April 29 – “All Pussies are Pink in the Middle”

I am just about finished the Old Testament. This will probably be my last selection from it. And what wisdom it leaves us with.

If a man is righteous and does what is lawful and right – if he does not eat upon the mountains or lift up his eyes to the idols of the house of Israel, does not defile his neighbour’s wife or approach a woman during her menstrual period…such a one is righteous; he shall surely live, says the Lord God.

Ezekiel 18.5-9

I forgot to post this as “Song of the blog” for my last blog:

Lisa Hannigan – Safe Travels (Don’t Die)

 

I voted recently. Well, sort of. When I told people that I had never voted I often heard the response “Well then you can’t complain [say anything][whine] etc.” After I get done thinking that it sounds like this person’s parents have stuck their hands up his or her butt and are now working his or her mouth like a puppet I start to think along the following lines. Is this not like saying “Here is some ice cream. You must pick either chocolate or vanilla. You could, I suppose choose strawberry or mint or some weird new ice cream but it is certain that there will be none available and hence, you must choose either chocolate or vanilla.” For me, it is not even like I am wanting the other flavours of ice cream. The way I look at it, I am lactose intolerant and therefore choose no ice cream. Does this mean that I cannot say “I don’t like chocolate ice cream?” Of course not. That would be absurd. Please don’t anyone use this argument anymore unless you can come up with a slightly more confusing analogy to demonstrate that I am wrong.

All that being said, I was persuaded recently to participate in the voting process. If you recall, I had a debate with a Running Room employee over politics a few weeks back. Amongst his thoughts he established one very good point that allowed for me to participate in the democratic process but also be weird and obnoxious at the same time. He said that you can go to the polling office and decline your vote. It is noted, officially, as a declined vote and not simply tossed away with the discarded ballots. So, last Wednesday I marched over to my designated polling office, registered as a voter, walked up to my station and declined both of my votes. So there you go. Not only did I fulfill my duty as a citizen but I also demonstrated that I am not as stubborn as many people think. I received some new information that conflicted with my current model of the world and I adjusted my beliefs and actions accordingly. It’s just that easy folks.

The next thing I want to talk about is the filming of 6 Fast 8 Furious or whatever they’re probably on now. I was boppin’ down Highway 2 in my soccer-mom van when several pimped out go-fast cars (don’t ask me make or model cuz I don’t know shit about cars) came flying by me. I happened to catch one of the licence plates. It read: HGHVLTG (or something along those lines. Clearly “High Voltage” was the aim.) Within the next week I saw several men, age 40-50, driving very expensive cars. This all makes me very uncomfortable. It is possible that there is an underlying envious tension present but that seems not to be the main influence. Rather, I feel that this symbol (i.e. ridiculously ostentatious automobiles) is the manifestation of a problem that I never want to have. As I once said “A mere metallic compensation for a more organic void” (Is it okay to quote yourself?) I just never want to be that guy who hates his job and finds himself constipated and in an unhappy marriage. I’ve seen it enough times in rest stops. Some guy will come in all suited up and in fancy leather shoes and then he sits down and can’t take a shit (the audible struggle is both funny and saddening). I mean seriously, what is the point of living if you can’t take a shit? Impotence doesn’t sound like fun either. But this is all I think about when I see these cars drive by. Now I know this makes me appear pretentious as it seemingly suggests that I know the right way to live. I do not claim to know the point to all of this but I am nearly certain that those guys are missing it.

Speaking of driving and shitting. I had to drive up to Medicine Hat this morning for a race. I left very early and hence, my morning movement took place in the small town of Brooks, Alberta. In my stall I noticed some of the most racist writings I had ever seen. Amongst the sea of vulgarities lay two brusque but enlightening statements. The first read, “Black, White, Yellow, etc. I hate you all.” Instead of loving everyone equally, this man suggests the opposite. I think this could have a similar outcome of tolerance though. The second statement read, “All pussies are pink on the inside.” This man was perhaps suggesting that we look at the true person on the inside before making judgements about their skin colour. So ahead of their time these truck stop poets.

Ok. There you go. Would you believe that I still sugar-coat things to an extent?

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