My book: How To Survive Your Death is now available on Amazon. Click below to make us both immortal.
My book: How To Survive Your Death is now available on Amazon. Click below to make us both immortal.
Fear is not a snake, it’s a shadow in the mind’s eye.
We can’t choose everything that happens, but we can decide how to deal with them after they hiss at us. I chose to fight my way to the top of this mountain, what did fear give me? Nothing but an increased heart rate and jumpy fingers. Fear wanted me to give up half way and go home defeated by shadows.
Snakes are real, God knows, He made them, but, so are my eyes and reflexes. So, it was only fear, not the serpents in the trees that brought cowardice to my knees.
And now I sit here, looking over this canopy of jungle, eyes lush with emerald leaves, I must remember those same slithering shadows wait for me on the way down.
Today is the Gay Pride parade in Toronto. It’s also Canada Day. There is no parade for Canada in Toronto. If a foreigner was to get off a plane today knowing it was Canada Day, and they were to go downtown, they would think Canada celebrates its birthday by being the gayest country in the world. You go to the United States on July 4th, and every town has a parade with marching bands, veterans, firemen. There are firemen in the Gay Pride parade, but, they’re mostly naked.
Today if you were to walk down my street naked, the police would stop you and say, “What are you doing walking down the street naked alone? Get in the parade and walk past a million cheering people, or I’ll give you a ticket for exposing yourself in public!”
I’ve written before how flattered I get when people think I’m gay. I’m not gay, but, I wish I were. I think it would make me more interesting. Probably get me to clean up my apartment and start wearing matching socks. I know being gay is not a choice, cause I choose to be gay, but, it still doesn’t make me want to make out with a dude. Being gay is like a talent, you’re either born with it, or you’re not.
I respect the gay community and how far they’ve come in such a short time. Let’s go over the time line:
1968: Trudeau declares: ‘The government has no business in the bedrooms of the nation’, making homosexuality sexually legal.
1970s: Being gay is no longer classified as a psychological disease.
1980s: First Gay Pride Parade in Toronto.
2000s: Same sex marriage becomes legal.
The gay community has gone from committing the sex crimes of the criminally insane, to full legal status in less than 40 years. With that kind of progress, what’s next? In forty more years all new Canadians will have to try homosexuality once in order to get into the country.
“I’m sorry, but, according to our records you haven’t even tried kissing another man. Citizenship denied. Go back to your country, kiss a guy, then you can try again.”
Then, one day, it will be illegal to be straight. All remaining straight people will be forced into straight labor camps where they will be tortured if they show any heterosexual tendencies. This would make a great movie. The trailer for the movie would go:
In a world manipulated by the All Powerful Gay Agenda, where being straight is a crime punishable death, two lovers risk everything to fall in love.
“I love you Billy.”
“I love you, Sally, but they’ll kill us if they hear us.”
“Why must our love be a crime? If it’s a crime to love you, then, I am guilty.”
Foxlight Pictures brings you a film that will make you gay if you don’t see it.
Planet of the Gays, taking over a cinema near you.
The American Declaration of Independence states that happiness is to be pursued.
There’s no mention of what you’re supposed to do when you catch it.
I just set it free so I can chase it
Have you ever met your idol? Think right now of the one person you most want to meet in the history of the universe. Jesus, Buddha, Einstein, who would it be for you?
I met that person. I was eleven years old.
I worship baseball.
Those words mean so much to me, I need to give them their own paragraph. This baptism of baseball goes back to the age of four when I joined my first cult disguised as my t-ball team. I was an ambitious little tyke. My first question to my coach: “When do I get my trophy?” Turns out we had to play the entire season before we’d get our trophy. We did get our trophy, but no thanks to me. I mostly spent my time sitting in left field with my glove on my head and my hat in my hand watching fly balls fly all around the outfield thinking, ‘Somebody better go get that.’
I watched my first World Series in 1981, the most classic of all matchups: Yankees versus Dodgers. I remember I cheered for the Dodgers after my mom told me that the Yankees usually win. Even at the age of six, I knew the Yankees were evil.
But by 1983, I had found my own team: The California Angels. I liked their players: Rod Carew and Reggie Jackson, but my favorite was, Doug DeCinces, The Angels third baseman. Sitting here, twenty-five years later and I still can’t define what attracted Doug DeCinces as my favorite player. I mean, Rod Carew and Reggie Jackson are both today in the Hall of Fame. I think today, Doug DeCinces is in sales somewhere in southern California.
But, when I met him that July night in 1986 in California, and I told him, “You are my all-time favorite player,” I have said, ‘I love you’ to girlfriends that have meant less.
Two years later and Doug DeCinces was out of baseball and it was time to find a new favorite player. That’s what I learned, after meeting your idol, you start looking around for the next one. I’m five favorite players down the line now since Doug, but you never forget your first.
I am in the only field where being a white male is a disadvantage: comedian. For any other job it doesn’t hurt to be white: President, Pope, serial killer, it’s all advantageous to be white, but not comedian. If you’re Latino or Latina, you’ve got your Spanish shit, and if you’re black, you can say nigger and not get booed. See? Exactly. But, if you have to be a white male, it’s best to be Jewish. Me? I’m not Jewish, I’m not black, I’m not Latino, I’m not even Chinese! I’m a… get ready for it, cause it’s a mouthful: I’m a White Anglo Saxon Protestant. Like, my ethnicity is so nondescript it takes four words to describe what any other ethnicity can do in one. Navajo. Done. Gotcha. Quebecois. Sure. Good for you. Tres bien. What are you? Brazilian? Does it bother you your nationality is synonymous with a bikini wax? And what are you? Liechtensteiner? Did you just make that up? And you’re Bhutanese? You win, you are the most exotic.
And you hear black comics go: “You white people can’t dance worth shit.” And we laugh, thinking it’s true, forgetting about Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire.
But it doesn’t work when a white comic goes: “You black people can dance like the shit.” Now it’s awkward.
It’s hard work being a white comic, cause, comedy comes from the court jester kicking the king in the ass. The root of comedy is taking it to authority. I’m white. I am authority. What’s the worst thing a white guy can complain about? Hey, Bob, don’tcha just hate it when you’re standing on the glass ceiling looking down seeing the sad faces of all the women and minorities looking up, and you think, they should really put down some carpeting, especially if we have our next toga party, we don’t want those women and minorities looking up our togas, do we? Oh, we do? Oh. Ok.
Blogging is colorless. Well, it’s black and white words on a page, but the color of a blogger’s skin is meaningless. Right now I’m white, but, if you go through these poems and stories, you’ll see I’m Japanese, Korean, Chinese, Thai, Indian, Singaporean, Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu, Buddhist, Atheist, Agnostic, all are harder for me to pull off in person. Even with my budding Korean, it is hard to convince you I am Korean when you meet me in person. But on paper:
한국어로 우리 자신을 발견해요
I’m as Korean as the next guy.
Chuck: Welcome back! Ok, we’re down to our final two competitors. Wendy, Arnod, congrats for making it this far, however, only one of you can win, so how you do in this final round will determine who is going home our grand prize winner. Are you both ready?
Wendy: Ready, Chuck.
Arnod: Let’s do it!
Chuck: Ok, your final task starts by answering this question: would you rather know everything, or would you rather know nothing? Wendy?
Wendy: I would want to know everything, Chuck.
Chuck: You sound so sure. Don’t you know what a sacrifice that will be? All surprises in life will be gone.
Wendy: I hate surprises. My ex-boyfriend once threw me a surprise party, I broke up with him right after everyone shouted: “Surprise!”
Chuck: Ok, you take the purple pill. And Arnod? What do you choose between knowing everything and knowing nothing?
Wendy: Oh my God! I’m going to die next year!
Arnod: I guess I’ll choose to know nothing. Sounds like more fun. Everything will be a new discovery.
Wendy: My husband doesn’t really love me!
Chuck: Here, Arnod, take the yellow pill. How’s it feel? Arnod? Arnod? You can’t understand. Now folks, the pills only have a one minute effect, so, soon they’ll wear off and we’ll get to talk with our contestants and put them through the final challenge.
Wendy: I win but I lose everything! And my breath stinks!
Chuck: And the pills should just about be wearing off. Wendy, how do you feel?
Wendy: I have such a headache. I feel like I had a lobotomy for breakfast.
Chuck: That’s the pill wearing off and taking with it your knowledge of everything.
Wendy: Holy crap.
Chuck: Arnod? How do you feel?
Arnod: Amazing. That was unbelievable! Scary, but, I never saw the beauty of a chair before. Like, I so much wanted to sit down, and what a great surprise it was to find that that was what the chair was designed for! That was the greatest seat I’ve ever taken. And I found some chocolate in my pocket and I didn’t know, but I just felt I should put it in my mouth, and after I took off all the foil and wrapping, it was the most delicious thing I have ever tasted!
Chuck: Sounds like quite a trip! Ok, now we have three questions. Whoever is first to answer two correctly, wins our grand prize. Are our contestants ready?
Arnod: Let’s play, Chuck!
Wendy: Who cares? I’m going to be dead this time next year any how!
Chuck: Alright, question one:
Wendy: Ulan Bator. You’re going to ask, what is the capital of Mongolia, and there’s you’re answer: Ulan Bator.
Chuck: That is correct!
Arnod: That’s not fair! She knows the questions before they’re asked! How can I compete?
Wendy: You can’t, genius. Who chooses ignorance? Why do you think I chose to know everything? So I could be ready for the final round! But, you know what? No, of course you don’t, you chose to be stupid. But, I’ll tell you any way. I know what it’s like to win, and then lose it all and you can have it. I’ll write down the next two answers on this and you can read them off when asked. Here.
Arnod: [Taking paper.] Thanks.
Chuck: Ok, question two: Who is the youngest African head of state?
Arnod: [Reading from paper] Joseph Kabila of the DR Congo.
Chuck: That is correct! And we’re tied at 1-1. The next question will determine our grand prize winner.
Wendy: Big deal, Chuck, you big phony! You hate your job and you think about blowing your brains out after every show.
Chuck: Question three: What is the meaning of life?
Arnod: [Reading] Penguins.
Chuck: Is that your answer, Arnod?
Arnod: That’s what it says right here.
Chuck: I’m afraid the meaning of life is not penguins. Wendy, it’s your game to win if you can tell us what is the meaning of life?
Wendy: I’m not telling you, you pathetic game show host. I’ll tell you this much, the meaning of life is not winning this show. Excuse me, I’ve got to go call my mom. [Exit Wendy.]
Chuck: Looks like we’ve got no winners tonight, folks! Only losers! Tune in tomorrow night to see if we can finally get a right answer to that all elusive question: what is the meaning of life? I’m Chuck Silvers, good night!