Rapture Wrap?

As a follow-up to my recent post on those who feel the impending apocalypse is sufficient reason to ignore the environment, I offer the following bumper sticker, recently spotted in California:

Today's Moments of Zen

It was reported that lobbyists had once provided former (now imprisoned) Representative Randy "Duke" Cunningham with free limousine service, free access to hotel suites, and the services of prostitutes; it was also reported that the limousine service that was used to ferry the prostitutes had received a contract worth $21 million from the Department of Homeland Security.

The Louisiana state senate approved a bill that bans abortion except when the procedure can save a woman's life; an amendment to allow exceptions in the cases of women who have been raped or are victims of incest was defeated.

A Liverpool, England, man was sentenced to 100 hours of community service for getting drunk and singing "YMCA" on a flight from Florida to Manchester while his wife wept and comforted their three children. "He makes no excuses," said the man's lawyer, "for his loutish, idiotic behavior."

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Good heavens people! What in the world is going on here? Those have to be some of the odder stories from the past week, or the past year for that matter. Indeed very odd, yet when you think about it, strangely related...

So, you may be wondering, how exactly are philandering federal bureaucrats related to tragically misguided abortion laws or drunken British louts? Well, bear with me here. It's actually quite simple.

It seems ironic that our mostly male law makers will go out of their way to write up and support legislation that restricts a woman's right to make decisions about her sexuality and her own body, while at the same time they cruise around in limos with prostitutes and charge it all to the tax payer!! No, that's not ironic, it's shameful. In fact, it's downright inexcusable. It's enough to drive a sane man to excessive drinking and acts of idiotic behavior in public, like singing YMCA at full volume on a transatlantic flight, maybe...

See? I told you they were related.

Flying By Numbers

Some stats from a recent day spent flying from San Antonio to Vancouver (via Dallas):

5:30 – time of scheduled wake-up call
never – actual time of wake-up call
6:00 – time at which I happened to roll over and look at the clock
6:30 – time of arrival at check-in counter for flight to Dallas
7:26 – scheduled departure time
45 – number of minutes in security line-up
5 - number of seats by which flight was oversold
30E – number of my assigned seat
30E – number of seat assigned to and occupied by a sharply dressed Hispanic businessman
2 – number of other seats I was directed to sit in prior to occupying my final seat
550 – estimated combined weight (in pounds) of the two individuals on either side of my middle seat
0 – number of available arm rests
1 – number of opportunities I was given to relocate to a less “crowded” seat, but was prevented from doing so because the obese gentleman to my left refused to stand-up “yet again” (I’m not kidding!)
39 – number of minutes that gentleman snored through the flight
40 – duration of flight to Dallas, in minutes (thank God!)
2 – number of hours scheduled for layover in Dallas
1 – number of oil leaks discovered in left hand side engine of Vancouver destined aircraft, after all passengers were loaded
5 – number of times engine was restarted in hopes that the leak would “go away”
0 – number of successful attempts
2.5 – number of hours “de-planed” passengers waited for a replacement aircraft
55 – number of minutes that passengers were further delayed, once loaded on the 2nd aircraft, waiting for food services to stock the galley
4.5 – total number of hours behind schedule that I arrived in Vancouver

The Pot vs. The Kettle, Mercantilism in 2006

I know, I know - two entries in one day!  Will wonders never cease?  It’s just that the material out there today is so good I simply can’t help myself.  But don’t take my word for it, read on…
The Bush Administration released a revised National Security Strategy last month that made a rather strong claim about China.  That country's leaders, the document declared, are "expanding trade, but acting as if they can somehow 'lock up' energy supplies around the world or seek to direct markets rather than opening them up, as if they can follow a mercantilism borrowed from a discredited era."
Now, for those of you unfamiliar with economic policies that were developed as lords, vassals and fiefs became extinct, I offer you the following definition of Mercantilism:  A post-feudal doctrine of national economic health through protectionism, foreign trade and exports.  Basically, it means putting the interests of your country first by protecting national industries, while trading with any nation that has what you want, regardless of that nation’s political leanings or even alleged inhumane policies.
Bush Administration officials have repeatedly used the term mercantilism to describe China.  And, there are some indications that Dubya’s cronies are not far off the mark.
"They are buying long-term supplies wherever they find them, including in unsavory places like Sudan, Iran and Burma, where we won't buy," said Michael J. Green, a Georgetown University professor who directed policy on China at the National Security Council until late last year. "They say it is benign, because they don't interfere with the internal affairs of other nations. And we say it is anything but benign, because it finances these regimes' bad behavior."
Now, what does Mr. Green mean by all this economic jargon?  Well, consider a country like Sudan.  China has made deals with Sudan to firm up access to oil for years to come.  Sudan is a nation known around the world for incorporating insalubrious practices like genocide.  For that reason, the US cries, “Foul!” on the grounds of Mercantilism.  But China says 'Look, you know, we don't care about internal issues like genocide, we only care about the oil because we need the resources.'  And we’re not influencing how the Sudanese run their country, so why should it matter?
How about Iran?  In November 2004 China's state-owned oil company signed a $70 billion deal with the Iranians to develop an Iranian oilfield that could eventually produce 300,000 barrels a day.  Meanwhile, the Bush Administration wants the global community to put sanctions in place against Iran because they’re busy playing with Uranium.  But, China won’t cooperate.  China doesn’t want to threaten its oil interests.  Mercantilism rears its ugly head once again!
So there you have it.  China is doing business with unscrupulous governments and is protecting energy interests in other countries in spite of the apparent wishes of the world community.  Man, those Chinese sure are mercantilists.  Just look at them, parading around the world and muddling in the affairs of foreign nations, all in the name of ‘locking up’ energy.  How arrogant!  How just plain wrong!  Of course, no one else has been behaving like that on the world stage over the last, oh I dunno, 100 years or so, have they?
So, why are the Chinese so desperate for oil?  Could it be because they are an emerging super power with a population of around a billion people?  Sure, they can use their abundant coal reserves to create power, but hey, maybe they’d like to drive a car now and again?  For that, they’re certainly going to need some oil.
Right now China consumes about 6.5 million barrels of oil per day.  That’s a lot.  The Bush Administration predicts that that number could double in the next few years.  Greedy Chinese!  Why, they’re already second in oil consumption in the world!  Isn’t that enough?  How dare they even consider moving in on the world’s number one?  That’s right, we’re number one!  The US is currently the number one consumer of oil in the world, at over 20 million barrels per day.
Let’s see now:  300 million people at 20 million barrels per day vs. 1 billion people at 6.5 million barrels per day.  I’m not much of a mathematician, but something seems a little uneven here.  It’s a disparity that, given the world’s total oil reserves, may just need a little protectionism to maintain.  Perhaps the nation that has done such a good job “locking up” the world’s oil reserves for the last 50 years is feeling a little threatened by the new kid on the block.  And, there’s nothing more threatening when you’re on top than seeing the favored contender hot on your heels, playing the same game you’ve been playing all along, only better.
BTW – This entry unabashedly borrows from an article in today’s NY Times

Repent (or not)! The End is Near!

Hey Dave!
 I read an interesting article the other day of which the premise was that the Christian evangelicals do not care about global warming because they believe that it is part of the apocalypse and that global warming is a sign that the end is near.  In fact to hasten global warming would hasten Christ's return, so why bother going green?  Although there is a small movement of 'green' Baptists who are concerned.

Hey John!
Yes, I’m familiar with that sentiment you describe from the religious right.  I believe the first I heard of it was from the secretary of the interior in the US, who made some side handed remark to the effect that we don't really need to protect the environment 'cause we're all going to heaven real soon.  (I believe more of them are actually going to hell than they realize, but who am I to judge?  I'll be right there along side them...)  He was promptly removed from that position (and probably landed quite softly, thank you very much, as a lobbyist for some heavy industrial polluter), but the fact that someone at that level of government would even think that way astounded me.  Was it James Watt?  I can't quite remember.
 
Anyhow, I wrote it off as random noise from a religious wacko.  That is until more recent comments from larger groups in the US defending their "right to drive massive gas guzzling behemoths".  Their attitude is similar to that classic Far Side cartoon with the two guys sitting in a boat fishing while huge mushroom clouds appear on the horizon.  The one guy says to his buddy "You know what this means!  Screw the limit!"  That's right, I suppose since Armageddon is upon us, we throw all responsibility to the wind, and burn as many fossil fuels as possible!
 
What amazes me is this is the attitude of supposed Christians!  You know, "love thy neighbor as thyself", "turn the other cheek", "sacrifice your first born" (oops, old testament).  How do people that supposedly believe in love and caring for their human brethren get so morally twisted?  And surely some of them have children currently stationed in Iraq.  Don't they see more than a subtle connection there?  Their selfish religious dogma is contributing to the unnecessary extermination of their own sons and daughters.
 
Sure, the end is nigh, but I don't think it's the one they're praying for.  After their kids are all slaughtered in the deserts of the Middle East (or simply blowed up by car bombs), the world will be taken over by a pretty angry mob of Islamic zealots, who will make the religious right in America look almost sane.
 
Global warming?  Yep, it's pretty serious business.  So, just for practice, let's all go to Florida this summer and walk around completely covered in black wool blankets.  Hey, it's not that far off...

Iraq 'n roll, Iran 'n roll over?

This just in: The Bush Administration continued to plan a major air attack on Iran; a highly placed government consultant said that President George W. Bush believes that "saving Iran is going to be his legacy."

Wha?!?  Shock and Awe II?  Are they nuts?  Has Bush been talking to God again?
Isn’t anyone keeping score after the inaugural Shock and Awe?  How much is it currently costing America in terms of lives and $$$ to occupy a Middle Eastern country that, when attacked, had no military and an infrastructure crippled by sanctions and corruption?  Now they want to take on another Middle Eastern country, yet this one actually has military might and reasonable infrastructure?  And, lest we forget, all the while they’ll continue to occupy Iraq and Afghanistan?
Can any good come of this?  

I can see what the legacy is, and I'm afraid - very afraid.  I thought Presidents just wanted to leave behind libraries.  Mind you, I suppose that requires that the President has actually read a book.

I’ll leave you with the words of a friend of mine who has just returned from a six week “tour of duty” in some of the world’s smelliest armpits.  “Can you believe this stupidity?  It is fucking unbelievable.  Bombing another country...  Man this world is fucked up.  I am going back to Mongolia.”

Amen, brother.  Amen

I Hate Birthdays...

That's Really a Stretch!

Remember that scene in the movie Brazil where the main character’s mother is having yet another facelift, and when it’s finished she looks like some sort of stretched out ghoul?  It was absolutely frightening.  I found myself thinking “Thank God this is only a movie!”.
Sometimes life is stranger than fiction.  The old cliché leapt into my world today.  
This morning I had breakfast in a small café on the edge of Cal State in Berkeley.  The table next to me consisted of a group of seniors.  Pretty standard senior fare – lots of grey hair, conversations about bodily functions not going according to plan (I couldn’t help but overhear, they were right next to me and spoke really, really loud), and all sorts of indecision when it came time to order.  That sort of thing.
Yet, sitting among them was an imposter, no, more a freak.  Ladies and gentlemen, I am here before you to proclaim that the character from Brazil is alive and well and was last seen eating breakfast in Berkeley – by me!
I’ll spare you the details about eyes that can’t close or skin stretched back so far that her ears actually touched each other behind her head.  No, the whole scenario was too disgusting to put into words.  Mind you, I did get the sense that the group of them saw her as some sort of 1920’s carnival freak.  She looked like an alien, and tried acting like a, like, you know, college coed.  She kissed each of them as they left, and the collective cringes were priceless.
So, nothing earth shattering here, just a plea.  If you’re getting old, and I’m not that far behind you, just accept it.  Stay healthy.  Have fun.  Enjoy life.  But please, and I mean please, don’t go the freak route.  It won’t look good on you, honest!

Hairless Perfection?

“I have some concerns about certain issues in the ‘pubic’ domain,” stated a recent email from a friend. She was referring to a spam strip-o-gram that has been making the rounds, showing an attractive Wal-Mart greeter “baring all”. I realize that there’s no such thing as a hot Wal-Mart employee of any kind, but hey, this is fantasy and she is indeed hot. I’ll send you a copy if you wish to do some research of your own.
But I digress. My friend’s point was with respect to the hairless nature of the woman’s body, below her head that is. This particular Wal-Martian had truly bared all, not just clothing. My friend wasn’t necessarily saying that she found it unattractive, but it just seemed weird. The following is my response to her question “What’s up with that?”

The "hairless" ideal has been creeping into our society for both men and women for some time. It wasn't that long ago (OK, the 70's) that a real man, and therefore a sexy man, was a hairy man. Just think of that poster of a nude Burt Reynolds wearing nothing but a cowboy hat covering his privates. He was a hairy monster, and apparently the ladies loved it. Or they were being told to love it. Either way, it was the male ideal.
How about women during the same period? Many were already expending more energy shaving their legs and armpits, so we have to look a little "deeper" to find the answer. And how deeper can you go than porn? The 70's were the classic days of porn, or so I've read. Back then the ladies differed from today's ideal in one striking way - bush. They didn't even trim their bushes, let alone shave them. That was the norm.
So in the 70's, we had men doing essentially no body hair grooming (except for maybe moustaches and beards), and women doing it away from their privates.

Jump ahead a couple of decades, and my how things have changed! Here's where I think a major shift in the psyche of Western society has occurred. In the 70's, the ideal was men who were men, and women who were women. Today, the ideal is men who are little boys, and women who are little boys. Hairless, and often featureless. The male ideal is waxed legs, arms and chests. The female ideal is Kate Moss. What happened?

My theory is that the cosmetic companies saw a huge market potential and they played it perfectly. Women were already spending billions of dollars on grooming products for almost every inch of their bodies. There was only limited potential for growth selling to women. Meanwhile, men were merrily cruising along "au natural", spending nothing on grooming other than the occasional bottle of "Hai Karate" after shave lotion. So, all the cosmetics industry had to do was continue to get women spending as much as possible on cosmetics and grooming products, while at the same time convincing men that they needed to spend almost as much. Brilliant in its simplicity, the market could potentially more than double!

But how to do it?
Step one would be to understand why women spend all that money. Then all they’d need to do would be find a way to get men to think and act the same way.
The first step wasn't so difficult. "Woman, thy name is vanity." It could be argued which came first, a woman's inclination to "beautify" herself, or society's telling her to do so. But either way, that was they key. Women were, and still are, obsessed with doing whatever it takes to help themselves look younger, shapelier, etc.
What had to be done to get men to think and act the same way?
It's no coincidence that it happened concurrently with the rise of acceptance of homosexuality in Western society. Homosexual men are well groomed and aware of all aspects of the fashion world. As these fit, handsome, style-conscious men became more prevalent in day-to-day life, straight men (and their women) started paying attention. And the sellers of products promising to make it all happen couldn’t have been happier.

Fast-forward to today, and it's been a larger success story than anyone could have ever expected. The male ideal is no longer the classic natural man, but the homosexual ideal of the hairless boy. And man does it cost a lot of money to keep up. At the same time, the female ideal has converged on the male, at least in as far as how it requires grooming and cosmetics to achieve that same hairless perfection.

Some European Leavings

Best British Tabloid Headline: D’OHLYMPICS

Most Important Thing that the British Can Learn Prior to the Inevitable Arrival of Bird Flu from Across the Channel: Wash Your Hands After Going to the Bathroom! (It’s a concept that seems to have been lost on the Brits)

Most Important Thing that the French Can Learn now that Bird Flu has Arrived: Chicken Really is Better Cooked All the Way Through! (It’s not steak, after all)

Most Important Lesson About Winter that the French Need To Learn: Turn On the Heat, Dammit! It’s Freezing in Here!

Most Shocking Sign of the Impending Collapse of French Civilization: Reruns of Night Rider (with David Hasselhoff) are one of the Most Popular Shows on French TV! (And Charmed Isn’t Far Behind)

Paris en Hiver

What better way to spend a rainy, cold afternoon in Paris than to wander through the labyrinth that is Pere Lachaise cemetery?

Or perhaps the museum of natural history is more your style?

Either way, best to end the day at Le Train Bleu in Gare de Lyon.

More Heart Shaped Candy

Nice to see so many people standing up for Valentine’s Day. Well, sort of...
What follows is a quick response I sent to a friend who took me to task on the “Valentine Schmalentine” article.
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Who me?
Far be it from me to express displeasure with a day dedicated to expressions of romantic love...
Nope. Not me. That article was written by some sarcastic sod on Craig's List. Nothing to do with my current state of thinking…

That said, I did find certain ASPECTS of the article interesting. Something about how the original idea of MUTUAL expressions of love between two people has turned into a rather one-sided ordeal (i.e. one side expects it, the other side digs deep and hopes it's enough to satisfy that rather indefinable expectation).

But seriously, my true feelings about Valentine's Day are similar to those I hold concerning New Years Eve.
People who go all out on New Years tend to be people that don't get out much. They are happy to spend $100 per person to go to some lame bar, watch the same band that played the previous night (for free!), and drink a complimentary glass of Baby Duck at midnight. It's a big night for them because they got to leave the kids with a sitter and play for a night in the big city. It wouldn't be such a big deal if they actually let loose once in a while.
Valentine's Day ends up being much the same. People who lead fairly mundane day to day lives attempt to rekindle something with their partner by spending lots of money at restaurants with inflated "Valentine's Menu" pricing. Or, they get all depressed because they don't do much of anything on Feb 14 and they wonder "where the love went".
I only say this because I think it’s better to maintain a healthy level of romance all year long. It's not a case of me thumbing my nose at a day of romance; it's actually quite the opposite. I say, why restrict it to one day? Why run the risk of having your love marginalized by yet another media hyped consumer cash grab? Instead, fill your year with as many nice dinners (Wild Rice works for me), romantic getaways (I know a great waterfront Inn in Port Townsend), and special treats (I honestly hope I don't need to make any suggestions here) as your budget can withstand. And most of all, it needs to remain a mutual thing. Money's not the equalizer here; it's effort and thoughtfulness.
And there's not a hint of cynicism intended. Well, not a lot, anyhow.

God Loves the BBC

In Manchester, England, the BBC was planning an Easter tribute in which Jesus Christ will sing "Love Will Tear Us Apart" by Joy Division before joining Judas in a duet of "Blue Monday" by New Order. Later, as Roman soldiers flay him, Jesus will sing "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now" by The Smiths.

Valentine Schmalentine

Hey all. I had planned to write a wee rant on how Valentine’s Day is such a complete waste of time. Well, Craiglist rants to the rescue! Some anonymous fellow (this was NOT written by a woman) has done the job for me. Here is his hilarious and accurate rant in its entirety.

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Every guy involved with a woman knows that Valentine's Day is one of those stumbling blocks created for guys to trip over and be reminded that they are dogs, scum, and inconsiderate lizards. If a guy doesn't make Valentine's Day special for the woman he loves then she will remind him of just how inconsiderate, uncaring, forgetful, boorish, unromantic, inattentive .... he is. And she will be able to do this because OBVIOUSLY none of these terrible things apply to women!!!

Women are attentive.
Women are romantic.
Women are loving.
Women are caring.
Women are nurturing
Women are considerate.
blah blah blah....

But the point of this rant is this.. Why is Valentine's Day a stumbling block for MEN ONLY? Lets face the simple fact that on Valentine's Day, if a man does nothing for a woman he is in trouble, whereas, if a woman does nothing for a man, she is NOT in any trouble. Men must fulfill the expectations of their women while women have no expectations foisted upon them.

Is this fair?

If the holiday was called "Valentine's Day for Women" then it would be fair. But its not.
Mother's Day is clearly a day to honor women. Valentine's Day is a day to honor St. Valentine. Who is he?

".. it originated from St. Valentine, a Roman who was martyred for refusing to give up Christianity. He died on February 14, 269 A.D., the same day that had been devoted to love lotteries. Legend also says that St. Valentine left a farewell note for the jailer's daughter, who had become his friend, and signed it "From Your Valentine". Other aspects of the story say that St. Valentine served as a priest at the temple during the reign of Emperor Claudius. Claudius then had Valentine jailed for defying him. In 496 A.D. Pope Gelasius set aside February 14 to honor St. Valentine. Gradually, February 14 became the date for exchanging love messages and St. Valentine became the patron saint of lovers. The date was marked by sending poems and simple gifts such as flowers and candy. There was often a social gathering or a ball. "

You will note the ".. exchanging love messages.." part of the quote meaning "I give something to you.. and you give something to me."

So the obvious conclusions about St. Valentine's Day are that (a) it's a Catholic ONLY Holiday and (b) the most appropriate observance is prayer, not cards, flowers, candy, dinner out, diamonds, furs, jewelry.... or any of the other consumer goods that exist pretty much only to be given by men to women.

But turn to your woman on Valentine's Day and say, "Honey, I said a prayer today to St. Valentine" and she'll say, "You better have prayed that I don't leave your sorry ass!!!! Where's my card, gift, flowers and romantic evening?" And you will never ever hear the end of it!! You will find yourself in that old familiar doghouse (which is really not so bad anymore seeing as how you installed a refrigerator to keep the beer cold since you spend SO MUCH TIME THERE!!!!!)

Now suppose the shoe is on the other foot. You're woman has been working hard and long doing, well, whatever passes for work for women, and suddenly it's Valentine's day. She has forgotten to give you a card, a note, a passing glance in the bathroom... Is she in trouble? Will she be spending any time in her doghouse? Of course not, don't be silly!!!! She was busy!! She justifiably forgot the day, but wasn't it so special that YOU remembered. You did remember didn't you, SCUM!!!!!

So guys, Valentine's Day is a test you MUST pass. It's a necessary event placed there to separate the men from the boys, the strong from the weak, the men who get sex from those who don't. You must enter into it as you would combat.. prepared!!! To help you with that, I've reduced Valentine's Day to a list of thing you ABSOLUTELY must know in order to keep the shine on your armor and the manure off your white charger. Here it is.. The GUYS list of important facts about Valentines Day and how to survive it:

First and foremost .. DO SOMETHING!!!!! This something that you do needs to fit the following criteria....

a) It must be the RIGHT THING.
You must determine, preferably by stealth, and cunning WHAT exactly it is that your woman wants done for her on Valentine's Day. This could be just about anything. It could be strictly symbolic.. as in a card, candy, Mercedes.. or it could be something of real substance.. as in stocks, yachts, small empires. What ever "IT" is, you need to figure that out LONG before Valentine's day actually arrives because casting about clumsily the day before will be a dead give away to your woman that you have blown it for yet another year, and maybe it's time to put that paneling up in the dog house seeing as you are going to have the time there anyway.

b) It must be done at the RIGHT TIME.
Timing is everything when it comes to Valentine's Day!!! Pulling the right gift out at the wrong time will reduce your score by 90% and perhaps garner a penalty. Simply look at this from your lovely ladies point of view.. "Okay.. I'm waiting.. I'm waiting.. I'm waiting.. POP" - That popping sound means you waited too long, and any time from then on means points are being deducted. Like a biological clock, your woman has a Valentine's clock that starts ticking a few days before the actual day. The size of the gift you need to give gets larger and larger the closer this clock gets to zero. Perfect time means she is just a tad anxious and beginning to have those niggling thoughts that maybe you forgot when BAM.. there you are with the PERFECT gift. Allowing her to have that second of doubt makes your gift that much more special and garners you points BIG TIME.

But be very careful... niggling doubts turn into full fledged skepticism.. which transforms into pessimistic anticipation of disappointment.. which quickly degrades into tornado strength rage over being treated so shabby by YOU.. Mr. Slime. Your timing needs to be just right. Blow this and you'll need a storm shelter.

c) It must last the WHOLE DAY.
Once you have made your offering(s) there is still time on the clock for you to blow it. Valentine's day is a minefield from beginning to end. You may believe you are safe once your offering has been given and accepted, but dismount from your white charger too early and you will quickly find yourself standing there doing the usual "What? What did I do?" An example will help illustrate.

The day arrives. You come home from work.. sweep your wife into your arms giving her the warmest most passionate kiss she has had in weeks.. and as you release her from your embrace you suddenly get this surprised look on your face.. patting your pocket you go "Humm.. I wonder what this could be?" as you pull out a small case and pass it to her. She opens it and there are the most perfect diamond earrings she has ever seen.. "Well, these must be for you..", you say smiling and moving in for another kiss. "Happy Valentine's Day Beautiful!!!" you say as you hold her there in the front hall. Later you take her out to dinner at that new restaurant to which only the rich and famous can seem to get reservations, but you managed to pull it off. On leaving the restaurant the valet brings you the wrong car.. a brand new Jaguar, but "Oh, look honey. It's already monogrammed with your name on it!!! We may as well drive it home!!" She looks at you as if you were a SUPERSTAR.. no moment in her life has ever been more special and no man could ever make her as happy as you do. You arrive home and she says she is going slip into something comfortable with that gleam in her eye that says you've earned something special. After a few minutes you walk to the refrigerator because you'd like to have a beer. Hum.. no beer. "Honey, are we out of beer?"

"Is that all you care about?"

"Um.. no.. honey, I was just asking.."

"I'm just a slave for you aren't I? I'm just here to make sure your BEER is kept stocked, aren't I!!!"

"No.. was just wondering.. I didn't mean..

"YOU BASTARD. How could you be so insensitive!!!" boo hoo boo hoo..

And Guess who is sleeping on the couch?! This poor shlep forgot that a woman on Valentine's day is like a woman on her period.. or before her period.. or after her period.. whatever. A woman on Valentine's day is a time bomb. One wrong move and she goes off. Why? Because it's HER DAY, DAMMIT !!! It's your job to make is special for HER... and woe be unto him who fails in the smallest way.

Okay, Now that you know the rules about DOING SOMETHING, the next step is figuring out exactly what to do. This requires amazing skill because part of the value of anything you DO do for your woman on Valentine's day comes from the very fact that it is difficult to discern the right thing to do.

Now, being a man, you might think that the smart thing to do would be to ASK your woman what it is she wants for Valentine's day. This makes complete male logic sense... if someone has information and you want to get at it you ask that person for the information and they give it to you. It's called communication. This logic is, of course completely wrong.

Women claim to be good communicators. It is men who don't know how to communicate. But if you ask a simple questions regarding what they want for Valentines day you will:

a) Not get a truthful answer because...

b) They will be disappointed that you don't know them well enough "just know" the answer without asking and...

c) Lose points in the Valentine's day challenge for having proved your self to be a MAN*

So direct communication is out of the question. But there are lots of ways to determine what your woman is hankering after that will win you points BIG time in the Valentine's day game. Some of these are:

1) Ask her friends. Say to her closest friend, "What would _____ want for Valentine's day that would make things really special for her?" This wins you points in several ways. One, her friends will naturally tell her you asked, and, though she won't tell you she knows, she'll be giving you points. Two, her friends will think better of you which comes in handy for mitigating the inevitable times when you've pulled a boner and she is complaining to them. And three, you might get an answer you can use. DANGER NOTICE: DO NOT use this technique the day before Valentines day because the clock has ticked past the deadline for this tactic and you will lose points with everyone involved.

2) Starting in January, start to pay attention to the flood of catalogs and magazines that are passing through your home. Look at what is marked, what pages are dog-eared, what kinds of ads seem to be left out in the open because, though they know if almost never works, women are constant hint droppers.. it's genetic .. and they always leave clues around about what they want if you are just paying a tad of attention. DANGER NOTICE: If the People magazine is constantly left open to articles about Peirce Brosnan.. well, you’re in trouble, unless you are Peirce Brosnan (in which case, Hi Peirce.. glad you found craigslist)

3) Test the waters... Float a few trial balloons and see which one's make her POP. "Honey, what do you think of the new Lexus?" "Hey baby, I'm thinking of investing in diamonds.. what do you think?" "Wow, look at the deal you can get on these season hockey tickets!!!" Depending on her reactions to these subtle (for a guy) ideas, you'll be able to hone right in on the perfect gift without giving ANYTHING away to your lady. "So, the mauve Jaguar with the leather interior and the gold trim and the 8 cylinder sport package is something anyone would love hum...?"

Is this all starting to sink in... Good, cause I'm tired of stating the obvious, and it's time to conclude...

1) Valentines day is a test which only men can fail.

2) Valentines day is the day on which you will either score or lose big time.. there is no neutral ground.

3) Valentine's day can be conquered with just a little bit of energy.

4) As with all tests.. if you fail you will never hear the end of it, so spend the energy and be the hero.

And finally.. if you’re reading this on Feb 15th then you already know what I'm talking about, and your probably ready to add that addition to the Dog House. Enjoy it.. your going to be there a while.

*MAN - being in this case shorthand for an insensitive, boorish, ham-handed, inconsiderate, lout. You know, a MAN....

Ode To The Seahawks

Darkness had been replaced by a hazy dim light. Thin coatings of ice cracked underfoot as I stepped down off the bank and started to make my way out into the river. The water temperature was frigid, but the air was even colder. My breath formed great billows of mist as I blew on my fingers in a vain attempt to keep them warm. The sun had not yet met the surrounding mountain peaks as I laid my first cast against the far bank. In Detroit, kick-off was still eight hours away. That’s right, I chose to spend the pre-Super Bowl hours fly fishing in a glacial fed river about 1 ½ hours north of Vancouver. At the same time the players were undoubtedly beginning their game day rituals in snowy Michigan, I was chasing the moonlight along a west coast highway, intent on catching first light in the water. We were all praying for our good fortune; the players hoping to catch the top prize in the biggest media event in America, me hoping to catch, and release, a winter run steelhead.

The river was running high due to a series of storms that had dumped over 100 millimeters of rain in the area over the previous several days. Luckily, the water had remained clear. Still, conditions were such that my chances of hooking up were remote. A betting man would not have put much money on me, even given favorable odds.

The Seattle Seahawks were facing a similar challenge. No one gave them much of a chance for success after reviewing the Super Bowl conditions. Pittsburgh was supposed to be the better team, having played a tougher schedule, and the crowd in the stands would be primarily Steeler fans. The betting line rather graciously placed the Seahawks as four point underdogs.

My day on the water passed surprisingly quickly - they all do. The sun rose soon after I began, splashing a brilliant pink over the snow capped peaks. The river had seemed sluggish in the cold, but as the air temperature warmed it brought with it a sense of opportunity. Eagles soared high above, or sat quietly in the tree tops watching me work the water. In the end, they proved to be the only thing interested in what I was doing. The fish, for their part, seemed quite content to ignore the variety of brightly colored flies I cast in their direction.

Perhaps the eagles knew something that I didn’t, because when it was over, I swear I could hear hints of laughter in their calls. Were they aware of some preordained proclamation that had ensured my coming up empty handed? Their playful mocking accompanied me for the several kilometer walk back to my car. It had been a beautiful morning, despite the lack of any tugs on my line. My thoughts turned to football.

Where to start in describing the travesty that was Super Bowl XL? Despite their underdog status, the Seahawks played admirably. They outplayed their supposedly superior opponents for most of the game. Yet, whenever they seemed ready to strike, the opportunity was snatched away. Not by fate, but by the men in stripes. When it was all over, the story line that the NFL had hoped for had come true. Pittsburgh was victorious.

Still, a day later, I can’t seem to shake this feeling that “we was robbed!”. Sound like sour grapes? You bet, and I’m not alone. But don’t take my word for it, read what some of the admittedly pro-Steeler media has to say: http://msn.foxsports.com/nfl/story/5310192. It certainly inhibits the healing process when you know that you've been duped and there's not a damn thing you can do about it...

If the Seahawks can take anything positive out of what may forever be remembered as “Black Sunday”, perhaps it is some sort of satisfaction attained just by having been there? Their main goal was sadly not achieved, but after a thirty year drought, the Seahawks were actually in the Super Bowl. They made it all the way to the big dance, and no one, not even some guy in a striped shirt, can take that away from them. They may not have caught the big prize, but they were there. I just hope they were able to stop and appreciate the sunrise while it was happening.

Of Parrots and Hamas

- QUOTATION OF THE DAY -

"I've asked why nobody saw it coming. It does say something about us not having a good enough pulse."
- CONDOLEEZZA RICE, on Hamas's victory in Palestinian elections.

Can you believe this? I mean, where do I start? Nobody saw it coming? Nobody? Baby, that’s not even a weak pulse, that’s absolutely no pulse at all. That parrot is dead. Finished. Deceased. The only reason anyone could be fooled into thinking that American foreign intelligence is still alive would be because you’ve nailed its f*cking feet to the perch!

For those of you not paying attention, this is big stuff. Around the world Hamas is generally considered to be a terrorist organization sworn to Israel's destruction. As the NY Times put it “…an election victory by the militant group Hamas … has reduced to tatters crucial assumptions underlying American policies and hopes in the Middle East.”

There were all sorts of interesting sub-plots leading up to this election, including the US Administration backing of the Fatah Party, including American led “assistance” to the Palestinians totaling over a billion dollars per year. Recently, Israel called for the US to boycott the elections if Hamas was allowed to run as an “armed” party. The US decided to back the elections anyway, placing their faith in the credo that democracy always leads to a just end.

Unfortunately for the US, it turns out that happiness isn’t the only thing money can’t buy. It seems that it can’t buy an election in the Middle East, either. But the million dollar question still remains: With all of their foreign intelligence and military expertise, why didn’t anybody in the US administration see this coming?

To provide some insight, perhaps it would be useful to look back into the not too distant past, to a time when American foreign policy also had US troops occupying a hostile nation? There have been plenty of comparisons made between the Iraq and Vietnam “wars” in current media. Perhaps there were some “lessons learned” back then that could help with the world the US faces today?

Now admittedly, I don’t actually remember the Vietnam War. My closest memory is of my parents not letting me out of the car on one of our family holidays to the Canadian west coast because there were “draft dodging hippies” on the beach. Hence, I’m not a very reliable historical resource. But thanks to a recent documentary film, the information is out there for all to see, if we care to take the time to watch.

I’m referring to the film “The Fog of War - Eleven Lessons from the Life of Robert S. McNamara”. It’s a remarkable film in that the narration is provided by McNamara himself. Who better to tell it like it was? He uses the events that occurred while he was Secretary of Defense in the Kennedy and Johnson administrations to outline eleven rules that he feels are essential to preventing similar events from ever occurring again.

It’s not very far into the movie that he reveals the crucial point:
Movie lesson number 1 - Empathize with your enemy. He’s not saying sympathize, as in feel sorry for, but empathize, meaning to understand. It’s not a difficult concept. Know your enemy. We’ve all heard it before. However, it is apparently a very difficult concept to apply. He feels that a lack of understanding of the Vietnamese people led to very inappropriate decisions by him and his administrations. The results were, as we all know, horrific.

Years later history repeats itself. America wonders why the people of Iraq aren’t more appreciative of US efforts to bring freedom and democracy to their Middle Eastern nation. And now, the Palestinians unexpectedly elect a militant group that stands to destroy everything that America has been working to accomplish in the Middle East. The Bush administration is left to scratch their collective heads.

Condoleezza Rice suggests it came as a surprise because they did not understand the hostilities the Palestinian people had towards their previous leaders. I suspect they didn’t bother to try and understand the Palestinians, preferring to place confidence in the rather naïve ideology that “democracy wins over evil every time”.

In “The Fog of War”, McNamara is unwilling to outright apologize for the events that took place in Vietnam and Japan, yet he is obviously haunted by the role he played in their unfolding. I’m not sure if it has occurred to those in the Bush administration just what sort of legacy they are in the process of leaving behind. The more they choose to ignore the lessons learned in the past, the easier it must be for them to forge on, blindly following their own ideals.

Conservative Blues

It’s two days after the big federal election here in Canada, and as the dust settles, some voting patterns are starting to emerge. Most of them are pretty standard stuff, like the majority of seats in Quebec went to separatists (oops, I mean sovereigntists – that really sounds so much less confrontational), and the party based in Alberta swept Alberta. But, the pattern making most of the headlines in Canada, and dominating water cooler conversations everywhere, is this – the right wing conservative party (that won a minority government) didn’t win a single seat in any of Canada’s three largest cities. That’s right, no Conservatives in Montreal, Toronto or Vancouver.

So, what does this mean? I’ve heard all sorts of theories, from “city folk are too intellectual to be suckered in by the Conservatives and their hidden agenda”, to “only people in small communities are naïve enough to buy in to the GST reduction scheme.”

I have a different theory, and it goes something like this: Canada is not all that different from the USA. We Canadians like to wallow in our smug state of condescendence as we gaze to the south and claim cerebral superiority over our neighbors. Well guess what folks? It ain’t so.

We all laughed at the map of the US, with all that red in the middle and a strip of blue down either side. We sent around copies of the front page from England’s Daily Mirror with a headline asking “How could 90 some-odd million Americans be so stupid?” It was all great fun.

So Canada, the shoe is now firmly on the other foot, and although Stephen Harper is not exactly George Dubya (at least we hope not), there are still some striking similarities. He opposes bans on handguns, he’s against gay marriage and abortion, and there’s that little thing about how if he had been leading the country several short years ago, our troops would be dieing over in Iraq “defending freedom”. At least we know that our governing party would have been praying for them.

About the only difference I see at the moment is that Canada, just to be different, has labeled the left red, and the right blue. So now that map of “The United States of Canada vs. Jesusland” is all screwed up. I suppose we call the left red because it is closer to pinko, as in commie. And I suppose they call the right red because it’s, well, right, and that has a nice ring to it. Either way, if they adopted our color scheme (or we adopted theirs), the result would be the same. Jesusland just got a whole lot bigger!

Feedback: The Good, The Bad, and The Ugh!

Well Hallelujah, it finally happened! After months of ramblings and musings on these pages, something has struck a chord with you the readers. Surprising to me, it wasn’t anything about God, natural disasters, politics or even guns. No, it was a piece on people acting ignorantly, and it drew more emotional responses than anything I had written previously. Comments ranged from something on the order of “Right on, high fives and cokes all around!” to an anonymous entry accusing me of being a “self-anointed superior jackass”.

So which is it? In case you didn’t read the piece, or for those too lazy to scroll down and check it out, it was a description of a guided night-time walk down an exquisite beach in Costa Rica to observe leatherback turtles laying eggs. I was struck by how our group seemed completely disinterested in the special and rare experience we were sharing, preferring to blab on and on about unrelated mundane fluff. The final conclusion that I drew was "if you don’t have something of value to add to such a situation, please don’t feel the need to fill the night air with inane chatter." Or something like that...

A bit harsh? Perhaps, but it stems from a rather strongly held belief of mine that as individuals we owe it to ourselves, to our fellow human beings and to the earth itself to wake up and pay attention. I’m not asking a lot, yet imagine if every one of us dedicated a small portion of our thinking, say 10%, to something that matters. If we could just step outside the reality television fast food culture long enough to take stock of what’s going on around us, I’m convinced the world would be a better place. Instead, the bulk of the population chooses to live life with blinders on, unwilling to look beyond their own immediate experience.

Costa Rica provides a classic example of what I mean. It’s a beautiful, fascinating place, full of culture, nature and, of course, surfing. No wonder it is one of the top tourist destinations in the world. However, as more and more foreigners are attracted to the place, many deciding to move there, the result isn’t so much a celebration of Costa Rica as it is an exercise in modern-world mediocrity.

The beachfront of Tamarindo is becoming increasingly crowded with hotels, and the surrounding hillsides are now dotted with condo developments. It’s bound to happen in such a desirable location, and brings much needed money to the local economy. But why is it that it also brings Pizza Hut, Burger King, Subway and the never ending list of usual suspects? These places have all set up shop yet Tamarindo doesn’t even have any paved roads, let alone reliable plumbing and electricity. Don’t people go somewhere exotic to get away from the local strip mall, or do we really need to surround ourselves with the familiar, no matter the locale?

I suppose Tamarindo is turning into a full blown resort and the influx of Wal-Mart et al is inevitable. But come on people, leave the craving for a Big Mac at home, and experience the flavor of another culture!

For those wanting to avoid the crowds of Tamarindo, Nosara is pure nirvana. For many years a remote backpackers destination attracting no one but surfers, Nosara has grown enough to boast a few hotels and some restricted services. Surfing is still the only game in town, but the land is being rapidly snatched up by foreign money. The locals get a kick out of how suddenly the courts are crammed, as gringos contribute modern ideas to their village by attempting to sue the pants off each other. Unfortunately, another trend is appearing, that of foreigners using the courts to push out the locals, whose close proximity apparently lowers the property values.

All of this results from self centeredness and ignorance. We wear blinders so we don’t feel responsible for our actions. Returning to the leatherback turtle scene, I’m struck by the very same attitudes. I wasn’t chastising people for socializing around the pool. People can fill their leisure time with whatever they please. But, strolling along Playa Grande, I was hoping to get just a sense that people in our group were able to recognize the rare beauty that we were sharing, and to understand how endangered it is. Instead, all I saw were people unable or unwilling to leave “Sex In The City” behind for just an hour. And to me, that’s inexcusable.

That’s just my opinion, and that’s why there’s feedback. Keep it coming, regardless of whether you like it, or you think I’m a jackass. I’ll do my best to keep you interested, or furious.

Today's Moment of Zen

In Utah a 13-year-old girl who became pregnant by her 12-year-old boyfriend was ruled a sex offender. The 12-year-old boy was also ruled a sex offender. "It's a paradox," said the girl's attorney.

Inane Chatter

Hello all. Sorry for the delay in updating the Digglings, but I’ve been off in Costa Rica with my sister avoiding the West Coast winter rains. Now, one may think that such a holiday would have lead to several blog entries about endless sunshine and glorious surfing, and that may yet happen. But not now. First, I need to blow off some steam, for I have witnessed countless scenarios that leave me convinced of the ongoing decline of civilization and the impending end to our society as a whole.

My next few entries will discuss some of these observations. The following is the first. I call it:

Inane Chatter

Now come on people. If you’re stupid you should be self conscious about it, not broadcast it at full volume for all the world to hear!

There’s a classic scene in Jim Jarmusch’s film “Broken Flowers” where Bill Murray is riding a bus from an airport terminal to the rental car lot. Sitting across from him are two teenage girls engaged in the most mindless banter imaginable. The look on his face alone is worth the price of admission. He sports a slight grin all the while conveying a sense of absolute exasperation and complete disdain. In the end, however, you can tell he understands because, after all, they are just teenage girls.

If inane banter was restricted to teenage girls, I’d be OK with it, too. They go hand in hand, right down to the incessant repetition of “like” and “oh my god”. My problem is that mindless dialogue appears to be an outbreak of epidemic proportions, affecting every last man, woman and child in America. And they insist on shoving it in your face.

Case in point. Our last night in Costa Rica we went on a guided moonlight stroll down “Playa Grande” to witness a true wonder of nature, leatherback turtles laying eggs in the sand. It’s an incredible spectacle.

Leatherbacks are the largest turtles in the world, some measuring over three feet wide and five feet long. The females struggle up onto the beach at high tide in the dark, and deposit up to 70 eggs into a trench that they dig with their rear flippers. Not long ago, the beach would have been home to over 200 turtles a night going through this process. Today, the average is around three per night, and the overall turtle populations are dwindling fast. The reason is, of course, man’s interference with the turtle’s environment.

In an effort to preserve the leatherback turtles, Costa Rica has designated Playa Grande as a nature preserve, and only a limited number of guided trips are permitted on the beach at night. So, Beth and I signed up and joined a group of about thirty tourists eager to experience the spectacle.

Picture this – you’re part of the only group walking along an otherwise empty 2 ½ mile stretch of pristine beach. The moon has yet to rise, but the sheer abundance of stars cast enough light that you can actually see your shadow. The surf crashes noisily, occasionally splashing your bare feet with warm tropical water as you expectantly approach a leatherback turtle.

Sounds absolutely magical, yes?

Well, it should have been, but it wasn’t. How could such an otherwise perfect occasion be ruined? You guessed it, with stupid, brainless, dim-witted, inane chatter. Our group of thirty individuals came from all over North America, and the one thing they had in common was that they just wouldn’t shut up. It was absolutely mind-boggling.

Like all interactions while abroad, it starts with the absurd mantra of the American tourist, “ Where y’all from?”. The question itself isn’t at issue, it’s the intent. You see, people who ask that question really aren’t interested in where you’re from. They’re initiating a conversation because they’re interested in telling you where they’re from! It’s a time worn tradition. Some profusely sweating perfect stranger blurts out the dreaded question from across a bus or on the street, and before you can say “Canada”, he or she interrupts you to fill you in on everything you didn’t want to know about Tuba City, Arizona. (I didn’t make that up, honest!) And, unless you’re particularly rude, the endless diatribe of gibberish picks up from there.

Our walk along Playa Grande in the starlight was no different. The poor Costa Rican guide finally gave up on trying to fill us in on local lore, because he was continuously drowned out by a barrage of increasingly voluminous idiodicy. It was like a contest. Not to be outdone by a school girl complaining that her legs were going to be sore from this epic hike, a college girl started to loudly complain to her mother that her roommate’s boyfriend wouldn’t let she and some girls watch Sex In The City DVDs because Monday Night Football was on. She was infuriated, and apparently wanted all of us to feel her pain.

And on it went for the entire half hour it took us to get to the turtle. Whatever fleeting thought that leapt into each individual’s mind was immediately blurted out for all to hear. Calling it vacuous is giving it too much credit.

Even worse were the questions that people asked the guide after we had spent 15 minutes watching the turtle lay her eggs. The guide had been adamant that we keep silent while in close proximity to the turtle, a task which I’m sure was torture for our group. We then moved about a hundred feet away so the guide could field questions. I was more appalled than during the walk. I’m convinced that people only ask questions so they can hear themselves talk. It has absolutely nothing to do with learning. It has everything to do with exposing oneself as a complete imbecile.

In my mind, our guide showed Herculean restraint. Check out some of these questions:

“What color are the eggs?” What?!? You mean the white eggs you were just looking at less than 30 seconds ago?
“What size are the eggs?” Once again, we’re discussing the eggs you just saw. They were mere inches from your nose. There was no illusion of any kind going on, so if they looked to be just slightly larger than a golf ball, then they are probably just slightly larger than a golf ball.

The questions were fired at the guide faster than he could answer them. But, I had the utmost confidence in his ability to answer all of them because he had already told us the answers in his preamble talk before we started walking. People were making up questions to information that they had already heard. What size is the turtle? Why is it called a leatherback? How many eggs does it lay? Unbelievable! Each and every one of us had a hand-out that the guide had read to us before we started, and the answer to EVERY question that was asked was on the handout.

Every question, that is, except one. And it is with that question that I will end this rant. A rather slight, spectacled, middle aged fellow had been silent for most of the question answer period, but towards the end he had to prove to all of us that he held knowledge that was exclusive to the rest. With a nervous giggle, he asked the guide about how long “the act” took between the male and female turtle. The guide said he wasn’t sure. So, in front of the whole group, including children, the man started to describe to us in great detail that it went on for a really, really long time. Perhaps not as long as it took for him to tell us, but for a really long time just the same. His long winded answer to his own question was often punctuated by Mr. Burns style laughter, leading me to believe that at least one member of our group wasn’t a total idiot. Certifiably insane yes, but not necessarily an idiot.