Friday, July 30, 2010

“Hot enough for ‘ya?” The Art of Trite Conversation

Whether it is the Canadian vernacular or merely the absence of intelligence, casual conversation among locals is generally considered to be sorrowfully insipid. At the root of it may be nothing more than a lack of genuine concern for the well-being of others, though I am inclined to doubt the proposition since the indisputable feature of the masses is an appetite for gossip, the introduction to which must always be made to appear disinterested.

It has been said of polite conversation that it should be confined to a discussion of one’s health and the weather. Both curiosities regrettably invite little more than glib answers, none of which enlarge particularly meaningfully upon the subject at hand; viz., “Fine!” or “Yeah, hot as Hell!” The further difficulty with such dead-end precursors is that they seldom lead to the development of more expansive thinking or discussion. I mean, unless you’ve recently undergone surgery or you’re a farmer, the matters of health and weather are fairly finite. As a result the introductory comments inevitably bring the encounter to a screeching and uncomfortable end; that is, unless you are learned in the art of trite conversation.

Wednesday, July 28, 2010

Sent from my Blackberry Wireless

Once you are bitten by the technology bug there are seemingly endless possibilities to feed the disease which is the fruit of the sting. The only governor of the ensuing wild gyrations is the knowledge that, apart from the capital cost of the product, there are always associated “connection” costs which, while seldom overwhelming, are nonetheless one more in the rising pile of automatic deductions from one’s long-suffering bank account. It makes you stop to think, “Do I really need this?”

Saturday, July 17, 2010

Dairy Queen

I am so over Dairy Queen!

Last evening, after we finished putting on the nose bag at the Golden Palace Restaurant on Carling Avenue, we got it into our heads that he needed something sweet. Our first reaction was to drive to the Dairy Queen in Arnprior, but we telephoned ahead and confirmed they only take cash (which we didn’t have). Despondent, we drove on, only to discover another Dairy Queen along the way in Kanata. We stopped there on the chance they might take credit cards which it turned out they do. Elated by our good fortune, we joined the line of the West End teenagers, children and parents and ordered our Choco-Cherry Love Blizzard and peanut buster parfait , which we then consumed under the blazing white fluorescent lights at a small white plastic table with white plastic chairs overlooking the adjoining and now darkened parking lot.

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Annual Check-Up

There cannot possibly be anyone who relishes the prospect of the annual physical examination by their Physician. For men in particular, the process is punctuated with a singularly unpleasant probe heralded by the snap of rubber gloves. But equally off-putting and just as demeaning is the corollary of having to go to the clinic subsequently to submit to the blood work requisitioned by the Physician, and then having to wait to hear what if anything is wrong with you. The entire enterprise is a jarring interruption of one’s preferred daily customs, and there is nothing elegant about the medical environment, characterized as it is by overworked professionals and staff, growing numbers of decrepit people and dilapidated facilities. Canadian mores have ensured that the universal health system is the great leveller of society. I won’t say, however, that the affair has yet reached the height of humiliation which the Customs officials at the airports have managed to perfect in recent years.

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

We're Having a Heat Wave

I imagine there isn’t a summer which passes without a heat wave, though the memory of it is as ephemeral as a bee sting (unless of course one is allergic, then the consequences and recollection of it are undoubtedly more penetrating). But for the most part the extremes of climate are rather like pain in that once it has passed all is forgotten, which is really unfortunate because nothing captures the essence of summer like a heat wave. The pictures of summer must for example include children running hysterically through a water sprinkler; young boys diving from the train tracks into the River below; entire families licking their way through dripping ice cream cones; and the general lethargy of those walking with their dogs about parks in the shade. What other than a heat wave can precipitate such singular behaviour?