Author: wdfyfe

Before WD called himself a writer, he worked at a number of different jobs from stacking lumber to interior design. He studied English at UBC and creative writing at ASU where one of his teachers, Rita Dove, taught him the importance of the tale. He has written for radio, magazines and newspapers, but never television. He’s published both fiction and nonfiction in Great Britain and the US. He reads French passably and speaks enough Spanish to get from A to B and find the toilet. He has interviewed John Cleese, Peter Ustinov, Margaret Drabble, Kenneth Branagh and enough other famous people to make him a hopeless name dropper. His not-so-secret passions are history and trivia, and he has never lost a game of Trivial Pursuit — although he did come 4th one drunken Quiz Night at the Uxbridge in Notting Hill. He lives on the Pacific Ocean, although, not close enough to see, so he spends his days looking at a computer screen. It’s a wonderful life and he has only one regret: he can’t type faster.

Mayan Calendar: It’s Not the End of the World

mayanIn case you haven’t heard, as of this morning, we’ve got exactly one week until the end of the world.  According to every con man from here to Cozumel, December 21st 2012 is the Mayan equivalent of the Crack of Doom, and when the sun goes down next Friday, it ain’t comin’ up again.  This current End of the World (I’ve survived several in my lifetime) has been hanging over our heads for several years now – ad infinitum.  Basically, it’s been done to death and everybody’s got the T-shirt.  However, rather than letting this little sleight of apocalyptic hand go by unnoted, I’ve decided to rerun a piece I wrote eighteen months ago.  I changed a few things to update it, but it’s just a valid today as it was a year and a half ago.

Personally, I’ve got nothing against Mayans.  I’ve only met a few, and since I was always a tourist and their job was to make me happy, I’m in no real position to judge.  However, I would think that, like every other human group, they’ve got their fair share of good people, regular folks and jerks.  I say all this because I’m about to treat them badly; I don’t want anyone to think it’s anything more than journalist license.

The Mayans are an ancient smarty-pants civilization, discovered in the late 70s, when low airfares, sandy beaches and new hotels combined to bring loads of tourists to a place called Cancun.  Before that, the Mayans weren’t really known beyond a tight-knit circle of anthropologists, archaeologists and nerdy grad students.  Cancun and environs, popularly called the Mayan Riviera, soon became a must-have, all-you-can-drink young people’s destination.  When the spring break college kids sobered up, they went out on daytrips to see the Mayan ruins at Coba, Tulum and Chichen Itza.  Incredible examples of pre-Columbian Mesoamerican culture, these not so ruined ruins, blew the young folks away – especially since their previous contact with native America consisted of the Washington Redskins and the Cleveland Indians.  They discovered all manner of cool things about the Mayans — stuff like their written language, sophisticated social structure, detailed astronomical observations and cruel treatment at the hand of the conquering Spanish.  The fact that their culture included human sacrifice — lots of it — and had already collapsed under its own weight, long before the Spanish ever got there, was kinda glossed over by the tour guides.  Anyway, the sophomores among us took this knowledge home and wildly misinterpreted most of it, while congratulating themselves on their escape from the confines of their parent’s Eurocentric view of the world.

The most easily accessible tidbit of tourism was the Mayan Calendar.  For amayan3 while, it was the souvenir du jour and adorned the walls of most dormitories and studio apartments north of the Rio Grande – for years — sometimes upside down.  It was — and still is — a talking point, even though, without the name, most people haven’t the foggiest idea what they’re looking at.  However, it remains tangible evidence that the tour guides were right: the Mayans were way cooler than the Greeks and Romans (who had no idea what day of the week it was) and that, in turn, justifies a healthy disrespect for one’s own cultural roots.

In actual fact, the Mayan calendar is a complicated, extremely accurate piece of equipment.  I defy anyone without knowledge of astronomy, mathematics, Mayan history and conceptual logic to figure it out.  Besides, that plaster of Paris reproduction currently sitting in everybody’s basement is only one part of the intricate system the Mayans used.  You can’t just look at it — like you can the Playboy calendar — find Tuesday and figure out which day is garbage day.  Why?  First of all, the Mayans took time seriously.  It wasn’t used for trivial things like when’s the long weekend?  Secondly, it’s based on the numbers 13 and 20 which were sacred to the Mayans (even though they have no relevance to measurable time.)  Thirdly, the solar year was a minor unit in Mayan time, not the be-all-end-all we believe it is.  Finally, and most importantly, the Mayans thought of time as circular, not linear – that’s why the thing is round.  Give an ancient Mayan a timeline, our general graphic depiction of time, and he’d say “What the hell’s this?”

mayan4So what has all this got to do with the end of the world?  Lots!  Unlike western calendars which are infinity at both ends (an extremely complex concept, by the way) the Mayan calendar has a definite beginning (August 11, 3114 BCE) and a definite end — December 21, 2012.  And since we all know Mayans are Third World cool, with secret mystical knowledge of the universe, they must know something we don’t — like exactly when the world is going to end.  Thus, the Mayans — that uber-cool little civilization who couldn’t figure out why cutting virginal throats didn’t make it rain — are now the arbiters of human survival!  This was an absolute boon to soothsayers, charlatans and rogues — who now had an event to hang their shysterism on.  They no longer have to rely on sketchy Biblical prophecies, Uri Geller or Nostradamus.  They hitched their books, magazines, blogs and Discovery Channel documentaries to an actual thing – the Mayan Calendar.  Plus, they had a prequalified customer base from all the misconstrued Mayan crap that has been floating around for thirty years or so.  It’s was a license to fleece money.

However, before you give away the farm and spend the next seven days in abject debauchery, let me fill you in on one single, overwhelming fact that nobody seems to be mentioning.  You and I, and everybody else who’s seen Jurassic Park, know damn well that time did not begin on August 11th, 3114 BCE.  In fact, we have it on good authority that Lucy (Australopithcus) and her pals were walking (upright) across Ethiopia over 3 million years before that.  Obviously, something’s wrong here.  It’s like the biblical scholar James Ussher whose calculations pinpointed the time of Creation as Sunday, October 23rd, 4004 BC – not likely.  If those super-smart Mayans were 100% wrong on one end of their calendar, what are the chances they got things right on the other end?  Again — not likely!

I’m no anthropologist, but I don’t think the Mayans were any smarter than themayan1 rest of us.  In fact, I think, given the circular nature of Mayan time, the end of their calendar doesn’t mean the end of time; it’s just a practical way to start over.  All the rest of this current hooplah is just New Age nonsense at its finest.  And I also have the feeling the present day Mayans are laughing themselves stupid at all the fuss their ancestors caused.

However, if I’m wrong, see me in seven days and call me an idiot.

Christmas: Naughty and Nice

nice4We all know that Ralphie from A Christmas Story was right when he said that, for most of the year, kids were scoffers, but when it comes to the endgame all children believe in Santa Claus.  So here we are with less than two weeks to go until the Big Guy’s big night, and many of us are tallying up our naughty and nice points.  If you aren’t, well, good luck with those Kingsford briquets.

The thing is most of our contemporaries wouldn’t know “nice” if it bit them on the nose, and kids haven’t been called “naughty” since Benjamin Spock said that wasn’t very nice, back in the 50s.  That’s the problem with our modern adherence to the Theory of Moral Relativity: we never know where we stand.  But now with Christmas busting out all over, things have suddenly gotten serious.  So I’ve compiled a quick and dirty guideline to help you determine just where you fit on the Naughty and Nice front.  To be sure, this isn’t the be-all/end-all list — there are people out there thinking up naughties 24/7 — but it does represent the spirit of the holiday.

Now the legals.  This list is for entertainment purposes only.  Santa’s Naughty and Nice list is the result of intensive investigations, conducted by trained professionals.  It is the private property of Mr. Claus.  The WD Fyfe Guideline does not imply any endorsement (real or implied) by Santa Claus, Mrs. Claus, the elves, the reindeer or any other denizen of the North Pole.  Nor does it represent any connection to the quality of gifts you may or may not receive this year.  Use this guideline at your own risk.  In other words, if you get total junk for Christmas, it’s your own fault.  Don’t come cryin’ to me ‘cause you lied when you took the test.  (There — I’m glad that’s over with.)

Anyway, it’s very easy.  Everybody starts at zero; give yourself a candy cane for nice realevery Nice and a lump of coal for every Naughty.  If you end up with more candy canes than coal, it’s clear sailing; if it’s the other way around, you’ve got some work to do.  Have fun, be honest and good luck.

Naughty – Yacking off at an innocent salesperson over the shape, size, colour, price or availability of any item you intend to purchase.  They didn’t build the damn thing, and they’ve been on their feet for hours.  Show some respect.

Nice – Making a fuss over a baby’s first Christmas even though the kid’s too young to know whether it’s Christmas, Valentine’s Day, Nathan’s Bar Mitzvah or the 4th of July.  It makes the mom feel good.

Naughty – Parking in the No Parking Zone, Fire Lane or middle of the aisle at the mall.  Who the hell do you think you are?

Nice – Actually singing Christmas carols, not just mouthing along as if you’ve never heard the words before.  You’ve heard these songs every year since you were in diapers.  Would it kill you to crack a tune?

Naughty – Lecturing people when they say “Merry Christmas.”  You’ve got eleven other months of the year to be politically correct – knock yourself out.  (FYI, there’s double coal if you lecture anybody saying “Happy Holidays” or “Season’s Greetings.”  Remember, if they want to be politically correct, it’s their choice, also.)

Nice – Giving some thought to the gifts you give.  Any moron can go buy Gift Cards and pass them out like parking tickets, but at Christmas time, more than any other time of the year, it’s the thought that counts.

nice real1Naughty – Butting into line.  Wait your turn.  We’re all hot, tired and grumpy.

Nice – Talking to Grandma, listening to Uncle Eddie’s endless stories or hearing about Bernice’s hip surgery.  This crap is important to old people; don’t sit there as if you’ve been shot in the face with Novocaine.  Show some interest; they can see you.

Naughty – Driving your humongous armour-plated baby stroller through the mall as if you’re the 7th Cavalry on the road to Baghdad.  Slow down!  Your kid’s getting windburn.

Nice – Lightening up on the Christmas lights.  That’s my electricity you’re wasting.  There’s no need to be able to see your house from space.  If you want to be a Griswold, install solar panels or get a wind turbine.

Naughty – Dosing yourself with perfume, Axe, body spray, cologne or any other known carcinogenic.  Christmas shopping is close order, hand-to-hand combat; chemical weapons are not allowed.

Nice – Having fun.  The holidays are not about stress.  If you’re getting stressed out, you’ve either got the constitution of a parakeet or you’re doing it wrong.  Everybody knows the turkey isn’t going to cook itself, but yelling at the kids, dog or loving life partner isn’t going to cook it any faster, either.

Naughty – Wasting time carping about how Christmas is too commercialized.  You’re not from another planet, and this isn’t your first Christmas, so quit pretending all the glitz and advertising is a big surprise.  And while I’m on the subject, don’t go around acting like you’re the only one who understands the true meaning of Christmas – especially since you’re throwing your credit card into the melee, just like everybody else.

Nice – Remember that the most important gift you can ever give anybody is your time.

nice5

The Internet, Secrecy and the United Nations

secrets2We all have secrets.  Over the years, every one of us has collected a list of things we’ve done, said or maybe even just thought that we kinda keep to ourselves.  We all have our individual “reasons” for this, but, in fact, the only real reason for keeping secrets is if they are let out into the open air, they would reflect badly on us or someone we know.  Therefore, we just keep our mouths shut and tell ourselves it’s a harmless bit of selective reporting.  Of course, at the end of the day, we also know that this isn’t strictly true.  In fact, no secret is harmless; if it were, there would be no need to keep it a secret then, would there?

Okay, now that we’ve established that, let’s move on to what I really want to write about: the United Nations.  Remember them?  They’re that international body of scoundrels who have spent the last couple of decades making the world safe from democracy.  I don’t have time to present the litany of their malfeasance here, but there are literally millions of graves all over the world to bear silent witness to their thoughts, words and deeds.  So what are they up to this week?  Nothing short of making a desperate grab for control of the Internet.   Alright!  Alright!  Alright!  Too much hyperbole, I’ll grant you, but hear me out.

Last week, the United Nations convened a secret committee of God only knowssecrets3 who to discuss the future of the Internet.   Apparently (and nobody knows for sure) these folks are considering a host of recommendations which might deal with everything from who pays for what to whether wdfyfe is dot com or dot ca.  Interestingly enough, this committee is holding its secret discussions in Dubai, the world’s most exclusive all-inclusive resort, which has a particular Internet record of its own.  Last month, they enacted a law which made it illegal for anyone to use, not only the Internet, but any electronic technology to criticize the current regime, or any of its officials, or to distribute information that did so.  So if you want to text your BFF that Sheik Somebody-Or-Other is an old fart, you better not do it in Dubai.  Personally, I’m stunned by the irony, and that’s not the half of it.

First of all, what’s the UN doing with its sticky little fingers on the Internet in the first place?  These are the folks who stood around with their hands in their pockets while 800,000 people were getting butchered in Rwanda.  They’re also the ones who hosted a Conference on Racism in Geneva in 2009 where the major speaker, President Ahmadinejad of Iran, said the Holocaust was an “ambiguous and dubious question” and called Israel a “totally racist” country.  (A little bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?)  In fact, it got so bad, even the host nation, Switzerland, walked out.  This is the same United Nations which routinely acts as a rubber stamp for some of the most repressive regimes on the planet while simultaneously accusing some of the most progressive ones of racism, sexism, intolerance and anything else they can think up on the spur of the moment.  Trusting this bunch of clowns with anything more than wasting money and pissing people off is like giving an eight-year-old an unlimited credit card and the vote.  Think about it: when Iran, Malawi and Zimbabwe are all members of the Commission on the Status of Women, can you imagine who they’d pick to run Facebook and YouTube?

However, I can’t really say; nor can anyone else outside the United Nations upper echelon.  Why?  Because the entire conference is so super secret we peons are not allowed to know.  And why is that?  Your guess is as good as mine.  But this is what we do know.  A bunch of has-been diplomats, with a track record that would get any thoroughbred sent to the glue factory, are sitting around one of the most expensive and least democratic places on the planet.  They are deciding the fate of the cheapest, most far-reaching and completely democratic institutions in human history.  And they’re doing it because? … Nobody knows why.

secrets4Call me paranoid, but when a bunch of people I never voted for, don’t know and, most importantly, don’t know anything about, may very well be deciding what I can download, upload, look at or comment on across the future of my Internet connection, I get a little worried.  Especially when the best explanation they’ve given so far is “Don’t worry.”

And beyond all that, they’re conducting this shady business under a Maxwell Smart Cone of Silence.  It all kinda sounds like the plot from Get Smart doesn’t it?  The problem is, with the United Nations playing the incompetently evil organization trying to take over the world, we’re going to need more than Agent 86 to thwart them.  ‘Cause even Max would tell you, “This kind of secrecy is never benign.”