Saturday night.
The fridge is well stocked, Jan is either being taken for a walk by our dogs or trying to finish a few more report cards and the girls are watching Simon Cowell destroy Billy-Bobs long held belief that his musical career is a sure thing. My son, sitting next to me, has his I Pod Touch plugged in to my laptop and is blissfully working his magic. All he needs to do to remain in my good graces is to sprint to the fridge every 15 minutes or so to bring Paps another cold beverage.
My boy. Innocent, quick, sure and pure.
Pretty soon he and his younger sister will be upstairs howling about one thing or another while my 15 year old will be hammering away furiously on a keyboard somewhere in the house, checking out what's new and exciting on facebook and texting several friends on her blackberry. I've given up trying to keep track of who she's hanging out with nowadays. Most punks that come around know that "paps" has issues and is not to be provoked.
Jan's been busy with exercising, shopping, harassing our kids and whatever else she does to keep herself exhausted. Usually she locks herself in the bathroom and treats herself to a nice aromatic soak with the jets going full blast to drown out the whining from our offspring leaving me to roam the house and generally making a mess of all things domestic. Life can be challenging when you have to live with a dashing and righteous foreigner with some questionable lifestyle habits. It'll be another hour before peace and tranquility will have found it's way back into our humble abode so that I may endeavour to finish the day appropriately in my own suave way. Iron Horse and Balvenie will be assisting me tonight while my son's I pod will be providing the necessary musical setting to accomplish the task at hand. Writing in English is not an easy thing when you're bent out of shape and up to no good.
I did enroll in an English lit course shortly after I arrived in Canada. After our third session the prof and I came to a mutual understanding that the kind of gibberish that appealed to me is better done privately, late at night when cops congregate at Tim Hortons, coyotes patrol the streets of Kitsilano and nobody gives a damn. I do posses two Dutch English dictionaries and although they were printed in 1948 they've been quiet helpful. My appreciation for Dr. Prick van Wely's efforts are substantial especially after I became familiar with the English vernacular spoken here on the West coast. I'm convinced that the good Doctor was quiet pleased that mom and dad opted to remain in Holland so that their son could continue his valiant work interpreting English. Anyway, it's way more fun to find a cool groove and to follow it to whatever end. Staring at a screen, wondering about trivial and cumbersome grammatical details has got to be more devastating to the creative soul then a good hit from some serious ganja...........2hrs later..............Just came back into the house after spending some time on the back deck staring at the moon and harassing the neighbours cat. When I was tearing the kitchen apart to dig up that elusive bottle of Balvenie I just happened to come across some......... ganja. Potent little bugger too. No writers block now, just a whole shitload of absolutely useless drivel to sort through and somehow turn it into something that jives with the rest.
Tomorrow we're off to Playland, Vancouver's silly version of Knotts Berry Farm. I haven't been for a decade but my kids tell me it's Gods will that I should accompany them and see for myself what I've been missing all these years. Maybe, maybe not. I am looking forward to watch them and their fiends whooping it up. They're growing up to fast. Not that I miss the diapers.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Where were you, bubba?
Opoe taught all off us that breakfast is, or should be, the most important meal of the day. In my case, an unlimited supply of strong, shade grown, organic and fair trade coffee, fortified with whatever substance that's available, kosher bacon and free range eggs, hash browns, multi grain toast, natural yogurt, several newspapers, CNN on the tube and a handsome little tune by Dylan to welcome a brand new day. Party time in BC., for the liberal party that is. Yes, the dark Lord has prevailed and his gang gets another 4 years to run amok and cram another bunch of whoop-ass directives down our throats. Don't forget, dear citizens, this is the worst recession since a million Okies took to the road to terrorize the fine folks in California.
Election time in BC, what an absolute bummer.
I got it over with right after breakfast. The church has been transformed and is now the place to be. Locals with nothing better to do patrol the sidewalk and are now "election officials". Jackboots are optional. "Can I see some ID, sir", don't block the entrance!, do you live in this neighbourhood? Upon my arrival I presented my credentials to the girl that handled my interrogation. To my surprise and without any apparent reason she approached me with extreme caution while smiling nervously, babbling about things that made no sense at all. Her mouth was moving at an alarming speed but the ear/brain thing refused to kick in. Until that moment I was certain that I was on top of things when all of a sudden I felt an ugly but familiar shiver running down my spine. From feeling extremely sharp and refreshingly upbeat I felt myself settling into a darker, cynical frame of mind. Breakfast had been uneventful, the walk, tranquil but now I was given the third degree by some dingbat that was obviously experiencing some sort of emotional breakdown. Fortunately I had brought a bottle along to keep Mr. Hide in his place and out of the picture. A quick refill and, hot damn, nothing says good morning like a generous helping of a fine Scotch on a clear, crisp day . I felt that the best way to move this thing along was to ignore her and present myself to one of the other election associates. Mumbling something about having to use the facilities I managed to slip through the door, turned left and entered the sanctuary. Most pews had been pushed aside unceremoniously and replaced with large plywood tables in various shapes and sizes, ikea chairs and a handfull of voting booths constructed from leftover cardboard boxes. Allthough I noticed several "officials" milling about an eerie silence accompanied the proceedings, only to be broken by the soft, melodious tinkling of tiny ice cubes gently floating in a coffee mug the size of a giant Slurpee. The menacing presence of a huge cross dangling in the far corner, a cherished relic to many of my fellow citizens, oddly enough provided some comfort and allowed me to re-focus. In his day, Jesus was a serious political junkie, eloquent but brutally critical of the authorities. His call for deeper understanding, a just society and a serene place to settle with Mary and the rest of his posse did not quiet work out the way he imagined. They nailed him up and made sure that everyone knew that it was "Gods will". Two thousand years of every imaginable atrocity has been committed in the name of this poor bugger by virtually every form of government known to man, or woman, and even now they still evoke his name when things get a bit dicey.
"Just stay cool, head straight for one of the tables, grab a form, dive into a voting booth and perform my civic duty" was the best I could come up with. However it all went downhill from there and the whole thing just turned into a hideous nightmare of vicious mayhem, obscene screeching and wild accusations. The hellish noise from the alarm system when I made a quick dash for one of the emergency exits seemed to be a fitting farewell.
Another fateful day, fodder for our provincial historians.
Election coverage results and analysis started at 8. At 1 minute past we all knew that Campbell was once again top dog. Some of the "best"political panels in the land tried to give it a positive spin, defending yesterdays wisdom that it would be a close call. Even the wino's at the pub got tired of the bullshit and started demanding change NOW. We had a vote and and it was unanimously decided that the hockey game was the better way to go. Democracy in action. Thank god for small favors.
Election time in BC, what an absolute bummer.
I got it over with right after breakfast. The church has been transformed and is now the place to be. Locals with nothing better to do patrol the sidewalk and are now "election officials". Jackboots are optional. "Can I see some ID, sir", don't block the entrance!, do you live in this neighbourhood? Upon my arrival I presented my credentials to the girl that handled my interrogation. To my surprise and without any apparent reason she approached me with extreme caution while smiling nervously, babbling about things that made no sense at all. Her mouth was moving at an alarming speed but the ear/brain thing refused to kick in. Until that moment I was certain that I was on top of things when all of a sudden I felt an ugly but familiar shiver running down my spine. From feeling extremely sharp and refreshingly upbeat I felt myself settling into a darker, cynical frame of mind. Breakfast had been uneventful, the walk, tranquil but now I was given the third degree by some dingbat that was obviously experiencing some sort of emotional breakdown. Fortunately I had brought a bottle along to keep Mr. Hide in his place and out of the picture. A quick refill and, hot damn, nothing says good morning like a generous helping of a fine Scotch on a clear, crisp day . I felt that the best way to move this thing along was to ignore her and present myself to one of the other election associates. Mumbling something about having to use the facilities I managed to slip through the door, turned left and entered the sanctuary. Most pews had been pushed aside unceremoniously and replaced with large plywood tables in various shapes and sizes, ikea chairs and a handfull of voting booths constructed from leftover cardboard boxes. Allthough I noticed several "officials" milling about an eerie silence accompanied the proceedings, only to be broken by the soft, melodious tinkling of tiny ice cubes gently floating in a coffee mug the size of a giant Slurpee. The menacing presence of a huge cross dangling in the far corner, a cherished relic to many of my fellow citizens, oddly enough provided some comfort and allowed me to re-focus. In his day, Jesus was a serious political junkie, eloquent but brutally critical of the authorities. His call for deeper understanding, a just society and a serene place to settle with Mary and the rest of his posse did not quiet work out the way he imagined. They nailed him up and made sure that everyone knew that it was "Gods will". Two thousand years of every imaginable atrocity has been committed in the name of this poor bugger by virtually every form of government known to man, or woman, and even now they still evoke his name when things get a bit dicey.
"Just stay cool, head straight for one of the tables, grab a form, dive into a voting booth and perform my civic duty" was the best I could come up with. However it all went downhill from there and the whole thing just turned into a hideous nightmare of vicious mayhem, obscene screeching and wild accusations. The hellish noise from the alarm system when I made a quick dash for one of the emergency exits seemed to be a fitting farewell.
Another fateful day, fodder for our provincial historians.
Election coverage results and analysis started at 8. At 1 minute past we all knew that Campbell was once again top dog. Some of the "best"political panels in the land tried to give it a positive spin, defending yesterdays wisdom that it would be a close call. Even the wino's at the pub got tired of the bullshit and started demanding change NOW. We had a vote and and it was unanimously decided that the hockey game was the better way to go. Democracy in action. Thank god for small favors.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Election time in Lotusland.
Here we go again.
False rumors and ugly truths are once again hitting the airwaves.
Only the real junkies know who to vote for.
As for the rest of us, well, we'll make up our minds when we drag ourselves over to the voting booth and put a mark behind whatever bum we choose to support.
God, I don't even remember the last time when I actually was excited about voting for someone instead of trying to figure out who is the most harmless jackass amongst all those who feel they have the necessary credentials to represent those of us who don't have the balls or the money to put our own name on the ballot.
The "economy" is the magic word now, and both, the liberals and new democrats are using it like a dull axe to whip dock workers, soccer moms and pensioners alike into such a frenzy that all off them will end up like crazed wino's jabbering away about the end of times, demanding a human sacrifice or at least a tax rebate of hideous proportions.
The liberals don't seem to be able to stop dragging Clark and Sihota's legacy out of the dustbin and the democrats are trying to convince us that Campbell and his goons are exactly the kind of incompetent yahoo's and perverts that we suspect them to be.
The greens are slowly sliding out of the public's awareness because hey, who's going to worry about global warming, rising sea levels, massive crop failures or millions of illiterate heathens in some god forsaken place dying of malnutrition or starvation when YOU could be losing your job. Shit, even the ethical funds in my portfolio took a 25% hit.
Some pollsters have been telling us that both parties could be in a position to form our next government, give or take a few percentage points. Liberal pollsters, who work for the democratic party, foresee a come from behind victory for their client while conservative pollsters, working for the liberals, have gone where the smart money went and are on record by giving Campbell his third win in 8 years. If I were a betting man, and I am, then my money is on the liberals. People will vote with their wallets tomorrow and consequently this province will be run for another four years by people who have no shame. Once again they'll get to whoop it up, run wild and go about their greedy filthy business. These swine would have been legally put to sleep in any properly organized society. It truly is a pity that there is not enough support to throw the old pimps and their whores out and select a whole new batch of incompetent political hacks and let them run the show for a while.
Lord, oh Lord, where will it all end?
False rumors and ugly truths are once again hitting the airwaves.
Only the real junkies know who to vote for.
As for the rest of us, well, we'll make up our minds when we drag ourselves over to the voting booth and put a mark behind whatever bum we choose to support.
God, I don't even remember the last time when I actually was excited about voting for someone instead of trying to figure out who is the most harmless jackass amongst all those who feel they have the necessary credentials to represent those of us who don't have the balls or the money to put our own name on the ballot.
The "economy" is the magic word now, and both, the liberals and new democrats are using it like a dull axe to whip dock workers, soccer moms and pensioners alike into such a frenzy that all off them will end up like crazed wino's jabbering away about the end of times, demanding a human sacrifice or at least a tax rebate of hideous proportions.
The liberals don't seem to be able to stop dragging Clark and Sihota's legacy out of the dustbin and the democrats are trying to convince us that Campbell and his goons are exactly the kind of incompetent yahoo's and perverts that we suspect them to be.
The greens are slowly sliding out of the public's awareness because hey, who's going to worry about global warming, rising sea levels, massive crop failures or millions of illiterate heathens in some god forsaken place dying of malnutrition or starvation when YOU could be losing your job. Shit, even the ethical funds in my portfolio took a 25% hit.
Some pollsters have been telling us that both parties could be in a position to form our next government, give or take a few percentage points. Liberal pollsters, who work for the democratic party, foresee a come from behind victory for their client while conservative pollsters, working for the liberals, have gone where the smart money went and are on record by giving Campbell his third win in 8 years. If I were a betting man, and I am, then my money is on the liberals. People will vote with their wallets tomorrow and consequently this province will be run for another four years by people who have no shame. Once again they'll get to whoop it up, run wild and go about their greedy filthy business. These swine would have been legally put to sleep in any properly organized society. It truly is a pity that there is not enough support to throw the old pimps and their whores out and select a whole new batch of incompetent political hacks and let them run the show for a while.
Lord, oh Lord, where will it all end?
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