Comedic Interlude

Have you ever noticed how sometimes cars are a good indication of the people who drive them? It’s almost like automobile fate. Like the magician who drives a Rabbit. The geologist who drives a Topaz. The poet who drives a Stanza. The transvestite who drives a hybrid.

I knew a young girl who was a bit sleazy. She jumped around from boyfriend to boyfriend. Drove a Caprice. Caprice. Capricious. Never satisfied. I shoulda told you you had to study for this. She got old, married a few times and now she has a Caprice Classic. She got pretty rich, all those marriages. Lives in a big house, has a maid… who drives a Duster. Still chasing the young fellas around though in her NEW car, a Mercury Cougar.

Yeah that old gal got around. She wasn’t a hooker though. I DID know a girl who was. She walked the streets for years until she had saved enough to buy her SELF a Hummer. I told her if she had just taken better care of herself she could have had an Escort years before.

I never, uh, used her services though. As far as you know that’s not how I met her. She was friends with a girl I DID know though. Boy was SHE a tease! Dated her for a while and don’t think I even got to second base with her. As I remember she drove a Honda Prelude. Prelude to a shag, that’s what she was.

The day trader who drives a Venture. Math teacher who drives a Matrix. Singer who drives a Soul. Tonto, Robin, Art Garfunkle… they all drove Suzuki Sidekicks.

This reminds me of an accident I saw one time. It was awful. But I couldn’t look away! A Mustang nailed a Pinto, which, of course, exploded then turned into a Pony.

The mayor of my hometown drives a Civic. I know an animal doctor who drives a Vette. My optometrist drives a smart car. Yeah the CDI. (See dee eye?) Hey I know there’s a 5 drink minimum but try to keep up.

You see a lot of male porn stars driving around in Mitsubishi Lancers. And, yes, it’s true… most of them are black.

Another accident I heard about. This Rogue hit a Saloon and somehow ended up on a Quest. Or maybe it was an Odyssey. Anyway, almost rear ended a Ranger AND a Cherokee. But just missed the Fit.

I lived in Korea for 10 years. A buddy of mine just immigrated to Canada last year. He has an Accent. He was gonna buy an Outlander but I told him Canada’s not like that. If it wasn’t for his Accent he woulda got a Patriot.

Yeah he just gets here and already he’s driving around. I’m jealous. I don’t have a car but I really want one. At this point I’ll take anything that runs. I don’t care what it is. I just don’t give a shit. I’ll probably end up with a Cavalier.

Friend of mine thought he’d be smart and buy the cars that would decide his future. He wanted to travel the world and golf so he went out and bought a Lincoln Continental and a Volkswagen Golf. He joined the U.S. Navy, saw all the continents and took some shrapnel in the Persian Gulf. That’s what he gets for messing with his automobile fate.

Then there are these cars with nonsense names. The best ones are things that sound like they might be something. Solara. Sounds like something you put on a burn. Altima. When you come home too late you get that from the wife. Achieva. What you can do if you believa. If you want my impression… well I got the mike, if you want my impression or NOT really. They should change that. If you want my impression here’s Pat Sajack as a character from Sesame Street: “Psssst, hey! Hey you! You wanna buy a vowel?”

Where was I? Whether or not you want my impression, here it is: I WANT the job making up names for cars. Somebody sits around stringing random letters together, banging on the keyboard or rolling Boggle dice: “Qfornk. Does that sound like anything? Could that be anything? Could sell. Never know.” And they get very well paid for every name they sell. Since, as we all now know, people tend to gravitate toward cars that suit their personalities, if I had this job, I’d invent my car names with that in mind. A car for gay men, the Volkswagen Recter. “Recter? Damn near KILLED her!” Car for gay women, the Hyundai Pye. The car I seem destined to drive, the Nissan Hunkajunk. It’s a car for young folks just starting out.

The Nissan Hunkajunk


I’m getting older though. My wife was joking with me in bed the other night. Said I used to be like a Mazda Zoom Zoom. Now I’m more like a Mitsubishi Endeavor. But I’m over 40… a classic. Men over 40 learn what the three most feared words in English are. Not “I love you.” Nope. (rubber glove gesture) “Try to relax.” You gotta get it done though like a good 10,000 kilometer tune-up. Had the old prostate exam, which is misnamed. My proctologist checked more than just the prostate. As Brent Butt, (ironically enough), says, “It’s like a guy fishing around for the last pickle in the jar.” It was uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. But I distracted myself from the discomfort by concentrating on one important thing: that at NO time did he have more than one hand on my shoulder. So when Dr. Seymour Assman was FINALLY done he told me I was his last patient of the day and offered me a ride home… IN HIS BROWN PROBE.

Farewell Lee Jong Beom

Do you know this guy? Probably not, but I would be remiss if I did my weekly blog entry on anything but his retirement. He is a member of my favourite Korean baseball team, the Kia Tigers. Has been since 1993 when they were the Hae Tae Tigers. He is somewhat of a hero in Korea and a SUPERhero in Gwangju, where I spent most of my time while in Korea. Amongst members of the KBO, (Korea Baseball Organization), he is a legend. And to Tigers fans he is a veritable GOD!

Nicknamed "Param I Adeul" or "Son of the wind" for his speed, he stole 73 bases in his rookie season. The next year, 1994, he had his miracle season and his legend took root. Imagine a batting average of .400. It's kind of an unreachable dream in professional baseball. If anyone in any league gets .400 he's an instant phenom! Lee Jong Beom hit .393 in 1994! Absolutely unheard of! Even TWO ninety three is a fantastic average.

Imaginge getting 200 hits. Ichiro gets a 200-hit season every year it seems but he's a freak. 10 seasons in a row I think. A FREAK! But other than him and Gwynn, who are probably the two best hitters ever, you check out 200-hit seasons and the list reads like an All Star game roster. But usually it only happened once or maybe twice for the players on the list. The majors have a 162-game season while the KBO only plays a 133-game campaign. He got 196 hits in '94. That's well over a 200-hit season in the majors.

Imagine stealing 100 bases. You have to go back to the 80's when Vince Coleman and Ricky Henderson were just running every single time they got on base to see the last time that happened in the majors. They got thrown out a lot too and although I don't have that stat for Lee Jong Beom, he got 84 stolen bases in 1994 and I KNOW he had a much better stealing percentage than Henderson or Coleman. And here's a mind-blowing stat: he hit into 2 double plays. TWO!

The next year the Tigers came in fourth place when Lee Jong Beom was doing his mandatory military service. They won the series the next year while he was still in the military and the year he got out of the military, they won it again. He missed the two seasons following arguably the best year of anyone EVER in the KBO! How many nights of sleep have been lost by how many Tiger fans contemplating what he might have done if he weren't doing push-ups and marching for his country in '95 and '96? Like those two lost years, it will always be a mystery.

He had some other great seasons too. In 1997 he got 30 homers and 60 stolen bases. You know how many times that has been done in the majors? None. The 30-30 club is VERY exclusive. And only 4 guys have done the 40-40 thing. But NEVER a 30-60 man! He also had 25-57 and 20-50 years.

He was a major part of the Hae Tae Tigers winning 2 of their 9 KBO championships in a 15 year stretch. And he won ONE glorious championship with the KIA Tigers, while I watched. He has never missed a KBO All Star Game. He has an amazing career in international baseball for Korea. His career was a classy as could be, but everyone knew the day was coming when Lee Jong Beom would hang up the cleats, put the glove in the garage, and swap the chewing tobacco for sunflower seeds.

It was tonight. Or technically tomorrow night. I was up at 3 AM watching the ball game. Though it was often in doubt, thankfully the Tigers pulled out the win for their fifth in a row. And Lee Jong Beom had the game of his LIFE! 8 hits, 5 walks, 6 runs, 6 RBI's, a win, a save and 5 strike-outs! I told you he was a stud! Then the lights were turned down and in flies Lee Jong Beom on a parasail fan bike dealy with sparks coming out the rear end. Only for a guy like Lee Jong Beom would I sit through the ensuing shmaultz! Korea! Sometimes they can pile on the cheese. At one point they were singing one of his songs which translates into "Lee Jong Beom, Lee Jong Beom, get a hit Lee Jong Beom" and he wasn't even on the field. A bit hokey but I didn't care. It was a pretty good tribute.

My favourite part was the fact that every player wore a jersey with Lee Jong Beom's number 7 AND his name on the back! Hence the bloated stat line above.

Never seen that before. Hats off to the KBO for allowing them to do that! I've said it before and I'll say it again: it was the very best thing about Korea.

I cheered for Lee Jong Beom and sang his cheer songs the whole 10 seasons he was a Kia Tiger. My favourite was the Pepsiman superhero music after which all the fans shouted LEE JONG BEOM! That's pretty much how we think of him. Even though Pepsiman was a bit of a blunderer, he was a superhero, and so was Lee Jong Beom.

I have taken quite a few pictures of him in action, one of which he heard me ask for and posed. That was a highlight of my baseball watching career in Korea. If there were ANY place in the entire country of Korea where a guy my size could get a Kia Tigers jersey, (that was embroidered, not iron on), I would have one with his number 7 and name on it. I tried for YEARS to find one but to no avail. I STILL want a shirt like that! Now more than ever.

If you ask a true Tiger fan who his/her favourite player is they'll probably have 2. I am a true Kia Tiger fan and if asked I would say, "Yoon Seok Min... and Lee Jong Beom, of course." He is tied for the favourite player of anyone who really gets Tiger baseball. He is one of those guys whose influence on the franchise is immeasurable and I must admit I got a tear in my eye while watching the farewell ceremonies. I'll miss seeing number 7 taking his cuts and tracking down fly balls in the field but he had a great career and went out with class. Farewell Lee Jong Beom.

What's Your Point?

We've all seen this if we are followers of any sport to any degree. There's an awful lot to talk and think about here so I love it for that reason. On the other hand I got thinking yesterday about how dearly I would just ONE time love to see an athlete get a goal, basket, homerun, knock out, touchdown, try, century, ace, touche, or whatever, and then point to the ground. In all likelihood that would be taken as a salute to the Evil One or the polar opposite of the point to the sky, and maybe therein lies the source of most of the controversy over these gesticulationary celebrations.

After watching the above video we all know the runner should in all fairness be pointing at the two guys who harmlessly bounced off him feebly attempting tackles. A sort of, "Thank you for sucking" point that would ALSO probably get him into trouble. His second best option would have been a self-chest slap, a point to his feet or quadraceps, or a Hulk Hogan jersey rip muscle flex although again we're entering into excessive celebration penalty territory. Even a point to the coach to acknowledge the brilliant choice of play would have made a lot more sense. To me.

I understand the religious reverence behind a lot of these celebrations and that the player may not be thanking the Man upstairs for including that particular play in His predetermined destiny for the cosmos but for giving him the health, wealth and good fortune to be in a country, family and state of circumstance that allowed him to practice football and reach the skill level that enabled that previous play to take place. But for some, yeah, they are. They are thinking God took the time to write their meaningless little game into the great Master Plan for this universe. For THEM I think the point to the ground I'd like to see symbolizes digging. Digging for clues, facts, knowledge, etc. However, I suspect that a point to the ground, in some games, in some areas, just might be appropriate in that that's where the athlete will be soon enough after the God-fearing spectators charge the field and lynch the poor misunderstood touchdown celebrator.

Willful ignorance is something I think there is no excuse for in this age where if we have ANY desire for knowledge we can so very easily find out what we want. Or at least read the theories. Even in matters of spirituality, which I believe are properly pursued in absence of proof, scientific or otherwise, I cannot abide those who put such exuberence into statements and shows of belief and so little into boning up on exactly what it is they are announcing to the world that they believe.

Thank you Heather for forwarding this absolutely perfect example of what I'm talking about! The Bible verse tattooed on this joker's arm is Leviticus 18:22 forbidding men to lie with men as they would with women for it is an abomination to the Lord. "Well," thought Joker, "seems clear enough. I'll just get some permanent scar on my flesh to proclaim to the world that I believe this." Tattoo of Leviticus 18:22 forbidding homosexuality: $200. Not knowing that Leviticus 19:28 forbids tattoos: priceless. "Do not scar your bodies for the dead or put tattoo marks on yourselves. I am the Lord." Leviticus 19:28 Context is a BITCH!

Leviticus also says no pig shall be eaten for though its foot is cloven it chewith not the cud. Camel on the other hand chewith the cud but its hoof is not cloven so don't eat that either. And no blood of any kind so any steak should be well done. And you shouldn't trim your beard or round the edges of your head, I guess this might mean haircuts?, (???). And in your burnt offerings salt, oil and frankinsence are a must but no leaven. No honey either. Never, never. Wonder if that's on Joker's OTHER arm...

Ever hear the song, "The Boxer"? "Still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest." It's a psychological principal with absolutely no scientific proof but it's pretty obvious to Simon, Garfunkel and me. When we live life there are plenty of examples of human behaviour to back this up. Scientific method is our perception and replication is what happens when we've been on the Earth for a while. It's quite interesting how the mind seems to work. Even without a complete and concise understanding of why a person believes something, they will fill in blanks, assume and often in the face of massive contrary persuasion cling to their belief all the more desperately! We have psychological theories that back this up, and although I am only a half believer in psychological theories, (I believe in the logical, not the psycho part of it), they make sense.

"Closure" is one that I think is coming into play when people's belief systems are incomplete and they just don't care.

This picture is a good example of how we can ALL see things that aren't there. Well, I should never say, "all". There may be some people who can't see in this picture the face of Satan but let's move on, shall we?

Assumption is another one. We will readily assume bridges from the unknown to the confortable if it brings us back to what we want to believe or hear. And we often assume the worst as this

awesome song by the Arrogant Worms shows us. See what you miss not living in Canada?

So I guess what I'm saying is that even though a person can't, (in my opinion), possibly find evidence that God made me score this touchdown, I think it is wise for athletes who are going to brazenly brandish their beliefs in endzones, at home plate or on any field of play, to try to come to some idea, free from psychological shortcuts like closure and assumption of how their success came about. Learning is born of contention. I want my athletes to question and look for answers, not just do what they're told. THEN if they want to signal a shout-out they might not be so maligned. Who knows, they might not even be penalized.

So back to the pointing at the ground. The ground being the most natural thing on the field, (assuming it isn't Astroturf I suppose), next to the players themselves. I've played a lot of sports. And when I'm not playing them, like, ohhh the last 15 years or so, I'm watching them. If an athlete playing basketball is a foot taller than anyone else then he should celebrate a dunk by pointing to a ruler. If a swimmer has webbed feet he should point to them after breaking an Olympic record. But assuming the athletes are of similar talent, strength, size and conditioning, which they usually are nowadays, I believe there IS something that can set a player apart. It's a natural phenomenon. It has been called many things in sport: being in the zone, going with the flow, being on fire, being on one's game, feeling it, riding the bull, what have you. And having experienced this, (and can't at this moment think of anything I'd rather experience), I think it is this natural/spiritual kind of trip that these skyward pointing athletes may be giving God credit for. And I'm not saying they're wrong, I just question the point to the sky. Maybe like a father, who KNOWS some of his genes were responsible for his athletic child's success, when that child gets on camera and says, "Hi, Mom!"

Buddy, the narrator of some of my favourite short stories written by J.D. Salinger is in awe of his older brother, Seymour's athletic abilities. He asks Seymour one day how he can improve his marble playing and Seymour says, "Don't aim so much."

There is a Taoist allegory of a cook who worked for Prince Wen Hui who the prince saw carving up an ox one day. When the prince compliments the cook on his "art" the cook says it goes beyond an art. "The senses stop functioning and my spirit takes over," explained the cook. "A good cook changes his knife once a year becuase he cuts, while a mediocre cook has to change his every month because he hacks. I've had my knife for 19 years and have cut up thousands of oxen with it yet the edge is as if it were fresh from the grindstone."

How to get ready access to this "zone" this spiritual athleticism is the mystery. I think humility is a large part of tapping in to it. Almost every athlete I can think of who attained this athletic evanescent gift for an extended period of time has been extremely humble. Gretzky, Jordan, Rice, Gwynn, you LOSE that humility and - Tiger Woods. But my question is how humble IS the skyward point? It could, I suppose be viewed as giving credit to God but couldn't it also be taken and even MEANT as an unbelievably arrogant statement that the pointing athlete has somehow gained the favour of a God who has neglected the other athletes? And wouldn't then a point to the ground signifying, "I will remain grounded and won't let this success go to my head," be preferable?

I don't subscribe to the idea of punishing celebration like the NFL, (No Fun League), does. I just like to see athletes who celebrate appropriately and give credit where credit is due. The skypoint makes me want to throw a flag at the athlete like the ref in the video. Or SOMETHING...

The vid at the top was from a high school game. American high school football games attract more viewers in the States than NHL games. "Even wise men can't deal with fame and wealth." At least that's what the ancient wisdom says. For the young guys just think about what you're doing and how it will be interpreted by others. Actually think about it BEFORE you do it.

P.S. There's no face of Satan in the closure pic. I was just joshin'. Why did you see one?

The Mother of All Blog Entries

She doesn't think of me as a "fixer-upper"
She doesn't make gourmet dinners, she cooks supper
People talk when she enters a conversation, not a room
She always smells great wearing Freshly Cut Grass perfume
She'll kiss no toads ESPECIALLY if they're rich
She's not a selfish, corporate, diva bitch
She'll scratch my back if I do or don't have an itch
She won't take an I.O.U. when it's time to switch
She baits her own hooks, can explain the blue line trap
She'll say, "Hey, me too!" if I'm having a beer or a nap
She gets the utter futility of making a bed
She never tires of combing a bald guy's head
She likes my writing and says it's "ever so smart"
She secretly believes it might be art
She won't stroke my ego. She saves me from myself
If it sucks, she'll tell me. Like when I rhyme "self" with "self"
She's the love of my life. She'll spoil me for any other
She's the woman I want to be my children's mother
Surfreudipusly she resembles my Mom in some ways
I sure hope we can share many future Mother's Days

The Big Band Theory

The Big Band Theory

Long ago there was the past, ere that the beginning.
A time when wasn’t was and nothing was a being.
Before the void was brought to be, nothing brought from no thing,
from naught was wrought a symphony and Music, she did ring!

Most who played we know today as deities sublime.
The Muslim, Hindu, Christian Gods that transcend space and time.
And not yet born, in a previous life was Siddhartha Gautama,
a pre-reincarnated bonus to the diorama.

The Buddha played a bamboo flute, the bonsuri it’s called,
before he knew the plant bamboo, before his head was bald.
He swung and swayed his beaded braids and on his pipe he blew
a formative, creative tune. The essence of the new.

Yahweh, they say, was hot that day. He blasted the shofar
He’d made by hand from the horn of a ram. He’d made no rams so far.
With flurry and flourish the song was nourished by the Great Jehovah.
A signature shift, a solo riff, and the song went super-nova!

Brahman can play double reed shehnai. He can charm any snake from its jar.
He brought Vishnu and Shiva too – lead and rhythm avatar.
His shehnai tones they chilled the bones and cut the air like a knife,
and don’t look now but, holy cow, the music came to life!

Allah was there though He does not care so much for music and dance.
He played His ney like a French horn way before there was French or France.
Every note took its place in the vastness of space no longer in the abstract.
The first jam session in music’s progression was a highly creative act!

The Supreme Ultimate of Taoist renown breathed into a dizi while he sat down
and things started being as he looked around.
The planets, the air, the water the ground.
Then as fast as they started, they ended the sound.

The talent was fine, right down the line, but something seemed to lack.
They hung their instruments to dry upon the same spit rack.
The rack was abandoned, it might have been random, horns and pipes were forlorn.
The ooze primordial on the floor did comingle, behold, an amoeba was born!

Mr. Christian

Because I am single and need very little I sometimes forget the importance money has on people’s lives and how it can affect their public displays of faith and sometimes even their actual faith itself. Let me caution the reader that I don’t necessarily mean spiritual or religious faith. I am talking about membership in communities of business, occupation, philosophy, science, sports, politics, so many social arenas in which like-mindedness can be perceived as so important that it supersedes what is right and often even what the individual genuinely believes.

The easiest example of what I’m talking about IS, of course, religion or, the less disparaging, more accurate term, “spirituality.” If you’ve been to as many churches as I have you’re bound to have seen one or two of those poor lost souls who spent so much money, time and effort going through seminary, Bible college, or other spiritual training, gathered a flock of believers, built a church, and finally provided for themselves and their families a decent living only to meet with some circumstances or some knowledge that caused them to completely change their minds and lose their faith. Perhaps the loss of a child or spouse, a visit to an economically disadvantaged area, shaking hands with Dick Cheney, witnessing a natural disaster or something of that nature that would call almost any spiritual optimism into question has rendered them non-believers. But it would be a shame to waste all the years of study, the struggle, and of course MONEY! It might not even be possible to start again. So they just continue on robotically going through the motions. But now phrases of faith that once made their spirits soar with joy feel like acid dripping from their tongues. They sweat at the pulpit hoping instead of praying that the congregation doesn’t see the spirit being sucked out of them by the very words that used to enliven their hearts. Maybe the one and only thing they desire more than the ability to just defrock and scream at the top of their lungs, “I am a complete fraud!” is just making it through one more day with their families’ financial affairs intact.

As I become more worldly, well-read and misinformed, I am beginning to see this character partly obscured by the misinformation but unmistakeable nonetheless cropping up in so many instances that I am going to give him a name. Henceforth he shall be known in this entry, and possibly others, as Mr. Christian. Okay?

Now as I said this is not just a phenomenon of the church. And though it is a heinous state of affairs for the victim, I am learning to almost welcome the recognition of Mr. Christian since the alternative for me has usually been rage and/or wonder at the inexplicable fatuousness of humanity. Yes before I formally made the acquaintance of Mr. Christian I thought an awful lot of people were unwilling brain donors and halfwits. But now I know they are suffering with a spiritually degenerative disease the only treatment of which seems to be either mind altering drugs, stacks of cash or a combination of the two. I am sensing the reader may know a Mr. Christian or two but wants me to provide an example, maybe two. I’d be glad to oblige.

We ignore a million miracles a day. I believe that if a person could concentrate hard enough; could educate his/her soul; could match his/her spiritual vibration with the frequency of all nature so that we could just be aware of every miracle we confront in a single day there would be no religious bickering. We would all just KNOW the truth, the light, the Tao and debate would be so unnecessary it would not be a consideration. But then life would be too easy wouldn’t it? I don’t believe God can be proved or disproved. But I also believe that the desire for proof, the necessity of it is a very human and unenlightened idea. The Christians say Heaven is within you and every man has been given the measure of faith. Taoists believe that the Supreme Ultimate is beyond the power of human words to describe or human thoughts to encompass. But each person has in his/her mind a concept of it. If one is true to one’s Self and follows Its teachings, who need be without a teacher? God is not something you can PROVE, we have to just “be still and know that I am God.” (Psalm 46:10)

Ah, but the fools have their teachers too. Words seem different from the chirping of birds but is there really a difference? When I hear guys like Richard Dawkins chirping on about how nature is an inanimate, unintelligent, non-sentient, unfeeling force yet it makes selections, (natural selection-a moron’s oxymoron), to purposefully bring about strategic genetic mutations, I am positive I see Mr. Christian! This is just one of many examples of things Dawkins writes about and lectures about that are now very commonly called, “scientifically proven theories.” HUH? It’s almost painful to watch him try to overjargonize and slickly sophistrate theory after theory that has pseudoscientific backing at best and hard science DISproving it far beyond that which science deems scientifically necessary. If you watch him closely he’ll usually resort to the “I know you are but what am I” argument. Has nothing changed since the kindergarten sandbox? What I mean is tomorrow you might just hear Dawkins say, “Overzealous religious fanatics try to prove God using theory after theory that has pseudoscientific backing at best and hard science DISproving it far beyond that which science deems scientifically necessary.” He has become what he has learned to hate and it’s eating away at him. He’s like a criminal who wants to be caught. And because I chose to read him before I criticized him, I will never question his intelligence or his way with words. That’s why I just KNOW he can’t believe the crap he’s shoveling. But it IS still keeping him a high paid guest speaker and best-selling author amongst those who will ingest just about anything as long as there isn’t a deity as one of the ingredients.
I think to date his most brilliant accomplishment was figuring out how to defrock himself in front of his flock of disbelief-suspenders announcing that he is a fraud without looking like a complete and utter plonker. He actually did it when he said that he is “6.9 out of 7 positive that God does not exist.” That satisfied his hordes of previously convinced while at the same time giving God a 1 in 70 chance of existence. This, when you consider the scientifically calculated odds of the simplest new species being formed by genetic mutation was 1 in 3.6X10 to the 2738th power against, is a virtual admittance of God.

Chuang Tsu says if one side is right while the other is wrong and the other is right while the one is wrong, the best thing to do is look beyond the right and wrong. I think this means that only trivialities lend themselves to bickering and quarrels. Another smart man, Hannibal Lecter once said, “Look inside yourself.” For that which is important I think this is good advice.

I also get a bit tired of the politician/businessperson, (because, who’s kidding who, are they really separate entities nowadays?), command performances any time there is a “March On” protest these days. Talking about “ill-defined messages,” “general incoherence,” comparing to Stalin’s Russia, showing pictures of one dumb, pot-smoking, bandwagon-jumping, dissident who with his flattened out beer case made the sign, “Tax the rich,” and saying, “Gee, we just don’t get it! We can’t understand! We want to help but you aren’t making your message clear to us!” Then you see some sycophantic columnist hoping to score some points with the 1%, (which in Canada starts at around 250,000 bucks a year REPORTED income and we all know that a stat like this has a very high degree of variability), or at least be invited to one of their New Year’s Eve parties write a column entitled, “TAKE from the RICH.” And in the column the obvious issue that the whole world knows is never mentioned: We just want the rich to be taxed EVENLY. Warren Buffett did not say his secretary was taxed more than him, he said she was taxed at a higher RATE than him. I heard from a reliable source, Geoff Loomer a former tax lawyer and professor of law at Dalhousie U. that any Canadian making half a million a year in Nova Scotia should not be paying taxes. Any Canadian making a million a year in Nova Scotia ISN’T. What do you figure the numbers for Ontario and B.C. would be?

THIS is the truth folks. Somebody in a position a bit too powerful got a bit too drunk and let the cat out the bag. That’ll happen in Nova Scotia. If you throw in facts like capital gains tax has been provincially and federally eliminated for the rich, though the rest of us poor schmucks still pay it; a euphemism I love “tax shelters” abound for the rich and they don’t have to go to the Cayman Islands, the Cayman Islands come to them; the entrance fees for immigrant investors – never used to improve Canada as is ostensibly their purpose; you have to BE a millionaire to be an immigrant investor in Canada, nothing else; there is a competition for the most obscene tax waste in Canada every year that includes things like Quebec plows plowing roads with no snow on them getting government employees work despite weather conditions and getting government employees work in the summer repairing damaged roads; and you throw in your worst waste of Canadian tax payers money here; it seems to me like the middle class in Canada is getting a political rodgering like the H & R Block commercial. You’ve seen it. The one where the doctor is viewing the behind of the patient and diagnosing the problem as “tax pains.” At least I think it’s an H&R Block commercial. That’s Canada in a nutshell. Victims of annual political sodomy and still keeping that stiff upper lip! The fact is the very wealthiest of Canadians are able to arrange their taxes so that they are paying nothing. This makes the oh-so-usual reasons for paying taxes here ring a little tinny eh? “You have a civic duty!” “If you don’t pay tax you can’t complain about the government.” “It is tantamount to treason to avoid your patriotic duty to your country.”

Perhaps the bigger issue here is what do the folks with all the REAL money hear? THEY’RE the ones who need to hear all this. They're the ones taking every opportunity NOT to help their own country. And they are the ones best equipped, (since they are filthy rich and won't notice the expense), to do so. The middle class of Canada, who feel the pinch to a greater degree, is supporting this country and if I were prime minister I would give them ALL a few years OFF taxes altogether! TAX the RICH! EVENLY! It’s pretty simple. SO simple that you absolutely KNOW these politicians, who, let’s face it, even though we might hate their guts, are chosen for their intelligence, they KNOW they are chosen for their abilities to ameliorate the masses. I don’t want to be ameliorated any more! I want to be dealt with as someone who is worthy of putting in the effort for! I don’t want to be addressed from parliament by Mr. Christian any more! These phonies may have once believed that they were in it to help Canada and the people of our wonderful country but money has a way of changing all that. If they could THEY would all scream from the Rocky Mountaintops that they are frauds. But alcohol and one good deed in ten keeps them thinking that they are not damaging the social fabric of the nation.

I am sure I could go on and on with the snakeoil salesmen and three-card corner practitioners I think are just a bunch of Mr. Christians who have realized that their faith is gone long after the realization that their faith is unnecessary to the furtherance of their profession. But I don’t want to tax my reader too much. This is already too long. I invite you to give my comments about your own Mr. Christians. I’m sure you have them…