Spontaneous fatherhood [from the memory banks - vol.02]

I was once at the video store renting macho, manly, action-packed, meat-head movies like, y'know..."The Notebook" and...er - stuff. Anyway, as I was lining up (minding my own sweet business and staring off into the distance like the cool cat that I am...) this Aussie kid came up to me - couldn't be older than 9 or 10 years old - and without looking up, he started talking and looking through my selection of dvds...while they were still in my hands. The following scene played itself out:

Scene 1: INT. suburban video store

Kid - "...so which one's you getting?"

Me - "umm...are you right there?"

The kid continues thumbing through my rental selection, and doesn't even look up or realise that I'm a total stranger.

Kid - "Yeah. Why'd you get this one for? We've seen it already."

Me - "...er...'coz I haven't. And you're not coming over my house..."

At this point, the kid finally looks up and, as he sees me, the blood drains from his face in horror as he realises that this will undoubtedly be one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.

Kid - "Oh!...um...I...er - thought you were someone else!"

As he turns to run away, he sees his friend/brother standing there laughing his ass off. Though I might add that this friend was about 5-feet away the whole time trying to save him from this social misnomer (i.e. "Oi, you idiot, that's not your dad!"). The kid runs off sheepishly down the "Drama" isle, with his friend/brother in tow - giving him crap at every step.

I'd laugh harder; but to be honest, whoever hasn't come dangerously close to making a similar mistake in the past, let him/her cast the first chuckle...

[image via google images - hairyfish.wordpress.com]

Dyslexia Paradiso [from the memory banks - vol.01]

As someone who used to be able to call himself a "writer" (without hanging my head in shame at the utter hypocrisy) - I've recently felt the well of creative inspiration dry up. Well, that's the poetic version. In reality, that translates to, "I'm a lazy, lazy hack".

So in an attempt to remedy this dire situation, I've decided to occassionally document some of the more amusing senarios that I've encountered throughout my life. In the past, these have been labelled as "scenes", but I've decided to expand the scope to include events that occured in the far-flung past, as well as the blink-and-you'll-miss-it-present. The reason? It may be hard to believe but, simply put: sitting in front of a computer all day in a cubicle isn't the best catalyst for high-flying adventures.

So as far as disclaimers go: This is a totally self-indulgent excerise in stretching my severely-atrophied creative muscles.

This entry is inspired by a time when I first moved to Melbourne and was not aware of the fact that street numbers reset when they enter a new suburb...even though the road name remains the same (i.e. so if "Apple Street" is really long and passes through several suburbs, there could very well be more than one "34 Apple Street"...one for Suburb A and another for Suburb B, etc). That's right, Victorians somehow aren't aware of the fact that numbers are able to increase indefinitely.

Note to self: I must immediately notify my local MP regarding this ground-breaking numerical discovery, post-haste. Now, if only there was some sort of transportation infrastructure that could deliver these written words from my desk to the intended destination, without physically having to saddle up my Clydesdale, pack rations and embark on a treacherous odyssey to hand-deliver the parchment. Perhaps someday, such fanciful musings shall become reality...

But I digress...

Now, let's hop into the Delorean and travel back to the simpler time of 2008...

Scene 1: EXT. Non-descript, low income housing apartment block.

I’m making my way to a friend’s apartment for the first time, so true to form – I’m slightly lost and more-than-fashionably late. I arrive at the block of flats – surely it’s the wrong one! If this place was any more of a junkie’s paradise, the high-rise would be made out of syringes and burnt metal spoons.

I look at the number again: "480"...I’m sure it was meant to be 408, but this is the only apartment block for miles and “408” is a delicatessen. A curator of meats she is not. So I put on my brave face and walk in.

As I reach the threshold of the entrance, an elderly woman with a thick Italian accent calls out to me, animatedly motioning me to come closer. I am unable to resist the hypnotic lure of the smouldering, slightly-bent cigarette that’s perched between her middle and ring finger. The tip flares up at she stabs it through the air, pointing at me – seemingly in some sort of ode to the long-forgotten disco-era. Sadly, she does Mr. Travolta a great disservice (however, Disco Stu would be proud).

I approach with caution – poised to leap back with cat-like readiness should my fears be realised and she stubs out her cigarette on my forehead. She doesn’t. I naturally credit this to my face of bravery. Or the fact that she’s too small to reach my head...and that I’m a paranoid mess of a man.

Woman - “You look for friends, no?”

Me - “Umm...Yes! I er…look.”

Woman - “Your friend call you. From this place. Here. You talk to him, yes?”

Me - “No, she didn’t call me…”

Woman - “But your friend. He China. He tell you he stay in university – over there.”

Me - “Oh! No, I think it must be someone else! I’m looking for apartment 106 here. I think.”

Woman - “Ok. You know where? Take elevator, 10 floor.”

Me - “Ah-ok. Thank you.”

Scene 2: INT. Non-descript, low income housing apartment block.

I catch the elevator of death up to the tenth floor, wholeheartedly believing that the only reason this lift is still operational must be through the sheer willpower and belief of junkies the world over.

I make it to the front of apartment 106 and knock on the flyscreen door that lacks flyscreen. A grumpy, shirtless man, possibly in his late 60s is not too please a lanky Chinaman with no tracks in his arm has awoken him at the ungodly hour of 6pm.

I apologise profusely. He accepts and tells me that I’m probably looking for the Asian guy down the hall – apartment 110 apparently.

That's all for now. But stay tuned, as there'll be more time-wasting posts to come.

WWJD? [amoralcompass - vol.02]

In this edition of amoralcompass, I felt compelled to throw in my two cents on the heated creationism/evolution battle that rages almost as violently as two proverbial polar bears (why they're "proverbial", I don't know; just go with it...)

Well, there are many things that prove ever-elusive in this huge expanse we call "life". Since the birth of civilisation, the origin of our existence has been studied, debated and fought over by the populace: each opinionated individual standing for what they deem as "truth".

Now, I know where I stand on the side of this debate...and I'm sure that many of you also hold dearly to the strength of your own personal convictions. But what I've never appreciated is this hostile need for each self-righteous, opinionated individual to antagonise those with differing viewpoints; putting aside common decency and manners in order to beat their opponents into submission. Now before you Fundamentalists or staunch Atheists start using your soapboxes as saddles on your high-horses; let's get one thing straight:

My issue is not with exchanging opinions or reasoned debate. It's with those who attack others purely for their ideological stance. Just as there are annoying "bible bashers" out there; there are just as many obnoxious atheists beating creationists to death with their leather-bound copies of "On the Origin of the Species". Over-zealous 'evangelising' occurs at both ends of the court...and as anyone who's ever played basketball will attest: the game gets most dirty under the ring.

But where am I going with my empty platitudes and metaphoric-ramblings?

Basically: evolution, creation, intelligent design, reincarnation, giant spaceships...sure we may never agree on how we got here or where we're heading. But can we at least play nice in the certainty of the present?

After all, any argument won over ideological beliefs are hollow victories at best. Sure, you'll have the opportunity to display your dazzling prowess at persuasion and debate...but for what? The ability to say, "haha, I'm right and you're wrong, hence you're kinda stupid (and my use of 'hence' also adds insult to injury)"?

Sorry, but the number of people that have been successfully bludgeoned into belief are few and far between. It's an excerise in futility, since people will usually back down to bull-ish confrontations out of some primal instinct for self-preservation (be it physical, emotional, ideological or social threats). Sure, they'll say you're right, but odds are they'll still walk away believing what they believe.

Essentially: "Yeah, ok, you're right - now can we just go back to talking about the weather while I finish my Big Mac?"

Quit being an oppressively insistent jerk about your views. Just as the belief that there is a God takes a degree of faith; so too does the ability to believe that a God does not exist: the universe is a pretty big place, so give some breathing room to the incalculable "unknowns" floating out there. Kicking dirt in someone else's beliefs won't make yours any more (or less) true...and will do even less in convincing your "opponent" to adopt your beliefs (i.e. "I wouldn't even want to share a meal with an opinionated tool like you; so what makes you think that I'd want to share the same set of beliefs?")

Let's just agree to disagree, for now, and attend to more pressing matters: decreasing the national debt of third-world countries; making positive medical advancements in curing diseases; or stopping Paris Hilton's new TV show in Dubai...

Have we sunken so low as a society that we continue to stand idly by and allow this talentless parasite to profit off the vapid notion of entertainment and celebrity?! Are we so atrophied as a nation to allow such crass exploitation of culture?! How can we honestly say, with hands sincerely placed on our hearts, that we're progressing as a human race when utter tele-visual trash such as this is permitted to exist?!?!...

...find out this Spring on Paris Hilton's Dubai BFF!! Watch the outrageous cultural misunderstandings and hilarious Middle Eastern hi-jinx ensue as Paris searches for her "Dubai-nese best friend, forever" in the wild and wacky streets of the United Arab Emirates! Paris Hilton's Dubai BFF: she's just a celebri-tard-girl in a Dubai kinda world!!

...

Yes. I do hate the ease at which I am able to channel the voice of the A.D.D. generation...

This "Why can't we all just get along?" PSA was inspired by a picture I stumbled upon during my travails through the interwebs (see, above).

[via wikipedia]