Tuesday, January 31, 2012

ROBBLOG #373



It’s another episode from our the two gals on Bleeker Street- Baby Jane and Blanche. Don’t judge…just enjoy.



Jane: Fer chrissakes Blanche, is that all you ever do?  

Blanche: What Jane Dear? 

Jane: Sit in that godforsaken chair and stare straight out the window?~ puff, drag~ 

Blanche: Why Jane, there’s a whole winter world of love out there. 

Jane: Oh wonderful. Now she’s quoting Engelfert Bumperdink. 

Blanche: It’s Humperdinck Jane Dear. Engelbert Humperdinck.  Arnold Dorsey really. 

Jane: Dorsey what Blanche ~puff, puff~. 

Blanche:  Arnold Dorsey. Mr. Humperdinck is just a stage name Jane Dear. 

Jane: Stage name? What the? Speaking of stage…there’s one leaving in 10 minutes… 

Blanche: I know… you wish I were on it. Jane Darling, you must look for a new schtick. 

Jane: There’s nothing wrong with the schtick I have. Course it sounds funnier when… 

Blanche: I know that one too- when you drink. Jane, you’re missing so much out there. 

Jane: ~puff, drag, puff~ Out where? 

Blanche: Out there! Outside that window. Why just look at those cute little birdies. 

Jane: The only cute birdie I wanna see is one roasting in the oven! 

Blanche: Now Jane Dear. Really. Just come over here and look at these little Darlings. 

Jane: ~puff, puff~  All they do is eat and shit. Then they eat and shit some more. 

Blanche: Jane that’s the first true thing you’ve said all day- eat and shit… just like you! 

Jane: ~ puff, drag, puff~ Oh just shut the hell up and look out your damned window. 

Blanche: With pleasure Jane Dear, with great pleasure. ~chuckle, chuckle~

Sunday, January 29, 2012

ROBBLOG #372


I am sitting here- looking out the window, watching a neighbour shovelling the snow from the end of his driveway.

Nothing too unusual about that.
Everything is as normal. as pie.
Canadian winter.
Shovelling snow.
An observer would note that he's shovelling with a cigarette snuggly stuck between his lips.
He puffs and puffs.
The air is blue.
The smoke rising above his head in the afternoon sunshine.

Eventually he throws the butt away and within a minute or two he lights another one and sits on the steps of his front porch his one free arm snuggly
around his dog's neck.
Does the dog stink of second-hand smoke?
Yes.
The little pooch always does.
No wonder with all that second hand smoke.
The poor thing smells like an old ashtray.

Then there's "the wife".
The "non smoking" wife.
She is always ailing.
Aches. Pains. Coughs. Bad hearing. Bad breathing.
One never says - "Hi, how are you?" for fear of listening to a  litany of medical woes.
Of course the fellh smokes in "his" house and "the wife" is constantly around second hand smoke.
Does he care?
Nope.

We hear he says- it's his house and he'll smoke if he wants to.
Now this neighbour doesn't talk to Tom and I anymore.
The wife does though.

You see, two summers ago Tom and I were on the front verandah here at Pine Tree House when a guy on a motorbike didn't make the corner and slide across the side street into the garden beneath our Maple Trees. We ran to his aid and the "smoking neighbour" came across the road- eventually, to have a look. He didn't stand there on the sidewalk watching this guy bleed and moan in pain for more than a minute before he lit up another cigaratte.
Tom lost it.
Tom told him in no uncertain terms to move away and get rid of the cigarette.
The "smoking neighbour" got pissed off, said an expletive or two in response and walked back home across the street.

He stopped talking to us all because of a cigarette.
Tom even sent an apology note- I don't know why, a couple of days later and received no response.
He still doesn't talk to us to this day.

 "The wife" does- when hubby's not around of course.
When we drive past the house, "the wife" still waves to us- when hubby isn't in the yard with her.
You may well ask why am I telling you this story?
It's because of that cigarette.
That smoke. That disgusting odour on him, "the wife" and the dog.
He smokes them one after another.
To see him without a cigarette would be like seeing him without his left arm.
It's always there.
He's always puffing away on that cancer stick.

Right now, we have a good friend who found out she has lung cancer. A tumour on her lung and some "spots".
She's doing treatment.
We are hoping for the best.
I can't help but wonder why this neighbour keeps smoking.
He doesn't know about our friend but our friend has been handed a death sentence whereas
he still appears to be healthy.
Why?
I don't know.
Luck of the draw.
The game of life and death.

Still, these days whenever I see him- or anyone else, with that cigarette dangling from his lips it makes me angry. Oh, not the fact that he doesn't speak with us- no loss there whatsoever.
I always told him to move away from me when he had the death wand between his yellow fingers anyway.In fact his whole skin has a yellowish tinge to it.
Smoker's skin.
You know, he doesn't have to smoke.
Nobody does.
Medical help is there for smokers.
They have to want it of course.

No, it just makes me angry that our friend who wants to beat this cancer and go on living is fighting for every breath she takes.
There's no cancer anywhere in her family.
She has to have oxygen beside her every minute of the day just in case she needs it.
Meanwhile there's the neighbour with a habit that controls his life, willingly and knowingly, polluting the air of those around him.

Where's the justice?

Who would I rather see have "the cancer"?
Bet you can guess...

Friday, January 27, 2012

ROB BLOG #371 W E E K E N D Edition


OK. Eough is enough.
It's time the Ontario Government took away the funding for Catholic Schools.

Under the name of religion and their head of state the pope, Catholic Schools have "softened" the name of Ontario Government sanctioned "Gay Straight Alliance" committees that
must appear in all Ontario High Schools. They won't use the term Gay/Straight for fear of the warth of God- or at least their pitiful pope.

Queen’s Park now requires all school boards to have “equity and inclusive education” policies and to fight bullying, including homophobia.
That's a great idea. It's just too bad it is somethng that has to be legislated. It's as simple as one, two, three actually.
Yet- we need such an organization to stop bullying and to educate students that Gay bullying- any bullying, is bad.
That is the sad story in all this muck.

So, the Catholics have watered it down.
Heavens let's not upset Jesus or Mary or the pope.
Good Lord we'll all go to "straight" Heaven in a handbasket- if there was a Heaven in the first place.
I am sure if you refer back to other blogs you'll read about my stance on Heaven, Hell, churches and their judgemental religion of loving one another.

Word from the Catholics says- Catholic schools are committed to supporting students bullied because of their sexual orientation, noting their suicide rates are higher than among
their heterosexual peers.
All the more reason to call it what it is- a Gay Straight Alliance.
Why is there such fear in the word Gay when many of that religion's priests- men, have had their way with a handsome altar boy or two.
How can this institution possibly disagree with the word Gay when single men flock to their presthood to hid their Homosexuality or worse their penchant to "diddle with boys".
It's sick.
They are all in denial.

The Catholic Chirch is one of the worst offenders and may of them are what the chuurch might refer to as "practicing homos". Their attitude is the same as many other religious organizations- Love the sinner. Hate the sin.
It should be- Love the SInner. Hate Yourself.

The Catholic Committe who have spend months dickering over the woirds Gay/Straight has issued a report stressing that issues of sexuality be presented against the backdrop of
Catholic sexual morality, which encourages chastity for all students of any orientation until marriage. That’s not a message typically associated with gay-straight alliances, noted the
committee's media coordinator for the Ontario Catholic School Trustees’ Association — “but it’s the same hope shared by many Ontario parents.”
What bullshit.

Sweep it under the Holy Mary Mother of God Rug.
What century are these religious fanatics living in? Do they honestly think their boys and girls at their Catholic Schools aren't getting it on with one another? Guy on guy, girl on girl and
the most unnatural sex act of all- Guy on girl!
~Ugh~

So when these committees are formed, the whole thing has to be overseen by a "committed" Catholic Staff Member. One who wears the rosary around their neck and eat sleeps and
fucks the faith. Wouldn't want the real reason behind the government forcing Gay Straight Alliances to go astray.

Stop the damn bullying of Gay kids!
Of all kids!
The message is the medium.
The medium is Homosexuality and teaching straight kids that being Gay is no different than having blue eyes versus brown eyes.

Will we ever get it right?

The Ontario Government is hoping so but they still need to make the Catholics "toe the line" or remove their funding.  If they aren't prepared to follow the law then give the funding to
Agnostic Schools- if such a school even exists.
It's time they stop hiding behind their religion.
Take the funding away from all Catholic Schools and let them melt down their gold and sell all the riches tucked away in the Vatican to
support their schools.

These are kids they're talking about here.
The kids know Gay.
They know straight.

How in the hell are the two going to come together if they can't call it what it really is?
This is like stuffing all the sexual exploits of priests getting it on with boys and men into a jar and hiding it in the cellar next to the furnace. Only now there's another mason jar stored in
the basement right next to the sexual exploits of priests and it's contents are to be safely put away out of sight out of mind.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

ROBBLOG #370



So I spent the weekend in LAH. 

That’s L A.
Los Angeles.
LAX. 

Not alone. Tom was with me.
We flew to LAX and friends picked us up. We stayed at their vacation property on the beach- the Pacific, in Newport Beach. That’s about 40 minutes south of LAH, past Huntington Beach and Seal Beach- right across the way from Balboa Island.
A beautiful spot but white… Oh, so white.
Tom and I just watched “The Help” tonight and I kept thinking about how “white” it was there on Balboa Island and Newport Beach.

How white?

In 3 days I saw exactly 4 people of colour. A man and his children and a man on a bike who was about 6 foot 7. Must have been a basketball player. I passed a few Asians too- all in a group and all on tour it seemed but that was it. 

It’s certainly an area where both “white” skin and mega bucks rule. Small “beach shanties” listed in real estate windows for more than a million bucks. Many more of the homes on the beach and just off the beach for two, three and upwards to 15 and 20 million dollars.

Who the fuck has the money for that?
Answer: Rich Americans, I guess. 

Even though it was the dead of winter for the locals, it was moderate weather for us.
It sure beats minus something! The days were sunny and good for strolling and bike riding- especially on one of the ubiquitous “Beach Cruiser” Bicycles that everyone rides along the 25 plus miles of paved pathways. The path- like the Lightfoot Trail here at home, is populated by pedestrians and roller bladers too. 

The path passes close to the front of beachfront homes and cottages barely a few feet away. It cuts across “The War Zone” an area of “lower-valued” real estate, sandwiched between affluent neighbourhoods. It flows across miles of open, sandy beach. The Pacific Coast Highway- PCH, on one side and the Pacific’s rolling waves on the other.

No hills.
No traffic for the most part.
Even where the path crosses through a neighbourhood or two, it’s well-marked for bikes and pedestrian traffic. 

Huntington Beach- the surf capital, was a busy spot on a sunny and warm Sunday afternoon.
Outdoor cafes were bustling.
Starbucks’ coffee lovers lined up out the door. I even took a break with a large cafĂ© latte. Locals and tourists alike, were promenading along the main street browsing through upscale shops and stopping for refreshments in busy bars and restaurants. 

There were piers along the way jutting out into the blue-green Pacific. Each one with a restaurant plopped at the end and perhaps a souvenir shop or two- like on the Pier at Huntington Beach. A popular local diner called “Ruby’s” was plopped at the end of two of the Piers we bicycled past! Ruby’s menu is fairly vast with big burgers and fries. We had breakfast at one location.  Hotcakes, eggs, sausage and bacon- even what the Americans call “Canadian Bacon” (Peameal to us) if one were to choose.
The coffee was a bottomless cup. 

Southern California beaches are wide and would dwarf even Hawaii’s famed- Waikiki Beach. Californians make good use of the outdoors too- even though it was winter for them. I think keeping active and fit in the sunny south would be a snap. Somehow the lure of the ocean, the swaying of the palms and people-watching just couldn’t keep you inside for long. 

I can hear what you’re asking.
Did we see anyone famous?
No. We didn’t see anyone either while riding along the beach or while traversing LAX.
I thought at the airport we might see someone.
Maybe a star in a Lexus passing us by on the 405 on the way to the airport- but no. I’ll bet there were directors and movie people in our midst, it’s just that we didn’t  recognize them.

Finally?
Also no, by the way…I didn’t get discovered.
I’m just as famous now as I was when we left. 

...and that’s a pity!

ROBBLOG # 369



I just flew in from L A !

Boy, are my arms ever tired!
Catch ya later with a story to tell!

Have a good one.

Friday, January 20, 2012

ROBBLOG #368 W E E K E N D Edition



It’s a weekend again!


Only one more weekend to go and that’s it for January two thousand and twelve!
Then we deal with February.
Short little cuss that he is… 

Everyone’s wondering will there be enough snow for the winter carnival. Will the lake water be cold enough under the ice to call it a Polar Bear Swim? 

Me, I am looking to March.
If I have dis-liked January all these decades, then I would say that I usually try to ignore February and look straight ahead to March. March can bring us some warm days and lots of melting- if there’s snow in the first place. 

Snow can really change our plans, whether it be-
Travelling,
Walking.
Cutting the grass.
Even robbing a bank! 

The downtown TD Bank was robbed Thursday night with that blizzard out there. How inconvenient for the robber(s)- although I would bet that not too many customers were in the bank at the time what with the weather. Now, if these guys or gals- let’s be fair, ran from the scene of the crime, their footprints would be in the snow.

However, with the wind and snow they may have been covered up as quickly as they were made. Judging by police cordoning off Matchedash Street North, Peter Street North and West Street North intersections, it would appear they had an idea that the bad  bank robbing “people” were trekking north.
Probably to get to a get-away car of some sort.
We’ll just have to wait and see how it all turns out.

They’ll get them sooner or later I’ll wager. I believe they havea picture from the bank cameras. Hope they remembered to brush their hair and put on clean underwear! 

Since Heather Thompson and myself were “live” on Swisssh Radio just after the robbery, it seemed like old times on terrestrial radio when there was breaking news.
It was exciting and happening in the moment.
Of course we won’t be able to follow up too soon because we are not on the air with The Morning Show at Night until next Thursday- January 27th, at 7PM Eastern. 

One day maybe Swisssh Radio will be “live” all day and night. Maybe I’ll have a storefront studio downtown with an interesting little bookshop, coffee shop, dessert and sandwhich bar all in the same storefront location. 

People could come for a coffee and a treat. They could rummage through books- all for sale. They could browse a newspaper- always free and they could see Swisssh Radio in full operation. Bringing Internet Radio and good coffee to the people.
It sounds like a dream. 

It probably is just that- unless we win that 20 million.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

ROBBLOG # 367



Here comes another "Dis and Dat". Don't say I didn't warn you!
Read on MacDuff!

1. Some news reports referred to David Furnish as Elton John’s Man. So, it appears that any man’s mate- even if it’s another man and especially if it’s a woman, is slighted simply by not using the “mate’s” name.


2. Who the hell told Lana Del Ray she could sing. It was very uncomfortable watching her on Saturday Night Live last week. I cringed. I almost cried it hurt that much.

3. Many times throughout the day Starlite Radio is beating Swisssh Radio with total number of listeners tuned. Go figure.
No breaks. No commercials. No personality- just the music- “Soft & Brite”.
Go figure.

4. There were reports of  “icequakes” along Lake Couchiching’s shoreline last weekend when it was minus 29 degrees. All that ice and cold and nowhere to go but “crack” and “quake”.

5. A man caught in a blizzard burned his money to stay warm until his rescue. Hell, I can burn money too and I don’t even have to leave the house when a blizzard’s howling outside. It’s called “online” shopping.

6. Wanna go on a cruise? Anyone? Any takers?
Come on now there are lots of boats safely floating in the world’s waters every day. Of course if one you’re cruising on slips on its side there may not be enough available lifeboats.
People may panic.
There could be fights over life preservers.
Stuff like that but again- anybody wanna take a cruise? 

7. Less than two weeks and January is History. Who can’t deal with the Month of February?
It’s so puny and small.
Easy-peezy! 

8. Mild, then freezing. Then, mild. A bit of snow.  A flash freeze then back to plus 6 again. What the fuck is this? Global Warming or El Nina. It sure has made January a bit of a coaster ride and really not seem like January at all. 

9. I have made a new year’s resolution that I haven’t told a soul about. It’s not something I have had to do anything about- yet, however, the time will come soon. 

10. I picked up a package of bologna- yes bologna, the other day. There’s nothing like a few slices of bologna on a couple of slices of fresh Tuscan Bread. Anyway, I looked on the package and saw that it was almost 48 percent fat!
Then, I picked up a package of sliced chicken breast. No Fat. No Trans Fat.
So I bought the chicken. Then, I looked for a package of Havarti Cheese. There was 40 some percent fat in just 1 ½ thin slices. I bought it but I only had a ¼ of a slice on two crackers that had less than 4% fat.
Shit!
It’s hard to eat healthy!

Sunday, January 15, 2012

ROBBLOG #366



How the heck does it work? 

I was thinking the other day about all this wireless stuff we use.
How does it work?
I don’t know. 

How does the WiFi here in the house travel through walls to reach another room. How does it go through the outer walls of the house to the verandah or the yard?
I don’t know. 

Then there are those huge towers that are all over the place. They send out wireless signals to our cell phones. These signals find us everywhere.
Around corners.
In our vans and cars and trucks.
Walking down the street or driving along a country lane. 

Then there’s the 3G and 4G.
Lock yourself in your bathroom.
It finds you.
Pick the furthest corner of your yard.
It’s right there.
Sitting by the lake and watching a summer sunset-
Yup, there too. 

How does it do it? 

I honestly don’t know but what I think is, if it goes through walls it must slice through us too. My phone rings when it’s tucked away in the breast of my winter coat or in a zippered pocket in my “murse” (that’s manbag for the uninitiated). 

It’s like magic when you think of it.

We take it for granted but those signals are around us and near us and through us every minute of every day. 

What about our health?
Do these waves of energy affect our well-being?
We’ve all heard the dangers that some experts believe exist when cell phones are pressed tightly to our ears. Then, there are the stories of folks who live close to those huge power lines that traverse farmer’s fields.
A higher incidence of headaches, cancers and such. 

It’ll take a few years to study the effects over a long periods of time. After all smoking and the resulting second-hand smoke was never thought to be a problem in the earlier decades of the last century. Our houses were plugged full of asbestos without a second thought. There are numerous other examples. 

In the meantime, we all go merrily along texting, calling, streaming and reading on a vast array of personal electronic devices. 

Does it mean we’ll all see health problems in the future? 

Haven’t a clue.




Thursday, January 12, 2012

ROBBLOG # 365 W E E K E N D Edition



We’re on our own little ice flow that’s melting and heading for the end of time.

At least that’s what time it is on the Doomsday Clock. In fact it’s just a few minutes to midnight and the end of us all. What a nice, positive way to begin two thousand and twelve! 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Well, just what can we expect the way things are going? 

There’s that little in-bred, bastard son of the dead North Korean leader, who can’t wait to push the button to show the world how much of a man he really is, simply by sending some nuclear missiles to other parts of the world that piss him and the rest of the North Koreans off- like America. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

Why are the North Koreans pissed at America?
Maybe because there’s a McDonalds and Target on every corner in the good old USA. Maybe that’s what the North Koreans really want-
a Big Mac and a nice outfit. 

As they aim their weapons let’s hope they can tell the difference between Canadians and Americans.

Hey North Korea!
It’s us!
Canada.
We’re the country with Tim Horton’s and a Petro Canada Gas Station on every corner. I know we look a bit like America but we really aren’t. We are as different as night and day. Sure we have Wal*Marts.
Yes we have Old Navy Stores, American Idol on TV and we share a common border but that’s about it. 

Listen, North Korea, to be quite honest, there are times we’d like to send a big missile to America too. Sometimes they are just so loud and they won’t shut up and they only care about all things American. They don’t give a damn about the rest of us. They give us the hairy eyeball when we try to cross their borders to shop and lay in their sun in the dead of winter. 

Now, it’s not just politics affecting the Doomsday Timex.
It’s all that pollution that’s out there that’s killing us and melting the snow and ice so the poor polar bears are running out of habitat. 

Pollution that comes from the exhaust of  cars and trucks. Smoke from our factories. Effluent in our lakes and streams and as everyone knows that baddest of them all- plastic shopping bags. 

Plastic shopping bags the worst of the worst. That’s why we have to pay 5 cents for each one of the dastardly things. Why can’t we think of something else to put our stuff in when shopping at Winners and Zehrs? 

Hey…what about brown paper bags?
Has anyone ever thought about using plain old brown paper bags? 

Tick. Tick. Tick. 

It’s not too late.
We better get to work today and slow down that clock or we’ll all be going to Hell in a handbasket!

A handbasket that is made of recycled and recyclable materials of course!

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

ROBBLOG #364


I am reading a book.

Nothing strange in that fact.
I am always reading but I haven’t picked up a book since early December. The holidays just seem to get in the way. I did read some short stories in a U.K. Reader’s Digest- does that count?

So, I am back to reading.
The one aspect of reading this book that is a wee bit different is the fact that I am reading online. I have the book downloaded in a pdf file on my Samsung Galaxy Tab. The book is by Christopher Hitchens and its title is:

God is Not Great- How Religion Poisons Everything.t’s free.
Just do a Google Search.

You can look it up online. Actually if you are dyed- in-the wool (or Christ’s Blood) Christian it would be a good read. You might be able to stand back from your “Faith” and “Devotion” and say- “Hey, there is something else. The universe is so vast. There are planets, black holes and stars. These are wonderful, awe-inspiring  things”.
It sure beats Moses and his burning bush.
In fact you might question why modern people are still worshiping individuals clad in cotton or wool shifts and sandals and a time when the world was thought to be a small pace- flat even. That is so yesterday. So in the past. That’s where History usually stays- in the past!

One may surmise that the Bible is the true word of God. The difficulty here of course, is that the Bible was written by mortal man- nothing Godly about it. If your faith has you believe that God put the words into man’s head- notice there are very few women receiving the direct line from God, so man could write them down then, you’re stuck with that explanation. However, your Bible Study has cast a spell upon you. Only reason can save you- not God.
As the sign says- There’s probably no God so relax and enjoy life. What the word “probably” means to you is your own personal decision. You have to learn about that and come to your own decision.

Christopher Hitchens who passed away a month ago makes some valid points. You would only argue them if you have “Religious Faith” in a God or Supreme Being- like Diana Ross! I am not going to clip any of his words here. You need to go into the book with a clear, open mind.

Goodness. I already hear some of you saying “Blasphemy”!

A God-like term to be sure.
I am also reading Gretta Vosper- With or Without God. Now Gretta is a “Progressive Christian”. She’s of the United faith. Gretta skips past the God and Jesus part to a wider understanding of faith and future. At Christmas Time, Gretta and her Congregation marvel at the story of the Nativity but there is no mention of God or Jesus from the pulpit telling sinners to do this or that. Gretta’s United Church is in Scarborough. You can Google her and peruse her Church’s website.


I would image in the United Hierarchy, they would prefer she disappear but she’s still there spreading Joy and Happiness.
How can that be wrong?
That can’t be.

She is creating a community that just desires Peace without the finger of God pointing the way or tsk tsking.
That brings me back to Mr. Hitchens. He says Religion “poisons”. I say it separates too. If it doesn’t, then why isn’t there just one church?
One Faith.
One God.
That’s simple to answer.
They just can’t get along.
All you have to do is look back at the Church of the Nativity a couple of weeks ago when the “faiths” were beating each other about the head with broomsticks!
I mean really?
Really?

Then, there are the good, old Catholics. Their Dogma tells them that they are the only “real” Church anyway. The rest of you can just kindly piss off and go with your own God- or the Devil, because we know God only listens to Catholic Prayers. Then yesterday, there’s the Pope telling his flock once again how awful it is to be Homosexual and raise a family. It’s the old Adam and Eve complex not Adam and Steve.
Such Hogwash- especially with the Catholic Church’s history. Why his priests have been “corn-holing” altar boys for centuries as many as they can get their ~ahem~ “hands on”!
Now if he announced the church was melting down their gold and selling a few paintings to build a condom factory, that would really be something worthwhile.

Those Catholics are the only true church you know. That’s why the Apostle’s Creed pledges allegiance to the Roman Catholic Church. I don’t know if any churches repeat the Apostle’s Creed these days but as a kid I had to learn it and repeat it by heart both in Sunday School and at Church. No one- as far as I can remember, explained why we said the words “Holy Catholic Church”. No one really explained why we had to learn the creed.
Grab both books online free, read them and give your head a shake. How refreshing to wake up each day knowing you- and not God, are in charge of your future and your destiny.

Praise be to me and you and the Universe!

Sunday, January 8, 2012

ROBBLOG #363


Today, the story of a man who saw things.

Once upon a time there was a somewhat spiritual man- Peter, who loved to stand in his kitchen and wash pots and pans over and over again. One cold, January winter’s night, as he was washing a particular pot for the umpteenth time, a bright light came flooding through his kitchen window.

“Gee, they finally must have fixed that streetlight!”- he exclaimed!

Then suddenly, in the rays of yellow and white light, a sandal-wearing man- about 30ish, with long brown hair and a moustache appeared in what the man now came to believe was a "vision of some description".

“Wow! You're Jesus Christ!”- the spiritualistic man gasped.

But he was wrong. The apparition coaxed him to guess again.

“Then it’s you! Michael Jackson. Gosh, your skin really is white! I like your nose but what’s the story with the moustache and all that mascara. What were you thinking?

The Man in the vision placed his hands on his hips and shook his head to the left and right. Apparently the floating bits of particle and light was not Michael Jackson either.

No, for it was another man of significantly higher power- yet not one number one hit record to his credit. The man made a peculiar sign with his hands and fingers and proceeded to show the pot washing Peter a pair of blue undershorts.  For some inexplicable reason, the man-in-the-kitchen washing pots and pans seemed to be able to read the man-in-the-vision’s mind- who was neither Michael Jackson nor Jesus Christ.

“Underwear? You want me to do something with your underwear?”

The floating conveyer of blue shorts shook his head again.

“You want me to buy somebody some underwear?”

The apparition smiled and held up two fingers on his right hand and with his left he made a series of three concentric circles. Meanwhile in the background a picture of a village deep within the jungles of the Amazon appeared where Peter could see youngsters running about- sans underwear.

“You want me to get 2000 pairs of underwear and send them to children in the Amazon?”- He cried.

The vision gave him a thumb’s up and slowly dissolved into the darkness of the window.

Without hesitation Peter the pot man cried aloud-

“This will make me famous. I will soar above the heads of my brothers. This vision talked to me and showed me the way. Holy Fatima!”- he was so happy there were tears in his eyes. "Maybe the vision was Jack Layton"- he cried aloud!

So, he gathered others who were of like mind and they produced 2000 pairs of the finest undergarments they could sew right in the man-in-the-vision's kitchen. They all agreed that they were helping poor Jungle children to see the light or at least be more cleanly- like the rest of the western world.

 “Maybe we can even give tuck a little pamphlet in with the underwear that details the message we are sending to these unfortunate examples of children running lost and without direction through the hot, sticky rainforest”- he clasped his hands together and offered praise to the man-in-the-vision-  through the sparkling glass of his kitchen window, who was neither the Christ nor Michael Jackson.

“We’ll make them believe that underwear is good. We’ll show them the way. Before long they’ll hold the same beliefs and sanitary ideas that we do. We’ll make them believe and instruct them to only listen and follow our commands or the desires of the man-in-the-vision and not be allowed to seek their own way and ideas. Oh, it will make the man-in-the-vision so happy.”- he continued to shout aloud to everyone, “ Our place in the yet-to-come will be undoubtedly reserved!”

The others neatly concurred. They smiled broadly, smirked most heartily and kept on sewing at the kitchen table that belonged to the man-who-saw-the-visionn.

Meanwhile, the man-in-the-vision stood invisible outside the window and could only shake his head. The pots and pans man had missed the point entirely for the man-in-the-vision was a designer of men's fashion underwear and needed 2000 pairs of underwear for a spring showing during Fashion week. He heard that the pots and pans man was a mover and shaker and had heard if anyone could make 2000 pairs of underwear in time for the spring show- he could.

The man-in-the-vision couldn't explain fully the light that appeared behind him as he peered through the pots and pans' man's kitchen window that first evening.

Thursday, January 5, 2012

ROBBLOG #362 W E E K E N D Edition


Most days I can’t even remember my own name.

However, while watching Rogers On Demand, I see a commercial for Disney World. These Disney characters flash by the screen and I turn to Tom and say-
“That’s Buzz Lightyear!”

I don’t even know Buzz Lightyear but I know him to see him by golly. I couldn’t even tell you the name of the movie he was in for Disney. It was animated of course.

Then, shortly after I re-newed my aquaintance with Buzz, I received an e-mail from someone I worked with more than 10 years ago. I remember the name but can’t remember the face. Never worked alongside Buzz or ever met him in person for that matter, yet I know him to see him. Then there’s someone I worked with- in real life, yet I have no recollection of the face.

I would like to blame it on my age.

It couldn’t be that.
I really think the problem is within the “files” in my brain. After a certain amount of time has passed, these files get automatically “filed” in the “add or remove programmes” section of my brain. They sit there just in case they are needed but they just aren’t as vivid or as fast to recall  as they once were. That’s why I can’t remember most things that have happened- say 27 and a half hours ago!

Haven’t we all been to a party where we are introduced to some new, interesting people?
The scenario-
The party host wants to introduce me to a friend I had not been familiar with prior to the party.
I wait for the introduction.
I shake hands and make a point to remember their name.
We chat for 30 seconds and then suddenly wham bam…the name goes!
There is a fleeting memory but that’s about it.
Let me see-
James?
Evan?
Neil?
Kevin?
Bryan?
Damned if I know!

It’s at times like this I should have a whack of “Hello My Name Is…” cards in my pocket.
I would write the name on a card with my handy Sharpie as soon as the introduction is made.
Then, I would peel back the protective coating and slap the sticky back onto Bryan or Neil or Evan’s chest.
How easy would that be?
All I would have to do is glance down at Neil’s chest and instantly recall his name.
No embarrassment.
However, I am sure I would be remembered as the guy who stuck a “Hello My Name Is” Sticker on their chest.
That wouldn’t be so bad.
Sad- just not so bad.
At least I wouldn’t be referred to as the "old geezer", who couldn’t remember a fella’s name 5 minutes after he heard it.

Maybe I should just go for it.
Hey, I’ll even bet those stickers are a buck or two at Dollarama.

I had better check it out tomorrow.

Now, if I can just remember.