Thursday, September 19, 2019
How To Tell Your Kids About Justin's Blackface
In light of this horrible, horrible, shocking disclosure that our Prime Minister once- okay three times, wore blackface, I present this story- keeping in mind as the media has been telling us over and over and over again, that this is shocking, horrific, unbelievable, misdirected, liberal,wrong and the big mother of all words- "Racist".
Well besides "Fuck" that is....
We look in on a modest two story home in a marginally liberal neighbourhood. A mother decides to sit her son down and have "the talk". No, not about penises and vaginas, about The Prime Minister's Blackface for she had read that she should have a talk with her "son". She read that in the right-wing newspaper called "the Sun" which happened to be laying on the floor in the toilet at work...
Mum: Now Howie, Mummy wants to sit you down and have a talk about Justin wearing blackface.
Howie: Okay Mummy.
Mum: Now Dear, it is not right for a man like this country's Prime Minister to colour his face with black paint and pretend to be a Sheikh or Nat King Cole.
Howie: Harry Belafonte.
Howie: The Prime Minister wore paint on his face to act like Harry Belafonte and he sang The Banana Boat Song? Day-O?
Mum: He did? Oh, I love that song....anyway, he should not put paint on his face to be someone else.
Howie: Okay Mummy but do you mean like Mr. Brown down at the centre or Ronald McDonald.
Mum: Mr. whozit at the whatzit? No! Ronald McDonald is a clown!
Howie: Well, so is Mr. Scheer. I heard you tell Grandad that the other night on the phone.
Mum: You were listening?
Howie: Mum, you have an extremely LOUD voice.
Mum: Oh. Do I? Anyway, Mr. Brown?
Howie: Mr. Brown. He reads to us at the centre and sometimes he has red or green or yellow or black paint on his face.
Mum: ~Agasp~ All over his face? Maybe he wants to be a clown too.
Mum: Well, maybe's he's telling a story about people.
Howie: Oh you mean like Indians, Chinamen, Towelheads, Bog-trotters or Dagos?
Mum: Howie!! Do not use that word Indians. It's a bad, bad word. Or any of those others as well!
Howie: What should I say Mummy?
Mum: Well, Aboriginal or First Nation.
Howie: Should I put warpaint on my face?
Mum: NO! Don't put anything on your face!
Howie: Al Jolson did?
Mum: Al Jolson? How did you know about Al Jolson?
Howie I saw it in a movie on...
Mum: Television. Well that was a different time and a different place. Not Canada.
Mum: Well, yes but we can't call them that.
Howie: Are Cowboys still cowboys?
Howie: So, I can call a cowboy a cowboy but not an Indian- Tonto?
Mum: Well, yes. I guess you can call a cowboy a cowboy but no, you can't call an Indian "Tonto" OR "Chief" for that matter.
Howie: Even if they are one? A Chief I mean.
Mum: No! Well, I mean I don't think so.... Oh nevermind, ask your teacher. The point is all that name-calling is wrong. That's what we call "Racist"!
Howie: Oh...~pause~ Is that what Mr. Celebrum is when he calls Gay People names?
Mum: No Dear, he's a homophobe.
Howie: Is it what is Mrs. Carnavole is when she calls the Lesbians rug munchers?
Mum: Whaaat? No Dear that still a homophobe.
Howie: What about when the man at the store makes fun of my friend and calls him Bisexual Berenie?
Mum: Well, that's a Biphobiant.
Howie: What about people from Mexico, are they beaners?
Mum: No! For goodness sake no. They are people just like us. Just people.
Howie: Oh, I thought they were Spics.
Mum: Howie, where did you ever hear that?
Together: On TV!
Howie: I hear faggot and nigger too. That's a Gay man and Black person- right?
Mum: Oh My Goodness!! You can't use any of those words- ever!!
Howie: Mum, will I still be able to paint my face green like The Hulk for Hallowe'en?
Mum: Ummmmm. Leave it with me will ya Howie. Mummy needs a drink.
Howie: Are you a drunk Mum?
Howie: Go outside and play Howie.
There is no part two. Just common sense....
Posted by Rob Reid at 7:03 PM
Sunday, September 15, 2019
Today, here's a "Fractured Fairy Tale" for your gratification or at the very least edification.
Look, just read the damned thing and take from it what you will...
Roger Locks was out taking a walk along a trail in the deep woods. He like to keep active and keep his muscles and heart in shape. Every kilometre or so, Roger would fall to the ground and do twenty push ups. He knew he had a great, firm ass and he intended keeping it that way.
It soon became a very, very long walk. Mr. Locks was enjoying himself so much he actually lost track of the time. Hours had past and by this time he must have completed more than a hundred push ups.
He was becoming a little tired and hungry and thought that he should turn back. As he rounded a bend in the trail he spied a small, woodsy cottage next to a gigantic oak tree.
Certainly someone could spare a drink and perhaps a slice of bread before he turned back for home.
Roger walked up to the front door and found it cracked open- just a bit.
"Hello!"- he shouted, ""Is anyone 't-uh home?"
He tried again.
"Hello? I was wondering if you could spare a glass of water and maybe a slice of bread- with butter?
Still no reply.
He pushed the door open farther.
Looking into the cottage's interior he could see an old wooden table set with cloth and a vase of flowers in the centre.
Roger walked into the room forgetting he might be trespassing.
"Odd..."- he thought.
Along one side of the table were set two steaming bowls of what appeared to be spaghetti, piled high with tomato sauce. An additional bowl was set at one end. There were three chairs- all made of old wood, probably quite antique.
Roger Locks was now standing at the side of the table smelling the wonderful hot pasta and sauce.
He picked up a spoon next to the bowl and sat down in what was the largest of the three chairs and had a taste.
He tried another and then another and yet still another!
Roger was becoming full.
Near the centre of the table was a pitcher of lemonade. He looked around and saw glasses on the sideboard next to the table. He stood up and took one filling it to the brim with cool lemonade.
Mr. Locks plopped down in chair once again and as he did so the chair burst into bits. It literally fell apart.
"For fuck sake! I don't know my own strength!"
He grabbed his huge left bicep with his right hand.
"Nice!"- He smiled, "But did I eat too much?"
He did of course.
He was quite muscular too- of course.
Roger Locks picked his six foot two, athletic frame up from the floor and with his right foot shoved the bits and pieces of the chair under the table- as if no one would notice.
He looked around the room and yawned.
"Who would go out and leave their door unlocked with a wonderful hot lunch on the table?"
Through an open door on the right he saw a bedroom. He walked to the doorway- yawning still, looking inside. It was a perfectly comfy looking bed he thought. I am sure the owner wouldn't mind if I had a quick cat-nap. Roger removed his shoes- it was only polite that he did so, then slipped off his shirt and shorts. He was asleep- fully raw, seconds after his head hit the pillow.
A few minutes passed....
Soon the sound of voice came from the front door.
Roger Locks snoozed on. He heard not a thing.
Into the main room of the cottage where the table and three bowls of spaghetti sat came three bears.
As they came in single file, each one was larger and more hirsute than the one before.
Typical of bears. Being hirsute.
One bear looked at the table and exclaimed_
"What the hell? Someone's been eating my spaghetti!"
A second bear ambled to the table and saw the empty lemonade glass-
"Hell's Bells, someone has been drinking our home-made lemonade!"
"Yah, well, that's not the worst of it boys, look at my chair! It's smashed to smithereens!"
The third big, furry bear sounded angry.
"Why if I could only get my hands on the culprit who did this I'd give him a "Judy Garland" to the face!"
"Judy Garland?" questioned the middle bear?
"Oh, that's what I call my new fist punch when I'm using the bag at the gym- my Judy Garland."
"You are so predictable!"- remarked the last of the Three Bears.
Suddenly the middle bear screamed like a girl and pointed towards the open bedroom door.
"Look!"- He cried clutching his pearls, there's someone lying in your bed Big Daddy Bear, "And he's asleep.
Big Bear motioned to the other two to remain where they were.
"I'll handle this."
He kissed his right fist and called it "Judy".
Big Bear walked into the bedroom and politely "ahem-ed".
Upon the third ahem- the loudest of the three, Roger Locks awoke.
He looked up at the huge, hairy bear standing next to the bed.
Throwing the covers aside, he lay there exposed and said in the most charming of voices-
"Want a bit of the old slap and tickle?"
Big Bear paused briefly- keeping Judy Garland at the ready.
He looked down at Roger Locks lying there all provocative and naked.
Then while slamming the bedroom door shut he growled,
"Ya, alright then..."
Posted by Rob Reid at 2:24 PM
Monday, September 9, 2019
I can't remember the last time I did a "Dis and Dat" so here goes...
'DIS and 'DAT
I had been following a couple of political sites and persons on Twitter with some manner of political insight regarding the Federal Election- which hasn't officially begun yet. Over the weekend I got so fed up with the lies and misinformation and crap I was reading I unfollowed all of them. My stress level is much lower today. I am not convinced as to why I should vote in October's election anyway.
Hearing from friends back in "old home" I understand that some September nights are coolish already- like lows of 6c with a chill in the air. Now being a former Ontarian, I know this will pass and more days are ahead with temps in the mid to upper 20's. Here on the Island our overnights are still in double digit territory. Our slide into autumn is more gradual here without the colourful treescape and that distinctive autumn smell. It's just different here.
Speaking of Autumn, stores have Harvest Decor and Hallowe'en stuff on the shelves already.
I am not surprised.
It happens every year. Although I haven't seen Xmas decorations yet I know Christmas Cards are on the shelves for those of you who like to start addressing them early to beat the postal deadlines. Best to get them addressed before October first to ensure delivery in Canada before December 25th. If you have friends in Lower Slobovia, you are already too late to have a card arrive in advance of Christmas Day this year but it's never too early for 2020.
A few days ago we had an hour of thunder in the afternoon. Unusual for the Cowichan on the Island and the first we've heard since leaving Ontario two years ago.
Huh- you say if you're from the Mainland.
A couple of first anniversaries to mention.
My Cousin Judy passed a year ago as did our little schnauzer Missy. We miss them and know that someday we'll see them both again.
There's joy and comfort in believing that...
Several folks have asked me lately- "So, what's on your schedule for today?"
"Nothing..."- I reply.
"What about tomorrow then?"
"Ummm. Nope. Nothing."
"Later in the week perhaps?"
I am sure they felt there'd be something happening there at least.
"No." I say, trying to muster up some memory of some item from our calendar- even to the point of making something up but I couldn't.
"Nothing pressing that I can think of. I think that's why they call it retirement!"- I happily conclude.
Folks usually stay quiet for a few seconds.
Then, I was telling our landscaper friend the other day that I needed the two large plants- I had bought at the garden centre, to be placed in one hole.
Two per hole. Two holes. That's why I bought four plants.
The plants are Miscanthus Gigantica. Beautiful 12-14 foot tall grasses.
Our landscaper- who I'll call Cameron, suggested just one plant per hole because as he said-
"In a few years they'll fill in and look quite full."
I said- "Look Cam, I don’t have 20 or 30 years to wait for something to grow and fill in.
I need big now."
He just looked at me perhaps thinking a move was in the near future.
"You know," I continued, "In twenty years I’ll be 88. How old will you be?"
He looked down into the hole he had dug for the Miscanthus and said- "Your age."
I smiled- "So, that kind of puts that in perspective- doesn't it?"
Time flies when you're talking to a youngster!
I saw a video on Twitter.
A fellah in the Middle East- Saudi Arabia perhaps, is washing his face in camel urine.
Then, he begins to drink handfuls of the warm, yellowish liquid from several different camels smiling all the way as he demonstrates the proper technique to slurp piss. I would imagine camel pee tastes a bit like the soft drink- Dr. Pepper. This is supposed to bring him infinite blessings.
I mean, I wash my face with the same stuff that Jennifer Aniston uses but cripes- I don't drink it!
I swear I saw one camel nudge another camel and laugh...just a "wee" bit.
Posted by Rob Reid at 8:17 PM
Tuesday, September 3, 2019
Teacher (Miss Symposium) : Class! Class! CLASS!!!!!!
Teacher: Today class, I want you to write a theme...
Class: Oh, no. Not a theme... ~mumble, grumble~
Teacher: Yes, you little pile of dried up turds- a theme!
Billy: Miss Symposium, I don't think you can call us "turds".
Teacher: Fine! Little shits then...
Teacher: As I was saying, today you will write a theme. The topic of the theme is-
"What I did on my Summer Vacation!"
~time passes~ Little Robbie passes in his theme.
1. I read Lucy Maud Montgomery's second Anne Book "Anne of Avonlea". It was most enjoyable and since I have never been to PEI it was like taking a little vacation. I am also thinking of dying my hair red and growing pig-tails.
2. The Mister and I saw Jersey Boys at the Royal Theatre in Victoria. Not as big a show cast-wise and set-wise as we saw in Toronto a few years ago but still it was entertaining and a summer evening in the big city.
3. Up Island in July we saw Mama Mia! in Chemainus. A small stage and big cast and for two hours of Abba music- entertaining, although not as massive as the Toronto Show we saw a few years ago.
I hear you- must everything be compared to Toronto?
4. The Mister and I settled in for 4 hours of Shakespeare at the 39 Days of July. The offerings were Measure for Measure and Much Ado About Nothing. The latter the review for the former which my husband appeared in back at the Orillia Opera House in old home.
I hear you- there isn't 39 days in July Rob.
"Shut up!"- is my retort.
On the Island there is...
I can dream...
6.There was a huge Birthday celebration for the Mister who turned 65 in August. We partied hardy at the Arbutus Cafe. Okay, for two hours in the early evening of a Friday but whaaddahyawant? We are Seniors. At least he gets on BC Ferries for free now- Monday through Thursday. Old Age has its good points.
|There's History Through that Door|
|Victorian in Victoria|
And that would be rude.
Have some class, eh?
9. We had other guests over the summer. I am protecting their privacy. They all want to move to our Island in the Pacific and no we did not encourage them. My Cousin back in old home thinks I want everyone from back in old home to move out here to new home.
I don't have to say anything.
By the way, his son is moving out here next month...
This little Island of 800,000 folk sells itself to all who come.
10. We took the ferry from Departure Bay one Wednesday Morning in July to sail to Horseshoe Bay on the Mainland just up the coast from Vancouver. Our friend Bev (not her real name) came along for the sailing. Once there on the mainland of British Columbia, we met up with our friends Karl-Heinz and Jimmy May (I didn't ask if I could use their real names so again, I made them up). We lunched at a fish and chip spot called Trolls which The Mister and I hadn't been to in 30 years.
Horseshoe Bay has changed.
There you have it Miss Symposium, that is what little Robbie did on his summer vacation.
I expect an A+.
Posted by Rob Reid at 1:20 PM