A Streetcar Named Disgust

It's the time of year that does it to me. It's fed by a love of things historical, a fascination for the machines of war, and winter's onset. It's triggered by Remembrance Day and probably the guilt of never having served in the armed forces or having been affected directly by war. I know I shouldn't feel guilt, but nonetheless it's still there. It makes me kind of morbid, quiet, and I think too much.


In my own tiny way I try to imagine what soldiers and civilians went through - the hell, boredom, not knowing, comraderie, surrealness, loss, gallows humour, etc. I have a pretty good imagination, yet I know I can't imagine more than a tiny portion. The parts that I do 'get' a bit are mostly from Mum and Dad, who were too young to be officially involved in the war growing up in England.


Dad and his family were bombed out of their house in the south of London (Tottenham?). Mum and her family were relatively lucky to be away from the flightpath of the bombers in a small village north of London, but were still affected by severe rationing and troop movements.


To this day, Mum is severely agitated by the sound of wartime sirens and fireworks that whistle like bombs dropping. She's owed that. I'm not sure why Dad didn't seem to be affected. I suppose a young boy simply files things as either 'adventure' or 'not adventure'.



Thanksgiving signals that the harvest is in and winter is looming. It's now time for the ironically-named Remembrance Day. I say ironically because, aside from some people wearing poppies, it largely goes unnoticed. The Halloween decorations are coming down and the Christmas ones are going up. Remembrance Day is the first holiday to get moved to Christmas to get another day around the holidays, when people want it. I defy anyone to find someone who pays homage to the veterans of wars on their extra day at Christmas. That's quite the tribute. But hey - the people now want it. I guess freedom and justice are cheaper when they're further away.


Around Remembrance Day I try to do my little bit. I buy a poppy, I read accounts and stories about the war, I go to or watch the official ceremonies, I observe silence at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, I talk to vets, and I try to point out the relevant good and bad things surrounding Remembrance Day. This blog entry, unfortunately, is about the bad...


People around me know that I sometimes obsess on things that don't seem important to anyone else. One of those things is Stella Artois beer. It wasn't memorable when I had it, but I'm sure that it's a fine beer. Certainly those Belgians know how to make beer, and those Stella Artois glasses are cool. Any beer would taste better out of those beautiful Belgian glasses. But I won't have them. I won't have anything Stella Artois.


And it's all because of one commercial. It's called "Stella Artois - Returning Heroes." It's about an injured soldier and his buddy returning home from World War 1:

• A soldier is severely injured and calls out for his buddy to help him. His buddy risks his own life to carry the injured soldier to safety.
• The injured soldier invites his saviour to his family's pub, where his father offers to pour them a couple glasses of wine. The wounded-soldier-son insists on Stella, because it's better.
• The father draws his son a Stella from the beertap. When the father goes to draw his son's saviour a Stella, he steps on the hose to make it look like the keg is done, then pours him a glass of wine instead.

Is it the a-hole thankless father's fault? Of course it is, but it's also the injured soldier's fault for not giving his buddy his Stella. In fact, that change would've made it a fantastic commercial as it would've shown the wounded soldier rising above his upbringing to do a simple decent thing for someone who saved his life. Instead, he quaffs it down in front of his 'buddy'. It's an award-winning commercial too. Just f-ing priceless.


Anyway, that's why I won't go near it. No Stella beer, no Stella glasses, no Stella coasters on the table in the bar even. Nada. And I lecture every single person I see drinking a Stella, and will continue to do so. I can provide several references to this fact. If I ever get a gift of, or win Stella stuff, I'll destroy it. I know that's petty, thankless, and immature - but I don't want any of their advertising to go through me. It's my little bit. My tiny little bit.


Here's the commercial that sickens me: Returning Heroes


No company I've worked for has taken Remembrance Day on Nov 11, and I get mad at myself in retrospect for not just taking the day off. I don't even think the stores need to shut down on Remembrance Day, but a store would have my undying frickin' loyalty if I saw this happen: A Pittance of Time video


This is my mum's grandfather in WW1 at Ypres, West Flanders, Belgium. I guess that's Flanders Fields, where the poppies blow...between the crosses, row on row. I wish I could've bought him a beer. Thank you for letting me rant once again.

Clean-up in Aisle 2

Too many small blog ideas...must clean-up list a little:



"Je me Souviens" is Quebec's official motto, and is now on their license plates. It means "I Remember" - it's the first part of a motto written for Quebec in 1883. The granddaughter of the guy who originally penned it, eventually mentioned the second part that was never used: ...that born under the lily I flourished under the rose. Meaning that France basically ignored the people it sent to Quebec, whereas England, once it won the territory, did govern them more-or-less actively and occasionally even fairly.



When taking eggs from a carton, keep both a left-right and a forward-backward balance. If the carton is dropped on end, then more eggs are saved. And if you find out that you're OCD - you're ahead of the game.



Holland has a consulate in Bonnie Doon Mall here in Edmonton. The look and accents are close enough, so I'm thinking of filming my version of Lethal Weapon 2 there.



To see if your pasta is done, throw a piece at the wall - if it sticks, it's done. I've thrown one at my cupboard and seen the old one still there. For a short time I felt shame.



Examples of ineffective mentoring:

• Batman & Robin
• Xena & Gabrielle





Argument starter:

• Women use "Love" indiscriminantly: I love that wallpaper; I fell in love with that wicker basket; These fresh waffles are loverly.
• Guys selectively use "Love": I love the new overtime format; I love that new running back; I'd love to see Sigourney Weaver from Alien make out with Sarah Connor from T2.
• They do it knowing that admitting love, like admitting any other uncontrollable obsession, historically gives their enemies an 'in' to defeat them.
• Ergo, when guys say "I love you" - they mean it more.



When someone badmouths someone else, they're doing more than just being negative. Here's how Robert Pirsig sees it:

• When a shepherd goes to kill a wolf, and takes his dog along to see the sport, he should take care to avoid mistakes. The dog has certain relationships to the wolf the shepherd may have forgotten.



In homage to its spacefaring heritage, the area code for Cape Canaveral is "321".




When I was young and had just watched Popeye, I badgered mum into buying spinach. After one look into that can, I've never again craved it...and only eaten it when it's been hidden in something else. My face drop must've been priceless. And no, I didn't even try a tiny bit.



My friend Rich and I used to cycle in circles in a cul-de-sac for literally hours on end just talking. I don't remember even one specific thing we discussed.



Made-up words from The Simpson's:

• Introubulate: get someone into trouble.
• Embiggen: to enlarge or empower.
• Cromulence: fine, acceptable or normal; excellent, realistic, legitimate or authentic.
• Meh: deep indifference.
• Kwyjibo: a big, dumb, balding Northern American ape with no chin.



If the original Batman series is to be believed:

• Grimalkin is an obscure but nevertheless acceptable synonym for cat.
• Char is a colloquialism for tea.
• Saribus Sacer is a species of ancient Egyptian beetle, sacred to the Sun God, Hymeopolos. And from which the term scarab is derived.
• Oda Wabba Simba is known as six o'clock in our nomenclature. In the 14th dynasty, it was the hour of the hyena. The time when ancient Egyptian supercriminals invariably struck.



The correct nursery rhyme is:

• Peas pottage hot,
• Peas pottage cold,
• Peas pottage in the pot,
• Nine days old.

It's not porridge. Pottage is a stew of meat or fish with grains, herbs and/or vegetables.