Glitter on the Highway

Until today, my brother had never heard the song Love Shack, by the B-52's.

How this is possible? I don't know.

For me, the song is associated with a horrible memory of my sister and I being forced to sing it karaokee. We were so horrible, everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared.

Perhaps we sounded like dying sea gulls. I don't know. No one said anything. They just stared.

And that is why I will never ever sing in public again.

Aging

Saskatchewan writer Donna Caruso once said she is "aging as gracefully as a gargoyle."

I fear I am suffering the same fate.

Pulp

I just wanted to thank the Black Eyed Peas for ruining the song Misirlou for me.

Thanks to them, whenever I listen to Misirlou, performed by Dick Dale & His Del-Tones, I hear the phrase: pump it.

Here’s a little thing you probably don’t know about the song Misirlou. Before it became a signature song on the movie Pulp Fiction, it was on the 1963 Beach Boys album Surfin’ USA.

But it’s not a Beach Boys original. The song was first performed by the Michalis Patrinos rebetiko band in Athens, Greece in 1927. It even had lyrics, and was performed at a slower tempo.

In 1941, Nick Roubanis, a Greek-American music instructor released a jazz instrumental arrangement of the song, crediting himself as the composer. Since his claim was never challenged, he is still officially credited as the composer today.

In the 60s, the song was rearranged as a solo guitar piece by, the pinoeer of surf rock, Dick Dale after a fan asked if Dale could play a song entirely on one string. It was Dale's version of the piece that introduced Misirlou to the United States.

The Beach Boys were inspired by Dale and thus included their own version on Surfin’ USA.

Misirlou, by the way, means Egyptian girl.

Who knew one little song from Greece could gain cult-like status, not only in rebetiko and surfer rock, but as a popular belly dancing tune that is also heard at Jewish weddings and now in hip hop circles.

As an interesting side note, Dale has been known to keep wild cats, like a lion and tiger as pets.

Apathy or Bust.

The rise in Canadian soldier deaths over in Afghanistan is starting to bother me. Primarily, because I saw an obit for a soldier my age in my own local newspaper. It's beginning to strike a little too close to home.

And that recent Canadian terror plot was a little frightening. It's been a long while since Canada has suffered the wrath of terrorists, which makes me appreciate how sheltered Canadians are. Thank God, for instance, we don't have to live in the Middle East, where your chances of being blown up are significantly higher.

There are a lot of wars going on that shouldn't be going on. Start with Africa and work your way up. It's hard to believe that we as humans are so stupid. There doesn't need to be suffering in the world. There really doesn't have to be. Yet beliefs are so strong and so different. And greed is so powerful. There will always be war and starvation. Always. Because humans will always be stupid and things will always be complicated.

It amazes me that people are so willing to give up their own lives and give up other people's lives. And for what?

I've read too many history books and too many newspapers. I know why the world is why it is. But what can I do, but try not to think about it. Because it's frustrating and angering.

I guess it's better to live in the comfort of apathy.

Where I get it from...

I can seem a bit prickly at times, but it is usually with the intention of being funny. Yes, my jokes are deadpan and understated. If you don't know me, you might have to hit the mental rewind a few times to get my jokes.

But my whole family is like that.

For instance, my sister recently made light of my grandmother's memory loss when discussing what to buy her for her birthday.

Me: "New clothes perhaps?"

Her, straight-faced and serious: "Well, we probably wouldn't have to buy her anything. We could just take the nicer clothes from her closet, wrap those and give them to her."

My mom: "That's true. And she would never know."

Don't worry. We were joking. Although from an outsider's point of view you wouldn't be able to tell, unless you knew us.

What is life, if you can't make fun? Even at the worst of times.

We would never give my grandmother her own clothes as a gift.

Madness

"The courage of the poet is to keep ajar the door that leads into madness." - Christopher Morley

The Infamous Tide Stick

Everyone is raving about the Tide stick. And I must admit it works pretty good.

In fact, for many people, spills are now exciting. Can the amazing Tide stick do it again?

The Tide stick is quickly becoming a hit at parties. A writer friend of mine deliberately spilled coffee on his favourite white shirt and then, later, red wine. He wanted to put the Tide stick up against impossible odds.

"This better work," my friend said. "Mordecai Richler gave me this shirt and he's dead!" (As it turns out, this was a slight exaggeration. Noah Richler gave my writer friend the shirt. Mordecai had once given the shirt to Noah, but it was too small for Noah. And my friend snagged the shirt before Noah had a chance to donate it to good will.)

Anyhow, the Tide stick got out the coffee and the red wine. It's miracles like that that are making the Tide stick infamous.

Recently, I was in Edmonton working on a documentary. The cameraman and I went out to dinner. It wasn't long before the cameraman slopped all over himself. Out came his Tide stick and it was only moments before we had a small crowd gathered at our table oohing and awing over the wonderment a Tide stick can bring.

"Ohmigod is that a Tide stick," people would say, before joining the throng of spectators at our table.

Yeah. I know. It's crazy, but true.

Myths and Lies

I am beginning to understand how the mythology that surrounds real history is created. It's started by liars like me.

As a cruel and distasteful experiment, I told some people that there was an untold story to the World Trade Centre tragedy. There had been a swimming pool in one of the towers. When the towers collapsed, there were people who had been swimming who couldn't get out.

There was no swimming pool in the World Trade Centre. It was a complete fabrication. But people believed me. I corrected them with the truth. But if I hadn't, they could have passed this lie onto others and a myth would have been born.

Life's Art

"God is really only another artist. He invented the giraffe, the elephant and the cat. He has no real style. He just goes on trying other things." - Pablo Picasso

Surgery

Plastic surgery is pretty horrid. Perhaps, one day, we will look at plastic surgery and see it as barbaric and as stupid as foot binding, or so said Angela Montenegro, a character in the TV show Bones.

According to the latest tabloid magazine, Ashley Simpson had a whole bunch of plastic surgery. She got rid of her trademark nose for a more generic one, even though her nose made her unique.

Screw genetic science. We don't need advances in genetic science to all be born generic beauties. As children, we should all be sliced up and reconstructed to look ideal.

What's a little mutilation for beauty?

Schizophrenia

"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." ~ E.L. Doctorow

Jesus H. Christ

I have been doing some deep thinking lately about the expression "Jesus H. Christ." What does the H stand for?

For lack of anything better to do, I looked it up.

According to some, it stands for "Harold" or "Howard," as in "Our father, who art in heaven. Howard be thy name." Or Harold be thy name?

Some say the H stands for "Jesus Holy Christ" and was shortened to "Jesus H. Christ."

There is another theory out there that says it stands for "Haploid." The haploid is the number of chromosomes found in the gamate of an individual. Whatever that means. I hate biology. Maybe, since Jesus had no biological father, he was shortchanged in the chromosome department.

Others say the H refers to the IHS logo found in Christianity. IHS is an abbreviation of "Jesus" in classical Greek characters. The Greek pronunciation is "Iesous," with the E sound being represented by the character eta, which looks like an H. When the symbol passed to Christian Romans, that eta became an H, which was an H to them.

Or, perhaps, the H comes from the Latin inscription INRH that was tacked on the cross by Roman soldiers: "Iesus Nazarenus, Rex Hebrei" (Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Hebrews). Although that inscription may have actually been INRI: Iesus Nazarenus, Rex Iudaeorum (Jesus the Nazarene, King of the Jews).

Who knows? Those are just theories I came across.

Drought

I've been going through an e-mail dry spell lately, which is pretty sad.

Over the last few days, I log on and the inbox says zero messages. Even my spam bin reads zero.

C'mon people, what's with the no junk mail? Am I suddenly that despicable that I don't even deserve junk mail? Normally, I get a ton of spam. Lately, nothing. The world must be coming to an end. No junk mail.

Sigh. Okay, I guess I can handle the no junk mail part. I really don't need any new psychiatric drugs or whatever else the junk mail sells. Really, I don't.

Awaiting revenge.

"After scolding one's cat, one looks into its face and is seized by the ugly suspicion that it understood every word. And has filed it for reference." - Charlotte Gray, Canadian historian and author.

No Talent

One thing I find when watching shows like Canadian Idol is that my taste is completely different than the rest of the nation. The people I tend to dislike, the country loves.

I take that back. Perhaps, my tastes don't differ with the entire nation. Rather, it differs with the 12-year-old girls who call in and vote. Girls who wouldn't know talent if it bit them in the butt.

Look what happened with the Much VJ search. Everyone knows Erik Bartik should have won, but alas the teenage girl vote went to the stuttering and shy Tim Deegan. Since when did stuttering and shy become valued qualities in a TV host?

Laziness

Why is it difficult to break a pattern of laziness?

I used to be really good at waking up at 6 a.m., for instance. And now I always need to sleep in until 8 a.m. It seems impossible to wake up at 6 a.m. now, even though I could use the time in the morning.

Getting used to it.

You think after a lifetime of being excluded one would get used to it, but one never does.

Even when you know you don't fit in with the group, and know they know too, it still hurts to be excluded.

The same goes for not fitting in. You think one would get used to having a mutated personality that makes it difficult to make friends.

But, alas, no. You never get used to it.

Fame and Fortune

I wonder if celebrities are insulted when we don’t recognize them.

Throughout my life I’ve encountered a number of different “famous” people, some of whom I would not have known until someone told me who they were.

I’m particularly bad with professional athletes and country singers, because I’m just not that interested in what they do. Therefore I do not keep up with what is going on in their industry unless I get hit in the face with it. For instance, I did not know who the Dixie Chicks were until they insulted George Bush. I can’t name many other performers in the country world, let alone know their songs. Even with the Dixie Chicks, I probably wouldn’t recognize them in the street.

Once I had a conversation with Vinnie Jones. Since his name meant nothing to me, I didn’t really make much of it. I’m sure there would be people in Europe who would be stunned at my ignorance. I still don’t think it was a big deal.

In my experience, celebrities are like everyone else. Some are nice. Some are jerks. So they’re millionaires, big deal.  

Self-indulgence

What I love about blogs is that they are so self-indulgent. Anything goes.

You are always right. If someone makes a comment you don't like - delete.

You can write complete crap if you want.

Make up your own language. Yeah, you might not have regular readers if you do that.

But it's your blog. You can do what you want.

Lost cause.

We all take the cards in our wallet for granted until the wallet goes missing.

Not only can people charge up your credit cards, but what will they do with your driver's license? Can we say "identity theft?" Look it up some time. People can do some scary, scary stuff with your ID.

And if your keys disappeared with your driver's license, is someone going to be able to find where you live and someday walk right into your house?

Do what you can to protect yourself. Because, yeah, you don't think it can happen to you. But it can happen to anyone.

Believe me. I know.