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Sorry Courtesy Remember

Sorry Doesn’t Make a Dead Man Alive

My dad used to say that to me when he didn’t think that I was sincere during an apology*.

It is one of those phrases that has stayed in the back of my mind over the years, resurfacing every once in a while when someone utters an insincere pleas for forgiveness.

This sprang to the front of my mind the other day when I was getting on the subway.

The train had just come to a stop and the doors opened. A young woman barrelled out of the car like a bat out of hell, nearly knocking over an older lady standing next to me.

Without even looking back, she muttered a quick sorry, speeding off to wherever the hell she was going.

Bewildered, the old lady shook her head and made her way into the subway**.

What is is with people these days?

Words like sorry and thank you are becoming trivialized by people who really don’t care about anyone.

I know when I apologize for anything, I make sure that the person knows that I really mean it. Same with everything else.

Far too many people put thank you or have a nice day at the end of their e-mails as part of their signature. As if having it there, pre-recorded, will make it mean something.

I figure if you are going to put those things, you should mean them. Otherwise, they are just empty gestures.



Courtesy

Ever have a really bad day, and then someone says something to set you off, and rather than keeping quiet, you actually let your tongue fly with abandon?

That happened to me a few weeks ago.

I was riding subway home, and the cars were relatively full. An older lady slowly made her way into the car, walking along with her cane.

Not one person offered her a place to sit.

Even worse, the last available seat was taken by a younger guy who actually pushed his way past her to get to it. The old woman looked stunned at this guy’s audacity.

What made this even more annoying is that I recently had a conversation with a friend of mine who told me that in her entire pregnancy, only one person offered her a seat***. The issue was fresh in my mind.

Though I normally would speak up in a situation like that, the mood I was in that day made me a little less patient…


Jorge: Hey dude. Maybe you should let the lady sit down.
Punk: [Doesn’t even look up.] Maybe you should just fuck off.
[People stop what they’re doing to listen to us chatting.]
J: It’s common courtesy to give the seat up to someone who might need it more than you.
P: Didn’t you hear what I just said? I got here first, anyway.
J: Yeah, but you’re not elderly, or pregnant. You’re also not disabled.
P: Nope.
J: You know, breaking your knees would probably earn you the right to sit there.
P: [Finally looks up at my not-so-pleased face.] Oh. Uh. Sorry man. Here you go, lady.
[Punk gets up, and the old lady sits down. She looks up and smiles.]
J: That’s a good lad.
[Punk makes his way through the crowd to the other end of the subway. Probably a good idea.]


Stories like that make me sound like I go around picking fights. But I’m not really a violent person. I find that some people just need a bit of a prod to gain a new perspective.

If he had a problem, or was looking really tired, then he probably could have remained there. That would make sense.

But he wasn’t tired or disabled in any way. He was also rude.

I don’t have patience for that.



The Things We Remember

It’s funny what sticks in your head from when you’re a kid.

I’ve been meaning to do a sketch of my friend Shatton as Iron Man, but I’ve been procrastinating. Last night, I printed up some pictured of Shatton and Iron Man so I can get to work on it sooner than later.

Recently, I was chatting with him about this when the conversation took a weird tangent. If you never went to Catholic church you may not understand this…



Click to enlarge…




* – At least, I suspect that was the reason. Maybe he had no reason to say it at all.
** – Of course, no one offered her a seat right away. When someone finally did, she waved them off. Her rejection of the offer was let go too easily for my liking.
*** – And he was visiting from Europe.

Unpossible Luck

Me Fail English? That’s Unpossible!

All is not well in the land of Canada. We have many people who, though they insist that they speak the English language, do no such thing.

I don’t know how many times I have heard people making fun of people from other countries for not speaking english properly.

This may be true in some cases.

People from here are no better.

Certainly typos are excusable, as they are made frequently* by us all. But what do you call it when people don’t say things properly? What if they mess up whole expressions?

I’ll share a line I heard the other day. It’s right up there with noo-cue-ler, foilage and irregardless

Oh, I don’t care. It’s all the same. Six and a half of one, a dozen of the other, you know what I mean?


Seriously**.

This makes me very unproud.



Good Luck to Des

A friend of mine is grading for his black belt tomorrow. I just wanted to take this opportunity to wish him well.

He’s a decent fellow. He’s brutally blunt, but makes no apologies. He’s also a great person, who would go an extra hundred miles for a friend.

If you have any positive words of wisdom for him, please write them as comments.

Truthfully, I don’t think he needs luck. He’s got what it takes.




* – I am notorious for typos. In fact, this is the 58th edit right now! It’s probably still wrong!
** – The actual phrase is six of one, half a dozen of the other. Last time I checked 6.5 does not equal 12.

Valentine’s Props

A Valentine’s Tale

This story was originally told to me by one of my psychology profs at University. It is about an exchange between her and her young son, and the result of that exchange. I’m embelleshing the story a little, by fooling around with the format (third person vs. first person).

Some small details might have changed slightly, as I am getting old and my memory is failing, but the bulk of it is spot-on. For the ease of the story we’ll call my prof Mrs. BF and we’ll call her son Danny

Mrs. BF and her husband had friends over every Valentine’s Day. It was an annual ritual that they looked forward to. She was in the kitchen, preparing dinner when her son walked in.

” Hey mom, ” he said.

” Hello, sweetie, ” she replied, ” Is there something I can do for you? “

” Not really, ” smiled the six-year-old tyke.

” Really? ” She looked dubious.

” Well, ” he scuffed his feet together, shy about what he was about to say, ” I was wondering if I could help with stuff? “

Mrs. BF looked surprised. Her eyes softened, and she tousled his hair, ” That’s very sweet, Danny. “

Danny blushed and hugged his mom’s leg.

Mrs. BF looked around the kitchen for something her son could do. She still needed to take care of dinner and set the table. He was too small to handle hot cookware, and a little too clumsy to handle the china, so she decided that she would let him have a very special job.

” Danny, ” she reached over and grabbed the cake that she had baked and iced earlier that afternoon, ” I have a big job for you. “

” Really? ” he looked excited.

” Yes, ” she winked, walking over to the kitchen table and placing the cake down on it. She grabbed a tube of red frosting and helped him up onto the chair, ” I would like you to decorate the cake. “

” Really? ” he looked stunned, ” REALLY, Mom? “

” Yes, ” she smiled, foldly remembering him watching her decorate a birthday cake earlier that year, ” Your writing is much neater now than it used to be, and I think it’s time for you to do some grown-up stuff. “

” That’s so cool! ” he beamed.

” Here you go, ” she gave him the tube.

” Um, ” he scratched his head with his free hand, ” What should I do? “

” Why don’t you write Happy Valentine’s Day? ” she went to the refrigerator and removed one of the cards she had received, placing it on the table next to the cake, ” You can use that as a guide. “

” Wow! Thanks, mom! ” Danny kissed her, and looked at the cake, sizing it up.

Mrs. BF was too busy to supervise the tyke, but she would steal glances as she walked by. She took note of how careful he was writing each letter.

A fair amount of time had gone by, and she saw the word Happy in surprisingly neat, large letters on the cake.

After that, she paid him no mind, allowing him to do his special job, allowing herself to trust him complete his task.

The guests were about to arrive, and she was straightening out the dining room table when she heard him call out from the kitchen.

” Mom, I’m done! ” he sounded very proud, ” Did you want to check it? “

She had her hands full, and didn’t really have time to spare to see his handiwork. She figured she’d enjoy it later.

” No, it’s okay Danny, ” she called, back, ” Just put the lid on it, and we’ll serve it later! “

” Okay, ” he replied.

A few minutes later he came out of the kitchen, all smiles. He ran up to his mom and hugged her.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Company had arrived.

A sumptuous dinner came and went, and Mrs. BF went to the kitchen to fetch the cake that she made and her son decorated.

She brought it out in its container with the opaque lid still on, aiming to maximize her pride in her son by making it a big presentation, and placed it on the table in front of everyone.

” I now present to you the great work of Danny the cake decorator, ” she then lifted the lid off of the cake with a flourish.

There was stunned silence, and then good-natured laughter followed by clapping all around the table.

It seems that Danny had not budgeted his space properly, and the latter part of the message had to be abbreviated…



HAPPY V.D.



Props

I don’t normally give into the commercialism of Valentine’s Day.

I think it’s important to share well-wishes with your loved ones often, and not just on special days.

To that end, here are three haiku for three people I mentioned recently…


To the Blife
You make blogging fun
Keep DC warm for our gang
Don’t hog the blossoms


To the Mife
You rock all kinds, dude
Thanks for your support and your
Eternal friendship


To My Wife
What else can I say?
The world is a better place
With you living here


Love to all,

J

War Labels WTF Heart

Thank You, War Amps!

I lost my keys a few weeks ago.

I was really upset about it. However, yesterday, I got a notice from a courier that I had a package waiting for me at their depot.

Sure enough, when I got there I found my keys waiting for me inside the envelope.

The War Amps of Canada have a great key tag service. Essentially, if someone finds your keys, and they have a War Amps Key Tag on them, the person who found them can drop them in a mailbox and they will be sent to the War Amps office. Then, they will send them to you, free of charge!

We donate to them once in a while, so it was a really great feeling to get those keys back, as it would have cost a bit of moolah to replace some of them.

Thanks, War Amps!

Everyone visiting me should go pay them a visit.

They run a great service!



Labels

I was chatting with Kris on the phone the other day. We both have a thing with nomenclature. Everyone has to fit into some kind of group, if only to make it easier to remember the context of the relationship we have with them.

Observe…

[The scene opens with a phone conversation already in progress.]
Jorge: I wanted to tell Dave, but he wasn’t around.
Kris: You can’t tell me Dave is not your other soul mate.
J: I never said he wasn’t.
K: He’s your other lover.
J: My man wife.
K: That would be your mife.
J: Mife?
K: Yes, your man wife.
J: So if he’s my mife, what would you be? My State-side wife?
K: No. I would be your blife.
J: What’s a blife?
K: Your blog wife.
J: Wicked.
K: Yes.
J: So I have a wife, a mife, and a blife.
K: That’s right, Boo.
J: It’s a good thing I don’t have a karate wife. The short form of that would suck ass.
K: That’s just dirty.


Creating labels can be fun!



WTF, WWF?

I saw a World Wildlife Fund poster in the subway today.

Essentially, it has a picture of a book entitled 2853 Ways To Stop Using Fossil Fuels or some such title. Underneath the picture, it has a paragraph that essentially says something along the lines of it’s just easier to donate to the WWF to do the things you want to but know you can’t.

I’m not really sure I agree with this message.

I support the WWF, of course. I think they do great work.

But one would think that the WWF would want to encourage people to not only donate, but also to take local action.

Am I smoking crack?

If anyone else has seen this poster, I’d like some responses as to what you think.



I Don’t Really Heart Olympics

The winter Olympics are here. Am I the only one that doesn’t care about this?

First of all, I think the Olympics have lost their meaning. I’m sure a long time ago, it was all about the sport.

Now it seems all about the politics.

I also don’t like this whole Canada kicking ass attitude. I’ve always thought our underdog neutrality was charming. It made the wins more meaningful. Now it just seems like cockiness, rather than confidence.

I don’t want anyone to get me wrong, here. I think that our athletes are nothing short of amazing. They work hard (with barely any support from the government) to lay it all on the line at these events. That takes a great deal of courage.

But how appreciated are they on a world-wide scale?

What happens if they fail?

They get shut out into the cold, off to maintain their skills with rigourous training for the next Olympics.

To me the Olympics have become a pissing contest between nations. The proof of this is the fact that you can have mulitple entrants into the same event. Those with the deepest pockets tend to take home the most medals.

Is this really the spirit of the games?

Maybe I have odd, romantic notions of what the games should be like.

Again, feel free to tell me to go to hell for this, if you like.

I may not change my opinion, but I value yours.

Contact Things and Other Things

Ready? Contact!

I received word that I made it into the Contact photography festival this year (a second time for me).

It should be a great event, as the theme is challenging and it will be the first year that I will not be relying on my nature shots to carry the show. It will also be the first time that I am going to be going larger than 8×10. This is a little scary for me, as it costs more and I’ve never blown anything up to that size. I’m not sure how good the images will look.

I will be showing at a local restaurant. As of right now, I don’t know exactly what will be going up on the walls. However, I will keep you all posted.

I can share with you that it will be running all through May, and I believe the opening will be on May 6th.



Things My Friends Say

When it comes to sage sayings, my friends quite often hit the mark.

This is one my pal Mike came up with…


We seem to be pissing directly into the winds of change.



That is awesome.

And eerie in it’s accuracy.



Other Things My Friends Say

A group of us e-mail quite frequently. We enjoy witty banter and can sometimes be merciless in our taunting of each other.

It’s all in good fun, of course.

One day I was picking on Reay* and Shatton made a priceless observation (click to see)…




Shaun is the man with the plan, I always say.




* – Incidentally, Reay actually gave me his permission to post this. He’s an awesome writer, a stand up fellow and an all-around cool guy. You should be checking out his blog. Now.