The recent Canadian Elections has sparked quite a furor in my household. I don’t care much for politics (obviously) but my dear wife is engorged with anger and disappointment over the results. Any number of reasons can be cited for the unfavorable turnout but rather than dwell on the outcome I tried to express to her my overall view of politics.
Politics work in small doses. I’m not truly an anarchist in my way of thinking because I think every society needs some kind of governing structure. The problem arises when a civilization grows too large. Politics then serve as a catalyst for its inevitable downward spiral – pitting family and friends against one another.
Politics or religion. Pick your poison.
It’s foolish to believe one form of government, no matter how righteous, will appease the entire populace. That’s why I wait patiently for the world to be thrown back to the Stone Age. City-states will emerge and local politics will prevail. If you don’t like your community’s politics your choices are simple:
- Move to a new community with more favorable mandates
- Leave and start your own community with your own mandates
- Get killed by highwaymen and/or raiders
In trying to console Suzanne my mind began to wander as it often does. I started to wonder if the world went to hell today who would emerge as an influential presence in the post-apocalyptic future. If you, my dear Canucks, believe Stephen Harper is a handful imagine a world with one or more of these people running the show with unlimited power and influence:
Me – That’s right. Me. I’ve been planning for this longer than the deranged militants occupying the American Northwest. Those of you who are regulars here know my mindset well by now and would more than likely be given positions of power within my realm (or at the very least spared from a lifetime working at the rock factories). If you’ve stumbled upon this blog for the first time then there’s a lot you need to learn before you consider treading upon my hallowed grounds. I have a Caligula-like laundry list of eccentricities and things I can’t tolerate so if you aren’t up to speed on what makes my twisted mind churn you could find booted into the bottomless pit before you even realize it. It wouldn’t be entirely miserable though. I love animals so they’d be prolific in the community and I doubt the weekly mandatory movie reenactments would be too taxing.
Jerry Springer – I remember a couple of years ago I had a nightmare about this man. It was set in a Terminator Salvation-like backdrop. Me and some unknown person who was obviously a close pal of mine were scouting the hilly terrain scavenging for anything useful. In the distance we saw a fiery glow from just beyond the hill ahead of us. As we started to traverse up we could hear a faint chant echoing against the silent night. It was indecipherable at first but as we neared the summit it became louder and clearer. The unified chants of “JERRY! JERRY! JERRY!” rang out from the valley below where thousands of fist pumping individuals with tattered cloaks had gathered around a roaring bonfire. Moments later the chant gave way to delirious cheers as Jerry Springer stepped out from the flames. I woke up and realized I had fallen asleep with the TV on and The Jerry Springer Show was on. Any man who can be on the air for as long as he has and command the amount of idiots and degenerates he does needs to be seriously considered a threat to rule in a post apocalyptic world.
Kim Jong ll – Not a popular choice by many (I’m sure) but there’s no denying everybody’s favorite dictator. What makes me think KJ will make a strong run is the fact that he treats the world today as though it’s already post apocalyptic. He has his own army, doesn’t let neighboring country’s politics affect what he’s doing and has pretty much sealed his entire region off from the rest of the world. If anyone can make the transition over to the wastelands it’s him. He’s like 3 steps ahead of the game already.
Prince Harry – Trust me. His selection is not a search engine ploy. I legitimately think good ole’ Harry has a better chance than any of the royals to succeed in the wastes because he’s the most underestimated. He has an immediate appeal to the youth of the generation (especially with the ladies) but he’s far off the beaten path than his older brother. He smokes weed, gets drunk, sleeps around and parties hard. That’s the kind of debaucherous leadership people would be immediately attracted to. He’s like a red-headed pirate. Not to mention the fact that he’s served in the armed forces and has years of bent up “spare brother” frustration under his belt, he’d be a force to be reckoned with if he decided he had something to prove.
Vince McMahon – My odds on favorite (aside from myself). He’s a master at getting his dirty little fingers into anything and everything and the prospect of post apocalyptic world would make him like a kid in a candy store. He has a keen knack for theatrics and we all know simple people are always dazzled by shiny objects so he’d have a disturbingly well populated nation. Unfortunately I think you’d have to be at least 6’2″ and 240lbs, ripped like a comic book character and wear spandex in order to apply to get in. Who am I kidding. They’d probably just be his royal guard.
That’s when the sky starts to lighten up now. That’s about an hour earlier then at the beginning of the week. I’m a little concerned that my demeanor is slowly devolving into something that is a cross between Bugs Bunny and a zombie. My level of cynicism and sarcasm has risen to an all time high, my brain is constantly firing but it’s spouting out gibberish 90% of the time fused with inaudible groans, I stumble about more than usual without being drunk and I may as well hook myself up to the coffee IV at this point in time – which sucks because unlike normal humans coffee isn’t a stimulant for me. I drink it to relax myself and fall asleep sometimes.
I’m finding it incredibly hard to sleep up here. Correction, I’m finding it incredibly hard to sleep normally up here. My wife will contend that I sleep just fine but that’s not what my mind or body is telling me. It’s not that I can’t sleep with the sun out. Hell I can sleep standing up in a fully lit (and moving) subway car so that’s not an issue. It’s what this nuisance known as the sun is doing to me mentally. I find myself forcing myself to sleep rather than having it happen naturally. When we first came up here many moons ago I was absolutely in my element. I am a child of the night. Sorta like a sexy vampire but with no bloodsucking and looser pants. I’m alive at night. I work best at night. I write my best at night. When days consisted of 19hrs of darkness and 5 hours of light I was in my zone blogging, working and being just an Energizer Bunny full of life. I’m kinda glad I was at the peak of my blogging because had I started now I’d probably would have never blogged at all. It’s brutal. I couldn’t have anticipated how much a few extra hours of daylight would have such a profound impact on my daily living.
Who am I kidding? I’ve never liked the sun.
Regardless, as the days get longer and longer my Bizarro Superman darkness-fueled powers fade more and more. And we’re not even into Summer yet. That’s where the real fun begins. From what I’m constantly told we don’t get full on 24hrs of daylight because we’re just outside the infamous arctic circle but let’s just say it never really gets dark either. Woo hoo. Mix that with my wife into a new kick of playing music to go to sleep at night and I’m in store for a wonderous next couple of months. Mind you, she just bought a white noise machine not too long ago to help her sleep. You know those rainforesty, crashing waves crickets fucking type of things but apparently she’s abandoned that for block rockin’ beats.
I sleep with earplugs. Not by choice. It started back when there were habitual partying neighbors above us in our old apartment. I’m the kind of person that can fall asleep anywhere at anytime if I’m tired but if there’s even a hint of unwelcomed noise, I can’t sleep. I later donned the plugs once again when a child with name of the Norse God of Gods, Odin, walked the Earth above me. He certainly lived up to his tremendous namesake. I thought in fleeing to the arctic north I would relieve myself from the noises (and voices) that plague me nightly but then Jemaine and Brit decided they learned enough English and elected to test it out every morning at 5am by singing Lionel Richie’s “Hello”. Mind you they only know the hello part and while to some it may seem cute and amusing, I wholeheartedly believe I can make a cat fly before the end of the summer if it keeps up.
I apologize for a great many things…
I apologize for posting a Lionel Richie video. Although I think he should be apologizing for the video itself. The girl is blind and he says “is it me you’re looking for”. That’s just some cold-blooded non politically correct shit there Horse Man.
I apologize for the run on sentences and tangents that stray from the main point during the course of this post. But then again if I don’t have a point to begin with is it really straying from it?
I apologize for not being a daily poster. No… I don’t want to be a giant paper on a wall. I’m just sorry I can’t produce as much content as others in the blogiverse can. I have weeks worth of events, sights and experiences locked in my brain but the creature at the helm of my brain only allows me to blurt it out as he sees fit. I write articles, albeit weird and disjointed ones at times. I can’t just write to hear myself talk. Some people appear to thrive off of that but that’s just not me. While I do ramble, rant and babble I do it for the people 4700+ people who have and still do come to this blog who area interested (for some reason) in what I have to say. Thank you loyal and demented followers (and those passing through). It’s always comforting being able to spread my infectious dribble across the world.
I apologize for having an Arctic char in the freezer. Yeah. I got a whole frozen fish in my freezer and have never scaled or gutted a fish in my life. It had to be purchased though. I recall salmon steaks and fillets running at least $9 – $12 in the south for the skimpiest portions. This is a whole fucking char, freshly caught, for $25. How could I pass up a deal like that? Course my do now, think later mentality has put me in yet another bind. I don’t care. I’ll defrost and cut that bastard up somehow.
I apologize to Missy for stealing her unicorn and assassinating her with it. I didn’t mean to. Okay… that’s a lie. I did but only because you were slowly killing me the entire time I was fighting my way through the inner ring. C’mon. I was broke, had no fate and was dragging a dragon carcass around for most of the night. The gnome in my pocket didn’t help out much either. When I saw my opportunity to take you down I went for it and prevailed as the ruler of all. If you’re reading this and don’t believe a word of what I’m saying there were three other witnesses to monumental event so I’m not crazy. Course there was a lot of drinking involved too and I do recall Missy requesting that I draw it at some point so I guess that’ll be a future post, eh?
I apologize to Bell and Corus Entertainment for living on Baffin Island. When we left Kitchener we brought our receiver with us. Bell still offered service up here so we figured it was easiest to just bring it and not have to worry about getting a new one. For months we’ve had the same Astral Media programming we had down south. You know like The Movie Network and east coast stations. That all changed 2 days ago when the brainiacs over at Bell decided to switch our service without notice. Apparently, according to them, the entire territory of Nunavut falls under their west coast services. Nevermind the fact Nunavut makes up about a third of the entire country (with roughly half of that in the east). I’m no geographer but last I recall Iqaluit is still in the Eastern Time Zone. Heck, if you pull out a map or a globe you’ll see that we’re further east than Kitchener, Toronto and even New York so of course I want to see west coast programming. Does this make even remotely any sense to you? Maybe my sleep deprivation is making me see things in a skewed perspective but doesn’t it bear to reason that if I’m in an East Coast time zone, shouldn’t I get east coast programming? Bless Bell and the monkeys they have working there.
Lastly I apologize for being awesome. Over the last few weeks I’ve come under a lot of fire from critics and cynics for my proclamation of awesomeness. It’s understandable that there is a lot of animosity and jealousy when it comes to being in the presence of something truly awesome so in being the awesome guy that I am I’ll try my best to contain my aura. I’m not being egotistical or overly confident. I’m just being what I am. A tiger can’t help being a tiger. He’s born that way. I can’t help being awesome. I was born that way.
I have a terrible confession to make. It’s one of a few guilty pleasures I’m not proud of yet indulge in.
I watch wrastlin’.
Yeah it’s true and before any anyone starts in with the “you know it’s fake” verbosity, let’s get it out of the way now. I’m quite aware professional wrestling is fake. Most people with a handful of brain cells left know this. It’s sports entertainment – which roughly translates to a soap opera with gymnastics. It’s Cirque du Soleil sans the trippy psychedelic overtones and with an overdose of testosterone. What can I say? It entertains me. It’s a comfortable escape from thinking that I’ve enjoyed for years now.
My twisted love affair with wrestling started in the 80’s. Like most youngsters during that decade I grew up with names like Hulk Hogan, Macho Man Randy Savage, The Junkyard Dog, The Iron Sheik, Brett Hart and the Ultimate Warrior. They were walking, talking, living breathing spectacles. Their flamboyant costumes, comic book-like physiques and over the top personalities made them almost impossible to ignore even during the Decade of Decadence. Whether you loved them or hated them, you certainly knew about them one way or another. This was professional wrestling’s Golden Age and I was proud and dedicated sycophant.
Unfortunately, like the soul crushing revelation of Santa not being real, as I got older I came to the realization that wresting wasn’t real – at least not real in the way they were portraying it. I felt a bit disenchanted that these seemingly mythical goliaths weren’t superhuman. I loved comic books and these people were as close to real deal deal as you could ask for. They would take a hundred punches, kicks and slams and miraculously raise to their feet and defeat heir opponents. None of that was true though. They were ordinary men and women at work like anyone else. My fascination faded as the 80’s gave birth to the 90’s. By the time I was in high school, wrestling was nothing more than an afterthought.
The (then) World Wrestling Federation held onto that facade for many years, never admitting outright that it was fake but never denying it either. It wasn’t till the mid to late 90’s that they started to refer to it as sports entertainment. I had all but forgotten about wrestling for years. I’d hear an occasional blurb about a new wrestler here and there but nothing really drew me back into that circle… that is until peer pressure reared its ugly head. In 1998 I was working with a bunch of guys in a messenger center mail room who would always talk about wrestling. Wrestling this. Wrestling that. Every Tuesday morning it’d be a recap of the events that went down the night before. I felt kind of like an outsider. Far be it for me to skillfully shift the subject matter to something I could talk about. I felt compelled to not be out of the loop. I needed to be cool so I could converse freely with them so I made it my mission to find out what the hell they were going on about. Last time I watched wrestling it was hokey with cartoonish characters parading around. I was an adult now and couldn’t fathom why other grown-ass men would find it interesting. So that next Monday I watched WCW’s Monday Nitro.
I had no idea there was another major wrestling promotion out there. To my knowledge, wrestling was on it’s way out because at the time the (then) WWF was consumed with tons of legal issues. That was the only wrestling as far as I was concerned so I had to see what this utterly foreign wrestling organization was all about. It was total system shock. It looked sorta like wrestling but it was disturbingly different from what I remember. There was spandex and muscles still but everything seemed a lot darker and angst ridden. It was like stepping into an alternate reality. There were recognizable faces on this show like the Hulkster, Ultimate Warrior and Brett Hart but they weren’t behaving anything like I remember. They were raunchy, lecherous and downright explicit. Scantily clad women paraded around in next to nothing. This wasn’t your father’s wrestling. The proverbial gloves appeared to be cast off and everyone was getting down in dirty. I had never seen anything like it before and like a deer caught in the headlights, I just kept watching.
The two wrestling companies were amidst what would later be deemed as “The Monday Night Wars“. Longtime staple WWF was seriously being challenged in ratings by rival upstart WCW. Like a Shakespearean plot line the Ted Turner funded promotion took advantage of the Vince McMahon brain child while it was in a weakened state and went in for the kill. This was real. The most intriguing part wasn’t the action in the ring. The real life drama of two corporate juggernauts waging open conflict with one another on network TV was the thing to see. It was banana time in the monkey cage and no taboo was left untouched. It became a tit-for-tat battle of one-upsmanship between the two – each looking to outdo the other. I watched with a renewed sense of interest.
In March of 2001 Ted Turner and AOL/Time Warner decided the WCW product was lacking in ratings, attendance and overall drawing power so the company decided to sell it. Vince McMahon jumped at the chance of “buying out the competition” and did so giving the newly rebranded WWE (formerly WWF) the full copyrights to WCW trademarks, video libraries and much more. In addition to that the WWE ended up signing a good number of former WCW talent as well. The WWE triumphed and was the only definable presence in pro wrestling once again and I was left in limbo.
It was 2002 and I had gotten into the habit of watching wrestling once week. I could have cut ties with it once again but I had invested so much time into as it was that I just kept watching. Flash forward to present day. I’ve corrupted my wife into watching it as well. Together we sit in front of the TV on Monday nights and crack jokes about Triple H’s nose or bitch to one another about how annoying we find Chris Jericho. We welcome the escape from the working world and the annoyances of everyday life. Wrestling is every bit the train wreck it has always been, but more so now. The wrestlers are slightly exaggerated versions of their own personalities now. No one plays characters anymore. The story lines rank a notch above porn scripts and the dialogue is worse than high school locker room banter. Sounds like grounds to never watch it again, huh?
That’s right. That’s a ticket for a non-televised live wrestling event – a dark match as they call it. My wife and I felt that we had to solidify our places in the trailer park fiefdom by actually going to see the spectacle in person. We, along with a long time friend (and former wrestling ref), traveled to Hamilton, Ontario CA to behold it for ourselves. The event itself was mildly entertaining at best. The female grapplers were eye candy and the men were comical at times. The true delight came in the form of the crowd at hand. It was everything I anticipated and so much more. From the drunken guy next to us slur-chanting through every finishing move to the overly aggressive pre-teen five rows back threatening wrestler Mike”The Miz” Mizanin with personal bodily harm it was a conglomeration of the stereotypes that have come to be associated with wrestling. Blissfully disillusioned children cheered and jeered the superstars while the older crowd drank the night away. We watched as wrestlers commanded boisterous responses from the crowd by either antagonizing or pandering to them. All in all it was an event within an event.
Will I ever go to a live event again? Possibly. It’d have to be a televised one though. That’s pretty much the last rite of passage I need to go through to completely consider myself a true neophile. I don’t think I’ll ever completely stop watching wrastlin’. I’ll become bored with it eventually and wander away once again. Chances are I’ll return to it again in the future. Pro wrestling has been around for over 100 years ladies and gentlemen. Love it or hate it, wrastlin’ is here to stay. Every time the media proclaims the death of pro wrestling it just keeps coming back like a bad rash.
That’s what’s up…
Disclaimer: As always if the rightful owner of any names or images mentioned in this post wish them to be removed or omitted, just let me know otherwise enjoy the free publicity. Trust me I’m not profiting of any of this. 😉