Sunday, June 27, 2010

Gee-Whiz 20

Grow up for frack sakes.

Howdy boys & girls. Tiz an appalled Scrubbie here.

Now ya'll know I try not to rant too much. I mean, who really cares? Lets face it - the 'ol Scrub blog aint the place to come and find the latest news or glean insight into life and politics. I am VERY sure you have other places to go and find out that stuff. Scrub just ain't that clever.

We kewl on that? Ok.

So - all the bigshots of the world decided to pop on in to us here in the Great White to have a little chit chat about what's goin on in the world. Well... either that, or they're just gettin' together to have a coffee and hang out for a bit. Ya know - catch up.

In private - you gotta wonder what they say. "Hey - hows the wife?"
"I hope they're not serving fish for lunch."
"Maybe this'd be more fun if we all had Vuvuzela's."
"Check out what he's wearing."

Listen - I'm all for free speech. (Those of you visiting from places afar - it's pretty kewl here. Basically you're allowed to get together in groups in public, say what you want, whatever. As long as you do it peacefully and don't get all up in someone's face sorta thing. You should try it.)

And, here in the Great White - while all the big shots are parading around - there were lots of folks that were hanging out with signs and loud-shouty-things protesting this and that. It's kewl. It's all good.

Then - outa nowhere - come these arseholes. Dressed all in black. With their faces covered. Coward bastards. And start smashing windows. Tipping shit over. Breaking everything they can get their frackin' hands on. They even torched a couple of police cars. What the frack!?

Ok - so here's the deal:

1. It was mayhem. For no reason. Didn't your mothers teach you how to play nice?
2. For those that were protesting and demonstrating and getting their messages out peacefully - I'm really sorry that these dicks got in the way. Seriously - I apologize on behalf of all of us who were respecting what you were doing and listening to what you had to say. I'm sorry your actions got overshadowed by dipshits.
3. Likely more than half of these idiots were not protesting. They were not demonstrating. They were not trying to solicit attention to a worthy cause. They were not trying to effect change that would better the lives of people here in Canada or abroad. They were not trying to communicate messages that would improve and preserve the environment for our children and grandchildren. No. They were likely just breaking stuff for the sake of running amok and giggling that they managed to get on TV.

To all those who came to Canada to participate in these big shot meetings - as participants, as witnesses, as security or as media to share the event with the world - I, for one, am truly embarrassed that this behaviour went on and I apologize to you.

We Canucks are, for the most part, a pretty decent lot. We generally open our arms, our hearts and our homes to prit' near anyone - whether you are looking for help or just crusin' through. We have a bit of a reputation for being polite. Hey - there are worse things we could be called.

In the end though kids... it comes down to this -
I think it's great that we can bitch and complain. I think it's wonderful that we have the freedom and the right to express our opinions. I think it's really bitchin' that we can publicly share our ideas and solicit the support of friends and neighbours to get the ball rollin' to effect change in our world.

But - don't go breaking other people's stuff and making us all look like arseholes. You DONT have the right to do THAT.

T-minus 36.5 hours.

If nothing else... we are consistent.

Morning kiddies - yer old pal Scrub here. How are ya?

Ok - so the wife and me.... we have a Kid.

Darlin' beastie, he is.

The kid - he's 13 right now. Comin' up to 14.

And, the Kid... is just closing out his school year of Grade 8. Here in the Great White - we call this "middle school". Sometimes it's referred to as "transitional school".

In Scrubs corner of the country, all the kids leave their elementary schools at the end of Grade 6 and all truck on in to a centrally located building that is their "middle school".

It's the weird little hump of Grades 7 and 8 where all the kids are too old to be cute, too young to be useful, all of them are hitting puberty so their all goofy, clumsy and stupid.

It was, it seems, the best solution, to keep hoards of hormonally transitional morons contained for a couple of years while they get themselves somewhat sorted out.

Anyway... the point here is that the Kid is graduatin' 8th Grade. He's practically done. Tomorrow, Monday, is his official Grad ceremony. Tuesday, he and all the other hooligans are going off to one of Canada's great amusement parks. Then.... that's it. Done. Finito. Finished.

This has happened many times. Not the amusement park. (well - we have done that many times. not what I mean though). Referring to Graduating. Graduating has happened many times. Kindergarten to Grade 1. Grade 1 to Grade 2. Grade 2 to Grade 3. You get the idea.

Not every year has been filled with pomp and circumstance like this one.

This year - it's a fancy affair.

This year - we are all headin' off to one of Scrubs' local village gathering halls - rather fancy and big one - and there, the Kid will parade across a stage after hearin' his name called, to receive his diploma and then he'll be wished good luck as he moves to high school in September.

There'll be music. Food. Fancy furs and skins on everyone. Lots of photos being taken.

And this, boys and girls, brings me to the topic of the day.

See - For many years... well since Kindergarten.... The Wife and me have been snapping pics of the Kid.

That includes at this time of year when the lad is making his strides forward from one schoolin' grade to the next.

I wont bore you with all the pics. But, I'll describe a few of them.

The kid - handsome, cute, smiling, laceration across the chin.

The kid - handsome, cute, smiling, stitches below the eyebrow.

The kid - handsome, cute, smiling, black eye.

The kid - handsome, cute, smiling, fat lip.

Are you seeing a pattern here?

The Wife and me - we almost gave up.

Every grad pic - the Kid has an injury somewhere. Family/Childrens Services would have a hey-day with this mountain of evidence.

Yes - we almost gave up.


But, this year rolled along - and there was a glimmer of hope. We're but a mere 36 hours from graduation.

We're counting down the hours.

Then - it happened.

10:30 last night.

36. 5 hours from graduation.

It happened.

The Kid - busted up a digit.

And one of the good ones too.

Up to the hospital.


Pretty pictures of a bone with a crack in it.

Crazy-ass splint on the finger.

And, another picture of our son. Handsome, cute, smiling, busted finger.

Look out Grade 9. Here we come.