It’s my party and I’ll pontificate if I want to.

Today I turned 44, which makes me wise and venerable. Feel free to reap the benefits of my "100 Points to Ponder"...

1. Toasted sandwiches are always better.

2. Skinny may sell magazines but fleshy’ll bring you home.

3. Forty-three was a good year to finally pay attention to how my back feels.

4. We love, need, and use our cars way more than is healthy for us physically, economically and mentally.

5. My bike is cool.

6. The yummier the food is, the more likely it’ll kill you.

7. Good wine is really much better than just so-so wine.

8. Don’t underestimate the shallow self-esteem that comes with a decent set of pipes. It’s worth the effort.

9. Don’t underestimate the true benefits of decent cardiovascular health. It would be better to avoid the heart attack, methinks.

10. Toddlers are messy, tiresome and annoying. Any parent who tells you that it’s their favourite phase is really just lying and counting the days till they can send ‘em off to preschool or kindergarten.

11. Grandparents love toddlers because they have long forgotten the joys of trying to deal with a screaming 2 ½ -year-old with a messy, leaking, poopoo diaper in a public place.

12. Tattoos are sexy, when done well.

13. There really is very little worth watching on television.

14. Television, radio, and print commercials may drive our consumer society, but they are the enemy and should be avoided and subverted at every opportunity.

15. The alley is almost always more interesting than the front street.

16. The French are pretty fricking cool. Ooh la la...

17. Don’t buy the extra “customer protection package” they try to sell you at the cashier. It’s just a money grab.

18. Urban billboards steal my mindspace to fill the wallets of others.

19. Everyone masturbates. Well… everyone except for people who lack limbs or genitals, (or some combination thereof). Think about how shitty that would be.

20. If you don’t exercise you will generally get fat. If you are one of those people that is an exception to this rule: fuck you.

21. Life is too short for bad beer, cheap chocolate, or crappy coffee. We all deserve better.

22. Men love boobies. Even the gay ones started out that way…

23. Even though some vegetarian meals are delicious and nutritious, vegetarians are just plain wrong.

24. Almost any cut of meat can be rendered delicious with the proper preparation.

25. Most people don’t really know how to cook. In a side note: pizza pockets are not food.

26. Sometimes life gives you magnificent things. Sometimes life takes them away. That's life, I guess.

27. Forty-four is a good age for a guy to grow a retro-70’s porn ‘stache.

28. There is really only one proper way to chop an onion.

29. People in their early twenties would be really sexy if they weren’t so young. Maybe we could convince them not to talk?

30. When I was in my early twenties I really had something to say.

31. Otherwise lovely people can be rapidly reduced to asshole status though the use of a cell phone.

32. Otherwise lovely people can be rapidly reduced to asshole status though the use of a car.

33. If someone achieves asshole status through the combined use of a car and a cell phone, they were never lovely. You were mistaken in the first place.

34. Texting has become the great generational divide. Sure, I can do it, but why would I really want to?

35. One of life's most unpleasant and surreal sensations is the grasping of warm dog-poo through a plastic bag, but as a dog owner it is my obligation to endure it, and pray for no ruptures.

36. If you know how to make an omelet you can always have a decent meal.

37. Kids are great. Even toddlers are great so long as they belong to someone else.

38. Just because someone is a senior citizen, that does not make them nice. It also does not make them right.

39. War veterans are worthy of your respect regardless of pretty much anything they might say or do to rub you the wrong way.

40. Alcohol is great, but alcoholism is sad and destructive. I think it’s that way to keep us on our toes.

41. When drugs become the party, instead of something you enjoy at the party, the party sucks.

42. Some drugs are just plain nasty and poisonous and should never be used. Much misery is caused by them.

43. No one should go hungry in such a wealthy society as ours.

44. No one should work a full-time job and not be paid enough to feed and house themselves.

45. Welfare should include free bus passes.

46. The bus service around here should be so much better. It should also be free. Cutting the cost in half would be a good start.

47. Anyone who does not have a Vancouver address should have to pay a $5.00 toll for the privilege of driving their car into the city-limits. There should be a second $5.00 toll to enter the downtown core.

48. No one should be expected to accept being stolen from merely because someone else is in need.

49. No one really knows what someone else is going through. We all see life through our own windows.

50. If you don’t have a spare tire tube with you when you go on a bike trip sooner or later you’re going to need one.

51. Cars used to be cool. Now they are not. I don’t care how many TV ads I see telling me otherwise.

52. I own two cars. One of them is cool. It’s the same age as me.

53. Cigarettes used to be cool. Now they are not. So why do I see people in their early twenties smoking them?

54. Weed is really no big deal. Why the fuss?

55. Often it’s easier just to walk.

56. The brewing of beer is a noble pastime.

57. Gay people are people, too. Actually, they are some of the best people I know.

58. George Lucas really should just stop it.

59. You grow roots when you’re not looking.

60. Pornography is okay, really, so long as no one gets hurt.

61. Nerd may be the new cool, but the more nerds there are, the less cool we are. As an a cappella-singing comic book guy, I think I’ll be in the safe zone for a long time (likely until nerds are no longer cool).

62. No, really… How could anyone sit through the Phantom Menace and then say it was a good movie? I mean, unless they were either toddlers, or in their early twenties, or on drugs.

63. A few generations ago people used to sing together in their living rooms. The world was a better place back then.

64. Everyone enjoys a good fondle.

65. Never mind Citizen Kane. Faster Pussycat Kill Kill may be the world’s most perfect movie.

66. You might think that having dogs is a lot like having children until you’ve had both and know the difference.

67. One should not dress a dog.

68. Bernaise sauce is wonderful, especially when drizzled over bloody, rare beef. I’d like to kiss whoever invented it.

69. I’d like to kiss a lot of people, actually.

70. Nigella Lawson is “on the list”.

71. Yellow beer isn’t necessarily good beer. As a matter of fact, it often isn’t.

72. Those who ride their bikes without a helmet should be referred to as organ donors.

73. Extreme sports are stupid. Isn’t real life extreme enough without trying to find new, recreational ways to finance the funeral industry prematurely?

74. Three words: Bungie jumping? Why?!

75. Everyone should remember to register as an organ donor.

76. Sure. Clowns are scary. That’s why they are cool.

77. It’s staggering how the love of a good woman can save a guy’s life.

78. It’s a hassle to change your windshield wipers, but totally worth doing. If you pay someone to do it, you have to admit that you totally suck.

79. Very tall women are fascinating. It appears that amazons do walk among us.

80. Women are certainly smarter than men, but relative stupidity is underrated.

81. Only your grandma is allowed to overcook the roast beef and vegetables. Everyone else must be politely taught how to do it properly or encouraged to refrain from cooking for others.

82. You can’t live in Vancouver without coming to terms with the rain.

83. If you are one of those folks who only eats beef well-done, I’m afraid I can’t help you. If you visit my place for dinner I will be seating you at the kid’s table. Even then, the meat you get will be a little bit pink. Sorry.

84. On a bad day Vancouver is a culturally-bereft excuse for over-priced real estate between the mountains and the ocean. Even the bad days here are better than the best days in so many other places.

85. Re. skinny women vs. real women: If there ain’t no heft there’s nothing left.

86. Singing harmonies is a lifelong joy. There is something truly magical about nice, round, tuned-up tones or a nasty crunchy cluster.

87. I wish people still sang doo-wop.

88. It was a better world when men wore hats, but now that guys are wearing hats again I may need to re-think this. A 13-year-old with a Metrotown fedora isn’t cutting it for me, really. Would Bogey have approved?

89. As I get older I find myself slowly becoming more and more conservative. At this rate, I’ll still need to live to be 100 before I could support Stephen Harper.

90. Ouija boards freak me out because they absolutely do something.

91. I don’t believe in the Sasquatch or space aliens, but I used to and I wish that I still did.

92. Being a father is extremely fulfilling.

93. Chocolate is great because, not only is it delicious, most people will like you if you share it with them. Powerful chocolaty mojo, that.

94. When you make the right match it is a pretty good idea not to screw it up.

95. I've heard about "abs" and I’m pretty sure that I have some, but I’m also pretty sure that they are never gonna be seen though the fatty layer.

96. Men have nipples, too, you know.

97. Stage magic and ventriloquism are two extremely cool, dying, performance disciplines.

98. It’s not a good idea to confuse loud assertions with intelligent wisdom. Those who speak forcefully and in large amounts are often wrong.

99. I seem to speak forcefully and in large amounts from time to time. Oh, snap…

100. If a man can turn 44 and have friends and family read this far into a long list of personal yammerings, he is truly blessed. Perhaps entering your mid-forties is not so bad.

What's that supposed to be?

So I’m walking down Burrard Street in downtown Vancouver. Although I very seldom bare my chest, I am stalking purposefully and topless, with my provocative man-boobs bouncing and winking at the passers by. I’m wearing a pair of black track pants, which neatly bisect the pale chub around my waist, creating a lovely male muffintop. In my right hand I clutch several loonies, looking for my car so as to re-fill the parking meter. My left arm is wrapped in saran wrap to contain the blood and ink. It’s sunny and surreal. I stop to notice the moment and lock it in my memory. Never, would I ever, normally do this. It’s all because, as a silly middle-aged guy, I finally decided to get my tattoo.

Not just any tattoo, mind, you. Not some coy little toe-in-the-pool tat, no siree… This was a headlong leap into the world of ink and blood. I decided to go big or go home, and with over 10 hours in the chair and my upper arm completely covered in lovely design… I’d say this qualifies.

Why did I do it? Oh, probably the same reasons most guys like me do it. I chalk a lot of it up to mid-life crisis and vanity. All the other cool Dads are doing it. Still, there must be some deeper influences at play here for me to be willing to sit still and pay lots of money to have someone jab art into my flesh with those groovy needles. I’ve been thinking about this quite a bit lately and I think I know who is to blame. It’s Ray Bradbury.

I will be the first to admit that I was an awkward teen. Middle School was not kind, and I have no intention of detailing the anguish of those pubescent years in this particular account. I will say that I found solace in books. I read science fiction and fantasy voraciously in those days. The first Bradbury book I ever saw was The Illustrated Man and it helped to send me on my journey to today very nicely. Bradbury showed us an old guy wandering around with mysterious, twitching tattoos covering his body… tattoos that came to life and told kick-ass stories. This was very attractive to me. When you are 14 and trying to figure out how you’re going to run the gauntlet of that day’s particular string of frustrations and humiliations, imagining a world of dark and fetishistic magic is alluring indeed. After Bradbury I read a bunch of other books and didn’t think much about if for a long while, but the seed had been planted.

Years later I had a roommate named Bryan. He was audacious, confident, and charismatic. Although we were about the same age, (21 and 24, I think) he seemed so much older than me. He’d fearlessly done all sorts of shit in his life that I hadn’t, including getting tattoos. He has a black panther on one arm, and a nifty dragon on the other from when he was visiting China. To my growing young mind it just seemed so cool and unthinkable, yet think I did… for over 20 years.

As time went by I became more interested in counterculture and art, freak shows and devil girls, pagan mythos and space aliens, and a whole bunch of fun and freaky stuff that coalesced. Last year I got the feeling that I better just get on with it. After all, tattoos last a lifetime and at this point I’ll only have to look at it for the remaining, final half.

I had coffee with an old pal named Rick. He’d taken the plunge and had a bunch of ink done. He was jazzed and interested in becoming a tattoo artist himself. We talked about designs and he referred me to Justina at Liquid Amber Tattoo. Even though I was sure I was going to do it, I left the business card on my desk for weeks before I made the call. When I finally did it, I knew I wanted it. I even had the design in mind.

I’ve since discovered something Rick told me to be true. He warned me that folks would ask me to explain my tattoo and that I’d probably not like it. I find “What is it?” (or worse, “What’s that supposed to be?”) very personal questions. That’s a bit ironic considering I’m wearing a colourful prompt on my arm that begs explanation. Call me self-conscious, but it’s difficult for me to talk about my design choices without feeling stupid, pretentious, and a wee bit flaky. Here’s hoping that it all comes off better in prose.

My tattoo is a large upper sleeve on my left arm. The dominant image is the Green Man, looking out from my shoulder. Below him you’ll find a Celtic rooster, with his plumage entwined in the leaves of Green Man’s beard. Curving onto my shoulder from behind Green Man there are two inquisitive crows.

The Green Man is a mish-mash of pagan Father Nature deities. He’s the Man in the Wood who makes love to the earth goddess. He impregnates her with his future self and then dies at harvest time, only to be reborn in the spring and repeat the cycle for eternity. His death/sacrifice helps to ensure the health of the following years’ crops. Green Man is alive in the trees and carries a central life force that can’t be destroyed, and is always renewed. He’s all over northern Europe in art and architecture, peering out, leafy and strange. I believe that the early Christians co-opted him and put his image up in their cathedrals to help convert the pagans of the day. Their tactic may have worked, but Green Man lives on, as is his nature.

I love the look of the guy and I relate to him. To me he’s powerful, whimsical, balanced, and potent, which are qualities I aspire to. Having experienced a near death and re-birth of sorts myself, I believe there are parallels between us. All my life I’ve gotten the sense that when you’re alone in the woods you’re not really alone. Green Man is there, and I like him. He watches, bemused, and gets on with the never-ending cycle of which he’s a part. I’m not religious, or even overly spiritual, but Green Man is my kind of god. When I did the sketches for my tattoo artist, I did my best to make him resemble me. My wife and son both picked up on it immediately.

The Celtic Rooster represents a different me. As a teen I carried the unfortunate nickname “Chickenman”. My sibs and pals, justifiably, noticed I have some passing resemblance to poultry, so I heard it a lot over the years. Not surprisingly, I was never fond of the branding. Looking back I have to admit that they were on to something. Oh well… If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. I relate to the Rooster just fine. He’s horny and flighty and bossy. He’s prone to strutting and preening. If you believe that everyone has an animal totem, mine is definitely Rusty the Rooster. I’ve reclaimed him by accepting who I am and why he is me. He’s woven into my tattoo and my life. In this Celtic depiction he is stylish and scattered, silly and sincere. He’s very at home under Green Man.

Crows are neat. I could go on about the symbolism and mythology of crows and all that, but that’s not what these are about. The two on my back live around my house and get rid of pigeons, pick at garbage, caw at dawn and generally make a nuisance of themselves. I love these guys. They are the national bird of East Vancouver and are welcome in my yard. I was looking at them this morning when I started writing this. They are the “here and now” anchor of my tattoo, contrasting the eternity of Green Man and the personal history (nay, baggage?) of the Chicken.

Yesterday, today and forever: a semi-spiritual representation of me and mine. That’s my first tattoo. The next one will be utter nonsense. I can hardly wait. Chances are I’ll be wandering through Downtown semi-clad and sporting saran wrap again someday.

mid-life crises

Welcome to my new blog. Most likely you know me if you are visiting. If not, welcome!

I'll start the ball rolling by admitting to something: I finally capitulated to that little voice in my head that's been murmuring over the past 23 years and gotten a tattoo. Not a small one, as you may see. The outline is in place, and I'll update as further work is done. I must admit to being a bit sheepish about the expense ('cause it sure 'aint over) but I am very happy with it. I'm also a bit self-conscious at my new amped-up vanity about the whole thing. There's a bit too much flexing, and checking things out in a mirror, and lotion application for me not to feel like a bit of a poseur. Ah well... what the hell. My next three hour session is two days after my boy's 11th birthday. That comment sums it up as well as anything.

Dinner tonight? I've bought a decadent, massive chicken pot-pie from costco because it's gotta be easy due to karate wrangling. We'll add mixed salad greens with low-fat dressing and Hey Presto! Usually I actually MAKE dinner but tonight I'm copping out.

Welcome to my navel-gazing.