What Is "It"?

For  decades, I have been a fan of the song "In The Air Tonight" by former Genesis band member, Philip David James Collins, known the world over as simply Phil Collins. However, there's nothing simple about the man.  He's a drummer, singer, song writer and producer, and even an actor, having appeared on the television show "Miami Vice" and later starred in his own film called "Buster".  He has appeared in tons of movies, television programs and even appeared as a version of himself in the Grand Theft Auto game series.  He's accomplished way more than the likes of this little blog can report, but if you're interested, there is a plethora of material available online that you can peruse at your own leisure.  It's a fascinating read, for sure.  What I recall about Phil Collins, other than he once described himself as an "exterior decorator", meaning, he painted houses in his youth.  That description made me laugh and I always recall it when I see anyone painting a house.  That aside, I also remember Phil Collins famously performed at Live Aid on July 13th, 1985, playing both the London, England venue as well as the show in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  He performed at one, hopped on the Concorde, which flew at supersonic speed, and arrived in Philly in time to perform before the close of the live concert.  That's a hell of a feat, if you ask me.

Phil Collins has had more hit singles than I can count, both as a member of Genesis as well as a solo artist.  One of his biggest songs is from 1981 from his debut solo album, Face Value and was it's second release following the song, "I Missed Again" and is arguably one of his biggest hits of all time.  That song being "In The Air Tonight". 

The song is slow and melodic, with a drum beat that resembles a calm heartbeat that almost feels hypnotic with a sharp guitar riff peppered in at the right moments to wake us from the relaxing rhythmic sounds.  It isn't until two thirds of the way through the song that Phil hits us with a hammering drum solo, jolting us from the calmness of the song to the rocking anthem it has always been.

In the song, Phil famously repeats the line, "I can feel it coming in the air tonight. Oh Lord. I've been waiting for this moment for all my life."  He even asks us, the listener, "Can you feel it coming in the air tonight?"

I've heard this song more times than I can count.  At this point it'd be like reciting pi, it's been that many times and not once did I stop to question, "What is it that he feels coming in the air tonight?"  Or any night, for that matter?  This morning I decided to find out and to my surprise...  Nobody knows.  Not even Phil Collins himself, know what "it" is that he felt coming in the air.

When asked Phil Collins simply stated that he left that he intentionally left that open for interpretation.  In interviews over the years, He repeatedly reported that the lyrics were entirely improvised during a studio session following a painful divorce from his first wife, Andrea Bertorelli and though he wrote and recorded the song and having performed it thousands of times for his adoring fans, in the end, he doesn't know the exact meaning himself.

Last week, I wrote a blog about "Divine Intervention", and perhaps this is another example of that.  Phil Collins sat with a group of musicians in a recording studio, his heart grieving over the dissolution of his marriage.  Expressing suppressed pain spontaneously through music has been a well-documented psychological phenomenon.  During that session of just messing around on his drum kit and riffing with his band, Phil Collins not only had a cathartic moment, but had the wherewithal to record said song and we are all glad he did. 

The song "In The Air Tonight" did not reach the pinnacle heights that several of his other hits did, reaching only Number 2 on the UK charts and a measly Number 19 on the US Billboard Hot 100, but it's moved far beyond what any charts would indicate.  It's a moving piece that has generations singing along, all the while none of us knows what exactly "it" is, but according to Phil, it's up to us, the listener, to figure out what "it" means for ourselves.

Intervening Divinity

 

Anyone who truly knows me, knows that I am not a religious person.  In fact, I recently had a conversation with a therapist I've been seeing since Monkey passed away and we came to the same conclusion, more or less.  She's helped me a lot over the past few months.  She's helped me through the grief and loss I was feeling then on into the stresses I've experienced through work and life in general.  I know I show a air of confidence and accomplishment, but down deep, behind the face paint, I am a wreck.  That, however, is not the subject of this blog today.

It's been a long while since recording my thoughts and feelings in blog form.  Truthfully, I've not been all that inspired to share my thoughts on many subjects.  Plus given my constraints on my memory, many of the times that I am inspired to write, I forget by the time I am at home and those fleeting thoughts are lost to the ether.

In recent times, I've been plagued, in a good way, by the number 1129.  I like this number as it is my birthdate, November 29th.  But the context that I often see it is not on a calendar, but in signs or clocks or just our of the blue.  It's inexplicable, but a number of years ago, my sister was reading some kind of journal on numerology and so I asked her what or why I kept seeing this number, 1129?  She looked through her book and returned with the answer that it was my guiding angel.  That when times were tough for me, my guiding angel would communicate to me using that significant number, ensuring me that everything would be okay and that I was in the right place at that particular time.  I found reassurance in that explanation and I'd be lying if I said that was never the case.  It seems like I see the number 1129 whenever I get highly agitated or experience an anxious moment.  Just seeing that number puts my mind and my heart at ease.  I know not what my guiding angel's real name is, but I often will communicate with it using the name "1129".  Thanking it for it's reassurance.  It makes me feel safe and comfortable. When things go bad and I feel overwhelmed, I'll see that number and know that I'm on the right path.  I was relieved yesterday when something terrible had occurred.  That is what this blog is about, today.

For years, I've been depending on my cellphone to wake me up in the morning.  I can set it to the precise minute and it awakens me with a soothing melody rather than a harsh jolting sound that the alarm clock makes that is an abrasive unmerciful racket that jars one awake from an otherwise peaceful relaxing sleep.  I much prefer the sound of a sweet melody that wakes me up like a warm hug from a loved one and would assume that many people do also.  Yesterday morning, however, I experienced neither of those sounds.  Instead, my alarm was somehow turned off completely and I was awoken by one of my cats, Cheddar, at a quarter past five in the morning.  I never turned the alarm off myself, as I strategically have my phone halfway across the room.  In order to turn the alarm off, I would have to get up out of bed, walk over to my phone.  Swipe to unlock then find the app.  Press and physically press the on/off button to shut off the alarm.  Then back out of everything, lay it back on the table and walk back to bed.  As terrible as my memory is, I'm afraid I would remember doing that entire sequence of events.

I jumped out of bed in a panic.  A quarter past five in the morning, the precise time when I would normally be leaving my house for work.  That early in the morning, there is little to no traffic so getting across town to work is easily accomplished.  Now factoring in that I need to get dressed, feed the boys, take my menagerie of medications and rush out the door, is putting a hell of a strain on things.

I had called the dispatch right away expressing that I would be a few minutes late and after performing my morning rituals with great haste, I managed to arrive at work just four minutes overdue.  Unfortunately, the practice at my work is that if failure to arrive on time occurs, then my work, my bus route, goes to someone else.  Therefore I was given a different piece of work.  A different bus route to drive yesterday.  And given that I'm currently working half days because of a shoulder injury, it would just be that single work piece in the morning.

It was kind of refreshing to drive a different route, if I'm being honest. A pleasant break from the norm.  Plus, I got to drive one of the articulating buses, which is one of those long sixty foot buses that bend in the middle. Intimidating to the those who can be easily overwhelmed, in all actuality, I find them much easier to drive than the standard forty foot buses.  I caught a ride from another bus driver who was headed to the university where I had to take over the bus on the route, and the driver had his radio on the Supervisors' channel.  That's when I heard that Warman Road, one of  the main streets that my normal route is on, was closed due to construction and was impassible. The necessary detour that was required to circumvent the blocked street sounded terrible and would add many minutes of tardiness to the scheduling of the route.  It sounded terrible and highly stressful.  I could hear the agitation and frenzy in their voice and it was at that moment that I was truly thankful to not be driving my normal route, and also when I began suspecting some sort of divine intervention.  I thought, "What if?"  What if 1129 had stepped in that morning, manipulating my phone just enough to turn the alarm off, thus forcing me to be late, forcing me on a different route as a result an ultimately saving me from a potential peril.  An unfortunate crash, a terrible injury or much much worse?

I do not believe in coincidences.  I never have and don't truly believe that it exists. I believe only in cause and effect and maybe the odd fluke peppered in once in a while.  So while the driver who took over my route that morning wasn't caught in a situation where they might have been injured or worse, there's no guarantee that if I were in their place that maybe my fate would not be as fortunate?  What if my alarm had gone off as usual and I arrived at work to take my bus out only to be killed at some point during the morning?  It could happen.  There are no "good drivers" anymore, but there's no way of knowing for sure.  However, when you factor in that the alarm had failed in a basically impossible manner, one can't help but think of some kind of divine intervention or fluke to have occurred.

I had a pleasant experience driving that route and when I was finished, I made my way back across town to retrieve my truck and resume the rest of my day.  Ironically, when I started my truck, the clock read 11:29 on the information screen.  As soon as I saw that I knew that, despite my lack of faith in spirituality and the gospel, my strong belief in my guardian angel overrided the situation and further convinced me of the existence of 1129, my guardian who protects and guides me through this life.

I don't know what to make of yesterday.  It was different, but seemed refreshing after all is said and done.  I'm still here.  I'm still as healthy as I was the day before. I am still a cat-daddy to two wonderful and interesting boys and they, Butters and Cheddar, weren't abruptly orphaned.  

When I was at the convenience store on Campus, where my route takes me, I went to perform my usual ritual of buying the $21 Triple Pack that I normally purchase, only this time the light hit the $25 Classic Pack that includes tickets for the Western lotteries.  I don't usually buy those, for whatever reason, opting for the larger jackpots. I don't know if I was victorious on any of those additional tickets and likely won't find out for a couple months as I seem to allow my ticket purchases to compound and pile up before I take them to be checked and cashed in.  

For now, I am comfortable and content.  I survived whatever fate had instore for me on September 18th, 2026.  I used to allow a lot of shit to get me down and for a long time I promoted the idea of: "Praise The Positive".  After Monkey died in October of last year, I was lost.  I failed to praise anything, let alone positivity.  Only recently, I feel that I've been steered back on track.  Moseying down the right path, heading toward my destiny with a trusted presence, 1129, by my side.  I feel truly blessed.  I wish you all who took the time to read this belated blog, many blessings as well.  All the best.

Bully

Today, February 26th, 2025 is being touted as Pink Shirt Day, in which people wear Pink Shirts to raise awareness and funding for anti-bullying initiatives.  I did not participate for a couple of reasons.  First and foremost, I do not own a pink T-shirt.  I realize that I probably could have purchased one from work as they really seem to embrace all these causes and alike.  I don't understand all of them and often choose not to participate and at risk of sounding like an asshole, I chose not to participate in this display of solidarity, either.

The second reason I chose not to participate in this endeavour, today, is the fact that I don't see bullying as all that bad.  Before you start throwing hate my way, please know that I do not endorse bullying either.  I just feel that it has it's place in our society and when used properly, it can be beneficial to both parties. 

"How am I a better person for having been bullied?" you ask.  Well...  I, for one, would never have turned out to be the incredible person that I am today, had I not been bullied relentlessly as a kid.  I was bullied by older kids at school.  I was a small kid, so the bigger kids my own age would pick on me, too.  Not to mention my home life, at times (most times) was kinda shitty, being bullied by an alcoholic father.  As well as, just strangers.  They see a small kid and they're going to victimize that kid.  It's natural selection.  Was it all bad?  I guess at the time it was quite devastating.  Especially from my dad, but in retrospect, I can see where I was kind of a f*ck up in his eyes.  That aside, I learned from being picked on and bullied. I used that mental and physical anguish as fuel to shape who I would eventually become.

IF, I had gone through my years without the bullying and lived a sheltered life like the kids today do, who knows what kind of an asshole I may have become?  I admit that, yes, I am somewhat of an asshole, today, but dialed down because of being humbled by bullies my whole life.  I'd be unbearable if I had been sheltered and coddled like the kids today.

Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on how you view it, I did not have social media as a kid, so I cannot speak with any degree of authority on the perils of being bullied nonstop, 24/7, via Facebook, Twitter and the Tik Tok.  Hell, as an adult, I get hammered on by idiots, usually uneducated idiots, so I consider the source, but it's an experience that, doesn't bother me in the sense that it offends me, but it's just a pain in the ass to have to educate these morons.  Does that make me a bully for calling them idiots?  Not when regarding the hateful shit I endure sometimes. 

So, I guess perhaps, initiatives are helpful for those too soft to accept their bullying as a tool to better themselves, is warranted.  People, these days, aren't as strong, mentally, as they once were.  Not everyone, especially today's youth, can appreciate the forest for the trees.

I was bullied heavy, when I was a kid.  I remember entering the ninth grade and a twelfth grader would just bully me relentlessly and would not let up, even when his buddy would tell him to stop, he wouldn't.  I was a pipsqueak when I entered high school and this guy didn't like that I was so small.  All these years later, I imagine I would tower over that asshole, today.  He'd be whistling another tune, that's for sure.  But I digress.

I stated above that bullying is beneficial to both parties.  On one hand, the bully gets to do something they enjoy and that's something we all want in our lives.  The person being bullied, gets to learn about their shortcomings and what to work on to better themselves.  Then later in life, when the bullied person is rich and successful, they can gloat over the bully when they're pumping gas or whatever dead end job they wound up doing.  Bullies often piss their lives away, but also, in some rare cases, a bullied person can snap and beat the ever-lovin' shit out of the bully, then everyone wins.  Except maybe the bully, but...  Blah blah blah, something about broken eggs.

Fire Brigade

 

First of all, my heart goes out to all those who lost their homes and property in the California wildfires.  I would never wish that horror on anyone, no matter what our differences are.  It's crazy to think all is well one moment then over the course of a few minutes, you find yourself grabbing all that you can to evacuate your home.  Leaving all your possessions and memories behind with little more than prayers and hope that when you return that everything will still be there.

That being said, I am in no way a pyromaniac, however I do pray on occasion for the odd house fire. This is ONLY when I see a car parked in front of a hydrant.  It should go without saying, that such practice should never be executed, but there are those idiots out there who either think the laws don't apply to them or they're much too oblivious to their surroundings to realize that they've parked in front of a fire hydrant.  In either case, regardless, I love to see the aftermath when firefighters arrive on scene only to discover that their efforts are being thwarted by a vacant sedan.

I've only seen pictures of how firefighters handle the problem of a car blocking access to a fire hydrant.  I've never had the privilege or joy of seeing the owner of the vehicle return to leave only to discover a fire hose threaded through the now shattered glass of their car.  I wonder if they raise a stink about it?  Whether they accept responsibility for their stupidity or not.  Do they ever confront the firemen about the situation or do the police need to get involved.  Obviously some sort of citation needs to be issued.  

Oh to be a fly on the wall for that conversation.  To witness the arrogance of the culprit who would complain and protest that they're being treated unfairly when in reality, it was their own stupidity.  I love seeing arrogant people put in their place.  It's awesome and is always sure to put a smile on my face. 😁

#PraiseThePositive

The Road To Dystopia

It was a Sunday, late afternoon.  I'd gotten off work and was invited to a nearby bar where a collection of fellow employees were gathering to watch a WWE (then WWF) Pay-Per-View.  I don't recall many, if any of the matches on the card as only one epic match comes to mind and it was SO over the top, literally, that it shadowed everything else.  I've heard in interviews by the participants of the match that followed, Stone Cold Steve Austin versus The Big Red Machine, Kane, that when they saw the preceding match, they all but gave up on trying to make their match memorable.  The match I speak of is none other than Mankind (Mick Foley) versus The Undertaker in a Hell In A Cell match and if you know your history, you know exactly the match I'm referring to.

While exchanging blows atop of the steel cage, at what seemed like a spur of the moment decision, Undertaker grabs a hold of Foley and tosses him off the top of the cage.  To say this was the defining moment of the match is difficult to say as what would follow was equally as devastating and exhilarating to watch all at the same time.  It's a story that's been told a million times, at great length and detail by both participants so I'm not going to bother.  Google it.  It's quite a spectacle.

The reason I mention this moment in sports history, is that I wasn't present to witness this as it unfolded.  I've only watched this in replays for my entire existence, just as you are seeing it happen in the GIF to my right.  For as I had stated, we were in a bar and we had all ordered food and just as I was paying the waitress who happened to be standing between myself and the video screen so my only reference to the moment itself is the whole crowd roaring in disbelief.  It was truly a historical moment that I will never get to reflect on.

I am proud to say that I was present and accounted for, both in body and mind, to witness the Birth of Austin 3:16.  It was the 1996 King of the Ring Tournament, back when it meant something.  Now, I can't recall all the details, they are somewhat fuzzy, but the Coles Notes version is Stone Cold Steve Austin had gone to the hospital for an injury sustained earlier in the day, but when he returned he was told about an interview that Jake The Snake Roberts had given earlier aimed at his pending match with Austin.  Roberts, who at the time was a recovering addict in a 12-Step program was adding proverbs and alike to his speeches and this further aggravated a powder keg of a human being and long story short, Stone Cold stomped the hell outta the man.  In the interview that followed with former Freebird, Michael Hayes, Austin began chastising Roberts, "You talk about your Psalms and your John 3:16.  Well AUSTIN 3:16 says I just whooped your ass!"

You always hear people retell of what they were doing or where they were when historical moments go down.  I remember being a kid in school hearing about the assassination attempt on President Ronald Reagan.  I recall coming home from a music festival to learn that Princess Diana had died in a tragic motor vehicle collision.  I remember vividly what was happening when I heard that Andre The Giant had died and I remember being parked on the side of the road, my eyes fixed on the radio as the commentator reported that the first Tower had collapsed in New York City on September 11th, 2001.  So when the opportunity came for me, a Canadian, to sit down and watch the Presidential Inauguration in 2021, I made it a point to watch as it was HISTORY happening in REAL TIME.

The Inauguration, to me, was monumental.  The United States and, let's be frank, the entire world was affected by the Donald Trump "presidency" and not in a positive way.  They were dark times, I feel.  Especially, considering the handling of the pandemic, but I'm not here to complain about the obvious, but when the Democratic Party thwarted the intentions of the Dark Republic, there was an air of hope.  That the storm had passed and better days lay ahead.

This was not the sole reason for my tuning in.  No.  This was a historic moment.  America was getting their first female Vice President.  An honourable woman of stature, grace, intelligence and compassion.  I felt America had gotten it right, for a change and as she raised her hand to accept the Presidential Oath of Office, I had tears streaming down my face.  Tears of joy and pride.  Thoughts that maybe things would be okay and in the months and years that followed, things did get better.  Things did seem okay, even with the darkness on the horizon, we as a world collective felt the dark times were behind us all. That the four year hiatus between 2017 and 2020 was nothing more than a tarnished memory and an asterisk in the history books.

Knowing not to count my chickens before they hatch I didn't believe the 2024 election would turn out the way it did.  The Blue Wave seemed real.  The voices were being heard and hope was on the horizon.  I knew that Kamala Harris had a fight ahead of her and who knows, maybe if she'd had the two or more years to campaign like her opponent, she would have faired better.  While I was preparing to celebrate, I was dumbfounded by the overwhelming outcome which was....  Words cannot describe the level of frustration and confusion that I possess.  I know common sense hasn't really existed for quite some time, but holy fuck.

Think about this:  A convicted criminal is not allowed to vote in any election, yet a convicted criminal has been elected as the 47th President of the United States of America.  What the fuck is wrong with the logic of these voters.  And it's only now that the truth behind the rhetoric that Trump and his MAGA maniacs were spouting IS confirmed.  All the "lies" that they denied are now being confirmed by those same people and the voters are realizing this now, 48 and 72 hours later, they wish they'd checked the other box.  Sorry, there are no mulligans here.  I genuinely feel bad for those who voted for Harriz/Walz and lost, but I hold them as equally responsible because they could have done more to educate those who were clueless.

Following his victory in 2016, I began to reference the Mad Max movie series.  I remember watching these films as a kid and wondering: What must have happened in the world to scorch the earth like this.  Then the Trump/Pence regime began and it began to become clear as to what sort of governmental management would cause a violent dystopia like that depicted in these films.  I hope and pray that it doesn't get this bad, but when you consider the stance and campaign promises that Trump and Vance has made for the future of the United States of America, a violent society isn't that far from belief.

I am not a religious person by any means, but I may reconsider that belief in the coming years.  I am literally sick to my stomach and fearful.  That's not a healthy way to live.  As a Canadian, especially one whose country at the moment is at a crossroads itself with less than honourable representation in Ottawa, I fear for the future of Canada and if truth be known, I would not put it past Trump to turn and take inspiration from his buddy Vladimir Putin and invade Canada for our resources.  Oil, Water, Potash and Maple Syrup.  The last was meant as a joke, but given how much of the golden syrup is supplied to the world, I would not be surprised if that Tangerine Tyrant would, in fact, invade Canada.

I'm going to close my eyes, clasp my hands and praise the positive.  It's just about the only hope I have left.

Nutty Professionals

The evening ended much like every other has, this past summer, falling asleep in the armchair in front of the TV.  Prior to my departure into dreamland, I had been watching the latest "Battle of the Brands" (c/o UpUpDownDown on YouTube) where the two hosts, Austin Creed, aka Xavier Woods in the WWE and Tyler Breeze, a former WWE Superstar.  In the video, as they are preparing their individual Raw and ECW matches they get to talking about all sorts of subjects.  One subject in particular that has recurred over the past year or so, was whether or not Creed had seen the 1996 version of "The Nutty Professor" starring Eddie Murphy.  They make no mention of the original 1963 version starring Jerry Lewis.  To be honest, I doubt these young fellas are even aware that Murphy's Professor is a remake.

I will openly admit that I never found the Eddie Murphy remake to be all that funny, but Tyler Breeze sure believes that it's one of the funniest movies ever, if not THEE funniest.  Creed had never seen the film, nor had intended to do so, but after repeated urging, Creed finally succumbed to pressure and watched the film. 

The two discuss the film briefly before Creed explains to their streaming viewers the premise of the Nutty Professor film, associating it with an episode of the ABC comedy, "Family Matters" in which the nerdy character, Steve Erkel takes a potion that magically turns him into the suave Stephan.  A similar storyline to the original Nutty Professor where a geeky Jerry Lewis drinks a chemical concoction that turns him into Buddy Love, a handsome and charming ladies man, a direct opposite to the professor.  Murphy's version is about a self-conscious overweight man who turns himself into a sexy suave ladies' man.  Both films and the Erkel episode are all loosely based on the 1886 novella, "The Strange Case of Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde" by author Robert Louis Stevenson.

Of course, while the duo are setting up their games, there's music playing in the background and the music for Dude Love begins to play and like a bolt of lightning from the Heavens above, I was suddenly stricken with a stroke of brilliance and theorized that the Three Faces of Foley, Mankind, Cactus Jack and Dude Love are similar to the Nutty Professor and Jeckyll and Hyde stories. 

For those unaware, retired professional wrestler, Mick Foley, portrayed three characters throughout his legendary wrestling career.  Cactus Jack, Mankind and Dude Love and in my hypothesis; Cactus Jack was the perfect specimen in the fact that he was tough and good with the ladies.  Cactus is comfortable in his body and nothing will phase the man.  

Mankind, while being tough as nails, unafraid of anything including monsters and beasts as well as barbed wire and thumbtacks, but there was an awkwardness to Mankind.  Around people, he didn't seem comfortable.  You'd never see Mankind hanging out in catering with the other wrestling superstars, but instead in the darkened corners of the boiler room or hiding in the rafters.  Though Mankind didn't mingle well with his brethren, he was especially elusive to the fairer sex.  Though never witnessed on film, I speculate that Mankind shied away from the ladies.

Enter Dude Love.  Dude was every bit as tough in the ring as Cactus Jack and Mankind, but he was also really good with the ladies.  Often, Dude Love could be seen with a lovely lady on each arm.  Foley's version of the ladies man, however, differed greatly from his Nutty Professor counterparts, for The Dude was always charming and respectful, while the two versions of Buddy Love would turn out to be narcissistic arrogant assholes.  Traits not portrayed by Mick Foley, no matter what the instance.

I've never watched the 1963 version of the Nutty Professor and I'm almost certain that the humour showcased in that film would not hold up for my twisted sense of humour, these days, nor do I believe that another viewing of the Eddie Murphy version would change my mind on how terrible I found the film.  As for Mick Foley...  Well, I had the pleasure of meeting the man a few years ago, shaking his hand and posing for a photo of the living legend.  I sometimes muse at the fact that he "stole" my gold marker.  I had brought a special GOLD Sharpie for his autographs, as I had brought a number of items to be signed.  Books and action figures.  He asked if I was planning to resell the items I was getting autographed, as that's something that people do, but I assured him that they would not be leaving my possession ever.  I may have even mentioned being buried with the items.

It is often said that you should "never meet your heroes" as you're often disappointed in who they actually are away from TV or whatever the case may be and while, this has happened to me before (Lita - and I hold a grudge), Mick Foley was probably one of the nicest people I've ever met.  Probably one of the nicest people on the planet, if I'm being honest.

The Man. The Legend.
 Mick Foley

Lurking In The Shadows

 

I like this photograph of my cat, Monkey, taken from behind as he gazes upon his court.  The light casting a mighty shadow so that we fail to see the intricate designs of his striped back, replacing it with darkness and mystery.

The other morning as I drove to work, I'd just rounded the corner from my street onto the main drag that takes me westward.  Like so many mornings before, I saw a couple rabbits scampering across the street into the adjacent park.  It's a large park, large enough that a small group of rabbits could probably live long happy lives there without ever having to leave the safety of it's perimeter.  "Be careful, rabbits." I always say.  In addition to the lively scampering of this indigenous wildlife, sadly I also see many tattered corpses that didn't fair too well crossing the boulevard.

I got to thinking, driving up the street, listening to whatever was on the radio at the time, "What DO rabbits do all day?"  Good question, right?  The sun breaks through the morning dawn, shining light down on the world and these rabbits awaken from their slumber and begin foraging for food.  Do they do that all day long?  Just eat, sleep, and shit.  Then my thoughts came back to something, or someone, dear to my heart.  My boy, Monkey.  What does he do, all day long? 

Same thing, only there's four walls and a roof protecting him from the elements and possible predation.  That aside, he lives the same mundane life as those rabbits.  Eat, sleep, shit, repeat.  Only advantage Monkey has over the rabbits, aside from the structure that he resides in, is guaranteed meals and snuggle time with yours truly, Daddy.

There are times, however, when I'm home and I cannot find that cat anywhere.  It's like he just vaporizes then reappears when it's convenient.  It's magical.  Does Monkey have special abilities that he's hiding from me?  Am I not trustworthy enough to keep his secrets?

The other night I was having trouble going to sleep.  For the fourteen years that Monkey has been alive and living with me, we always go to bed at the same time, snuggle a little before I doze off and he retires to his corner at the foot of the bed.  So when I wake up in the middle of the night, I can glance down and see his shadowy form snoring in the corner and all feels right and I'm able to fall back asleep with ease.  On this particular night, just three sleeps ago, I woke up and Monkey was nowhere to be seen.  I got up to get a drink from the fridge and in my travels, failed to see Monkey lying in any of his preferred spots that pepper the household.  It wasn't until nearly a half hour later that I felt him jump onto the bed, murmur a little meow of acknowledgement and returned to his corner, like nothing had transpired.

I rolled up next to him and started stroking his back, from neck to tail and chatting him up.  I asked questions like "Where do you go?" and "What are you doing?"  Then mid-query, I realized something imperative.  If you look at the distinctive markings on Monkey's face, it's almost too obvious.  Much like Clark Kent wears a cheap pair of glasses to hide the fact that he's actually Superman, Monkey hides his secret identity by looking like a cute kitty cat with that unique triangular white patch on his face.

(Please forgive me for getting off-topic, but HOW stupid are the people in Metropolis that they can't see through that shitty disguise?)

I'm lying next to my cat, on top of the covers, stroking his fur and listening to his gentle rhythmic purr when I realized, "I've never seen Batman and Monkey in the same room...  I wonder.  Is it possible?"  All those nights when I came downstairs because he was absent and I did see him, seated on the back to the armchair, gazing out over his world, looking for neerdowells and riff-raff, poised to leap into hand-to-hand combat at a moments notice.

If you take a moment to really look and analyze the pictures of the Caped Crusader versus Monkey, you'll have to agree the resemblance is uncanny.  I think my cat is a superhero, watching over and protecting his land.  If he chooses not to share that life and burden with me, then I'm sure Monkey has his reasons.  Perhaps it's out of love and wishes to protect me from those who wish to do him harm.  I can appreciate that and I thank him for the security he provides.