First Name Basis

Like the late Art Linkletter used to say on his program, "Kids say the darndest things."  It's as true today as it was when his version hit the airwaves in the forties and fifties, the only difference being that today's children are a little more educated.  Or at least, they believe they are.

There's a number of children who ride the school bus that seem to speak a lot about toilets, poop and their "male appendages".  One boy, in particular, I've had to warn a number of times, explaining that it was inappropriate to talk about such content in the presence of little girls.  "A good boy," I said, "Wouldn't do that."

To tell the truth, I'm so out of the loop when it comes to kids, nowadays.  They're a far cry from when I was their age.  I want to say it's bad parenting, but in truth, it's probably something in the water that makes them this way.  When I was a little boy getting on the bus, I'd find a seat and sit quietly until we arrived at school.  Today, the kids are hyper as f*ck, and can barely sit still when the climb aboard.  It's crazy, I tell ya.  Crazy.

For the most part, I ignore it, recalling a helpful reminder a friend told me years ago in reference to circumstances beyond our control.  It is what it is.  Five simple single-syllable words that I've valued in the five-plus years since hearing it.  So much so, that I once almost got it tattooed to the palm of my hand.  That way, I could look at it during stressful situations involving stupidity.  A last reminder before slapping my forehead with frustration.  The craziness displayed by the kids, is the same.  Nothing I say or do, will deter them from acting like wild monkeys.  It's not all of them, thankfully, but just enough to drive a man to drink.  But, there's a paycheck in it for me to endure the insanity.  Less than minimum wage, mind you, but in a job market that has very little to offer, it's what I'm stuck with for now...  It is what it is...

This morning presented a break from the constant chirping, hooting and howling that the boys in the front two seats make.  At first I was thankful.  A few fleeting seconds to regain whatever sanity I had left.  That's when I overheard someone singing a song.  It went with the tune of the Oscar Mayer wiener commercial.  You know the one, "My wiener has a first name. It's O-S-C-A-R..," only this one's lyrics were drastically changed.  I only heard a couple verses before I kiboshed it.

"My penis has a first name, it's P-E-N-I-S.  And it makes me laugh when it wears a funny dress."

While it is catchy enough to tap your toe to, I doubt it's a real song.  However, if this kid thought this up on his own, he may have a future writing dirty limericks.  Still, highly inappropriate for a five year old boy to sing in mixed company.

I don't like to squash the laughter and fun that these kids have.  Some of my fondest memories of school was the ride home on the school bus.  Back then, however, we never spoke of such things.  I don't know what to do with these kids.  Grin and bear it, I suppose.  Treat this job like every other job I've ever had that I grew to resent.  Count the hours until the next weekend or day off.  After all, in those inspirational words of my friend: It is what it is...

The Thin Line Between Insanity and Motivation

If I may, I'd like to move aside and address a subject of a more serious note.  I'm at my wits end and I don't know what else to do.  I've tried to be reasonable, but these little monsters can't be reasoned with and I'm slowly beginning to lose my f*cking mind.

As some may know, after nearly a year of unemployment, the only job that I was able to procure was that of a school bus driver.  At the time, I had just about as many naysayers as I had support in my decision to accept this vocation.  Oddly (to most normal people, but not to myself) it was my immediate family who told me I never had the temperament for the position.  That I would lose my cool with the children and go off like some kind of madman.  Screaming and swearing like a lunatic sailor.  I know myself better than 99.9999% of everyone around me and I can say with all certainty, this would never happen, nor will it.  I will admit, however, that there have been incidents.., in the past..., where, YES, I went off on a deserving individual.  Case and point, that fellow a few years ago who disrespected Remembrance Day, saying it was a scam because poppies are a major contributor to the narcotic known the world over as, Heroin.  I lost it on the motherf*cker and I'd do it again, if needed be.  With the children, on the other hand, never.  No matter how f*cking stupid some of their antics are, I wouldn't do that.

Growing up, I was submersed in an environment that provided very little by way of emotional support.  Any dream I had, was quickly dashed as being unrealistic or impossible for someone like me to achieve.  (Thanks mom & dad.)  I'm not making excuses for my limitations in this life, but merely making an example of how I didn't want to be towards the next generation of children.  Whether they be mine, nieces and nephews or anyone's children.  One of the worst things anyone can bear witness to is seeing the light of hope and wonderment fade from a child's eye.  I've seen dreams dissolve in the mirror on more than one occasion in my lifetime.

Driving a school bus is fairly stressful.  It's not the fifty or sixty kids that ride, but the fact that I'm driving something as large as some small bungalows down the street.  From about six months to about the age six years old, my family (mom, dad, sister & I) lived in a small mobile home.  That trailer was about the same size as the school bus that I currently drive.  Couple that with the strains of asshole drivers who constantly cut me off, flip me the bird and just plain drive erratically around me, there's a lot to keep my concentration.  I have seven mirrors in addition to the front windshield, which the instruction manual indicates I cannot maintain a gaze of more than a couple of seconds.  Add in the commotion of fifty or sixty kids (sometimes more) and you have the ingredients for a catastrophe.  I, somehow, manage.  As stressful as all that is, I find it fairly easy to do.  What I find waning on my sanity, is the....  I don't even know how to describe it, other than to label it for exactly what it is.  Stupidity bullshit!!!

It's narrowed down to about three or four boys.  All the girls on the bus, know how to behave.  They break the rules by eating, which is strictly not allowed, but as many times as I've explained why they can't do it, they all know my stand on the subject which is simply:  IF YOU CHOKE AND DIE, IT'S NOT MY PROBLEM!!  Of course, we all know that if someone is to choke and die, it's DEFINITELY going to be my problem, but they don't need to know that.  The boys on the other hand...  Driving me f*cking insane!!

Some days, there's one or two who like to talk about their "little boy parts", which I've explained is unacceptable, but that goes in one ear and out the other.  There's been talk of pooping on one another or throwing said poop at people, mainly girls.  Or what I find to be the most intolerable, the plain nonsensical noises.

Tonight, I had to deal with fog, icy roads, asshole drivers, an overheating bus and six children screaming at the top of their lungs, the words "bub, bub, bub"!!  Repeatedly, for eighty percent of the run, "bub, bub, bub".  If it were in unison, it'd almost be tolerable, but it was like a war.  One kid would shout out the name of another, repeatedly until the kid would answer, "What?!"

"Bub, bub, bub, bub, bub, bub...!!!"

"Quiet down!" I'd say sternly.  There'd be a short reprieve, then "Hey H_____! Bub, bub, bub, bub, bub...!!"  .....Well God damn!! Seconds later, they'd all chime in, once again, the insanity returning li like an overpowering avalanche of noise and destruction.

Before letting them off at their stop, I spoke with the culprits, sternly explaining that the bus is not a playground.  That the foolishness that they do on the playground cannot be played out on the bus.  That their excessive noise is very distracting and could cause us to have an accident.  As I looked at the silent group staring back at me I knew my words really hit home...  Literally.  They went in one ear and out the other, echoing off the walls of the bus.  Boys can be so God damned stupid, sometimes.

I'm at my wit's end.  I don't know what else to do.  After dropping the kids at their last stop, I was steaming.  I was so frustrated with the entire scenario that it finally gave me that kick in the pants that I needed.  I know what I need to do now.  The answers are so clear.  Like a crystal hanging in the sunlight, it's light appearing so vividly in all it's colourful splendor.  This insanity is the motivation I need to commit to writing the exams to get those other licenses that I need to get out of this whole school bus driving bullshit.  I like most of the kids.  I really do.  Most of them are great.  It's just the two or three that are pissing me off enough to make me wanna leave.  I'm going to write those tests next week.  Wish me luck!!

Invincible

When we are young, we're fearless.  Not feat seems too daunting, no outcome too dangerous or frightening.  As kids, we may be afraid of what may be lurking in the shadows of our closets or creeping about under our beds, but in real life, outside, we're braver than the most courageous knight.

In high school, I recall having a healthy respect for the ski slope of our nearby Mount Blackstrap.  In comparison to the Rockies which tower over Western Canada, Blackstrap was a mere gopher hill, but gravity is gravity.  Crashing on a pair of skis is going to hurt, no matter what location you may be at the time.  However, there were small children visiting the ski hill that day, and while I, personally, was taking great caution in moving down the slopes, careful not to fall, yet again, my efforts were quite frivolous compared to the hoards of screaming and laughing children, streaking past me in a flash, sans ski poles.  Without trying, their very existence mocked me and my need for careful circumspection.

Fearless.

I used to be fearless in other ways.  One example would be my ability to overcome hot 'n' spicy foods.  Once upon a time, I attended a function where hot buffalo wings were served.  They were especially hot, but I was able to devour them with the greatest of ease.  While other people were panicking, searching out cold beverages to sooth their burning mouths and tissue to wipe the tears from their eyes, I sat back and mocked their inferiority with great disdain.

As time passed by, over the years, my tolerance for such spicy foods has fallen by the wayside.  No longer can I mock those affected by the extreme temperatures, but instead, have become the one who is mocked.  I ordered the "Pansy Wings" one night at a local watering hole, after work.  The people mocked me at the absurdity that I would purchase something so undaring and weak.  The ridiculing I got when I placed my order fell by the wayside compared to the teasing I received when they 'pansy wings' arrived and they affected me in a negative way, equal to that, if I would have received something much more spicy.  My eyes grew big, red and teary, while my lips got fat and swollen.  I shrugged off every poke and prod with every sniffle of my runny nose.  To this day, I'm fairly certain the cook read "pansy wings" on the order ticket, then thought it funny to give me the "Suicide Wings", they were THAT hot!

I have dabbled some, when it comes to spicy foods, but I don't go overboard.  When I do, I suffer such indigestion, that I swear death would be an improvement.  Of the foods I have been able to consume without much suffering, includes some chili con carne, which may have some heat to it, but nothing over the top.  Another snack I've been able to endure are jalapeno poppers.  The hollowed out pepper filled with cream cheese and lightly breaded.  Once in a blue moon, I'll bite into one that is unbelievably hot, but more times than not, they're pretty tame.  The same goes for the light rolls also known as 'antojitos'.  I've had them in the past, and while they do contain ingredients of a tempered nature, the cream cheese in them have always been able to stave off the heat.

Fast forward to this evening.  Following the Norm MacDonald comedy show, myself and a friend, decided to go for a beverage and a snack.  I'd not eaten since before noon, so I was famished.  I perused over the menu and decided on a pulled pork poutine and an order of antojitos.  The poutine was fine, despite the pulled pork having the consistency of meat that sat under a heat lamp since late morning.  The antojitos, on the other hand....  Jesus Christ.., let me tell you.  Hotter than a motherf**ker.  I ate only one piece out of the five that were presented on the plate and the scorching heat was nearly unbearable.  Every passing moment, for me, was more uncomfortable than the preceding one.  Every inch burned like a wildfire as it passed down my esophagus to my stomach.  It blazed the entire route like Marty McFly's DeLorean time machine.

That was it.  I'd had enough.  I asked the waitress to box it up, adding that it was much to hot for me to finish.  Kind as she was, the waitress spoke to her supervisor and had it deleted from my bill.  She still boxed it up for me, but I handed it off to my friend, whose constitution with spicy foods is much better than my own.

I remember when I was invincible, but sadly those days are long gone.  It's said with age, comes wisdom.  Funny thing is...  I don't feel any wiser.

Kids Say The God Damnedest Things

For a few months, now, I've been driving a school bus.  Not an ideal vocation, but given it's the only company that would hire me after ten months of unemployment, there are worse jobs to have out there and for far less money.   The hours are fantastic, less than two hours overall, but those are dissected by about six hours.  Six hours that I probably should be using more advantageously than I have, but instead I watch TV and or snooze on the couch.  I have learned a thing or two during this short tenure.  I actually enjoy the driving aspect and plan on parlaying this gig into something that pays a f*ck of a lot better.  Another thing I've learned, although I've always suspected it as the truth.  Kids, for the most part, are dumb as shit!!  Whether it's trying to get them to understand how to sit in a seat straight, so as to not fall out or under the seats in the event of an accident or just getting them to keep their clothes on.  Yes, there's one little trouble maker who likes to remove his pants and shake his booty in his seatmate's face.  I often scratch my head in bewilderment, because I've nothing to bang my head up against.

The other morning, though, one of the troublemakers got on the bus for school.  He's not the strip-down kid, but the tattletale who rats out every other kid on the bus, never admitting to any of his own shortcomings.  He sat across from "stripper"-kid and began telling him about the fantastic life that he and his family were about to embark on.

"My mom made a thousand dollars." he told the children around him.  "She made a thousand dollars!  Do you know how much that is?"

The children around him muttered with confusion, no one piping up to tell him that a thousand dollars really wasn't that much.

"That's enough money that my mom is going to buy a brand new car.  And she's going to get a house.  And she's thinking about getting a limo."

I smiled at the innocence and idiocy of his statements, looking on into the bright sun that was blinding my view of the road.

"A limo," he began to explain to those unaware of what it was, "Is a long car.  It's really long and we all sit in the back.  Only rich people get limousines, and that's what we are now, because my mom made a thousand dollars."

There was a short pause, then he continued with his speech, "Yeah.  We're thinking about building a bouncy castle for my birthday.  We might build two bouncy castles, though.  I'd like to build two.  One that looks like a castle and I don't know what the other should look like yet."

It was about this time that I pulled up to his school and the kids all filed off.  I thought about how kids really don't know the value of a dollar, anymore.  They have shit much too easy, these days.  It reminded me of a TV show where the kids on there spoke of how "it used to be in the olden days".  

"If you wanted to watch a TV show, you had to be there at the exact time to watch it.  There wasn't any recording and watching it later." the character said, shocking all his siblings at the preposterousness of the idea.

I guess it's like Art Linkletter used to say, "Kids say the darnedest things."

Creep Creepin' Along

There is one school situated between my workplace and home.  One school zone in which the speed limit is reduced from 50 kilometers per hour, to a snail's pace of just 30 km/h.  Understandable it is, that the speed should be reduced as children are often seen jetting out into the street, in a streak of excitement at another day done and one day closer to the weekend.  There are no children where I work, but come quitting time, there's a mad rush into the parking lot and an even greater mad dash to exit the parking lot.

It was just a few years ago, that on his way to school, some small child cut across the street, in the middle of the block, and found his short life cut even shorter, as he was struck down by a passing automobile.  From that day forward, the speed limit was cut in front of schools.  Whether they be schools still open or not, for that matter.  I once received a speeding ticket while passing a school that had been closed down for some years.  A stupid loop-hole that even the cop admitted was "bullshit", however his hands were tied and I was summoned a pricey ticket.

The speed limit, to me, literally is a snail's pace.  My truck is barely at an idle as I creep down the street.  I still glance to the side, making sure that no children come darting out in front of me.  Kids can be pretty stupid sometimes, just like that little peckerwood all those years ago, who failed to see the cars heading for him.  "Check both ways, stupid!!"  Today, though, I realized that this low speed also seems a little creepy.  Oodles of drivers creeping past schools, looking for delinquent kids?  That sounds (and looks) really offbeat.  Probably the only real saving grace is, most everyone are not driving unmarked panel vans, and I'm pretty god damned sure that no one behind the wheel, is sporting a clown suit.

F*ck Bullies!!!!

Kids be getting soft these days. That's what I'm thinking. Decades of mothers and fathers coddling their kids, teaching them to be soft, rather than calloused to what life brings them. If they fall down and scrape their knee, they're babied until the bleeding stops, rather than dad calling out, "Suck it up you wimp!" The latter is how I was raised. That and a lot more.

I see in the news repeatedly how this teenager and that teenager, is turning to suicide in order to deal with bullying in school. What could be said that is SO bad, that ending your life is better than just coping with the constant scurrility.

I, myself, was bullied relentlessly in my early school years. I recall being singled out in the seventh, eighth and ninth grades, especially. Growing up, I was always a sort of scrawny little guy, and therefore a prime target for those bigger than myself. I remember one fellow, in the seventh and eighth grades, named Jimmy. He was a couple years older than the rest of us, high school age I think, and this f*cker would constantly pick on me and try to beat on me. I don't understand why that was. One time he cornered me on the playground, ready to pummel me with his fists, accusing me of "thinking I was so cool". That statement, for the time, was the furthest thing from the truth. Today, on the other hand, I KNOW I am so cool. (Just look at my hair! Damn, I look good!)

High school, presented me with entirely new challenges. Here I was, placed into a sea of adolescents much bigger and older than myself. A whole new pool of social acceptance. I can remember this one guy, a couple of grades above me, who terrorized me for my entire freshman year. Any chance he got, he'd corner me and just lay into me with the insults. I can't remember much about the f*cker, other than he had kind of a pansy mustache, one of those faggy teenage ones, and this deep-seated scowl on his face. I don't remember ever seeing him with his friends, where he'd have a smile on his face. He'd always be a step or two behind a couple other guys, until he'd see me, then his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, and the bullying commenced shortly after that. Midway through the school year, I found myself running late to classes, because I had to take the long way around the school, just to avoid crossing paths with that f*cking guy.

Not once, though, throughout all the hazing and bullying, did I ever think that I'd rather be dead than deal with all this shit. I don't know exactly what it took for me to "survive" the bullying. Lord knows that it wasn't that I hit a growth spurt over the summer. I didn't get that until I was eighteen years old. Far too late for any of it to matter. But looking back now, I can only think it was a couple of things that helped me to survive the taunting.

Number one, was I knew the truth. They'd say one thing, but I knew the alternative to be the truth. The goof in high school, constantly had me cornered, pushed back between a couple of lockers, towering over me calling me "a little faggot" and other similar slurs, but I always knew that I was not a gay. (He probably was, but I sure as hell was not!)

Number two, and I had to think long and hard on this one, but it makes sense. I grew up in an alcoholic family. That is, my dad was an alcoholic, the rest of us were on the receiving end of it. Today I harbour no ill-will towards my dad, recognizing the experience as Jeckyll & Hyde. When he was sober, my dad was the best. When he was drunk, which at the time was A LOT, he was a f*cking horror show. Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger have nothing on my dad when he was rip-snortin' drunk. And this, I believe is the other reason I survived the bullying I received at school. For I know, no matter what these small-dicked idiots could dish out on me at school, my drunk father could dish out ten times (if not more) worse abuse.

So that is my secret to success, but what about all these teenagers today, who would rather swallow a bottle of pills or eat a f*ckin' bullet, than deal with the atrocities that berate them on a daily basis. Some might argue that today's youth are faced with an entirely different era than when I was a boy. Today, there's something called "cyber-bullying", in which tech-savvy bullies take to the world wide web, and post a plethora of untruths on Facebook, Twitter and whatever other social websites there are. Well I don't buy this a a viable reason for offing one's self. Bullies take to these sites because of the anonymity involved. Why, then, can't the victims return like with like. Fight fire with fire. Do like Sean Connery said in the Untouchables. "If they bring a knife, you bring a gun. If they put one of your guys in the hospital, you put one of theirs in the morgue."

Now as I'm writing that line, I have flashbacks of Columbine and alike. I don't mean victims of bullying should bring small arms to school and open fire. That's a bullshit, p*ssy way out of things. I mean fight your oppressors with words. I personally have attacked many a person with my words, and in some instances have caused quite a turmoil. I'm still receiving mail concerning my pledge that Chewbacca from Star Wars, was gay for Han Solo, and I suspect I will continue to receive mail over that. But that's good. It means I'm always on someone's mind. The victims of bullying can do the same. Post all sorts of shit about your bully. It doesn't matter if it's true. None of the shit they're saying about you is truth (in all likelihood).

Today, there's a large movement to end bullying. A valiant effort, this is true. I don't think we will ever see the end of bullying, to be completely honest, as bullying is everywhere. Corporate America bullies the poor. Big government bullies the other parties. "The Simpsons" has been on TV for over two decades now, and nearly every week, you see poor Bart and Milhouse handing over their lunch money to the school bullies. The WWE, which I have not laid eyes upon since Wrestlemania, constantly pits one super heavyweight wrestler against a lightweight grappler. Tell me how fair it is to see a 400lb behemoth fight against another fellow who's barely 5'8"?

Bullying is everywhere. It's a global epidemic. It will never end, sadly. So we need to find other alternatives to combating it. Teachers need to be more diligent. Whenever I was cornered as a young lad, lots of teachers would pass by, but not a one ever stopped to check and see if I was okay. They'd just smile and nod and keep on their way. I think most teachers and school officials know it to be going on, but are oblivious to recognizing it when they come upon it. I think better training needs to be given to school officials and stronger consequences to those who are caught.

"A show of hands. Who here has been the victim of bullying?" a man said to a group of kids during a television program earlier. A majority of hands were raised, including his own. "Now who here has bullied other people?" No hands were raised, except his own. He, admitting that in addition to being bullied, he too had bullied others. Only then, through that honesty, did one or two hands get raised. Everyone is willing to admit they're picked on, but never want to admit to being the monster themselves. As for me. Yeah. I think it could be said, that I've bullied a couple others. I don't remember who, or what the circumstance, but I have bullied. I'm not proud of it, but it is what it is. I can only learn from it and move on.

The same goes for those who find themselves victim to bullying and ridicule. Don't f*cking kill yourself. That shit doesn't solve anything. It makes your family miserable, because they couldn't help you. It makes the bullies feel invincible because they drove you to it. What you need to do, is LIVE. Live your life. If for no other reason, but out of spite. If your oppressors "hate" you that much, think of how miserable you're going to make their shitty little lives, by living yours to the fullest. Then when your a success, you can look down your nose at them as they fill your car up with gas or give you french fries with your burger order. F*ck them.

She Whistles When She Walks

"The only thing more pathetic than having 20 kids, is watching a television show about people having 20 kids." - Chelsea Handler

News broke last week about the Duggar family, who are showcased on TLC's "19 Kids and Counting", are expecting their 20th child. Holy f*ck! I can't help but reflect back on the days when my sister and brother-in-law's faces would light up with a sigh of relief when I'd step through the door. A break from their one and only child (at the time), who god bless him, was a ball of energy that would run them ragged for hours and hours. My appearance would give them the opportunity to rest and recharge their batteries. I can't fathom the idea of 19 little monsters running around wreaking havoc on a household. Insanity would soon follow, I'm almost certain.

I realize that every child that is born is a little miracle in and of itself, and having learned the history of miscarriages early on in the Duggar's family life, I understand that each and every child could be construed as a blessing. But Jesus Christ!!! When is enough, enough? Bringing just one child into a world that is already spinning out of control, is almost debateable in it's own right, but bringing nearly two dozen into it? What the hell?

They're quoted as saying "it's God's will". But even God himself has to be scratching his head with disbelief and confusion.

At least they appear to be able to afford such a large family, with the older kids able to venture out and earn some of their own spending money, and not having to rely on mom and dad. Unlike that Octo-mom bitch, who constantly has her hand out for monetary assistance.

Still... My head shakes with disbelief that people can be so irresponsible. Citing that it's "God's will". Maybe if God was wanting to form his own professional football team, but even then, the eldest children will be of retirement age by the time the youngsters will be eligible to suit up.

Using religion as an excuse for having so many kids, is irresponsible. Especially, when you consider most religions to be full of shit anyway. How many times has some radical used the bible as an excuse for their acts of terrorism or alike? Once more, there's God (if he truly exists) up there in the Heavens, leafing through his copy of the bible wondering "Where the f*ck did I say that?!?"

Grant you this, though. The creative process for making 20 plus pregnancies is fun. And if you look at any of the pictures of the Duggar family, they all look happy, especially the Michelle, the mom. Always bright and cheery. Always whistling... Not from her mouth, but when she walks...

[Insert joke here.]