Winnebago Man

Oh God, this is funny. I had heard about the "Winnebago Man" from my daughter. Here he is in all his splendor.

There will be a post tomorrow. I swear.

Greece: The piper must be paid...

My father worked like a son of a bitch. Like I mentioned in one of my earlier blogs, he was a corporate slave to the CIBC and managed to keep a spoiled kid like myself fed and clothed. I didn't always agree with my father, but I did respect his Judeo-Christian work ethic.

Imagine my surprise when my ex-mother in law announced that people like my father should be shot.

Beatrix, my ex-mother in law, was one of those people who always wanted a Utopian society, but never had the insight on how it was to be delivered. According to this well intentioned, but ignorant, misguided social crusader, rich people (a.k.a-my father) had somehow managed to sign a pact with the devil that allowed them to get rich while exploiting the poor, huddled masses. Never mind the fact that my dad worked twelve hour days,went to night school and got posted to some shitty back alley jobs: His success was so obscene to her, that it was obviously some nefarious dealings that hoisted him there.

Beatrix wanted a society where no one paid taxes ( this always slayed me because she was a health care worker....How was she going to get paid?), the work days were short, people all had the "same", and there was lots of leisure time for all. This. according to her, was Utopia, and all quite attainable if people could only be civilized and worry less about money and more about society.

The people of Greece wanted all the same things that dopey Beatrix wanted, however they got a stern wake up call from the rest of the European Union that there their bill was due and that the proverbial pipe had to be paid, and quickly.

The country of Greece has been striving for a country that has a shorter work week, the benefits of a socialist society that is just, and one that can be competitive with the rest of their brethren in Europe. The only problem with this equation is that the people of Greece had become used to an "underground" tax free workforce, whist the national debt ballooned to obscene proportions.

As a result of the Greek government fiscal mismanagement, countries such as Germany have had to bail the country out. The Germans, the most prominent player in the Greek loan, have made it quite clear that they will lend money, but only if the Greeks take some strict austerity measures.

The Greeks, however, were not exactly receptive to the idea of fiscal management and paying loans back with interest. The city of Athens has been virtually shut down for the past week due to protesters like the one pictured above, while the government of Angela Merkel teeters on the brink of disaster.

The lesson out of all this fiasco: There is no free lunch for any of us. No matter how many crazy Beatrix's come out of the woodwork, someone has to pay for fiascoes like the one in Greece. Unfortunately of the Greek people, they are now left with a check that no one is willing to pick up.

Sorry, Beatrix.

Andy Kaufman was not like you or I...

I'm sorry for the delay in updating this blog. Your humble author is involved in some last minute government deadlines.

Scratch your head whilst watching Andy Kaufman. This stuff is so bizarre.

I'll update shortly, I promise.

Hamid Karzai: Why didn't we see this coming?...

Ah, back to the keyboard again after a long respite.

For those of you who have loved ones serving in the Canadian Armed Forces, or have a friend in the Forces, or have a raging urge to see Taliban smashed into a thousand tiny pieces, this news item should stir you somewhat:

That swarmy "snake oil salesman",anti-woman's rights, fun lovin' " cum" leader of Afghanistan was on the news today. Hamid Karzai, the democratically "elected" leader of Afghanistan has been complaining to the international media about " international influence" in his beloved country. According to Karzai, if it doesn't stop soon "he will be siding with Taliban".

That's right. Siding with the Taliban. The same Taliban that is trying to kill his fat, ungrateful ass. The same Taliban that stones women for wearing makeup, the same Taliban that sheltered Bin Laden, the same Taliban that the Canadian Armed Forces has lost so many brave men and women to.

But, as North Americans we shouldn't be surprised. The CIA funded and trained the Afghanistan resistance fighters to expel the Soviets in the 70's and the 80's. Once their will was broken and they retreated like the British and the Huns, the resistance fighters turned their Kalashnikov's on the very people who trained them to fight in the first place. This is simply a case of the US getting in bed with another leader who charmed them into thinking that no one understood Asia like he did, only to turn on them like a crack ho who somehow feels underpaid and under appreciated for services rendered. In this case, the only service that was rendered was the fleecing of the Canadian taxpayer with their hard earned money and the blood of their children to what they thought was the backing of a noble cause.

Hopefully Prime Minister Harper will see this so-called leader for what he is: Another self serving oaf with a grudge towards anything from the West but the colour of our money.

The Who play the Super Bowl: My mother would have understood...

My dear departed mother loved Elvis Presley. Ironic given the fact Elvis longed for his mother for so many years after she died.

My mother loved Elvis when she was growing up in Nashville,Ontario ( that too is ironic). She loved Elvis long after she married my father, had two sons and moved all over the province for my dad's job. She loved Elvis even after he got fat, dressed like a circus freak and took his show to Vegas. She even loved him after he blew his heart out with a variety of prescription drugs. I didn't get it, but hey, it wasn't my place to understand why some people loved the King after all that time.

I guess it was my three daughter's turn to wonder why I wanted to watch The Who perform last Sunday at the Super Bowl halftime.

I loved them growing up after purchasing "Who's Next" in Grade 8. I loved them after buying "Quadrophenia" in cassette. I loved them after buying " Who's Next" on red vinyl (!) while I worked at a pub in Ottawa. Yes, and I still loved them after Keith and John both blew out their heart's out a variety of prescription and illegal drugs, respectively.

As I watched Roger and Pete work their tired legs around the gauche stage constructed for their gig, I finally saw what my mother saw: It wasn't the fact they were old, it was the fact we were all old together. I didn't see them through the myopic,skeptical eyes of my baby girls, but rather saw them as link to all our misspent, ill used youth. Yes they are old, but they were once young and they should command some sort or respect for all the great music they gave us.

I could care less what anyone says. I enjoyed the show. And I know my mother would understand that.

The last bastion for male bonding..

In the 1970's there was a magazine by the name of "Oui". It was the brainchild of Bob Guccione, the publisher of "Penthouse". I could never understand why the two magazines were published by the same company. The only difference I could see was that the girls in Oui tended to be from France, while the girls featured in Penthouse to be from North America. It didn't really matter: All the girls made me hot,so I could have cared less where they were from.

While taking the time to actually read an issue of Oui, I came across an interview with Francis Giocabetti ( or some name similar to that). He was an Italian photographer of some merit and he was being asked about his home life. His answer:
"I have three daughters at home, and if I had my way I'd have three more. All men do is talk about hunting and fishing. It's all fucked up.I think women know more about life because they are the ones that bring life into the world".

As fate ( or luck ) would have it, I'm the father of three beautiful girls. As I grow older I ponder what the Italian photographer said: Women do have a profound sense of the aesthetic and my life is certainly richer because of it. However, this does not mean that I don't need a little time with my own gender now and again.

Before I go any further let me explain that I've tried to be a "sensitive new age guy " and so far I think I'm succeeding somewhat: When my daughters were born I took parental leave so my bride could pursue her career. I'm quite content to let my wife dictate how the house should be decorated. I do all the cooking for my family and actually enjoy it. I have grown to appreciate antiques. I let my middle daughter give me manicures. However, despite all these things, the testosterone in in my body seems to always seems to rise to the surface of my olive skin and I find myself agog with the overwhelming desire to watch two steroid juiced men strap leather to their hands and beat the shit out of one another in an organized mayhem called "UFC". Or go down to the local gun club and fire a couple of hundred rounds from a Sig Sauer 239 . 40 caliber handgun, all the while reveling in watching the spent casings fly out of the gas powered ejection port. Ah, the things that stir your humble author's animal instincts...

However, these desires are always fleeting and I am brought back to reality by the needs of my girls. I have though, allowed myself one male pleasure that satisfies my most primordial urges: My weekly trip to Gus the Barber in Toronto.

I discovered Gus ( the silver haired gentleman seen cutting hair in the picture above ) quite by accident. I had dropped my daughter off at dance and strolled down Bloor Street to kill some time. Gus's shop stood out amongst the Korean BBQ restaurants and wholesale electronic shops. The entrance way was marked with a red sign proclaiming : "GUS THE OTHER BARBER", with a Greek national soccer team flag draped over it.

The inside of Gus's shop sends a clear but subtle message: This shop is for men. Period. The walls are adorned with various soccer team flags from around the world. There are several pictures of Gus with various Toronto dignitaries including "Honest" Ed Mirvish, whose gauchely decorated "Honest Ed's" store sits directly across the street. Photos of wives, granddaughters, and girlfriends are proudly displayed in front of each chair, along with various newspaper articles dishing out kudos to Gus and his four other male barbers.

Although I've had this Saturday ritual for the past year, Gus has only cut my hair once. That is because Gus is a hot commodity not only for his hair cutting skills but the paternal advice that he regularly dispenses. He, like most Greek men his age, are only too willing to share their views about love, life family, law and order,and politics. And according to one regular patron: "Gus's advice is always good". All advice is dispensed with a subtle laugh and a sense of dignified decorum.

Gus's clientele are an interesting of mix: White collar and working man, devoted Dad and hungover player, Jew and Muslim, black and white. All sit together swapping jokes ( What's the similarity between the Toronto Maple Leafs and an escort? They both blow for $200 ) while waiting for Gus or one of his skilled counterparts.There are some days like this seems like the last bastion for male bonding.

If any "metro" guys are reading this, I should warn you: This place is not for the feint of heart. If you're expecting some woman named Rina in a body stocking to trim your cuticles, you're too far down Bloor Street. Gus's scissors are sharp, his fingers quick and deft, and he uses this blue concoction on your skin when he is done.

The Italian photographer was only partially correct. Men do talk about hunting and fishing, but at a place like Gus's, it is not always fucked up.

What does Johnny think of the Toronto Maple Leafs?...

My father worked for the Canadian Imperial Bank of Commerce for 40 years. Although I never heard him say that he loved his work, I do think he enjoyed his time at the branch located in at Church and Carleton Street in Toronto. This is where Maple Leaf Gardens, the home of the Toronto Maple Leafs , was located.

One year, I believe it was 1968, the Leafs were in in the Stanley Cup playoffs and they were facing the Boston Bruins. Tickets to the game were a hot commodity and my father was given two rink side tickets from a generous supervisor. (That was the least the bank could have done for him considering the number of hours he worked there, but that is another blog). Anyway, my father decided to take me with him to the game.

Going to Leaf games then was considered the height of civility. Although I was quite young, I remember that men wore suits and fedoras. Women wore dresses and minks, without the fear of repercussion from some well meaning PETA devotee. To quote Henry Hill from the movie "Goodfellas": It was a glorious time.

As the two teams took the ice, I remember looking at the Toronto goalie and thinking of how different he appeared from the rest of the team. He looked like he was pushing 50 years of age and he seemed so small. Only later did I realize that this person was none other than Johnny Bower. Bower was a legend, helped the Leafs win four cups and was a fan favourite. The Leafs lost to Boston that year and have never won a Stanley Cup since.

I was looking through a Toronto newspaper the other day and I came across a picture of Bower. He was going to be attending a "sports memorabilia" show in they city, Man, he looked pretty good for someone who has to be in his 80's. As I looked at the photo, I couldn't help but think: If I took Johnny out for a Stella and some wings, what would he think of today's Toronto Maple Leafs?.

The Leafs now play at the Air Canada Centre which is a poorly designed glass and steel monstrosity situated between a series of condos. The once curvy women who occupied the rink side seats, are now replaced by anorexic pale skinned women who talk on cellphones. Men that once wore suits to the game, are now clad in cheesy Leaf sweaters with the name of their favourite player sewn on the back for no less than $150. The programs that once contained glossy photos of your favourite stars,are now hawking everything from designer clothing to Japanese made cars. But the one thing that has changed the most has the been the Leafs themselves. This once proud team that Bower so capably played for, has become a metaphor for everything that has gone wrong in North America in the past five years: Greed, incompetence, poor spending,and excuse making. The team that my father took me to see, is now a professional hockey team that has not won a single game this year, all the while charging the fan more than $150 a pop (if you're lucky) per ticket, while playing at a level that would embarrass even the lowest tier Russian team.

What would Johnny think?...

The working Dad..

Nothing pisses me off more than those dorky TV ads that portray Dad as a bumbling boob. This type of yellow, stereotypical marketing does nothing but infuriate men and leaves an intelligent woman aghast.

As a working Dad, married to a working Mom ( who makes far more money than this civil servant), I am responsible for the cooking in the house.The reason is quite simple: My wife, as intelligent and witty as she is, can't par boil shit for a street dance. Ergo, I am left to do the cooking. I'm not complaining, it's just the way it is.

For all those working people out there who need to feed a family after a hard day of work, take my advice: Buy a crock pot. Forget all that "Julie-Julia"nonsense, be realistic and start being smart with your time. Julia Child never had any kids, her hubby was a diplomat, and she lived in France. That's three more things going for her than I have, so if any of her devout followers are offended, tough shit.

This is a really simple crock pot recipe that can feed your hungry hubby/wife/mistress/best friend. It's simple and most of all, kids love it.

You start with:

1 large package of chicken thighs ( 6 to 8 )
1 bottle of Diana's " BBQ Sauce" ( or any other sauce that is compatible with chicken: Hot and Tangy sauce, Sweet Sauce, etc...)
1 tin of Diet Pepsi (or any other cola)
3 dashes of olive oil
1 crock pot ( I have a small one...crock pot, that is)

Directions:

Heat your oven to 425 degrees far.
Place the chicken in a large baking pan ( I love the Laghostino myself).
Dash the chicken with olive oil. Make sure your cover all the chicken!
Let the chicken cook until golden brown. Turn over once or twice while cooking.

Once the chicken is cooked, remove from the pan and pat dry. Place the chicken in the bottom of the crock pot. Pour the tin of cola over the chicken. Once the foam settles, cover the chicken with the WHOLE bottle of Diana's sauce.

If you are cooking with a small crock pot, cook it on "LOW" for about 2 to 2.5 hours. If you like your chicken a little more crispy, cook it for about 3 hours.

My daughters ( except Peta, my oldest who is a vegetarian) love this dish.

It's time for working Dad's/Mom's/Mistresses to unite and prove that we can look after our families while still putting food on the table.

the 18% solution...

Being the consummate consumer, I ordered and received a "Marriot VISA" platinum card. I figured that I had a good paying job, so I could afford the 18% or so fee on the card. I was approved for $5000 in credit. North Africa, here I come!

I took my three daughters to Ottawa this weekend. I treated them to the " 5 star" treatment, the same way any indulgent parent would. I love my kids, so it's no big deal to me.

When I went to check out of the hotel, I was informed that my VISA card was not valid. I called the company, only to be told that my credit limit had been reduced to $3900 dollars, and that I had met my limit. I explained that I was paying more than the required limit and that I had never been late with a payment. The peon on the other side of the phone said: " Well, it has to do with a "blip" on your credit report that made us reduce it". When I enquired what the "blip" was, they said " We can't really discuss it".

My advice to everyone: Watch these swine who offer these cards. This type of unscrupulous behaviour is simply contemptible. Yes, I know that credit cards are high risk, but not to people who use them responsibly.

As Vincent Bugliosi said:" There ought to be a law".