Sunday, June 29, 2014

Persona 12) The local drunkard

We here in the discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances are for the most part socialistically inclined and believe in providing housing first as a the major step in the rehabilitation of disadvantaged members of our quaint dissociation. We have not so far been able to proceed beyond this first step with our thwarted friend however, and most of our efforts go towards keeping the neighbours pacified so we don't all get evicted. We would all feel gratified if he would take that first little step and open the door to his little room, just a crack, and say hello to the world.

Peeky boo then, but I'll not come undone
Just leave me alone, I'm not up to your niceties,
To face your world with all your blank stares
Is too staggering a proposition to put me up to

My past could be cyphered but what good would it do?
I'd only be ridiculed for not wanting your rat race
Oh you may be free from an ignorant torrent
But there lurks sheer terror in the shadows just past you

I opened my soul once to kindness and pity
But was shunted to the trash bin when I gave my two cents worth
Your world's a tough place, if your happy your hoodwinked
So please leave me alone now, I'm shutting the door

Friday, June 27, 2014

Persona 11) The manic charmer

Today we hear from our dewy-eyed keeper of his little stone in the discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances. He really believes it has kept us safe through many perils. Who knows?

When we were a little boy just starting school, we found a nifty little stone by the railway track. It had a hole almost through it so we took it home and gently chipped and scraped till we got that hole big enough to put a cord through. Of course it had to be a red cord. It took a while to find out, but when we had that stone in our pocket nothing went badly. We could go to school with no homework done and the teacher with the eyes in the back of her head wouldn't mind. We could get the kitchen floor muddy and mom would just laugh and say “Oh my deary, I'll clean that up”. That stone was amazing.

Of course we had to brag about it to our two best friends and they had to try it out too. Our one friend took it home and that evening he had a fight with his sister and she was the one that got sent to her room. That stone might be worth a fortune in neat stuff. So we lent it out for a model plane to one classmate who was in big trouble over some missing change from his brother's piggy bank. But it didn't work. He came next day with a black eye and wanted his plane back. The little stone still worked for us and anyone else we let use it for free, but after several more attempts, we found charging for it's use made it useless.

As we got older we kept our little stone with us and it proved valuable many times. It was no good for making money, whether from renting it out or getting lucky with a bet. But for everyday, practical problems it always came through. Even to this day, things like wanting some hankypanky with the good wife, we just slip that stone in her pocket and soon she's poking an pinching us to no end.

We read up on charms and charmers many years ago. In Europe, people called 'charmers' might use an object which had special properties for healing purposes. This came out of practices predating the christian era. They did not charge for their services and often would not even accept a verbal thanks. They were merely custodians of a gift, not masters of dubious magical forces and spells. Consequently, people did not incriminate charmers as they did many premodern medical healers, because there was little to accuse them of as they imposed no charges and they did not provide often faulty diagnoses of ailments.

So I, as a persona of what we call 'us', have the unique responsibility as keeper of our charm.  This is a rather huge undertaking in light of everyone’s lack of concern over it's preservation. If they consider me manic I honour this title.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Persona 10) The surreptitious smuggler

This personality is a liar. Don't believe one word of anything that he says. He gets us all into a lot of trouble with his make believe whoppers. So please don't give his post any likes, we don't need the hastle.

Ya, ya, and who financed your grand climacteric? You all went and bought that fancy diesel pickup you couldn't afford. Left it sitting in the drive for me? You all didn't mind too much when I brought back all them res smokes from the east and made the odd payment or two for you's, eh? That diesel jus luv purrin all the way there an back. An them fancy hotels we all stayed in?

You goody goodies, you stick up for this Kafkaesque bureaucracy of ours. Our governments agriculture department helps the tobacco guys increase the potency of their plants till 1990 and then they starts taxing the shirt off our backs for being addicted. They had this all planned way back when. Put a few silly pics and slogans on the packs to keep the docs happy. You think they care about our health? They don't have to pay any pensions to us if we're six feet under at sixty-five.

And smugglin the stuff was so easy. Them cops figured anyone with a brand new crated up snow machine was just your typical law abiding, upstanding red neck citizen. You could smile and chat with them at a Timmies and they never had a clue. Even told you how the road was ahead. If you's all buy another beaut truck like that we can be millionaires in two years. Bunch of chickens.

But no, I'll have to satisfy my aspirations by hacking up your unwanted furniture for you and smuggling it out to the neighbours garbage bin so you don't have to pay for hauling it away. Really guys, you like Kraft dinner that much?

Monday, June 23, 2014

Persona 9) The terraqueous adventurer

Our travelling spirit has taken our discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances many places. It does seem though that our safety has never been of great concern to him.
I've taken my bros on many adventures. We've driven on the long plateau sloping to Mount McKinley in the middle of January. We've wandered the shanty towns of Guatemala City. Canoed from the Rockies to Manitoba. Climbed down and up the Grand Canyon. Considered swimming to Cuba from the tip of the Florida Panhandle. Slept in some x-rated movie theatre hiding out in the Bronx. Even bicycled from Vancouver down the coast to southern California. But some adventures stick in your mind because they somehow hit that mellow spot in your soul.

I remember walking through a city once, sleeping bag and little pack on my back, no map, just the sun and stars to guide my way. Rivers, streams, and freeways cause the biggest detours. It seems to me it was in California, but it could just as easily have been Memphis or Birmingham. Power line cut ways and train tracks can be of great assistance when navigating in this manner. I remember trekking through a heavily wooded power line cut, not a sole in sight, yet in the midst of millions of people. It was a beautiful warm sunny afternoon and I finally came to a street crossing which led to a quiet little neighbourhood where I bought bread and boloney and orange juice at a tiny convenience store and had my lunch sitting in the shade on the steps. Funny what you remember.

Avoiding tourist destinations is predisposed. It's not that they're disdained, it's more like a cat who runs away from you everywhere you approach it during the day, yet curls up beside your pillow every night for a sound sleep. I mean I spent a week in Vegas and never entered a casino, didn't even play a slot. Pretty cheap, eh, don't tell the border guys.

Financing our wander lust was always part of the joy. Temporary manpower places in the bigger cities would provide interesting jobs and sights to save up for some food and maybe a bus ticket to the next town. Our red neck mechanic could often talk his way into fixing something for a local in more rural areas. We all ran a custom combine one fall to provide the bribes for an adventure through Central America. Buses and trains were cheap there and locals would give you lifts on old trucks and even tractors if you were walking along the road. It was definitely a safer place forty years ago than it might be today. And corn fields are really neat places for a good nights sleep

I could say here that I am an advocate for a world without borders. I was surrounded once by two hundred teens, obviously a local 'gang' in a large park in the centre of Mexico City. I joked with them and we communicated the best we could with our sign languages. They held no malice, they were simply curious, and vanished in every direction as magically as they had appeared. A little fellow appeared and took me to his tiny dwelling and we had a real treat of dried bananas. Terrorists thrive on threats to their way of life. Our world is changing, no one has to force this on anyone else. Fifty years ago the religious community I was born into still insisted on women covering their heads in church and sitting on the opposite side of the sanctuary from the men. This has slowly changed, and other cultures will slowly change also. Perhaps ownership of anything whether a coat or a country might well be regarded as a more of a silly joke to be viewed with amusement by our neighbours. And possibly much more respected. Other cultures and ideas are rather interesting, and really have no borders. Borders are for hoarders.

Sunday, June 22, 2014

Persona 8) The gnostic sojourner

We all have a hard time figuring out just what this fellow believes. It's just one more facet in the discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances.

Gnosticism is a tedious subject to read about. Everything written about it, either pro or con, is prosaic. Let this be no exception. Gnosticism uses myths to purvey it's essences. The knowledge it holds in store for us is beyond words, even beyond the realm of the physical universe, and can only be alluded to in synonymies. So, without further ado, if you have an ear or two, hear.

When the gods, or actually intermediate deific beings who exist between the ultimate, True God and ourselves, heard the pleas of a settler in central Saskatchewan in the late 1800's they went into action. He was returning from a shopping trip to the big town of Saskatoon and on the back of his two horse cart he had among his purchases a barrel of molasses. This part of Saskatchewan is pretty flat with gently rolling terrain and a few scattered potholes called sloughs. The melt of the last great ice age has however carved a river valley, now pretty much dry, through which our settler had to cross. His horses were weary from their three day trek and the trail was rutted and steep. Nearing the top of the climb the horses succumbed to fatigue and refused to go one step further.

Our settler begged, and pleaded, and coxed, and in despair got down on his hands and knees and began to sob. But the team had had enough, this hill with the heavy load was just too much. The deific beings were much taken by the sobs of one of their creations and eyeing up the situation, they saw that lessening the cart’s load would do much to encourage the horses attitude. So by happen-chance the rope holding the molasses barrel secure became untied and off rolled the barrel smashing on the steep hillside. A stream of thick black molasses oozed it's way all down the ravine, and to this day this ancient river bed is named “The Blackstrap.”

The horses, sensing a lightened load, picked up their spirits and headed home to their warm barn. The settler was never sure whether to truly thank the intermediaries, as the cakes and cookies were not the sweetest that long winter. He who hath ears, let him hear.

Friday, June 20, 2014

Persona 7 The impish dilettante

Our resident doodler always has every fridge magnet occupied with neat pics making our home feel like kindergarten heaven. Our little imp did a take on Canada's Prime Minister, Stephen Harper.

Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Persona 6) The inventive grease monkey

We today honor our bread winner of this discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances. Even with his present 'artheritis' he is still in demand to 'have a look at' those old massive diesels.

I ain't no good at writin much, cept for putin x's in them safety inspection sheets I done over the years. But I'll take an swipe at it. Now when your workin yer whole life, sportin yer family and yer good wife, you pickup on some attitudes that go long with fixin stuff. Bein an heavy quipement fixer and doin them truck safeties over the years, yer always workin with guys whose main purpose in life is to make a buck. If ya can fix ‘er up like new with duck tape, super glue, of bailin’ wire hey jus do it man. (An iffen ya cain’t fix it, jus throw it out in the back forty fer parts.) I learnd real quick like to gets lots of grease on them papers causin them governmental inspectors doesn't like much to get them fingers dirty so they fli[p through them real quick like.

I'm learnd to fit in wit this crowd all, so ya’ll will usually find me dressed plain casuall, with a flannel shirt, me hat, jeans with my crescent an pliers in me rear pocket, and cowboy boots. And, my belt buckle cost almost as much as my truck, over forty dollars. An Frank down by Joe's Auction always cut me hair. I dun learnt lots mostly in me young days an mostly by hard knocks, sometims in the head too, boutin attitudes you got to keep yer mind at.

First and most important, ya gotta believe in God and foller the Good Book as closely as ya can. Iffen ya don’t, then ya ain’t no 'canic. Ya got to love yer dawg, wife, or girlfriends more than fried chickens, but not necessarily in that order. Ya call duct tape, duck tape, and use it daily and in unusual and ingenious ways. WD-40 is considered a God-sent and must be placed with honor on the top shelf of yer tool box. Ya borrow tools ya need and never buy ‘em. Why spend yer hard earn cash on foolishness, when yer mate will lend them to ya case he's needin of one of yers? ‘Sides, it gives ya more beer money. Ya never let logic or truth about any subject sway yer opinion. Once formed, yer opinion cain’t never be changed.  An finally, yer country is always right, even when it’s wrong. God, Family, and Country are yer first loves.

Jus one lastest words of advice on keepin yer properties safe. If yous keep an old engine block hangin from that tree branch cross the lane fromin yer pink flamingos in yer front yard, nextin to a couple dead beaters, it'll workin better then yer lazy dawg fer keepin them vagrants out. We's always laughin at them walkin on the far sidin of the road when they passin our place. This more then I writ in me whole life now, so's you best all be satersfied.

Monday, June 16, 2014

Persona 5) The agnostic philosopher

Now that name sounds wicked. What's he going to do with those poor kittens? Oh the discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances. May the lord have mercy.

In our travels we all wintered one year on a little farm, and in exchange for a heated shack and some grub we all milked the cows which was right up our ally because when we grew up it was on a mixed farm with a few cows to milk every day which had always been our chore. Yes, philosophy uses long sentences. On this little farm there was a destruction of cats, not a clowder, because they could not be considered domesticated by any logic, as deductively, if you can't get closer than twenty feet to a cat before it either disappears or raises it's fur and hisses at you, then you may validly assume it is wild.

There were two mollies or queens who had kittens about the same time, and they had them at opposite ends of the calf pen manger at the somewhat secluded end of the warm barn. While we were milking we would keep an eye on these two litters and began to notice that when the older molly went out hunting, the younger molly would go and steal the kittens from the other end of the manger and bring them all to her end. When old molly came back with her tummy full of mice, she would wait at her end of the manger till young molly got hungry and went mousing, and then she would steal about half of the kittens back. Whether she took the same ones back every time cannot be logically inferred as we really kept our distance due to the glares we would get. This went on for several days, much to our amusement and then to our amazement, old molly decided enough was enough. She picked up her kittens by the neck and took them one by one to young molly's end and crawled in beside her, and from then on they happily raised their kittens together taking turns on their safaris.

Whether cats are theists or atheists could be argued at length, but from my dealings with cats, my take on the matter would be that they are neither, because if you ask a cat whether or not god exists, you would get the likely response that “I have no idea what you mean” which would place them firmly in the school of ignosticism which considers the whole question rather mute.

Philosophy is the love of wisdom, deep in it's origins. That old cat molly was the wisest creature I have ever seen. Even a silly old agnostic can be instilled with the soul in life around us even if it is not supported by evidence or logic.

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Persona 4) The reclusive scholar

We turn this post over to our compulsive reader, usually of big thick dusty volumes, in the discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances. He does present more as a grouchy librarian, so we're not 110% on the gender issue, although there may be grouchy male librarians as well. However if we need some info on any given topic, she certainly knows where to find it. The problem is always with emancipation, however we have found she has a hankering for a good cigar.

Since they all bought me some Tiparillos I'll write a thing or two for them, but they can all keep guessing on the 'gender thing' because it's an irrelevant non issue. I mean I read, I study, if this body of ours has peculiarities of any sort I'm the last to know of it.

They call me reclusive but that's really silly. I just don't want to be bothered. If I'm in the middle of Russel's “Essays in Skepticism” and Ralph goody two shoes wants to know what some fifteen year old twit's latest blog with fifteen thousand hits is all about, well you must get the picture. Really. Who invented these contumelies? Every Joe, Dick, and Jane writes their two bits worth of ordure and then spends all day posting it on every social network that's currently fashionable. There's libraries out there in the big wide world people. Go. Take out a nice big thick book and read. And it's free. You won't have to remortgage your home for your i-phone bill. Your mind may become expanded beyond “Thet wash freakin awesummmm”.

This cigar is real good, so I'll say one more thing. I actually love you, all my bros. I don't mind your inquisitions, they're often rather intriguing. But if I'm in the middle of something, give me some time. And yes, keep those Tiparillos coming sweet dears.

Saturday, June 14, 2014

Persona 3) The anarchistic politician

We turn this post over to the politician and sometimes anarchist in the discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances. We humour his views at this time.


When I was just a little boy before I went to school, I listened to CBC radio and learned of the ships of yule. They had an afternoon school program for all those little one room schools spread across our vast land which brought us stories and music of our people and history from coast to coast to coast. Anarchy can be such a sweet and gentle thing, and if our present select group of ideologists continues with it's meltdown of everything which does not favour corporate interests and threatens our CBC radio we'll unearth our stash of spray cans and decorate their ivory towers with beautiful birds and flowers.

The purpose of any political system is to prevent chaos. If it is used to gain advantage for a select group, then force must be used to prevent the chaos. Humans have an extremely complex pecking order. We use religious or political ideologies along with economic control to facilitate our position within our society. We are not all equal, some have fantastic social skills, others have greater brain power, others may have super physical ability, the list goes on. Some of us will always remain at the bottom. Can seven billion of us find the courage to treat each other with respect, and our planet with respect? Whose call is it, those at the top, or those at the bottom who have no resource but anarchy?

Seven billion makes room for many diverse ideologies. Other than the garden of Eden or Atlantis we, at least in the western world, have so far not created the utopia which obviously lurks in the human psych. Is there a bill Gates waiting in the wings who can turn our utopian fantasies into reality, perhaps a totally addictive mind altering drug to give us the illusion of freedom, or a slight genetic modification to bring us all brotherly love? The next few hundred years will be the most interesting time in the future of our involvement with our little piece of rock. Get out your spray paint and make your mark! Chaos theory is not a myth.

Friday, June 13, 2014

Persona 2) The ebullient scribler

We turn this post over to the writer for the discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances. May ebullience be with him.

I really have no mind of my own, I just put down what anyone pops into my ... There's a message coming through ... Yes that's it ...

“We have succeeded! We only got one blog post view today. It is now safe to proceed. Initiate '#code mail box'. Our legions of loyal anarchist nonfollowers are forthwith notified that the early morning hours of July 1 will be the mail box stuffing day. All postage free letters will be addressed to:
         Stephen Harper
         House of Commons
         Ottawa, ON
         K1A 0A6
If each of our 20,000 nonfollowers mails 100 letters we should be able to flood Canada Post and Steven Harper's office with about 2 million letters. The inside message can be original but will contain a resemblance to 'Your party's junk mail sucks as do your government ads. They are partisan for your party and you should pay for them'. Please keep it polite. This is totally legal so do not feel threatened if someone asks what you are doing.”

... oh my, what these fools don't put me up to.

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Persona 1) The mollifying symposiarch

We turn this post over to the great leader of the discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances. May the force be with or without him.

I love my position as head of this coalition of self serving nincompoops. It's simply a default absurdity. Like vacuum, the only need for it is because there is matter. I've got no authority, they don't tell me anything and that's how I like it. If someone wants to do something they just do it. I've never lost any sleep over any of this.

I really run a quasi-democratic outfit here, with no resources to enforce anything. I can't fire anyone, it would be like cutting off your own leg. A symposium is a convivial gathering and to mollify we simply allow someone to run the show however they want and for as long as they wish. Eventually they will tire and we will all get our turn.

I do sort of look after our basic needs of food and shelter. They all pretty much go along with these concerns because they all get hungry too. So they humour me and I can keep this body of ours in a somewhat healthful state so they can all play their little games.

Blame the boss, yes. They sometimes need a scape goat. They take no responsibility for their own actions. But humour them I must so I just keep my head in the sand and someone will always come up with a plan when we run into problems. These plans have a habit of creating more problems but then that just makes life more interesting for them all.

I tease them sometimes, saying I can sell this outfit to the highest bidder at any time, and right now the devil has half his cards on the table. But honestly even he would have his hands full with this unruly lot. My motto has become over the years 'What I don't know is better left unknown'. So we plunder on. Make my day.

Monday, June 9, 2014

Our personalities

After six decades of living in a psychologically discombobulated reality we regard as our nogginal ambiances, viewed as a pilgarlic by many of our inlaws and others who we really don't give a rats behind about, we have found a way to live in an undysfunctional tangibility. We have simply divided our psych into eleven distinct personages and for whatever undertaking we are currently addicted with, we allow the appropriate miscreant to take the lead. Eleven is one short of the complete zodiac, however we think we have uncovered a twelfth rascal lurking about as about once or twice a year we wake up with a terrific hangover with no recollections of having imbibed with spirits of any sort. Our list therefore includes the following rascals:

1) the mollifying symposiarch
2) the ebullient scribler
3) the anarchistic politician
4) the reclusive scholar
5) the agnostic philosopher
6) the inventive grease monkey
7) the impish dilettante
8) the gnostic sojourner
9) the terraqueous adventurer
            10) the surreptitious smuggler
            11) the manic charmer
            12) the local drunk

In an effort to externalize ourselves and get a grip on what we were dealing with here, we placed ourselves in the zodiac by our month of coming out, so to speak, and low and behold we filled the entire zodiac with each of our twelve persona’s fitting solidly into its' own separate constellation. The local drunk was placed from the time of our first known lapse of recall. We showed this chart to a well known local astrologer who said it was absolutely amazing. She was going to study it in great detail and try to find some history on similar incidents. When we hear back from her we will let you know whether this is normal, or if the books of astrology will have to be rewritten.

In the meantime, mostly in an attempt to get to know each other better, we have each agreed to write a little blog post about ourselves, whatever form it may take. So in the next few weeks, we hope no one bores you to death.

Saturday, June 7, 2014

Omnitrax Canada set to rail crude oil to Churchill

Omnitrax Canada is set to do a test run this August of shipping crude oil by rail to the underutilized port in the great town of Churchill, Manitoba. From there it would be transported by ship to the east coast and to European customers. Frustrated by the American procrastination on the Keystone XL pipeline to the southern States, and environmental objections to pipelines to the west coast or the arctic, the Conservative government is expected to support this venture. This route for transporting oil would need no approval because it is already used for shipping oil for use in northern communities and storage tanks are already in place.

Present plans for the mitigation of oil spills would be to simply lay heavy plastic down both sides of the track. This would be much less expensive than to rebuild the present track which moves around due to frost heaves in the permafrost the whole year round. Figures from the Transportation Safety Board of Canada show there have been 63 accidents on the Hudson Bay rail line between 2003 and 2012. All but 10 were derailments. Derailments would be inevitable so the best plan would be just to make it easy to mop them up when they happen. It would also create year round employment opportunities for the locals who could cut the tress and underbrush which grew through the plastic and keep any holes and rips repaired with duck tape.

Friday, June 6, 2014

A toast to consciousness

We are sorry to disrupt your eternity of unawareness with a brief foray into life as a human critter in a temporary universe. Bear with us, it will soon be over. Your problems are so mundane. Think what we have to go through as the overlords of all these universes. We beseech you for your support in our vast undertakings.

We tried to create a circular never ending eternity for you all, but a glitch in programing made yours pretty linear, but it's really no problem because you all will self destruct in about 20 billion years with no adverse side effects. We are just thankful that you were not circular with a glitch, because then we would have had to run updates, and as you all know, these are prone to more updates with all these evil hackers on the loose.

So enjoy your stay, and don't worry about anything, because it will all be over shortly and you can all languish in total oblivion forever more.

Wednesday, June 4, 2014

Legal eagles

This enterprise of having eleven personalities inhabiting one body must be run as a democracy if we are to function with any coherency. Therefore and without further ado we give this blog post over to our politician and occasional anarchist.

Hi folks. We have in the last week had Canadian politics degraded to the lowest level we have ever seen. The planning and cunning of our great leader and his legal eagles is astounding to behold. For our friends in different countries who have the privilege of being unaware of our political intrigues, a little background.

We have three major political parties. The present power in force are the conservatives, headed by Steven the Harper. The official opposition are the new democrats, led by Thomas the Mulcair. And fast rising after a short vacation are the liberals, heralded forth by Justin the Trudeau. Our Canadian taxes fund many things these political parties do such as running offices to serve the needs of us Canadians or mailing us information on what our government is in it's wisdom is doing for us.

These tax funded outreach programs are not supposed to benefit these parties own aspirations whether for financial gains or propaganda, and they have vague rules which by they sort of all abide by but push to the limits. Now it seems that in much the same way as petroleum companies can simultaneously raise the price of gas across the country without any communication, the liberals and conservatives simultaneously found error in the way the new democrats were doing business, never mind that they have a plank in their own eyes.

The committee which is responsible for overseeing these shenanigans is of course totally democratic and thus any objections the new democrats my have to these charges are forthwith overruled by the majority. The kicker is that this is going to cost the new democrats millions of dollars to repay their short sighted mailings et alii, and in Canada a million bucks is still a substantial amount if it's not tax payers money. Those legal eagles who divined this scheme are going home with brown paper bags stuffed with polymer (that's our new Canadian plastic money but don't fret, it still looks like monopoly bills).

The outcome of all this may well be that everyone in Canada becomes so disheartened with our three main parties that we vote for Elizabeth the May, our girl next door and green party harbinger in the next election. At least she has a sense of humour and would do much for our withering national pride.

Tuesday, June 3, 2014


             Hell and damnation,
                  life is such fun
          with a ragged greatcoat
                 and a Jerry gun!

                (Alexander Blok)

When I was just a little kid
Had this great big great coat
Sleeves down to the ground

It was a smidgin clumsy
To chase the chickens round
Safety was not mom's issue