Schadenfreude Café

Rewriting the English Language

2006-12-18T18:49:00.000-05:00

In an earlier blog I made reference to the ridiculous spelling we see everywhere. In particular, I settled on companies who, in theory, ought to know better, and even if the person or persons writing their material happen to be illiterate - they have spell check and proofing. Yet huge blunders somehow make it through. Take a look at the photo in this post. How is it possible that such an obvious error made it through a very tight creative/production/printing process? I handle jobs like this every day, and we double check print projects before the client gets a chance (because no one checks a proof properly today). It boggles the mind that the designers, production people, client, prepress, proofing dept at the printer and even shipping didn't point this one out.

Or should 'Leather' be spelled 'Ltather'? Perhaps I'm the idiot here. Hm?

Nah. I finished grade 9.

No more waffles?

2006-12-15T07:19:00.000-05:00

You may think that George W. Bush had cornered the market on bonehead stunts and unbelievably stupid behaviour, and you'd be correct in your thinking, but he has a challenger.

RTBF, the national broadcast channel in Belgium broke into regular programming late on Wednesday evening to announce that the Dutch-speaking half of the country had declared independence and the king and queen had fled. Grainy pictures from the military airport showed dark silhouettes of a royal entourage boarding a plane. The 'gotcha' came 30 minutes later when they explained it was fiction. A stunt. Prank. Someone was trying to make a point.

Until I read that it was a prank, I began to wonder what this would mean to the rest of the world. Belgium, the home of waffles and.... other things, was in the midst of a revolution. Then it struck me that the report stated that the Dutch-speaking half of the country had declared independence... only half of them speak Dutch? I was stunned. Then I thought of Canada, where a few 'French' people persistently make every effort to force the rest of the country to acknowledge their existence as a separate nation. Remember, these are people who call Flocons de Mais (Real French for Cornflakes)... 'Le Cornflakes'. My traditional French language skills are useless when talking to them. I digress. These days, the minority has the loudest voice.

back to the prank. Everyone is up in arms about this ridiculous and juvenile trick - regardless of the point being made. I'm in agreement. How much of an idiot do you have to be to pull such a foolish prank? Not much, considering the aggregious lack of commonse sense in the world today. Orson Welles tried it in 1938 with his 'War Of The Worlds' radio broadcast and never lived it down. People were technically unsophisticated in those days, and it was easy to pull a fast one. You'd think we were all a lot smarter today. Not by a long shot. It doesn't help that it was the national broadcasting company which perpetrated the yuk yuk on the people, who were more likely to believe that than something issued on the internet or through a newspaper report, neither of which has the immediacy needed to get the instant gratification of watching the population squirming in panic. Ha. Ha.

So, it made me think. If the minority has the voice today, I intend on raising mine. No smoking? Screw you. I'm in the minority now, and I say what goes. Go to church? Not a chance. I'm an atheist - you people are wrong. There is no God, and what I say carries more weight than all of you put together. In fact - let's outlaw all forms of religion until they stop condemning, attacking, and killing one another in the name of their supreme being. Criminals? Kill 'em all. Shoplifters, jaywalkers, speeders, politicians - break the law and you go to the chair. I'm in the minority - my vote counts more than yours. Rap? Ban it. Racism? Cut out the tongues of the racists. Pedophiles - hang, draw and quarter them, but not before they are forced to listen to 24 hours of Celine Dion at 120dB. They'd welcome their fate. Show any signs of stupidity at all, and you go back to school - no matter how old you are, and you'll stay there until you are healed. Get caught with crack, heroine or anything other than a little weed, and you go to jail for life. No parole. Celine Dione 24/7 for those guys too. Political correctness? To hell with it. I'm short and bald and proud of it. I'm not vertically and follically challenged.

Oh, this is so much fun. Ridiculous, but fun. The point I'm making is; it doesn't matter that common sense should prevail. These days it only matters that you have an opinion and that someone else agrees with it. You only have to push a little, and you get what you want at the expense of everyone else. What a simple but dangerous concept.

Thank goodness the Belgian situation was a bad joke. I like my waffles.

2006-12-15T05:24:00.000-05:00

If I have learned anything this week, it's that there are no lengths to which some people will go to demonstrate their stupidity. Let's try to put it into perspective; Imagine the worst blizzard possible, with raging, 80mph freezing winds, and picture yourself making the decision to go on a hike or take part in some other recreational activity in such extreme conditions. Yes, you're shaking your head in disbelief. No sane person would willingly leave the comfort of their home to play for a few days in potentially lethal weather. Or would they?

I have never been to Washington State or Oregon, but I do know that they experience some incredible weather. I heard reports of 18 feet of snow in one day, for example. James Kim died of exposure a week or so ago. You don't have to visit places like that or be an expert meteorologist to know that you would be taking your life in your hands by ignoring the potential dangers.

And so we come to the three (experienced) climbers who recently threw all caution aside and decided to go for a jaunt up Mount Hood. In Winter. With minimal gear, on 50 to 60 degree slopes and sheer sections. Despite being ordered off the mountain due to the dangerous conditions, they pressed on, almost to the peak of the 11,239 ft. mountain. If they are still alive, they are being buffeted by 80mph winds to name just one of the threats. Perhaps the army of rescuers will be able to retrieve the climbers safely, but at this writing, the teams can't get any closer than 8,500 ft. That ought to give you some idea of the situation these three fools put themselves in. Not to mention the fact they have put the lives of more than 60 people at risk.

Apparently around 10,000 people attempt to climb Mount Hood each year. Around 25 have to be rescued. Call me a party pooper, but if there isn't some sort of law that requires the rescued 'climbers' to pay the costs of the rescue, there ought to be. Every penny. The fact that you are willing to put your life on the line should not automatically require others to do the same when you get your sorry ass stuck at the top of a snowbound mountain. But if these brave people do come to your aid due to an incident of your making... you should bear the costs of the expedition, and then some.

I hasten to add that we can't compare the stupidity of these three mountain climbing morons with the tragic death of James Kim recently. Kim was lost, stranded and made an heroic effort to save his family. The trio on Mount Hood knew the risks, accepted them and now have to come to terms with nature's method of culling fools from the gene pool.

I feel for the families who may have to deal with the death of their loved ones over a an extremely foolish act. I have no sympathy for Larry, Curly and Moe sitting in a cave at the top of a very angry mountain.

Update: To date, one of the climbers was found, dead a few days ago. Rescuers are still trying to locate the remaining two lost men, but it is generally assumed that with all the commotion around the mountain, anyone able to attract the attention of the searchers would have done so by now. It doesn't look good for the two missing climbers. What a horrible situation for the families. At the risk of sounding cold, it's a shame these men ignored everyone else in favour of a personal challenge. The families wouldn't be comforted by the thought that the trio apparently cared little about the trauma their little adventure could cause everyone. Had they considered their loved ones (and the reports of the nasty weather) they would have stayed home.

Raging Road Bull

2006-11-24T12:06:00.000-05:00

I had an escort on my drive to work this morning. It was dark, but I could make out the form of a man sitting behind the wheel of a huge land yacht. Crown Victoria, perhaps. It was difficult to tell, as he was a mere six inches from my bumper. What amazing demonstration of driving skills. I was travelling at just a hair over the posted speed, and about one and a half car lengths from the car in front, and my escort was driving as though I didn't exist. Every now and then I could see his animated arm movements. He was obviously annoyed that his right to drive any speed he damned well liked had been revoked by some idiot who had the brazen audacity to be in front of him. That would be me.

No, I didn't speed up. I didn't slow down either. I didn't modify my driving one iota. This was his problem, not mine. Judging by his temperament though, it could easily have become everyone's problem. This bonehead was trying to make me pay for his inability or unwillingness to keep a timely routine. In his world, I am the idiot.

In fact, we careful, law abiding drivers are all guilty. We get in the way of the dimwits with the heavy right foot. We take care to follow the rules of the road, which is really irritating to these highway halfwits. We watch out for other motorists and try very hard to keep from hitting them or running them off the road and killing them. The imbeciles with the speed fetish could care less. They already know that the potential for an accident is considerably higher when they speed. They have accepted that, and are willing to take the risk. Unfortunately, we figure into that equation, because every accident requires a victim.

I got to work on time this morning. I had given myself plenty of time - as I always do. My escort was no doubt on time too...barely, but frazzled, frustrated and angry at being 'delayed'. He probably never questions why his brakes don't last as long as those of his colleagues, or why he uses far more gas, or why it costs him much more to run his vehicle. He's not that bright. He's the guy who races past you and zooms into the distance. "Wow, I'll bet that guy gets where he's going in a hurry", you might think... but no... there he is, waiting for you at the lights. Zooom! He's off on the green. Never to be seen again. Until the next set of lights (insert the Homer Simpson "Doh!" here). It would be funny if it wasn't so damned dangerous.

So. Give me the one finger salute. Wave your arms like you are trying to fly. Yell and curse at me. Bump me, thump me or tailgate me. I've never had a speeding ticket or caused an accident since I started driving 32 years ago, and I'm not about to start now. Go around me and go find someone else to harrass or kill. Hopefully it's another dweeb like yourself - that would be sweet justice. Now go away, tiny-minded one, you bore me.

Stick a fork in me Jerry...I'm done

2006-11-21T18:51:00.000-05:00

November 17, 2006. A night that will live in infamy. Michael Richards, A.K.A. 'Kramer', was out on stage going through his schtick, when someone in the audience spoke up. A heckler. I've seen the video, and I couldn't quite make out what the man said to Richards, but what was said isn't really important.

Let me rephrase that. What the heckler said was of little importance. However, Richards' response was over the top.

He launched into a venomous tirade of racist comments and insults. If Richards considered this display of ignorance as humor, he was operating under a serious misconception. His angry and abusive diatribe escalated. It was disturbing to watch this grown man obliterate a lengthy career in a few short minutes. Granted, "Seinfeld" is the only work worthy of mention, but that represents 9 years out of a career which stretched from 1980 to... November 17, 2006.

His tearful apology seemed feeble, oozing vapidity. It was too little, too late. Thousands of comedians have handled hecklers over the years without degrading them with racist insults. Hecklers go with the territory. A quick wit, professionalism and maturity usually results in entertainment for the audience and a lesson to the nudnick who opened his/her mouth. I saw no quick wit, professionalism or maturity in Richards' outburst. I saw bitterness and anger.

If we are honest with ourselves, we would all admit to allowing a racist thought to cross our minds or a comment to slip from our lips, regardless of our ethnic background. There's no excuse for it. It happens nonetheless and most of us would be ashamed when it happens. Mr. Richards appeared to revel in it. He continued to revel in it until he saw that the audience was dwindling as disgusted patrons left the building. Good for them.

Kramer dropped the microphone and walked off the stage, out of the glare of the spotlights. Perhaps for ever.

"Stick a fork in me Jerry...I'm done"

Never a truer word was spoken.

What if I cared?

2006-11-18T02:17:00.000-05:00

I don't have an opinion on the O.J. Simpleton situation 12 years ago. I couldn't make up my mind then. I can't make up my mind today. Perhaps he did it. Maybe he didn't. The jury, media and the public are at odds over the outcome and always will be.

I do, however, think he's an ass.

Whatever the truth, he would have been well advised to step back from the spotlight and consider himself very, very lucky. But O.J. encouraged that spotlight, eagerly calling attention to his seedy, slimy and inappropriate behaviour. He's a media jaywalker, jumping in and out of the traffic, daring anyone to hit him.

And now he's standing in the headlights of an oncoming garbage truck. A truck filled with his book "What if I did it, here's how it happened". The sad, disillusioned idiot looks like he might not be able to dodge this one. It'll be the splat heard around the world, and we can all sigh with relief.

I've made a conscious effort to ignore this drawn out drama since it began over a decade ago. It doesn't affect me. I doesn't concern me or enhance my life in any way. CNN et al and the news-hungry junkies with their polarized opinions won't let it go, as if their very existence is connected to this story. Well, here's some news; it isn't.

If that proverbial garbage truck plows headlong into O.J. Simpleton, you will still have to go to work tomorrow at Wendy's. If the story is never mentioned again, you will still need to keep that appointment with your therapist. Oprah will air as usual, and Target will still have sales. I have my own little dramas to deal with, so I will welcome the absence of one more example of meaningless and pointless drivel. Of course, I'd willingly retract my statements if you can prove to me that your life, as you know it, will be over if you don't get your O.J. fix.

My next book will be titled; "What if I cared?"

Student body shocked...

2006-11-17T14:15:00.000-05:00

Another quick post and a piece of sage advice. Never backtalk a cop, but if your idiot self takes over and you just can't help it - at least try to stop when you're threatened with a Taser. Oh, and always do what you're told - especially when there's the promise of 50,000 volts coming your way for non compliance. You can figure out who's right and who's wrong later. Or you can squirm around squawking on the floor like an injured crow. Your choice.
Do you smell something cooking?

No smoke without a fire?

2006-11-17T13:28:00.000-05:00

Hey world...
how are those smoking bans working out?
It's so much healthier without all that nasty cigarette smoke
...isn't it?

Let the games begin

2006-11-17T12:11:00.000-05:00

The anouncement was made the other day, and Playstation 3 shoppers descended like proverbial flies on a fresh field pie. They scrambled here, they fought there, and everywhere the lineups grew. Now then, let's put some things into perspective; we're talking about a piece of plastic and metal which makes noises when you push buttons. In much the same way a crib toy might entertain an infant. I don't mean to suggest that Playstation 3 is rubbish - it's probably a lot of fun. It'll be fun 2, 4 or 6 months from now, when the inflated prices have become a dark memory. It'll be fun when someone buys one at a yard sale for $50 two years from now.

So it's beyond comprehension that grown adults would go to such lengths to have one...today... regardless of price. I bought a copy of the 'DaVinci Code' last night. I could have paid through the nose to see it at the cinema, but I wasn't interested in standing in huge lineups to satisfy that urge. I chose to wait for the DVD. Frankly, I should have waited until it was in a delete bin for $5 somewhere - it would have been better value. My point is simple; that movie would have been as disappointing had I paid a fortune to watch it on the big screen. A little patience didn't change the entertainment value.

What is it that makes people lose all common sense and throw themselves at a product or marketing concept with all the abandon of a naked three year-old in a wading pool? Perhaps it's the "I got there first" syndrome, where people take great pleasure in flaunting their purchase to those losers who didn't have the cash or the time to spend to jump on the insanity bandwagon. Remember the 'Cabbage Patch Doll" and "Elmo" fiascos? What a ridiculous display of lack of self-respect.

However, there is a silver lining for those of us who simply don't understand this total rejection of common sense. Technology and society as a whole is moving forward at an alarming rate. What is new today, is obsolete tomorrow. What is hip or popular right now, will be boring before you get it out of the box or get used to owning it. You could save yourself some money and frustration by simply allowing a product to settle in and buy it for a reasonable price. You could. But you won't. You'll pay street people $100 day to keep your place in line in order that you may lay your hands on that elusive prize; a piece of plastic and metal that makes noises when you push buttons.

ooh. The excitement is overwhelming.

You see, I'd love to own a nice sporty car. Exciting new models arrive every year, but they are always priced out of reach for me. However, if I wait - I can have that car for a greatly reduced price. It's used, but if the object is to own one, what's the difference? Besides, it would be broken in. You won't catch me hiring a bum to sit at the dealership to make sure I get one, and you won't see me offering 3 times market value either. In a world where virtually every sane person tries to save a dollar or two by paying less for a product, who, in his or her right mind would stand in line for days to pay...more?

There's the answer. "In his or her right mind".

I rest my case.

Update:
Shortly after I posted this item, CNN had the following article on their site;

"HARTFORD, Connecticut (AP) -- Two armed thugs tried to rob a line of people waiting for the new PlayStation 3 game system to go on sale early Friday and shot one man who refused to give up his money, authorities said."

... think of it as a sort of Playstation Serengeti. Whenever the herd gathers, the lions are always waiting on the perimeter, ready to pounce. If the herd had any sense, they'd chase the lions away, since thery outnumber the carnivores..but they're not that bright. So remember this next time you go bouncing off with a pocket ful of money to the local big box to purchase that "I'll die if I don't get it right now" item. You might go from customer to prey in a few short steps. And never forget that the predators aren't to be found in parking lots alone. They lurk in places like the corporate H.Q. for Sony, Microsoft, and other such companies. And they're always looking for fresh meat.

The Bride of Leninstein

2006-11-17T08:41:00.000-05:00

I'm single. I'm not so sure I like it, but it does have some benefits. I won't try to cover them all here because most single people know what they are. Many of us have tried online dating, and if you're like me, you find it frustrating and fruitless most of the time. One of the unfortunate side effects of having an online profile on a dating site is that you're vulnerable to approaches from people from virtually anywhere. From any planet, some might argue - but I digress.

I quite frequently receive emails from women in Russia. Most of them are young, absolutely beautiful and begging for me to whisk them away to a life of happiness and security. I'm flattered. For about 2 seconds. There is no valid reason on this good earth that a lithe, sexy young woman would want to marry someone like me, a man who is 20 to 30 years her senior.

Unless...

You see, it costs a lot of Rubles to travel from Russia to North America, the land of Milk and Money. These women have very little, and when you compare their lives to ours, we live in virtual luxury. You can't blame them for trying to better themselves. All I would have to do is fork out the cash and go through several years of legal stuff to bring my future bride over here, and we would live in happiness until death do us part. What an attractive concept. I'd love to have a gorgeous young woman to parade around town.

"Look what I bought!"

Reality is a bitch in heat, and my common sense kicked in like the passing gear on a Corvette. These women don't want me. They don't want to spend their lives with me. They want a meal ticket, and I'm a four course meal to them. What are the chances that the lovely blonde 25 year-old is actually a 40 year-old transvestite using a substitute photo? What if this beauty who finds me so appealing is a Vodka-swilling criminal on the lam from the authorities? These are things that need to be considered. Besides, what if I jumped through all the legal and financial hoops only to find that my bride-to-be is some swarthy, hairy, one-eyebrowed neanderthal-looking Mesomorph? What then?

What's in it for me?

Well, I'd have the dubious privilege of shelling out thousands of dollars to help a stranger relocate. If I was really lucky, I might get laid once or twice out of sympathy or guilt, but the outcome would be inevitable. My bank account would be thinner, my self-esteem would be lower, and I'd have used up all my Viagra on some flaky bimbo who used me like a Kleenex. I can get that at home. It's cheaper.

Here's your sign...

2006-11-17T06:48:00.000-05:00

(Thinking of buying an RCA product? Read the last entry in this post before you do.)

I've regularly berated those adults who seem intent on proclaiming their ignorance on signs, posters, ads, etc., knowing that it will make little difference. I do it because someone somewhere has to stand up, point the finger and yell "J'accuse!". You're an illiterate cretin, and I don't need it rubbed in my face. I prefer to go about my day pretending people like you are a rarity rather than the norm. Sadly, you're not that much of a rarity.

New cash registers were installed at the donut/restaurant/soup kitchen recently, and some clever unit decided to take advantage of the digital technology by having a standby message display when the register wasn't in use. By trying to cram a marketing statement along with a status message into a small window, we get what we see here. "Always Fresh. Always Station Closed." That explains the lineups.

Then, as I went to my car, I noticed a small sign in the window of a Domino's Pizza. I moved closer to read it, and found one of the most atrocious examples of adult illiteracy I have encountered in a very long time. The person who made this sign obviously writes with an accent. We all make typos, but this is no typo. The individual who crafted this masterpiece had no fear of demonstrating their abysmal spelling skills. I doubt very much a grade 7 student would make this kind of error, yet here we have an adult who makes two huge gaffs in one small poster. The second error is right beside the phone number (blurred for obvious reasons)... "Call as 000-000-0000".

"Call as"? Surely you meant to write "Call US".

and then there's the one you might miss...right at the very top... "Looking for job".

Check the Bible.

Oh, they meant to say "Looking for A job". Got it. It takes me a little longer to understand dribblish. Not to put too fine a point on it, but that statement really needs a question mark.

I don't know about you, but I'm beginning to see a disturbing pattern in the retail/service industry. You can't expect people who are unapologetic about their language skills, grammar and spelling to understand the concept of quality customer service. It's too complicated for them. Someone who places no value or importance on such a basic skill surely can't be expected to wrap their head around something so difficult. A more frightening component of this growing problem is the fact that for every one of the illiterati, there is a management counterpart; the person(s) who did the hiring. So you can clearly see that the issue extends far beyond the poor fool who thinks "Wedges" is the proper spelling for the word "Wages".

Of course, they could have avoided 'Wedges' completely.

They could have used 'Celery'.

Sorry. 'Salary'.
(Update:
The "Wedges" sign was removed. Perhaps a concerned customer drew it to the attention to someone in the store, but what if they found their driver and had to take it down to avoid being overwhelmed by inquiries? If the latter is true, we can expect more of the same tragic ignorance. Ah, more fodder for the Schadenfreude Cafe.)

One last item:
I purchased an RCA DVD recorder recently, and after my first recording, I was astonished to see an outstanding demonstration of idiocy (see below); a menu screen with a glaring typo. How can a major manufacturer allow an item to make it all the way to the customer in such a state? It boggles the mind. Shame on you RCA. "finzlizing"? How did no one see that error at some point in the process? I'm reminded of their ignorance each time I make a recording. Can you imagine how irritating that iz? I mean... is...

Update:
I received feeble form letter from RCA in response to my complaint.

"...We regret you are not pleased with your product. We invest substantial resources in market research to develop products that meet consumer needs and expectations. We are continually finding ways to improve reliability, designs, product quality, and professional service. Your comments are appreciated, and we thank you for taking your valuable time to contact us."

Apparently they didn't appreciate my comments enough to have a human being reply. And if this piece of equipment is the result of their substantial resources, it begs the question, "but how much do you spend on quality control?" Very little, it seems. I'm taking RCA off my shopping list. Permanently. Not so much because of the typo - although it is a significant issue - but because of the weak, insincere form letter which addressed neither my complaint or the error in question. It would seem that RCA has cleverly reduced customer service to the bare minimum. Two steps. Select appropriate form letter and hit 'send'. Problem solved. I agree. In my case, my problem of which HD TV and home theatre system to purchase this week has been resolved. I have one less manufacturer to consider. Thank you RCA.

The emergence of convergence

2006-11-16T07:58:00.000-05:00

Tim Horton's just announced their breakfast sandwich. Basically, it's another Egg McMuffin clone. There's no real difference. However, as Tim Horton's continues with their brand extension, the lineups grow. No longer a coffee shop, Tim's has become a restaurant, where we stand and wait for our coffee behind someone ordering a three course meal for a family of five. I'm having trouble defining which particular level of convenience that represents. I watched as Tim Horton's revised their check-in, check-out system a few years ago, and it worked like a charm. You would walk up, place your order and move to the next station where it would be prepared for you by another server. It was slick and quick, but required 2 staff members. Management determined this to be an inefficient use of manpower, and slowly reverted to the old system... with a little of the new. We're back to waiting in line again, while one person tries to field orders that border on the insane; I've seen people being handed boxes containing what has to be more than 20 coffees. As a result, the accuracy rate appears to have reached an impressive 4 wrong coffees for every 2 correct ones. But you can buy a precooked sausage thingy or some chili, and they are usually served without incident, so I'm told.

I cringe when I see these companies hungrily trying to carve off their piece of an ever-shrinking market in the name of better service, improved product or a higher level of convenience. They aren't the slightest bit interested in you. Just the money that travels with you. The object of the exercise is to coax that money from your pockets to their tills. They might ply you with visions of delicious precooked mass produced breakfast thingies, faster checkouts - they want you to leave quickly once they have your money, so they can get to the next pocket, or they create bigger stores - which translates into boxes populated by teens and dead-enders who never know which department they'll be in tomorrow. Do I hear a collective sigh?

Restaurant convergence has resulted in the need to minimize the the interaction between customer and server - this ostensibly makes up for the time lost waiting while people place their huge and varied orders. I rarely visit the golden arches. Most of the time I'd rather eat three day old dirt, but there are times (perhaps 5 in the past 20 years) when it appears to be the more convenient option. However, here is an almost verbatim exachange between me a gum-chewing burger dispenser:

Me: " I'd like a PLAIN (pause for emphasis)... double quarter pounder meal, WITH CHEESE, and coke... to go.

Server: (Head droops to one side) Do you want cheese?

Me: (Politely pointing to big sign behind her) yes...I'd like a PLAIN (pause for emphasis)... double quarter pounder meal, WITH CHEESE, and coke... and that's to go.

Server: What would you like to drink with that?

Me: (pause as I look into her vacant eyes)..Uhm..coke.

Server: (head droops to other side) So... that's a double quarter pounder meal, with cheese, and coke.

Me: Plain

Server: Yes..uhm..it..is plain. Yes. Is that for here or to go?

Me: (I could have been at home, eating this crap by now)... It's to go. (I force a smile)

Then there is what seems like a long time before my server shows up with fries, and sits them to cool on a red tray. Once they have cooled sufficiently, she returns with my burger and places it beside the cold fries then turns to pour some syrup over 10 oz of ice and water. Finally, she places the concoction on the tray and slides it a few inches towards me.

Me: (forcing a polite smile again)...uhm..it's to go.

Server: (not the slightest bit embarrassed) Oh.
She takes the cold fries and luke warm burger and drops them into a bag.

I walk to the condiments counter, open up the cardboard burger container and gently peel back the flat bun, which had been mashed by countless fingers - I could see the impressions. There, nestled amidst an oozing, stinking blob of green, yellow and red - I suspect it might have been relish, mustard and ketchup - was a soggy pickle. Okie dokie then. It's back to the counter with my PLAIN (pause for emphasis)... double quarter pounder meal, WITH CHEESE, and coke.

Me: Uhm... this was supposed to be plain.

Server: (Double checks to make sure I'm not scamming her)..OK.

She returns, without an apology, with another offering - which passes my inspection - and I leave with my melted ice drink, cold fries and gooey, soggy grey lukewarm burger. The red, yellow and green paste they slather on these things serves a dual purpose... mainly it's to disguise the appearance of the grey 'meat', and perhaps it lends something to the taste. It hides the bland cardboard flavour. Otherwise it might be impossible to tell whether you were eating the burger or the container is came in.

It was a valuable experience. It reminded me of why I decided never to eat at these burger factories and it also drove home my point that customer service means nothing today- at least, not to those charged with providing it. Perceived customer service is everything. This single visit to a fast food restaurant easily demonstrates what you and me represent to these 'get-em-in, get-'em-out' businesses. Order what they want you to order, or suffer the conseqences.

NB: I should point out that I do get superior customer service from some of the Tim Horton's girls, like Heather, Cheryl and crew in St. Thomas, Ontario; I don't want you to think that I'm served by idiots everywhere I go... just most places.

A quickie for the thinkers

2006-11-16T07:02:00.000-05:00

This is just a quick post. I read about the mass kidnapping and related events the other day, and I came across a comment made by Gen. Abizaid, Commander of CENTCOM. Apparently, he met with Iraqi Prime Minister Maliki on Monday, and later said violence had eased since August; he warned of civil war. It was too early to say Iraq had "turned the corner," however, and bloodshed was still at "unacceptably high" levels, he said.

So, Gen. Abizaid, if the current bloodshed is unacceptably high, at which level would you consider it to be acceptable? Bloodshed doesn't fall into areas of acceptability. It's unacceptable. Period. Don't get me wrong - I'm no pacifist - but soldiers must wonder when they are sent off to support the U.S. action in Iraq, "Is my injury or death going to fall above or below that acceptable level?".

Methinks Abizaid has been reading the George W. Bush of public speaking. Why isn't it OK to think before you open your mouth? As G.W. would put it... "Ya use ta could..."

Zune to be obsolete...?

2006-11-15T14:58:00.000-05:00

Well, Microsoft finally announced the release of what they are calling the 'iPod killer'. Frankly, the only way I see that being possible is if you were to pound on the iPod with a Zune until one (or both) falls apart. Microsoft had an opportunity to blow everyone away with innovative style and technology and instead opted for... boring. Guys...Apple didn't raise the bar on industrial design and technology to have you try and sneak under it.

The Zune boasts a bigger screen, but the resolution is the same as the iPod, which means Apple's product will look sharper. Reports are that album art looks like crap on the Zune. Microsoft offers a wider choice of colours though; Infection Green, 1970 Matador Brown and iPod White. Which would you choose? It looks and feels heavy, which tends to defeat the whole concept of convenient portability, and once again they have skirted around industry standards making it necessary for you to rebuild your music library from scratch. An iPod will hook up to a Mac or PC... the Zune is for PC (and Windows XP) only - another example of Microsoft's PC snobbery. But then, Microsoft has never been about giving you what you want. The company is built on the principle of giving you what they want you to have. It has never failed to amaze and amuse me that intelligent adults still buy into that.

See what CNN had to say about this amazing new product...

A visit to their web site seems to support my theory that the people who developed the Zune were shut in a closet in 1976, and brought out a few years ago, shown an iPod and told to replicate it. They failed. The site - and the Zune advertising - reeks of fake cool. Almost hip, but not quite. You see, Apple's carefully crafted image helped as a springboard for iPod's 'coolness factor', and so they can run a 30 second commercial about anything, drop an iPod logo in for the last 2 seconds, and you 'get it'. Microsoft doesn't get it, and likely never will. The iPod is superior, not perfect, but far superior and the Zune will have to do some fancy footwork to catch up. After all, it's taken Microsoft all these years to get their first clone on the market - can you imagine what they'll have to do when the new iPod is announced in January 2007?

But they will sell Zunes, just as they sell Windows and other products that are still in development as they are handed to the customer. Don't ask me why. It just happens. People are funny that way. Good luck with your Zune. Remember not to hook it to your waistband - or you'll end up with your pants around your ankles - precisely where Microsoft likes to have you.

Caution - the truth may hurt.

2006-10-31T07:48:00.000-05:00

I've hadn't had much time to update my blog over the past few months. My father passed away in July. However, the other day I received an email from someone who complained that I 'run everyone down' on the blog. I read back through my entries and began to realise that anyone who took offense to the content would, by default, be disagreeing with my point of view. I have no problem whatsoever with a contrary viewpoint; but when you consider the reason for this blog - which is to point out how insidious and infectious is the stupidy and ignorance that pervades our society... it boggles the mind that anyone would actually come to the defense of the morons who live amongst us. Nonetheless, this person apparently did. Something in the content of my blog must have struck a cord.

As publisher of my newspaper, I wrote a weekly article which usually dealt with local issues and events. One week, I wrote an article in which I admonished the owners of those businesses who get involved in charity events in order to get the publicity. I named no one. I never mentioned a business. I didn't list any charity. The only people who might respond would be those who were guilty of trying to get a free publicity ride. The trap was set. The newspaper hit the streets, and within a day I received a call from the biggest culprit (and the reason for the article), complaining about my attempts to ruin community involvement, etc. Believe it or not, she was still angry over the fact that we covered an event and failed to mention her company name enough and that I wouldn't give her more than 1/4 page free in sponsorship of her event. We had written numerous articles prior to the function, gave her plenty of coverage, with photos - which amounted to a full page of editorial, plus a 1/4 page free. Her name and logo didn't get plastered everywhere - so she was pissed. I supported the food bank for 3 years, to the tune of hundreds of pounds of food and thousands of dollars, and never once worried about whether or not my newspaper received credit. I did it because it was something that needed to be done - not for the publicity. On the other hand, the angry advertiser was holding her event to get 'free ink'. She was guilty, and by complaining - she confirmed that fact to me. Any sensible person would nod their head in agreement. You don't use community events for personal promotion. And that brings me back to the complaint email I received.

Take a look through the blog entries here. I've made every attempt to point out that those of us with reasonable intellect are astonished by the idiocy we see out there. To quote Eric Idle, "Pray there's intelligent life somewhere up above, 'cause there's bugger all down here on earth."

So, if I have offended you with my entries, you should probably go back and read them again to see exactly which piece offended you most. Read it carefully. It's your first clue that you're not 'one of us'.

Nobody home!

2006-08-04T15:10:00.000-04:00

It's been a difficult few months for me, and despite my best attempts to maintain a cheery disposition, I've been feeling miserable. Then it happened. My neighbour called me at work and informed me that the 'Beverly Beer Bellies' next door had loaded up their truck and moved to another street. It was like winning the lottery. No more garbage burning on an old Hibachi three feet from my back window, no marathon beer drinking sessions and the thumping stereo thumped no more. Peace at last. I couldn't wait to get home and finally enjoy being a homeowner. Once home, I looked at the yard next door and sighed. What a delight it was to survey my domain without having my eyes or ears assaulted by the ignorant rednecks who had infested our end of the street. I feel sorry for the alcoholic bumpkin on the other side of the now empty residence. He has no one left to party with or yell to at midnight every night. Poor lonely bastard. At least he has his beer to keep him company. Those of us who take pride in our homes are looking forward to reclaiming the neighbourhood - but I pity the unsuspecting neighbourhood where the Beer Bellies landed. They shouldn't worry too much though, these lazy, unemployed transients can only stay in a place until the landlord starts looking for his back rent. That usually takes about 6 months to a year, and then they'll be off to lower the property values elsewhere and torment other unfortunate homeowners. As for me, I'm looking forward to sitting outside tonight for the first time in over a year.

Keeping abreast of the news...

2006-08-04T13:49:00.000-04:00

I read in utter amazement about the recent uproar over the 'BabyTalk' cover which featured a nursing baby. The publication apparently received over 5000 complaint letters from people who were offended by the imagery, and that baffles me. Let's get the facts out of the way first; nursing a baby is a natural function which has to take place when the baby is hungry - and like it or not, this has been going on in private and in public since shortly after Adam and Eve did their thing. Besides, that could easily be a baby kissing a bald man's head for all we know. Anyone who, due to some issues with their own sheltered upbringing, finds breastfeeding to be dirty and should be hidden from view in shame, should take a look around at the cesspool in which we live.

I heard a commercial for 'Fat Bastard' wine the other day. It wasn't so long ago words like that would be bleeped out in songs, for example, and now it's perfectly acceptable to use the word 'Bastard' in a brand. It's aggregiously offensive, but I flipped to another station. I was skimming through the TV channels recently and came across a show which focused on anal sex, and nothing was left to the imagination. I should have taken a leaf from the Breast Protestors book and fired off an email to complain about my being subjected to such imagery... but then I glanced down and noticed that I had the very solution in my hand. The remote. Problem solved. Let's face it we're bombarded by off-colour language and sexual images all day every day, and it's not going to change any time soon. I'm open-minded enough to accept it, enjoy some of it and turn away from the rest. but then I'm relatively well adjusted.

So, complain if you must, about the breastfeeding image, but always remember that no one is forcing you to view it. You're being forced to acknowledge that breastfeeding exists, and may be you don't like that, but you have the ability (I presume) to turn away or ignore what you consider to be offensive. While you're on your crazy soapbox, perhaps you could do something about these women who brandish baby asses all over the place when they're changing diapers. Feminine hygene ads need to go. Bikinis should be banned too. And women should be forced to wear bras, lest their swaying breasts be mistaken for some sexual signal. Let's censor anything and everything that might possibly perhaps may be considered offensive to your delicate sensibilities. Imagine the carefree life you will lead. You will never have to think or make a choice again, and wherever you look will be a breastless nirvana. Or you could jump in front of the next freight train and save us all the aggravation.

I'm a Mac...

2006-07-27T08:19:00.000-04:00

The recent Mac vs. PC commercials have had PC users grinding their teeth and spitting venomous vitriole in any email or forum they can find. I've watched these arrogant PC snobs look down their noses at Apple products for over 20 years, talking about Macs as though they were a passing fad that would go away and leave them in their own screwed up Bill Gates world. I think I can speak for most (if not all) longterm Mac users when I say that we are well used to that aloof, holier-than-thou attitude that gets slathered over every Mac user by people who think there should be nothing but PCs available to anyone. Yet, what exactly is a PC? Well, it's a box that could be manufactured by any one of hundreds of companies, so brand loyalty is spread quite thin. The dominant operating system is Windows, which is apparently a huge thorn in the side of most users, and these computers are usually fairly good value for the money until you start adding the things that come standard on a Mac. I've used both Macs and PCs and aside from the obvious differences, I've had no trouble operating either platform. So you see, there is no official manufacturer of the PC. The term PC (Personal Computer) was coined to distinguish any of the thousands of non-Apple products, but in reality, a Mac is a personal computer too. This means 'PC' users are left with only one thing with which they can identify... the operating system. On the other hand, Macs are manufactured and supported by Apple - it's such a simple and efficient business model. I hear so often that there is so much more software available to PCs users, and this is true mainly due to lazy insecure manufacturers who were (and still are) completely ignorant about the community of strong and loyal Mac customers. This situation is certainly not the fault of Apple. It's about time Apple started handing back some of the crap that has been dished out over the years. It's a shame the people dishing out that prurient crap have such short memories. I'd love to hear someone open up honestly and say " Oh yeah, you got us. We deserved that, didn't we?" No chance of that though.

Get out your waders...

2006-07-18T12:01:00.000-04:00

Have you ever gone to a formal function dressed as Spiderman? Online dating is like that...or perhaps it's more like wading chest deep into a stagnant, oozing bog. Some may find that statement to be a little extreme, however, anyone who has tried the singles sites is probably nodding in agreement right now. The bog metaphor is quite appropriate, since we are quickly overwhelmed by the overwhelming stench of stale profiles, narcissistic chicanery, inaccurate photos and unabashed lying from the unapologetic bullshit merchants. If you were to check a site today and come back a year from now, virtually all of those people will still be there, dredging the depths for their special someone. It's a sad, pathetic waste of time and energy unless you consider the entertainment value for those people lucky enough to have escape the cult of egomania, or luckier still, to have never entered it.

The profiles ought to accurately describe the person in question, but that is not always the case. What exactly does "A few extra pounds" mean? You could weigh 300lbs normally, gain 4 or 5lbs and still get away with that statement. When asked to describe their physical attributes, you'll see things like "athletic" or "toned" or my favourite; "Average". Define average for me. A quick side trip to Thesaurus.com resulted in the following definitions; "...mediocre, medium, middling, moderate, nowhere, ordinary, passable, plastic, regular, run-of-the-mill, so-so, standard, tolerable, typical, undistinguished, unexceptional, usual, vanilla, white bread..." It's inconceivable that so many people would describe themselves as such. But they do. In droves. To be fair, the site operators name the categories, and so there's often little more to choose from if you're trying to be honest. Hands up everyone who has been 100% honest when filling out one of these profiles. Both of you get an 'A'. But can you spell?

As an adult, being unable to spell can be likened to an 8 year-old who never made it through potty training. That 8 year-old will defecate anywhere with little or no regard to personal embarrassment or the disgust of those nearby. The same can be said for those adults who make no effort whatsoever to spell properly and proudly advertise that fact in their profile. I suppose a relationship could be termed a 'realationship', but sadly for the illiterati, it is not. The ability to spell isn't any less important than being able to count, and it is an effective indicator of your intellect - or lack thereof. So when I read through a profile that screams "I am an illiterate cretin", I back out gracefully and move on.

The photos are an interesting and sometimes disturbing area. It would appear that far too many people make no effort to include a recent picture, or it's too difficult to tell one facial feature from another because the photo was taken by satellite on cloudy day. Then there's the outright bizarre habit of including photos of dogs and cats or snapshots from some cruise five years ago. I'm still trying to figure out why that should make someone more appealing. In some cases the pets are more attractive. You'll find the obligatory waist-up photos of shirtless, hairless man-boys proclaiming their virility and ignorance with a few ill-chosen and mispelled words. Let's not forget the photos of women from the chin up. I dread to think what it is they are not revealing. I saw a photo of a man in a French Maid outfit, and he was asking for a woman to teach him how to be feminine. I'll bet he was inundated with replies.

Finally, if you're looking for signs that we are going to hell in a handcart, check out the forums, where the herd gathers to chew the cud. It's frightening to see how many poor lost souls willingly toss their hearts (and self respect) into an arena filled with self-professed experts on dating and relationships. They argue back an forth, they offer ridiculous advice, they insult one another and point fingers, yet a year from now, they will all still be there. Forgive me for stating the obvious, but would you take dating advice from someone who was in need of a dating site for a year or more? Would you trust advice from someone who needed your insecurities to validate his or her miserable existence? To put it into perspective, would you trust directions in a strange city from a blind man? Probably not, but for some strange reason we turn to these career singles in the hope that they can fix what can't be fixed. If you are ugly, insecure, Titanic large or Tom Thumb tiny, covered in blemishes, terminally ignorant or unable to maintain a relationship beyond the first date... deal with it, but in the name of all that's holy, keep it to yourself.

The name game

2006-04-20T15:05:00.000-04:00

So Tom Cruise and what's her name had a kid the other day.

Good for them. They called it Sugary or Surly or something chic like that. Suri...that's the name.

Mmm.

I was so impressed I stopped digging for ear wax when I saw the news item crop up on CNN. However, I was disappointed that the old lady four houses down from me had a huge goiter removed the day before, and no one from CNN showed up. I also heard that Paris Hilton forgot her panties in public again no so long ago; I saw the photo on the internet. Several times. Yet my neighbour's son Desmond almost swallowed his tongue in a freak see-saw/hot dog accident, and even though his grandma took pictures of him at the hospital, not one of them made news. He's a celebrity of sorts 'round these parts - so how does that differ from some played out actress who kicks out a kid? My ex-wife gave birth to four kids, and the only press we received was the ads I paid for, and I didn't see any T.V. news crews lurking around waiting to catch a candid shot of me running from the hospital. Perhaps if she had jettisoned the young 'uns all at once we might have made the six o'clock news, not to mention the Guiness Book of Records.

So then, what is this odius fixaton with celebrities? Is what they do in between multi-million dollar projects so important to you that you'll give up bingo to wait for news of Brad Pitt's latest bowel movement? We can always blame the press, after all, we blame them for everything else (although I'd like to state emphatically that they had nothing to do with little Desmond's see-saw accident), but they're only pimping for Hollywood. If they had no Johns, the pimping would be as useful as Kevin Costner's acting talents.

I really don't give five and-a-half hoots if Jello or Jay-lo has a boob or a bum job, although if she added a breast, I'd certainly tune in to news - purely out of curiosity. A triple-nipple Jay-lo would intrigue me. But not for long. If she had her butt hiked halfway up her back and had eyes tattooed on it - that would be an oddity worth hearing about. For a little while. The same would be true if Tom Cruise was suddenly overcome with the ability to act. I'd want to know how that could be possible, but I'd tire of that news quickly too. If Mr. Cruise eats salad sprinkled with cockroaches and sparrow feces, or worships a pencil in his spare time, that's his business. Not mine. I have a life.

Very well, my life isn't as interesting as that of a celebrity, but it's mine and I experience it firsthand. I have no need to live it vicariously through some overpaid 'artiste'. Perhaps I don't get to drive around in an outrageously expensive sportscar and go to a fancy soirée every night, but I'll bet Mr. Cruise et al don't get a smilie face drawn on their coffee lid when they go to the donut store. I do. Granted, the last time I drew a crowd was when I fell and split my cheek wide open, but that's not the point. The point of this exercise is to somehow demonstrate how kooky this whole celebrity worship thing has become. I realize it's a wasted exercise, but it's been cathartic for me. Much like a good dose of bran.

So the next time you feel compelled to soak up the latest news about Nicole Kidman's new gardener's V.W. Microbus, stop and think for a second. That's all it will take. A second. The feeling will pass, and you can get back to your excuse for a life. Trust me, your head won't fall off if you don't hear anything about CruiseKit or KitKat or TomKat or whatever the name bastardization du jour is. Break free.

by the way, little Desmond is fine, although he may never play the Oboe again. The old lady down the street moved away not long ago, sans goiter, but I hear she's doing fine. She's thinking of writing a book about her experiences. No doubt Jay-lo will want to play her in the Hollywood version. Funny how things come out, isn't it?

May differ from illustration

2006-04-19T21:20:00.000-04:00

If I've learned anything after almost 3 decades in the advertising circus, it's that there is little room or tolerance for truth or intelligent thinking in that business. Never let the truth get in the way of a great idea.

For example, you might see a T.V. commercial for a new car and find that $32,000 price tag too good to pass up. That's right folks, only $32,000 for a vehicle that will drive up mountains, travel under the ocean or turn other cars on the street into rusting hulks. "Why, that's unbelievable!" you say.

Listen to your first instinct. It is unbelievable. The car isn't $32,000 as shown. They tell you that right in the ad, if you're quick enough to catch it. The car they show you retails for another ten or twenty thousand. Are they worried that you wouldn't pay that kind of money for the car they are advertising? You bet. Why else would they play the shell game? Honesty wouldn't hurt. It strikes me that if you're selling something for X dollars, you need to show people exactly what they're getting for that money. I don't want to see something more expensive and imagine what the cheaper version will look like. That's insane. That's advertising. Doubtless, some university-educated advertising executive will likely have a strategic explanation, but you can't explain away the creative deceit. Not from where I'm standing.

I'm not claiming bait and switch here, because everything is all above board, and they're not really lying in these commercials. If you can read characters less than 1/32" deep and smaller at the speed of a computer, you'll be able to see that the disclaimer covers everything. I don't know that because I've read it. No one can. I know that because they can't bullshit you without giving some legal explanation. In effect, they can't lead you to think that the car you see is the one you'll get for the advertised price. They can play with the truth in the big type, but they have to tell the truth in the disclaimer.

Ah, the disclaimer. Try reading one. I have, and it's virtually impossible to get it all no matter how many times you see the commercial. These people have to get their message across in the most effective, memorable and streamlined manner, and they need to do this in 30 seconds (usually). If you actually sat and read one of those disclaimers, it would probably take a few minutes or more at a reasonable pace. Their solution; put it in anyway. They've followed the law to the letter. The disclaimer is there. Now wait a minute - that makes no sense at all. What is the point of including a disclaimer if the content can't be read and thereby understood? Does that not imply deceit? Are they hiding something in that tiny type? Not usually, but who can tell for sure?

I have the solution. Redefine the advertising regulations. State your case honestly in your 15, 30 or 60 seconds without 1,000 word disclaimers. Allow terms such as "Quantities Limited" or "Some assembly required", because they can be superimposed and read easily without interrupting the creative integrity of your work. And they mean something. If you can't state your case honestly, try finding work with the government. If you're selling me a $32,000 car, I want to see what I'm getting. Don't try to pull the wool over my eyes and cover it up by running something resembling Homer's Illiad at the bottom of the screen. I may not possess your all-so-important academic clutter, but I can tell when I'm being fleeced by some oily-haired suit. If you absolutely must include the legal mumbo jumbo, then it should be mandated that it appears on the screen long enough to be read properly. Is that too much to ask? We haven't even begin to touch on the ads for medical/pharmaceutical products. But I'm saving that for another post.

One last word on the disclaimers; do you really think someone would buy a Jeep Commander and try to use it for family trips under the ocean? I fell off my couch when I saw something like "Not intended for underwater use" tagged under one of these Jeeps as it emerged from the surf carrying a family of four. Give your head a shake. First of all, if you're the slightest bit concerned that some idiot might try such a stunt, why give them ideas? And why on earth would you try to demonstrate the benefits of an earth-bound vehicle by showing it driving under the sea? You're selling cars, not boats! Oh, and you can't fool me with the SUV on the mountain top. You flew it there with a helicopter, didn't you? And that ice cream in the commercial... are you going to tell everyone it's really mashed potatoes? Mmmm...looks tasty...but I don't see a disclaimer stating that what I'm seeing isn't what I'll get. (By the way, ice cream would melt under studio lights, which is why they use a substitute - I wasn't being altogether truthful on that one, but then, this is about advertising) Has your Burger ever looked like the ones on TV? Has it ever been steamy hot like that, with the cheese all nice and melty? You wouldn't buy it if they showed you the real thing.

Disclaimer: "Burger shown is for demonstration purposes only. The one you will receive will be luke warm, grey and dripping with oily lard and slapped into a crumpled box or bag by a 16 year-old who just picked his nose. Slab of unmelted processed cheese-type product may be omitted if the kids behind the counter are busy chatting about the dance on Saturday night."

There's an old saying in advertising; "Sell the sizzle, not the steak".

I'm here to tell you that you can't eat the sizzle. Put that in a commercial.

Oil be seeing you

2006-04-19T13:28:00.000-04:00

From CBC's Web site, dated February 7, 2006:
CALGARY (CP) - Profits at Canada's five biggest integrated oil companies increased 34 per cent last year to $9.6 billion, providing a hefty cash injection into an already super-heated sector.

That was then. This is now, and gas prices are once again approaching the astronomical. Everybody whines and moans about how expensive it is to put gas in their vehicles, yet no one has developed the huevos to stand up and do something about it. We just keep accepting the weak, patronizing responses from the petroleum parasites in the oil industry as though we were being given a recipe for chocolate chip cookies.

Uhuh. Mmm. Thank you.

The unscrupulous and complacent behaviour of this omnipotent group of money-hungry toadies has gone on for far too long, and yet government officials everywhere nod heads with vacuous smiles and dawdle along in complete acquiescence, apparently oblivious to the mayhem caused by pump prices that drastically fluctuate upwards. Yes, the prices come down. but then they go back up...way up. They'll lower again, although not as low as before, and then rocket skywards. The object of this frustrating exercise is to ensure that there is no firm base price against which we can compare the increases - and this gives them the wiggle room they need to play their feeble public relations card. Of course our governments salivate over the taxes they gouge from products such as oil - and the oil toadies will hammer that fact home at every opportunity. There's a lot of finger-pointing going on out there, but both camps are grinning all the way to the bank..."Soak 'em again"..."What can they do?"..."They'll believe any old crap".

They're absolutely correct.

In the meantime, transportation will cost more, for example - which means goods and services will cost more, which means we have less disposable income to buy the things we need or want, and this translates into layoffs and closings. Extreme extrapolation? I don't think so. Not so very long ago, $20 in my small gas tank meant I could drive around at will for almost 10 days. Today, that same amount barely lasts a week. So, when the time comes to do some shopping, I don't travel as far, and that results in fewer purchases at stores outside that invisible boundary. That's a very basic example of the effects on one person. Now do your extrapolation, and calculate what the effect is nationwide. Not so basic, is it?

Yet your government, wherever you are, continues to nod and smile apologetically as it rakes in billions in tax revenue. Will any of that cash be earmarked for unemployment or economic revitalization, or better still, health care and schooling? I'd bet a gallon of gas it won't. Perhaps we can hope that our governments will collectively put some controls on the oil companies and their gouging. There's a better chance that George W. will wake up smart tomorrow morning. Don't forget, you're not just getting hit at the pumps. You're getting reamed at the grocery store, appliance outlet - in fact most stores. You're not immune if you ride the bus, and since it will cost more to run school buses for example, do you think there might be a tax hike in the near future? Are you beginning to see how insidious this whole business is?

I'd like to see a week where everyone tries to either cut back or cut out gas purchases. Not a day. A week. Sure, they'll retaliate with higher prices afterwards because that's how these thieves operate, but they'd get the message. For my part, I'd go two weeks, however I can already hear the moans. "It's OK for you, but I just can't do that". Of course you can't, how silly of me. You're quite content to let someone else fight for your rights on your behalf as long as you're not inconvenienced. You're willing to pay much higher gas prices for that privilege. That's the kind of self-interested laziness that allowed the toadies to walk all over us in the first place.

I'm walking the 3 miles to work next week. To hell with the toadies.

The rim shot heard around the world

2006-04-19T06:44:00.000-04:00

An annual Canadian spring rite has been taking place over the past month or so, and while most of us view it with a healthy dose of justifiable skepticism, there are a few extremists who embrace it with the fervor of a leg-humping dog.

"Roll up the rim to win" at Tim Hortons has everyone feverishly nibbling and tugging daily at coffee cup rims in the hope that they might one of the lucky one-in-nine to win a prize. These prizes range from a coffee to a Toyota RAV4, and while the odds are posted as one-in-nine, it's rare to come across anyone who has scored anything more than a donut or a coffee. I've heard the urban legends, where someone's uncle's aunt who lives three streets down from the storyteller's brother's wife, won a T.V., but in the years that the contest has been running, I have never heard a first hand report. My odds are certainly not one-in-nine. I buy a lot of coffee. That's an understatement. Much like saying China has a lot of people. I think I've won three coffees to date. Large signs behind the counters of these stores proclaim "4,265 Winners At This Store" (I chose an arbitrary number), yet does anyone stop to think that the signs should actually read "4,625 people redeemed winning rims here, but we don't know where they bought them!". Their signs are a little deceiving, don't you think? More appropriately, that announcement should state "41,625 people are losers", which, if my math is correct (it rarely is) reflects that oft-quoted one-in-nine winner to loser ratio, but the one-in-nine applies only to the food prizes. Odds of winning the Toyota are...one in 8,296.3, and the cash prizes are estimated at one in 497,778. What are the odds of finding a major prize in the garbage can then?

Do people actually win the big prizes or is it all the machinations of a Canadian caffeine conglomerate, engineered to keep us hooked on their product? Apparently, people do win. Take the 10 year-old girl in Quebec, who, while on her routine exploration of the garbage, discovered a cup that had not had its rim rolled up. There was the holy grail of Canadian coffee drinkers, nuzzled between the half-eaten apples, chewed gum and slimy banana peels. Brushing away the fruit flies, she struggled to roll up the rim. Tim Hortons had cleverly designed these rims to be opened only by those old enough to participate, and this girl was too young by eight years. But Timmies didn't count on the resourcefulness of this feisty little garbage picker. She enlisted the help of her 12 year-old friend, and between them they rolled up that rim and discovered they had won a RAV4.

And so ended the happy part of the lucky garbage picking story.

There followed a nauseating soap opera of ridiculous proportions which culminated in today's verdict. I'll get to that shortly. The families of the girls immediately embarked on campaigns to prove who was the rightful owner of the winning cup. The press got involved. Tim Hortons got involved. And of course, swimming through this sea of malcontents were the Great Whites of the legal profession, gulping off chunks of cash at every opportunity. Even the janitor who claimed he discarded the winning cup plunged headlong into the melée, demanding, of all things, a DNA test to prove his ownership. Everyone had an opinion, and arguments ensued, although most of us agreed unanimously that the janitor was the biggest twat.

This circus continued for weeks, while the rest of us rolled up our losing rims and cursed the Gods of caffeine. Finally a decision was made and the anouncement came as no shock to me. The 10 year-old won, but as a result of her inability to play the game, the prize was awarded to her parents. I think they should have sold the truck and split the money between the rest of us. I'd take a fraction of a cent over a useless piece of chewed cardboard any day. "Please play again" is a smarmy, condescending comment to print on the rim anyway. Of course I'm going to play again, but just for the record, my coffee consumption didn't increase over the period of the game, so how does that kind of 'player' help sales? How does the negative impact of all the losers and the garbage picking idiots affect the company profile? I'd like to see them print "Freakin' Loser" on every rim that doesn't contain a prize. That would confirm what I already know. The coffee is somewhat agreeable, their ability to measure sugar is deplorable, and I'm tired of waiting in line for my single coffee behind some bonehead ordering 10 assorted sandwiches, soup, bagels and fancy mixed flavour beverages. The fact that I have remained a customer for decades in spite of this annoying state of affairs puts me squarely in the loser category. I deserve to get nothing when I roll up the rim. The one-in-nine ratio is more aptly applied to my chances of not getting an overdose of sugar which makes me spew.

So let's put everything back into perspective; I don't care if there's a RAV4 or money or free plastic surgery under that rim. It won't make me buy more. However, fail to measure the sugar or cream properly, or overfill the cup and make me wait for an unreasonable amount of time, and there's a very high possibility I'll buy less. Which is the option I have chosen.

In the meantime, I'm checking every garbage can and dumpster. That must be where the winning cups are going, because they certainly aren't at any of the stores I visit.

Here comes summer...there goes sanity

2006-04-13T17:35:00.000-04:00

I love spring and summer, but not for the reasons you might imagine. It's certainly a refreshing change from snow and ice and the freezing cold weather, however, there's so much more to look forward to.

Take, for example, the 'weanie boys' in their garishly-decorated clown cars, cruising down main street, a limp arm dangling through an open window. No, that's not a marching band or circus parade coming your way, so don't look for the elephants, bearded ladies or clowns (other than the drivers of the weanie cars). It's the kathumping of a car stereo that would drown out most stadium rock concerts, and the vibration is loosening every screw within a ten block radius. These stereos are obviously worth thousands more than the car ever cost new. You wouldn't put a 50" big screen TV in your garden shed, yet these little boys seem to view the car as a means of moving their brain-numbing stereo from street to street. They'll never hear a siren coming from any direction. They'll be unaware of honking horns. Their brains are being scrambled to oatmeal by the high velocity sound waves filling their car, and yet they welcome the permanent damage by cranking the volume beyond 11 to 111. If this irritating, nauseatingly girlish dance sound (I can't call it music) floats their tiny boat - so be it - and if it was contained within the confines of the clown cars, never to heard beyond the door frame, who would complain? The sad, inexplainable fact is that they are so desperate to demonstrate their disregard for everyone else, they set the volume loud enough to be heard in the next county. I don't get it. I'm not impressed, and I don't know anyone who is. So then, what is the purpose of this aggregious behaviour? They were obviously ignored as toddlers, and never received the attention they craved. In their big people bodies (for they haven't matured since toddlerhood), they tour neighbourhoods seeking that attention - even if it means waking the dead. Colour me baffled.

That's only one of the attractions coming to a street near you this summer. It was extremely mild today, which brought out the shorts and tees for the first time since last fall. Then I saw something that almost caused me to run into the back of a weanie boy's kathumpy car. There she was, waddling down the street, trussed in some of the most inappropriate garb (for her). The winter feasting hadn't been kind to her, and the additional rolls jostled one another to escape the grasp of her hastily put-together wardrobe, and they were winning. "Laundry day" I figured. Her bra was probably in the wash too, and without it she looked as though the left and right sway of her pendulous and sagging breasts might suddenly throw her off balance. However, she managed to remain upright. Beneath the dangerously short tank top, her porcine belly protruded unapologetically, and it dropped loosely over a pair of fleece shorts which, despite gravity, remained hanging on her jiggly bum. Ah...and there I saw the piece de resistance...8" high letters that proclaimed "Grumpy". Angry at having no self respect, perhaps. Maybe she was grumpy because someone stole her 'going out in public' clothes. Probably annoyed at the fact that people were chortling quietly to themselves. I was going to get "Curmudgeon" put on the seat of my pants, but there were too many characters.

Finally, there's the not so secret society of backyard binge drinkers. These people nod in your direction when they see you mowing your lawn - they prefer to let theirs grow...it covers the mountains of dog crap issued by a dog that barks more often than most people blink. The cases of empties stacked on the porch blend nicely with the party couch - liberally covered in mystery stains (and some which leave nothing to the imagination). Friday and Saturday nights are traditional drinking nights, but the neighbourhood bingers view any day the sun comes up as a good day to gather their coven and commune with Bacchus, and commune they do. Summer brings with it long evenings and hot nights, but without any sense of time, the hardy partiers will continue until that sun comes up once more, heralding yet another day of glorious alcoholic revelry. And so it continues...for months. The fact that their neighbours need to do things like...sleep...host family get-togethers and generally live a normal life, holds no interest for the partiers. That's your problem, and only a police raid or tactical nuclear device will put an end to the intrusion. Ah, the joys of summer.

Slam Spam Thank You Ma'am

2006-04-07T22:55:00.000-04:00

There's only one creature lower than the spammer, and that's the idiot who responds to it. For crying out loud - thousands of clever people are investing millions of dollars in processes aimed at putting an end to the destructive and disruptive activities of the spammers, and it only takes a few cheese-eating morons with erectile disfunction to screw it all up. It doesn't take a great leap of imagination to figure out that if no one responded to spam, the corporate leeches wouldn't pay their minions to defecate in our mailboxes. If your boss stopped paying you, you would still show up for work, right? Sure you would.

But idiots will always try to outrun the trains. They'll sue McDonalds for forcing them to gain weight by eating the oily offerings found under the golden arches. They'll do anything at all to assert their right to be complete twats, and that includes replying to spam. I have no doubt they stare in dumb disbelief at the mountains of useless crap spewing into their inbox, and read through every one. They haven't the sense to see that the email wasn't from anyone with whom they had ever corresponded. With millions of pages floating around the internet on how to defeat spam, they haven't read a single character. Go ahead, plead ignorance - it fits. Just remember, that the quantity of spam the rest of us receive is directly proportionate to your peculiar brand of ignorance. You probably answer every telemarketing phone call with delight and chat for hours at the front door with salespeople too, don't you? You sad, pathetic waste of carbon.

Don't whine about being technologically illiterate - we've already taken that for granted - you don't need to know anything technical at all. Nothing. You just have to be able to walk upright to prevent your knuckles dragging on the ground..now wouldn't that be a welcome relief? Then, when an email arrives from someone you don't know...ignore it. Trash it. How hard can it be? If the subject line looks like it was written by a grade 3 dyslexic, that might be your first clue that someone somewhere has your number. Don't open it. Opening bad. Trashing good. Your aunt Sally isn't interested in making sure you buy some fake Viagra - really.

If the rest of you are as frustrated with these twits as I am, might I suggest we stop throwing millions of dollars away on catching spammers, and instead invest that money in finding the buttwipes who enable them. I'd invest in a program like that. As for my inbox; if you're not in my address book, your email will never see the light of day. It took a little effort to set it up, and less effort to maintain it, but it keeps the crap where it belongs. I might receive between 30 and 100 spam messages a day, but they don't survive more than a few minutes, and I don't worry about the real mail - I haven't missed an important email yet.

Meanwhile, the email challenged cretins are eagerly awaiting their next batch of unsolicited shite. Imbeciles.

I can't hear you now...

2006-04-05T16:31:00.000-04:00

I'd like to find the guy (or gal) who invented voicemail and soundly kick his or her butt good and hard for the amount of my time I've wasted on this this electronic abomination. The concept of voicemail is a good one, however, I've yet to come across anyone who can leave a short and simple message. When you call my phones, you get an announcement which clearly outlines what I want the caller to do. Leave a brief message stating your name, number, date and time. As a result, I expect to hear something that goes like this; "Niloe... it's Mike Smith. Wednesday April 5, about 4:30pm. Call me at 555-1234 when you can. Thanks." I get all I need from messages like this - and they won't suck up every available bit of space I have alotted to voicemail.

What I get is, "Hey, remember that guy who said he wanted us to help him move the stuff from the room? Now he can't make it when we said we'd do it, so maybe we can do something else. I'm not sure what his problem is, but...." and the message drones on and on and on. If there is any useful information, it's scattered throughout the message like a code that needs to be deciphered. No way of knowing for sure who it is or where I can reach them if I have to. I have to struggle to find out when they called, and worse still, I have to sit through 5 or 10 minutes of prattling in the hope that the caller might have included something of value.

Then there's the person who calls with volumes of data and instructions, and pours it all into the voicemail under the mistaken assumption that you will instantly and permanently retain every item, or are willing to access and listen through that message to refresh your memory whenever you can't remember some part of it. Well, it's out of their head...and into yours. Your problem now. If you don't write notes at 30 characters a second, you're out of luck. It's back to that long message each time to try and refresh your memory. Are these people insane or just too damned lazy to write a note? I'd opt for the latter with some of the former thrown in for good measure.

Email (for the most part) is free. It would be much quicker to fire off the information that way than mumble through 10 minutes of stuttering uhms and aahs. If email is out of the question, leave a brief voicemail. Give the person on the other end the opportunity to prepare for the call. Besides, with email, there is a convenient record of the interchange, which brings me to my next problem regarding voicemail. Verbal instructions. Not that there's anything inherently wrong with telling someone what to do and how to do it, but it's so damned simple to unload that crap on someone and leave it to them to try and remember everything you said - especially via voicemail. I'm sick of hearing people splutter "But I told you..." or "don't your remember, I said..." Yeah, let me check the detailed notes you left me...oh...wait a minute...there are none. OK, give me 20 minutes or more to click through all the messages on my phone and find the one you're referring to...not bloody likely.

Voicemail is useful for busy people - but try to remember the 'busy' part. I don't have time to sit through your epic dissertation about something we should either discuss or have written down for reference. Now and then people complain that I never reply to their voicemail - but that's because I didn't hear it. They'd get a reply if they left a short message. Perhaps you like the idea of talking to yourself, which is exactly what you're doing if your message to me drags past my patience threshold of about 60 seconds. In fact, I hang up. You'll call back if it's important, or I'll call you if I know your number. This method places the waste of time squarely in the lap of the caller. I might lose up to 60 seconds, but you've just spent 5 or 10 minutes gabbing into a phone for no reason. It's quite simple, really, and the choice is up to you. Follow the anouncement instructions and leave a short message, or babble away to yourself as often as you like - I won't hear it.

Do ya think I'm sexy?

2006-04-04T07:08:00.000-04:00

Guys, how often have you noticed a woman (or women) surreptitiously checking out your tight jeans or rippling abs? Chances are very good that only a few of you may have actually caught someone in the act. Chances are even better that not many of us have bodies worth peaking at (at least in my case). It's my opinion that women are experts at sneaky leering. Many men, on the other hand, are outright degenerates, openly ogling and rubbernecking and circling whenever we see the smallest area of exposed female flesh, much like hyenas suspiciously eyeing one another before they descend on the kill. Most of us will try to be secretive about it and still get busted, and all but the most naiive of women know what we're about. It's a game of hide and seek of sorts. We're seeking what they are hiding. How come then, are the women so darned good at it?

The thing is, women for the most part, accept the fact that we're going to try and sneak a peek, and whether they approve or not - it's a sad fact of life. There are men who somehow manage to give the rest of us a bad name. In the coffee shop lineup the other day, I stood in front of a young woman who caught the eye of the guy in front of me. At first, I didn't know the sex of the person behind me - I was mentally moving the line onward...I needed my coffee. But that fellow in front of me kept turning around. I thought for a moment he was looking at me, and I found that a little disturbing. Then I watched his eyes move up and down and back up again. He was checking something out. But what? Curiosity got the better of me, and when another customer entered, I took that as my cue to turn - you know - to see who it was. Truthfully, I wanted to see what the creepy guy was ogling. I saw a pretty young woman, jacket open, a tube top that barely covered her goods and jeans that appeared to be painted on. I was able to absorb all of this information in milliseconds and turn back around without being detected (I think) thanks to many years of being a cautious ogler.

My neighbour was not the least bit concerned about being caught. He continued to undress this woman, and I can only imagine what perverted fantasies were bouncing around inside that cavernous skull of his. I opted not to look again. He was transfixed. The girl at the counter asked several times for the next customer - the pervert - to step up, but he was busy. I finally poked him to get his attention, and he walked forward looking back at his prey. He stood there at the counter, pushing his misshapen buttocks towards the girl behind me (I can only assume that was the objective) in some obvious and baffling pose that was as embarrassing as it was downright disgusting.

I felt my flesh crawling. It wanted to crawl right out the door and never come back. I can only imagine what that poor woman felt. Women dress in a wide variety of ways for many different reasons. Some are conservative while others are not the least bit embarrassed to display their bodies - but that's their choice. Perhaps some do it to titilate, while others may like the attention, but whatever the reason or reaction, they surely can't enjoy being eyeballed by some drooling deviant trolling for skin. I'm sure the coffee shop guy thought he was an irresitable package, and that with one wiggle of his saggy butt he could lure any woman into his sick little world, and he probably never considered how ridiculous he looked or what he was doing to that young woman by crawling his eyes all over her. She probably felt like taking a long shower after that encounter - I know I did. He made me feel like I'd just waded chest deep in dung.

So, guys...if you absolutely positively must peek down blouses and check out tight jeans etc., take a lesson from the women and make your glances furtive but know that you're probably going to be busted 9 times out of 10, whether you want to admit it or not. Show some decorum. Don't sweat the fact that we're not smart enough to catch the women at it though. To the bottom-feeders who insist on eye-humping anything female, I have but one suggestion. Get a life, get your act together, or better still, get a dog. I have no doubt most women would find your behaviour repulsive, despite what your inner sexy beast is whispering in your thick ear.

All dogs go to heaven...?

2006-04-03T18:01:00.000-04:00

Let me begin by stating that I am an Atheist with slight tinges of Nihilism around the edges. I don't condemn the right of anyone or any group to speak their mind, and I try not to be too critical of religion as a whole. I chose my particular path through life because, while all organized religions make claims regarding their version of (a) God or heavenly being(s), they can't all be right. I prefer not to make my decisions based on the perceptions of others. I'm a spiritual fence-sitter of sorts.

I received an email about heaven from a good friend today. I promised I would read it, and I did. Every word. If I was ever in any doubt about my final destination, this email cinched it. I'm going to hell. Who's coming with me? The email mentioned Revelations 21, in which John is quoted as saying "But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the detestable, as for murderers, the sexually immoral, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their portion will be in the lake that burns with fire and sulfur, which is the second death." I certainly don't qualify on most counts, but that faithless word popped up, which points the finger directly at yours truly. Sure, I've dabbled in sexual immorality, I've been called detestable a few times, and fudged the truth, but not enough - I believe - to go swimming in a lake of fire, but I'll find out eventually. My dog, on the other hand, will be welcomed at the pearly gates with open arms.

Tucker, my 6 year-old Jack Russell is faithless in a way, but then it's really hard to get him to open up enough to tell me exactly what it is he believes. I think that would be overlooked. As much as he might want to be sexually immoral, he hasn't the equipment to carry out the acts, thanks to a visit to the vet before he even knew what sex was. His extremely high intelligence has had me wondering from time to time if he's really a dog at all, but that's where my suspicion of his sorcery ends. If heaven exists, and millions of people will openly affirm that it does, Tucker will no doubt join my wife (1957-2003). So will every other animal, apparently. That would make my wife very happy, but one has to wonder how severe the pooper scooper laws are there. I began to wonder if limbo might mean that you don't get full admission to heaven due to some past indiscretion, and you don't quite qualify for the brimstone and fire, so you spend at least some of your eternity following heavenly varmints with a shovel until you've earned enough points to move up. That would make sense to me, being as I am a non-believer. If that does become your fate, watch out for Tucker - he's a prodigious crapper. But I digress.

So heaven may be populated by the moral, and the good and the just and a large, very diverse animal population. In an ABC News poll, 47% of those asked whether or not their pets would go to heaven answered in the affirmative. 35% said no. There is no mention made of the remaining 18%, but I suspect they were either atheists or ate their pets-or both. Actually, the bible makes few references to animals pertaining to their entry into heaven, however, being as they can't be 'fallen', or 'saved' since there's nothing to fall or be saved from, it's reasonable to assume they will all arrive there sooner of later. Sooner for a large number, since our daily diet contains so many of them. I think Tucker has probably sinned more than once, but he's so sneaky, I've never actually witnessed it. Nonetheless, he's likely to be admitted.

Dr. Jack Van Impe states that animals have praise sessions - according to the good doctor, they worship the Lord Jesus Christ. I'm sure they told him one day as he was wandering through the pasture. Of course, he might have overheard..."Jesus...don't let them eat us". I'll take his word for it though. They were worshipping. Who am I to refute something about which I know nothing? Some further research revealed that many people feel that animals have no souls, and were not created in the image of God so therefore are not likely to ascend. It's all so confusing to a heathen like myself. Based on that theory, I don't have to worry when I tell the neighbour's yapping mutt to go to hell.

For those of us who have yet to accept the calling, the thought of a heaven crowded by tens of thousands of years worth of deceased animals is a daunting one to say the least. There's also a widely held notion that everyone shows up in heaven with (angel) wings. Birds too? Now, I've heard of flying fish, and I've heard the saying 'when pigs fly', but I have trouble picturing snakes or elephant seals soaring aloft. Poop scooping would become an entirely new challenge.

I'm left to wonder if every living thing has the opportunity to go to heaven. For example, the smell of brussell sprouts is evil, but they can hardly sin. Roaches are an abomination, but it's not their fault...is it? There would have to be grasses in heaven - what would the grazing animals munch on? It's all too much for me to try and comprehend, which is why it's safer to be a fence-sitting atheist. It's all too easy to sit down and write a tongue-in-cheek piece like this, much easier than looking for the truth. But in just in case there's any doubt, I am still seeking the truth. In the interim, atheist aptly describes my inability to come to a decision.

OMG LMAO

2006-04-03T07:08:00.000-04:00

OMG ur going 2 luv this ntree abt wurdz I wrote 4 u. LMAO.

Bastardizing the English language appears to be completely out of control. Whether it's driven by laziness, ignorance, the internet or all of the above makes no difference. It's everywhere. I like to refer to it as Dribblish, or dribbling idiot English, more at home on a 10 year old girl's notebook but now used with alarming regularity by adults who claim an average or higher I.Q. Proper grammar and spelling went the way of the Edsel long ago, as evidenced by any form of written communication to which we are exposed on a daily basis.

"Cd's for sale" or "Good selection of TV's"

We've all seen such signs or posters...even ads...yet no one addresses the fact that the dribbling idiot who wrote the offending copy made the items possessive. What belongs to the Compact Disc? What belongs to the Television? Drop the apostrophe-s people, it's plural and a contraction...not possessive. Compact Discs...contracted to CDs. And so on. For crying out loud, how hard can that really be?

I receive communication from adults daily, and the alarming inability to spell even the most common words leaves me speechless. I'm not talking about the odd typo - I'm referring to an epidemic of virtual illiteracy, condoned by absence of criticism or correction. When we see instances of Dribblish - 10 year-old girlspeak - in the adult world, those of us who know better shake our collective heads in disbelief, but do nothing to try and control it. Given the almost total absence of proper spelling prevalent today, imagine what will happen when the children of the illiterati reach the business world or politics. "U R nvited 2 a meating of the brd of DiRecTars on 2sday. OMG it will b aWesum dude. We havin presentation's, talk's and lotsa gr8 thing's to eat. Peace out." As ridiculous as this seems, it can't be too far off. It makes me physically sick and quite angry that there hasn't been some type of backlash by people who should be insulted that this dribblish is used so frequently and universally.

Leave the idiotspeak to the kids. Learn to spell and use grammar properly, and if you find that too much of a challenge, get someone with an I.Q. above that of a chimp to write your correspondence for you. Better still, find an occupation that is better suited to your abismal spelling/grammar abilities; streetsweeper, garbage man, hooker or President of the U.S. Not that these are such bad occupations, but it appears to me that bad spelling and grammar wouldn't be as noticeable there as they would if you were a college professor for example.

OMG thas all 4 now.

Illegal Aliens revisited

2006-04-01T17:28:00.000-05:00

On reading over my post of several days ago, it occurred to me that the millions of Mexians swarming over the border aren't just looking for the better life their President promises them. It appears to be more of a recolonization of the lower states.

I also read through a post by some poor misinformed clod who stated that Mexicans didn't build the United States. He's partially correct. The Mexicans can only claim responsibility for building (if we must use that term) the U.S. annexed territory which comprised approximately half of the country of Mexico prior to the 1846-48 war. I'd like to reiterate that I'm not defending illegal immigration of any sort - just making sure the facts aren't buried inder the mountains of rhetoric.

Soccer sacrilege

2006-04-01T17:02:00.000-05:00

As hard as it may be to believe, officials in Lagos, Nigeria, have given the go ahead for soccer referees to accept bribes... but...they were quick to emphasise - these bribes should not influence their decisions on the field, and the ref should merely pretend to take the bribe. Huh? That might rate as one of the most asinine statements ever made - at least where soccer is conerned. I wonder if they even know what the word 'bribe' means'. The very first dictionary definition I came across describes a bribe as "Something, such as money or a favor, offered or given to a person in a position of trust to influence that person's views or conduct.". So the Nigerians would have you believe that their players will simply walk up to a ref before the game and hand him some cash or a ticket to the next AC/DC concert just because he likes the way the guy handles the game or the nappy way he dresses-with absolutely no expectation of reciprocation. That would be a gift, which is defined as "Something that is bestowed voluntarily and without compensation". It boggles the mind to consider how this decision could have reached the point of a vote, let alone approval. Using the Nigerian criteria, it's probably OK to rob a bank as long as you don't spend the money. I can't imagine anyone outside Lagos taking any of their teams, or more importantly their refs seriously from this point onwards. There's one more issue that needs to be addressed, and that's the upcoming World Cup. If Nigerian refs are used, it will bring into question the score of any game in which they are involved, and that my friend, would be soccer sacrilege.

At least we'll know who to talk to if we run a little short of cash during the games, hm?

Parkin' Mad...

2006-04-01T08:14:00.000-05:00

There are those among us who live by the principle that a driving licence is also a licence to park where and how they please, regardless of the law or inconvenience to their fellow drivers. You know who you are, although I doubt you are able to read this diatribe since it requires a reasonable command of the English language, and you are so obviously bereft of the ability to read something as simple as, for example, a parking sign. In view of this ongoing problem, I'd like to offer the following suggestions on behalf of the drivers who are forced to negotiate their way around your eccentric driving habits.

1) Owners of parking lots usually provide handy lines, some yellow, some white - but don't let the colours confuse your tiny mind - just place your vehicle squarely between them. Until now, you may have thought these lines were just a pattern and served no more purpose than to brighten up an otherwise drab slab of pavement, but that's a myth spread by other ignorant drivers. The lines help keep all of the vehicles neatly lined up so that people can enter and exit easily. They also give a clear indication of how many people can park in a designated area. It's a hard concept for you to grasp, I know, but if you take up one or more spaces, you rob other drivers of the opportunity to park. The neat parking concept has an added benefit of reducing, if not eliminating, the possibility of 'door dings'.

2) Rain or snow won't kill or even slightly injure you. I know you believe otherwise, but trust me, it's true. There's no need to park on the sidewalk in front of a store so that you have only a foot or so to dash to the dry warmth. The rest of us understand that you are an intrinsically lazy oaf, so we'll forgive you if it takes you a few attempt to get this one right.

3) Angle parking areas are clearly marked, usually with signs clear and large enough for a 6 year-old to understand. The fact that you don't understand them is a frightening notion. But just in case you do see the signs and can't figure out what they want you to do, remember that angle parking requires you to place your vehicle...on an angle. If you're in doubt, look around at the other vehicles as a guide. Now wipe the drool from your chin and proceed.

4) When a parking lot has no clearly defined markings it's easy to go 'space wild' and park sideways in the middle. This has been demonstrated time after time by dimwits who are probably overwhelmed by the excitement of discovering a lineless lot. Try to remember that the lot was built to hold a number of vehicles. It's tempting to think they created it just for you, but that's not the case. If there are other vehicles in 'your' lot, try to park beside or between them. Not too close or too far, but just right. Don't worry - the rest of us took the time to learn how to do this, you can too. If there are no other vehicles, make an honest attempt to keep your car square to the walls or curbs etc. This simple act can make it so much easier for other drivers to park.

5) If you can't see over the steering wheel of your land yacht, let someone else park. Better still, let someone else drive.

6) Never park on highways or streets to talk to friends you meet. It's OK to block the aisles in the grocery store to chat for an hour, but this can be fatal when behind the wheel of large automobile.

7) Some of you are confused about stopping and parking. If you pause in a busy traffic area for a 'quick 5 minutes' while you run into a store for example, it may be stopping to you, but it's parking to the rest of us. I define stopping as placing your huge clown foot on that brakey thing, thereby preventing your car from moving forward. Much like you do occasionally at those funny flashing intersection lights and the big red signs on street corners.Since you are still behind the wheel, you have the ability (and hopefully the desire) to move when one or more us find you blocking our way. We do that by honking our horns at you. If you refuse to move...that's parking. If you're not behind the wheel...that's parking too. Not too difficult to understand is it?

One last note on the methods used to negotiate vehicles into parking spots. If you're driving a getaway car, backing into a parking spot might give you a slight advantage when it's time to run, but I think that may be the only reason one might need to perform such a manouver. If you're a 'nervous reverser', what does it matter whether or not you back in or out? On the other hand, you may be trying to avoid getting hit as you back out. Millions of us do it every day, and it's not that hard. Try it. Those of you who swoosh into a slot as though it could disappear any second if you don't get in there quick- it's a clever trick, but it only demonstrates how much of a blockhead you are. The rest of pray for brake failure when we see that stunt.

OK - now get out there and park like a human.

What up?

2006-03-31T14:30:00.000-05:00

There he was, standing in line at the donut shop, streetsweeper pants three sizes too big (with trailing cuffs stained from cigarette butts, spit, dirt and other trash dragged behind the wearer), heavy jacket over fleece hooded sweat..hood up over a battered ballcap, which curiously enough was on the right way. A fashion faux pas perhaps. It was such a beautiful warm day outside, but I suspected he was feeling a little under the weather, possibly suffering from chills or something that caused the warm rays of the sun to have little or no effect on his drooping frame-hence the clothing overkill. His girlfriend obviously searched long and hard through her extensive wardrobe to come up with her "goin'-uptown" outfit, which quite effectively complimented the droopy guy's costume. Her black fleece sweatshirt was liberally festooned with assorted dog and/or cat hair, and it hung loosely on her braless body much like a gunny sack hangs on a fencepost. The teddy bear patterned pyajama pants were a nice touch, I thought, however I did wonder if they had ever been closer to a washing machine than the laundry room floor. Obviously these people were making a fashion statement, and the statement is " I dress from a garbage bag in the dark". It's not just the kids. We can almost forgive them for all dressing alike to assert their indivuality. This complete abdandonment of clothing ethics is universal. From the girls and their jeans that make even the skinniest derriere look enormous, to the death-warmed-over look of the Goths, fashion has gone to hell and it's taking taste and common sense with it. At first I found the saggy baggy look quite funny, like the clowns at a circus, and I figured it would go away like most ridiculous fashions. I was wrong. So very wrong. It got worse. I still laugh when I see the acres of demin and fleece draped on what now looks like a shrunken body, but I have to wonder what the larger normal humans wear now that 'fashion (un)conscious' kids and adults insist on dressing 4 - 8 sizes larger than they need. What really gets me chuckling is the bandaged look, or whatever that rag tied around the head is meant to signify, or the heavy woollen cap worn indoors and out, every day of the year. It's entirely possible that, while some children are taught how to dress themselves, these people were left alone with a laundry hamper and forced to make do with whatever they could find. That theory makes further sense if you picture some small child trying to get into his overweight father's overalls, and given the other items one might find in a laundry hamper, I'm left to wonder if some of these people, as adults, are wearing mommy's underwear beneath those layers and layers and layers of assorted...stuff. A disturbing thought indeed. So what would cause someone to dress like a social pariah? A need to stand out from the crowd? That doesn't hold water where groups of their peers are concerned, since they all dress the same. Perhaps it's the entertainment value, after all, everyone who dresses normally has had a private snicker or outright guffaw at some of these costumes. Obsessive indecision may be the answer. With so many pants and jackets and shirts from which to choose, why make the effort? Wear them all. I think most people would opt for the theory that it's the inescapable, pervasive influence of Hip Hop claptrap and its misogynistic drivel about dem hoes and biotches and getting crunked in da club and the peurile glorification of the 'F' word. Or the 'C' word. Or the 'S' word. It's pitiful to see these people, regardless of race, bouncing around like an injured chickens in their insanely oversized garb. The sad thing is, there are so many of them that they reinforce one another's decision to dress like tasteless cretins, which makes it impossible to cull them from the herd until the day they show up for that important job interview. That's when the shoe might (hopefully) drop. You don't have to wear a suit and tie to fit in. You don't even have to fit in. But just remember that for every one of your baggy-clothes-wearing enablers, there's dozens of regular citizens getting good laugh at your expense. Add me to that list. I'm still laughing at the fashion plates in the donut shop. Poor screwy misfits.

Chewing gum for the faltering mind

2006-03-30T22:31:00.000-05:00

Whether you blame Baird, Farnsworth or Zworykin for the invention of the television, you can't deny that the content of that magic box has deteriorated beyond all imagination and continues to do so at an alarming rate. Who among us hasn't sat in front of a flickering screen, stunned by the utter tripe tripe defectated daily by unapologetic suits at the networks? Yet, there are those of us who encourage these delinquents by, believe it or not, choosing to watch the drivel. You know who you are, and shame on you.

You see, the object of network programming isn't, as you may have imagined, to entertain you. They don't give a tinker's damn whether or not you are entertained, but, like the zombies in 'Night of the Living Dead'. they need brains. These brains don't have to be brilliant. Just barely sentient. Alert enough to stay awake without drooling, but malleable enough to accept, without question, the advertising messages that infect every programme. The owners of these brains willingly expose themselves to some of the most ridiculous rubbish ever conceived by man, and the suits are laughing all the way to the bank. At the top of the rubbish heap are the 'reality' shows. Do we really care what not to wear? How many times do we need to see homes renovated, cars rebuilt, motorcycles created by cantankerous bumpkins, or worn-out has-beens on a comeback trail to nowhere? This kind of programming will suck the intellect right out of your head. However, that may be the plan. Aim the programming at the lowest common denominator, for example, the clod who can't figure out a light switch, and you're guaranteed to have a hit on your hands. It can't be that hard to be a programming guy. All you need is the most ridiculous concept you can imagine - there is already a waiting and willing audience of chuffs hungering for your particular brand of mind-numbing crap.

Here are some reality shows that could easily make it on air:

"While you were passed out"
The host invites 50 strangers to your home to party all night. Once you pass out, the guests trash your home. A unique take on the home renovation concept.

"The Old Man & The Street"
Follow Dizzy Bob as the confused octogenarian tries to make his way from his home to the corner store. However, we have spiked his morning coffee with a heavy laxative and changed the street signs.

"Pimp my Stroller"
Each week some unsuspecting mother will have her stroller and stolen and repainted. The hillarious antics will have you choking with laughter as many of the mothers find their children have been mixed up or painted green.

"What's That Smell?"
Contestants will be asked to identify someone or something by smell alone. Get those buckets ready.

"Who's Your Daddy?"
Definitely a winner. Several women will be artificially inseminated, and over the next nine months they will try to guess who the fathers are..but watch out...we threw in some twins and quads for added excitement.

"What's On TV?"
Contestants will sit in front of a blank TV screen and try to guess what would be showing if the TV was on. It's not that easy though...they have to do it with their eyes closed.

So there you have it. I could go to work for the networks tomorrow. On the other hand, I'm having my ear hair waxed.

Howdy Neighbour...got beer?

2006-03-30T09:07:00.000-05:00

Some people have no concept of how to live in a neighbourhood. When I moved into my home 6 years ago, the neighbours were friendly and easy to get along with, and all was happy in my little 'hood, however, both homes were sold shortly afterwards and that's when my troubles began. The home on my left was purchased by an retired couple, so they were no threat to my right to peaceful enjoyment, but the house on the other side became a duplex, settled by two sets of ignorant tenants who would be just as happy living in a cave. Since people started moving in and out and in and out and in and out of the rental property, I've been treated to someone practicing drums, daily garbage burning on a hibachi, blaring stereos, fist fights, parties, squealing tires and much more, but I don't want to list it all for fear of being labeled a complainer. I think the problem lies in the fact that these people view their residences as apartments or places to crash for a few months rather than homes, since they are basically transients. These are people who might list among their hobbies; buying beer, drinking beer, borrowing beer, sharing beers with other transients, and the occasional foray to the job centre to confirm that they will never find gainful employment. I picture them sitting around their orange crate coffee table each night having a strategy meeting on how they might best disrupt the neighbourhood. "Let's buy jackhammers"..."How about some livestock?"..."Let's take the muffler off my car...oh...already did that." And the the meeting adjourns to the poolside (see photo) for some beer tasting. Fighting fire with fire has no effect on them, mainly due to the fact they consider anything like that as normal behaviour. Calling the police aggravates the situation, although it has been necessary from time to time, and asking them to just stop has no effect at all - I find it too difficult to speak that slow and in one syllable words. I accept that everyone will be subject to the rattling of lawnmowers, the odd raised voice or occasional soiree that gets a little out of hand, but that is to be expected where people congregate to live. My neighbours, on the other hand, have made an art of intrusive and annoying behaviour and activities, and it never seems to end. Their landlord, bless his black rent-sucking heart, has been blissfully unaware of the impact his tenants are having on the surrounding homeowners, at least until now. He recently made the mistake of placing a huge 'For Rent' sign on the lawn of his hovel, and there, in big white letters was his phone number, which I will call every time one of the miscreants step out of line. Et tu..rednecks.

For the benefit of Mr. Jobs

2006-03-29T23:35:00.000-05:00

Back in 1968, two years before the Beatles admitted they had broken up, they formed Apple Records, a record label which ended up lasting far longer than they did. At the time, a rosy-faced 12 year-old geekboy named Steve Jobs was dreaming of bigger things than Batman and pocket money. Perhaps he heard the first release from Apple, "Dear Delilah" by a band that went by the name of curious name of Grapefruit, or maybe he just liked the crunchy sweetness of a MacIntosh. The source of his inspiration isn't as important as the eventual realisation of little Stevie's dream - Apple Computers. A company which rode the rollercoaster of success and failure all the way to the ultra-popular iPod and countless lawsuits. Apparently when Apple Computer first started, The Beatles sued them for the use of the corporate name. Aside from a hefty cash settlement, Apple agreed to only use the corporate name for computer products and not enter the music markeplace. Today, Apple Records is claiming breach of that contract. Boo Hoo. I can't recall seeing anything with the Apple (Records) label on it since around 1975 or so, and I frankly don't purchase music based on the label. Does anyone? Does the fact that a song appears in the Apple Records library make any difference at all? Do you buy your Big Mac because of the bun manufacturer? A quick glance through that aging Apple song library turned up artists like Country Hams, The Elastic Oz Band, Rhada Krishna Temple, and other wierd and wonderful but obscure names, all apparently threatened by Steve Jobs and his Apple. The fact that most of us have never heard of them and likely never would despite the existence of Apple Computers seems to be of little consequence to the legal eagles, after all - there's money and reputations to be had - and that's all that matters. It's my opinion that very few people under the age of about 30 years old even know that the record label exists. In fact, they are probably trying to figure out how you get a label on a download. Let's not stop with the Apple conflict. Let's get Xerox to sue all of the other copier manufacturers and anyone who xeroxes that document. Let's get Bayer to sue anyone who calls their headache pill an Aspirin. Let's get the Coca-Cola company to sue the drug dealers for using their brand name. Of course, those of us who live in the real world know that, while brand blurring does occur, it's not likely to be an issue in the case of Apple vs. Apple. Not from where I stand. So, to the legal worms at Apple Records I offer this excerpt from the song "If you've got trouble", written by Sir Paul...

"You're quite content to be bad
With all the advantages you had over me
Just cause you're trouble
And don't bring your troubles to me
Just cause you're trouble
And don't bring your troubles to me"

For the benefit of Mr. Jobs.

Illegal Aliens vs. Manifest Desitiny

2006-03-29T11:29:00.000-05:00

Americans are falling all over themselves to address the growing epidemic of illegal aliens. It seems nothing can be done to stem the flow, and there seems to be no concensus on how it might be acheived or even whether or not it should. So, while the debate continues, I started wondering if anyone anywhere might have heard about a little thing called Manifest Destiny or perhaps the Mexican-American war (1846-1848). You see, way back then, Americans were swarming west, occupying every piece of territory they could get their hands on, regardless of who owned it. After all, it was their God-given right, so they believed, to dominate and populate the entire continent. And so they went a-populatin' and a-dominatin', shoving aside the Native Americans and Mexicans as they took up residence in their new homes. As it happens, the Native Americans and Mexicans weren't the least bit interested in Manifest Destiny or...Lebensraum as it would later be called elsewhere, and decided to let it be known. While the native Americans struggled from sea to shining sea, the Mexicans concentrated their efforts on trying to hold on to places like California and Texas, but it was becoming quite obvious to everyone that negotiation, squatting, squabbling or money (the Mexicans refused offers up to $25 million for California, and who can blame them?) would not solve the problem. It was time to put on the gloves, and for two years, Mexico and America went round after round. We all know the eventual outcome. The Manifest Destiny business never went away. In fact, they (Americans) manifested their destiny all over the place for the next 160 years or so, which brings us to the present day. I'm not defending illegal immigrants by any means, but they do appear to be behaving much as the early American settlers did over a century and a half ago. However, that doesn't justify their actions. My advice to you is; if you see a country that you'd like to call home, give them a call or write a letter and see if they're accepting any new residents. Chances are, they'll give you some forms to fill out and interview you to see if you're a good fit. They may tell you to try elsewhere, but that's the chance you must take. On the other hand, if you insist on playing the Manifest Destiny card, you may find yourself on the business end of la Migra, which could have you back home quicker than you can say "Which way to the border?". We can't condemn someone for trying to better themselves, but we can't blame the U.S. for at least trying to get people to follow the rules of immigration, no matter how belated and futile that effort may be.

Hey...that's me

2006-03-29T06:50:00.000-05:00

I found out yesterday I am a curmudgeon, and a proud one at that. Google defines a curmudgeon as "An ill-tempered person full of resentment and stubborn notions." Couldn't be closer to the truth. However, I feel that at my age I have earned the right. I've been lied to, cheated, cheated on, ripped off, screwed over, deceived, and taken advantage of all my life. Let me revise that a little. I had been lied to, cheated, cheated on, ripped off, screwed over, deceived, and taken advantage of all my life..until I decided enough was enough. I discovered that when people didn't like me, I always knew where I stood...they simply didn't like me. I knew what to expect and their behaviour towards me never came as a surprise. On the other hand, I had learned that when people (appear to) like me, the lies, backstabbing and deceit were never too far off, and more or less guaranteed to show up sooner or later. I chose the way of the curmudgeon. Keep everyone at a distance, make it very (very) hard to get to know or like you, and the screw-over ratio drops considerably. It wasn't easy at first, because everyone has an inner need to be liked, but only when they worry about what other people think. Frankly, who cares and why would it matter? Their opinions don't matter. I'd rather be known as a nasty, crusty ol' fella than an easy mark for the social parasites who can't make it through a day without gossiping, borrowing, stealing and lying. I do modify my curmudgeonly shell where some people are concerned; family members aren't (usually) a threat, but when I see the signs - I'm quite good at identifying them now - the curmudgeon curtain comes down. Perhaps not all the way, but enough to let the offender know that they have crossed from the goodness and light into the dark side without, perhaps, a way back. At the risk of sounding as though I am defending the parasites, I should point out that most, although not all, of the incidents that made me what I am today, were the direct result of my being too trusting and generous. In a way, it's not their fault. The parasites are weak and unable to contain the overwhelming desire to use someone, which made me the perfect target. Try and get my trust or my help today, and you'll get a firm but polite 'bugger off'. So, now that I have wandered from the herd, I'm looked on with disdain in some cases, bewilderment - "He's changed so much, and not for the better", anger "Why is he so pissed? I only wanted to borrow $50", or bemusement "He's an irascible old cuss". But, as I stated before, opinions don't matter to me, but my self-esteem does. I am the curmudgeon...coo coo cachoo...

Stay healthy...or else.

2006-03-28T04:09:00.000-05:00

Not too long ago, I noticed that I had a problem with some impacted wax in one of my ears, and when the usual remedies had no effect, I called my doctor to make an appointment to have the ear flushed. The receptionist explained that my doctor performs that procedure on Fridays only, and she would make me an appointment for the first available day...which happened to be two weeks away. I wasn't in any real pain, but it was uncomfortable and, as I believed, potentially damaging to my hearing, so I asked for an earlier date. "Well, you can go to the health clinic or the emergency department of the hospital..." she said, obviously already annoyed that I was interrupting her. I politely thanked her, and hung up. I was beginning to see why emergency rooms are so overwhelmed. They are handling all of the patients from doctors who are picking and choosing which cases they want to handle and when. Patients who have no business visiting an emergency room are clogging the hallways of hospitals waiting for someone to look at their boils, colds, twitches and other boo boos. I opted for the health clinic. I was warned that they too are very busy, and open only at certain hours during the day. I arrived at the clinic, looking forward to being able to rid myself of the dull throbbing and discomfort. The sign on the door put an end to all thoughts of relief. "Closed due to doctor shortage...open tomorrow at 9am." I was furious. Should it be this hard to get medical attention? How many people suffer in silence because they can't get a doctor, or are unable to get an appointment soon enough, or wait for hour after hour in crowded emergency rooms? It's disgusting. A good number of people use the health care system for things that could be handled by a visit to the local drug store, and they suck a weakened system dry. I won't go to the doctor unless it's absolutely necessary, but when that time comes, I like to think that someone will address my concerns and treat the illness or injury. Today, that's an unrealistic goal. Who is to blame? Certainly, the Canadian government has systematically gutted health care over the decades, and they deserve a good portion of blame, but what about those idiots who show up at hospitals with colds or scraped knees? They aren't looking for medical assistance - they're seeking sympathy. Here's a concept that might work...if you have a gash requiring stitches, or excrutiating pain, broken bone(s) or something obviously serious in nature, get to the emergency department. They can't help you with your cold...no one can. If there was a cure for the cold, you wouldn't have one. Right? So tough it out. Then we have doctors who find they can't live on annual salaries that would keep an average family going for several years, so they move on to 'greener pastures'. Do they choose to become physicians for the money? It would appear that way. I would like to close by congratulating the Canadian government on lowering the standards and quality of available health care to the level of some third world countries.

'bye Johnny

2005-01-24T12:51:00.000-05:00

Johnny Carson passed away yesterday. Much will be said about him in the days and weeks ahead and I'd like to add my two cents worth. Johnny was a class act. A gentleman through and through. Late night TV died when Johnny left the Tonight Show - leaving us with people who aren't even close to being funny or entertaining. Most of them aren't even amusing. So long, Johnny - the world will miss you.

None of the above

2004-11-04T04:48:00.000-05:00

I was reading over my post of yesterday, and began to wonder how anyone can consider the wins and losses of November 2 without taking into account that although voter turnout was high, it wasn't that spectacular. On average, about 52% of the electorate gets off their fat lazy backsides to exercise their right to vote. I'd say that this time it was somewhat higher, which effectively means that perhaps around 35% of the people got their wish and re-elected the incumbent President. In essence, 40% (or thereabouts) voted with their asses. In my books, that's far more telling than the split between Bush & Kerry. Unfortunately, you don't make change by failing to vote, and the ass-vote fell on deaf ears. Don't look at who voted - take a long hard look at who didn't vote. They appear to be in the majority - essentially voting for 'none of the above'.

More of the same

2004-11-03T06:58:00.000-05:00

As predicted, the U.S. election isn't over yet, but we can make a few assumptions based on the results so far. It defies belief that over 50 million people opted for more of the same. The world, not just the U.S., has been frustrated and angered by G.W.'s idiot savant approach to global and domestic politics. Admittedly, you don't have to be a member of MENSA to run for (or be) President, but perhaps several of the basic requirements should be that you keep your personal opinions and beliefs to yourself and at least have the ability to speak a sentence without sounding like a mildly retarded 8th grader. It's frightening that so many people consider him to be capable of running the U.S. for another 4 years, when he doesn't appear to be capable of running a corner store. It's a sad indictment of everything that is wrong with the country, and a crying shame that the rest of the world will have to suffer him without ever having a say in the process. I'm not suggesting that anyone outside of the U.S. should be allowed to influence the election process. I'm merely pointing out that today, everything the U.S. does affects virtually everyone else in the world, and while we might not have a say in who runs the country, we do have opinions. Unfortunately we are all vulnerable to the effects of U.S. policies - yet we are told to butt out when we try to point out that America is only one of approximately 193 countries, and that we don't necessarily agree with everything its government does. It's a great country, but it appears to be corroding from the inside out. Well, that's my piece for the day...