Done and Done

Phew!! Thank God that is done. Although that has to be the quickest holiday season I remember. (We won't talk about the ones I don't.)

Christmas Eve was fairly quiet itself. Athough it did take a most unexpected emotional turn (thank you Tonia), but if there is one thing I've learned it is better to let it out than hold it in.

Christmas Day for the most part turned out as planned. I got the house to myself. I have been so busy this month, I was just dying for down time. The boys after laying some saaaweet gifts on me left the house by about 10:30. Time to get cooking!!

I love cooking, totally takes my mind off things. Made my "special" potats, my onion pie and prepped the stuffing for the bird. I finished all of that by around 12:30 and finally took a load off accompanied by a plate of peppered cheese and herb pate'.

The next few hours was just about a stack of old Pink Panther movies and absolute reflective overdrive. I really think I would have been miserable if I was surrounded by people. I need the down time to clear my head. I was expecting something of Christmas, and it didn't happen. But you know what? I'm used to disappointment. The me time would just serve to wipe it clean from my mind. The Pink Panther movies helped too haha.

Later in the afternoon my buddy Kim popped in for a visit. He was just out for a walk and decided to come by for a minute. A can of Canada Dry and he was on his way. It was time for me to deal with the turkey and I'm sure he didn't want to witness me shoving my hand in the various cavities of the bird.

Time to take a load off part 2. Second Pink Panther movie and time for a few drinks. Welcome to the next level, reflective hyperdrive. Time just seemed to fly by, and before I knew it the turkey was near done. I went crazy getting all the sides done, but after all these years I'm like a well oiled machine.

I laid out everything on the dining room table and sat to feast. I did have a wave of guilt wash over me as I sat looking at a table with food for 15 as I sat myself. But it passed. 10 hours of effort consumed in 20 minutes. Clean up only took a few minutes and I found myself back in my chair with a fresh beer.

A friend of mine called me and said she wanted to get out of her family thing. I knew if we did anything here I would probably just fall asleep. The Irish kids had been hounding me to go to their place which I had been trying to avoid, but they said Pauly was on his way over and Abby was pretty determined to get out so I relented.

My car was a freaking ice cube literally. I couldn't even get the door open initially. I picked up Abby and we drove to the Irish house where the police were doing their surveillance as always. We went up through the back door into the kitchen. Haha, what a freaking disaster. One of the worst kitchen messes I had ever seen. They were really disorganized initially with their dinner, so I bought the turkey for them and gave them my potats recipe. How either of them were cooked in that mess is beyond me. The look on Abby's face was priceless. We went downstairs where they had all the tables set up.

There were just about to start a card game and asked if we wanted in. I thought I knew the game they were talking about (I won't mention the name here) so I was like sure sure. It turned out as soon as we started it was actually a drinking game. I may be known for having a couple of beers every day, but by no means am I a drinker, and poor Abby until recently didn't drink at all. Of course everyone tried to gang up on me (including Abby), but fortunately there were many favours owed me around the table and I started calling them in. I even offered to pull out my chequebook at one point. In the end thankfully I only had to chug one beer (which I somewhat pooched). Poor Abby who was drinking wine had to do the same, a full pint of wine. I got dry heaves just watching. And when the game got to the last card (where you have to down a whole drink plus a shot jaeger) it looked like I was going to be screwed. Someone threw down a card and saved me but turned it on Abby who I thought was going to start crying. Finally Deviner came to her rescue and threw it to Gary. Game over, I'm out!!!

I sat back on the couch for a while and just chilled. I saw Abby was getting tired, so we bailed out. I dropped her at home and drove back. Hit the hay and spent the night staring at ceiling back in my reflective hyperdrive.

Another Christmas gone. Definitely one I'll remember. For the good and the bad.

Merry Christmas

Scene 41 Take 354

Wow!! I'm just not getting into this. I think after last year I need a big dump of snow. Something, I need something. There are a couple of pieces missing to make this holiday season what I always need it to be.

I've already waved the white flag. No orphans this year for dinner. I've had a solid run and I think this year I just need to be on my own. A stack of movies, and one kick ass dinner. And I'm sure enough reflection to rival a mirror store. (Are there mirror stores?)

The week didn't help. I've just been running my butt off. And Thursday didn't help. I got to do the most expensive scenic tour of the Rockies ever. Circling around for hours because they wouldn't let us land in Cranbrook. Write off of a day.

Hopefully this week I and the ones I care about will find what they need. Everyday is a new take, a fresh start with an unwritten ending. And I would like to get somewhere before scene 42.

Cut. Print.

The Lowest Common Denominator

I had actually been planning on talking about something else when I had the chance. I've been pretty busy so it's been hard trying to put something together. And Christmas is less than 2 weeks away....ugh!

Last year I wrote a post titled "A Hazy Shade of Winter." It was a slam of the human condition in light of the horrible killing of a Walmart employee due to the savage response of Black Friday shoppers just trying to get in the door to save a few bucks.

Well I'm afraid the human condition has once again shown it's ugly face. To start with, I will refer to the past.

When I was a pup, say about 5, I had one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. (There was the time I jumped into the Hippo pool at the Detroit Zoo, and when that Snapping Turtle basically bit my hand off, but I don't really remember those). We had flown to Toronto to visit my Grandparents. It was just my mom, brother and sister and I. I don't have a clue where my father was, but I don't now either so that is of no matter. Due to my mom traveling with 3 young children they let us exit the plane first as they did have these courtesy's back in the day.

Pearson Airport was not yet the monster it is today, but it was still pretty big, especially for someone my age. We proceeded down the escalator to the baggage area. I had not taken notice that I had a shoelace untied (this was almost guaranteed at this stage in my life). When we got to the bottom of the escalator and the stair went to sink before starting it's return journey it snagged my shoelace and started pulling my foot toward the grating. The pain was fast and instant, it was as if the escalator had become alive and was trying to consume me. Meanwhile the 200 other passengers on the plane bore down on me. Initially about four of five people fell on top of me including my sister. My mom went into instant panic and started screaming. Luckily a man just walking by the lift saw what was happening and hit the emergency stop. Not that it helped me, blood was coming from my shoe, and I still had a few hundred pounds of people on top of me. Not the greatest experience for a claustrophobic young boy.

It was the first time in my life that I got to see the human condition as it really is, the crumbled society. Even though there was a staircase right beside the escalator, people wouldn't use them. Instead of waiting for my foot to be released, they continued to stampede down on me. Some would kick me, one business man even yelled to cut my foot off. My mother was just screaming at them at the top of her lungs. Even the poor maintenance man that ran over to cut my shoelaces was pushed aside many times before being successful. It was crazy, sick. They wasn't one single person behind us on the damn thing that tried to help.

Flash forward to yesterday. I was flying home from Toronto after a very long week. 7 hours of sleep in 4 days, and all the usual junk. I just wanted home. I was flying on one of those new 777's. A beautiful plane that I always try to get book if I'm doing these longer hauls. It was a fairly uneventful flight. I watched the movie Funny People and followed that up with Julie and Julia. I drifted in and out of sleep during the second one. It is actually a pretty good movie, I just didn't have any gas left.

We finally landed and everyone got up to grab their items from the overhead compartments, and then stood around like a bunch of cattle waiting for the door to open. I was about 10 rows from the back of the plane. I was fortunate enough to have a row of three by myself, the rest of the plane was essentially full. It is a double aisle aircraft and I was standing on the left. The gentleman that was beside me in the opposite aisle gave out a gasp that I don't even remember, it was like an "Oh God" or something like that, I find it quite blurred in my head.

He went down immediately to what seemed like a massive heart attack. His wife, like my mother started screaming. And what do you thing happened? That's right!! Everyone started pushing forward. The man is lying across the aisle dying, and people are trying to get him out of the way, and yes, stepping over him. Due to my clear aisle I was able to get to him. The first person I encountered (some young smarmy businessman) was also trying to push through. Before I knelt down to the man I just looked at this guy and said "If I so much as even feel a nudge from you I will drop you right here", suddenly it was as if reason returned to him, you could literally see it in his eyes. I told him to just use the row I just came through and exit from the other side which he did. Do you think the people behind him got the message? Of course not.

It just seemed like hours of chaos even though it was only a matter of minutes. There was a fellow two rows ahead that was trying to help out with crowd control. The attendants were yelling on the PA for people to go back into their seats but no one was listening. (You know they were in a rush to get down to the baggage wheel so they could wait another half hour for their bags). The attendants were also trying to find a doctor or nurse over the PA, asking them to report to row 55. That means that the guy helping out a couple of rows in front also had to deal with all of these knobs coming back against traffic to fulfill their morbid curiosity.

I just tried to get the man laid out properly and more so tried to comfort his wife who obviously was still in hysterics. People behind me eventually figured out they weren't going to get past me so they either walked through my row or went around the back of the plane. One of the attendants finally yelled to me that emergency personnel were coming. I figured that was the best time to get out of the way and I waved the attendant over to look after the wife. The other man that was helping me cut through the row with me and we went to exit the plane. When we got to the front one of the attendants told us that there was a doctor on board the entire time but nobody would let him pass to the back.

We went up the jetway right when the paramedics were coming down. We got to the baggage carousel to find everyone standing around waiting for their bags. Just a bunch of sick sick people. But also the majority. There were 15 rows in the back of the plane behind the galley. 9 in each row. That's 135 people less the two missing from my row. So we had 3 people helping out of 133. That is 2%. There is your human condition.

The Mayans said the world is coming to an end in 2012. It's already over folks.

10 Things I Think I Think

10. The Cleveland Browns, the Saskatchewan Rough Riders, and Max Hall of BYU should charter a plane to Jonestown Guyana where hopefully there is some Kool-Aid left to put them out of their misery. They are a disgrace to football.

9. In 95% of cases someone who doesn't return a message to you within 3 hours doesn't really give a rat's ass about you. People are obsessive compulsive with their phones. They stare at them like Snoopy doing the Beagle/Vulture. Do the math.

8. President Obama is in a no win situation so I think everyone might as well sit down and enjoy the ride. All we are witnessing is the failure of a two party system. No one could have taken this office and come out smelling like a rose. If you want to fix things, work together. The way the deck is stacking up you are fast tracking to the greatest economic disaster in world history. Tell Rush to shut up, STOP and I mean STOP Sarah Palin in her tracks, and help build a better world for your children.

7. Sometimes the hardest thing in life is to say you're sorry. The only thing that is harder is living with the regret you never did.

6. Animals are taking over Hollywood. This is proven by Sarah Jessica Parker (obviously from Mr. Ed's bloodline), Renee Zellweger (she is actually a Chilean Sea Bass), and Robert Pattinson (I haven't actually figured out what he is yet, but he sure as hell isn't human).

5. My Grandchildren (not that I will have any) will be paying for the 2010 Olympics.

4. I used to think I could save the world. I now have doubts that I can save myself.

3. Absence makes the heart grow fonder is probably the most accurate statement I know.

2. The Caramilk secret is sooo obvious.

1. About a year ago I wrote a quote by John Gregory Brown. "There is something like a line of gold thread running through a man's words when he talks to his daughter, and gradually over the years it gets long enough for you to pick up in your hands and weave into a cloth that feels like love itself." I crave those days and I miss my Miley so much.

Oh No You Didn't!!

I'm going to let that other stuff slide. I've just had it with immature punks and I just had to let off some steam. Besides....this was way funnier. I was wondering when they were going to draw the line on what they would bake into a pizza crust.

A History of Violence

Ugh!! What a week. I am just drained. A few too many early mornings, and a few too many days on the road. I think I could have slept forever today if I had given it a chance.

Way too much on my mind, and time is just going by too fast. Hopefully I will be able to put the brakes on a bit in December (double ugh, Christmas).

I don't know what the deal is lately, but it suddenly seems like every snot nosed 22 year old boy wants to pick a fight with me. I never go out looking for trouble, but I definitely hang out in a spot where it is possible. My fuse hasn't been the longest in recent months. I'm pretty certain that I have a fairly pressing blood pressure issue, but since my doctor retired I haven't been able to find a new one and I think I've let it go a little far. I am quite worried about it. So my patience has gone from a thick piece of oak to a summer dried twig. If someone wants to push my buttons, I'm going to push back fast and hard.

In the last week and a half three different guys have tried to pick a fight with me. I'm a 40 year old guy for Christ's sake. Part of me thinks that's why they do it. They think they can talk trash to you and because of your age and "maturity" you won't do anything about it. But I have my lines. If someone wants to be ill-mannered, demeaning towards women, or even a little too egotistical, they are probably going to hear about it from me. (And never, never, never, ever, call me a snob....very very bad).

That's the way the first guy decided to go. My friends and I were simply sitting around minding our own business, and discussing the week that was. Buddy boy took it upon himself to keep interrupting people's conversations and making the most inappropriate remarks. We totally ignored him. Later he decided to change seats so he could establish direct eye contact with us. I was texting a friend of mine when he started to point out what snobs we were. Big mistake. I placed the phone down and turned towards him. I calmly pointed out the fact that maybe he was perceiving us as snobs because he was being so obnoxious we didn't want to have anything to do with him and maybe if he took that next daring leap up the evolutionary chain we would converse with him like a human being rather than a knuckle dragging ape.

I turned back and started texting again. I could feel the soft breeze of forced air that was obviously his jaw dropping with shear velocity as he tried to comprehend what was just said to him. He leaned over to the table beside him and said to the people that he thought he might have just been insulted. When the people just laughed at him it was game on. He stood up and came over to where I sat. I pretended not to notice and just continued texting. He then went on a verbal rampage that probably exhausted the entire vocabulary of his grade 8 education. Once again I placed the phone down. I stood up, where to his surprise he found himself at eye level with my chest, and I just started the countdown. 10-9-8-what are you doing man??? I'm giving you a chance to make this right and time is running out 7-6-5 Well fuck you man, I don't need you people 4-3-2-1-gone. The door closed with the soft mutterings of an idiot trailing from his mouth as he tried to find redemption in thin air. First problem gone.

A few days later on the Saturday I wandered into the pub to watch the hockey game and to see if I could get the Utah Utes game on before. Ireland was playing France that day in the first round of their world cup qualifier. Ireland lost in a bad game and my Irish friends had been drinking since the game had started earlier that morning. I tend to stay away from that kind of stuff so I went to opposite side of the room so they could drink their woes away. The boys showed up and we hoisted a few and pretty much just shot the shit. We were keeping a eye on the Irish, there was one of them that we didn't know and he was acting a bit out of line. It didn't bother us, we just didn't want them to get into trouble.

They ended up out on the patio hacking butts. It was freezing out there, I don't really know how they were doing it seeing as how they were only wearing soccer jerseys for the most part. They were joined by this crew of guys I have seen around for about 10 years. All older construction workers. They are actually Serbs that were in the Serbian army at the time of the genocide's. They are nice enough guys, just sort of the type I will keep my distance from thank you very much.

The young one we didn't know started getting into it with them, and we could see the pot start to boil. We just keep back and told our Irish friends that they better keep an eye on him and better yet get him outta here. They just kept blowing it off, and over time the Serbs left. The guy was still acting like a goof. We just focused on the hockey game and pretended he wasn't around. About an hour later the Serbs came back in. In 10 years I had never seen them come back in. It was a little tense but I went out for a smoke and talked it up with their lead guy Jimmy for a little bit. He just said they were bored so they decided to come back.

Funny enough, when I back inside idiot boy was sitting in my seat (the second worse thing after calling me a snob). I politely asked him to move three times. The last time he gave me the finger.

Bad idea.

To be continued.....

Some Men Just Want to Watch the World Burn (Part III)

I stayed quite close to my grandparents once we were talking again, and we never mentioned the past. Fortunately my father moved out of town to his "dream" property. My grandparents were spared from his bullying other than his daily phone calls to berate them about something. My grandparents had reached the age where it was time for assisted living and moved to a complex out in Coquitlam where they could have their own apartment but also have their meals prepared for them. Even though it was a long way away I still managed to see them as often as possible.

My father constantly harassed to me to join him on his property, but I would have none of that. It was suffocating there. It wasn't real, he wasn't real, it was one of the greatest acts of all time. A phantom menace that was always lingering in the background with some impossible to conceive agenda.

My grandfathers health began to fade quite rapidly. There was one scare when I was called at work by the home saying he had been rushed to the hospital and was not expected to live more than a few hours. I rushed out there (getting a speeding ticket along the way) and ran into the hospital desparately trying to find him. My grandmother was left at the home and she too was worried to death. A nurse finally helped me and took me aside to inform me that my grandfather had nothing more than a bad case of gas. That day was probably some of the most fun we ever had together. As soon as I sat beside his bed he just started in his belly aching. "Oh John, I'm dying....good bye cruel world" and so on. As soon as I said lets go gas man, he sprung up and we were on our way. They never brought any clothes with him so he was left with his hospital gown for the ride home. I had to stop at a 7-11 on the way back to the home and I told him to sit tight. When I came out he was talking down to a bunch of teenagers smoking on the sidewalk in front. His robe and glasses making him a dead ringer for the Dalai Lama. He ever blessed them as I forced him into the truck.

He did die soon after that day. My grandfather being the man he was had everything in order. He had purchased their burial plots side by side years earlier. Everything was bought and paid for, everything was just as he wanted it. The one thing that he forgot was his son was a self serving freak. My father being the executor of the will, scraped all of my grandfathers final wishes. As I said he was obsessed with making people visit him at his "country estate", what better way to do that then to scrap the final wishes of your father and instead cremating him and burying his remains on your estate so any loved ones are forced to go there? Monster.

He basically liquified the entire estate of my grandfather, so to him my grandmother was nothing more than a nuisance now, "just another expense". My Uncle and I found a home for her just down the road from me so she would be close to me and fairly close to him on his drive home. She was never really the same after Bert died. She was already blind and her life long love was books which she could no longer enjoy. I hung a portrait of my grandfather right in front of her armchair. The home was awful and clinical, but she never really knew it. She just stared at that portrait all day long and talked to it. Even when her and I would have a conversation she would bring my grandfather into it.

I would visit there often, almost every day. We had many great conversations and would often watch Jeopardy together (her favorite). And every time I would leave we would sing "I'll Be Seeing You" to each other. She had her good days and bad. The home would call me at least once a week to go up and deal with her. She would just forget things and get very angry, but she would normally calm down once she heard my voice. I also greased the palms of many an attendant to make sure she was looked after.

Time just seemed frozen for a couple of years. She just sat in that small room and either stared at the portrait, or looked out the window where all she could see was a different shade of light. My father would visit a couple of times a year, and make his daily bullying phone call. I would see him for lunch or dinner a couple of times a year. It was always a struggle for me, but I figured it was an hour of my life and there was nothing he could do to me now.

My cousin finally decided to get married. My aunt and uncle really wanted my grandmother to come and asked it I could make it happen. That side of my family lives on Bowen Island. The plan was the wedding would take place on a boat cruise leaving from Coal Harbour. The nuptials would take place once we crossed under the bridge and the reception would commence as we cruised slowly through the outer harbour until we got to Bowen where the wedding party would depart. We would then return to Coal Harbour on the boat. It was a beautiful day and it all went quite well. The boat wasn't wheelchair friendly so we had to just find a spot for her and set up camp there.

I would run the food and wine back and forth for her, and take care of the introductions and greetings. By the time we got to Bowen she was really worn out. Almost every one departed the boat, save us and maybe about 10 other people that stayed on the top deck. The cruise back would take about 2 hours. About a half hour in she suddenly turned and looked at me, for the first time in years it was actually like her eyes could see me, and I could see them start to well with tears. She flopped her hand over the arm of the wheelchair until she could find my hand which she squeezed as hard as she could. In a broken voice she asked me why I had never said anything. I just played dumb and pretended I didn't know what she was talking about.

She looked even deeper into my eyes and said "I have always loved you, and I was wrong to do what I did. Bert was wrong and I was wrong."

I just sat there awkwardly. I just held everything inside me for so long I didn't know what to say. She said "I am not leaving this world without you understanding me. You have to know why I did what I did."

I managed to whimper out a "why?"

"We knew we were wrong. Your father said all of these things about you that we knew couldn't be true. But we knew you were strong, we knew that you would be hurt but we knew you were strong. He was our son. I could not call my son a liar, and he was my son."

She grabbed my hand even tighter than I thought possible and simply said "I missed you every day and I loved you every day." She then turned away and gazed out the window the rest of the trip with tears streaming down her face. We never spoke of it again. As soon as we docked an incredible rain storm started. I drove her home and made sure she got into bed.

She died a few weeks later just hours after I had sung her "I'll Be Seeing You" for the last time. There was never a service, there was never anything. Just my father showing up to pick up her remains to take to his estate. I've never gone there. I think we said good-bye to each other that day.

About 4 years ago I met my father and step-mother for my obligated lunch. Just another uncomfortable hour of my life. I squirmed through it all. There were the resident questions such as why I hadn't come up to see my grandparents and crap like that. You know the type where you just want to reach across the table and smack somebody. I said I had to get back to work and left.

Later that day I got an e-mail from him. He was now insisting that he be given access to my child. I simply replied back "That's not going to happen." It turned into two days and about 20 pages of e-mails going back and forth. He last one simply stated "I never expect to see or talk to you again."

I was free.

It's funny. I wasted a lot of years not contacting my daughter because I was so terrified that she would be exposed to this man. And it was literally right at the point I did contact her that it came to a head. No matter how close or distant you are to them, you still try to protect them. Except when you're a monster of course.

There are volumes between the lines here, but that's no matter. That's the past and it is gone, and hopefully for all tomorrow's, so is he.

To come full circle. The quotes between Michael Caine and Christian Bale ended like this:

Bale: The bandit, in the forest of Burma, did you catch him?

Caine: Yes.

Bale: How?

Caine: We burned the forest down.

And I hope that is how this ends. They have a court date next Wednesday, and I hope and I pray that once and for all my father is exposed as the person he really is. A man with no logic, no sense, no guilt, no love, and no accountability. A man that just wants to watch the world burn.

Some Men Just Want to Watch the World Burn (Part II)

So I talked to my grandparents, not about the cocaine offer or anything like that, just the fact that I didn't like the woman. They were quite hesitant, I had to virtually pry out of them the fact that they didn't really like the woman. But at the same time they were quick to point out that my father was lonely and had his "needs". And also that they were worried about him.

They were right in a way. My father had never been able to look after himself, he was used to being catered to. In the brief time he was alone after my mother left, he would survive on Le Menu frozen dinners solely. The plates would be littered all over his penthouse. Quite sad really.

Anyhow, that would be the last time I would see my grandparents for some years.

The following weekend I went up to Whistler with a group of friends. I can't really remember the purpose, I think it was someones birthday or something (There is a video of that night out there somewhere that is legendary). My father had asked me to call him on the Saturday. This was a hard time for me as I felt like a sell-out, but for me at that age it was a game of survival, so I would throw him a bone from time to time.

I called him and he said he had 4 tickets for the hockey game that night (my father hated sports) and if my friends and I wanted them we just had to go pick them up from him. Once off the call I discussed it with the boys and we decided we would head down to the game. It was probably a matter of 4 hours before we got back to town.

My father lived in Fort Knox. It was one of those new slick West Van towers built and lived in by the Lougheeds. Every unit was a complete floor with wrap around balcony and a gold/glass elevator that climbed the outside of the building. Security was tight (yes, I was able to breach it many times). The front door if the building was not what you would expect. It was a simple solid wood colonial door so "outsiders" could not see inside of the building. And of course off to the left was the video camera so the people upstairs could see what undesirable was at the door from any room inside their palace.

I rang the buzzer, and it took what seemed like a minute or two for my father to pick up. He asked me what I wanted. I told him I was there to pick up the tickets. He said he had no interest in seeing me and asked me to go away. I was quite puzzled of course, and I pointed out that he offered the tickets to us and we drove down from Whistler to get them. There was a pause again, and it gave me a moment to reflect just how strange this scenario was. I was just looking at this speaker as my friends sat in the car behind me. Finally the silence broke as his voice came across the speaker. "Please leave before I call the police."

I was speechless. I just turned and left. My friends were ticked of course, but I just told them to screw off in a way only I can. They dropped me at home where I decided to cool off for a minute before reacting. I just lit a cigarette and sat back for a minute. I decided to call my grandparents. My grandparents had this habit of answering the phone simultaneously. It was quite a feat to witness personally. They had identical Lazy-Boys, and identical phones on the table between them, and they would actually do the countdown to answer. Always on the cutting edge of technology, they had a new call display unit so they knew it was me calling.

There was no hello. My grandmother, already obviously crying said "You're a horrible young man, horrible!!" I asked her what was going on and she simply said "Your father told us about you and we never want to talk to you again!!" My grandfather didn't speak, but his shallow breathing confirmed his presence. Again I was dumbfounded. I couldn't even form words, just random stutters that were met with simultaneous slamming of phones. (You know, old school slamming, cell phones have forever ruined that for us. I feel like a should pack around a good old rotary dial phone just so I can hold my cell to it and slam it for effect).

I loved my grandparents, and they loved me. I was always their favorite. My grandmother knew I was the dreamer, and it was like she saw something in me that she had always longed for. The freedom, the defiance of suppression, something along those lines. She just always had to be around me as if I provided her with some type of life energy.

I was devastated. I didn't give a rat's ass about my father, but my grandparents were so important to me. That night when my child was born I basically alienated myself from my family, and for the most part it is still that way today. To me at the time my grandparents were the only family I had left and they were gone.

It would be six years before I would see or talk to my grandparents again. What ensued from that point was the greatest three ring circus of a divorce this country has ever seen. A law student actually told me once that they use the case as a precedent when teaching at UBC. My father fell in Icarus like proportions. This was a captain of industry. He ran some of the biggest companies in Canada. Petro-Canada, Nova Corp., Telus, etc. etc.. Now he was showing up in a courtroom in a wheelchair being pushed by my grandfather even though just hours earlier he was seen walking briskly on the West Van seawall. Some even speculated that he was wearing makeup to make his skin look greyer. He was caught in lie after lie after lie. And the judge made him pay dearly, however, the judgement itself did not have enough clout or closure and the case remains before the courts to this day. 18 YEARS LATER!!!!!! He has squandered everything in legal bills for the mere sake of winning. There is no logic. The latest case being heard before the judge as I understand is about $100,000. He has stated himself that just for this case alone he has spent $45,000 in legal fees on top of the millions he has already spent.

I just distanced myself from the whole thing. I was essentially living underground for the next 6 years. There was scandal after scandal, my fathers name would now be smeared in the press on what seemed like a monthly basis. I was even thinking of changing my name at this point to my mothers maiden name, Vincent.

Somehow, years later he found out where I worked and just showed up one day. It was a rainy day and we went out on the lot where nobody could hear us and I could hide behind a cloud of cigarette smoke. He was explaining to me how he had fixed his life up and was getting married again (Bimbo was gone a couple of months after the whole hockey ticket episode, along with a good portion of my grandparents money that she allegedly swindled them out of, although I still believe to this day it wound up in my fathers pocket), he wanted me to meet the woman and to come to their wedding.

I didn't give a fuck about the man or his wedding, but regardless of what they did to me or how they treated me I still missed my grandparents everyday. I met his bride to be, and she was nice enough, easily brain washable anyhow so right up his alley. I saw my grandparents of course and like a light switch flicking to on it was like nothing ever happened. The Hartwick family was built on denial and I wasn't going to shake the foundation, I was just glad to have them back in my life again.

To be continued....

Some Men Just Want to Watch the World Burn

There is this scene in the film "The Dark Knight", Michael Caine's character is talking to Christian Bale's.

"A long time ago, I was in Burma, my friends and I were working for the local government.They were trying to buy the loyalty of tribal leaders by bribing them with precious stones. But their caravans were being raided in a forest north of Rangoon by a bandit. So we went looking for the stones. But in 6 months, we never found anyone who traded with him. One day I saw a child playing with a ruby the size of a tangerine. The bandit had been throwing them away.

"Then why steal them?" The Bale character asks.

"Because he thought it was good sport. Because some men aren't looking for anything logical, like money. They can't be bought, bullied, reasoned or negotiated with. Some men just want to watch the world burn."

This is a story of my father. A person who is rarely mentioned in this blog with the exception of occasionally referring to him as an ass. Due to recent events I feel compelled to vent on what a monster this man really is.

My father and I were never close, even as a young boy there was an intense separation to us. It was always like being around someone you inherently didn't trust. He never understood me, he knew my mind was open and free, he knew right from the start he would never be able to control me. He could punish me, he could ground me, he could be so incredibly cruel mentally trying to break me down. But I always got up, and I always got stronger. He could never win, I could not be broken, and by the age of 7 or 8 I stood in pure defiance of his behavior towards family and friends.

By the time I was in high school, I wasn't even allowed in the house while my parents weren't there. I was kept on the back patio like a dog (quite funny considering my dog was actually inside at the time), there was some water left for me, and a cordless phone (I would call everyone I could long distance just to spite him.)

I won't go too deep on my relationship with him, because it doesn't matter. Any relationship my father and I had died with the '70's. I want to focus more on his long term impact and the damage he was capable of.

I'll jump forward in time to the early '90's. A girlfriend that I had split up with found that she was pregnant. Long story short, the child was adopted down in Idaho. It was a planned birth and I knew exactly the day she was to be born. Man, it wasn't easy. I can't even fathom that being easy for anyone. I was pacing all day long, and I was worried about Lisa and the baby and hundreds of things. That night would be the last dinner my family would ever have together. My father decided to say something right during dinner, something that won't be repeated here or ever. I walked out. It was a horrible stormy night cold and driving rain, not typical for late August in Vancouver, but somehow oddly appropriate. I just remember walking down to the pier on 15th. I walked straight into the ocean, yes me with my fear of the ocean. It just felt like it washed everything thing away and the rain and the surf washed the tears from my eyes.

I went back and packed up and cleared out. My mother left him a few days later, for good. You have to admire my mother. She waited until he went away on business and then took exactly half of everything. You would have thought it would take days, but she managed to do it in a couple of hours, something I always attributed to long term planning.

My father returned and immediately started calling all of us kids, there was no regret, or sorrow or anything like that. Just blame and anger and accusations that could obviously never be substantiated. What is the first thing a sane man would do in this situation? Well, I don't know, I don't know any sane men. I can tell you what my father did though. My mother in her haste had forgotten one thing, the family photos. My father went through and cut up every single family picture ever taken. Christmas', holidays, you name it, all gone. The only memories I have from my youth are what I have in my head, a few photos I had taken myself over the years, and the home movies I had snuck out before this had all gone down. Just shameful and pathetic.

Almost as quickly as my mother had left, my father had found someone new to victimize. Although in the end it turned into a 50/50 deal. Wait for it....here it comes....she was his receptionist. A blond of the bimboist proportions. Up to this point he had been calling me all the time crying about how lonely he was, and that it was my mother that had stirred all this rage in him about my child (to quote Nipsey Russell...Right). I basically kept him at an arms length. I was struggling, I was working full time and going to college full time and I was hungry. So I sort of sold my soul to the devil so I could get a listen cash now and then and maybe a meal. In return I would listen to his sob stories.

Before you knew it my father and Bimbo would be showing up at my house in their sports car and matching track suits. The wedding happened faster than the first new tax introduced after an NDP won election. I had made my feelings of this woman known quite clearly. It culminated on my birthday when I went for dinner with them and my grandparents at Bay Moorings in West Vancouver. When my father went to the washroom, she leaned over and squeezed my knee and asked if I wanted to do some cocaine with her in the washroom. Talk about horrified. Geez Louise. I rushed through the dinner and excused myself. I said I wasn't feeling well and I left. I never saw the woman again, and I went to consult my grandparents on the issue.

To be continued......

C is for Cookie, That's Good Enough for me

Damn FCC

You Gotta Luv This Guy

This is Christopher Walken on a British talk show reciting the lyrics to Lady Gaga's song Poker Face. Comic genius without even trying.

More cow bell!!

I Tell the Others Don't Bother Me, Cause When They Look at You They Don't See What I See

It's been a funny year you know. There have been so many changes in people's lives, not mine , but most of the people I know. With that there has also been a lot of personal conflict. It seems like most of the people I know are under enough pressure to produce diamonds. Me? I'm lonely and bored as hell, so I tend to lash out and it doesn't help the whole scenario.

I've even had moments in the last year (more often than not) were I find me telling myself "you're one nasty piece of work."I can't help it, it's just like I'm in this fog of irritability. I miss what I want so much I just make the world responsible. How could this happen to me? How dare they do this to me? And on and on....

Some people say they just don't understand me, and I've heard that wax on like a broken record for years. Nobody is understood unless people care enough to take the time to understand them is the way I see it. People have to be strong enough and patient enough. I have a friend who has taken the time over the years. And I could probably guarantee you that even though we have only seen each other once in 11 years, you could drop us in a room together and we could finish each others sentences over and over. We have taken the time to understand what makes the other tick, what makes us happy, and what makes us sad.

I think people have to take more time. I think I have to take more time. People are so fast to judge others, we all know that we are built by the events that shape our lives. Every person has their story, take the time to listen. There are people I know that are just not liked by others. I think the world of them, but I took the time to know them. It's almost like a secret society.

I have every intention of changing my outlook and how I view others, it just seems like the whole world is against me sometimes and I have to fend for myself. Who knows, maybe if I open myself up more the world will open up more.

You can always tell the ones that I write at the spur of the moment ha?

All's Hollow Eve

No, it isn't a typo. I'm just really not a fan of Halloween, especially on a weekend. To me Halloween has always been about kids and couples, I don't have one, and I'm not part of one. Nuff said.

I can remember the last time I dressed up for Halloween. I believe I was in grade 12. There was a big party at the local Rec Center. I didn't want to go, but all my friends were hell bent on it, and one of our friends brothers had picked us up a bunch of beer.

I finally agreed to go but didn't have anything to wear. I rummaged around the house and managed to find one of my old football jerseys and one of my mothers wigs from the '70's. I really don't know what my inspiration was, but I donned the jersey, grabbed a tub of my dad's black shoe polish and went nuts. My mom's wig was brownish-blond, I covered it in the shoe polish as well as my face and arms. It was freaking ridiculous. What was I? A Rastafarian football player??

No matter, I was able to dodge my parents on the way out so they didn't see me (we hadn't been getting along anyhow). My buddies picked me up and we were on our way. That night I drank like only a teenager can. I was an absolute mess, through a lamp shade on him, life of the party. I don't even really remember much, just the blanks that were unkindly filled in for me later.

My curfew was 10:30 ( I know, again ridiculous), the boys said they dropped me off around 1 am. Turns out my clever father had decided to install a new lock on the front door in an attempt to keep me out of the house. I cracked my wallet and whipped out my drivers license and was in the house in a matter of seconds. Looking back now, I wish they had woken up. As you can imagine, I used everything I had left to get the door open. As soon as I was in I hit the floor. This is now the time to tell you about the new white carpets my parents had installed through the house. I literally had to crawl up the stairs, resting my head on each step before another pull. I finally reached the second floor and pulled myself across the carpet into my room where I scaled my bed like Sir Edmund conquering Everest. Never took my clothes off or the wig for that matter.

My first recollection was getting a shot to my jaw first thing the next morning. Turns out my folks had found my black swath through the house (a most unremovable swath I might add). I sat up in bed, the shoe polish made the pillow stick to my face which didn't help, it just added to the appearance of me still being drunk. Although I did sense the smallest smile in the corner of my mom's mouth.

That was grounding number 272 as I recall. And Halloween never really seemed the same after. I now know where the phrase painful memories comes from, as I get this pain in my jaw every Halloween like an arthritic waiting for rain.

So the couples and kids can have it. I will stick to my routine....whatever that means.

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Man do I feel like junk. Thanks to a hard landing in Cranbrook my backs shot. My shoulders are wreaked, my neck is bent, and I was up sick all night. I'm getting to feel like an old dog that needs to be put down, but enough of that.

I want to talk about one of my favorite poems today, "I know why the caged bird sings" by Maya Angelou. Even though the poem speaks of racism, I think it still reaches all of us on different levels. I think to some extent, all of us have bonds that tie us to a cage.

Loneliness, the longing for a loved one, even the ability to love, can keep us inside that cage. The absence of family, the feeling of abandonment, and even money problems can all lead us to that place.

We all want to spread our wings, we all want our freedom. We want to float on gossamer wings, and feel the warmth of an embrace. There is something that we all long for that is just off in the distance seemingly unreachable. (See the post Green Lights and the Untimely Demise of Symbolism for reference)

And now the poem:

A free bird leaps on the back of the wind
and floats downstream till the current ends
and dips his wing in the orange sun rays and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks down his narrow cage
can seldom see through his bars of rage
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
and the trade winds soft through the sighing trees
and the fat worms waiting on a dawn bright lawn
and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
of things unknown but longed for still
and his tune is heard on the distant hill
for the caged bird sings of freedom.

Another Saturday Night

Sammy, you died too young.

The Longer the Walk the Deeper the Thought

I went for a kick about the woods today. I love this time of year, some days I think the rain even adds to it. Throws in a little cleansing effect, washing away all that ails you. (I think I need a lot more rain). It was dead silent save the drops of rain falling from leaf to leaf til they met the ground.

I went up through Bridgeman where the colours are thriving, if you live on the North Shore I would highly recommend you go before the end of this week. We don't have many places around here that get that palate of colour.

I've been thinking a lot about New York lately, deep down I think I just want to run away. Normally that leads me to Southern California, but there is just something about this time of year that draws me to the Big Apple. After this morning's walk, I couldn't help but think of walking through Central Park on a crisp autumn day.

It's not the time for that now, Martini Johnny has already been there, that side of my soul that so easily comes out. It's that other John that needs to go there, and he needs to go with someone he can share it with. The walk in the park, that fountain in the meadow, the Hansom Cab to a candlelight dinner et al. Unfortunately that's not in the cards right now....hell, I don't even have a deck of cards.

Maybe next year. Yeah, right.

It Was a Great Thanksgiving.....For Me to Poop On

I keed, I keed. It was a lot of fun. Kinda a ragtag crew. I've been doing these orphan dinner's for about 18 years now, and the dynamic never ceases to amaze me. I always long for that sense of family that I miss 363 days of the year, yet I'm able to artificially create on Thanksgiving and Christmas.

I've always found the only downside of the orphan dinner's is that everyone want their dinner just like their momma made. "Can't you put this in the stuffing?? Can't you make the potatoes this was?? Oh, you should cook the turkey like this." My response is normally "Can't you kiss my lily white ass? Homey don't play that." But this year I had the contingent of Irish kids. They had never had Thanksgiving, or even knew what it was. It was like having 8 twenty-somethings over for their first Christmas.

I ended up doing two turkeys, as Pauly and Brad had cancelled their dinner. One was a 19lb. the other about an 18. I had to do one on the BBQ which sorta sucked. You can't keep the temperature balanced on the damn thing and I swear by the time dinner was served I had turned more knobs than Bruce Fairbairn during a recording session. Everything turned out perfect, and it was another Thanksgiving miracle.

As always, nine hours of preparation disappeared in about 15 minutes. Everyone was stuffed, so much so that Philly's $70's worth of pies went neglected, but he seemed to take comfort in whatever he was drinking out of that pickle jar.


We took our spots in the living room, and popped in the holiday tradition. The Best of Triumph the Insult Comic Dog. Another first for the Irish kids. My ribs are still killing me. I just luv that dog. So the warm-up is done. Christmas is just around the corner. Ugh!!

But Then....It's Not For Me to Say

Yesterday was my annual drive to the autumn colours. Could'nt have asked for a nicer day, the air was as crisp as the leaves under my feet once I reached my destination.

I found a great spot on some unknown logging road beside a river. The CD of the day was Johnny Mathis Gold. I must have played this song 20 times as I sat on the hood of my car skipping rocks across the surface of the river. When Johnny is on, man is he on.

If I Were a Bird I Would Fly About the Earth Seeking Successive Autumns...My Very Soul is Wedded to Them

Go, sit upon the lofty hill

And turn your eyes around,

Where waving woods and waters wild

Do sing an autumn sound

The summer sun is faint on them-

The summer flowers depart-

Sit still-as all transformed to stone,

Except your musing heart.

How there you sat in summer-time,

May yet be in your mind;

And how you heard the greeen woods sing

Beneath the freshening wind.

Though the same wind now blows around,

You would its blast recall;

For every breath that stirs the trees,

Doth cause a leaf to fall.

Oh! like that wind, is all the mirth

That flesh and dust impart;

We cannot bear its visitings,

When change is on the heart.

Words and jests may make us smile,

When sorrow is asleep;

But other things must make us smile,

When sorrow bids us weep.

The dearest hands that clasp our hands,-

Their presence may be o'er

The dearest voice that meets our ear,

That tone may come no more.

Youth fades; and then, the joys of youth,

Which once refresh'd our mind,

Shall come-as, on those sighing woods,

The chilling autumn wind.

Hear not the wind-view not the woods;

Look out over valley and hill-

In spring, the sky encircled them-

The sky is round them still.

Come autumn's scathe-come winter's cold-

Come change- and human fate!

Whatever prospect Heaven doth bound,

Can ne'er be desolate.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Is There Anybody Going to Listen to My Story?

Do you ever get the feeling that everyone has stopped listening?

A Bullet With Butterfly Wings

I am finally back from the week of hell. I don't think any of us really expected what we were walking into, but the next time I will know a trap when I see it.

I just felt shot. I had my typical 2 hours sleep a night I always have there and the days seemed to drag on forever. Throw on top the fact that I managed to blow out my shoulder again on the second day playing golf...which I knew I shouldn't have been doing. So now I will get to go through the winter with a shoulder that basically consists of spaghetti.

I won't go on about the negatives of the trip, alas there were just too many. Why break the tempo now haha. This summer has been nothing if not consistent.

But there is a couple things I will comment on that I found in that Ontario autumn, or the beginning thereof. Number one was the crickets. It has been soooo long since I have heard that harmonious sound. I never really realized how much I have missed it. (Still not worth Ontario though). Next was the cicadas with their primal scream, something I had blogged about last year and a sound I really never thought I would hear again. But there they were in collective angst just past the tree line. And last the flight of the Monarch Butterflies, another thing I had simple forgotten over time. I used to lie in the fields this time of year as the Monarchs covered the meadows like some alien armada. I didn't get to see many while I was there, but one swath did come through.

Now I am safe at home, still locked up from the stress but more than ready for an NFL Sunday. As so my favorite time of year begins....

Heavens to Murgatroyd...Exit Stage Right...Through the Airport Even

September has always been my favorite month. Long weekend at the beginning, warm days, cool nights, the colours of autumn starting to come ablaze, and the promise of Thanksgiving right around the corner. Hell, I even liked going back to school. For a couple hours anyhow.

We had a bit of a rough start this year, but I didn't mind. The rains last weekend were incredible, but so was my stack of movies so I was well prepared.

My September carpet is being pulled out from under me this year. I have to leave for Toronto first thing in the morning. Probably good for me to get outta Dodge for a few days. I can cast drama and boredom behind me for a spell, although I will surely get my usual sleepless Toronto nights in return. Like I haven't spent enough nights lying in bed staring at the ceiling lately haha.

Philly gets back the same day as me after spending 5 weeks in Jolly Old laying his mother to rest. It's funny, when you spend part of nearly every day for 11 years with someone, you tend to notice when they aren't around especially when they are the Abbott to your Costello.

I will try to throw something up here while I'm gone, but hmmm, I doubt it.

Click (Inter-Personal Conflict in the 21st Century)

It's been a fairly reflective year for me. What with the damn 40th birthday, and trying to figure out where I actually want to be in my life. It's like sitting on a cusp, there are so many directions I could go, but ultimately there can be only one. And right now I not on zee left, not on zee right, but right in zee middle.

When I get reflective, I tend to get a little aggressive, but I always see things as they actually are in my little black and white world.

One lesson I've learned the last couple of years is that things don't get resolved as they used to. We are now in the age of Facebook, Bebo, and Twitter. People are losing social skills like they were a passe' religion, and the future as we currently know it could be very scary.

What really makes me giggle is the friend punt. It's a whole new phenomenon. We as a people no longer have to be accountable to our friends. If we don't like what they have to say, no matter what we did to them....we just have to click "remove friend", and that's it. Could you imagine having that conversation back in the '60's or '70's?? "In the future not only will we drive cars through the sky, but we will also simply have to click a button to remove someone from our life." It's quite funny when you think about it. I'm not the biggest fan of Facebook, sort of a fancy photo album for me that's about it. I can't even fathom the people that have more than say 500 friends. Hell, I dunno if I've ever even known 500 people, at least not enough that I wanted them in my daily life.

In the last 2 years I've had 2 people punt me from their list (3 if you count that Heather Graham stalking thing...I keed, I keed). In both cases I had recent conversations (somewhat heated) with the punters. I had them dead to rights, I had done zero, zip, nothing wrong, but I had pointed out what they had done to me. We aren't talking a first strike thing, this is something that in both cases I had told the individuals numerous times "you know....I would prefer if you didn't do that to me." But they did it again, and again, and again. You get the point. They didn't. PUNT. "John Christopher Hartwick with this finger I let you know that I am not accountable for our friendship whatsoever, how dare you say that I can't treat you the way I want no matter how it makes you feel." CLICK!!

It almost makes you wonder if at the time they are performing the actual "click", if they have a twitching eye and bulging temple like Chief Inspector Dreyfus in the old Pink Panther movies, or if they come up with some line for the soon to be departed like maybe Captain Ahab in Moby Dick "From hell's heart I stab at thee!!!" or maybe a little Schwarzenegger "Hasta la vista...baby" as they click down sternly on their mouse.

Hahaha, it seems so ridiculous. So silly. So small.

But, most importantly...at the end of the day the two people that weren't accountable to me had never been accountable to themselves and maybe, just maybe that was the point I was making in the first place.

So the lesson for the day is, if you get in a conflict with a friend....don't click. Deal with things the old fashioned way and everything will work out fine. If you fucked up, suck it up. The first rule of the playground is nobody gets hurt. If you don't know the rest of the rules they are at the end of my very first blog on November 3, 2007. They were put there for a reason.

I Fought the Law....And I Won!!

They said it couldn't be done. Hell, even I didn't believe it. I just finished watching last nights council meeting while I was working on some reports. Not only did city council shoot down the patio bylaw, they destroyed it, unanimously with the exception of one.

One of the councillors (a former smoker) was even irate on the issue, saying he wanted the bylaw struck down immediately, quoting directly from the letter I had sent on Sunday.

At the same time it taught me that if you never try, you will never know. You would have thought I would have already known that. But oh well, I'm a slow learner. Reverse psychology....dig it!!

Meanwhile...Back at the Ranch

Now that I have scared away half the western hemisphere, it's time to pick up the pieces and get back to business. I'm leaving for Victoria in the morning and I'm hoping a few days away will do me some good.

There is a big council meeting at city hall tonight. They are finally pulling the plug on patio smoking. I would go to the meeting, but I will have to get up around 4am so screw that. I e-mailed the mayor and all of the councillors yesterday, and actually ran into one of the councillors this morning. (The advantage of a relatively small town.)

I'm actually torn. Part of me hopes they do it. I need a good kick in the ass in another direction. But as most of you know, I don't tend to like people messing with my personal freedoms. I used a little reverse psychology in the letters, so I'm a little curious to see how it works. It will be on the tube tonight, so I'll try to catch it there.

Other than that, let's just get this month done.

Sometimes I Feel Like I'm Tied to the Whipping Post

I guess it’s been a long time, maybe I just didn’t have anything to say, but we all know that’s not true. It’s gonna fall under the old “Momma said if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all” clause. I have had so much on my mind the last month and a bit that even logging on to Blogger seems like a Herculean chore. One thing for certain is that I seem to have locked horns with every single woman in my life.

I had lunch with one of them yesterday. We had been butting heads for about 5 weeks or so, and decided it was time to bury the axe. In all fairness to her, there has been something really drilling at me for the last four weeks or so and she had landed right in the crosshairs. She said to me “You know Johnny, I think you have this image in your mind of a perfect friend. An image that nobody will ever be able to match, you have taken every wrong ever done to you, reversed it, and made it an expectation of everyone else. We can’t do, nobody can do it.”

After I told her to fuck off and left, I thought about what she said as I walked through the parking lot. (I’m kidding, I didn’t leave or tell her to fuck off…..until later. I keed I keed). She’s right in some capacity. I had to move a lot in my younger years, and learned over time to serve up friendships on Chinet, because eventually I was going to be throwing them out. And it seems with every one I toss, I become more and more withdrawn.

I went away a few weeks ago, took off up the coast for a few days to bring a friends yacht back to town. Even though the weather was a little on and off, it was a great opportunity to think. Nothing puts your mind at ease like a forever sky, a deck chair, and a cooler full of Coors Light. I realized I was basically done. The Johnny Holding Company was emotionally bankrupt. My heart was closing it doors forever. I would keep a few key people around for the liquidation, everyone else was getting an invisible pink slip most likely accompanied by a hardened stare, or an unanswered call.

It’s not that I’ve had it with people, I’ve had it with the people I care about. I have got to say other than my core group, I’ve got the shittiest friends in the world. My whole inventory consists of nothing but empty promises, unanswered messages, and broken dreams. It’s quite shameful really.

But you want to know what really burns me? Hypocrites. Those that know me know I will go to the end of days to help a friend through a bad time. 24/7/365. I can’t tell you how many times in my life I have gone through a scenario where a person comes to me because a person or a group is treating them in a way they don’t like. Whether it be treating them like they don’t belong, bullying, teasing, whatever. And do you know what the end result is?? Every time the person that comes to me ends up treating me like the others were treating them. (Of course if someone tried to bully or tease me, you would probably find their body in a ditch somewhere. But you know what I mean).

So today’s theme is one that seems to reoccur on this blog more often than not.

TREAT PEOPLE THE WAY YOU WANT TO BE TREATED YOU FUCKING MORONS!

Whew! Glad I got that off my chest. I apologize to my mother in advance for not having anything nice to say.

The Video For Below....I Somehow Managed to Delete It

Mark Wrubleski's Take On Interior Design

So a buddy of mine, Mark, decided that he wanted to an RV owner. Kind of odd enough in itself if you knew Mark, but it gets better. He didn't walk onto the lot at O'Connor RV or anything like that. He just saw one sitting in someone's driveway and decided to make an offer. It is a 1980 Frontier 20 footer, I mean c'mon, who could resist??

Mark's a pretty industrious guy when it comes to fixing things up, and he soon started to renovate the interior of the RV. He somehow settled on bamboo to do the interior with, (must have a closet thing with Gilligan's Island.) I was like bamboo??? What the fuck??

Now Mark is never one to shy away from showtunes,especially when he's defending his position on something. He gave me a blank stare, and then went inside. Moments later he came back out with this group of other guys and put on this little skit. I must say he put me in my place. I was fortunate enough to catch it on my camera for you to enjoy.

They are off on their first adventure this weekend, to faraway places and endless adventures, otherwise known as Squamish. About 30 minutes away with a good tailwind.

Ahhhh, crazy kids.

Fun With Graphs

Another sign that I'm bored out of my skull.

Garfield Minus Garfield

It never ceases to amaze me the things people will do with their spare time. Turns out some dude decided to digitally remove Garfield from all of the Garfield comic strips to make his owner look like a bigger loser than he is. The thought of him standing there talking to himself is pretty funny though.

And Through Their Strange Hours We Linger Alone

I guess it's time to break my silence. I finally have a couple hours of spare time thanks to the careless ignorance I am throwing towards a beautiful day.

It's was a busy week, personally, and on the news front. We went through the loss of Ed, Farrah, and MJ, and the chaos of Iran continues to escalate.

I've always had this really strange deal with death. I don't know, it's hard to explain, but a celebrity death always seems to serve as a reminder that a chapter of my life is gone. I take it as a very personal thing, and sometimes I find all of the 'talk' a little overwhelming. I actually had to leave my local watering hole on Friday simply because people would not shut up with their MJ jokes or even just the news in itself.

I know the coverage has been a little controversial. There are many different angles to it. I mean you have Ed who fought for his country moving all the way up through the ranks to colonel. A man who was the goodnight voice of generations. You have Farrah who fought a very public and courageous battle with a demon for three years. And you have MJ, who by most accounts was little more than a side show freak. We all know where the coverage went, I'm not going to argue that point anymore. If you don't know the current state of our society, you should jump off of a building, or at least turn off the TV.

I just want to justify it in my way.

Let's start with Michael. There could be no other ending. Think about it. This was the only way out. A bizarre and sad ending to a bizarre and sad life. I never 'got' Michael. I never liked his music for the most part, and I thought he was a creep of a person. But everyone has their story, and he is entitled to that. But at the end of the day, he wasn't going to be rolling into the Grammy Awards in a wheelchair while in his 70's. This had to be the ending. And the sheep eat it up. Think of what really would have happened if we had the types of electronic media we have today when Elvis died. It would have been insane. It already was then.

We had one of the most important elections in the history of the world only a matter of months ago, and what shatters are known records of Internet usage? MJ's death. Crazy. Simply crazy. But in the end, that is all his life was....one big show. If they had timed it right, they could have sold tickets. A very sad ending. But there is a positive side.....

With the passing of Michael, the light was drawn away from Farrah. I don't think she wanted the light. She passed in dignity, she left us in grace, just as when she adorned the magazine covers of our youth. I'm glad the spotlight was taken from her, the bullshit media would have only focused on the Letterman incident anyhow. Hell, we all have off nights. And I'm quite sure my friends are thankful that I don't drag a video camera around with me.

And finally Ed. This is something we are just going to have to get used to. There aren't many left, and when these older fella's pass, there is really nobody left to pay them tribute. I don't want freakin' Ryan Seacrest telling me the virtue's of Ed McMahon. One of the only guys left that can talk about any of these guys with credibility is Don Rickles, and even he is not long for this world. I have my memories of Ed, and that's good enough for me.

So if you're angry about the last week, let it go. It all happened for a reason. And each and every one of them were honored in the manor I think they would have wanted.

Pickle Surprise

My buddy Dan posted this goddamn thing about a year ago. It gets me in stitches everytime. The problem is, I can't get the freakin' thing out of my head once I see it. I finally forget about it, then he posts it again.

Dan...I am begging. I am pleading. Stop the madness!!

Every Once In a While There is a News Story That Makes You Go What the @#$%!!

That's the Fact Jack

I was in Cranbrook this week on business. I hadn't been there before and found it to be a gem of a little town. I only wish I had my own car to tie a bow on those mountain roads, but alas no. I was stuck with a rented Pontiac Vibe. Ugh!! Things didn't really go as planned up there, but I'm used to that, and I look forward to future visits.

Miley the beautiful graduated high school yesterday as well, and I couldn't be more proud of her. I haven't heard from her yet, so hopefully the party isn't still going.

I still find myself incredibly short on time. Today especially I find my eyes wondering from my laptop screen to the window beside my desk dreaming about a perfect spot on the beach with a charged ipod.

So today I am going to borrow a page from Mr. Letterman and post some little known facts that you can carry with you and ponder over the weekend.

Without further ado, little known facts:

On two separate occasions , Gandhi broke his fast with tacos.

The 50 stars on the United States flag stand for the 50 ways to leave your lover.

As brilliant as Albert Einstein was, he could never talk Mrs. Einstein into a three-way.

Few ranchers actually use ranch dressing.

The word "apple" comes from the latin word meaning "apple."

Thanks to a sophisticated robot developed by Japanese inventors, it now only takes one to tango.

The film Snakes on a Plane is very loosely based on a novel by Jane Austen.

Other than nuclear weaponry, the only difference between North and South Korea is that South Korea uses the designated hitter.

The Native American who cried in the classic anti-pollution commercial also cried in a commercial for Dentyne.

Major League Baseball contends the only thing keeping Pete Rose out of the Hall of Fame is his soup-bowl haircut.

Tony Bennett also left an umbrella stand in San Francisco.

In February 1981, the Dalai Lama won 14,000 dollars on Card Sharks.

Medical experts say if Elvis hadn't died of heart failure on August 16, 1977, he probably would have died of heart failure on August 17, 1977.

The television show Lassie ran for a 140 years in dog-years.

Apple has spent nearly 200 million dollars trying to develop a wooden iPod for the Amish.

Katherine Hepburn's last words were, "Read me some more of those 'you might be a redneck' jokes."

Socrates was the first person to ask why we drive on a parkway and park on a driveway.

In the days before limousines, people flaunted their wealth by riding very long horses.

In 1979, Pope John Paul II declared the microwave oven a miracle.

Until 1970, the United States Census Bureau kept track of people who looked "shifty."

According to complaints from his wife, elevator pioneer Elisha Otis refused to go down.

Theologians now believe the Last Supper may have been more of a brunch.

People magazine's Sexiest Man Alive is seventh in line to the presidency.

In 1976, the Kentucky Derby was won by a couple of fraternity guys in a horse costume.

Fortune cookies are the world's only clairvoyant snack.

Eva Braun's parents felt she could do much better than Hitler.

Because of an onion allergy, the singer Meat Loaf can't eat meat loaf.

Burt Bacharach ends every concert by flipping over his piano.

Despite the name, most gravy boats are not seaworthy.

Researchers at Sara Lee have spent nearly three billion dollars trying to find a way for people to have their cake and eat it too.

Before a budget cut, the Lincoln Memorial's chair was supposed to come with a matching ottoman.

Part 2

So Jamie continued to bang on doors. I finally saw a light come on in the back of the house, and a dark shadow made its way through the kitchen to the door. The door swung open, it was one of the guys who soon laced Jamie for banging on the door and waking them all up.

We wondered into her and Janet's room first to kick their air mattress of a bed and tried to wake Janet up to no avail. We managed to squeeze a few expletives out of her, but that was about it.

We headed back to the kitchen and Jamie offered me an Old Milwaukee. I didn't see a scrap of furniture anywhere, other than a few stand alone kitchen chairs. All of the sudden the guys started turning up from everywhere. Doors were opening and closing, there were dull thumps on the stairs, and I could swear one came out of a closet as well. Before I knew it there were eight guys standing in the kitchen simultaneously cracking beers like a 8 gun salute.

The great thing about this crew and that they are so wide eyed and innocent. They don't judge anyone, they are still finding their world and I even have some doubts if they will ever be jaded. I miss that enthusiasm, that is what has aged me, and I pray that someday I can get it back. They are a great bunch of people, and I hope they have the time of their lives on this trip. I didn't stay long, I was getting confused about which of the 40 beer cans on the counter was mine. It was like playing Russian roulette, any moment I was due to get the day old beer filled with cigarettes. It reminded me so much of my halcyon days.

I said my goodbyes and headed off into the night.

I'm off to Cranbrook tomorrow for the week. It's my first time there and I'm a little excited. Tonia is driving thru on Wedenesday, and I'm going to get to see Sammy for the first time in a while as well. Should be fun.

I also was to put a shout out to my good friend Michael Toby who had a little health setback this weekend. Mike, my thoughts are with you and I wish you the fastest of recoveries. And I hope to see you at our regular meeting place as soon as I get back to town.