How Does Paper Beat Rock?

I have a friend who used to be a professional Rock, Paper, Scissors athlete.  He was ranked in the Top Five Worldwide and better than that in just North America.  He was very successful, making tons of cash with endorsement deals and alike, then all at once, his luck ran out and it all slipped away.  Flushed down the proverbial toilet faster than an unwanted turd.  Public opinion's "rock" trumped his "scissors".

What struck him down in his prime?  Was it the constant rumours of steroid abuse?  He, of course, denied all the accusations and passed every test thrown his way.  No.  It was the booze and the whores.  The wrong kind of women can get a man in trouble, especially a guy riding high on the successful wings of the World Series of Paper, Rock, Scissors.  A man left with no moral support, but for those left way back at home, is apt to do some foolish things.  I've done a great many stupid thing, and I've not had the luck of an athletic career or a huge bank roll to feed my foolishness.  All my stupidity has been done for free.  However, I'm straying from the topic, for which I apologize.

Despite his short-comings, he's learned many, albeit harsh, life-lessons and has grown to be a much better person, both mentally and spiritually, from it.  Today, he can be found coaching young up-and-comers in the strategy game play that is Paper, Rock, Scissors.  It is his vast experience in this sport that I found comfort in exploring one of the greatest mysteries bestowed upon this world:  How the f*ck does paper beat rock?!?

Paper doesn't hurt unless you have an actual newspaper press roll, which I've learned weighs in at about a metric ton.  That roughly translates out to about a small sedan, which I've had the displeasure of rolling over my foot, once upon a time.  Not a pleasant experience, let me tell you.  Then again, I'm reminded of a particular skit from the first Jackass movie, in which many of the guys were volunteering to get paper cuts between their toes, fingers and even a mouth or two.  In my experience as a receiver of products from abroad, some paper can slice you open like a f*cking shiv, and that my friends, hurts even more than a Chevy Cavalier running over my foot.

Paper, however, cannot cut through a frickin' rock.  Not even that shitty paper from India and China that cut me open so often.  So once more, I'm left asking myself: How the f*ck does paper beat rock?

BARNEY

Assault of any kind on a minor is a terrible thing.  In past blogs, you may remember my going off on a tangent, exclaiming my tremendous disgust for crimes against children.  I'm even no stranger to assaults, having been on the receiving end of several beatings as a child.  In fact, today marks the anniversary of getting my nose broken when I was sixteen years old, just three days prior to my seventeenth birthday.  I wouldn't wish that act on anyone.  Pain and discomfort aside, the mental anguish that is closely associated with such an assault, can damage you for years to follow.  That was a different time and different circumstances, and despite some doubts from some family members, I've forgiven my father for that incident.  I recognize that it was the alcohol, NOT him, that escalated the situation from what it could and should have been.

So perhaps this is what fuels my disgust for crimes against children.  I don't know.  I can't really say for sure.  However, that withstanding, I can't help but think that it would've be pretty frickin' funny to witness Barney the Purple Dinosaur losing it and gobbling up the menagerie of children collected at his feet during his daily children's television show.  Dinosaurs ARE carnivores, after all.

I love you. You love me.
You taste good in my purple belly...

President Obama Did Not Kill the Twinkie

It's been stated that if the world experienced total global annihilation, the only things that would remain would be cockroaches and Hostess Twinkies. 

Earlier this week, it was announced that after nearly a century of production, 82 years to be exact, Hostess would be ceasing production of the Twinkie.  It's was joked that just weeks before the Mayan's predicted "End of the World", that the one item that would survive it all, will not exist any longer.

While perusing Facebook earlier, I noticed this picture and included in the comments was some ill-informed idiot who blamed President Barrack Obama for the snack's demise.  How f*cking stupid are people?  Don't answer that, it's rhetorical.

The President of the United States is NOT to blame for the closing production of the Twinkie.  In actuality, it was workers striking for increased pay against an already bankrupt company, for work primarily performed by machines & robots.  What was the reason for the Hostess going broke?  It's only speculation, on my part, but it would be my guess that it's the health craze.

All you health nuts, slurpin' back your bottled water, eatin' your tossed salads and protein bars.  YOU are the culprits behind the death of Hostess and their delicious treats.  Choosing carrot and celery sticks over Twinkies and Ding Dongs, THAT is the true crime.

Of course, Hostess failed to discourage the marketing ploy of Twinkies surviving a nuclear holocaust.  Who wants to stick those kinds of chemicals into their bodies?  I am, by no means, a health freak, but in the interest of avoiding fattening foods, I sometimes take to reading the list of ingredients, most of the time having difficulty pronouncing the words printed on the tiny packages.  It's a good way to make one feel sick to their stomachs and thus avoiding the snack.

Although, I am not a connoisseur of the Twinkie, I do enjoy the odd Ding-Dong, which is called "King Dons" in Canada, here.  But another Hostess item that I've learned may be falling by the wayside, is the infamous WONDER BREAD.  I f*cking love Wonder Bread.  Not only is it a flavourful bread for sandwiches and alike, but I love the feel and sound of the words, "wonder" and "bread" falling off my tongue.

Marijuana was legalized in a few states during this last (American) election.  Too little, too late.  All the pot smoking in the world and subsequent munchies will not save the Twinkie from it's inevitable demise.  However, when one door closes, another one opens.  The closing of the Hostess plants marks opportunity for someone.  Some other company to swoop in and make an iconic snack that take the place of the Twinkie, standing side-by-side with the cockroaches after the world crumbles and falls next month, as per the Mayan prediction.

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.

Secret Ballot

The Saskatoon civic election snuck up on me.  When I first learned of it, I thought I'd have so much time to size up the candidates.  I knew already, from speaking to him on my front stoop, who I was voting in Ward 5, where I currently reside.  I even went so far as to get a sign for my front yard.  His opponent, came to my doorstep, but never rang the door bell.  Obviously discouraged by the sign posted on my lawn, he instead through his literature down on the ground, trapped between my house and the shrubs.  What a prick!  Instead of trying to sway my vote, he'd rather act like a spoiled bitch.

As for mayor, well, I've not been happy with the guy we've had for the last (I don't know how many) years.  He's an arrogant asshole, as far as I'm concerned.  With every good fortune that has come to Saskatoon, he's patting himself on the back for "making it happen", despite all those who (behind the scenes) are the real heroes for making things happen.  For putting Saskatoon back on the map and making it a desirable destination to raise a family.

So I went to the school gymnasium down the street, registered to vote by showing my I.D. and coloured in the little black oval as instructed.  Instead of having cheap little cards that get folded over thrice after placing your X, they're now complicated sheets that get placed through a computer onsite.  The instructions for placing my ballot into the envelope was unclear, and like so many before me, I placed it upside down.  The gentleman at the reception table where the ballots were being entered, explained my mistake to me.  

"You place this in like so," he said, demonstrating that the blank side needs to be face-up, "This way, I can't see who you're voting for."

I chuckled and admitted that by having a sign showing my support for my candidate has revealed my vote to everyone who drove by my house for the past three weeks, so it didn't matter who saw my vote.

Happy Halloween, Kids

Unfortunately, this seems to be the case.  Superheroes and cowboys for the boys and "slutty whatever's" for the girls.

A few years ago, a some work friends and I went for some refreshing beverages after our work day, at a local drinking establishment.  It also happened to be Halloween, and as memory serves, the bar had soon filled with a bevy of women, wearing a menagerie of costumes, most of which were of the "slutty persuasion".  It was wall-to-wall eye candy, and what had initially started as a couple of drinks after work, soon extended itself to many many drinks after work.  There were slutty nurses, slutty vampires, slutty bunnies, and a cornucopia of slutty cats.  It was a very nice night, visually.

However, this slutty costumes, I have found, have been gradually spilling over into children's and teenage costumes.  This past weekend, as I was cycling through my bundles of flyers, I came across one ad for savings on Halloween costumes for kids.  Pictured above the (albeit reasonable) price, was a picture of two teen girls, one dressed as a provocative witch, the other as a provocative cat.  Both I determined was inappropriate for the targeted age.  I'm all for freedom of self-expression.  I, myself, had many a questionable Halloween costume as a teen, that I am not proud of, but none of those were purchased from a store.

It's sad that kids, girls more specifically, are being steered in this direction.  The only true saving grace is the fact that in this vicinity, 99% of the time, there is snow on the ground on October 31st and the temperature is so low, that a parka is mandatory to wear over the Halloween costume in question.

Grave Injustice

Several years ago, I found myself in a doctor's office, the specialist behind their desk explaining to me, in great detail, the results of several tests that had been performed on me.  I had apparently been born with a "syndrome", of which will prevent me from ever fathering a child.  I can be a dad, per se, but only if I adopt.  Not by having a child the "fun" way.

I share this with you all, because I find it appalling that I am faced with a situation where I know I could be a good father to a child, then you get all these other butt-reaming assholes, who have one, two, or more kids, and don't appreciate the incredible gift they have before them.

I see it in the news all too often.  Kids being harmed in all sorts of ways.  I find it painfully difficult to listen to, and even more difficult to accept.  In 2011, it was the case of Zahra Baker, the little girl who had survived a horrendous bout with bone cancer, which resulted in the loss of part of her lower left leg and her hearing.  The one thing she never lost, was her beautiful smile, but a selfish stepmother killed the little girl, the details of which are far too horrific to repeat, stole this little girl's life.  Such a waste of life, sickens me.

What sparks this disdain in me, once again, is the brutal slaying of a six-month old baby girl by her "father".  After a night of partying with his loser friends, a 19-year old Colorado teen, Dylan Kuhn, repeatedly slammed his crying infant daughter into the mattress, in an effort to silence the baby girl.  When it was discovered that she was no longer breathing, the authorities were called.

The story initially given to police was that a couple days before, the baby had gotten twisted up in some blankets and fell off the couch and striking her head.  However, evidence found during the autopsy of baby Sailor, failed to match up with the claims made by this sorry excuse for a human being.  Finally this piece of shit, admitted to authorities of how his infant daughter had actually died.

The story doesn't end there.  After pleading guilty for his crime, the charge was pleaded down from Murder to Manslaughter, and instead of receiving the mandatory sentence carried with this charge, the judge, the "dis"-honourable Douglas Walker, sentenced the youth to a mere 90 days in jail, and four years probation.  Apparently, Dylan is also required to take some Parenting classes, too f*cking late, if you ask me.  As well, this motherf*cker is required to submit evaluations on mental health and substance abuse.  In addition, he's not allowed to be left alone with any children under the age of 10.

Motherf*ckers like this all over the country and the world.  Having kids and not realizing (and appreciating) how miraculous and precious these little lives really are.  Sadly, this won't be the last case like this that I'll see on the news channels.

It's a rare occasion, if any, that I side with that sociopath Nancy Grace on CNN's HLN, but when I heard her wild exclamations and accusations tonight, in regards to Dylan Kuhn getting a slap on the wrist for murdering his baby girl, I was disgusted and appalled as well.