Did this bull learn from Ron Artest?

I am back. I was wondering if anybody out there saw the footage of the bull in Mexico City. The bull, in the bull fighting stadium, ran and jumped the wall and into the stands. It was as if the bull with a sword sticking out of his back said "Fuck this shit" and decided to get the hell out of there. It was almost as if he was sick of a heckling "fan" and decided to get him ala Ron Artest in Detroit last year.

It was quite amusing from a distance. I am sure I would have shit myself if I were there, but then again, I have no desire to take in a bull fight. It really is not much of a fight, or a fair one anyway, when they stab the best to weaken him and then leave the Matador to finish the job.

It was almost as if a gladiator decided to stop being a spectacle and create pain for the spectators. Good for him, I say.

He really did run amok in the stands. Watch for it on the news, it is quite amusing.

Ciao!

It's time for Jack, Jack Lalane.

I am back. I decided to save part 2 of the George S May story for when I have little to say. It is funny, especially as I get on the road. But I saw something this weekend that made me wonder. It was a Newsweek article, I think, about Jack LaLane. He is 91 years old and in great shape. As he is a testament to a healthy lifestyle and the positive effects of physical and mental exercise. I am awestruck by his longevity, strength and his orange/red hair.

All I have to say about him is positive. We should all look like that at 91. He is in great shape and seems more with it than my 79 year old father in law. The thing is I can accept the Ronald Reagan hair dye job. It is that damn jumpsuit that he wears. What is up with that? I recall my mother dressing me in a jumpsuit, but I was no older than four or five. By grade one, I figured that if I wore one of those jumpsuits, I was going to have the shit beaten out of me at school. What can I say, I was, still am too, a perceptive kid.

Yet there he was in his signature jumpsuit. I am thinking that given how we revert back to a sort of infancy as we age (use of diapers and the "I want it and want it now" attitude) he has gone back to wearing a "onesie" instead of underwear as well. At least he has the belt on that jumpsuit hiked up to just below his chest. At least it was not a white belt. Thank goodness for small miracles.

Again, at 91 with the physical health and mental acuity of a guy thirty years younger, he is a remarkable man, but then I see his juicer informercial running again yesterday and I can only laugh at the jumpsuit. Paratrooper Jack with his high belt and adult diapers at your service.

Ciao!

George S May Days Part 1

I am back. I know that is obvious by the fact that I did not post yesterday, but have posted today and you would see today's date (January 27, 2006). I just like to write this stuff down. I am not sure where to go with this today but given the date, I may talk of something that I have not done before.

It was on this date, two years ago, that I left my cold city to go to the Chicago suburbs, just as cold, for a ten day training class for George S May International Company. I was "chosen" out of many to uproot myself and leave my family to be an Executive Analyst in the world of management consulting for this company that served the small to medium sized business market. It all seemed interesting and they paid for the flight, hotel accomodations and a cool $20 US per diem. All I had to do was buy a laptop computer and portable printer and pack for ten days with business attire.

I made the mistake of taking too small a suitcase. Packing after the ten days, getting my dirty laundry stuffed into the suitcase was an ordeal as it turned out.

Anyway, I had the laptop and ran out on the Monday (26th) to get the portable printer in a snow storm. I was awake on the Tuesday as I was leaving around four thirty for my flight to Chicago. I had to be at the airport by around two, so I spent the morning getting my shit together. I had some lunch then ran to my son's school to pick him up. He was not going to see me for ten days so it seemed appropriate that he come to the airport with me. I then had to pick up my wife from work. I was anxious, which given my nature is normal.

The strange reality is that I am a stoic. I can go through life with a poker or stone face. I mean my philosophy is feel it but do not show it. Before we went to the Dominican Republic, I had gone through all the WORST case scenarios in my head. I bring it up to my wife who figures that the worst thing is the plane going down and we all die together. I shudder, because she has not conceived of the possibilty of the plane going down and only the boy surviving. Now, in that circumstance, I realize that I am dead and there is NOTHING I can do, so in that sense it is not so bad, but I would feel for the pain and sadness he would feel, but then again I am dead, so in some ways I got the worse end of that deal. I digress.

I did get a phone call earlier from the instructor. She had a nice southern drawl. She told me that flights were slow into Chicago as they had been hit with the same snow storm, but things were starting to get back to normal. There was also a packet waiting for me at the hotel front desk. I was to be staying in the La Quinta Inn in the Village of Elk Grove Village, Illinois. How lovely, I thought.

I was anxious, it was snowing, so I got my wife, tossed her the keys and told her to drive. She did and we had a nice so long at the airport. Ten days away from my family was not going to be easy. I had a wait at the airport but finally I did get off the ground and hit Chicago.

I got my bags, dragged them and called for the La Quinta shuttle bus. I had to wait for that one, but it did arrive. I got my packet and found my room with two double beds. It was an okay room, but in retrospect, I should have requested a king size bed, but live and learn. Anyway, I did notice a "funny" smell. Not so much a stench like Stinky Guy, though nothing is like the stench of Stinky Guy, but a mixture of disinfectant and crappy potpourri. I thought that I would get used to it. I was wrong!

That smell would haunt me for ten days. Every time I came back to my room, I would be greeted or kicked by that smell. It was nauseating, but what could I do about it? It was only to be ten days.

I had to be ready, in suit and tie, in the lobby for seven thirty (Central time) for the van ride from the hotel to the company training center in Park Ridge. I opened my packet and there was a bunch of forms to fill out and shit to read. I did my best but given my anxious state could not complete them. It was a matter of trying to get some sleep as I was going to be up at six the next morning. I did call home and that was that. I was there and the fun was set to begin.

Want to know more? You will have to stay tuned to the subsequent parts. I will even tell the stories of me on the road, which are funnier. But that was day 1 and have not got into the people that I met. They are more fun. Have a great weekend. Ciao!

Random life thoughts

I am back. Again, I think that I have a problem, Houston, with my screen here, but I will soldier on with today's ravings. I am not sure where to begin today. I mean I see natural selection was at work in Columbia.

Apparently, a 35 year old security guard in Columbia was having some drinks with friends and his 21 year old nephew. The nephew started to hiccup and the ever loving uncle decided to try and scare them away by pointing his gun at his nephew. Wouldn't you know it, but the gun went off, shooting the nephew in the neck, killing him. The distraught uncle then turned the gun on himself, thus allowing a case of the hiccups to end two lives. I am not sure whether this is funny or not, but it is odd and absurd, so it works for me.

I did lie, I have NO thoughts, so you are getting random life bullshit, really. On Cruel.com there is a hilarious story, blog really, about some dude who claims to have shaved his ass, and the "fun" that ensued. I urge you all to check it out as it is funny. It does beg the question, "why" though. I would hate for the answer to be "because it is there". I mean, I do not think that I have ever considered shaving my ass, but I cannot judge somebody for doing that. I have thought about the odd, and I do mean odd, female that I have come across with a hairy ass.

I am not talking about a bit of "peach fuzz" or fuzzy ass, I am talking dark hair. That is just not a fun thing to see on a female, nor feel either. You can be safely assured that if the woman in question has a hairy ass, she sure as shit will have nipple hairs too. That is just a hirsute fact of life. Don't believe me, look it up in a human physiology or anatomy text book. It is there in black and white, if the lady has a hairy ass (they do describe it exactly that way, too) then she is going to have those damn nipple (or is that areola) hairs.

Ever get one of those caught in your teeth? I find it far more disconcerting than getting a pubic hair in my throat. At least with the pubic hair in the throat, I know when I go down and she is not shaved/waxed/hairless/a chihuahua that I stand a chance of coughing up a bit of a fur ball later. I never think that when going for the breasts. That, of course, is just me and my shallow ways.

How did I get on that subject? It is amazing where I can end up when I do not have a destination in mind. Damn, I do like the journey. Well, think of happy thoughts and hairy asses. Ciao!

Stream of (un)consciousness

I am back. It is not as if I have anything to report today. I just thought that I would check in and hope that something inspires me. So far, nothing has. I mean we now have a Conservative minority government up here in the Land of the Bland. I am mildly disappointed. If the current campaign and such could not get those in the urban areas of Ontario to vote Conservative, then I am left to wonder about my city, province and country.

I have thought that before. I mean I cannot understand why people could not see through the mediocre human being they elected three times (Jean Chretien). It makes me wonder whether I am like Cassandra. Cassandra was the oracle at Troy who was given the gift of being a seer but cursed by the fact that nobody would listen to her. She did try to warn her city about the Trojan Horse, but nobody listened and we all know how that turned out.

I do not want to be seen as the guy spouting crazy, seemingly incoherent words on the street. Then again, I would not have to shave, so there is some upside. I could grow me one of those cool, Saddam down in the spider hole type of long beards. I think with the gray in it, it would give either an air of wisdom or when matted (and it would have to be) an air of complete insanity. Either way, it would be quite the look. I could even let my hair grow long.

Of course, given the fine texture of my hair, it would be similar to the hair that Kim Mitchell sported in the late 80s/early 90s and that would not be good for anybody. I could end up looking a bit like Riff Raff from The Rocky Horror Picture Show, with a long, gray, dirt matted beard. In any event, it would be a look that would make me and my family proud.

I am also thinking that I would have to let those damn ear and nose hairs grow, too. That would just lend a look of a Q-tip gone wrong, or should I say, a wet Q-tip gone wrong. As I see it, it is still wrong, but perhaps that is my destiny.

There I said it. How I got to a homeless guy's beard and uncontrollable hair growth from the election results, I do not know. That is why this was a stream of concsiousness thing. I would say we hit some rapids but that was pretty damn far from rapids. Where was the danger? Where was the rush? You get no rush from bowling, George, and you get no rush from me today. Ciao!

A solopsists nightmare

I am back. I do not have much funny to say today. I did get a phone call from a friend the other night. He only seems to call when he "needs" me to confirm his "theories" of life and how the mind and body work. It is like I am a guru. I am the enlightened one. The only problem is that he is more solopsistic than I am.

Solopsism is the philosophy that only "I" exist and that all on earth were placed on the planet form "my" manipulation. The essence of the philosophy is that you do not exist but for me. It is true in the most simple of senses but when somebody punches you in the nose, it becomes a little harder to question their existence. In fact, it becomes a holodeck accident gone wrong (a sop to those into Star Trek TNG).

I am a bit of a solopsist. It is my fall back position in any theological or existential debates. I am wise enough to see a world without me. My friend has never had that ability. He is big into the world inside his own head but the objective world of reality has never been to his liking. The laws of physics have had a way of working against him.

He called recently to say he had a revelation. He is becoming Buddhist in thought, but it always leads him to solopsism. He is trying to convince me that it is a problem with Buddhism. Never once in the conversation did he even consider that the problem was in him, no Buddhism. It was another lesson in a lack of perspective.

I have known him for a long time. He has become somewhat of recluse and lost contact with long time friends. The problem is that he has not really "grown" up. He still thinks like he is 17 but he is 40. That is part of the problem, the world around him changed, especially friends, life and experiences, but he has not and still sees himself as his 17 year old self and those around him in that manner. It is kind of sad.

Anyway, the conversation brokedown in the same mud of his thinking. He is looking for reassurance and all I can provide is more uncertainty. I will question but not answer. I should have been a psychiatrist. I have only questions and see the possiblilties. I have no clue which one is the best but that is not my problem.

Ciao!

It must be destiny

I am back. Did you ever get the feeling that the fates have planned out your future? I just got a sense of that when I was on the phone last evening with a good friend. As we chatted, he has to "control" his son, who is just shy of two years old. Apparently, their dog was looking out the window and his son was trying to stick his finger up the dog's ass. It suddenly occurred to me that his boy is destined to become either a vetrenarian, proctologist or a veterenary proctologist (a narrow specialty if ever there was one, I mean how many animals assholes can one WANT to peer into). The thought cracked me up.

Then the dog starts to bark. My friend says the dog saw another dog outside, but I am thinking that if a two year old stuck his finger up my ass, I would bark too. I could not blame the dog for that one.

Think about it. I get the vision of the Dutch boy with his finger in the dyke (I am not going there). Now, I have the vision of the Canadian boy with finger up the dog's ass. I am finding this just too funny.

Have a great weekend. Ciao!

Stinky Guy rides again, but cleans his machine first

I am back. I forgot this story yesterday. I was working out Monday. I may have mentioned that there are three ARC Trainer elliptical type machines. Two are taken, so in due time I place my gloves on the third and get my stuff, water and magazine, to do my cardio. I see Stinky Guy, and really "stinky" is an understatement, looking at the fact that the machines are occupied. I am a bit gleeful as I have the downwind machine (not my favorite).

I am about fifteen minutes into my half hour, when the woman beside me (middle machine and Stinky Guy's preferred machine) finishes and gets off her machine. I wanted to grab her and glue to the fucking machine but I had no glue, plus I am certain she outweighed me with most of her weight in her ass and thighs, so it may have been like me trying to tackle Jerome Bettis of the Pittsburgh Steelers (it was not going to happen).

Stinky Guy, eyeing the situation, sees his opportunity. I see him making his way to the newly vacant machine. He then stops, picks up a towel and spray bottle of "disinfectant". He sprays the machine and wipes it off before he begins. I am left to think "What the fuck?!!!". Here it is dude with an aroma that could level Tacoma (thank you to the late Frank Zappa for that line) and he is cleaning a machine somebody else used. I should have told him to spray himself and towel down. Then again, had he done that he may have disappeared as his odor was cleansed away.

I am looking at him and thinking that you STINK but feel the need to "clean" something other than your own body. Wake up and smell your stink! On the brightside, I did not catch a wafting of his pure stink, or is that man musk, so maybe somebody has got him improving his personal hygeine. With that I say Smell you later (thanks Nelson Muntz and The Simpsons for that one) and ciao!

In proper post script, I do have to send out my best wishes to my son. It is his 9th birthday today. It seems like just yesterday that he was making his appearance in this world. Of course, it was the coldest day of 1997 and I had to keep running from warm place to cold outside and car, but it was well worth it. It also coincided with the the last running on television, that I can recall, of the movie "The Producers". I thought that was a good omen, a new and healthy son, wife that made it through child birth with no troubles and getting the chance to see one of my favorite and funniest movies. It was the trifecta in an otherwise mundane existence. Happy Birthday my beautiful son, many, many more healthy and happy ones to you. I love you!

Sorry for the sap, but it is true so get over it! I feel it and I said it, now I have to say it to HIM, and I will. Ciao!

Is that Ted Kennedy's head or are you just glad to see me?

I am back. This is really part two of shit that I saw over the weekend. I think that I was watching the Daily Show, or not, when somebody was showing clips of the Senate Judiciary Committee questioning US Supreme Court nominee Samuel Alito. I saw a shot of Ted Kennedy asking a question, or like Joe Biden pontificating for twenty minutes before getting around to thinking about asking a question. I was dumbstruck.

Now, it was years ago when I saw Jon Stewart on David Letterman make the observation about the size of Ted Kennedy's head. He said that it was so big that it was not a head, but the container you would use to carry a head in. Well, Teddy K's head has actually gotten bigger. Did you see his melon? The thing is fucking huge, like Sputnik (thank you Mike Myers).

I looked even deeper, though. He has crags in his face that are sooooooo deep. I was struck by two things, both tasteless and possibly offensive. I will share them with you, now.

1. I thought that he is a proxy for how his brothers (Joe, John and Robert) would have aged. From the shallow guy's perspective, it is a good thing they all died, young, untimely deaths. That would have been one family of ugly, old mugs.

2. I am thinking that the crags on Ted Kennedy's face are so deep and numerous that it is on his face that Osama bin Laden is hiding, and doing a good job.

It was just an ugly sight. Then he speaks and things get worse. Of course, he is not charismatically challenged like Joe "the Plagerizer" Biden. Those are my kicks at the Democrats. Have a good one. Ciao!

English is such a fun language

I am back. I have better stuff to say tomorrow, at least I think I do. I did want to share this gem. It is another embarrassing admission on my part, but I think that it was worth it. I hope you all had nice weekends out there. It was cold, windy and then just cold and sunny here, so it was not the best weekend, but then again it is Toronto and January, so it could have been far worse.

I mean, I look back two years ago and it was FREEZING. We had a small thaw and then I discovered that our pipe split, so we had a terrific spray of cold water in the basement. This coincided with the final death throw of my PC at that time. I would burn through another, but that one was basically put together with duct tape and paper clips, so to get nine months out if before it died was okay. Programs and parts shut down just like human organs in a dying person. I now have a bit of a graveyard of dead computer towers and parts in my basement.

Anyway, for the embarrassing revelation, I was flipping channels on Saturday and stopped, briefly (that is my story) on what was a Canadian college basketball game. To make it worse, in terms of admissions, it was women's basketball. I watched some Canadian Women's University Basketball, there I said it, happy now?

The play is moving and the announcer says that the woman are "playing man to man defense". Huh?!!!! There is that funny English word play. I am watching woman play "man to man" defense? Can it be? Were they doing urine and blood tests after the game to make sure these were indeed women? I found it funny, but then again what do I know?

Ciao!

If I could only get him to smell himself

I am back. I forgot to mention that Monday, while at Mayfair, who should be at his usual middle machine, but Stinky Guy. He was ripe, but I had to gut it out. I got on my machine and every so often the current would shift and my eyes would water. It was a veritable potpourri of human body stink and something sweeter as a possible masking agent. It did not mask the smell. It is kind of like putting an Airwick in a sewer. I like the idea but it is too little too late.

Suddenly, instead of a simple stink, he has a complex bouquet. You get past the sweet and then that pungent, foul odor hits you right between the eyes. It does so literally considering that is where my nose is, I will not speak for anybody else. That is the scary part. You think that it is all okay until you are assaulted by this smell and left with watery eyes and the desire to smell a sewer in the summer because it has to be nicer smelling than him.

I hate to keep flogging this dead, decaying, rotting and stinking idea but he just keeps looking straight ahead as I moan and huff and puff when ever his stink wafts my way. I want to tell management about it, because I did when he was not there, but they are never there when he is. I have to point it out as it is rude and nobody, I mean nobody, should be exposed to that smell.

I am not sure what to do here. Am I being too considerate of his feelings to the detriment of my own senses? Is he aware and just obtuse? Should I just let the rage take me where I need to go? These are the questions that I have. Is there more? Have a great weekend, one and all, ciao.

It all makes sense

I am back. The link pertains to an article that suddenly allowed me to make sense of that damn bird flu (H5N1 for those scoring at home). It seems our ancient ancestors, unless you subscribe to the fantasy that is Intelligent Design, I could really go off topic on that versus science and the THEORY of evolution but I will save that one, the man-ape type of beast were not only hunted on the ground by larger mammals and reptiles, but from the air by birds.

The findings suggest that large birds would pierce the skull with a talon, wait for them to die and then swoop down and tear off the skull, through the eye socket, and eat the brain. Filthy beasts. Now, the "war" continues with this bird flu virus.

We showed the birds who was who by killing and eating chicken, turkey, ducks and ostrich. This bird flu virus is just the escalation of this millenia long war between us humans and the birds. I am now calling for a jihad on birds. It is in the interests of all mankind if we eat as many birds as possible. That we can put an end to this "war".

I think that we really showed those eagles something with the use of DDT. I am not saying eradicating malaria by killing the mosquitoes was a bad thing, there were just some unforeseen consequences. The eagles, being rather high on the food chain, got theirs when the DDT made its way from the mosquitoes to animals that eat mosquitoes and to the eagles who fed on those animals. It then made their shells brittle so no young were born. It is neat way to wipe out a species, if you ask me. Anyway, that is why the birds are pissed and why we now have bird flu.

Ciao!

Am I Sirius?

I am back. I am on quite a little writing roll here. It is a number of weekdays in a row. I am just thinking that I should just spew my garbage and let that be that. It seems to be what I am doing so I will continue.

Stern is on Sirius now. No more "legal" listening to him for us Canadians. I have never understood why people get so up in arms about the things he says or does on the radio. He was essentially "fired" in Canada because some do-goodies with too much time on their hands decided to "complain" as they found him obscene and offensive. Duh!!!!! Simply put, and Howard Stern has put it quite correctly, either go after the sponsors (the money) or turn the station. It is a unique bit of freedom we have, yet there are far too many who seem to believe they know what is best for all of us. The simple and individual solution is not to listen but let those who care to, to do so.

Anyway, Sirius Canada has not picked up Stern's channels. They may be afraid of the CRTC, the Canadian equivalent to the FCC, and just as behind the curve in terms of technology and content. The CRTC licensed a few players for satellite radio in Canada. Two are joint ventures with XM and Sirius. They had to add Canadian content, which occurs on the radio here, with Byzantine rules as to what is considered "Canadian". It is not the worst rule but it is rather laughable.

The reason, ostensibly, that the CRTC gave when licensing the services was that it really was the only way to ensure CanCon given how easy it is to buy US receivers and services. The joke is that I am sure there were many who would buy if Stern were on, but will now go the "gray" market way and buy the receivers and Sirius's US service. It is a Canadian made "solution" that can only hurt the whole "Canadian" industry. Deception and denial of reality and people is really a sad thing in government.

At least, that sense of denial is not a Canada only phenomenon. I see it in my friends to the South as well. I guess it is all part of the human condition. You bastards! Ciao!

When weirdness this way comes

I am back. I noticed that I used the same title for different posts, one in December and one in January. What a dope! Either that or I stutter but it takes a while, so it is not as annoying but it is far more disturbing because it involves thought.

Just a question, when is the appropriate time to take down the Christmas lights? I am not sure what the ettiquette is on that one and would like some input on that one. Not that I will get it, but I figured that I would ask.

There really is not much weirdness at this moment, though that could change. I mean I read where the Chinese were going to do something special for one female inmate in each of the twelve women's prisons. On the Chinese New Year (Year of the Dog for those playing at home, Jan. 27/06), they were going to allow these 12 lucky ladies to have a conjugal visit with their husbands. I am not sure how they are going to choose but I think there will be major resentment issues for those who won't get laid. It is kind of like those rewards on Survivor where the winner gets to choose a tribemate to join him or her and the resentment that creates and lingers. Only this time, you are confined with people who resent you and would not think twice of shiving you in the shower.

Just a thought. Ciao!

Is it time to hand out the Darwin Awards again?

I am back. I came across a small news, if that is indeed the correct term, article in Canada's National newspaper, the Globe and Mail, today. I think that it is time to hand out those Darwin awards again. As much as I loved those German stories where stupidity ruled and homes burned, I have an American one that has an added twist, Karma.

Now, recall the German folly. One was the woman who tried to exterminate some spiders in her apartment by using an aerosol can as a torch and torched her place and the drunk dude who could not be fucked to get up and take a piss, pissed his bed and used a blow dryer, on his bed, to dry the sheets while he went out. In New Mexico, United States, came word of a person who while burning some leaves in his yard, caught a mouse in his house. The cruel genius decided to toss the mouse into the flames and burning leaves.

Now, here is where Karma kicks in and the story gets good. The mouse's fur catches fire but it escapes and runs, in flames no less, back into the dude's house, burning the motherfucker down. Ain't Karma a bitch? Now, the first thing that comes to mind is shouldn't somebody have taught the mouse, Stop, Drop and Roll? If that was done, this "poor" man would still have a house. The second thing is something greater than man has decided to mock this entrant in the Darwin Awards, and now he is homeless.

If he is alcoholic he may qualify for free drinks up here in Canada, though, so it was not all a waste. Ciao!

Another one checks off his mortal coil

I am back. "You'll never find, another love like mine....." Lou Rawls is dead. Okay, I only remember that song of his when I was in junior high. It really has no meaning to me or any real bearing on my life, but still he is dead and that is too bad.

This is another episode of "Death Watch!". I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed providing it to you.

I am early today, for no apparent reason, given that I have not come across anything funny today. That is not to say I won't but I am trying to get into the habit of writing something each day, so this is the shit you are stuck with.

To be honest, I am still working on giving the homeless alcoholics free drinks. My mind is still spinning on that one. As I said yesterday, it all comes apart on the basis of cost. If it were cheaper to keep them drinking and on the street, then what the hell, I am all for it. As it is not, then who, in the larger sense, does it serve. If not sign me up for the free booze.

Oh yeah, I have not had any brain juice since New Years Eve. It was a little shaky at first but now I am thinking clear as a..........whatever. My thinking is lucid once again. So is the accompanying rage that goes with my thinking. It is a trade off. It is too bad that I am a good drunk. It would make my ingestion of alcohol problematic if I were an angry drunk. I am not so fortunate. I am a happy drunk, angry when I am sober.

That is the confounding part of my life, I am much more pleasant to be around when I am "medicated". When off the meds, I see too much. On the meds, my brain turns to mush and I can be in happy ignorance, watching the colors. Oh well, I am not jonesing for booze right now, nor am I having the shakes (DTs, like in Greece, but that is a story for another day).

I wanted to get that off of my chest. My chest seemed a little heavy. Now that it is off, I still seem to be in discomfort. Shit, I think it is a heart attack not a need to set the record straight. Damn! Anybody know CPR...........................................................

Wait, it was just gas, but thanks for the concern. Ciao!

Only in Canada

I am back. Simple story I came across from right here in Toronto and Canada. I am so proud. A study, or is that experiment, was done in Ottawa, giving homeless alcoholics (they have it all, baby!) a reglular supply of booze and found that it MAY improve their health and behavior.

These lucky homeless alcoholics were given a drink an hour, up to 15 drinks, each day of wine or sherry. They did find that there were fewer emergency room visits and the participants seemed better. Of course, avoiding withdrawal is a pretty good way of maintaining a less anti-social behavior. Duh!!!!

It is all very interesting but what do you do with those results. What are the practical implications? Oh by the way, the per capita cost of this programme is $771 (Canadian Pesos, though much better since we got shit in the ground in this country, oil, gas, gold and nickel) per month. However, (you knew there was going to be a big old BUT in there somewhere) the per capita costs of doing nothing is $96 for monthly emergencey services, $150 in hospital care and $201 in police services. By my calculations, this experiment costs $424 per month extra.

I am waiting to see how somebody tries to justify the added expense, considering the money would come out of taxpayer earned funds. In fact, I am hard pressed to see the merit in this study, unless you are a homeless alcoholic, in which case it all makes perfect sense.

It would a homeless alcoholic paradise! Ciao!

Is this year over yet?

I am back. I think that I have had enough of 2006. I mean West Virginia coal miners, alive and then dead. That was a sad way to begin the year, but it is all in a life. I know that it is easy for me to say, so I am saying it, but it is true.

I was reading, today, about some animal stories that occurred in South Africa this year. One had some mugger type dude, running from the cops and then hiding in a zoo. Unbeknownst to the moron, he was in a tiger cage. The tigers did their thing and justice was served. Of course, to the tigers, justice tasted like dinner.

Then a mother had a her nose bitten off by a seal. She was only trying to help, but damned if the mother seal did not see her as a threat. Or mama seal bit a human nose off just for shits and giggles.

The authorities are blaming Disney for making wild animals seem human and friendly. It has nothing to do with Disney. It is natural selection. I mean the idea of going to pet a seal cracks me up. They may have those doeful eyes, like a human infant, but there is a reason why seals are clubbed. They are nasty, eat all the fucking cod fish and smell bad, plus the pelts of their young make for a warm coat. Damn, now I will have PETA bugging my ass, but bring them on.

Maybe, if I club and skin a few of them, they will get the message. Wild animals are not cute and cuddly. They behave like, well, animals, which makes an awful lot of sense, because that is what they are.

I have always known that network television is informative. I learned from "Arrested Development" that seals are not to be trifled with. Buster lost his hand to a loose seal. Now, I see one bite the nose of a woman (stupid woman, obviously, and she has to wear her badge of stupidity for life, or is that go without a nose, which would make wearing eyeglasses rather difficult, I would imagine), club 'em before they get you!

All I can say is that these are wild animals and do what they do. It is not human, so there is no good or bad. They feel threatened or see an easy meal, they attack. It is not rocket science. If you have watched any Discovery channel stuff, the predators tend to pick off the weakest in the herds. It is no different here, I mean the best and brightest would not find themselves in the tiger cage. It seems appropriate that tigers help cull the human herd of its stupid. Long live the tiger!

Ciao!

First post of the New Year

I am back. My fonts seem funny on this thing but since I do not really care, I will let sleeping dogs lie. Or is that lay? As long as the dog is not humping, or attempting to hump, my leg, all is well. I have a friend, I am proud to say, whose dog, since sadly departed, but it was over 20 years ago, would constantly hump my leg. I did not like it. We came to the conclusion that it was because his male Cocker Spaniel would catch the scent of a female Cocker Spaniel that was owned by a different friend. Confusing? Banal?

The point I am trying to make is that I do not like having anything hump my leg. As for me doing the humping, that is okay. Remember the days of the good old dry hump. Being a teenager in the late 70s was really quaint and simple. Wistful thought, wipe a tear and on we go.

I just read a headline that scientists think that they have found Mozart's skull. Now, I am sure he really has no need for it right now, but hands up to see how many of us knew, or even thought, that it was "missing". What a weird way to begin '06.

I guess I should write out my new year's resolutions for all to see. That way I can be held to them, like a nice pair of female breasts, I am not into the fleshy feel of man tits, but thanks for asking. Fuck it, I am perfect as the good Lord made me. I do not need to grow up, arrested adolescence is fine with me. I do not speak for those who have to live and deal with me, but apparently outside of the family, I can be quite charming. I am thinking that I could have a long career as a grifter or con artist. Hmmmmmmmm..............cue the music.

I am not sure what any of this has to do with anything. I am thinking that 2006 is going to be a lot like 2005, except for the year. Ciao!