Category: humour

Re: Allergy

People with allergies can be the butt of jokes. When schools had to design policies around the potentially deadly outcome of peanut allergies in children, controversial comedian Louis CK got headlines because he suggested that “If touching a nut kills you, maybe you’re supposed to die.”

Today, I was tempted by a fresh black cherry. When I am exposed to certain foods I can get allergic reactions that could include; a runny nose, sneezing, coughing, shortness of breath, swelling, itchy palate, or red eyes. I can relate to the ads on television during allergy season promoting their product’s efficacy in removing all these sorts of symptoms. I know about the risk of certain foods, but that cherry looked so red, ripe, and delicious. I ate it and felt fine, for ten minutes, then I got all the reactions I just described. I didn’t die, but I was a noisy, mucus-filled mess for half an hour. ’Twas not a pretty sight.

I didn’t always suffer from the A disease. In my twenties, I moved from southern to northern Ontario and that particular summer was apparently the worst pine pollen bloom of-all-time. The yellow powder was smeared on vehicle windshields, it coated clothing hanging outside to dry, and was a sticky icing on the surface of lakes and rivers. I can’t see how anyone could avoid having their lungs clogged by this powdery air. From that bio-hazard summer to this day I can start sneezing over unknown elements in the air, or in the beverages I drink, or on the animals I pet, or in some of the foods I ingest. It’s a crap shoot.

Many medications are available for allergy relief. My doctors have prescribed many remedies (the best being codeine) and I have settled on a formula of antihistamine, decongestant, and anti-inflammatory to reduce most of the symptoms, most of the time. Sometimes I can predict what might bring on an attack and take the necessary pill(s) in advance. I always carry a tissue in my pocket. It’s usually damp.

The first thing I’m asked when going to a hospital is, “Do you have any allergies?” I want to be dismissive but I usually say it’s only seasonal. When I sneeze (loudly) in a grocery store aisle I want to go to customer service to tell them to assure everyone with an announcement, “It’s just allergies folks!” I fell in love with a woman who took out a Kleenex after her first bite of food, from our first restaurant meal, just as I did too! It’s breezy to be sneezy, when you’re in love.

Jeff Bridges was in a film about a plane crash. Surviving this ordeal, he finds that he no longer has a severe strawberry allergy. In joy, he becomes fearless in attitude, thinking he was somehow blessed by the tragic experience, making him immune to normal human frailty. There are many ailments that afflict our species. Within the great spectrum of illness I know that I am lucky to only have a response to a few allergens. It’s not likely to kill me.

Re: Comedy

My mom used to tease. My sister, father and I found her intentionally mean jokes discomforting. Consequently I learned that having a laugh at someone else’s expense was not comedy. John Cleese, of Monty Python fame, posted a message on Substack regarding the difference between affectionate teasing vs nasty teasing. I took exception to his exceptionalism because I’d seen the devastating results of my mom ‘taking the mickey’ out on innocent angels. It’s no surprise that her favourite comedians were Don Rickles, Joan Rivers, and Rodney Dangerfield. Mom was dead before Ricky Gervais made a name for himself through insults, but I’m sure she would have liked his style. Teasing, Insults, Swearing, and Sarcasm can be found in my Book of Humour under the chapter titled: Cheap Shots.

Humour is subjective. Art is required to be judged by the individual. It’s how we figure out that our mouth is not the only place where taste can be discerned. And, of course, it’s impossible for all to agree on what comedy means, anymore than we can be uniform in our response to the flavour of olives. My love of humour tends toward the silly and the slapstick. I don’t understand how my bride absolutely hates silly comedy yet she loves scatological humour. To me, the silliness found in Monty Python sketches is innocent and wise at the same moment. The Three Stooges enthralled me as a child with their antics of mayhem. Later, I laughed at the absurd body language of Jerry Lewis, Dick Van Dyke, Rowan Atkinson, and Jim Carrey.

My favourite actors are also comedians. Sometimes the line between pathos and buffoonery can seem gauze-like. Robin Williams mastered this dichotomy as did Jack Lemmon before him. Humour is perhaps the most provocative art form. The double entendre found in most witticisms sets up a conflict in the mind, making it difficult to decide the truth. Stand-up comedy is challenging in this way as it reminds me of the court jesters of centuries ago trying to please the royal master while playing to the impoverished masses. Editorial cartoonists like Michael deAdder perform a similar function of pillorying political figures to make an inconvenient truth apparent. In these cases we might join in mocking laughter; “The joke’s on you!”

Comedy has to catch you at the right moment. This year is the 50th anniversary of that comedic phenomenon Saturday Night Live. Lorne Michaels deserves credit for creating this iconic television show and nurturing hundreds of comics in the process. Dark, silly, political, sexual, racial, religious and physical humour are blended like a box of specialty chocolates. The spontaneous nature of the sketches, the improvisations, can land with a bang or a plop. Something coming off funny can depend on the mood of the audience as much as the skill of the performer.

What strikes your funny-bone may be arbitrary, yet comedy is necessary to our mental health. It’s no accident that situational comedies on television have been a staple of that medium. We need to laugh most when the situation seems most dire.

Re: Owl

The owl has several attributes that show up in my personality. Firstly, the animal’s patience is astounding. I’ve seen one in a tree, shoulders hunched up, barely moving, perched on a branch waiting, waiting, and waiting some more. Their feathers are so soft looking, almost furry, and patterned to make themselves blend into their surroundings. Owls are the quietest birds, with wings specially designed to make almost no sound so that wary mice don’t even know they’re around until it’s too late. Owls seem secretive to me. All knowing! They aren’t for show. They mean business, have places to go, and a need to survive.

When I was an elementary school teacher, I would often discuss animals to start the children on a creative train of thought. A simple question like, “If you could be another creature, which would you be?” might occupy an entire afternoon of discussion, art, and even environmental studies. In those days I refused to choose my own kinship animal, because I felt connected to so many interesting species who share the planet with me. Disney films and author A.A. Milne probably directed my lasting amusement with owls. I can relate to Winnie the Pooh’s friend Owl when he pontificates and, also, when he goofs by spelling his own name as Wol!

I chose a coded version of the word Owl for my social media avatar name, wh0n0z, which graphically shows two owl-like eyes. I like the immediate reference to intelligence (folks can be know-it-alls and still err in judgement). Also implied with this pseudonym is the shrugging attitude of ‘Who really knows eh?’ (an introvert’s go-to). Or, more aggressively, “I’m slightly bored so leave me alone.” Owl people may get a bad rep for being picky, having their head in the clouds or appearing seriously snobbish. I think of my owl persona as though it were a horoscope sign. Owls are curious. Ergo, my favourite question is How, which is a delightful anagram of Who, which is the sound that owls in cartoons make.

Even a wise old owl like me can show contradictions. When I served on several organizational Boards I used to be called a stealth director because I preferred to be quietly working behind the scenes, making contacts and connections that may have been considered controversial. You see I didn’t want to draw early attention to myself until the cat was in the bag (or the mouse was in my beak, so to speak).

The cliché for the owl archetype was probably set in ancient Grecian times since the goddess Athena advertised the Value of Wisdom. She even had a pet owl. In the 1981 film Clash of the Titans, Perseus is assisted by a mechanized version of Athena’s owl named Bubo. This FX creature was actually an animatron that didn’t always work convincingly in its scenes with the real life actors. And its name suggests something clownish, which is great if you consider that no one’s character can be one dimensional. In other words; A bird is more than just feathers.

Re: Break

Break and its homonym Brake can give me trouble when I am writing. I can imagine ESL teachers using this pair of words as examples in a humorous writing assignment. And sometimes the meaning within the sentence can give me pause to wonder why a third word hasn’t been invented to provide a better illustration.

Take Breakneck Speed for example. These two words clearly describe a perilous situation requiring brakes to be applied before physical damage occurs. “Gimme a break!” Is something shouted in exasperation, but is the person asking for time out or for someone to halt the forward momentum of the monologue as in “Shut up!” A work stoppage is not a break from routine but an effective strike action to put brakes on unfair labour practises. If someone  breaks a dish while cleaning up there is no R&R involved, just more work. Why does destroying something and taking a vacation get described by using the same word, same spelling: Break!

When you have broken a promise damage has been done and emotional repairs are needed. Perhaps your lifestyle, when it comes to your relationships, has been too fast and loose and you need to apply the brakes before more trouble comes your way. When it comes to romantic friendships we all know that breaking up is hard to do. In that case, maybe taking a break from normal routine is the best course of action before it’s forced upon you.

I’ve shared this conundrum of two spellings, too many meanings with others and they think I’m rather overreacting. When I was working on the details of this blog page I asked my 95 year old special mom what she thought. She is a whiz at spelling so wasn’t challenged by my ideas, just a bit exasperated by the reason behind my niggling point. She chewed on it, literally working through the rest of her breakfast, put down her utensils and calmly said, “That’s just the way it is.”

In Thunder Bay, Ontario the residents celebrate Spring Break, not by travelling to Florida or Mexico but by gathering in around Port Arthur to watch the winter ice break. The floes come apart making a noisy, metallic, crackling sound: Like a cross between pinewood in a fire and a waste metal recycling plant crushing cars. It’s big news every year since many container ships have had to put the brakes on their movement up the St.Lawrence River.

“Hold your horses!” I suddenly imitated a grumpy Abe Simpson bellowing to his son Homer. In my imagination I’m saying this to myself to put the brakes on this hamster wheel of thought. I then see a donkey, stubbornly taking a break and braying about his plight carrying loads so heavy he might suffer a broken bone. I picture this cartoon mule with his scrawny neck extended, and a speech bubble above his head, not saying HeeHaw but “Braaayyk!”

‘Brayk’, a new all-purpose word, meaning; ‘I’m tired please stop’. Take that, Spell Check!

Re: Play

A friend of mine asked the other day, “What do you do for fun?” I had to think, and I’m still thinking. In days gone by I might have made a list which included; playing street hockey, snow castle building, pick-up baseball, fishing or splashing around in a creek. Now, at age 71, my definition of fun is very different. I wonder if my ability to even have fun is still in play.

In the video playback in my brain, my first thoughts around playing are of the sandbox. My dad built my sister and me one of those playthings when we were toddlers. We were sad to leave it behind but we found one came with the courtyard of the apartment when we moved to Scarborough. This one had triangular corner wooden seats where mothers sat to watch over their children playing with strangers. Much later I built a deluxe rectangular sandbox so that my three sons could play safely in the backyard of our duplex in Timmins. I crafted a cover to prevent other animals from peeing and pooping in it, since awareness of intestinal worms brought fear to the hearts of parents at that time in history.

Playgrounds come in many configurations. I had a summer job one year creating modular climbing stuff for kids to enable them to build muscle and expand their imaginations. It’s amazing how designs of wood, metal, plastic and rope can foster team building, giggles galore, the sharing of secrets and playful expressions of friendship. Whenever I pass one in my neighbourhood I feel triggered by childhood memories. I love the happy sounds of children playing freely yet I don’t linger by the fencing since I’m sensitive about my maleness. We can’t play innocent when it comes to ignorance of society’s current insecurities.

The world of imagination is not limited to youth. The push and pull of good and evil is often played out in the theatre. Truth be told, the play’s the thing I’m most attracted to when it comes to thoughts of fun at my stage of life. I’ve never been involved in a theatrical production but I sure have felt my emotional response as an audience member watching the plot unfold on the stage. I’m envious of Playwrights for being able to use their way with words, and then on completion, creating an opportunity for so many other artists to interpret and extend their work. 

I can delight in watching others have fun. I feel lucky to be a grandfather so I can get a chance to relive some of my infancy vicariously. Sometimes, the toddler I’m being silly with might look at me like I’m an alien from another planet: I’m handed a bit of Play-Doh and I start to mold a goofy face and I’m told, ‘Not THAT way!’ Or I’m given a balloon and I start to punch it crazily and my granddaughter runs crying to her mommy.

Silly is something I do for fun. It may not play well with others.

Re: Laughter

At one point during my first marriage, my wife and I looked at each other through tears saying simultaneously, “We’ve got to laugh more.” We’d just been laughing, belly aching hard, over something that is lost to my memory. It was fun to be breathless from humour rather than daily toil. We knew we had been missing something with our laser focus being trained on the responsibility of parenting three little boys. We were strung out on diapers, defiant temper tantrums and sibling squabbles. Laughter is the best medicine, at least that’s what Reader’s Digest said back then, and we realized in that hysterical moment that we had been laugh deprived.

I’m a serious guy by nature and I know I don’t laugh enough. I prefer topics of conversation that go deep. My shoulders seem adapted to carry the weight of the world. Some people hide from the dark side of life while I can be a bit intimidated by a room full of chortling people. For just an insane moment I’ll think that I am the butt of someone’s joke and it puts me off balance. My mom used to be a master of sarcasm, which I never learned to master. She would preach that her humour was an attempt to make a person laugh at themselves; “Come on I’m just kidding!” I think she had a twisted understanding of the phrase, ‘Laugh with me, not at me.’

There is probably a reason why late night talk shows are so popular. We do need to laugh at ourselves and the situations we find ourselves in when everything seems so grim. We need the news delivered with a dash of comedy; just a spoon full of sugar and all that miserable stuff is a tad easier to swallow. History is filled with examples of clowns and jesters presiding over a community spectacle while our fellow citizens were led to the gallows by the executioner’s hand. Slapstick comedy comes from such roots: Someone falling is irresistibly funny in spite of our desire to express empathy for a person’s plight. My favourite comedians are still The Three Stooges yet they are consistently mean to each other. Go figure.

Maybe laughter is a judgement on us and from us. My wise 94 year old mother-in-law asked me recently if I can I laugh at myself. I wondered what she was getting at. I gave her a philosophical answer along the lines of not enjoying being teased. I said I didn’t like it if I thought someone was laughing at my expense. She sort of went, “hmmm”. Which made me feel judged. I wanted to go all Popeye on her telling her to accept me as I am. In the end it wasn’t an issue, just a question, and there I go again being too serious.

Laughing out loud is an expression of our soul. Like showing any emotion, a laugh can connect us to our spirit. I’ll start with a chuckle and see if I can work my way up to a roar.

Re: Set

Ready-Set-Go.

The set up for this page begins with an innocent looking three letter word. I start my blog postings with no set agenda (my work has been compared to an episode of The Simpsons). A single word is always the theme: In this case the word Set can stand alone or be incorporated into another word fragment. Read on and see how many references you can find. Report your findings to set the record straight. All set?

We all have a set of something: like golf clubs, luggage, cutlery, earrings, barbells, thimbles, or beer coasters. Sometimes the things we collect into sets are purposeful. Some folk can boast of having complete sets of things. I like to prune and harvest my own set of ideas about life. I choose to edit regularly so I don’t get set in my ways. As we age we collect a robust set of memories. And most old folks, including me, can set their mind to something and never let go of it, which can be upsetting to the younger generation.

As a kid, I liked watching cowboys shoot people on a TV set, while building a model battleship. As the glue set I would plan how I would re-enact a war scene. Back then every boy had a train set and every girl had a tea set. I see no sign that my grandkids are conforming to rigid cultural patterning like their grandfather. They wear pink if they want or dress as unicorns, dinosaurs or super heroes. As far as I can see there is no set idea regarding who they are or who they can become. Mindsets have changed.

I can’t believe the word Set is so ubiquitous! How many variations so far? Imagine you are an ESL student trying to sort through all these examples? Ok. Now visualize a stage set, which has pieces arranged in a setting to stimulate the minds of the audience. This set design is integral to the plot and to the actors who inhabit this temporary theatrical settlement. The play may be about an innocent man who has been set up or maybe the play’s about a dinner with friends and a grand table has been set with fancy china and a centrepiece.

My favourite activity in general is to set out on a journey. No matter whether it is a voyage of the mind or a geographical adventure. I usually set a goal for my escapade but I’ve been known to be spontaneous. I might set my watch to keep track. Or better still, setting an alarm will help if I get lost in my thoughts.

I’m feeling like I need a reset. Being silly helps me settle my nerves after a distressing news story. It’s a good thing I enjoy playing around with words. I’ve read that reading & writing is a way to prevent early onset dementia. Tennis may appeal to some, but going for sunset walks with my sweetheart keeps me feeling like a winner.

Game. Set. Match.

Re: Monitor

I was a high school hall monitor. I actually enjoyed being that nerd with a cardigan. I didn’t feel like an officer of the law, merely an advisor. I had answers to questions that other students didn’t even know they were asking. I felt important. I was part of a smoothly functioning institution called Education. Through several twists and turns after grade thirteen I chose to go to Teacher’s College where I was taught how to monitor elementary students.

Someone is always calling me at dinner, concerned that there has been some suspicious activity on my credit card. An ad in the paper says that I can sign up for some company to monitor those people and stop the calls before they even arrive. Seems there are watchdogs everywhere these days. People who say they work for my government are often suggesting I’ve underpaid my taxes. I’m not to worry about the inevitable fine because they’re on top of it and they can remedy everything for a small fee. I suppose I should feel a sense of peace with so many looking out for me. Not!

Law breakers sometimes wear ankle monitors. They can’t be comfortable. How does one put on their socks? Is the alarm component silently monitoring your whereabouts to some tech team in Dubai? Perhaps an ear piercing beep is all that happens if you stray from your perimeter. Surely they don’t explode, taking your foot off, like I’ve seen suggested in dystopian world movies. Speaking of security; Am I the only one bothered by the announcements in airports reminding you to keep your luggage in view? You’d think there would be enough cameras on walls and ceilings to help you out, while you are put through another snooze inducing flight delay.

Currently the medical profession is monitoring my heart. It had been skipping beats but now it’s calmed by medication. I’ve been checked with a Holter Monitor which gave me the appearance of being bionic. Nothing fancy though, call me the 60 Dollar Man. I also walked around with a blood pressure monitor for a couple of days during this nervous time. The cuff around my bicep squeezed every half hour, reminding me of the way my dad used to hold my arm when I needed reassurance.

My most unsatisfying duty as a teacher was as a lunch time monitor. I felt like Mr. Bumble, patrolling rows and rows of unfortunate children. One Principal I worked with instructed me to keep them quiet and encourage fast eating, else they take too long to get into the schoolyard. At every meal there was someone upset over their food, who they were sitting beside or the way someone was looking at them. A kid once smashed his sandwich with his fist while laughing hysterically. I took the remains of the meal away. The boy’s mother came to the school the next day asking why her son had come home hungry. CAS was consulted. A disciplinary note was put on my permanent professional record. I wonder if anyone still monitors that file.

Re: Eight

I think the number 8 is great. It has awesome rhyming potential. I love its shape. There are no loose ends with eight, nothing sticks out. Just like the number 0 there is a beautiful continuity to its design; where you start is where you finish. I have a two digit number that I have called my lucky number since I was a kid but now that I am in my 80th decade I think I’m due for an update so I pick 8. It’s never too late to change your fate.

Apparently I’m not alone in liking this numeral. It is called the luckiest of numbers by the Chinese. This Canadian feels in good company since 1.4 billion souls can’t be wrong eh? I was born on the eighth so I don’t know why I didn’t choose it as my lucky number sooner, but I shall have no regrets. More significantly, when 8 is tipped over it assumes a horizontal position. The symbol for infinity, which in death I believe I am bound for: To the endlessness of time and space with infinite possibilities go I.

When I am lying on my back in my bed I find comfort in assuming a figure eight posture. I place my hands above my head and link my fingers. My knees come up, spreading my hips and I place the soles of my feet together. It’s the closest kind of yoga pose I can manage and it feels great to open my chest and pelvis at the same time. When I taught Brain Gym to my elementary school students one of the exercises was using chalk to make giant flowing infinity symbols on the chalkboard, smoothly arcing and connecting then arcing again, opening up cross cranial connectivity, joining left brain to right.

The reason we call Figure Skating what we do is because of the Figure 8, which was part of the compulsory program in competitive skating until 1990. I miss the almost scientific precision demonstrated by that practise, skate edges switching while curves were carved on the slippery ice surface. Nowadays you can create heat while learning to do a Figure Eight Workout to strengthen core muscles. Very watchable. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fJgBYvGZeN4

Choosing the number eight as my next life stage talisman bodes well. According to Angel Numbers, 8 signifies a sign of things to come, which is awesome because I’ve always been future oriented. It is also a potent source of energy, which I could really use in my declining years. When it comes to Numerology I’m not an eight, but that’s ok since my name adds to number 1 which comes with a very accurate description of my personality type: pioneering, leading, independent, attaining and individualist. This is a terrific offset to my introverted nature, so I can remain humble whilst in a crowd. I took an Enneagram Personality test and it matches perfectly: I’m 5&8 dominant so being born May 8th is a match made in heaven.

I think they’re going to like me up there.

Re: Jim

I heard a knock on my front door. During Covid times contact with anyone is a rarity, so I answered, starving for connection. It was Jim Carrey standing there in living colour. He said, “Hi I’m Jim Carrey. I know it’s short notice but can I quarantine here?” He dropped his backpack in the hallway. “It’s a good thing you answered your door because I was just about to jimmy the lock.” My mouth was probably still open. “Just kidding!”he added.

I said I had a spare room, that he was welcome to stay since I was a big fan. I called him Mr. C. out of respect and a couple of times Captain Jim came out as I was jibber-jabbering wondering out loud why he would come here to the Saanich Peninsula. He told me a friend had said that Harry and Meaghan had spent time near here to get away from the paparazzi. I smiled at the way he contorted his face while saying, ‘paparazzi’.

I told him I had seen his last drawing posted on Twitter, Feb 11, 2021 and wondered if he was all right. I talked about being a fan, a fanboy, a Stan and the differences between the terms. My words were spilling out so fast, I began to wonder if he’d reconsider his request to stay. He pulled a Slim Jim from his jean jacket and asked, “You got anything to eat?” Luckily, I had been on a quick masked raid to my village grocer so I had plenty of food. I showed him the fridge. He grinned, “Alrighty then!”

Our time together went quickly. I told him my wife was away looking after her elder parents so I really appreciated having someone to talk to. We bonded like stereotypical Canadians, played crokinole, ate bacon and drank beer. He said it was good to be home. To celebrate Day Seven we ordered take-out food. Slurping udon noodles, Jimmy pretended to be a comically clichéd Asian woman. This made me cough and get red in the face.

One night we got into our jimmy jammies, watched a couple of old Star Trek episodes and got kind of drunk on craft beer. Jimbo started doing impersonations again. He’s silly that way. Famous characters named Jim appeared out of nowhere: Jimmy Durante, James Belushi, Jimmy Stewart, James T. Kirk, Jiminy Cricket, James Dean, James Coburn, Jimmy Cagney. He did a skit of Jimmy Carter on a roof hammering in shingles. I told him he nailed that one and we both rolled on the floor laughing.

On his last day with me, he told me how he had almost lost his sanity from the constant intrusion on his life. I shared how I had once suffered depression from trying to get things perfect. He said, “Life is hard man.” Before I was ready, Jim was at the front door. I stood feeling awed by the whole experience. He raised his arms in farewell, “In case I don’t see ya”.

And then he was gone.