Ultimate Comedy of Cyberville.

What used to be uncomplicated in a world we could trust, there was none of this nitpicking happening. From sorting garbage into four bins to endless privacy laws, our lives are becoming more and more complicated. And the older we get, the harder it is to deal with. Okay, younger people can do it, because they cut their teeth on computers, literally. They, naturally have swifter minds while they are, indeed, young, but aging smooths out that ability. Older humans are tired of it. Elders have seen and done it all, and are, frankly, fed up with what they hoped in their retirement, to be a kindly, simple and easy-does-it-world. More and more we are told to protect ourselves from scammers, muggers, hackers, jackers, spoofers, and spammers. Street corners have cameras, highways are radared, stores use video, homes have Alexa, condos put cameras up everywhere, babies are monitored, house rooms are secured by owners far away, babysitters are filmed, and lazy, silly parents track down their cell phoned kids to send them daily lunch on the school ground. Even walking in the woods may not be private when some put motion-sense cameras on trees just for the fun of it. There are words we can't say, things we can't think and actions that we may not do. By law! The Privacy Act that is there to protect our privacy often takes it away and changes the ease of doing many things that used to be simple and executed with a swipe or a flick of a finger. Banking, and just about any other legal operation there is, is fraught with stops in the name of privacy that are frustratingly complex. The roof of one's house, garden, street, and yard are Google Earthed. With all this electronic junk, I can't get phone numbers or names of the people I live beside without knocking on a door and even then, chances are, they have a security system that sets off an alarm. If we thought the book 1984 was scary, it is. "Big Brother", whoops and "Big Sister", are indeed watching us. And big time. The funniest part of it is, that with all of the protections in place, I can sell my house and sign all the necessary papers on-line, with a signature that isn't really mine. I can receive a parcel at my door by signing for it with a pen like a log so that my actual signature doesn't matter at all. I still have to appear at school, to see the doctor, get the services of a dentist or a lawyer. If you are thinking about schooling, no, that can be done remotely, too. Yes, and going to the doctor for a minor complaint and to receive a prescription, is also only a phone call away. We think disparagingly of robots but we are unsubtly being prepared for it daily. Who is the robot, Us? In our future, whoever, a country, political body, individual, has the upper hand in all of these important facets of our personal lives, will be in control of them. Is it no wonder there are big concerns over the world's cyberspace companies who fight to dominate? Move over Lex Luthor, fiction is becoming fact.

Thinking Condo, Think Well

The ads for new condos in towers are tempting. There they are, in their glory; white and grey and silver and black, dream places, Hollywood cool. Gorgeous finishes, tons of marble and stone, stretches of hardwood, windows as walls, gyms, viewing rooms, entertainment centres, bowling alleys, on and on. A life of luxury and a carefree existence. Something you, as a homeowner, have always dreamed of. Someone else to do the maintenance, mow the lawn, worry about the age of the roof, the plumber, the electrician; you're finished with all that. Off to the shining new tower. You see yourself joining the in-crowd, hieing off South for winters and North for the summer. In between, nothing but social life, restaurants, shows and lolling on your little balcony with something cool in your hand. Ah, what a great retirement life! Sorry, but there's more. And while these items are the perks, there are some realities that need to be considered. There is the Condo Act, individual condo bylaws and rules. You no longer are the authority figure of your "home". You possess something jointly with each and every other condo owner and as such, you abide by the majority influence. This is a matter of condo politics. Read the rules and bylaws your realtor gives you before signing the bottom line. And if you are buying before the place is built, scan the fine print at the bottom that says any changes are possible without your express warning. In fact, I would warn, beware of buying before you actually step onto the floors. What is promised in the glossies is not necessarily what you might end up with. I've lived in six condos and each one is similar and yet different according to the rules and bylaws. These are not flippant things. You can be fined, and heavily, if you do not comply. For example, if you have a pet, be sure to know if they are permitted: how many, what size, what variety. If you smoke, even rarely and what. Some complexes do not allow it anywhere on the property. Garbage may seem minor, but it isn't. For example, where I am living now, I have to have four different disposal bins. These things change wherever you plan to live. Garbage is no joke. The condo, you, can be fined if you mess it up. The right garb in the right place rules. It's all fodder for a future if you think of it. If you are buying an older condo check to see if there is going to be an upcoming levy for repairs and replacements or to build the contingency fund. The one I am in now, the one I just bought, has fewer owners and is going to levy a four-figure number very soon. Like your former house, the one you sold for big bucks, there are the same maintenance issues and they are not cheap because your new "house" is bigger and holds a lot more people. The bottom line is, that your now-government will be an elected council of volunteer owners who work hard and take a lot of flack. Even if you buy a management plan, your elected council is like any government body, you must, therefore, abide by the majority rule. You become, as my council treasurer so wisely put it, a member of a family of owners and as such you have the "family" responsibility of looking after your building, be it large or small.

Sex Sells What?

If you peruse the real estate sheets of the papers, you will find a bevy of faces both male and female. They're all duded up because they have been told during the learning phase of their jobs, that one is part of the sale. Sell yourself first and you'll sell your product. On goes the gold watch, the classy suit, the high heels and don't forget the impressive car. You want to show your potential buyer that you not only have glamour, but you also show your success and fine taste. Whatever that means. I suppose gazing at Vogue and taking it seriously, denotes "taste"?  More than gold danglers and worsted cloth, the women, unfortunately, seem to lean toward selling themselves. The couture, hairstyle, the make-up, the nail work, the "come and get me" photography. It will be hotly denied, but come on, let's be honest here. And it is not only employed by realtor women, but also by women who are participating in selling cars, jewelry, appliances, clothing and just about everything else. It is not just in the commercial world either. I knew a new teacher who, when she went for appointments with school superintendents who did their interviews in hotel rooms, said she wore her shorter skirts. It's true. I rush to say that any school superintendent I know, wouldn't be fooled by such nonsense. We are, however, human and we all love, even if subconsciously, certain kinds of beauty. This sales gimmick works. The proof is rampant. Magazines, television ads, entertainment spots, all focus on appearances. Who would bother to look at talented singers or musicians who had their everyday faces and bodies plastered on album covers, magazine pages or posters? Occasionally, there are brave actresses, who allow themselves to be pictured without the false hair bits, eyelashes, make-up, fingernails, tight spandex underwear, paddings of various kinds or "photoshop" paring, who, in their natural state we see, shocked, to be plain, if not more than homely. When their faces are their fortunes, they must enhance what they have to sell their "product" that could be overlooked if they presented as "ordinary". I hasten to say that many are, in fact, possessors of great beauty that is natural. What concerns me is that if women advertise themselves as sex-on-a-plate, they could be, and sometimes, sadly, are abused.  Just today I heard about a sexual predator who seeks out women realtors to enlist and then attacks them. The old tale that women should not dress provocatively because it attracts negative attention is unfair, but it does bear consideration in the light of security.  Some criminal minds misinterpret how females present themselves. They don't have the moral strength to understand that while one may show a certain "face", it isn't an invitation. It's merely a personal choice. Finally, it concerns me the kind of model we are offering our female children who are learning, principally, by visuals and not just on the verbal principles they are instructed.

It's Complicated

I once had a friend who used the response, "it's complicated" when he was uncomfortable with a question asked of him. His other favorite phrase was " I don't do that" if he felt forced to act. Since he is no longer with us, so to speak, when I mean "dead", I shall adopt his two perfect cop-outs. In reference to some business I am roiled in these days, I feel like saying both of them. I am, in this transaction, the symbolic tiny ball that awaits entry into one of the vast mechanical fooleries that tinkerers love to build and play with. You know the kind of machine of which I speak. Those with lots of time to fiddle with bits of plastic and metal and springs and screws, construct complicated ramps and tubes and inclines to have the little ball go up, down, around and drop as it goes, according to the laws of physics, through its torturous series of movements as it makes its forced way to the exit. Gamers know this, because many games introduce such fripperies into their complex plots. The deal under which I am currently pressed is of my own doing, but it makes me feel like I am going through one of the ridiculous machines that I describe. The ball comes out the other end of the large construct exactly the same as it went in. Most business transactions involving contracts and leases and other paper signing gambits, now, are similar. What used to be uncomplicated business matters that could be executed over a shake of hands, have now become very complicated, time-consuming and expensive operations, with all sorts of personnel and paperwork,  plastered into them from start to finish. Why? We are a society that is paranoic. We are sue-happy and worry about what we say and do and think even if it offends, nor should,  anyone or anything. My name, for example, is one with a meaning where  I should be saying if a sterling modern citizen, when I have to tell it, "no offense meant". But, it's my name and why would I change it? The word is said to offend a certain element of our human race. Nonsense. My last name has been around for hundreds of years and until this era where everyone is checking up on everyone else visa vis the book titled 1984, it was perfectly acceptable. It's as one radio commentator spoke the other day, the younger generation has to learn how to protect itself against the future. So do I, a senior citizen, apparently. What? I thought the younger generation was looking forward to the future? How much of this sort of stress do we need? How many apologies and gob-smacking are actually going to fix anything that's wrong? Thanks, Gordon, for your appropriate today words: "I don't do that. It's complicated".

No Kidding

A new movement among some young men, is to deliberately, surgically become sterile. The group states that they have chosen it as a responsible solution in reducing their "footprint" on earth. Their aim, cutely, is described as "human extinction". They recommend that all males should follow their example. While the matter of having children or not, lies within the individual, this idea seems one of the most peculiar ones I've heard in a long time. Taking this warped tenet to the extreme, should all humans take on their plan, it bespeaks the futility of living. One assumes it means to not bother doing anything at all, but to run off and loll on a sunny beach somewhere until death. Who is going to support the beach kid, while that is taking place becomes a mystery. The way things  have been structured socially from the beginning, is called family. Families are seen in all life in some form. Those living, reproduce and care for their young until they are adult, then the elders are watched over by the new members who have been mentored. The young take on the job of continuing the life style and hopefully, improving it.  Families look out for each other and blend with other families to form a symbiotic system that benefits everyone. Families develop strategies and mores and celebrations that make lives, not only successfully livable, but also, enjoyable. All animal life works similarly. To aim for zero population is dangerous to Mankind. We humans need each other in countless ways. To discontinue life on earth which will happen on the zero population plan,  is unnatural. Man would become extinct. The idea of zero population must be obviously that of youth who have maximum enthusiasm but  minimum experience on which to base their concepts. There are many other ways of reducing our so-called "footprint", a metaphor I find misleading. Reducing our stress on the planet, is something that no one should ignore and everyone should work at, but the improving of Man's environment and not his destruction, is a much more realistic plan. Some countries have employed ways of conservation and protection of species and developed renewable and sustainable resources, that have proved beyond a doubt, to work. Some distracted humans are against what it takes to make the world better and to try and fix what has been harmed. Most of these myopic individuals are laden with greed or pride. They see only money as the key to success in life. Sadly, it does take money, but more, it  takes belief in Mankind and its continuation with a plan that is safe and sensible and has a strong commitment to the survival of all species. To do the work of saving the planet, means to have children who will grow up and learn how to carry on what needs to be done to save all life on earth.  It will take time and lots of it and children will be carrying on what was begun. No, it's not sitting on a beach in a bikini, child free and with a pretty drink in hand, ha ha-ing while waiting to die off childless and carefree,  that will help. It takes people who are committed and educated and who love humanity and are willing to make sacrifices because they are members of a family and value the continuance of the gift of life.

Moving Moments

In two weeks, I relocate two streets over, but even when the distance is that short, the job of moving, isn't. Whether it's two blocks or two countries away, there is still the same amount of packing up. Eschewing the costs of moving, there is the hard labour of it. All that nice space you once had will turn itself inside out. What is inside will come outside, into boxes and onto your floor. All of those wonderful cabinets and shelves and cupboards spew out their contents and now, you wend your daily way throughout a massive collection of what once was hidden away. Where to put it to for packing? We are not yet at the practical system of supplying re-usable cartons, sadly.  We  use paper. Some persons haunt liquor store outlets searching for small, handy cartons that are ideal. But I, having done that a few years previously, in rain and hot sun, no thanks. For a few hundred, you can forgo taking your car out to the narrow backs of stores and avoid the dark looks of drivers as you dodge their semis needing to enter the tight alley spaces where we cardboard hunters lurk. This time I opened up my wallet instead of my ire, and bought the gamut. My kitchen island is now topped with wrapping paper, tape and boxes in the process of being folded for use. In spite of my hoped for smart powers of organization, I find myself searching for the scissors and/or tape and/or black marker, constantly in my day.  My life begins after the coffee, oats and fruit necessities, of lifting, lugging, hauling and pushing the dregs of a lifetime, mine, here and there and then, into cardboard. Ironically,  I will eventually, move into cardboard, too. But hopefully, not before I get myself moved to my earthly new address. I began this endeavor about month ago when all was calm. It was still calm when the moving planner chap arrived and went about assessing how much cardboard and paper would do the packing up job. These days one's own things stay in one's own cabinets and drawers. The movers  simply wrap them up and cart them off. That part is easy. What's not in your own cupboards and shelves, is the center of the problem. It has to be boxed. If you are not a six footer, how high the cartons can be piled, is another factor. I am now cognizant of  what is a 1, 2, or 4 cuber. I have almost got the tape wrangling down pat instead of stuck around my wrists and fingers. I can fold a big box that was once a piece of flatness, into three dimensional things where a lifetime of "stuff" will go. Making boxes up is kind of like doing what we used to called Chinese Puzzles. The puzzles were pieces that fit uncannily together, or apart, with intricate precision. I wasn't good at that either or so my Dad said. My boxes are, to say the least, unique. The 2s are manageable but the 4s, are devious. On one folding venture of a 4, I almost broke two pendant lights and a bar stool. What adds to the fun, are the last couple of weeks which is where I am now. This is when you can forget the cardboard because the human element enters: the legal folk, the realtors, the buyers and the sellers, the forms to fill out and the nervous nights when you have taken down the drapes and the street lights beam in. Rest assured. In a week it will all be over. But wait. There's the unpacking.