Sundry Thoughts

I just saw a parody of the movie 300 on Robot Chicken; the most crass TV show I’ve ever seen.

It sent me on a stroll down amnesia lane:

When it came out I had a co-worker who loved it and wouldn’t shut up about it. He mentioned watching it with his friends and when he asked me if I had seen it, I said that I didn’t generally watch “gladiator movies” with my friends. He said that it wasn’t actually about gladiators…and didn’t get what I was saying….

An old welder friend of mine and my wife, before I knew her, had one funny thing in common: Not having an answering machine or voice mail exposed the lies of others. Apparently when you’re in trouble because somebody couldn’t get a hold of you and they mention they left a message on your machine, the realization that you’ve caught them is incredibly satisfying.

I was raised with Judge Judy’s philosophy that life is simpler when you always tell the truth because you don’t need to remember your lies….or was it George Costanza’s belief that it isn’t really a lie if you delude yourself into believing it….yeah, it was definitely Judge Judy’s philosophy…..

I was at a luncheon party today that had nearly 40 people in attendance. The party had gone on for a while before I needed to use the toilet and when I went to wash my hands afterward it took a good 20 seconds before the hot water arrived. This gave me food for thought as I watched fellow guests digging through the bowls of nuts that were set out on the balcony.

I’m a big believer in proper hand-washing; I even use carbolic soap sometimes. I found myself wondering: Didn’t we all receive the same indoctrination as children about good hygiene?

I’m not a 150-washes-per-day kind of fellow by any stretch of the imagination; in fact I’m quite filthy most days because of my work and am comfortable with that necessity(I think my wife believes I’m too comfortable…). I think that is a big part of why I appreciate having clean hands at home; the hot water also feels nice.

It just made me wonder….and yes, I still ate more nuts.

As a whole, we don’t seem to learn from our mistakes; I occasionally see proof in the form of a courtesy car from an auto-body shop being driven aggressively.

It’s a rant. RSVP…What do you suppose that means?

My wife is the primary family event manager; from casual to formal. There have been a few catered family events this year and the invitations included instructions to RSVP. Knowing who and how many people are coming is vital to several aspects of the planning. The main thing to consider is that each place setting costs money and in order to have the right amount of food and refreshments without being wasteful or overspending it’s important to know who is coming. It’s amazing how often people will show up after not confirming their attendance or try to bring along people who aren’t invited.

My wife accepts the fact the there are always some people that are thoughtless who will never follow the most basic and reasonable instructions but it’s beyond me why such people continue to have a social life and get invited to parties. My outrage is also tied to the trickle-down effect: The offenders don’t hear about their discourteous behavior, but I sure do! So far my suggestion of having a man at the front door has been ignored. Learning is a lifelong thing, so I’m told, and I think that nothing would teach somebody to reply to an invitation so well as a man at the front door telling them that they can’t come in because their name isn’t on the list.

I was thinking that a hunter-gatherer and an urbanite who dines exclusively in restaurants basically go about eating in the same way: When they’re hungry, they step outside and get something to eat.

I have a neat idea for a novelty book: The pi book! I’m not sure it’s been done yet, but it would just be pi to however many places that can be put on 100 or so pages…starting on page one with 3.1415926535….

I wouldn’t expect it to outsell the latest from the likes of Clive Cussler, Danielle Steele or Dean Koontz but I’m fairly sure it would make a more entertaining read!

I was shopping with the wife today (not a wife, or that wife, but THE wife) and we paid for a purchase with a pile of change. It made me think about what a stinker I can be.

Back before one was required to prepay for fuel in British Columbia, I had a convenient way of getting rid of all my change: I would fuel my truck and bring in a pile of rolled coins to pay….Here’s your $60, Sir! Reactions usually ranged from cold glares to heated discussions but once a manager was actually thrilled as they were short of change. The choice I offered when confronted by an angry clerk was take the coins or take back the fuel. I was prepared to deal with either option but who would ever choose to take back the fuel?

Need I mention that I never did it my usual gas stations?

Now I don’t let change pile up but there are still restaurants….

Today I became a blood donor for the first time. I’ve had many units drained off of me in order to manage a genetic disorder I have but because of a Canadian Blood Services policy they’ve all been incinerated. What a waste! Not only is my blood not being used, fuel is being burnt to destroy it.

A little background first: I suffer from hereditary haemochromatosis; a genetic disorder that effects iron metabolism. I absorb the iron in my food much more efficiently than most people and with a normal diet my iron levels quickly reach a point where it harms my health. My iron levels are managed by avoiding iron fortified foods and through regular phlebotomies(blood lettings).

The policy I’m referring to is one that prohibits reusing medical waste for other purposes. It seems like a good, no-brainer policy but here’s where I fit in: I have to give blood to remain healthy; a lot of blood. When things were bad I was giving a unit every week. There is nothing wrong with my blood, the only difference is that my blood has an above normal ferritin level and red cell count; ideal for anaemic patients, actually. Because my blood is removed in order to manage a medical problem, it is considered medical waste and therefore not accepted.

What really grinds my gears is that they’re always asking for more donors when, at one point, I could supply as much blood as eight normal donors. Now that my iron levels are under control I can simply give blood as a normal donor; before today my blood all went to the incinerator.

Of course Blood Services needs to be careful about preventing the spread of disease. They ask donors a lot of personal questions to determine their relative risk of spreading disease; I have no problem with that. My problem is that perfectly good blood is being refused based on WHY it’s being removed, rather than its quality. Most blood services in the world recognize what a great source of blood people with haemochromatosis represents; with no risk to public health if other blood donation criteria are followed. Here, sadly, blind obedience to a rule that’s too general is sending a lot of perfectly good blood, that needs to be drawn anyway, is being wasted; you can’t even take it home to fertilize the garden.

The World Cup is on right now, and I’ve heard a couple people I know badmouthing football; a capital offence in my father’s home. He grew up in the shadow of Upton Park and saw many a game there….and while at home he could hear the cheers from the games he missed. For some it’s like going out to attend a game and for others it’s like attending Mass.

One little thing I will say is it seems to me that games like basketball and American football need girls in skirts bouncing around to keep the crowd awake!