Just a Little Something - Bathroom Necessities

Evergreen? Not when I'm through with it.

Part of the whole green movement has to do with conservation, but the bathroom is no place to be stingy. There needs to be plenty of soap, water, "Sunshine Cottage Daffodil" (or whatever alternate name is given to the poo smell cover-up) spray, and above all, real paper products.

This half ply stuff being used in public restrooms that is actually see through doesn't cut it. The idea is to use less but we all just use more. I spin that toilet paper roll like it's the Price is Right wheel and put together the biggest wad of TP I can. My level of cleanliness confidence is only as thick as the barrier between my hand and my bum.

Stop with the hand dryers! They don't work and I'm not going to pretend that they do. That's like giving a child one of those miniature tool belts filled with plastic tools and asking them to build your house. Prepare to be disappointed. The best end result I can expect from a hand dryer is to minimize the amount of water that ends up on my pants when I finally wipe my hands on them. My only wonder in all this is, if they made restroom paper towels big enough would I still instinctually take two?

Ride the Wavy Train

The terrible pants salesman leaves the village.

What is it about novelty transportation that inspires waving to perfect strangers? Tour boats, amusement park rides, and tiny tot trains all make for hands high occasions. Even classic cars or school buses tickle the waving bone for no good reason. Whether you're on or off them, waving to each other across opposite sides of these unusual transports is widely accepted as normal behavior. If I were to view the world during only these moments of enthusiastic greeting exchange, I would assume everyone knew everyone.

So why are these times the only appropriate times to be so joyful about saying hello to strangers? If I waved at strangers I passed on the sidewalk, I would be a wacko. If I said salutations to everyone in my row at the movies, parents would whisper to their children, "stay away from that man, and share those nachos with your sister."

In close quarters, friendly attempts at making an acquaintance is considered suspicious. People want to be friendly though. If someone you don't know says "Hi," a short mental struggle happens within. You don't want to interact with them in case they are crazy or just selling something, but you were taught not saying "Hi" back is rude. So, you say "Hi" back and listen to their sales pitch.

The best test of this knee jerk fear of incivility is to drive past someone waving and smiling, you in the car and they on the sidewalk. People don't have time to figure out who you are before they start waving too. Immediately afterward they wonder if they knew you at all, but it no longer matters. Inadvertently, two strangers were just friendly to each other for no good reason, and they didn't even need an ice cream truck to prompt them.

This blog brought to you by the Wave at a Stranger campaign.

Just a Little Something - Smelliness

This shirt is camouflage for our kind, more affective if upwind.

I'm not sure if this is possible but I think I ate so much asparagus last night that I am now secreting it through my pores. Maybe Vanessa just shoved a couple of stalks up my nose while I was sleeping to keep me from snoring. It's all I can smell right now. Changing the odor of my urine I accept, but this is too much. It's like it has reconfigured my DNA, blasting asparagus scented pheromones out of me like wind swept bait to other foul smelling creatures.  Will I be an outcast from society, forced to live with other smelly people like odiferous lepers? Perhaps I can take a lover who reeks of olive oil or cheese so our children will at least be flavorful to the jungle cats surrounding our isolated camp. Maybe we can all establish a new community overlooking The Bog of Eternal Stench where our offensive fragrances can go unnoticed.

Texans in Canada, Part 6

I'm the one in the big hat.

Every major city provides radio stations as diverse as the citizens who take residence in that slice of Radioland. Often, leaving large cities means leaving large towers, and consequently leaving static or silence on the car stereo. There is no area of Texas, however, where you can't clearly hear Mexican (woh-oh) radio. For some of my time in Texas I found this to be rather annoying, especially since the Mexican musica would often drown out a station that was struggling to satisfy my ethnic ears. After listening to Canadian radio though, I long for the soothing rhythms of the accordion, sweet blasting trumpets, and mysterious lyrics that were often best left untranslated.

There is a lot of Canadian pride and they support anyone who represents them in sports, entertainment, etc. With a population this small it makes sense to get behind anyone that stands out. It's kind of like if a friend of one of your cousins knows Julia Roberts. You would tell everyone about it, probably leaving out the extra degree of the friend, because knowing Julia Roberts (through your cousin) somehow makes you much cooler to know. Where pride was lacking, however, Canada started to enforce it.

In 1971 the CRTC (Canadian Radio-Television and Telecommunications Commission) introduced the MAPL system which mandated radio and TV to have a certain percentage of their programs to be Canadian content. This was brought to you by the style of parenting where, if you force your kids to participate in something they dislike for long enough, they will learn to like it and thank you in the end. Many neglected family pianos will silently disagree with these methods.

The largest Canadian recording studio.

Canadian content under the MAPL system means anything where the Music, Artist, Production or Lyrics are entirely Canadian. I think the "E" they left off MAPLE originally stood for Entertainment value to an entirely Canadian audience but there were too few cases to sustain the category. There are VERY few entertaining Canadian bands and deep down even Canadians know this. When the CRTC first demanded 25% of radio play to be dedicated to Canadian content music, stations complied by playing the songs overnight or early Sunday mornings. The "beaver hour" was what they referred to as the off peak block of time dedicated to Canadian music. Despite changes in regulations leading to peak hour play, the music is still a joke and sours any possibility of a great string of songs being played back to back on the radio. My finger hurts from changing the stations so often. I never really cared for Neil Young before but I didn't know how much I loathed him until I moved here. They play bad music that doesn't even qualify for the content regulations. I assumed George Thorogood was Canadian after hearing him get so much air time here, but he's from Delaware! Why would you play George Thorogood so much unless you had to?

The real cherry on all this is they have the annual Juno Awards to honor Canadian musicians. With so few qualified applicants, is there even a voting process? In the classroom of music worldwide, receiving a Juno award is like getting a participation grade. Are you Canadian? Yes. Did you sing something this year? Yes. Okay, here's your Juno.

Television production here is an amateur hour clown show. They create their own commercials for U.S. nationally televised shows, i think as a way to satisfy content requirements. Their idea of advertising a show is putting random clips together and laying a song over the whole thing. At the end of the ad I know the title of the show and that people are in it. Thanks. Switching from the U.S to Canadian feed is anything but seamless. We miss parts of shows because a local commercial runs over time. The first three minutes of Seinfeld is actually the intro to the Simpsons. I saw color bars on screen the other day. I haven't seen a color bar on TV since 1993 when stations stopped signing off for the night.

Just a Little Something - Mystery Purchases

This muffles screams pretty well, right? I mean... Image via Wikipedia

Every time I go to the hardware store I think about all the deadly weapons they sell and if there are certain "red flag" product combinations that cashiers have to watch out for. If I buy a hatchet and bleach, does my name go on a list somewhere? What if I add rope and large plastic bags?

Try this fun scenario:
Go buy some garden shears, a chainsaw, duct tape, bungee chords, trash bags, shop towels and some red paint. Pay in all cash and stare blankly at the cashier. No smile. No conversation.

After you leave the cashier will run through several murderous fantasies in his/her mind, wondering if they should genuinely be concerned. The red paint, however, will confuse them and ultimately diffuse suspicion.

Then later, after he/she has had enough time to forget about you, come back covered in red and purchase a shovel.

Newman's Grown

Go get Daddy's wrench, the really big one. Image via Wikipedia

While Vanessa has nightmares about having a huge baby, like a full grown adult emerging from her womb, I am more concerned about our upcoming parenting skills. I'm not worried about our ability to physically care for the kid, like if we're feeding it too much or too little, or if the last time I dropped her was one time too many. (If our baby is stubborn and as literally thick headed as we are then she'll be fine.)

I just wonder about the lessons we will teach, the rules we'll advise, the interests we will encourage, and what "end-result" person we will create. Each person grows on their own as well, and a parents' influence is only so strong but, whether through genetics or subconscious mimicry, we all end up with some similar behaviors as our parents, and every parent is held in some way responsible for the adult version of the children they raise.

Raising a kid is one of those problems though that has a million variables. Knowing the right combination to produce the perfect person is impossible, plus the definition of the perfect person is relative to who you ask. The government wants people who pay their taxes, don't dispute legislation, and speed just often enough to pay extra money on infrequent traffic violations. Big business wants consumers that are susceptible to marketing, brand recognition, have expendable income, buy impulsively, and don't actually read or understand the nutritional facts or ingredients listed. Parents even vary on what they want their children to become. Some want them to be kind to others and generally likable. Others want them to be leaders or accomplish something outstanding. A complete package, however, is rarely achievable. Each lesson or trait usually comes at a sacrifice.

If they are too smart they are often socially awkward. Too kind, then they get pushed around and used. Too bold, they become pricks. Too independent, lonely. Too family oriented, unsuccessful. Successful, selfish. It may sound like a cop-out but I've heard parents say they just want their kids to be happy. Maybe that is the best that you can hope for. After all, I don't mind if our daughter doesn't become a famous artist, or invent force fields. I believe very few people are actually unique or influential enough to be immortalized. I don't mind if our daughter isn't so bright or beautiful. There's tons of humdrum people out there doing just fine and raising children of their own. I don't mind if she likes to demolish parking meters when she's drunk because I made her watch "Cool Hand Luke" too many times.

I'll love her all the same, and if she's happy, then so am I.

Maybe parenting won't be so hard after all. I'll revise this statement when she's a teenager.

Have a Nice Day.

He's so cute. I'm sure it will be fine.

My Special Lady and I went for a relaxing drive through the country this weekend. We took in the sites of harvested fields, romping horses, and unpaved roads that spit you out into small town simplicity. Naturally, my thoughts turned to robots and how they would one day wage war on man.

I don't often think about the details of the inevitable showdown between man and machine, but more about the process in which we gradually accept robotic integration into our daily lives. It's obvious to just about everyone that Asians will be the first to freely allow robot butlers and companions into their homes. They throw money at anything electronic. World acceptance, however, has proven a little more difficult.

Previous bold aims at robot befriending were directed toward children.  One of the first attempts in the eighties was Teddy Ruxpin. You jammed a cassette in him and he read your children stories but mostly he was telling them that it was okay to be best friends with something that has no soul. Its popularity waned but various backers have tried four different iterations of Ruxpin, as late as 2005. I have a feeling he will return again, with cuddly vengeance.

Ah, what could go wrong?

I was never as worried about the future of humanity until the late nineties with the release of the Furby. Robotic Gremlins?!? Do we just not value our lives at all? Furbies were tiny, which meant they could be anywhere. They were initially affordable, leading to the sale of over 40 million units. Worst of all, they learned English and they spoke to each other in their own language! Luckily these heart warming cyborgs lacked sustained interest and are also gone, for now.

Harbinger of Death

Toys like these catch on for a short time but only with a select and specific crowd. For the rest of the world there needs to be a more subtle and gradual amalgamation of household robotics to achieve total frightening ubiquity. For real acceptance and longevity these digital additions to our family have to be faceless and unassuming. They have to be something you can get used to and ignore, offer a service but not demand interactivity. What piece of technology will be the true pioneer for "a robot in every home"? I give you the Roomba. While Honda will ultimately benefit from actual humanoid robot sales (the Asimo), it is the Roomba that will usher in the dawn of iPals to destroy us all.

One day your Honda/Apple iPal will crush you, and as you lie on your floor, your body dying, Furby3000 will wheel over to you and whisper "u-nye-way-loh-nee-way" as your Roomba cleans up your blood. With your final breath you say, "In English please" and it will comply for the last time: "Go to sleep now."

Run as fast as you can.