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.

The Scariest Thing in the West

scared24As I wrote on Monday, one of the things that scares the hell out of me is the current crop of high-powered maniacs, prancing around the planet, trigger fingers dangerously close to (and I know these words have been overused) Weapons of Mass Destruction.  You can read about it here.  However, as much as this makes me want to crawl back to bed, assume the fetal position and turn the electric blanket up to 9, there’s something that scares me even more.   Now, honestly, I don’t wander around all day in my pajamas, chewing my fingernails and sipping Shmirnoffs, but when I do stop and think about it I wish I did.

It’s becoming increasingly apparent that the people in my society who should be outraged at the likes of Ahmadinejad, Kim Jong-un, Al Qaeda, the Taliban, Bashar Al-Assad  and all the various other nutbars out there, don’t give a damn.  The very folks who have taken it upon themselves to try and win friends and influence people, raise awareness, make a difference or whatever other euphemism we hold dear for acute activism, could not care less.  This scares the bejesus out of me because it indicates that my society’s moral compass is so out of whack it’s now useless.  To all intents and purposes we have abandoned any moral direction and are now merely winging it, in a shrug-your-shoulders hope that something eventually sticks.  We are rapidly becoming the Seinfeld Show of history, with George and Kramer leading the charge.  Confused?  Of course you are.  From my point of view, our whole society is.  But you’re not specifically to blame.  Let me explain.

Who, on this earth should be absolutely livid with rage over what’s been scared23happening in Iran and the rest of the Middle East for the past few decades?  One guess – women.  I don’t even have to go into the gory details; the beatings, stonings, shootings etc., are all clear and common knowledge.  Even as the men of the region decry the decadence of the West, they make no secret of legally chaining their (I used that adjective on purpose) women to institutionalized domestic violence.  Frankly, to be considered a second-class citizen would be a step up for women in that part of the world, since they’re not actually considered citizens in the first place.  In the face of this, every Women’s Rights, Gender Equality, Anti-discrimination and Feminist group from the Vistula River to Venice Beach, California (and all points in between) should be in the streets right now, demanding action.  Every foreign minister, trade secretary and business leader should be buried in emails.  Every company who does business with these repressive regimes should be boycotted.   And no woman who enjoys sitting alone in a cafe, driving a car, feeling the breeze in her hair or who ever wanted her daughter to go to school should give these people the time of day.   In fact, when Mr. Ahmadinejad shows up in New York City to speak to the world at the United Nations, every woman within a stone’s throw (yes, that’s an allusion) should line the streets of his motorcade route, shoulder to shoulder, and give him the finger.

And who should be right behind them?   The Gay, Lesbian and Transgender lobby!  And who should be right behind them?  University students!  And there are plenty more; activists against poverty, hunger and oppression should all be on the front line, but in reality, they’re nowhere to be seen.

This isn’t rocket surgery, folks.  Even as North Korea is spending billions on nuclear weapons and a viable delivery system, their people are starving.  Yet I have never seen one protest, one demonstration or even one person with a sign creating “awareness” of the situation in North Korea.

Furthermore, Gay people are routinely murdered in places like Iran (which, BTW, officially doesn’t have any gay people) yet go to any Gay Pride Parade (I’ve been to more than one) in any city in North America, and you won’t see one person protesting that godawful situation.  Apparently, the real obstacle to gay equality is the weirdo opinions of some guy who owns a bunch of chicken restaurants.  (I wish sarcasm had its own font.)  I could go on and on, and I’m not going to even touch where the oh-so-political university students stand these days, but does Israeli Apartheid mean anything to you?  (Or anybody else, beyond the clever marketing department who that it up?)

scared22Our society has a very well-organized and powerful Activist industry.  It throws its weight against some serious problems and does a lot of good work.  However, its priorities suck.  Chasing chimeras of oppression in a society as benign as ours, while neglecting even to notice the true nature of repression in the wider world, is a scary indictment of all of us.  It frightens me that we are now so insulated and isolated from reality that every harsh word or social faux pas demands a media or legal response; yet, when young girls are shot on their way to school, we answer by clicking an icon on Facebook.  Something’s wrong here.  It literally scares the hell out of me that this huge apparatus we’ve created for activism, advocacy and awareness has become so morally spongy that they only fight battles they’ve already won.

These Are Just Two Of My Scariest Things

scared2There are certain things that scare the hell out of me.  I’m not talking about spiders or demons or even fear of loose hair.  (Dig this: it’s common enough we have a name for it: trichophobia.)  Nor am I talking weird superstitions like Friday the 13th or black cats.  I’m talking about things that, if I thought about them too much, I’d actually lose sleep over.  Things that are big enough to rip our little world off its moorings and bring the civilization we all know (and prefer to ignore) crashing down around our ears.  I’m an optimist, but this stuff tests my faith like forty days in the wilderness never could.

Recently, an official North Korean news agency reported that North Korean archeologists had discovered an ancient site which confirms the existence of … wait for it … unicorns.  Apparently, some ancient emperor guy had a herd of them or some such nonsense and, now, here in the 21st century, North Korean scientists have found their lair.  To be fair, after a small but pointedly hilarious Internet storm, the North Koreans have recanted saying it was all a big mistaken translation.  Yeah, right!  I believe that.  I don’t know many words in Korean, but I imagine the word “unicorn” is just as unique in that language as it is in mine.  That’s not my point, however, I don’t care if the North Koreans think they’ve found unicorns, a flock of migrating Phoenixes or the Fountain of Youth; my scaredproblem is these guys have nuclear weapons!  Not only that, but they’re busy working on a system that would deliver them — in a big hurry — to my little corner of the world.  Somehow, people who find unicorns under the bed don’t fill me with maximum confidence on the judgement front.  My four-year-old nephew believes in unicorns, and we don’t even let him play with the television remote.  The closest he gets to pushing buttons is some Spell and Speak electronic game that went nuts one night and kept shouting “fart” – to his obvious delight.

However, as much as Kim Jong whatever-his-name-is-this-week in North Korea scares me skinny, the folks who really keep me awake at night are Madmoud Ahmadinejad and his band of mad scientists over in Iran.  These people gave up on the 20th century back in 1979 and haven’t looked forward since.  They routinely accuse each other of consorting with jinns (“genies” to you and me) and nobody thinks this is the least bit odd.  In fact, several close associates of scared1President Ahmadinejad have been arrested and jailed on charges that range from being magicians, to practicing witchcraft.  Like 15th century Salem, Mass., dabbling in the dark arts is a biggie in Tehran.  And these people are not trailer trash from the Iranian equivalent of Rubberboot, Nebraska (No offence, Nebraska) they are highly placed members of the government.  And that’s the problem: there are people in the Iranian government, including Ahmadinejad himself, who firmly believe in the Second Coming and the destruction of the world, and Iranian scientists are only a couple of isotopes away from giving them the means to make that happen.  Remember, this is the guy who has publically stated, given half a chance, he’d turn Tel Aviv into a radioactive ashtray.

It’s pretty obvious that nuclear holocaust scares the crap out of me, and yes, I know these aren’t the only two nutbars who have their fingers on the buttons.  I realize that Barack Obama, Vladimir Putin or Xi Jinping, this new guy in Beijing, could wake up tomorrow morning all pissed off and vaporize half the planet before Starbucks could brew them a Decaf.  That’s something we all just have to live with.  The thing is, though, these boys at least look as if they’re in touch with reality.  They don’t run around riding on unicorns or accusing each other of black magic.  For all the animosity in the recent US election, I can’t recall Obama ever denouncing Romney for giving him the evil eye (although the first debate might have been close.)  M.A.D. (Mutually Assured Destruction) doesn’t work if one of the mutuals is mad as a hatter.  However, for all my fear of nuclear destruction at the hands of some space cadet who thinks he should play with the big boys, there’s something else that scares me even more.

Friday: The Scariest Thing in the West

Christmas: What Not to Give

Is it too early to talk about Christmas?  Three weeks?  I think not.

Over the years, I’ve gotten some totally cool Christmas presents.  I’m talking about stuff that would humble a lesser man.  However, every couple of years, like everybody else who keeps a more-or-less traditional Christmas, I’ve gotten some of the stupidest presents on record.  These majestically inappropriate pieces of junk have come from everybody from casual acquaintances (who felt obligated to buy me “something”) to my mother.  And every one of them has literally screamed WTF!

They say “Christmas is about giving” and “It’s the thought that counts.”  So in the spirit of these homespunisms I’ve put together a list (in no particular order) of the worst possible Christmas gifts.  And don’t be confused: these are not just ha-ha-ha, bad gifts these are gifts no person should ever give another human being at Christmas – like never!

Diet Books — Nothing says, “I think you’re fat” faster than Fergie’s 30 Day Cheesecake Diet or How to Lose Weight and Influence People.  I don’t care how BFF you might think you are, suggesting people are porkers — at any time of the year — is a major faux pas.

Esoteric Cooking Utensils — Those “funky” housewares shops that all the Urban Professionals rave about are loaded with these little gadgets – melon ballers, orange zesters, corn cob holders and on and on.  The problem is most of these things are useless, and some of them are so specialized that even Cordon Bleu French Chefs have no idea what they’re used for.  Giving these to your friends will only turn them into a pack of liars.  “No!  Really!  I use it all the time.”

Homemade Crap — Unless your name is Martha Stewart or Norm Abrams, gifts2don’t even go there.  Your friends will feel obligated to display it or use it and then, after they throw it in the trash, will never invite you to their house again — in case you notice.

Obvious Re-gifts — Somebody is going to guess that Seinfeld: The Complete 5th Season with Bonus Blooper DVD was something you got for your birthday several years ago – especially when it doesn’t have the cellophane on it and the itty bitty Puffy Shirt is missing.

The Book of Awesome, in any of its incarnations.  This kid was the Jason (Justin?) Bieber of written pop culture, and no matter how trendy you might think he still is, even the yard sales aren’t taking his nonsense anymore.

Fruit Cake — My mother once gave me a fruit cake.  I gave it to a friend who said he liked fruit cake.  He didn’t really like fruit cake; he was just being polite.  He gave it to his sister in Philadelphia.  She passed in on to an ex-roommate at Chapel Hill.  As far as I know, it has since been travelling around the southern United States like some seasonal Flying Dutchman — forever cursed to wander the Earth until Judgement Day when anyone who ever touched it is doomed.

Any tech stuff with an apple on it — First of all, that crap costs three times as much as anything else on the market that’s twice as good.  Secondly, by the time you get it wrapped and under the tree, Apple will have already introduced a newer version that’s two nano-millimetres shorter.  Thirdly, whatever you buy will have exactly the same functions as the thing the person already owns.  And finally, Apple is living on lawsuits and its reputation; the creative light went out of that company a couple of years ago.

giftsSeasonal Attire — While I agree that nothing says Christmas like the cable-knit Santa Claus sweater vest, it’s not your job to make your brother-in-law look like a jackass.  His mother-in-law will do that for you.  And the candy cane thong thing is just wrong.

Anything from the “Awesome Gifts for Under $20.00” list — Two scented candles or an acrylic peppermill are the best way I know of bluntly telling people they’re over the horizon in your social circle.  Rather than emphasizing the point, you’re better off just sending a card and leaving it at that.

Oversized Art Books — Once called coffee table books, these dinosaurs haven’t been in vogue since Rob and Laura Petrie got divorced.  They are the ultimate pain in the ass because they’re too nice to just throw away and too “oversized” to fit on any book shelf.  So they end up cluttering up the living room and your friends look like your dumbass cousins who “casually” leave “smart” books hanging around — even though they think Vettriano is an after-dinner wine.

Finally, and most importantly, never, under any circumstances, give your dog, cat, budgie or iguana, reindeer antlers, elf hats or Santa Claus beards.  This is just cruel.  Your pets don’t know it’s Christmas, and they trust you not to make them appear foolish.  If you do, you are exactly the kind of power-mad Grinch Christmas was put on this Earth to eliminate.  Furthermore, I hope you get nothing in your stocking but diet books and fruit cake.

Christmas is a time for giving.  With a little forethought and these simple guidelines your gift could be the talk of the turkey table.  Only three weeks left.