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Lately, I’ve been in an awkward position, and not in any sexual way… not this time. No, I find myself feeling shame, actual shame, based on what I’m reading. Personally, I think it’s uncalled for, not to mention untoward. However, toward or not, I still catch myself shifting my book into skewed reading positions that keep the cover hidden to the general public. On the subway, it’s the cross-legged, cover cover-up. In the staff room, it’s the face-down on the table hunched over reading style. These are the awkward positions of being in the awkward position of feeling ashamed of your book.
And what is this troublesome tome, you ask (or more likely wouldn’t ask)? Is it the dregs of the literary barrel, the likes of tawdry romances, books with “shopaholic” in the title, or Dan Brown novels? Not hardly. I have not fallen so far in our time apart, my friends. As it happens, I’m reading Crime and Punishment, a classic of Russian Literature. So why should I be embarrassed, you again might ask? It’s Doestoy-friggin’-evsky for God’s sake. Well, that’s just it. I’m sick of the eye-rolling, the sarcasm, and the implied, “Ooooh, Doestoyevsky, eh?”
It appears that there are only a few known responses to great works of literature these days. It is acceptable if the reader appears to be a student, or scholarly in general, but otherwise people seem to think the reader is showing off or else overreaching himself. You really do get a sense of, “Who does this guy think he is [...]
The last few days have been so damn hot that I finally went on the internet to find out just how hot it really was. As of 7:00 PM it was still 34 degrees Celsius (stinkin’ hot, Fahrenheit). Now, that’s not so bad for the middle of a desert, but I think the 56% humidity might have something to do with the drenching, life-force draining atmosphere of the last few days. After all, everyone and their dog will tell you that “It’s not the heat… it’s the humidity.” This maxim is so prevalent that it has completely obliterated “It’s not heavy… just awkward” in the Annual Clichéd Adage competition. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I complained of the heat to an aborigine in the depth of the Australian Outback and he replied, “It’s not the heat… it’s the humidity,” and then proceeded to spread the message across the hills via didgeridoo (I am pleasantly surprised, however, that didgeridoo is in the MS Word dictionary; Crocodile Dundee be proud.).
Anyway, what quite confused me about this Internet weather report was that although the temperature was clearly given as 34 degrees, a little further down, the temperature was adjusted to 40 degrees with Wind Chill. Come again? Wind Chill?
Explain that one [...]
I know that this isn’t the type of blog to have embedded video. And I know that you need a pretty speedy connection for this to work properly. But still, I wanted to see if this would work, and it’s by far one of the most brilliant things I’ve seen this week. Ah, [...]
Well, this is a new one on me.
A while back, I was at the local veterinarian’s office with the Soph-Star. She had rescued a tiny, abandoned kitten from the middle of the road, and I had tagged along to ask about my animal-magnetism, which seemed to be flagging of late. The vet assured us that the kitten, whom we had already labelled “Flea Willikers,” was strong and needed only near constant care and frequent eye-dropperings of milk. She informed me that, unfortunately, my animal-magnetism had reversed polarity, which I found distressing. Sadly, the stalwart Flea mewed his way off this mortal coil that very night. Poor little, short-lived Flea. Hopefully we showed him the best day and a half of his little life.
So, all in all, an upsetting trip to the Vet. However, as we were waiting in line, I was flipping through one of those pet-type magazines, which I can only imagine Veterinarian offices subscribing to, when I came upon a small advert that caught my attention. It was a blank white square with only the word “Neuticles” in blue font, and the catch phrase, “Testicular Implantation for Pets.” I was intrigued. I was well aware of the principle of reverse-vasectomies, but I also knew that pets are completely castrated like a sixteenth-century soprano. How the heck do you reverse that? Thankfully, the website, www.neuticles.com was supplied at the bottom of the ad. My head swam with comedic potential. There was [...]
You know, one thing we all take for granted in Canada is the ole, life-sustaining double-Hydrogen-single-Oxygen cocktail. Our massive, snowbound country has 60% of the world’s fresh water, although our determined efforts are certainly straining the definition of “fresh” these days. I can almost guarantee that anyone who pours a glass of water straight from the tap, and gulps it down on a hot, sunny day (yes, we have those in Canada) never thinks twice about it. Nor do we really consider the wealth of fresh water circling the drain while we brush our teeth or scrape our whiskers off. And have you ever plugged the tub and seen just how much water you use during a long relaxing shower? (I tend to do this quite often given my affinity for long, lustrous locks, and my adversity to cleaning out the drain). Yes, I think it’s safe to say that all of us take water for granted.
In fact, in my beautiful little town in New Brunswick (which I like to say, puts the “ain’t” in “quaint”) the signboard on the highway for years stated: “Welcome to St. George, Home of the Best Drinking Water in Canada.” Now, after decades, that sign has since been changed, partially, I think, for the sake of new tourism priorities, but also because I think the claim was fairly dubious to begin with. Regardless, since there is no such thing as “irregardless,” the water was very tasty. In fact, to my knowledge, it [...]
You know, just when I was starting to think that I was getting a handle on this teaching thing… just when I thought that maybe, just maybe, these apathetic adolescents were starting to listen… just when I started to hope that maybe I was getting through to them…….
Last night, I was marking some homework, and in the space allotted for the teacher’s name, one student had written, “Sir David Fork.”
Now, I found it strange enough to begin with, that by taking on this teaching job, I had suddenly been knighted (although sometimes I feel I’ll have deserved it in the end). It’s disconcerting to be referred to as “Sir David,” and makes me feel that I should somehow be out battling mythical beasts and competing in upcoming jousting tournaments. But now, to discover that one of my students has, after two full months, thought my family was named after an eating utensil, really gets my tines in a twist, if you will.
Sir David Fork, knight of the round dinner table, proponent of culinary Etiquette, arch enemy of the uncouth, hand-eating, Earl of Sandwich. Oh what manner of adventures [...]
To all my well-meaning and otherwise, very intelligent friends:
If you think that the email forward you are sending me is a hoax, but you’re sending it anyway, just in case, I’ll let you in on a little secret: It’s a hoax.
There is absolutely no way that Microsoft, were it even possible to track, would give out a nickel to every apple-cheeked kid who sent an email forward. Think about it. Microsoft did not get where it is today by thinking about the little guy, especially the stupid little guy.
Nor will that cute little baby, who apparently has cancer, ever benefit from your sending that email to everyone you know. In fact, I can almost guarantee that the kid in that picture is now a thriving teenager given how long ago I first started getting these emails.
I will find out about viruses on my own, but thanks for your concern. I tend not to open emails with attachments that I don’t recognise so you can quit warning me about that. And you know that one you guys send me twice a year about the file that has infected my windows system? Yeah, that file is supposed to be there. Chill Winston…
That girl with the red hair who keeps going missing? I bet she’s just fine. Perhaps next time, before sending me a missing child’s photo, you might consider that for such a cross-country scheme to be effective, some details about the child last known whereabouts, height, [...]
A recent conversation en route to what eventually became a night of drunken dumb charades:
Journey: Hey you know those massage guys with the oil that stand on the side of the road?
Me: Yeah
Journey: I just found out recently that they’ll do anything… anything… if you ask them.
Me: I just took that for granted. Why, are you interested?
Journey: Ha, no, but I look at them differently now, I think, you know, who would want that from one of those slimey guys?
RJ: Wait, wait, wait, what do you mean, they’ll do anything?
Journey: You know… anything… male or female.
RJ: Sexually?!
Journey: Of course, what did you think I meant?
RJ: Oh, I thought you meant like, “Go get me a sandwich.”
Journey: Oh… well, probably [...]
Know what I love about kids? They’re so funny. You just never know what outrageous statement is coming next. Kind of like Fox News, except, you know, truthful.
At school the other day, I was asked to stand in for a teacher who was absent. It was a Grade 5 Urdu class, so I knew I wouldn’t have much to contribute to their education that day. After I affirmed, that yes, I’m in a TV show, and that yes, my name is David, but my name on the show is Mike, and that yes, I was wearing a red shirt in one episode, and yes, I do like the colour red, but it is not my favourite, I decided I might as well go with the ole standby: The time-trusted Q&A session about Canada.
“Does anyone know where I’m from?” I asked. They all nodded yes. “Where then?” I prodded.
“Spain!”
I was a little taken aback. “Uh, no, not Spain.”
“France!”
I surreptitiously checked my underarm odour, “Nope, but I do speak French.” I hinted.
“The UK,” shouted out one little guy.
“That’s not even a country.”
“Africa.”
“That’s a whole continent! There’s over fifty countries in Africa.”
“Egypt.”
“No, no,” I tried to clarify, “I’m not from Africa.”
“But Africa’s a continent.”
“Right, so I’m not from any country in Africa.”
“Egypt?” asked the same student again.
I sighed, “No, not Egypt… That’s in Africa, you can rule out that entire continent. But I am from a really big country.”
“Russia!”
“No, not quite that big.”
“America.”
Finally we were getting somewhere, “That’s close,” [...]
A while back, someone asked me what I do in Karachi, which as you all know, is always a difficult question. So, I began to spell out the teaching, and the NGO, and the television work, but when I got to “Stand-Up comedy,” he stopped me and said, “Hey, yeah! You look like a stand-up comedian.”
I was a little confused, so I said, “You mean… I look like a particular comedian?” He shook his head, “No-no, you just have a stand-up comedian look about you.” I thought for a moment, and then said, “Well, thanks… I guess.”
It wasn’t until much later that I realised that really, this was all just a fancy way of calling [...]
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We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time
-T.S. Eliot
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