Volume 94, Issue 85
Friday, March 2, 2001
Amputees have nothing to fear
Reality is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.
I much prefer my own little university world, filled with a constant barrage of mind-altering substances, and utter lack of anything I would consider to resemble responsibility. I have yet to grow tired of attractive people and work that can always wait until tomorrow.
So Slack Week, while a nice break, came as something of a shock.
You mean to say that people in Oakville don't go out on Wednesdays? The entire population isn't between 18 and 25?
My usual routine of reading harmless Gazette tripe over a mid-afternoon breakfast was replaced by reading so-called intellectual tripe from The Globe and Mail. If it's not our prime minister resorting to name calling, it's someone trying to remind me that the Canadiens aren't all that Canadian anymore.
I for one would give my left testicle to hear that the Royal Bank's next big American purchase is the New York Yankees we could shift them over to Vancouver where Daryl Strawberry could get his hands on cheap crack and free needles. Oh, sweet revenge.
After subjecting myself to an onslaught of journalistic buzz-kills, I've decided to change my concept of reality.
From now on, I will ignore politics. I will brush aside any references to medical problems, especially cancer or any other terminal diseases although, I may consider recognizing minor prosthetics, but only if they're below elbow/knee and have movable digits.
Not only will I reject work I deem too difficult, but I will also reject the person who gave it to me. I will add them to the list of fictional characters that inhabit my little world, until of course that list becomes too long to remember, and I disregard it as well.
Anyone who questions my morals will be brushed aside indefinitely; small dogs are gone, as are children.
Someone else can worry about global catastrophes, because I'm through with it. Until I get picked out of the shower by a runaway twister, I'll have better things to worry about like figuring out how to block WTN and the Golf Channel from my VCR.
What would I keep? Not a lot.
Toilet paper, obviously. Against all odds, engineers would make the cut after all, someone has to get drunk and pick up the ugly girls at the end of the night.
Lint rollers can stay. I may be able to ignore the elderly, but there's nothing you can do about cat hair. AA batteries are safe. Smart movies, cows, sex & alcohol (together as always), pouring caps and gingerbread men, will be in my head for the long haul.
Sure, this may seem out of the ordinary to some. But, with a little luck and a lot of ignorance, I see before me a calm and relaxing future filled with mediocrity.
After all, isn't that what this place is all about?
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