Wednesday, March 14, 2012


Hello Fellow (Hopefully) Relatable Humans,

Due to my pathological aversion to the cold I usually get hideously sedentary every winter, resulting in my blood slowly turning into gravy over the course of five months.  With the temps routinely turning north of zero once again, I've been trying to walk as much as possible to try and stave off the chest pains which now seem to accompany every effort to open a jar of pasta sauce.

Unfortunately walking in my neighborhood kinda sucks since I only have three options:

(1) Walk through the ironically-named Fairview.  To be honest, Fairview has improved considerably as of late but pedestrians still routinely risk being turned into a speed bump at the corner of Titus and Dutch Village and/or witnessing the sort of domestic disturbance which necessitates a mandatory court appearance.

(2) Hoof along the Bedford Highway and get black lung from vehicle exhaust and spend what's supposed to be a leisurely and relaxing stroll picking gravel out of your hair and bugs out of your teeth.

(3)  Climb the Mount Doom-like edifice of Lacewood Drive.

I often go with this third option since, if I can achieve the apex, I'm treated to a veritable nirvana of urban blight.  After absorbing some caffeinated ambition and a dash of local color at Tim Horton's (courtesy of the "Sign of Evil Number Forty-Three"-spouting clientele) I can then enjoy a pleasant walk back home by cutting across the glorious flatlands of Dunbrack Street and then basking in the "it's-all-downhill-from-here" glory of Glenforest Drive.

The other day I was puffing my way up Lacewood, just minutes away from my final ascent.  I remember feeling supremely proud of myself since, thus far, I'd managed to resist the temptation to establish base camp half way up summit.  I was in the final stretch when a Honda Civic crested the top of the hill and went airborne for a second or two.  Instantly I assumed that "them Duke Boys" had been hit pretty badly by the economic downturn and had traded the General Lee in something more fuel- conscious.

The rice rocket slalomed down the serpentine twists of Lacewood Drive at an impossible rate, approaching a fellow mountain climber who was trudging head-down about four hundred yards in front of me.  Suddenly I heard a blood-curdling scream come from the car and the poor bastard walking in front of me flinched like a cat hit by a tazer.  He leapt off the sidewalk onto the grass, threw his back pack down and then glared after the speeding car.

Thus warned I steeled myself as the Honda Silly barreled down the hill towards me, it's half-dozen superfluous spoilers now keeping the vehicle glued to the track like an AFX Race Car.   As it drew closer I could see that it was packed with about six or seven J. Crew-clad, ball-cap wearing, date- rapist types who's idea of rebellion was trying to scare the fertilizer out of people already burdened by our then six-week-long Public Transit Strike.

As they approached, the car slowed down incrementally so that the leering, block-headed douche-bag in the passenger seat could lean out the window and do his best Ric Flair impersonation into my face.  Even knowing that it was coming, I still recoiled back a bit from his blatant display of rampant assholery.    

Besides wanting to find the closest rock and huff it through their rear window, I was just left wondering: why?  I would never do anything like that to some poor downtrodden f#@k trying to walk up an incline that blurs the distinction between steep hill and cliff face.    

But then it got me thinking, in the grand scheme of things, there's plenty of things my follow human beings habitually do that I find to be completely baffling.  Here are just a few things that make me indulge in some wanton head-scratchery...

(1) First off, I have no effin' clue how Canadians could ever find this more compelling and scandalous then this.

(2) I have no idea why someone would ever utter such naked hatred on the radio:

Furthermore, I can't rationalize why someone would be sponsored to spray such on-air invectives.  Regardless of how woefully antiquated Rush' rant seems to be, you know that there's an entire army  of dick-heads out there who think that their craziest, most fevered thoughts have somehow been legitimized just "'cuz I heard it on the radio."

Oh, and I also have no clue why someone would chose the music of Peter Gabriel, Rush and Rage Against the Machine to serve as a soundtrack for the proclamations of a drug-addled hate Nazi.  Oh, I know why, it's because they'd be left with nothing but the oeuvre of Tony Keith and Ted Nugent, which, frankly is a fate worst then death.

Speaking of...

(3) I have no clue why you'd risk dain bramage by listening to this shite:

When you could just as easily listen to this:

See what I did there?  See how one thing causes the spirit to soar while the other causes your brain cells to recoil like a hamster from an acetylene torch?

(4)  I have no idea why folks like to hate on gay people:

And I really can't wrap my head around Michelle's stance since her husband is so obviously sporting a case of "Methinks Thou Dost Protest Too Much"-itis:

(5)  I have no idea why you'd watch this movie:

When you can watch ANY OTHER MOVIE ON THE F#@KING PLANET.  Like this one for example:

(6)  I don't understand NASCAR.  Sorry, I just don't.  Maybe if I was a gear-head or lived below the Mason-Dixon line, I'd be more predisposed to it.  But as it stand right now, I just can't see the appeal of corporately-shellacked cars driving around and around in circle for four hours.

I also can't rationalize NASCAR's inexplicable popularity here in Canada, kinda like how I fail to understand hockey's popularity in places without naturally occurring ice.

OooOoooo, wait.  Bad example.

Anyway, as close as I can tell, there's only really one reason to watch NASCAR.  And if George Carlin is right, well then, that's just a tad ghoulish, dontcha think?

(7)  I also have no idea why someone would willingly subject their ears to this:

When infinitely more superior options exist:

Hey, didja notice how one of those had a soul and the other kinda sounded like the musical equivalent of someone under hypnosis?  Hmmmm, interesting.  Very interesting.

(8) And I really struggle to wrap my head around this one:

Or this, as a corollary:

Basically I can summarize my confusion thusly: I don't understand how people can be so convinced that they're right about something and so convinced that everyone else is wrong.

(9)  I have no clue why someone would listen to this shite for "pleasure":

When you have pop artists out there who are still willing to display a modicum of wit and an ear for composition...

(10)  And I don't understand why everyone is so hot and horny to engage in another ruinous war:

Well, everyone except maybe good ole' Ron "Media Cellophane" Paul:

Seriously, can someone please explain this stuff to me!?!  Me am very confused...

EPIC   Face it, frat boys, there's only one dude on the planet who can say "WOOOOOO!!!!" and get away with it in style...

FAIL  Seriously, WTF!?!   (NSFW, BTW)

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