Walking, Omelettery, Protesters


When I go for walks there’s always a destination because without one I would be walking aimlessly and I don’t like that lost feeling.  My destination isn’t ever that purposeful but it’s something.  Being that summer is over, I gathered my positive energy which is stored somewhere in the deep dark trenches of my body to seize the sunny warm day.  I walked a bit further this time to the core of the city where people are out and about eating trendy food and shopping not at stores but at boutiques.

I like walking along bridges because of the view.

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He’s part of the US Army.



I think the message is if you’re going to eat here, we don’t want you to feel guilty.  Poutine is probably one of the unhealthiest foods out there.  There’s not much to brag about when it comes to Canadian food culture.  We have poutine and Canadian back bacon which is basically ham.  For those of you who don’t know what poutine is it’s french fries covered with cheese curds and gravy.  Of course that’s the basic poutine.  From there you can add everything under the sun to your poutine as long as it’s not healthy.


On the way back I walked on the other side of the bridge where you can see another bridge.  That’s our shitty version of the Sydney Harbour Bridge in Australia.  This is why people come to Vancouver, for the parks, water and mountains.  That area you see with people is a popular tourist destination called Granville Island.  I would go into why people go there but it’s really not that interesting.  There was a time when I had a small ambition to create a blog about Vancouver.  I’m sure I would have done the city more harm than good.


Blurry Corned Beef Hash

Paul’s Place Omelettery.  What a fancy name for a breakfast place.  Sorry did I say breakfast.  How dare I.  I meant brunch.  It actually wasn’t expensive though which is the reason why I decided to try it.  It’s a nice place so I probably won’t be going back.

The place was pretty quiet so I could hear this white woman ramble on about her life drama to some dude.  She was talking about how very few friends she has and her ex-husband while the guy was trying to convince her that she’s not a bad person.  I think drama is the key to an unboring life.  When you don’t have any drama in your life though, hearing about other people’s extensive drama can be as annoying as being sober at a bar.


People protesting about something as usual

I’m not sure how effective protesting is.  The message that they wanted to get out was that our Prime Minister is evil and needs to be gone.  I don’t think there needs to be any awareness for this.  I’ve never heard anyone say good things about the government in power.  I think all they achieved was backing traffic up and using tax payer dollars for the police escort.   This was yesterday.  Today is a nice day too but I’m going to seize the day by taking a nap.  My positive energy battery needs recharging.


Mike Tyson’s Memoir, ‘Undisputed Truth’ …A Semi-Review



A person with a big tattoo on their face is still a rare sight but Mike Tyson is a rare human being.  There will always be something that people admire about a person who can kick everyone’s ass.  Bruce Lee has been dead for 40 years but he’s a legend because he can kick your ass.  Mike Tyson hasn’t been in the ring for a decade but he’s still always on the news because people are fascinated/disgusted with his character.  As he likes to put it, he’s ‘an entertainer.’

When the general public thinks about Mike Tyson, they think about a crazy man who is a convicted rapist.  He was definitely at least a little crazy and he was convicted of rape which he has denied had really happened since day 1 which he goes into detail about in the book.

To summarize, his book begins describing his troubled childhood in a poor crime-ridden neighbourhood and goes from there to tell about the crimes he committed as a youth, the white guy who rescued him and built him to be the youngest Heavyweight Champion in boxing history, the details of his boxing career, getting ripped off by everyone, sexual escapades, his rape conviction, prison and his many stories of him being an asshole.  As interesting as the stories are, it’s also his thoughts and the story behind each story that make them special.

His autobiography is honest, disgusting, comedic and sometimes philosophical.  He puts it all out there for you to love or hate but if you have decided to read it then you will most likely love it.  The book is filled with similar stories from people who have lived the rock star life but multiplied by 5.

For me, as entertaining as his tales were, I felt kind of a connection to him.  He grew up without a father and was neglected by his mother.  As interesting as his life was, the part of his life that many people find just as interesting is the opposite of his accomplished tough guy persona. He wrote often about his low self-esteem and how insecure he was throughout his whole life.

“I couldn’t take being the big fish and having everyone talk nice about me.  That made me feel uncomfortable because of my low self-esteem.  It got to be overbearing and I had to berate myself and cut myself down.”

“I was just a miserable person then.  I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to be with me.  I didn’t want to be with me.  I think that my mother had handed down her depression to me………..I had everything that I wanted but I wasn’t happy within myself.  The outside world wasn’t making me happy anymore.  I didn’t know how to get it from the inside, because happiness, as I realized later, is an inside job.  So in this state of despair I did the last thing I should have done.  I got married.”

He refers to himself as a “schmuck” and “smuck” many times throughout the book, saying that a “smuck” is not even good enough to be a “schmuck.”  He refers to himself with these words when he tells a story about himself getting tricked or ripped off.  I’m not defending all the negative behaviour that he has exhibited throughout his life. He has done some shitty things.  I think we would all be much different though with millions of dollars and if our whole identity was based on being the toughest guy on the planet.  I’m sure I probably would have been a super dickhead too.



Farting on the Government

When I was 12 years old our teacher gave us some kind of English assignment.  We had to construct sentences that incorporated a list of 20 words.  As a child and even as an adult, I always gravitated to amusing myself.  I was sitting beside my classmate Richard and for whatever reason I decided to give him the starring role in my assignment.

I can’t remember what I wrote except this one sentence that has stayed in my memory even until now.  Every sentence included Richard’s name and the word, ‘fart.’  The only one I remember was,

“Richard farted on the government.”

Anyway, I had a blast writing this while cracking up laughing at the same time but the teacher felt differently.  She had a disappointed look on her face after marking my assignment.  I wonder if she was truly disgusted or if she actually found it humorous but felt she needed to discipline me.

“I want you to take this home to your parents and have them sign it and give it back to me.”

I had two choices.  Show this to my mom’s truck driving dictator partner(Uncle Bill) at the time which would surely get me in deep shit.  This guy would yell at me for anything.  As funny as I thought I was, there were some serious people in this world who didn’t appreciate my humour.  Perhaps their disgust wasn’t because that my work wasn’t at all funny but instead they saw it more as a bad sign for how I was going to turn out in the future.

My second choice was to show this to my mother who I was much less scared of.  To do this would require some tactical thought on my part. Uncle Bill was the person who was home in the evenings and my mom worked late so I never saw her Monday to Friday.  Uncle Bill left the house early for work so my plan was to show this to my mom after he left and before I went to school when my mom was still asleep.  The idea was that my mom would sign it and Uncle Bill would never hear about it.

The next morning, I go and wake my mom up and tell her that she needs to sign this paper from my teacher.  My mom’s spoken English is a little better than sucks and her reading ability is far worse.  She could read single words sometimes but a whole sentence would lose her most of the time.  So she’s barely awake and looking at my assignment and asks, “so does this say you are doing good?”


I walked away with the biggest grin on my face.  I’m not sure if it could have turned out any better.  It would be funny though if someone actually did fart on the government.



‘Life Itself’ by Roger Ebert…Semi-Review



My reason for wanting to read this book was because it was written by a man who could no longer speak, eat or drink.  His face was also a bit disfigured from failed surgeries.  Although not completely suited to my taste, there were some chapters that I enjoyed.  I think it can be difficult to enjoy a memoir from a person who grew up in different era and with different morals.  I was mostly bored with the chapters about his youth.  There wasn’t enough chaos for me.  It didn’t sound like there was much poverty.  He loved his parents and they loved him.  He mentioned the many relatives that he had in his life and they all seemed like decent people.  Perhaps if you grew up in that era or knew enough about it then it might be more interesting to you.

I’m calling this a semi-review because I didn’t read the whole book.  Maybe I should have because I went back to some of the chapters I skipped and they had some interesting parts to it.  He wrote about his interviews and conversations he had with famous people like Oprah and Woodie Allen.  He mentioned that Woodie Allen said he did not live a day that he did not seriously consider committing suicide.  I’m not sure if he was just being over dramatic.  You would think he would have done it by now if he thought about doing it everyday for a few decades.  Who knows, maybe not.

Of course I liked the one chapter where he wrote about his childhood dog, ‘Blackie’ because I also had a dog with the same name and also lost him in a similar fashion.

I was disappointed with the chapter about his alcoholism.  I thought it was going to include stories of hookers and blow, wetting his pants on the subway or some other degrading tale.  Nope, it was mostly about him and Alcoholics Anonymous and a few other tidbits.  My expectations may have come from the other memoirs I have read by known substance abusers like Slash, Steve-O and Mike Tyson.

The chapters about his cancer, failed treatments and the aftermath were a good read.  Tragedy has that kind of a appeal.  Before his health issues he considered blogging and having online friends not very appealing.  I forget the term he used but it was something negative.  Possibly similar to what a truck driver would think of if you asked him about wearing an ankle bracelet handcrafted by a hippie.  But when you are a writer and permanently lose the ability to speak, you might just give blogging a try, and he did.  He became a regular blogger and greatly appreciated the world of blogging and the community that came along with it.

I’m not a person of much faith but I can get on board with the following words from his book,

“I believe that if, at the end, according to our abilities, we have done something to make others a little happier, and something to make ourselves a little happier, that is about the best we can do.  To make other less happy is a crime.  To make ourselves unhappy is where all the crime starts.  We must try to contribute joy to the world.  That is true no matter what our problems, our health, our circumstances.  We must try.  I didn’t always know this and am happy I lived long enough to find it out.”


The Options You Give Yourself

Often the difference between success and failure depends on the options one has.  I’m not referring to opportunities one might have available to them but more so the options that you deem acceptable.  I believe succeeding comes from the fear of the likely outcome of what will happen of not succeeding. It’s not that you really want to be a winner, it’s that you really really don’t want to fail and live the life that comes along with it. No one really wants to fail but a lot of people don’t really really not want to fail.  Once you give yourself that little bit of acceptable failure then it works like a spreading virus.  Sooner or later it’s going to take over the host.

You can find peace with getting average grades in school? Then you are probably going to get only average grades.  The difference between someone who is ‘successful’ and someone who is not is that the successful person wanted it more and would not accept anything less.  I’m talking about people who had to work for their achievements not the ones that had it handed to them.  Any idiot can stick out their hands and accept something given to them.

Giving yourself the option to do less in life is probably not your fault.  If you’re an easy going person or are in a certain environment then very little might be satisfying enough for you.  This is why I am where I am.  I don’t think having much of anything or anyone is that bad.  Yes it does suck sometimes but most of the time it is okay.  Do I want more?  Yes.  Am I willing to do what it takes?  I guess not or maybe I just haven’t found a desirable way yet.  Most people would want a Ferrari but they don’t want it badly enough.  It’s not worth it.  That’s how I feel when it comes to things most people see as desirable and must have.  It’s not worth it.  A lot of people can’t see a shred of enjoyment being alone, poor or not fitting in with the rest.  To them it’s like death.  To me the idea of it is much worse than it really is.


Ready for the Apocalypse


In a post apocalyptic world, I will reign supreme.  With the The Better Business Bureau no longer existing, BBB will take on a new meaning.  I will have an ample supply of beans, bullion and bullets.  No one can fuck with me and I’ll get all the bitches.  I wouldn’t be able to trust any of these women though so locking up my 3 B’s as well as hiding the key is a must.  It might be beneficial to take in another male for added muscle but then I’d have to worry about him intruding on my women.  On second thought, I’d better lock my B’s in a safe with a combination lock instead of  a key.  They can take my key but they can’t take my brain.

Metal detectors will make its way up the food chain of devices.  People are going to bury some of their valuables and I will definitely bury some of my 3 B’s.  I won’t be able to trust anyone in the beginning but I think I’m going to have to sooner or later.  The constant paranoia would be taxing.  It might be a domino effect though.  I let someone in, give them the key to my heart then the key to my 3 B’s and that will be the beginning of the end.  Forget it, no bitches.  The 4th B will just complicate things.

The yuppies think they are all that now but wait until the apocalypse comes.  Their $100 t-shirts and foodie knowledge ain’t going to do shit for them.  The fall from up high is hard and they will have no beans to cushion their fall.   With no beans they will be stealing small yappy dogs for food.

My mother will be out there somewhere but I’m not going to worry about her too much because in this new world my inheritance has no value.  I hope she was smart enough to stock up on some beans.  I haven’t decided if I’m going to keep my landlord and his wife around.  They mind their own business upstairs but sooner or later they are going to come knocking for my beans.  By then they will likely have the characteristics of a zombie, walking around all disoriented and desperate.  I might have to use a couple bullets and put them out of their misery.  I guess that would make me a bad tenant.

When Friday night rolls around, it will be just like old times.  You have to treat yourself every so often and taking a break from beans is a must.  I will be having Spam a la mode.






A Partner is to Make Life Easier

Today I was thinking how a man and a woman sometimes stay together long term not so much out of love but just to make life easier.  By easier, I mean paying bills, sharing household duties, etc.  For example, if you are one person and have a $300,000 apartment to pay for then it’s all on you.  If there are two of you then you can split that payment in half which would make a huge difference.  If you were to put your money together then you could buy a $600,000 home and for the most part and be no better or worse financially.  It would make something that was impossible now possible.

But what if you are a man and do not want to be in a committed relationship with a woman and have to live with her too?  Or what if you are really bad with meeting women?  Why is it that a straight guy never partners up with another straight guy in the same manner?  We all want to make life easier, don’t we?  I suppose it is considered too ‘gay.’  Also, if you were a straight guy and committed to this type of relationship with another straight guy, you are almost admitting that you have given up on women.  Maybe not completely but you have definitely lost a lot of hope.

In our culture, there’s something about being older than 40 years of age and being in a heterosexual man and man relationship that is more embarrassing than living with your parents.  At least with your parents you can say that they need you around because they are getting old.  I think it’s something about coming home and seeing another guy everyday knowing that you both think each other is a loser and you committed a mortgage to it.

It would take some pretty big stones to walk around telling everyone with confidence that you bought an apartment with another guy who is not your lover.  You know everyone you tell is going to think it’s weird and you can’t help but think that everyone thinks that you are a closet homosexual.  “Ya sure buddy, he’s just your ‘friend’…uh-huh.”  Most people would rather live alone in poverty and loneliness.

Being in such a relationship is pretty much saying that you are each others boyfriend except you don’t have sex or cuddle.  Buying a home together is indicating that it is going to be a very long term relationship and that is not easy to accept in today’s society.  I wonder how many straight guys who would be in a partnership like this would end up falling in love with each other after years of supporting each other?  It could so happen.

I just remembered they had an episode of King of Queens about this same topic.  I don’t feel so original now.  Doesn’t matter, I think this is a subject that needs more awareness.  Cancer and all those other diseases have had their time.


Generational Ponzi Scheme

“The heart of the problem is arithmetic: The post-World War ll Social Welfare State, created at a moment when the baby boom was still gestating, is built on a generational Ponzi scheme. As life expectancy increases and birth rates decline, the population pyramid is being inverted—and in some countries that is causing the entire economy to topple.”

Ponzi Scheme: The Ponzi scheme generates returns for older investors by acquiring new investors. This scam actually yields the promised returns to earlier investors, as long as there are more new investors.

That does sound pretty accurate of the kind of social system we have.  Many laws and rights were implemented without a very good prediction of the future.  Humans have always been lousy at predicting the future.  We always think life will never be that much different from the way it is at the present time.  Or perhaps we do know better but putting a band-aid and some hope on problems is a much easier solution.  I guess sometimes a band-aid and hope is all that you really have to work with.

The idea is that your tax dollars help support the retirees and when it comes your time the generations before you support you with their tax dollars.  That’s the promise anyway, however, a popular notion is that people in my generation won’t see very much in the retirement years.  Who knows.  We’ll have to see.  I’m sure suicide will be much more popular and accepted by then.

The quote at the beginning was taken from the final words of Gillian Bennett, an 83 year old lady who decided to take her own life before her dementia did.  Her final words which she published on the internet is a very interesting and thoughtful read.  Most would say her choice to take her own life was very sensible.  Some others would say she is not going to heaven. Besides inevitably living in a vegetative state, she mentions not wanting to be a burden to her country as another reason for her decision.  One thing that surprised me was how she used the term “off myself.”  I didn’t think that was a term used by older folk.    

There’s much more to the letter.  If you would like to read it you can do so at the following link:





Most Jobs Suck

There was a time long ago when men were real men.  They went to war, worked in the mine, built skyscrapers without safety equipment and sailed across the Indian Ocean before it was called the Indian Ocean looking for some place that might not have existed.  My nightmare job is any job that would require me to be a man.  There are still some manly jobs out there, all of which are still too manly for me.  Even with all the safe guards in the workplace, to me, it’s still torture to have to carry around stacks of wood all day under the blazing sun or frosty winter.  I look at those people and think to myself that I would rather knock off liquor stores for a living.  Maybe not rob liquor stores as it wouldn’t last but maybe something more cowardly like snatching purses from ladies of any age.  

I had one of these labour intensive jobs but only for a day.  It was 8 hours of shovelling a 50/50 steaming concoction of dirt and manure into a wheel barrel to be transferred 30 feet away.  He paid me $110 cash and also bought me dinner hoping that I would return another time.  Once you spend your developing years doing non-labourious work, I think it is impossible for most people to willingly transition into those types of jobs.

On the other side of the spectrum, I would consider sitting at a desk or standing behind one just as nightmarish assuming that I am doing it for 8 hours a day.  Having it be so deathly quiet and being able to hear computers humming and people making noises with their noses and throats drives me silently insane.  I would stare at the window closest to me and would imagine jumping through it.  I used to have one of these jobs and I definitely did stare at that window.  They wanted me to quit but instead I forced them to fire me.  I framed my termination letter.

So from labour intensive jobs to sitting in a cubicle, I’ve narrowed my job aspirations to nothing.  Wasn’t that the plan though? Computers, machines and robots were supposed to do all the work for us.  I wasn’t born lazy.  I was tricked into it.  



Postaday: Nightmare Job