Happy Saturday Cyberspace!
It's Saturday, and you know what that means - time to have a look at what's caught my eye recently. I hope you all have a great weekend!
This is Yanni - a modern day composer. I can't stop listening to his music.
Marching Season
Nostalgia
This is the scariest thing I've probably ever seen. I will more than likely be leaving this country as soon as this becomes mandatory...hopefully they will give me enough time to get the hell outta here!
The MintChip (or the end of any guise of liberty) - watch the video.
And last, but not least, a great blog written by my good friend Tekebo about the party system in Canada and its inherent flaws.
The Party System
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Saturday 28 April 2012
Friday 27 April 2012
Painted Lanes
Hey again Cyberspace.
Alright...I admit it. I completely forgot about my blog yesterday. I had someone else's computer hooked up for most of the day and was out for most of the rest of it. Unfortunately, this could be viewed as some inadvertent foreshadowing. I am in the midst of disassembling my apartment in preparation for moving this weekend, which will be promptly followed by a trip to Montreal. I probably won't be blogging very much over the next week and a half...this Sunday Storytime will probably be the last entry for a while.
Today's topic is one that probably all of us have had to deal with - road rage. I see it everyday, and I do have a mild case of it myself (mine is mostly limited to swearing at other drivers).
I can understand how someone can get mad while driving. Take me, for instance...if I get cut off or someone decides to plow into my lane without looking, I will be cursing you. My anger is based on the safety of the people in the car. I am responsible for transporting each of the individuals in my vehicle from Point A to Point B safely. It is not a responsibility to be taken lightly. By doing something stupid while driving, you are putting me and my whole family at risk. Any person that threatens my family is not going to be received well. If a moving ton or more of plastic, rubber and steel is being operated irresponsibly, does that truck or car not become a weapon? How would you feel if someone was coming at your family with a loaded gun? I think that this is the basic principle behind some of the seemingly insane actions we hear about or see that get chalked up to 'road rage'.
The onus of safety does not only land on me (or the operator of whichever vehicle you may be in) - it also belongs to every other driver on the road. Failing to signal, failing to check a blind spot, playing with the radio...these things seem mundane. But they are not. Pay attention...it's really not that hard. As soon as you get behind that wheel, you are accepting your responsibility to everyone else - it may not seem like it, but safe driving is a collective effort.
I don't want to be misconstrued - I'm not trying to say that if someone cuts off you should follow them home. All I'm saying is that I can understand why people get so worked up. The trouble is once you're angry, there's a good chance that you will start shirking your responsibility. And this is the part that really gets me. I cannot wrap my head around the logic of "Well he cut me off, so I'm going to drive at a ridiculous speed and put everyone else in peril to pull up beside this person and give them the finger," or the like. It doesn't add up to me. So here's my suggestion - if you're driving, and someone does something that makes you unbelievably angry...pull over.
I feel as though this should be taught in every driving course that exists. Just take a breather. Pull over and calm down before doing something rash that you will only regret later. I mean, really what's worse - someone almost getting you into an accident; or you causing an accident and if you survive, living with the guilt of those you've injured or killed? At the very least your insurance premium will go up - and who wants to pay more to 'protect themselves' from something that may occur?
Accidents do happen. Attention spans are short. If you are going to be on the road, you have to be ready for anything at any moment. If someone does something you don't like, call them an asshole and move on. Don't waste your time being pissed off - spend your time keeping you and your family safe.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Alright...I admit it. I completely forgot about my blog yesterday. I had someone else's computer hooked up for most of the day and was out for most of the rest of it. Unfortunately, this could be viewed as some inadvertent foreshadowing. I am in the midst of disassembling my apartment in preparation for moving this weekend, which will be promptly followed by a trip to Montreal. I probably won't be blogging very much over the next week and a half...this Sunday Storytime will probably be the last entry for a while.
Today's topic is one that probably all of us have had to deal with - road rage. I see it everyday, and I do have a mild case of it myself (mine is mostly limited to swearing at other drivers).
I can understand how someone can get mad while driving. Take me, for instance...if I get cut off or someone decides to plow into my lane without looking, I will be cursing you. My anger is based on the safety of the people in the car. I am responsible for transporting each of the individuals in my vehicle from Point A to Point B safely. It is not a responsibility to be taken lightly. By doing something stupid while driving, you are putting me and my whole family at risk. Any person that threatens my family is not going to be received well. If a moving ton or more of plastic, rubber and steel is being operated irresponsibly, does that truck or car not become a weapon? How would you feel if someone was coming at your family with a loaded gun? I think that this is the basic principle behind some of the seemingly insane actions we hear about or see that get chalked up to 'road rage'.
The onus of safety does not only land on me (or the operator of whichever vehicle you may be in) - it also belongs to every other driver on the road. Failing to signal, failing to check a blind spot, playing with the radio...these things seem mundane. But they are not. Pay attention...it's really not that hard. As soon as you get behind that wheel, you are accepting your responsibility to everyone else - it may not seem like it, but safe driving is a collective effort.
I don't want to be misconstrued - I'm not trying to say that if someone cuts off you should follow them home. All I'm saying is that I can understand why people get so worked up. The trouble is once you're angry, there's a good chance that you will start shirking your responsibility. And this is the part that really gets me. I cannot wrap my head around the logic of "Well he cut me off, so I'm going to drive at a ridiculous speed and put everyone else in peril to pull up beside this person and give them the finger," or the like. It doesn't add up to me. So here's my suggestion - if you're driving, and someone does something that makes you unbelievably angry...pull over.
I feel as though this should be taught in every driving course that exists. Just take a breather. Pull over and calm down before doing something rash that you will only regret later. I mean, really what's worse - someone almost getting you into an accident; or you causing an accident and if you survive, living with the guilt of those you've injured or killed? At the very least your insurance premium will go up - and who wants to pay more to 'protect themselves' from something that may occur?
Accidents do happen. Attention spans are short. If you are going to be on the road, you have to be ready for anything at any moment. If someone does something you don't like, call them an asshole and move on. Don't waste your time being pissed off - spend your time keeping you and your family safe.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Wednesday 25 April 2012
Comic Book Conundrum
Hi Cyberspace.
I seem to be struggling to find a topic for my blog today. So I've decided to bring something to light that I haven't discussed for at least a few years. It is that age-old debate: Who would win in a fight between Batman and Spiderman?
As a kid growing up, this was a very important question. You were either a Spiderman kid or a Batman kid (I would have considered myself an X-Men kid, but that's really a moot point), and there were tangible social implications of this phenomenon. For example, at recess, usually that Batman kids would group together and the Spiderman kids would group together and compete - whether it was tag or redass, there was definitely some animosity between the two sides.
In those days, I was always a Spiderman kid. I had some very valid reasons to believe that Spiderman was the superior combatant. I mean, he had been bitten by a radioactive spider. He could climb walls, jump, had super strength, he could shoot web and most importantly, he had 'Spidey Senses,' which allowed him to know when danger was near.
Batman had none of these advantages. He was just a regular guy with some martial arts training and a lot of money. Sure, he had the gadgets, the belt, the body armor and the coolest vehicles...but couldn't Spidey have just shot down a Batarang with a flick of the wrist? Wouldn't Spiderman know that Batman was coming and be able to prepare accordingly? How could Batman ever hit Spiderman, when Spiderman already knew what Batman was going to do?
I held this view for a long time...until I watched 'Batman Begins.' If you haven't seen it, this movie is excellent. it tells of how Bruce Wayne came to be Batman, but with a much more in depth look at how Bruce Wayne was trained and learned to fight. Christopher Nolan, who wrote and directed the movie, was obviously a Batman kid in his younger years. He did an amazing job of showing just how intimidating Batman could be, with a strong emphasis on Batman's skills as a sneaky attacker, hiding in the shadows and only popping out when he knew he had an advantage over the enemy. It made me rethink my views on the whole debate.
Now, I don't know what to think. I guess that my opinion would have to be swayed by the 'Ninja-esque' success of Batman's sneaking around vs the success of Spiderman's ability to foresee what Batman was doing. This is where the fight lies. Spiderman is stronger, Batman is more skilled. Spiderman shoots web, Batman has a whole arsenal of projectile weapons. Spiderman can swing around the rafters on a strand of web, Batman has the ability to glide, thanks to his super cool cape, and the addition of the ever-famous gattling gun. I would say that Spidey would just wrap him up in web, but Batman is extremely crafty and probably has a buzz saw or something equally as effective stashed somewhere that would allow him to cut his way out.
I guess I have to stick with Spiderman. Batman is much more plausible as an answer now, thanks to Christopher Nolan, but Spidey Senses win out in the end. Sorry to everyone who was rooting for the Caped Crusader.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestion are encouraged and appreciated!
I seem to be struggling to find a topic for my blog today. So I've decided to bring something to light that I haven't discussed for at least a few years. It is that age-old debate: Who would win in a fight between Batman and Spiderman?
As a kid growing up, this was a very important question. You were either a Spiderman kid or a Batman kid (I would have considered myself an X-Men kid, but that's really a moot point), and there were tangible social implications of this phenomenon. For example, at recess, usually that Batman kids would group together and the Spiderman kids would group together and compete - whether it was tag or redass, there was definitely some animosity between the two sides.
In those days, I was always a Spiderman kid. I had some very valid reasons to believe that Spiderman was the superior combatant. I mean, he had been bitten by a radioactive spider. He could climb walls, jump, had super strength, he could shoot web and most importantly, he had 'Spidey Senses,' which allowed him to know when danger was near.
Batman had none of these advantages. He was just a regular guy with some martial arts training and a lot of money. Sure, he had the gadgets, the belt, the body armor and the coolest vehicles...but couldn't Spidey have just shot down a Batarang with a flick of the wrist? Wouldn't Spiderman know that Batman was coming and be able to prepare accordingly? How could Batman ever hit Spiderman, when Spiderman already knew what Batman was going to do?
I held this view for a long time...until I watched 'Batman Begins.' If you haven't seen it, this movie is excellent. it tells of how Bruce Wayne came to be Batman, but with a much more in depth look at how Bruce Wayne was trained and learned to fight. Christopher Nolan, who wrote and directed the movie, was obviously a Batman kid in his younger years. He did an amazing job of showing just how intimidating Batman could be, with a strong emphasis on Batman's skills as a sneaky attacker, hiding in the shadows and only popping out when he knew he had an advantage over the enemy. It made me rethink my views on the whole debate.
Now, I don't know what to think. I guess that my opinion would have to be swayed by the 'Ninja-esque' success of Batman's sneaking around vs the success of Spiderman's ability to foresee what Batman was doing. This is where the fight lies. Spiderman is stronger, Batman is more skilled. Spiderman shoots web, Batman has a whole arsenal of projectile weapons. Spiderman can swing around the rafters on a strand of web, Batman has the ability to glide, thanks to his super cool cape, and the addition of the ever-famous gattling gun. I would say that Spidey would just wrap him up in web, but Batman is extremely crafty and probably has a buzz saw or something equally as effective stashed somewhere that would allow him to cut his way out.
I guess I have to stick with Spiderman. Batman is much more plausible as an answer now, thanks to Christopher Nolan, but Spidey Senses win out in the end. Sorry to everyone who was rooting for the Caped Crusader.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestion are encouraged and appreciated!
Tuesday 24 April 2012
A Lonely Day
Good Morning Cyberspace.
What a wet day. I was inspired by the torrential downpour outside, and I've decided to write a rainy day poem.
The day is dark
The clouds hang low
I stare at the view
The sky opens
The window is battered
The rain explodes
The path of the streams
As they meet on the glass
It drips for me
It pours for me
The rain is my emotion
It blazes its own trail
I see the puddles
The drops dance on top
I hear the music
Nature's ballet
Calm
I know this feeling
The world is silent;
My thoughts are loud
I see myself
I watch the rhythm
Drums in my chest;
We waltz together
I am the rain
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
What a wet day. I was inspired by the torrential downpour outside, and I've decided to write a rainy day poem.
The day is dark
The clouds hang low
I stare at the view
The sky opens
The window is battered
The rain explodes
The path of the streams
As they meet on the glass
It drips for me
It pours for me
The rain is my emotion
It blazes its own trail
I see the puddles
The drops dance on top
I hear the music
Nature's ballet
Calm
I know this feeling
The world is silent;
My thoughts are loud
I see myself
I watch the rhythm
Drums in my chest;
We waltz together
I am the rain
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Monday 23 April 2012
"I Shot the Girl Guide...She Had It Coming"
Hi Cyberspace.
I'm going to get right into it today. As most of you probably know, George Zimmerman (the guy who shot Trayvon Martin in Florida) was released last night. Subsequently, on cnn.com, there was a poll - "Would you favor (this is a quote, so as much as I hate it, I have to leave out the u) a 'Stand Your Ground' law in your state?" The results were split; 48% said no, 44% said yes and 8% were undecided.
Are you joking me?!
There are already self-defense laws in place...and while it may give lawyers an opportunity to create that coveted reasonable doubt, self defense, in my opinion, is a valid idea. Everybody should have the right to protect themselves...but it's still a dangerous tightrope to traverse, and there have probably been countless gross injustices that have come about because of the existence of the 'self defense' defense.
But a 'stand your ground' law? No. Essentially, to me, this gives anyone free reign to do absolutely anything to anyone at any given time. All the offender would have to say is - "I thought I was going to be attacked." That's it. It's bad enough that the police can get away with statements like that - "I thought he was reaching for a gun, so I shot him," or "I thought she was going to attack my partner, so I tased her."
Now the theory itself sounds ridiculous enough to me to be immediately dismissed. But if it doesn't to you, than please consider this. The onus of proof always lies on the prosecution. A defendant, by law, is not required to prove that they are innocent - the prosecution must prove that the defendant is guilty. If somebody's thought becomes a valid defense, how would it ever be possible to convict anybody?
Here's a bit of a reach, but if the precedent is set, and someone is able to get away with murder because they thought they may be in danger, why couldn't a drug dealer say they were just 'standing their financial ground?' If being in danger of physical harm is enough to justify taking a life, is being in danger of not being able to afford food not a valid defense? After all, it will kill you. You need money to survive. There's no if, ands or buts about it. Where would it stop? 'I shot the Girl Guide in the face because I thought she poisoned the cookies?' I know it sounds foolish - but it may stand up in a court of law if this 'Stand Your Ground' law ever comes to fruition.
Just a thought I had today. Thanks for reading!
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
I'm going to get right into it today. As most of you probably know, George Zimmerman (the guy who shot Trayvon Martin in Florida) was released last night. Subsequently, on cnn.com, there was a poll - "Would you favor (this is a quote, so as much as I hate it, I have to leave out the u) a 'Stand Your Ground' law in your state?" The results were split; 48% said no, 44% said yes and 8% were undecided.
Are you joking me?!
There are already self-defense laws in place...and while it may give lawyers an opportunity to create that coveted reasonable doubt, self defense, in my opinion, is a valid idea. Everybody should have the right to protect themselves...but it's still a dangerous tightrope to traverse, and there have probably been countless gross injustices that have come about because of the existence of the 'self defense' defense.
But a 'stand your ground' law? No. Essentially, to me, this gives anyone free reign to do absolutely anything to anyone at any given time. All the offender would have to say is - "I thought I was going to be attacked." That's it. It's bad enough that the police can get away with statements like that - "I thought he was reaching for a gun, so I shot him," or "I thought she was going to attack my partner, so I tased her."
Now the theory itself sounds ridiculous enough to me to be immediately dismissed. But if it doesn't to you, than please consider this. The onus of proof always lies on the prosecution. A defendant, by law, is not required to prove that they are innocent - the prosecution must prove that the defendant is guilty. If somebody's thought becomes a valid defense, how would it ever be possible to convict anybody?
Here's a bit of a reach, but if the precedent is set, and someone is able to get away with murder because they thought they may be in danger, why couldn't a drug dealer say they were just 'standing their financial ground?' If being in danger of physical harm is enough to justify taking a life, is being in danger of not being able to afford food not a valid defense? After all, it will kill you. You need money to survive. There's no if, ands or buts about it. Where would it stop? 'I shot the Girl Guide in the face because I thought she poisoned the cookies?' I know it sounds foolish - but it may stand up in a court of law if this 'Stand Your Ground' law ever comes to fruition.
Just a thought I had today. Thanks for reading!
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Sunday 22 April 2012
Sunday Storytime #5
I hope this finds you well, Cyberspace.
JIM
He looked at the cover. it looked like it had been read hundreds of times. The title and author's name were faded beyond recognition.
"Go ahead...pick me up."
He jumped. There was nobody else around.
"Yeah...you. Pick me up. You won't regret it."
He watched his aching hand reach out and grab the battered spine from the shelf. It was much heavier than expected - he almost dropped it.
"Open me."
He glanced up at the concave mirror in the corner. The reflection showed only himself and the the book in his hands. His hand trembled as he peeled back the cover. The dedication simply read 'For Jim.'
"That's strange," he said aloud. His name was Jim. He turned the leaf - and he was shocked by the opening line of the story.
'The baby was brought into the world on a cold autumn night - October 25, to be exact, 1892.'
That was Jim's birthday, long ago as it was. The next page told of the death of the baby's father in a train accident - Jim's father had been killed the day after he was born in a train derailment. He slammed the book closed.
"Go ahead Jim; keep reading. Don't you want to know?"
Jim knew he should put the book back on the shelf - but he couldn't. His curiosity got the better of him. As he cracked the volume open again, he felt a strange sense of foreboding. He skimmed the pages, reading about his old relationships, his mother, experiences he remembered and some things he had completely forgotten. Before he knew it, Jim had wasted three hours in the book store.
"Go ahead Jim...skip to the end. That's the best part anyway."
That's exactly what Jim did. He skipped ahead to the last chapter. It told of Jim as an old man, bedridden and sick. It spoke of his suffering and eventual mental breakdown. He finally reached the last page of the story - only to find the last line trailing off in mid-sentence. Jim threw the book to the floor and angrily made his way down the aisle.
***
'Another long day at work,' thought the nurse as she made her final rounds. All of the patients were asleep now, and it was her job to go make sure everything was cleaned up. She always saved the library for last, and today was no different. As she was making her rounds, she stumbled upon a red book that seemed to have been written on a typewriter. It was laying on the floor, opened to the back cover. The only writing that was visible was a signature - 'Jim McFadden, memoirs, 1957.'
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
JIM
He looked at the cover. it looked like it had been read hundreds of times. The title and author's name were faded beyond recognition.
"Go ahead...pick me up."
He jumped. There was nobody else around.
"Yeah...you. Pick me up. You won't regret it."
He watched his aching hand reach out and grab the battered spine from the shelf. It was much heavier than expected - he almost dropped it.
"Open me."
He glanced up at the concave mirror in the corner. The reflection showed only himself and the the book in his hands. His hand trembled as he peeled back the cover. The dedication simply read 'For Jim.'
"That's strange," he said aloud. His name was Jim. He turned the leaf - and he was shocked by the opening line of the story.
'The baby was brought into the world on a cold autumn night - October 25, to be exact, 1892.'
That was Jim's birthday, long ago as it was. The next page told of the death of the baby's father in a train accident - Jim's father had been killed the day after he was born in a train derailment. He slammed the book closed.
"Go ahead Jim; keep reading. Don't you want to know?"
Jim knew he should put the book back on the shelf - but he couldn't. His curiosity got the better of him. As he cracked the volume open again, he felt a strange sense of foreboding. He skimmed the pages, reading about his old relationships, his mother, experiences he remembered and some things he had completely forgotten. Before he knew it, Jim had wasted three hours in the book store.
"Go ahead Jim...skip to the end. That's the best part anyway."
That's exactly what Jim did. He skipped ahead to the last chapter. It told of Jim as an old man, bedridden and sick. It spoke of his suffering and eventual mental breakdown. He finally reached the last page of the story - only to find the last line trailing off in mid-sentence. Jim threw the book to the floor and angrily made his way down the aisle.
***
'Another long day at work,' thought the nurse as she made her final rounds. All of the patients were asleep now, and it was her job to go make sure everything was cleaned up. She always saved the library for last, and today was no different. As she was making her rounds, she stumbled upon a red book that seemed to have been written on a typewriter. It was laying on the floor, opened to the back cover. The only writing that was visible was a signature - 'Jim McFadden, memoirs, 1957.'
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Saturday 21 April 2012
Saturday Share #4
Happy Saturday Cyberspace.
First of all, let me begin by saying that the weather is amazing. I've been out and about all day, and I came extremely close to completely forgetting to write my blog. Damn you Sun! Anywho, in the spirit of the norm, here comes what has caught my eye this week.
I thought this was just hilarious - but beware the language.
What Is Blue Raspberry?
This article from CNN just proves a lot of what I've said in this blog and believe - such as the futility of the Afghan war, the obvious bias in the mass media, the idea of perpetual revenge...but I'll leave you to form your own opinion.
The Real Terrorists
This is a video that most of you have probably already seen. I just found out about this song and fell in love with it - I highly suggest you watch both videos in their entirety.
Somebody I Used to Know - Original
Somebody I Used to Know cover - Walk Off The Earth (five people play one guitar)
I hope you enjoy!
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
First of all, let me begin by saying that the weather is amazing. I've been out and about all day, and I came extremely close to completely forgetting to write my blog. Damn you Sun! Anywho, in the spirit of the norm, here comes what has caught my eye this week.
I thought this was just hilarious - but beware the language.
What Is Blue Raspberry?
This article from CNN just proves a lot of what I've said in this blog and believe - such as the futility of the Afghan war, the obvious bias in the mass media, the idea of perpetual revenge...but I'll leave you to form your own opinion.
The Real Terrorists
This is a video that most of you have probably already seen. I just found out about this song and fell in love with it - I highly suggest you watch both videos in their entirety.
Somebody I Used to Know - Original
Somebody I Used to Know cover - Walk Off The Earth (five people play one guitar)
I hope you enjoy!
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Friday 20 April 2012
A Post From Across the Globe
Bonjour Cyberspace.
I'm getting ready to move. I've moved many atime in my life, but this time is by far the most organized (thanks to my lovely girlfriend). I've been packing a lot, and I recently stumbled upon my journal that I kept while I was in Kandahar. Well, for the first few months anyway. I've decided to share one of these journal entries today, concerning my first vacation. I hope you enjoy it...the memories definitely bring a smile to my face, and I hope they do the same for you.
June 28/09
Alright, here I am again. Back in KAF,..it was actually unbelievably hard to come back. I kinda wish I didn't go home, because now I don't wanna stay here 'til February at all. On the flip side of the coin, I do want another contract's worth of money and those two vacations. I hate this decision. How was vacation? It was great. I guess I'll start with Europe - London and Amsterdam were awesome! Got to London, rode the Tube to where we had to go - and our hotel ending up being right in downtown London. Went out and saw the sights, and just being there soaking up the history was a vacation in itself. Anyway, we went out for supper and drinks. We ate supper, I don't remember the name of the place, but the meal was horrible! It was supposed to be Italian Chicken, but I swear it was just uncooked tomato soup on a chicken breast, and somehow I got a fly in my beer - I drank it anyway. We walked up past Trafalgar Square and saw a place called Verve with 50% off drinks, so in we went. The drinks started flowing and we met two guys. One was an off-duty cop, the other wore a suit and claimed to be a spy. Pretty sure he was just unemployed. They convinced us to go to another bar called O'Neill's. Had some more drinks, hung out on the rooftop of the bar, and proceeded to get completely wasted. We lost the two guys. At about 1am, one of the friends I was traveling with started bitchin' about how we had to go back to the hotel and pack to catch our flight to Amsterdam in the morning. So we made our drunken stumbling way back to the hotel (one of us came extremely close to getting hit by a taxi - it's that whole driving on the other side of the road thing) and slept for about 2 hours. We rushed our hungover sorry bums to the Tube station, got on...and realized we had no idea which terminal to go to when we arrived at Heathrow. We guessed Terminal 1,2 or 3 because they were in the same building. We were wrong. Eventually, we found our way to Terminal 5, which was where we were supposed to be, and missed check-in by less than fifteen minutes. None of us were willing to give up our trip to Amsterdam, so we went and purchased new tickets. Eventually, we made it Amsterdam.
To be continued...
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always, thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
I'm getting ready to move. I've moved many atime in my life, but this time is by far the most organized (thanks to my lovely girlfriend). I've been packing a lot, and I recently stumbled upon my journal that I kept while I was in Kandahar. Well, for the first few months anyway. I've decided to share one of these journal entries today, concerning my first vacation. I hope you enjoy it...the memories definitely bring a smile to my face, and I hope they do the same for you.
June 28/09
Alright, here I am again. Back in KAF,..it was actually unbelievably hard to come back. I kinda wish I didn't go home, because now I don't wanna stay here 'til February at all. On the flip side of the coin, I do want another contract's worth of money and those two vacations. I hate this decision. How was vacation? It was great. I guess I'll start with Europe - London and Amsterdam were awesome! Got to London, rode the Tube to where we had to go - and our hotel ending up being right in downtown London. Went out and saw the sights, and just being there soaking up the history was a vacation in itself. Anyway, we went out for supper and drinks. We ate supper, I don't remember the name of the place, but the meal was horrible! It was supposed to be Italian Chicken, but I swear it was just uncooked tomato soup on a chicken breast, and somehow I got a fly in my beer - I drank it anyway. We walked up past Trafalgar Square and saw a place called Verve with 50% off drinks, so in we went. The drinks started flowing and we met two guys. One was an off-duty cop, the other wore a suit and claimed to be a spy. Pretty sure he was just unemployed. They convinced us to go to another bar called O'Neill's. Had some more drinks, hung out on the rooftop of the bar, and proceeded to get completely wasted. We lost the two guys. At about 1am, one of the friends I was traveling with started bitchin' about how we had to go back to the hotel and pack to catch our flight to Amsterdam in the morning. So we made our drunken stumbling way back to the hotel (one of us came extremely close to getting hit by a taxi - it's that whole driving on the other side of the road thing) and slept for about 2 hours. We rushed our hungover sorry bums to the Tube station, got on...and realized we had no idea which terminal to go to when we arrived at Heathrow. We guessed Terminal 1,2 or 3 because they were in the same building. We were wrong. Eventually, we found our way to Terminal 5, which was where we were supposed to be, and missed check-in by less than fifteen minutes. None of us were willing to give up our trip to Amsterdam, so we went and purchased new tickets. Eventually, we made it Amsterdam.
To be continued...
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always, thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Thursday 19 April 2012
Audience Appeal
It's another beautiful day Cyberspace, and I hope this blog finds you well.
I'm not going to lie to you - writing this blog is extremely difficult. I try to share some of myself, but so far it has caused mean unbelievable amount of stress - as this post most likely will.
Almost every blog post I've put up has received some feedback - and it is greatly appreciated. It's a wonderful feeling to know that you are actually reading what I write and these words are not in vain. I make a conscious effort to keep other people's personal lives out of it as much as possible.
Apparently I fail. I've had multiple posts that have been met with anger, concern and a whole lot of "I can't believe you said that." I'm only writing what I feel - is that wrong?
Maybe. If I've offended you with this blog, I apologize. I will not, however, apologize for my thoughts or feelings. If I've said it in the blog, I've thought it or felt it at some point. I will not apologize for representing myself.
My next point is that most people are not psychic (I'll save that loaded statement for another blog) and will not assume I'm talking about you. Yes...you. I'm not going to spew all of your secrets. If you think I'm talking to you - than I definitely am. I'm not saying this because I'm angry - I'm saying this because I'm actually shocked at how much of an impact everyone seems to think my blog has. It's shockingly hard to write something every single day while guarding your words and constantly worrying about any slight misstep. How could I write a daily blog post without mentioning the people or events in my life?
I guess what I'm trying to say is I love writing, I love writing my blog - but sometimes it's extremely had to keep everyone happy. I do try - I'm not trying to offend or hurt, but only to give you some of my own insight. Thank you all.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
I'm not going to lie to you - writing this blog is extremely difficult. I try to share some of myself, but so far it has caused mean unbelievable amount of stress - as this post most likely will.
Almost every blog post I've put up has received some feedback - and it is greatly appreciated. It's a wonderful feeling to know that you are actually reading what I write and these words are not in vain. I make a conscious effort to keep other people's personal lives out of it as much as possible.
Apparently I fail. I've had multiple posts that have been met with anger, concern and a whole lot of "I can't believe you said that." I'm only writing what I feel - is that wrong?
Maybe. If I've offended you with this blog, I apologize. I will not, however, apologize for my thoughts or feelings. If I've said it in the blog, I've thought it or felt it at some point. I will not apologize for representing myself.
My next point is that most people are not psychic (I'll save that loaded statement for another blog) and will not assume I'm talking about you. Yes...you. I'm not going to spew all of your secrets. If you think I'm talking to you - than I definitely am. I'm not saying this because I'm angry - I'm saying this because I'm actually shocked at how much of an impact everyone seems to think my blog has. It's shockingly hard to write something every single day while guarding your words and constantly worrying about any slight misstep. How could I write a daily blog post without mentioning the people or events in my life?
I guess what I'm trying to say is I love writing, I love writing my blog - but sometimes it's extremely had to keep everyone happy. I do try - I'm not trying to offend or hurt, but only to give you some of my own insight. Thank you all.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Wednesday 18 April 2012
Vices in Verse
Hullo Cyberspace.
I woke up this morning and drove my beautiful daughter to school. The next stop for me, as for many of you I'm sure, was Tim Horton's. As I sat and drank my coffee, I thought 'Why? Why are we so dependent on drugs?' Prescription pills, coffee, cigarettes, alcohol - the legal drugs are by far the worst ones. If you don't believe me, just look at the statistics - I haven't checked recently, but if I'm not mistaken heart disease is the number one killer in North America. Know what causes heart disease? Alcohol and tobacco for two. So I thought I'd write a little poem about our wonderful government issued chemical vices.
Lids open; my room fades into focus
Lids closed; I don't want to rise
The sheets are my home
It's a cold world outside
Snooze; alarm; snooze; alarm
Swing my feet; roll
Driving zombies in search of brewed treasure
I pay through the window
Bitterness; tastes like morning
Work; we share this bond
Inhale relief outside
Ready to face the day
Empty cup; this is the fourth
Time; it creeps slowly
Watching the clock
Countdown to lift-off
Home; finally free
Fridge; the beer is cold
My depressant timeframe
Glasses and smoke in the dark
Ice cubes; clinking and floating
Cigarettes; smouldering and delicious
Drugged into satisfaction
Almost time for my pill
Bottles; plastic next to glass
Taxes; I've made someone rich
Time for a nightcap
Sober until the alarm
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
I woke up this morning and drove my beautiful daughter to school. The next stop for me, as for many of you I'm sure, was Tim Horton's. As I sat and drank my coffee, I thought 'Why? Why are we so dependent on drugs?' Prescription pills, coffee, cigarettes, alcohol - the legal drugs are by far the worst ones. If you don't believe me, just look at the statistics - I haven't checked recently, but if I'm not mistaken heart disease is the number one killer in North America. Know what causes heart disease? Alcohol and tobacco for two. So I thought I'd write a little poem about our wonderful government issued chemical vices.
Lids open; my room fades into focus
Lids closed; I don't want to rise
The sheets are my home
It's a cold world outside
Snooze; alarm; snooze; alarm
Swing my feet; roll
Driving zombies in search of brewed treasure
I pay through the window
Bitterness; tastes like morning
Work; we share this bond
Inhale relief outside
Ready to face the day
Empty cup; this is the fourth
Time; it creeps slowly
Watching the clock
Countdown to lift-off
Home; finally free
Fridge; the beer is cold
My depressant timeframe
Glasses and smoke in the dark
Ice cubes; clinking and floating
Cigarettes; smouldering and delicious
Drugged into satisfaction
Almost time for my pill
Bottles; plastic next to glass
Taxes; I've made someone rich
Time for a nightcap
Sober until the alarm
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Tuesday 17 April 2012
Maximum Effort for Minimum Wage
How's it goin' Cyberspace?
I'm doing quite well. Today as I was thinking about which logical fallacy I should attack, I stated to think about my time constraints, as I have to work at 6pm. That one thought really got the juices flowing - by the end of my 5.75 hr shift, I might take home $45. I began to wonder...is this even worth my time?
The short answer is no. No job that pays minimum wage is worth anyone's time. If your employer doesn't feel that you are valuable enough to pay more than the bare minimum, than why would they expect you to put more than the bare minimum required effort into the job? It doesn't make sense. From a business standpoint, however, it's the ONLY thing that makes sense.
This is the exact thinking that has crippled the United States. Instead of using similar ideas and practices that the country was founded on, the business moguls began to realize that foreign labour is much, much cheaper. The United States got out of the business of producing and manufacturing and turned to the creation of debt as the primary source of income for the country (really the Federal Reserve, which flies in the face of the constitution - of course the constitution has already been circumvented so much that it's literally less valuable than the paper it's printed on), which sounds completely ridiculous - because it is. When 100% of a country's GDP is debt, it's not hard to see why their economy is in severe disarray.
So I propose to you this - every single person who works for minimum wage should just take a week off. It's just like the Brad Pitt (Tyler Durden) suggestion from Fight Club - the worst paid people in our 'First World' countries actually run it. Not just those minimum wage jobs either - think about apprentice tradesmen for example. Think about it - how easy would it be for one of those people in the back of McDonald's to pour some Javex into the Big Mac sauce? How easy would it be for an apprentice mechanic to 'forget' to tighten your lugnuts so your wheel falls off on the highway?
It just seems to me that the people who are responsible for some of the most important things in our society (power, water, fast food - like it or not, transportation, etc) are severely underpaid. It's almost as though those bankers and politicians are daring the population to try to affect the status quo. But alas, the governments (of North America especially), have successfully planted the idea in the minds of the masses that the government holds all of the power. The people are afraid of the government - the exact opposite of how a democracy is supposed to run.
At this point, until we decide to band together and stand up for what's right...we will continued to be trampled upon. We will continue to have our rights and liberties stripped away (ie - in the US any person can be detained for any amount of time with no charge as a suspected "terrorist") until we are living in an Orwellian police state. If you don't know what that is, watch the movie V for Vendetta.
Maximum effort for minimum wage. That's reality for a very large percentage of the population. Until we make it change, it won't - not in this world of the 'human resource'.
Looking forward to the blacklist
The Critical Stranger
Peace and Love
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
I'm doing quite well. Today as I was thinking about which logical fallacy I should attack, I stated to think about my time constraints, as I have to work at 6pm. That one thought really got the juices flowing - by the end of my 5.75 hr shift, I might take home $45. I began to wonder...is this even worth my time?
The short answer is no. No job that pays minimum wage is worth anyone's time. If your employer doesn't feel that you are valuable enough to pay more than the bare minimum, than why would they expect you to put more than the bare minimum required effort into the job? It doesn't make sense. From a business standpoint, however, it's the ONLY thing that makes sense.
This is the exact thinking that has crippled the United States. Instead of using similar ideas and practices that the country was founded on, the business moguls began to realize that foreign labour is much, much cheaper. The United States got out of the business of producing and manufacturing and turned to the creation of debt as the primary source of income for the country (really the Federal Reserve, which flies in the face of the constitution - of course the constitution has already been circumvented so much that it's literally less valuable than the paper it's printed on), which sounds completely ridiculous - because it is. When 100% of a country's GDP is debt, it's not hard to see why their economy is in severe disarray.
So I propose to you this - every single person who works for minimum wage should just take a week off. It's just like the Brad Pitt (Tyler Durden) suggestion from Fight Club - the worst paid people in our 'First World' countries actually run it. Not just those minimum wage jobs either - think about apprentice tradesmen for example. Think about it - how easy would it be for one of those people in the back of McDonald's to pour some Javex into the Big Mac sauce? How easy would it be for an apprentice mechanic to 'forget' to tighten your lugnuts so your wheel falls off on the highway?
It just seems to me that the people who are responsible for some of the most important things in our society (power, water, fast food - like it or not, transportation, etc) are severely underpaid. It's almost as though those bankers and politicians are daring the population to try to affect the status quo. But alas, the governments (of North America especially), have successfully planted the idea in the minds of the masses that the government holds all of the power. The people are afraid of the government - the exact opposite of how a democracy is supposed to run.
At this point, until we decide to band together and stand up for what's right...we will continued to be trampled upon. We will continue to have our rights and liberties stripped away (ie - in the US any person can be detained for any amount of time with no charge as a suspected "terrorist") until we are living in an Orwellian police state. If you don't know what that is, watch the movie V for Vendetta.
Maximum effort for minimum wage. That's reality for a very large percentage of the population. Until we make it change, it won't - not in this world of the 'human resource'.
Looking forward to the blacklist
The Critical Stranger
Peace and Love
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Monday 16 April 2012
Meaty Meditations
Good afternoon Cyberspace.
I'm going to warn you now - this post may offend you if you are a vegetarian or a vegan. Last night I had an excellent meal. Roasted ham, scalloped potatoes and homemade baked beans. My girlfriend's mom is a baking virtuoso and her baked beans are amazing. My girlfriend's father is incredible with pretty much everything else (although we recently had a bake-off and he made a red velvet cake - how am I supposed to compete with that!?) - together they're a real force to be reckoned with in the kitchen. Anyway, to get to the meat and bones of my post, (see what I did there?) last night's meal got me to thinking...if I were limited to one animal that I could consume for the rest of my life, what would it be?
I'm not going to lie to you and say that I've never thought about this question before. It's actually come up quite often as a topic of conversation (my friends and I discuss some strange things). My answer was always cow. I mean think about it - the many different cuts of steak, beef ribs, beef tenderloin, beef ribs, hamburger, and did I mention beef ribs? It's so versatile. And delicious. With the additions of beef stock and beef gravy, I thought it was enough to propel beef right to the top of the list - but not anymore.
Some of the folks I've discussed this with have actually suggested chicken. Now don't get me wrong, I love chicken. I love chicken breast (it tastes like whatever you want it to), I love chicken wings, I love roasted chicken and I love fried chicken - but I feel like I'd get bored of chicken all the time.
Some people have mentioned other delicious creatures - duck, lamb, moose, turkey, etc - and those are all great choices.
For me (and it took me a loooong time to make this decision) pig is the only answer. All of the different parts of the pig taste completely different. There's so much variety on the pig that I don't think I could ever get bored. Pork tenderloin is incredible. Roasted ham is delicious, and makes for some of the best sandwiches there are. Don't even get me started on pork ribs (ribs are my favourite - I don't know if you picked up on that or not). To top it off, the pig even has an ace up its sleeve (yes...as if the species itself was wearing a shirt) - bacon. Who doesn't love bacon? It enhances the flavour of everything. Baked beans, hamburgers, eggs, salads (caesar for example), steak - everything is better with bacon!
You might be wondering what brought on this inspiration - it was the leftovers. I went to get a drink last night, noticed the tupperware dish in the fridge full of savoury roasted meat - and had to reach in and grab a piece. I haven't been able to open the fridge door all day without eyeing the damn container. So I just thought I would share my thoughts on this topic with you. I'd love to hear what you think about it.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always, thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
I'm going to warn you now - this post may offend you if you are a vegetarian or a vegan. Last night I had an excellent meal. Roasted ham, scalloped potatoes and homemade baked beans. My girlfriend's mom is a baking virtuoso and her baked beans are amazing. My girlfriend's father is incredible with pretty much everything else (although we recently had a bake-off and he made a red velvet cake - how am I supposed to compete with that!?) - together they're a real force to be reckoned with in the kitchen. Anyway, to get to the meat and bones of my post, (see what I did there?) last night's meal got me to thinking...if I were limited to one animal that I could consume for the rest of my life, what would it be?
I'm not going to lie to you and say that I've never thought about this question before. It's actually come up quite often as a topic of conversation (my friends and I discuss some strange things). My answer was always cow. I mean think about it - the many different cuts of steak, beef ribs, beef tenderloin, beef ribs, hamburger, and did I mention beef ribs? It's so versatile. And delicious. With the additions of beef stock and beef gravy, I thought it was enough to propel beef right to the top of the list - but not anymore.
Some of the folks I've discussed this with have actually suggested chicken. Now don't get me wrong, I love chicken. I love chicken breast (it tastes like whatever you want it to), I love chicken wings, I love roasted chicken and I love fried chicken - but I feel like I'd get bored of chicken all the time.
Some people have mentioned other delicious creatures - duck, lamb, moose, turkey, etc - and those are all great choices.
For me (and it took me a loooong time to make this decision) pig is the only answer. All of the different parts of the pig taste completely different. There's so much variety on the pig that I don't think I could ever get bored. Pork tenderloin is incredible. Roasted ham is delicious, and makes for some of the best sandwiches there are. Don't even get me started on pork ribs (ribs are my favourite - I don't know if you picked up on that or not). To top it off, the pig even has an ace up its sleeve (yes...as if the species itself was wearing a shirt) - bacon. Who doesn't love bacon? It enhances the flavour of everything. Baked beans, hamburgers, eggs, salads (caesar for example), steak - everything is better with bacon!
You might be wondering what brought on this inspiration - it was the leftovers. I went to get a drink last night, noticed the tupperware dish in the fridge full of savoury roasted meat - and had to reach in and grab a piece. I haven't been able to open the fridge door all day without eyeing the damn container. So I just thought I would share my thoughts on this topic with you. I'd love to hear what you think about it.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always, thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Sunday 15 April 2012
Sunday Storytime #4 - "The Conversation"
Welcome back Cyberspace.
Today, as you know, is story day. I've been trying to write in different styles a little bit recently, and today I'm going to try something new to me. I'm going to try to write a story based mostly on dialogue with as little description as possible. I'm not sure how it will turn out, but here goes nothin'!
The Conversation
"You are a disgrace." He glared at me.
"Why? What have I done?"
"Think about it." His eyes focused on mine.
"Why don't you jog my memory?"
"I can't do that...only you can. It's not my fault that you can't live with what you've done." His face twitched. His eyes narrowed.
"...I don't want to remember."
"Do you think I do? I don't have a choice." He bared his teeth.
"But you're not the one that has to bear this cross...you aren't the one trapped in this prison of guilt."
"I'm at least partially responsible...I could have stopped you." He bit his lip. A small trickle of blood ran down his chin.
"I suppose you're right. But you didn't know what was going to happen."
He wiped his chin. "But I knew better. So did you."
"I suppose we did. But it could have happened anytime. It could have happened if I was perfectly sober."
"It could have." He laughed. "That excuse sounds just like you...deflect the responsibility. It wasn't your fault...it was just the alcohol."
"Well it's the truth."
"It's the truth that you hide behind. It's the truth that lets you go to sleep at night. Your truth is a lie." He smiled.
"No it's not! It is NOT my fault. The same thing could have happened to anyone..."
"Anyone stupid enough to get behind the wheel when they can hardly even walk. You know you shouldn't have been driving. You know that family is suffering because of your stupidity. You know that that little boy would still be alive if you would have just picked up the phone and called a cab. You know it was wrong to drive off after you hit him - but you still did it. You know it as well as I do - you're a murderer." He pointed at me.
"NO!"
"What if that was you. How would you feel if some drunken asshole ran your son down in the middle of the day? Murderer."
"It's not my fault...it's not my fault..."
"Keep telling yourself that. See how long you can live with the lie."
"...it's not a lie..."
"Shut up! Take responsibility! You killed him! You killed him and drove off! Murderer! Murderer!" His words were a violent scream.
"NO!" I reached out and swatted at his face. The shards of glass from the mirror cut my hands. They fell into the sink. Now instead of one of him, there were fifty of his face looking back at me. All of the versions of my own face screamed at me - "Murderer!"
I picked up one of the pieces of glass. "Murderer!" came the cry from my hand. I couldn't look at myself any longer...I brought the jagged edge to the vein on my wrist...I cut...I slashed...I bled.
"This is your punishment." His grinning face was the last thing I saw as I faded into the darkness...
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestion are encouraged and appreciated!
Today, as you know, is story day. I've been trying to write in different styles a little bit recently, and today I'm going to try something new to me. I'm going to try to write a story based mostly on dialogue with as little description as possible. I'm not sure how it will turn out, but here goes nothin'!
The Conversation
"You are a disgrace." He glared at me.
"Why? What have I done?"
"Think about it." His eyes focused on mine.
"Why don't you jog my memory?"
"I can't do that...only you can. It's not my fault that you can't live with what you've done." His face twitched. His eyes narrowed.
"...I don't want to remember."
"Do you think I do? I don't have a choice." He bared his teeth.
"But you're not the one that has to bear this cross...you aren't the one trapped in this prison of guilt."
"I'm at least partially responsible...I could have stopped you." He bit his lip. A small trickle of blood ran down his chin.
"I suppose you're right. But you didn't know what was going to happen."
He wiped his chin. "But I knew better. So did you."
"I suppose we did. But it could have happened anytime. It could have happened if I was perfectly sober."
"It could have." He laughed. "That excuse sounds just like you...deflect the responsibility. It wasn't your fault...it was just the alcohol."
"Well it's the truth."
"It's the truth that you hide behind. It's the truth that lets you go to sleep at night. Your truth is a lie." He smiled.
"No it's not! It is NOT my fault. The same thing could have happened to anyone..."
"Anyone stupid enough to get behind the wheel when they can hardly even walk. You know you shouldn't have been driving. You know that family is suffering because of your stupidity. You know that that little boy would still be alive if you would have just picked up the phone and called a cab. You know it was wrong to drive off after you hit him - but you still did it. You know it as well as I do - you're a murderer." He pointed at me.
"NO!"
"What if that was you. How would you feel if some drunken asshole ran your son down in the middle of the day? Murderer."
"It's not my fault...it's not my fault..."
"Keep telling yourself that. See how long you can live with the lie."
"...it's not a lie..."
"Shut up! Take responsibility! You killed him! You killed him and drove off! Murderer! Murderer!" His words were a violent scream.
"NO!" I reached out and swatted at his face. The shards of glass from the mirror cut my hands. They fell into the sink. Now instead of one of him, there were fifty of his face looking back at me. All of the versions of my own face screamed at me - "Murderer!"
I picked up one of the pieces of glass. "Murderer!" came the cry from my hand. I couldn't look at myself any longer...I brought the jagged edge to the vein on my wrist...I cut...I slashed...I bled.
"This is your punishment." His grinning face was the last thing I saw as I faded into the darkness...
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestion are encouraged and appreciated!
Saturday 14 April 2012
Saturday Share #3
What's up Cyberspace.
It's Saturday, and I have to go to work in about 5 minutes...so this will be quick. Check these out!
The Detention - Conclusion of Occupy Eviction series
A great story of how drugs can affect your life
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
It's Saturday, and I have to go to work in about 5 minutes...so this will be quick. Check these out!
The Detention - Conclusion of Occupy Eviction series
A great story of how drugs can affect your life
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Friday 13 April 2012
Adverse Advertisements
Hey there Cyberspace.
I just watched an episode of 'The Pitch' in class. If you've never heard of it, it's a reality show about advertising agencies who compete for an account. It was an interesting look at the creative process that goes into advertising. My main problem with ad agencies is that they seem to think everyone is an idiot. And as I find myself relatively uninspired today, I've decided to write a poem about marketing. Yeah...that's right.
Alone; I walk in the light of the day
I'm just minding my business and making my way
Traffic light; stop; I'll stand and I'll wait
Without the knowledge that I'm just live bait
The lines have been cast
The hooks have been wormed
They're closing in fast
Away I must squirm
But where do I go?
There's no way to escape it
The ads don't show life
They're only trying to fake it
I think that that they think
Spoonfed is best
We are full of weak links
Yet to pass a stress test
So it works and it profits
Again and again
There's no way to stop it
Euphemists always win
Sell any idea, if it's wrong or if it's right
Not just the products; Hill & Knowlton sold the fight
The wool scratches my eyes; it burns and it stinks
So go take it off - use your brain; THINK
Well that was fun.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
I just watched an episode of 'The Pitch' in class. If you've never heard of it, it's a reality show about advertising agencies who compete for an account. It was an interesting look at the creative process that goes into advertising. My main problem with ad agencies is that they seem to think everyone is an idiot. And as I find myself relatively uninspired today, I've decided to write a poem about marketing. Yeah...that's right.
Alone; I walk in the light of the day
I'm just minding my business and making my way
Traffic light; stop; I'll stand and I'll wait
Without the knowledge that I'm just live bait
The lines have been cast
The hooks have been wormed
They're closing in fast
Away I must squirm
But where do I go?
There's no way to escape it
The ads don't show life
They're only trying to fake it
I think that that they think
Spoonfed is best
We are full of weak links
Yet to pass a stress test
So it works and it profits
Again and again
There's no way to stop it
Euphemists always win
Sell any idea, if it's wrong or if it's right
Not just the products; Hill & Knowlton sold the fight
The wool scratches my eyes; it burns and it stinks
So go take it off - use your brain; THINK
Well that was fun.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Thursday 12 April 2012
A Simpler Life
'Sup Cyberspace.
I've been unbelievably busy today. In fact, I was so busy I complete forgot about my blog. So I thought I would squeeze it in as soon as I remembered.
Today, although it will be brief, I want to discuss the hustle and bustle of most everyone's everyday. Almost every person I see seems to be stressed out about something - thinking about the mortgage payment, the next deadline, what to eat for supper, etc. Add to that all the things that are happening around the globe to think or worry about and imagine the effects of such constant stress and distraction...it's not hard to come up with reasons for any or all of the problems we have as a society.
I think there's a simple solution. Everyone needs to take some time out of their day to just relax. I think it should a mandatory thing at work...a half hour per 8 hr shift of relaxation time - not lunch or a 15 min break - half hour to do whatever it is you need to do to unwind. It's already been proven that happy employees are much more productive employees - so why not give them a chance to get away? I know that I'm able to think better with a clear head...isn't it the same for everyone?
It doesn't have to be a boss or teacher that tells you to do this though. Take a half hour, put away your cell phone and read a book (or play guitar, or go for a walk, or whatever you want to do). It's probably the best advice I've ever been given. Giving your body even that small window to get away from wired nerves, constant pressure and quick caffeine rushes can only do it good.
Make some time for yourself. You'll end up thanking you.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
I've been unbelievably busy today. In fact, I was so busy I complete forgot about my blog. So I thought I would squeeze it in as soon as I remembered.
Today, although it will be brief, I want to discuss the hustle and bustle of most everyone's everyday. Almost every person I see seems to be stressed out about something - thinking about the mortgage payment, the next deadline, what to eat for supper, etc. Add to that all the things that are happening around the globe to think or worry about and imagine the effects of such constant stress and distraction...it's not hard to come up with reasons for any or all of the problems we have as a society.
I think there's a simple solution. Everyone needs to take some time out of their day to just relax. I think it should a mandatory thing at work...a half hour per 8 hr shift of relaxation time - not lunch or a 15 min break - half hour to do whatever it is you need to do to unwind. It's already been proven that happy employees are much more productive employees - so why not give them a chance to get away? I know that I'm able to think better with a clear head...isn't it the same for everyone?
It doesn't have to be a boss or teacher that tells you to do this though. Take a half hour, put away your cell phone and read a book (or play guitar, or go for a walk, or whatever you want to do). It's probably the best advice I've ever been given. Giving your body even that small window to get away from wired nerves, constant pressure and quick caffeine rushes can only do it good.
Make some time for yourself. You'll end up thanking you.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Wednesday 11 April 2012
Humans and Humility
Greetings Cyberspace.
There was an 8.7 magnitude earthquake today off the coast off Indonesia. It was followed shortly by a tsunami warning, but the wave apparently didn't reach shore. That was followed by an 8.2 magnitude aftershock (they still called it an aftershock - even though it was stronger than most actual earthquakes). I've never been through an earthquake, but this morning's news is a sobering reminder of the power of Mother Nature.
As a species, I would say we give ourselves far too much credit. We are overly pompous and pigheaded when it comes to our place in nature. Just because we've created enough technology to overtake any ecosystem doesn't mean we should. I would even go so far to say that for all of our intelligence, we may not even be the smartest beings on the planet.
We are the best creators on Earth. There is no doubt about that...but look at how destructive our means of creation is. We destroy whole habitats, whole ecosystems - instead of trying to find a way to live harmoniously with our surroundings. And I think that's an indication of our immaturity as a species. Interdependency is an inarguable fact. Just think of the energy cycle - the sun's energy filters through the atmosphere as heat and light; it is captured and converted into chlorophyll by plants through photosynthesis; bugs and animals eat the plants; other animals eat those insects and smaller animals and so on. So if we really are as advanced as we're told, why are we involved in the massacre of the only source of edible energy we have? You might think this is a ridiculous statement, but with the rate of deforestation we've incurred, it's only a matter of time before we destroy our own habitat.
Having said that...even if we use every last molecule of every resource we have - the planet will be fine. It's not the planet that needs saving. All of these detrimental activities don't endanger the Earth - that's the most conceited statement that we could ever make. Even if every country in the world simultaneously dropped nuclear warheads on every other country - the planet would live on. George Carlin thought the same thing...you can watch it here (beware of the foul language). We can only harm ourselves and the species around us. Life will go on. Which brings me to my next point - we are far from being the most well-equipped to survive. There are something like 10 billion bacteria in a square inch of your forehead...we couldn't digest anything without the bacteria in our stomachs. We are in a perpetual symbiotic state - and we refuse to acknowledge it.
Our language is extremely primitive. Have you ever wondered how animals organize themselves into herds, flocks, murders, gaggles, flamboyances, colonies, hives, swarms, or schools? I can't say for sure either...but I'm willing to bet that there's some form of communication between them. Our language hardly even allows us to express emotion. Believe me, it's not easy to find the proper words all the time - as a matter I feel as though I hardly ever find the right ones.
I think that we need to re-evaluate our idea of our species. We need to realize that the Earth has been here so long it's really beyond comprehension. We are just a blink in time compared to our Solar system (which is actually the only Solar system - our sun is named Sol, which is why we are the Solar system, just an interesting fact) and I feel as though it's often forgotten that the Earth can shake us off whenever it wants to. Human beings are inconsequential. Let's at least try to respect our only home.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
There was an 8.7 magnitude earthquake today off the coast off Indonesia. It was followed shortly by a tsunami warning, but the wave apparently didn't reach shore. That was followed by an 8.2 magnitude aftershock (they still called it an aftershock - even though it was stronger than most actual earthquakes). I've never been through an earthquake, but this morning's news is a sobering reminder of the power of Mother Nature.
As a species, I would say we give ourselves far too much credit. We are overly pompous and pigheaded when it comes to our place in nature. Just because we've created enough technology to overtake any ecosystem doesn't mean we should. I would even go so far to say that for all of our intelligence, we may not even be the smartest beings on the planet.
We are the best creators on Earth. There is no doubt about that...but look at how destructive our means of creation is. We destroy whole habitats, whole ecosystems - instead of trying to find a way to live harmoniously with our surroundings. And I think that's an indication of our immaturity as a species. Interdependency is an inarguable fact. Just think of the energy cycle - the sun's energy filters through the atmosphere as heat and light; it is captured and converted into chlorophyll by plants through photosynthesis; bugs and animals eat the plants; other animals eat those insects and smaller animals and so on. So if we really are as advanced as we're told, why are we involved in the massacre of the only source of edible energy we have? You might think this is a ridiculous statement, but with the rate of deforestation we've incurred, it's only a matter of time before we destroy our own habitat.
Having said that...even if we use every last molecule of every resource we have - the planet will be fine. It's not the planet that needs saving. All of these detrimental activities don't endanger the Earth - that's the most conceited statement that we could ever make. Even if every country in the world simultaneously dropped nuclear warheads on every other country - the planet would live on. George Carlin thought the same thing...you can watch it here (beware of the foul language). We can only harm ourselves and the species around us. Life will go on. Which brings me to my next point - we are far from being the most well-equipped to survive. There are something like 10 billion bacteria in a square inch of your forehead...we couldn't digest anything without the bacteria in our stomachs. We are in a perpetual symbiotic state - and we refuse to acknowledge it.
Our language is extremely primitive. Have you ever wondered how animals organize themselves into herds, flocks, murders, gaggles, flamboyances, colonies, hives, swarms, or schools? I can't say for sure either...but I'm willing to bet that there's some form of communication between them. Our language hardly even allows us to express emotion. Believe me, it's not easy to find the proper words all the time - as a matter I feel as though I hardly ever find the right ones.
I think that we need to re-evaluate our idea of our species. We need to realize that the Earth has been here so long it's really beyond comprehension. We are just a blink in time compared to our Solar system (which is actually the only Solar system - our sun is named Sol, which is why we are the Solar system, just an interesting fact) and I feel as though it's often forgotten that the Earth can shake us off whenever it wants to. Human beings are inconsequential. Let's at least try to respect our only home.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Tuesday 10 April 2012
Just In Case...
Hello again Cyberspace.
I have to pay my car insurance today. It's a little over $150/month, which I'm told is a pretty standard rate for a relatively new driver. I've owned a car for a little over a year and I've obviously paid insurance the whole time. It always seemed a little strange to me - paying money to a company just in case something happens. I've always been a proponent of the idea that you shouldn't be scared to try things. That fear exists only to be overcome - not to be succumbed to. Insurance seems to go against that idea completely.
Let's take a moment and really think about what an insurance company does (I'm mostly going to focus on car insurance). Whether it's car, home or health insurance (not a problem here in the wonderful world of socialism in Canada) you are paying for a what-if.
Car accidents happen everywhere, every day. But if you speak to individual drivers, judging by the people I know, there are probably about 45% who have been in an automobile accident and 25% (again, just people I know) who have been in more than one car accident. So that means 55% of the people out there on the road are paying for literally nothing. They pay the car insurance company...the car insurance company takes that money and pays for the 25% to fix their cars and go get into another accident. And profiting from perpetuating the cycle.
So what's the solution? How can society function without insurance? Not many of us can afford to just go fix our car if we are involved in a collision. While the idea of giving everyone a free ride (sink or swim - if you crash, you're responsible to fix your own vehicle) is great, I don't know how it would work. I mean, what if the accident wasn't your fault? This is essentially why everyone is forced to have car insurance. Until the day when we all have cars that run on auto-pilot, I don't see a way around having car insurance...otherwise the court system would be so tied up with civil suits over 'it's not my fault, he should pay' that it would be pointless to do away with it. I'm sure there's another solution, but nothing feasible in our society the way it is now.
Here's my idea - it's a little out there.Why not assimilate all private insurance companies into the government? If we are going to force an insurance system on the population, why not have the profits go into the needs of our country as opposed to into the grubby paws of a profiteer? This would allow for much more direct regulation for pricing. I would propose a stair-step type system. First year drivers are more likely to have an accident and are already bound by some rules that more experienced drivers don't have. They pay the amount at the bottom of the staircase, much like the way it is right now with private insurance companies. After a year of driving accident-free, their rate is lowered and so on and so forth, until we near the top of the pyramid, at which point an accident-free driver (I'm sure it would some type of mathematical algorithm to determine the exact amount of time, but for now we'll say ten years) no longer has to pay insurance. This way, the more dangerous people on the road will be less likely to want to drive; and if they do, Canada gets some help with the budget.
Just a thought I had when I woke up this morning. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't, but it seems like a great idea to me right now. I look forward to hearing what you have to say.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
I have to pay my car insurance today. It's a little over $150/month, which I'm told is a pretty standard rate for a relatively new driver. I've owned a car for a little over a year and I've obviously paid insurance the whole time. It always seemed a little strange to me - paying money to a company just in case something happens. I've always been a proponent of the idea that you shouldn't be scared to try things. That fear exists only to be overcome - not to be succumbed to. Insurance seems to go against that idea completely.
Let's take a moment and really think about what an insurance company does (I'm mostly going to focus on car insurance). Whether it's car, home or health insurance (not a problem here in the wonderful world of socialism in Canada) you are paying for a what-if.
Car accidents happen everywhere, every day. But if you speak to individual drivers, judging by the people I know, there are probably about 45% who have been in an automobile accident and 25% (again, just people I know) who have been in more than one car accident. So that means 55% of the people out there on the road are paying for literally nothing. They pay the car insurance company...the car insurance company takes that money and pays for the 25% to fix their cars and go get into another accident. And profiting from perpetuating the cycle.
So what's the solution? How can society function without insurance? Not many of us can afford to just go fix our car if we are involved in a collision. While the idea of giving everyone a free ride (sink or swim - if you crash, you're responsible to fix your own vehicle) is great, I don't know how it would work. I mean, what if the accident wasn't your fault? This is essentially why everyone is forced to have car insurance. Until the day when we all have cars that run on auto-pilot, I don't see a way around having car insurance...otherwise the court system would be so tied up with civil suits over 'it's not my fault, he should pay' that it would be pointless to do away with it. I'm sure there's another solution, but nothing feasible in our society the way it is now.
Here's my idea - it's a little out there.Why not assimilate all private insurance companies into the government? If we are going to force an insurance system on the population, why not have the profits go into the needs of our country as opposed to into the grubby paws of a profiteer? This would allow for much more direct regulation for pricing. I would propose a stair-step type system. First year drivers are more likely to have an accident and are already bound by some rules that more experienced drivers don't have. They pay the amount at the bottom of the staircase, much like the way it is right now with private insurance companies. After a year of driving accident-free, their rate is lowered and so on and so forth, until we near the top of the pyramid, at which point an accident-free driver (I'm sure it would some type of mathematical algorithm to determine the exact amount of time, but for now we'll say ten years) no longer has to pay insurance. This way, the more dangerous people on the road will be less likely to want to drive; and if they do, Canada gets some help with the budget.
Just a thought I had when I woke up this morning. Maybe it would work, maybe it wouldn't, but it seems like a great idea to me right now. I look forward to hearing what you have to say.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Monday 9 April 2012
Sunday Storytime #3 - The Good Monday Version
Morning Cyberspeace.
How was your Easter weekend? Mine was great..lots of good food and treats. I took yesterday off, so I've decided to put up a Sunday Storytime post today. Since it's Easter weekend and yesterday's focus was all about my little girl, I got to thinking...maybe I should share some stuff from when I was young. Here's a story (verbatim) I wrote in Grade 3 titled "The Skin of Evil." It's six pages long, but I will include the dedication and about the author sections as well.
The Skin of Evil
Dedicated to David M. who is very funny. Also dedicated to Eric M. Peter H. Bruce T. Brett P. and Kelly B. Published at Garden Creek School April, 1995. (I only remember who two of those people are...)
Once upon a time there was a family of two. Will Brown and his son, Dave. they lived in a stone cabin in the forest. It had two doors (front and back) made from seventy stones, and had seven windows. (All punctuation and whatnot is written here exactly as in the original.)
One day while Dave was at school and his father was at work, the brook that they lived beside rose. it was going up and up. Soon Dave's father came home, and the brook instantly went down. An hour later Dave returned home from school. "Hi Dave," said his father. (I can;t believe that I knew to put the comma inside the the quotation marks)
Then all of the sudden steam rose from the brook and to red eyes appeared and then a silver body. "I'm your worst nightmare" it said.
"Wh wh what are you?" Dave said quietly.
"Silence" it boomed! "I'm a demon - called The Skin of Evil," yelled the demon. "Say another word and you die" boomed the demon. Then he disappeared. (Slight overuse of the word boom)
Dave and his father started to run. Then Dave's father was hit by an energy blast that hit him in the back and came out the front of him. Then Dave ran out of the house and when he looked back and there was nothing there. (Your guess is as good as mine...)
So he went back in, got a match and some sticks and some marshmellows and went outside and lit a fire and roasted marshmellows. (I liked the word 'and'..) Suddenly he heard a faint voice. "Help me, I hate fire.
He saw the skin of evil come up then go down and die. (I'm assuming coming up out of the brook, but who can really say for sure) Then he heard another voice from the house. Dave put out the fire then in (forgot the word went) and there was a ghost of his dad.
About the Author
Brandon is 8 years old. He was born in Fredericton. Presently Brandon is in Grade 3 at Garden Creek School. His hobbies are biking, collecting hockey cards and reading. Brandon lives with his father. The Skin of Evil is his second published book. (I don't know what the first one was...)
So that's my Grade 3 story. Pretty dramatic eh? Anyway, hope you have a great day!
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
How was your Easter weekend? Mine was great..lots of good food and treats. I took yesterday off, so I've decided to put up a Sunday Storytime post today. Since it's Easter weekend and yesterday's focus was all about my little girl, I got to thinking...maybe I should share some stuff from when I was young. Here's a story (verbatim) I wrote in Grade 3 titled "The Skin of Evil." It's six pages long, but I will include the dedication and about the author sections as well.
The Skin of Evil
Dedicated to David M. who is very funny. Also dedicated to Eric M. Peter H. Bruce T. Brett P. and Kelly B. Published at Garden Creek School April, 1995. (I only remember who two of those people are...)
Once upon a time there was a family of two. Will Brown and his son, Dave. they lived in a stone cabin in the forest. It had two doors (front and back) made from seventy stones, and had seven windows. (All punctuation and whatnot is written here exactly as in the original.)
One day while Dave was at school and his father was at work, the brook that they lived beside rose. it was going up and up. Soon Dave's father came home, and the brook instantly went down. An hour later Dave returned home from school. "Hi Dave," said his father. (I can;t believe that I knew to put the comma inside the the quotation marks)
Then all of the sudden steam rose from the brook and to red eyes appeared and then a silver body. "I'm your worst nightmare" it said.
"Wh wh what are you?" Dave said quietly.
"Silence" it boomed! "I'm a demon - called The Skin of Evil," yelled the demon. "Say another word and you die" boomed the demon. Then he disappeared. (Slight overuse of the word boom)
Dave and his father started to run. Then Dave's father was hit by an energy blast that hit him in the back and came out the front of him. Then Dave ran out of the house and when he looked back and there was nothing there. (Your guess is as good as mine...)
So he went back in, got a match and some sticks and some marshmellows and went outside and lit a fire and roasted marshmellows. (I liked the word 'and'..) Suddenly he heard a faint voice. "Help me, I hate fire.
He saw the skin of evil come up then go down and die. (I'm assuming coming up out of the brook, but who can really say for sure) Then he heard another voice from the house. Dave put out the fire then in (forgot the word went) and there was a ghost of his dad.
About the Author
Brandon is 8 years old. He was born in Fredericton. Presently Brandon is in Grade 3 at Garden Creek School. His hobbies are biking, collecting hockey cards and reading. Brandon lives with his father. The Skin of Evil is his second published book. (I don't know what the first one was...)
So that's my Grade 3 story. Pretty dramatic eh? Anyway, hope you have a great day!
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Saturday 7 April 2012
Saturday Share #2
What's going on Cyberspace?
I spent the night at a friend's yesterday. We decided to cook something incredible and whipped up a cheese and broccoli souffle. Incredible. Followed by a fritatta this morning - a fritatta with caramelized onions, broccoli and cheddar cheese on a bed of fried potatoes. Wow. Way to go M(my tastebuds worship you)..that was amazing!
Being a Saturday, I hope you're in the mood to see a little bit of what I'm looking at this week. Enjoy!
"Capitalism vs Corporatism"
I swear, I'm not crazy...this stuff sounds a little loony, but I'm betting on seeing at least a couple of these come to fruition within my lifetime.
Zombie Guns?
And if my little introduction started your stomach a-grumblin', one of the other amazing cooks I know has a website that you should be monitoring...all of the recipes will knock your socks off.
www.foodfigure.com
Go check 'em out, I'll be taking tomorrow off, as it's Easter! Have a great day!
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestion are encouraged and appreciated!
I spent the night at a friend's yesterday. We decided to cook something incredible and whipped up a cheese and broccoli souffle. Incredible. Followed by a fritatta this morning - a fritatta with caramelized onions, broccoli and cheddar cheese on a bed of fried potatoes. Wow. Way to go M(my tastebuds worship you)..that was amazing!
Being a Saturday, I hope you're in the mood to see a little bit of what I'm looking at this week. Enjoy!
"Capitalism vs Corporatism"
I swear, I'm not crazy...this stuff sounds a little loony, but I'm betting on seeing at least a couple of these come to fruition within my lifetime.
Zombie Guns?
And if my little introduction started your stomach a-grumblin', one of the other amazing cooks I know has a website that you should be monitoring...all of the recipes will knock your socks off.
www.foodfigure.com
Go check 'em out, I'll be taking tomorrow off, as it's Easter! Have a great day!
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestion are encouraged and appreciated!
Friday 6 April 2012
Good Friday Freewrite
Good Afternoon Cyberspace.
I just rolled out of bed and it is an absolutely beautiful day. So, out of respect for Mother Nature gracing us with such a gorgeous occasion, I am going to write something very quickly. I'm going to do a freewrite. I'm just going to write and see what comes out. I will not edit it (save for spelling and maybe punctuation if I feel like it) so what I write is exactly what you'll read. I hope something interesting develops...
I slept in today...it's been a loooooong time since I can remember sleeping in so late. I don't know what happened...I wasn't particularly tired before I went to bed. Yet I still slept until noon. I recently read a small textbook from the '60's called "The Anatomy of Sleep." It was surprisingly interesting, especially the stages of sleep and their different effects on your sleeping body. As you may have seen in the movie 'Inception' there are four stages of sleep, the fourth being the deepest. I guess the only explanation I can give for sleeping for so long is that I fell down the proverbial staircase of sleep and landed hard in a stage 4 four slumber. That kind of sounds like what Lewis Carroll was envisioning when he wrote 'Alice in Wonderland.' I know that everyone says he must have been high on LSD or something to that effect...but why couldn't he have just dreamed it? Dreams are an entirely different reality...dreams are the only place where we are bound by no laws. I've had some pretty crazy dreams in my day (well in my night mostly I suppose) and I'm sure that you have as well. One of the dreams that sticks out most in my mind is a recurring dream I had when I was younger. First, you have to understand that I was completely obsessed with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - I had a closet full of pizza throwers, turtle vans, turtle copters and action figures...not to mention my bedspread, curtains, floormat, underwear, pajamas, etc. Anyway...so I used to always begin this dream in some dark, dank, foreboding city. Suddenly I would catch a glimpse of something green in glow of a streetlamp...and of course, I had to follow it. I would follow these fleeting glimpses of green (or shell, or headband, or whatever) until the creature I was following eventually ended up going down a manhole cover into the sewer. I would follow all the way back to the lair, at which point I would realize that I was actually chillin' with the Turtles! Of course we would order pizza, Splinter would say something profound while Donotello fiddled with some type of gadget...Raphael would sit off in the corner...Leonardo and Michealangelo (he was my favourite by far, is that why I ended up liking The Fresh Prince so much? hmmmm) would sit with me on some ratty old couch and watch the old beat up TV. And wouldn't you know that every single time April O'Neill would come on with a breaking news story - a werewolf terrorizing the city. I'm dead serious, I dreamed this over and over and over again. The Turtles would spring to life and take me along for the ride. We would pile into the Turtle Van and follow the sirens and screams right to the werewolf. We fought - but the werewolf always won. Donotello would always be the first to concede defeat with a cry something akin to "We can't beat it here, let's at least get it away from the people!" So we would taunt the werewolf and do everything we had to to get it to follow us - and we always ended up on the same hillside. This was no ordinary hill...the top of the hill was a cliff. There was a single barren tree that grew here...grew out over the abyss. Everytime, the werewolf would push us back, further and further, until we were forced to climb the tree or face being eaten by the damn wolf. I still have the image in my head of the four Ninja Turtles and I clinging to the limbs of the tree; the full orange moon dominating the night sky; holding on for dear life or until the sun rose. This was always the point that I would wake up. I know, I know...anti-climatic right? Well how do you think I feel? I still wonder what the hell happened.
Well, that went somewhere completely unexpected and weird, but I promised you I would write unedited, so there it is. I hope you enjoyed at least some part of my childhood hero nightmare and learned a very valuable lesson - don't ever get cornered by a werewolf...it sucks.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
I just rolled out of bed and it is an absolutely beautiful day. So, out of respect for Mother Nature gracing us with such a gorgeous occasion, I am going to write something very quickly. I'm going to do a freewrite. I'm just going to write and see what comes out. I will not edit it (save for spelling and maybe punctuation if I feel like it) so what I write is exactly what you'll read. I hope something interesting develops...
I slept in today...it's been a loooooong time since I can remember sleeping in so late. I don't know what happened...I wasn't particularly tired before I went to bed. Yet I still slept until noon. I recently read a small textbook from the '60's called "The Anatomy of Sleep." It was surprisingly interesting, especially the stages of sleep and their different effects on your sleeping body. As you may have seen in the movie 'Inception' there are four stages of sleep, the fourth being the deepest. I guess the only explanation I can give for sleeping for so long is that I fell down the proverbial staircase of sleep and landed hard in a stage 4 four slumber. That kind of sounds like what Lewis Carroll was envisioning when he wrote 'Alice in Wonderland.' I know that everyone says he must have been high on LSD or something to that effect...but why couldn't he have just dreamed it? Dreams are an entirely different reality...dreams are the only place where we are bound by no laws. I've had some pretty crazy dreams in my day (well in my night mostly I suppose) and I'm sure that you have as well. One of the dreams that sticks out most in my mind is a recurring dream I had when I was younger. First, you have to understand that I was completely obsessed with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - I had a closet full of pizza throwers, turtle vans, turtle copters and action figures...not to mention my bedspread, curtains, floormat, underwear, pajamas, etc. Anyway...so I used to always begin this dream in some dark, dank, foreboding city. Suddenly I would catch a glimpse of something green in glow of a streetlamp...and of course, I had to follow it. I would follow these fleeting glimpses of green (or shell, or headband, or whatever) until the creature I was following eventually ended up going down a manhole cover into the sewer. I would follow all the way back to the lair, at which point I would realize that I was actually chillin' with the Turtles! Of course we would order pizza, Splinter would say something profound while Donotello fiddled with some type of gadget...Raphael would sit off in the corner...Leonardo and Michealangelo (he was my favourite by far, is that why I ended up liking The Fresh Prince so much? hmmmm) would sit with me on some ratty old couch and watch the old beat up TV. And wouldn't you know that every single time April O'Neill would come on with a breaking news story - a werewolf terrorizing the city. I'm dead serious, I dreamed this over and over and over again. The Turtles would spring to life and take me along for the ride. We would pile into the Turtle Van and follow the sirens and screams right to the werewolf. We fought - but the werewolf always won. Donotello would always be the first to concede defeat with a cry something akin to "We can't beat it here, let's at least get it away from the people!" So we would taunt the werewolf and do everything we had to to get it to follow us - and we always ended up on the same hillside. This was no ordinary hill...the top of the hill was a cliff. There was a single barren tree that grew here...grew out over the abyss. Everytime, the werewolf would push us back, further and further, until we were forced to climb the tree or face being eaten by the damn wolf. I still have the image in my head of the four Ninja Turtles and I clinging to the limbs of the tree; the full orange moon dominating the night sky; holding on for dear life or until the sun rose. This was always the point that I would wake up. I know, I know...anti-climatic right? Well how do you think I feel? I still wonder what the hell happened.
Well, that went somewhere completely unexpected and weird, but I promised you I would write unedited, so there it is. I hope you enjoyed at least some part of my childhood hero nightmare and learned a very valuable lesson - don't ever get cornered by a werewolf...it sucks.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Thursday 5 April 2012
So You Say You Want A Revolution...
Salutations Cyberspace.
I hope that you are well this morning. While I was thinking of what to write about today, I was perusing today's news stories and there was nothing that really jumped out at me. Then I started to notice a common theme - Canadian discontent with the Harper government and the moves it's been making since finally gaining the majority. I could sit and rag on some of these issues, such as the F-35 debacle or the defense cuts. But you know me, Cyberspace...I want to tango with the bigger issue at stake here - the misrepresentation of the Canadian people and how to beat it.
I'm sure that you know how the political system works in Canada...each riding elects an official to represent them and that individual is responsible for voting on the issues on behalf of the people he or she was elected by. With all the apparent unrest among the population, however, it seems as though there are more and more elected officials representing their own ideas as opposed to the ideas of the people. I have an extremely cheap way of circumventing this.
I propose that each bill put before the House of Commons be voted on by the actual people of the country. Yes - I'm suggesting that we have a referendum on every single issue. Sure, even ten years ago this may have sounded absolutely absurd...but now there isn't a single person I know that doesn't use the internet. So why not hire a company for a year to develop secure referendum software - this eliminates any problems with voter confusion, (such as the misinformation given to voters during the robocall scandal) allows each individual person's voice to be heard and eliminates political bribery. Not to mention the amount of elected officials that would no longer be needed, (you know...those ones who represent the people for five years and then get an $80,000/year pension for the rest of their lives that come directly from our tax dollars) which automatically gives our economy a boost.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not against elected officials. I am against corporations and banks being able to sway votes based on bribery, promises of financial security and other means that I'm sure I am unaware of. I believe that there are some honest politicians, and I believe that their jobs are unbelievably important to our country. But when there's so much wealth controlled by such a small group, that group has the power to sway votes - it's a fact. With great power comes great responsibility and I feel as though this responsibility should belong to the population of Canada - a true democracy.
Think about the recently passed Bill C-10 (if you don't know what this is, you can read a little bit about this ridiculousness here) which has some valid points, (such as minimum sentences for child sex offenders) but also has some MAJOR violations (such as giving the gov't the ability to deny any immigrant a work permit for no reason, mandatory jail sentences that put somebody caught with a single marijuana joint away longer than the aforementioned child sex offender, the right of any "victim of terror" to sue any accused "terrorist", so on and so forth) of Canadian rights and liberties. I would have loved to vote on that bill (it almost didn't make it through parliament) and had my views properly expressed.
I might be crazy. To me, this makes sense. It strips power from the government and gives it back to the people - after all in a true democracy the government abides by the wants of the people, not the other way around (people scared of the gov't and feeling completely powerless to change any of their policies) which is what we seem to have right now. I mean, it even seems completely ridiculous to me that we have the Conservative party on the right wing and both the NDP and Liberal party on the left. Doesn't this stack the odds incredibly in Conservative favour?
Anyway, I've ranted enough. My point - let's give the power back to the people.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestion are encouraged and appreciated!
PS - Big thanks to John Lennon for the title - you are sorely missed.
I hope that you are well this morning. While I was thinking of what to write about today, I was perusing today's news stories and there was nothing that really jumped out at me. Then I started to notice a common theme - Canadian discontent with the Harper government and the moves it's been making since finally gaining the majority. I could sit and rag on some of these issues, such as the F-35 debacle or the defense cuts. But you know me, Cyberspace...I want to tango with the bigger issue at stake here - the misrepresentation of the Canadian people and how to beat it.
I'm sure that you know how the political system works in Canada...each riding elects an official to represent them and that individual is responsible for voting on the issues on behalf of the people he or she was elected by. With all the apparent unrest among the population, however, it seems as though there are more and more elected officials representing their own ideas as opposed to the ideas of the people. I have an extremely cheap way of circumventing this.
I propose that each bill put before the House of Commons be voted on by the actual people of the country. Yes - I'm suggesting that we have a referendum on every single issue. Sure, even ten years ago this may have sounded absolutely absurd...but now there isn't a single person I know that doesn't use the internet. So why not hire a company for a year to develop secure referendum software - this eliminates any problems with voter confusion, (such as the misinformation given to voters during the robocall scandal) allows each individual person's voice to be heard and eliminates political bribery. Not to mention the amount of elected officials that would no longer be needed, (you know...those ones who represent the people for five years and then get an $80,000/year pension for the rest of their lives that come directly from our tax dollars) which automatically gives our economy a boost.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not against elected officials. I am against corporations and banks being able to sway votes based on bribery, promises of financial security and other means that I'm sure I am unaware of. I believe that there are some honest politicians, and I believe that their jobs are unbelievably important to our country. But when there's so much wealth controlled by such a small group, that group has the power to sway votes - it's a fact. With great power comes great responsibility and I feel as though this responsibility should belong to the population of Canada - a true democracy.
Think about the recently passed Bill C-10 (if you don't know what this is, you can read a little bit about this ridiculousness here) which has some valid points, (such as minimum sentences for child sex offenders) but also has some MAJOR violations (such as giving the gov't the ability to deny any immigrant a work permit for no reason, mandatory jail sentences that put somebody caught with a single marijuana joint away longer than the aforementioned child sex offender, the right of any "victim of terror" to sue any accused "terrorist", so on and so forth) of Canadian rights and liberties. I would have loved to vote on that bill (it almost didn't make it through parliament) and had my views properly expressed.
I might be crazy. To me, this makes sense. It strips power from the government and gives it back to the people - after all in a true democracy the government abides by the wants of the people, not the other way around (people scared of the gov't and feeling completely powerless to change any of their policies) which is what we seem to have right now. I mean, it even seems completely ridiculous to me that we have the Conservative party on the right wing and both the NDP and Liberal party on the left. Doesn't this stack the odds incredibly in Conservative favour?
Anyway, I've ranted enough. My point - let's give the power back to the people.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestion are encouraged and appreciated!
PS - Big thanks to John Lennon for the title - you are sorely missed.
Wednesday 4 April 2012
Problems in Prose
Hiya Cyberspace.
I'm in the mood to write a poem. Last night I decided I was going to write my blog today about the world's problems...but that blog could literally go on forever. So I guess I'll combine the two and write a poem about some of the world's problems. Here goes...
The screen tells me
It tells me all
There's something wrong; but the trouble is not mine
The bombs don't fall in my yard
The screen tells me
I can't look away
My value is lessened; their values don't exist
My debt is my prison
The screen tells me
The planet screams
I hold its body in my arms; I feel the sorrow
My mother; my father; I can't save you alone
The screen tells me
I must be frightened
There is no enemy; there are only phantoms
I don't believe your ghosts
The screen shows me
The rise and the fall
Signs; people; the masses unite
They are labelled criminal
The screen tells me
I am a powerful individual
The doors are open; my decisions are not my own
Who's path have I travelled?
The screen...the screen
It is wool; it burns my eyes
I see the tears; I am afraid
The rats race in circles
Problems; the solutions are timid
My dream has been interrupted; awake I find the nightmare
But opportunity stems from tragedy
And our world is tragic.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
I'm in the mood to write a poem. Last night I decided I was going to write my blog today about the world's problems...but that blog could literally go on forever. So I guess I'll combine the two and write a poem about some of the world's problems. Here goes...
The screen tells me
It tells me all
There's something wrong; but the trouble is not mine
The bombs don't fall in my yard
The screen tells me
I can't look away
My value is lessened; their values don't exist
My debt is my prison
The screen tells me
The planet screams
I hold its body in my arms; I feel the sorrow
My mother; my father; I can't save you alone
The screen tells me
I must be frightened
There is no enemy; there are only phantoms
I don't believe your ghosts
The screen shows me
The rise and the fall
Signs; people; the masses unite
They are labelled criminal
The screen tells me
I am a powerful individual
The doors are open; my decisions are not my own
Who's path have I travelled?
The screen...the screen
It is wool; it burns my eyes
I see the tears; I am afraid
The rats race in circles
Problems; the solutions are timid
My dream has been interrupted; awake I find the nightmare
But opportunity stems from tragedy
And our world is tragic.
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Tuesday 3 April 2012
Quick to Quit
How are ya today Cyberspace? I'm well, thanks for asking. Trying to get used to my new schedule - my school has moved and now I have to drive to school every morning. I know, I know...first world problems. My point is...now I have to get up earlier and last night I stayed up to watch Kansas almost make a miraculous comeback against Kentucky in the NCAA national championship game. While they didn't win the game (they missed free throws all game long), they came awfully close...and that perseverance inspired me.
Perseverance is not a common trait in modern times. I find that as I get older, I see more and more people giving up; or not even trying at all because they have an expectation of failure. This could be concerning sports, work, school...I have literally watched people (no names involved) say "No, I'm not even going to try, I know I can't do that." But chances are, if you really want to you can do whatever you want. For example, I can't do a backflip...but I could if I practiced.
It's not just physical things I see folks give up on. One of the best writers I've ever met has a blog (Thibeau Time) and even he said to me yesterday, "I think I might give up on writing my blog - I just don't have the motivation anymore." I told him that he has to continue...I mean this is a guy who has some real writing talent. I was disappointed to hear this from him, and I hope he reneges on that statement. I've recommended many, many books to many, many different individuals and it's not uncommon to hear the response "No, that's too long," or "I don't even know if I could read that book," or, even worse, "I'll wait for the movie to come out."
Which brings me to my inference of why our society seems so quick to quit. Throughout history, there has always been some form of entertainment...something to distract the mind. Or for the mind to obsess over. Musical composers like Mozart, artists like Michealangelo, early thinkers like Galileo, explorers like Christopher Columbus and writers like William Shakespeare (if he was a real person) were great artists...but their 'arts' took time; their obsessions took focus. I think that today we suffer immensely from a lack of focus.
How many time have you walked down the street and had your shoulder bumped by someone not looking where they're walking because they're texting? How often have you had a conversation interrupted by the ringing phone of your fellow conversationalist? Have you watched any cartoons recently? Somebody told me (and I'm inclined to believe it to be at least partially true) that 10 minutes of Spongebob Squarepants is enough to have a detrimental effect on a child's attention span.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that we are CONSTANTLY bombarded by information - newswires, sports tickers, text messages, emails, BBM, Twitter - all of these things teach us to focus only for a moment on a specific topic before moving on to the next. How can we expect to have a population that actually takes time to critically analyze anything when we're bred to distractedly think about everything? Then again...maybe that's why all this stuff exists...
Having said all this, the thought of one individual person to be able to focus enough to trump seemingly insurmountable odds, let alone a whole team, begins to seem slightly ludicrous. So when I see it, as I did last night (even though they lost in the end), I was extremely impressed. I love a good underdog story, as does everyone, and there was almost one written on the court before my eyes.
What challenge do you face that seems unbeatable? Don't shy away - embrace it. Make yourself focus...put the cell phone down for an hour and work toward your goals - they'll never be realized if you only focus on the obstacles in the way. Don't give up - ever.
I've already begun to write my own story - when will it be time for you to write yours?
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always, thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Perseverance is not a common trait in modern times. I find that as I get older, I see more and more people giving up; or not even trying at all because they have an expectation of failure. This could be concerning sports, work, school...I have literally watched people (no names involved) say "No, I'm not even going to try, I know I can't do that." But chances are, if you really want to you can do whatever you want. For example, I can't do a backflip...but I could if I practiced.
It's not just physical things I see folks give up on. One of the best writers I've ever met has a blog (Thibeau Time) and even he said to me yesterday, "I think I might give up on writing my blog - I just don't have the motivation anymore." I told him that he has to continue...I mean this is a guy who has some real writing talent. I was disappointed to hear this from him, and I hope he reneges on that statement. I've recommended many, many books to many, many different individuals and it's not uncommon to hear the response "No, that's too long," or "I don't even know if I could read that book," or, even worse, "I'll wait for the movie to come out."
Which brings me to my inference of why our society seems so quick to quit. Throughout history, there has always been some form of entertainment...something to distract the mind. Or for the mind to obsess over. Musical composers like Mozart, artists like Michealangelo, early thinkers like Galileo, explorers like Christopher Columbus and writers like William Shakespeare (if he was a real person) were great artists...but their 'arts' took time; their obsessions took focus. I think that today we suffer immensely from a lack of focus.
How many time have you walked down the street and had your shoulder bumped by someone not looking where they're walking because they're texting? How often have you had a conversation interrupted by the ringing phone of your fellow conversationalist? Have you watched any cartoons recently? Somebody told me (and I'm inclined to believe it to be at least partially true) that 10 minutes of Spongebob Squarepants is enough to have a detrimental effect on a child's attention span.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that we are CONSTANTLY bombarded by information - newswires, sports tickers, text messages, emails, BBM, Twitter - all of these things teach us to focus only for a moment on a specific topic before moving on to the next. How can we expect to have a population that actually takes time to critically analyze anything when we're bred to distractedly think about everything? Then again...maybe that's why all this stuff exists...
Having said all this, the thought of one individual person to be able to focus enough to trump seemingly insurmountable odds, let alone a whole team, begins to seem slightly ludicrous. So when I see it, as I did last night (even though they lost in the end), I was extremely impressed. I love a good underdog story, as does everyone, and there was almost one written on the court before my eyes.
What challenge do you face that seems unbeatable? Don't shy away - embrace it. Make yourself focus...put the cell phone down for an hour and work toward your goals - they'll never be realized if you only focus on the obstacles in the way. Don't give up - ever.
I've already begun to write my own story - when will it be time for you to write yours?
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always, thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated!
Monday 2 April 2012
To the One I Love...
Hi Cyberspace.
Monday morning. Gross. I've never been much of a morning person...let alone on Mondays. So what's my cure for a case of the Mondays? As tired and beaten as the saying is - think happy thoughts! Of the many happy thoughts I have, one of the best is when I think of the woman I love. So, here's to you.
Since we met, you've given me a reason to be a better person. I look at you and think 'that's the person I want to be like...she's the example that everyone should follow.' You are compassionate, funny, easy going and absolutely beautiful inside and out. I love you for that.
I've always wanted to impress you, make you think of me...but most of all I've always wanted to make you laugh. Every time you smile, the room, the house, the street...the whole world gets a little brighter. You can change the whole complexion of a situation all by yourself, be it by bringing a more positive outlook, cracking a joke or giving love where it's needed. I love you for that.
I wish there were more people like you. I am cynical - you look for silver lining in every cloud. I am quite often dismissive of others - you make allowances for each and every person who touches your life. I have a small group of friends I keep close - you are that close friend for almost everyone that knows you. You inspire me everyday. I love you for that.
I don't think I would be here without you. You've always been there when I was in need. I feel perfectly comfortable talking to you about anything. I know that you will not judge me. I know that you will be completely honest, only giving me your actual opinion without trying to sugar coat it. I know that you are not afraid to speak your mind - you will always tell me when there's something bothering you. Honesty and sincerity are not easy traits to find in people nowadays - but I've found it in you. I love you for that.
Whenever I'm a little down, I look at you, I watch you with our daughter...and I see love. This is a privilege that many of us don't have - true love. I feel as though I have it; I feel as though I see it everyday. You and I have been through a lot since we first met in high school - and I don't regret a single second of any of it. My life is better with you in it...through thick and thin; pleasure and pain; love and hate; heaven and hell. There's nobody that I would rather have by my side in any situation. I love you for that.
It still shocks me sometimes when I come home and have you greet me with a hug and a kiss. When I think of you, I can't help but smile. I can't believe that I found someone as great as you. You make every day of my life better - and I love you for that.
I love you
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestion are encouraged and appreciated!
(Thanks to R.E.M. for the title)
Monday morning. Gross. I've never been much of a morning person...let alone on Mondays. So what's my cure for a case of the Mondays? As tired and beaten as the saying is - think happy thoughts! Of the many happy thoughts I have, one of the best is when I think of the woman I love. So, here's to you.
Since we met, you've given me a reason to be a better person. I look at you and think 'that's the person I want to be like...she's the example that everyone should follow.' You are compassionate, funny, easy going and absolutely beautiful inside and out. I love you for that.
I've always wanted to impress you, make you think of me...but most of all I've always wanted to make you laugh. Every time you smile, the room, the house, the street...the whole world gets a little brighter. You can change the whole complexion of a situation all by yourself, be it by bringing a more positive outlook, cracking a joke or giving love where it's needed. I love you for that.
I wish there were more people like you. I am cynical - you look for silver lining in every cloud. I am quite often dismissive of others - you make allowances for each and every person who touches your life. I have a small group of friends I keep close - you are that close friend for almost everyone that knows you. You inspire me everyday. I love you for that.
I don't think I would be here without you. You've always been there when I was in need. I feel perfectly comfortable talking to you about anything. I know that you will not judge me. I know that you will be completely honest, only giving me your actual opinion without trying to sugar coat it. I know that you are not afraid to speak your mind - you will always tell me when there's something bothering you. Honesty and sincerity are not easy traits to find in people nowadays - but I've found it in you. I love you for that.
Whenever I'm a little down, I look at you, I watch you with our daughter...and I see love. This is a privilege that many of us don't have - true love. I feel as though I have it; I feel as though I see it everyday. You and I have been through a lot since we first met in high school - and I don't regret a single second of any of it. My life is better with you in it...through thick and thin; pleasure and pain; love and hate; heaven and hell. There's nobody that I would rather have by my side in any situation. I love you for that.
It still shocks me sometimes when I come home and have you greet me with a hug and a kiss. When I think of you, I can't help but smile. I can't believe that I found someone as great as you. You make every day of my life better - and I love you for that.
I love you
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestion are encouraged and appreciated!
(Thanks to R.E.M. for the title)
Sunday 1 April 2012
Sunday Storytime #3 - Harrison Bergeron
Morning Cyberspace.
It's Sunday again...time for you to curl up (around your computer) and read a great story. I was told to read this story by one of my classmates at the beginning of the year...and now I'm telling you it is a must read. It's an Orwellian-futuristic short story. I love it - I hope you do too.
Harrison Bergeron by Kurt Vonnegut Jr, 1961 (courtesy of http://www.tnellen.com/cybereng/harrison.html)
THE YEAR WAS 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren't only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else. All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and to the unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General.
Some things about living still weren't quite right, though. April for instance, still drove people crazy by not being springtime. And it was in that clammy month that the H-G men took George and Hazel Bergeron's fourteen-year-old son, Harrison, away.
It was tragic, all right, but George and Hazel couldn't think about it very hard. Hazel had a perfectly average intelligence, which meant she couldn't think about anything except in short bursts. And George, while his intelligence was way above normal, had a little mental handicap radio in his ear. He was required by law to wear it at all times. It was tuned to a government transmitter. Every twenty seconds or so, the transmitter would send out some sharp noise to keep people like George from taking unfair advantage of their brains.
George and Hazel were watching television. There were tears on Hazel's cheeks, but she'd forgotten for the moment what they were about.
On the television screen were ballerinas.
A buzzer sounded in George's head. His thoughts fled in panic, like bandits from a burglar alarm.
"That was a real pretty dance, that dance they just did," said Hazel.
"Huh" said George.
"That dance-it was nice," said Hazel.
"Yup," said George. He tried to think a little about the ballerinas. They weren't really very good-no better than anybody else would have been, anyway. They were burdened with sashweights and bags of birdshot, and their faces were masked, so that no one, seeing a free and graceful gesture or a pretty face, would feel like something the cat drug in. George was toying with the vague notion that maybe dancers shouldn't be handicapped. But he didn't get very far with it before another noise in his ear radio scattered his thoughts.
George winced. So did two out of the eight ballerinas.
Hazel saw him wince. Having no mental handicap herself, she had to ask George what the latest sound had been.
"Sounded like somebody hitting a milk bottle with a ball peen hammer," said George.
"I'd think it would be real interesting, hearing all the different sounds," said Hazel a little envious. "All the things they think up."
"Um," said George.
"Only, if I was Handicapper General, you know what I would do?" said Hazel. Hazel, as a matter of fact, bore a strong resemblance to the Handicapper General, a woman named Diana Moon Glampers. "If I was Diana Moon Glampers," said Hazel, "I'd have chimes on Sunday-just chimes. Kind of in honor of religion."
"I could think, if it was just chimes," said George.
"Well-maybe make 'em real loud," said Hazel. "I think I'd make a good Handicapper General."
"Good as anybody else," said George.
"Who knows better than I do what normal is?" said Hazel.
"Right," said George. He began to think glimmeringly about his abnormal son who was now in jail, about Harrison, but a twenty-one-gun salute in his head stopped that.
"Boy!" said Hazel, "that was a doozy, wasn't it?"
It was such a doozy that George was white and trembling, and tears stood on the rims of his red eyes. Two of of the eight ballerinas had collapsed to the studio floor, were holding their temples.
"All of a sudden you look so tired," said Hazel. "Why don't you stretch out on the sofa, so's you can rest your handicap bag on the pillows, honeybunch." She was referring to the forty-seven pounds of birdshot in a canvas bag, which was padlocked around George's neck. "Go on and rest the bag for a little while," she said. "I don't care if you're not equal to me for a while."
George weighed the bag with his hands. "I don't mind it," he said. "I don't notice it any more. It's just a part of me."
"You been so tired lately-kind of wore out," said Hazel. "If there was just some way we could make a little hole in the bottom of the bag, and just take out a few of them lead balls. Just a few."
"Two years in prison and two thousand dollars fine for every ball I took out," said George. "I don't call that a bargain."
"If you could just take a few out when you came home from work," said Hazel. "I mean-you don't compete with anybody around here. You just sit around."
"If I tried to get away with it," said George, "then other people'd get away with it-and pretty soon we'd be right back to the dark ages again, with everybody competing against everybody else. You wouldn't like that, would you?"
"I'd hate it," said Hazel.
"There you are," said George. The minute people start cheating on laws, what do you think happens to society?"
If Hazel hadn't been able to come up with an answer to this question, George couldn't have supplied one. A siren was going off in his head.
"Reckon it'd fall all apart," said Hazel.
"What would?" said George blankly.
"Society," said Hazel uncertainly. "Wasn't that what you just said?
"Who knows?" said George.
The television program was suddenly interrupted for a news bulletin. It wasn't clear at first as to what the bulletin was about, since the announcer, like all announcers, had a serious speech impediment. For about half a minute, and in a state of high excitement, the announcer tried to say, "Ladies and Gentlemen."
He finally gave up, handed the bulletin to a ballerina to read.
"That's all right-" Hazel said of the announcer, "he tried. That's the big thing. He tried to do the best he could with what God gave him. He should get a nice raise for trying so hard."
"Ladies and Gentlemen," said the ballerina, reading the bulletin. She must have been extraordinarily beautiful, because the mask she wore was hideous. And it was easy to see that she was the strongest and most graceful of all the dancers, for her handicap bags were as big as those worn by two-hundred pound men.
And she had to apologize at once for her voice, which was a very unfair voice for a woman to use. Her voice was a warm, luminous, timeless melody. "Excuse me-" she said, and she began again, making her voice absolutely uncompetitive.
"Harrison Bergeron, age fourteen," she said in a grackle squawk, "has just escaped from jail, where he was held on suspicion of plotting to overthrow the government. He is a genius and an athlete, is under-handicapped, and should be regarded as extremely dangerous."
A police photograph of Harrison Bergeron was flashed on the screen-upside down, then sideways, upside down again, then right side up. The picture showed the full length of Harrison against a background calibrated in feet and inches. He was exactly seven feet tall.
The rest of Harrison's appearance was Halloween and hardware. Nobody had ever born heavier handicaps. He had outgrown hindrances faster than the H-G men could think them up. Instead of a little ear radio for a mental handicap, he wore a tremendous pair of earphones, and spectacles with thick wavy lenses. The spectacles were intended to make him not only half blind, but to give him whanging headaches besides.
Scrap metal was hung all over him. Ordinarily, there was a certain symmetry, a military neatness to the handicaps issued to strong people, but Harrison looked like a walking junkyard. In the race of life, Harrison carried three hundred pounds.
And to offset his good looks, the H-G men required that he wear at all times a red rubber ball for a nose, keep his eyebrows shaved off, and cover his even white teeth with black caps at snaggle-tooth random.
"If you see this boy," said the ballerina, "do not - I repeat, do not - try to reason with him."
There was the shriek of a door being torn from its hinges.
Screams and barking cries of consternation came from the television set. The photograph of Harrison Bergeron on the screen jumped again and again, as though dancing to the tune of an earthquake.
George Bergeron correctly identified the earthquake, and well he might have - for many was the time his own home had danced to the same crashing tune. "My God-" said George, "that must be Harrison!"
The realization was blasted from his mind instantly by the sound of an automobile collision in his head.
When George could open his eyes again, the photograph of Harrison was gone. A living, breathing Harrison filled the screen.
Clanking, clownish, and huge, Harrison stood - in the center of the studio. The knob of the uprooted studio door was still in his hand. Ballerinas, technicians, musicians, and announcers cowered on their knees before him, expecting to die.
"I am the Emperor!" cried Harrison. "Do you hear? I am the Emperor! Everybody must do what I say at once!" He stamped his foot and the studio shook.
"Even as I stand here" he bellowed, "crippled, hobbled, sickened - I am a greater ruler than any man who ever lived! Now watch me become what I can become!"
Harrison tore the straps of his handicap harness like wet tissue paper, tore straps guaranteed to support five thousand pounds.
Harrison's scrap-iron handicaps crashed to the floor.
Harrison thrust his thumbs under the bar of the padlock that secured his head harness. The bar snapped like celery. Harrison smashed his headphones and spectacles against the wall.
He flung away his rubber-ball nose, revealed a man that would have awed Thor, the god of thunder.
"I shall now select my Empress!" he said, looking down on the cowering people. "Let the first woman who dares rise to her feet claim her mate and her throne!"
A moment passed, and then a ballerina arose, swaying like a willow.
Harrison plucked the mental handicap from her ear, snapped off her physical handicaps with marvelous delicacy. Last of all he removed her mask.
She was blindingly beautiful.
"Now-" said Harrison, taking her hand, "shall we show the people the meaning of the word dance? Music!" he commanded.
The musicians scrambled back into their chairs, and Harrison stripped them of their handicaps, too. "Play your best," he told them, "and I'll make you barons and dukes and earls."
The music began. It was normal at first-cheap, silly, false. But Harrison snatched two musicians from their chairs, waved them like batons as he sang the music as he wanted it played. He slammed them back into their chairs.
The music began again and was much improved.
Harrison and his Empress merely listened to the music for a while-listened gravely, as though synchronizing their heartbeats with it.
They shifted their weights to their toes.
Harrison placed his big hands on the girls tiny waist, letting her sense the weightlessness that would soon be hers.
And then, in an explosion of joy and grace, into the air they sprang!
Not only were the laws of the land abandoned, but the law of gravity and the laws of motion as well.
They reeled, whirled, swiveled, flounced, capered, gamboled, and spun.
They leaped like deer on the moon.
The studio ceiling was thirty feet high, but each leap brought the dancers nearer to it.
It became their obvious intention to kiss the ceiling. They kissed it.
And then, neutraling gravity with love and pure will, they remained suspended in air inches below the ceiling, and they kissed each other for a long, long time.
It was then that Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General, came into the studio with a double-barreled ten-gauge shotgun. She fired twice, and the Emperor and the Empress were dead before they hit the floor.
Diana Moon Glampers loaded the gun again. She aimed it at the musicians and told them they had ten seconds to get their handicaps back on.
It was then that the Bergerons' television tube burned out.
Hazel turned to comment about the blackout to George. But George had gone out into the kitchen for a can of beer.
George came back in with the beer, paused while a handicap signal shook him up. And then he sat down again. "You been crying" he said to Hazel.
"Yup," she said.
"What about?" he said.
"I forget," she said. "Something real sad on television."
"What was it?" he said.
"It's all kind of mixed up in my mind," said Hazel.
"Forget sad things," said George.
"I always do," said Hazel.
"That's my girl," said George. He winced. There was the sound of a rivetting gun in his head.
"Gee - I could tell that one was a doozy," said Hazel.
"You can say that again," said George.
"Gee-" said Hazel, "I could tell that one was a doozy."
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated! I would absolutely love to hear what you're taking away from this one.
It's Sunday again...time for you to curl up (around your computer) and read a great story. I was told to read this story by one of my classmates at the beginning of the year...and now I'm telling you it is a must read. It's an Orwellian-futuristic short story. I love it - I hope you do too.
Harrison Bergeron by Kurt Vonnegut Jr, 1961 (courtesy of http://www.tnellen.com/cybereng/harrison.html)
THE YEAR WAS 2081, and everybody was finally equal. They weren't only equal before God and the law. They were equal every which way. Nobody was smarter than anybody else. Nobody was better looking than anybody else. Nobody was stronger or quicker than anybody else. All this equality was due to the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments to the Constitution, and to the unceasing vigilance of agents of the United States Handicapper General.
Some things about living still weren't quite right, though. April for instance, still drove people crazy by not being springtime. And it was in that clammy month that the H-G men took George and Hazel Bergeron's fourteen-year-old son, Harrison, away.
It was tragic, all right, but George and Hazel couldn't think about it very hard. Hazel had a perfectly average intelligence, which meant she couldn't think about anything except in short bursts. And George, while his intelligence was way above normal, had a little mental handicap radio in his ear. He was required by law to wear it at all times. It was tuned to a government transmitter. Every twenty seconds or so, the transmitter would send out some sharp noise to keep people like George from taking unfair advantage of their brains.
George and Hazel were watching television. There were tears on Hazel's cheeks, but she'd forgotten for the moment what they were about.
On the television screen were ballerinas.
A buzzer sounded in George's head. His thoughts fled in panic, like bandits from a burglar alarm.
"That was a real pretty dance, that dance they just did," said Hazel.
"Huh" said George.
"That dance-it was nice," said Hazel.
"Yup," said George. He tried to think a little about the ballerinas. They weren't really very good-no better than anybody else would have been, anyway. They were burdened with sashweights and bags of birdshot, and their faces were masked, so that no one, seeing a free and graceful gesture or a pretty face, would feel like something the cat drug in. George was toying with the vague notion that maybe dancers shouldn't be handicapped. But he didn't get very far with it before another noise in his ear radio scattered his thoughts.
George winced. So did two out of the eight ballerinas.
Hazel saw him wince. Having no mental handicap herself, she had to ask George what the latest sound had been.
"Sounded like somebody hitting a milk bottle with a ball peen hammer," said George.
"I'd think it would be real interesting, hearing all the different sounds," said Hazel a little envious. "All the things they think up."
"Um," said George.
"Only, if I was Handicapper General, you know what I would do?" said Hazel. Hazel, as a matter of fact, bore a strong resemblance to the Handicapper General, a woman named Diana Moon Glampers. "If I was Diana Moon Glampers," said Hazel, "I'd have chimes on Sunday-just chimes. Kind of in honor of religion."
"I could think, if it was just chimes," said George.
"Well-maybe make 'em real loud," said Hazel. "I think I'd make a good Handicapper General."
"Good as anybody else," said George.
"Who knows better than I do what normal is?" said Hazel.
"Right," said George. He began to think glimmeringly about his abnormal son who was now in jail, about Harrison, but a twenty-one-gun salute in his head stopped that.
"Boy!" said Hazel, "that was a doozy, wasn't it?"
It was such a doozy that George was white and trembling, and tears stood on the rims of his red eyes. Two of of the eight ballerinas had collapsed to the studio floor, were holding their temples.
"All of a sudden you look so tired," said Hazel. "Why don't you stretch out on the sofa, so's you can rest your handicap bag on the pillows, honeybunch." She was referring to the forty-seven pounds of birdshot in a canvas bag, which was padlocked around George's neck. "Go on and rest the bag for a little while," she said. "I don't care if you're not equal to me for a while."
George weighed the bag with his hands. "I don't mind it," he said. "I don't notice it any more. It's just a part of me."
"You been so tired lately-kind of wore out," said Hazel. "If there was just some way we could make a little hole in the bottom of the bag, and just take out a few of them lead balls. Just a few."
"Two years in prison and two thousand dollars fine for every ball I took out," said George. "I don't call that a bargain."
"If you could just take a few out when you came home from work," said Hazel. "I mean-you don't compete with anybody around here. You just sit around."
"If I tried to get away with it," said George, "then other people'd get away with it-and pretty soon we'd be right back to the dark ages again, with everybody competing against everybody else. You wouldn't like that, would you?"
"I'd hate it," said Hazel.
"There you are," said George. The minute people start cheating on laws, what do you think happens to society?"
If Hazel hadn't been able to come up with an answer to this question, George couldn't have supplied one. A siren was going off in his head.
"Reckon it'd fall all apart," said Hazel.
"What would?" said George blankly.
"Society," said Hazel uncertainly. "Wasn't that what you just said?
"Who knows?" said George.
The television program was suddenly interrupted for a news bulletin. It wasn't clear at first as to what the bulletin was about, since the announcer, like all announcers, had a serious speech impediment. For about half a minute, and in a state of high excitement, the announcer tried to say, "Ladies and Gentlemen."
He finally gave up, handed the bulletin to a ballerina to read.
"That's all right-" Hazel said of the announcer, "he tried. That's the big thing. He tried to do the best he could with what God gave him. He should get a nice raise for trying so hard."
"Ladies and Gentlemen," said the ballerina, reading the bulletin. She must have been extraordinarily beautiful, because the mask she wore was hideous. And it was easy to see that she was the strongest and most graceful of all the dancers, for her handicap bags were as big as those worn by two-hundred pound men.
And she had to apologize at once for her voice, which was a very unfair voice for a woman to use. Her voice was a warm, luminous, timeless melody. "Excuse me-" she said, and she began again, making her voice absolutely uncompetitive.
"Harrison Bergeron, age fourteen," she said in a grackle squawk, "has just escaped from jail, where he was held on suspicion of plotting to overthrow the government. He is a genius and an athlete, is under-handicapped, and should be regarded as extremely dangerous."
A police photograph of Harrison Bergeron was flashed on the screen-upside down, then sideways, upside down again, then right side up. The picture showed the full length of Harrison against a background calibrated in feet and inches. He was exactly seven feet tall.
The rest of Harrison's appearance was Halloween and hardware. Nobody had ever born heavier handicaps. He had outgrown hindrances faster than the H-G men could think them up. Instead of a little ear radio for a mental handicap, he wore a tremendous pair of earphones, and spectacles with thick wavy lenses. The spectacles were intended to make him not only half blind, but to give him whanging headaches besides.
Scrap metal was hung all over him. Ordinarily, there was a certain symmetry, a military neatness to the handicaps issued to strong people, but Harrison looked like a walking junkyard. In the race of life, Harrison carried three hundred pounds.
And to offset his good looks, the H-G men required that he wear at all times a red rubber ball for a nose, keep his eyebrows shaved off, and cover his even white teeth with black caps at snaggle-tooth random.
"If you see this boy," said the ballerina, "do not - I repeat, do not - try to reason with him."
There was the shriek of a door being torn from its hinges.
Screams and barking cries of consternation came from the television set. The photograph of Harrison Bergeron on the screen jumped again and again, as though dancing to the tune of an earthquake.
George Bergeron correctly identified the earthquake, and well he might have - for many was the time his own home had danced to the same crashing tune. "My God-" said George, "that must be Harrison!"
The realization was blasted from his mind instantly by the sound of an automobile collision in his head.
When George could open his eyes again, the photograph of Harrison was gone. A living, breathing Harrison filled the screen.
Clanking, clownish, and huge, Harrison stood - in the center of the studio. The knob of the uprooted studio door was still in his hand. Ballerinas, technicians, musicians, and announcers cowered on their knees before him, expecting to die.
"I am the Emperor!" cried Harrison. "Do you hear? I am the Emperor! Everybody must do what I say at once!" He stamped his foot and the studio shook.
"Even as I stand here" he bellowed, "crippled, hobbled, sickened - I am a greater ruler than any man who ever lived! Now watch me become what I can become!"
Harrison tore the straps of his handicap harness like wet tissue paper, tore straps guaranteed to support five thousand pounds.
Harrison's scrap-iron handicaps crashed to the floor.
Harrison thrust his thumbs under the bar of the padlock that secured his head harness. The bar snapped like celery. Harrison smashed his headphones and spectacles against the wall.
He flung away his rubber-ball nose, revealed a man that would have awed Thor, the god of thunder.
"I shall now select my Empress!" he said, looking down on the cowering people. "Let the first woman who dares rise to her feet claim her mate and her throne!"
A moment passed, and then a ballerina arose, swaying like a willow.
Harrison plucked the mental handicap from her ear, snapped off her physical handicaps with marvelous delicacy. Last of all he removed her mask.
She was blindingly beautiful.
"Now-" said Harrison, taking her hand, "shall we show the people the meaning of the word dance? Music!" he commanded.
The musicians scrambled back into their chairs, and Harrison stripped them of their handicaps, too. "Play your best," he told them, "and I'll make you barons and dukes and earls."
The music began. It was normal at first-cheap, silly, false. But Harrison snatched two musicians from their chairs, waved them like batons as he sang the music as he wanted it played. He slammed them back into their chairs.
The music began again and was much improved.
Harrison and his Empress merely listened to the music for a while-listened gravely, as though synchronizing their heartbeats with it.
They shifted their weights to their toes.
Harrison placed his big hands on the girls tiny waist, letting her sense the weightlessness that would soon be hers.
And then, in an explosion of joy and grace, into the air they sprang!
Not only were the laws of the land abandoned, but the law of gravity and the laws of motion as well.
They reeled, whirled, swiveled, flounced, capered, gamboled, and spun.
They leaped like deer on the moon.
The studio ceiling was thirty feet high, but each leap brought the dancers nearer to it.
It became their obvious intention to kiss the ceiling. They kissed it.
And then, neutraling gravity with love and pure will, they remained suspended in air inches below the ceiling, and they kissed each other for a long, long time.
It was then that Diana Moon Glampers, the Handicapper General, came into the studio with a double-barreled ten-gauge shotgun. She fired twice, and the Emperor and the Empress were dead before they hit the floor.
Diana Moon Glampers loaded the gun again. She aimed it at the musicians and told them they had ten seconds to get their handicaps back on.
It was then that the Bergerons' television tube burned out.
Hazel turned to comment about the blackout to George. But George had gone out into the kitchen for a can of beer.
George came back in with the beer, paused while a handicap signal shook him up. And then he sat down again. "You been crying" he said to Hazel.
"Yup," she said.
"What about?" he said.
"I forget," she said. "Something real sad on television."
"What was it?" he said.
"It's all kind of mixed up in my mind," said Hazel.
"Forget sad things," said George.
"I always do," said Hazel.
"That's my girl," said George. He winced. There was the sound of a rivetting gun in his head.
"Gee - I could tell that one was a doozy," said Hazel.
"You can say that again," said George.
"Gee-" said Hazel, "I could tell that one was a doozy."
Peace and Love
The Critical Stranger
As always thoughts, comments and suggestions are encouraged and appreciated! I would absolutely love to hear what you're taking away from this one.
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