When The Levee Breaks...

Well, I almost shit a brick yesterday… I was leaving my buddy’s house about to head home and change for a party, when the clutch on my truck starts acting weird… To the point where I was utterly unable to put it into gear… Of course right when turning up onto a hill… So I roll backwards a couple blocks and land it in front of Goofy Dan’s place. Now, when you’re 23 days from a three month Europe trip, the last thing you want is a shot tranny or clutch (and I have to drive to UBC twice a week still). That’s the kind of financial IED that takes all the absinthe, wine and possibly food out of your trip. Realizing it was too late and dark to do anything about it, and being a tad mechanically inept, I decided to forge on into the night. Attempting to avoid that feeling like the one you get when you can’t move and someone’s coming at your ass with a lubed-up rubber fist, I managed to get a ride home, sent a stressed out e-mail to the girlfriend to help vent frustrations, and eventually managed to get convinced by friends to head down to the party. Armed with a backpack and a skateboard I managed to get down to the ‘Vous for Import’s B-day… Three parties later (and I must admit, the WWF themed party at the dilapidated punk house was a fun gig to crash, and though I didn’t know any of the crazy sponsored board teams at Skater Katie’s party, it was a groovy crowd) I was still feeling a tad lethargic, and still fretting about my beautifully beaten and currently handicapped truck. I caught a ride home, and packed it in.

So, this morning comes, and instead of my typical flea-marketing and shotgun-shooting Sunday morn, I catch a ride down to my truck before work. With some over-the-phone help from a mechanic friend, I manage to eventually pinpoint the problem… This little fucker:
Turns out (as I should have known) that my 4Runner has a hydraulic clutch… The little thing pictured above, a slave-cylinder, is responsible for supplying fluid for my clutch… And it was leaking like a pregnant woman. Ok, not the worst thing ever, and at least I now know it’s not the clutch itself. I get to work late of course, manage to hop out and grab the new part, which only wound up being $20, and proceed to have a rather slow mid-afternoon, before getting slammed with clients in the last couple hours of the day. Then I catch a ride into Cloverdale, and with Goofy Dan’s assistance and while racing against the setting sun, I set out to fix that bitch like a puppy in heat. Not even an hour later, covered in dirt, grease, and copious amounts of hydraulic fluids, I emerge victorious.

What a day. I’m leaving out tons of other little things I had to deal with, and of course I have had worse days, but there was some serious stressing going on. The ‘money for Europe’ situation is always at the forefront though… So much so, that I’ve decided to hock some unused stuff that I’ve had kicking around. In this last week I’ve sold a paintball gun, my spare suit of sword-fighting armor, and two swords...

And while stuff is just stuff, for a crass materialist like myself, letting go of possessions is a seriously hard thing to do. True, I haven’t even used that paintball gun in years (who paintballs when you own shotguns?). And sure I’ve got about 20-25 or so swords (plus battle axes, pole-arms, crossbow/bows etc), but I happen to love every one of my belongings. That’s why I tend to accumulate so much shit. Everyone gives me hell for it. “Why do you need 14 large boxes of books?” They ask and charge of me… “Action figures?! What kind of sick 24yr old has boxes of He-Man action figures?” or, “Hun, seriously, what the hell do you need 25 swords for?”

Ugh, some people just don’t get it… Oh well… But to see two of my swords go, even if I’ve only taken them out of their original box once or twice in two years, was kind of hard. At least they went to a co-worker, so they’re still kind of in the family. But let me tell you, they’ve never looked as nice as when they were in someone else’s hands. However, when it’s all said and done, I’ve got more money to put towards Europe and the amazing blast I will be having, and that you will be reading about (If you’re reading this now, you’ll probably be back… [preseumptious, no?]).

Anyway, one final thought to leave you with… I was driving to school earlier this week:

Looking out, with smoke in hand and coffee nearby, upon the bleak and dreary Tsawwassen landscape that appears as such: I was thinking about a conversation I had had the night previous with Tattoo Jake, about the coming identity chip. Now, if you have no idea what the identity chip is, you really ought to watch Zeitgeist. It’s probably the quickest and easiest explanation of the coming age of totalitarianism for the uninformed. You can watch a streaming version for free at:

http://zeitgeistmovie.com/

And trust me; it’s one of those documentaries you won’t regret watching… It’ll draw you in like Obama draws the black vote… You’ll be enraptured while some fat old whiney white-bitch yammers away beside you (Not that I have anything against Hill-dog here, it just works for metaphoric purposes). Anyhow, back to the identity chip. Long story short for those of you too lazy to educate yourselves, it’s a little chip that in a few years will be pretty much commonplace to have implanted subdermally. Not only is it GPS track-able, it will hold your banking info, identity info and more. Eventually, without one, you won’t be able to go into federal buildings, do any sort of banking, have any sort of valid identification, or leave the country. Hell, you probably won’t be able to start a car without one, and I wouldn’t be surprised if at that point automatic doors won’t open for you either.

Now like most, it’s pretty obvious that I’m openly against it, but just to play devil’s advocate here for a moment, I want to ask the same question of you that I asked Tattoo Jake. “What reason do you have not to put one in you?” Of course, the usual responses are that it infringes upon rights of freedom or that the government doesn’t have a right to know where you always are. But what most people forget is that from the moment that you’re issued a Canadian birth certificate, unless you change citizenship, the government owns your ass. Think about it, when you die you HAVE to be checked by a coroner, and taken for proper disposal. Your family or friends can’t take your body, and that’s because the government owns you. If they choose to institute a draft, you HAVE to go to war. You don’t have a choice. People rant about their freedoms all the time, but I have to ask what the hell they did to deserve those freedoms… I mean, give me a rationally compelling and logically sound argument for why the government shouldn’t know where you are. Hell, if I were the government, I sure as hell would want to know where all my citizens were… Less chance of getting assassinated that way. Most of the people I ask eventually cave and say that it’s because of the harmless but illicit activities they like to engage in on occasion; which in turn only fuels the fires for the supporters of the chip.

I guess my point is that I want you to think about the freedoms you have, and about why you actually deserve them. Have reasons for the shit you believe in, stand for, and make claim on. If you don’t want a GPS tracking chip in your ass, make sure you have a GOOD reason why not. Because not too long from now the Government is going to come down hard and fast on all of us and if you all can’t collectively give any decent fucking reasons for the stuff you object to, then bend over and prepare for entrance without lube. I have my reasons for objection, do you have yours?