The Happy Hormone

One of most interesting developments in the Human condition occurred in the small-backwater-town of Enfield, England, just 16.3km from Charing Cross, 18.8km from the London Stone and in case you are an abradant cockney, 18.9km from St. Mary-le-Bow, you dandy city-folk.

In 1810, at age 40, philosopher but mostly part-time cat farmer Meil Sans Bishopsgate had, after living a tremendously menial life come to the realization of his sad menial life and decided to do something about it. Being far too poor to purchase bullets or rope, he decided to make the best of it.

He immersed himself in philosophical study for two years at the Clarke’s School in Enfiled, with the set intention of improving the quality of his being or at the very least be able to then afford a bullet or two – the second, in case he missed.

Sans Bishopsgate almost quit his studies mid-way due to the elements and the never ending stream of insults coming from the children who attended the school -although in all fairness, from time to time, the teachers joined in too.

His muse, per-se, was a young and brash tuberculosis ridden boy who beat Bishopsgate to a pulp outside the local pub after a fight broke over the iconic importance of the King James Bible, England’s level of abject poverty and Meil having a stupid name. In his memoirs, published for his mother in 1815, Sans Bishopsgate describes the incident in detail and joyfully recalls, ‘Damn Keats’ boy. Hope he dies soon.’

After finishing his two years of standing outside the window where the philosophy class was taught, a full year of what he called ’staring up at the sky’ followed with him to the conclusion that he was perfectly happy in his life. Meil wrote, “Even though, I have yet to taste the pleasures of the flesh, one must wonder, what does the body of a man truly encapsule? His Spirit? His gravitas? Does a man’s worth be set upon his receding hair line? Would the tender touch of a woman, nay, the spectacle of her bosom and weaving flocks heaving through the wind from a galloping horse bring peace to an aging man? Am I able to achieve these sights with my bare hands and sheer will?’ Sadly, Meil’s body was found at his mother’s cottage the next morning. Who knew? Sliding off the stairs head first had accomplished what self-illusion and the two bullets encrusted on the wall had not.

In the end, Meil Sans Brishopsgate peeked into the human psyche seventy-three years before Freud and coining the term “Mid-life Crisis” in the last page of his journal. Now, used by men loosing their hair and in desperate attempt of transcendental gratification. For this, he will always be remembered. By the way, that Keats boy ended up becoming one of England’s best poets. Go figure.

Popularity: 35% [?]

San Francisco – In a bold move President Obama signed an executive order lifting the ban on stem research instituted back in 2001 by the Bush Administration. The order signed on March 9th is being hailed as ‘exciting news’ throughout the scientific community as it re-opens the path for possible cures for a myriad of diseases and disorders which affect millions of people, such as Parkinson’s, diabetes and cardiac malfunctions, just to name a few. Needless to say this is bound to ignite some fury in partisan groups who see this move as not only a declaration of being in touch with the 21st century but a middle finger to all that is moral in Christian values, like the Crusades.

‘We could not be happier,” said Cardial John Matthew, ‘this is a sign of the times which Christians everywhere should rejoice. We are moving one step closer to Jesus and the Holy Father,’ and Cardinal Matthew is not alone, back in the US shouts of exilihartion are being heard in religious quarters most evil, Godless soul-dead non-believers would not expect to hear. ‘Obama has really proven to be Satan’s lapdog and a harbinger, we could not be happier! It’s fabulous! It is obvious the Rapture is a coming soon. From now on he can do anything he might was well he pleases, I am just going to sit on a lawnchair and crack open a Bud. I am going ot heaven, he is not!’ added Pastor Ned Haggard, ‘By the way, it’s with an “N” not a “T.”

A spokeperson for The End Is Now, a Christian interest group in San Francisco whose main mandate is to inform people of the upcoming Doom’s Day has hailed the move as imperative to the end of times. ‘Steve, one of our members, who was watching the signing on the news swore he heard hoofs of four horses coming from the TV, I am sure he was joking but we were sooo high that afternoon… Who knows? Either way, I will step on the side of caution and believe him. Hey, you aren’t going to write the thing about being high on your article, right?’

On the West coast, MSNBC reports ‘Supporters of Change’ a Pro-Choice group are very optimistic while hailing the unsung heroes, mostly actors and politicians –no one would have cared if a dentist becomes a quadupligic after a horsing accident– who would had quietly aided the pro-movement on Stem Research had they not gotten sick and paraded stem research to whomever listened. ‘They are real heroes, we are just having a party in their behalf on April 1st at Hooter’s private party room. If you are coming, we have made arrangements at 7:00pm, remember it’s BYOB. It may take a while, but chances are it will saves lives. We are with the Religious right on this one, what does a stem cell look like anyways?’

Popularity: 13% [?]

Aren’t you tired of the dating scene? Where the good looking horde all the attention? Flashing their dimples and smothering everyone with their blasted Darwinian advantage?

Well, it was only a matter of time before technology and the human mating dance met face to face, went out for a few drinks and ended up in a Super 8! The result? A cyber-jungle of IM services plus a volley of single, dating and discrete encounters sites. A scene not much different than the de-humanizing meat-markets found in any half lit nightclub on a Friday night, it seemed like things are just going to be business as usual.

BUT WAIT!

With the invention of that great equalizer known as the Internet, it is finally irrelevant if you are shy or if your friends call you a Picasso come to life!

THERE IS MORE!

Now not only the ludicrously hot (not you) and extroverted (again, not you) can enjoy the sinful pleasures of straying into the fancy of multiple partners, whether you like it or not!

BUT WAIT!

‘How does this remarkable system, undoubtedly created by a sage in the arts of seduction works,’ you ask?

Simple, I made it a personal quest to travel the world, hopping from frisky Jamaica, to romantic Paris and to the ironically more laissez-faire city of Amsterdam to research and collect data. The rest of Europe, Asia, and Africa were also on the itinerary—somewhere— but unfortunately, I got as far as the mythical city of London, Ontario before running out of funds and forced to find a Money-Mart to buy the bus trip home. Either way, after ten minutes of Googling, I was able to extract the elixir to create this revolutionary system.

WOW, I AM GETTING A LITTLE EXCITED!

Yes, and you should be.

TELL ME MORE!

As part of your guide into history, you will receive my smouldering ‘How to be an Internet Player’ guide, smack full of essays, wisdom and ‘how-to’ nuggets. Such as:

Popularity: 31% [?]

Darwin is rolling in his grave. Well, more like twitching uncontrollably, maybe doing a little heaving, which surely it is hard after being dead for 125 years. You see, although technologically humanity has moved forth in amazing strides, other developmental trends have in fact backtracked into more primordial states. Which ironically is due to our greater understanding of our own psychology.

You see, we have learned a lot about our raw behaviour and the human condition over the last couple thousand years, which in turn, could be used for the greater good of us all. Instead we have shamelessly used this knowledge to manipulate ourselves. So, the more we move forth in self-awareness –a point of evolution which would have made Plato, Socrates and many others incredibly proud– we again, specifically Western society, have reduced it to a tool for selling wares by seeding basic fears.

Many years ago the point of adverting was “Product “XYZ” is great! Give it a try.” I would call that the typical idea of an ad. They have a product to show you, you make the final call.

Messages of today lack devil-may-care coolness, with most ads reflecting a more desperate “Don’t have ‘xyz’?’ What is wrong with you? You can’t happy. If you had XYZ you would happy, NOW!” Then they have some sort of sexual/financial hook. You know, a reminder that you too can be hot/rich/get laid or all three, especially in beer commercials.

In the other hand, a lot of commercials basically just insult or patronize you. The problem is that it has now become so blatant and done so regularly that we don’t even see it anymore. Can you see the insulting trend on these ads –mind this this are some of the worse– this one from McDonald’s, this Republican Radio ad? This mini-movie (read: long ad) rams its warning into your head of just how unhappy and lonely you too, could be, you will be if you do not use their product: Shampoo. Most beauty product ads are watered down versions of this one. Love how the guy just can’t have enough of her hair! Look at those beady eyes! She will never be alone again, ever.

This is really disastrous when you take into consideration that our brains can’t filter out the stuff. On conscious can for the sake of our wakeful sanity but not our subconscious, and if you hear something repeated enough times, well, it sticks. Studies have been done about this and proven true. So after endless streams of commercials meant to use your sense of self-worth to sell their product, what do you think it is going to happen to you in the long run?

Well, you get funny, nicely brainwashed people. Fighting over the dumbest things. Like video game consoles. For example, check this interesting article I read about the “Fall of Man,” which documented *some* PS3-related injuries on the days after it was launched.

Is this what we are using our vast brain power for? Brainwash ourselves into a Sheep global village? What is wrong? What’s worse is that we are aware of it and yet do nothing about it.

Since Television is consumerism’s main tool and Gospel –I recommend reading an excellent book called the “Four Arguments For The Elimination Of Television” by Jerry Mander. No, no conspiracies or communist manifestos, just an ex-adman’s cold, hard look at the stupid box seating in our living rooms. If anything you owe it to yourself to be informed.

So, is Consumerism 21st century’s newest Religion? It already has its own holidays. Like Christmas, and my favourite, the United States’ own Black Friday. Where else can find you can find avid –and some would say, rabid– faithful rushing to a church at 5:00am?

Consumerists running a mock? Never!

Popularity: 76% [?]

BOSTON – It was a shock to both faculty and the student body when a suspected murder case on campus was discovered to be nothing more than the self terminating, fool-hardly attempts of a law school undergraduate Michael Sanders out to prove he was still the ‘big man on campus.’

According to witnesses, on Saturday the 20th of this month, Michael crashed a party with three of his friends, drank at least a dozen beers cans, crushing each “empty” on his forehead before noticing a party guest had brought a .9mm Luger semi-automatic and was showing it to a few blond members of a visiting sorority.

Seeing it as an opportunity to improve his fading sovereignty within his fraternity, Michael seized the gun out of the owner’s hand and announced he was still ‘the big man on campus,’ before pointing the gun onto himself.

Witnesses report the victim as laughing out loud as he tried to get the crowd’s attention screaming the words “Russian Roulette, Russian Roulette, who dares me?!” right up to the moment in which he pulled the trigger.

‘It was a desperate cry for attention.’ Said Terry Wales, the newly designated ‘big man on campus.’ ‘He was a wash out and no one took him seriously anymore. He had lost most of his support base late last semester when he started dating a Philosophy grad. That girl really messed him up. Making him go to art galleries, the ballet and read and shit. His stock and street cred had dropped to the level of a freshman.’

The victim’s family was devastated to hear the news as a state of disbelief and fury rippled through the entire Sanders household.

‘How much of a moron do you have to be to play Russian roulette with a semi-automatic gun for Pete’s sake?’ Said Michael’s mother Mary Sanders. ‘Just the thought that he came out of me, that he and I share the same gene pool, is really frightening. If he knew he would be playing dumb-ass macho games like that, the least he could do was think of his family first and have the decency to go to a cheaper college.’

Mr. Sanders expressed utter fear their remaining son, Arthur Sanders could in the future display such idiocy. ‘We had set some money aside for him too,’ explained Mr. Sanders. ‘(But) we aren’t taking any chances. We have worked too long and too hard. I am cashing his trust fund next week. Maybe go around the world with the wife!’

Michael’s younger 17-year-old brother Arthur was quoted as saying; “Mike fucked me up!” over and over.

The family has expressed their full intention of taking legal action against Harvard for what they call “Mind-boggling False Marketing.”

‘They go around flaunting they are one of the best universities in the world! Over 40 Nobel laureates? Oh yeah?! Look what they taught him! Look at what they let my baby do! Doesn’t matter what they say. With the money we payed them, I could have gotten myself an Audi TT instead, and still have my son!”

Harvard University has refused to comment but has not denied its seeking legal counsel from its lawyers on retainer.

Popularity: 56% [?]

Ah, Paris, the City of Light and the capital of Amour… this is exactly what the French have been propagating for decades. Is it true? Would you find true love? Face the epiphany of your existence by strolling through its streets while writing on your silly journal and sipping an overpriced (€4.70?!) cup of coffee? In one word? ‘No.’ In three words? ‘Yes and no.’

The city is by any world standard a true cosmopolitan metropolis. Trees and parks abound. Beautiful neo-classical edifices along architecture from different centuries can be found literally on every corner. The city hosts some of the world’s most famous art galleries and museums. A Latin-based language which sounds more like a poem than it has a right to when spoken does add to the charm of the region. It would be almost impossible to find fault. However I am confident in my talents, so let’s begin.

An ancient settlement with archaeological signs going back as far 4200BC reveals the inhabitants of the area had some serious head start in which to perfect their now famous baguettes and croissants. But hey, this is why the world is not a fair place.

Paris, which original Roman name was Lutetia, began to be known by its Gaulish name of Parisii after six centuries of Roman occupation. So around 5AD the name got into vogue and has stayed on like a cheap suit for the next sixteen centuries.

Now, Paris is renown for the snobbery and rudeness of its people, which can easily be found at numerous locations and in copious quantities the moment you open your mouth. However in their defense, with over 30 million tourists a year and therefore 9 times the entire population of the Région Parisienne asking the same stupid “I am lost. Where is the Eiffel Tower?” question in languages other than French year in and year out; its commendable they haven’t stopped being rude, snapped, taken an AK-47 and legislated open season on tourists. Since even a blind man shooting randomly could take out more than his share per capita of tourists. Really, it would be like firing a cannon into a school of fish. It’s that easy.

Let’s not all play saints here. Since the beginning of time and this includes the Bible, there has been an inherited local disdain for tourists and interlopers of any nation or kingdom (Let my people go!). Thus Parisians can hardly be found at fault when realizing the quagmire they are in: A positive cash flow from tourism which also doubles as a dilutant of local culture.

Simply read what Le Lido and the Moulin Rouge where originally all about and how they have devolved throughout the years in order to satisfy tourists’ cliched expectations. This a social danger which few modern cities have to deal with. However Paris as the most touristic destination in the world will have to face this threat soon or later.

Back to the city today: Its huge. It’s over-priced and it takes some time to get over the ever-present musky smell of dry urine around the Seine. Especially in the hotter months. Now I am not saying the city is filthy, just that it has a huge nightlife and not enough public washrooms. Trust me, you can find almost anything along the Seine. From book-stands near Notre Dame encompassing the renown second-hand book market on one side to thong-only wearing retirees catching sun along really shocked stares from tourists on the other.

Their subway (Metro) is massive yet needed since the metropolitan area of Paris is over one hundred square kilometers. Interesting to know that due to the historical nature of the city core, no legislation allows for the low-density buildings to be torn down and create the infrastructure of say New York or Toronto with their sky-reaching high rises. Therefore France as a whole is a very flat city. As such, most inhabitants along with the financial district, in their quest for space have moved into the suburbs. Thus having the rare situation where the center of the city has an old town vibe –but with lots, and lots of cars.

Oh Paris, you are a true Metropolis, in both size and style that is is truly your own. France too lives up to its reputation as a country where ANYTHING you order to drink at a restaurant will cost you more than a glass of wine. Including water. Yet like in Spain, I hardly saw drunken people, especially taking into consideration just how accessible alcohol is. Toronto should learn a lesson here. Importing a few better cheeses would not hurt. Are you listening Toronto? However, it is the lifestyle which is the biggest difference. Even as a financial, fashion and artistic European powerhouse you cannot shake the feeling that somehow they are doing a little more living than North Americans. Whether it comes down to the food, their outlook, their jazz or the musk of urine during hot summer nights, I have to admit that a part of me fell in love with Paris. Just not with their $#%$@!@#% overpriced coffee. Avoid it.

Popularity: 6% [?]

The one thing to remember if you ever travel to the south of Spain, specifically to Andalusia, the second most populous province, the birthplace of Flamenco, Bullfighting and pretty much every single Spaniard cliche us Westerners hold dear, is that people there smoke. A LOT. Sure, there are beaches, Roman ruins, a historic castle on every hill –or every other block– and more churches per capita, that by now every Spaniard can easily afford to coldly kill three priests and still get into heaven by proxy. Yet nothing will hit or leave a longer, lasting effect than their tobacco.

Spain is truly a smoker’s nirvana. I felt guilty for not smoking enough and looked at ways to integrate myself into this culturally rich, gray-lunged society. A task in which I excelled! And as a plus, I have now been back for over two weeks and there is hardly a trace of my smoker’s cough! Well worth it. However if you don’t smoke at all, are a tourist and do not speak Spanish, just skip the country altogether. Go to a wimp smokers’ country, like France. Aside from delicious nicotine, which you will learn to love or become a master at holding off your gag reflex as your body struggles for survival, Spain is quite a breathtaking country. The weather is hot and dry, covered in yellow clay and almost arid inland, yet oh so breezy near the sea.

Fish, pork and beef are in abundance. Always, ready to be served at one of the many Tapas restaurants which litter the region. If you hate falling into tourist traps you will be pleased to know that non-tourist friendly and therefore easier on the wallet areas abound. All that is needed is an adventurous spirit and a fifteen minute walk in any direction away from gift shops selling badly punned T-shirts, over priced photographic books and to no surprise: engraved ashtrays. Knowing Spanish helps, as most Spaniards can’t be bothered to learn English but if you are adventurous, then you would not be above using some pointing and sign language to get what you want. The staff will be understanding, helpful and only mock you once you are gone.

About the most annoying and yet refreshing thing in Spain, especially for Westerners is the Siesta. Entire towns screech to a halt from about noon to about 4:00pm, as if the whole city goes into a deep slumber. During the August’s month-long celebrations, they can go for even longer. Restaurants will re-open at 8:00pm, so expect to have dinner at around 10:00pm. Every night. That’s just the Spanish way. So pack a snack if you are planning to meander through the older cobbled-street cities.

If you are a night-owl you will be utterly comfortable with this lifestyle, while others will wonder how exactly can Spaniards earn a living. I did. Same goes for the food, supermarkets simply do not exist, groceries stores which are smaller do. However they are few and far between. Alcohol is an entirely different story, you will find booze every where digestible matter is sold and likely it will be cheap. Especially in the capital of Sevilla where with its two million inhabitants is the largest city in Andalusia.

It is interesting to note in the week I traversed the land, I never saw one local drunk, the only ones were tourists, who were both loud and obnoxious. It made me feel how my ex-girlfriend probably felt when I used to get boozed up on red wine many years ago. I felt embarrassed for them. As if we all had been invited to the same party, and they were my annoying cousins I never talked to or liked, who got stinking drunk and everybody looked at me for an explanation. Strange since while in an unknown country, being foreigners can, and does unite complete strangers. An odd and brief comradery which luckily and quickly subsided well before we reached the next street.

People drink, with the goal to hang out and socialize not get inebriated. You will find tapas restaurants bursting with people drinking beer and ‘Tinto de Verano,’ a refreshing red wine and lime flavoured soda drink. Sangria is left for the tourists as no local in their right mind would prefer so sweet a drink in such dry heat.

Ah, the South of Spain, a land where passionate and energetic dancing, lisps, Moor and Roman architecture, castles and Mosques are poetically inter-winded. The land Muslims conquered in 711AD and the rest of Spain spent the next 587 years extirpating. But on the upside they taught the whole of Europe how to bathe! But that is another story which I will probably cover in another blog entry.

Ah, Andalucia, where you can sustain a family of four with wine for a week for less than it costs to feed them for a day. You will forever have a special place in my heart and now, after visiting you, a dark spot on the x-rays of my lungs.

Popularity: 15% [?]

Friends always tell me I tend to meet strange people everywhere I go. My defence usually goes along the lines of “Hey, I am friendly; people tend to end opening up, that’s not my fault! Sometimes they tell me stories they would not tell anyone else and… well, we all have quirks. So when I tell you about them, it sounds like an above average number of people who are like that. However, I am sure we all have them, both friends and stories although we just don’t tend to share the latter.” Or something like that. Really.

Take a few nights ago for example. I was at a bar and a girl was trying to unbutton my shirt. Sure, it doesn’t happen often, and yes, it is a great boost to one’s ego but all this was happening right at the bar and for the amusement of all onlookers. I felt the need to say something. Like asking for her name but as a gentleman, I felt I would be intruding onto her dedication and defer fervent concentration from her craft, and trust me, it was taking her quite bit of concentration. ‘Vodka shots unwieldy fingers make,’ that is what I constantly warn my readers.

Anyway, so after she tried to kiss me a few times –by the way, the locale in question is a rip off, a glass of table wine for $12??– Anyway, I asked to go for a cigarette to relax. Once outside, this woman turned into the perfect example why I would never date someone I meet at a club. Not only she almost got into fight with a random girl whose boyfriend was right there. Which meant that me, as the defacto guy in tow, almost got sucked into a fight I had no part of. But wait there is more! After I managed to talk everyone out of a lot of scratching, hair pulling and punching, she then decided to curl up into a corner and become an emotional wreck. We are not talking fender bender either, more like two monorails going 215 km\h and crashing into each other kinda of catastrophe. With wheels and metal shreds exploding and decapitating flying birds and small herbivores everywhere.

All of the sudden she hated her job, her age, her life and just for kicks, me. To be honest, I was just standing there lighting a cigarette a few feet way. I knew we were just outside the lounge but I felt bad leaving her like that sobbing her problems away. Eventually her guy friend came out and asked me what as wrong with her.

She then glimpsed at us, squinted and called us losers. Her friend then moved closer and asked her what has wrong? She replied by slapping his smoke off his hand. Then both stared at the lighted cigarette now on the ground. ‘That’s bad for you!’ she argued. He then came back to my side, rolled his eyes and said he was going back inside for another drink. The now obviously drunk girl (NoOdGi) left the safety of her corner and stumbled to a fountain about 75 feet away. I followed. After repeating her ‘I hate my job, age and life’ mantra she decided to throw her purse, along with all its neat contents into said fountain. Then sat on the floor and cried some more. Wow.

Out of human pity –as at this point it could not possibly be for any other reason– I looked into the fountain but the purse which was glittery white, blended with the incandescent yellow lights of he fountain just perfectly. Adding to this, the the fact it was night time, made the purse and the make up and cell phone invisible.

A few minutes later, her friend came out and after catching on to what had happened, took off his shirt and began looking for the damn purse in the fountain. Looking and searching, working his way more by touch than by sight. Pictures of Pirates of the Caribbean came to mind. He couldn’t find it and Noodgi was getting pissed off. I could not help smirking at the sheer spectacle. At that moment Noodgi caught me and began insulting me. But can anyone take the insults of a drunken woman who threw her own purse, along with her car keys into a fountain seriously?

Her friend couldn’t find the purse and he was getting pissed off. Why? Because he was going to get a ride from her –something I DID learn is that both of them lived in Mississauga– mostly thanks to his rantings of disbelief.

It dawned on me that maybe just maybe, she may have overshot the fountain even though from my point of view it seemed like it had gone in. I decided to take a look a few feet further away where some patio chairs were located. As I went behind one of the chairs, lo and behold, guess what I found. A small white albeit now very dirty purse. I took it back to Noodgi, hanging off my index finger.

She then gave me a hug, said she loved me and began fidgeting with its contents. I asked the guy if they were okay to make it home, as there was no way she could drive. He said yes, he would probably wait it out until she sobered up. Noodgi then asked if I wanted another vodka shot. I said I would light another cigarette first.

As they went inside, I remembered my tab was paid and all of my actual friends had gone home. As I finished my cigarette, I checked the time, found my bearings, found Yonge and King and walked for my life.

Popularity: 8% [?]