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Wednesday, November 18, 2009



The Shocking Truth Behind The Impact That Sunday School, Play-school, and Kindergarten Had On My Attitude Towards Education.

OR

That’s Fucked Up.

Here we go, kids! My long awaited educational time-line, complete with ages – unassailable proof of the manner in which I was caused, against my will, to detest school and all those associated with it.

3⅜ years old. Sunday school. (All the other moms told mine that it’s just what everyone does, so, like most immigrants who want to fit in, Ma listened to them). As I was only 3⅜ years old, my memory of the events is incomplete at best, so I’ll just go with the story the way I’ve always heard it. About 20 minutes after the start of my first time at Sunday school, Ma answered the phone call that marked what was also to be my last time at Sunday school. She was asked to pick me up, and told not to bring me back again. The reason? The Sunday school-marm had freaked out and locked herself in an office, refusing to come out and insisting that I was ‘the Devil incarnate’. I had apparently taken exception to something she’d said, made ‘horns’ on my head with my fingers, then chased her around the room, roaring like an animal. She finally managed to race up a short flight of stairs and took refuge in the office. Did I mention she was a fully-grown, adult woman and I was 3⅜ years old at the time?
4 years old. Play school. (Pre – Kindergarten). Another phone call, this time from a woman with the unlikely moniker “Miss Muffet,” another request to keep me home. This time out, the claim was that I had been swearing, as well as teaching the other toddlers to swear right along with me. What had I said? An excellent question, and, coincidentally, the very question posed by Ma. Muffet said she didn’t dare repeat it, so Ma naturally assumed I’d gotten hold of one of the ‘BIG ONES’ – shit or fuck or something equally unacceptable for use in polite society. (The truth of the matter is – it was Ralphie, but I never did rat him out. Until now.) It took a solid 5 minutes of cajoling to finally get a seriously embarrassed Muffet to repeat the foul words. Ready? Pee pee bum. That’s it. From a 4 year old. Pee pee bum. I had just undergone my second expulsion from a supposed ‘Learning Institute’ in as many years for saying Pee pee bum. And it wasn’t even me. When Ma told our Doctor about it later that day, she pissed herself laughing. Really. Pissed her pants right there in the office.
5 years old
. Kindergarten. Huge fight with idiot ‘teacher’ over school pageant costuming. Ma had made me a truly swell costume with the best fake beard you have ever seen. Despite my repeated and loud explanation that this was, in fact, a beard, the moron insisted it was actually a wig, treated it as such and sent me out on fucking stage with my fucking beard on my fucking head. At least Ma got a laugh out of it.
 

And it just keeps getting weirder, but like Hunter S. said,  "When the going gets weird, the weird turn Pro."





Grade 2, The Hatred Continues

Grade 2. Now I am 7. This segment requires a bit of background information: during the all too short 2 months of summer vacation, my family went to Drumheller, Alberta – a major source of authentic dinosaur fossils. While fucking around in the dirt, as 7 year olds will, I found a skull, sort of cat like, but also with a canine look to it. Even at 7, I was not naïve enough to think it was a saber tooth skull, or some previously undiscovered flying reptile, but it was a skull. A real skull. You have to admit; to a 7-year-old boy any skull at all is fucking MassCool! And what better item to bring to school for Show – and – Tell, than an actual, bona-fide SKULL!? When my teacher caught sight of it, she tried to trade me something of hers for the skull. It was a piece of tree – branch that had been chewed by a beaver (“See? You can still see the teeth marks!”). I declined her kind offer to swap a piece of fucking wood for my insanely cool skull, and went on to give a Show – and – Tell performance that I’m sure they’re still talking about today. As we were charging out of class for recess, this teacher, this veritable slice of mature, educated perfection, told me I was not allowed to take my skull outside, as it could become lost or broken, and must leave it safely locked up in the classroom. She would lock the door with the only key that existed for it, and all would be happy elves, rainbows and ‘Archie’s’ songs upon my return. Upon my return, I was approached by the very concerned and troubled looking teacher and told that, although she was in possession of the sole key to the room, someone, somehow, had found a way in and had stolen my skull. She told me she would replace it. “How?” I wanted to know. (I may have been 7, but I wasn’t an idiot). She answered my question by presenting me with the piece of tree – branch that had been chewed by a beaver, ensuring me that it was easily as interesting and “just as good” as my skull. Ok, Sherlock, here we go – A locked room containing an object desired by the only person with a key to that room. The object is stolen, no signs of forced entry, and the victim is compensated with a far crappier, inferior object - the very same object, which had, in fact, just prior to the theft, been unsuccessfully offered in trade for the less crappy, superior one.

Next: The Shocking Truth Behind The Impact That Sunday School, Play-school, and Kindergarten Had On My Attitude Towards Education.

OR

That's Fucked Up.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009




My (Possibly) Unpopular Take On Recent Headlines.

(From the Tuesday, Nov 17, issue of The Vancouver Province.)

Ok, first and foremost, full video footage of two R.C.M.P. Taser related deaths. The buzz in the Newspapers is that some people are demanding that the R.C.M.P. release full videos (in their possession) of two men who died either in custody or shortly afterwards, as a result of repeated Taserings, pepper sprayings and baton-beatings. Videos that actually show R.C.M.P. members dragging their victims around, face down and hog – tied, among other acts of obvious violence. My question is simple: if these vids exist, as they do, why does anyone even have to demand their release? As long as it’s all right with the victim’s families (which it is), these videos should never have been withheld to begin with. If the R.C.M.P. had video of you or I electrically shocking, pepper spraying, beating and dragging tied up victims around – actions that resulted in the person’s death – don’t you think they’d release said footage immediately? In contrast, if we ourselves were in possession of these vids, wouldn’t they do everything in their (far too excessive) power to obtain the footage and bring that evidence to light? Methinks it’s high time these State Sanctioned Thugs, these Corporate Storm Troopers be held accountable for their crimes, the same way the rest of us are. No suspensions with pay, no administrative punishment, no absolving of blame or wrongdoing. Not even the same prison sentence as a civilian would receive, but a much harsher one to reflect the insane abuse of power and authority they exhibit in the execution of their crimes. Fuck Internal Affairs, Fuck any commission or investigative body populated by police or police – friendly individuals. Isn’t it about time we get a panel of average, ordinary folks to look at questionable police actions? Having the R.C.M.P. investigate themselves is ridiculous, as are the majority of findings – No wrongdoing, no blame, and no punishment. Fuck ‘em, they are as wrong, guilty, blameworthy and punishable as anyone else – even more so when they use their ‘authority’ to justify what are really just instances of targeting, profiling (both race and class), racism, sexism and just plain, Good Ole Boy violence.
Next, the gentleman in West Vancouver who has been constantly and continuously harassed by police because of his appearance – I share your anger, as the same thing happens to me everywhere I go. My friends have said (and NOT jokingly) that the best way to find out who the store detectives, security personnel, and so – called Loss Prevention Officers are is to simply let me go into the establishment first, then watch the parade. In one small kitchen supply shop, my pals counted eight employees following me through the entire store. They weren’t even being Secret Squirrel about it – just tagged along right behind me like some fucked up parade or a line dance gone horribly wrong. Fortunately, for the West Vancouver fellow, he was able to successfully sue the West Vancouver police unlawful arrest, but most people who have experienced similar treatment are not so lucky. When a person can’t even leave their own home just because they don’t fit someone else’s perception of a law abiding citizen based purely on outward appearance, then it’s time to either reeducate the police, ban their draconian practices, and bring them up to 2009 standards, or change the rules regarding profiling, targeting and harassment all together.
The stepfather who admitted to ‘hitting and burning’ and, finally, killing his 30 month old stepdaughter. Why did he do it? Well, it seems he didn’t like the girl’s biological father. The cowardly fuckwad couldn’t bring himself to take the issue up with the BioDad, so he did the next best thing – abused an innocent child over a period of months before killing her. As you know, I am, although not a total abolitionist, certainly a minimalist where the Death Penalty is concerned. Not in a case like this. Kill the fuck. And don’t kill him nicely with a snapped neck or nice sleepy-time lethal injection. No, tell all the other inmates what he did, accidentally leave the door to the cutlery cupboard open and then step outside for a pack or two of smokes. Then, all that’s left is to clean up the mess.
The two vomitous, slimy assholes who hanged an elderly horse from an excavator. A $10,000 fine and a little jail time. Not in my world, kiddies. Nope, in RobScenityLand, pieces of shit like that, fuckheads who cause pain and suffering to animals, would be punished to the fullest extent of the law. Not Canadian law, not common law, but MY LAW!!! They would get the same punishment as they would for doing the same thing to a human – maybe even worse, as animals are completely innocent and undeserving of such horrific and cruel treatment. Now that I think about it, in RobScenityLand, the punishment for any act of cruelty towards animals would be a month locked away with me and my dental tools, all of which have been used in very inventive and innovative ways (none of which are either dental or intended by their originators). After the month is over, the offender may then choose to live. However, after a month with me and my dental paraphernalia, I think the majority of offenders would opt out of the ‘life’ option and go with alternative choice ‘B’, the slow and painful death, anything being more desirable than life looking the way I’d leave them.