Oh, Mr. Offord. Say it again. Please.

I know, 2017. I bet you'd forgotten all about this article, hadn't you? But I'd just been reading a young man's— a very young man's— appreciation of JP's "12 Rules for Life" here on Medium, I needed a breath of fresh air, and two clicks later, here I am, with you as the ozone-laden breeze wafting through my open window.

The very young man thought "12 rules", a book compared to which the writings of Louise Hay would sound like Simone de Beauvoir, was just dandy and by far the most original thinking…


Who was it who first said, "Every Republican was born in a log cabin he built himself" ? I know it was Margaret Thatcher, arch-conservative and scariest nanny ever, who said, "There is no such thing as society" because I was living in England at the time of her reign of terror, and she really meant it.

When you can't see the web of society, how we profoundly affect each other in countless ways every day; if you can't see how poor people are poor because of a system that creates poverty; or that vaccines and masks are ways to…


Can you use the availability heuristic against yourself?

It surely must be that repeating lies over and over convinces the liar. I've experienced several people in my life, including one parent who I won't identify except to say it wasn't my father, tell the most outrageous fabrications and be adamant that they were the truth.

Maybe it's like waiting for the bus: the longer you wait, the more you've invested in the conviction that the bus will come and you'll lose face if you just start to walk. Once you've told the lie, and so much of your sense of…


created in part with images from Unsplash by: Eduardo Soares; James Barr; Sharon McCutcheon; Matt Jones

“Life on hold sucks!”
read the bus shelter ad.

They meant the pandemic
I suppose

But what a wry, ironic understatement
If you think of the awesome reality of life on hold.

{That’s awesome in its original meaning
Of inspiring ecstasy and terror, the experience
That the Romantics called the sublime
And that must have also crossed

Aristotle’s mind when he described
Peripeteia, the sudden reversal of fortune
That afflicts our flawed hero and causes us
To experience catharsis, that cleansing
Release of pent-up emotion;

Not awesome in its 21st-century sense,
As in: “This packaged, six-month-old
chocolate-chip cookie
made by a…


But before we get to that — poor Meghan, Duchess of Sussex! Right?

That’s all. I always start my day with that simple novena to the difficulty of being a beige-colored quasi-Royal in a world where pink-and-white full-bore Royals are no longer respected, even coming as they do from a long, distinguished line of Mountbatten-Windsor-Bowes-Lyon cannibals and pedophiles.

It’s a great, big baby buffet across the pond, with Buckingham Palace, so I gather, serving up hearty boy-babies alongside the kippers and kidneys for heart-attack-on-a-plate breaking of the fast, and delicate girl-babies (at least, the ones that Hillary rejected as too scrawny to top a pizza) piped with vanilla Royal Icing — we all…


(I could have said “adorable things,” but then would you have clicked? There you go. Also, in case you’re visiting from Elon Musk’s new condo development on Callisto — Ganymede is SO last year — and haven’t noticed, attention spans have shrunk like boiled wool, and I figured that one syllable was the limit.

How about “eccentric”? Don’t ask me, I just live here.)

1.

Instead of getting an ashtray, I remain seated at my desk and simply stand the finished cigarettes upright on their filter end. …


When Conservatives Speak, The World Shakes Its Head

Christine Elliott, Minister of Health for Ontario, sends her condolences.

I tried to book a vaccination appointment today. But Toronto is taking a laid-back, leisurely, don’t sweat the small stuff approach to this whole pandemic boondoggle. It’s a big sigh of “whatever, mañana, dude, we’ll get to ya when we get to ya!”

Thanks! I guess.

I wonder if the city has taken its cue from Canada’s much-vaunted healthcare system — where you can have open-heart surgery for free even as your black teeth drop out because you can’t afford to get them checked more than once a decade. Dentistry isn’t covered unless, as I did, you ignore your impacted…


Twenty-twenty has been just one great, big lump of coal.

Flagellation: The true spirit of Christmas

Remember when you were a kid, you used to get The Christmas Talk? Be a good girl, a nice boy, or Santa will put a lump of coal in your stocking.

And you just rolled your eyes.

A lump of coal! What kind of child-abusing scumbag would do a thing like that? As it turned out, Santa was a fake. Your mom bought the presents and your dad put up the tree. Your mom and dad were an undercover crime duo, like Robert Wagner and Stefanie Powers, and somewhere a cute dog.

It’s never, you’ll notice, a cat.

You found…


Forget the Plague, the next gen has to process less-predictable horrors

HERE I AM, STILL UNDERCOVER at the Acme Prep School performing my ethnographic research, while “embedded” in a Grade 8 home period class, on the folk culture of Gen Z and — whatever the heck the next generation is being called.

(Note to self — stop answering the math questions so quickly before you blow your cover. That chocolate milk mustache can’t do all the heavy lifting.)

I’m a member of the last generation to have a meaningful label — “Boomer,” meaning that we talk loudly and over everyone else. This minor tic provokes complaining from the more sensitive types…


You need to know that Trudeauphobia has its roots in the fear and loathing of straight males who are closing in for the kill.

A clarification

MOST OF US, HAVING SEEN Sophie-Grégoire and Justin Trudeau caught in a candid moment gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes, or photogenically romping around with their three children; or having seen Justin’s confident swagger in the presence of women who’ve momentarily lost their composure — there’s a photo somewhere of Ivanka Trump, crazed eyes two feet wide, looking as though she’s about to take her knife and fork and throw him onto her plate — most of us will understand that our guy in Ottawa is without question enthusiastically heterosexual, bless his trendy, eye-popping socks.

So I wanted to emphasize…

David Roddis

Artist, writer, polymath Canadian. MY BOOK’s title is so ridiculously long it won’t fit here, but you can find out all about it on my blog, slowpainful.com

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