Friday, 25 August 2017

Shittin' Bricks Next To Surly, Burly Russians - AKA Escape From Excellence and The "Good Enough" Parky

I was squeezing the wooden oar so tight that  sawdust was sprinkling down. There sat your blogger trembling, a young peach-fuzzed 18 year old ectomorph lining up at the start of the 1979 World Junior  Rowing Champs in Moscow next to the super burly East Germans on our left, and the surly burly Russians on our right. We were so out-sized, if this were catch and release you would just leave us on the hook and use us as bait. These guys looked, well, goliathic. They had so much facial hair, that they had five o'clock shadow - five o'clock AM shadow.To top it off, we were entered in the coxed pair, an event where the typical “athlete” resembles a cartoonishly mesomorphic viking rower  from a Far Side cartoon.                        

 I sat there wondering whether it really mattered whether I came 10th, 11th, or last. Would anyone (back home) really notice?  30 years from now would any idiot be dredging up these obscure results for the purposes of navel-gazing? It was clear that I as not there just for the track suit, as they say, but it was equally apparent that I was not obsessed  as to whether I was podium-bound or not. There was no doubt that I was more concerned whether my performance met the expectations of others than my own. We  promptly went out and over-delivered seizing the day by finishing 11th out of 12 crews. God bless the Norweigans! You know people talk about  the wide gulf  in post-race pychological after-effects between first and second place,  but let me tell you the gap between last and second last is equally huge. The mental boost from beating someone, ANYONE is as huge as from winning. That goes even if we had edged out the Vatican at the line.

Smart-ass reader:” Wow Blair, I never knew you were such a big part of Canada’s sporting folklore.

However, succcess would require a further mental adjustment when later in the regatta our junior womens 8+ slayed all - including the eastern block giants. I confess that I was not  able to celebrate my teammates success, as I had no doubt that their success would diminish my performance in the eyes of others. I truly believe that this special group of women were the first to redefine "success” for Canada's rowing crews Prior to the 80's there was a unspoken belief that simply making a final was the gold.| standard for aerial Canadian crew. This crews legacy was to help Canadian rowers redefine themselves as winners fully capable of reaching the top of the podium.

Slightly disoriented reader wondering how the above has anything to do with the price of Sinimet in Micronesia?
"Blair, what he hell does this have to do with the price of Sinimet in Micronesia?

(Reprint)
Blogger: Whoooaaa pardner! When was your last dose? It will all make sense shortly.
To receive a Parkinson's life sentence is ts to be relegated to living a life seemingly devoid of what one would normally call "excellence". As far as Parkinson's goes, true excellence and excellence at its  worst, perfectionism are best left for neurosurgeons really, anyone with an adequate supply of dopamine.

You though, my neurodegenerative friend, for the most part, will need to to reject excellence and embrace the shortcuts, hacks, and the general “just get it done” ethos of the “Good Enough” Parky

For the first few years after diagnosis (the honeymoon period) you may be able to get away with worshipping at the alter of excellence but after a few years of dopamine denial you will see that it is pretty much imperative that you embrace mediocrity  as it is mediocrity itself that may save your excellence.
Reader: “Blair, now you've totally lost me”
Blogger: “Let me backtrack a bit”

Early on in my battle with Parkinson's when my abilities (specifically mobility) fluctuated in a much more dramatic fashion I drew up two lists called High Tide and Low Tide. This was done and in an effort to better match the requirements of my daily tasks with my  skills and abilities -  which were constantly in flux. My high tide list would contain only activities that require good mobility, ie shopping, cuttting the grass, pole  dancing, etc while my low tide list contained activities that don’t require mobility: covering my eldest brother in touch football, writing world class blog entries washing dishes, felting,etc. While I do not use these specific tools anymore, the general concept remains with me. Given what I want to get done today, which task Is the best match for my current abilities?

Coming up, Part 2 - Learning to Limbo How to Manage the Bar That Is Expectations

Tuesday, 13 June 2017

The Wicked Wedgie Woman and. Some Other Words That Start With W That I Can't Think Of


Now, I have been a "wedgee" (one on the receiving end of a "wedgie")
Many times. Some I admittedly deserved. The assorted "wedgers" (one who gives a wedgie) have been the usual unsavoury cast of characters you would expect - The school bully, my brothers., so-called "friends", but I had never received a wedgie from someone's grandma - that is until yesterday. Yes you heard that right. 

Lemme start from the start. I was in a a store called Value Village, a thrift type store. It reminds me of a flea market I used to go to in Texas. Off on the horizon I spotted a bluetooth keyboard - a rare commodity in a store such as this.  I thought I'd shift into 2nd gear - a sort of "Harlem Shuffle" but this is exactly when my gait goes to pot and I go into happy- drunk mode. That was when I felt someone grab my rear belt loop and hike up my pants. My immediate thought was "which of my "friends" would be juvenile enough to wedgie me in a public place? I turn to face a sweet, Ms. Doubtfire-looking woman who  shrugged her shoulders and said "I thought you were going to fall". 

Now if you want to get technical, she  did not give me a wedgie -  as if her real intention was to hike  up my gitch, I foiled that plan by tucking in my shirt. But. Her seemingly inoccuous action of grabbing grabbing my rear belt loop  and raising my pants to Ed Grimlian levels  bore all the tell tale signs of a well executed "external" wedgie with the initial mildly pleasing sensation, followed by moderate discomfort, and cliaxing in an always demeaned state. 
                          
While I certainly wasn't soft stepping across the floor, I don't
 recall stumbling nor did I think that I was displaying any outward signs, nor inadvertantly communicating that one of my patented "bring down everything that is not bolted Sto the floor" falls. So I am not inclined to believe her line that she thought I was falling.

           Then what exactly were her nefarious motives? Could this Septuagenarian be  "interested" in me? It's got like 55 year old Parkys are exactly lighting up the Eharmony switchboards. As Red Green used to say, "If the women don't find you mobile, they should at least be able to find your waistband"  I contacted Gifford Falway of the REHAB (Retired Elders Having a Blast) and he reassured me  that this was anot a common scheme for finding companionship amonst his members as most have already transitioned to an elasticized mnwaistbands. While confessing that a handful of his members may have employed the Wedgie falling hoax as just another tool in the toolbox used to find companionship, Falway was quick to note that his group has always promoted a "catch and release" policy amongst its members

Then last night one of my crack research interns Lars questioned whether she could actually be the Wicked Wedgie Woman immortalized in Dan Pilkey's, "CaptaIn Underpants and the Wrath of the Wicked  Wedgie Woman.  I think not as she was attempting not a basic wedgie, nor even the rare "atomic wedgie", but the easiest entry level wedgie the one mandated in every elementary level curriculum. The Wicked Wegie Woman would never bother with such amateurish attempts.

Regardless as to whether this woman is some sort of super heroine or not, But regardless of the result it is the intent that counts, no? I believe that this woman is a chronic wedger and is a grest risk to reoffend. Wedgie Womaan, Ms. Doutfire, or whoever you are... if you are on the lam reading this - turn yourself in. I'd be happy to make a citizens arrest at any Parkinsons Wake satellite  office. But if you just take a second to "like" this  post below, I promise to stay the charges. 



Sunday, 4 June 2017

Blogger Contracts A Severe Case of Young Onset Descentia



 


In the old days when it wsas such jolly good fun skewering Facebookers that posted critical updates such as the status of their bowel movements, or their opinion on who was hotter on Gilligan's Island: Ginger, or Mary Ann, I pledged that if I ever posted on the minutiae of my life it would at least involve what I considered a weighty issue, or something that had a public service.



Today's report involves a report on yesterday's EPIC bike ride up into the foothills just outside Calgary, specifically, up the Highwood Pass. Highway 40, or the Bighorn Highway is a mountain route that is closed to vehicular traffic until June 15, every year - making it a Mecca for young Calgarians who yearn for a heavy dose of "young-onset descentia. I'm not positive which feel-good neurotransmitter iare generated by riding down the yellow line at mind-bending speeds, but I was totally innebriated

What is it that makes a not-so-young onset Parkinsonian scream down a mountain pass at speeds that if the unthiinkable (though if considered over a lifetime - likely inevitable) happened, he would be in such a world of hurt, that would exceed,the agony of his spinal fusion, plus his Deep Brain Stimulation Surgery PLUS the pain and associated suffering of living with a teacher in the month of June.

Where's the public service, you ask? Well, my personal advice to you is that this ride should be on your bucket list Somewhere near where you placed learning nude felting, and working Blair's corner at his Caesar's palace title fight You do not need to be a pro cyclist (nor a parky) to ride the route though the latter might help - as with Parkinson's, cycling is one of the few activities that feels as it always did - making the rides descents even more exhilarating. Enjoy!

Saturday, 27 May 2017

The Parkinson's Alternative Glossary, " Carpe Nocum" and The Naked Carpenter

Sometimes people say I make up words. I reply, I only resort to forging new words when the English language cannot keep up with my convoluted, dopamine-starved, twisted, fictionettes.

It used to be that every linguistic street crossing had sentries posted to guard against entry of neo bastardized words - inevitably from the Rock n' Roll stained youth of the time. These days, the sentries look to have abandoned their posts. It would appear that anyone can become a pseudo authority and start their own dictionary. It's like we've gone from "Let's start a rock 'n roll band and make a million dollars" to "let's write a dictionary to legitimize our verbal diarrhea."

wordlef.PNGOf course we have the gold standards, the Oxfords, the, Webster’s, etc. We know of several upstarts such as the URBAN dictionary, the RURAL dictionary, and my personal favorite “Right On The Edge of Town”  (but still close to Starbucks), dictionary, aka, “The New Parkinson’s Altern

Yes, I am pleased to present to you the latest entry in the crowded hdictionary/glossary market: The New Parkinson’s Alternative Glossary. This latest entry fills a strong need for a glossary/dictionary that can decipher and crack the code of some of our multi-worded phrases in the Parkinson's sphere. While these cryptic references are primarily from my personal dialect, many fellow Parkinsonians will recognize some of the references.

This truly is the English language at its most beautiful. This handsome, six page, no-cover downloadable beauty would make a great gift for anyone affected by Parkinson's - but would also be an excellent gift for any others that are curious about how the other 1% live!
Parkinson's Wake has managed to extort a review from Giff, our old friend from REHAB:

"A must-read for those friends and family who don’t find anything funny about Parkinson’s"
Gifford Falway - REHAB (Retired Elders Having A Blast)

We will be feeding you these gems one minnow at a time here on the blog. 
Without further adieu, our first entry is..


Verb (latin)


  • Literally, to “seize the night”. Parkinsonian definition refers to an unusual spurt of good mobility, a rare nocturnal “kicking in” of dopamine. This often results in a titanic mental steel cage match pitting a frenetic urge to leap out of bed and “make hay while the sun shines” with an almost equally powerful urge to stay put and drift off into effortless sleep (the latter with the recognition that the typical Parkinsonian banks as much sleep as a coffee taster on night shift.
  • New York's Naked Cowboy
    A distant relative of Calgary's
     the Naked Carpenter
  • Additional Info: A willingness to engage in "carpe noctum" activities means the individual must accept the risks of functioning in times of a manic state. There are documented cases of extremely odd behaviour associated with carpe noctum. In one disturbing case in SW Calgary, an individual was found in his carpentry shop working away in his underwear at 3:30am. When confronted and questioned why he was in underwear, he responded "Wouldn't be very safe doing carpentry naked, would it?" It is said that the first respopnder was reminded of New York's "Naked Cowboy". (Minus the boots, the cowboy hat, and replace the guitar with an 8 ft. length of beautiful milled Birdseye Maple.)

Monday, 22 May 2017

Muhammad vs The Assumptives

[Note from blogger...It's been said that I have a loose, if not Trumpian, grasp of the truth (likely by a disgruntled former employee of our Nunavut satellite office with an ulu to grind). Well, the truth might hurt if I didn't have such a treasure chest of opioids left over from my back fusion days. Just kiddin’ ya. You think someone on opioids  would have the clarity of mind to craft world-class BS such as this?

I am here to pledge that this entry and all others under the "Parky On The Lamb" banner happened as described - and that these stories have bypassed my blogospheric inflatius, that part of my brain responsible for inflation, imagination, and exaggeration.

As you might expect, these incidents will illuminate both the best and the worst we all have to offer in public. And maybe I shouldn't characterize these as so unbelievable as we all seem capable of both the worst and the best.  I you were to guess that most of my public "situations " were generally negative, you would be correct. In human natures defence, I would suggest that even in the most abhorrent situations the heart of the problem is either ignorance or laziness - the individuals are content to assume and make a snap decision based primarily on appearances. (The guy is drunk, the guY is high, slow, dangerous etc) I am not so fond of labelling groups of people bu I can't help myself - I would like to refer to these people as the "Assumptives". For me, the most intriguing accounts are stories involving individuals who may are old enough to know better - with the most inspiring ones involving individuals whom you would be surprised that they do know better. The latter describes today's adventure.


He passed me on the sidewalk like I was a drug-free Lance Armstrong. I was travelling my usual snail’s pace. Consequently, most of my crashes are of the rather low-speed, unspectacular variety. The director for my biography shouldn't have any trouble finding a stuntman for my role.

Seagal: "So Spiel you're sayin' that all I need to do in this scene is fall off my bike?"
Spielberg:  "That’s right Stephen"
Seagal: "How fast is the bike moving?"
Spielber: "Barely moving, close to a pedestrian speed, possibly stationary."
Seagal: "I hope you got me a Harley this time. I'm fed up with those Japanese imports."
Spielberg; "Sorry Stephen it’s a Trek."

Just as my front wheel caught the edge of the sidewalk, another cyclist was passing. He was young boy about 15 or 16. A ringer for a young Lebron James. From my back on the grassy median, I watched him turn and come back to check on me. He peered down at me like I was an injured animal: 
(Reader now to imagine Little House on the Prairie episode where an empathetic Laura finds a possum with a broken leg, and wants to take it home and nurse it back to health.)

Laura Ingalls: "But Pa, we can't  just leave him here? I promise I'll take care of him. Pleeezee..."
Pa: Half-pint,   just don't forget to poke some holes in the box so the parky can breathe OK?

Muhammad: "You OK man?"
Blogger: "Yeah, I'm fine"
Muhammad: "You sure?
Blogger: Sort of"
Muhammad:"You don't look OK."
Blogger: "Gee, thanks."

Muhammad: "No, I mean, it's just that something isn't right with you."

"There are a few things that aren't right with me."
Have you heard of Parkinson's?
Muhammad: "No.”
Blogger: ”Do you know what Ali has?" His eyes lit up. It was apparent  that he got considerable satisfaction out of sharing the boxers first name.

Muhammad: "I'm worried about you, I want to follow you home."

I put up a minimal fuss as I really did want him to accompany me so  might get to learn a bit about who this extraordinary young man was. Unfortunately, my somewhat less than bicycle rodeo-winning bikesmanship mandated  a single file return. He followed me into my community and suddenly disappeared. 

At an age where most youth are so preoccupied with themselves and their tiny worlds that you'd think they were bloggers  - here is a young man whose world was big enough to include me - his sense of community such that it mattered to him whether I got home safely or not. A young boy confident enough that he would put aside any fears of me, a total stranger. 

Beautiful young man, just beautiful. I would love to see the adult this teen grows into.


Sunday, 21 May 2017

Parky On the Lam


As far as blogging goes, I am hardly known for my brevity. I am hoping today marks a change. "Parky On The Lam" will be the name for a series of little snippets, shorter accounts of incidents that happen to me in public (there are a lot). I cannot read peoples mind, but I think the most common reaction to me is to assume I am drunk. On the surface, that might make some sense as my biggest symptoms are mumbling/slurred speech and falling down.So sounds like a drunk, looks like a drunk - but dreses like a pro cyclist in spandex. How many people get shit-faced in spandex? Ok, Ok,  i'll give you that  - but besides the winner?
m funny situations stem from the fact that the symptoms often f Parkinson's can have such an on/off rhythm.. I will often freeze in a doorway but once through, may be able to walk away fluidly. 

The "kick" in mobility one gets when the drug Sinemet kicks in can be the source of some amusing reactions as someone may witness you at your worst stuck with little mobility, then in as little as a few seconds later walking completely normally with no sense of distress. My term for this phenomenon is "immaculate proprioception"  (no, you do not need to be Catholic to enjoy this)

I will upload my first entry for Parky on the Lamb on Saturday. It is about a beautiful young man named Muhammed who followed me home one day as he was worried about me after witnessing me fall off my bike. I hope you enjoy them 

Wednesday, 3 May 2017

The "Droolin' on Manitoulin"

Look for new post this morning (Sunday)


Here at the Parkinson’s Wake Corporation it’s not often that we need to apologize to readers -  even rarer that we need to twice, but indeed that's what we face today. Our April Fools “Liver Therapy” entry went from Hoax to a hot button topic at support groups around the globe - sending ripples through the cattle futures market. In our defence If you had done your due diligence and ran The Swedish company’s name (Aprilskämt) through Google Translate, you would have been returned the english translation; “April Fools”. Secondly, if you ran the name of the therapy “(denna fruktansvärda hems orgel köttaaz)” through, you would have received “that horrible, horrible organ meat” in english. PLEASE NOTE - The only medically-proven uses for liver is as an effective disciplinary tool used in tandem with behaviour mod with children.



Secondly, I would like to apologize for some inaccuracies in a clip that that was released to  the public last Wednesday. A promotional training video intended to update my following on my boxing  exploits to-date was released. Unfortunately, the video was intercepted by an over-zealous Sven in Communications > Alternate Truth Subsection> Total BS unit > Maleable BS wing", who doubled the frame rate. In Sven’s defence he was simply doing his job  (keeping Blair from looking like too much of an incompetent ass in the ring. Err.. .yes, that is correct - Sven is a full-time employee. And you are right again, he does put in a lot of overtime. How did you know that? What have we done to ensure this doesn’t happen again, you ask? As they say in the business the buck stops here Sven has been promoted.. err demoted to the <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> > The Real Truth Subsection > Honestly, No BS Here Unit >Totally Truthful Arm.

One of the most immediate effects of this blunder what is to send a chill through the Rasmussen family of six boys. What with the Family's June Celebration of my Late Father’s life and Rasmussen Son Jamboree planning in the final planning stages the boxing tournament draw seems to be in shambles- at least the heavyweight division as most of my brothers have joined Jenny Craig with the ultimate goal of dropping a weight class in order to avoid the parky. They correctly recognize that these circumstances - going toe to toe with a parky is a classic example of a lose/lose  situation.Whether you beat the snot out ;of a parky, or you got beat by a parky, your reputation will take a fatal beating

I can tell you that there was one brother who did not fall for the boxing video ruse - Prone to cockiness, he often forgets that he was the only Rasmussen boy who entered this world clad in only light artillery. Not posesssing the large howitzers his siblings did he still refuses to accept that his package is more suited to light skirmishes as a peavekeeper, or a "mall cop” He has gone on record (sad to say) that beating the snot out of a parky is not beneath him. One can only hope that he is kidding, as he will soon be in for a world of hurt.
But has it occurred to the Rasmussen Boys. that this ruse may be just a ruse within a larger RUSE to drive away the competition. Could it just be possible that the DopaMeany is everything the video portrayed him as - maybe more.  That he is not only a Meany - but may in fact be a certifiable maniac, yes a DopaManiac?

Ruse or not, The boxing Jamboree will go on as planned. It is part of a longer-term plan to keep the family close. We all figure that the best way to accomplish that is to stick with what what got us here in the first place - beating the living crap out of each other. There are some concerns that without Mom here to referee, that things will get out of hand. With some even suggesting that we switch to an  octagon, and adopt MMA  rules. (esmussenz rules

As one of the main goals of the family Jamboree on Manitoulin Island is to raise awareness of Parkinson's, we have given much thought to the name  given to the events name. You know, all of Ali’s big fights had a catchy names; The “Thrilla in Manilla”, The “Rumble in the Jungle“.  Our current working title is: "Droolin’on Manitoulin” I am currently working with the advertising department  in our effort to come up with a pleasing pleasing visual. No progress to report to-date.













Thursday, 20 April 2017

The Tale of the Tape

On behalf of the Parkinson's  Walte Corporation I would like to announce that the winning entry in the contest to find an suitable ring .name for this blogger is "DopaMeany". This entry was submitted by "Dawn a' Stunnin'". Readers may recognize MS. Stunnin' as the identical twin of Ms. Dopamine  - that alternatively clad global delivery woman of dopamine.


My apologies that this clip is so short - Coach Mickey wants as little footage of me in the public domain as possible.

Training update coming. Shortly.

Cheers,
DopaMeany

..



Saturday, 1 April 2017

Liver Therapy - Has Your Parkinson's Treatment Ship Come In?


Here at Parkinson's Wake we like to generally keep things on the light side, However, any mention of a cure or effective treatment, and our focus is dead serious. So when we heard from the Swedish company Aprilskämt about their the new liver therapy (denna fruktansvärda hems orgel köttaaz)we were all ears. The company specializes in finding drugs and therapies that can be repurposed to treat conditions other than the ones they were designed for.

 Baby boomers may  have not-so-fond memories of this organ meat  - a mainstay of the dietary punishmnent movement (found most commonly in correctional institutions and large families) which capitalized on the void created by the banishment of the "Whackers"" a group comprised of adherents of corporal punishment - who in turn had replaced the demeaners" a cult-like group whose followers  favoured such barbaric parental behaviour mod practices as sticking a child's nose in the corner.

An es.  timated 8,000 Canadians are diagnosed with Parkinson's every year, and over 10 million people worldwide are living with the disease. The hallmarks of the disease are tremors, a propensity to fall down more often than a soccer player, and a strong urge to broadcast your innermost thoughts to complete strangers, whilst in your pjs until well into the afternoon. The disease is  relentless - And accordig to Lars the spokeman for Aprilskämt,    she can be a real bitch 

This therapy has already been proven safe in humans, and its production process is already established on the Tuesday night menu: because of this, the path through clinical trials and into widespread use is shorter and simpler to navigate. Recent trials in a mouse model of Parkinson's have provided positive results, and trials in humans are now set to begin next year.

Little is known about the exact mechanism the therapy utilizes. Side effects are minimal, and for the most part manageable. (Nausea, increased gag reflex , upset stomach, (and thats just while watching it being cooked.)

While not a cure, Liver  Therapy should be considered as just one more tool in the Parky's therapeutic toolbox. *Disclaimer Pakinsons Wake has no stake in Aprilskämt, nor the beef. Industry. The info  provided here is not deemed to be complete nor factualy correct. Please consult with your doctor or neurologist before embarking  on a course of liver treatment




Friday, 24 March 2017

Finally, A Title Shot!

I need your help. I will be starting a boxing for Parkinson's program (Rock Steady) next month and I am seeking an appropriate ring name You know,  one of those Trumped-up exaggerated, hyperbolically - often to a alternate truthian extent monikers that boxers oh-so-covet to build their brands around. Behold, the classics: The Italian Stallion (Rocky Balboa) Marvelous (Marvin Hagler), or "Iron" Mike Tyson)

 In its efforts to seek the best name, Parkinson's Wake Corporation is sponsoring a contest for readers to suggest the most appropriate name for Blair. As my debut in he ring is April 3rd, I will set a deadline of 6pm April 2nd.I want to enter the ring my first day with my ring name and DIY reputation in place. Under no circumstance do I want to be like the no-name puppy brought home from the pound whose owners wait for an incident to name it. Like it shits on the floor and has to live with being called Turd for the rest of its life. I want to be the master of my pugilistic destiny
The name should reflect some reality. For example, you may suggest a name that reflects some symptomatic aspect of Parkinsons, ie my dexterity "Hands of Stone", - Roberto Duran], or my speech: the "Humbler Mumbler, or one that carries some historical accuracy, such as "The Golden Boy" (Oscar de la Hoya)
My personal favorites are: the self-deprecating RAZ the SPAZ Rasmussen, "Blair da' Generate" Rasmussen denoting my medical category, and  the "Great Dane" referring to my somewhat distant Nordic heritage.
Readers taking up the challenge, will immediately notice that hyperbole is the name of the game - but there are limits. For example, if you elect to go with the name of "Bone Crusher", it's probably best if your friends do not describe your build as "wispy" (Keeping in mind that reference.com found that it takes 1700psi to break the average bone ) (Where the Heck would they find their volunteers?) It is in my estimation that one should go no lower than "burly" if you had to accept the Bonecrusher tag.. One last point. While it will be your ability to punch and take a punchthat will determine how far and how fast you progress up the ranks - stats have shown conclusively that fighters with similar, or related names tend to be matched together.So you'd pit Tommy "The Hitman" Hearns with Clive "The Mortician"Mortimer.
In my humble opiniono, the oft-used name "Pretty Boy" should be avoided at all costs - as it can be classified under the names that have a compensatory function. (Unless of course your mate surely does find you handy...)
The individual suggesting the winning ring name will receive a ringside seat at my first title shot, 10% of all future fight purses, and an even split of proceeds from all promotions.(Bobblehead dolls,etc.)
I hear ya bellyaching all ready. 'Blair's got a headstart, he's taken all the good ones!" Oh you big baby! There are tons more. How about the "Snarky Parky" - there, I made that up just now! Stop wasting precious time and email your entries to blair.rasmussen@gmail.com.. To my chagrin, I now read that the workouts are non-contact. With this final piece of news, one can only assume that word of my stupendous punching power has been leaked to organizers. What is this? Intramural touch football? Peewee hockey with no body checking? Gonna have to change my brand marketing yet again.  Hey - what the heck is my brand - will you guys hurry up with those names?

Saturday, 18 March 2017

Tom Jones, Phobias, and the Humour-Neutered Admin - A Rather Odd Prelude to Mom Raz Part 3

Q1) Oh Blair? Yoohooo... You in there? Have you run away with Tom Jones
?

A) No, just the same old writers block and other related issues.

Q2) Do you fear putting your intimate thoughts online?

A) of   Somewhat. I have  an  unnatural fear of the publishing button. No, I do not fear the button itself.  But  I am most certainly, aware of the possible consequence of pressing that darn  button. As all of my readers are well aware, I am capable of chewing my literary cud for weeks on end. Some say I store enough in there that I could host - and feed an entire book club Writing for me is a process much like composting, or making a meal in a slow cooker. There is trasformational process that ocurs. As in marinating a cheaper cut of meat - The les you put into the blog pot initially, the longer it may need to sit to mature.

Q3)  Blair, You big baby What is it exactly that you fear?

A) I am intimidated by the permanence and longevity of my intimate thoughts once I upload. Specifically, I have this recurring dream that down the road a few years I am disqualified from some opportunity because some extreme  Trumpian  vetting or background check uncovers some disqualifying information in one of my blog postings. Or worse that a wrongfull assumption is made that just because I  am a Rasmussen boy I face the same intelectual challenges and carry the same coding through life as my brothers.   The following examples illustrate three of the most common themes.

Ex. 1A).  A. Noble Undertaking
Nobel Prize Selection Comittee Member: I must say, Mr.  Rasmussen, we were very surprised to receive your application as the Nobel Prize for literature (blogging) is normally awarded - we do not sol applications, nor do we accept them. However the panel saw the boldness in your application as quite intriguing so we took a peek at your blog.  Panel member Sven's respose might be the most apt: "denna gud-awfull "alternate sanning" blogg är så illa otäck ABBA l åten Dancing Queen" while Bjorn, offered the incisive, but possibly less generous: "Han är en\ Cocky SOB är inte han? Det finns inget sätt han kan vara en Canuck"

Q3)  Blair, You big baby What pray-tell is it exactly that you fear?

 A) I am intimidated by the permanence and longevity of my intimate thoughts once I upload. Specifically, I have this recurring dream that down the road a few years I am disqualified from some opportunity because some extreme vetting or background check uncovers some disqualifying information in one of my blog postings. The following examples illustrate three of the most common themes.


Ex. 1 A Noble Undertaking
Nobel Prize Selection Comittee Member: I ust say, Mr. Rasmussen, we were very surprised to reeive your application as the Nobel Prize for literature (blogging) is normally awarded - we do not solicit applications, nor do we accept them. However the panel was intrigued by the boldness of your application so we took a peek at your blog.  Panel member Sven's respose might be the most apt: "denna gud-awfull "alternate sanning" blogg är så illa otäck ABBA slåten Dancing Queen" While Bjorn offred the insightful but possibly less generous: "Han är en Cocky SOB är inte ? Det finns inget sätt han kan vara en Canuck".

We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.

Ex.2) We're Not Fond Of Neither Your Ilk Nor Your Elk
Mr. Rasmussen, while we would love to have you as a resident of this nursing home but your background and the info gleaned primarily from reading your blog ha led us to conclude  you don't play well with others.Your appalling slanderous treatment of your brothers pales only in  comparison to the alternative facts you might have propaganda ted about the profession of social work - Like "social workers invented. fabric softener. Sorry, we don't think you will be a good fit for this home.
(Blogger: I did not say that fabric softener was invented BY social workers.  - I said that fabric softener was invented FOR social workers!

Ex.3) Alternative Alternative Facts
President: Mr. Rasmussen, we're gonna make you great again. You must be sick of losing. You're gonna be so healthy you're gonna be sick of being healthy.
    : Donald, er...Mr. President, you. know what neuroDUHgenerative means, right? How did you find me?
President: KellyAnne was headhunting for staff on some alternative truth blog where you were listed as one of the genres new up and comers.
Blogger: you know I stretch the truth for comedic value, right?
President: What is the chart with the plumetting line? Is  that your progress chart?
Blogger: Looks like it. but it is not. It is the trajectory of your administration as projected by the Parkinson's Wake Corporation
President: You neuoDUHgenerate!  You're. dead Ramussen. I'm gonna put you and your corporation into such a world of hurt, you're gonna wish that Parkinson's was your only worry.
Blogger: You're fired Donald

Q4) Do you write every day?

A) I try to, but if the words are not coming, I pack things up pretty quickly. Writing is just way too much work for me when the words don't come easily. I write best, when I enjoy my writing and I enjoy my writing when I  write my best. I totally get that you guys would love to hear from me a little more frequently than you do now. But in the end, I write for pleasure, and for therapy, and if I'm not getting either from it, then I simply will not pick up the pen.

Q5) At what point in the writing process do you get stuck?

A) Often very close to the finish. That is often why it is so exceedingly frustrating. It seems very easy for me to get 90% of my content on the page but when it comes time to create structure and decide on an endpoint for my ideas the neurons stop firing. It's like I need to learn how to be a "closer", to borrow some baseball vernacular. ie, someone who takes charge in the late stages, zings a few metaphorical fastballs, mops up a few messes, then is carried off on the shoulders of his readers - lik2 ely to a blog signing at Chapters.

Q6) Do you think you might need an editor to expedite the writing process?

A) While that might be prudent, I am not terribly fond of the idea. You see, I'm not very good at being told what to do. As anyone who lives with me will attest. My wife acts as more of an advisor than an editor. She is a good fit for the position as she is from a profession generally not known for leaving you in stitches. Unless you are a boomer from the golden era of education where corporal punishment ws still enjoyed Err... I mean employed. Seriously, have you ever seen a school administrator moonlight as a  clown? This dour demeanour is not necessarily their natural state - it is the desired default setting following admin leadership training.  Their no-nonsesnse appoach designed specifically to neutralize, or balance out the extreme silliness and lunacy that is middle school. 

Q6) Blair, not to sidetrack you by any means, but I'm curious what methods do they use to train the ha ha out of staff? Do they use those shock collars that they utilize to train the bark out of dogs?

A) I'm not sure. I have never been privy to their methods. (Their admin training is inflicted from the discomfort of  a nondescript concrete bunker on the edge of town  but I'm pretty sure that the answer would be no. As whether we are talking about the domestic situation at home, or school, the situation is the same - in this post-corporal punishment era, their bark IS their bite. So it would make absolutely no sense to train it out of them.  
                                                                                                           For conistencies sake, in order to minimize the variables, we focus on a few the we can control. The blog is always administered orally, at the end of a standard 12 hour  school day following a maximum of 2.5 glasses of red (California). As far as getting consistent results, timing is everything. Weeknights seem to be the optimal time to administer your blog, as the weekeds are typically taken up attempting unbelievable feats of nocturnal endurance.

At the end of the day if one can make a buttoned up middle school administrator smile - you've got a winner, Press that damn publish button. If you can make them laugh, start working on your acceptance speech. If you can make them laugh at themselves - polish up your Swedish.

"thwack, thwack, thwack"
 The distant sounds of an IKEA doghouse being assembled.


Ikea Assembler #1 (Lars) Det bloggerDude var en riktig dumbass va?
Ikea Assembler #2 (Sven) att bloggare är inte den skarpaste kniven i billiga ikea bambu kniv rack.                 

Ultimately, this blog entry is like no other. I feel like I only have one shot to get it right. While with some entries I may build to go back and edit after the fact I don't think that's the case when you're writing posthumously. Back to work. And thanks again for your considerable patience





I approve of most of this rubbish - in the sense that for the most part, it is grammatically correct. The content and message would be considered questionable for most well-adjusted individuals including most Swedish neurodegenerates that rely on free online translation. 

Blair's Wife 

Sunday, 8 January 2017

Mom Raz: A "Good Enough Mom"?

 Sorry, the latest posting up for few hours yesterday but have encountered some really odd formatting errors. As soon as I get things sorted out and I have it up again


I have a few housekeeping items to take care of. Many readers are wondering why there was a photo of a  scantily clad. Ms Dopamine  but absolutely no reference to her in the body of the first installment. Was she included simply for your gratuitous pleasure or did it serve some journalistic purpose? Ms. Dopamine will be familiar to those who have  been with us from the start she is (at least in Blair's Dopamine-starved/Sinemet-flooded Substantia Nigra) a sort of drug dealing Santa. She delivers hits of the neurotransmitter Dopamine to desperate neurodegenerates globally. No, she does not ride a sleigh pulled by a herd of hungover reindeer, as that would be just silly. As per your fantasy you confessed to me last week, Ms Dopamine rides a silk bed sheet. The inclusion of ths superheroine was intended to highlight Mom Raz's tolerance of my choice of content and  writing style that she did not share.
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My idolatry of my mother is not blind. It should be clear to readers by now that Mom was no  Mother Theresa. She was  significantly flawed just like the rest of you. If you know her reasonably well you may, despite the overwhelming evidence otherwise chose to suspend your belief. In that case, that's why I feel compelled to present you with one more example. Don't let her benevolent, seemingly compassionate appearance fool you. Mom may have appeared as docile as one of those semi-domesticated pet  elk that Parks Canada employ every summer to keep the more dim-witted tourists in line. But do keep in mind that like the elk, Mom: was not shy about reinforcing a point with one of he prongs of her tiara.

As a young woman, Mom Raz was employed in the human resources dept of a large company. As a result she was able to gather some valuable intel on the incoming "prospects" (I feel  compelled to embarrassingly confess that my 90 year old Mom referred to them as "hotties" in a bedside confession). She was able to collect personal detail such as age, income, make and model of car driven, Facebook status. While there is no proof that Mom Raz ever peddled this valuable intel to others, there is evidence that Mom may have been one of the first to use this type of raw personal data to her strategic romantic 
advantage. 

Once Lloyd had been mined from the pretenders, It took no no time at all for Mom and Dad to find that while they had the human resources to field a baseball team - meeting payroll for such a large squad. was sometimes a challenge. Consequently, Dad trotted off to the Middle East to earn more., typically for months at a time. Maybe Dad wanted to give his family some of the finer things in life - like properly fitting women's mauve cords for his aspiring blogger,  an opportunity to eat normal parts of cow, like other families did - not liver, kidney, and tongue,or to have the means to put some CCM skates under the tree instead of wrapping those limp-as-lettuce Mastercraft hockey skates around your ankles. In the end, I think it may may have been the the horrible spectre of seven insolvent insolents terrorizing the streets of Vineland Ontario that sent him overseas.
Just how she managed to produce one  beautiful daughter and six seemingly well adjusted boys all within the "normal" range of most relevant psychological parameters - while  surviving  herself has most therapists familiar with the case baffled. Several possible theories have been put forward however.

The first theory sees Mom spiking her weekly meatloaf recipe with a sedative, turning us into seven de-clawed pussycats. The second involves the Threat of Latent Paternal Punishment. (Just wait till your father gets home) I don't think any of us took this one seriously. We were kids afterall, anything that was going to happen after the sun went down might as well be next year. Secondly, as long as you weren't caught using Dad's tools, or resetting the thermostat, with most transgressions you could usually escape with 30 minutes of putting your nose in the corner. This meant that you were safe from the other inmates for at least a half hour.  Dad was not as tough as he looked. He was much like an original Werthers. Hard on the outside but softer on the inside. The next theory has mom dispatching us of to the local rowing club to dispense of our energy and demons. This theory is popular with adherents of the sport who would recognize that this would render the boys a bunch of harmless humble bumbles walking in the door. 

Our final theory - and the one I lean toward is that Mom subscribed to the The "Good Enough Mom" model of mothering. This was pychoanalyst Donald Winnicott's depiction of the ideal Mom. In his mind, the best mom was a real woman - ie one who while they loved their children and role, they also were honest enough that they would admit that they occasionally fantasized about running away with the circus - or Tom Jones. They neither over-parented, (mom did not have the time for that), nor did they under-parented (with seven kids, mom could not afford to do that). She parented "just enough". She was the "Goldilocks" parent. She would model good behaviour, walking the walk wherever possible, allowing children to make (and learn from), their mistakes.

So much so that I honestly don't remember being "parented" by mom. I don't even recall mom being particularly instructive. For the most part, the house was free of platitude and we lived by only a few rules. There were only a few Commandments,one being that every child was required to finish everything on their plate - lest a child on the African continent go hungry. I was never bold enouh to challenge Dad on hs suspect understanding of Global ecoomics and food distribution - and I am proud to tell you that I have never resorted to such flawed logic in our household. 

The only other comminques remotely resembling "commandments" that I can recall were."thou shalt not geet blood on the carpets - drag your victim to, the hardwoood floors, and finally "Thou  shalt  not utilize any choke hold as that would be a no-brainer for the coroner.

Yet, many familiar with the "good enough mother" concept doubt it can account entirely for some of her brightest moments in parenting: She has raised six fine men - who when told to "Get out here", would reply, "which flight? She survived parent/teacher nights - one which lives on in Rasmussen lore, as one of our teachers told her categorically, that: "Marion, the Rasmussen Boys will always struggle. So what if he was right for the most part. That's not the point

But Mom's brightest moment, her peak, her Everest, was her solo trek across the country in 1968 - solo parent, that is, This is the original, "vacation", the one that gave Chevy. Chase a career then created a whole new genre "family vacation" movies category. This  saw  Mom drive solo from Southern Ont to Alberta in a Polaris 500 station wagon, with six hellions (including one aspiring 7 year old blogger who documented the hijinks of his siblings on his tablet. Unfortunately for us his orginall fieldnotes were saved with the .EAS file extension, a early proprietary format of the now defunct Etch-a-Sketch tablet. At least for now these potentially explosive firsthand accounts will remain in the dustbin of history.

 Experts suggest that not even Moma Raz would be good enough to survive such a Stalinesque trek solo. there have been some suggestions that mom may have taken advantage of an unsustantiated "good enough brother" phenomenon. While I except that there may be some evidence giving credence to this theory, personally, I would lean towards a "far more than good enough" sister provided some assistance to get the job done. It was Linda after all, who often referred to us as "mental midgets" (Hey, if you are offended, imagine how we felt). Linda's intentions were noble though, and this effectively demonstrated as she had effectively"coded" us before our teachers had - getting us the special academic help and resources the Rasmussen boys needed.

 Hey Blair? Aren't these the same Brothers that you have been trashing in your blog? - and if you are to be believed, The thugs who beat you to within an inch of your life, forty some years ago?" Yes, the same. My therapist thinks that  it may be a treatable case of Late-Onset.Stockholm Syndrome. It had taken me nearly half a decade, but I had  finally found some redeeming features in my  captors 

In some ways my was not conventional in the least. She did not want a typical funeral- with people wandering in a mournful glaze offering creative platitudes such as  "I'm sorry for your loss" . She told me once that she did not believe in pity parties and she hosted one a ways back and no one showed up - so she stopped having them. Being one who would prefer to focus on what she had, has and is taking forward, rather than what has been lost. - She wanted us to have a "celebration. As such, part three will be looking forward - as Mom  would prefer, Loooking at the valuable life lessons that are Moms wonderful legacy.