High Five From Myself

I sometimes receive high fives from past versions of myself when I feel like I'm doing something that a younger version of myself would think is cool.

Bending the space-time continuum to ensure that present versions of myself feel adequately psyched up is a challenging exercise, but one always worth the effort. I should explain.

As a young man I made the decision to supply future versions of myself with mementos of my brilliance. It was, at first, difficult to discern the most effective way to do this. I'm not very photogenic, so pictures of myself giving me a thumbs up would have been more mortifying than encouraging. I never really understood the mail system, so mailing myself letters of encouraging would have been very challenging. Even if I had been psychic the fact that Canada Post can't find my address to save their damn lives (I live at a 1/2 address...in unit A) would have a Back to the Future-esque letter to future me completely inconceivable.

Hence my decision to send forward high fives..the most righteous of fives.

Awesome pun? High five

To better explain how this works, if I did something awesome and unexpected as a younger man...for example, managing to speak to a girl without sweating too much on my palms and saying something extremely stupid and mildly offensive I would send myself a high five. Scored the game winning basket? Send myself  a high five. Scored perfect on a test? Send myself a high five. Go on a swing-set without getting so nauseous that I puke? You get the idea.

A particularly good "Your Mom" joke... high five

While all of those examples seem rather pedestrian (minus the girls one...did I ever mention how bad I was with girls?) the sum of the events that shaped your late childhood and adolescence add up to a pretty decent stable of high fiveable moments.

Why did this matter? Why do the delusions of a pretty weird little kid still translate into an ego boost for a 21 year old, soon to be graduate and real human? Partially because I'm now a deluded 21 year old rather than a deluded child...but also because receiving high fives from a less complicated version of yourself is, actually, a genuine pick me up.

I didn't think this through when I was a child, but looking back on it as a (slightly) wiser young man I think that acting in a way that younger you would be proud of is actually pretty cool. If I am being entirely frank, most of the time I like the younger version of myself more than I like the current version of myself. He may have been a bit rounder, completely incapable of playing sports, lacking all ambition that didn't involve the high score on a video game and completely incapable of communicating with children his own age but he was still a pretty legit character.

The younger version of myself tended to call things how it was. He went out of his way to do things that were nice (most of the time) because that was what the good people in the cartoons taught him to do. He also treated absolutely every person with the kind of respect they deserved without having to prompt himself. He rarely, if ever, made pre-judgments of the people around him and accepted absolutely anybody and everybody as a friend. (Maybe he did that last one because he was in sorry need of more friends, so not quite as legit.)

I say that because life is like this. 

I'm watching a lot of my friends post about their graduation this week, and have had a lot of chats with them about how they think going out and being a real person is going to be. My impression from those conversations is that being a real person is tough. It takes a lot out of you to be a responsible and functioning individual in a society where banks are out to screw you for the rest of your life because you looked at them funny and the only people that know you in the city you have to relocate too because that was the only place that offered a job is the student loan representative that is half-threatening to break your knees with a bat. These challenges can wear people down physically, emotionally, and morally, and it can sometimes be cool to look back at a younger version of yourself, even if they were covered in goobers, and receive a high five that tells you that things are going alright.

I think the best feeling in the world would be to know that a younger version of myself would look up to me and think I was cool. I'm starting, however preliminarily, to look at the rest of my life. I'm frantically trying to make connections, foster closer relationships, evaluate where I want to be, what I want to be doing, who I want around me. When I'm doing this, it is sometimes helpful to remember that the people I used to look up to when I was a pretentious, snotty, little 8 year-old were all going through something similar and managed to carry themselves, not only with grace and respect, but in a way that I thought was unbelievably cool.

It helps me to believe that I might be doing the same thing, however imperfectly, and that is why I covet those high fives from a younger, stickier, stupider, but much more together version of myself.

/endpreaching

Why Men Don't Belong in Clubs

I've been talking something through with a dear friend and we reached an irreproachable stance on a defining issue of our times.

I hate you

Men do not belong in clubs.

Allow me to walk you through the logical processes behind this genius deduction. First, we should analyze the reasons why people would actually want to go to a club. By my count, you can go because you like the music, you can go because you like to dance, you can go in search of companionship, you can go because you like the atmosphere, or you can go because you literally hate money and are trying to find the most efficient ways to waste it. Absolutely none of these things appeal to me, and I would be much obliged if you were to let  me elucidate in excruciating detail why.

First, websites such as Grooveshark, Youtube, and Pandora have made access to music free, convenient, and even added a phenomenal you-can-control-the-volume-so-that-your-eardrums-dont-explode-and-bleed-all-over-your-friends-option should you desire it. Not only is music easy to access, you are also able to choose it at your leisure. With the click of your mouse you can do what, in clubs, is traditionally reserved  for drunken valley girls/Canadian Jersey Shore wannabees with no filter who are willing to scream ridiculous things at DJ's just trying to do their damn jobs. 

Second, I can't dance. I have never been able to dance. I am a self-conscious person by nature, and the thought of flailing my arms, legs, and hips around like an idiot reminds me so much of my childhood attempts to run, play sports, and talk to girls (all of which I sucked at) that the thought of doing it literally makes my brain want to crawl out of my ears, find a baseball bat and hit me in the legs until I will stop doing it.  I wish I could explain to you how bad I am at dancing but the sheer number of characters I would need to sacrifice at the ruined alter of my dignity to sufficiently explain how atrociously, even nauseatingly, bad I am would warrant a feature length independent project. I would add that I am not the only person that feels this way (I hope) and if at any given time you were to compile a list of the 50 worst dancers at any given club, all 50 of them would be awkward males like myself. In short, unless you are in the rare group of men that can actually dance, or are in possession of the Herculean amounts of self-confidence it takes to just dance anyway, this option doesn't really appeal.

Third, the regulars at an average night clubs are unapologetic douche-lords and I hate their faces. By no means does this extend to everyone at a club. Most of my best friends love to go out and I respect their decisions, but they are normal people that happen to be at clubs. The "regulars" to which I am referring are the sorts of people that almost certainly live at the club. You never see them during the day, they are freakishly tanned for people that you know have not seen real sunlight since their 17th birthday and the only thing more confusing than how they manage to spend so much money on drinks is how they manage to spend so much money on hair products. If you are going to a club to scam on a member of the opposite sex these are the people you are invariably going to end up running into.

Fourth, the atmosphere. I'll keep this one short. If I wanted to spend what seems like an eternity jostling around in a dark, unventilated, underground hell-hole that reeks of overpriced, watered-down rum and Axe body spray I would have accepted that offer to go hang out with Charlie Sheen. In short, I hate the atmosphere in clubs more than GHG's hate the atmosphere of the Earth.

If you want to go a level deeper, the only thing worse than being a Man at a club is being a Man in a relationship at a club. This is the definition of a no-win scenario.

I literally dance like that...but worse

Option 1: You leave your girlfriend alone and hang out awkwardly, maybe with a friend, near the side of the club. Within 5 minutes you are going to realize that by standing at the side of a club staring blankly at the surroundings you could not look weirder. The only logical things that any person that happens to look at you while you haunt the outside of a dance floor could conclude are a) you are leering at every woman in the club and are worthy of extreme contempt, or b) you are so crippingly socially awkward that you can't dance and have therefore relegated yourself to timeout like an overgrown pathetic child. (I realize option b) is probably the truth, but nobody wants people to think that about them)

Option 2: You dance with your significant other. Bear in mind that there are only two ways this can go.

A) You give your significant other space and just sort of dance nearby but not too close. In this situation you look like someone who is trying to pick but are such a bad dancer your advances are being continuously thwarted for the duration of a full evening. Everyone has seen the guy that awkwardly tries to get close to a girl while she shimmies away using her friends like human shields until the awkward butt-face takes a hint and now you look like that guy.

B) You dance with your significant other like a normal person at a club dances with another person and you look like one of the aforementioned J-Shore rejects scamming on a random. This is also an unappealing judgment to have thrust upon you. 

In short, going to the club is like a Catch 22 mailed by express post from Satan himself. Given a million years, and an infinite amount of resources I don't think I could find a thing that better preys on my childhood insecurities and effectively overloads my senses with things that offend me.

I wish I could say there was some moral to this story. I wish there was some way I could wrap up this rant with a pithy statement or clever zinger but, in truth, all I really wanted to do was to talk about how much I hated clubs.The answer? More than you could ever imagine.

Angry Bird Edition

I just punched a bird.

First, I want to make something absolutely clear, I hate birds. However, punching this particular bird had very little to do with any predisposition I may, or may not, have towards the avian menace.

Dear Birds:

I punched that bird because it punched me with its terrifying claws in the back of my head. It foot-punched me first.

I am not an advocate of violence. I do not believe in committing violent acts against animals, I don't believe committing violence against people, I don't believe against committing violence against television (which is why I hate the Slice network). I'm also not smart enough to premeditate violence against flying critters. I actually just spent the last 20 minutes sitting around spreading silly putty on my hand in order to give myself a second, sillier, epidermis.

No, ladies and gentleman, this was a primal response to a crow swooping down and accosting my brain cage.

You may have all heard about the "angry birds" incident at Queen's University. I'll keep the story brief, a bunch of green pigs tricked a bunch of birds and, in the resulting confusion of their dastardly trick, the green pigs stole the bird's eggs and fled. Now the birds are foot-punching me in the head for no reason and I'm pissed right off.

Does that make any sense? No, none of this makes sense and I'm furious.

None of this makes sense...

I can hardly even call what I did to that bird a punch. To put my actions into angry bird terms my fist was like a single blue bird trying to break a concrete block. My fist didn't punch so much as gently suggest that the crow get the hell out of my hair before it gives me bubonic bird lice. In short, I struck no great blow to this menace. Like a dwarfish kiln on the magical gold of Sauron's ring I did not but earn this great evil's ire. 

I'm not sure what needs to be done to stop these birds from dive bombing pedestrians, but if all they want is the pigs to give their eggs back then I am going to eat nothing but bacon sandwiches until they are returned (including the golden ones.) If that doesn't work I would appreciate my University getting rid of them. We don't have enough space for our students to live next year, it doesn't do us any good to further overcrowd our campus with these hell-spawn.

/endrant

I'm Not Very Cool

When I was 6 I broke my father's heart.

Allow me to set the scene: 

Enter Kevin:

A slightly overweight, overly-precocious, smug-as-hell first grader  is sitting on his kitchen counter. You feel an unconscious urge to punch his annoying little face. It is unclear what he is doing, or why your fist remains divorced from his smug little face. One would suspect, upon reflection, that the mega-maniacal cogs of his puny little child brain are frantically searching for the best way to ruin the sometimes strained relationship he has with his father. Suddenly, inspiration hits.

Enter Father:

He is a long suffering man. His patience, and hair, worn thin by over half a decade of dealing with what is, in all likelihood  the single most annoying child in existence. His relation to the hateful creature on the kitchen counter is, aesthetically, doubtful but a brief confrontation reveals that they share a particular, and impossible to replicate, sense of self-righteous stubbornheadedness. He is holding a registration form for the coming year of child hockey. 


Father: Kevin, I have your hockey registration. Would you like to fill it out with me?


Kevin: Umm, sure.


Father: Kevin. You don't sound very excited. You want to play hockey this year right? ...right?


Kevin: I don't know, Dad. I think I would rather try bowling.


Enter 16 years of awkwardly trying to repair the damage caused by this decision.

An alternative dramatic recreation

To clarify, this is indeed a dramatization of one of the more embarrassing moments of my childhood and the one that most troubled my father. The time I quit hockey to try bowling.

It wasn't like I was ending a potential Art Ross worthy NHL career. I was a chubby, awkward, athletically stunted ham-sandwich on skates. I had no killer instinct, (my most vivid memory is being scared of playing a girls team from a nearby town because they were older and "mean") I didn't have a nose for goals, (I didn't score a single goal...) and I clearly didn't understand the game (I spent more time picking up other players and brushing snow off them than actually playing the game.)

I might have qualified for the Lady Byng, but everyone knows that trophy is for wusses.

In retrospect, all of those above attributes would certainly make it seem as though I was better suited to bowling than hockey, however, I was my father's first born son and heir to his hockey legacy. Choosing bowling was a real smack in the face to his hockey legacy.

My father was not a bowler. He was in the rodeo, he was a goalie/defenceman who spent more time slashing players than legitimately trying to prevent goals. In short, he was the kind of kid that would have beat me up on the regular.

It goes without saying that my complete inability to play hockey would have been a disappointment to my father.  My decision to quit it altogether in favor of bowling would have been a nearly insurmountable obstacle in the formation of a healthy father/son relationship. Going forward, the fact that girls do not like me (a story for another day), my bookishness. general status as a social pariah and  inclination for "back talk," would all combine with this seminal moment to create a perfect storm of confusion and lack of understanding between my Dad and me.

Why the confession? I forgot to get my Dad a Father's Day gift (to be honest I don't even know when Father's Day is) and I figure that showing sympathy, if not empathy, for what most have been the most frustrating moment of his life was a pretty good replacement.

Also, the Canucks are in the Stanley Cup Finals and, thanks to the undying patience of my Father, I have developed enough as a man to appreciate and celebrate this wonderful event.

It also doesn't hurt that I can still be a smug-as-hell know-it-all that needs a good face punching and sharing this kind of story helps to keep me (more)  humble.

Political Strategy 205: Listen to your Elders

http://www.cbc.ca/news/yourcommunity/2011/05/party-leaders-do-they-wield-too-much-power.html

Yes, yes they do. The real travesty is when you compare the amount of power wielded by Pary Leaders and compare that to the amount of power wielded by those who would be willing to use it on behalf of the public good in accordance with the primary assumptions of Canadian democracy.

In short, I don't like the centralization of power in the hyper-partisan party politics system. According to that CBC poll neither do 92% of Canadians.

Why? For one, people like Peter Milliken who intimitely understand the history and processes that define an effective democratic system traditionally do not end up in those roles. What we tend to see is a House of Commons that looks more like Spy vs. Spy or a hockey game than a house of debate and representation.

The only difference is that in the House of Commons there would only be white spies....

Over the last year I have had two of the people who I respect most in Canadian Politics, the Rt. Hon. John Turner and the Hon. Peter Milliken, address me on a topic. You might not be surprised to hear that the topic was over-centralization of power in the hands of Party Leaders, and the marginalization of the MP in the current party system. These are not men who lack an understanding of our parliamentary system.

 John Turner is a Rhode Scholar who won his first election in 1962, served as an MP in 3 provinces, served in 5 of Canada's most important Departments and sat as Leader of the Opposition for 6 years. In short, he knows a thing or two about being a Party Leader and how parties operate.

Peter Milliken is Peter-God-Damn-Milliken. If you don't know his resume then you can just look it right the hell up.

The problems that these men have identified are pervasive, and strike at the very fundamentals of an effective system of representation. They argue that whipped votes, extreme party discipline, a marginalization of Private Member Bills and the prevalence of wedge issues such as the Long-Gun debate all damage the ability of Members of Parliament to effectively voice the opinions and needs of their constituents. This, in turn, makes it nearly impossible for the average Canadian to have a say in the management of our political system.

When the only Bills that can be passed through our Parliament need to come through the Prime Minister's Office the ability of individuals to affect change is minimized. Systems of governance where only the wealthy are able to develop policy become (even further) entrenched. There is no need for meaningful regional representation, there is no space for local issues, the only person the Prime Minister needs to listen to is himself and, on occasion, a massive and unwieldy Caucus in which no individual member carries enough weight to leverage for change.

This isn't only a Conservative problem either. Within the Liberal party under Jean Chretien and Paul Martin the only individual whose opinion mattered was the leader. Anyone that actively worked against a leader would risk being marginalized or even exiled from Caucus (Sorry John Manley).

The New Democratic Party may well provide an alternative, but given how important Ol Bon Jack is to the operations of the party, and the rapid and fundamental change in the look of the NDP Caucus nothing is guaranteed to be carried forward.

Or any other day for that matter

So, when all is said and done the only people left to speak out against a slowly developing system that gradually chokes the ability of Canadians to participate in their governance are those retiring from that system. The only ones that can speak without damning their own political futures is the longest serving Speaker of the House sitting on the twilight of a brilliant career in his "farewell interview" and an old man, gradually growing sicker, in an address to the House of Commons filled not by real representatives, but students.

As my friend Charmander once said: "Not a single (firetruck) was given to this fundamental shift in the nature of Canadian Democracy." (I might be paraphrasing). The really disgusting thing about all this is that if you were to ask the average Canadian if they believe that the most effective system of Governance is one where policy is determined not by the individuals who we choose to elect, but determined almost exclusively by the party leader they choose through a system of wheeling, dealing, and backstabbing at a Holiday Inn conference center somewhere in Oakville I am willing to bet they would disagree. But, of course, nobody informs themselves of how the system is changing and, as a result, there is not a single firetruck to be found.

I don't have any answers to this problem. If I'm being fair, there are plenty of people who would disagree that there is any problem at all. However, I'm a firm believer in the primary lesson of Political Strategy 205, listen to your elders. If two of the smartest, best informed people in Canada point to a phenomena and say this is a serious problem I'm fairly likely to at least give it a look.

In my opinion, a system that marginalizes the voices of the people it is meant to represent is a broken one. Unfortunately, there isn't much that either of us can do about it... we aren't Party Leaders.

Its the End of the World As We Know it? But I Feel Fine...

This is the way the World Ends -- Some Dude

The World is ending.

Canada has lost its soul.

Gay Marriage and Abortion are over.

With the collapse of the Liberal Party, and the electoral map of Canada looking more like the Firefox logo than a graphical representation of Canadian democracy, I've started to hear a number of outlandish claims like these.

Following Election 41 I could barely hear the sound of a million upper middle class elderly hearts breaking over the sound of political pundits screaming "WHAT" at their television screens. This upset me greatly, as my favorite sound is the sound of overprivileged and underinformed hearts shattering. The fact that I was kept up all night by journalists frantically hammering out under-considered conclusions to a very confusing evening only managed to frustrate me further.

In short, I'm pissed off. 

Haters Gon' Hate -- Sir John A. Macdonald

I wish I could explain to the heartbroken how ridiculous it is to suggest that Canada is no longer Canada because the Conservative Party won a majority. Our first Prime Minister lead a Conservative majority government. The largest majority in Canadian history, which passed some of its most meaningful legislation, was Conservative. To suggest that a win by today's Tories is an extension of under-informed voters, a failure of democracy, or a signal that Canada is no longer Canada is ridiculous. 

I'm not a Conservative, and I don't like their politics either, but I respect the process. This poor loser attitude that has permeated a very significant percentage of population is the real poor reflection on the health of democracy in Canada, and this accusatory and bitter rhetoric is considerably more "uncanadian" than any Conservative majority.

The sense of entitlement that permeates the Liberal Party of Canada and its supporters is, perhaps, the biggest challenge facing the party. The parties willingness to rest on the laurels of men that have been dead for decades--and stole most of their best ideas from the CCF/NDP--is unacceptable in the current political climate. Their inability to realize that running as a "Blue Liberal" is not simply being a blue blood running as a Liberal is crippling. That the Liberals could be so decimated by Stephen Harper, a man who is no doubt a brilliant strategist, but has the personality of a soggy blanket, is an embarrassment. 

Brian Mulroney Says: LOLZ

 I want to have faith in you people, I really do, but you make it so damn hard sometimes. If the Liberal Party wants to come out of this looking good, it needs a fundamental change of attitude. 

First, you need some policy. I don't mean "here is free money to students" policy. Nor do I mean "here is some free money to old people" policy. As you saw in the last election bribing the electorate with its own money isn't the answer. You need to take the right side on a serious issue, come up with a comprehensive plan for Mental Health, talk renewed national infrastructure, hammer the Conservatives on their ass backwards Public Safety policies, anything.

Second, get young, smart, talented Canadians to associate with your brand, and don't just tokenize them. If you want to be successful, and actually gain something positive out of riding the coat-tails of old dead Liberals use the allure of Pearson, Trudeau, King, St. Laurent and Laurier to attract the best and brightest and let them speak to the values of the party. If you had given a bigger voice to your best and brightest you wouldn't have lost so many of them in the last election. 

Finally, give us a reason to vote for you, not against someone else. The Liberal party has been playing the role of protest party for too long. If you want to be the big dog, then act like the big dog. You can't keep cowering behind your history and only venturing out to whine about the Government's mistakes. That was the sort of thing that kept the NDP from making up any serious ground, and used to draw ridicule from serious candidates. Look what happens when you show some personality and exhibit leadership. Ol' Bon Jack is over 100 seats.

The Liberal Party is a long way from coming back, but perhaps it needed a solid ass kicking. The Liberal Party that suffered massive defeat was stagnant, older, weak, and divided. Perhaps some time as third party will teach them a bit of humility, teach them how to focus, remind them how competitive the political process is. With any luck, the party that comes out of the desert will remember where it comes from, remember what Canadians want, and show the kind of leadership we have come to expect. But before it can do that, its supporters need to quit whining. 

You Were Always On My Mind

No Jokes. Just Mad Respect.

Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter are my new best friends. They don't know it yet, and neither do the Secret Service--I would be much obliged if you didn't tell the Secret Service...

If you don't know anything about Jimmy and Rosalyn Carter, all I can say is that they are the most successful couple in the United States. In fact, they are the only couple to surpass Ke$ha and Glitter in my esteem.

Mrs. Carter has devoted over 30 years of her life to research on Mental Health and the destigmatization of mental health around the world. Her, and her Carter Center Team of 100 journalists work tirelessly to ensure accurate and educated writing on the topic of mental illness and her many books on the topic are written with such a poignant combination of knowledge and care for her fellow humans that I will freely admit to tearing up while reading them. In short, she is the most brilliant, human individual I can imagine who is not named Jimmy Carter, and even then we have a tie.

Jimmy Carter has been, beyond the shadow of a doubt, the most successful former leader of a country.  His Carter Center fights treatable disease, oversees elections, and work's to bring to the world's attention human rights abuses committed by any and all nations.

In short, they are super cool and, as a couple, accomplished more last Thursday afternoon than I will in my entire life.

Why my obsession? Because I went down to Georgia and had the honor to meet them. It was cool

My Favorite U.S. State

I'm not going to drag on forever like I usually do. This isn't funny. I just wanted a chance to briefly share the Carter's story. I have a real interest in politics, and was generally aware of Carter's story. What I didn't know however, was the close connection between the Carters and Canada, and the Carter's work and issues that have taken center stage.

Carter shed tears at lunch while discussing Canada's contributions to protecting Iranian prisoners during his Presidency, and spoke passionately about his work as one of the leaders of the team that worked on the Chalk River Reactor. My Father was an American Citizen until 3 years ago, both of my parents were members of the American Military, when he spoke about the relationship between Canada and the United States as being not one of neighbors, or even friends, but in many ways a familial one. 

When we finally live in a world where mental illness is treated in a way not so dissimilar from physical illness. Where we offer support, acceptance, and encouragement rather than publish articles using pejorative and inaccurate language for highly prevalent disorders it will be the work of Rosalyn Carter that brought us there.

Finally, if we ever have a class of politicians that speak bravely on the topic of human decency, contemplate their action and devote themselves sincerely to public service they will be following in the footsteps of Jimmy Carter. To borrow from my friend Arthur Milnes, we'll be standing in his bright shadow.