Friday, February 26, 2010

An Olympic Sized Rant

Let me start by saying this; if I hear one more barb, whether it be from a comedic American, a downtrodden Russian, or snot-nosed Brit writing for the Russians, that Canada suffers from an inferiority complex, I will singlehandedly lead an invasion into the offender's home country. There, I said it.

We as Canadians do not have an inferiority complex, far from it, we know we live in the best country on the planet, it's just that our mothers raised us to know better than to belittle the unfortunate. Yes we are polite to a fault. That's why you all love us. And yes we are a humble lot, but we see no advantage in being cocksure and prickish. Sure we are number one, but we tend to let our cousins to the South wear the big foam finger. Hey if it helps stoke their fragile egos, great, times are tough down there, it's the least we can do, they're family and all.

I am not angry with the Americans, far from it, I have grown accustom to their taunting and teasing. It's sibling rivalry is all. Sure, we fight all the time, but that is just the sort of relationship we have. There really isn't much to it, when it is all said and done, we dust ourselves off, share a beer and a burger and laugh it off. God bless America.

As for the Brits, our great grandmother from across the pond. Reminded we are, each and everyday of that archaic relationship, what with her mug on all our money. It's hard to be angry at the British, sure they stink of old world snobbery, sure they sometimes get confused by the fact that they no longer rule the new world, that the British Empire is a thing of the past, but that can probably be chalked up to their age. Senility is a bitch. I am not mad at grandma, nope, but there is this one guy named Timothy Bancroft-Hinchey whom is very British and who wrote something like this: it's he that made my blood boil. Sure there is nothing British about Pravda. Pravda is a propaganda machine for the Russians (I am getting to them). I guess I am just confused first by how a British bloke can lay claim to being an expert on winter sport, and disappointed that a British bloke would feel the need to write such an anti-Canadian piece of shit. I mean I thought we were family bro.

Oh the Russians. I have always had a soft spot for the Russians. Their history and their literature are some of my favorite things. But talk about an inferiority complex. The Russians have never felt quite right in their own skin. These Olympics have done nothing to improve their self-image. Usually an Olympic powerhouse, the Russians are no where near the top of the medal standings. Add to all this that their super-powered hockey team was embarrassed 7-3 by Canada's super-powered hockey team, and whammo, the propaganda machine rumbles to life. These are the same Russians that are hosting the next Winter Olympics, heaven help them if they shit the bed there, like they have in Vancouver. They really don't mean all the nasty things they have been saying about our Olympics. The Russians feel the need to bash our national pride in order to protect their own, I get it. Hell I even forgive the Russians, I wish them all the luck in the world with their games in 4 years. Ya, Canadians are cool like that. So there.

As for the criticism, yes the weather has been sketchy, yes there was a horrible tragedy before the games began, yes their was a technical glitz in the opening ceremonies, but damn it, these have been a great Winter Olympics. Drama all around, amazing performances in each and every discipline. Vancouver and for that matter Canada should be proud. We pulled it off, we rocked these games, don't let anybody, no matter their agenda, tell you any different. Oh Canada!

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Quads & Tests of Manhood

“You ever driven one of these things?” Derek asks, snapping on a helmet, swinging his leg over the seat of a muddy, red Honda Foreman.

“Dude I grew up in Canmore, I was driving one of these things before I could crawl.” Says Ed now, sitting on his quad, about to turn the key and start it up.

“I have driven 3 wheelers and minibikes, how hard can it be? Tell me how to start it up, explain to me if the clutch goes up or down and I will figure it out.” I say, helmet on, key turned, finger on the automatic start.

“Are you in neutral? Click the clutch all the way down."

I nod.

"Good, now slip your foot under the clutch, don't click up, yet, first press the ignition.”

The quad sputters, then burst to life. Derek now yelling “You shift gears by clicking the clutch up or down. Up to shift up, down to shift down. Got it!”

“Yep!” I yell grinning like a child on Christmas morning.

It doesn't take long before I am lost in Ed and Derek's dust, shit, I can't let that happen, I won't let that happen. This is an initiation thing, a rite of passage, my manhood is being tested. I am still in second gear, they are already in fourth, I gotta make this thing go! Catch up! Zoom!

“Yeehaw, come on Joe!”

Whoosh! Curt zooms by me. Fuck! I gotta figure out this goddamned machine, right now! Fourth! Holy shit the dust! I can barely see a thing. I am going 60 kms an hour and I have no idea where I am going. I better slow it down a bit, follow the dust. Keep up, but, keep back. Ye gods, can Kurt ever ride a quad.

It wasn't long before Kurt was little more than a dot in the distance. I notice him slow down, then turn off the main road and onto a smaller woods road to the left. Huzzah, here was my chance to catch up.

Kurt now stopped, sits idling, waiting for me. I slow down and manipulate the quad onto the rougher, wetter road.

“You alright? Think you can keep up?” Kurt says, slipping his quad into gear, easing forward.

“Ya, I think so. Just keep me in mind when and if you turn off this road.” I say, rolling along beside him.

“It's a straight shot now. We will be there is a coupla minutes. Catch me if you can.” With that Kurt took off. The race, an unfair one, was on.

I tried my best to stay on Kurt's tail, but he was just too strong a rider. He attacked each big bump or wet patch, he had no trouble getting air. Me, well, I eased into the bumps and tried to avoid the wet patches. The race was over before it began. Think of it as a learning experience, I tell myself. You told a white lie to Derek, your experience with 3 wheelers and dirt bikes was an exaggeration at best. Hell, what does it matter? You are doing it, you have figured it out.

It wasn't long, maybe five minutes, before I noticed Derek, Ed and Kurt sitting helmet-less on their quads.

“This the spot?” I ask, now stopped, getting my first look around.

“Yep, welcome to paradise. Isn't she a beauty?” Kurt says, I can't tell if he is being serious or sarcastic.

We were surrounded in every direction by a treeless void. It was as if a bomb had been set off. Aside from the occasional flipped up stump, there was no sign of life for as far as the eye could see. This is the first time I had ever been in a clear cut and man oh man, what an ugly example of greedy human destruction.


Friday, February 19, 2010

Who says Canadians are polite?

Oh New Brunswick politics, never a dull moment.

Friday Funhouse at the NAD: Caption This!

I know ole Dubyah is an easy target, but he's just so much fun. Enjoy the Bush Wacking!

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Caption This!!

She may be too easy (to make fun of) but who cares? It's all in fun.

You`ll Love My Nuts!


Oh and for a little more fun, look at this:

Saturday, February 6, 2010


As opposed to the OLD SHIT
with all of its damned
structure and pre-planning.
All of its thought,
the hair pulling,
all the thinking aback.

Some of the OLD SHIT is ongoing,
until again, I move on.
Until I stuff it in a box
with the OLDER SHIT,
where it will sit gathering
waiting to be forgotten
like the rest of the

Friday, February 5, 2010

Friday Lament

Why haven't I posted a blessed thing this week? What the bloody hell is wrong with me? Have I dried up? Have I poured too often from the pitcher? Is there no creative juice left? What if I squeeze my eyes really tight, make a concentrated effort? I fear doing so will cause nothing but brainfarts. *pfft* Ugh.

But there you have it. It is not just this blog that I have neglected. I have also neglected the novel and a new poetry project. Bof, so is that how it goes? Do I blame the time of the year? Can I? Do I get a flyer because I live in the Great White North and it is February? Hell I am lucky I am functioning at all. SAD is brutal stuff, Google it. But that's not all it, nah, that is the just the easy answer. Is it simply distraction? Too many shiny objects. Pixels and hundreds of channels, music and sports, words and pretty pictures. Maybe I simply can't keep up...? I dunno?

So I rant through the rut. Writing around the writer's block, by writing about writer's block. A cheap trick, one I have used before and one I will use again. If only to keep my fingers in shape. So there!