A Rain of Frogs

Seriously.

Which Terry Pratchett character do you most identify with?

It’s a hard one for me.

Obviously there’s Sir Samuel Vimes. I can relate to Vimes. I’ve always been of the opinion that the only thing that separates the mind of a criminal from the mind of a copper is a badge, and that’s Vimes belief too. I can also really connect to the whole suspicious bastard philosophy, and the idea that there has to be cops for the big crimes too.

But I’m not really Sam Vimes. I respect the character, but I don’t relate to him.

Then there’s (obviously) Death. I can relate to his professionalism, and the general philosophy of equal and honest treatment of all mankind. In the end, anyway. But seriously, he’s an immortal universal being, and besides, if she were real, I’d be a little hot for his grand-daughter Susan Sto Helit.

Crowley. Surely you know who Crowley is. If not, go get Good Omens right now, and read the most perfect morality story ever. If Books can start religions (and they can), this one would be a perfect place to start. Despite his humanisms, Crowley’s a heavenly being, which makes it a little harder to relate.

Then there’s the Thief of Time. Yeah, I dig him, and all of the Monks of Time, really, but no, I don’t actually relate to them, except where the garden is concerned. Bastards and their beer bottles.

The Patrician, Havelock Vetinari? No. Fear and respect are cool, but not my thing.

Moist von Ludwig. Indeed. Moist. I truly believe that Moist is the character I can most relate to. He is, for sure, the one I most respect, and he is also the one I can truly consider a role model. A career criminal offered a choice, he makes an amazing decision and does some amazing things after that. If you haven’t read Going Postal, go out and buy it RIGHT NOW. It’s just about the best Discworld novel. Ever.

Kinda funny to think I relate to a dude named Moist though…

Really. It’d be sad, if I took the time to care. Perhaps it’s post-industrial birthday syndrome. Maybe it’s the fact that its 20 below freezing (C, not F) outside.

Maybe its that my heart is two sizes too small.

Tomorrow, we’ll talk about something interesting. But I have nothing of value to contribute today, at least in terms of intellectual discourse.

When I was 2¹

I was a cute, bubbly, happy little guy. I played with my cookie monster doll, liked to watch television with my sister, and wanted to slide down the big “banana slide” outside our apartment. I could see it, but I wasn’t big enough to go down that amazingly glossy yellow cement monster.

When I was 2²

I was still cute, but now I had the vocabulary of a 12 year old, and read at a Grade 8 level, despite the fact I was in Junior Kindergarten. I still liked watching television with my sister, but now I liked reading Mordecai Richler’s book even more.

When I was 2³

I was cute, kind of, like all 8 year olds are, but I was also too big to want to be called cute. I read The Lord of the Rings, I moved back to Toronto from the interior of British Columbia, and I found myself with a head full of thoughts and a heart full of feelings that I didn’t always understand. The first death of someone I knew occurred, and led me down many strange roads in my mind.

When I was 2⁴

I wasn’t cute, by many standards. By some standards, some girls found me attractive. I had long hair (which was fashionable then) and played a mean guitar, mean piano, mean bass, and smoked too much dope. I had friends that I still have, and friends that I’ve lost since. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, and I was following paths that others were suggesting to me because I was too lost to know where I wanted to go. Teachers fretted. My parents fretted. I idled.

Today I am 2⁵

Not cute any more. Early mid-life pudge setting in, but I’ve started a rigorous advance on that front. And life is amazing. I have kids, one of them is 2³. He likes the Lord of the Rings too, though only the movie, not the book. I have a child who loves to play piano, and another who loves to draw. I am still idling, but now out of habit, not for any other reason. I’m about to step into gear though. I had a nice talk with my dad last night about the future, and he really supports the ideas I have.

When I am 2⁶

It’ll be time to retire. I’ll be old and grey and happy. I’ll have grandkids. I’ll have a whole life full of memories, trials and triumphs. It’ll be cool. Maybe I’ll be cute again.

I have nothing of value to add to Rain today. Other than the next sentence, I’ll let the minor facelift of A Rain of Frogs be a verbless commentary on my state of mind.

Fish, bicycles, Wilco, a shotgun toke and a half-dresses barrista. Think about it.

Canada, North America’s liberal nation, may finally be on the brink of gay fatigue. After years and years of having homosexuality (rightly) forced into the mainstream consciousness, open minded Canadians have reached the point of no care. Certainly some of the more homophobic segments of the population are still not tired of screaming about the decay of morality, but they’re idiots anyway. Most of us, being the enlightened bunch we are, just don’t give a rats ass.

Queer as Folk, Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, Will & Grace, the list is long, but not varied. Canada is pretty tolerant of diversity, and always has been. Gay is good. Gay is chic. Gay is the way. Being a fag hag is the way to be fashionable. Even straight guys started dressing like gay men in order to attract women who wanted their straight boys to be as stylish as their new gay best girlfriend. The message? Dress like you want in his pants if you want to get in mine.

Not that straight guys didn’t need a kick in the ass anyway.

Ontario just recently passed legislation legalizing gay marriage, which is a great thing. People shouldn’t try to force others to adhere to moral beliefs, especially if those beliefs are causing no harm.

I’ve been saying this for years about the “race” issue, and now I’m going to say it about the gay issue: The point is made. Indeed. Just as I believe black people need to stop drawing attention to the fact they’re black people, and just accept that they’re people, like everyone else, gay men and women need to stop telling everyone their gay people and just accept that they’re people.

You know what? The last thing that would ever go through a white guy’s mind is “I’m a white guy” and no straight guy would ever think to himself “I’m a straight man.” But the heterosexual white male has long been the benchmark by which equality has been measured. Not by the heterosexual white man. But by everyone who thought the heterosexual white man was paying attention.

The gay community should probably step back now, and occupy its rightly-earned place in society. They aren’t gay people any more. They’re just people. Thats what the fight was for. And the fight is won. Continuing to push gay culture will start a backlash against it, and risk the gains that have been made.