This is a "Repost" of something I put on Facebook a while back

My fellow Canadians, I have something difficult to say and I feel I must share regardless of consequences. Something has been troubling me. I don't like my country anymore. It's an ugly thing to admit. Initially it seems vexingly unpatriotic. It feels shameful and disrespectful. Ironically it's disrespect that has compelled me. It's not the beautiful landscapes, nor is it the wonderful people who claim this land that have ruined it for me. I'm proud of those things. I'm proud of who we are as a people. I'm equally proud of our history and culture. It's the politics. This country is sliding off the rails. Political discourse has lost any sense of dignity. There is a remarkable arrogance that is fixing to suffocating us all. To my estimation, things are out of whack. So very out of whack. I was raised a liberal. I voted liberal. When they became gross and corrupt, I walked away in disgust. Much like most Canadians, I believed they needed to be punished for their sins. They had become so odious and entitled. A decade later, and I'm still not happy with them. It really riles me up when I think about it. So then the Conservatives came to power. The sun rose the next day as it always had. The centre had sent it's message. Mr. Harper had gotten his shot. A minority government. So the Tories puttered along at first, and while I wasn't wild about them, they did seem to bring a balance back to the political scrum. That was at first. Things have changed. A lot has changed. Slowly, like a mistreated animal, the Canadian public began to trust this new government. We were pleased that the Conservatives promised us transparency. It seemed so novel after the Liberals had fucked things up. But something really weird happened. The promised transparency never materialized. The Prime Minister and his Conservatives shrouded themselves in secrecy. No press conferences, just statements. Initially I suspected it was fear of losing a mandate that created paralysis. I couldn't have been more wrong. It was callous raw manipulation. This served to Immediately betray the trust Canadians had placed in them. Ministers were reigned in. Dissension was met with swift, almost Machiavellian punishment. We let it slide. They were after all different that the Liberals. The honeymoon wasn't over. They condemned science. They worked overtime at condemning Science. Empirical data was disregarded as mythos. Facts, that are generally thought of as indisputable were spun as inconclusive fantasy. Conservatives waged an unholy political war on any scientist who didn't jive with their agenda. They strangled funding. Spin became the most useful tool in the Tory war chest. They became in effect, the neck tattooed, chest beating alpha dude bros that we secretly knew they were. We just let all that vacant charm and red whining go to our heads. Conservatives tainted our federal institutions, and insisted on gagging anyone who disagreed with their agenda. They somehow managed to lose nearly three billion dollars, claiming it got spent on programs, but were unable to account for which ones. It's much like a carny trying to make change for a twenty. The Harperites even managed to manipulate the media by creating advertisements for government programs that either did not exist, or had not had any actually funding attached to them. There's nothing quite as arrogant as tarting up an invisible pig, and then publicly demanding the blue ribbon prize. They lied, swindled and cheated their way into a majority. Every dirty trick they could possibly use was employed with gusto.Using ugly American style smear campaigns. They even stooped to using robo calls to misinform the electorate, and were even found guilty of it. Let slip the dogs of war. Perhaps a premonition of things to come. The senate scandal hit. It exploded like a nuke. But somehow Harper managed to coat himself in teflon, and dodge the shrapnel. Wallin, Brazeau, Duffy and the PMO payoff reeked of underhanded tomfoolery and total political douchbaggery. The honeymoon was over, yet the Tories managed to stayed on point. Keep in mind, these are the same shitty, selfish, and sneaky types of schemes that they were so quick to admonish the Liberals for. Things that were again a complete betrayal of public trust. This is what happens when you don't vet your candidates. This is what happens when entitlement discovers the trough of the public purse. Let's not forget the gross mishandling of the fighter jet procurement. A matter that has cost us millions and has literally provided us with nothing in return. At least lie and say you got some magic beans. Imagine if that money had gone to our veterans instead. Imagine if we had kept our promise to the people that fought for our national interest. But it's really no surprise, because Mr. Harper has proven that he doesn't give a shit about former soldiers and heroes. The near total dismantlement of Veterans affairs has proven this without any further debate required. The economy is looking pretty rickety too. It sure feels like a rickshaw on a rope ladder. Under the Tory regime our dominion has became little more than a petro-dollar fire sale. A one trick pony, now fully exhausted, and given the state of the global environment, likely headed to the glue factory. The Conservative Party has made this country hawkish, and turned ploughshares into swords. I fear Canada has been terraformed into a tiny Republican fiefdom. This is a path that will be remarkably difficult to retreat from. One need only looking to the south to see the kind of damage can be done by unfettered conservatism. Eight years of the Bush administration seems like the perfect magic mirror. I would never dare to presume to tell you who to vote for. That's for your own conscience. But I do ask you to think about a few questions. 1) Is this the country you grew up in? 2) Do you think our international reputation looks an awful lot like a shit hauled rental car? 3) Do you think this government has your best interests at heart? 4) Are you happier now than you were? 5) Are you any better off? I love you all. I love my country. I just can't seem to like it very much these days. Maybe it's that I just don't recognize it. I hope it becomes more familiar to me in the future.

Edmonton

Last week I trundled off to Edmonton for a handful of shows. I like going there. It’s a city that generally gets a bit of a bad rap. The hated Oilers exist there, and that’s definitely a knock against them, but the city seems to have a sense of humility, and a pretty great sense of humour. (If not a pithy understanding of irony.) Truthfully, I feel almost at home there.

Rexall - Home of The Hated Oilers

Edmonton and Calgary are as close to Cain and Able as two cities can be. Calgary has the brains, Edmonton the brawn. Together they are the titans that rule western Canada.  While there is certainly a rivalry, they appear to have reached a Mexican standoff. In truth, they need each other, partially in a yin and yong fashion, and partly because they fuel each other’s civic neurosis.

The folks I know in Edmonton are truly fantastic people. Some of my longest held and most cherished relationships are with Edmontonians. I think if you live in Alberta’s capital city, you’re generally made from the salt of the earth. Coming from Newfoundland, I think I just sort of “get them”. I like the no bullshit mentality, and Edmonton has that in spades.

While Calgary emboldens a real “can be done” attitude, Edmonton has historically shown its moxie in a more metered approach. Edmontonians are much better at “should it be done?” There is no sense of paralysis here, just a willingness to provide sobriety to decision making processes. (With perhaps the exception of that new hockey edifice…)

The typical comedy audience in Edmonton, can be a little on the rowdy side. I like that a lot. Rowdy is my group of people. I know how to conduct them. Getting a big rowdy group whipped into a percolating frenzy is just about the most fun I can think of. I want to shake the walls, and Edmonton never lets me down. I feel like Samson in that town.

The Comedy club is located in a casino in a rougher part of the city. I find that lends well to the rowdiness, although, I find it a curious trend that casinos are cropping up in rougher neighborhoods. I would hate to think it’s by design. Seems like a cynical way to vacuum cash from the pockets from people who likely need it most.

As far as cities go, it’s a clumsily constructed, often meandering mess; as if someone just kind of heaved it into being. Edmonton seems to have evolved (perhaps mutated) rather than been planned. It can be maddening to try and navigate. Triangle intersections, weirdly dangerous traffic circles, and a seemingly almost bigoted aversion to left turns leave me cursing at every visit.

But I digress…

I had sometime to kill before knuckling in to some jokes, so I decided to head to K-Days, and happily waste the afternoon on Edmonton’s answer to Stampede. I discovered Its a much smaller affair, less of the nauseating food, and significantly fewer of the equally nauseating “over the top” trappings it’s southern cousin insists on revelling in.

Me - Tweeting to the masses while waiting for a lunch companion at K-Days

I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of local businesses participating in K-Days. It’s a refreshing change. It gave the event a community festival feel. I liked that a lot. I have always preferred spending my money locally. I like knowing it goes into the pockets of real people.  I like my capitalism homespun, and not rigged into filling the coffers of some shady multinational monolith.

At the end of the day though, it’s still a giant carnival, complete with shifty games of chance, and even shiftier carnies. It’s funny how we’ll pay money to knowingly get fucked over.

I got there just as the gates opened. It's weird seeing a near vacant midway.

Sure there was a stabbing or two, but that’s hardly an Edmonton thing.

These days, you can’t have a mass social gathering without the odd random act of violence. (Which is a sad comment, best left for another post I suppose…)           

Midway goodies

On The Way Home

I live in a city with an embarrassment of advantages. It’s a white-collar city, roughly twice the size of Seattle. It has access to the world, and wants for very little. Calgary possesses remarkable clout and wealth. As far as cities go, generally it’s a good place to hang one’s hat; life here is mostly great.

But sometimes it sucks.

Last night I saw a homeless woman take a header off the sidewalk as people mindlessly and heartlessly drove past her. She was really in a bad way. I counted six cars of people that scooted along. I know they saw her; the scene was impossible to miss.

I was mortified by the complete lack of response. I believe we have a responsibility to be good citizens. I wish I had seen some last night.

I pulled off into the adjacent parking lot, and called for paramedics. I waited with her and held her hand. I made sure people were in place to help her. I’m beyond shocked no one made an attempt. The moment filled me with anger. How can people be so callous?

Regardless of circumstance, this is a human being in crisis. Where did human decency go? What fucked up shit inside of you makes it okay to let someone suffer? What would you hope for if you were faced with a similar situation? Did your inaction keep you up last night? I fucking hope it did.

From childhood, I was taught the measure of a person was not about stuff or our appearance. It was the impact we left on those around us. Who we are, and how we act are the most important traits we have. They are truly the only things we own.

A paltry ten minutes of time was all it took to get her in the right hands. It takes more time to pump gas. How did we get to a point where we detached ourselves from human decency? It takes very little effort to provide a moment of dignity to those who need it.

The curious thing about being advantaged, as near as I can tell, is that it creates an inevitable sense of entitlement. The funny thing about that is, it makes people shitty. Entitlement has a way of stifling empathy and compassion. It’s the magnet that emboldens douchebaggery. Entitlement’s offspring is the herald of the nimby mentality that permeates western culture.

I’m not saying you should be Batman. I’m saying it’s okay to reach out and help. It’s good for the soul. It’s even better for society. You don’t even have to reach that far.

Trump's a Chump

Watching Donald Trump shoot his fool mouth is better than seeing Monty Python for the first time. Goddamn, that man is hilarious. His ability to sell a joke is beyond reproach. How he can manage to keep a straight face in the face of complete absurdity is a remarkable skill. It must be from all the TV work he gets.

Trump is a complete parasite. He’s the dark side of the American dream, a succubus that made his fortunes on the literal backs of people. With the pull of a slot machine lever, he vacuumed his fortune directly from the pockets of others. He cheaply marketed a facsimile of the “Good Life” to hapless rubes. He is nothing but a sleaze merchant.

More important to note, Donald Trump is a hypocrite. Trump is happy to use Chinese and Mexican labor to his own advantage, and in a second breath, condemn them as shiftless, second-class global citizens. He likes to have his cake and eat it too, and he wants you to know it. He wants you to know your place. Most douche bags do.            

I want to see him burn as much of his money as possible on this flight of fancy. Maybe then, once he’s embarrassed himself enough, and spent enough, his voice will become a distant memory, and the public can get back to the ugly task of selecting the least evil of the many lessers foolhardy enough to ooze their way into the presidential race.

Trump is neither the president you want, nor the president you need. America needs to get past the blowhards, and ignore partisan politics for a while. The system is rotten to the core. It needs to be repaired first. Infrastructure isn't a partisan issue. Cauterizing corruption and taking outside money out of the equation shouldn't be a partisan issue either. You want America back? Start by punting the swines at the trough. 

Trump is right about one thing. America is broken. Happily it doesn’t have to be. The fix isn’t even that difficult. The first thing you have to do is add “none of the above” to the ballot. Sooner or later, through all that sifting, you’ll find the right person for the job.

Gone Fishing

The air feels more like September. There’s a definite chill. My fingers feel stiff; arthritis tightening them up, as if they were bound by rubber bands. It’s still July. Fuck. It wouldn’t be so bad, but the rain belligerently insists on sticking around.

Happily, the last couple of days have been better for me. I’m tired, but I’ve managed to shake off the fog that’s messed with my head. I feel more focused. I was beginning to think I’d been caught in a zombie like trance. My tank was definitely running on empty.

I’ve taken a hiatus from Facebook. I find the endless stream of social maladies soul crushing. Post after relentless post about sexism, racism, and shaming of every demeanour was making me crazy. Given how I’ve been feeling of late, it was a logical exit.

I'm willing to admit, it’s difficult. I’m amazed how much of life is conducted there. It’s actually bizarre when you think about it. It’s also digital crack. Mark Zuckerberg is the world’s largest drug dealer. I get itchy just thinking about it.  

I was raised in a very open and inviting household. My home was a place of little to no judgment; tolerance was replaced with acceptance. People from every walk of life were welcome, and their differences were to be celebrated.

The people in my world worked to find common ground with everyone, and there was always another seat at the table. My parents worked hard to ensure I saw the world as an amazing place. This was the greatest gift I have ever received.

It is because of this, that I find the grist getting harder and harder to swallow. The tide wave of empty drama that mass media insists is entertainment has burned me out. The relentlessly stupid have been given the keys to the asylum, and everything is on fire. We on masse have glibly embraced the chaos. It’s the finest custard for the emperor in his new clothes.

Synthetic moral indignation, and notorious lifestyles have pounded me into a gooey submission. Frankly, I’m surprised there isn’t a reality based game show about cannibalism. I suppose you could make an argument that the Real Housewives of Orange County is close enough.  Given enough time, they will eat each other alive.

But I digress…

I am reclaiming my personhood from this infernal machine. I can’t cede to its bankruptcy any longer. I believe it’s starting to erode our humanity. Social media has opened Pandora’s box. All our dour proclivities and viciously delicious prejudices have sprung out unencumbered by the social contract of actual human contact. Facebook is full of idle hands, and their shitty idols too.

Some of my friends tried to take me to task for my hasty Facebook exit. “You’re a comedian… this is your jam” etc. Some don’t realize, I’m just not that kind of comic. I’m heading out on a new path. I think now, the fog of war has lifted.

Home is Where The Angst is

My apartment building is a shabby run down three-story walk up in downtown Calgary. It has fallen into a state of nearly tolerable disrepair. In some ways it’s like me. Not as good as I used to be, but still loaded with potential. (If you like the classics… and I use that terminology loosely) It’s a real fixer upper to be sure.

The building is a bit of an oddity in my neighborhood. It’s a strange hold over in a part of the city area, which has gone through a spate of consumer driven gentrification. Some people, mostly yuppies call it renewal. I do not.

The buildings around me are shiny testaments to the new soulless modernity. They have ridiculous names, like Chocolate and Colours; Prefab yuppie condos, for boring prefab yuppies.

There isn’t a single stitch of character amongst them. These condos exist in the same world where people make appointments to get their hair dried, or to buy jeans that cost as much as an ipad. (There’s a shop in my neighborhood that has 11 earth toned tee shirts on hangers and a desk and that’s It. 11… I counted them… WTF is wrong with people?)

 These buildings are to bricks and mortar, what the leisure suit is to haute couture. I like these buildings even less than I like my own. I stay in mine for spite I suppose. Yuppies stay for the edgy notion of being in “downtown”

But I digress…

From the outside of my humbled living space you can see it’s coldly ironic namesake. Gucci, which is best described as a cruel gesture from the building’s ownership. It’s more of a taunt. This building carries itself like a scolded child, with its shoulders hunched, and its eyes fixated at its feet. 

The thing I like most about my building, (which tops a very short list…) is the super who runs the place. He’s a fossil, a completely broken man, who, has clearly lived as hard as he could, for as long as he could.

Time seems to have the upper hand in his life. Its definitely got him by the balls. This man does not have wrinkles. This man has grooves. If I didn’t know better, I’d bet glaciers had been dragged across his face. Try and imagine Captain Highliner, but throw in a lot of emphysema for good measure.

I’m completely positive every morning is a total surprise for him. Every morning, he’s cheated death for one more day. Near as I can tell, He belongs in Valhalla. Perhaps he can guard the rainbow bridge. He probably built it. 

For as destroyed as this man is, he still has some greasy tricks up his sleeve. (He can be as slippery as they come.) He’s always around on rent day; seemingly without any respiratory issues, but on those days when something needs to get done, he can barely make it up over the stairwell. He has mastered the pathetic look, complete with an oxygen tank for a prop. He’s a vaudevillian master.

Still though, he has a scoundrel’s twinkle in his eye. I find I easily forgive his slippery ways.

Fog of War

It is the last day of the 2015 Stampede. Mother Nature has decided it best to get shifty with the weather. First rain, then thunder... then sun and rain again. She needs to make up her mind. I need her to make up her mind.

The dullness of my apartment offers no escape from the boredom that currently infects me. This rain is making me crazy. I am already out of sorts. Being disjointed isn't helping me find my ground. I feel like I've swallowed a bottle of earthquake pills. I am the coyote. At least the cliff is off in the distance. I think.

I find I'm agitated by everything. I have the jitters and yet I feel blunted. There is a disruption. I hit the eject button, Perhaps stepping out into the world will assuage me. My hope is the prattle and lyrical jetsam of my city will drag me out of my slump. At this point, at the very least it's a distraction.

My brain is cycling though a series of frustrations. I feel rudderless as of late. My need to create has been subverted by an inability to articulate the things that are bubbling beneath my skin. I'm sure it's anger. But it bluntly refuses to rise from it's current prepubescent state. I want it to manifest itself. At least that way I can shape it into something useful.

I head to a cafe. It's awash with urbanites and their shiny mac books. I feel like I'm in an Apple store. It would be a perfect setting for a commercial; a dozen glowing apples, in an orchard of hipsters. All that's missing is the “Think Different” catch phrase, which now seems more like a hopelessly ironic taunt.

Here everyone is a social media maven. Here the myth of digital democracy percolates, and targets the congregation of the converted, but succeeds only in striking the heart of the lowest common denominator. This is not a friendly fire incident. The stragglers are prisoners of war. Locked in a click-bait jail, while Buzz feed wards the inmates.

For today at least, the lumbersexuals have chosen a different stump. Its odd to me that the mountainous mulch of facial hair can harbor that much arrogance and pretension. If I hear one more “Into The Wild” story or one more treatise on “Farm to table” I may gouge my eyes out.

I have switched locations. A new cafe. More comfortable to me. A familiar territory, with better coffee and killer butter tarts. My jitters fade. Ironically the coffee is working. It's taking the edge off at least. My thoughts start to fumble through the fog; sifting for an explanation of my mood.

I suspect I will feel better tomorrow, but for now, I will just be crabby and lost.