Sunday, May 10, 2009

Lonesome Birthday



Last month I celebrated another birthday. All alone. Again. Nobody remembered to send me a card, I received no friendly phone call or e-mail, no well wishers came to see me. In the name of objectivity it needs to be noted, that:


a) I do not have any friends and,


b) Not a living soul new about this exciting occasion.


See - the trouble is, unlike many other people, I don't celebrate my birthday on the very same day I was born. Curiously enough, my birthday comes up on the completely different date, for instance: last month I turned exactly 55 and 3/4 on that big day. And not only that - sometimes (even though it is an extremely rare) I have my birthday several times within the same calendar year! Isn't it amazing? It is a very interesting phenomenon, scientifically yet to be explained, but I'm absolutely confident, that at some point in not so distant future, someone will be able to bring up some satisfactory answers to this inexplicable puzzle.


In the meantime, please stand by and be on the lookout for the next announcement about my upcoming B-day party. And... just to be on the safe side, send me those birthday presents often and at any time of the year (especially the monetary gifts are greatly appreciated). That way you'll never ever have to feel guilty, that you missed my birthday again.


Cheers, M.

Bikers Infestation


During the past several years we've been witnessing this unprecedented and the most disturbing trend: increasing number of bicyclists terrorizing our city streets. They are just everywhere, always in your way and they seem to be multiplying at an alarming rate! Riding their little bikes in their ridiculous spandex outfits and silly colorful helmets, as if they owned the whole city. Where did they come from? Nobody really knows. Perhaps from south of the border - Mexico, or Guatemala? Maybe they got here as stowaways, quietly hidden in the cargo space of those big ocean freighters. But that question is not important now, they are here and we have to deal with the consequences. The situation is getting out of control and it's about the time the city officials start addressing this issue and take some serious measures before it will be too late. A small initial infestation can become a major problem in a few years.




A few facts about the bicyclists: Generally prevalent in areas where winters are relatively mild, they can survive in colder climates as well. There are reports of bikers sightings as far north as Alaska! Bikers live in any situation that provides food, non-fat latte and shelter. The urban biker is the most widespread of its species and is widely found in the city business and financial districts. Their favorite foods are cereal products and Starbucks Coffee, although bikers will eat almost any organically grown material no matter how rancid. Bikers rest during the night in the dark warm downtown condos, and they will emerge from their secure harborages in daylight hours. Though it is not confirmed, there is believe, bikers are carriers of serious diseases.More and more people recognize the seriousness of this issue and some leading experts in the field are processing and analyzing available data on bikers species found across the continent and researching effective methods of control. However, the widely accepted notion among the scientific community seems to be, that the problem is to complex to come up with a quick answer and there's more time required to study this phenomenon. Certainly, nobody's got a "silver bullet solution", but in my humble opinion, it should not be so difficult to handle this growing nuisance. And I'll explain how:




Specially trained city workers, equipped with the oversized butterfly nets would cruise the streets and capture culprits on bikes. Of course, bicyclist would have to be approached with an extreme caution and some of the most dangerous specimens might have to be tranquilized. After they're restrained and their bikes are dismantled, bikers will be placed (caged) in the municipal facilities (similar to the animal shelters) to start a rehabilitation program. Some of the most serious cases might require years of heavy medication treatments and intensive behavior therapies (such as the electrical shocks, water boarding - as a "last resort" method), but I believe the most bikers could be released within a few weeks, as soon as it's determined without any doubt, they would no longer pose as a threat to the society.Furthermore, the government should legislate a law that would ban any biking activities within 3000 miles radius from any city limits and even then only the stationary bicycles would be allowed. The sole exception would be Inuit communities, simply because they have already exceptions from law for everything else.




My only concern remains, that some of the government pencil pushers appointed to deal with this agenda might be riding their bikes to the work and we all know what that means! If that turns to be the case, I'm afraid my cause will be doomed before it gets any chance to lift off the ground.
Bummer! I could have been such a noble initiative.... M.

The Diving Folly


One lazy afternoon, flipping through TV channels I came across a program showing some kind of a diving competition. To be frank, I don't give a rat 's about nonsense like that, because, really, jumping head first from 10 m platform doesn't strike me as a rational act under any circumstances and all those involved in this buffoonery ought to undergo a psychiatric evaluation.

But, since I was not able to find anything remotely interesting on and also because I found the images of the female athletes quite visually pleasing (from the aesthetic point of view, of course), I've decided to watch the show for a bit. To my surprise, coincidentally, all those jumpers turned to be also the strong swimmers. Which was rather fortunate, when you think of it, because, can you imagine if they could not swim? The lifeguard would be constantly busy fishing out the athletes lifeless bodies and paramedics would have to be ready to administrate the first aid treatment and transport the casualties to the nearest medical facility. In the worst case scenario, the coroner would have to step in and collect the corpses. Instead of a few hours, the competition would last for several days and sadly enough some of the winners would receive their medals postmortem. And what about the synchronized diving! That would be an entertaining event! And who knows? Perhaps it might inspire the International Olympic Committee to include the brand new disciplines in the next summer games. For the rescue teams, and even the coroners: lifeguard competition, synchronized first aid administration and the ambulance vehicles racing. And the coroners could compete in 100 m hurdles run, carrying the deceased athletes on their backs.

Not exactly my cup of tea, that I have to admit. But surely, beyond dispute: the tickets for such events would sell like hot cakes. Guarantee.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Latest Reality Check - It's Not My Fault!

Just that you know: it took me 55 years and some change to figure everything out. And I mean: EVERYTHING! Well, more accurately, I knew all along, but I needed some extra time to come to terms with it, before I finally arrived to this state of unconditional acceptance. So, there we go, the whole naked true: none of it is my fault, it's been all predefined and there is nothing I could have ever done about that.

How so? It's quite simple, actually. We've been all wired the very precise, specific way, and NONE of it can be changed or modified. And - please, don't even bother, all the resistance is futile. What a relief! At last, I know, why I have never achieved anything significant or at least a wee bit interesting in my life, and why the heck, even in one-man race I've always managed to finish second. Call it what you want - a God's will, a destiny or an individual genetic make-up, but there's no point to fight it! Our cards have been dealt the day we first came to this world - some are born leaders, the others followers, winners or losers, famous and privileged or poor no-names.
Take a bee, for example. No difference between us. Our social order seems to be remarkably similar to the one of the bee-hive colony. The natural hierarchical relation among the bees has been strictly determined. A drone will never even dream of becoming a queen, his place in the society is firm a he KNOWS. He understands where he stands, he doesn't waste his time reading the motivational books, he doesn't see himself as an underachiever, he has no regrets or second guesses. He's free of prejudice or jealousy, he does not need to pretend and fake anything. He is what he is - and believe or not - HE IS OK!

Smart little bugger, this drone guy, isn't he?

(; M.


Sunday, May 3, 2009

At the Doctor's Office

Just the other day I had to pay a visit to my family doctor. Nothing serious, all I needed was a refill for my prescription medications. As you know, the post-fifty folks take a handful of those every day to keep the motor of their well-worn bodies running. I have to admit, I'm not particularly fond of that low-spirited mood of the doctor's office waiting room. There's some sort of collective anxiety hanging in the air, everyone's indrawn and dead serious. I believe, it's because we try to balance some seriously conflicting feelings: on one hand, we hope the medical science finds a miraculous cure to all our aches and troubles, but at the same time, we can't shake off this dark intuition - what if the doctor reveals a shocking true about some unexpected complications or a horrible, incurable disease?
I'm killing my time browsing through the thumbed copies of outdated magazines, while inspecting discreetly my fellow patients. Once a while, just for my amusement, I conduct a little unscholarly geodemografic mini-study, by sampling a random group of local population (e. g. on the elevator, in the restaurant or the supermarket). That's why the result of my quick survey could not take me by surprise: out of the total 22 present individuals (including the medical staff), only the doctor and myself fit the physiognomic features of the traditional Europoid ethnic group.
"So what?", you ask - and rightfully so.
Well, my above observation may be used to draw any conclusion anyone's pleased with. As for me, I presume, this banal empiric information confirms one of my following hypothesis:
1. White population don't get sick, therefore have no need for a medical intervention,
2. White folks are temporary out of stock (please, take a rain check and call again next week or so).
(: M.