Innocence Lost - RIP Robin Williams

News of the death came suddenly and unexpected, yesterday afternoon.  I was sitting on my couch, flipping through my Twitter feed, like I've done thousands of times before, when all of a sudden the feed was blanketed with well wishes and RIPs to the beloved comedian.  My heart stopped and sunk deep into my chest.  Panic overwhelmed me, mixed with confusion and disbelief.  What sort of tragedy could've happened? I wondered, speculating maybe another heart episode, given he'd had heart problems in the past.

I scrambled to my PC and immediately tapped his name into Google.  I was first met with a website that claimed that Robin Williams was the victim of a death hoax, similar to one's experienced by Jeff Goldblum, Jackie Chan, Russell Crowe and even Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson, who responded "I would love to meet the person who is starting rumors of my death - to show them how a dead foot feels up their ass!"  I rested back in my chair, relieved for a moment that the reports of Williams' death, was a a ruse.  However, the dozens of websites directly beneath that one, told a much different tale.  A much darker and dreadful story, that broke my heart all over again.

Reports that the actor was discovered asphyxiated in his home.  Immediately, speculation jumped to suicide, although at the time, it was only mentioned that the actor had been experiencing major depression as of late.  To jump immediately to the conclusion of suicide, though...  I didn't want to believe it.  I refused to believe it.  It's one thing to feel helpless and alone.  I feel like that almost everyday.  It's another thing, I feel, to feel this way, yet have dozens of avenues all around you.  Robin has wonderful loving children.  He's got a beautiful loving wife. Dozens of caring friends and millions of fans.  Twitter, alone, is a fantastic artery for fans to connect with their heroes to send well-wishes and praise.  Albeit, there are some assholes who use the social media device to shit on people, but this is Robin-freakin'-Williams, an angel of men who walked amongst us.  I'm nobody special, but I get overwhelmed with good will and pride when someone responds positively to one of my tweets.

Found asphyxiated, they claimed.  I thought immediately that perhaps it was an accident.  Perhaps an allergic reaction to something.  Maybe he was on a new prescription and it reacted the wrong way.  Speaking personally, my allergy to peanuts is so bad, that if I'm simply in a room with the nut, I can feel my chest grow tight and breathing becomes laboured in a major way.  If left too long, I'm confident my dead ass would be found slumped in a corner.

Sadly, the news was broke today.  Robin Williams committed suicide by hanging himself with a belt.  I was speechless.  Saddened by the report, but more so by how sad and miserable he must have been in those final moments.  The room grew silent, as if the entire world had been placed on pause.  No birds were chirping, no traffic passed by my house.  It was like the entire world had stopped for a respective moment of silence.  I commented on a friend's Facebook post yesterday that if feels like a huge void has been left in his wake.

Left to my own thoughts, I couldn't help but wonder about his state of mind.  Curious as to what brought him to the point that he felt there was no other alternative, but to exit this world.  In the past, I can recall a couple of occasions where I was so low that I did actually want to die.  Once in high school, but opted out realizing that it was more out of spite than out of releasing any sort of mental anguish.  Then again a few years ago, when I'd lost my job due to horrendous circumstances.  Kind words from a person I cared deeply for, literally saved my life that day.  Nowadays, I have a cat.  My "little boy", Monkey, and as goofy as it sounds, no matter how dark and sad and depressed I get, I will never do anything malicious to myself, because I have him and he depends on me.  I have nephews, too.  About the only family members that I actually like on a personal level, but it's my boy, Monkey that keeps me inside the lines of sanity.

It's not out of some kind of morbid curiosity that I think about the suicide, but more of a need to understand.  The human body, as a whole, possesses a natural need to survive.  It does it without thought.  As natural as it is for your heart to pump blood or your lungs to inhale oxygen, so is the will to survive.  So to wrap a belt around your neck then lean into it in order to choke yourself out...  I can't fathom it.  It ranks up there with my fear of drowning.  I can't wrap my head around the mechanics required to succumb to that.

Depression is a helluva thing.  I don't know why I suffer from it.  I don't take medication for it, nor have I sought out any sort of counselling to solve it.  It's something that I live with every day...  It's another fact of life.  Like asthma, my sore broken back, or my rugged good looks.  They're all a curse, but it's what makes me... well... ME!

My heart is broken, today.  Saddened at what the world has lost.  Just like the years that have followed 9/11, where I can't look around without remembering how things were before we'd lost our innocence, I'm not going to be able to look around at all the absurdity and comedy in the world without thinking about Robin Williams.

"You're only given one little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it."

- Robin Williams -

August 11th, 2014 - The world lost something truly special.  The important thing, though, is to learn from this tragedy.  See you on the other side, Oh Captain, My Captain.

Discovery Jumps The Shark, Again

Today marks the official start of Shark Week on Discovery Channel.  The beginning of August, every year for the last 27 years, has been marked with tradition.  Droves of people, all over the world, numbering in the millions, sit with eyes glued to their television sets, prepared to ooh and ah at the beauty and the marvels of all that is shark-related.  Learning important facts that sharks aren't the mindless eating machines that we were falsely lead to believe with the onslaught of the Jaws movies, but that they are actually intelligent and beautiful creatures on a whole.  Am I willing to climb into the chilly waters with these magnificent creatures? F*ck no!  However, I might be more easily convinced to do so from all that I've learned over the years.

In the nearly three decades that Shark Week has been in existence, there's been a plethora of documentaries covering a wide span of topics, all shark-related.  Documentaries included spotlighting the wide variety of sharks, the different regions where sharks exist, the diet of sharks (which may still surprise people, doesn't include humans); as well as the continuing improvement in the science and devices used to study sharks.

Survivor stories of shark attacks, also contribute largely to the documentaries included in the famed event dedicated to sharks, not to mention, memorials of those who weren't fortunate to survive shark attacks.  Honourably so, however, whether people overcame their injuries or not, the shark was seldom demonized.

Shark Week has also brought the malicious slaughter of sharks, via the practice of Shark Finning, in which some countries, like Japan, capture sharks by the f*cking thousands, slice off their fins, then toss the (still living) remains into the ocean, where the sharks, unable to swim, die a painful death by drowning.  If it wasn't for the fact that most of the Japanese culture knows a martial art of some sort, I'd love to punch a few of those motherf*cker's in the face and toss them overboard..! (Too much?)  I digress...

Celebrities from all facets of entertainment and science....  They've all gotten involved in one way or another, over the years.  Most of them, have been under contract with Discovery Channel already, so there wasn't much of a stretch, although I question the need to have the American Chopper guys involved.  Other Discovery alum includes Mike Rowe (Dirty Jobs) and the Mythbusters, Jamie Hyneman and Adam Savage who also contributed by doing a couple Mythbuster episodes looking into the validity of stunts spotlighted in the Jaws movies.  Those episodes were fascinating.

Most recently actor Adam Samberg (SNL, Brooklyn 99) "hosted", as is actor Rob Lowe (Outsiders, West Wing) doing so, this year.  Comedian, Josh Wolf, is reprising his role as host on Shark After Dark, a show that spotlights and discusses the day's shark documentaries.  Years ago, TV's Craig Ferguson was also a contributor to the "American holiday", by swimming with Caribbean reef sharks of the coast of the Bahamas.  In the documentary, Ferguson joked (halfheartedly) at the premise of being bitten or even devoured by sharks, only to exit the water, emotionally expressing his impression of  his overall experience. "That was fantastic! They are so beautiful." he said, "They're like really big dogs, aren't they?"

It's incredible the wide spectrum of subject matter that this one ocean creature, has garnered over the nearly three decades that Shark Week has existed.  So it is no wonder that the subject may be depleting.  After all, as remarkable as watching Great White Sharks breach the depths, off the coast of South Africa, flying sharks, I'm sorry to say, gets a little boring after a while.  I suspect that our insatiable appetite, as a society, for bigger, badder and more incredible feats and facts, is why Discovery Channel has taken to producing "Docudramas" in an effort to maintain the appetite for all that is shark-related.  Last year, they kicked off Shark Week with the airing of "MEGALADON: The Monster Shark" last year.  The network portrayed it as an actual documentary and admittedly, I was completely enthralled with the program, believing every fact that was presented.  Every interview and every photograph.  I trusted it's every valid claim, wholeheartedly, until the very end, when the show posted that the preceding program was a complete work of fiction.  Needless to say, I was devastated.  It felt like a close and trusted friend had lied to be.  I was completely betrayed by Discovery.  I continued to watch the programming for the week, but because the network had pulled the wool over everyone's eyes with that virtual lump of bullshit, my enjoyment paled in comparison to previous years.  In the months since, I've managed to work past all that, so when commercials began airing for SHARK WEEK 2014, I began to get excited again.

Tonight (08-10-14), I tuned into the first show, "Air Jaws: Fin of Fury", which is a sequel to last year's "Air Jaws: The Search for Colossus".  The program spotlights the continuous (two-year) search for a massive and aggressive Great White that had completely disappeared from the waters off Seal Island in South Africa.  It was and again, a wonderful and fascinating documentary about searching the world's oceans for a single, albeit monstrous, shark.

Immediately following that, another new show, "SHARK OF DARKNESS: Wrath of Submarine", aired.  I read the description provided by my cable box, and the premise sounded intriguing.  It was a docudrama telling the story of the inexplicable sinking of a whale watching boat, that resulted in many of it's riders becoming prey for a 30-plus foot shark, known in the vicinity as Submarine.  Within in seconds of it's start, a warning placard was displayed that explained that the following program is produced for entertainment purposes only.  EPIC FAIL!!!!

Again, Discovery is attempting to blow smoke up our asses.  Producing a telecast of complete fiction.  Ironically, enough, the subject Submarine IS an actual shark reported in the area of South Africa, although it was only after a menagerie of local reporters fabricated the initial story.  They placed a seed into the media to see how gullible people were, and proved that people, as a whole, are dumb as shit.  Even after the prompt at the beginning of SHARK OF DARKNESS, there were live tweets shared on the screen and people were expressing how they would love to witness this shark firsthand.  F*ck me, people are f*cking stupid!  I guess I, or we, should all be gracious that Discovery chose to post the disclaimer at the beginning, rather than the end.  That saved me two hours of wasted time.

Science continues to evolve.  Everyday there are new discoveries being learned.  I don't know why the Discovery Channel can't produce factual programming that investigates that.  Why Discovery Channel can't teach us all, further, rather than spending millions to produce this drivel in an attempt to trick it's audience. Hopefully, Discovery will come to change their ways, getting back to the meat of the matter and steer away from what might ultimately become SHART WEEK!!

Letter to Mr. Ant

Dear Mr. Ant,

Out of all the lovely homes in the surrounding area of my house, you've chosen mine to inhabit.  Although, it has been quite a lovely year, thus far, weather-wise, you've taken up in the walls of my downstairs bathroom.  Whether you are here of your own volition or have conglomerated here as a member of your extensive family, I feel I should thank you, in part, for choosing my home to infest over everyone else's.  So thank you...., I guess.

However, I have a cat and he, alone, is more than a hand full.  Whether it's his constant whining and complaining or policing his mischievous character or repeatedly having to clean up his vomit, I have my hands full.  I'm not looking for anymore roommates.  

Even though, in all honesty, anytime I've stumbled across your masses creeping and crawling about my bathroom and lower living room, you all do seem fairly self-sufficient, of which I do appreciate.  However, in the end, you and your kind are not welcome in my house.

I thought you and your friends would've gotten the idea that you're not welcome, when you came across the slaughtered corpses of your mates.  Poisoned and (hopefully) experienced a painful and horrible death.  If I were taking up residence somewhere, uninvited, then came across some of my friends and family lying dead out in a field, whether I knew the reason behind their death's or not, I'd get the f*ck outta there.  Of course, I am a brilliant mind whose brain is not the size of a microbe.

Or the time I came across hundreds of you hugging the wall of my bathroom, engaged in some kind of "outdoor" festival, and I scooped you all up and flushed you.  That was a good time.  For me, anyway.  Not so much for your friends, I suppose.  But who doesn't enjoy a nice pool party?

Clearly reasoning doesn't appeal to your kind.  I know that despite all the f*cking poison I've put down you f*ckers aren't taking the f*cking hint.  So I've decided to allow you all to stay.... On one condition.

Using the aforementioned toilet, I've decided to use it to both of our advantages.  In addition to the poop and pee that is deposited in it on a daily basis, I've also incorporated it into this scenario.  Every time I come across one of you little motherf*ckers, I'm going to scoop you up and dump you into the toilet.  Admittedly, the bowl won't always be filled with just cool clean water, because let's face it, if I'm coming into that room, there's a predetermined reason behind it.  However, if you survive, you'll be all the more strong and will better appreciate your survival.

I will be scooping your skinny little asses into the bowl.  Poop, pee, or all of the above, I will flush the toilet.  Now.., your part of this plan is to swim against the current.  Swim against the swirling stormy waters, and IF (or when) you pull yourselves out, you are more than welcome to stay in my house for the rest of your natural lives.  Granted all you little f*ckers look alike, so there may be a time or two or always that you'll find yourself scooped up again and thrust back into the bowl.  In other words, get the f*ck outta my house!!!

The Peaceful Sound of Nature

Early this morning, I awoke to the peaceful sound of a babbling brook flowing nearby.  The process was slow, hearing the rushing water passing over the smoothed stones in the distance.  Then almost like magic, the soothing gurgling sound drew nearer.  It felt almost like I was being carried on a puffy cloud, floating over the landscape to the river's edge.  I've not felt so relaxed in a very very long time.

Finally, when I opened my eyes, I discovered I was not surrounded by the lush greenery of the forest, but by the bland naked walls of my bedroom.  My cat sleeping nearby, his slumber obviously also disturbed by the burbling sounds, as he looks about the room confusedly.

"Rubble, rubble, rubble!"  The rippling cackle dissects the silence.

"Shit! There it is again!" I think quietly to myself.

"Rubble, rubble, rubble!"

It's my stomach growling.  Time to get up and feed the beast!

The Zombie Apocalypse

A short while ago, I watched a "science" show on a zombie-like virus that would eventually infect the entire world.  The show was on a science channel and spoke mostly of "what ifs", but much of the speculation was based in actual science.  The premise, essentially, began with a breaching whale, of all things, that lands atop a small sailing vessel.  The survivors are beaten up pretty bad, but are rushed to a nearby hospital.  Unfortunately, their injuries are far too severe and they succumb soon after arriving.  Unbeknownst to medical staff, however, is the unseen virus that exists.  Acquired from the whale that struck their boat, the two victims of this maritime tragedy are also infected with the rabies virus.  Even though they are deceased, medical staff contract the deadly virus and soon begin showing symptoms.  At this point of the science program, the pandemic really begins to snowball.  Eventually, the world is over run and humanity, as we know it today, is lost to the annals of time.  The program was a thing of pure fiction.  A form of accepted adult entertainment, but real enough to leave a grain of sand in the back of your mind, just large enough to make you think.., "What if?"  

Fast-forward to today, where there's word of a major viral outbreak in West Africa.  Formerly known as 'Zaire ebolavirus', it's now known simply as the Ebola Virus.  (Zaire was dropped, I suspect, because the stigma of a deadly virus really hurt the tourism of Zaire.)  Without getting into the thick of it, the virus, in it's simplest of terms is: It begins with an onset of influenza-like stage which includes symptoms like chills, sore throat, headaches and pain in the joints, muscles and chest.  The central nervous system is majorly disrupted with the development of confusion, seizures and sometimes even coma.  And that's the mild part.  Eventually, lesions form on the skin, followed by major bruising and eventually hemorrhaging.  The actuality of the disease is much more in depth than this, obviously.  Suffice it to say, it's not a cool way to be taken out in this world.  Having a vending machine fall on you after it steals your quarter.  Now THAT is a way to die, my friend.  Currently, according to Wikipedia (where I obtained this delightful description) says that there is no known cure for this affliction.

So I'm laying in bed this morning, sleeping very lightly with the TV on in the background.  I have it set to a news channel and I repeatedly hear a story about two aid workers in West Africa who contracted the deadly disease and are now in peril.  They've been quarantined in Africa, but are now being sent back to America for treatment.  According to the news story, the Ebola virus has never existed in the western hemisphere, but soon it will.  The patients are being flown, one-by-one, under triple layered protection, to somewhere around Atlanta, Georgia. (This is the same area where "The Walking Dead" takes place.  Coincidence?) (Yes, actually.)  Each patient will be on a gurney surrounded by a protective plastic tent, which will exist inside another protective plastic tent.  Caregivers will be wearing hazmat-like suit and treatment throughout the transit will be given via thick rubber gloves that are at the side of the initial protective plastic tent.  Great care and attention has been given to the seriousness of this situation and anyone who is familiar with horror and tragedy movies, you know that so much attention to safety and prevention is just aching for failure.  Someone's going to tear their suit, be too ashamed to admit to it, rush home to kiss their wife and play with the kids and eventually, everyone in the greater Atlanta-area are f*cked, and eventually even me, way up here in Saskatchewan is going to be inflicted...  Selfish motherf*ckers...  But I digress.

I'm sure the reasoning behind why these people were volunteering in West Africa was of noble intent, but it's unselfish acts like this that are usually the most selfish.  Just because they wanted to stand out as being "heroic", supplying aid and rescue to those unlucky enough to be born into a shitty life, these people may eventually cause the end of the world.  With so much aid to be given at home, why fly half way around the world, placing the rest of us in jeopardy?

When asked why these two aid workers deserved to be given treatment in America, it was stated it was because they were Americans and because they gave so selflessly to help those in need.  I call bullshit!  By bringing them back to America, you're stating that the level of medicine in West Africa pales in comparison to that of Western civilization.  Of course, this IS true.  I doubt dancing around a fire, chanting incoherent rants will rid anyone of the hiccups let alone the Ebola virus.  At the same time, though, by bringing them home, you're proving to the world, that being an American is superior to everything and everyone else.  Maybe that's true.  I'm not to judge the validity of that belief.

The Ebola virus is contracted by contact with infected monkeys, fruit bats and pigs.  How someone comes in contact with two of these three things, is beyond me.  Pigs, I understand, because bacon is f*cking awesome.  Fruit bats confuse me.  They are only a few inches long and what fruit they eat, is hardly enough sustenance for even the hungriest of Africans.  I mean, what the f*ck is one grape going to do for ya?  As for coming in contact with infected monkeys...  You'd think people would've gotten the hint after catching AIDS from these motherf*ckers back in the 80s.  Now people are f*cking them again?  Is the gene pool so limited in Africa, that men have to take to the jungles for some sexy time with promiscuous monkeys?

It's written that to contract the Ebola virus, one needs to come in contact with the bodily fluids of an infected creature.  Blood, mucous & urine.  Semen, I've read is another example...  Other examples include, contact with contaminated medical equipment. (It's like nobody knows they can boil water with fire to sterilize this shit!)  The lack of usage of protective clothing like gloves or surgical masks.  The virus is not an airborne contagion, but you get some dumb motherf*cker sneezing in your face, and you're f*cked.  And given my, albeit limited, exposure to foreigners, considerations like "covering their mouths or noses in the event of coughing or sneezing, is not among their strong points".  I caught many colds from face-to-face conversations with the Filipino folks I used to work with.

The outspoken Donald J. Trump tweeted out a couple of comments via his Twitter feed, and though he's full of shit most of the time, I have to agree with him on these points he's made.

1. "Ebola patient will be brought to the US in a few days - now I know for sure that our leaders are incompetent. KEEP THEM OUT OF HERE!"
   
2. "Stop the ebola patients from entering the US. Treat them, at the highest level, over there. THE UNITED STATES HAS ENOUGH PROBLEMS!"

They're both valid points.  Why tempt fate by bringing this shit to North America.  You're just putting the rest of us in jeopardy.  Why punish us for doing the right thing and minding our own f*cking business?  You watch.  Some kind of shit will go down.  No one will own up to it right away.  The virus will get out.  People will die.  The government will label the virus some other media-savvy name, so as to divert attention away from the strain being identical to the Zaire ebolavirus.

I think this statement sums it up the best...

The Los Angeles Times reported that sixty-three percent of American families are now considered dysfunctional. Good. 'Cause that means when Armageddon really happens, thirty-seven percent of this population is going to "lose their minds". "Oh my God, the world is over!"  Us sixty-three percent?  We're going to go, "Hey... there's no one watching the Lexus dealership!  We're going to the Apocalypse with leather and a CD changer!"

- Christopher Titus, Norman Rockwell Is Bleeding

A Higher Wage for Minimal Work

I just read a tweet on my Twitter account (@ToontownJuggalo) where someone mentioned that they were going to boycott McDonald's until the company begins paying their employees a higher wage.  This decision strikes two chords with me.

Number one: It's f*cking McDonald's.  Arguably, the biggest franchise on the planet Earth.  I'm sure the corporation couldn't give a flying f*ck whether you come to their restaurant to pick up some chicken nuggets or chocolate shake.  They boast (right on their sign) that they've served over a billion people.  Subtracting a handful of well-meaning celebrities, really won't make much of a difference.

Number two:  It's f*cking McDonald's.  At best the company should be a stepping stone to a greater vocation.  To start a job flipping f*cking fries at McDonald's and thinking this could be a career for you, then you may as well take a long walk off a short pier.  I know that for a fast food conglomerate like Mickey D's, you can't rely on the pimply-faced kids to captain the helm.  Some responsible adult supervision is needed, but those should be the guys who worked at McDonald's as a kid, left to go to college, then returned with a marketing degree to man the head offices.  If you're thinking you can support your family while working the drive-thru at McDonald's, then you've got a f*cking screw loose.  Get the f*ck out while you can, dude (or dude-ette).  A McDonald's wage should be suffice enough to put gas in your car, maybe get that T-shirt or skirt you've had your eye on at the mall, or maybe buy a couple of joints.  (That last one is only a suggestion, because let's face it, you work at f*cking McDonald's.)

Progress

I was born an asthmatic.  When I was a kid, my breathing was really f*cked.  I could barely move without running out of breath and I was even hospitalized on a few occasions.  There were a couple of times when my future looked pretty f*cking bleak.

Thankfully, later on in life, I learned to control my breathing a little better, finding that many (of my) asthma attacks were instigated by anxiety.  Sometimes, if I found myself without my inhaler, I'd feel panic overwhelm me, quickly followed by a heaviness in my chest.  Since then, I'm able to relax myself to a point where I'm able to breathe easy.

What I find outrageous, nowadays, is when I leave my house without my Salbutamol asthma inhaler, I feel fine.  Even if I'm only a block or two from my house, a distance close enough where returning to my house isn't an inconvenience of any sort, I seldom turn the car around.  Even when driving the convertible, where I'm more susceptible to elements like dust and pollen, I rarely return home.  However, when I'm out in the world and realize I don't have my cell phone, I almost come undone.

A few short years ago, I never saw the point of carrying a cell phone.  I was one of the last people to start carrying a cell phone and today, I feel f*cking lost if I don't have my cell phone in my pocket.  I'm even guilty of calling into work sick one morning, because I woke up to my cell phone with a dead battery, because I was afraid I'd have to talk to another human being on my coffee breaks.  How f*cking sad is that?  A few years ago, I didn't have a problem engaging in small talk, yet today I'm afraid to utter a single word.

My asthma inhaler is a definite instrument that can save my life if the chips are down.  I barely use my cell phone as a f*cking telephone, yet I feel completely lost and helpless if I don't have it in my pocket.  How f*cked is that?  I guess that's called progress.