The Sunwing Fiasco

So this wasn't my vacation, but recent research has shown
that boobs as my title picture earns more hits! 

So I'm USUALLY a pretty happy go lucky guy.  Very much go with the flow, enjoy where life takes you, <insert your own inspirational cliche here.>, type dude who doesn't get rattled very easily. 

Often, you'll find me smiling, and high fiving people for fun, and complimenting others on how awesome they are too!  (Yes I know what the 'too' implies, and I'm good with my conceitedness.)

This means Mattie is about to explode...

However if you see me overly happy, like singing 'Sharon Lois and Bram' songs when I have no earth reason to be doing so, that might be a warning.  I don't know why 'Skinamarinky Dinky Dink' is such a good anger release for me, but it really works.  Usually accompanied by a large grin on my face etched on in stone, and a crazed look in my eyes.  This means I'm upset.  (Or possibly I just had an orgasm...  Only I know the difference.) 

Anyhow, I'm going to tell you a tale of a little company called Sunwing, and how they ruined one day of my life.  But as with anything crazy fiasco, I came out with a reasonably good story, so it's all worth it.  Plus my 'Elephant Song' skills got so well practiced, Bram had better watch out.

So...  Last year in July I decided to take a trip to Rome.  I was flying solo as I had been having considerable personal issues, and decided I needed to get away to sort my head out.  I had always wanted to go to Rome, and had the opportunity, so I jumped on it.  (I was told afterwards it was kind of the plot of 'Eat, Pray, Love', but that is not near manly enough, so I will call it 'Rambo goes to Italy').

Maybe my worst photoshop ever.

So I booked a do-it-yourself vacation through the Flight Centre at Limeridge through a kind of cute Italian girl.  She set me up with a hotel, a flight, an assurance that I could take the train from the airport to downtown Rome, and get a quick subway to my hotel with ease, and her phone number.  Well, it might have been a phone number to the Flight Centre, but at my age you take what you can get.  (On a side note, she just emailed me the other day saying she hadn't seen me in a while.  And uh... that she had some great deals to Spain.)  All was set, I was good to go for a weeks vacation in the Eternal City.

This bear represents my level of stress at the beginning of my trip...

Now when you fly from Toronto to Rome, you should know it is about a 8-9 hour flight.  With the time change, I set my flight to leave at 10pm so I could arrive in Rome in the early afternoon and have the evening to explore.  I arrived at the airport early, and had a lovely dinner with my parents who dropped me off.  Calmly meandered through security, laughing at those dopes who were stressed out and late for their flights, generally being in total vacation mode and not having a care in the world!  I found my way down to the gate I was leaving from, checked that the flight was Sunwing Toronto to Rome, and then settled in at the bar to get a beer.  (Tuborg if I recall correctly.) After a couple of pops and a pleasant chat with the bartender, I wandered back to my gate with about an hour until flight time.  (About 9 pm.)

I found it a little odd that they hadn't started the boarding procedures yet, making announcements, getting the old farts and people who need a little extra time lined up and the like, but stress was not a word in my vocabulary.  I updated my facebook, smiled at the woman sitting across from me, and pulled out my airplane novel.  (I always bring a book to read on planes.)  If I'd been paying attention, I'd have noticed that the sign changed from On-Time to Delayed.  I wasn't. 

9:45 rolled around and finally they started making announcements.  (Really late for this sort of thing in my opinion, but at least things were moving.)  First off they apologized for the delay, but they were having technical difficulties and that the flight was to be delayed for 3 hours, and would be leaving at 1 am.  However, for our inconvenience we were more than welcome to help ourselves to a $10 food voucher to get a bite to eat while waiting.  There were upset to angry level groans from all the passengers waiting in the lounge, and that pleasant lady sitting across from me slapped her leg in disgust so audibly people turned their heads to look.  I suspect she got a bruise.  I myself, being Mr. non-stress,  decided that's OK.  I'd rather they fix the plane then put us on defective flight.

OMG I HAVE TO BE FIRST IN LINE!!!!

While the rest the passengers rushed the clerks at the desk for their coupons, I sat back and read my book a little more.  Hell I knew I was going to be there for 3 more hours at least, no rush, the restaurants aren't going anywhere.  Although the relative level of stress was going up in the room, and that will rub off on anyone.  I did the math and figured that I'd arrive in Rome around 6, which meant my evening stroll was out, but I could still hit some nightlife perhaps.  C'est la vie...  I smiled to myself, not quite a Sharon, Lois and Bram level smile, but the beginning of less than perfect.  After the crowd had left, I wandered up and got my voucher.  The clerk apologized profusely...  I told him not to worry about it, these things happen, thanked him and gave him a winning smile.  He looked visibly relieved.  I'd guess the last 50 people told him where to go, how to get there, and several options of things he could do when he arrived.

Canadian medical system at it's best.

I wandered back over to the bar, sat down at my seat, and looked at the crazy lineup at the grill.  No way I was going in that thing, another beer is just what the doctor ordered.  I asked my bartender who looked a little frazzled after this sudden unexpected rush if my coupon was good for Tuborg, and he explained calmly that it wasn't.  Not completely unexpected, so I ponied up the cash, settled down at the bar, and took a sip of that icy cold joy.  A brief conversation with my barkeep let me know that he was supposed to close down at 11:00, and now at 10:30 and a lineup to the grill part out the door, there was no way that was happening.  I empathized with him, and let him know he was appreciated.  He laughed and told me that I'd better get some food if I wanted some, as the grill closing at 11 thing might happen if I wanted it too or not, and then my coupon would be for not.  I looked over at the sandwich rack, and saw $10 worth of airport sushi, and asked him if I could pay him for that instead.  He said no problem, so I gave him the coupon, a tip and the last of my Canadian funds for one last beer and enjoyed my meal surrounded by angry vacationers, the smile on my face now locked into place, humming quietly to myself.

So midnight rolls around, and most people got fed and started grumbling and shuffling back to the gate.  Sure this was a pain, but at least we'd be boarding soon and getting on our way.  I strolled back, a little worse for wear, but ultimately still in an OK mood, and sat down on a bench and pulled my book out again.  The delayed until 1 am sign was still prominently displayed on the board, so everything was still status quo.  The clerks were still busy fielding questions from angry customers, but I suppose that was to be a little expected.

Average crowd reaction

Then the loudspeaker sounded again.  I smiled waiting for the soothing sounds of 'We will begin boarding...'.  I was disappointed.  Once again the words poured from the speakers....  "We'd like to apologize."  The crowd groaned worse than before, I wondered if slappy leg lady just punched her husband in the face.  "The flight from Toronto to Rome has once again been delayed and will postponed until 10 am tomorrow morning.  Please return to Terminal 1 at 7am tomorrow morning to get your new ticket and arrive through security.  Those customers who need accommodations for the night please see the clerks."  Or something like that anyway.  There were shouts of discontent and outright anger from the customers, and the mob swarmed the desk of the two unfortunate Sunwing employees who were scheduled to be there with no direction from management who I am sure were sleeping snuggly in their beds made of our money.

One of them asked us loudly to please be calm, while some customer were literally screaming at them.  They had to call the police, which may have been a bit of an over-reaction, but honestly I'm pretty sure one fellow was ready to get into fisticuffs with them.

I sat back on the bench knowing that I didn't want to get to the front of that line.  I had no car, and the drive back to my home was about an hour, so I figured they'd put me into a hotel for the night, so I could at least get a couple hours sleep, and get to Rome about...  2am?  GOD DAMN IT!!!!  Now I've lost a day in Rome because of mother f***'n Sunwing's incompetence.   I mean get a replacement plane in or something.  Then I calmed down.  This sucked, but ultimately it still could have been a lot worse.  Besides, I got a live version of Cops happening right in front of me, and Yelly McYellerson was about to get arrested.  (He didn't, for some reason the spectre of a large peace officer seemed to calm him down two pegs.)  I continued to Facebook the whole experience.  Take a look at my timeline in July 2011 for the full as it happened details.

#Occupy Sunwing

So everyone went up to the desk to get their hotel accommodations, or they were offering limos to those who lived close by.  By my math, if I took the limo, I'd likely get out of the airport by 1:30 to 2, be back in Hamilton by 3, sleep for 2 hours, get up and come back.  That sounded awful, so I figured I'd go for the hotel, and get 4 hours sleep.  I wandered over to the back of the line, and heard mumblings that since it was so late there were no hotel rooms left.  Figuring that the grapevine is usually correct, I started softly singing under my breath...  "Who stole the cookies from the cookie jar?" and formed a plan on how to handle this.  I got up to the desk and smiled at the clerk who was a little more frazzled than before.  He apologized like he had said it about 500 too many times, and asked if I needed a ride.

Now that's comfort!

I explained my situation, and that a hotel room would be much more suitable for my needs.  His face dropped, and launched into a speech he had also said more that a few times. "I apologize, but we are out of hotel rooms, and we need to reserve them for people who are out of limo range...  etc.)  I said, I understood and then did some math for him.  A limo ride from Toronto to Hamilton runs about $150 each way.  That's $300 Sunwing would have to pay so I could get 2 hours sleep.  How about instead, you give me a $20 coupon for breakfast in the morning, and I'd be happy to curl up in the lounge here for the night, and at least get a little sleep.  He looked at me like I just spoke some sort of crazy moon man language.

"I'm sorry sir we can't do that.  We can get you a limo if you like."  So I again asked if Sunwing was aware that $300 was a lot more than $20, and that this was totally OK with me to be compensated less.  He said again, he was sorry, that he didn't have the power to make that decision.  So I shrugged, said OK, and took my limo voucher.

Airport Security:  Ignoring logic since 2001

Smile glued to my face, singing to myself I started walking back through Terminal to where you the limos are, I spotted a Police Officer leaving as well, so I walked over to him and said hi.  He wondered why I looked so happy, and I explained, I was chalking this up to "Shit Happens" and I could either scream or laugh at how stupid the whole situation was, so I might as well laugh for all the good it would do me.  He told me that was a pretty good attitude and we started chatting while walking to the exit/entrance.  On the way a whole bunch of my fellow passengers came up to him, and explained they had been rebuffed by security because you can't go through security the wrong way.  The officer laughed, and then led us like Moses through the Red Sea of red tape, and delivered us to the limos.  Luckily since I had waiting until the line had died down, I didn't have to wait very long for my ride.  I hopped in and said take me to Hamilton and asked if he had a Raffi tape we could listen to.  I also asked if he wanted to hang out at Tim Hortons for a couple hours and bring me back to the airport, because, really what was the point of going to bed.  It was the end of his shift, so he politely declined the weirdo who wouldn't stop smiling and sang childish songs.

He did however have a limo sent to me at 5:30 am, and dropped me off at home two get my two hours sleep and a Cappuccino made in my Tassimo.  That was as close to Italy as I got that day.

Day 2:

OK bear with me, I know this has been a long story so far, but it's almost over.  I just want to let you know how Sunwing  handled the next morning.

All rainbows!!!

So I got back into my limo, and arrived at the airport at 6:45. Smile still etched on my face, I made my way up to the ticket counter and approached the young lady working the check-in.  I explained that I was one of the happy customers who's flight to Italy was delayed, and who was asked to come back in this morning to continue my amazing adventure.

Her face went gravely serious, and she looked me straight in the eye and said...

"I'm sorry sir, that flight already left."

My reaction

Then she smiled again, and said:

"Oh I'm only kidding, but it did change gates, here let me get you a new boarding pass."

I'm not sure how many times she told that to people that morning, but I'm surprised slappy leg lady didn't get put up on murder charges.  All in all, it was pretty damn hilarious, but wow!  That's some balls.  (Also the fact that she was quite good looking helped.)

Anyhow, I'll save the rest of the details, but I got through security, paid for my own breakfast, got the gate switched twice, and finally got to board the plane on time.  (12 hours late on time that is.)

Ahhhh, who can stay mad at that...

As we were getting on the plane, there was one extra Sunwing employee there this morning apologizing and handing everyone a photocopied piece of paper.

"On behalf of Sunwing, we'd like to apologize for the delays, and we'd like you to have this gift from us to you to make up for any inconveniences this may have caused you, our valued customer."

I was moved...  My angry smile melted away, and a sincere smile replaced it.  Sharon, Lois and Bram were replaced in my heart by something much more appropriate.  Let's say Milli Vanilli.  It's nice to see that the big bad an evil corporation decided upon itself to make a gesture saying, I know we fucked up, and we're sorry.  You have plans and you decided to make Sunwing apart of it, and we dropped the ball.  We can't make up for the day in Rome you lost, but at least we can give you a little something back.

I sat down and got comfortable in my chair and opened the folded piece of paper, and read the following:

"We apologize for any inconvenience, please accept this voucher for $75 off your next Sunwing vacation. Valid until the end of the year."

There is no picture that can explain how angry this made me, so here is a duck.

So I guess my day of lost vacation which I spent multiple thousands of dollars on through Sunwing on was worth a $75 coupon which would expire before I got more vacation time.  As well the coupon was for a Sunwing vacation, which frankly I wouldn't book with again for anything less than free.  (Well I might spend as much as $75 on an all inclusive week to Cuba with Sunwing.)  But really, talk about a bad customer experience.  I threw the coupon out.

Needless to say, I do not endorse Sunwing, and will not being using them any time in the future.  I know this has been really long, but for those who held out through my entire long and boring story,  here's a coupon...

With my sincere apologies for the sheer length of this read.

Good, now go sing the "Elephant Song".

My Dirty Fantasies

So I am always curious about what brings people to my blog. It's a most curious thing. I obviously get a bunch of hits when I first post a blog. Mostly from my friends who follow my facebook and twitter. (And the 3 people that follow me on Google+.) I can also see stats on when, where, and what search brought them to my blog. The searches interest me the most, because it gives me a good idea about what interests people enough to have them click on some strangers musings.

This picture is unrelated, but probably will increase
my blog hits by about 7 times.

So what are the most searched for things you ask? Well, you probably aren't asking this, but I'm going to tell you anyway. "Record Player" and "Surfing Unicorn" are number one and number two respectively. Both are from my blog "More Controversial Stuff From My Brain". The third is "Joel Higgins" ("Legend of Immortal Joel Higgins") and fourth is "Atheist vs. Christian" ("Atheists and Other Beliefs") Which by the way are my number two and one viewed blog both getting about 1.5 hits a day. My first ever blog (Blogging) has only 45 hits, and I don't expect it to ever get any more. It is kind of lame with no awesome pictures like the one shown here. Also, on an unrelated note. I do have one search of "skydiving loser" which brought someone to my page. Never have I brought up skydiving in all my ramblings although I probably have mentioned the word loser. I don't understand Google searches sometimes.

Check out my Movember pictures
if you really want to see a narcissist.

The other thing that I have found to the people I have talked to about my blog is that they are most likely to read my blog if it has an interesting title. I am sure this is why "Obamacare Isn't That Bad" despite being one of my personally funnier blogs and why "Language May be Offensive to Some" got 100 hits in a day. This may be why you clicked on this link, because My Dirty Fantasies sounds kind of sexy, and why you are probably disappointed that I've so far only done a lot of self promoting links.

What can I say, I'm a little narcissistic. The truth of the matter is this, this August for some reason I can't fathom, my blog has gotten over 100 hits more than any other month, despite only having one post. So since I have my personal best, I figure I might as well shoot the moon, and try and post something that should get a bunch of hits because it's sexy, fun, and mostly has a great picture of boobs on it. And lets face it who doesn't love boobs. Boobs boobs boobs! The more times I say it, the more likely it is to come up in your search engine. Hmmm... I wonder if there are any other websites that relate to boobs. I doubt it. The Internet is sooooo prudish!

Okay, well enough of the shameless self promotion. You came to hear my fantasies, and as promised you will hear them. (At least the few of you who actually read this far with out getting sick of the above prattling...

Nothing says sexy like Houndini's magic tricks...

I hate to say it, but my fantasies aren't exactly "50 Shades of Gray". In fact I've never read it, nor do I have the desire to. I understand the basic premise, and while I am sure this craze of "Mommy Porn" may be a band wagon worth hopping on, I probably won't be anytime soon. What does interest my more is the psychology of the dominant/submissive relationship mentioned in the book (at least I am told), and what draws people into these roles. Do people actually want be beaten and humiliated for fun? Do they hate their lives that much, or have so much guilt over past events that the only way they can feel better is to be on the receiving end of a restrained beating? Do others find the only way to feed their ego is to be punisher? Do they feel so powerless in their public life, that the only way to even things out is to reverse that role?

I'm sure there is way more to it than that, but my fantasy is less about experiencing that, but more about understanding it. In fact about understanding everything that people do. A colleague of mine last week admitted to me in a casual conversation that he had a copy of "Mein Kempf". Realizing what he had implied seconds later, he immediately tried to justify why he had a copy. He explained it was because he wanted to see what a mad man had been thinking and that all dictators should be scrutinized. He needed not justify himself, as I completely understand that feeling.

STEAMROLLER!!!!

If I had to make the proverbial genie wish, I think that I would wish to know and understand everything. Everything from the minds of the evil, religion, science, and the most mind boggling of all, women. Having thought about this, I do understand that if I were to have this wish come true that I would probably be confined to a mental institution shortly thereafter, as to know the absolute truth, and then try to survive in a world laden with lies would do nothing short of drive someone crazy. Still to know everything without doubt, without hesitation, without any sort of candy coating would truly be my number one fantasy.

The writers fantasy has me looking disheveled, and smoking a pipe.

The other major fantasy I have is to get paid for writing. This blog is a lot of fun and all, but it would be sweet to make money for it. I'm not about to give up a good career and put my family at risk or anything on the whim of a pipe dream, but I really do enjoy writing, so if I could get paid a wage that I could survive on, that would be my on my fantasy list.  In fact, I think all you freeloaders should stop reading my blog for free, and start sending me quarters.  (Email me at mattclaus74@gmail.com if you'd like to send me a quarter.)  Other fantasy careers include, baseball player that hits only home runs, hockey goalie who break dances whilst saving every puck, professional vacation go-er on-er, Joel Higgins' personal assistant, and guy that gets paid to surf YouTube.  If anyone wants to offer me any of the above jobs, please email the above.

My final fantasy is to have this picture stolen and made into a best selling t-shirt...

Number 1 image on Google for Surfing Unicorn!!!

That's right, I created it, and people keep searching for it.  I don't have nearly the ambition to do anything with this.  Sure I stole the image of the wave and the unicorn, but I put it together and added rainbows.  I would absolutely and positively stoked if someone put this on a t-shirt, and sold it.  I don't need credit, I don't need money.  All I need to know is that someone loved it enough to do it, and someone else thought it was good enough to buy.  I tell you what, if anyone wants it, send me an email, and I'll make it at cost.

Oh yeah, one more wish for a fantasy....

BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!  BOOBS!

Be careful what you wish for....

Generation X - Still whining after all these years.

Some things stick in my mind and I'm not sure why.  One thing I loved as a kid was Mad Magazine.  I don't even know if Mad Magazine exists anymore, although I'm sure that it's on the web somewhere.



Smells like Nostalgia

It really was quite a brilliant magazine, and I enjoyed everything about it.  I would digest every article.  Even though today's generation doesn't really ever need to know what a magazine is, I'd recommend checking it out.  One particular joke I recall was " "It's scary to think that tomorrow's teenagers will have to come up with music loud and distasteful enough to offend parents who grew up loving the Beastie Boys." I still remember all that joke after years, because it always made me think what would offend my generation.  The truth is the Beastie Boys were certainly not the most offencive band my generation produced, although they did encourage me to fight for my right to party.  Still that's pretty standard.  Twisted Sister also told me I didn't have to take it, Motley Crue told me I had to smoke in the boys room and Weird Al told a generation to Eat It.


What really stuck out though to me was that Baby Boomer writer was really out of touch thinking that my music was loud and distasteful.  I'm sure that he listened to some crap like the Rolling Stones, Beatles, or perhaps Mozart, you know, those OLD people.  I listened to Megadeth, RUN DMC, and Right Said Fred.



Brilliant Lyrics and totally
heterosexual music. 
(Not that there's anything
wrong with that.)

But his generation always had bad things to say about us X'ers.  We were lazy, unmotivated, didn't want McJobs, and we were a bunch of whiners. 

The Baby Boomers have all the good jobs.  We'll have to take care of the ageing population when they retire.  Your killing the environment and the O-Zone.  You old fogies are selfish and you don't understand our generation man!  We're not lazy, we just have nothing to motivate us. 



My point is we came off as a bunch of lazy self-entitled whiners, misunderstood by the old fogies, refusing to grow up and take responsibilities, and thinking that plaid shirts and Doc Martens were awesome. 





Spoiler Alert:  They totally are!

I think in retrospect we had some pretty good points though.  The Baby Boomers really were a pretty hefty generation that learnt that birth control meant a higher standard of living.  Less kids meant less had to be spent on kids.  A generation that started out protesting Vietnam police actions and living for peace love and dope, ended up being the corporate climbers and being the selfish generation, living for 'me'.  Yuppies was an evil word, and that's what they were.  (Not you mom and dad, you did great.)  ;)

Over all we felt forgotten, we felt lost, we felt like we had no direction.  We yelled loudly and no one payed attention.  One thing though...  We would NEVER grow up to be our parents.  We'd show our kids how be awesome, and give them the respect we never got.

Fast Forward 20 years...

We're all winners here!

Kids today don't know how good they got it!  Talk about a selfish generation!  For some reason they all expect to succeed without trying.  They are willing to knuckle down and work for a living.  They do nothing but play video games and text on their phones.  They don't listen to reason.  For some fool reason they think that everyone deserves a trophy even if they come in last place!  We raised a generation of wimps, and how on earth do we expect them to take over our hard-earned middle management jobs when these snot nosed kids can't won't even flip a burger.  I'm sorry, but updating your 'Myspacebook twitter' account and typing with your thumbs doesn't count as a skill.

 

And while we are on the subject, learn to spell and use grammar.  Acronyms are not even on the radar in real English.  If you have to type things out, learn how to properly articulate yourself using real words! 



God Damn Right!



Back in my day we played outside, got in trouble, didn't wear helmets, climbed trees, ate mud, skinned our knees, and got minor concussions, and we liked it that way.  We survived.  We are still here.  Today's kids are so mamby pamby, I swear bubble wrap is going to be the next fashion trend.  (In fairness though, to all who make this argument...  Those who didn't survive those childhood adventures aren't here to give the other side of the story.)  When I was a kid I walked to school by myself or with a friend at the age of 6.  It was probably 500 meters away.  Can you imagine that happening today?  The parents would be arrested.

In retrospect, I'm pretty sure the greatest generation whined about the Boomers, the Boomers whined about the X'ers, and we whine about the...  Well, what the hell do you even call them?  Gen Y?  Milliniumers? FaceBook generation?  Pick a name already!  Or do we have to do that for you too!

Talking 'bout my g-g-g-generation

I did figure out one thing for sure.  What kind of music will tomorrow's teenagers have to come up with music loud and distasteful enough to offend parents who grew up loving the Beastie Boys?

You win this one Millennium generation.
You win this one.





Obamacare isn't that bad.

Hey all,

I just wanted to send a quick note to all my American friends now that the Supreme courst approved Obamacare to let them know it's really not THAT bad.

Known for founding the UN, Universal Health Care,
and holding pencils like cigarettes.

Despite the influx of tweets threatening to move to Canada (http://www.buzzfeed.com/daves4/people-moving-to-canada-because-of-obamacare), you should know that we have socialized medicine in Canada for a few years.   In the 60's our beloved Prime Minister Lester B. Pearson introduced it to us Canadians as a way to offer everyone, even those crazy Newfoundlanders a way to afford needed health care. Although 'Pearsoncare' was hotly debated, his minority governement was able to push it through, despite only having 43% of the popular vote.  As this was 1966, it was largely one of the contributing factors to the beginning of the "Hippie Movement", and perhaps one of the main reasons that now medical marijauna is now legal in Canada.  (Ed. - Citation Needed).

Anyhow, now that we've had it for a few years, I figured I could give my pals south of the border a little real insite into what Governement Health Care really means to Canadians, and not what you hear on your polarized news networks who pretty much tell you it's the work of the Devil, or a gift from a non-deity based miracle.

Drink beer and set off fireworks, or I'll send the armada!

First thing you should know is we are not a Democracy like you, we are a federal constitutionally monarchy which means we still have to worship the Queen.  This is done every May on Victoria Day weekend, marked be copious amounts of beer and explosives, which may be one of the main reasons we all need so much health care to begin with.  This means of course that our head of state, the queen, as represented by our governal general, can dictate who gets what health care based on a decision made on cases which must be brought to her on an individual basis.  All cases must be made in person without legal represntation.  If the health care needs are related to a voice related injury, (E.G.  Screaming too much at the local hockey team to 'Get off your asses and skate, eh!'), an official crown voice may be appointed for represntation.

But don't get me wrong, it's not that bad.  I'd say at least 75% of all applications are approved, and the other 25% are generally only denied because it's almost tea time, so they are just trying to rush through.  You can apply again in 6 months, or as little as 3 if you lose a limb directly due to the denial.

State of the art transportation and medical care facility.

After you get your application approved, you are put into a first class ambulance and brought directly to your local health care facility.  The triage nurse will look at you within 6 hours of your arrival, and generally tell you to put some ice on it.  Seeing as in Canada we have plenty of ice at all times, we find that this actually negates many of the more expensive health care costs.  As well it can be accomplished anytime by going outside an rolling around naked, which is something we Canucks enjoy doing regardless.

If indeed this doesn't resolve your medical emergency, you are given a medical grade Molson Canadian, to take off the pain, and given a cot, and 3 warm blankets.  You are then slid into a room with a TV to watch a hockey game or if that's not your taste to listen to Nickleback, Anne Murray, and the Tragically Hip.

The doctor, (his name is Maurice), generally gets to see you in about 7 hours and then fixes you, pats you on the head, gives you a governement approved lollipop and a perscription (in french and english) for medical marjiauna and a case of Molsons and sends you on your way.  Obviously, you wife is waiting for you, and you have to get back to your lumberjacking duties.

Now I kow what you're saying...  'Matt, that's all fine and dandy, but all those high tech medical procedures must cost a fortune, and there is no way my Blue Cross will ever approve that, even if the government pays for it.' 

Ed, our extremely friendly tax collector.

Well, not to worry friends!!!  It's all FREE!!!  The perscriptions, the dog sled, the ice doesn't cost you a thing.  Well, that's not entirely true, we do have to pay our taxes.  However, at a reasonable 95% of our salary, that's nothing!  Consider all the benefits we get for it.  Socialized health care, paved roads, education, subsidized curling matches, welfare, our arts and music council, Maurice and Ed's paycheck, an annual tribute of 5000 beaver and baby seal fur coats for her mejesty, and if there's a little left over the Prime Minister has a poutine party at his place, and EVERYONE is invited!  Well, not the natives, they don't HAVE to pay tax.

All in all, it's a win/win for everyone, and those evil insurance companies don't make a penny.  And really we're not 'Pinko Communists'.  We get to own land and start businesses, we can work as hard as you want and make as much money as you want. The great thing is in the north, the sun doesn't go down in the summer, and doesn't come up in the winter, so you work 6 months straight, with 15 minute breaks, and then you get to sleep for 6 months.  That's a lot of cash let me tell you!

Anyhow, you can see it's not really that bad.  What's more it works.  Our average life expectancy is 80.7, yours is 78.7.  Our infant mortality rate is 4.6% yours is 6.4%.  Our football teams are so healthy they only need 3 downs to make it 9.144 metres, yours needs 4 downs to make it 10 yards.  As you can see by these World Health Orginization standard measurements, you need to step your game a little bit to get on the ball.  I think Obamacare may give you that edge.  It's going to be okay, I promise you.  Your little brother in the north is doing just fine with it, and it is not because we only have 400 residents here, it's because the system works.  Now you'll pardon me, I have to go take my government sponsored meds, grab some potato chips, and go watch Cheech and Chong.  Now that's a great Canadian!

If he had a medical grade Molson's, he'd be fine.

Language may be offensive to some...

OK, so before we start today, I need to warn you, my language may not be completely clean and G-rated today.  I may say some words that you might not like.  Heck, I may even go so far as to offend you with symbolic pixels which will cross your eyes.  Shucks, it may even strike a nerve and cause you to blush, become enraged, and write a letter to the editor insisting that I be taken off the air, and my sponsorships be cancelled. 

If this sounds like something you don't want to read, please stop reading now.  If you keep reading, I take no responsibility for what you may happen to read next.  You have been warned.

(OK really?  How am I not supposed to take responsibility, I mean I wrote it.  I take full responsibility.  This is mine, and I own it.  Your offence is your own, but these words are mine, excluding any quotes you read.)

You've been warned...

When I was a young lad of about 7 or around there.  I was in my Sunday school office with my sister and mother watching her count the offering.  My family was always active in the church, and it was my mom's job to do the accounting of the Sunday school offering, and watching her do it gave us something to do between Sunday school and the service. I don't remember the details of what happened next, but needless to say my big sister did something to me which caused me some level of distress.  (I was a brat, I probably deserved it.)  What ever it was she did, I could not let this offence pass without standing up for myself, but what I could I do?  I was in church, my mother was there, and I was surrounded people who I'm sure would disapprove of the violence which I'm sure she deserved.  She was also 4 years older than I, and tall.  My butt would have been well kicked I'm sure.)  I decided the best course of action would be to express my dissatisfaction in words.  Strong words.  Words that would hurt her, break her, and ultimately show her the error of her ways and bring her to apologise to me for whatever great wrong it was she had committed.  Once again, with my mother there I couldn't drop a huge bomb, so I decided to ultimately censor myself, and with great and conscientious thought I told her to 'F' off.

That's right...  Right there in the Sunday school office on the holiest day of the week, I said the letter 'F'.

The effect was not quite what I desired.  My mother shot me a look of all looks, packed up the money, grabbed me and pulled me out of the office like only a mother can.  Her peers I'm sure were there, which added to her embarrassment and fuelled the addressing I got there-after.  I was delivered to my father for punishment.  My father looked at me with disappointed eyes and told me we were going to have a little chat when I got home. 

Through teary eyes, I explained that I had made a conscious decision not to swear, and chose the letter 'F' to specifically not swear.  It was explained to me that even though I had only used the letter 'F' the meaning behind the word was quite clear, and that it should be considered just as bad as if I had actually said the word.  (Next time you hear anyone say the phrase 'The 'N' Word', remember that.)  Now although this was the 70's or maybe early 80's and corporal punishment for kids was still quite accepted, I did not get a spanking for this one.  My Dad had a way of sitting you down and calmly explaining why what you did was wrong, and why you needed to be punished in a calm and rational way.  I never really listened, I just kept dreading the spanking that was to be coming.  Fear is not responsive to rationality.  Anyhow, in this case no spanking was issued.  I'm sure all you children of the 80's know what standard punishment for bad language is.

Suck on this!

That lesson always stuck with me for some reason.  I guess my parents did a pretty good job after all.

Now a division of the
language police.

Anyhow, I'm not sure if you are aware of this, but recently a small town called Middleborough passed the following:  A $20 fine on public profanity.  Yes that's right, in Middleborough it is now against a town by-law to swear in public.  (Do you call them by-laws in the States, I don't even really know.)

My Dad once told me that swearing is lazy, and there are always considerably better words in the lexicon to establish a feeling of emphases, which is when swearing is most commonly used.  The other common use is shock value, which once again is kind of lazy.  I mean if I wanted to shock you, I'm more likely to tell you what I think about environmental laws than I am to swear.  Besides, it offends way more people.  Regardless, the good people of Middleborough are no longer even allowed to be lazy.  In fact, the bad people in Middleborough aren't either.

Mr. Rogers HATES ambiguous laws

I'm pretty sure that somewhere in there this is against the American Constitution.  You guys down there take your freedom of speech pretty close to heart.  Us Canucks have mostly the same law, but it is limited to denial of hate speech, which I have a bit of a problem with.  I mean I can say words which are considered hateful, but if it can be proven that I said it with the intention to be hateful or something like that I can be charged?  I don't know, it is a weird law.  I try not to say anything that might be misconstrued as hateful, but I certainly use words which offend.  You figure out the difference. 

My question is this...  What is the limit of your swearing threshold.  What might be offensive to one person might be perfectly acceptable for another.  Did they have to write all the offensive words down on some charter?  If not, then it's left to interpretation of what is offensive.  If so, does that mean every time someone reads the law aloud, they have to be fined for each offensive word?  What about words that kind of sound like swearing? 

"The bastard took his bitch, a shih tzu, to chase the cock and some balls around the park, but ended up in some pussy willows being carried by an ass." 

Perfectly acceptable and clean sentence in the English language, but might cost the speaker $140! 

Uh-ho-ho-ho, I am dirty, no?

An speaking of the English language...  What if our friends in 'La Belle Province' visit the small town of Middleborough.  Perhaps they see a small carving of a seal for sale in the downtown area, and delightedly exclaim... "C'est la phoque!"  For those of you who don't speak the language, sound it out, and pronounce it a dirty as you can!  There, now you've said it correctly, and you may owe your town $20.

The real problem as I see it is not that the citizens of Middleborough don't want people swearing, heck I even get that.  The problem is that it is against the constitutional rights of the citizens of the United States of America, and since the fine is only $20 it is not worth ever fighting in a court of law.  It is just another tax grab against the lazy, the people with rich lexicon, and the French.  I hope they are putting the monies towards something useful at least.  I mean, you know the government.  Always models of efficiency when it comes to our tax dollars...

Simpsons, brilliant satire

The Joy of Life

I haven't admitted this to many people, but I have become a pusher.  That's right, I dispence artifical joy.  What's worse is I enjoy doing it, I have for years.  I don't really feel guily about it, I know that my pushing makes people happy.  They get addicted, they want more, they want to get that feeling again and again.  It doesn't hurt anyone, or at least it hasn't so far.  They tell me they want to go higher and higher, but I have my limits.  I always try and keep things safe.  Most of my experience pushing has been with young girls, but I don't discriminate.  I'm not sexist, it's just where the opportunities lie.  I have pushed for young boys as well, just not often.  Also, I will continue to do so as long as I can.  As long as they let me, I'll keep pushing just to hear the giggles and laughter as the rush takes over, and for a moment they feel as free as if they are flying.  I know one day Madelyn won't need me anymore to push, but for the time being it's my job, and I love it.

The seedy underbelly of the playgound

I might be wrong, but I think that's what everyone wants isn't it?  I mean, maybe not the kind of joy that I dispense at the swing set, but some sort of rush, some sort of joy, some sort of escape from the everyday mundane existence.  It's the thrill that brings us joy.  Maybe it is the rush of adrenaline from floating in the air in the playground.  Maybe the sense of self worth that washes over you when you accomplish something hard.  Maybe it's the explosion of sensation that washes over you when you try a new or favourite food.  All addictions seem to be related to a rush of joy, if only momentarily.

I personally sold my soul to the devil to learn how to do
the cube.  Just so I could impress people into thinking I'm smart.
I fooled them all!

One of the bigger joys we have in our society is stuff.  Owning bigger and better things.  Cool cars.  Big TV's.  Suckier vacuums.  Beautiful shoes.  The latest movies and video games.  Collections of almost anything you can imagine drives people forward in life.  All for stuff.  People would give anything for that rush that aquiring better stuff gives you.  Anything...  Most people dedicate their entire lives from school age to retirement working towards or a career which encompasses over 1/3 of every day of their lives, just to have money to get more stuff to bring them joy. 

You might say to me that you don't.  You might tell me that you work to provide sustainance for your family, and help them to survive, and live comfortably, and that is commendable for sure.  I know I get a sense of self satisfaction and joy knowing that my kids aren't going to starve, and that my eldest daughter can go to prom.  Irregardless of the nobility of my motives, I'm am still brought joy by doing it.  I am still giving up my life for joy.

Almost as much joy I get from pissing off the grammar nazis
by saying 'irregardless'.

Still, how much do we have to give up for joy?  Does stuff make you happy?  I hear people say no to this question.  Stuff if anything makes you unhappy.  The thrill of getting it, and initially enjoying gives you a momentary rush, but it only lasts for so long, and then it's on to the next thing.  It's the same with Madelyn and her swing.  Today she's happy to be pushed, and go higher and faster, but eventually that won't be enough.  Eventually, it'll be taller slides, and hanging upside down on monkey bars.  Merri-go-rounds.  Rollercoasters.  Skydiving.  All for the thrill of the adrenaline rush.    All to find the joy in life.  Even those that sacrifice themselves for others to get that smug satisfying feeling of knowing that they've good.  It's satisfying because although you are giving of yourself, you get joy out of it.



Cheesy nostalgic joy for Gen X

I don't begrudge anyone their joy by the way.  I feel that as long as you aren't hurting others the pursuit of your joy is paramount to your existence on the planet.  I don't want to come across as a superficial asshole telling you to give up all your worldly goods and live in peace and harmony not shackled down by society's desire to fit in by needing more things.  If base diving off of cliffs makes you happy, by all means do it.  You should be able to live your life anyway you choose as far as I'm concerned as long as the joy you derive doesn't come at the expense of someone who is not willing.  (Go ahead and drink 20 beers, smoke 5 joints, and eat a deep fried Mars bar if you want, just don't skip your daughter's play and make her cry.)

I, for one, find joy in solving puzzles, baiting grammar nazis, Ren and Stimpy, and of course pushing my daughter on the swing.  I also find joy in being with my friends, writing, playing video games, and the smug satisfaction in knowing that I'm a good dad.  I'm OK with this.  I find joy in the sun, and in nature, and I like technology, and the cool new toys.  I get a rush from making people laugh, being sarcastic, ironic, stupidly weird, and akwardly rebelious.  I really do think that if I gave up all my 'stuff' that I could find joy just in being.  I couldn't give up my family and friends however, I'm way too addicted to that joy in my life.

Another f***'n uplifting message.

The key I think is not to find your happiness in things or in others, it is to find happiness in yourself.  Whatever that thing is that turns you on.  Whatever give you that rush, it needs to be within you. 

If you are happy being miserable, than be miserable. There is joy hidden in sadness if you want it.

If you can only see the bright side of everything, relish in it.  Just don't expect everyone to see your point of view.

And, if you choose not to find your joy, that is your right as well.  No one can ever tell you what to do it you don't want to do it.  (It's just sometime the consequences suck.)

Personally, I'm going to continue being a pusher.  It just brings joy to life.