The F Word

I try to be light-hearted and jovial in this blog, but sometimes LIFE just kicks me in the nads and suddenly my tendency to laugh at shit is lost.  In my most recent post of Jeff's Brain Matter, I wrote of that chick who tricked me on the Facebook.  Tricked me into thinking I was something that I'm clearly not.  This edition today, may touch base on that, slightly, but this isn't going to be a vehicle to further run myself down.  I just need to vent.  In lieu of lying back on a therapists couch, this medium can be very therapeutic.  I recommend everyone have a blog to work out their thoughts.

Recently, a former high school chum posted some kind of malarkey on the Facebook defending the importance of bees and hornets.  I do recognize that bees are important, but hornets?  I replied that I detest hornets, especially when they fly into my house.  I mentioned that I swat the hell outta them and if they're still twitching, I add salt to their proverbial wound, by taking them out to one of the many ant hills in my yard and I serve them up to the ants to devour that sucker alive.  Circle of life, kind of shit.  She replied to my comment that I was "full of hate".

I don't hate anything, except maybe hate, itself.  On closer inspection, I guess I can add to that, I also hate the F-word.  Not F*CK, but the other F-word.  FAKE!!

I've never been a fan of the word fake, going way back to when I began watching professional wrestling.  While the matches are often scripted or pre-determined, and yes, much of the moves done in the ring are done in a manner to cause the least amount of real harm, accidents happen and people do get hit for real and real injuries occur and sometimes, even worse. 

RIP Owen Hart. 😔

What those men and women can do in that ring, night in and night out is nothing short of incredible and for people to slough it off as nothing more than pretend, is f*cking offensive.

My disdain for fake lies much further across the borders of just professional wrestling.  I hate fake people.  People who pretend to be that which they are not.  People who expend SO much energy into pretending to be someone or something else, instead of working on themselves to be honest to who they are.  By my own admission, I've mentioned that I do mask who I really am from most people.  I don't outright reinvent myself, I just hold back facets of my personality that I don't think mixed company would appreciate.  Is it being dishonest?  Perhaps, but it's not unlike hiding the truth about Santa Claus from our children.  It's a lie, but it's to protect their joy and happiness.  This is similar to what I do.  The only person to see my completeness, a 100% of my personality is my cat and he seems to love me unconditionally so that's good enough for me.

There's a person or several persons on Facebook who pretend to be David Sparks aka Heavy D from TV's Diesel Brothers on Discovery Velocity in Canada (MotorTrendTV in the U.S.)  On Facebook, they will randomly slip into your comments, congratulating you on being a "winner" and invite you to their website, where they will attempt to bamboozle you out of personal information and steal your money and/or identity.  I've never fallen for this fraudulent site, and have repeatedly reported them to the authorities at Facebook, who comeback and claim that they are legitimate.  Meanwhile, Heavy D has posted many times via his own YouTube channel that these sites are fake and shouldn't be followed and to (absolutely) never share any personal information with them.  Facebook turns a blind eye.  F*cking pathetic.  Wish there was a way to police the Facebook police.

This chick that attempted to bamboozle me on Facebook, continued to try and win me over after I busted her on being fake.  "She", if they were even a real she, attempted to tell me that they were a former sex worker and that they left that life.  Meanwhile on YouTube, the very person that she claimed she was, had posted an update to her life in recent months.  On her Twitter, she invited fans to come watch her do a Live Sex Show.  You can't fake LIVE.

Hate is a strong word.  I don't feel comfortable using it.  It's like the word 'love'.  I refuse to say that to anyone, unless I absolutely mean it.  So yes.  If I choose to say "I hate..." then chances are, I really do hate that thing.  I hate liars, cheats and fake people.  I hate the fact that they make me hate.

If people invested as much time and energy into promoting their strong attributes as they do faking their personalities, the world might be a little nicer place to live in.  Don't ya think?

Crimes & Mysteries

For years, I've seen these cruisers blazing about the city.  They look like police cars and I guess they are, but their only concern is related to the CN Rail and the tracks.  So, for all this time, all these years, I've always wanted to ask, but never knew where to direct my queries: Just WHAT do these people police?

I got it in my head yesterday, as I had a lot of extra time to entertain myself, what these guys do.  I related it to the movie, The Adventures of Ford Fairlane, where Andrew Dice Clay played the titular character, Ford Fairlane, who was a "Rock & Roll Detective" who investigated a lot of music related crimes and mysteries.  I equated his duties to that of the CN Rail Police.  They too, investigate train crimes and mysteries.  I don't know if that's true, but for the sake of this posting, that's what I'm sticking with.  At least until someone spoils my fun with facts and this won't be funny anymore.

What kind of crimes and mysteries could possibly be going on in this day and age?  Graffiti seems to be at the top of the list, but as anyone has noticed, while being stuck at a CN railway crossing for twenty minutes or more, the crackdown on railcar graffiti doesn't seem to be working.  As far as the eye can see, it's one unreadable piece of "artwork" after another.  I find it's a real struggle trying to decipher what the hell the messages say that are emblazoned upon each passing car.  If the CN police can't stop the culprits, they should at least make this shit readable.

Other than bad graffiti, what other crimes or mysteries are there to occupy the time of these cops?  I don't think people are still committing train robberies, are they?  Riding up on horseback, sticking some dynamite on the door of an armoured railcar and blasting it to hell, while their cohorts are holding the train engineer at gunpoint.  There's no gold or government money being transferred via train, anymore, is there?  This isn't the 1800s, though given recent news, the frame of mind seems to resemble that of the nineteenth century.

What, exactly, what these men and women of the CN Rail Police do, will remain a mystery.  To me, anyway.  I'm sure whatever it is they do, is important to them and I'm sure that it makes interaction with CN trains more safe.  I don't know.  Does it really matter?

Easy Pickin's

 

School zone enforcement runs from the first day of September to the last day of June, from eight o'clock in the morning to five o'clock in the afternoon, Monday through Friday, whether school is in session or not and you'd better believe that the police services are out there enforcing this speed law, rain or shine.  To illustrate this point, I once received a speeding ticket, almost two decades ago, in front of a school that had been shut down by the city, had been closed for years, yet the school zone was still in effect and even the cop who issued the ticket to me, agreed that it was bullshit, given that no kids had even played on the playground that still existed on the chained up property, in years.

My mother told me about the time she received a ticket while driving to my house.  There's a high school on the corner, next to a strip mall.  The zone where she received her ticket, begins approximately fifteen yards or so (estimating in football terms) before the traffic light.  The light, at the time, was red and she was coasting to a stop, and though she was stopping anyway, the fact that her speed was just above the posted thirty kilometers per hour, one of the fine Saskatoon Police Service officers saw fit to pull my aging mother over and issue her a, in my opinion, undeserving traffic violation.  Keep in mind, that this is a woman who never breaks the speed laws, ever.  It scares me how slow she will travel on any of the roads in Saskatoon.  Even as other vehicles scream past her, she remains five to ten kilometers under the speed limit.  For this reason, I almost always insist on driving when we are together.  So for her to receive a speeding ticket is, not only inappropriate, but downright offensive.  That was a few years ago and nothing that could be addressed in a court of law, today.

My mother is not one for protesting anything. To her detriment, she, all too often, rolls with the punches and gets the short end of the stick.  She further explained how on that particular day, there was a lot of traffic speeding up to beat the yellow light, which doubly upset her that she was the one to get caught because she was slowing down, rather than speeding through the amber.  It is my opinion that it was because she was an easier target and that the cop didn't wish to expel any energy in pursuing those who were clearly in violation.

Her story reminded me of this past weekend when I, too, received a speeding ticket, when I was returning from the Entertainment Expo at the Exhibition Grounds.  Normally, I wouldn't take the route that would bring me through the downtown, but it was the route I'd taken earlier in the day and saw fit to return the same way.  The speed limit on the freeway has always been 90km/h (56mph) as long as I can remember, so when I saw the flashing red-blue lights in my mirror, I thought there was an emergency and I pulled over to the side.  Then I saw the cop pull over to the side as well.  At this point, I still figured that my way was the route that the cop needed, as all the lanes to my left were congested with people driving faster than myself.  They, too, were blazing through the now amber-turned-red traffic light on the other side of the overpass.  I quickly maneuvered around the corner and pulled over to the right, as far as I could, but the black unmarked police car did not pass me, but pulled up behind me.  That's when I seen the gleam of the sun reflecting off the officer's bald ass head as he strode toward my vehicle.

"Do you know why I stopped you?" he asked.  Bewildered by the situation taking place, I said "No."  Then he showed me a device he was holding that showed my speed.  "You were clocked going 92km/h."  To which I replied, "In a 90km zone."  "No," he responded, "In a 70km zone."

I was completely flabbergasted, "When did that change?" 

"It's been seventy for some time, now." he answered.

"But what about all those who were passing me and blowing through the yellow light?  They get off for speeding?"

The constable replied, "They're none of my concern."  He then asked for my driver's license and issued me a ticket for $194.  Talk about some bullshit.

The cops, it seems, would rather scoop up the easy pickin's rather than make an effort to chase down those who are driving dangerously fast.  My initial path would have taken me straight down First Avenue and given that the light was turning amber, I clearly would have stopped for the red.  I never pass through an amber light unless I'm already in the intersection when the light changes or if it's icy and I slide into the intersection, though honestly, that rarely happens.  However, this day, I was the easiest target.

I'm not making excuses.  Clearly I was no longer familiar with the freeway speed, although it's clearly marked as 90km/h almost everywhere on Circle Drive, the bridge being a part of that system, but if he claims it is seventy kilometers per hour, certainly he wouldn't lie just to issue a ticket to little ol' me.  I'm sure there's no corruption on the traffic level of the police service. 🤨

Now I read that the City Council has issued a new bi-law to take effect in September of this year, extending the school zones from 7am to 7pm, despite the idea being extremely unpopular in citywide polls.  Then again, not to discuss politics, our mayor is a major boob.

All day long, I can travel on Circle Drive which encompasses our fair city and constantly be passed by drivers, flashing me the finger as they speed around me.  I used to work along these same roads, in work zones that people know universally that speeds need to be reduced to 60km/h to better ensure safety for those working in the work zone and people refused to do so, the police included.  I can't count how many times that I've nearly died because someone was speeding past me going well over a hundred.  Two years ago, I remember bending over to pick up a piece of refuse, my head merely inches from the shoulder of the road, when a truck sped past me, so close that my hard hat flew off my head.  Looking up, I saw that the black Ram was speeding on the shoulder of the road, passing a stream of cars who blocked his passage.  I can't recall how many times I came close to losing my life while working the roadside of this city. 😔

Seems like some cops only enforce the speed when they feel like it, then when they do, they seem to pick off the easy targets, rather than those who put everyone's safety in jeopardy.  So let's make this easy across the board.  Everyone, myself included, just slow the f*ck down.

Holy Shnikeys!!!

For years I've heard reports of people calling 911 on a number of fast food restaurants when less than appropriate service was given.  Offenses ranging from breakfast no longer being available to Mickey D's running out of McNuggets.  All these years, upon hearing of these incidents, I was left scratching my head, bewildered by the stupidity and naivety of people's use of the emergency number.  Earlier tonight, I finally came to understand the frustration these people must have experienced.

It's been, at least, a couple of months since my last visit through the drive-thru at McDonald's.  Although buying fast food is hardly within my budget, I've been doing well in not wasting cash, lately and didn't feel like slaving over a hot stove and grill for sustenance tonight.  I was craving apple pie and decided, on the fly, to step into the nearby McDonald's to grab a quick meal deal and some apple pie.

I was shocked when I entered the restaurant, as they've all but done away with counter staff, replacing all with giant video screens, ushering patrons to point and click on what food purchases they crave.  I quickly went to my usual meal, the Quarter Pounder with Cheese and was shocked to learn the price had skyrocketed.  I'd been through the drive-thru a couple of months ago and the cost of the burger meal was a shade over the six dollar mark, but today the screen shone $9.85 back in my face.  That's nearly a four dollar rise.  I figured this was a mistake and went to the one and only counter person left in the establishment.

She was of a, shall we say, landed immigrant persuasion.  There's nothing wrong with that, but English was not her native tongue and had no idea what my concern was.  Confused, she ushered the shift supervisor over to assist me.  Sadly, his English was equally as poor.  I'm thinking that McDonald's had placed the video purchase kiosks in, specifically so people didn't have to battle the substantial language barrier with their kitchen staff.  I explained my concern that it was impossible that the price of a quarter pounder would jump nearly four dollars in less than two months, but through his broken English, I was able to learn that not only had the price of all the food at McDonald's had risen, but it had done so, several times over that two month time period.  I was shocked.

I was flabbergasted, vocalizing my disdain.  I pointed out that I could get a burger across the street, at Wendy's for less money and it would cost less.  He blankly stared at me, incapable of comprehending what I'd just said.  "So you want the quarter pound burger, sir?"

"No thanks!" I said, adding that the price was a rip-off to their customers.  "All I really wanted was apple pie.  Do you know if Wendy's across the street has apple pie?"

"I don't know what they sell there, sir.  Do you still want the quarter pound burger?"

"No, I don't want the burger.  That price is bullsh....  It's complete bull." I said.  "I want to swear, right now, it's so wrong!  Why did the price go up so drastically?  It's obvious you don't need the money for counter staff."

He parted his lips to reveal a crooked smile and answered, "No sir.  It's to adjust for the exchange rate."

"Exchange rate?  But Canadian McDonald's get all their meat and supplies from Canadian suppliers."

He continued to smile at me, "Do you want the apple pie?"  I asked how much and found that aside from the $1 drinks, the apple pie was the only other reasonably priced item on the menu.  $1.65 for two, albeit tiny, apple pies.

I paid for my fruity pastries and drove across the street to the Wendy's.  There were two police cruisers parked in the lot and I was tempted to report the robbery that McDonald's was committing on their loyal patrons, but didn't go through with the farce as I'm not a f*cking lunatic, but I did come to understand the frustration those people must have experienced in their unfortunate dealings with those fast food restaurants.

The burger wasn't any cheaper from Wendy's, but it tasted a helluva lot better than McDonald's ever could on their best day.  At least I got a Vanilla Rootbeer from Wendy's which was worth the extra couple of bucks, in the long run.

A very long time ago, I had decided to boycott McDonald's.  My goal was to not step foot inside or eat any of their food for a ten year stretch, and if my nephew hadn't been born, I would've made it to that goal, but unfortunately, in his youth, he wanted to go to McDonald's and my goal fell short by. literally, about six months.  After that, I continued my visits, as the prices were reasonable, though the food was shit.  Today, the food is STILL shit, but the prices are even shittier.  I feel another boycott coming.  Maybe this time I'll shoot for twenty years!

SMASHED

As a very small youngster, I recall my uncle teaching me how to ride a dirt bike he had on his farm.  It was a short lesson and I thought I'd caught on fairly quickly, but soon found myself hurling out of control on a gentle curve.  It was scary how quickly I had lost control, myself helpless upon a racing motorcycle whipping through shoulder height field of wheat.  After that, I would never attempt to ride a motorcycle again.  Over my adult life, I've always held a healthy respect for the two-wheeled vehicles, but have never mustered up the courage to tempt fate once more.

Whenever I've spoken with or to people who ride motorcycles, the number one complaint that is common with everyone is the fact that they seem to disappear in traffic.  Despite the loud exhaust rumbling out a throaty growl, most traffic don't actually see, motorcyclists.  This often results in mishaps where riders can be severely injured.

About ten years ago, I was driving home from work when I came upon a traffic accident.  There was a leather-clad motorcyclist visibly shaking on the boulevard, just a few feet from his motorcycle that had been sandwiched between two cars.  Judging from the twisted mess that was lying half underneath the car in front, it was lucky that he'd escaped with only a couple of abrasions.  The outcome had the potential to be a lot worse.

For the entirety of my adult driving life, I've taken special care whenever I encounter a motorcycle in traffic.  I realize that many people overlook their existence, so I take on the responsibility to buffer the zone between them and other traffic.  I don't tailgate or anything moronic like that, but I'll happily lose some time on my travels to ensure their safety in heavy traffic.

I know that not everyone on the road, today, is oblivious to motorcycles, but there are some who don't even think about them.  Add in the distractions that many have, their noses aimed at their cell phones, rather than concentrating on the road ahead, traffic can become a veritable mine field for some riders.

Given the challenges that motorcyclists have maneuvering safely in traffic, it baffles me why some riders think themselves invincible by drinking and driving.  Driving under the influence is challenging as it is, behind the wheel of a four-wheeled vehicle.  Minus two tires and add balance to the equation, equals a bad situation by my count.

Earlier this evening, the police responded to a single motorcycle accident where the rider lost control of his bike, striking a post and dying on scene.  Investigators suspect speed and alcohol were likely contributing factors.  I know the intersection where this accident occurred and it can be a little challenging sober, in a car traveling at the legal speed limit.  Racing on what is most likely a Japanese rocket, this poor drunk fool didn't stand a chance.

I doubt this was his first day riding a motorcycle.  I would imagine that he experienced all the same challenges as the motorcycle enthusiasts that I've spoken with, have.  So why add alcohol?

I'm no angel.  I'm not going to point and wag my finger like I'm holier than thou.  I've driven drunk.  Twice.  The first time scared the living shit out of me and I swore I'd never do it again.  The second time, I was high from marijuana, and that ended with someone stealing my car after I got home, ultimately f*cking with my memory and I've never done it since.  I got off lucky in both instances, but things could've been different.  Given all the distractions and outside interference, we, as a society, don't need to drink and drive.  That's just f*cking stupid.

I'm not writing this with any hidden message.  We're all adults.  We can take responsibility for our own actions.  I just got off Twitter after reading about this accident and it left me scratching my head and asking WHY?