Have a SAFE New Year

Well it's New Year's Eve here in the mighty metropolis of Jakarta. There's a stage set up at the end of the "jalan ticos" or "mouse street" that I live on in preparation for some partying tonight. For a country that is so full of Muslims, things have been absolutely dead since even before Christmas. I'm sure there'll be plenty of carrousing tonight and sleeping it off tomorrow. Then hopefully January 2nd things will start rolling around here. I have a ton of stuff to do!

I keep seeing well-wishers telling friends to have a "safe and prosperous" or a "healthy and safe" new year, a year full of love, happiness and safety, and so on and so forth. It seems safety has become a bit more important this year. I don't know if there are more people frightened out of their wits than usual, if those wishing to keep us all that way are working harder than usual, if the world is less safe than usual or maybe I'm just noticing the word "safe" more than ever. Not sure. But let's just see how safe we are, shall we?

Ever just sit down and think of how many times a day you take your life into your hands, or put it in the hands of another person? I mean just get yourself really really bored sometime and start thinking about this. It's uncanny! We trust thousands of total strangers every day with our fragile, little lives! You're saying, "Thousands? Come on, Dave!" I'd be willing to bet that most days it's in the TENS of thousands or even HUNDREDS of thousands. You don't think so? Okay just think of the food we eat. How many deaths were there in 2014 as a result of contaminated food? As usual the stats are hard to come by for most places so we'll have to look at the U.S. As far as I can read on the internet there are 3000 to 9000 deaths a year in the U.S. caused by foodborne illnesses, diseases and contaminations. And if the food is perfectly fine there are 3000 deaths every year just by choking on it.

Think of how many people are directly responsible for the food you ate today. Even if it's something as simple as a piece of fruit, an apple, just imagine how many people have had a perfectly good chance to touch, or contaminate your apple in some way. There's the seed manufacturers and sellers, the planter, the grower, all the people at every stage of production of all the sprays, fertilizers, waxes and whatnot the grower uses during the growing process, there's the people responsible for checking and maintaining the purity of the water used to water the apple tree that grew your apple, the pickers, the handlers, the boxers, the transporters, the wholesalers, the grocers, every customer at the grocery store during the time that piece of fruit was on display, the supermarket clerk, and finally you. You can get into greater detail. There are also the kids in the neighbourhood of the orchard who snuck in on Halloween night and stole apples from the tree your apple grew on. There are the nearby factories that belch contaminants into the sky that get into the clouds that get into the rain that falls into the ground that gets sucked up by the roots of your apple's tree. I mean you can really go crazy and talk about every creature throughout the years that has contributed to the make-up of the soil that your apple's apple tree grew in. If you dwell too deeply on this, you can drive yourself around the bend.


And speaking of driving, think of how many people could kill you every time you go for just a short drive. Not just your fellow motorists who breeze by you going in the opposite direction an arms length or two away at speeds that, when combined with your speed, would obliterate you in a head-on collision if the other driver, or you, should for whatever reason just jerk the steering wheel two inches the wrong way. I'm talking about every worker on every assembly line at every factory that worked on every single part of that car you are driving. Just take one part, I dunno, a lynch pin in the axle let's say. It was manufactured 10 years ago in a small, rural area of Northern China at a factory where people can make better wages than they can farming so long as they work more than the 12-hour days they are contracted for. Imagine one day a sleepy, 12-year-old who had just finished three 18-hour shifts in a row and was in a state of fatigue in which motor skills were deteriorating was working the lynch pin sealant line in the factory. This is a conveyor belt with metal lynch pins on it and workers with hoses spraying anti-oxidant coating on the lynch pins. Cheaper than making them with rust proof material! Well Wang Chung, just one of the 100,000 people you are trusting today, that 12-year-old boy who is now 22 and attending college with all the money he saved from his job at the lynch pin factory, (yeah right!), nodded off for a minute and didn't spray 10 or 15 lynch pins. One of those lynch pins is holding the left front wheel onto your Toyota Carolla. It's been rusting for ten years and at this very moment it snaps and your left front wheel comes off your Carolla and you lose control hurtling off a hundred-foot cliff and into a colony of fire ants on the ground below. All because you unknowingly trusted Wang Chung 10 years ago to stay awake on the lynch pin sealant line.


Now just imagine how many hundreds, or maybe thousands of those very same scenarios happen to us every single day! I swear germaphobes have it the worst! But if you really sat down and thought about things you'd realize that there is absolutely no way of avoiding exposing ourselved to a bazillion germs every day. We try to wash, or sanitize our hands as often as we can but after a few million million million microbes, who's counting really? Microbes, folks. They've been around since the days when the oceans routinely boiled and they represent all the deadly viruses, plagues, bacteria and fungi of many millennea. There are more microbes on your hand right now than there are people on the earth. I don't care how recently you used your hand sanitizer. You might put toilet paper on the seat before you use a public toilet but then you flush using the same handle or button that everybody all day has used then open the door twisting the same lock they twisted unlocked then turn on the same tap that they did then crank the same towel dispenser crank and exit using the door knob that they all used on the door to the washroom. All this time mixing microbes. You use the same buttons on the bank machine as 100 other people with millions of different microbes each. You hold the same handle on the bus as 50 different people. You can try to avoid touching what other people have touched but then you will open a door and it's like shaking hands with dozens of people and a whole history worth of microbes! Phones, shopping cart handles, lightswitches, computers, tables, and then we touch our faces and self-administer all those germs. It's estimated that we touch our faces once every three minutes and that 80% of infectious diseases are transmitted by touch.


Every time you walk on a sidewalk there could be a 100-foot drop below and you are trusting the sidewalk to be thick enough to sustain your weight. Forget about that, we are just trusting that we won't trip and fall. (6000 deaths a year) We speed through intersections even though faulty traffic lights are responsible for thousands of deaths a year. (2000 in the U.S. alone) Elevator cables sometimes break. (30 deaths and 17,000 injured every year in the U.S.) How often are you in elevators? We go outside even though we know we'll get a mosquito bite or two. (800,000 deaths a year by mosquito) Tonight there will be a lot of champagne drunk even though every year 24 people are killed by champagne corks! I'm not making that up! Even the buildings you go in and out of every day. Are they safe? One of my friends here in Jakarta had the roof of her office collapse from the weight of rain on it. Apparently that happens a lot in the rainy season here. Roads cave in. Sinkholes. Disappearing planes. Crashes, earthquakes, tsunamis, Ebola, ISIS, wild animal attacks... it's no wonder people are getting so preoccupied with safety!


Or maybe it's not really that kind of safety people are worried about. There are so many other examples of false safety we have! Ever seen a handcuff key? It's a little metal shaft with a bump on it. Every set of handcuffs known to man has the same key. Duplication is a cinch. Yet you could have Ted Bundy in a room full of female college co-eds wrestling in Barbecue sauce and if he was cuffed, "No danger there. He won't rape, kill or eat anyone because he has these infallable safety restraints around his wrists!" When I was a security guard I had a couple handcuff keys on me at all times. I'm sure a lot of guards do. Just one example in a world choc - o - block full of false security.


I would be remiss if I didn't mention the growing world, (and shrinking safety), of technology. I'm not going to ask how many people HAVE had a bank account hacked into or an incident of credit card fraud. How many people HAVEN'T? How hard do banks and credit card companies try to keep THIS fact a mystery? With the recent Sony hack, how safe does THAT make you feel???


But you know, there are simple solutions to all of these problems. Interac, cashless environments on flights or in hotels, mandatory credit card imprint or number for registration, and other such things are trying to force us all into the unsafe world of credit but I can't remember the last time I heard a story about a house being broken into and a person's saving being stolen from their house safe. Or from their mattress for that matter. I admit there are a few conveniences to credit. I have been travelling, run out of cash and been unable to get any more from the bank machine. I really wanted a credit card then. But had I known a country could just shut down its bank machines, I would have brought more cash. Philippines...


I'm here to tell you that I touch my face FAR more often than once every three minutes and I don't wash my hands all that often. I shake people's hands, high five, use public toilets without my hasmat suit, judge leftovers by smelling them, employ the five second rule for dropped food, I live dangerously! Ironicallly this might be the safest way to do things. I just never get sick any more. A cold here and there but that's it. I think it's got a lot to do with not sweating the small stuff. Can't get much smaller than a microbe. But it also has a lot to do with living a reasonably healthy life. I exercise and eat my fruits and veggies. I fight sickness with strong biological immunity not drugs. I am reasonable, not paranoid, in my cleanliness.


As for bank and internet security, they're not secure. I understand that. So I try to use banks as little as possible and I try not to do anything that I might have to keep a secret. Simple.


When you think about it the world is a dangerous place, our lives are tennuous gifts that are in moment to moment peril no matter what we try to do to change that and EEERRR verybody is living dangerously. Coconuts fall on the heads of a lot of people every year. 150 people die from kepala to the kelapa (coconut to the head). Lightning kills 24,000 people every year. So sleep well knowing all of these dangers, my beloved readers, (450 people a year die from falling out of bed). 20 people in the U.S. alone die every year from COW attacks! That's no bull! Cow! Somehow 100 people a year die from hot tap water! How does that even work??? I guess there are a lot of deaths every year from just being stupid. When you know something is dangerous, it's probably best to avoid it. It is astounding how many people just can't obey this advice! In fact they are somehow driven to the opposite! For them there is no help but eternal peace, but for most of us, all we need to do is be reasonably careful.

I added this pic because I can't upload vids to my blog again. It comes and goes that ability. But just go to youtube and search for croc or log and you'll see it. It's funny because it's true.


So anyways, I don't want to wish you a safe new year. It sounds just a bit paranoid to me. All I want to say from the bottom of my heart to all my readers is just take care of yourselves, don't be stupid and try not to do anything you have to keep secret.

Tropical Funk

Do you remember the days when sleep was the enemy? I do. I recall the strangest of psychological pathologies we sometimes call wide-eyed wonder that made me fight off the dropsies, you know, when your eyelids are heavily dropping and your head is too and your chin hits your chest and you force your leaden eyelids open again for fear of missing even a little of the miraculous stuff of which existence is composed? Do you remember getting up early when you didn’t have to? I do. Bolting out of bed to meet a new day open to all of the stimulation that life has in store for you.

I bolted out of bed today. One of the cleaners at my kost had put a key into the keyhole of my door. They do that, about once a month, when they have decided to clean the room for me. I have taken to leaving my key in the keyhole for this reason. They cleaner’s key won’t go in all the way so he knows I am home and he doesn’t need to clean. Not that the place couldn’t use it, I just feel helplessly awkward hovering over the guy as he scrubs my mold, slime and build-up off the toilet, sink and shower floor. As he sweeps my hair, dead skin, food particles and the occasional finger or toenail off my floor. And especially when he strips the bed of sheets, pillow cases and the superfluous blanket all soaked in the tropical funk that every pore on my body exudes during sleep here in Indonesia, air conditioning or no. Though I have grown accustomed to the staff here, and vice versa, I bolted out of bed saying, “No, no! No cleaning!” because I’d really rather not have them walking in on me in my old and holy Kiss drawers and nothing else.

Ha ha. “Tropical funk.” Sounds like a new kind of music. I’m picturing Phil Bailey from Earth Wind and Fire doing a reggae song in his super high voice. Ha ha ha. Tropical funk.

While I HAVE grown accustomed to the cleaning and security boys here, I am still a long way from growing accustomed to the heat. It’s just hot. Every day. And now, in the rainy season, it’s hot and more humid than usual. Rainy season trumps the Christmas season. At least it did this year. The yuletide joy and festivities aren’t really observed so much here. When I was a boy pretty much right after Remembrance Day till the second day of the new year it was extreme bolt-outta-bed season. What holiday event, TV show, TV commercial, decoration, food, observance, tradition, visiting relative or whatever might make today exciting? That’s what charged me awake and opened my eyes with an electric jolt that bypassed the morning dreariness and launched me straight into activity.

This morning I got up, stayed in bed rubbing my eyes and trying to keep myself from dozing off again for about an hour. Then the bladder more than joie de vivre encouraged me to face the day somewhat upright. I sat at my computer, my all but decorative, wifi-less computer, and caffeinated while checking the internet connection. Every single weekend the internet is jammed here. I don’t know why but I’ve grown accustomed to that too. I reluctantly added shorts and my Hard Rock Café Fukuoka T-shirt to my holy Kiss gotch in order to exit my room. I grabbed both of my plastic, made in Malaysia, Lock & Lock water containers. The 1.2 litre I carried in my left hand and the 1.5 litre, still with a swallow of water in it, I tucked under my left arm like a football. Then I bent over to pick up a previously tied off grocery bag of garbage and the swallow of water went all over it and the floor behind the door. That happens more than I’d care to admit. Still, I can blame it on the morning groggies.

I opened my door and made my way to the community kitchen. I dropped my dripping garbage bag next to the kitchen garbage can and proceeded to the water machine to fill up on water. I need a lot of it here in Indonesia since I turn so much of it into sweat. On the way back to my room I ran into one of the Nigerian dudes who lives upstairs to me and we exchanged cordial greetings. I put my water containers into the door of the fridge in my room, then went back outside my door to tend to the router. I am just tall enough to reach it on its elevated, wall mounted platform. While the cleaner guy had a cigarette and watched I took the router down, pulled out the power cord, counted ten and plugged it back in. Time to get on Facebook and check on my games, do some online fishing and maybe comment on a few posts or chat with someone. These are the things that sometimes DO get my lazy ass, (or my lazy ass ass), outta bed on the mornings I don’t have to work. This is one of them. December 29th. It’s a Monday. I would normally have some classes to teach but not this holiday sandwich Monday. In fact for me it’s a job sandwich Monday. I am down to my final client with the place I'm working. I’ve talked to the boss and he knows I’m moving on to greener pastures. I’m still not sure if I will teach Mr. Yoo, my last client, into the new year or not. I’ll have to talk to Mr. Yoo and the boss man about that. I will also have to find out from Herry, the guy who lets me stay in the room I am in, when I need to vacate it.

Last I heard Herry had relatives coming who needed the room in January sometime. I have another friend/benefactor named Rica who has a house that she has offered to me rent free whenever I have to leave. I’m just trying to prep for the move in any way I can right now. You know, not buying much food, especially heavy stuff like cans; collecting boxes and bags; throwing out useful but unnecessary things that have built up like glass jam jars and other such containers. I can rebuild my supplies in the new place.

Then there’s the concerns about upcoming interviews and job changes. I really won’t be doing anything until well into the new year about these things so I should just relax and try not to worry. I should keep some Tropical Funk song like Phil Bailey singing “Every leetle teeng gon be alright ya’ll…” in my head. But I’m like the sheep herder played by Seth MacFarlane in his movie “A Million Ways to Die In the West.” Traffic? Glacial internet? Lack of noise bylaws? Heat? Sweat? Crappy phone service? Crappy taxi service? Crappy service? Hello? Is this thing on? Am I the only one? Then somebody in the bar stands up and says, “Why don’t you shut up?” and slugs me. I fall through a window out onto the street and rub a little blood from the corner of my mouth with the back of my wrist. Then I smoke some weed with a friend to relax while listening to “Every leetle teeng… gon be alright, mon.” and I get even MORE paranoid! “That rat that crawled out of the open roadside ditch there? See him? He KNOWS!!! HE KNOWS EVERYTHING!!! I’m not swallowing right…”

I could make a movie. Heh heh. But seriously, I have done a little bit of Christmassy stuff here. The day before Christmas I was invited to a karaoke party by my friend and former co-worker, Tessa. I didn’t go because I had to play Santa the next afternoon at the Shangri La Hotel and wasn’t sure I’d be able to sing anything without some irresponsible drinking. Hindsight being 20/20 I realize now I should have gone and just sung in my best falsetto, “Don’t worry… about a teeng. Every leetle teeng… gon be alright, mon.” But I didn’t want Santa to be the stereotypical down on his luck boozer just picking up some extra holiday hours as Santa to finance a few bottles of holiday cheer. Hmmm…

Anyways, I didn’t go to Tessa’s party and I was bright eyed and bushy tailed for my gig as the Santa at Shangri La. My former student, Rica, has a sort of party planning business and she suggested that I be Santa months before this. I had expected more than 3 hours of work but one thing led to another and three hours at the Shangri La was all I got. Now I was treated to a GORGEOUS buffet at the Snangri La Hotel early on in my stay here by Annemarie. You may remember that blog post with the bad oysters. Poor A.M…. heee heee hee. It’s a very nice hotel. Upscale. And I’d been told that I would be spending most of my time indoors. I was going to be Santa for 3 hours at a special kids party where kids, (of well-to-do parents), have activities, games, toys, crafts, snacks and a bit of a party and they have Santa and Barney there too. So I assumed there would be air conditioning, and there was. In every corner of the recreation room we were using there was an air conditioner. But they were all off! I saw some of the KIDS sweating in this room! And, hey, Barney was a skinny, young, Indonesian dude and he was sweating like a madman too!

I’m wearing a red velvet, well lined Santa suit that had fur all over it and would have sufficed for an Everest attempt, plus all the beard, mustache and head hair, PLUS a furry, well lined Santa cap on top of that. I think the suit was for an outdoor Santa. Outdoor in Christmas-like conditions in a Christmas celebrating country that is. There I was in the hot, and rainy season humid, air trying to be jolly while hoping the copious lining would soak up the sweat and people wouldn’t see salt stains on the Santa suit. Seriously I had to take off the white gloves half way through because they were soaked in sweat and people were no longer shaking Santa’s hand. My glasses were fogging up and probably worst of all, my bottom lip was getting numb. I have heard this mostly happens to children but it’s a sign that you are dangerously dehydrated. I had a piece of gum so that Santa’s breath wouldn’t stink but the beard and mustache hair had already mixed with that. Combined with the numb bottom lip I was saying things to the kids like, “And wblere you a good blwoy blwis year?” Which shouldn’t have been TOO bad because some of the kids spoke only Indonesian, but, being children of the better off parents of Indonesia, and some of them being kids of foreigners, I’d say 90% spoke English. To make matters worse there was ANOTHER Santa wandering around the place. I didn’t see him but a lot of the kids saw him when they were outside in the fishing pool, riding horses, swimming, in the bouncy castle or on the merry-go-round. Apparently he was a huge guy! Bigger than me and much different looking. And probably better able to enunciate. So the kids knew that at least ONE of the Santas was fake. One little boy looked at me and said, “You’re not Santa.” I tell you what, if I DID go to Tessa’s party the night before I would have sweated out the hangover even before the halfway point!

But, as you know, I’m a complainer. I’m sure it wasn’t nearly so bad and some folks might even say I did an okay job as Santa but afterwards I felt much like I had run a marathon. I was sweaty, consuming liquid non-stop and just really really happy it was over. And I got some money from Rica for doing it so that made it okay. The funny thing was at one point I wandered over to the buffet and I suppose because they weren’t expecting Santa, (and hadn’t paid for him), people went NUTS for pictures! It was the highlight of the day for me! I think it was just nice to be appreciated so much. Santa really didn’t have too much in the way of loot to hand out to the kids so they had better things to do. But it sure didn’t hurt that most of the people I was posing for pictures with at the buffet were the hot wives of the guys who could afford to go to the Shangri La buffet! A couple of them were wearing Christmas finery that was so sexy and low cut that they might have a pic or two of Santa’s eyes where they shouldn’t be! It was in the final hour of my time as Santa so I was too sweaty for them to get TOO cozy with Santa. Probably a good thing.

The day after Christmas, Boxing Day, since the World Jrs. was still a day away, I decided to make some Christmas cards for my two benefactors, Rica and Herry. I drew a Homer Simpson Santa Claus and wrote Merry Christmas Herry, and Rica and then wrote on the inside how it was a time of year to give thanks and I gave them thanks for being so nice to me. It was about 2 PM when I finished the cards and decided to walk to their places, (not that far away), and hand deliver the cards. I looked out the window and the clouds were threatening so I put the cards into a plastic bag and put on a hat. No more than a couple minutes after I got outside and en route to Herry’s it started just POURING. Remember, it’s the rainy season. But this was not a bad thing. You see when I go for a walk when it ISN’T raining here I get soaking wet. With sweat. This was actually quite nice! It kept me relatively cool and I wasn’t a whole lot wetter than I would have been if it were a clear, sunny day. Herry wasn’t home so I left his card with the doorman. He was laughing because the rain was torrential by the time I got there. Many people in shelters alongside the streets were saying stuff to me, waving, laughing and such. But I didn’t give a rip. It was a nice, pleasant, not sweltering hot walk. Rare around here.

Unfortunately, I had worn my sandals. They were good for short, dry walks but because they are not to be worn with socks and because of the Velcro straps that keep them on my feet, the exposed Velcro rubs my feet every step. Now this is not too bad even for a long walk when it’s dry. But when it’s wet and the foot skin is especially soft the Velcro rubs right through it. By the time I had reached Rica’s place I had two pretty blistery feet. She wasn’t home either so I left her card, plastic bag and all, in the handle of her apartment entrance. I hope it was still there when she returned. I still haven’t heard from her or Herry since.

When I got home I had 6 or 7 pretty nice raspberries on my feet but since I had exercised, and since I needed to nurse those raspberries, I just watched movies all day long. Some Christmas movies, some not. I really liked the movie “Nightcrawler.” I think Jake Gillinhall could get an Oscar for it. He was creepy! I also liked “A Million Ways to Die in the West.”

So anyway, not a whole lot of action here to jolt me out of bed in the morning/afternoon. It’s kind of between seasons and jobs and nothing much is happening right now. Most likely the calm before the storm. And the storm should start right about New Year’s Day. I’ll probably blog you all about it. Meanwhile I'll try to keep some Tropical Funk in mind. "Don't worry. About a teeng. Evy leetle teeng... gon be alright."

Take care my faithful readers!

Santarnalia

Two more days until Christmas! What will you be doing? Most of us will be spending time with family. Immediate, extended and the requisite holiday visits to and from relatives of some questionable consanguinity.

Almost all of us will be going to Christmas, or "Holiday" or Saturnalia or Festivus or whatever parties. Some we look forward to and some we look forward to being over and done with for another year. Usually those are the company Christmas parties where you get together with bosses, co-workers and even owners of a company that reaps at least 80% of the benefits of your labour and then turns the whole affair into a celebration of their generosity. "Let's all take a moment to consider the gift of employment we have been given by (insert company name) this year, and how they give us the privelege of scraping by while they get filthy rich. But hey, at least we're not starving to death, right?"

Funnily enough, that's pretty much the origin of the celebration, isn't it? We try to make the best of the company party by laughing at the office romantics trying to act like they are not together, taking bets on who will get the drunkest, who has the tackiest holiday sweater, and maybe even enjoying the food, drink, music and festivity just a little bit. Cuz we're like that, humans. We're pretty awesome when you think of it. We will find ways to have fun at even the crappiest holiday party. The company Christmas party is just one example of the awesomeness of mankind but those are usually over by mid November so not really in the actual celebration season. I think I heard a few people saying they were having their "Year End" company party in OCTOBER this year! Could that be? Even before Halloween? Craziness!

But when you look at all the partying, celebrating, bonding, hugging, kissing, forgiving, gift giving, spending and over-spending, contacting old friends, making up, re-establishing lost relationships, tying up loose ends, giving to charity, feeding the poor, settling debts, just being the good person most of us aspire to be somewhere deep down, it almost looks like this season is more about death than a holy birth. It's ironic that a lot of the signs of suicide are included in our behaviour at Christmas, isn't it? I think if I knew I was going to die I'd do a lot of the kind-hearted things I wanted to do but was too busy clawing out a living in this pit fight of an existence. I'd empty the bank account and blow it all on my friends and family. And after we'd finished THAT case of beer... But seriously, a lot of us celebrate this season as if we are trying to do as much life maintenance as we can before imminent death. And traditionally all over the world, that's what the season was originally about wasn't it? Before it was even highjacked by the church and called Christmas it was actually like the band on the Titanic playing as the ship went down. Might as well, eh?

In many cold countries, back in the old days, (like hundreds of years ago, (that is hilarious when you consider the length of time people have been here. The "olden" days aren't all THAT olden!)), winter meant no crops, no rain, not much sunshine or fishing or hunting. You pretty much stayed in whatever shelter you had, ate all the EXTRA food you could store for the winter, and spent time socializing with whoever you wouldn't freeze to go visit. And by the end of winter you were likely out of food and good cheer and you were waiting for either sunshine or death. And I think the greatest thing about the people back then is that they KNEW somebody was going to die. It was a given. They'd treat Granny extra nice around Christmas just in case this was her last. They'd look at the infants and just hope they made it through the harsh winter. Sick, weak, disadvantaged, you might never see the heartiest fellow in town again let alone THESE people! So what did they do? Did they get all weepy and funerally? Nope they busted out the wine, and the presents, cranked up the tunes and partied! Well, it didn't hurt to slaughter the fatted calf or livestock of any kind knowing that it'll be easier than feeding them all winter long. So they did that too. You gotta give it to our relatives: when Death knocked on the door they invited him in and had a house shaker of a party.

To be fair, I may have been harsh on Christians saying they "highjacked" the holiday. What I meant was that there was a sort of "Christmas" probably a couple thousand years before Christianity. Every year you hear people reminding us not to forget "the reason for the season,"

but the birth of Jesus was actually not that reason until it was added pretty recently. In fact the birth of Jesus could not have occurred anywhere near December 25th according to the Bible itself. No the reason was the Sun. As mentioned earlier by the end of a long winter, back in the days when people were simple farmers who had no reason NOT to pray for the sun to shine a bit harder and hasten the end of the season of death, that's exactly what they did. But prayer and worship was a bit different back then. If someone tells you to remember the reason for the season, it's most likely someone who would not appreciate it if you did just that.

To be more accurate the reason was Saturn and the Sun. Saturnalia was a Roman festival from Dec. 17th to 23rd. Then the birthday of the Sun was December 25th. During this time of year EVERYBODY went bat shit crazy feasting, drinking, eating, gambling, debauching and celebrating. Quite comprehensively doing most of the things the Church of today frowns upon. But the basis of Saturnalia and the customs attached to it make it clear how it transitioned into modern day Christmas. The wealthy made gifts to the poor in honour of the golden age of liberty when Saturn ruled the world. Saturn was the Roman god of wealth, crops and liberation among other things. During the festivities slaves were allowed to change places and clothes with their masters. They even elected a slave king. There was a great deal more freedom of speech and behaviour during the festival. Slaves could complain about, even badmouth their masters. Gambling was allowed even for slaves. Women were more free to mingle with men. Female entertainers performed at many banquets. Rampant overeating and overdrinking, as well as the debauchery they tended to lead to, were the norm. Quite a far cry from Christmas today!

But children were given toys as gifts. Candles, pottery, books, clothes, knives, just about anything could be exchanged between adults. Even the good old gag gift was pretty common during Saturnalia. Bosses helped poor clients and workers to buy thier gifts much like the quickly disappearing Christmas bonus of today. Verses written on paper cards usually accompanied the gifts, just like Christmas cards. It is beleived that the Great Yule Feast of the Norsemen is where the Yule log, Christmas tree and decorations come from but many of our Christmas traditions were taken directly from Saturnalia. Everybody loved it!

The Catholic church wanted it. Despite God's direct warning NOT to adopt pagan worship customs, (Deut. 12: 29-32), the Christians chose Dec. 25th, the birthday of the Sun, in order to transfer the devotion of the heathen from the Sun to the Son. I'm not making that up.

Early in Christianity, (A.D. 155-230), when Catholic writer Tertullian put pen to paper he wrote of Christians flocking to the Roman pagan winter festivals with disapproval. Pagans would never be seen with Christians for fear of being associated with them and thought to be one. Why, he wondered, did the opposite happen? He wrote, "...gifts are carried to and fro, new year's day presents are made with din, and sports and banquets are celebrated with uproar."

It wasn't until the 4th century that December 25 was just decreed by the Catholic Church as the birthday of Jesus. And not till another 500 years had passed, (9th century), was Christmas called Christmas instead of the Midwinter Feast. At one time in the 17th century, in places like Scotland and the U.S., Christmas was not a feast but a time of fasting for Protestants and Puritans who criticized the undisguized pagan elements of Christmas. Even Christmas carols were forbidden. Strict abstinance from fun was what they reckoned God wanted and they even recruited the army to enforce it by pulling down pagan decorations all around town. No wonder Scrooge was Scottish! Believe it or not it wasn't until 1836 that Christmas became a legal holiday in the U.S.

Christmas has come a long way! Nowadays we have our annual worship of Greed and Mammon in which children are trained to like receiving more than giving

and in the spirit of love and harmony, adults fight over the last Playstation 4 or Iphone 5 on the shelves because they want to show everyone how impressive their spirit of giving is. But along with all of the bad things, there is a spirit of peace, love, forgiveness, charity, giving and partying in the air every year. So almost everybody still loves Christmas. I sure do!

There's still controversy about the word Christmas though. And I AM noticing more atheist posts on facebook this holiday season. I still call it Christmas. It's habit. I don't know any atheists who SAY they are offended by people going to church or singing Christmas carols or worshipping the Lord at this time of year, they just don't want to be part of it. Yet we have this controversy. The word "Christmas" has Christ in it so we can't use it in case it offends. Well I suppose it's other religious people then who are offended. So now we have to say "Happy Holidays" and all that. I think I have a solution to this problem. I have heard countless Christians saying how we should celebrate like it's Christmas every day. So do that. Don't celebrate the birth of Jesus on December 25th, it's the wrong day anyway. And since most of us no longer worship Saturn, we'll call the former Christmas season Santarnalia and celebrate it like the old days, in the spirit of giving, liberty and equality. But we'll do it as a completely non-religious party that EVERYONE can celebrate without the pressure of religious behavioural rules.

I'm gonna be Santa at the Shangri La Hotel on Christmas Day afternoon. After that I'm hoping to do some Santarnalian Christmas partying, baby! Because you just never know if we will survive the winter! Who's with me?

"Ass" post

I'm singing in my brain the David Bowie song ch-ch-ch-ch changes... I'm sure there are a few who know the Yes song called "Changes" too. Those are both rolling around in my head. But to illustrate a point, if someone from a younger era was thinking about how things are in a constant state of flux, they might have a Carrie Underwood or Taylor Swift song running through their grey matter. (Both of them have songs entitled "Change." I looked it up.)

The youngsters are really changing the world. And now I understand the oldsters that I couldn't understand when I was a youngster. Cuz a lot of the changes are hard to get used to. Some folks my age just refuse to even try. A good example, one close to my heart, is language. It's my bread and butter. This whole sentence would be written differently by a person younger than myself. For instance they have a new structure denoting emphasis. It's when you take any adjective and attach the word "ass" to it. So I should have said something like "Now I understand the old-ass people I couldn't understand a long-ass time ago when I was a young-ass person." I'm not too sure if I mind THIS change in the language so much. Sometimes I think it's a cool-ass change but sometimes it doesn't work. Other changes, the kind of things I used to notice and encorporate almost without hesitation, I am hesitant-ass to use. There's an example of the ass emphasis not working.

Young people, you can't MEAN something until you've said something, okay? So when someone sees you for the first time today, crosses over the street and says, "Hey how's it going?" don't say, "I mean... it's okay." What do you mean, you mean?!?! You haven't said anything! This lame-ass language trait is annoying. I used to have a teacher named Mr. Sarbadhikari. He was Indian. Probably still is. He liberally sprinkled "I mean" throughout his language. It made him fun to immitate. "The Canturbury Tales is, I mean, E-Chaucer's, contribution to, I mean, the canon." We used to waste entire classes counting the "I means." I remember triple digits! But for him it was like, "Um," or "Like," it wasn't as annoying to me. Plus English was his second or third language. "Who do you think will be voted out tonight?" asks Jeff Probst. "I meaaannnn... Dennis looked bad in today's challenge but I'll be voting with my alliance." Just say "um" or "uh" or "duh," for crying out loud.

But some things stay the same too. I still get asked regularly why I'm not married. Often, and most recently, by a Korean. I've even been told I'm selfish for not having a wife and kids. Me and Doug Stanhope beg to differ. Hey, next time you and your wide-ass, 12 baby making hips are standing in line waiting to use the women's washroom, don't complain because it's folks like you who have kids like they're collectables that are partly responsible for overpopulation, starvation, malnutrition, fresh water shortages, ozone depletion, high prices of scarce non-renewable resources, and bathroom line-ups. Don't be honking your horn at ME in traffic either. I have zero kids, (that I know of). I am contributing to population DEcrease. Meanwhile you have more than made up for me and you have the clackers to blow your horn at ME? Just sit back and enjoy the fourth time you've played "Frozen" today on your newly indebting minivan TV screens. Try to block out the screaming of the youngest and the arguing of your third and fourth. Don't pay any attention to that seatbelt click, or UNclick, or that mysterious smell. Remember YOU got yourself into this because they're cute for a short time, they kinda look like you and once in a while they say or do adorable things. The rest of the time you have this, but you signed on for it so don't complain and DON'T take it out on me by hammering on your horn like the steering column is going to go through the Astrovan's floorboards and punch a hole in the ground that you can just dive into and disappear.

If you knew me you might do it out of jealousy. I'd get that. This morning, well, more accurately a little after noon when I slowly got out of bed, got a piece of pizza and a beer from the fridge, took them and my laptop to the toilet, ate brunch, I guess, while surfing porn on my laptop on my lap on the toilet with the bathroom door wide open I thought to myself, "It's times like these I need to remind myself of how lucky I really am." You can't do that because you have a wife and kids. You have a role to play. You have a life to star in. The question is not why I made the choices I made, is it?

Don't get me wrong, I sometimes feel a twinge of envy at couples who kiss on New Year's Eve at midnight, or families who have big Christmas dinners and piles of gifts under the tree. But they're nothing compared to the Hunger Games bow TWANGS every nerve in my body gets simultaneously when I am in the supermarket and a kid is knocking stuff off the shelves and his mother is trying to keep her cool saying, "Jeffery that's not how we behave in public." (nervous laugh and glance at fellow grocery shoppers). "Shut up, Mom!" screams Jeffery, grinning like Damien the anti-Christ, continuing to knock products off the shelves. Some break open and will need to be paid for by Mommy. "Jeffery, please stop doing this. You are embarrassing yourself." "I'm not embarrassed, YOU are!" screams the demonic little brat. "Am I going to have to give you a time-out?" "Time-outs don't scare me you bitch!"

Remember when we were young? Oh sure Mom might behave like this in the grocery store but when we got out of public we were in for it! So WE didn't behave like Jeffery. In our changing world it seems like everyone is more violent except parents and teachers. The ones raising the larger and larger numbers of kids in the world. They're the people who need a little MORE power behind their disapproval and society is allowing them less and less. Of course there are limits. I believe most of us are naturally provided with the ability to have kids and the ability to know when one of those kids could use a patt on the butt or a smack in the head. And when we were young parents were still allowed to use corporal punishment. You know what I'm talking about, Dad comes at you, takes off his belt, ties your hands behind your back, strips you naked, butts out cigars on your skin, maybe a little waterboarding, you remember that. (that's Doug Stanhope. I just watched him last night. lol)

Seriously though, any parent, teacher, babysitter who even LOOKED like he/she might not be afraid to employ some REAL physical discipline rarely had to use it. Just the threat was enough. And, BLAMMO, limit established. Okay, now we know and we will behave accordingly. I don't think I want the all too difficult responsibility of creatively establishing and reinforcing behavioural guidelines on kids with the insane limitations society and laws made by young folks have provided. "Okay any student who is caught fighting, torturing, maiming, murdering or bringing any harm to another student will have his or her Xbox priveleges revoked. FOR A WHOLE WEEK!" That's why I don't teach kids. Well, not young ones anyways. And that, coupled with the lack of the necessary partner, is a big reason why I don't have any kids of my own.

To quote the great Don Henley, "Freedom, oh freedom... well that's just some people talkin'." These days when these words ring truer and truer; when cost of living rises every day and wages stay the same or go down; when you take off hats, belts, shoes, empty your pockets, produce three pieces of photo I.D., a retinal scan, a stool sample, and a fingerprint-based criminal record check to order a pizza, I think another big reason I stay single is the relative freedom I have in comparison to the Orwellian lives I see friends and family living. We have to snatch our little freedoms everywhere we can these days because it seems the time is coming when they'll all be gone.

Right now sunlight and rain are free but give our owners a few years to figure out ways of owning the sun and the rain and renting them to us and they will. It's so much about ownership nowadays. Moreso than when I was a kid. And getting worse. I think that's the inherent gambler in all of us. There are a VERY few people in our world who own pretty much everything, and don't kid yourself, they own me and you too. But we don't mind! We're cool with that! For the same reason we're fine with paying money for a lottery ticket or a visit to the casino. Because we know there is a miniscule chance that the bet might pay off and WE coud become one of the owners. Unlike a lot of people, I have no desire to be one of the owners. I don't want to be rich, own a big house, a wife and three kids. I want to own a vehicle someday maybe but that's it. And when I'm old, a small shack, a small piece of property and a blazing fast internet connection. Try to find a gal that thinks that living the rest of her life with me, cranking out some kids and having one vehicle, a small shack and a small piece of property is worth it. The blazing internet connection doesn't sweeten the deal much. She knows she can do better. This may not be a big change but I have noticed over my lifetime that it has changed in degree. The ladies of my youth were more satisfied with less. Now that might have something to do with my having more hair, less belly and better looks back then. Maybe. Or maybe it might have had more to do with having more years left in the work force, and more drive to get that job that will lead to the bigger house, multiple cars and so on.

I'm even finding that employers have the same prejudice. This is WHY wages are going down while the cost of living goes up. Like in China where factories pay so little the workers MUST work hundreds of hours of overtime just to keep from starving, the model has expanded into what we call "western" cultures too. Businesses want workers who will work for the company knowing that they won't make very much money unless they DO the overtime hours. This way the company has a larger stake in your life. They OWN a bigger piece of your life. Like everything in the world, this benefits the owners and it's by design. This is how we've ended up with upper classes making more money than ever and the other 99% making less than ever. Higher numbers on the paycheck don't mean you're earning more money.

Bust your ass your whole life and if you're lucky you get a decade of retirement when you're body and mind are too worn out from the years of hard work to enjoy it. I want to make enough money now and work few enough hours to enjoy that money. While I'm young. Golfing, travelling, sightseeing, sure I can do these when I am older but they're not as much fun. Right now I want to go sightseeing at the Great Barrier Reef, Soy Cowboy, catch a tiger shark, not have tea at an emperor's palace or stroll the batanical gardens. Snorkelling, diving, dancing, drinking, whitewater rafting, hiking up volcanoes, catching big fish, there are long lists of things you can't, or probably shouldn't do after retirement. I'm just trying to scratch these off my bucket list while I'm relatively young. Can't do it if the company you work for OWNS you. And if you have 4 kids and mountains of debt trying to give them the kind of life society mandates, then you are STILL owned by the owners. Maybe not just the ones who own the company you work for.

The way I see it, I'm a bit more free than the average guy. I am leaving less of a footprint on an overtrampled Earth. And though I'm not free, I am not so beholden to my owners. And I always reserve the right to tell them to kiss my big-ass ass if they start getting too possessive of me. It's nice to have that ability, but in my opinion, things are changing in this world so fast that this ability won't be around much longer. I might be a dying breed. So take advantage of the time you have with my single-ass, free-ass ass! I, and others like me, will soon be extinct.

EASILY the highest "ass" count of any post ever by me.