Thursday, March 31, 2005

Hermetically Sealed

Well colour me surprised. Fully expecting another three months of winter I banished myself indoors and ventured forth only once the sun had hidden beneath the horizon and the levels of alcohol and nicotine reached dangerously low levels. Today, however, I poked my head out the door and was faced with the disturbing spectacle of my own shadow. It frightened me. Perplexed I scurried back into the comfortable darkness of my own home and glared angrily at the clock on the wall. It most definitely was NOT 8:30 Pm. The blindingly bright light was proof of that. Cautiously I approached the door once more and squinted into the light and immediately noticed a distinct lack of snow covering the ground. Fearing the worst I once again daringly poked my head through the portal and breathed deeply. Then I breathed again.

I must admit I didn't notice it right away. It took some time for my dulled senses to sort through the overpowering odours of chlorine, soggy garbage, carbon monoxide, and mildew, but there it was lingering beneath it all - The putrid stench of Spring.

Spring is in the air! I fell back into the house as the terror gripped me and apparently destroyed my sense of balance. This could only mean one thing - I had emerged too early and was now faced with the possibility of catching the most heinous of all the inexplicable diseases.

Spring fever threatens every year. It's subtle. It's dangerous. And it is largely diagnosed incorrectly. To the trained eye it quite easy to notice the signs and symptoms, but to a neophyte it can be deadly. It is insidious and devious. Warning signs are hard to detect. First it attacks your mind and clouds it with something akin to Prozac. It makes you think everything is OK, that life is simply delightful, and that you have nothing to worry about. Then the hallucinations commence.

You begin to notice things that previously occurred undetected. The wonderful shine of the checkout girl's hair, the amazing grace of the waitress, the mischievous sparkle your parole officers eye, or the fact that the local panhandler has the most perfect hands. You approach, you smile, they notice for the first time how cute you are when you smile, they smile back, you ask them out for an innocent cup of coffee, they accept.

You have just been afflicted with Spring Fever. Phermonally charged air as a result of the changing of the seasons, noxious fumes exuded by the melting of the snow, some strange chemical imbalance caused by excessive exposure to light? Experts simply just don't know.

You may begin to wonder how it is you never noticed them before. The feeling fades as you realize it doesn't matter. What does matter is that you've found them now and you can't imagine your life without them.

It's sick. It's twisted. It's sneaky. And there are very high odds that it may lead to a relationship. One that offends most around you. Public displays of affection, not-so-cutesy baby babble, etc etc. Disturbing really. Perhaps even a committed relationship between two equally diseased people. Destined to evolve into romantic dinners, late night movies, surprise flowers at work, and a weekend in the waterfall hottub of the Polynesian room. The more sorely infected individuals may take months, perhaps even years, to recover. By then it may be to late. The damage is done. Children are born, picket fences are built, and a dog runs in the back yard.

Thankfully I'm one of the few that suffers from this wretched condition for a period of only three days. 72 hours later, enough for one wonderful weekend, and I'm cured. The hallucinations subside, the Prozacian effects fade, and I'm left once more wonderfully cynical and able to recognize error of my ways. Although I do occasionally suffer from long term side affects such as a desire to stab someone in the eyes with a pen, smash the phone into tiny bits, and abstain from drinking. I'm equally thankful that this too fades away.

If you recognize this condition in yourself, or someone you love please act immediately. Begin by bashing the afflicted persons head heavily against the stone wall of love. Then fill with vodka, echinacea, and a healthy dose of reality until a nominal level of self pity and regret is achieved. Get plenty of rest, mope about, avoid humanity, and wait for summer to arrive. Things may, or may not, be better by then.


Dr. Vex

Friday, March 11, 2005

Good Mourning to Spring.

Dearest Inhabitants of the Planet Earth:

Mother Nature is reportedly still in mourning over the loss of her beloved cherub Cupid and is unable to adequately fulfill her duties. Father Time has agreed to act in her stead whilst the Mother is feeling under the weather. As a result of his overwhelming workload and new fiscal restraints imposed by recent budget cuts Mr. Time has deemed it necessary to lay off one of the four seasons. After much heated debate it was determined that the season formerly known as “Spring” would be eliminated. Henceforth March 20th shall not signify the beginning of Spring. Instead it shall signify the last three months of “Winter.”

Local officials insisted all pagan rites and rituals associated with the Vernal Equinox would be unaffected by the change.

Lord Winter, elated by his new responsibilities, was quoted as saying “This is just too cool.”

It remained unclear as to how this change will affect the Summer Solstice, but Father Time insisted the matter would be addressed following a budget review meeting scheduled early in June. He was quite optimistic about the continued longevity of Summer and stated that at present it will likely only be necessary to eliminate Summer from the Province of Ontario.

Summer and Autumn, last seen boarding an airplane bound for St. Lucia, were unavailable for comment.

People of the Vatican City reported the Pope waved down from his hospital room, a sure sign of Papal agreement to the changing of the seasons.

George Bush, with childlike glee, produced a handwritten note from Father Time that outlined the plan and ended with illegible scrawl that either read “Continue running the country” or “Continue ruining the country.”

Either way nobody, the President included, seemed to care.

Pat Robertson issued a press release concerning the absence of Mother Nature that vaguely stated his position “Finally the Bitch is back at home where she belongs. Quite obviously she was not cut out for the job and clearly her actions in the past were part of a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and become lesbians."

An innocent bystander noted, “Careful Pat. They got to Cupid… they can get to you.”

Warmest Regards,

Sardonic Vexation

A.K.A. - RC
Courtesy of

Forecast for Central Beaufort Sea Coast
Updated: 4:00 PM AST on March 10, 2005

Winter Storm Warning remains in effect until 5am AST Friday morning...
Tonight Very windy with blizzard conditions. Lows 10 below to 15 below. Northeast winds 35 gusting to 50 mph. Wind chills to 50 below.

I am so much not enjoying this...

Monday, March 07, 2005

Sub Specie Aeternitatus

At some time during a stay in an isolated environment, confined with the same people all repetitively working at the same mundane and routine tasks day after day, reality seems to take on an aspect of the surreal. Well, perhaps not a surreal, it’s more like sleepwalking your way through an entire month. You go through the motions, not from any truly conscious thought, but out of habit.

Every so often the brain, fearing atrophy, seeks to engage in some form of intellectual discourse and forces you to attempt to speak with those around you. A few valiant attempts that result in:

"Have I shown you pictures of the girl I ordered from Russia?"


"Check this out! Real fermented whale blubber! They call it muk-tuk."

Ok. So intelligent dialogue may be more elusive than a Bandersnatch out here. The mind finally accepts that and returns to a stoic hibernation until the hunger becomes overwhelming and it ventures forth once more into some meaningless discursive entry.

There was I time when I had naively believed that if you dug down deep enough everyone had some common energy that could be tapped and that at the core all of humanity had the same intrinsic values. Now I've come to the conclusion that I am one of the few - The aliquant of a society that doesn't add up.

It's not that I seek a debate about quantum physics or to ponder theories of modal and temporal logic, just a normal conversation about anything reasonably considered meaningful. Unfortunately “meaningful” is one of those highly subjective terms. Myself, I find that rotting flesh and mail order brides are simply not of paramount importance, but that’s entirely because neither is an issue that is likely to affect me anytime in the near future.

So, does that mean in order for something to be considered important it must, in some tangible fashion, influence my life? In a nutshell – Yes. Sad and selfish I must admit. That doesn’t alter the fact that if I fail to recognize a benefit for myself I am unlikely to exert any effort whatsoever in creating change - Or creating anything for that matter.

Does it make me evil incarnate to be so fully and completely self-absorbed? To strive only to manipulate that which, in the end, will inevitably have a favourable result for myself? Perhaps, but I prefer to simply consider it innately human.

Hmm… Perhaps I’m not so different as I’ve fooled myself into believing. Damn the disillusionment that comes from boredom and introspection. Anyone know the number for a good therapist? Or why, while listening to Sublime’s What I got on antiquated and sad sounding computer speakers, I’m humming the incongruous harmony Build me up (build me up) Buttercup, Baby…

Jesus, I need a drink.

I begin to wonder how long the mind can remain dormant? How long the soul and spirit can endure the laceration before they shrivel up and face an extirpated demise or just dry up into some lapideous lump?

Now I understand why people talk to themselves – They don’t have a blog.

And yes, Once again it is all about me...

Thursday, March 03, 2005

Dawn and the calm before the storm...

So, as temperatures drop down to the -31° F and the winds increase up to a wonderful 20 mph (which bring the effective temperature to somewhere around -61° F or -51° C), I find I'm beginning to wonder about:

A) My sanity for returning to this desolate nightmare of a landscape.

B) The mythical theory of "Global Warming".

C) What they meant when they issued a warning for "Freezing metal".

D) Why, at this very moment, I could really not care any less about the plight of man-kind, political issues, post-modernism, pollution, or people in general.

E) The way in which I can most quickly escape from this "Arctic Prison Camp".

Have a drink for me. I'd do it for you... At least I would in 14 days.

The Calm after the storm.

Home after the storm

The light at the end of the tunnel?

Welcome to the darkness.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

Political Quandary

I shall keep my ride on the Political Bandwagon short.

Liberals and Conservatives are both starting to annoy me.

Where is my beloved Rhino Party when I need them?
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