What do you see when you’re alone in the dark, and the demons come?
– John Malkovich’s taunt to Clint Eastwood in the film In The Line Of Fire

This is the situation that we are all presented with night after night. It’s time to go to bed, so you get into your pyjamas, crawl into bed, and stare at the ceiling waiting to fall asleep. It is at that time, the few moments before sleep, where we have our most profound thoughts. And I’ve been having a lot of those moments lately. Usually, the thoughts fade, and I go to sleep. But, for the past few days, they have been providing me with divine inspiration, causing me to jump out of bed, turn my computer back on, write down my latest column, turn my computer off, and go back to bed, only for the cycle to start all over again.

I think my earliest before-bed ponderance began when I was eight years old. The ending credits of The Flintstones greatly disturbed me. I would lie awake for hours wondering if Wilma heard Fred, or if Fred had to spend the night outside. Many TV shows inspired such thoughts. What did Titania say to Fox on that episode of Gargoyles? What exactly did happen to Dr. Sam Beckett after Quantum Leap? Why did they cancel Space: Above and Beyond? Soon, though, I graduated to pondering the great mysteries of the universe: why are we here? Are we alone in the universe? Is there a unified field theorem? Why exactly do men have nipples? Sometimes, my mind began to wander to the past.

For example, when I was in junior high, there was this girl. Jolene was her name. I had a huge crush on her. I think it may have even been love. Junior high was tough for me. The hormones started kicking in, and I was turning into the geek that you all know and love. Naturally, this made me the target of a lot of jokes and harassment. But Jolene was one of the few who showed me kindness. It were as though I were Quasimodo and she was the gypsy Esmeralda. As always, time marched on. We went to separate high schools and I never saw her again. Who knows? Maybe I’ve romanticized how she treated me into something it wasn’t and maybe my memories have become clouded over the years. But I do believe I loved her. My thoughts often turn to her and wherever she is, whatever she’s doing, I hope she’s happy.

And then, there was when summer ended and I returned for my third year at college. In my second year, I met these people who were living in my wing. Let’s call them Georgia, Ally, and Billy. Now when I first met them, Georgia and Billy were very much in love, and Ally was Georgia’s best friend. Then, summer came, and I worked night shifts in a gravel pit. As always, I blissfully thought that time stood still for my friends. But, when summer ended, I returned to discover that Georgia and Billy had broken up, and by the second semester, Billy was dating Ally. Of that trio, no one’s ever told me what happened that summer. All I know is it must have been a doozy, because Ally and Billy spoke Georgia’s name with such hatred, and Georgia spent all September and most of October trying to recover from the loss. It bugs me that they never trusted me to tell me what happened. I tried to ask Georgia about it one time, and all he’d say was “We broke up. That’s all you need to know.” Maybe it was just the old story: boy meets girl. Boy and girl fall in love. Boy and girl have huge fight. Girl finds comfort in arms of boy’s best friend. Boy gets insanely jealous. Boy and best friend have big fight. Boy and best friend never speak to each other again. Girl and boy’s best friend live happily ever after. Boy spends rest of life alone and miserable. On the other hand, maybe it’s good that they never told me what happened. Since I was never forced to take sides, I remained friends with all three. But still….

A recent topic has been trying to figure out exactly where my life went wrong. When I was in kindergarten, my teacher hated me. She thought I had behavioral problems. She told my parents to take me to a psychiatrist to get help. The psychiatrist discovered I was gifted, and that I was just bored in class. (That’s how I remember it, anyway. My parents claim that my teacher discovered I was gifted and recommended I be taken to a specialist to have it confirmed. I still think my teacher hated me. So what if I was five and couldn’t tie my shoes yet? Was that any reason to emotionally scar me for life? But I digress.) So, I ended up spending my whole elementary years being branded gifted. At high school, I flourished in the competition-free environment, and graduated from “gifted” to “genius.” Then college began. In my first year, my average was 8.4 (out of 9). But, sometime in third year, something happened, and my marks started sliding. My graduating average was 7.2. I still try to figure out what happened in third year to make my squander my potential like I did. Maybe I started seeing there was something going on outside the classroom. Maybe my interests started to diverge. Maybe everyone was wrong all those years, and I’m just average. I’d still like to find out what my I.Q. is. For being branded “gifted” all those years ago, no one ever told me what it was.

Then I start thinking that maybe I should let go of the past, and start turning my attention towards the future. Ahh, but what future? Plotting out what to do after college would have been so much easier if I had a plan. For a while there, a lot of people were pretty adamant that I should go for my masters. But I don’t want to. Isn’t there more to life than a classroom? Let’s look at this career path: college -> masters program -> doctorate program -> professorship. See? I never leave the classroom. There’s got to be more! And that’s the problem. There’s so much more, that I don’t know what to do. Should I fulfil my boyhood dream of becoming an engineer (a person who drives trains, not a person who builds things)? Should I pursue my current dream of being a film-maker? Should I continue with writing, seeing as to how I do this every week? Should I shuck it all for the joyful simplicity of janitorial work? I just don’t know.

And then, as I stare at my ceiling, the answers begin to come to me. Like putting on my glasses, everything starts to come into focus. I reach the verge of having a life-altering, perception-changing epiphany. And then I fall asleep.

Why do we tease ourselves like this? We carefully analyze our past, looking for the patterns. We try to project those patterns into the future, to see where we are headed. All we end up doing is generating more questions. And the more questions we have, the longer we spend staring at our ceilings contemplating the answers. But, perhaps, we are not meant to come upon the answers. They are meant to be discovered, out there in the world. And that’s why we fall asleep at the crucial moment. To prepare us for the day of discovery.

WARNING: What follows is one of my half-assed attempts at writing poetry. If you have any critiques, please be gentle.

I’ve been wondering lately….
What would it be like to have wings?
To carry that weight
To flex those muscles
Could I actually use them to fly?

I’ve been wondering lately….
What would it be like to be a gargoyle?
To have the heart of an angel,
yet the face of a demon
To protect those who hate me
simply because it’s my nature
Would I be up to the challenge?

I’ve been wondering lately….
What would it be like to be in love?
To have someone in my life
to laugh with me, to talk to me
Just be with me and love what I am.
Could I survive?

I’ve been wondering lately….
What would it be like if no one listened?
To send out the message
yet get no reply
To scream at the top of my lungs
only to be rewarded with silence
How have I survived?

I’ve been wondering lately….
What would it be like to fill this hole in my soul?
To be complete
To know my destiny

I’ve just been wondering.
That’s all….

Note: You know the premise. I’ve got this buddy, here called “Neelix,” and he’s the guy I dump all my worldly musings on. But, instead of actually writing him anymore, now I publish our correspondence as these columns. How about that?

Hey Neelix!

Woo! First ramblings of the millennium! I know what you’re thinking: the new millennium doesn’t start until 2001. But hey, everyone needs to succumb to mass hysteria every once in a while, right?

So anyway, I got the Indiana Jones trilogy for Christmas, and thanks to it I have been in the throws of re-discovering Indy. The more I watch Raiders of the Lost Ark, the more I love the theme that John Williams (big composer guy, also did the music for Star Wars) wrote for the Ark. How can I best describe it? It comes across as being a dark version of the Force theme that he wrote for the Star Wars films. Whenever someone talks about the Ark, that theme starts playing, and just makes you feel uneasy. What I like is how they worked it into Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. The scene: Indy and his girlfriend of the movie are going through a tomb beneath a church in Venice looking for the remains of one of the knights of the Crusade. The girlfriend points to one of the markings on the wall, and the Ark theme begins to play. The theme continues to underscore this dialogue:

Girlfriend>> I don’t recognize this marking. What is it?

Indy>> It’s the Ark of the Covenant.

Girlfriend>> Are you sure?

Indy (quick to move on) >> Pretty sure.

It’s just a nice little reference to the first film. Oh, and the gift set also came with the final episode of The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles. What I find interesting is in George Lucas’ interview, he mentions how in The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles he experimented with a lot of the technology that went into making Episode I. Then, reading my book The Making of Episode I, they talk about how Young Indiana Jones served as the template for making Episode I. Isn’t it amazing how these things come full circle? When Star Wars came out, George Lucas spent the day chillin’ on the beach with Steven Spielberg, where they came up with the idea for Indiana Jones. The movie Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade started with that young Indy segment that was so popular it spawned the TV show The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles, which served as the template for Episode I. This reminds me. Apparently, Indy is in the crowd during the podrace scene in Episode I.

Let’s switch gears now. Man, I am falling in love with Gargoyles all over again! Every night I tape it. That is one of the greatest cartoons ever made. They just showed an episode with one of the greatest unsolved mysteries in the Gargoyles universe. The episode: The Gathering, Part II. As you may recall, in the episode we learn that Anastasia Renard, Fox’s mother, is actually Titania, queen of Avalon. Her husband, Oberon, wanted to abduct Alexander, Fox and Xanatos’ just-born son, to Avalon so he could be trained to use his magical gifts. At episode’s end, Oberon decides that Puck can remain behind, and train Alexander to use his skills in the human world. Now here’s the mystery: as Oberon and Titania go to leave, Titania asks to have a moment alone with her daughter. Fox says that because of all the misery Titania just caused, that she never wants her to return. Titania then says “What makes you think this isn’t the outcome I wanted?” and leans in close, and whispers something into Fox’s ear. Fox responds with a stunned look on her face, and Titania and Oberon leave. The mystery: what did Titania say to Fox? When the creator of Gargoyles was asked this question on a message board, he’d only say “It’s a secret to be shared between mother and daughter.”

Right now, as I write this, the Family Channel is the middle of showing the big three-part episode Hunter’s Moon, which was, for all intents and purposes, the final episode of Gargoyles. I just love the mask that the Hunter wears. A simple black, with three red scars across it. Oh, and those two white circles for eyes. I think you know the origin of the Hunter. Way back in 994, shortly after the clan was destroyed and Demona lived, she scarred a young farm boy named Gilcongaine. Gilcongaine swore revenge, and became the Hunter. He rose in the ranks of the army of Duncan, an evil man bent on becoming king of Scotland. When Demona finally become Gilcongaine, Duncan became the Hunter. Then, Demona killed Duncan (with the help of MacBeth). Then, Duncan’s son Canmore became the Hunter. And, from that point on, all of Canmore’s descendants have dedicated their lives to the death of Demona. Oh course, they have killed more than their fair share of gargoyles in the pursuit. The Family Channel disappoints me right now. They’re in the middle of the final episode, yet they still have to show four episodes to show every episode of Gargoyles. I’m hoping that they’re just showing them out of order.

Well, let’s see, you just got back from your big trip. I tell you, someday I’m going to travel. I’ve always wanted to see my homeland. So, here’s my plan. I’ll get a CanRail pass, and just ride the rails. I’ll get a Greyhound bus pass so I can take the bus where the train doesn’t go, and I’ll spend a whole summer just seeing my country. I would do that now, but I lack the funds. You should have heard my sister’s last attempt at “motivating” me to get a job last week. Her “motivational” speech ended with “And it’s not like you won’t be able to sit on your fat ass and watch TV anymore. That’s what days off are for!” But, the need for a job is becoming apparent. I’m sure I’m starting to get on my parents’ nerves. Oh well. As always, I’ll start looking for a job tomorrow. And, as the Riddler said, “Tomorrow never comes, for by the time it should arrive, it has turned into today.”

Mark

I’m sure by now, you’ve all read my latest Christmas column, entitled Who Is This Woman? in which it occurs to me how little we know about Mrs. Claus. My friend L, who was the inspiration for it all, read it and decided to pass along to me her views and her involvement with feminism throughout the years. As I e-mailed her back, I said “Argh! I wish you didn’t bring this up. Feminism is one of those topics where it brings up so many conflicting viewpoints in me that I can’t help but go off on some kind of rant about it. But, this is Christmas, and you have better things to do than have my rantings forced upon you. Maybe this’ll be my column in two weeks.” Well, guess what? It’s two weeks later.

First, I guess, I should bring up my definition of “feminism.” It seems that feminism has become one of those much-maligned words that has a different meaning for different people. I believe it to be the ongoing movement to strive for equality among the genders. To me, it does not mean the act of men taking the back seat and allowing women to become dominant in all forms of society. It is not an excuse for reverse-sexism. It seems to me that a lot of feminism nowadays has become an excuse for male-bashing.
Continue reading The Feminism Rant →

If you are reading this, my computer survived Y2K.

With that out of the way, let us now cast our eyes back on what just ended. Not the end of the last millennium. Not the end of the 20^th Century. Not even the end of 1999. I’m talking about that decade called the 90’s. It was the decade where I was forced to grow up. Somewhat. It was the decade where I tried to come into my own. The 90’s was the decade of me. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a retrospective look at how I grew throughout the 90’s.
Continue reading The Decade In Review →

NOTE: You know the premise. It’s late, I’m groggy, I have a few things I want to get off my chest. So, I e-mail my friend “Neelix.” Enjoy!

Hey Neelix!

Argh! I’m starting to hate ICQ. This always happens: someone sends me a message, but it freezes my computer. After I finish re-booting, I don’t get the message and I spend the rest of the day obsessing over who sent it to me. I think I’ve narrowed down the problem. It’s the sound clips! If I don’t want my computer to freeze anymore, I have to eliminate all the sound clips when stuff happens. But, I don’t want to think about that now.

I just read about this, and I have to gush to someone about it. I just read online that in June, Independence Day: Special Edition comes out on DVD! It’s got all kinds of neat goodies for my favorite movie! One of them is the option to watch either the theatrical version, which I own on video, or the “special edition,” with an extra 10 minutes of new footage! It was originally released on laserdisc about a year ago. It’s also got a running commentary by director/co-writer Roland Emmerich and producer/co-writer Dean Devlin! But, what I’m thrilled about is it has the original bi-plane ending!

OK, this is how ID4 ends: in the film we are presented with Russell Case. He’s an alcoholic. His kids don’t love him anymore. Many think he’s a crackpot for his alien abduction all those years ago. His life has hit rock bottom. So, when the army puts out a call for trained pilots, he sees his chance for redemption. He signs up to be a pilot, gets in an F-18, and goes off to fight for mankind. When, by a bizarre twist of fate, he is the only fighter left armed, he charges off into the heart of the alien ship. His missile launching mechanism jams, so he gives the ultimate sacrifice to save his kids, and Earth, and dies a hero.

This is the original bi-plane ending: in the film we are presented with Russell Case. He’s an alcoholic. His kids don’t love him anymore. Many think he’s a crackpot for his alien abduction all those years ago. His life has hit rock bottom. And now, it’s the end of the world. Life just isn’t worth living anymore. So, he gasses up his old Stearman bi-plane, swipes a sidewinder missile, and straps it to the underbelly. He goes off on a Kamikaze mission, and crashes his Stearman bi-plane into the heart of the alien ship. But, his suicide run just happens to destroy the ship, and he is forever remembered as a hero. They didn’t use this ending because it didn’t do well in test screening.

So, when I get a DVD player, I’ve got to get this disc!

Finally, another thing I have to gush about. I discovered that Rebirth is out on video. Rebirth, is, of course, the final episode of the Transformers cartoon! It was a big three-parter that went into the origins of the Headmasters and Targetmasters. I always remember the cliffhangers from that 3-parter. At the end of Part I, the Autobots who were to become Headmasters reached up, casually removed their heads, and set them on the ground in front of them. And Spike said “Autobots, you’re about to become Headmasters.” Then, at the end of Part II, we see Lord Zarok (was that it? Anyway, the leader of the evil Nebulons) getting into a Headmaster exo-suit. And he says “Thanks to the stolen Decepticon technology, my vengeance will be complete. I have created the most powerful headmaster ever.” We cut to a battle between Autobots and Decepticons. The ground rumbles. The Nebulon city off in the distance transforms into a huge robot, and Lord Zarok yells out “Now, Autobots and Decepticons, feel the wrath of SCORPONOK!” Gotta get it.

Actually, while I’m gushing about what’s on video and DVD, let me just take some time out to tell you that the animated Batman movies (Batman: Mask Of the Phantasm and Batman: Sub-Zero) are now available on DVD! Not only that, but the first six episodes of Batman Beyond have also been released on DVD! This becomes reason #5,198,456 why I should start saving for a DVD player.

Switching gears to more modern cartoon now, I watch Gargoyles on the Family channel almost religiously. Just last night, I saw the episode called Revelations. It was the only true Bluestone episode. If you don’t remember, Matt Bluestone was Elisa’s partner. The big obsession in his life was the secret society known as the Illuminati. He was dedicated to proving their existence. In fact, we eventually learn that it was that obsession that got him kicked out of the FBI. The episode ended with Bluestone finally learning about the gargoyles, and becoming a member of the Illuminati so he could learn about them from within. The last we heard of Bluestone was in the big three-part episode (and finale of the second season) called Hunter’s Moon, in which he was appointed to head up a special gargoyle task force. And then, after that, he was completely left out of The Goliath Chronicles. I wish we got to learn more about him. From what little we got, he seemed to be a rather intriguing character, with more than a few similarities to Special Agent Fox Mulder on X-Files. Actually, I’ve got this huge list of Gargoyles fanfics that I’d like to write someday, and I have more than my fair share of Bluestone stories planned.

Hey! Guess what I got in the mail today? Back in October, I sent away for this free CD from Dr. Pepper called Get The Buzz. It came today! I had no idea what would be on it, but I got it! It’s just like one of those radio samplers that the radio station back at Augustana always gets. When my sister asked my what it was like, I said “Just like those radio samplers, some of it’s good, some of it’s crap, and there’s a token French Canadian song.” Actually, there’s a surprising amount of good stuff on it. It makes me wonder how many good songs I would have discovered if I ever took the time to listen to all those radio samplers that the station got. It’s almost like the end of Schindler’s List: “I could have done so much more.” Oh, well, that CD is the best $2 and 4 proofs of purchase I ever spent!

Well, and that’s about all I have to gush about right now. Man oh man, I see Fantasia 2000 is going to be hitting theaters soon. I think it’s going to be just you and me going to see that. Everyone else I’ve talked to about it always says “Dude, I just never got Fantasia. All that music and no talking! How can you stand it?” So, whatcha doing January 1?

Mark

Well, it’s that time of year again. The malls are packed with holiday shoppers. Eggnog is available at every convenience store, and the Christmas specials are running non-stop on every television network. And it was while watching one of those television specials when I was hit with one of the profound questions of life.

The special was Santa Claus Is Comin’ To Town, one of those Rankin-Bass productions. Using the same-named song as a springboard, it attempted to tell the origins of Santa Claus. Sadly, though, you can tell it was made in the late 60’s. According to the special, Santa began his career as a rebellious youth, shaking up the establishment be violating an unjust law. The unjust law in this case: the banning of toys. Does that fit with the mentality of the 60’s or what? It even had its fair share of psychedelic animation at the special’s end. It came when the local school teacher, Ms. Jessica, who had been Santa’s willing partner in this law-breaking, realized that she had to go break Santa out of jail, that she loved him, and thus sang a tender love ballad. During this ballad, we had the traditional 60’s symbol of woman becoming liberated and freeing her mind: she let her hair down. So, she got some magic corn from the Winter Warlock, fed it to reindeer to make them fly, and then flew into the prison compound to bust out Santa. They spent the rest of their lives on the run. Oh, and since no preacher would marry them, they stood in the forest before the Lord. But I digress. Back to where I was going.

Watching this special, I soon got drawn to the character of Ms. Jessica/Mrs. Claus. When we first met her, she was the uptight schoolmarm who assisted in enforcing this law, but when Santa presented her with a gift, her heart was warmed and she became Santa’s accomplice, eventually falling in love with him. Something about that just got the feminist in me going. Right now in my life, the feminist in me could best be personified as L, the girlfriend of my friend Chuck. Actually, I’m wrong. She’s not Chuck’s girlfriend. She is a fine, upstanding, member of the community, working for social justice, and pursuing the betterment of society. At this moment in time, she just happens to be dating Chuck. She gets upset when I call her “Chuck’s girlfriend,” because she is an enlightened feminist who knows that she is her own person, and not just the extension of some guy. With this philosophy tickling the back of my brain, I came to a startling realization.

We know absolutely nothing about Mrs. Claus. As time progressed, she became nothing more than some female extension of Santa Claus. How does she spend her time at the North Pole? What does she do all year? What drew her to this Claus fellow? What’s her first name? My god! She doesn’t even have a first name! Plus, she seems to have been screwed out of all the good Christmas stuff. There are no Christmas songs about her. There is no holiday special detailing her origin. The only thing I can think of was some piece of fluff made-for-TV musical that came out a few years ago called Mrs. Santa Claus, starring Angela Lansbury. But that was about an adventure of hers in 1910 New York, nothing about her origins. This resulted in my new profound question of life: who exactly is Mrs. Claus?

Actually, when I was writing that paper for my “introduction to women’s studies” class a year ago, this would have made a much more fascinating topic than “An Analysis of Women in Star Trek.” While there have been countless TV documentaries detailing the life and adventures of the real Santa Claus, how come no attention was ever devoted to his companion and life-mate? Was she the willing partner and accomplice to her husband’s deeds? Does she ever think that her husband is married to his work? Was she there at the beginning, or did she meet Santa along the way? How come they never had kids? Hey! When I think about that last question, I also realize that we never learned the origin of the elves…. No! Don’t think dirty thoughts! Not at this time of the year, when Santa is watching you.

Oh, if only someone could go to the North Pole and talk to her! Interview her! Get her side of the story on this whole delivering-toys-to-the-world thing. Does she share in her husband’s magic powers? Think about it. If Santa watched little girls, wouldn’t that make him some kind of dirty old man? Maybe Mrs. Claus does that part of the watching thing. And what if Santa is incapacitated some Christmas Eve? Is it Mrs. Claus who goes out and delivers toys to the world? I’m sure she’s more than capable than driving a sleigh and reindeer team, and sliding down chimneys and all that. Oh, if only I could interview her. But I’m unemployed right now, and can’t afford an expedition to the North Pole.

This is evolving into my latest week-long obsession. At this time of year, the A&E network always shows their documentary on St. Nicholas. Was this saint a married man? In fact, how did the whole Mrs. Claus mythos develop? Was it a poor answer to the feminism movement, just simply giving Santa a wife? Actually, how come feminism hasn’t reached the North Pole? Sure, the special Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer featured male and female elves working along side each other making toys, but do the female elves worry about the glass ceiling? Has a female elf ever been made shop-boss, the foreperson if you will? How high can a female elf rise in the North Pole? But again, I digress. My current interest in not North Pole politics, but Mrs. Claus.

I’ve got to start something. I’ve got to try something. If no one else is trying to figure out who this Mrs. Claus is, then perhaps it’s up to me. It’s best to start at the top. I think I’ll write a letter to Mrs. Claus. I’m sure she shares her husband’s address. But knowing how the North Pole operates, I’ll probably end up with one of Santa’s form-letter answers. The next step will come with those historians. I’m sure in all the research done on St. Nicholas, something about his wife must have come up. We must know how much of her life she has sacrificed to the world. We must know how she and Santa ended up together. Who knows? Perhaps she’ll finally be recognized as more than the devoted wife at the North Pole. Perhaps in five years, we will sing songs about her! Perhaps there will be TV special about her, showing us how she came to be!

And, perhaps finally, she will be given what is guaranteed to all of us by the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights: a name of her own. Fear not, Mrs. Claus! Your story will be told.

Gather round, y’all, and let me tell you the tale of my first hockey game. It all starts on a cold December day in 1992. My Dad came home from work with exciting news. “Guess what, everybody?” my Dad said. “What?” we all responded. “Every year at this time, I get all kinds of goodies and gift baskets from the gravel companies for being such a nice government inspector. And this year, one of those cheap-ass gravel companies gave me a pair of Oilers tickets!” Dad explained. And the great debate started. Who would Dad take? Would it be me, or my brother? My sister was never a consideration, because it’s silly to take a girl to a hockey game. (In 1992, I wasn’t as enlightened as I am now) Soon, my Dad made a decision. My brother would go with him to see the Edmonton Oilers tackle the San Jose Sharks. I, understandably, was depressed. Here I was, the middle child, getting the shaft once again. My Dad sat down with me and we had a talk.

“Are you OK with this, Mark?” he asked.

“Sure I am,” I said, feigning enthusiasm.

Dad saw right through my charade. “Don’t worry, Mark,” he said. “Every Christmas, those gravel companies actually shell out for some pretty nice stuff. I’m sure it won’t be long until I get another pair of hockey tickets. And when I do, I’ll take you.”

“Promise Dad?”

“I promise.”

Seven years later. . . . No longer the innocent 15-year old high school freshman. Now, I’m a hulking 22-year old college graduate leaching off of his parents until I figure out what to do with this thing called “life.” Dad came home from work one night and said “Guess what? One of those cheap-ass gravel companies gave me hockey tickets for a Christmas present!” And I immediately shouted “WOO!! My turn!” On Wednesday, December 1, 1999, I was off to see the Edmonton Oilers tackle the Colorado Avalanche. Not those lame-ass Sharks. I was getting to see a good team. And the Avalanche.
Continue reading My First Hockey Game →

NOTE: OK, I’m sure you know the premise by now. Every once in a while, I send these rambling e-mails to my buddy Neelix, if nothing just to get some things off my chest. So, sit back and read the latest installment in our personal correspondence!!

Hey Neelix!

So, how are things on your planet? Things are going OK with me. At least, I think they are. I’ve been having these weird dreams lately. Since you read the column, I’m sure that you heard the one about the zombies and the dustbuster time machine, and the one where I was one of the lawyers on Ally McBeal by day, and hanging out with the gang from The Drew Carey Show by night. Well, wait until you here the latest. I was back in high school. I was in Physical Education. It was shortly after midterms, because there were still desks all over the place in the gym. Rather than have us move the desks, our teacher ordered us to do wind sprints between the desks. You know, that’s where you run to the other side of the gym, touch the wall, turn around, run back, and touch the other wall. We were ordered to do five. So, I took off running. But, as I was running, things got all slow-motion and bullet time, like in The Matrix. As I ran towards the opposite wall, rather than simply touch the wall, I ran halfway up it, then I slammed my hand against the wall. I then pushed myself off of the wall, like I would push myself off the side of a swimming pool. I flew halfway across the gym before I hit the ground and kept running. When I reached the wall, I leaped as high as I could, hitting the wall, turning around and doing it again. Every time I did a sprint, I was jumping higher and higher along the side of the wall. Then, on the last sprint, someone wanted to stop me. He started stacking a row of desks in front of me, and sat in defiance in the lead desk. I yelled out “Keep your head down!” I jumped up on to that first desk, over that kid’s head, over the other desks, and landed on the wall. I then ran down the wall, past that kid, and towards the far wall. But, rather than touch the wall and stop, I hung a right, and ran out of the gym. Out in the hallway, I looked back to see my PhysEd teacher, waving me back into the gym. I gave him the finger, did a giddy back flip, and walked away. Halfway down the hall, I ran into my English teacher. He asked why I wasn’t in class. I just grinned and said “I don’t think I have to take PhysEd anymore.” And then I woke up. Very weird. I’m starting to worry for my mental health.

But forget this talk of dreams! Let us talk of reality! My sister rented Strange Brew the other night. You remember that, right? The Bob & Doug McKenzie movie? The best way to describe that movie is pure, inspired lunacy. Actually, watching it the other day (and only for my second time), I began seeing how it might have possibly influenced the Wayne’s World movies. If you’ve never seen Strange Brew, let me review the plot. After putting a mouse in a beer bottle, they go off to the Elsinore Brewery to try and get a free case of beer. But, they get jobs there instead, and before long they have to help stop the plans of the evil Brewmeister Smith, who’s adding a mind-controlling drug to beer in an attempt to take over the world! Actually, you have to watch it for yourself. It’s actually very loosely based on Hamlet. Seriously. It makes me wish that they were able to film the sequel. Yes, there is a sequel all good to go. It was going to be called Home Brew, and be about Bob & Doug’s adventures as they open their own micro-brewery. They even got Dan Aykroyd to play the villain. They were going to film it last summer. But, a week before filming was to start, the financing fell through! So, this film is now tied up in courts as they sue the financiers, and try to get someone else to put up the money. I at least hope it is out in 2003, just in time for the 20^th anniversary of Strange Brew.

Speaking of TV shows-turned-movies, I got a brilliant idea. I think I told it to you before, but I’ll tell you again. Do you know what animated TV program we all grew up with is prime to be resurrected as an animated feature? The Raccoons! I tell you, that is just made to be a movie. I tell you I would pay my $8 to see that film. Bert, Ralph, and Melissa Raccoon, fighting the evil Cyril Sneer to save the Evergreen Forest. And, with the growing mis-trust of big business and large corporations, Sneer makes a perfect movie villain. We could get the Spice Girls to do a cover version of that closing credits theme. Each and every character could be a Beanie Baby! Ye gods, I’m starting to sound like Disney. Actually, what strikes me about that cartoon is how many Canadian voice over talent must have started on that show. A few weeks ago, I made this startling connection: Melissa Raccoon is Sailor Jupiter! Watch a rerun of The Raccoons followed by an episode of Sailor Moon and I’m sure you’ll be able to catch it for yourself. And, although I haven’t confirmed it yet, I’m fairly sure that Shafer, that lovable big dog (who provided the link between the human and animal worlds) is Rhinox on Beast Wars. I haven’t confirmed it yet. One of these days, I’ll tape the end credits of The Raccoons, find out who did Shafer’s voice, and cross reference it with the end credits of Beast Wars.

Actually, speaking of Beast Wars, are you keeping up with Beast Machines? Jeez, that’s one of the coolest cartoons on television. And the new developments! So, it turns out that the Vehicons of Thrust and Tankkor are actually the former Maximals Silverbolt and Rhinox! Rhinox, who was once corrupted to be evil, has had his true self brought to the surface, only to side with Megatron! Rhinox has succumbed to the dark side. But Thrust/Silverbolt is more interesting. In that case, he is still what Tankkor/Rhinox once was: the good is still inside him, but it is repressed. Do you think Blackarachnia’s love can bring him back? I sure hope so. Oh, and with Optimus done his vision quest, do you think he’ll return to command? I mean, Cheetor’s been doing OK as the leader, but Optimus is the once and future commander. Only time (and next week’s episode) will tell.

Anyway, things are getting kind of late. I think I’ll get off now and go to bed.

Mark

I think that to grow up means to become selfish and to learn that other people are for stepping on. . . . Growing up is to abandon, at least in some small way, the compassion and honesty and passion and virility that we are all capable of.
— Brad Goertz, President of the Augustana Students’ Union, in the November 1998 issue of Augustana’s Student Paper, the Dagligtale

They’re quite capable of coming in here if they start acting like adults. They’re trying to break down the door and trying to break the security cameras.
— Lyle Oberg, Minister of Learning of the Province of Alberta, explaining why a group of Goertz-led protesters weren’t allowed into the Alberta Legislature. From the November 19, 1999 issue of the Edmonton Journal

All my life, I’ve wanted to make a difference. In junior high, I was elected the grade 8 class rep for the students’ union. In high school, I was treasurer of the students’ union in my senior year. And, in university, I applied to run the radio station, ran for the position of VP External, and even ran an opposition campaign to Brad Goertz’s un-opposed presidential bid. But, it seems that there are cosmic forces at work to keep me out of leadership roles. I eventually had to resign as class rep in grade 8 because no one would tell me when the meetings were and I was constantly left in the dark. By the time my senior year was finished, I was halfway through sorting out the messy books that the treasurer before me had left, and I had yet to start books for my year. And, in university, I lost my bid to be station manager and the election to be VP External, plus my opposition campaign turned me into the most hated person on campus. Actually, it’s that opposition campaign that sticks out the most in my mind.

For those of you who don’t attend Augustana, let me explain how things work. If one person is running for a Students’ Union position un-opposed, that person is put to a yes/no vote, rather than get in by acclimation like in the real world. Throughout my 3 ½ years at Augustana, I was always frustrated at how people under-qualified for a position would get in with results of 99.9% for yes, and 0.1% for no. And so, in my final year, when I learned that Brad Goertz was running un-opposed for SU president, I couldn’t take it anymore. This was a man who had been suspended twice from his position as editor of the student paper for drinking on campus (Augustana is a dry university; no alcohol on campus). Throughout the many issues of the paper that he had served on as editor, quite a few people didn’t agree with his political views. So, I felt I should make the people aware of why they should vote no for him. I printed up a series of posters. One highlighted how he’d been suspended twice from the paper, and urged people to vote no. The other utilized a quote from one of his prior editorials in the paper, describing his opposition in derogatory terms and essentially telling them to shut up. Within hours of putting these posters up, they were torn down by Goertz supporters. This hurt me, because the Chief Returning Officer of the election had approved my campaign materials, and assured me the same protections as all other candidates. I tried putting the posters back up, only to have them torn down again and replace with posters mocking my work. So, I softened the posters somewhat. I replaced “Vote No for Brad Goertz” with “Know who you’re voting for!” After being accused of taking that quote of his out of context, I added a few more comments on the poster to try and place it back into context. But that wasn’t enough. A supporter of Goertz’s, a Mr. Andre Goulet, continuously verbally assaulted my supporters, and myself. This made me upset, so I made a poster stating how Goertz had organized his supporters into a goon squad and was trying to silence us. I was originally just going to put it on my door, but after some of my supporters saw it, and liked it, they wanted it for their doors, too.

Things came to a head when Goertz challenged me to a debate, and I agreed. On my way to the debates, one of my supporters wanted to meet with Brad before the debate. So, I went with her to support her, but Brad gave me the verbal brow-beating of my life. He was twisting my words, and made me so distressed that I no longer knew what I was saying. When the debate came, rather than give my prepared opening statements, I apologized for what I was doing, and quit the campaign. I then made (in what I will admit was mostly for dramatic effect) an exit from the cafeteria. My only regret in my short life was that I left that debate. Apparently, one of my supporters stepped in for me, and the look on Brad Goertz’s face throughout the debate showed shock and dis-belief as he began to learn that I was not a lone crackpot, but the sole voice of a silent majority. I tore down my posters the next day, and the final results were roughly 60% yes, 40% no. It was the closest yes/no vote in Augustana history. This still sticks in me because I graduated from Augustana, so all this year I cannot stay apprized of what kind of job Brad is doing. I can’t get closure on this issue.

When I returned to Augustana to visit some friends, some of them advised me of Brad’s upcoming protest. He was going to march from Camrose to Edmonton in support of a proposed tuition freeze. I thought that this was a bad idea, as I had flashbacks to a similar protest. A group of people were going to march from Edmonton to Jasper to protest a coal mine, but it was nothing more that 10 people behind a bus. The evening news said that Brad had 200 people with him. When I was back at Augustana, I actually ran into Brad and he asked me to be part of his march. I told him that I’d think about it, which is my diplomatic way of saying “No f**king way.” The article in the paper said that this was actually a scheduled meeting that Brad had with the Minister of Learning, but that the Minister wouldn’t meet with him because he brought 200 rowdy protesters with him. I couldn’t help but draw parallels between this and my vote no campaign. Brad told me that what I was doing wasn’t part of real world politics, and that he wouldn’t acknowledge what I was doing. Now, here’s Lyle Oberg, telling Brad that what he’s doing isn’t part of real world politics, and Lyle wouldn’t acknowledge what Brad was doing. Brad accused me of goon squad politics, because of my poster accusing him of goon squad politics, and the fact that when he gave me the brow-beating of my life, I had with me one of my supporters and a friend who was just following the two of us to the cafeteria. Lyle wouldn’t meet with Brad because of his 200 rowdy protesters. I can’t help but see the parallels.

My first instinct was to gloat. I wanted this article to say “See, Brad! See what you did to me! All that effort to try and make a difference, only to be shouted down by someone who was louder! Now you know what you put me through!” But I thought about it for a while. I am right. He does know now what he put me through. I know how disappointed he his. I know how hurt he’ll be that all his work was for naught. I know that because the media is only pointing out how rowdy things got that he’ll be upset that the wrong image is being projected. But they were only rowdy because they were passionate about their cause. I was passionate about my cause, that’s why I made the poster accusing Brad of organizing a goon squad to silence me. Passionate people sometimes do regrettable things in pursuit of their cause. So, my original intent of gloating has become one of sympathy.

And, if I know Brad, this isn’t the last we’ll here of him. He’ll take a break, have a few beers, and then come back stronger than ever. If he’s like me, he’ll take solace in the little victories that came out of this. He did bring media attention to the tuition freeze, after all. And again, I go back to my opposition campaign. I received this one e-mail, the gist of which was the following: “I am a supporter of Brad Goertz. I will be voting yes for him. But I am in complete agreement with your campaign. People should know who they’re voting for.” Small victories. Maybe that’s why Brad and I never really saw eye-to-eye. We’re just too much alike. It’s going to take me some time, but I think I will try to make a difference once again. It’ll just take some time for the wounds to heal, to marshal my forces, to assemble the Avengers, stuff like that. But, as much as the universe has tried to tell me not to, I will forever be compelled to try and make a difference. We just have to learn from our opposition, use their arguments to make ours stronger, and try to see that we all have the same goals after all. Like those 13-year old kids on junior high Students’ Unions, we all just want to make a difference.