Things that deserve the stink-eye:

my iPhone made me into an avatar. 

At some point, an iPhone Apple CarPlay update meant my vehicle navigation now features this tiny and instantly amusing vehicle on my dashboard display and it consistently triggers a switch in my imagination so now any road-trip is ALSO A VIDEO GAME and thus I anticipate/conjure various (fun) characters and or obstacles to emerge like MARIO & LUIGI or a YETI (to eat my avatar) or a LAVA PIT or a PORTAL (teleportation wishful-thinking) and yes, I suppose this confirms I am still a child, also just so you know I'm a tad preoccupied on the road these days. Dear friends, travel safe. 

Cliques and...

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Unfortunately, we all know what a clique is. Sure, there are wholesome exceptions—a book club for example—but typical cliques are comprised of people who think tribalism is a personality, people who don't choose their friends carefully or, in short, sheeple—a frustrating collective driven by one or two ringleaders, secretly aching to maintain their fragile egos and dubious influence, buoyed by herd mentality and their gang, all ill-equipped or actively-resistant to thinking critically about their norms, their conduct, their code. One might call them oppressors, bullies, or the cream of the crap. 

Does my description bring anything to mind?  

Cliques are exhausting. I remember because I've been in them. I think this sort of temporary insanity is commonplace. I've learned my lessons and I'm wary. Decades later, joining ANY group for me is like a passport application: periodically necessary, but references must be involved, and I may never travel there anyway. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

But whether it's Junior High or 2026, there's no escaping some cliques: here we are again. 

I'm thinking about those groups I can't seem to ignore or escape, namely the Alberta Separatists (rolls eyes here) who aim to impose their policies on us other 7.5/10 proud-to-be-Canadian Albertans who have indeed been undervalued by our federal government, but c'mon people there's NO WAY our province would be better off independent from Canada—not to mention solvent—nor would we be independent for long—insert Orange Shitpile Biff Tannen 51st state blustering nonsense here—a reference to another relentlessly inescapable ringleader and his clique of idiots currently in charge of (effing) the (entire) world. Sigh. 

What to do though? Defying cliques is exceedingly onerous; they disregard reasoning. I'd be delusional to think this blog post would impact much of anything but nevertheless, I do hope to arm you with a new-to-me clever (and satisfying) language counterpoint to the clique: the claque. What if clique members had a word to ponder their roles as mimicking sycophants, clapping and clapping ad nauseam at their ringleaders' bullshit? 

Dear friends, I know it's only a word, but as I've suggested before, precise word-choice impacts worldview, so please use/drop/insert/release this word (like a balloon) as you see fit (sly as a fox). 

Let's be honest:

slipping...falling...taking a tumble...unless you're a toddler (even then, I suppose) it can be quite serious. Sometimes there are big consequences. Statistically, it's foreboding. 

The photo tells the story, doesn't it? One might say, gravity called and I took the call on my knees. I've answered this call before—I remember my elbow took weeks to heal, but this time? Only my dignity took the plunge. 

Again, not to negate the seriousness of falling, but there's a very human moment after a fall, isn't there? That embarrassment? It's humility. And it certainly seemed to me like I had instantly developed warp-speed in uprighting myself and then scanning the neighbourhood to see who may have witnessed this grounding moment. A vehicle drove by, I nodded sheepishly. Nevertheless, thankful to be without pain, I had to laugh at my awkward self and the photo evidence: it's clear I was swept off my feet, but sigh, without the romance. I've devised a name for this moment: humortification. 😆

Dear friends, be safe out there and may your "down-to-earth" moments be low-impact. 

Charged Up?

Warning: reading the following will be similar to watching Homer Simpson's father yell at clouds. 

Don't sweat the small stuff, right? Good advice, wisdom I aspire to. But I'll sweat like an inflamed hotdog on rollers if the situation involves 9@#%&*! rechargeable batteries. 

It all began innocently, fueled by good intentions: care for the environment by investing in reusable batteries. I could never have predicted what ensued LITERALLY OVER MORE THAN A DECADE NOW AND ONGOING UGH.

Step 1: Buy double A and triple A batteries & rechargers.

Step 2: Tickety-boo.

Step 3: Cut to many months later: access batteries as needed, but wait, where are said batteries? Begin a decade-long career as a part-time unpaid private investigator only to discover various family members have (repeatedly) stolen said batteries and removed them from the premises. Insert Dad sigh here.

Step 4: Buy more rechargeable batteries. Not cheap are they? Discover some rechargeable battery brands do not function with other charger brands. Draft a sternly worded email in my brain, a complaint for which there is essentially no recipient. Insert low growling here. Test and retest said batteries among chargers repeatedly aiming to actually charge some of my now 17 "rechargeable" batteries aka become a part-time unpaid "Customer Support Specialist/Technical Support Analyst." 

Step 5: After much problem-solving and testing and retesting, all said batteries are FINALLY CHARGING. Note to future self that some batteries must be clipped into the correct recharger quite delicately to avoid angry-red-flashing indicator light that said battery is not connected properly and therefore not recharging. Because of the time gaps between switching batteries, each reset requires 24-48 hours to successfully finagle this process, but thanks to (waning) neuroplasticity, my brain eventually forged a reliable system, a system I used repeatedly over the years, a system NO ONE ELSE CARES ABOUT OR RESPECTS AND IT'S SO CONVOLUTED I CAN'T EVEN EXPLAIN IT.

Step 6: Various family members continue to steal said batteries. Grievous family text chain dynamics ensue to no avail: Dad, who has time to figure out where the batteries might be now? EXACTLY. Begin to ponder the very 21st century notion that essentially, I need an assistant to manage my reusable batteries! 

Step 7: Finally, our kids move away with most of said rechargeable batteries, so I buy what I vow will be MY VERY LAST BATTERIES and promptly hide them in places I hope they will go unnoticed. 

Step 8: Tickety-boo....

Step 9: Years pass, but I flinch every time someone gets close to those 9@#%&*! batteries. However, my system holds until one day my life-partner needs batteries for spontaneously-purchased grandkid toys, forgetting the aforementioned drama and unwittingly interferes with the rechargeable batteries system NOT REALIZING THEY ARE EXTREMELY TEMPERMENTAL. After I return home to discover ABSOLUTE RECHARGABLE BATTERY CHAOS, said partner (understandably) observes my meltdown with facial expressions similar to Dorothy's from The Golden Girls. 

Step 10: Hangs head in shame and googles rechargeable batteries support groups then begins a TWO-WEEK RESET COME ON TO NO AVAIL: IT'S AS THOUGH THESE BATTERIES FORGOT THEIR SOLE FUNCTION AND, LIKE THEIR SCIENTIFICALLY-INFERIOR COUSINS, NEED TO BE REPLACED.... 

Insert sheepish epiphany moment here as this describes the exact moment I realized that these mostly old-ass rechargeable batteries have no doubt expired...BUT WHICH ONES?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

UGH.

Things that deserve the stink eye:

I know I'm a little late sharing my perspective on this embarrassing book-banning debacle, but I am so enamored by this Handmaid's Tale themed clap-back (above) from Canadian icon, Margaret Atwood (writer, historian, scholar, 85 year-old bad-ass) that I couldn't resist sharing it with readers here.

If you're unfamiliar with the context, here's my take: instead of collaborating with duly elected and trained Alberta school boards, school administrators and librarians (who have provincial jurisdiction over choosing appropriate school-aged reading materials), our provincial government leader, Premier Danielle Smith, yet again capitulated to the pearl-clutching anti-library lobbyists/zealots currently sweeping across North America intent on removing books they deem "woke." 

Using new guidelines from the Premier's Education Minister, one school district's list of 200 banned books was published just before school reconvened and the understandable backlash was swift and far-reaching so now this government has an international public relations disaster to contend with, lol. Titles banned included classics by Maya Angelou, Judy Blume, and Canada's favourite, feisty, freedom-loving Great-Aunt, Margaret Atwood. 

At first the government admonished the school district labeling their list an act of "vicious compliance" claiming it never was a book ban. Uh, nope to that fake news. The school district was simply following the new guidelines...cut to now...the government is amending the order and "leaving the classics on the shelves." 

Please know that this is not who we Albertans are. Like all democratic citizens, we value freedom of expression. Of course, school materials should be age appropriate; however, lobbyists don't get to decide for us. 

Imagine in 2025 thinking books are corrupting children. If children have phones connected to WIFI, well (insert face palm emoji here) we all know what they may encounter...so, I'd much rather they read (almost) any book they want. Even if, as Margaret Atwood joked in her first reaction to the list, "it might set your hair on fire" kids, lol. 

One more cherry-on-top to this well-deserved political drubbing: there's been a spike in sales of these banned books, lol. I've read lots of these titles, but I too will be shopping in the new "vicious compliance section" and continue reading while my hair burns. 

Wordfuse (golf-edition)

“Did that go in? I wasn’t watching...."
Happy Gilmore & also me

fairway + wayward = fairwayward (adj) If you golf, the definition is obvious. Sigh. 

Once weekly yearly I golf, and yet I'm still shite. It's shocking because I'm a sporty guy. By sporty I mean I'm a good sport, but I can't do any actual sports. 

Sports I've tried: skiing and cornhole. 

Sports I like: skiing, walking, floating, lifting rocks to examine what's underneath. Sure, only one of these is deemed an official sport but let's be honest, that sounds symptomatic of a poor imagination. Isn't picking saskatoons a kind of sport? Snowmobiling? Reading? Painting? Lawn-mowing? Surviving Winter? Not to brag, but I excel at these. 😜

What do you "excel" at? 

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

Dopamine Party? Not so much.

whatever this is aka cottage cheese (high-protein) no-flour pumpkin loaf, lol. 

I believe it was Homer Simpson who said, "the first step to failing is trying." ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Gaffe-able?

This meme triggered a memory. 

Once, while walking through a park, a person I know appeared from around a corner on the other side, walking opposite to me. There was some distance between us, but upon recognizing each other, we waved and she yelled, “You look great!” 

Surprised, I lifted my shoulders a little higher, and yelled back, “Thanks! You made my day. You look great too!” 

We continued walking, but I noticed her head tilt to one side; she seemed to be staring at me. I thought, wow, I’m pretty hot today, I guess? 

Soon we were directly across from each other, and that’s when she said, smiling, “I think you misheard me; I said you look late.” 

We laughed and laughed. For a while, whenever we saw each other, we would greet each other with this inside joke, “You look great!” And chuckle again. 

Remembering this, I wonder...perhaps the secret to happiness is 1) age-related hearing loss; 2) a heaping helping of self-delusion? Or perhaps happiness is the human connection formed when 3) we laugh at our gaffes? AKA being gaffe-able (gaffe + affable). 😜

Things that deserve the stink-eye

 

via GIPHY (the sign for idiot)

Oh, today's news. The incoming US Liar-in-Chief continues to muse about annexing Canada...hence the sign above. (Insert eye roll here.)

Historians may know that Americans tried this once before: the War of 1812. And yes, some argue this war was just a leveraging technique against Britain. Considering US history, that's understandable. But the outcome? Pretty much nothing, although the Canadians (technically referred to as British loyalists at that time), burned The White House in retaliation for US troops burning a portion of York (present-day Toronto). Oh, and there was an unintended outcome: it galvanized those British Loyalists and helped forge a Canadian identity. (Insert maple leaf here.)

Is today's news another leveraging technique? Probably...but this time more for his amusement, I guess? Something else he obviously doesn't understand or care about: since the 1800s, US & Canadian citizens have shared a border with no major conflicts, whatsoever. We've been friends for centuries, supporting each other in world conflicts. Remember 911? To me, that's more important than today's anti-democratic pissing-contest nonsense, likely to be continued for the next four years ad nauseum. Sigh. Dear US friends, hang in there. 

Also, GARDYLOO.

Things one should never outgrow:

"Music can change the
world because music can
change people." Bono

making music, even if the best you can do is the washboard-tie aka musical instruments made for people like me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Do you play a musical instrument, or perhaps some sad substitute, albeit with absolute glee? 

(Whatever your response, I hope there's an abundance of music enriching your life.)

Dates or Days?

I once remembered important dates with ease, especially birthdays. Nowadays, I forget a few here and there. Some dates are burned in my memory, oddly unexpected ones. Does anyone else remember their driver's test? 

I can recall almost everything that occured during that hour on Thursday, June 3 the year I finally turned 16. It seems my pea-brain decided to scan the driver's test details along with the date and file that information in forever. But why store this memory?

The answer is anxiety, or as I refer to it, my inner narrator's default mode. He and I disagree on how to perceive any situation: where he (typically) sees a horror movie, I (attempt to) find the comedy. If you've struggled with anxiety, you know what I mean: THREATS are EVERYWHERE; I MUST PROTECT YOU FROM IMMINENT DEATH while rational reality begs to differ. Yup, my inner narrator is a drama queen. I have known this forever. But my (unreliable) inner narrator does not give a rat's pizza about what I think, some days. He can be soothed, but the process is fraught and he rarely leaves the building.  

For example, during my road test—I can recall this with absolute clarity—while I waited to turn left at a red light, a pedestrian began to cross the street, but not just any pedestrian MY GRANDFATHER OMG IT'S MY GRANDFATHER PLEASE DON'T NOTICE ME PLEASE DON'T NOTICE when he noticed me in the driver's seat he stopped, smiled, and waved frantically. I remained (externally) calm, barely nodded, and waited for him to continue, THE LASER EYES OF THE DRIVER TRAINER BURNING INTO THE SIDE OF MY HEAD. When the light turned green, I casually proceeded left INTO AN ABYSS OF WORRY AND SHAME AND IRONY OR COINCIDENCE OR SOMETHING WRONG WRONG WRONG AND HOW IS THIS MY LIFE? Soon after, I parallel-parked perfectly, but by then I was convinced I HAD FAILED THE TEST and would never get my license, plus ALL MY FRIENDS WOULD LAUGH AT ME AND NO ONE WOULD EVER DATE ME, but in reality the outcome was decidedly neutral: I passed. And later, my grandpa laughed until he had a coughing fit. 

Fusion horror-comedies can be stressful, so whatever, inner narrator, I passed. Neener neener. 

Anyway, this (finally) leads to my question: do dates matter? Thanks to anxiety, sometimes dates are useless brain storage. We can get stuck by dates, especially those dates that challenged us, or those that commemorate something painful: regret, loss, grief. So in the grand sublime scope of our lives, which is more consequential, more meaningful, more precious: dates or days? 

Friends, I choose days.  

Decades ago, my wife and I got engaged on a sunny, warm Spring day in April. We visited a glass conservatory with a wishing pond situated among a sea of Easter lilies and tulips. We made a wish, she opened the box and there was no ring inside. I tricked her; she looked up at me and laughed so I pulled the chain out of my shirt and there it was, a marquis diamond ring we chose together. It was a very happy day for both of us. Later, when people asked us if there was any significance to the date, we explained that no, it was just the right time and the right place. Curious though, I looked up the date's history: the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. 

Even my anxy inner narrator had to laugh at that. 

I wish I had a flame-thrower.

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Since March 2020, living in Alberta and surviving a pandemic has been, um, interesting. Of course the entire world has experienced ups and downs but our struggles have been compounded by our particular government, loathe to admit their number one job during a crisis: public service. No matter where you live, maybe you can relate? 

I need to vent. 

First Wave

1. Fear
2. Toilet Paper
3. Social Distancing
4. Our government: let's fire people.
5. Anxiety and confusion.
6. We told our daughter not to visit us. *heart breaks* 
7. Visit relatives through windows.
8. Celebrate health care heroes.
9. Masks everywhere except on Facebook.
10. Hunkering down & resilience.

Second Wave

1. Government: let's keep everyone in suspense.
2. Government: mixed messages are still messages, right? (Some MLAs resist restrictions).
3. Government: we would prefer if more of you died. 
4. Perseverance
5. Tick, tick, tick...
6. EVERYONE STAY HOME AGAIN.
7. CANCEL ALL PLANS (except politicians who have to go to Hawaii, and such). 
8. World Ending (January 6, 2021)
9. Eat everything.
10. Hunkering down & resilience.
11. Celebrating health care heroes.
12. Some churches can't remember the golden rule.
13. Government: get vaccinated now.
14. Government: let me be clear; Alberta will never have vaccine passports.
15. 30% of Albertans begin doing "research."
16. 70% of Albertans get vaccinated 12 minutes after they're eligible.
17. Our premier takes a camera crew with him to go hug his mother. 
18. Government: get vaccinated now but we can't tell you if we are vaccinated or not.

Third Wave:

1. In their "spare time," doctors pick up extra jobs being activists (to fill the void in government leadership).
2. Fatigue.
3. Hanging on.
4. EVERYONE STAY HOME FOR TWO WEEKS. 
5. Infections and hospitalizations dramatically decrease.
6. Government: But, rodeos!
7. Government: "Open for summer; open for good" & "BEST SUMMER EVER." lol, facepalm
8. Government: here's some money to get vaccinated (suck that, vaccine passports). 
9. Welcome relief (temporary). 
10. As summer continues, the predominant facial expression is side-eye.

Fourth Wave:

1. Government: our non-plans for rising case numbers are data-based; also, let's make sure kids aren't protected this Fall.
2. Where's the data?
3. Government: [away-from-office auto-reply]
4. Um, hello?
5. Hello?
6. SCREAMING INTO THE VOID.
7. Doctors organize daily demonstrations begging for basic restrictions for children & other vulnerable people.
8. Government: here's a video and see, it's not pre-recorded like the Christmas vacations ones were. 
9. Covidiots complete their covid-19 Facebook degrees.
10. Covidiots begin protesting at hospitals.
11. Government: we're fiscally responsible but here's more money for anti-vaxxers (suck it, people who already got vaccinated).
12. Government: we still can't declare our own vaccinations statuses.
13. Reporter: "But health minister, people are dying!" 
14. Government: "That's good feedback for us."
15. WTF?
16. Rage flame-throwing (aka writing yet another MLA letter).
17. Government: here's a vaccine passport but we named it something else stupid and confusing. 
18. Next? Perhaps the military will be deployed to help save us from our government & covidiots? 
19. Rage wood-chipping.  
20. Hunkering down & resilience. 

Things one should outgrow:

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confirmation bias.  

Like an idiot, I went on Facebook for a while. It really is a wasteland of human confirmation bias, providing a spectrum of dopamine hits, head-shaking, and outright gasps. (Cute pics, though.)

New to me is the "Barnum Effect," which I argue is another form of confirmation bias, our susceptibility to believe what feels affirming. As some credit to circus guru P.T. Barnum, "there's a sucker born every minute." Despite this, I'd still like to identify as an INFJ, which confirms the emotional power of these psychological blind spots.  

For someone else?

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Yesterday, I voted.  

In my three decades of voting—both provincially and federally in Canada—I have voted across the political spectrum. Is that your experience too? Over the years, I voted based on limited information, or out of fear, or anger, sometimes in protest, sometimes in reaction to scandal, sometimes convinced by empty arguments founded in whataboutism. Sometimes, I voted with little contemplation, aligned with family and/or other groups of people, aka tribalism. 

The current political grind makes me understandably cynical about politicians who continue to devolve to be more partisan, unable to work together on anything. Can you relate? In Alberta for example, we have the worst provincial government since the province was formed a century ago. Faced with unprecedented unpopularity, daily calls for resignations, protest after protest, no one in that party is steering the ship. Their strategy? Pander to their conspiracy-theory minority base. Ignore every scandal or defend hypocrisy. Lower taxes yet download all costs to municipalities. Collaborate with no one. Stream endless bullshit. Gaslight and double down. Hence, storm after storm, we drift. 

Sigh. So does voting really matter anymore? 

Absolutely. Please vote. If we check out of politics, we will not even contemplate (let alone combat) the issues that we remain dogged by: wealth inequality, privilege, xenophobia... Right now, idiots are protesting at hospitals and harassing schools! The Trump years continue to highlight democracy's fragility and yikes, there are our climate challenges too. Despite disillusionment and cynicism, we must persist. Why? 

Time has proven that voting matters and policy change has improved our lives, drastically. I mean it's a simple example, but as a child I had never even heard of recycling. Think of our extended life expectancy and enhanced quality of life, communication and technology innovations, a more educated society, improved social justice policies, and so on. I recognize that many of these examples should be followed by "for some" in parenthesis. It took me much too long to realize that voting is only the first step; regardless of the outcome, I must remain engaged after election day. I will choose accordingly, with my wallet and with my voice.  

Yesterday, inspired by allyship, I voted for my granddaughter's future. If you are struggling for reasons to vote, perhaps there's someone's future you might vote for too? 

Let's be honest...

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if you're protesting at a hospital, you're a moron. 

I'm not the only one?

Maybe there's a support group for people like us?

Ugh.

Ever wonder what that movie scene moment would be like to cause an explosion and then walk away? Me neither. However, I did discover that when you drive away while still attached to the gas pump, there is no massive explosion. At least not in my case.

Ugh.

Yup. I drove away while still attached to the pump. Gassing up, I jumped back in my vehicle the other morning to resync my phone to the dashboard menu. It took about three minutes and during that time I forgot I was still attached so I drove away. When I heard a noise and noticed the gas pump nozzle hanging out of my vehicle, I experienced disbelief, belief, denial, disbelief, belief and a bowel movement pretty much simultaneously. Confused, I hopped out of my vehicle, checked the hose AND WHAT SORT OF TRICKERY IS THIS? The nozzle has a breakaway feature? And no damage to my vehicle? BLEEPING GENIUS. So I pushed the hose and the nozzle back together. BUT WAIT COULD IT POSSIBLY BE THIS SIMPLE?

I immediately entered the gas station and confessed, and then, like some sort of Dunning-Kruger effect ground zero, asked, "is it fixed then?" I will quote the response of the woman behind the counter.

"Ugh. No. It is NOT fixed. I will fix it. This happens. All. The. Time. Just go. Please go. We should really start charging for this. Ugh. It's okay. It's not that big of a deal. Just go. Just have a nice day."

Her admirable Canadian politeness training kicked in, but quite honestly, she did not give a shit about whether or not I would have a nice day. Nevertheless, I AM GRATEFUL FOR THIS GAS STATION MIRACLE.

One final caution: do not assume all pumps have this feature.

Sometimes you're the idiot, sometimes you're ALL the idiots.

Not long ago I quickly drove home at lunch to grab something. On the way out my back door, I must have pressed my vehicle's panic button on the fob but when I heard the noise I had no idea I was responsible. Shaking my head, I thought, some poor idiot pressed the panic button...don't they realize the neighbours have two little kids? Rounding the corner heading for my vehicle, I realized the poor idiot was me so I grabbed my keys to quickly press the panic button and deactivate the noise but what I didn't know was that I also had the keys to our other vehicle, also parked in our driveway and thus I activated another panic button. Wait, what?! With both the first and the second panic alarms now blaring alternately,  several thoughts all at once:

1. What is happening?
2. Who is the other idiot?
3. PANIC.
4. Am I the other idiot? PANIC. Press ALL THE BUTTONS NOW.
5. More PANIC.
6. Am I both idiots? Press ALL THE BUTTONS AGAIN.
7. It's like I'm 96 years-old.
8. WHY WON'T IT STOP?
9. WTF? 
10. I AM BOTH IDIOTS!

And then FINALLY, quiet. Ugh. 

I wouldn't last 20 seconds in The Quiet Place. 

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

even my car's message centre has started to sound as illiterate as Trump (rage-tweeting about everyone but Fox News).

As a Scot might say, he's a blethering
numpty eejit.

Things that deserve the stink-eye:

A few days ago, I went to a team meeting away from my regular work-site and discovered when I arrived that I was wearing two different shoes. One gray. One black. One with a thicker heel than the other. Um....

What can you do but laugh? (I've actually done this before.) So I showed everyone at my meeting and we laughed and laughed. Did I mention I'm one of the older ones on our team? I really enjoy working with those toddlers though, so no big whoop.

Then...I texted my wife a photo and she laughed too.

Returning to work the following day, I made an usual discovery...first one co-worker...then another....then another...then another....

My sneaky wife! I felt a simultaneous aching sheepishness and utter love for those charming buggers I work with. What's better than that?