Living in a fantasy world

In an earlier post, I noted that a year or so back, a painting by Jackson Pollack sold for 142.7 million dollars in a private sale. I thought the price was outrageous and that anybody who was willing to pay that price was likely some kind of lunatic.

Just for the hell of it, I thought it might be fun to compare the price paid for that painting with a few items of real value; just in case some long lost uncle should buy the biscuit and leave me $140 million or so.

Let’s see. I could buy a new house, like the little place in Toronto pictured above. It’s situated on over an acre of land overlooking the Rosedale Golf Club and features eight bedrooms, 11 baths, a pool, two entryways, and a formal ballroom. And, it’s available for a mere $19.5 million Canadian.

And I guess I should spend a few bucks on a couple of automobiles. I think I’ll pick up a Lamborghini and a Ferrari so that I’ve got something for family and friends to use when they come for an extended visit. And, since neither the wife nor I drive, I should have a Rolls so that the chauffer can get the wife back and forth to No Frills and the Dollar Store. I can get all three for roughly a million bucks.

And, I’ll have to fill the fridge with beer. Samuel Adams/Boston Beer Company’s Utopias is said to be the world’s strongest and most expensive beer and it goes for a mere $100 per bottle. And, since they only produced 8,000 bottles, I could probably get a discount for buying in bulk. The beer is brewed with a blend of high-quality hops and sold in an ornate copper-plated brew kettle. The world’s most expensive beer is non-carbonated and should be served at room temperature.

But, then again, the very thought of warm, non-carbonated beer is a little revolting. But you’ve got to have something to serve the guys when they come over to watch the football game on Sundays. So, I think I’ll just stick with my “Buy Canadian” policy when it comes to the beer. The chauffer can take my new Rolls down to the beer store once a week to keep the fridge full. Unless, of course, my brother Tom comes to visit; in which case, the chauffer will be making once a day visits to the beer store.

And a boat. I’ve always liked the water; I come from the east coast, after all. Maybe a little cabin cruiser will be just the ticket; something that can make the trip from Lake Ontario, down the Seaway and through the Gulf to Cape Breton. There’s a nice little 54 foot rig available for only $4.5 million.

Damn it! I’ve still got over $122 million dollars to spend. This is tougher than I thought. Maybe if the Donald isn’t too busy firing people, he can give me some advice on how to spend that kind of cash.

Now, what the hell did I do with his number?

Red Dawn

Last week I watched a rerun of a 1984 movie called ‘Red Dawn’. Starring in this “patriotic” little movie were such notables as Patrick Swayze, Charlie Sheen, Lea Thompson, Powers Boothe and Harry Dean Stanton. It was a fairly decent little time waster with a good cast.

The plot line centers on the invasion and occupation of the American mid-west by Cuban and Soviet troops. A small group of teenagers flee to the foothills of the Rockies and take up arms against the occupying forces, to defend their town and their country. This small band of “partisans” ambushes Soviet convoys, conducts raids against their oppressors and generally make life miserable for the foreign invaders.

These insurgents also kill and main a fair share of the enemy. And, it is not just the enemy who suffers from the actions of the “Wolverines” as they call themselves. Their families and friends are targeted by soldiers of the invading army, hoping to stem the tide of the insurrection. Townspeople are detained without reason, and even executed by the invaders.

Some townspeople collaborate with the enemy, in an effort to make their lives a little bit better. These people are depicted as the “bad guys”, willing to sacrifice truth, justice and the American way, to escape the hardship of the occupation. There’s even a scene where the character played by Patrick Swayze executes a captured Russian soldier but can’t bring himself to shoot a childhood friend who the Wolverines find to be a collaborator. So someone else in the group does it for him.

In the United States, the movie is seen as the triumph of the American will to fight off foreign armies who wish to impose a foreign culture and a foreign form of government on the people of the United States.

Unless you’ve been in hibernation or a state of suspended animation for the past five years, you already know where I’m going with this.

About five years ago, the Bush administration twisted and distorted the facts to justify the US invasion of Iraq. They lied about weapons of mass destruction, Iraqi links with al Queda, Iraqi participation in the attacks of 911 and most of the other reasons they gave for invading a sovereign nation.

When their reasons for invasion were shown to be lies, they pointed to the fact that Saddam Hussein and his regime had been toppled and asked, “Aren’t Iraqis better off now than they were under Saddam?” A good many people would be likely to respond in the negative, given the current situation in Iraq.

And, just like the perpetual war in Orwell’s “1984”, the enemy keeps changing. A few years back, the US was supporting Saddam, providing arms and ammunition, including biological weapons, to kill Iranians. Then Bush decided that Iraq needed a “regime change”. The Sunni were the enemy at the start of the war, now they’re being paid $10.00 a day by the US to kill al Queda. The terrorist group Al Queda didn’t exist in Iraq prior to the US invasion.

And, the beat goes on; first the insurgents were Saddam loyalists, then Sunni tribesmen, then Al Queda, then Shia militias and now Iranian sympathizers. Never are the “insurgents” simply Iraqi.

Why is it that Americans did not foresee Iraqi resistance to the invasion and occupation of their homeland? Was it really so hard to accept the fact that some Iraqis might love their country as much as Americans love theirs? Did they honestly believe that Iraqis lacked the courage or will to fight an invading army in defense of their country?

In the movie version of Red Dawn, the insurgents were portrayed as good guys; clean cut American youths, prepared to die for their country. In the Iraqi version of Red Dawn, the insurgents are the bad guys; ungrateful, anti-American fanatics, obstinately objecting to America’s “war of liberation”. Uh-huh.

New word for the day: hyp·o·crite (hip-o-krit) n.
To play a part, pretend
A person who professes beliefs and opinions that he or she does not hold in order to conceal his or her real feelings or motives.

From Christmas Past

Charles Dickens wrote a “Christmas Carol” a century or two ago; a story that is told, and retold, on television every year around this time. Watching Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Past traipse through the portals of time got me to thinking about Christmas back in the early fifties, when I was still a kid. Yes, it was a long time ago; I’ve celebrated Christmas in each of the last seven decades.

Maybe it’s just that, as someone once said: "There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child." Or, maybe I’m just turning into a sentimental old fool but I think Christmas has changed a lot since then.

Except for my youth, and the good health which accompanied it, I’m not really nostalgic for anything about the fifties. I don’t miss the outhouse, for example, especially in the middle of winter where shaking it more than once caused the formation of icicles making it difficult to stuff “the wee thing” back into your britches. And, I don’t miss crowding around the coal stove in the living room with “the old man” yelling from his big chair by the door to “Sit back and let the heat get out.”

And, I certainly don’t miss dragging the coal scuttles up the ladder from the cellar to keep both stoves glowing red (the other stove was the cooking stove in the kitchen).

No. It’s not nostalgia. But, nowadays I sometimes look at the wealth of gifts under a Christmas tree and wonder if kids today wouldn’t feel a little short-changed if they had to celebrate Christmas the way we did over half a century ago?

Back then, you weren’t likely to find a whole lot in the way of “store bought” goods under the tree. Each of the kids would get a gift from Santa (via Eaton’s or Simpson’s catalogue), but, mostly, it was knitted or other hand made goods; sweaters, scarves, mitts, etc. The kids of today would likely have a few nasty words for Santa if they were treated to the same kind of gift giving. There were no X-boxes, MP3 players, video games, etc, etc. Hell, they hadn’t even invented the transistor radio back then.

But, there were always Christmas treasures to which people looked forward. For me, it was the annual Christmas box from “Granny” Gordon, or, as my mother called it, “th’ parcel frae hame”. It wasn’t that the parcel contained anything of great significance, but rather the thought behind it. It had traveled thousands of miles across a very big ocean just to say, “We love you.”

There was usually an array of knitted goods, a bottle or two of ginger wine for Ma and a carton or two of Wild Woodbine cigarettes for Da. There was an assortment of candy for the kids and six months of comics from the Sunday Post (the other six months of comics came in the summer parcel), as well as copies of “Topper” and later on, “Beezer”. My favourite strips were “The Broons” and “Oor Wullie”.

I suspect the kids of today might find such gifts a trifle tame. I hope they still grow up with some appreciation for both the reason we celebrate Christmas and the thought behind the gifts.

Maybe I really am turning into a sentimental old fool

Note: My father didn’t always get his full complement of Wild Woodbine. Granny Gordon passed on sometime around 1952, if I recall correctly, but my mother’s sisters continued the tradition of sending parcels for many years after her death. It was from one of those summer parcels which my brother Tom and I confiscated a pack of smokes for our first taste of cigarette tobacco.

It was a year or two after we moved to Bog Row in 1954. We took the cigarettes and a fistful of wooden matches and sat on the side of the “red hill” until they were gone. I didn’t have another cigarette until I was about to board the plane for my first job in Montreal in 1962.

Diary Of A Snow Shoveller

December 8: 6:00 PM. It started to snow. The first snow of the season and the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses Print. So romantic we felt like newlyweds again. I love snow!

December 9: We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Could there be a more lovely place in the whole world? Moving here was the best idea I've ever had. Shoveled for the first time in years; felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks. This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect life.

December 12: The sun has melted all our lovely snow. What a disappointment. My neighbour tells me not to worry; we'll definitely have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter, that I'll never want to see snow again. I don't think that's possible. Bob is such a nice man, I'm glad he's our neighbour.

December 14: Snow, lovely snow; eight inches fell last night. The temperature dropped to -20. The cold makes everything sparkle so. The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The snowplow came back this afternoon and buried everything again. I didn't realize I would have to do quite this much shoveling, but I'll certainly get back in shape this way. I wish I wouldn't huff and puff so.

December 15: 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and two extra shovels. Stocked the freezer. The wife wants a wood stove in case the electricity goes out. I think that's silly. We aren't in Alaska, after all.

December 16: Ice storm this morning. Fell on my ass on the ice in the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for an hour, which I think was very cruel.

December 17: Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go anywhere. Electricity was off for seven hours. I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm. There’s nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but won't admit it to her. God I hate it when she's right. I can't believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room.

December 20: Electricity's back on, but had another 14" of the damn stuff last night. More shoveling. Took all day. Bloody snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbour kid to shovel, but they said they're too busy playing hockey. I think they're lying. Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower, and they're out. Might have another shipment in March. I think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me. I think he's lying.

December 22: Bob was right about a white Christmas, because 13 more inches of the white crap fell today, and it's so cold it probably won't melt 'til August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel, and then I had to take a piss. By the time I got undressed, did my thing and dressed again, I was too tired to shovel! Tried to hire Bob (who has a plow on his truck) for the rest of the winter, but he says he's too busy. I think the bastard’s lying.

December 23: Only two inches of snow today, and it warmed up to "0". The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning. What, is she nuts!!! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago? She says she did, but I think she's lying.

December 24: 6". Snow packed so hard by snowplow, I broke the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. If I ever catch the stupid f**ker who drives that snowplow, I'll drag him through the snow and beat him to death with my broken shovel. I know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shoveling and then he comes down the street at 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over everywhere I've just been! Tonight the wife wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our presents, but I was too busy watching for the f**king snowplow.

December 25: Merry f**cking Christmas. 20 more inches of the f**king slop tonight. Snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil. God, I hate the snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I have a bad attitude. I think she's a f**king idiot. If I have to watch “It's a Wonderful Life” one more time, I'm going to stuff her into the microwave.

December 26: Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here? It was all HER idea. She's really getting on my nerves.

December 27: Temperature dropped to -30, and the pipes froze. Plumber came after 14 hours of waiting for him. He only charged me $1,400 to replace all my pipes.

December 28: Warmed up to above -50. Still snowed in. The f**king wife is driving me crazy!!!!!

December 29: 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How f**king dumb does he think I am?

December 30: Roof caved in. I beat up the snow plow driver. Now, he’s suing me for a million dollars. Not only for the beating I gave him, but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel up his ass. The wife went home to her mother. Nine inches of snow predicted.

December 31: I set fire to what's left of the house. No more shoveling.

January 8: Feel so good. I just love those little white pills they keep giving me. But why am I tied to the f**king bed?

I lifted this bit from the web. For more Christmas humour, visit:
Joe-ks.com