Saturday, March 22, 2014

Baa Baa Black Sheep, Have You Any Soul?

BEWARE: SUNNY DAYS AHEAD
Winter makes us all miserable. It's a recorded fact, and yet we still have winter.
If we think winter is bad, wait 'til nuclear winter comes around.
When you can't go sledding without your snowsuit and your Geiger counter.
My loyal dregs already know that I love the turning weather.
The lush and ruddy marks of Spring spell the end of goddamn winter, so I love it.
Further, Spring nurtures the insatiable perversions of this old pervert, and he loves d'em bare arms and legs.
Yes he does.
Consequently, I'm wearing a dead man's knitted sweater, trying to convince myself that it's thick enough.
It isn't, but what's important is that it's almost thick enough.
Love that Spring. Spray champagne over your calendars.
That doesn't make any sense.

Sometimes, and only sometimes, paying eight dollars for a jar of peanut butter is okay.
When is this alright?
When it's more convenient than all alternatives, of course.
Or, when you're living in The Arctic.
Monkeys don't live up here.
In the north.
We're back on weather for just a second.
This donned on me over the peace pipe the other night and I thought:
"Whoa. Monkeys are geniuses."
Unlike ourselves, monkeys have the sense to avoid climates they're not suited for.
However, once the smoke cleared, I realized that though this is true, monkeys also haven't figured out how to craft a goose down coat.
Only geese have mastered that.
Typing the word 'arctic' reminded me of this.
Peanut butter!
As all corners do, I had a little corner store 'round the corner from my home.
A nice little spot where the shelves were stocked, but unconvincingly so.
Light bulbs would be placed alongside aluminum foil and pads for gluing mice. 
The proprietor's children would play the Wii while tucked discretely into the alcove behind the microwave.
Samosas and pakoras were available to buy, presented alongside cans of Big8, or sometimes cans of the more obscure and more welfare Cott.
And at the till from morning until 9pm, a nice Indian couple who were pleased you were there and would make bus change without forcing you to buy a goddamn pack of gum.
Some weeks ago I stopped in to purchase prophylactics (not really) and they told me the store was changing hands.
New owners would be taking up shop within a day or two.
They were excited enough, but I was a little less enthused.
No one likes adjusting to a new shopkeep.
I'd already had countless non-conversations with these people about the weather and the upcoming weather.
To do all of that with new people. New people who may not have pakoras.
I wasn't sold on the idea, so to speak.
Fastforward to a few days ago.
I needed to pick up some Fun Dip (not really) so I poked my head into the store.
Sign said OPEN, the door was unlocked and it wasn't yet 9pm.
Inside, this is what I laid eyes on:
Two children, under 5, sprinting breathless among the shelves, which were now bare in a much more barren sense.
The shelves now looked as though they were stocked by a bachelor who rummaged through his fridge and cupboards and used those items to start a business.
The kids barely noticed me as they traipsed among discarded toys that littered the floorspace.
A pair of on-paper-parents were behind the counter.
Both were staring and prodding at their phones, side-by-side.
The duo looked up at me without actually seeing anything.
They appeared as destitute as anyone who has ever perished alone in a desert.
Just gut-wrenching, haggard expressions, truncated with weariness and disregard.
And caring. They looked like they gave up caring a long time ago.
"We're closed," the woman/incubator said, sounding as though they hadn't yet been open.
To which I felt like saying, "Oh, well you should flip your sign from OPEN to DOOMED, then."
Just because you can, doesn't mean you should.
In my aging-but-not-yet-old years, I have taken this on as a very real, and I believe very sensible mantra.
I apply it to most everything, and sometimes state it to myself to abstain from doing something stupid.
I first had the thought years ago when watching what I thought was The Cars' video for You Might Think, which turned out to be wrong because I just watched that video and it isn't the one I had in my head.
But there's some music video from the 80s featuring a then-popular band, and at one point a not-real fish moves across the screen for seemingly no reason.
Now, when the video was shot, the 80s were likely in full swing, and all sorts of visual technology was gaining steam.
The Death Star didn't have to be a model anymore; it could be a model of a shitty graphic.
They were able to put the fish in there, but just because you can...
See how it works?
Just because you can have children doesn't mean you should have children.
Happiness isn't a trend.
You follow the trend, the result is happiness.
No matter how the Zorb people seem, it just isn't the case.
These people got married and then said, "Well, kids now, I guess."
Barely finish the first and then have the second.
This should solve everything.
One glance at these people told me that they hated their lives and they hated their children.
Perhaps they shouldn't have had them.
I know someone who had another kid simply because they wanted another baby shower.
And I thought I was short-sighted.
They last longer than a week.
Sometimes I think parents fail to grasp that and elect to have a child when they in fact just want a baby. 
A puppy you can stick on Kijiji if you get tired of cleaning up its pees and poos.
With a kid, well, you have to get the government involved, and they don't make anything easy.
Everyone is trying to replicate a lifestyle their parents had in an economy and society that is now drastically different.
Perhaps we should try to eke out a new life instead of assuming this formula will work for us, too.
Who knows?
Maybe I just need a baby of my own.
Regardless, the moral of the story is that I'll be going to Needs now when I need an emergency carton of milk. 

Hyphen count: A staggering 13.

When I tried to find the name for 'Zorb Balls' I searched for "those balls people get in."
One of the top results was the question: "What does getting kicked in the balls feel like?"
Didn't know this was a question that needed answering, but I'll field that one:
Terrible.



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