Crazy Ass Planet

What do you say when you’ve nothing to say? Nothing at all is best. From Christmas:

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A seasonal post today … Murray Christmas!

And may your New Year sparkle and shine a be notable for an absence of ill odors.

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From the radio I’m hearing, Jingle Bells. I’m hearing White Christmas. (I think that’s Rosemary Clooney singing.) Oh and there are Carnie and Wendy Wilson singing Hey Santa. And that’s Celine Dion singing Oh Holy Night.

Outside, everything is white. Snow is everywhere and houses are decorated with lights, doors with wreaths.

And there is the radio again. What’s that they’re saying? Oh, great stocking stuffers: lottery tickets. Nothing says Christmas like a lottery ticket, but why stop there? If you’re part of the well-to-do crowd, why not give a VLT? It would look great in the living room.

And at the same time, as we’re running commercials about getting lottery tickets for Christmas, we’re also running public service announcements saying, “Don’t give a lottery ticket to a child! That sends the wrong message.”

Good grief. Maybe the right message would be to actually put some imagination into it and give someone something other than a freaking lottery ticket? When did giving lottery tickets become such a Christmas staple? Probably since it was so easy to do and can be done from the corner store.

You know what’s going to happen now … Someone will give me a lottery ticket for Christmas. And then they’ll probably read this post and there will be fences to mend.

Oh well, it’ll give us something to do in the New Year.

And if the ticket is a winner, we can mend those fences in Aruba.

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Yes, another snow video but not as good. (I like how it starts , though.) It seems all I blog about these days is my dog (Molly) or snow. Or both in a single post. This is not a good sign.

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Well, it snowed overnight. Today, we dealt with it. By the way, this is a pretty hastily put together video that will likely change. But for now …

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Forgive the alliterative idiocy of the headline, but this is the Web …

For those living hermetically sealed lives within bubbles or absurdly isolated condos in the sky, the news is that winter has come to Canada. As usual, Canadians are shocked and horrified at this peculiar weather quirk. Who would have thought? Canada? Snow?

Surely, this is evidence the planet is topsy-turvy with climate change.

I’ve probably written about this before but it always amazes me the way Canadians respond to winter’s arrival and the first big snow. As if it is a singularity, something meteorologically uncommon, a freak of nature.

For the love of Mike, it’s Canada! Unless you arrived yesterday from a life lived exclusively in someplace like the Caribbean, I don’t understand how a Canadian can continually be surprised by snow. By winter. By cold.

Some headlines I’ve seen have trumpeted winter’s early arrival. This is December, isn’t it? And this is above the 49th parallel? When would they consider winter’s arrival timely in Canada? Late March?

I believe Molly Bloom has the correct idea about winter and cold and snow. It’s a minor curiosity best observed from inside, on her bed while strange upright beings (who marvelously provide food) run about with shovels as they rend their hair, looking wild-eyed as they cry, “My God! It’s snow! Snow! Can you believe it? Can such things be? What has happened to Canada that it would snow in December?”

By the way, in my part of the frosty nation we get to have our bums kicked by the weather a little later today and overnight as the snow is reportedly starting here in the next few hours. I wonder if that’s enough time to teach a dog how to handle a shovel?

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My headline makes no sense without some explanation of “wonky.” When weather systems come in, when the weather changes (small changes, not so much), I get a little “wonky,” whatever that means. Generally, it means weird dreams, sleeping later than normal, being dopey and, every now and again, a seizure (though not today, thank heaven). Interesting … yesterday, all day, I felt like I was on the verge of a seizure, but it never happened.

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The post below, which is just silliness, was even more silly for quite a number of days because of an error in the headline. For quite a while it read, “American, we are working!”

American? As if the country had a population of one.

A single letter, the blasted “n,” turned me into a moron.

Oh well. Not the first time …

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It’s Thanksgiving in the U.S. today and they are watching football and eating turkey. But the rest of us are working. I pointed this out two years ago with this post:

Thanksgiving in the U.S. - the Internet is ours!

Last year, no post. I had just moved across the country and I think the U.S. Thanksgiving went unnoticed by me. Or if I noticed, I was too busy with adjusting to a new world that I didn’t bother to post anything.

Perhaps that was the better decision. If this and the post from 2005 are any indication, I have nothing worth saying on this day.

So it goes.

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I’m somewhat amazed, and a bit discouraged, by the fiasco surrounding the cancelled Celine Dion outdoor concert that had been announced for Halifax. Apparently when it was announced a great cry of outrage and disappointment went up. “Celine Dion? We don’t want no stinkin’ Celine Dion! We want AC/DC! Or Ozzy Osborne! Or The Eagles! Or some other old band that’s on life support.”

What year is it out here?

Okay, so maybe you don’t like Celine. Fine. Different folks, different tastes. But announcing a Celine Dion concert isn’t the same as announcing a 25% increase in personal taxes. Or free handguns for school kids. It’s just a concert.

Personally, I don’t go to outdoor concerts regardless of who is performing because it’s as comfortable as wearing underwear made of straw and sandpaper.

And a Celine Dion concert in any venue isn’t enough to get me tearing out my hair or assailing blogs with strident (and illiterate) comments venting my rage. Actually, I’d be curious to see what a Celine Dion concert looks and sounds like (but indoors).

Of course, I think I might prefer seeing The New Pornographers, or White Stripes, or M.I.A. or Sarah Slean … well, you know.

But that’s not what they want in Halifax. They want AC/DC. Or Ozzy.

It seems this part of the world has yet to catch up with the 21st century. Apparently, when I moved east from Canada’s west last year I wasn’t just moving through space but through time as well.

(By the way, just so you know, I do like Celine. The showbiz glitz? Not so much. But her voice? Like it or not kids, it’s the best voice in pop music on the planet. Unfortunately for Celine, she’s from Canada and for all the good things that can be said about us, we’re kind of a petty people. Sort of like a tight-assed relative who frowns too much. We hate anyone who is actually good and successful at something. Well, unless they’re a hockey player. Then, they could be drunks and wife beaters but we’d still love them.)

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I watched this show when I was a kid, not long after the earth cooled and dinosaurs started checking into retirement homes. Despite how long ago it was, this freakin’ song keeps showing up in my head. Be warned: once heard, it will be with you forever!

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