There must some easier way for me to get my wings!

Some end-of-year musings...

I've always thought that I am here for a reason. Not some lofty reason that may change the world, simply one that may change someone's life...for the better.

Maybe I've already done that one thing, and I'm on borrowed time. Perhaps that one thing hasn't happened yet. Or it isn't one single thing or event. Maybe there are many yet to come.

One can't help but think these thoughts after watching a certain holiday movie, an annual event for some of us. You know the one where an enthusiastic, life-loving idealist is allowed to see what the world would be like had he not been born. In George Bailey's case, everything and everyone in his life goes to crap without his presence. He is given the opportunity to see one possible outcome of the so-called butterfly effect.

What if that story had gone the other direction? What if everyone had been better off without the principal character? I'm quite certain the book and subsequent script to It's a Lousy Life has already been written, many times over. Instead of a guardian angel named Clarence, George runs into a character named Bill. And Bill needs to shepherd some lost soul farther down in the depths in order to earn his way back into Hades. Bill shows George just how wonderful life would be without his presence! How everyone and everything is much better off without his influence. I picture an eternally pessimistic, self-loathing, manic depressive Paul Giamatti character as the lead. Tommy Lee Jones could play Bill. Brittney Spears would make an appropriate Violet Bick. Sharon Stone as Mary. Marlon Brando (RIP) as Potter. And Gary Busey as that pharmacist guy. Greg Kinnear as Harry, George's brother.

It's a Lousy Life, the movie...it's just a matter of time before we see that flick coming out near the holidays. Fortunately, it will most likely go straight to video and cable, as no one wants to see that sort of story over and over again just before Christmas!

That brings me to my own personal pilgrimage into New Year's Resolution Land. A precise and wonderful land chock full of good intentions, wishful dreams, and abundant good will. A place where I make pledges, promises, and personal predictions about my upcoming new year. An abstract region whereby I actually jot down some words describing my fantasies and daydreams. Another opportunity for real disappointment and unrealistic expectations.

I wax nostalgic quite often. Aaahhh! There...I just waxed again...last year's New Year's resolution blog post.

Let's see: Lose weight (didn't happen, in fact, I gained). Make more money (we won't even go there!). Be a more loving and caring husband, father, son, etc, etc (a work in progress, the jury is still out on this one). How lame! But, alas, no different than any other year. Let's move on.

As lousy as I am about keeping resolutions, I had better not make the one resolution I have been thinking of: Stay alive in 2008. I'll pass on that one.

So with that in mind...here is my one and only New Year's resolution for 2008: Do anything better this year than last!


A final thought. I'll leave you with a joke I heard in a Kate Clinton monologue recently. Her pessimistic, depressed friend always asks her when she calls, "Is anything O.K.?"

Cheers! Visit a pub in 2008.

The "F" Word

My favorite color is blue. My favorite movie is The Graduate. My favorite season is Fall. My favorite food is chocolate. My favorite thing to do is sleep. My favorite letter is “F”. More specifically, my favorite words begin with the letter “F”.

Words beginning with “F” just seemed to fly with exuberance out of one’s vocal orifice. Almost effortlessly we humans are able to form that “F” sound. It just rolls off the lips. In fact, it begins economically in the middle of the mouth and only has to travel another inch or so to finish between the top front teeth and the bottom lip. Try it...say “eff”. You see? But when used as the first letter of a word, it only has to begin and end at the front teeth and the bottom lip! How easy is that?

Admittedly, “F” words may be considered somewhat macho or just male-oriented compared to, say...”L” words. Love, lick, little, lips, languid, and lust come to mind. Those just seem to better fit exiting a female mouth. “G” words are also machoistic and almost angry sounding. I digress...

Some favorite “F” words of mine: fabulous, fade, fairway, faint, faith, fall, family, fancy, and fanciful. That last one utilizing my favorite letter twice in one word. And those are only a few of my favorite “F” words from the “F - A” list! It goes on and on.

Free, funny, farm, farrow, and fart. I’m not so fond of “fat” though. Faux pas, faun, favor, feather, feelings, female, and feminine...of course.

I don’t know why this topic came to mind, especially today, the day before Christmas. Quite possibly it’s because I found myself mouthing various “F” words while driving yesterday...one "F Bomb" in particular. Taking twenty plus minutes to get out of the mall parking lot evokes those responses in the most gentile person. Of course, I am far from gentile! Driving an automobile two days before Christmas should be outlawed. It makes one fraught with fertile festering bouts of fervent frustration. My ferric ferocity festoons...I grip the wheel fuming with every fiber of my frail human form...

Well, you get the idea.

By the way, I feigned...what are your favorite f#@*ing words, flaccidly fumbling for a way to end this flimsy, flawed, flippant, flustering, fodder. Phew! I’m glad that’s over!

Merry Frickin' Christmas to all...and to all a flippin' good night.

Ooo, eee, ooo ah ah, ting tang, walla walla bing bang

Ah, memories of Christmas past. It will have to suffice for now.

That 45 rpm record from which those memorable lyrics come is what I wanted for Christmas in 1958. That tune, The Witch Doctor, was the predecessor to The Chipmunk Song both written and sung by Ross Bagdasarian, aka, David Seville. Fifty years later, the CG/live action movie, Alvin and the Chipmunks, is now playing in theatres. Some things just never go away!

But that wasn't all I wanted for Christmas as a child. I asked Santa for much more than a goofy, hit novelty song mistakenly recorded at half speed. Over the years spanning the mid fifties to the mid sixties, I longed for toys that had been embedded in my brain by television ads. I got all of them! Some of which included:

The Fanner '50 - a "chrome-plated" plastic replica of a 50 caliber revolver complete with spring-loaded shells that shot plastic bullets out the barrel! Not likely found under anyone's tree in this day and age.

Battling Betsy - No, not a soldier doll, but a battery operated Sherman tank that "could run over anything", including my baby sister. Our little dogs (toy poodles) would run and hide when I cranked up this battery-operated baby!

The Remco Pom Pom Gun - Yes, an accurately depicted miniature size replica of a twin 40mm anti-aircraft gun found on battleships and destroyers, complete with controls enabling this nine year old to traverse the gun from side to side, and up and down, while firing at imaginary enemy aircraft.

The Remco Ballistic Missile Site - You think I'm kidding, don't you? I could open the motorized doors, raise the two missiles, and fire them across the room. Can you say Cuban Missile Crisis and its affect on toy marketing?

The Revell Nautilus Nuclear Submarine model kit - Just what it sounds like. The entire side was removable revealing complete details of everything inside a submarine, include nuclear missiles.

The Frontiersman Rolling Block 50 caliber buffalo gun - Again, included spring-loaded bullets and "stickem' caps" that exploded when fired.


I also got chemistry sets, microscopes, transistor radios, bicycles, remote-controlled cars and gas airplanes, watches...and the proprietary sweaters, socks, underwear, and shirts. The latter mainly received from Aunts and Uncles, a wise ploy by my parents delegating the "boring" gifts to relatives.

The most sophisticated electronic device was the transistor radio. No iPods, no cell phones, no computers, no video games. But, we were spoiled with Christmas gifts...and couldn't wait for December 24th. Who knows what kids will be wishing for in another 30 years?

This year, my only wish is that we can see our kids and parents and siblings more next year. We won't be able to be with them on Christmas. We do have each other though, Loretta and I, and that is what is important right now. I also have relatives and close friends with whom I will have a brief phone conversation on that day. And I look forward to those verbal exchanges hoping they realize how much I miss being with them.

So, here's a hearty ooo eee ooo ah ah, ting tang, walla walla bing bang to all. It's the good memories that keep us going.

Mythbusting: Tell me it just ain't true!

There was an interesting article this morning on Yahoo News concerning some common myths most of us seem to subscribe to...including myself. The wildly popular cable program Mythbusters addresses things like this and attempts to duplicate them on the show all the time. They recently aired some sort of Mythbuster Marathon and after an hour or two I was mythbusted into boredom. Most of them are just plain silly and akin to something you would see on the Jackass series and movies.

The Yahoo article (from a British Medical Journal piece) listed the following as common myths...that just ain't true!

1. We only use 10% of our brains. Myth. I am reasonably sure that most people only use 1% of their brains, especially during the holiday season and when driving.

2. You should drink at least 8 glasses of water a day. Myth. The liquid we get from fruits, vegetables, and other foods counts towards this total. And that includes coffee, soft drinks, and Coors light.

3. Finger nails and hair grow after death. Myth. I am convinced that some people use more than 10% of their brain after death.

4. Shaved hair grows back faster, coarser, and darker. Myth. I had a date in high school with Mary Lou Zablonski who never shaved and her mustache looked like Tom Selleck's in Magnum P.I. It was one of those "Butter-face" crushes.

5. Reading in dim light ruins your eyesight. Myth. Reading in dim light doesn't ruin your eyesight...but masturbating a lot in dim light makes you eventually go blind and grow hair on your palms.

6. Eating turkey makes you drowsy. Myth. I've addressed this idiotic wive's tale before. Eating a shitload of anything in one sitting, plus copious amounts of alcohol, and watching the replay of Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade on T.V. will make the most stalwart food hog catatonic.

7. Mobile phones are dangerous in hospitals. Myth. Only if your urologist is texting his mistress while performing a vasectomy on you. And then, only if she has just told him that she has chlamidia and is pregnant.

Here are few of my own myths that have been "busted"...

8. Sixty is the new forty. Myth. Depends on the "mileage".

9. Money is the root of all evil. Myth. Only if you don't have any.

10. Watching graphically violent movies will make you more violent. Myth. If you don't agree, I might have to kill you.

11. Looking at porn makes you a pervert. Myth. I've never seen any porn, so I couldn't tell you. It does make you a pathological liar though.

12. Elvis is dead. Myth. He just may have had extensive plastic surgery and become the president of North Korea.

13. Shit rolls downhill. Myth. Shit usually hits the fan and goes everywhere.

14. A dog or cat will explode in the microwave. Myth. It only makes their hair fall out, causes them to sleep more than usual, and makes them glow in the dark.

15. Drinking red wine is good for you. Myth. But drinking seven bottles of MD 20/20 a day allows you write like Charles Bukowski.

16. Size does matter. Myth. It ain't the size of the boat...it's the motion of the ocean!

"The shitter was full!"

Now that I have your undivided attention by titling this post with one of the most memorable lines from Christmas Vacation, let's talk Christmas!

How about we all stop whining about how fucked up the holiday season has become? Sure, Cousin Eddie's line from the movie pretty much says it all, not to mention it spews from the mouth of one of the most clueless characters in modern moviedom. But how prophetic? It speaks volumes about how we all have come to feel about Christmas. It sucks!

Putting aside the "reason for the season", ie, the religious aspect of Christmas (a topic I won't debate with you, Jerry Lundegard!), let's put things in perspective. Christmas has become the season where marketing spin doctors masturbate themselves into frenzied circle jerks. Their wagons of product misinformation, commercials, and newspaper ads circle us hapless settlers who simply want to sit around the camp fire and get warm. All we really want to do is gather with friends, sip some eggnog, munch on a turkey leg, and watch Clark Griswold go slowly insane.

Yes, most of us were raised with visions of Remco toys, Chatty Cathy dolls, and shiny new bicycles dancing in our heads for several months leading up to Christmas, but it ain't like that anymore. We've all grown up and been bitch slapped at least a dozen times with the reality of life. Dudes (and dudettes)...you won't find a Mr. Wizard Chemical set under the tree on Christmas morning! You won't tune in the radio for Santa Radar Reports, or leave milk and cookies near the tree when you go to bed, or sit holding your shiny new remote controlled car for seven straight hours on Christmas Day. And for us who are even farther advanced in age, you won't enjoy this season by watching the joy of your young children opening presents...now they too have grown and become a bit disenchanted with the whole thing. They too are feeling the stress, the financial and social pressure to put on the cheery holiday face. They too have become, if not sarcastic or even cynical, pragmatic in their efforts to deal with everything yule-like.

The holiday season is when people get the most depressed all year long. Self-imposed expectations overwhelm even the most stalwart souls. Where once we looked forward to December...we now dread it. The only thing one can do now? Commiserate. Forget about rationalizing or coping or self-medicating. None of that works...well, maybe the self-medicating can be fun on occasion. Simply try to remember that you are not alone in your misgivings (pardon the gift-giving pun) about Holly Jolly Christmas.

One Christmas long ago, I remember sitting on Santa's lap and getting my picture taken. He was a damn good looking Santa as far as department store Santas go. Big old thick beard, red and white suit, and a big red nose. It wasn't until years later that I learned the big red nose is called a gin blossom (from years of drinking gin)! After telling the jolly old guy what I wanted for Christmas, I climbed down and ran to my Mom proudly waiting nearby. "Mommy", I asked, "How come Santa's breath smells like Dad's breath when you and him come home late from a Christmas party? Does Santa smoke cigars and drink the same stuff Dad buys every Christmas? You know, the bottle with the "7" on it?"

So, if you're wondering what to get someone for Christmas. Check that. If you're spazzing out about what to get someone for Christmas...knock that shit off! None of us (least not me) expect anything like that anymore. I, personally, will be content to enjoy reliving those old memories...and watching a Christmas movie or two. I've yet to watch Christmas Vacation or It's A Wonderful Life this year.

Yup...the shitter may be full. But my cup of pleasant holiday memories is more than full...it is overflowing!

The Raccoon Under the Subway.

Well, I'm back home from three weeks in Toronto...Canada, that is.

I tried to write a few blog entries while I was there without much success. I just couldn't seem to find the time or the inspiration...too busy with the business at hand I guess: learning how to run a pub.

I did get out a couple of times during my tenure there, two Sundays to be exact. The first Sunday it was partly cloudy, windy, and cold with an occasional snow flurry dampening my spirits and my camera. The second Sunday it was just plain snowy, cold, and wet...not the typical photo day this California kid relishes. Riding the "Rocket" (Toronto's subway system) up, down, around, and under Yonge Street for a few hours, I managed to get a few shots of the city near each station.

It was a busy day in downtown Toronto on that Sunday. Being three weeks before Christmas, it was probably a busier than normal. Their version of "Times Square" is bit more compact than New York's. It's called Eaton Centre. There is a large mall with all the usual shops and fast food places we have here. Outside, the large stage and cement gathering area was mostly empty of people save for a local radio station's promotional pick up truck blaring it's speakers and displaying it's banners. It was snowing quite heavily at the time. That nearby stage offers local, live entertainment when the weather cooperates. Old style trolley cars clank to and fro, ferrying Torontoans East and West...the subway runs mostly North and South.

It all seems to work very efficiently.

I was flying solo in a strange city, so the whole experience was a little tentative. Standing and staring at the cityscape at the entrance to each subway station then scurrying back down into the subway was about all I could muster. I wondered on more than one occasion what the heck I was doing in Canada in the dead of winter. Some of the locals expressed to me the very same thoughts. Winter is winter no matter where you live. And with that brings the usual challenges, adjustments, and longings for more temperate climes. Strange...many Canadians vacation in Cuba during the winter months. They, unlike their American counterparts, are allowed to travel readily to that Carribbean island. After all...they are Canadians! Even though they look, act, and talk similar to us...it is another country entirely. The 49th parallel is still only a line drawn in the dirt across the prairie hundreds of years ago, eh?

Even in the cold, dark of winter, Canadians drink more beer than we do. One of them commented to me in the pub one day, "Can you believe that we still love our ice cold Butler's or Keith's when the snow is coming down outside? That's crazy, isn't it?" I told him, "Not so much crazy as it is simply different". One other big difference in pub libation there: No blended drinks, even in Summer. Canada just ain't Margaritaville! Or Daquiriville, or Pina Coladaville for that matter. They don't even have blenders in most of the pubs, let alone a machine for making slurpy-like blended drinks. It's just not their thing. They love their beer...and are proud of it!

The food in Canada is much like in the states. Pub fare does consist of a few things not normally found at an Applebees or Chili's. Besides the familiar bar and grill type menu, pub fare items like Shepherd's Pie, Steak and Guinness Pie, and Fish and Chips are standard. Many places you can still find Steak and Kidney Pie, Chicken Curry, and Bangers and Mash (grilled sausages and mashed potatoes). Generally speaking, it's all good comfort food...but a tad on the bland side. Canadians don't embrace the wildly spicy, exotic Southwest and Asian offerings that we have come to demand. At least that is the way it is in publand. They do have their fair share of Asian restaurants (and a huge contingent of Asian citizens). Sri Lankans are very abundant in Toronto as well and comprise most of the kitchen staffs. Ask a Sri Lankan cook to make you Chicken Curry like they have it and you'll experience spicy food!

That's me standing at the bar in the pub where I trained. I stopped in there for breakfast before heading out on my subway jaunt. The pubs are very cozy and very friendly (for the most part). The alcohol is much more expensive in Canada, hence the price of beer and cocktails reflects that added expense. For instance, a single shot of whiskey (they call it rye) goes for about $6.50 for call brands. And that's a real "single" shot, ie, 1 ounce! We've come to expect, and enjoy, those 1 1/2 or 2 ounce pours here in California. Premium, import draughts like Guinness run about $7.25 for a "pint". By the way, the most popular beers in Canada...are you ready for this...are Coors Light and Bud Light. Go figure! Again, no blended drinks. Only the youngest pub dwellers go for the "shots" of Patron or Jaegermeister. And, the drinking age in Canada is 19. I didn't ever see an I.D. checked while I was there, although the liquor board does its share of I.D. sting operations just like here in the states. I figure that most of the kids trying to pass false I.D.s at bars here are in the 19 to not-quite-21 age bracket anyway. Hence...underage drinking in Canadian bars is not as much of a problem.
That's a shot of the converted Victorian/rooming house in which I stayed in Toronto. It's located on a side street, just a few blocks off the main drag (Yonge), two blocks from a subway station, and smack dab in the middle of Toronto's "Gay Town". It was no big deal. That area is very quiet and no one bothers you save for a bum or two once in a while. I didn't go out bar hopping while I was there...it was a bit creepy enough just looking in the windows of some of them late at night. Just not my cup of tea...not that there's anything wrong with that mind you! Although I did have the opportunity to meet and chat with a "lovely" trans-gender person named Anita (was Jeff) at my work pub the last night I was there. We didn't converse about her transformation. She was very sweet. We talked about Toronto and photography (she is also a photographer). It was only slightly surreal...I'd had a couple pints of Guinness by then. All in all, it was an interesting hour of pub chat for me. We exchanged website addresses and I headed out for the subway "home". My last night in Toronto.

At the subway station, I had a much stranger encounter. As I stepped onto the platform at the bottom of the stairs to wait for the next train, there it was. A very large, mature raccoon. It was slowly ambling its way around the small area between the subway wall and the edge of the platform, sampling bits of whatever trash had been left on the cement from inconsiderate riders. It didn't seem to notice or care that I was there, just a few feet from it. A few other people farther away were staring, a couple of young women were giggling, trying to get their cell phone cameras going. The raccoon continued its fruitless search for something. The subway train began to pull into the station, moving much slower than usual. The operator had noticed the animal and decided to slow down. He reached out the window of his car and tossed a bit of food in the raccoon's direction as the subway rolled by. It didn't seem to see what had been thrown. It appeared to be blind or sick or both. As the subway train came to a stop, the animal meandered back toward it, as if wanting to go back down to the track level and return to its den under the structure (that is where many of them reside). It bumped into the closed door of the train. If the door had been open, it would have wandered right into the train itself. The operator waited to open the doors until the raccoon turned and walked back toward the wall. I got on. The doors closed. And my last subway ride in Toronto began, slowly at first, then faster as it cleared the station and the raccoon that continued its search of the subway platform.

I had heard from the locals that downtown Toronto is literally infested with raccoons. Upon hearing that, I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, "Really?", I said with a slight smirk on my face, "Raccoons? Where do they live?" I was informed that they live everywhere...in trees, under houses and apartments and other buildings, and under the subways. And after Googling "Toronto raccoons", I also discovered that it is quite a problem now. The humane society discourages any control or eradication efforts. So, they just coexist with them for now.

My time in Canada was rather short by most standards (three weeks). Too short to offer any kind of accurate description of the city of Toronto or Canada in general. I worked most of the time. Someday, I would like to go back when the weather is nicer and I have more time to explore. It's an interesting city at the very least. The people are friendly and enjoy talking to you about the differences between themselves and the Americans. Those differences are mostly political. The look, talk, and live their lives just like us. They do have socialized medicine, though they criticize it openly because of some of the shortcomings, ie, paying for prescriptions and the exorbitant taxes imposed on alcohol, liquor, and gasoline. Everything's a tradeout. There are no free lunches anywhere...even in the Great White North, eh?
Cheers to my new-found friends in Toronto. Thanks for your hospitality. More photos of what I was able to see in Toronto here.

My Canada experience, Parte Une

For me to write a comprehensive comparison between Canada and the United States at this point in time would be like trying to write a comparison of, well...Canada and the United States after spending only two weeks working in downtown Toronto without ever having seen anything else in this huge country. My Canadian experience has been limited to subway rides up and down Younge Street (actually under Younge Street, the longest street in the world by the way), working 11 hours or so a day in a Canadian pub, and gazing out the little window of my little room in the little rooming house in which I have been staying during my time here. I have managed to walk around the streets a bit, mostly to and from my little rooming house and the above mentioned subway and an occasional foray into the frigid Toronto nights in search of something to eat...never straying more than a few blocks from my temporary abode.

Today, Sunday, my day off, I plan on venturing out with my trusty Canon 20D and taking a few photos of, yes...downtown Toronto. There just isn’t enough time to go anywhere else outside of the capital of Ontario, or even downtown proper, while I am here. Besides, I’m not adventurous enough to do something like that on my own, ie, without a guide or another person with whom I can get lost. I have an all-day subway pass today and that will dictate the length and breadth of my journey...riding the subway around the city and actually getting off and on at the various stops. The little folded tourist map is tucked safely into my leather Harley Davidson riding jacket, the hand-written map proudly sketched for me by a regular visitor to the pub in which I work (a pub and bar tour map indicating some cool places with live music), and my $1.00 stocking cap I got for protection against the sub-freezing wind-chill temperatures and light snow I will encounter today in downtown Toronto...I am as prepared as I ever will be to get out for a while.

Barring any unforeseen circumstances, I will post some words and photos of my last day off in Toronto later today. I fly home next Saturday morning.

Bon voyage au moi.

What do they call a Quarter Pounder in Canada?

They call a Quarter Pounder a Quarter Pounder. A Big Mac is a Big Mac...and so on.

Not a lot of difference from the states here in any quarter. The only real stray in language is dropping in an occasional "eh?" at the end of a sentence once in a while...as in, "Nice day, eh?" Of course, one mustn't forget the "out" and "about" thing. Other than that, I could be in Cleveland.

Our dollar is about at par right now. However, things are a bit more expensive in Canada. Not to mention the two taxes they have (GST and PST as in government and provincial sales tax). But, they don't have to worry about medical insurance either.

There are no dollar bills, replaced with $1.00 and $2.00 coins called loonies and toonies.

If any Canadians are reading this blog, my apologies for the mundane subject matter. But I live in California. My circle of friends and relatives might find this interesting.

By the way, I haven't seen any sled dogs yet?


That small piece is a subway token. Costs $2.75 a ride.