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Winding Up Paul
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: People
- Hits: 2277
Paul, aka "Two Scoop" as he was nicknamed, (a reference to his shape, think Ice Cream Cone), a giant, 300 lbs of redheaded medieval fury, but in disposition docile, calm, 30 years old and like many of his generation living contentedly in his parent's basement.
In the olden days he would have been a blacksmith, capable of ridiculous feats of strength, hauling two gas filled heaters singlehandedly up a frozen mud path, one in each hand, these were jobs that required 4 or 6 temps pushing and pulling together, Paul, he could do it on his own.
At lunch he would devour his Tim Hortons sandwich, watch his phone, laughing to himself at funny videos you could only guess the content of, with his constant companion Joe, you could bust them blowing snow off the decks, leafblowers on their backs, know by their sheepish expressions that they were both caught playing "Ghostbusters"...
He denies it, adamantly, but he looks very much like someone that would spend a lot of time playing dungeons and dragons...
Paul didn't like Magic. Or, he as he claimed, he liked magic, just not my magic, which, to be fair, is more like wizarding than magic, but as wizarding is a somewhat obsolete term I use the more vernacular phrases like "prestidigitation", "illusions", "legerdemain" and "conjurer"...He still disagrees.
"Think of any number between 1 and 100..." I tell him. "Don't write it down.". I make a secretive little note on a pad, shopping list for when I finish work. "What's the number you were thinking of?" I ask him..."71" he replies, I nod knowingly and tap my nose "Exactly the same number I was thinking of ..." I tell him. "You're just agreeing with me" he argues. Joseph, he gets it, acknowledges that I'm a wizard of the first order, doesn't doubt that I knew Dumbledore and Gandalf, Paul, he's not convinced...
"Another one. Think of any number between one and five" I'm holding my hand behind my back...."Four" replies Paul...I remove my hand and show him 4 fingers extended. "Again?" I prompt him, but he's not playing anymore...
***
From my perspective hanging off the towers, 100 feet in the air, I can see the entire pit, waiting for the pour to finish so we can tarp, spot Paul, usually with Joe, they're talking or bumblefuckedly standing about. This is the one perk to this job in construction, you're privy to the big picture, can see what everyone above-decks is doing, Paul, Joe, invariably they're doing nothing, leaning on shovels or wandering about the site...
The Sky-Crane is flying in forms, panels, Paul is standing about watching, I find him, and with grand flourishes and gestures set about trying to convince him that I'm moving them with the force, "Like Yoda Taught Me", the men waiting for the panels, they see me, "Don't stop...left...bring it in...Use the Force", Paul merely shakes his head, walks away in disgust.
***
I've told Paul that I'm also a hypnotist, and when I find him next tending his heaters I make a few passes in front of his face, assure him he's been hypnotized, tell him that he will no longer feel the urge to smoke, that he won't remember a thing, that he'll wake up refreshed...he tells me he can't be hypnotized, I tell him he already has, that he's awake and refreshed, I leave him ...
Over lunch, in the trailer with the other men I boast about having hypnotized Paul to quit smoking. Paul glowers in the corner ... "I never smoked! Ever! Never a cigarette in my life...!". I merely nod in a self-satisfied sort of way..."You didn't Paul, and you won't again..."...The guys, they're impressed that he gave it up, nasty habit, a couple of them ask me later if I'd hypnotize them...
***
I've been given an assistant, Luke, shorter, good looking young lad from Nova Scotia. Classic small town boy, charming, good natured, he's to learn and master the art of Tarpentry so he can take over when I go off prospecting. There's more to learn than this, however, and so I take him off to find Paul, picking up an old discarded work glove, block of wood, pack of katsup saved from lunch, find Paul beneath the tarps, setting up heaters in the labrynthine depths of the parkade...
"I am going to show you a new Illusion...for Easter...I call it "Crucifixio"..."
And I set about laying my hand on on block while Luke hammers a nail through it and I scream and writhe as if in agony...Katsup spurting out...Paul's not buying it, grabs me, tries to grab my hand, we wrestle (and at 300 pounds what are my chances?), Luke, my assistant, grabs the prop glove and escapes while I pop my hand out of my sleeve "Ta-Da!"... He's worse than any five-year old hellion at a birthday party, but I like the challenge...
***
Late at night, a dozen men waiting for the concrete to dry enough that we can tarp, I've packed along a couple of fortune cookies. I hold them out to Paul: "Pick one, either one..." He refuses. The other men insist, eventually he gives in. "Open it" I tell him, "Read your fortune aloud...". He grudgingly complies..."You will meet an influential friend for dinner...". I nod knowingly, "You see?" I tell him, the foreman wants to know how I did it, what my fortune reads, I merely pocket it and smile...
Sometimes it's just conversation, there's no desire to illuminate or elevate him, just the days shit, news, catching up. "I had a friend" I tell him "Who visited Chernobyl and got bit by a spider...afterwards he got real sick but then when he got better he could shoot spider webs from his wrists...". He doesn't believe me, I shrug, it's true, they made a movie kinda-about it if he doesn't believe me...
***
"Have you ever seen the documentary Harry Potter?" I enquire...he just looks at me. Some conversations are shorter than others.
***
I've found him, am showing him my ventriloquist routine, skeptical as always he bears it while I hold a grimace in the shape of a smile and throw my voice.."Hey Paul...over here...behind this pillar..." and "Hey Paul, look down here, it's me, you're hammer talking, we gotta talk buddy". Paul just looks at me, swears he can see my lips move, tells me I'm without a doubt the worst ventriloquist he's ever seen.
I'm not gonna take this lying down. From high above the site, hanging off the forms, I can see him, standing around the heaters, warm, bastard. I pull up his number on my phone and give him a ring..."Hey Paul...it's me, Rod...I'm throwing my voice into your phone right now..."
He looks around, spots me..."No you're not, I heard it ring..."
I reply "Yes I am. I made that ringing sound with my voice because I'm just that good a ventriloquist..."
And hang up. Sometimes you quit when your ahead...
...but idea leads onto idea, and before long I've talked Luke into being my Ventriloquist dummy...we find Paul, I do my grimace and pretend to work Lukes back while he looks side to side and says "Hi Paul...it's me Rod...I'm throwing my voice into Luke's mouth...see, my lips aren't moving at all...", but this fails, Luke can't keep his shit together, Paul starts laughing too, laughter, it's death to Wizards and Sorcery in general, I escape...
***
Paul's removing the heaters from the columns, I'm charged with detarping them, before I begin unwrapping them I tell Paul: "Imagine...whatever you want it to be...it will become. Tell me...my greatest illusion yet. What do you want? An Elephant? A Car?"
Paul just looks at me. "It's a column" he says. "As you wish..." and I begin. Like so many he's the victim of his own lack of imagination.
He's not around for the "Ta-Da".
***
Luke's invented an illusion of his own, magnet in Glove, finds nail, throws it into the distance, miraculously reappears it on the tip of his finger. He's got Paul stumped for a minute or two while he figures it out. So it goes, the pupil becomes the master...
***
Pocket Ninja
We're picking up loose bits of rebar from the site, stray pieces, when I have an idea. Paul's standing near...I've got a 6 and an 8 inch piece...
"Paul, would you be interested in purchasing a Pocket Ninja personal defense device? Me and Luke have been making them...39.95$ for the base model, $59.95 for the Pocket Ninja and Pocket Ninja Pro..."
Paul is unimpressed, so we quote to him the company mantra "Safety first Paul".
He's still not convinced, I explain the benefits, he's trying to argue that these are just a couple of loose pieces of rebar we found on the site...
"Under decks, guy like you alone here in the dark, all these Columbians and Filopinos around Paul, it's not safe, you could be raped..."
He spies his counter arguement, a pile of rebar lying just beyond the reach of the floodlights, finds his own pocket ninja...
"Beware of Cheap Imitations, Paul..." I warn...
We continue like this for a good 20 minutes, I show him all the ninja defense moves he could do, offer lessons, he's not having any of it. Paul, Paul, Paul...
***
We're all waiting in the trailer for the concrete to cure so we can tarp, a cold winter night, they're up there, polishing, scrubbing, we can sit and be warm until we're needed.
I tell Luke that I'm going to show him how to hypnotize Paul, loudly, Paul's sitting across from us, I tell Luke I'm going to make Paul cluck like a chicken and behave ridiculously, Paul, he won't catch my eye, I'm puzzled, and I figure it out...he's genuinely afraid of being hypnotized, and for a brief moment I feel for him...
***
When I left construction they threw me a party. I think in their fucked up way they thought they'd miss me. The foreman made attendance mandatory. From Paul I got a child's magic kit, full of illusions he felt that I could master. From Joe, a rubber inflateable sex doll to keep me company on the lonely roads ahead - "Mylie: Daddy's little stoner just can't wait for you to bone her..." (That astonished open-mouthed gaze peering through the cellophane...). From the others, gold pans, samples of gold, a rubber fist (and my mind immediately thought of the illusions I could do with this, an extra hand?), various other trifles, I'd never in my life had a party this good. But these guys could drink, could they ever drink, and before the night was over astonished Mylie was blown up and raped with a pool cue in front of an astonished bar full of non-constructions workers.
That was when the bar owners asked us all to leave.
Ever-after my constant companion, and ever after uninflateable, I was denied my conjugal priviledge. Didn't matter, it was time to go, pack up, find the happier trails...
***
I've often thought of Paul since then, thought of sending him post-hypnotic suggestions to keep him non-smoking, or videos of the new tricks I could do with a rubber fist, with Mylie my assistant (levitating an inflatable assistant is far easier to do than with the more solid flesh and blood counterparts), waving hula-hoops over her gossamer clad form, her perpetual astonished look at my every illusion, but she was deflated, unwilling to cooperate, punctured, the rape had left her breathless, I thought of inventing flyers to promote my travelling conjuring show, performances across BC, tagline "What Unholy Pact with the Devil has given Him these Powers? One Night Only, No refund on souls", but all these plans remained sadly unformed, I wasn't going back to construction, and I wasn't going to get Pauls' hopes up...
Question, Reject all Authority
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Ideas & Questions
- Hits: 2178
We are surrounded by the voices of authority, few of which are even remotely in a position to advise us.
Look at the means by which we are advised - television, for many, the most absurd. Every science officer on the USS Enterprise and Voyager have at one time or another been paid to voice-over science shows - 7 of 9, Geordi, and Spock, absurd that they are in any way qualified - as actors, yes, as representatives of science or reason, no, and yet it's an inane formula repeated time and time again, their voices alone, from having played fantasy characters in fantasy "science" fiction movies set in the fantasy future is enough to lend credibility to whatever "science idea" you're trying to promote. It's ludicrous.
Consider celebrity, every celebrity having used their elevated status to advise us on issues of health, religion (think Tom Cruise...), ethical treatment of animals, vegetarianism, you can't quote the cause that some celebrity hasn't thrown their status and presumed expertise behind to endorse.
There's politics, being a politician - an elected position with no formal qualifications whatsoever (whatever qualifications are incidental, not required), yet upon achieving office they are now authority figures that not only advise but enforce policies on morality, crime, environment, taxation and business. The lately dethroned Harper is one such example; from a background in economics he created and enforced policies on immigration, censorship, environment, etc., many with a devastating legacy and effect.
And there's wealth - possession of which alone is enough for many people to consider you not only an authority on wealth, but on happiness, family values, charity, politics and spirituality.
None of these "authorities" are even slightly credible, yet their voices abound and clamor to be heard, very often over those better qualified to advise or promote the cause. Think Donald Trump.
This is a segue into another argument I'll be making shortly, in the meantime I'd suggest you reject all authority until you've entirely done your research. Or, at the very least, question it heavily..
SUCCESS from Home
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 3221
And I'm surprised one lunch to see the laundry guy in...he's in his biking leathers, not his usual work uniform, he's here to see the owner of the restaurant, has a business proposition for him...
I leave it alone, he's a nice guy, it's none of my business. And while the owner has made time for this appointment with him, and we've only a single table in the restaurant, he makes him wait ... it's a power thing I've noticed, his way of proving his authority over all the minions that fall within his domain, service people, employees, customers...
Laundry guy waits, an hour or so, finally he's joined by a better dressed friend - "Used to own his own business" he tells me, he's clearly impressed, and the owner then takes a few minutes to meet with them in the private room...
It's a short audience, he excuses himself, he's lots to worry about with his childcare payments, girlfriends, etc, maybe they should talk to me instead.
Of course. And so they do, and I enquire politely what it is they do, and they tell me, rather vaguely and in a roundabout fashion, that they help people to collect residuals on essential services, like cell-phone and electricity bills, things that people have to pay for.
Now I've got it, it's a multi-level marketing scam, pyramid scheme, there's a sucker born every minute, but I'm polite and ask general questions which they generally evade but have I heard of Donald Trump? He's an interested party...no, it's good, it will be great, and while they can't direct me to a website to do some research they can leave me this glossy magazine...
Like the Jehova's Witnesses, or Amway suckers, only their magazine is way glossier, "SUCCESS FROM HOME", with articles and titles like "Eric Trump: Stepping Out of the Shadow", as if he's some sort of Luke Skywalker living in his pa's reputation, and "FREE SERVICES: Free Kids from Hunger - It doesn't get any simpler or more powerful than that". Flipping through the magazine it's a collection of stupid, glossy photos, a lifestyle aspiration magazine for the gullible and naive, commercialism as religion, motivational articles, "The Best that they can be", it's idiocy squared, cubed, but with a glossy cover and just enough attractive and wholesome looking numbskulls to make it appealing to a large audience...
This new scam, endorsed by Donald Trump, is exactly that, a MLM scheme whereby ACN buys bundled services from internet providers, cellular data companies, electricity companies, bundles them under it's own brand name and recruits suckers to market with the promise of a 'lifetimes worth of residuals".
There's one born every minute...
Miscellaneous Tantrums & Rants
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 2594
He'd been pretty good, for a while, for himself, the one constant rant was that he was being taken to the cleaners by his third ex wife, $14K in child support per month, he'd had it, had enough...but his 40 year old daughter had moved out, he'd paid a years worth of her rent up front in Cochrane to get rid of her, given her a BMW, life should be looking up...
Of course it was too good to last...
L******* - a female friend of his, "friend", if you get my meaning, had come to talk with him about maybe topping up his daughter's allowance, an extra $100 per month so she could pay for gas to get to and from work...if he cared...
He loses his shit on her. It's the last straw, his ex wife, lawyers, of his three adult children, she's the best, but she's no fucking trophy, let me tell you, a 240 lb alcoholic, loud-mouthed shit with two slut brats in tow, $1200 dollar a month allowance to live in his house, $300 a month in speeding tickets, wouldn't get a job, refused, too busy, lazy, fetched groceries and liquor from the restaurant, finally had to be paid off to leave, now she wants more? We can all hear him screaming, full volume, top of his shrieking Italian lungs, at her in the private room, where she used to...
...anyways, the night sours for us all, he's screaming all night, kicking things, swearing, slamming doors, menace and violence mark his shadow on the floor, he's darkly hatching plans...
L*******, she calls G*** to apologize, none of us will have it, she should have known better, if, when we see her next we'll give her a piece of our mind. Fucking shithead. Her 10 minutes of glory in the private room to broach things no sane person would suggest - I mean, really, why the fuck should you be expected to support your 40 year old child? Really? In addition to ex wife and $14,000 towards the two youngest half-wits-in-the-rearing...We've all had it, we all pay the price, all night long, 8 hours of a fuming lunatic frothing in rage, spitting, throwing shit at anyone that comes near him...it's too much.
The night, eventually, passes, but it raised a couple of thoughts inside me...he's a multi-millionaire, the classic immigrant success story, yet of his 3 adult children all in some way or another are reliant on social services for their well being. Subsidized housing, shelters, mental health treatments, healthcare (none work or pay taxes) foster care, prisons...We are all, collectively and in perpetuity, paying down the debt on his ill gotten gains. And in the case of the daughter there's another generation upcoming, two living generations of debt so that he can remain rich...there's a metaphor here.
The oil sands, creators of billions of dollars, tens of billions of dollars in revenues that are moved out of the country to disappear into the hands of investors, shareholders, presidents of foreign companies, when they are gone it will be us, the taxpayers and citizens, left behind to pay trillions to clean up their mess.
This does not seem to me to be capitalism, but in it's ugliest sense it is.
We really need a better fucking system.
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