Brain Freeze

 

I've never experienced, quote-unquote, brain freeze.  I understand from those who have that it can be quite intense and very painful.  On that same note, I've also never had an ear ache, nor been in love.  Although I have never experienced any of these things and, I'm sure, a plethora of other personal experiences, I do believe these things to exist.

For some, seeing is believing.  I've never seen oxygen, but I know it fills my lungs every time I inhale.  I've never witnessed the electricity that runs through my walls, but I know that if I flip a light switch a light will illuminate a room or plug something into a wall, it will operate.  I have no clue how the internet works, but when I click the button in the top right-hand corner of this page, this blog will be posted to the internet for almost no one to read.

This belief, "seeing is believing" is what prompts me to the subject matter of this edition of my Brain Matter.  I was recently reminded of a conversation that I overheard during a lunch break, many many years ago.  It was so asinine that it has permanently burned itself into my inner brain, like a brand that will never fade.

I know not how they, the people at the next table over, arrived at this point of the conversation, but it was from this point on that I was intrigued by the logic involved and by logic, I mean, the lack there of.

Richard was an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a thick mustache. He was maybe in his late-fifties, early-sixties, at the time.  I'd just taken a slurp of my soup when I overheard Richard mutter the words, "They say dinosaurs were real, but I've never seen one, so I doubt they ever were."  I nearly did a spit take all over the fella sitting across from me at my table.

With a smart ass smirk smeared across my face and soup dripping down my chin, I turned around to confront that piece of wisdom, but before I could speak, Richard added to his diatribe, "But I believe unicorns were real."

I was in disbelief, not that his beliefs were foolish at best, but that he was being serious.  When I first overheard his contribution to the conversation, I thought he might be talking in jest, tongue-in-cheek, making a feeble attempt to be absurd, but he was dead serious.  I first asked him how he was supposed to see a dinosaur, being that they had been extinct for tens of millions of years prior to human existence.  Richard shrugged and said, "Show me proof."

I paused for a moment and mentioned that there were literally museums all over the world that housed complete skeletons of dinosaurs, ranging in tiny molluscs all the way up to gargantuan Brontosaurus', but Richard informed me that he doesn't like going to museums.  The response made no sense as to why he'd deny the existence of dinosaurs only because of a dislike for viewing history through the museums of the world.  So I broached the logic of the unicorn.

"There's absolutely no proof that unicorns ever existed." I said, "How is it you believe they were real?"

Richard looked at me with a blank stare and spoke these words through his thick mustache, "Because the Irish Rovers* had a song about unicorns."  I stared back at Richard, utterly speechless, experiencing a true WTF moment, completely in disbelief that this was the logic of a man, who for all consideration, was responsible for operating dangerous equipment on the manufacturing floor, where we worked at the time.

"So by that logic," I said, "Because the Irish Rovers also have a song about Grandma being runover by a reindeer, Santa Claus is real?"

Richard looked at me like I was speaking another language, replying, "No.  That's just stupid."

The exchange had concluded and I spun my chair back around and finished my lunch.  It's been nearly a decade since we had that exchange.  I'm sure Richard has long since passed away, but if he hasn't, then I'm almost certain he's wasting his golden years sitting in his living room, listening to old Irish Rover records and believing that same stupid shit.

I was telling my mother about that conversation about a week ago.  She cocked her head to the side, like a German Shepherd when you mention going for a walk.  "What the hell?" she said, total disbelief that there are people in this world who really are that foolish.

The conversation reminded me of another short conversation that I had with Ernie, who sat at the end of the lunch table where I sat.  Ernie was a devout Christian or one of those seriously religious groups.  In all honesty, I don't know the difference between any of them, but over the years, I've managed to keep my beliefs on the matter, to myself, and not confront anyone, unless they start pushing that nonsense on me.

The movie, NOAH, starring Russell Crowe and Jennifer Connelly had just come out.  Knowing that I went to a lot of movies, Ernie asked if I had seen it yet.  I told him 'no', that I had no interest in seeing it, then asked if he had.  Suddenly, Ernie's demeanour changed from the happy-go-lucky man that he usually portrayed himself as, switching to a more serious appearance.

Ernie leaned in close, as if to tell me a secret, then pointing a finger at me, shaking it like he was scolding me for finishing the last piece of cake, he sternly uttered the words, "NO! I refuse to see that movie because it's historically inaccurate."

Okay.  Now I was hooked.  Historically inaccurate?  "How do you mean, historically inaccurate?" I asked, "Based on what?"

Ernie sat back in his chair, almost befuddled by the question, confused that I didn't know what reference he was speaking of.  "Why, the bible, of course."

I shrugged my shoulders in defeat and left it at that.  I usually like to have all the facts if I'm going to argue anything with anyone, but I know very little about the bible.  I only have my own theories that are based on nothing, really, but it's my own gospel, so-to-speak, and no one, or very few, will ever agree with me on that.

Years ago, I attended some counselling for anger issues.  I went through a Christian Counselling Center, only because it was essentially free.  I only had to pay what I could afford, which was usually around $10 to $20.  In the sessions, the counsellor would give me homework assignments that would involve reading passages from the bible and I'll be honest.  They helped.  However, I never put much more credibility into the bible than just that.  Like Aesop's Fables, the stories are merely reflections of experiences, meant to guide its readers down a straight and moral path.  Nothing more.  I don't view Jesus as a spiritual leader, but as a figure head.  Just as I see Ronald McDonald as a figure for a company that slings shitty hamburgers, I see Jesus as the mascot for better living.

I've never experienced brain freeze.  I've never seen oxygen or been in love.  These are all things that I cannot see, but believe in and yes.  The irony of that is not lost on me.  Just because I can't see an invisible man who lives in the sky, doesn't mean he doesn't exist, but.... Come on!  I've never seen it, so it can't be true. 😄

There's No Place Like Home

My dad told me a joke when I was young.  He asked "Why do you think it's so windy in Saskatchewan?"  I thought for a moment and shrugged my shoulders.  "Because Manitoba blows and Alberta sucks!"  He smiled then we both shared a chuckle.  I always thought it to be a play on words, as most residents of whatever city or province, always boasts there home territory to be superior to anywhere else.  It wasn't until I was older and able to visit these other provinces, where I was able to learn that this simple joke was based more in reality than jest.

I've been to Manitoba only a hand full of times.  It was winter every time and it was cold as f*ck.  The folks were friendly, as their license plate caption implies, but god damn it was cold.  It makes sense why the movie "White Out" filmed in Manitoba, doubling it for Antarctica.  Friendliness aside, though, there was entirely too many french folks for my liking too.  I'm not saying that all French folks are bad.  I have a few friends who are of the French persuasion, and their alright.  But in my past I've roomed with a French bloke and he was quite a bastard, hence my dislike for the people.  How does that old saying go?  It only takes one rotten apple to spoil the bunch?

Alberta, on the other hand...  Oy!  Where do I start?  I had the "pleasure" (and I use that term loosely) of living in Edmonton for about six months of my younger life, and I regretted ever f*cking moment of that time. I lived in squalor, making next to no money, then had the misfortune of rooming with some really skeevy thieving motherf*ckers, which made the experience all the more worse.  That was a number of years ago, but fast forward to more recent events and the province hasn't improved much at all.  People are (seemingly) angry all over.  I met a couple of decent and friendly folks, but two "good apples can't save a basket of rotten ones", I'm afraid.

As some may know I went to the wedding of two dear friends in British Columbia, a province I might add was a real pleasure to visit.  Everyone was so freakin' nice there.  If I had to choose any other province to live in, I'd seriously consider this one.  Aside from the excessively high price of gasoline and the "scary-as-f*ck" taxi cab drivers, my experience in this place was exceptional.

My original plan was to fly out to Kelowna, British Columbia, then rent myself a sporty car, like a Camaro or Dodge Challenger, once I'd gotten there.  However, I thought I'd take some time off from work and drive myself out, stopping at a couple of touristy locations along the way.  My first stop was going to be in Drumheller, Alberta, the proclaimed Dinosaur Capital of the World, on account that such a variety of dinosaur bones were discovered in it's Red River beds in the early part of the 20th century.  I got away from my home late on Wednesday, May 22nd and never got into Drumheller until about 5pm, just in time to discover that the tourist attraction in town was closing.  "What the f*ck kind of tourist attraction, closes at 5 o'clock in the afternoon?" I thought rudely to myself.

The next day I was treated poorly at the Tyrell Museum just outside Drumheller.  I was mistreated and verbally assaulted at a Tim Horton's in Calgary.  A woman flipped me the bird in Canmore, because I failed to wait forever for her to waddle her fat 400lb ass across the sidewalk.  (That may have been my fault, but show some f*cking class.)  I never was really shown any kindness in Alberta, except for the lady at the Fossil Gift Shop in Drumheller, who stayed open later for me to buy some stuff for my nephews.  (She got a kick out of my story about the guy at my work who doesn't believe dinosaurs ever existed, but that unicorns did.)  Some gay, or at least I think he was gay, kid at McDonald's who was just too happy to serve me, and a woman working at the Esso in Canmore.  Everyone else, to my recollection, were kind o' douchie.

My stay in Kelowna rocked.  The gas, I saw at one place, was as high as $1.53 per Liter, which blows, but I never filled up there.  Everyone was super-nice.  As I said, I'd live in British Columbia, if I had to live anywhere else in Canada, rather than Saskatchewan.

Sunday was the day I was to head back.  I'd researched online and found a decent hotel to stay in Calgary.  The plan was to drive to Calgary, stay the night, go to the zoo on Monday, then drive to Drumheller to use my free pass, then home.  The TraveLodge in Calgary must've cleaned one room for the internet site, because the outside of the hotel looked shabby and I barely stepped into the lobby as the stink drove me back out to the parking lot.  I checked the weather forecast for Monday, which called for thunder and lightning showers, and I said "F*ck it!", drove to Drumheller and used my free pass to the Royal Tyrell Dinosaur Museum, which I managed to check out in about an hour, and was unimpressed.  I was always lead to believe that dinosaurs were SO FREAKIN' HUGE, but this didn't seem to be the case with the ones on display in this museum.  The dinosaurs skeletons I saw there, weren't much bigger than maybe an elephant or hippo.  The Tyrannosaurus Rex they had on display, looked like a punk-ass bitch.  Big teeth, sure, but a bitch nonetheless.

I was so happy when I was able to get a hold of my mother, instructing her to bring my cat, Monkey, back to my house, as I was heading home at that moment.  Five hours later, I was stepping into my wonderful house and hugging my beautiful little boy, Monkey.  There's no place like home, indeed.

Tattered Dreams

People say that one should avoid ever meeting their idols, for your perceived idea of who they are and what kind of a person they are, often differs greatly from reality.

I would hardly consider the town of Drumheller, Alberta, Canada as my "idol", nor even in the Top Ten of places to ever visit in my life.  However, the idea of learning shit, especially about dinosaurs, brings out the young boy in me.

I've driven, or ridden rather, through Drumheller, Alberta, two or three times in my life.  I've always wanted to stop and explore, but my travel companions never shared my enthusiasm on the matter.  So when the opportunity came for me to travel through the town once again, flying solo this time, on my way to British Columbia for a friends wedding, I jumped at the chance to stop in the town that had always eluded me before.

Drumheller is said to be one of the largest beds of dinosaur fossils in the world.  A reputation that is not lost on this town.  Dinosaurs can be seen depicting all sorts of colour schemes and elaborate poses on almost every street corner.  Wild colours that would hardly make these ancient creatures blend into the jungle background that once existed in this territory.  The woman at the gift shop was very informative when I was perusing her inventory of authentic fossils and other trinkets.  "This whole area," she told me, "Was once underwater and this creature..."

She pointed to a large fossilized head, approximately 4 feet by about 2 feet in size, perched atop a grand display, "Swam in that body of water.  They grew to be about 60 feet in length, but this skull belonged to an adolescent."  Intrigued by her spiel, I purchased a fossilized tooth that stood prominently out of the stone it was rested in, which I will display prominently upon my mantle when I return home.

In all honesty, I didn't know what to expect from Drumheller.  I knew people must've lived here, but I never realized just how bustling the town actually is.  They have all sorts of shit in this town, including a large furniture franchise (The Brick), a Canadian Tire and even a large lumber yard.  I was pleasantly shocked.  On the surface, Drumheller seems like a sweet little town.  What lies underneath is a completely different story.

Nothing sinister, mind you, just swindling.  Because Drumheller is such a destination spot for tourism, I feel that some of the local merchants may be taking liberties with the economy.  I visited four (4) different restaurants before I was able to locate one whose prices weren't a blatant gouge on the visiting tourists.  The first , was a restaurant called Sublime.  Bells should have sounded off in my head when, at dinner time, nobody was in the restaurant.  Then I saw the menu and alarms really did go off in my head.  I've had the privilege of dining in a few fancy restaurants where the prices were quite high, but you paid for the experience and the ambiance, as well as the well-crafted food.  Sublime was a hollowed out old house, the walls clad in baby puke green and black and was poorly lit, despite the sun shining through the dusty windows.  I quickly made up an excuse and made my exit.  Pork chops were priced at $40.  No f*cking thank you.

Next was Dairy Queen.  I figured I'd opt for a fast food chain.  Decent food for a reasonable price.  NOPE!!  I questioned the woman behind the counter on why the prices were SO outrageous.  "Eight dollars for a cheeseburger?  Add four bucks if I want fries and a drink?  Are you kidding?"  She was Asian, fresh off the boat, I suspect as she had no f*cking clue what I'd just said.  "Eat in or take out?" she repeated.

The owner or manager or whatever the f*ck he was, looked up from his newspaper and called out from his table in the empty dining room.  I don't know what he said.  It was broken English, interrupted by the loud freezer behind the counter.  "I'm from Saskatchewan and the prices aren't THIS expensive.  Is this a Drumheller thing?  Hike up the prices for the tourists?"

"We get from Hea- Office.  You no like.  You go back to Saskatchee-ahn."  I remarked that their pricing was horse shit and once more, made my way out the door.  The restaurant next door, was empty.  I drove down the street and noticed restaurant after restaurant had empty parking lots.  Finally, I came upon the McDonald's and the parking lot was full.  I reluctantly went inside and the place was bustling with a constant hum of conversation from the dining room.  Pricing was the same as it was at home, so it made sense why Rotten Ronnie's was so popular.

Grabbed my shit and headed back to my hotel, where I came upon a "lovely" fella in the parking lot who accused me of trying to hit his truck with the door of mine.  "Sorry." I said, moving out of the way, "I'll move to the other side."

"WHAT did you say?!?" he asked angrily.  "Did you call it a piece of shit?"

"No," I said, concerned with the sudden escalation, "I was just ---"

"It may be a piece of shit, but at least it's paid for!  I hate you chicken shit bastards who utter shit under your breath but don't have the balls to back it up!!"

I was confused and I'm sure it showed on my face.  "SIR!!!  I merely said I'd get out of your wa---"

He didn't want to hear any of it.  Got in his truck and f*cked off.  Now I'm paranoid that my truck is going to get keyed by this angry f*ck, as it's parked way on the other side from where my room is located.

I'm going to get a decent night's sleep (I hope) and get the f*ck outta this place early.  I'm going to stop at the Tyrrel Dinosaur Museum on my way out of this shit-hole town, before heading on to Calgary.  I hope shit improves once I arrive there.  As far as Drumheller is concerned, the town will from this day forth, leave a sour and bitter taste in my mouth.  It would've been better had I bi-passed this f*cking town all together.

The Unicorn Guy

The Irish Rovers are a musical group, who formed in 1963 and although their members mostly hail from Ireland, they are considered a Canadian talent, who have represented our fair country at five World's Fairs.  They have many a popular song throughout the decades, including the hits "Puff The Magic Dragon" and "Wasn't That A Party".  What are their relevance to this blog, you're probably wondering?  Keep reading, as I'll be more than happy to connect the dots for you.

Quite often, while I eat my lunch at work, I keep quiet, opting to listen to everyone else's chatter.  Most times, they speak of their private lives, of which I know nothing about.  However, sometimes the subject matter is so ridiculous, that I can't help but chime in or snicker at the goofiness of it all. 

Today was just one of those silly days.  I don't know what lead up to the subject, but someone muttered about horse flies.  They joked about the small insect actually resembling a horse, but with wings.  They all chuckled at the absurdity.  Then the woman, H______ asked, "I've heard of Horse Fish, but they're not real, are they?"

"You mean, Sea Horses?" I asked.

"Yeah.  Sea Horses aren't real are they?"

"Sea Horses ARE real," I reassured, adding, "It's Sea Unicorns that are make believe."

That's when their conversation really took a sharp left.  The sole male at the table remarked, "Yeah, I'm fairly certain that Unicorns were real.  They don't exist anymore, but I'm pretty sure they did."

I couldn't believe my ears.  Did this guy, just claim that the mythical creature, the unicorn, actually lived at some point in the history of the world?

"No." said another, seated at the table, "Unicorns were never real."

"Finally," I thought to myself, "Someone with a lick of intelligence."

"I think you're wrong," he said, "The Irish Rovers sang a song, The Unicorn, so they must be real."

My jaw dropped, nearly slamming my lunch into the table.  "By that logic," I interjected, "Because the Irish Rovers sang a song about Grandma being hit by a reindeer on Christmas Eve, then Santa Clause must be real, too!"

His table (and mine) laughed at the absurd remark, while R____, aka Unicorn Guy, just smiled, realizing he'd just been bested.  Then adding insult to injury, he laid another ridiculous claim.  "Now dinosaurs, I doubt ever existed.  I can't prove that they didn't, but no scientist can convince me that they did."

Wh-wh-wh-whaaat?!?

"They say that they can test their bones and prove that they existed 65,000 years ago..."

"Sixty-five MILLION..." someone said, correcting him.

"Okay.  Sixty-five million years ago.  How can they say it was sixty-five million years ago, if no one was alive then..?"

So B___, the voice of reason at the table, explained the process of carbon testing.  She is very soft-spoken and I couldn't make out most of what she'd said, if anything at all, but of the bits and pieces I did hear, it sounded logical, but R_____, Unicorn Guy, wouldn't have any of it.  "Nope.  The Earth wasn't here 65,000,000 years ago.  I don't believe it for one second."

"Like I said, I can't prove that dinosaurs never existed, just as scientists can't prove to me that they did, but one thing is for sure.  I know that unicorns were real." the man deposed.

In the end, he wouldn't budge on his beliefs.  Dinosaurs are make believe and unicorns were f*cking real, in his universe.  Also the world isn't millions of years old, but only came into existence when mankind arrived.

I can't believe that there are people like this in the world.  Frickin' moronic people like this in the world.  R____ is a likable enough fella, but wow...

In the end, I can't really fault the guy for sticking by his beliefs.  As goofy as they are, they're no worse than the fact that millions of people in the world believe in an invisible man who lives in the clouds, who sees our every move and choices and helps guide us all by listening to your wishful prayers... 

Give me a break!!!