Cream of the Crop on the Parliament Hill

Undoubtedly, today’s “Question Period” session reached its lowest point possible, when Liberal Member of Parliament Justin Trudeau hurled an obscenity at Environment Minister Peter Kent, calling him “a piece of shit”. By design the “Question Period” is an opportunity for the opposition parties to seek information from the Government and to call it to account for its actions. Unfortunately, it became a sad tradition in Commons, this discussion often turns into a shouting and heckling competition and only the voice of those who scream the loudest can be heard. It’s been suggested, the Parliament Members sometimes act like a bunch of unruly kindergarten brats, but I beg to differ. Even a preschool children learn quickly, such a repulsive disrespectful behaviour can be under no circumstances ever tolerated.

If classless, arrogant garbage like Justin Trudeau is our “cream of the crop” elected representative, what does it say about the rest of us. I’d rather don’t want to know.

One cannot resist the urge to compare present-day politicians pathetic performance to those of the influential, inspiring speakers of the ancient past and our modern history. The masters of eloquence, like Cicero, Caesar, Churchill or Kennedy would be crying tears of shame if they could hear what happened on Ottawa’s Parliament Hill today.

UnBEARable Weather on the West Coast

Average daily temperatures on the the West Coast are hovering just slightly above zero with a slim chance of reaching the double digits any time soon. An overall mood of the locals is as grey and gloomy as the weather itself and people are getting weary, in many cases overwhelmed by the seasonal depression. Should you ever catch yourself complaining about the current chilly conditions, please, ask yourself this:

“Would I be still bitching about it if I were a polar bear?”

 

And, frankly, I doubt you would. On contrary, as a polar bear, you'd be most likely exclaiming: "Five above! Goddamn unBEARable scorcher! I'd better grab a cold one and slap on some sunscreen quick!”.

 

Yup, everything is measurable in terms of individual perception, even the weather.

 

Chill out!

 

 

Fashion Police vs. Yoga Pants

There's something disturbingly similar about "critics", no matter where they come from or which field they pretend to excel in. Most of them are deeply disillusioned about their own intellectual superiority and extraordinary observation skills and to prove it they love to compile their annoying top ten lists.

 

This time, the self proclaimed fashion critic Vivian Song, writer for the online magazine MSN Travel branded Vancouver as third most unfashionable city in the world. The reason? Yoga pants. That's right! She based her verdict almost solely on her findings, that many locals like to walk around in the yoga pants.

 

True enough, the West-Coasters enjoy the casual apparel, which in a sense somehow compliments their overall laid-back lifestyle. They’ve discovered long time ago, that a running shoes and t-shirts are by miles more comfortable than the high heals and business suits and - good on them. Although, I have my personal beef with people showing up at the evening in the opera in the hiking boots and lumberjack shirts, but perhaps it's just me, being too judgemental.

But back to the yoga pants. What's wrong with them? What did they do to be singled out as such an unacceptable piece of attire? As the matter of fact, I find them highly inspirational. I believe they posses a magical power to evoke some vivid ideas about all kinds of different physical activities, therefore they’re beneficial for our overall health. Providing, they're not worn by a short, sweaty middle age men (or women – not to discriminate) with the pants waistbands over 48. That's where I draw the line!

 

Happy yoga-panting!

 

 

My Amazing Memory

I've been gifted with a remarkable, unprecedented, one of a kind memory. Or should I say: two of the kinds? Perhaps I should, but I’d better not, for it makes no sense.

Are you burning with curiosity already? Well, all right then, I won't keep you in suspense any longer. My memory is truly unique because it’s both - strong and weak at the same time. For instance, I remember quite vividly being struck by a ground-breaking brilliant idea this morning, but I CAN’T for the life of me remember what the heck was it about.

 

Completely astonishing, isn’t it?

 

 

Prejudice and discrimination

If asked, most of the people would probably describe prejudice as an improper, unseemly standpoint, unacceptable by the ethical standards of our modern society. Sure. In a general sense yes. But, what if the same unfavourable attitude aims towards some repulsive, deplorable individual or a social group? Is it also unacceptable to be biased about a murderer, rapist, child molester or animal abuser? Not in my book. Making a preconceived judgment or assumption about such lowlife scumbags is a only a testimony of person's well refined moral and ethical principles.

Yes, of course! I can imagine a legion of politically correct lunatics getting all up in arms: "That's discrimination! Don't these people have any rights?".

 

Nope! None whatsoever, you morons! They revoked their own rights and privileges of decent human beings at that very moment, they violated rights of the others.

 

But lo and behold! There’s one right they should get granted: A ROPE.

Career Change

Today marks Sunday, February 12th, which could mean only one thing: it is a good day to reflect on my past and perhaps to consider some minor life adjustments, such as a career change. Why today? Well, for no reason at all.

There in no shortage of exciting opportunities out there in terms of my potential new occupation, and I'll outline just a few.

 

I could become a family physician, or a brain surgeon. I mean – how hard that could be? Certainly much easier jobs than a funeral clown or crocodile wrangler. But doctor's job description includes seeing patients pretty much on daily bases and I don't like people in general, let alone the sick ones. And then, I'm not too keen on seeing blood or festering wounds, never mind performing the prostate exams.

 

But, there's always an option to turn into a star ballet dancer or a famous opera singer, perhaps a tenor or a mezzosoprano. A great benefit of being a stage performer is, the entire audience remains in the dark, therefore invisible! I believe, I already mentioned, I'm not particularly fond of people and a sight of them gives me the willies. I realize, my voice's more tearful that tuneful, but a lip sing trick would easily fix that. Just that you know, a lip singing does not apply the same way to dancing, but hey(!), a ballet's never been my cup of tea anyways.

 

To be honest, I haven't seriously consider to give it a shot, but I've heard, there might be some openings for a vomit collector in some theme parks. Those designated cleaners mop up puke near rides that tend to inspire motion sickness. But I don't think that's the job I'm looking for. Not to mention, I probably wouldn't last too long in this line of work, because being in a proximity of a vomit would undoubtedly trigger my own vomiting reflex, resulting in a vomit pile up and an urgent need to hire some additional vomit collectors.

 

I posted a few ads here and there, offering my services as an ostrich babysitter, but no takers yet. If my suspicions are correct, and there are not as many ostriches in North Surrey as I anticipated, this job will be definitely of the table soon.

There's a few more promising career choices, that briefly crossed my mind, but at the end they sadly did not make the cut. A snake milker, a cow hoof trimmer, a polar bear mother, a golf ball diver, the guy with the yellow coat, a dog food tester, a braille translator, an armpit sniffer, a zombie, a worm picker, a shark tank cleaner, a fecal archaeologist and a Bangladeshi otter trainer.

 

As you can certainly appreciate, searching for a fitting trade or profession can be extremely knotty and intricate, so after all this exhausting research, I've decided to stick with my original plan. I'll keep digging around through the job postings ads for a millionaire playboy offers. I strongly believe, I've got all the necessary qualifications and my intuitive feeling tells me, I'd be a perfect candidate for the job. And it beats a vomit collector hands down.

 

Where Do They Go?

 

It’s a burning question, hunting one generation after another since the beginning of time. One of those world greatest mysteries, explored by the philosophers, writers and scientists alike, over and over again:

 

Where the heck all those rabbits go to spend their Winters?

During the Spring and Summer months, you can see the bunnies hopping and frolicking by dozens on the grassy clearings in about any city park. But when the Winter arrives, they’re all gone! Where to? Some clueless, desperate biologists have resorted to a number of unfounded, and often ridiculous theories, such as the one about rabbits hiding during the Winter in their underground burrows. What a preposterous idea! Well, forget all this nonsense and consider yourself lucky today, because I have just THE ANSWER, you’ve been always waiting for.

To get away from our hostile, cold winter conditions, the rabbits absolutely loathe, they simply migrate to warmer southern territories. Although the bunnies are not exactly the social animals, they travel in flocks. To reduce the energy loss, they fly in formation known as a single file (as oppose to a geese’s V-formation). Nobody has ever seen the rabbits in the sky, but there’s an easy explanation for that. Unlike the birds, the migratory rabbits fly exclusively during the night, at high altitude of 70000 to 80000 feet and speed of Mach 3.2 to remain undetected by radar. Why it’s so important for them to stay undercover, only the rabbits know.

I realize, it all sounds almost unbelievable and a bit hard to digest. But again, after my brief solitary brainstorming, I came up with a surprising, yet logical conclusion, that will definitely shed light on this interesting subject. My brilliant theory is based on a fact, a goose and a rabbit are in reality the perfect genetic match, therefore - identical species. To fully understand, we need to go back to prehistoric times (possibly late 18th century AD), when our planet was occupied only by various, mostly illiterate prehistoric things. At about that time, a Giant Northern Crocodile, who bore a remarkable resemblance to today's Canada Goose decided for no apparent reason to leave his home at the bottom of Lake Ontario and continue living on a dry land instead. Unfortunately, the giant croc shortly before his not quite prudent move contracted terrifying type AAA influenza virus*), which later on became responsible for the following enormous genetic transformations. While appearance of the uninfected individuals remained without any change**), the affected crocodiles gradually lost their feather, beaks and wings and acquired an extra pair of strong legs and a couple of long ears. Today, for lack of a better name, we call these magnificent crocodiles - rabbits.

I bet my bottom Dollar, you had not a slight inkling of any of this, but please, don't send me any “thank you” notes. My greatest reward is my cognizance, I could help to clarify your doubts and inconsistencies, and I’ve done it all in the name of science.

Milo.

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*) The dreaded “AAA” virus, also known as “Virus the Horrible”, was most likely spread into the Lake Ontario by the early Asian merchants, trading silk, counterfeit blue jeans and cheap lead painted plastic toys. Less known fact is, these Asian traders were also devoted windsurfing enthusiasts, often showing off their skills of the shores the Great Lakes, hence the virus contamination.

**) The descendants of the uninfected Giant Northern Crocodile, often incorrectly called the “Canada Goose”, later on became a nuisance of every golf course in North America.