Pretty Good

When the finance minister of our provincial government uses a quantifier as ambiguous as, “pretty good”, in relation the the budget, you can rest assured that our elected representatives are reluctant to provide the electorate with an accurate picture of how the books really look here in Alberta.


“Pretty good, eh?”


Yeah. It looks pretty good if you’re raking in a handsome tax-funded salary to hide the real numbers, I’m sure. At any rate, I don’t really give a hoot about their surplus-busting agenda because I lead a boring life of debt-free stagnancy. My life is a miserably unfulfilled life in many regards, but at least for me, having a job is an option rather than a requirement. I’m a non-contributor to the economy and I have no plans to ever become a productive citizen. I feel no sense of entitlement to provincial services. I don’t drive on municipal streets or provincial highways, and I don’t have a family physician. I haven’t set foot in a library in over two years, and I obey the law of the land. My sense of non-entitlement also encompasses my right to vote. Being that I do not contribute in any meaningful way to my community, province, or country, should I feel entitled to vote in respective elections just because I’m an eighth generation Canadian? I fail to see how my life even counts except in a census. It’s too late for me to “make something of myself” and I really don’t care if I live or die.


I think most people don’t pay very close attention to political and economic trends until it catches up with them personally. In this day and age, it should come as no surprise if your job at the factory suddenly migrates to some shit-country. Then again, anyone who finds themselves with their hand out after twenty years of making premium wages for pulling the same levers and pushing the same buttons under the din of whirring machinery between union sanctioned breaks and holidays, might not have much capacity for things like long-term planning or deep thought regarding macro economics.

The shareholder could care less how long you’ve behaved as a loyal and honest worker bee, or how much consumer debt you’ve taken on. If you don’t understand why, you’re probably the sort of person who thinks that nobody should earn more than six figures in a year.


Accept it, Mr. unionized worker and Ms. retail stooge. You create nothing new and provide no real solutions other than being there to fill a temporary void. You’re willing to sacrifice your autonomy for a comfortable arrangement. You spend all your discretionary income on entertainment and depreciating assets. You’d sooner complain about perceived betrayals and blame successful innovators for your declining worth than make an effort to adapt to a rapidly changing economy. You fail to understand that in a global economy, you are merely a temporary plug-in for brighter minds who profit from your acquiescence, your predictability, and your inability to ever get-ahead.


You wonder why your real market-worth in a global economy amounts to little more than that of any other replaceable cog in the machinery. Your vote is a reactionary and emotional one. You’d vote for a socialist promising a magical utopia and fail to understand that such a vote will ultimately compromise your job security and opportunity in the long run - a cheering section for deceitful politicians who will use your own tax dollars to make your life even more irrelevant to the big picture than it already is. Keep ignoring the small print, living beyond your means, and wondering why you’re still toiling for survival as a senior citizen.


I hope I’m wrong, but it looks to me as though Canada’s kids are being gently ushered into accepting a future dystopia of corporate fascism and debt slavery.

Saturday Meanderings

I'm not a doctor, nor do I play one on TV. Once upon a time, I think I introduced myself as "Professor Rock" to one of the fellow attendees at an open mic night off Whyte Avenue. 

As a once-in-a-while entertainer, I'm accustomed to hearing at least a smattering of applause for my rock & roll antics, but I doubt my musical performances are anywhere near as entertaining to anyone else as they are to me. These days, I just want to write and record stuff. Doing shows requires a considerable amount of overhead expenditure from the unsolicited artist's own pocket. Do I really want to spend my days delivering building supplies or punching clocks and rubbers'tamping already duplicitous statements in some sterile setting, making  barely enough extra money to fund weekend performances at local bistros in a small city? Duh... okay boss! Where would one ever find the time to rehearse? 

The way I see it, crafting a single super-hit song could generate enough capital from royalties to fund a proper production enterprise. From there, the stars are yours to embrace. Cash is, if anything, breathing room to seek out some leverage to plan successive ventures. Entrepreneurs need to perpetuate their own relevance in the service of mankind in order to thrive.

Maybe I've been rooting from the sidelines for too long. Ashtrays might as well be permanent fixtures at my writing desk. I've been thinking about cutting-back on my cigarette smoking. If I'm going to smoke tobacco at all, it should be fine cigars and aromatic pipe tobacco. Cigarettes are a great fix for someone on-the-go, but sitting around and chain smoking them while I work is pretty NSP: Nasty; Smelly; Pricey. Considering the amount of money I spend on smoking cigarettes, 

I could smoke one big boss of a $60 cigar every weekend! 

I've allowed myself to be lulled into an acceptance of a lifetime of mediocrity. Why bother with a Rolls when you can wear a Rolex while driving your Lexus? The difference? About $130,000.00 and 3000 lbs. of automobile weight. Just a rough estimate on my part. I can't afford so much as a used bicycle right now! Doing without "toys" is the price I pay for not forcing myself to "get a job", eh?

Quite honestly, I feel extremely fortunate to be well-fed and living in a region where I am free to peacefully pursue my interests in a part of the world not ravaged by war and famine. Enduring extremely cold temperatures and a minor 

blizzard or two every ten years is worth it to not worry about things like flooding, tropical diseases, or typhoons. Of course, with the inherent unpredictability of what tomorrow will bring, even the brightest prophets and seers among us can never realize a mindset of absolute certainty about all things. Never a more unscientific misnomer have I ever heard uttered than, "the science is settled on the matter."

I have to wonder if the scientific community at large are unaware that we're actually trapped on a giant ball of water and rock zipping around in orbit around an imperceptibly massive orb of imperceptible hotness that creeps along some largely unknown path through a mysterious cosmos of penultimate beauty. I get the impression that many of today's so-called climatologists cannot even see the rain for the water: 

"uhhh, our expensive computer models indicate that rainfall and hot sunshine is obvious evidence of impending catastrophic climate, so pay-up North America - you're making more than enough money as it is."

As far as I can tell, whatever environmental committments China entertains are trumped by demand for electricity. They build a new coal plant every time I take a hot shower. It's my fault, right?

  

        

   

Witnesses of Evil

Last night I drank a six pack of Sam Adams lager and then sipped back about 3/4 of a 26 oz. bottle of vodka while sharing my thoughts online until I started puking around 4:00 A.M. this morning. I slept until noon. Now I'm having a hair o' the dog... a big splash of Banff Ice in my coffee as I slowly write-out who-knows-what on my little blog here.

I drink alone mostly. Chopping firewood and walking to the liquor store a couple of blocks away with my adorable little dog Mila in tow comprises the bulk of this 36-year-old's gross total of physical activity. It's my life and I'm fairly content with it. Maybe I have what some psychiatrists would call a complex. I'm always looking for an argument. I don't currently have a job, and I'm in no hurry to get one thanks to my parents generosity. It's doubtful that any serious organization would even consider my application given my penchant for sharing details about my personal life online. All that's left are employers desperate to hire anyone for the most basic grunt work.

The way I see it, if I'm going to do grunt work, I may as well do it for my elderly folks rather than someone with an enterprise who expects you to be on your toes 40 hours a week and provide your own transportation using whatever pittance they can afford to pay you. It all seems counter intuitive to me. You end up lying prostrate before the interest rates. Working for a living is expensive these days.

My dear old Dad who's looking pretty good for someone pushing seventy years of age is still working full-time. Last week he mentioned that a local car dealership is looking for a lot person. Every car dealership is seeking lot people due to the acute labour shortage around here. Every restaurant is looking for dishwashers. Every truck driver is looking for a swamper. Every bank branch needs another teller. I really don't care. My last job was as a part-time dishwasher. I can't handle the humiliation of being a stooge any longer. Thank goodness I have no dependents to worry about, because clipping coupons and driving a payment-sucking minivan around on errands as your ungrateful kids criticize you from their booster seats seems a modern system of survival for the unwealthy that never appealed to me.

I see the faces of the oil patch workers as they exit the bus and shuffle into the strip mall's grocery store to buy cigarettes and convenience foods to take back to their $1200 / month closets. They don't appear to be happy... in spite of their $20 - $28 / hour wages. I bet they don't know what Boolean algebra is. Hopefully I'm wrong, but I'll bet most of them don't have over 10,000 Tweets to their credit. For most of them, credit is a score they'd rather not discuss. Do I really want to surround myself with such personalities for sixty hours a week? It's not that I have contempt for hard working people.On the contrary, I admire the resolve of anyone who chooses to make an honest living. While they might struggle with the written word, at least they have integrity.... unlike our shills in the legislature.

I've done it before. I've proven to myself that I can do the heavy lifting... despite my ability to type 100 words a minute, form a proper sentence, write original music, design a website, solve complex equations, and use control-key functions in a Microsoft Windows environment, I'm simply not interested in toiling for a petro buck while the parasites and vampires get a free lunch. I'd rather keep playing the You Tube lottery...