I’ll buy your soul for a holiday!

So, going against my initial decision to never talk about religion or politics, I really feel the need to discuss the upcoming Ontario provincial elections.

I’m not about to point out the differences between the two front-running parties, as I’ve already decided who I’d like to win the provincial election, and know my opinion will be biased.

I’d like to address the “Promise” of a holiday if the Liberal party is re-elected into power. Now, normally, this would sound like a whiz-bang idea. Hey, who doesn’t want an additional holiday? Holidays benefit almost everyone from carnies, to alcoholic beverage producers to students. My issue with the “Promise” involves the timing of the announcement. During Dalton’s 4-year tenure as premier of Ontario he never once hinted at the inclusion of an additional holiday. So, why now? Could it be the last grasp at a political straw? Well, this promise comes with incredible timing, as an election is set for this upcoming October. I feel cheapened by the promise as it bears very little forethought and skirts many of this year’s big political issues. I would compare this election “Promise” to giving a sucker to a screaming child. The sucker doesn’t address the issue as to why the child is screaming, nor does it offer any long term resolution to the screaming child’s ailments. All this equates to, is an attempt to divert attention for just enough time to squeak out a minority election win. I cannot and will not be bought or placated like this. It makes me feel cheaper than the time I had a dream about sleeping with a Bangkok whore.

So, you may ask yourself why I used quotations around the word “Promise”. Well, if this years election mimics the last election, we can assume that most of the promises will be broken or greatly modified form their original intent upon instatement into office.

PS> If you need to add any fuel to the Dalton fire, he’s a rabid Sens fan.

Please do some research and vote. I really don’t care who you vote for but please make an educated decision this October 10, 2007

The birds don’t give two shits – Except when it comes to me.

So, I’ve recently found myself a target for birds. Whether it’s their feces or the sudden and startling resurrection of a bird from the dumpster, they seem to want to be a part of my life.

Just yesterday I was “lucky” enough to have a pigeon shit on my shoulder, as I was paying for a parking spot in Toronto. Now, I’ve heard throughout my travels that bird shit is quite lucky. I beg to differ. I wonder why poop and superstitions go together like KFC and Ice Cream. The superstition of stepping on dog shit with your left foot while in Paris is also thought to be lucky yet I’ve never heard of any shit steppers winning the lotto. In fact throughout history, shit has been very unlucky. Take for instance Cindy Lauper’s comeback tour. In 2004 Cindy Lauper went on a worldwide tour to promote her album of American song standards. While on concert in Massachusetts, she opened her gullet and whaled out a high-note, leaving her trap ready for any bird to take its shot… unfortunately, a seagull passing overhead couldn’t resist her cavernous pie hold and dropped one right in it. Cindy continued to sing. So, if this bird excrement was so lucky, don’t you think Cindy would still be touring or releasing albums 3-years later?? Nope!

I’m sure that if I put more effort into it, I’d find that Saddam Hussein got shit on and stepped on poop in Paris just before his final losing stand.

My story brings me to today. This morning, I took some trash to the dumpster as I do on occasion. I approached the uncovered dumpster, and hurled a sac of refuse into the receptacle. As the bag crashed down into the other trash, 3 seagulls and a crow flew out of the bird buffet, nearly scaring the shit out of me. It’s only 7:40am and I’ve almost soiled myself. As my heart rate slowed down, I walked to my car, only to find that a bird managed to lay some sort of Picasso art form on my rear windshield. It looks like a cross between the eBay giant Cheeto and Leonardo DiVincci’s last supper. I was in shock as there was no way one single bird could have done this. It was just way too big. I’m convinced there’s a bird conspiracy against me. I wiped away as much as I could and proceeded to the driver side, where I found a small brown bird tag left slightly above the handle. Upon further inspection, the bird managed to get its excrement right inside the handle directly on the area I’d normally use to pull my door handle open.

I’m a firm believer in rectifying a situation at its root. My solution is to run for premier of Ontario. My first duty would be to enact a Right to Eat law that would allow people to hunt and eat Geese all city foul without penalty. I’d even create city foul cooking stations where people could BBQ their freshly caught bounty. Not only would my law limit the nuisance birds in the city and suburbs, but it would also help feed some of the under-privileged Ontario constituency.

You’re not good enough for a card!

So, because I’m a festive guy, I like to give out Christmas cards to some of my coworkers. Now, I’m not the type of guy who slaps on a recipient name and a sender’s name. I’m the guy who throws in a personal message. Maybe the message is funny, or personal, or an inside joke, but in all cases, it’s personal and meant for the recipient. In an office of 200 people, of which, I work with 100, there’s only so many personal cards I’d like to write.

This year, I wrote and distributed 40 cards. 20% of the entire office got a card. That leaves 80% of the office cardless. While handing out my cards, some non-recipients asked me where their cards were. I could only reply by saying “I ran out”. My “Ran out” excuse has to be the worst excuse of all. But really, who asks for a Christmas card? I made sure everyone who wrote me a card received one in return, in addition to the people with whom I worked closely. I shouldn’t be obliged to give every person a card. They’re more like a prestige item. I would like my Christmas cards to one day become the “Beanie Baby” of the office. The type of stuff people get into fights over, and would sell their mothers for.

Ok, maybe I’m asking for a bit much here. But either way, if you get a Christmas card from me this year, you’re one of the lucky few. Cherish it and keep it in a box next to your bed.