Worldly represenative

Iran wants nuclear power. Why shouldn’t we give it to them? Why is it that only the US can have all the nuclear energy they want, but the rest of the world can’t unless the States says it’s alright to do so?

I don’t understand. Are the Americans superior to the rest of the world? Are they smarter and more capable at understanding the possible effects of uranium fuelled energy?

No they are not. They are just afraid that these countries like Iran will use their new weapons on the States.

Why would they do that? Because the US can’t leave other countries alone. The States is a capitalist economy and will stop at nothing to make money.

They’ll take over governments (Iraq & Afghanistan).

They’ll reap the benefits of war torn nations (Reagan’s weapongate scandal).

They’ll impose their economic power with trade tariffs (Cuba, Canada’s soft-wood lumber and cattle industries).

The US has made too many enemies over the years and is starting to become afraid.

Retaliation is a bitch.

If one country can have all the weapons they want, then everyone should be able to.

It’s not fair that the US can bomb anyone whenever they want, and no one else can.

I’m not saying that we should let Iran go nuts with nuclear power. I wish no one had access to that kind of destructive power.

I wish no one pissed someone else off to want to use that kind of force against another nation.

It sucks.

I sometimes wonder if a common enemy would help bring our world together, like in Independence Day.

I liked the movie, but holy crap was it ever a tribute to the great US of A.

In the movie the human race comes together to destroy evil aliens.

Would we really be able to discard the barriers we’ve created in time to pull together a full-scale assault on another species of intelligent life forms.

Or if they came in peace, who would get to be the Earth’s representative?

I bet the US would bump elbows with any other nation to be first.

I wonder if they’d give off an impression the planet would be proud of? Or would they try and dominate the foreigners like they do to other nations of the world?

I hope they don’t represent me. I don’t want aliens believing we are all like that.

For the good of North Battleford

I’m sitting in my apartment. My ass is firmly planted into my futon. My hot chocolate is next to me on a coaster, on the coffee table.

I’m thinking life is grand.No more crime fighting until winter ends.

My cat fetches me the new edition of the News-Optimist. Yes my fucking cat can fetch me my damn paper. So screw you and your thinking that I’ve gone nuts in my lazy non superhero state.

I flip to the crime section to see how the world (North Battleford) is coping without their favorite guy in a spandex suit.

It doesn’t look good. There’s been two stabbings. A lot of theft and no convictions.

It’s like junky in a heroine snowstorm. The criminals are in bliss.

Now I know why Superman never takes a day off.

I look out my window at the city who needs a mask-wearing vigilante to keep the streets safe.

The sight I see is covered in a skiff of snow, so screw them. They can fight their own battles.

I can’t do everything for everyone. They need to learn for themselves. It’s for their own good.

Joel never would have known to much alcohol equals throw up, if he didn’t learn for himself.

He didn’t learn after I threw up all over the bathroom in our Amsterdam hostel.

He didn’t learn when Tyson threw up on the bartenders shoe.

He didn’t learn at that barf party.

I’m not saying he’s really stupid. I’m just saying people have to make their own mistakes for themselves.

It’s the best way to learn.

I head back to my chair. I sit back down. I take a sip of my hot chocolate. I pull out the remote and turn on the television.

A smile crosses my face. I know I’m doing North Battleford a lot of good by not helping all those innocent victims out there.

Soon they’ll be able to fend for themselves.

I’ll be out of a job here and will be able to move on to larger, needier cities.

One little mistake

It’s a very big day for me. Well I thought it was. I got my very first business card. The only problem is the fax number is wrong, so they are all being returned.

I was happy as could be. Then shot right back down to my chair in front of my computer that sits in my corner cubicle.

Oh well, I guess it just wasn’t meant to be. Yet. I’m sure they’ll order some new ones in no time.

The great thing is my title was sports editor. The boss had kept referring to me as the sports writer for the last two months. Maybe I’ve gotten a promotion. I’m sure it won’t come with a raise, but I’ll have to bring that up.

I still having a lot of fun at my job, but it sure takes a lot out of me.

My schedule is terrible. I’m in the office during the day and at some sporting event during the night.

I know I shouldn’t whine. How many people get to watch sports for a living? Not too many. How many games would I watch anyway? A lot.

I’m one of the lucky people that have found a really good job.

It’s not exactly my dream, but it’s close. I think I’d rather just be a photographer. I’m not a big fan of the whole interviewing. Plus after a while all the quotes and comments start to sound the same.

I should just have a list of quotes and randomly grab one here or there.

This is just my first step towards a really great job. I can’t wait for it. Until then, I’ll have to enjoy my incorrect business cards.

Damn Dem Drivers

I don’t know what it is with Saskatchewan drivers. They don’t like to use signal lights.

There has been so many times where I see vehicles making turns without putting on their blinkers. It’s not hard and it lets everyone know what you’re up to.

I haven’t actually been in an accident, but I’ve been close a few times. It mainly happens at four way stops. I think the driver is heading straight through, so I cheat and start creeping through the intersection a little early.

I guess it could be my fault, but if the person signaled I’d wait.

I’m was told Calgary drivers were the worst in Canada. I disagree. At least they use their signal lights.

I also should complain about the terrible road conditions in Saskatchewan, but people have been doing that for ages.

Damn it all to hell

There’s snow on the ground. I don’t fight crime when there’s snow on the ground.
Watch out North Battleford! Dung Beetle Guy is taking a break from punching evil in the face.

It’s time for me to watch CSI. Only the original though. The others are crap.

I should also pick up a video game system. Probably the Incredible just so I can see what they think superhero values are.

Damn the snow. It’s my arch nemesis. Every year it beats me into submission. I head to my room and cry. I can’t believe I’m such a sissy.

I might be able to fight crime if I didn’t have spandex tights. Maybe if I put some long johns underneath or something. Then I would freeze.

Oh well it’s back to my bottle of tequila and my 13” television.

Take care citizens. I’ll be back in the Spring, or if there’s a warm front coming sometime soon.

Burning Oregano

I think there are a couple of terrible cooks in my apartment building. I come home and the entire stairwell smells like burning oregano. It has a very distinct smell. It's reminds me of my friends Rob and Lynn's house.

I'm guessing these people are big fan of Italian food. Every night they're using oregano. Well it goes in bunches. For five days straight the smell will fill the building and then for three days there won't be any pleasant scents. It's like they went dry. Ran out of oregano.

They are also some of the happiest people I have ever met. I walk past the door and it's nothing but laughing and good times. I'm tempted to stop by and see what's going on. One time my girlfriend asked to borrow some oregano, buy they didn't have any to spare. We were making some pasta sauce and really needed one more spice to make it perfect.

Damn them. I also wish that creepy guy who comes at midnight and stops by their place would quit coming around. He is freaky. I would describe him as a stereotypical drug dealer. I know he isn't because our building is supposed to be drug free, and everyone follows that rule.

People need to learn how to properly use oregano. It's not that hard.

Who cares about Hockey?

A year ago I would have been in hell without hockey. My Saturday nights were filled with Hockey night in Canada. One of my best days was hockey day in Canada. I was a little too drunk to remember the last game, but damn was it fun.

Now the I'm sports reporter. I watch more hockey than I ever have before. Last weekend I was at a arena for all of Saturday and most of Sunday afternoon. I watched five full games and a couple partial matches, so I could fill three pages for the Wednesday's paper. I didn't mind watching the hockey, but I don't think I would have made it home to watch the second game of CBC's double header. I'm not missing the NHL at all. I don't have the time.

Last year was different though. I had a morning shift on Saturday, so i could catch both games Saturday night. Then I had some time to hit a pub for a couple more hours. It was a good time to get a group of friends together, drink some beers, bitch about our teams and have a good time. It was a nice stress reliever from college and work for me.

With the lockout going on for two months, I trying to figure out who really cares about the game of hockey and the NHL in particular. It's definitely not the player or the owners.

If either one of them cared the season would have started already. The players could realize they're making way too much money for something they love to do, if they actually love hockey. Or the owners would screw the cost certainty and just not pay the players the huge salaries. Let's not put a cap in writing, just have an agreement with the other owners that we won't pay too much for players. There wouldn't be any businesses in the world if every business practiced the same ridiculous spending NHL owners do.

I think it's the fans that are getting shafted. The people who hang out with friends and watch the games. The people who have their weekends off and need some stress relief.

But even those people are turning to other leagues or sports. The WHL is having huge attendance increases. Basketball will take off, especially if the Rapters do decent. I know more people talking NFL than ever before. I've managed to talk a couple of people into a fantasy league that would have never tried.

Hockey is gone for at least a year. I don't think anybody cares. It's not the two sides not talking. It's not the fans that have found new sports, and it's definitely not me who gets paid to watch hockey.

Good bye NHL. It was fun for the first 24 years of my life, but I'll find other stuff to do for the rest of my good old days.

It's go time

I always wanted to fight a mermaid or merman. I really think I could do a lot of damage to one of them. I know I'd get my ass kicked by a dolphin, but a half fish/ half man. I'd have a chance.

It'd have to be in the shallow end of the swimming pool. I'd start by a punch to the nose so his or her eyes would water. But would that make a difference at all. They always have water in their eyes.

Hmmm. They also don't have a groin to kick when I start losing or to give myself an advantage from the get go.

They wouldn't be able to kick, but that flipper would give them some good momentum for one hell of a headbutt.

Actually I don't think I'd fight a merman or mermaid. They're probably pretty damn tough. Look at Aquaman. He has two legs, can breath underwater and has super strength. He was trained by mermen.

Damn would I get my butt kicked. I'd have as much of a chance as taking on Joel in the 2007 convenient store olympics.

I'll just sit back and remember that I'm a big sissy.

The Cubicle of fun and excitment

I always thought working in a cubicle would be fun. You have your very own space to get the job done. They look so cozy and private. Could it get any better. I don't think so.

It's not true. Cubicles suck. You feel trapped, isolated and are always wondering what the hell is the noise coming from a cubicle over.

It sucks. I don't want to be here right now. I'd rather be serving dumbasses at some stupid convenient store. It's not having anyone near to interact with that I hate. I like having someone to talk with without getting up and walking around a little divider.

Anyway, it just reminded me of Joel's bedroom when he lived in Calgary with Rob, Logan and Gord-O. It was a tidy two metre section in the living room. His one wall was a cubicle divider.

For some reason, Joel thought the thing was sound proof. We were all on the couch when some grunts started coming from Joel's "room". Then there were a couple groans and finally a loud gasp of delight.

We don't know what really was going on. My guess is that he was trying to either put on a pair of socks or struggle into some hip-hugging jeans. Joel started the whole hip-hugging jean fad.

Well, my cubicle sucks. I need something cool in here. Maybe I'll get a cactus, or a clock. That'll, as the spice girls say, spice up my life.

Such a big stink

Weed. It's so easy to get. Why don't they just make it legal and tax it. The government has to be looking for some extra revenue thanks to amount of smokers declining. Here is the perfect chance to make back some of that lost capital.

If weed was legal, Canada would save money on drug busts. We could focus on coke, heroin, meth, acid and all the other nasties in the country.

Canada could become an Amsterdam. I sure it would increase tourism, especially from the States. I believe weed would already be legal if we were not right next to the US. They have a huge influence in what we do.

I don't even smoke weed much. I'm about a once a monther. It's a way to relax and chill with friends. I just think it's less dangerous than a couple drinks and less addicting than cigarettes.

People believe if we legalize marijuana, what's next? Prostitution? Mushrooms?

Let's make weed legal. It'll benefit all of us.

Why is it such a big deal?

I don't understand why gay people can't get married around the world. I'm a christian. I believe in God, Jesus dying on the cross and hell is a place to be feared. I still feel gay people are people and should have the same rights as the hetrosexuals of the world.

I like the idea of calling it a civil union. If a church doesn't believe gay people should get married, they shouldn't have to perform the ceremony.

I think we should spread our beliefs, not force our beliefs on others.

Let's let God do the judging when we die. Until then let everyone live thier lives.

Oops I did it again

It’s the place where I perch. I stand tall and proud overlooking my small city.

It’s the Beaver Inn. That’s the name of the building where I wait for crime to pounce my way.

So far I’ve only managed a couple acts of heroism. They mainly include breaking up fights and stopping drunks from getting behind the wheel.

There’s no gorgeous naked maidens running around in need of rescue. Where the hell are they all?

I seem to have the misfortune of staying up late, washing puke off my suit from the idiots who don’t know their own alcohol limitations.

I’m starting to think a nasty puke coloured costume is the way to go. I’d still wash it of course, but a stain here or there wouldn’t be such a problem.

Well, anyway, I’m stationed atop of the Beaver Inn looking down upon the city I now call home.

In my one hand I have a chicken and cheese burrito. My other hand is clenched as tight as possible. It’s ready to bash evil into little itsy-bitsy bits.

I stuff a bite of tasty microwavable delight into my mouth and begin to chew. The incredible flavour knocks me off my perch.

I find myself hanging from the edge of the building. My burrito plummets to the sidewalk four stories below.

Splat!

My one hand is still tightly clenched in a fist. There’s no way I’m letting crime sneak up on me.

The fingers on my other hand are starting to slip. I can’t hold on forever. I wish I was Spiderman. He never seems to have this problem.

“Damn it!” I yell. I’m frustrated with the idiotic predicament I’ve put myself into.

“This sucks,” I mumble to myself. I wonder what life would be like if I was a little smarter.

Maybe I’d be a part of the Justice League. I know I’d never be captain as long as Superman is alive, but I could be a secondary hero. One who shows up, helps fight, but stays in the background.

No, I have the special powers of a dung beetle. I don’t even know much about them. I’ll never amount to anything like the Justice League.

All I know is that one day I was sipping some radioactive waste when a dung beetle entered the mix and I drained the poor, innocent insect down my throat.

The next day I could push stuff really well. It was a dream come true. I always wanted to be a superhuman capable of incredible feats.

Back to my horrible situation It’s been two minutes. Where the hell is the fire department with that big ladder? Is someone eating my flattened burrito? Is Joel still making up weird fictional stories and claiming they really happened?

I don’t know, but I do know this could be the end of a superhero. The superhero who keeps the streets of North Battleford clear of injustice and villainous activity.

It’s not. In a few moments, I’ll realize there’s a ledge. The ledge leads to a window. The window heads me straight for a door. I can go through the door to the elevator. I press the button L for lobby.
Then I finally leave the Beaver.

I go home to sit in a bucket of my own uselessness.

I cry myself to sleep that night.

You're soooo good looking

You know what’s great about being a superhero? It’s that you don’t have to be good looking.

I know they all are in the comic book realm, but in real life people just don’t care. It doesn’t matter if a 500 pound monstrosity saves you from near death or a super model. It doesn’t matter if it’s a guy or a girl, black or white, Joel or CL.

All that matters is the actual saving part.

Of course, I can say this because I am one of those typical comic book heroes. I am extremely good looking.

I have huge muscles that I try to hide under my outfit, but spandex tights really doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

Everyone seems to love me. Hell, I’m so good looking people are just happy if I attempt to rescue them.

Their last thoughts are “wow dung beetle guy just tried to rescue me.” They die happy.

DBG

Life is like a box of chocolates

The Election

Bush won. Kerry lost. That's all I have to say about that.

For a more opinionated response, I suggest you talk to Joel. He seems to have something to say about everything. It's just too bad he's wrong most of the time. Like with that bow tie thing. What the hell was that?

Another wacky, zany adventure is my middle name

So there I was, in the laundry room. My superhero costume was tumbling around and around in the dryer.

Yes, even me the all-mighty Dung Beetle Guy has to wash his clothes once in awhile. All that crime fighting causes me to perspire.

Anyway, I’m standing in my boxer shorts, in the laundry room, in my apartment when I hear a scream.
I put down my copy of Maxim with Avril on the cover, so I could investigate.

The scream was more of a cry or could even be classified as a moan.

Without thinking about what I was wearing, I ran directly for the lady in distress. It came from suite 102. I knew there was an extremely attractive lady living there all by herself.

Good looking people need rescuing too.

The cries came on a regular basis and seemed to be getting louder. For some reason, a yes would escape the victim’s mouth followed by an Oh Joel.

Still the screams persisted. I had to do something.

My foot crashed into the door. No luck. Again I kicked the heavy wooden door.

Then I tried the knob. The stupid evil doer didn’t even lock the door. Dumb bastard.
I was in. I used my regular average human hearing to detect where the cries were coming from. The cries led me right to the bedroom. I knew the layout because it was the same as my place.
I charged into the room, not even noticing I was only in my boxers. Crime doesn’t stop for the tumble cycle so why would I?

A naked Joel seemed to be attacking the attractive lady, who must have been sleeping in the nude when the the incident erupted.

“What are you doing to her Joel?” I questioned.

He looked at me in shock, like I had no business being there. I quickly grabbed him by the shoulders and tossed him to the carpeted floor. A fight ensued. I, being a superhero, won of course.

When it ended, they both looked at me. Joel ran for the door after grabbing some pants and a shirt.
I haven’t seen him run that fast since.... Actually I don’t think I’ve ever seen Joel run. I think he’s lived his entire life without running. Weird.

I was expecting some sort of recognition from the lady for my good deed, but no gratuities came my way.

The stupid bitch. It’s people like her that make me wonder why I’m in the business at all.

I went back to laundry room. My suit wasn’t quite dry. I couldn’t believe it. Why couldn’t I have the superpower of super drying breath.

Damn laundry days. Damn them and their mothers.

DBG