I can't take credit
Wednesday, August 31, 2005 | 0 comments »
Stealing from a friend, but I had to share the joy... This is the greatest thing I have read in a long time.
How to start your day with a positive attitude:
1. Create a "new folder" on your Desktop.
2. Name it "George W. Bush".
3. Delete it.
4. Empty the Recycle Bin.
5. Your computer will ask you: "Do you really want to delete "George W. Bush"?
Calmly answer, "Yes", and press the mouse button firmly...
How to start your day with a positive attitude:
1. Create a "new folder" on your Desktop.
2. Name it "George W. Bush".
3. Delete it.
4. Empty the Recycle Bin.
5. Your computer will ask you: "Do you really want to delete "George W. Bush"?
Calmly answer, "Yes", and press the mouse button firmly...
The strangest life I have ever lived
Tuesday, August 30, 2005 | 0 comments »
Sometimes I wish that I could leave my physical self and watch John Watkins Feltham in action, like a fly on the wall. Last night added another interesting chapter in the story that is my life, the strangest life I have ever lived.
Upon finishing some sightseeing and dinner in downtown Karlsruhe, Germany, I returned to my Hotel room and realized that I would not be visiting the sandman anytime soon (jetlag you see my friends). Giving it some grave thought, I figured that a couple of cold ones would help my scrambled brain, “a couple of beers” famous last words for me it seems.
My first night in Karlsruhe I found a great intimate Irish Pub called Scruffy’s. Monday nights the house band The Krusty Moors host an Irish Folk session. As I arrived I bumped into a friend I made a few nights earlier, a fantastic Norwegian guy named Espen. After drinking a few courage adders together, I approached the band to ask if I could play a song or two. Long story short, a song or two ended up being a two hour set rocking out the little Irish Pub.
The Krusty Moors have an incredibly talented band (to order a CD, email oli@hofmannweb.de), a German guy on the Fiddle, Mandolin and some Irish lads on the drum or flute and the double acoustic bass. From time to time a person or two also joined in on some of the songs with guitars, mandolins, drum or even the most world’s most classic instrument, the spoons. Overall it was a great jam, 95% of the songs that we played were classic Newfoundland folk tunes which the crowd enjoyed immensely. It was sentimental for me given the fact that I got to export some of our unique culture to the mainly local German crowd.
It’s now time for the Pub to close and all the patrons have left for the night. You would think that I would call it a night, given I work at 8am tomorrow. No. Again a long story short, I stayed behind in the closed Pub with the bartenders, band and groupies ‘till 4:30am in the morning drinking free beers, enjoying a bunch of cones (of the non ice cream type) and jamming on the six string.
How does this seem to always happen? Everywhere I go I end up in strange situations, making friends and spreading the Good Samaritan way of life. I would make the world’s greatest millionaire - traveling the entire globe, stopping in and out towns, meeting people, sharing my culture while appreciating theirs.
Here are a couple of photos from my night… Click on any photo to visit the entire album my latest trip...
Upon finishing some sightseeing and dinner in downtown Karlsruhe, Germany, I returned to my Hotel room and realized that I would not be visiting the sandman anytime soon (jetlag you see my friends). Giving it some grave thought, I figured that a couple of cold ones would help my scrambled brain, “a couple of beers” famous last words for me it seems.
My first night in Karlsruhe I found a great intimate Irish Pub called Scruffy’s. Monday nights the house band The Krusty Moors host an Irish Folk session. As I arrived I bumped into a friend I made a few nights earlier, a fantastic Norwegian guy named Espen. After drinking a few courage adders together, I approached the band to ask if I could play a song or two. Long story short, a song or two ended up being a two hour set rocking out the little Irish Pub.
The Krusty Moors have an incredibly talented band (to order a CD, email oli@hofmannweb.de), a German guy on the Fiddle, Mandolin and some Irish lads on the drum or flute and the double acoustic bass. From time to time a person or two also joined in on some of the songs with guitars, mandolins, drum or even the most world’s most classic instrument, the spoons. Overall it was a great jam, 95% of the songs that we played were classic Newfoundland folk tunes which the crowd enjoyed immensely. It was sentimental for me given the fact that I got to export some of our unique culture to the mainly local German crowd.
It’s now time for the Pub to close and all the patrons have left for the night. You would think that I would call it a night, given I work at 8am tomorrow. No. Again a long story short, I stayed behind in the closed Pub with the bartenders, band and groupies ‘till 4:30am in the morning drinking free beers, enjoying a bunch of cones (of the non ice cream type) and jamming on the six string.
How does this seem to always happen? Everywhere I go I end up in strange situations, making friends and spreading the Good Samaritan way of life. I would make the world’s greatest millionaire - traveling the entire globe, stopping in and out towns, meeting people, sharing my culture while appreciating theirs.
Here are a couple of photos from my night… Click on any photo to visit the entire album my latest trip...
Even I am speechless...
Monday, August 29, 2005 | 1 comments »
Permissive African traditions spread AIDS
(Reuters)
ISIOLO, Kenya - Men in the arid, remote Kenyan town of Isiolo have long had sex with young virgins to purge themselves of afflictions or curses.
Now the age-old custom practised by the nomadic peoples of Kenya’s northeastern province is increasingly being used as a cure for HIV/AIDS.
Nassir hesitantly admits he slept with a nine-year-old girl because the clan elders in Isiolo, 200 km (124.3 miles) northeast of Kenyan capital Nairobi, said it would rid him of frequent bouts of illness brought on by HIV.
“I was given a girl of nine years to sleep with for a week,” Nassir said. “I took pity on her but if it wasn’t for this disease I wouldn’t have slept with her...I had to do what the elders had said.”
Isiolo’s pastoralist community practices a mix of traditional African beliefs. Illiteracy is high and AIDS is shrouded in stigma and superstition.
“I am still afraid (that I may die), but there are many people from my area who have done it,” Nassir said. “Many survive, many die.”
Although he paid 15,000 shillings ($195.9) and his mother gave up two goats for the purging ceremony, Nassir still gets ill once in a while and goes for treatment in a clinic run by a local charity whose Swahili name Pepo La Tumaini Jangwani, means Wind of Hope in the Arid Land.
After the ceremony, which includes gouging out a goat’s heart while it is still alive, the people of the village engage in a sexual orgy intended to help a son or brother cleanse himself.
Nassir said he would get tested at the end of the year to see if he has been cured.
Breeding ground
Two million of Kenya’s 30 million people are HIV-positive and 1.5 million have already died.
Khadija Omar Rama, the founder of the Tumaini charity said that despite the fact that up to 800 Kenyans die every day from AIDS, communities like Isiolo continue to embrace traditional practices which actively help to spread AIDS.
Another ancient custom permits men of the same generation to have indiscriminate and unprotected sex with the wives of their peers. A spear propped by the door of a man’s house means that someone else from his age group is in bed with his wife.
“None of us is jealous about someone else sleeping with our wives because we all do it,” said Nassir, who says he has slept with the wives of many men, even though he suspects he has HIV.
Nassir thinks his wife, who died shortly after his cleansing ceremony, was infected with AIDS. She was never tested.
One woman who did not want to be named said her husband stabbed her in the eye for objecting to having their daughter take part in a cleansing ceremony.
She now belongs to the Maula, a group of women sponsored by Tumaini who hope to convince people to abandon the old ways by reporting the use of girls in purging ceremonies and offering alternative rituals for men with AIDS.
Alternative cleansing rites
Rama says alternative cleansing rituals are highly contentious and the Maula must operate in secret. Men who do visit, come to them under the cover of darkness.
“The women have to be very discreet about the alternative method of cleansing and this is counter-productive for their campaign,” Rama said.
In a dome-shaped hut made of sticks, nine veiled Maula members sit in a semi-circle for the cleansing ceremony. The earthen floor is covered in mats and all footwear is left outside what is now considered holy ground.
Popcorn, roasted coffee berries cooked in oil, coffee cups, sugar cubes and a bar of soap lie in the centre while a pungent smell from a small incense burner passed from woman to woman as part of the ritual, assaults the nostrils.
Rama said reporting traditional purging ceremonies to the authorities can sometimes cause further trauma for the girls who have been forced to take part. She said two girls disappeared after the Maula reported that they had been forced to take part. One is still missing.
One traditional custom which may help save some women from the deadly virus that has afflicted much of sub Saharan Africa comes at a price.
Many women who suspect their husbands are infected with AIDS or HIV have been turning to sufis, women healers, to put off their husband’s advances.
Traditionally, a woman seeking to join an elder council or tribal leadership is required to stop having sex and will ask a sufi to her bedroom to discourage her husband. In such circumstances the husband eventually gives up.
But women who choose to use a sufi are not permitted to ever have sex again and they are killed if caught in the act.
(Reuters)
ISIOLO, Kenya - Men in the arid, remote Kenyan town of Isiolo have long had sex with young virgins to purge themselves of afflictions or curses.
Now the age-old custom practised by the nomadic peoples of Kenya’s northeastern province is increasingly being used as a cure for HIV/AIDS.
Nassir hesitantly admits he slept with a nine-year-old girl because the clan elders in Isiolo, 200 km (124.3 miles) northeast of Kenyan capital Nairobi, said it would rid him of frequent bouts of illness brought on by HIV.
“I was given a girl of nine years to sleep with for a week,” Nassir said. “I took pity on her but if it wasn’t for this disease I wouldn’t have slept with her...I had to do what the elders had said.”
Isiolo’s pastoralist community practices a mix of traditional African beliefs. Illiteracy is high and AIDS is shrouded in stigma and superstition.
“I am still afraid (that I may die), but there are many people from my area who have done it,” Nassir said. “Many survive, many die.”
Although he paid 15,000 shillings ($195.9) and his mother gave up two goats for the purging ceremony, Nassir still gets ill once in a while and goes for treatment in a clinic run by a local charity whose Swahili name Pepo La Tumaini Jangwani, means Wind of Hope in the Arid Land.
After the ceremony, which includes gouging out a goat’s heart while it is still alive, the people of the village engage in a sexual orgy intended to help a son or brother cleanse himself.
Nassir said he would get tested at the end of the year to see if he has been cured.
Breeding ground
Two million of Kenya’s 30 million people are HIV-positive and 1.5 million have already died.
Khadija Omar Rama, the founder of the Tumaini charity said that despite the fact that up to 800 Kenyans die every day from AIDS, communities like Isiolo continue to embrace traditional practices which actively help to spread AIDS.
Another ancient custom permits men of the same generation to have indiscriminate and unprotected sex with the wives of their peers. A spear propped by the door of a man’s house means that someone else from his age group is in bed with his wife.
“None of us is jealous about someone else sleeping with our wives because we all do it,” said Nassir, who says he has slept with the wives of many men, even though he suspects he has HIV.
Nassir thinks his wife, who died shortly after his cleansing ceremony, was infected with AIDS. She was never tested.
One woman who did not want to be named said her husband stabbed her in the eye for objecting to having their daughter take part in a cleansing ceremony.
She now belongs to the Maula, a group of women sponsored by Tumaini who hope to convince people to abandon the old ways by reporting the use of girls in purging ceremonies and offering alternative rituals for men with AIDS.
Alternative cleansing rites
Rama says alternative cleansing rituals are highly contentious and the Maula must operate in secret. Men who do visit, come to them under the cover of darkness.
“The women have to be very discreet about the alternative method of cleansing and this is counter-productive for their campaign,” Rama said.
In a dome-shaped hut made of sticks, nine veiled Maula members sit in a semi-circle for the cleansing ceremony. The earthen floor is covered in mats and all footwear is left outside what is now considered holy ground.
Popcorn, roasted coffee berries cooked in oil, coffee cups, sugar cubes and a bar of soap lie in the centre while a pungent smell from a small incense burner passed from woman to woman as part of the ritual, assaults the nostrils.
Rama said reporting traditional purging ceremonies to the authorities can sometimes cause further trauma for the girls who have been forced to take part. She said two girls disappeared after the Maula reported that they had been forced to take part. One is still missing.
One traditional custom which may help save some women from the deadly virus that has afflicted much of sub Saharan Africa comes at a price.
Many women who suspect their husbands are infected with AIDS or HIV have been turning to sufis, women healers, to put off their husband’s advances.
Traditionally, a woman seeking to join an elder council or tribal leadership is required to stop having sex and will ask a sufi to her bedroom to discourage her husband. In such circumstances the husband eventually gives up.
But women who choose to use a sufi are not permitted to ever have sex again and they are killed if caught in the act.
Paint my fence, you lazy, worthless sack of shit
Friday, August 26, 2005 | 0 comments »
Enough is enough. I just finished reading an article about Michael Jackson’s most recent accuser and how she was receiving Welfare checks. All the while she had gotten a settlement from an earlier get rich quick claim in the ballpark of $300,000.
Welfare is an issue that irritates me to no end. As it is with most systems we have here on the third rock from the sun, it is good in principle, but that is just about where it ends.
Depending on what side of the border that you are living on, you can be expected to pay anywhere from 20-50% of your pay in taxes. What percentage of this ludicrous rapping goes to Welfare payouts is beyond me. However, when looking around at the total number of filthy animals in North America that have drinking beer, buying cigarettes, smoking dope, gambling and shitting out litters of youngsters as their daily job descriptions, one can only assume it’s a fair junk of change.
Don’t get me wrong, the sick, the disabled and the mentally unstable people of the world should receive some sort of payment for their inability to secure an income of their own. But the line should be drawn there.
We have created a system that rewards people for failure.
Welfare recipients should be available resources for hard working, tax paying citizens such as myself. For example, if I own a house that has a large yard and a fence that requires painting where do I find the time to do these tasks? I, like most decent people, are away from their home anywhere from 10-14 hours a day, contributing to society and providing stability for their family and municipal area. When I return home I have a maximum of 4-5 hours to kill before getting the sleep required to contribute to society again the next day. During this time the last thing that I want to do is manual labor around the house.
My neighbour who is a Welfare recipient essentially gets through life with money that is taken from my pay checks. It is too far fetched for me to think that he should take the crack pipe out of his mouth for one day, stop watching Jerry Springer in his crusty underwear and make his way over to my house and cut my grass?
Of course he could not do all of my chores, that would be slavery (and let’s be honest, we don’t need more people using that excuse for their inability to function in society). But, I should be able to contact the local Welfare office, inform them I have some legitimate manual labor here that requires attention and for them to send one of their customers over to complete it or they will cut off his payments. Not that it would affect him that much, because he is most likely giving it all back to Government anyway though alcohol, cigarette and gambling taxes. Actually, I have often thought it would make sense for slot machines to accept government checks, since that’s where half of them end up anyway.
Bottom line, there is an abundance of work out there for anyone who can get up off their lazy arses. Whether that work is clipping someone’s grass, painting someone fence, shoveling shit against the wind or painting the lines on the German Autobahn during rush hour traffic, there is no shortage or work.
We need to change our society and make people responsible for their actions, and get out of this vicious cycle of rewarding people for laziness.
A perfect example is the current structure in the Newfoundland education system. My two sisters and I decided to attend a post secondary institution, and required to apply for student loans to fund us through our schooling. When it’s all said and done we will have about $175,000 in funds to pay back to the Government and their private banks, due to their mafia type interest on these loans. Coming from a hard working, tax paying family we have no other option, but to pay off these hefty loans and suffer for the better part of 10 years upon completing the degree before becoming fiscally stable. The Government is not doing a well enough job in assisting people who pursue a degree. These people are our future leaders and want to better their selves and contribute to society, rather than be a draw on it.
If the tables were turned and the three of us walked down the other path into a lifetime of Welfare bliss, the Government would shower us with rewards. How is this possible! As I just estimated, it will cost us about $175,000 for three of us to complete our schooling; wouldn’t it be a better investment for the Government to provide this amount free of charge? If you estimate that the life expectancy of the average Canadian is somewhere around 80 years and if for 60 of those years we received standard Welfare, you are looking at about $2,160,000. All of this, the Government would give us free of charge without asking for a SINGLE CENT BACK!!!
The system has to change and the further that I think about this, the more I feel like doing a Guy Fox job on the Parliament buildings in Canada.
Welfare is an issue that irritates me to no end. As it is with most systems we have here on the third rock from the sun, it is good in principle, but that is just about where it ends.
Depending on what side of the border that you are living on, you can be expected to pay anywhere from 20-50% of your pay in taxes. What percentage of this ludicrous rapping goes to Welfare payouts is beyond me. However, when looking around at the total number of filthy animals in North America that have drinking beer, buying cigarettes, smoking dope, gambling and shitting out litters of youngsters as their daily job descriptions, one can only assume it’s a fair junk of change.
Don’t get me wrong, the sick, the disabled and the mentally unstable people of the world should receive some sort of payment for their inability to secure an income of their own. But the line should be drawn there.
We have created a system that rewards people for failure.
Welfare recipients should be available resources for hard working, tax paying citizens such as myself. For example, if I own a house that has a large yard and a fence that requires painting where do I find the time to do these tasks? I, like most decent people, are away from their home anywhere from 10-14 hours a day, contributing to society and providing stability for their family and municipal area. When I return home I have a maximum of 4-5 hours to kill before getting the sleep required to contribute to society again the next day. During this time the last thing that I want to do is manual labor around the house.
My neighbour who is a Welfare recipient essentially gets through life with money that is taken from my pay checks. It is too far fetched for me to think that he should take the crack pipe out of his mouth for one day, stop watching Jerry Springer in his crusty underwear and make his way over to my house and cut my grass?
Of course he could not do all of my chores, that would be slavery (and let’s be honest, we don’t need more people using that excuse for their inability to function in society). But, I should be able to contact the local Welfare office, inform them I have some legitimate manual labor here that requires attention and for them to send one of their customers over to complete it or they will cut off his payments. Not that it would affect him that much, because he is most likely giving it all back to Government anyway though alcohol, cigarette and gambling taxes. Actually, I have often thought it would make sense for slot machines to accept government checks, since that’s where half of them end up anyway.
Bottom line, there is an abundance of work out there for anyone who can get up off their lazy arses. Whether that work is clipping someone’s grass, painting someone fence, shoveling shit against the wind or painting the lines on the German Autobahn during rush hour traffic, there is no shortage or work.
We need to change our society and make people responsible for their actions, and get out of this vicious cycle of rewarding people for laziness.
A perfect example is the current structure in the Newfoundland education system. My two sisters and I decided to attend a post secondary institution, and required to apply for student loans to fund us through our schooling. When it’s all said and done we will have about $175,000 in funds to pay back to the Government and their private banks, due to their mafia type interest on these loans. Coming from a hard working, tax paying family we have no other option, but to pay off these hefty loans and suffer for the better part of 10 years upon completing the degree before becoming fiscally stable. The Government is not doing a well enough job in assisting people who pursue a degree. These people are our future leaders and want to better their selves and contribute to society, rather than be a draw on it.
If the tables were turned and the three of us walked down the other path into a lifetime of Welfare bliss, the Government would shower us with rewards. How is this possible! As I just estimated, it will cost us about $175,000 for three of us to complete our schooling; wouldn’t it be a better investment for the Government to provide this amount free of charge? If you estimate that the life expectancy of the average Canadian is somewhere around 80 years and if for 60 of those years we received standard Welfare, you are looking at about $2,160,000. All of this, the Government would give us free of charge without asking for a SINGLE CENT BACK!!!
The system has to change and the further that I think about this, the more I feel like doing a Guy Fox job on the Parliament buildings in Canada.
It's a bird, it's a plane, not wait it's a Blog... Blog?!? What the hell is a Blog?
Thursday, August 18, 2005 | 0 comments »
I had intended to try and write something down about my latest travels to Newfoundland. The short version is that I had an unbelievable time once again on many different levels. I have to remind myself to at least write something about my trip out to Deer Island.
--> http://felthamkeats.smugmug.com/gallery/719813
I have been trying to pack up my clothes here at the moment, before I fly off to Germany on an Airline that will be going on strike 4 hours after I leave Detroit. Cross your fingers for me, and if you have lost all your fingers in the war or in a vending machine, well then cross your eyes for me.
More to come…
--> http://felthamkeats.smugmug.com/gallery/719813
I have been trying to pack up my clothes here at the moment, before I fly off to Germany on an Airline that will be going on strike 4 hours after I leave Detroit. Cross your fingers for me, and if you have lost all your fingers in the war or in a vending machine, well then cross your eyes for me.
More to come…
Diary of a Madman
Monday, August 15, 2005 | 0 comments »
I just hooked up my laptop here at the office to get it ready for my trip to Germany this week and I stumbled across this piece of text that I wrote on route to Newfoundland a couple of weeks ago... ;)
If Air Canada was a disease it would without a doubt be herpes. Something that no matter how hard you try you just can’t seem to get rid of it, sort of like a dead beat friend who tells you that he is going through a rough time and needs a place to stay.
Once again as I am flying with this pathetic excuse of an airline, we are running behind schedule. Should I be somewhat shocked or even remotely surprised? You would think that if each and every time you were forced to fly on this monopoly corporation in Canada that you would be used to its deplorable service. However, as hard as I try to swallow this pill it doesn’t seem to go down.
Let’s start from the beginning…
The journey began approximately seven hours ago in the good ol’ Windsor Airport. Having a bag for my scuba equipment, a bag for my clothes and of course my trusty six string, I was forced to pay and extra $25 (plus tax) for my “excess luggage”. To which I replied, “How about you give me a voucher, and if my three bags arrive unharmed in St. John’s I will gladly pay Air Canada for its troubles”.
Upon departing from the glorified wood shed that they call the Windsor Airport, we mysteriously arrive 10 minutes late in Toronto. It could have been much worse I suppose, the plane could have been sent to Windsor, England and I would be typing this nonsense from the departure lounge.
After paying $17.55 for two single Bacardi Black Rum and Cokes (Lard Thunderin’ Jesus, I can’t wait to buy some Old Sam’s tomorrow in Newfoundland) from the Airport bar, I look at my watch and notice that we should be departing now.
I am on the plane now…
Since the last thought and the thought that I am about to write, 45 minutes passed before our plane left Toronto on route to Montreal.
“Sahdasdasj dlkajsdkjsadlk ajslkdjalkjdlkasjdlk ajsdlkjaslkanxlk sajdlksajdlksaj dlksajdlksad” or something similar was spoken to the passengers as we land in Montreal. Remember we are in Quebec now and French is required to be spoken first. Actually that reminds me of a joke… Why were the Newfie’s so excited to hear that Quebec was leaving Canada? Because it would be a shorter drive to Toronto. Funny eh? Even more funny to me, because it doesn’t make sense to the Yankee sitting next to me. Why do I know this? Well, because they know just about as much of the geographical and political makeup of their neighbour and biggest trading partner to the North as I know about why I have hair on my ass and some guys don’t. Seriously, don’t they teach you people anything about the rest of the world?
Anyway, back to the story…
So we land in Montreal and I am gut founded, I am serious when I say I think my stomach was trying to eat me. They have cut out food on the flights now, although the price of tickets has gone up and not down (major airlines will tell you it’s because people are not flying, funny because the Wall Street Journal tells me that airline traffic is the highest it’s been in 6 years).
“Due to our unexplained delays, travelers continuing to St. John’s can not leave the plane”. Yeah… It took me all of 3.543 seconds to make my way up to the front of the plane and tell the Stewardess (that’s right STEWARDESS, fuck you and your fancy “Flight Attendant” title) that, “I am starved and had anticipated an hour layover in Montreal and really need some food”.
“Oh, I am sorry sir; we can not let you leave”. At this point I see the other Air Wench pulling out a piping hot piece of quiche out of the tray, which of course I say, “How about giving me some of that?”, “That food is for our first class passengers”, she replied.
“Well, miss (I am assuming that this was a miss, she had both breasts and a mustache) either I get a piece of that quiche or I really need to get of the plane and get some snacks”. Long story short she tells me that I can’t get off the plane, which to me and my quick tongue reply, “Well… Fuck you then”.
After returning to my seat, she is back on to the speaker to inform all passengers that it will be sometime before we depart and that we can quickly leave the plane for snacks etc… Of course I leave and grace my new found friend with a smile.
During my return to the plane, my buddy asks me to step aside for a moment and that I explain my aggressive conversation with her earlier. I of course talk my way out of the situation, but she informs me that she has the right to not allow me back on the plane for using vulgar language… Has the entire world gone mad?
It is about 11:30pm now and if landing in St. John’s at 12:30am wasn’t bad enough, it doesn’t appear that we will be getting there now till at least 1:00am. This time does not include exiting the air craft nor standing around the luggage carrousel to find my luggage that is either a) missing b) destroyed or c) Who knows? Maybe this time, my luggage mixed with some toxic waste in the storage area, and has since grown a third leg and “likes” me.
FUCK AIR CANADA - I guess that is the jest here, I am in the back of the plane; my seat does not go back, which has always confused me to no end!!! Was it really that big of an issue to spare an extra three inches so the people in the back of the plane could also put their chair back like the other 300 passengers on this god forsaken plane. To add to this, my tray is broken on one side so I am typing on a 45 while the lady ahead of me is squirming around like she has a case of the clap.
At least Jack White is keeping me somewhat sane here as he is rocking and rolling in my earphones like no one else can. Bottom line, The White Stripes Kick Ass, Air Canada can suck my ass.
If Air Canada was a disease it would without a doubt be herpes. Something that no matter how hard you try you just can’t seem to get rid of it, sort of like a dead beat friend who tells you that he is going through a rough time and needs a place to stay.
Once again as I am flying with this pathetic excuse of an airline, we are running behind schedule. Should I be somewhat shocked or even remotely surprised? You would think that if each and every time you were forced to fly on this monopoly corporation in Canada that you would be used to its deplorable service. However, as hard as I try to swallow this pill it doesn’t seem to go down.
Let’s start from the beginning…
The journey began approximately seven hours ago in the good ol’ Windsor Airport. Having a bag for my scuba equipment, a bag for my clothes and of course my trusty six string, I was forced to pay and extra $25 (plus tax) for my “excess luggage”. To which I replied, “How about you give me a voucher, and if my three bags arrive unharmed in St. John’s I will gladly pay Air Canada for its troubles”.
Upon departing from the glorified wood shed that they call the Windsor Airport, we mysteriously arrive 10 minutes late in Toronto. It could have been much worse I suppose, the plane could have been sent to Windsor, England and I would be typing this nonsense from the departure lounge.
After paying $17.55 for two single Bacardi Black Rum and Cokes (Lard Thunderin’ Jesus, I can’t wait to buy some Old Sam’s tomorrow in Newfoundland) from the Airport bar, I look at my watch and notice that we should be departing now.
I am on the plane now…
Since the last thought and the thought that I am about to write, 45 minutes passed before our plane left Toronto on route to Montreal.
“Sahdasdasj dlkajsdkjsadlk ajslkdjalkjdlkasjdlk ajsdlkjaslkanxlk sajdlksajdlksaj dlksajdlksad” or something similar was spoken to the passengers as we land in Montreal. Remember we are in Quebec now and French is required to be spoken first. Actually that reminds me of a joke… Why were the Newfie’s so excited to hear that Quebec was leaving Canada? Because it would be a shorter drive to Toronto. Funny eh? Even more funny to me, because it doesn’t make sense to the Yankee sitting next to me. Why do I know this? Well, because they know just about as much of the geographical and political makeup of their neighbour and biggest trading partner to the North as I know about why I have hair on my ass and some guys don’t. Seriously, don’t they teach you people anything about the rest of the world?
Anyway, back to the story…
So we land in Montreal and I am gut founded, I am serious when I say I think my stomach was trying to eat me. They have cut out food on the flights now, although the price of tickets has gone up and not down (major airlines will tell you it’s because people are not flying, funny because the Wall Street Journal tells me that airline traffic is the highest it’s been in 6 years).
“Due to our unexplained delays, travelers continuing to St. John’s can not leave the plane”. Yeah… It took me all of 3.543 seconds to make my way up to the front of the plane and tell the Stewardess (that’s right STEWARDESS, fuck you and your fancy “Flight Attendant” title) that, “I am starved and had anticipated an hour layover in Montreal and really need some food”.
“Oh, I am sorry sir; we can not let you leave”. At this point I see the other Air Wench pulling out a piping hot piece of quiche out of the tray, which of course I say, “How about giving me some of that?”, “That food is for our first class passengers”, she replied.
“Well, miss (I am assuming that this was a miss, she had both breasts and a mustache) either I get a piece of that quiche or I really need to get of the plane and get some snacks”. Long story short she tells me that I can’t get off the plane, which to me and my quick tongue reply, “Well… Fuck you then”.
After returning to my seat, she is back on to the speaker to inform all passengers that it will be sometime before we depart and that we can quickly leave the plane for snacks etc… Of course I leave and grace my new found friend with a smile.
During my return to the plane, my buddy asks me to step aside for a moment and that I explain my aggressive conversation with her earlier. I of course talk my way out of the situation, but she informs me that she has the right to not allow me back on the plane for using vulgar language… Has the entire world gone mad?
It is about 11:30pm now and if landing in St. John’s at 12:30am wasn’t bad enough, it doesn’t appear that we will be getting there now till at least 1:00am. This time does not include exiting the air craft nor standing around the luggage carrousel to find my luggage that is either a) missing b) destroyed or c) Who knows? Maybe this time, my luggage mixed with some toxic waste in the storage area, and has since grown a third leg and “likes” me.
FUCK AIR CANADA - I guess that is the jest here, I am in the back of the plane; my seat does not go back, which has always confused me to no end!!! Was it really that big of an issue to spare an extra three inches so the people in the back of the plane could also put their chair back like the other 300 passengers on this god forsaken plane. To add to this, my tray is broken on one side so I am typing on a 45 while the lady ahead of me is squirming around like she has a case of the clap.
At least Jack White is keeping me somewhat sane here as he is rocking and rolling in my earphones like no one else can. Bottom line, The White Stripes Kick Ass, Air Canada can suck my ass.
Back from the land of the FreeER
Wednesday, August 10, 2005 | 0 comments »
What a time, what a time, what a time...
The beauty of the Island and the uniqueness of the crowd that surrounds you did not disappoint again.
More to come, when I embrace and accept that I am back and well, from singing in the saltwater and sun to sitting in the smog…
The beauty of the Island and the uniqueness of the crowd that surrounds you did not disappoint again.
More to come, when I embrace and accept that I am back and well, from singing in the saltwater and sun to sitting in the smog…
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