Let the Children be

The legendary Jared Enns hails from a fantastic whimsical land, the likes of which no other man has seen. He writes poetry that flows like babbling brooks and, like most of the men featured on this blog, was voted one of the men most ogled in Vogue magazine. In fact many times these said oglers have cramped their own necks as he walks by.

More often than not he can be found nursing injured baby pigeons back to health. His compassion for the rat like fowl has always been a great motivation for him. “They are just misunderstood, let them be.....let...them...be...” Said Jared to a kid with a pellet gun one day, as a single tear trickled down Jared's face.

Jared, in all seriousness, they are flying rats riddled with disease. Let the pellet gun toting children run free like the disease purging heroes they are.

Wardulon the Brick Thrower

David Ward, also known as David Wardulon, is a man of many talents. Many people have had their faces melted off during one of his many keytar solos. The way his fingers dance nimbly across the keys reminds one of a gazelle on the African plains. David’s artistic talents do not stop with the ivory and ebony, he also draws quite fantastically. The ladies frequent his Facebook profile if only to get a glimpse of his oil portraits and luxurious golden mane. Wardulon uses only the finest in hair products and accessories to keep up his Fabioesque image that the ladies have come to love.

Dr. Ward has oft been known to lose his temper on the arrogant. “This one time, I was driving down the road when, out of nowhere, a brick came sailing through the air and blew a hole in my engine block.” said one such arrogant victim. When asked why he did this David just grabbed a brick and nodded towards my engine block, eying it deviously. I had been warned.

All victimized engine blocks aside, David is a pretty solid guy. Not only this but he also plays a mean bass guitar.

Martial Cares

Martial Galay is the hero of southern Manitoba today as he saved a bus load of puppies from a plot that involved several criminals on the most wanted list. A multitude of Otterburne citizens watched helplessly as the criminals highjacked the school bus full of puppies and prepared to commit animal cruelty to them. “They were threatening to set fire to the puppies!” one citizen recalled while weeping uncontrollably.

It was after the criminals first declared their intentions, to set fire to the puppies, which a college student by the name of Martial Galay stepped forward to save from the deviants. “I tried to reason with them, but they refused to use logical reasoning. These were clearly some very disturbed individuals.” said Martial when asked if there was another way other than violence to end the conflict.

Martial ended up breaking all the deviant’s limbs in a desperate fight for the puppy’s lives. When asked about the encounter the fire chief had this to say “He was like a wild animal, there was no stopping him. It was like he was a mother bear and the puppies where his children.”

There were no deaths in Otterburne that day, the only injuries were the deviants.

A Timely Timizzle

Tim Hildebrand, much like Josh he has a selective diet. This man can be found being distant and thinking about better times in solitude or be found jokingly mingling around the campfire with the common folk and making the ladies swoon. Despite the swooning ladies Tim holds true to his pursuit of academic superiority. A professor, who shall remain nameless, had this to say about Timbo, “When T-bone first humbly walked into my class, I thought to myself, who is this...this... Michelangelo of academics.”. Later on the nameless professor realized that there is more to Timizzle than meets the eye when he stopped and captured several bank thieves while walking an old lady across the street whose cat was stuck in a tree. Tim went on to graduate from the college, earning several certificates, diplomas and doctorates.

Tim`s academic pursuits have landed him in Providence College and Seminary where he plans on adding to his repertoire of diplomas.

Garbage Cans, a Book of Self

I think you can tell a lot about a person by what is in their trash can. Currently there reside in mine several empty cups of coffee, thus depicting me as a somewhat tired person who needs a boost of energy or also it could just be a reflection on how yellow my teeth are. Fortunately for me there is a tube of toothpaste that will run out soon and join my empty coffee cups in garbage comradeship.

There is also a bill from my last transaction at HMV. On this receipt are the following two items, the new Matt Good album and the book “Catch 22” by Joseph Heller. I think “Catch 22” says a few things about me. The book is very disjointed and follows no particular time line. It jumps back and forth along the plot line and in this way the book keeps my attention. I think the humour in it is clever and witty. “Catch 22” shows a different way of thinking about things. The album shows what kind of music I like, alternative rock from the 90s. Maybe it even shows that I am stuck in the 90s, I am not ashamed of this possibility (at least I am not stuck in the 80s).

My garbage can tells me a lot about myself however I do not advocate looking through someone else’s garbage can. That is unless you’re a raccoon, in which case you need the sustenance. I guess if you want a restraining order you could always look through a friends garbage can after eyeing them suspiciously for several weeks.

Janice the Jumper from Janson

Josh, who is this mysterious enigma of a man, well I sat down with him today and we shared a few choice words. As it turns out Josh is a complex man, he eats some things but not other things. Not only does he have a selective diet but also is on the volley ball team at Providence College and Seminary. His fellow teammates have given him the affectionate nickname Jumping Janice.

On the surface level this name seems almost an insult, but is really a very well thought out complement. He acquired this nickname after getting in touch with his feminine side during an art show gallery where he not only participated, but also won a gold medal in the “Paint Flowers” category. The second half of the name comes from his unique talent for jumping not only the highest but also the furthest.

Jumping Janice, I salute you but also have this warning for you do not jump to high, the sun burns.

Party hops

The other day I was at a pretty hopping party (that is to say the party was off the hook, not that it was a party were we hopped) and a thing was said. That thing was more of a statement. There was a general agreement that the body was not made to consume beer or pizza (let’s call it the body anti pizza theory). To which I said that even so, pizza and beer were made to be consumed (pizza consumption theory). This juxtaposition intrigued me despite of the generally baffled look on everyone else’s face. Does this render the body anti pizza theory irrelevant?

JenSON and his Dirty Tricks

Some things are as unchanging as the hair on my face. Such is the case with this fellow named Mark JenSON. On one of his latest blog he depicts me as slanderous. Slander seems to be a term thrown around frequently these days, although mostly by this JenSON.

As for his legit wall, it is a mere distraction from the plague of quote walls that infects some dorms. Is not a quote wall just another form of legit wall? Typically a quote worthy of being etched eternally on the wall is accompanied by the originator of the quote. In this way the originator is seen as more “legit” than those of his or her peers who did not get this honour, following this logic the “quote wall” could be considered a form of a “legit wall”. Perhaps the “quote wall” is a subdivision of a “legit wall”. To further illustrate my point think of it in the terms of how Biologists classify animals. Take mammals for instance, they are classified by many different subcategories.

On a legit wall it appears a person could get on it by doing anything legit, not just making a delightful yet witty remark.

So JenSON, your legit wall is not as original as you once suspected. You have simply managed to create a generalized term to help classify the difference from a quote wall and a regular wall. Although arguably they could both be considered as having the same essence. I will explore this essence deeper throughout the year.
Stay tuned....this may get interesting....but probably not. Now go do something important.

Hairy and the Jansonersons

Hairy till January is supposed to be an event riddled with great fun and hairy faces. It seems for me hairy till January elicits not a hairy face but jokes about how not hairy my face is. Jokes seem to be in abundance lately. Its fine, in their place I would do the same, in fact I have. My facial hair is considered gross if not awful in many intellectual circles (even the unintellectual circles have cast judgement on my baby face).

The hair on my usually handsome mug is very similar to that of a head on a pike. It is ugly and serves as a warning for those men who think they need not shave. They see me approach and think “Yeah, maybe I will shave regularly after all.” Or maybe more like “is that.......” and that as far as they get as they cower in fear of my apparent disregard for social norms. Soon I think people will begin throwing shavers and shaving cream at me.

I am like the neighbour who never mows his grass on time to the point where the residential value decreases and everyone has to sell their houses at bargain prices. Soon the people of my bay will black ball me, leaving me to plot my hairy, rejected revenge.

Refuge

As I step into the student life center, I leave behind the biting wind and uncomfortable rain. The climate controlled building envelops me in warm air. Andrew and I saunter over to the cafeteria, where a warm breakfast awaits us. I grab my plastic green tray and make my way towards the tater tots and bacon. There is no vigilant cafeteria staff member to serve me so I go ahead and grab my own tots and bacon. Something seems to be missing from this meal.

After acquiring the somewhat warm food it’s time to conquer the drink machines. I hold my tray out in front of me as I sheepishly make my way toward the drinks only to find out that many people have conquered it before me and there is no chocolate milk, yet another thing missing from my meal.

Next it’s time to find a table to sit down at. I survey the prospects. They all look the same, brown with a fake wood grain on top of them. Most of the tables are empty, except for three. A cafeteria staff member sits at the far end alone, almost as if she is sitting at the head of a table keeping all her children in check. My searching eyes settle on one table with a few people sitting already. As I sit they start talking about papers and the inevitable procrastination. I nod in agreement as I eat my bacon and tots. Small talk seems to be the nature of breakfast today, no one wants to think about philosophical or theological claims this early.

My bleary eyes notice a person sitting by himself a few tables down. He seems lonely almost as if he is waiting for something. After a few bites his eyes leave his food and drift around the cafeteria, just as one of these moments happen a few of his good friends sit down with him and start their own small talk.
Andrew finally joins me; with his edible breakfast treasures. For some unknown reason he uses chopsticks to eat his breakfast. I comment on the intriguing choice of cutlery. He looks at me and stabs a strawberry; lifting it to his mouth he unveils some watermelon. The conversation changes to how this stabbing action is not encouraged where they actually use chop sticks. Somehow the conversation goes from chop sticks to the German language to the Russian language. The connection between chop sticks and German evades me even as I try to draw the connection.

I can’t help but notice that the majority of people at the table have glasses. It strikes me as interesting that glasses used to be considered unfashionable but now are just an accessory to some people.

If not for the giant windows the giant room where I now sit would be incredibly drab. There seems to be a common theme of brown amongst everything in the cafeteria. The tables, chairs, floor, walls, ceiling and even the leaves outside are brown. The dark, cloudy sky seems gives me a sense of happiness, as if even the overcast autumn sky can inspire within me some sort of creativity.

Almost everyone leaves at the same time, tipping their cups over in preparation for putting their trays away. They leave Andrew, a guy I don’t know and me sitting with empty plates. The small talk continues on a while between the three of us until it is time to go back to class. I tip my cups in a sort of goodbye to my breakfast peers and place my tray among the rest of the trays. I step outside and make my way through the bitingly cold rain and the uncomfortable wind.

A Raisiny Revolution

So today I made several delicious cookies. They were not only oatmeal cookies but we also made some peanut butter cookies. Man, they were good. Not only was there oatmeal but also raisins. I used to think raisins were not good at all, but I gave them a chance anyway and they turned out to be pretty awesome. I mean I would still not want to eat them alone or anything (they are no bacon, of that I am sure) but they did taste good amongst the cookies.

In conclusion, the party is where the raisins at.

Money Trees and Truck Men Hybrids

The other day I was wrestling a bear and I got to thinking, what do I want to be when I finish school. I think my friend Derek said it best when he said “When I grow up I want to be a truck!” This exuberant young man had it right. Aim for the impossible. In doing this his ambitions will make him keep on trucking past the average person. This man is going places, possibly high end managerial places. I’m talking about the president of the Mint or some such thing. Money may not grow on trees but it is made in factories and watering this money tree will be none other than Derek.

I tip my hat to you and your go getter attitude Derek.

BRAAAAP! (thats the sound a monster truck makes!)

Okay so sports have come to my attention and how much I dislike them. I don't even like watching them! Unless it's a Blood Sport, that was a fantastic movie. I'm talking, I don't even care about any team, like ANY. Here are some commandments of sport.

1. Money
2. Every sport shall involve trampolines
3. Every sport shall involve fireworks and/or laser shows
4. Trucks, they all need monster trucks
5. Essence of sport shall not change
6. Only drug testing for drugs to kick out the sober ones
7. Needs a little Jack Nicholson
8. Feral dogs roaming court
9. Some sort of rocket propulsion
- which part the rocket is attached to depends on sport (maybe feet or knees?)
10. Commitment

Those are just a few things (improvements if you will) that need to be implemented (especially for Toronto because they just suck).