you'll just know, that's all

sometimes everything just clicks. sometimes the water feels just right. sometimes the stars just align themselves. sometimes fate just smiles on you. sometimes the moment just presents itself. and sometimes no matter how hard you try, you just can't improve on the sublime imprecision of everyday life. cuz sometimes it is what it is.

but i can't live without my iphone, dude

yeah, i was there. and while i saw a lot of signage about the usual suspects -- conservatives, israel, the police, the g20, capitalism, america et al. -- the banners that stood out the most were those targeting so-called "corporate greed", whatever that means. after all, as one who once toiled in the corporate world -- indeed, as one who once toiled in the creation of the corporate world -- i am always struck by the sheer ignorance of those who profess to hold court on such bottom-line issues. for the uninitiated, the corporate hierarchy reads much like a traditional pyramid, with shareholders on top, followed by directors, officers, managers and then employees, in that order. or as they are sometimes referred to: human beings. each and every one of them. from the top on down. or from the bottom on up. yup, it's a virtual hierarchy of humanity. hey, you got a problem with corporate greed? don't blame the structure, my man. blame the homo sapiens running the show.

oh, and by the way, about the only item that was even more in evidence today than all those "down with corporations" placards were all those shiny new iphone 4s thingamajiggies. uh, who makes those again?

Apple (NSDQ: AAPL) reported a very good year for 2010... the company said in an SEC filing. In the year Apple unveiled its iPad and had some embarrassing struggles related to the performance of the iPhone 4, the company’s revenue grew to $65.2 billion, representing a 52 percent gain over 2009. Net income meanwhile grew to $14 billion in 2010, an increase of 70 percent from the year before. Apple also ended the year with a cash and “marketable securities” balance of $51 billion for a 50 percent rise year-over-year.

it's absurd really

from the overseas telephone spammer who nearly convinced me that i had an operating system defect which only he could cure to the veteran library lady who stubbornly refuses to speak in hushed tones to the elderly coffee shop patrons who perch themselves in their pre-assigned seats from dawn to dusk to the even more elderly morning mallwalker crew decked out in their oversized velvet tracksuits who can still outsaunter most folks half their age to the dutiful sandwich shop servers who insist on greeting each and every g-ddamn customer with an almost painfully cheery "good afternoon, welcome to subway" to my three-year-old daughter who has somehow managed to tie the 8 a.m. ritual of brushing her teeth to the promise of candy treats to follow to the 35 grams of sugar that my already overhyped eight-year-old consumes each and every time she downs a juice box and granola bar following a soccer match to the three standup comics who between them must have dropped the f-bomb a good dozen times a minute over the course of saturday night's two-hour cussfest to all the audible gumchewers who invariably park themselves behind me in the supermarket queue while a trainee cashier attempts to break the world record for the most register overrides in a single shift to all the senseless and irrelevant trifles that folks like me spend the better part of our lives pissing and moaning about.

it's absurd really.

apples to oranges

so i stumbled upon a rather interesting phenomenon in the produce section of my local grocery today. you see, i had been furiously scouring the fruit and vegetable stands in search of a decent granny smith apple - you know, one absent any manifest scrapes or bruises or soft spots or elongated stems or whatnot. but as i repeatedly relocated one malformed fleshy fruit after another from the pyramid-shaped pile before me, i gradually began to recognize a pattern unfolding: it seemed as if all of the aesthetically-pleasing apples just happened to be grouped together in a single, isolated location upon the display table. now at first i thought nothing of the odd little occurrence. but then it slowly began to dawn on me that perhaps this was no mere coincidence. no, perhaps this was evidence of an even larger pattern of curious sociological construct that silently epitomizes our modern communities. one that extends beyond the facile insignificance of the apple kingdom. one that instead characterizes the blithe and almost blinding harshness and cruelty of everyday homosapien interaction. and one that is seemingly most evident within the realm of that highly-concentrated microcosm of societal relationships... yes, i am referring to none other than that petri dish of the human condition, the schoolyard. for wasn't it in the schoolyard where most of us first came to recognize the sheer brutality and the utter callousness of what we now understand to be the class system, the pecking order, the fraternity of fellowship, the sorority of sisterhood, the cult of popularity? wasn't it in the schoolyard where most of us first came to recognize that birds of a feather do, indeed, flock together? wasn't it in the schoolyard where most of us first came to recognize how the pretty people of the world are almost magnetically drawn to one another within their chosen peer groups? and so perhaps i had indeed stumbled upon the proverbial missing link, as it were. the linchpin that finally connected all of those hazy dots between ourselves and our agricultural cousins. for perhaps we are not alone in this universe after all. perhaps we share more in common with our farm-raised friends than we are willing to concede. perhaps apples and oranges and avocados and even papayas share a desire to be part of the in crowd as well. to be part of the a-list. to be hip and happening and all that and a bag of chips. yes, perhaps apples and oranges and avocados and even papayas share a desire to be cool.

open letter

i know that you are curious. i know that you are searching. i know that you will read this one day. and i know that when you do read this you will probably try to locate some hint, some evidence that i loved you. that i cared about you. that you were special to me. and i know that you will probably be disappointed. disappointed because you will not find what you are looking for. but not because i did not love you. and not because i did not care about you. and not because you were not special to me. because you were. but unfortunately, the words that you search for will never appear in the pages of this forum. because the truth is that try as i might, i could never accurately convey those words in a way that would make sense to you. or in a way that would make sense to me. because i never really learned how to express those words. those words that you quite rightly deserve to hear from me. and i just hope that with time you gradually learn to accept why those feelings were so difficult for me to express. because you already know a little something about my past. and because you are a bright child. and because you are an understanding child. and because you are my child.

and a spring in your step

so the other day i found myself sprawled out on the sofa beside my eight- and three-year-old, the three of us kicking back to an early episode of spongebob squarepants. just then patrick, spongebob's trusty sidekick, uttered a line that gradually brought a smile to my face. now typically, i am hardly one for animated hijinks. but the more i thought about the line, the more i began to beam. fast forward fifteen seconds and i could barely contain my mirth. in fact, before long i had become so manifestly bemused by the starfish crack that eventually even eight and three had caught on to my general sense of merriment.

"what you laughing at, dad?"

"ah, nothing. it was just something that patrick said."

"patrick said something funny?"

"yeah. patrick said something funny."

"uh, ok dad."

so, too, the sight of that buxom old lady in our building who insists on squeezing my daughters' faces into her bosom every time she greets them. or the sight of my youngest selecting the same hiding spot time after time after time in her invariably futile attempts to thwart her elder sister's hide-and-seek ambitions. or the sight of middle-aged disco queens and their greying dancehall kings revelling in the music of their youth.

mirror man

so i stumbled upon a rather illuminating tete-a-tete featuring dr. drew on celebrity rehab last night. he was speaking with a former child star who had somehow gone astray despite all of the luxuries previously afforded him in his long-forgotten role of hollywood glamboy. not surprisingly then, the middle-aged cautionary tale now points the finger at his old man for many of the difficulties he must tackle in his present incarnation. but dr. drew was quick to point out that while everyday mannerisms of all shapes and sizes can most certainly be traced back to our earliest childhood role models, i.e., our parents, that inaugural education cannot possibly explain why some individuals persist along their self-destructive paths well into their adult years. it was as if dr. drew was drawing a line in the sand for the erstwhile celeb by challenging him to confront his demons and embrace the familiar mantra of "the past belongs to the past, but the future belongs to you." now it was not the first time i had overheard the good doctor utter the pithy refrain but i must say that it was especially poignant this time around given the dire circumstances facing the fallen star and the utter desperation of his current plight. and it reminded me of the entirely apt characterization i stumbled upon many moons ago which attempted to highlight the power of the spoken word amongst the readership of said prose. the power of the spoken word, the saying goes, lies in its almost uncanny ability to reflect the innermost attitudes and experiences of the audience members themselves, as opposed to, say, those of the piece's composer.

animals

they used to call it a repair shop. but today they refer to it as a service centre. not that it matters, really. not that it matters at all, in fact. for at the heart of this tale lies a human foot. a human foot and a container of pringles. for what would possess a young man to kick off his perfectly comfortable, faux-leather sandal in order to rest his sweat-soaked and callus-ridden right foot on the faux-leather chair perched right by my side inside the waiting area of the honda service centre at eglinton and caledonia? seriously. what would possess someone to do such a horrible and disgusting thing? and why would that horrible and disgusting someone elect to add insult to injury by stuffing his face full with one sour cream 'n onion pringles potato chip after another? and another. and another. animal.

"this is only a moment in your life... this is not your life"

what is it about those damn americans? what is it about those gun-toting, fist-pounding, bloodthirsty americans? and what is it about their near pathological obsession with violence and anger and aggression? why just the other day i watched as thousands upon thousands of them rode roughshod through the streets of a major urban centre tearing up sidewalks and smashing storefront windows and torching abandoned vehicles while others stood idly by snapping photos or cheering them on. and just a few months ago i watched as thousands more squeezed themselves into a sweltering domed coliseum after doling out hundreds of dollars each so as to bear witness to the sight of grown men in tights pounding one another into submission. and just this morning i watched as even thousands more slowed their vehicles to a near standstill in order to catch a glimpse of the potential carnage that may have resulted from an unfortunate roadside automobile accident.

oh. oh, wait a minute. those weren't americans. those were canadians.

never mind.

man overboard

so early this morning whilst standing before my bathroom mirror, i groggily popped the childproof cap on my latest bottle of overpriced antibiotics. suddenly and without warning then, several of the multi-hued capsules decided to made a break for it. unfortunately though, at least as far as my sinus symptoms were concerned, the aforementioned pill holder just happened to be positioned directly above the loo at that fateful moment. the end result? three of my valuable bacteria warriors were tragically lost at sea. and what's more, this ain't the first time i have seen items of precious lavatory cargo inadvertently go the way of the ss minnow. toilet paper rolls? yup. toothbrushes? you bet. wedding rings? yessir. and yet, each and every time i lose my grip and watch as my powder room wares plunge to their watery graves, i vow that will be the last time i make such a grievous error in digital adroitness. but alas, such is never the case. for just as i am certain that the sun will once again ascend come tomorrow morn, so, too, am i at peace in the understanding that accidents do indeed happen. and mistakes are never too far down the road. 'cause as long as there remains at least one oddly-shaped personal grooming and/or pharmaceutical product that defies proper handling skills, there will always be an energy efficient american standard toilet bowl eagerly anticipating its arrival.

i felt a redux was in order