Whispers, Good and Bad

For the first time in my life, I think I overheard a battle between good and evil.  Between the angel that rides on my right shoulder versus the devil that inhabits my left.

I stopped by the grocer on my way home today and as I delivered my emptied cart to the corral, I noticed a large black purse in another empty cart.  Without hesitation, I grabbed the leather satchel, aimed on taking it inside for safe keeping.  That's when I heard his voice for the very first time in my life.

The existence of the devil and angel atop our shoulder has been a popular plot device for centuries, drawing more attention in modern times through cartoons and television.  The devil and the angel have been seen duking it out on The Simpsons, Tom & Jerry, Married With Children, and many other popular stage and screen representations, including Disney's Emperor's New Groove and 2012's Cloud Atlas which showed Hugo Weaving playing both roles as good and evil, whispering suggestions into Tom Hanks' ear.

None of the above is what I heard.  It was just whispers of self-consciousness.  On one hand, it's been a very rough year, with very little coming in, by way of an actual income, on the other hand, I'm not that big of an asshole that I'd steal just for a few bucks.

As usual, goodness prevailed over evil, my angel kicked the devil's ass, once again and through the awkward glances and snickers of misinformed self-centered individuals, I carried that purse into the store and turned it in.  I admit that I was curious to look inside, if for no other reason, than to see just how much of a hero I was going to be for this absent-minded person who left it behind.  In then, I didn't.  I handed it in to the grocer's customer service and departed the store, content on a good deed done, even though no one will ever know what I'd done.

Merry Christmas!!

Breathless

STAR WARS: The Force Awakens, is probably the most highly anticipated film of this century.  The hype for this movie has been steadily building since it was announced that it was going into production.  The excitement really hit it's pinnacle in the past couple of months, as the stars have begun promoting the film.  Everyone has caught a scorching case of Star Wars Fever, for which there is no cure, but a $12 movie ticket.  I'm not usually one to get all caught up in the excitement, like this, but I have to admit that I was infected, too.  So when the opportunity arose to attend the very first showing, the day before the official movie release, I leaped at the chance.

I promise to not reveal any SPOILERS, in this blog entry, except that which is the obvious.  This film is F*CKING SPECTACULAR!!  For me, personally, it meant so much more than just another chapter in a story of science fiction. It was a revisit to a younger, happier self that was long lost to the annuls of time.

Last night I listened to a podcast where Kevin Smith describes the overwhelming experience he had when Star Wars VII director, JJ Abrams invited him to the set at the Pinewood Studios in Great Britain.  Smith describes walking onto the set, which was by his estimate, about three football fields in size, and the entire area was decked out with practical scenery.  Everything was actually built, all the buildings were real.  Smith remarked that he walked up to one of the central structures and knocked his fist against it, smiling that he would remember months later when he'd watch the film, that he had knocked on that wall.

Smith had arrived just in time to witness the filming of one of the movie's epic battle scenes.  He stood with JJ Abrams watching the carefully choreographed action unfold on eight video screens.  Smith comments in his podcast, the irony of literally being a stones throw away from his childhood heroes and watching all the action on video monitors.

After calling "CUT!" and ending the scene, JJ engaged in pleasantries with the Clerks director, before asking his assistant if she'd taken Kevin to Studio M, yet.  She said she hadn't and the two were immediately dispatched to do so..  Smith's description after this is what I identified with the most.  He walked into the dark studio, not knowing what to expect and in an instant, the lights come on and he sees "her".  It's the Millennium Falcon.

From working in the movie industry for over twenty years, Kevin admitted a little bias, knowing how sets can appear to be real, even though most are just artificial facades propped up from behind.  It was when he was invited to actually step aboard the Falcon, is when he realizes that Abrams had an actual Millennium Falcon.  With every step he took, he reverted back to his youth, finally stopping on that seven year old who sat in the theater with his family and looked upon those infamous words: A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away.  Kevin admitted that he was overwhelmed with joy, so much that he was moved to tears.

I had a similar experience from the moment the dark theater lit up with those epic words written in gold: STAR WARS Episode VII.  Although, I wasn't overwhelmed to the point of crying, I did recognize the significance of what I was witnessing.  I knew from that point forward, I wasn't just watching a movie.  I was experiencing a historic moment.  My eyes were among a sliver of those who had ever watched the film.  I was completely and fully invested.  In fact, so excited, was I, that I never actually read any of the words scrolling across the screen.  I was, instead, lost in the magic of STAR WARS.  By the time I saw the first stormtrooper walk into the scene, I was that little boy again, staring up at the screen, in awe.

It goes without saying, this is a MUST SEE movie.  Everyone will experience it differently.  Some will laugh and applaud.  Some may be moved to tears, just as Kevin Smith was on the day he visited the set.  Some may simply experience the movie.  STAR WARS has meant something different to everyone throughout the last thirty-eight years, and it's nice to see that it will continue to do so for another thirty-eight years.

HAGGARD: 19 Years of Hard Living

With every breath that is expelled, we draw closer to the release date of this decade's most anticipated motion picture, STAR WARS: The Force Awakens.  The masses are overwhelmed with excitement and panic.  What if it doesn't live up to the six predecessors?  What if it sucks?  I can say with good faith, that with director J.J. Abrams at the helm, the seventh chapter of the Star Wars saga, will be legen... wait for it...... dary!!

I'm sure that many are doing exactly what I've been doing over the past week, which is watching the first Star Wars movies in succession.  I have the first three securely under my belt.  This time around, I'm not making the mistake that I've done in the past, which was to watch all six back-to-back-to-back.  Dedicating an entire day to watching all movies.  For someone who's as critical as I am, this is a huge mistake.  There are so many holes in the first three movies, which creator George Lucas filmed decades after the fourth, fifth and sixth "episodes", that enjoying them purely for entertainment is impossible.  Timelines don't match up, nor do some B-story lines, not to mention the poor execution of casting.  The last, which I just noticed on this most recent pass on Episode III: Revenge of the Sith.

The close of Episode III shows Anakin Skywalkers bride, Padme, giving birth to twins, Luke and Leia.  For increased safety from the Sith, the children are separated, to be raised apart.  Obi Wan Kenobi (played by Ewan McGregor), is instructed by Yoda to place Skywalker's son, Luke with his Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen, on Tattoine.  There, Kenobi volunteers to live in solitude, while keeping a watchful eye over young Luke, as he matures.

A dry climate, two suns looming overhead and sand getting into everything, life on Tattoine must be rough.  The added stress must expedite the aging process.  In Episode IV: A New Hope, the estimated age of Luke is about nineteen years old.  Actor Mark Hamill exuded all the traits of a frustrated and rebellious young Luke Skywalker, but the years weren't so kind to Obi Wan or Skywalker's aunt and uncle.

Nineteen years on Tattoine will add about fifty years to your complexion.  By the time the rebellion is roaring in it's infinite glory, Obi Wan is a decrepit old man, barely able to walk, though he's still pretty handy with a light saber and still young enough to engage in one more adventure across the galaxy.  As for Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, the years had left them weak and feeble, and no match for the Imperial Stormtroopers when they came a callin' in search of those two troublesome droids.

Of course, STAR WARS: A New Hope was released in 1977, when Ewan McGregor was just six years old.  Getting an acclaimed actor like Sir Alec Guiness to star in a little know film called, "Star Wars", was a huge catch for George Lucas, who like the studio helping to produce the movie, never knew what a Goliath the franchise would eventually become.  I'm sure that Lucas had no comprehension of a sequel, at that time, let alone two trilogies telling this confusing story.

Reports and speculation on the new flick are coming out in droves as the release date draws closer.  December 18th, next Friday, all theories and speculations will be answered, and hopefully, with fingers crossed.  Like I stated before, I have complete faith in J.J. Abrams and I'm sure this installment of Star Wars will being larger than life.  My only real concern is Alvin & the Chipmunks: The Road Chip.  It is set to open on the same day, offering up some real competition to Han Solo, Chewbacca and the rest of the gang.  I'm curious as to who will take the Box Office record, this weekend...?

Hand-Free

"Look ma!! No hands."  It's a weird thing to pop into my head, considering I was urinating at the time.  However, it is, what it is, and it's the line that popped in my head as I exited the stall in the men's washroom.  The place was atrocious.  If it were a pig sty, it would be a vast improvement, but calling it this, would be detrimental to pig sties everywhere.

Having a shy bladder at the best of times, I'm always regulated to going into the stalls.  Even though the ambient noise is enough to discourage urination of any kind, having a physical barrier to separate me from the rest of the clattering people, is just enough to relax and entice me into going.  Public washrooms are often a freakin' horror show, but the restroom at public functions like a convention  or in the case earlier tonight, a music concert, the bathroom is absolutely catastrophic.

After the close of the show, I rushed into the washroom and immediately found a vacant stall.  What met my gaze on the other side of that door was horrific.  It was as though an Islamic Jihadist had blown themselves up using a piss bomb.  There was urine everywhere.  On the seat.  On the floor.  On the toilet paper dispenser, thus the roll was drenched and poofy from moisture expansion.  There was even urine dripping down the walls.  In fact, I believe the only place that never got hit by any piss, was the inside of the bowl.  It's no wonder women find men disgusting in the bathroom.

Perhaps it's unmanly to admit, but I sit (at home) to use the toilet.  Reason being, splash-back.  If you go to any household where there's either a majority of males or where the man is the lone occupant, chances are you're going to see dried piss on the outside of the bowl.  This is from splash-back and it's f*cking disgusting.  I won't have it in my house.  Nope.  No way.  No how.

Outside of the house is a different matter all together.  I refuse to sit my ass down on a public toilet unless it's a dire emergency.  In addition to my refusal to sit down, I also refrain from using my bare hands.  It's all elbows and feet, and I've gotten pretty god damned good at it, too.  "Look ma!!  No hands!!"

"What would possess someone to piss everywhere except in the bowl?" I wondered to myself, "It's no wonder women find men f*cking disgusting."  It was at this point.., mid-stream.., into the toilet bowl, I might add, that I thought of this instrument.  Like the laser sights currently available for a vast number of handguns and assault weapons, it would seem beneficial to men, if there were a way to apply that science to their dicks, enabling them the ability to no longer spray down everything except the inner sanctum of the toilet bowl.  The laser sights, seem to come in various sizes so there should be a guidance system for just about every man on earth.  Given how much people like to play with guns, a laser sight would give them ample opportunity to play with....  Uh... Never mind.

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!!

X-Bow

According to Wikipedia, the crossbow is a type of weapon based on the bow, consisting of a horizontal bow-like assembly mounted on a stock, which shoots projectiles called 'bolts' or 'quarrels'.  The crossbow, as it's come to be known, has played a significant role throughout history, especially in the greater European and Asian continent, as well as the Mediterranean region.

The traditional bow and arrow has been a common tool since the dawn of recorded history, which required considerable strength and skill to master.  Comparatively, the crossbow possessed much of the same accuracy, but required much less training and expertise.  In ancient and medieval times, the bowmen were considered to be of a separate and superior caste, while just about anyone could be drafted to use the crossbow.

In the modern day, the crossbow, like it's cousin, has transformed and evolved many times, still as common and popular as ever.  Today, it is used primarily in sport and hunting, and with the popularity of The Walking Dead's Daryl Dixon, played by Norman Reedus, a whole new interest in the crossbow has been sparked.

The crossbow has always proven it's worth throughout the annals of time and I'm certain it will continue to do so, long into the future, whether there's a zombie apocalypse or not.  Where it seems to be a useless weapon, in my humble opinion, is sometime long long ago, in a galaxy far far away from our own.

In the Star Wars universe, Wookiees were a civilization advanced enough to have developed modern tank-like weapons and the ability for space travel, yet many of their hand-to-hand combat weapons in their arsenal, were still of a primitive-based design.  Bow staffs and spears were used in addition to laser blasters and cannons.  The crossbow is also a popular weapon used by the Wookiee armies.  It seems peculiar, to me, that the Wookiees had the foresight to develop stronger more destructive weapons, but still avoided casting aside their more inadequate weapons.  Though I never looked real close during the war on the Wookiee planet in Episode III, Revenge of the Sith, I'm sure there were still some Wookiee soldiers using rocks and stones.

The most prominent Wookiee of them all, Chewbacca, eventually left his home planet for a life of adventure, skipping around the galaxy with his companion, Han Solo, and though there were many instances that occurred in the time in between, the Wookiee never cast aside the main weapon of his people, the crossbow.

An impressive weapon to look at, intimidating in some instances, overall the weapon is bulky and inadequate.  For one, the crossbow (as it was used on the planet Earth) was designed for the ease of shooting ballistic projectiles like bolts and/or arrows.  In all of the times that I've bore witness to the use of the crossbow by Chewbacca, never once have I seen a quiver or any ballistics of any sort, being flung out by his trusty crossbow.  Hell! If you look closely at Chewies Bowcaster (pictured right), you'll notice that there's nowhere for a projectile, of any sort, to be launched from this outdated weapon.  

Filmmakers are in such a rush to design unique looking weapons for their sci-fi movies, that they set aside practicality for whatever looks cool and dangerous.  As stated before, Chewbacca's crossbow, looks impressive and even intimidating, to some degree, but it's better served as a museum piece.  An artifact worthy of spectacle and storytelling, rather than heated combat.  An outdated relic of ancient weaponry has no place in the  future, a long long time ago.

Man on a Mission

In a clear panic, I rushed through the thicket of people, crowded at the front of the store.  I was on the brink of exploding in my pants.  I definitely shouldn't have had that soda pop an hour before, but we always learn something via 20/20 hindsight.  Into the bathroom, past the urinals and straight into the handicapped stall.  I like the extra space.  The seat, thankfully, was already in the upright position, so I needn't balance it on the end of my foot.  I never use my hands for ANYTHING in a public restroom, especially in a f*cking Wal-Mart.

As I unzipped my heavy jacket in preparation for the task at hand, I passively glanced into the bowl , locking my gaze on the most peculiar sight I've ever had the misfortune to see in a public toilet.  I've mulled it over in my mind for the last hour, trying desperately to configure a way to successfully translate what I saw into comprehensible language and I believe I may have it.

In using the facilities at a restaurant, mall or big box store, we've all seen the remnant of the previous user or users.  That fecal muck that sticks to the side of the bowl that no amount of rushing water can successfully wash it away.  However, what I witnessed today was significantly different.  It was of a different viscosity and texture and colour, even.  The colour was a dull grey.  Thick and pebble-like in appearance.  Similar to celery seed, it looked like tiny beads of poo, spackled on the side of the bowl, like plaque on a rotting tooth.  "Ew," I whispered to myself, nose turned up with disgust, shocked by the appearance of this alien matter, "That motherf**ker is a sick puppy."

Granted just because it looks sick as f*ck, doesn't necessarily mean the contributing personality is also terminal.  I can speak from personal experience to initial shock of looking in the toilet expecting something impressive, and instead, discovering something off-putting, gross and concerning, only to remember that I had eaten beets a few hours before.  As to what might turn someone's poop into tiny grey balls of mystery? I don't know, nor do I wish to speculate.  My only goal in writing this blog, is to simply report the shit that I see.  Well, that and I wanted to use the simile that I thought of.

Despite my initial surprise, I never allowed it to deter me.  I was on a mission, after all.  A mission to avoid peeing my pants, and god damn it, crisis averted.  Mission accomplished!!