My handle is not really a mystery. Paint CHiPs. Fairly straightforward. At least in the respect that you know, presumably, what a paint chip is, unlike other handles that you can only guess at the meaning of (What the fuck is Nutrimentia?).

However, the reason I use this handle is a bit more of a mystery.

Granted, I have explained it many times in the past. And enough people know the movie from which the phrase is lifted (Tommy Boy) to make it not quite as enigmatic as, say, TimeenoughforLove. As I have said before, the handle is my real life nickname, which I acquired while in a fraternity in Des Moines, Iowa (and also for the record, CHiPs = California Highway Patrol).

However, I have never really gone in depth as to the background of the story.

So I thought I would share that aspect of it this week.

I went off to college like any student, full of a combination of nervousness and excitement, of naivete and something called “inhibitions” (a concept confined to people who have yet to hit puberty, certain tribes in Papua New Guinea, and the state of Utah). I didn’t know a soul at my new school, and have never been what you would call a social animal.

I did know a little about the college, however.

It is a small private college in Des Moines, Iowa. The alma mater of both my mother and my father (where they met in fact) and both had been heavily into the Greek scene during their tenure at the school. Both could not say enough good things about the fraternities and sororities at Drake University, and both urged me to check them out. Well, my mom did at least. My father said something like “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is no longer in service.”

So, for the first few weeks, I kept to myself, attended to my studies, and then, once rush came around, promptly signed up.

Granted, none of my friends from High School could see me joining a fraternity, and many guffawed at the very prospect. I am just not “the type”, they would tell me; and I would agree. But you have to understand that at a small private midwestern college in the middle of fucking Des Moines, Iowa, there is not a helluva lot to do. The entire social scene of the campus was vicarious through the fraternity functions. That, and the fact that it was rumored that some of them even drank alcohol on occasion, was what sold me. Also, realize that I am pretty anti-social by nature. And one of the good things about joining a fraternity is that one day you don’t know ANYBODY, and the next day you have 150 fast friends.

Rush, for those that don’t know, is the process by which male freshman are put in groups, and they go around to all the different fraternity houses and spend some time in each one. The frat guys clean up their house for it, and try to bullshit the freshman as best they can as to why their fraternity is the best. At least, that’s what they do to the freshman they like.

Well, I was put in my little rush group and shuffled around to the various houses. Immediately upon spending maybe 10 minutes in each particular house, I could get a very good bead on what they were all about. “Ah, this is the preppy rich kid frat!” Or “Hmmm, all these people are football players.” Or, “I smell roofies!” Or “These guys keep checking out my ass!” Or ”Hmmm, I appear to be awash in a sea of Abercrombie and Fitch!” You get the idea.

Then I ended up at one house that I couldn’t quite peg. I was first introduced to a real dorky guy, but still kinda cool. Reminded me of Newt Gingrich. Expect for that kinda cool part. Then I was given the tour by a complete stoner. Then I sat around and talked to a guy from Israel, a really preppy but quite cool guy known only as “Bowser”, a rugby player who was missing a few teeth, and some total beatnik guy who kept gesturing in stabbing motions as punctuation for whatever it was he was saying, kinda like Mussolini discussing the intricacies of sneaking drunk women into a dorm room.

I went back to that house and that house only for the next two rush sessions.

I have to admit something here, I was bullshitting half the time when I was talking to them, especially the guys who I could sense were “in charge”. I was discussing things about how a fraternity is a commitment for life, how I love community service, things of that sort. In retrospect I don’t feel so bad, as they were basically doing the same to me.

A wise man once said that when a person states “to make a long story short”, it is probably already too late.

So in any case, the fellas in that fraternity decided to pledge me, and I accepted.

That day, they had a big party for the new pledges. There were only about 30 guys present in the house when I was going through rush, but once the kegs got there, I realized the house actually contained closer to 75.

Now when I said earlier that this place was hard to describe, I meant it. Most other houses were a clique of one certain type of person. This house seemed to be a combination of all the cliques. A few football players, a few real upstanding go-getters, a bunch of stoners, some preppies, some hippies, and a representative of just about any personality type you could possibly think of.

Yet there was one constant.

Whenever I would mention the fraternity I was in to somebody in ANOTHER fraternity, they would nod and say “Good guys. Do you drink a lot?”

This was Animal House, or as near as the real world allows.

During that first experience, the big pledge party, they introduced me to a tradition known as “roof testing”. The house was three stories high, with a parking lot, and when somebody had a major appliance that had been giving them trouble, the normal solution was to throw it out of the third floor window and see if it worked any better once it hit the pavement below.

Also, they were known kleptos. Now, every fraternity steals something as a gag every now and then. But my frat had turned it into an art form. We had a piece of furniture from every single building on campus. We had the Dean’s desk. We had a fucking WALL from another frat house. We had a fucking TOILET from a sorority house (the story of how we concocted that plan is a column unto itself). We had billboards from highways (mostly for strip clubs). We had also probably damn near a thousand various knick-knacks and odds and ends from all over the Greater Midwest. And whenever our smoke alarms would go off (which was more often than you would think), the main concern was not putting out whatever fire may be burning. Rather, the entire house would become intent on hiding all the fire hydrants we had stolen so the fireman wouldn’t see them (and for the record, a fire hydrant is damn near the heaviest thing I have ever lifted in my entire life. I suspect they are made of anti-matter).

I will not say that the fraternity was full of fuck-ups, because it was not. There were often Greek events, and we would almost always win them. For example, one of them was something of a talent show, different frats would put together song and dance comedy sketches, and every year my frat would win. It kind of reminds me of this forum. Everybody, in their own way, was a bonafide fuck-up. But everybody was also far more talented and inspired, in their own way, than your average Joe.

But we were certainly infamous. We knew most of the DMPD on a first name basis, and were rather notorious for getting out on our front porch at 3 AM and singing drunken songs by the moonlight.

“That girl was just like a statue of Venus!
I’d fuck her if I had a petrified penis!
Oh roll your leg over,
Oh roll your leg over,
Oh roll your leg over
It’s better that way.”

Or

“And now she’s gone and we don’t miss her
Ya Ho.
Ya Ho.
And now she’s gone and we don’t miss her
Ya Ho.
Ya Ho.
And now she’s gone and we don’t miss her
Cuz now we’re fucking her little sister!
Get in get out quit fucking about
Ya Ho Ya Ho Ya Ho!”

Or any of the other 50 or so horridly obnoxious drunken ditties we had.

Another tradition, at least for the stoners in the house (who were kind of like an unspoken majority, an underground current in the fraternity), is that they would take all the obvious stoners out of the new pledges, as well as the stoners that were already members (actives, they were called), and then pick out 2 or 3 of the dorkiest looking new pledges to fuck up.

Apparently, I fit the bill.

The beatnik guy and the stoner saw me on the front porch from their 2nd story window (they were roommates). The stoner, apparently, pointed me out and said “That kid! That blonde guy with the glasses, the straightedge motherfucker, let’s smoke him up! Har har har! Welcome to college!”

So, while I was smoking my cigarette and drinking my 10th or so keg beer, the two approached me and said “do you smoke?”

As I was smoking tobacco at the time, I figured that wasn’t what they were asking about.

“Why…yes,” was my reply.

So they loaded me and 5 or 6 other pledges in the car with 3 or 4 of the actives and we headed to a nearby apartment. The whole time the head stoner kept talking to the actives about me. “Oh, this is going to be SO fucking funny! Look at this kid! We’re gonna get him TOE UP!!!!”

So, we hit the apartment, and the bong starts going around.

I take a hit large enough for the actives’ eyes to get as big as dinner plates. Then I asked if they had any painkillers or shrooms laying around. They did.

I won’t go into further details about that event, save to tell you that by 10pm, the room was surrounded by about 10 passed out frat guys, lying in all sorts of positions all over, and me and this stoner guy. He couldn’t smoke anymore, so I was the one packing the bowl again as he shook his head in disbelief.

I gained a lot of respect there.

There are SO many stories that I could tell about my experiences in this fraternity, and I may later go into them. Hell, I may continue this piece next week. There is a WHOLE lot of tales that came about during that period, so many that to share them all right now would to be akin to folding my cards too early in the game. Just trust me when I say that my next two years were, well, rather interesting.

“Craig, I go to college! Translation: Drunken orgies with occasional Cliff Notes!”
---Night at the Roxbury.

In any case, you are a “pledge” for a semester. That means you have to do the shit work, clean up after parties and whatnot. Once you go through initiation, you are an “active”, at which point you have to do jack shit save for bossing the pledges around.

After a semester of being a pledge, you have to endure one week, a single week, affectionately referred to as “Hell Week”. After you survive that week, you become an active, and are allowed all the rights and privileges that active status entails.

I can’t go into the details of what Hell Week consisted of. I took a sacred pledge of secrecy. And while the pledge of secrecy is not what keeps me from talking about it, the fact that somewhere in this country there are literally thousands of men who would be more than willing to put up the money for an airplane ticket to draw and quarter me does.

But, I can tell you that for a week straight, you are not allowed to speak to anybody but other members of the frat. You live in the basement of the frat house, you are not allowed to bathe, drink alcohol, or smoke, and you get (if you are lucky) about 2 hours of sleep a night.

Every year, there is always one person who cracks first. One person, out of however many pledges there are, who loses his mind. This person may be the first to do it, they may be the only, but there is always at least one.

That one was me.

Now, before you start, I had always had a negative view on hazing. I no longer do, for a few reasons. For one, there are few better ways to solidify solidarity than for a group of men to endure hardship together. And hazing is a way of virtually guaranteeing that hardship, and thus that solidarity. The fact that it may be a somewhat artificial way of doing so does not in any way decrease the effectiveness. Furthermore, it is a way of negating any sense of entitlement to an achievement. When you don’t get somewhere because you are supposed to, but because you had to endure hardship to do so, it means more to you. Just as a millionaire who is self-made is less likely to spend money on lavish luxuries than one who inherited his fortune. You appreciate more what you earn. Also, it tells you a lot about yourself, and the others that you went through it with. As an example, you would get a LOT closer to a person by being stuck in an elevator with them for a few days then by working with them for a year. I won’t go into it in detail, and when I say hazing I am not speaking of physical abuse, but there is a reason why the military is so notorious for hazing. It builds solidarity and, to a degree, character, no matter how cliched that seems. I was dead set against it until I went through it.

In any case, after only two days of being denied cigarettes and booze (the bathing and speaking thing didn’t bother me so much as I go without both for days at a time anyway), I was found in the basement, staring at a corner and playing the bongo drums while singing the Canadian national anthem. I also, on more than one occasion, threatened my fellow pledges with death by spear as I was convinced that they were shortening my bed sheets. And, during a psychology class no less, I kept hearing voices. It wouldn’t have been so bad had A: it not been a psychology class, and B: other members of the frat had not been present. Basically, the prof would drone on, and the second she would stop for a breath, I would hear somebody shouting at me in a demonic voice (full volume), until the prof continued, at which point the demonic voice would cease. I was able to endure this the first two times it occurred, but by the third, the prof would finish a sentence about research methods, pause, and then I would bolt upright to my feet, and shout “DON’T STOP TALKING YOU FUCKING CUNT!!! WHEN YOU STOP, THEY BEGIN......AGAIN!!!” This occurred about 5 more times during that one 2 hour long class, with such variations as “AAAAAHHHHH!!!! DEMON VOICE, 666, LEAVE ME BE!!!” and, “WHO THE FUCK IS THAT!?! IS IT YOU!?! IS IT YOU!?! I BET IT WAS YOU, YOU COCKSUCKER MOTHERFUCKER!!!” until I was escorted out by security and promptly dropped from the course.

In any case, a few hours later, that story had already circulated through the entire fraternity (and most of the campus, I imagine). And one of the other pledges approached me and asked “Did you eat paint chips when you were a kid?”

The name stuck.

To this day, if you were to accompany me to any bar in Des Moines, Iowa, upon my entrance, at least a half a dozen people will raise their glasses and yell “PAINT CHIIIIIIIIIPS!!!!”

Over the course of the next year and a half, I gained quite a quixotical reputation. In the house that contained the biggest drunks on campus, I was the biggest drunk of them all. I was also, however, the person with the highest grade point average. I have NO clue WHAT that says about me, but I am quite sure it says something.

And, in any case, I got my nickname from it. The handle that has served me so well since. And probably half of the people on God’s green earth, to this day, know me only as Paint CHiPs.

I bet even Nutrimentia can’t claim that.

[to be continued. If not next week, then sometime after.]

Someone in the workplace has been less than kind to you lately. But bite your tongue, as another may be watching the interplay between the two of you. Go out with friends this weekend if you're invited, as your love life is going to be uneventful this week.

Now what this really means is...

You know the chat room that you spend half your workday playing in? You remember the guy that was begging you to tell more jokes about your boss? You know the guy that used to walk past your desk with a longing look but now walks by with a shit eating grin? Your SO is pms'ing and will not be pleasant company for a few days. Drinking heavily is in order.

You were in a position to offer advice or assistance in the past couple days. If it involved money, it may not return to you. You've recently been making a new friend. Foster this relationship, as it is fresh and new for you. Be careful not to lead anyone on in the next few days. Listen to your sixth sense this week.

Now what this really means is...

Just because your brother-in-law says he is keeping track of what he owes you doesn't mean you are ever going to see it. You have discovered someone who is as excited about BMW accessorizing as you. Your boss knows exactly how far along you are on the project he gave you because you didn't shut your computer off last night when you left. It is not your stylist's fault that the hair is standing up on the back of your neck.

Your christmas shopping is almost done, now do something for yourself. Take some time to relax, as you feel you're on the edge. You've been troubled with matters of a spiritual nature. Now is the time to put those to rest. You may feel a tendency to play favorites in the next week, but resist the temptation. Something of a legal or contractual nature will be explained to you in detail, making you feel much better.

Now what this really means is...

The assorted cheese baskets will arrive this week, you can wrap them later. You discover that you will definitely be going to hell when you die but it may not be as bad as you think. Your lawyer will be calling to assure you that it is perfectly legal to be cremated with all off your belongings.

You may have said things in the past few days that will come back to bite you in the rear. An impending family event has everyone in a stir, but don't let this distract you from that person in the family who really needs you right now. Attend any Christmas parties you've been invited to- the chances of finding someone have leaped for you this week.

Now what this really means is...

Your betting pool on how many of the quintuplets your sister-in-law probably won't go over real big with the rest of the family. Extended drinking binges with your brother would be be advisable. Do not forget that your odds of getting laid are at their absolute best during Christmas office parties.

You've been thinking of changing careers lately. Don't do it just yet. Your current position has possibilities for advancement that you're not aware of yet. That same wandering eye from work can also lead to a wandering of the carnal nature. Don't! You're a fool if you think that your mate won't find out. People will try to get you to do their work for them this week; don't let them take you for granted.

Now what this really means is...

Refrain from running off and joining the circus. The new computer upgrades in your office don't have firewalls so you will be able to go to porn sites at work. Yes, that cute little hippie chick in the mailroom will put out. No, your SO will not believe that you can get crabs from a urinal. The coworker who you are covering for so he could attend Mass is actually at your house and is nekkid.

You've been feeling like you've been taken advantage of this past week. Don't worry, those who need to notice have. You have a big job to do, but the little details will clear up at the end of the week, if you remain on task. Don't get upset with your mate over anything this week. Something is bothering them, and it will take virgo's empathy to dig it out.

Now what this really means is...

You will be given a totally unreasonable amount of work this week, yet by some fluke, will manage to finish it in time. Your supervisor will notice, though, and will assume that you can handle the same next week too. Behaving in a very pleasant manner at home is advisable as your SO is seriously considering killing you in your sleep.

Family members have been having a tough time, but you will help them find the solution. Your work environment is uneventful this week, but you may be able to gain support from others this week for future endeavors.

Now what this really means is...

Your relatives will manage to borrow twice as much from you as they did last year. The holiday slowdown at work will give you more free time to recruit coworkers into your gang.

It's time to show your partner where you stand. Fess up with all those things that bother you that you've kept hidden. Things are falling into place for you in the financial area, so be patient. Children need extra special attention this week.

Now what this really means is...

You manage to acquire that last piece of trumped up evidence you needed to sue the ass off your business partner. You might consider settling out of court, as you will probably enjoy spending the settlement even more than gloating over him during visiting hours at the penitentiary. Show a little holiday spirit by not speeding up at school crossings.

Be more careful than normal this week concerning your finances. A potential work hazard may cause injury, so be on the lookout. Your romance area is really heating up. Get out of the house or you'll never be able to meet that special someone. Don't let others drag you into their personal disputes this week.

Now what this really means is...

You will max out all of your credit cards on Christmas. A disagreement over the playoff betting pool at work will lead to bloodshed, it would serve you well to get in the first punch. Tell your SO that you are going Christmas shopping and go to the bar instead, your chances of getting picked up for a quickie are good. Going outside to watch the SWAT Team deal with your next door neighbor will probably result in you getting shot in the crossfire.

You'll need a lot of patience this week, as many areas of your life will bring you frustration. A trusted friend may let you down, revealing a confidence to others. You'll be tempted to enter someone's personal affairs this week. And a long lost relationship may soon be heating up, but not as you would expect it. Be careful with past lovers this week.

Now what this really means is...

The holidays will serve to remind you of just how pathetic your friends and family really are. Keep in mind that they are always like this and just because it is Christmas, they will still be trying to screw you over, every chance they get. Your high school sweetheart that you dumped when you went to college will be showing up at your door with a kid that looks exactly like you and some papers.

You've been seen with some powerful people this week. Keep up the communications you've built with your higher-ups. Someone will come looking for advice this week, but consider what you say before you give them advice. The situation isn't as clear-cut as it seems. You may not want to go out this weekend, as social events may lead to stress. You'll find more relaxation at home.

Now what this really means is...

Just because it is the holiday season doesn't mean you should slack off on sucking up to your boss. Offering your opinion to a friend may get you listed on the indictment. Holiday coitus will probably add to your list of STD's, you are better off staying home and getting stoned.

Your love area has stagnated for now, but will soon be moving along in the weeks to come, so be patient. Use a little forethought in any offers you may receive, as some of them have repercussions you haven't thought of yet. You should be feeling especially psychic this week, more so than normal for a Pisces. Trust what your intuition tells you about a friend's dilemma.

Now what this really means is...

You still cannot find a date but you will be discovering a new way to masturbate so it won't matter. You will get a special offer on a satellite dish which you will sign up for and it will wind up costing you almost half your paycheck but you will get over 300 channels, most in a foreign language. Someone may very well punch you out for continuously saying, "I knew you were going to say that". If you loan your van to your friend so she can move out on her asshole boyfriend, you will never see it again.

Rachel- A girl I dated about four years ago in high school... about a month or so ago she emails me and asks if we can get together, I say fine and the first night we are together we fuck. Everything seems great and we agree to go out again and see if things work out. About two weeks ago, she calls me up and says that we are two different people and that she didn't think we should go out anymore. Now, understand one thing, I hate to fight about shit with girls, if they say they don't want to be with me, I let them go, I don't see the point in arguing forever over the shit. So I let her go, and she says not to call her house because her mother doesn't like me and doesn't want me calling there. I say ok, I won't call. So a week later, she calls me bitching about why I didn't call her. What the fuck? She tells me not to call and then bitches at me because I do what she says...

Natasha- Another girl that I have gone out with before. She recently broke up with her fiancee, but says she doesn't want to get into a relationship, fine with me but I kinda dig the girl and would like to go out with her again. Everytime I talk to her she tells me how much she likes me and that she wants to be with me, but anytime I ask her out she says no

Trish- Yet another girl I went out with in High School. We started going out but everytime I tell her something she asks me fifty questions about each and every little thing I said. I tell her that it bothers me and what does she do? Of course she goes into an hour long interrogation on why it bothers me. Then she sits there and wonders why I get so pissed off at her.

Why don't women just say what the hell they want? Why are there all these stupid fucking games that have to be played? I try to tell everybody how I feel and what I want out of relationships, but its a two way street.If you are with me, please tell me what the fuck you want. I guess I'll never understand women...

I shiver and run my hands over my body to guard against the cold air before walking over and closing the window. Thoughts race through my head as I return to my position in front of the glass, more inspecting what's on the inside as opposed to out. I am briefly reintroduced to the feelings of emptiness when I remember how little my own opinion use to matter to me, relying solely on other’s convictions. I now know to become the object of perfection to a single person is impossible, and that attempting to model perfection for everyone I came in contact with was nothing short of self-destruction. I frown and lower my gaze, as I think about how every day, with each encounter, I let my desire to be accepted outweigh the need to be true to myself. The feelings of inadequacy were suffocating.

Again I lift my head, now directing my focus on the present instead of the past. As I look at myself, I am filled with appreciation for who I am. I leave behind the heavy disappointment that accompanied longing to be someone else. I smile at myself, and pull the blanket back over my naked body, as I realize that Playboy just doesn’t know what they’re missing.

…Brought into being by a mechanical social convention: totally expected. Nobody’s surprised. Nobody’s impressed: not even herself…

She is seventeen.

Bloated with sexual infamy: some forgotten hallway at some forgotten party with some forgotten boy in some forgotten globe of her soon forgotten innocence.

She is seventeen, and she has reached the end of her life.

Listen:

Pride can kill you.

Fin!

…Existences aren’t for nonbeings…

She is 18 – 45, corporate america's uni-age.

The groceries. The mortgage. The apartment. Her fourth bastard child: her cunt is expanding as quickly as her welfare check. The alcohol. The drugs: another abusive boyfriend beating her for another “shit” blowjob. Kids are crying. Teachers are “concerned”. The courts are watching…

She is 18 – 45. Unhinged.

Fads are changing and her kids “need” new clothes that she can’t afford. Her eldest daughter is pregnant and running away. Her eldest daughter is “fourteen”. “18 – 45” doesn’t know how to handle this, so she smokes some crack and gets beat up by her boyfriend. She is raped. Her soon to be fourth child is killed during the rape; the boyfriend is put in jail for manslaughter.

She is 18 – 45. Anonymous.

Lying atop a blood stained mattress, dead fetal tissue fermenting within her womb, “18 –45” gives up. With broken arms she clutches her remaining children, and staring into them through blackened, dilated eyes, she speaks:

“Pride cannot justify any of this.”

…

…Existence is when we consciously are.

Too young to go to the big war, and too old for the one that followed, Henry counted himself lucky all his days. He looked after his older brother Albert, who had returned from Vimy wounded, until he died in 1975.

Henry started working for The Alberta Power Company at the age of 17. He worked at the hydro stations and helped build some of the new hydroelectric dams to supply power to the growing west. He earned his journeymen electrician papers there and, at the age of 35, started the first electrical contracting business in Banff National Park, Henry's Electric. His small but rapidly growing enterprise was involved in some of the landmark construction projects in the park, including the wiring and lighting of the Banff Spring Hotel for year round operation.

His brown trucks, emblazoned with two golden bolts of lightning, became a familiar sight in town. He was who you called when the lights went off, if you were building an addition, or a new hotel. By all accounts he did good work. Never in a hurry, he charged by the job, not the hour. Some of his lights are shining from that big hotel right now.

In the year 1925, Henry met and married Liza, a strong minded, hard willed, predictable, and religious woman, like his mother. She did the books.

They remained married, as was the practice then, and had two daughters. Henry loved them dearly and never openly wished for a son.

In 1972 Henry's wife died of cancer at the age of 67. Henry never stopped being her husband. He sold Henry's Electric to one of his employees and retired. "Long overdue", said his girls.

In 1981 Henry decided to do the Terry Fox Marathon of Hope. The marathon collects money for cancer research, and a restless Henry thought this would be a fitting tribute to his late wife. In the years that followed Henry became the biggest individual fundraiser for the marathon in Canada.

Every year he could be seen walking along Banff Ave, his cane swinging, his artificial hip no doubt protesting, collecting donations. He would consistently raise ten to fifteen thousand dollars in sponsorships. On the day of the walk/run he would arrive with bags of money and cheques in the hands of his grandkids, his walking shoes on, and his cane sporting a shine.

I first met Henry in my in-between years. I had been booted out of the armed forces and med school and was looking for the next thing. Although I had known of him for many years, I had never really met him until I dated one of his granddaughters. He arranged a job for me at Henry's Electric, which despite having been bought and sold twice since his ownership, still carried his name on the door, and his word was as good a resume as you could have. I began my electrical training with Henry's battered tool pouch on my waist. I suspect I learned as much from that leather bag as I did from the journeymen I apprenticed under.

We went into the cane making business together in 1995. I had just returned from University and was once again between things. He gave me a place to stay and something to fill my time. From his old, gnarled, big knuckled hands, I learned how to turn a lathe, use a band saw, and set fine brass inlay the way his father had first taught him on the barrels of old, used up Winchesters. I will remember his hands until I die.

The cane making business was really only a hobby for both of us. I learned skills that are hard to learn today. I hope he got some sense of passing on the skills that had served him well. I never asked and he never said.

This is what I learned from my friend Henry Ness:

-Never twist a band saw when it's cuttin'. You’ll break the blade.
-Always twist your wire before putting on your marrettes. Only shady SOB's and do-it-yourselfers just screw 'em on.
-Its OK to sneak out the basement window now and again to have a beer and whiskey with the boys. Just brush with baking soda when you get home so your wife don't catch ya.
-How to compost.
-On Sundays, "What the Jake?!?" is as good as "What the Fuck?!?"
-You can learn more that matters from your local weekly newspaper than you can from some Toronto national daily.
-Write everything down or yer liable to forget it. "Oh yeah sure, your young and smart as whip now, gimme 40 yrs ya bastard."

Henry was old but never aged. He never stopped sparkling. He thought teenagers were terrific, and wanted a pair of baggy jeans. His daughters wouldn't let him. He laughed at the skateboarders and shook his head. "Ain't that just somethin'", he would say as they scooted around us on the crowed streets. "Zooooom". I wanted to teach him about the internet and he seemed interested, but we never quite got around to it.

We would sit on the back porch of his house drinking bottles of Kokanee beer and he would tell me stories. Like the time when he was chased by a bear up a utility pole, or when, as a kid on a dare from his friends, he had stuck his head into the tent of 'Wild' Bill Peyto, one of the original mountain men who opened up the Canadian Rockies, and allegedly crazier than a bagged lynx.

His house was one of the oldest in town, a small bungalow you wouldn't look twice at, sitting in the middle of town on some of the most valuable real estate in Canada. At least once a month someone would offer him real money for that land and he would just tell 'em, "I ain't dead yet. Call me then.", and then give them his 'crazy old coot laugh', reserved for stuffy young people, whom he counted as anyone under 80.

Well, time caught him, like he knew it would, surrounded by friends and family from all over the country and beyond.

We buried Henry last week and half the town showed.

Louis Trono and his Band of Renown played. Louis is the last of the Bankhead boys now, and has been playing his trombone at the Banff Springs for about 60 years. They played some of Henry's old favourites like In the mood and Sentimental Journey. We laughed some and told stories. We drank some, and I'm sure a few of the old-timers brushed with bi-carb before bed.

There were no tears because there was no tragedy in that life. A good one I figure. I guess he taught me that too.

I'm writing this down so I won't forget it in 40 years.

Bye old friend. Zooooom.

selah.

Freedom is essential to the healthful development of the human spirit. We need it if we intend to grow and evolve as human beings. The illusion of freedom will not suffice. In order to realize our capacity as men, we must cease allowing ourselves to be treated as children. More importantly, in order to merit it, we must cease behaving as children.

Young children are protected and sheltered from the realities of the world by their parents. The reason? They are incapable of fending for themselves. Unable to feed themselves; unable to reason effectively; emotionally immature; if left to themselves, most children in the modern world would perish within a matter of weeks. So, parents fend for them until they are able (old enough, strong enough, wise enough) to fend for themselves. Gradually, as the youngsters begin to mature, they are granted more and more exposure to the realities of life. Eventually, if all goes reasonably well, the children achieve a condition of maturity and responsibility that will allow them to fend for themselves and function effectively in society. (That's how it's supposed to work, anyway)

Thus, through a process of growth, maturation, learning, and emotional development, children eventually grow to prove that they’re worthy of their emancipation and are summarily loosed upon the world.

In a like manner, people throughout history have managed to prove themselves worthy of evolving conditions of government. Wherever revolution has succeeded, the people have first proven themselves worthy of governmental transition by becoming politically aware and accepting their responsibility as citizens. From a strictly Darwinian standpoint, even in the taking up of arms against oppressors, they have declared themselves to be men and accepted responsibility for their own actions. In abandoning the excuses and fears, they have striven to correct what they had perceived to be intolerable circumstances, and in doing so had effectively grown-up a little.

Unfortunately, most of history’s revolutions have been the result of the populace being either horribly enslaved, taxed into impoverishment, or starved to the point of extinction. While these are all completely valid reasons for cultural upheaval, they are all motivated by self-interest, and that’s a problem.

Why is it a problem? Well, let me put it this way. People have not yet proven themselves capable of being motivated to affect positive social change, on a grand scale, through anything other than a response to their own self-preservation instinct. Plainly put, this means that citizens are only interested in shouldering the burden of “Making The World A Better Place To Live” if they’re enduring the hardship. If, on the other hand, they find themselves to be part of the problem, the citizens are completely intent to rationalize their culpability into a state of non-existence. Rather than accept their responsibility and rectify the problem by amending what may be an already exceedingly opulent lifestyle, the citizens of the privileged nations tend to turn a blind eye toward the “less fortunate” peoples of the world, ofttimes attributing starvation, exploitation, pollution, child-labor, and subsistence wages to “situations that are beyond their control to affect,” or even more insultingly, characterizing those selfsame conditions as being “the growing pains of developing nations.”

That kind of greedy, self-involved mentality attests to an extraordinarily infantile worldview. Through this type of behavior, the people have proven themselves to be unfit for freedom. Like infants, they cry for anything that discomfits them without thought for what other men endure.

Political boundaries are just lines on paper. Whenever men suffer needlessly, all mankind is diminished. Until we realize that as a people, we are all still children who pose a very real threat to our environment and ourselves. As long as our capacity as human beings continues to remain stunted, we will continue to be unfit for the privilege of true freedom. Unless we manage to reach the next (hopefully) inevitable step in our evolution, government will remain a necessity.

Evolve.

redguard@blackvault.com

The problem, however, lies in the submissions we have NOT received.

For whatever reason, we have a large number of User Update invites (the e-mail you get that contains your unique password that allows you to submit your own User Update) that have gone unanswered. We have tried to no avail to up the percentage of invites that get responded to, and also, let it be said that we still do get submissions from people (and are very grateful to those people who choose to participate), just not as many as we had hoped.

Why should you do one?

** They help keep the site fresh, keep the content from stagnating. We want something new and interesting and entertaining up on our mainpage EVERY DAY.

** It is a way for you to delve a bit deeper than a normal thread would allow you: to share a piece of yourself, and to gaze a bit deeper into the other posters you interact with.

The point is that the User Updates are an important, even INTEGRAL, part of the site. And when invites get ignored and not responded to, the site suffers, and that effects everybody.

And two more things to PLEASE consider:

We fully realize that some of you just may not WANT to do one. That's fine. If this is the case, then all we ask is that you please e-mail one of the admins and let us know that is the case.

Also, I cannot stress this enough, CHECK THE E-MAIL YOU ARE REGISTERED UNDER!!!!! For some of you, you may have registered under an account you set up solely to register with, for whatever reason, and have never checked these accounts. If this is the case, then:

Also, we do accept unsolicited submissions. So if you have something you are DYING for us to put up there, send it to an admin and we will do our best. And if you have any suggestions on this process, or anything in general, post them here or in Suggestions.

On a related note, please check out and post in the Suppository. Again, this is for a number of reasons. If you liked a column or Update a lot, say so. If you disagree with something, say so. We are hoping to make that an active forum, on par with all the others. I am sure that when it comes your time to post an Update, you would appreciate a lot of responses to it. Why not do the same for others?

That's all for now I think. But please read all of this and take it to heart.

The only reason we are mentioning any of this is to make the site BETTER. For everybody!