothbrush handle charging on my counter, I decided to start with my box of Crest Whitestrips.
They sure make it look easy don’t they?
Peel. Apply. Reveal.
What could be easier than that?
I guess with practice, grabbing the edge of a tiny and nearly invisible strip of clear nothing that wants to stick to anything and everything it can on the way to your teeth will become easier. For now, I can say with confidence that I may not have whiter teeth in 14 days, but I sure as hell will have whiter lips.
Now, once you get the things to your teeth, you will discover that the strip will NOT cover all your teeth. And no, it does not stretch. If you try to stretch it, you will soon be trying to remove pieces of caustic plastic that molds to everything it touches from the back recesses of your mouth. I won’t make that mistake a third time. The strip only covers the immediately visible teeth. Fine if you have one of those wimpy half smiles like most of us. But if you smile like Geena Davis, you will have a two tone smile, with non-white chompers in the back. And that’s just the top teeth.
The bottom tooth strip is not shaped the same way as the top strip and frankly, it’s a pain inn the ass to use. I have a terrible time trying to equate its shape with anything related to my mouth.
But with that all said and done, and after much trial and effort, the strips were in place.
And now the problem with beer. Several to be more specific.
In the directions for white strips, it says and I quote:
- Avoid direct contact of the gel with the gums or salivary flow.
- Do not swallow plastic strips or the gel.
- Do not get material in eyes.
- Keep out of the reach of small children.
See, this is all because the active chemical is a peroxide bleach. A caustic chemical that will irritate sensitive skin.
If you have been drinking a few beer before engaging in the battle of the whitening strips, you will probably have get rid of the beer at some point and those very same beer may cause you to focus on one need before considering all the subtleties of what you have just done. Now, I’m not saying that it should say, wash hands before going to the washroom. I’m just saying that maybe it could say something like, “If you wouldn’t put your penis in a bottle of hydrogen peroxide, you should wash your hands right after using Crest Whitening Strips.”
I’m not admitting….I’m just saying.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 12:26 AM | Comments (2)
October 01, 2005
Mounties pay Svend Robinson $10,000 for what?
Vancouver, BC (AP) - Disturbing news on the home front today as we learn that the Mounties paid Svend Robinson $10,000 for pain and suffering after he was apparently hit by a rubber bullet while participating in a riot, in Quebec, during the 2001 free trade summit.
Pain and suffering?!?!?! It was a god damned misunderstanding or just plain stupidity that got BC’s favorite back door bang buddy in trouble this time and I don’t think the taxpayer should foot the bill for one man’s sexual fantasies gone bad.
Here’s how it played out: Svend was doing some reading and found rubber bullets accurately described as: “….8 to 9 inch pliable cylindrical rounds that are fired from special rifles.”
So there was Svend, in the middle of the crowd below, running around calling himself ‘Ben Dover’ and taunting any officer he could while yelling, “ME!! Shoot me you bitch!!” and then grabbing his ankles providing a target of convenience.
Turns out they did shoot him, but they shot him in the leg. His calf was cut and his pants were torn. As if that hasn’t happened to him before.
And THAT I think, is the crux of this issue. It’s not that he WAS shot, it’s that he wasn’t shot where he wanted it and so he felt put down and humiliated, ergo, the pain and suffering. Seen below explaining his anguish to someone described only as a ‘friend with benefits’ Svend broke down.
“Wasn’t my ass good enough for them? I go on the damned stair climber 30 minutes a day for god’s sake. I even have it waxed!! So what was wrong with my ass? That’s all I want to know. They made me feel so completely not beautiful. I’m just a mess. I can’t do my job and I just sit around crying, eating chocolates and watching ‘Cabaret’ over and over again.”
Well, boo-fucking-hoo. I’m a taxpayer and just because Svend didn’t get a rocket propelled dildo up his ass, I don’t think that we should foot the bill. Pain and suffering. Yeah right.
And for the record, earlier reports that the RCMP Commissioner’s office had described the incident as, “The most fun we’ve ever had with $10,000.00” have yet to be substantiated.
~ AP
Posted by Anonymous Pundit at 09:33 AM | Comments (0)