Men

Was supposed to go out for drinks last night with an acquaintance here in the Schmagen. It being Thursday night, my juices were flowing all day in anticipation of a good round of activity situations. By six pm I could fucking taste it. I sent a text to the dude and waited for the location to kick the living shit out of my system. And I waited. And waited some more.

Ten thirty at night and I get a text saying he has a headache.

A headache! Do I need to explain why this just plain sucks ass? Obviously not, so I'll skip to the summary.

According to my coworkers, the real culprit is the Danish women (yeah, right). They are known to complain so loudly to their men that the fella's don't usually tell their ladies about "boys nights" (saving proceeding days from dirty looks, etc). Then, when it's time to go out, the men often crumble under the weight of their women's on-the-spot protest.

In other words, every man here is a short-sighted pussyface. How did they let the situation get like this? They are weak and stupid - every single one of them.

Cleveland

Just when I want to punch a place in the mouth it goes and does something good. Following in the footsteps of Sweden, the Copenhagen media collectively refused to photograph Britney Spears during her recent concert. How fucking cool is that?

My Bullshit

I've got fuck all to say. I think the world can exist without my bullshit for a day.

The Big Lebowski

Went bowling this past Saturday night. Got plastered on beer and cheap vino and had a little rhythm going for a game or two. The group next to us was losing their shit every time someone got a strike or a gutter-ball, yelling and screaming what I can only assume were profanities. Had a great time, but left envious of people that could get so jacked over smashing pins with a heavy ball.

Reminded me of a few weeks earlier at an amusement park when I smashed a plate with a wooden ball in a single throw. The carney actually got pissed at me for not celebrating the accomplishment. He was legitimately put off by the way I responded plainly and let me know it with a flame of insults. Obviously, the guy is a whack job, but I've been wondering lately if I should be taking more pleasure in the little simple shit in life. Maybe we all need to bring it down an intellectual level or two, get "gutter" drunk and keep this situation simple, Big Lebowski style.

Howard Cosell

Trying to watch the final round of the British Open in Copenhagen was like stealing the Mona Lisa... nearly impossible. Even the British pubs here looked at me like I was on crack when I asked about watching golf. They're not big sports fans here, except soccer aka "ballet ball". They don't have university sports and people that are athletically talented have to drop out of school to play, which contributes to a strange kind of resentment to gamesmanship.

Found the game at a bar called the Dubliner and watched with a handful of Scottish guys that were two fisting pints like it was their j-o-b. When Tom Watson lost they went into a frenzy and drank even more. I agree that sports are largely a waste of time, but on occasion they can crystallize drama in a way you can't get from movies or TV shows. Sports are the original reality shows and have a place, certainly more than they're afforded here.

Below a clip from Cosell/Ali prior to the legendary fight where Ali stopped the undefeated George Forman in eight rounds.

Politics

Danish politics are a fucking mystery. There's nine hundred political parties here, all of which seem to advocate increasing taxes and restricting immigration. What immigration? Oh, you mean that one Turkish taxi driver? Sure, kick him out - see if I care.

Truth is, I have no clue what's going on here politically. What I do know, is that if I was Mayor of Toronto I could solve the garbage crisis in four seconds. I'd break the union like Jewish weddings break glasses. Everyone that's ever worked for the garbage union would be banned for working for the city for life. Maybe I'd even put them in jail.

You're trying to tell me that in these difficult times there wouldn't be a line up to Thunder Bay of people willing to work for $17 an hour for a little manual labor? It would take a whole eight minutes to train this new staff and I promise you, you'd never have to worry about this shit pile up ever again.

Norman Lee Levine

It's my Dad's 78th birthday today, so if you see him please give him a low-five or a pat on the ass. Norm-y has done a whole bunch of shit and still has the firmest handshake I know. He likes to guess peoples weight and age and watch baseball and bet horses. If you asked him how old he feels, he'd say 16 and wouldn't blink. In other words, he's a man. More precisely, an urban soldier - starting in the shoe business and finishing his career with 30 roller coaster years on Bay Street.

Of the thousand good stories he tells, one of my favorite was the time he went with his Dad to a Toronto Blizzard game at Varsity Stadium. The family's never been into soccer, but we like to get involved in a game - any game. Anyway, for some reason my Grandfather Saul, an otherwise composed man in a suit and hat, stands up and yells, "fucka you Philadelphia" in a Greek accent. The story still doesn't make any sense to me, or have a typical punch line, but to hear Norm tell it you'd piss your pants every time. And that's what he has that's so special - the ability to turn a meaningless life moment into an event. He brings joy where there previously and conceivably was none.

In his later years behind his stock broker desk Norm had a bumper sticker on his wall, strange considering he never had one on his car and generally wasn't the kind of guy to stick with a slogan or saying for more than a few minutes. He liked his material fresh. The sticker read, "youth is wasted on the young". Kind of appropriate for a man turning 78 that still feels 16 years old.