The Aardvark

When I'm at work, I need the radio to be playing.  When I first started the job, I went weeks without a radio and often found myself either distracted and unable to concentrate on the work in front of me.  Either that or I'd often find myself singing, under my breath, whatever song happened to grind it's way into the inner sanctum of my brain.  Eddie Grant's Electric Avenue was stuck in there a lot and I've come to dislike the song, somewhat.  That one and Don MacLean's American Pie.  "What?!?"  I'm sure someone is thinking, right now after reading that statement, but try getting it stuck in your head for weeks at a time.

Eventually, when I grew too tired of composing my own songs just to entertain myself when I was alone driving the bus, I got my self a radio, albeit a transistor radio at first, which only received a signal when I worked on the east side of the city.  Anything west of Idylwyld Drive, was met with constant static interruptions, which aggravated me as much as it annoyed me.  Next I got a small speaker from Visions which worked well, but only lasted about five, maybe six hours, if I was lucky.  So it was back to the ol' drawing board, one more time.  This time I didn't cheap out by purchasing something from the discontinued aisle.  Instead, I went to Costco and purchased a JBL speaker which, despite being dropped a handful of times, works like a motherf**king charm.

I spent my mornings listening to Clayton and Stacie on Cruz-FM and in the afternoons, I would either listen to Regina's The Wolf or Saskatoon's Rock 102 FM.  Especially after Cruz shit-canned their afternoon guy, the legendary Dave 'Muzik' Morgan.  His replacement sucks.  Then a few months later, I switched over to Rock 102 FM, exclusively, when Cruz went on another inexplicable firing tirade and fired the morning guy, Clayton Kroeker.   Stacie is awesome, but she doesn't have the chops to broadcast alone, so I deserted the radio station in favour of greener pastures and I'm glad I did.

I began listening to Whitney in the afternoons on Rock 102 FM and she's a blast to listen to.  Always in a jovial mood, I can only imagine the joy it must be to work with someone like this, who always seems to be in good spirits.  

One day Whitney was trying to help out this guy who'd called in.  He had two tickets to see his favourite band, but his dilemma was choosing who to go to the show with.  Either his wife or his daughter.  Whitney had all sorts of people calling in offering up ideas and so with a few minutes to spare on my route, I overcame the anxiety I have about placing phone calls (*I imagine there's a blog in there about that) and I called in to the radio station.  Whitney was a hoot to chat with and she played right along with the insanity that I offered up.  I simply stated, "He should take his daughter.  Wives come and go," I added, "But daughters are forever."  I don't know exactly why I stated it like that, I don't even have a daughter...., or a wife, for that matter, but Whitney got a helluva kick out of the statement and for several months that followed, I'd hear my raspy radio voice repeating that statement during some of the radio breaks.

Not long after that, Sully joined the Rock 102 crew and he fit in like a glove.  The two of them, Whitney and Sully, are like long lost siblings.  The way they tease each other, you can sense that there's a lot of love and respect shared between the two, but when Whitney is "bullying" Sully (for lack of a better term), the results are hilarious.  Sully being from Vancouver, originally, the radio station has been trying to "Saskatchewanize" Sully.  They did a question and answer portion on the show one day, in which poor Sully got an electric shock every time he answered a Saskatchewan question incorrectly, but truth be known, I've been here my entire life, minus a six month stint in Edmonton, Alberta, and I'm not familiar with a lot of the "Saskatchewan terminology" that Sully was failing to answer correctly.  I've often thought about challenging him to a Saskatchewan-off in a year's time.  See if this Vancouver transplant is more Saskatchewan than myself, who was born and bred in this province.

Long story short -- TOO LATE!!  I began calling in to the station on a semi-regular basis and in the meantime, managed to score a nice collection of goodies and prizes.  I'll spare the details, but one of the best items I received was two tickets to see Finger Eleven at the Ex, which I attended with my best bro, Dan, who I also brought with me, when I received a $50 gift certificate to Tapps Sports Lounge.  It got to the point where I was calling in so often that I felt I needed an identity.  I'd hear other people, regulars, calling in and they all had nifty nicknames, but all of the nicknames that I have, seem too silly to broadcast on local radio.  I love that online, I'm the one and only ToontownJuggalo, but people would react foolishly to that name, likely confusing the term "juggalo" for "gigolo" which would be greatly incorrect and mildly offensive, plus I get annoyed trying to repeatedly explain shit to people, so I avoided using that nickname.  Another nickname that I've adopted in the last few months is Aardvark, which again, requires some explanation which I'm unwilling to do.  So I stuck with who I am.  I'm Jeff.

I'm Jeff, but I'm not just any Jeff.  I'm The Jeff.

(Not actually a picture of me. I don't like sleeves
or turtle necks, but I'd kill for that hairline.)

I figured, any bumbling fool can be a Jeff.  It's really not that difficult. I'm living proof of that.  I've been stumbling through life for decades as Jeff and it's nothing spectacular.  However, only a precious few or one, can be The Jeff and folks, that one and only, is this guy.  Me.  I'm now The Jeff, at least as far as calling in to the radio station.  I needed something that would set me apart from everyone else and by Jove, I think I found it.

I could've went with That Jeff, but upon further retrospect, I decided that no one wants to That Jeff.  Why would you?  That guy is....  Well, That Jeff is one odd duck and as awesome as ducks go, the odd ones are just... weird.  Of course, referring to oneself as "The", is a little strange in and of itself, but that's why I'm the Aardvark.  Because I'm unique. 😁

The Yo-Yo Effect - Struggle For Survival

Everyone's lives have ups and downs.  Life can be a wild ride, much like a roller coaster.  Exciting at times, scary and terrifying at others.  My life isn't any different than any of that, but my ups and downs have always seemed to go from one extreme to the other.  Plateaus as high as Everest followed by lows as deep as the Laurentian Abyss.  Thankfully, as my most bleakest of moments, when survival seemed trifle and frivolous, there was a glimmer.  I glint of light that would catch my eye, capture and entrapping my attention long enough for the dark clouds to clear and life becoming bearable and easier to cope with.  Things that made me smile, rather than retreating into my blackness.  I'm sure many people have these moments of epiphany and clarity, but I bet very few, if any, can recall those "ah-ha" moments or what turned their lives around.  I have three, that I'm willing to share.

My father died, surprisingly, seventeen years ago.  I can still remember it like it happened yesterday.  He was diagnosed with cancer and succumbed to his sickness within about a month and a half.  Growing up and for most of my adult life, he battled the bottle.  An alcoholic, he was extremely angy and violent at times.  I remember coming home from school, seeing his truck was home and knowing that some shit was about to go down.  Alcoholism is a sickness, of sorts.  An addiction.  An escape from the problems that plague one's life.  In retrospect, I suppose drinking heavily was his way of coping with his own rollercoaster life.

We had our differences, fists were exchanged, but to be perfectly honest he flung more fists than I did, if I had any at all.  However, years later, when my dad emerged from the bottle, quitting the drinking, he was the most fantastic person in the world.  All smiles, laughter and joking.  I loved to sit and chat with my dad, and I think he loved reminiscing old stories from his youth.  I heard many of the stories thousands of times and loved hearing the retelling of those stories.  Even today, something will spark a memory of one of those stories and I get a big grin on my face.  So when he died, I felt ripped off.  Robbed of all those years of my dad due to his dependence of alcohol.  I was devastated and soon found myself spiraling into the abyss.  Miraculously, I discovered a musical group that drew me out of my funk.  Allowed me to laugh, cry and scream at the top of my lungs.  Friends around me, failed to see me at my weakest and then when I became able to crawl out of my funk, disapproved of my method.

Through watching professional wrestling, there were a couple of dudes in WCW, the now defunct World Championship Wrestling.  Not only were the guys decent wrestlers, but they were successful rap artists, too.  I speak, of course, of the Insane Clown Posse.  Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope had a song called "Take It", which got my hooked and soon I was buying up all the CDs I could find.  I had officially become a bonafide Juggalo.  I've been a fan for seventeen years and through that time, when I felt my happiness and contentment slipping, I'd pop a CD into the player and give it a listen.  The Amazing Jeckyll Brothers was my introduction CD and I'm honestly surprised that I haven't wore that one out, yet.  It's definitely one of the CDs I'd want if I were stranded on a deserted island.

Fast forward to 2009, when my life went back into the toilet.  Plunged deep into the furthest recesses of the sewer.  It was a time when I can fully admit that I contemplated suicide.  I found myself an embarrassment and a disappointment to friends and family.  No amount of ICP was digging me out of that funk.  I was alone to deal with my situation, struggling to inch my way back to something vaguely resembling normalcy.  I was at home and plugged in the three seasons of TITUS, a comedy TV show that was based on comedian Christopher Titus' life and stand-up act.  Soon I was listening to all of his comedy CDs in the car and in his own way, unbeknownst to him, he saved my life.  Titus never strays from how fucked up his life got to be at times, but he survived.  My life was fucked up, too, in different ways.  No more, no less fucked up than what his life was.  He survived and through his comedy and ability to laugh at the problems, I survived.  No more sadness, feeling of unworthiness and especially, no more suicidal thoughts.

A couple years ago, it happened again.  I'd had an accident at work, resulting in three crushed vertebrae, a mouthful of smashed teeth and uncertainty for what my future held.  I was struggling to go to sleep one night, hopped up on pain medications and lying in bed.  To occupy my time, I was listening to Doug Benson's "Doug Loves Movies" podcast and there was a comedian on the show, whom I was unfamiliar with, but this guy was fun, jovial and had a laugh unlike anyone I've ever known.  My dad had a tremendous laugh when you got him going, but that pales in comparison to this comedian.

I soon binged on as much Bert Kreischer and I could humanly consume.  I found his stand-up on YouTube, discovered his podcast, CORRECTION, Bertcast and I've become a huge fan of his TV shows and everything-Bert.  I bought his book, bought the audiobook, which is funnier, and love everything Bert.  To be honest, Bert Kreischer is someone who continues to make me laugh and keep me stable in life.  That is..., until recently.

My shitty life has plunged once more.  The worst it's ever been.  Everyday I desperately fight and struggle, clenching, scraping and crawling mere inches, fighting just to make ends meet.  This is the absolute worst I've been since the death of my father, seventeen years ago.  I'm so unbelievably broke that my bills are literally a juggling act.  I've compared it to that circus act of spinning plates.  I'm struggling to get thirty plates spinning and just as I think I'm getting ahead, one or two of the proverbial plates come crashing down.  I was unprepared for this level of strife in my life.  Of course, it's this time that I learn that the Insane Clown Posse was coming to town.  Tomorrow, in fact.  When all else seems bleak, I know ICP would help me see the light, but due to financial instabilities I came to terms with not going to see my Juggalo mentors.

The other day, my friend texted me and offered me up his ticket.  Sadly, he's unable to attend and knows how much I'd love and appreciate going to this show.  I'm not a religious person, by any means, but this is like divine intervention.  Like the hand of a higher power reached down and gifted me this opportunity.  My friend, who can't go, who gave me his ticket, is a truly great friend.  We often disagree on some social commentary, but in the end, he's an awesome guy and I aspire to be as generous as he is.

Every time I turn around, it seems like I'm getting violently kicked in the nuts and yesterday I took another major hit to the nuts, but I'm going to see the Insane Clown Posse tomorrow night.  Despite all that's going on right now...  Life is good.

Negative Press

Earlier today, while looking at my Facebook page, I came across a post that read: FAYGO CORP. ISSUES "CEASE AND DESIST" LETTER TO ICP/JUGGALOS.  I read the article written about the case that the soda pop giant based out of Detroit, Michigan, where the Insane Clown Posse also hails from, and was immediately filled with disdain on the subject.  I clicked the 'share' tab and left a comment, which quickly morphed into social commentary.  Impressed (somewhat) with the literary piece I'd so freely constructed, I decided, rather spontaneously, to put it into blog form.  I hope you will LIKE it and will SHARE / RETWEET it, upon your completion of reading it.   ENJOY!!

Only The Good Die Young

At long last, I sat down tonight and viewed the movie "50/50", which stars Joseph Gordon-Levitt and Seth Rogen.  Levitt portrays a cancer patient who learns that he's got a rare form of cancer that has a survival rate of 50%.  The story shows how he deals with his own mortality, but more importantly, how even though he's able to bravely manage his condition, he is oblivious to how those around him are being affected.  The movie is loosely based on a friend of Seth Rogen's, so the subject matter hit pretty close to home for the Canadian actor.

My own father, passed away a little over thirteen years ago, succumbing to his own cancers (yes, cancers plural).  I can't recall which two types of cancer he had.  I believe one was in his esophagus, which is one that he'd battled (unknowingly) for a number of years.  There was another cancer two, which has spread from the first, but I can't recall what it was.  Needless to say, by the time medical help was sought, it was too late and he died a couple of months later.

That is pretty much my only experience with cancer directly.  Indirectly, I had a friend around the same time that was stricken with testicular cancer.  At the time, in a show of solidarity, a few of us friends all shaved our heads, bald, so he would not be the only one to stand out.  I thought it was a nice gesture, and I think he appreciated it.  I remember the night we all did it, the shaving of our heads, that is.  No one really knew what they were doing, but had some fun with it all the same.  I remember my friend, D_____, the fellow with the cancer, went first, opting for a mohawk, before finally taking it all off.  Next was T_____, his "toxic twin" (drinking pal), who instead, shaved the top of his head, leaving the sides and back, resembling himself as an old man, before finally taking off all his hair.  A couple more did it before it was finally my turn.  As I'd stated, no one really knew what they were doing at first, so there were a lot of nicks and cuts on those first few craniums, before everyone honed their craft.  By the time it was my turn, all hair was removed without incident or injury.

Watching the movie, tonight, though, I came to a conclusion.  A sort of theory, if you will.  Despite my outward appearance, I've always remained fairly healthy.  My family seem to all thing that I am destined for an early grave, but they're full of shit and should really worry about their own affairs and leave my shit alone. However, I truly believe that I can't (and likely won't) ever be stricken with anything major like cancer, and this is the reason why:  I don't have anyone to share it with.

By this I mean, the people that I've experienced cancer and serious shit with, have always had a strong family presence or a loved one like a girlfriend or alike to lean on in times of strife.  I don't have that.  I'm not particularly close (in that way) to my family, nor do I have anyone of significant importance in my life, like a girlfriend or anyone.  No one I would burden with trivial shit like cancer.  I haven't a soul, which I believe will ultimately save my life.  "You can't lose everything, if you don't have anything to lose."  The downside, of course, is the fact that I will probably continue to be lonely and miserable.  So it's not all sunshine and roses.

I do not have cancer, nor do I speculate that I will be stricken with it anytime soon.  I do, however, go into the hospital on June 29th, to be put under anesthesia for some sort of procedure to find out why I continue to choke on food, but I doubt that will be anything too terribly serious, and doubt very much that I would die from such a routine procedure.  I mean, f*ck!  I've had the same routine performed on me a half dozen times, while completely conscious, so the positive is that I'm going to be under some heavy duty narcotics, and drugs are ALWAYS fun.

Rocker Billy Joel has the song "Only The Good Die Young".  There are no worries by this cat, as I'm not as good as people think I am, so I won't be dying anytime soon.  Besides which.., I'm a Juggalo!  And wicked clowns, never NEVER DIE!!!