One of most interesting developments in the Human condition occurred in the small-backwater-town of Enfield, England, just 16.3km from Charing Cross, 18.8km from the London Stone and in case you are an abradant cockney, 18.9km from St. Mary-le-Bow, you dandy city-folk.

In 1810, at age 40, philosopher but mostly part-time cat farmer Meil Sans Bishopsgate had, after living a tremendously menial life come to the realization of his sad menial life and decided to do something about it. Being far too poor to purchase bullets or rope, he decided to make the best of it.

He immersed himself in philosophical study for two years at the Clarke's School in Enfiled, with the set intention of improving the quality of his being or at the very least be able to then afford a bullet or two - the second, in case he missed.

Sans Bishopsgate almost quit his studies mid-way due to the elements and the never ending stream of insults coming from the children who attended the school -although in all fairness, from time to time, the teachers joined in too.

His muse, per-se, was a young and brash tuberculosis ridden boy who beat Bishopsgate to a pulp outside the local pub after a fight broke over the iconic importance of the King James Bible, England's level of abject poverty and Meil having a stupid name. In his memoirs, published for his mother in 1815, Sans Bishopsgate describes the incident in detail and joyfully recalls, 'Damn Keats' boy. Hope he dies soon.'

After finishing his two years of standing outside the window where the philosophy class was taught, a full year of what he called 'staring up at the sky' followed with him to the conclusion that he was perfectly happy in his life. Meil wrote, "Even though, I have yet to taste the pleasures of the flesh, one must wonder, what does the body of a man truly encapsule? His Spirit? His gravitas? Does a man's worth be set upon his receding hair line? Would the tender touch of a woman, nay, the spectacle of her bosom and weaving flocks heaving through the wind from a galloping horse bring peace to an aging man? Am I able to achieve these sights with my bare hands and sheer will?' Sadly, Meil's body was found at his mother's cottage the next morning. Who knew? Sliding off the stairs head first had accomplished what self-illusion and the two bullets encrusted on the wall had not.

In the end, Meil Sans Brishopsgate peeked into the human psyche seventy-three years before Freud and coining the term "Mid-life Crisis" in the last page of his journal. Now, used by men loosing their hair and in desperate attempt of transcendental gratification. For this, he will always be remembered. By the way, that Keats boy ended up becoming one of England's best poets. Go figure.

San Francisco - In a bold move President Obama signed an executive order lifting the ban on stem research instituted back in 2001 by the Bush Administration. The order signed on March 9th is being hailed as 'exciting news' throughout the scientific community as it re-opens the path for possible cures for a myriad of diseases and disorders which affect millions of people, such as Parkinson's, diabetes and cardiac malfunctions, just to name a few. Needless to say this is bound to ignite some fury in partisan groups who see this move as not only a declaration of being in touch with the 21st century but a middle finger to all that is moral in Christian values, like the Crusades.

'We could not be happier," said Cardial John Matthew, 'this is a sign of the times which Christians everywhere should rejoice. We are moving one step closer to Jesus and the Holy Father,' and Cardinal Matthew is not alone, back in the US shouts of exilihartion are being heard in religious quarters most evil, Godless soul-dead non-believers would not expect to hear. 'Obama has really proven to be Satan's lapdog and a harbinger, we could not be happier! It's fabulous! It is obvious the Rapture is a coming soon. From now on he can do anything he might was well he pleases, I am just going to sit on a lawnchair and crack open a Bud. I am going ot heaven, he is not!' added Pastor Ned Haggard, 'By the way, it's with an "N" not a "T."

 A spokeperson for The End Is Now, a Christian interest group in San Francisco whose main mandate is to inform people of the upcoming Doom's Day has hailed the move as imperative to the end of times. 'Steve, one of our members, who was watching the signing on the news swore he heard hoofs of four horses coming from the TV, I am sure he was joking but we were sooo high that afternoon... Who knows? Either way, I will step on the side of caution and believe him. Hey, you aren't going to write the thing about being high on your article, right?'

On the West coast, MSNBC reports 'Supporters of Change' a Pro-Choice group are very optimistic while hailing the unsung heroes, mostly actors and politicians --no one would have cared if a dentist becomes a quadupligic after a horsing accident-- who would had quietly aided the pro-movement on Stem Research had they not gotten sick and paraded stem research to whomever listened. 'They are real heroes, we are just having a party in their behalf on April 1st at Hooter's private party room. If you are coming, we have made arrangements at 7:00pm, remember it's BYOB. It may take a while, but chances are it will saves lives. We are with the Religious right on this one, what does a stem cell look like anyways?'

One of my favourite guilty pleasures as far as documentaries go --yes, they too can be guilty pleasures-- is Supersize Me. Many of you may remember the 2004 Oscar nominated film about Morgan Spurlock, a man who decides to throw health and common sense to the wind and eats only McDonald's for thirty days straight. Did anyone really think the guy would not get any fatter? Please. If anything, it squarely highlights humanity's inbred voyeuristic and sadistic tendencies. Same can be said by the explosion of reality shows clogging the airwaves for the last decade. Yes, TV's Suvivor is that old.

Having said that, this is what A. J. Jacobs has accomplished, a reality TV show created in book format or intellectual fluff, if you will. Yes, you are curious. Yes, you want to see what happens. Then he writes about his life and when I mean his life, I mean, everything. Going for Chinese with his father-in-law, taking his son to a jungle gym at a park, doing his wife. Fantasizing about doing his wife's friend! Uh, okay... Anyway, the book is more about the man's neurosis and mysophobia: A peep whole into a not-so-really interesting life. Sure, he mentions some interesting factoids which will undoubtedly be used to amuse your less thansecular friends. For example, the Bible is actually cool with slavery and it is okay to beat the living bejesus out of them --granted they must live at least a day or two post-beating, 'cause otherwise, if they die, you know, it ain't so cool (Exodus 21:21). Or the term 'Scapegoat' is ironically of Jewish etymology. For real, the head Aaron confessed all the sins of the children of Israel on the Day of Atonement into a goat. Then the goat, symbolically bearing their sins, was run off a cliff. Splat! I can imagine my friends sighing already! I will give A.J. points for creatively using the Bible the same way Spurlock milked McDonald's. Are they the first ones to ever do so? Heck no. But self-experimentation under the cloak of a higher cause is the new, hot marketing tool on the scene.

As I mentioned in the first part of my review, A.J. does not shy from pointing out he is doing this enterprise as a book project and there is nothing wrong with that. However, later in the book when he attempts to highlight a sort of religious awakening within, is where it stops being cute intellectual fluff and becomes a manufactured chain of events which are meant to pluck on the emotional strings of the reader --like the death near the end of the book. I am not denying it happened, however you can sense that actions have been filtered through a literary prism before being neatly set on the page.

Perhaps I was asking too much. Perhaps knowing someone is doing something for a paycheck drains its respectability. As you can't shake the feeling you are being shepherded into a product, not sharing a journey. This rule especially applies when the material in question is of spiritual and ethereal context. Like the Law of Attraction 'coaches' **cough**The Secret**cough** who teach students to free and release themselves from their worldly chains and miseries for $250 per seminar. Of course they forget to mention Zen Buddhists have been doing that for 1445 years. For free. These examples are all a reminder that enlightenment, whichever way you wish you find it, can be found with curiosity and most importantly, within each of us. But it cannot be reached by neither a prescribed capsuled period of time or in Oprah's choice for book of the month. Even if it is for the low MSRP of $23.95. However four million people have already done so, I call that a 'crash diet for the soul.'

In the end, The Year of Living Biblically is enjoyable as any fluff. As you are left feeling that A.J. learns nothing deeper than Biblical trivia which will last him for a lifetime of parties, family gatherings and maybe some talk shows. No, A.J. your PR and marketing handlers were only half right. Yes, it was a one man's quest to follow the Bible literally, that you did for the most part. But was it a humble one? Not by a long shot. No my friend, you made some good coin. Was that the point?

Darwin is rolling in his grave. Well, more like twitching uncontrollably, maybe doing a little heaving, which surely it is hard after being dead for 125 years. You see, although technologically humanity has moved forth in amazing strides, other developmental trends have in fact backtracked into more primordial states. Which ironically is due to our greater understanding of our own psychology. You see, we have learned a lot about our raw behaviour and the human condition over the last couple thousand years, which in turn, could be used for the greater good of us all. Instead we have shamelessly used this knowledge to manipulate ourselves. So, the more we move forth in self-awareness --a point of evolution which would have made Plato, Socrates and many others incredibly proud-- we again, specifically Western society, have reduced it to a tool for selling wares by seeding basic fears. Many years ago the point of adverting was "Product "XYZ" is great! Give it a try." I would call that the typical idea of an ad. They have a product to show you, you make the final call. Messages of today lack devil-may-care coolness, with most ads reflecting a more desperate "Don't have 'xyz'?' What is wrong with you? You can't happy. If you had XYZ you would happy, NOW!" Then they have some sort of sexual/financial hook. You know, a reminder that you too can be hot/rich/get laid or all three, especially in beer commercials. In the other hand, a lot of commercials basically just insult or patronize you. The problem is that it has now become so blatant and done so regularly that we don't even see it anymore. Can you see the insulting trend on these ads --mind this this are some of the worse-- this one from McDonald's, this Republican Radio ad? This mini-movie (read: long ad) rams its warning into your head of just how unhappy and lonely you too, could be, you will be if you do not use their product: Shampoo. Most beauty product ads are watered down versions of this one. Love how the guy just can't have enough of her hair! Look at those beady eyes! She will never be alone again, ever. This is really disastrous when you take into consideration that our brains can't filter out the stuff. On conscious can for the sake of our wakeful sanity but not our subconscious, and if you hear something repeated enough times, well, it sticks. Studies have been done about this and proven true. So after endless streams of commercials meant to use your sense of self-worth to sell their product, what do you think it is going to happen to you in the long run? Well, you get funny, nicely brainwashed people. Fighting over the dumbest things. Like video game consoles. For example, check this interesting article I read about the "Fall of Man," which documented *some* PS3-related injuries on the days after it was launched. Is this what we are using our vast brain power for? Brainwash ourselves into a Sheep global village? What is wrong? What's worse is that we are aware of it and yet do nothing about it. Since Television is consumerism's main tool and Gospel --I recommend reading an excellent book called the "Four Arguments For The Elimination Of Television" by Jerry Mander. No, no conspiracies or communist manifestos, just an ex-adman's cold, hard look at the stupid box seating in our living rooms. If anything you owe it to yourself to be informed. So, is Consumerism 21st century's newest Religion? It already has its own holidays. Like Christmas, and my favourite, the United States' own Black Friday. Where else can find you can find avid --and some would say, rabid-- faithful rushing to a church at 5:00am? Consumerists running a mock? Never!

Every so often while running my group, I feel it necessary to pair up with someone else in order to spice it up a bit. Our recent Christmas Party was a perfect example of that. I teamed up with David Shapiro, a promoter from the U.S. to host a party at Fluid Nightclub. With new injected energy, lots of dancing and hours of socializing happening, the party was very well received. As such, a point to do it again was made. So this year, I teamed up with Steven, one of the members of a mysterious group of individuals who run the copyrighted Saturday Nite Social Mixer's parties. Quite mysterious indeed as they have no base of operations and are not affiliated with any one group or website, like say, I am with meetup.com. They are like a swarm of happy-go lucky locust, swooping down bars and clubs, leaving only a trail of empty beer bottles and a lot of cash on the hands of the bartenders. It's a beautiful, if strange symbiotic relationship.

So after a few emails back and forth, the joint effort was a go: We were to pillage Philthy McNasty's on Saturday, February the 2nd. So I show up and there are tons of people. I one point early in the evening I guesstimated about seventy at least. Now the interesting thing was the sheer amount of people who I did not know. Generally, in my groups there are a number of people who have become 'regulars,' or more to the point, just friends. We do not need a social event to hang out at, go for drinks or go for dinner. This time it was very much not so, although it is always a pleasure to meet new people. But every so often, just like one would in any other forum, you meet some really, really weird people.

Take exhibit A: I had taken my camera to take some shots of the social. I am surfing in and out the crowds, introducing myself as I go. This girl is putting on her coat so I think she is leaving. So I extend my hand forward, in a firm and friendly, I-am-NOT-trying-to-pick-you-up way and ask her for her name. After which I was going add that I hoped she had a good time. Instead, her expressionless face, still glued to a TV said:

'It doesn't matter...' In a monotone voice.
'Uh?' Did I miss something? Did I have something stuck in my teeth? Well, she wouldn't know that since she hasn't even looked at me. Odd...
'Are you okay?" I asked, and as one of the organizers with a bit of concern.
Her head was still locked to the wall mounted TV, her eyes starring freakishly upwards, looking both distracted and drugged.
'It doesn't matter...' She repeated, slowly.

See, the interesting part when someone doesn't want to talk to you is that you can always catch hints by their tone of voice and body language. They are always the tell-tale sign. But it gets disturbing when faced with well below Forrest-Gump-like synaptic responses, I simply stall. Should I leave? Should I be worried? Do I still have something stuck in my teeth? Are they high?

She was putting her coat quite alright, so I ruled out drugged or drunk. I wagered she probably thought I was hitting on her. But she still had not even bothered to make eye contact to even determined that I was not. Since I doubt anyone would think a guy holding out his hand the way you do to heads of state while holding a camera in the other as the coolest, smoothest approach to hit on a woman. Bitch? Nah, perhaps just very rude.

I looked at her one last time, her eyes still glued to the TV.
"You are weird." I said as I walked away. Some people are just odd.

At around 11:00pm most of the girls in the group approached me to inform me of their need to dance. So the party was arranged into three groups: Some went on to Fluid, others to Devil's Martini and the last to a place called RockWood. I for one, I chose neither, opting for a more quiet fourth option. Needless to say, for what I heard it was a really good night of dancing. That's what matters.

If you would like to check my groups, try The TO23-35 Social and The 25-40 Social Groups. Although they overlap, they tend to cater to a different crowd. Oh, one last thing, I only share the odd and strange stories to you but they are quite rare. So don't be shy, come out! Wait on for exhibit B coming soon!

In one of my adventures as an organizer of a social group I found myself at a trendy lounge in downtown Toronto next to someone who was wearing a shirt that read: ‘Remember my name, because you will be screaming it later.’
Never having heard before, I could not restrain myself from commenting: ‘Funny,’ I said with a hint of friendly sarcasm. Then asked if it ever worked, ‘It worked while I was in Vancouver’ he responded.

He was funny and he didn’t strike me as the shy type. Actually he seemed like the type who would benefit from a little shyness.

We quickly got into conversation. The usual things you would talk to a stranger at a bar. He had just moved to Toronto from aforementioned Vancouver –hated the weather, by the way—and had just gotten a job at a computer firm. My old job as a computer analyst gave us more few things in common but being a Friday, we non-verbally agreed not to speak about our jobs. ‘So what else do you do?’
Ah…here is where things got interesting.

‘A have a side business…’ he said hiding a smile. ‘I am just starting.’
I could tell he was hesitating. It was understandable; I was a complete stranger and had talked for less than five minutes. He reached in his jeans and pulled a business card and handed over to me. It was thinner than average, matte and with cheap looking ink. The main caption read ‘Enlightened Heart.’ Printed in calligraphy not much different than what you would find on a turn of the 1800’s cover of a Harlequin novel. His name was below this.

Wha? I said out loud, not fully understanding.
‘I teach shy people how to get women.’
‘Really?’ I said without disguising the doubt in my voice.
‘Yes.’
‘What are your credentials?’
‘My life.’
‘Huh?’
‘Yeah.’

Then read the back of the card, ‘Personal life and relationship mentor,’ and an uplifting quote regarding being able to get what you want out of life. I asked if he was any good with the ladies. No answer, just a sheepish smile.

‘If so, why come out to my social group?’ I asked.
‘Field research.’
Damn. At least he was honest.

‘You know,’ I said, ‘I give a lot of free advise; doing it for over a decade now… Heck, you could say that I am giving away the business for free.’
‘The world is not short of misguided people.’ He commented.
God, did I know that to be right. He made me think: What if I have gotten five dollars for every time I helped someone hook up with their crush? Ten for every time I set someone up? And, what if I charged by the hour for the long nights spent over the phone telling a friend who had just been dumped that he\she would be fine until four o’clock in the morning? Holy mother lode! This guy was onto something.

From then on we jumped head first into many theories regarding dating and the mating dance. I have to admit, he had some good points regarding how to approach a woman: avoid pickup lines at all costs. The importance of attitude over looks, paying attention to details most men overlook and other general things. Even though we saw it from different sides of the fence, which is understandable as a point of view based on experience. It was still interesting to see the similarities and not so similar takes on the opposite sex. The verdict: ‘the dating scene’ is biased towards the shy and the timid. No secret there.

By the way, did I mention there were four ladies sitting between ‘Dale’ and me? Listening to everything we had said and I have to admit they did not seem very impressed with either of us. Not that we were being lewd, but I think she did not appreciate two men sucking the romanticism out of romanticism by making it sound like some sort of hard science. By the way, Dale, if you ever read this, I am giving you free advertising, so don’t come complaining.

A few hours later, Dale said he had another party to attend to but he was glad that the dropped by. I knew he was in fact networking for his business but told him he was welcome to drop by anytime. After all, that’s my job as the organizer of a social group.

’So is this what he really does?’ A woman in my group asked at the end of the night while studying his business card.
‘So it seems,” I said.
‘Strange, overall, he seemed kinda quiet.’


** Would you like to find out more about my social groups? Then wait no longer, click here!**

Chicago – A new study spear-headed by the Sigma Xi Scientific Research Society released its results last week after two years of statistic and physiologic data collecting. Its results were of no surprise to the scientists involved, or anyone with an IQ higher than 138 points.

'We found that on average, an IQ of 138 was the cut off figure a High School aged youth could no longer masquerade his intellect or brainy interests convincingly enough away from his peers.' Said Dr. Carlton, Head Researcher of the “Virgin Project” as it became affectionately known. 'The idea of the initiative was to determine why high IQ students tend to sexually lag behind their less intellectual school mates. It has always seemed like a case of Darwinism in reverse.'

The experiment consisted of rounding up 12,500 subjects from twenty different High schools from around the country who had to fill a questionnaire probing into their career, social and sexual views and accomplishments. 'The results were quite astonishing at first,' Dr. Carlton commented, 'and very soon, the pattern basically hit us right on the head like a Klingon death dart.'

The studies showed most 'jocks, cheerleaders and the generally cool crowd' in High school are now stuck in dead end jobs and drinking their sorrows on Friday and/or Saturday nights. Have barely expanded their social circles and are constantly reminiscing about the ‘good old days.’ 'In some instances,' Dr. Carlton commented 'A few subjects were actually employed in companies ran by the same individual they used to pull wedgies on. It is a case of extreme poetic justice.'

The results even illustrated instances of sad irony as in the case of Jacob Williams. Back in high school he was the soccer team captain for three years running. 'Yeah, I got some sweet snatch back then, drank like a fish too, yeah, those were good years. (But) lately my career has been taking most of my time.' Unfortunately, our interview at his place of work was cut short by a phone call, which required his immediate attention. 'If you excuse me.' Said Williams as he placed the phone back onto the receiver. 'I gotta run. Some yuppie loser just puked his guts out in the men’s washroom on the 17th floor.'

The status quo of the study showed intellectual prowess and the willingness to apply it in scholarly interest proportionally reduced the chances of a student getting laid.

'I was chess captain in high school and it was not until university that I kissed my first woman.' Reported one Oscar Escobado, 'But after I got my medical practice going, women have been practically throwing themselves at me. Honestly, I lost count how many I have had in the sack. You could say that I came back with a vengeance.'

The data also showed ‘Nerds’ tended to be better lovers than their ‘cool’ counterparts regardless of their financial success as their self-esteem with the opposite sex is permanently damaged. As such, a desire to always try harder, more passionately and/or for longer is ingrained in their psyche early in their teenager years as they feel they are never quite good enough. 'We called it the Ugly-Duckling Syndrome.' Said Dr. Carlton. It was also noted that none of the spouses or significant other of those in the study ever complained or seemed to mind their partner’s obvious emotional unbalance.

'It was almost impossible to conceal my astuteness when you can remember what was taught three weeks before or the fact that I had to keep correcting the teacher on her calculus solving skills. Back then; being smart was like the kiss of death. Mind you, my ex-playmate wife things I am over exaggerating.' Said one George Kyperous from his private yacht. Now a multi-millionaire whose patent of a drug that nullifies nicotine addiction is being subsidized by cigarette companies who are paying him not to bring his invention to market.

The project even had a chance to reunite many subjects who had not heard or seen of each other in years. As was in the case of Stevenson “Stevie” McNicoll, a Hyundai mechanic, but a Football God in high school. He had the chance to attempt to amend the years of emotional abuse he inflicted to Josh Patterson -- now a powerful stockbroker, member of the board of the Bank of America and married to Miss Florida ‘98. Later that day Mr. Patterson smirked as he commented, 'When his house is repossessed, we’ll see who’ll be laughing then.'

At the end of the study, it was discovered that in extreme cases chess, debate, science team captains and most serious nerds in general produced an income that was on average twice to five times greater than their entire high school populous combined. 'Such flexibility, and liquidity in assets,' Observed Dr. Carlton, 'Is a humongous turn on for women, who instinctively gravitate toward such needs as companionship, security and diamond jewelry.'

Since the results have been released, The Bank of America and a number of Top 100 companies have generously subsidized the entire funding for the “Virgin Project.”

BOSTON - It was a shock to both faculty and the student body when a suspected murder case on campus was discovered to be nothing more than the self terminating, fool-hardly attempts of a law school undergraduate Michael Sanders out to prove he was still the 'big man on campus.'

According to witnesses, on Saturday the 20th of this month, Michael crashed a party with three of his friends, drank at least a dozen beers cans, crushing each “empty” on his forehead before noticing a party guest had brought a .9mm Luger semi-automatic and was showing it to a few blond members of a visiting sorority.

Seeing it as an opportunity to improve his fading sovereignty within his fraternity, Michael seized the gun out of the owner’s hand and announced he was still 'the big man on campus,' before pointing the gun onto himself.

Witnesses report the victim as laughing out loud as he tried to get the crowd’s attention screaming the words “Russian Roulette, Russian Roulette, who dares me?!” right up to the moment in which he pulled the trigger.

'It was a desperate cry for attention.' Said Terry Wales, the newly designated ‘big man on campus.’ 'He was a wash out and no one took him seriously anymore. He had lost most of his support base late last semester when he started dating a Philosophy grad. That girl really messed him up. Making him go to art galleries, the ballet and read and shit. His stock and street cred had dropped to the level of a freshman.'

The victim’s family was devastated to hear the news as a state of disbelief and fury rippled through the entire Sanders household.

'How much of a moron do you have to be to play Russian roulette with a semi-automatic gun for Pete’s sake?' Said Michael’s mother Mary Sanders. 'Just the thought that he came out of me, that he and I share the same gene pool, is really frightening. If he knew he would be playing dumb-ass macho games like that, the least he could do was think of his family first and have the decency to go to a cheaper college.'

Mr. Sanders expressed utter fear their remaining son, Arthur Sanders could in the future display such idiocy. 'We had set some money aside for him too,' explained Mr. Sanders. '(But) we aren’t taking any chances. We have worked too long and too hard. I am cashing his trust fund next week. Maybe go around the world with the wife!'

Michael’s younger 17-year-old brother Arthur was quoted as saying; “Mike fucked me up!” over and over.

The family has expressed their full intention of taking legal action against Harvard for what they call “Mind-boggling False Marketing.”

'They go around flaunting they are one of the best universities in the world! Over 40 Nobel laureates? Oh yeah?! Look what they taught him! Look at what they let my baby do! Doesn’t matter what they say. With the money we payed them, I could have gotten myself an Audi TT instead, and still have my son!”

Harvard University has refused to comment but has not denied its seeking legal counsel from its lawyers on retainer.

Just in case you are wondering, I can almost feel the strangle-hold of irony chocking me as I write this. You see, about two years ago I had an interesting conversation about the 'Year of the Blog.' My friend and I spoke about ease of accessibility and amazing technology penetration in North America. After a sad and ill-timed prostitution joke or two later, we continued. Just two years ago, blogs although abundant in number resembled an endless field of useless weeds. With only a few leaving the rest behind as they sprouted high, both in content quality and lucrative aspirations. But since then the playing field has changed drastically. The weed field is now millions of times larger. Yup, that's about it, really.

Now everyone and their illegal gardener Ortiz has one. So what do they write about? Pretty much anything. But when I mean anything, I mean anything. Is this a good thing? With over 50 millions bloggers as of last year and hundreds of thousands of posts a day of people dispersing and rehashing the same stories over and over, one would think the times of a draconian, government controlled media outlet to be a thing of the past --Uh, China anyone?-- okay, fine. Aside China that is... --how about North Korea?-- okay, fine! In North America, at least... but then I think about the war in Iraq and the ever missing WMD's... Argh! Forget it. I give up.

So the real question is what is a blog? As the name implies it began as an online log, people would write their thoughts, maybe use it as a portafolio piece *hint-hint*. Whether the writing was childish, deeply insightful or just plain dumb, the point was that they were people's thoughts, ideas and dreams.

Now it is more about posting something and off the press. Anything people think cool and more importantly, before anyone else does. Take this example: A British guy named Bill gets his laptop stolen. He understandably gets pissed. Then next day logs on to his Flickr account and finds a picture of the thief's face mistakenly uploaded because the thief forgot to log off bill's account and sign on to his OWN Flickr account. Don't believe me, click, here. Before I go on, this is a perfect moment for me to add, there is no such thing that will ever be 'idiot proof.' Idiocy, like life will always find a way.

Anyway, keep reading at the bottom, there is post upon post of people saying, "Oh my God, I must blog this RIGHT NOW! They post the picture on their blog and rehash the same tag-line, over and over and over again. What is the point of that? So they can look at themselves through a mirror and say, 'I blogged. Therefore my job is done!' In the comment section there are at least fifteen people who have posted that they blogged the pic onto their blogs and the link to their own blogs and asking everyone to take a look. Like, 'hello!' we are at the source why go to a blog? Aside to answer the blogger's cry for attention? Never mind that Bill just lost over a $1000 dollars in computer equipment.

On that note, an interesting point was raised on last week's Stephen Colbert Report's The Word segment a few days ago about Andrew Meyer and blogging. Mayer was the student who not only got jumped by six security guards but also taser-ed for asking one too many questions at a John Kerry event in front of an assembly full of students. Every one stood silent and motionless as Andrew screamed 'Don't taser me!' Thank God for all the people who blogged about it the very next day while Andrew sat in jail. Great way for the blogger generation to lead the charge of civil protest and.

So where are we going to go from here? Aside living our writer and exhibitionist's wet dreams, are we becoming a society of people whose social discontent, whether larger or small is displayed not through civil outcry but in really mean posts on blogs? Go, go society!

Man, I have an urgent to go for walk.

That is what I have been hearing from most friends as of late. Since it seems --and righthly so-- that I pulled a dissapearing act. Yes, *poof* just like that. I wish I could say that I have been travelling or exploring the inner trenches of our city. Better yet, left all my belongings and joined a Buddhist monastery on a sabbatical of fancy to meditate on my many, many --well, perhaps not that many-- sins. Alas that is not the case. In fact, quite the opposite. I have stayed at home watching unhealthy amounts of the History and Discovery channels --not necessarily by choice-- and writing away my sorrows. I swear that if a gream Canadian novel does not come out of this I heads are going to roll! But basically just taking it easy and recuperating. Yes, you read right: recuperating. It is sad to say but I have been diagnosed with a condition that although not life threating --well, there is always a chance of that, but then again there is always a chance of being hit by a bus everytime you walk out the door-- has taken a good chunk of my time, patience and general happy disposition. However, it does not really affect my mind, so technically you will be seeing more of my adventures and mis-adventures in the weeks to come. So for those who kept on asking -- I am alive, and I am back.

With the impending wet dream the current US administration is bound to have after waiting 50 years for Fidel Castro to possibly bite the dust, its only a matter of time before a river of Cuba Libre is flowing like water down the Hill. After all, getting your world super-power ass owned while invading one of the smallest islands in the world on a beach called the Bay of Pigs is bound to leave a bit of resentment. So what happens when Castro dies? Unfortunately that means the focus of what is really troubling American will once again shift into yet another unknown direction. Could it be Iraq again? Gays & Marriage? – According to Republicans these are two different points of contention— and we cannot forget about the flea infested Mexicans making an Olympic run for the border. Or maybe we can re-focus Castro’s brother Raul or on our rocketing oil prices; maybe our rising interest rates; or Fluffy, the lovable chubby kitty stuck on a lemond plant in suburban Boston. How about Donald Trump and all those reality shows? or simply continue pointing fingers at who f*cked up Katrina the most. Hell, why not give Mel Gibson’s drunken anti-Semitism comments yet another 15 minutes of fame? You know, just for kicks. It is no secret the US populous as a whole cannot grasp more then three maybe four local or world events at any one given time or their attention span begins to falter. Hence why you have to spoon feed the audience or they will suffer the newscaster’s version of brain freeze. It wasn’t always like that but FoxNews and CNN have both been introducing this format for years. That is why you can’t have it all, no, no, no, that would be information overload. People might stop watching CNN and switch to TBS and catch reruns of Friends instead. I mean, its funnier to hear Phoebe’s rendition of ‘Smelly Cat,’ –the one feline who no one loves— rather than the version in which he straps himself to a jacket full of C4 and takes out half a market square. CNN knows this… too many sad stories and you risk people changing the channel –and that, ladies and gentlemen is not capitalism— that is just lost revenue to competitors. That is why, throw a few happy go-lucky stories about a carnival or a heart-warming tale of an old man and his dog. You know to balance things out. Oh, and now that Irag and Afghanistan are no longer the searing anvils of evil America insisted we needed to obliterate. I find it funny that geopolitically the countries are still there, sure the governments in place are all American puppets but where are the roughly 100,000 dead Iraqis, listed as either missing or killed? Why don’t we hear THAT on CNN? But no worries boys and girls the oil is still there, safe. Somehow we made sure not to blow those pumps with Tomahawk missiles, which would from time to time get confused and hit, lets say a civilian apartment building, whoops! So, now the lighthouse of capitalism is circling again, ever so vigilant, always ready to spot the next hot spot in the world that needs some good old fashion liberating, yeehaw! As long as they are ain't blacks (Rwanda, anyone?), unless there are some sweet diamond mines or huge oil reserves and if that is the case I am sure an understanding can be worked out. Once the agreement is in place, then just stand back and watch the United States of America defend human rights, stick to the Geneva convention and teach you the many advantages of capitalism and consumerism. But, as a note to the wise, remember Capitalism is only called capitalism when you are at the top of the food chain, when you are at the bottom capitalism can be confused with terms like oppression, sweat shops that pay a pittance and my favourite: child labour. Perhaps when a golden horde of weed-smoking-homo-erotically-charged-Mexicans start stampeding across the border; blowing themselves up right after getting married then Mr. Bush might actually worry about his citizens and the world community rather than this own flagging approval ratings. Why do Americans follow such an idiotic man is still beyond me. He is bound to go down in history as one of the worst presidents.I mean, he LIED to all you people. Clean and simple. But what do you do? You re-elect him! Well, at least he hasn’t started World War III yet, but sadly, with that man there is hope.

Ah, the opportunity to write a few words on the beauty of not having children. 'Sure,' some of you may be think ‘as you get older, you’ll change your mind.' Well, I would not be too sure about that. As I get older –29 in July- I have been invited to a few parties in the last couple of years where my girlfriend and I have been the only ones without small children. Wow, after only a couple of hours I could not wait to rush home, flop on the couch, kick my legs up and enjoy…silence, complete and utterly uninhibited silence. Inventors: be aware, if you could can silence, mass-produce it and then sell it, you would be the MVP of Nobel laureates. It is amazing the squealing that can come out of a two year old, sparing no eardrums in its wave of destruction and early deafness. Now imagine a whole horde of them! Running up and down, left and right, hardly ever running into each other, as if able to hear their shrieks bouncing off furniture and everything else. Paradoxically, I like children, just not the ones I can’t give back. I enjoy playing with them and I mean with them, and not some sort of twisted mind game of my own Machiavellian design. No who can borrow Daddy’s wallet without him realizing it competitions or my own favourite version of hide and seek, were they hide and I go seek another glass of wine. In fact, I think I would be a great father and nurturer. Just in patience points alone I have managed a good karma trust fund that could be easily used to raise a child. I have just made the decision not to have any. However, you know what I would like to do? I would like to turn this sucker and point the spotlight at you for a moment and ask you the question: ‘why would you like to have children?’ A lot of people say ‘well, to have a family, of course.’ Now, what the hell does that really mean? You were once one (partner excluded) and now you have to be many? Concerned the gene pool is getting a little impure and adding a few of your own drops will chlorine it into a grandiose Olympic pool? Nah, no one really thinks like that. Or do you have a need to pass the family flag down the next generation? Or do you want a mini-me version of yourself, doing the same things you did or worse, the things you didn’t get to do. Play the piano, sports, be a pop star or any other lost dream? Millions of parents live precariously through their children every day. It’s a human species pass-time. This scares me the most. That and the rare type of people who use children as bargaining chips, heck one of my best friends had the catch 22 fortune of being born in a family of good stature were her mother’s main intention was to get pregnant to keep her husband from leaving. Yes, good stature, bad marriage. Now, I am not saying that people should not have children. That is not only outlandish but also outright stupid. No, I would not say that. However it is fair to say people should not assume having children is the end all of all relationships. That is just what is expected of us in our society, nothing more. At the very least, everyone owes it to themselves including the ‘must have one or two’ in the crowd, regardless of how sure you believe you are, to question the why to the need. It could be that you might want children for completely different reasons than you thought and that is dangerous. At least if I am making a wrong decision I am not dragging a new life down with me, just my girlfriend or whomever I am dating, but she can always leave. Tell that to a five year old: ‘Scram Pete! I changed my mind. Go become feral or something.’ By the way, since the topic of children is what is known as a ‘deal breaker’ in relationship lingo, make sure it gets discussed as soon as it is suitably possible. You don’t want to fall in love only to find you are incompatible in the breeding department. The more I think of it, the more I am done with children. Perhaps selfishness is the reason guiding us all. Some have the dream of the 2.3 children (Canadian median), the white picket fence, the minivan, and some don’t and I love it. Would a woman change my mind? It’s hard to say, I love my lifestyle. By the way, I am not a would-be playboy, thinking I will have an endless string of women in my pad forever. Nope my name is not Hugh. Quite the opposite, I would like to settle down just not with kids. There are women who would agree with me out there. Even if most of society and family will continue to remind us that our natural clocks are ticking away, particularly to the ladies. For the most part we have been relegated to outcasts, but notice that we are a growing demographic, so outcast for not much longer. So, hang there, and enjoy a nice quiet weekend brunch. Personally I am a fan of poached eggs and a good cup of coffee\tea, served on a nice outdoor patio. Ah, life is good. I think the last time my sister; mother of two got the chance to do Brunch was…well, I am not even sure, it has been that long. I would say at least 9 months before my niece was born. Coincidence? Perhaps. Before I go, I wanted to add this last thing my friend told me happened to him last year, which reflects society’s awkwardness towards us non-breeders. I remember a short conversation that occurred at their lunchroom between Dwayne, married with two children and Brad, married with none. They are both in their mid-forties with decent paychecks to boot. One drives a minivan and is so busy on weekends that he, as a salesman actually gets more physical rest at work than at home. This is a real story. ‘Do you ever regret not having children?’ ‘Me? Why?’ ‘Most people have a few kids by now.’ ‘You know Dwayne, now that you ask…yeah, I have been thinking about that…’ Voice getting quieter now. ‘…You know, I would easily trade the two houses we rent-out, the four times a year me and Lydia go on vacation, our two convertibles and the freedom of waking up whenever we want just to have the single opportunity to have a few kids.’ Dwayne’s voice quiets down to meet his. ‘…Uh, really?’ ‘HELL NO! WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I LOVE MY LIFE!’

Stage: College subway station about a block from my place, catching up with a friend while she waited for a Streetcar. I had not seen in her for a few months but I had just given her my still valid TTC day pass. ‘…And that’s what the note said in the book I went to pick up today... I thought it peculiar.’ (Read: 'A bishop, a belcher and Stevie' in the December archives) She looked blankly at me for a few seconds. ‘You know, you are weird.’ 'Huh? What did you say?’ ‘You are weird Mauricio.’ ‘…Because I told you about what happened to me with the book?’ She then proceeded to tap me lightly on my chest. ‘Thank you for not dating me.’ ‘Huh?’ (She had a thing for me at the beginning of '05) Some awkward silence followed. Weird? Like weird?’ I said holding my tongue, although I was starting to warm it up in case she maelstrom-ed on me. Then the streetcar came. ‘Okay bye,’ she said as she tapped my shoulder. ‘Thanks for the day pass.’ Yes, I got I annoyed. So I said it like it is: 'I see, this coming from a woman who married a Dominican after knowing him for less than two weeks at one-week intervals throughout the summer and is now trying to bring him to Canada under the pretence that he will love you forever? In case you are wondering, I am not the one importing a husband. So be careful who you call weird. Measure your words.'

She gave me a look that reeked to disdain as she left for her street car. Mmm, I doubt she will be calling anytime soon.

Stage: Octopus Lounge ‘So, you an owner?’ ‘Yes, and I hate people too.’ Curiously, that was the last thing I thought an owner of a busy little Italy Lounge would say. But we live and learn. Later, I would learn that he was the brother of one of the 3 owners of that establishment.

For those whow know me. I know what you are going to say... "What the #$%#$^&^% have been for the last 6 months?" Well, I have no excuse really. All I can say that a lot has happened since then. No, I am not married, or become a republican or expecting some bastard child. No, nothing like that. Don't want to sound a cliche and say that life has happened, but in fact that is exactly what has happened. Now, thanks to the miracle of technology, I am piggybacking some hotel's internet access, and while I am typing this, I am enjoying a late glass of white wine. Needless to say, I am back, you will be hearing more of me for the next little while. Stay tuned!