Tag Archives: comedy

Goodbye, Norm.

Norm MacDonald passed away a couple of days ago. Now I don’t agree with everything he says, but he is one my favorite comics in the world. It breaks my heart to know that I’ll never heard any new material or pearls of wisdom from him. I truly identify with his humor, his weaknesses, his rants, and his propensity for non sequiturs.

Not many people knew that he had cancer for over nine years. He purposely kept it from the public. It’s funny looking back at his materials, especially the one about cancer and “bravely battling cancer.” He noted that no one really battles cancer, and if you die from cancer, you don’t really lose. Since the cancer also dies with you, it’s technically a tie. There are many popular Youtube clips of him, but I’m sure that one cancer bit is one among many that people will be watching.

One thing he mentioned in one of his shows however is that when someone is afflicted with cancer, people tend to talk about their experiences regarding their suffering. It amplifies the suffering and perhaps that’s where the term “battling cancer” comes from, because it lionizes them. In sharing their experience, they willingly or perhaps unwittingly garner sympathy which is in many ways not brave. What’s brave is keeping it to yourself, and shielding people from the pain and suffering you are feeling. When someone has cancer, it is not a unique thing that is happening to them. Most people get cancer. And the insight regarding suffering through cancer is something that most people will know soon enough. Best to keep that to yourself and have people lead normal and happy lives for as long as you can afford it.

He mentioned the stuntman and actor Richard Farnsworth whose last film was ‘The Straight Story,’ about a man who rode a riding lawnmower across the United States. He starred in the movie while he was suffering from cancer and never told anyone. He was nominated for Best Actor in 1999 and lost to Kevin Spacey for ‘American Beauty.’ Norm can’t help but think that if people knew that it was probably Farmsworth’s last film and that he was currently dying of cancer, he would’ve easily won the award. But Farnsworth kept it to himself because he didn’t want anyone’s sympathy. So the Academy went to an accused rapist.

Now, I see where he is coming from. But my mother passed away at a much younger age than him and deteriorated quickly after her diagnosis. She never used her cancer to garner sympathy, nor did she want anyone’s sympathy. She just let her children know that she was sick. In fact, she kept me and my older sister out of the city as much as she can while she was ill. She told us that things we’re okay and that we didn’t need to visit. It wasn’t until her last days that I was asked to come back home and be with my dying mother. I knew why she did that. She was thinking much like Norm MacDonald. She was shielding us from the pain and suffering, and wanted us to live our lives normally. But looking back, I really wish she was less brave and asked for us to come home sooner. I really wish I got to spend more time with her.

Much like ‘Rashomon,’ I guess it all depends on whose perspective it is. To the ones with cancer, perhaps they don’t really want to gather sympathy. They don’t want to share their suffering with others. But as for their loved ones, they simply want to take the suffering away from their dying relative. They want to sympathize and lionize them, in many ways eulogize their loved ones while they can still hear what they are saying. They want to make the passage of death softer and easier because their own fear and insecurities of confronting their own deaths in the future.

In any case, the world is a sadder and less interesting place without Norm MacDonald. Even in death, he got people thinking and perhaps smiling. I love you, Norm.

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The Prince of Denmark is Uncertain

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Act 3, Scene 1. Hamlet, the young prince of Denmark, enters the courtyard and sees Ophelia sitting by a fountain. She reads a book while warm sunshine cuts through the garden and shines a glowing light on her. Unbeknownst to the prince, Polonius, spies on them from a nearby tree. As Hamlet approaches the young Ophelia, he sees a pair of winged creatures of yellow and black stripes, chasing each other above his beloved. They drift and dash with frenetic energy, an entanglement of miniscule, winged fury. Unsure of the dangers they might pose to Ophelia, the Prince of Denmark asks her, “Two bees or not two bees?”

Act 3, Scene 4. Since the passing of poor Yorick, the young prince has taken to writing melodies to pass time in the castle. This proved to be quite fortunate, since he plans to add music to the play he is writing for his uncle and his mother. But to the recent dismay of many members of the court, he has taken to the stylings of ‘The Five Satins’ and doo wop songs popular in the 50s and 60s. Uncertain on how to finish a line in his song, “Baby, Not in the Ear,” he looks to the night sky and asks, “Doo bee doo or not doo bee doo?”

Act 4, Scene 2. Because of his erratic behavior, King Claudius, at the behest of Queen Gertrude, sent the young prince away from the palace to work at a humble town registry. He was tasked with keeping records of people in the kingdom.  Births, marriages, deaths… he saw all of life’s stages pass countless of times from his station. With the birth of Patroclus and Susanna’s first son, the new family came to the registry to proclaim the birth of young Tiberius. Unsure on how to properly put to paper the young man’s name, the prince of Denmark asked the couple, “Two Bs or not two Bs?”

Act 4, Scene 5. Unable to keep his employment due to his poor grasp of spelling and wanton soliloquies, young Hamlet decided to the United States. He was closely followed by Rosencrantz and Guildenstern to keep the King informed of his actions. Creating a life for himself in Pennsylvania, for the first in his life, he must now choose a proper representative for the US Senate on the 2016 elections. Hoisting the skull of poor Yorick which he brought from Denmark, he asks his old friend’s bones, “Toomey or not Toomey?” (See in 2016, it’s Toomey running against McGuinty in Pennsylvania for the Senate.)

Act 5, Scene 1. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern visited the young prince of Denmark at his home. They say Osric sent them gifts of wine and NBA 2K16, of which they wished to partake with him. The two were welcomed inside the prince’s apartment in downtown Easton (he can afford it), and they sat in front of the television. Playing the game with his two visitors, the prince chooses players for his starting lineup. He was never a fan of the Lakers, but 2016 being the last year of Mr. Bryant’s professional career, he wonders, “Kobe or not Kobe?”

Act 5, Scene 2. Tired of playing games, the young prince and his guests decided to watch the first episode of “Westworld.” A ghost predicted to him that he would someday watch this show. Everyone wouldn’t shut up about it. His beloved Ophelia recently wrote to him that it has become one of her favorite shows on television, although Laertes questions the believability of living in a “cowboy hellhole” as a dream vacation. With a few minutes of the show remaining, he can feel the urgent effects of the wine on his loins. He does not want to halt the show momentarily, but he could not enjoy it fully at his current state. The prince of Denmark asks himself, “Should I just pause it for a sec?”

(It’s election week in the US. I’d rather talk about when the smoke has cleared.)

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Unsolicited Nocturnal Comforts

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A short piece about comforting the cold:

We had a few drinks, things were good. I met her at a party in Osborne Village. She knew I was married, but she was totally cool with having drinks me somewhere else. Later, we ended up in her place for a few more drinks.

Things were getting hot and heavy, her thermostat finally started working and my bladder was getting heavy. It was this time when, unfortunately for her, she passes out.

This left me no choice but to do that thing which I believe most men would end up doing in such a situation… I grabbed a colorful Afghan from a closet and casually laid it over her. Manitoba mornings can get really cold.

Some might say I draped her. But I like to think there was some understanding between us after she took a couple of shots of Fernet-Branca.

Anyway, she’s now accusing me of being a drapist and dragging my good name in the mud.

An article from the Winnipeg Sun says that she woke up all stinky and sweaty, not knowing how she got to feeling so disgusting. She said she didn’t consent to being draped and was perfectly fine sleeping without an ornamental Afghan from Pier 1 Imports covering her.

That was just the beginning of my troubles.

No one bought her initial accusations, so she found some other women who claim I draped them as well. Some women were from as far back as college. I could barely remember their names. One woman in particular claimed she passed out after a party and I put a California king-size duvet over her. Then my buddies took turns putting blankets over her to keep her warm. It was -30 in Winnipeg.

She claims she was gang draped.

Another woman said I tried to put a small microfleece blanket over her while we were out camping in Portage la Prairie. I did, I’m not gonna argue that. But I thought she was cold and she was asking for it. Also, that blanket wasn’t so small. Some might say it’s even bigger than the average microfleece blanket.

A supervisor I used to work with in a nursing home claims she saw me putting bouclé blankets over people as they slept. They woke up all toasty, not knowing who draped them. Some don’t even realize they’ve been draped, to which I say is more plausible. They could’ve draped themselves!

The supervisor says she kept silent over the drapings because one time when she was in her office catching a quick nap on her desk, she claims I snuck in and covered her with a machine-washable Hudson’s Bay point blanket. She ended up sleeping for over an hour.

Of course I deny all of these draping allegations, except for that one incident back in 97.

There was an old gentleman sleeping on top of cardboard mat in an alley behind the Burton Cummings Theatre. I ended up covering him with 1200TC Siberian goose down comforter in the dead of the night without his consent.

Okay, I’ll give them that. I draped a homeless man once. But I swear he liked it. In any case, that doesn’t make me a serial drapist.

 

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