ROBBLOG#874- Lords and Ladies

Dear RobBlog Alumni, here's a short, silly bit of business all about Stanley and Roger. Enjoy...

Hey Stanley, do you think I could wear this underwear, the pair I'm wearing to church?

You don't go to church Roger.

I know, I know that- but if I did, could I?

What go to church?

No, not just go to church. Wear this underwear to church.

You don't go to church Roger. Think about it.

But if I did could I wear this underwear Stan?

What now? You mean you want to wear that underwear you're wearing to church of all places.

I'm just asking a hypothetical question Stanley.

Hypothetically do you have any pants on Roger when you go to church?

We're not talking pants here Stanley Dear, we're talking underwear.

I see you're point.

Good. Would I be judged for wearing this underwear Stan?

Well, I don't believe the Lord is there at church to judge you outwardly. 

Meaning?

She's more interested in the inner you. That's where you'll be fully judged Roger.

Huh....

Huh What?

Huh, I didn't know the Lord was a Lady, Stan.

ROBBLOG #873- Nudge, Nudge. Jab, Jab.

 

It used to be people were saying- "hot enough for you, do you think spring will ever come or when will the Conservatives pull their lips over their heads and..."

Now, these days people are asking- "So when do you think you'll get your shot?"

This bugger of a thing called covid is the reason.

It's hard to believe we've been doing the covid shuffle for a year now and the year is likely to morph into a year and a half- if not more.

I think we're pretty lucky that pharmaceutical companies have been able to develop and manufacture so many little bottles of a vaccine that will shoot covid in the ass quickly. I know it's not quick enough for many of us but that's how it works.

Just think of all the money that glass company is hauling in making all those little bottles!

I would like to have my shot now so maybe I can return to a normal life but then everyone around me will have to get the shot as well to allow life to return to some state of normalcy. I think the earliest I could expect to receive the vaccine is perhaps late spring or by the end of July. Here in British Columbia we are being stacked in age levels. Actually, front liners are first as the name suggests then First Nations and care homes. At least I think that's how it's been working. 

Sometimes it can all be so confusing.

Not as confusing as the Ford Government's pronouncements in good old Ontario. Everyone makes covid announcements in that province- even the Butcher, Baker and Candlestick maker.

I wonder if Ford will be kicked in the "willnots" at the next election.

It shouldn't be a surprize to most Ontarians how he's dealing with the covid crisis.

YOU voted for him after all.

SURPRIZE!

Anyhoo, back to British Columbia, we have the mild-mannered Dr. Bonnie telling us almost daily what's what in the covid world.

Poor old Dr. B.

She's beginning to sound like an old 78 r.p.m. record stuck in a slot. I don't even take the time to listen to her these days and six months ago I waited patiently for her report at 3:15 PM Pacific Time.

So, after the Front-Liners, Retirement and Care Facilities and Tribes, the plateau for receiving shots starts at over 80's then 75 to 79's. 70 to 74's and so on.

If it doesn't happen by the end of July I'll be in line for the 70 to 74 jabs.

I wish- like many others, that it was a free-for-all.

Put the vaccine in place at the local church hall and open it up for 24 hour a day for shots in the arm until the vaccine runs out. If you want a shot bad enough, all you have to do is get your ass to the hall and praise Jesus when you feel the little prick.

That doesn't sound right- does it?

Unfortunately, this is not the way those in command see it it happening. They have to make our lives even more difficult by making even more rules. Wouldn't it be simpler to open it up now and jab away at those of us who make the effort to make our own way to the church hall with a Tim Horton's cup in one hand and a bare arm boldly raised in anticipation of the vaccine. It seems that that solution would be too easy.

What if one day a week it was open season.

Say every Thursday from 9 to 9 it's a "shot free for all" and all those in attendance get a coupon for 10% off at A&W.

It could work.

Now that all these companies are promising hundreds of thousands of shots- maybe millions, to be delivered in March and April, it only makes sense we get it out of the refrigerators and freezers and into our arms where it belongs.

Of course like the head of the Canada Pension Plan- Mark Machin, we could fly to the United Empire Emirates and get a jab there claiming we are in the country for "personal reasons".

wink-wink, nudge nudge,

say no more...

ROBBLOG #872- Take Two Aspirin and a Shovel and Call Me in a Week

 

This month of February has never, ever been one of my favourite months.

It lags.

For a short month it doesn't know the meaning of short because it feels so long. It used to feel long back in Ontario and yet, still it feels a little longish here on Vancouver Island.

I have no answer as to why and yet when it gets around the three quarter mark in the month, it slows down even more.

I know March is just around the corner but when and what corner?

This year, this month has dragged on for several reasons.

One reason.

I haven't been felling 100% well.

I don't think I am on my deathbed- at least I hope not, yet I am not firing on all cylinders.

I am not going into detail here.

I have seen a doctor twice.

Really, three times if I count the receptionist calling telling me to go get this "test".

Well as long as I don't have to study I said!

Buh Bum Bump!! ~drum roll~

Then, once it was a phone conversation. True to form during these covid times. Thinking back, there's always a week or more in between calls.

It's the nature of "doctoring" these days.

I really don't like going to the doctor.

Nothing is fast.

You wait and wait.

If it wasn't for the need of having a prescription written- which hasn't happened this time, I could self doctor. Yes, I could sit in front of my computer and search various illnesses that I think I may or may not have but a doctor can do that for me.

"Hmmmm..."

tat, tap, tap,

"You could have disintrophiatica or melonhasselautomy or croughicritchenus"

tap, tap, tap,

"of course it could be syriatica, or numdetroughery or...."

tap, tap, tap.

People tell me not to look at Dr. Google and yet I have sat in front of a medical professional who barely looks at me while he/she taps away on the computer.

Maybe they're writing a shopping list because they have no idea what I have or may not have.

It's frustrating. If you've been in this same situation, how many times have you thought to yourself-

"It's cancer. I know it is. I have cancer."

So that my dear readers is reason number one that February is dragging.

Reason number two as to why February is dragging this year is a four-lettered word. 

S N O W.

We had snow here on the island a week ago.

Three days of the blasted stuff. As Islanders we mostly stay home and inside. There are some snowplows but nothing for clearing sidewalks. Most of us have one shovel or none at all. Then as to driving in the stuff. Island snow is heavy not light and fluffy like on a Christmas Card.

I could drive in it. I know I could but it's the Islanders I worry about. Snow like this happens once- maybe twice, in a decade so you can't say most Islanders are savvy when it comes to driving in snow.

It's just safer to stay home.

Staying cooped up with covid is one thing but add "snow days" to that and time goes by very, very slowly.

Damn you February.

Better days are ahead.
They may find a cure for whatever is making me feel unwell.

The snow might not return for another year.

All I can do in the meantime is keep busy.

Exercise.

East well and first and foremost- stay safe.

ROBBLOG #871- Magnificent Elitism

 

This My Darling Readers could be a fable of immense proportions. It is up to you to decide.

It was a quiet, warm evening as I sat in my favourite chair with a favourite book in hand. I was intensely re-reading words I had read a half dozen times before when I paused, looked up and felt I needed to have this conversation- one-sided as I knew it could ultimately be.

I gently closed the book, keeping a middle finger tucked inside the page I had been reading...

I began my gentle riddle of thoughtful, cheap words aiming at the benevolence who held all our dreams aspirations and hope for eternity in it's gentle hands and heart. I felt the clean, pure light of all my days encircle my brow. All the knowledge I had gleaned up to this moment in time rushed forward and words, thoughts and love spewed from the very tip of my wagging tongue out into the time, space and continuum of the room and world beyond. I began to speak in rhyme and reason for no treason in this season would make reason...Well, maybe not so much rhyme...

 Me: Oh Dear, Magnificent, Superior Being.

One with our belief in a Heavenly place, leader of all that is right, true and deserved.

Master of one's universe and the universe of others both within this galaxy and without.

Father-figure to minions and millions.

Voice of truth, reason, true grit and detent. 

Galant and self-Righteous Redeemer.

Doer and un-doer. 

Mentor to the sloths and slothful.

Distinguished one who answers voices from not only poor and super poor, dumb and dumber, rich and richer but even from those most elite- such as myself and un-elite such as the poor buggers who inhabit the other side of the tracks- in places where tracks exist.

Please hear my wants and words for it is at this time I ask and plead with you to reserve judgement, respond and heed the words, wishes and expectations I am about to level onto your most magnificent playing field in your special light-encased place surrounded by not only a realm of glittering angels and those who are good and do-gooders but all those who have gone before surrounding your esteemed magnificentship with love, respect, everlasting doing and an immense amount of genuflecting, ass-kissing and all manner of pleading and suggesting and hopefulness in a time of want and need- except for the rich and richer and elites on the upper East side, who you enshrine with warmth, love and exceedingly good times- not to mention high taxation.

I listen in awe to the smallish voice inside my head repeating your beatitudes stretching across earth and time- and time again, emanating from a loving omnipresent mind, enlarged heart and solid judgement whether now or in times of joyful celebration, for yeah I sayeth unto you to allow this- your poor, elitist servant, to ring and speak sweetly to your ears and heart and to weave...

~ a holy, powerful voice rings out~

God: Stop! Stop! For my good sakes Rob, just STOP! How many fucking times do I have to tell you, I can't make your husband's numbers come up on 649!

Me: Oh you can't. I guess I have asked before...

God: Yes you have and you are starting to annoy me. Annoy me a lot that I am thinking I might smite thee. I mean, I don't want to Rob. I like you. I really do and I have great plans for you when the time comes but for now for Christ on a Cracker Sakes- just shut up!!

Me: Okay then. Righty O. Have a good evening...

I picked up my book. Pulled my middle finger out and began once more to read...

ROBBLOG #870- s' Know Fun

 

Here on Vancouver Island we've all been waiting since Thursday past.

No, not to have The Prime Minister give the Governor General a quick boot in the Astronaut Pants.

This is something much more important than that- at least to Islanders.

We've bought extra milk, bread and bananas.

We've checked our toilet paper supplies in the cupboard under the stairs.

We've rummaged around in the garage looking for the one lonely snow shovel lying hidden beneath this year's outdoor Christmas decorations. We haven't had the chance to put them away in their proper places- yet.

Yes. 

We are prepared for snowmaggedon here on the island.

It's all about the 5 to 15 cms of heavy white stuff the forecasters have been warning us about in "weather bulletins" since 4 or 5 days ago.

We've seen some rain so far.

We've been spending our time hovering around inside our homes, hiding from the treacherous weather the professionals have been warning us about.

It's a change from covid!

So far, nothing has happened.

It could still happen tonight on the Island- so they say.

The weather people.

The Malahat- the mountain range between Duncan and Victoria could see 10 cm.

No maybe 15cm.

No, it is back to 10 cms now.

Oh H E double hockey sticks, just stay off the Malahat until those in the know can give us an "all clear".

It's tough for the weather folks, I'll admit.

Our weather here on The Island changes just a kilometre or two up or down the Island Highway what with the Pacific and mountains and valleys and straits and the mainland- it's a forecasters nightmare!

That being said it doesn't  make it any easier for those of us living on this beautiful Island off Canada's west coast- British Columbia's "Big Island".

We pay attention to weather reports.

It's all we talk about in the lineups at Thrifty's or Save On Foods.

Will it or won't it?

Who knows?

Usually, when they start ranting about a major storm so far ahead it eventually fizzles and simply does away. I heard Vancouver and Surrey and other Mainland spots saw some white stuff but here on both Saturday and Sunday the Cowichan was green- as usual.

When the snow does fall- like the week before Christmas this past December, it's a different snow than the east. It's heavy and can break a Canadian Tire plastic shovel in a snap!  It plays havoc with out backs and our wrists.

We twist with a shovel full of heavy snow and pay for it long after the snow has melted away.

Usually that's later in the day or the next day. That's why a lot of us just wait for the fecking stuff to melt away on its own.

Islanders have short memories when it comes to snow however. We know what the word means and when forecasters yell in our faces and ears about the inclement weather coming our way it's rather like listening to a German General address his troops in an old black and white World War II movie.

Don't they know a General can get more respect whistling the "Theme to the Bridge on the River Kwai" rather than screaming, yelling and spitting?

Island Forecasters should take heed- especially the national prognosticators who try to tell us about our weather when they hardly have an inkling as to where Duncan, Ladysmith, Port Albertni, Courtney or Sooke really are located. Somewhere off the mainland they figure and not as far out in the Pacific Ocean as Hawaii.

So, as I write this eight hundred and seventieth Blog I am still occasionally checking the window to my right, wondering if I'll be building a huge snowman in an hour or two.

Probably not...but...

ROBBLOG #869- Like Ice

 

It was a cool, crisp morning as Bunty scurried along 7th Avenue.

It was early yet and nary a vehicle passed by on the street. 

She hoped that Pippa would be on time at the coffee shop. Pippa was not good early in the morning.

She always had trouble rising from her warm cozy bed. Bunty didn't like having an early start either but she managed to push herself just a little bit harder. She had pulled on an extra pair of socks this morning to keep the cold at bay. She hated cold feet. The earmuffs Aunt Flo gave her at Christmas held tight against her ears.

At the corner of Elm and 7th a delivery truck backed out from a short laneway behind a fruit store. An early delivery from the docks. Fresh fruit and veg from who knows where she thought.

The street lights flickered and turned off.

It must be just past seven. Bunty could have looked at her watch but her hands were too cozy and warm inside her gloves that were shoved in her pockets.

As she walked along the strap of her brown leather bag slid down over her shoulder.

She anxiously shoved it back up in place.

Boy, I hope Pippa's on her way to the Coffee shop. She'd call once inside just in case that girl had overslept. If she had Bunty was would be jealous knowing Pippa was still safe and warm beneath her sheets and a warm duvet.

In the distance a siren wailed.

Bunty could hear the deep-throated whistle of a passenger train scooting down the tracks a few blocks away. For a few seconds she imagined what it would be like all warm and cozy on the train, a cup of coffee and fresh croissant on the tray in front on her, heading for a destination several hours away. Goodness only knows where. She was thinking about that "where" when she could see Pippa a half a block ahead of her waving frantically.

She had made it up after all- and in time.

Will wonders never cease...

Bunty picked up the pace and was embracing Pippa in a quick minute.

"Gosh, I thought I might have to call you when I got to the coffee shop"- says Bunty, just a bit out of breath on a icy city morning.

"My Dear, you have no faith in womankind!" laughed Pippa.

"Oh, I do have faith in womankind, it's just my faith in you is a little less at times!"- Bunty smacked Pippa across the shoulder and grabbed her right arm sliding her left arm into to Pippa's, locking elbows as they walked the rest of the way to the shop and their morning coffee.

"So my Darling Bunty-" Pippa held the word "Darling". It seemed to hang frozen in the February morning air, "What should we do after our coffee?"

"Coffee and a breakfast sandwich of some sort-" interjected Bunty her breath hanging in the frigid air, "I don't now why I am so hungry this morning."

Pippa looked Bunty straight in the eye and said-" Well maybe it's just the early hour. Your insides are all confused!"

"Probably. Here we are!"- Bunty pointed to the Coffee Shop's entrance- "Let's get warm."

They entered the front door and could instantly feel the warmth of the shop's inside. They chose a table by the window near a hot air vent. Taking off her hat and gloves Bunty looked at the menu behind the counter- "What are you having Pip?" As she perused the menu board, she slipped her brown bag over the back of her chair.

"Goodness, I don't know- well, a big coffee with double milk of course."

"Ditto"- agrees Bunty.

In a few minutes they had ordered and taken the trays- on which their breakfasts and coffees were placed, back to their window table.

"Did you want to eat first or...you know..." Pippa seemed impatient.

"Doesn't matter to me. You decide this time." Bunty took a sip of hot coffee and waited for Pipa's answer.

"Let's get it out of the way now." Wow Pippa had made a decision."Righty O Pippa." Bunty took the gun from her coat pocket and shot the server behind the counter-

ten or twelve times. 

The shots rang out loud and clear. Customers ran from the Coffee Shop.

"Your turn My Dear!" Bunty sat down and took another sip of coffee. As she did Pippa walked away from the table, slipped behind the counter and emptied the cash till. She took it's contents back to the window table where they sat.

"Shove these bills in your bag will you?"

"Of course." Bunty took her bag from the chair back, stuffed all the cash inside and replaced the strap over the chair's back. "Gosh, the sausage muffins are very, very tasty this morning Pippa. I'm so glad we came here."

"Mmmm." Pippa agreed. "I am so glad we came here as well. I've been wanting to knock off this place for a while!"

ROBBLOG #868- Of Fame and Sparkly Gowns

 

I always wanted to be famous.

I don't know why.

It's appealing to me for some reason.

Maybe it's more the idea of being RICH and famous because I am sure there are famous people out there who would not consider themselves rich- perhaps because they have those offshore bank accounts.

In my own small way, I guess I have been marginally famous.

I was a broadcaster on both AM and FM radio for 30 years.

I still am a broadcaster- online of course, with my stations Starlite- Island Brite and The Island's Golden Classics on Swisssh.

When you think about it the average person doesn't even have that tiny bit of stardom. I now there are listeners around the globe that hear my voice and listen to my stations.

Maybe some of them are famous.

I dunno...

Broadcasting aside, I was also a thespian for many years.

I was in many stage shows and even in latter years- along with the Mister, ran our own company. Still our Facebook Page for Double R Productions continues. Mostly a few funny bits here and there written by me. Some times I post some photos from productions I was involved in. Occasionally, Sister Mary Margaret drops a video onto the site but she hasn't really since the early days of Covid. You can check it out at

https://www.facebook.com/DoubleRProductions2017

I write too.

I have for years.

Stories, shows, articles, reviews, song lyrics and of course this very blog. Some friends even today are surprized when I tell them I have been writing this RobBlog for many years- more than 15 maybe 20. Look upat the top. 

This is the eight hundred and sixty-eighth Blog I have composed and published.

That has to count for something- right? 

 An onstage moment in drag singing "Sisters". Ahhh Showbiz!

I loved that sparkly, sleeveless gown. Don't ask about the helmet...

There is a downside to being really famous of course- the loss of one's privacy. I wonder if Ryan Reynolds or Hugh Jackman can slip into a Tim Horton's or McDonald's without being recognized?

I think probably not.

Autograph seekers would converge.

Social media devotees would haul out their mobiles and pepper the web with fan pictures.

Individuals might lust after Hugh until I'd be forcible removed by Ronald McDonald himself...

~ahem~

My outside voice...

I suppose if one had a few million dollars in the bank one could deal with stardom and being famous. I know I'd at least like to give it a whirl.

I'd like to be driven here and there by a chauffeur.

Shopping at Hudson's Bay or Winners- even if one could afford to have a professional shopper do it.

I would miss sniffing out bargains at Winners.

My handlers- my people, would try to discourage me from frequenting such casual, everyday, working class stores. They'd waltz me to Toronto's Bloor Street or London's Oxford Street and have their way with my purchases. 

One their own, they'd have all the fun. I would just sit at home- in my mansion with the security gate down the drive, waiting to see what they had brought for me.

You know, I don't think that's a way to live.

Maybe I could suggest to my personal shoppers to call Hudson's Bay or WalMart and ask for a private shopping session after hours.

I would even be happy to zip over to Paris and buy new "poo poo undies" for myself at a shoppe along the Champs d'Elysees.

Anyhoo, back to reality...

I am not that famous or doubt I ever will be unless the Mister's horse (read Lotto Ticket) comes in one day and I buy my famousness.

It's not "old money" or movie star money but I'd take it just the same.

Maybe I should set up interviews for my own personal shopper and of course there's pool boys to consider too.

We'll leave my dream of interviewing pool boys for another Blog.