Author Archives: Rob MacD

Merry Christmas Everybody!!  Smiles!!!!

I believe it was 1971.  Maybe ’72.  December 25.  Christmas Day at the MacDonald Home.  What’s the reason for the happy faces?
Well, a certain yellow-pajama’d someone was fortunate enough to receive an original, metal Slinky for Christmas (not to mention the Spirograph in the bottom left corner of the photo), and that same certain someone absolutley refused to let any of his 4 brothers even touch it.
Truth be told, they were all a bit too old for such a childish toy as a Slinky.  Don’t you think?  Wasn’t that little yellow-pajama’d boy perfectly within his rights to hissy-fit at the very notion of someone else playing with his Slinky?  And aren’t those other 4 men a bit to old to be sulky and petulant?
From left to right:  Boots, Rob, Dids, Fritz and Earle.
I think Earle’s sour look to me is the only clue that indicates I might be the cause of the morosity and grief.  Otherwise, this could easily be the photo taken just after we all found out our grandmother died.

From the CBC

I didn’t know whether to go with:

A national sex offender registry is now in effect.  So make sure you have your firearms and sex offenders registered.

or

The sex offender registry is now up and running.  I’m registered at Afternoon Delight, for those thinking of gifting.

In the end, I decided to go with neither.

I hope I never become one of those recherche people who use ‘recherche’ in a sentence.

or

Still-stunned quarterback, to his linemen:  Wha’ did zhat recherche as he hit me in zhe head an’ knocked shree of my teesh out?

I hope I never become one of those recherche people who use ‘recherche’ in a sentence.

or

Still-stunned quarterback, to his linemen:  Wha’ did zhat recherche as he hit me in zhe head an’ knocked shree of my teesh out?

How far would you last before being eliminated, in Michael Ondaatje’s Elimination Dance (link to text)?

Me?  I’d have to get a judge’s ruling on the second item: "Those who have resisted depravity."  If I got past that, I’d definitely be gone by the 7th item down:  "All actors and poets who spit into the first row when they perform."

Here’s a Zed link to Bruce MacDonald’s short film based on the poem.

‘Twas two weeks before Christmas and all through the house
Cam sleeping, K reading, Rob clicking the mouse;
When up on the rooftop, a growing consternation,
Water was landing, Boomer calls it "precipitaiton".

"Oh no" yelled my wife. I asked "What’s the matter?"
"Water!" says she.  "It’s dripping, pitter patter."
I sprung from the ‘puter to inspect where it dripped
And with each falling drop, panic more tightly gripped.

I ran up the stairs to the second-floor crawl space
But it was 11 o’clock and darkness covered the place.
"Where is the flashlight!?" I yelled to my dear.
"Cameron was using it.  It could be anywhere!"

I entered his room and stepped on some Lego,
Then muttered some swear words that will make me to Hell go
I turned on his light, the room illuminated
But no flashlight was there, a fact that I hated.

I ran down the stairs, to the basement so quick
And brought back a work light to elucidate the attic.
Into the space, past clothes and boxes I fighted
Until to the drip-source I finally had lighted.

Ah to hell with it.  Long story short:  We have a leak in our roof, I think from where a couple of shingles blew off.  It drips down a water-soaked rafter, onto some water-soaked support beams and right down into the middle of our livingroom.  It’s difficult to catch, because in the crawl space, it doesn’t drip anywhere, it just travels down the rafter.  It’ll be repaired in a day or two.  Hopefully before any significant rainfall occurs.

I’ve always regretted not being able to sing harmony.  I believe my problem is that I overthink it.  I can usually hear what the harmony should/could be, but somewhere between brain and mouth,  it becomes its own beast.  Too bad, since I have a passably dulcet voice.

or

I have a nice pair of bronze candlesticks which I keep polished.  My neighbour has the same sticks but doesn’t bother to polish.  My two candlesticks are bright and shiny.  My neighbour has a dulcet.

And Major League Baseball’s Most Valuable Player is…Magilla Gorilla.
Finally, it’s time for our highest award…and the winner of Most Difficult-to-Trace Performance Enhancing Cocktail is… Dr. Benjamin Clamperman.

I am told, by reporters and athletes, that fans don’t mind, don’t care, that athletes are taking performance enhancing drugs. They (we) just want to see more home runs, faster runners, higher jumpers.  I would be surprised if this is true.  I would hope that fans see this as I see it.  I can only speak for myself, but as a fan, I am absolutley against the practice of enhancing one’s performance through means other than hard work and perseverance.
To me, records become meaningless.  Breaking them become valueless.  I find it increasingly more difficult to allow myself to cheer on athletes, for fear of finding out they cheat.  I was so euphoric when Ben Johnson won Gold, so disappointed when I was told he cheated.  My enthusiasm for Donovan Bailey’s performances was greatly tempered because I didn’t want to be let down again.  I am saddened by that.
Now, when Barry Bonds breaks records, I think "Meh."  So what.

Sports are becoming less about personal achievement and more about experiment.

Let’s stop saying these people play sports.  Let’s change it to "exsportiments".

My question is this:  When were the three wise men told about Christ’s birth?  Was is that night, during the aborning?  If so, then how far did they have to travel to get to the stable?  Were they already in the vicinity?  Were the gifts they gave carefully selected, or just a selection from what they had with them?  How long did Joseph, Mary and baby stay at the stable?  How anticlimatic were her subsequent birthings?

or

Eben doe I hab a cold, I know dat aborning cup of coffee will be satisfying.

Here’s ten quick updates on nothing in particular, in no particular order:
1) Went to A&W with DaveS yesterday for lunch.  I had two Papa Burgers with cheese and a Root Beer.  Yum, yum and yum.  Was served by an inept trainee who, I’m guessing, has, by now, quit.
2) Watched King Arthur with my son a couple of nights ago.  I didn’t like it, he did.  Truthfully, I ended up not watching much of it, what with the occasional walking out of the room to do other stuff, and the falling to sleep while in the room, but what I did see I didn’t like.  Too much dramatic nothing in between action scenes of whatever-ness.
3) There were quite a few pretty women uptown today at lunch.  Not all together in a group.  Pretty in a Desperate Housewives kind of way.  I don’t watch that show.  None of the pretty women seemed to acknowledge my existence.  In their circles, that, I suppose, is a given.
4) I bought myself an iPod.
5) Currently my favourite quick and easy home-cooked-ish meal is Chicken Tikka Masala.   Go to Superstore.  Get a pound of boneless, skinless chicken breasts.  Get a can of (I forget the brand-name, but it’s not the PC bottle of, it’s a can of [in the imported foods section]) Chicken Tikka Masala paste.  Rice, too.  Cut chicken into strips, briefly cook, add paste and a bit of water, let simmer.  Cook rice.  Add the one to the other.  Eat.  Yum.  Have bread too.
6) I just walked down the hall at the office like I was on a fashion show runway.  My posture was fantastic.  Make a mental note to walk like a model more often.
7) Last Christmas, we ditched the "get a real tree’ tradition and purchased a nice artificial tree with lights already attached.  All the lights, the mini-lights, are white.  This year I replaced one of the white lights with a red one.  Now our tree glows all white, except that one special red light.  I REALLY like that, and I’m not sure why.
8) The back right wheel on our car has a sloooow leak.  Nuisance that it is causes me to refill it with air every 2-3 days.  Does it get fixed, or does it get replaced?  That’s the question I’m putting off.  Stay tuned.
9) Apart from the reality show idea "Pogey" that I posted below, I also have one that is much more un-pee-see.  I’m calling it "Tremploited".  An amalgam of "Tremploy" (the local company that does/did hire mentally handicapped people as workers) and "exploited".  Not sure of the format, but I think it’s time for a show where consenting mentally handicapped people compete against each other in non-athletic competitions, with one getting eliminated each week.  It would all be done, you know, tastefully.  I won’t mention the other idea I had for a sex competition, which I call "Special O-Limp-Dicks". 
10) My football picking on this site is atrocious, and as a way to maintain dignity I stopped posting my predictions a long time ago.  I still predict, though.  I go to The Weekly NFL Picks Page and pick each week.  I am currently at 96-80, or 54.5% correct.  And that’s with picking games against the spread, not straight-up.  I’m currently third in my pool and 1247th out of a total of 5065 players.  So, you know, above average.