One woman, was text book dyslexic, literally. She took part in several university studies because she had such typical symtoms. She described one experiment in which she was performing better in the math component than expected. Her interviewer asked her how she was scoring so much higher than her math skills warranted. She didn’t want to say.

“I’m getting the right answers. If I know the right answer, why does it matter how I know it?”

Stubborn, but you can see her point. She eventually explained that the man conducting the study was sitting across from her, reading the multiple choice questions, and then the four possible answers. When he read the correct answer, his pupils dilated, so she picked that one. The interviewer turned his chair around so she couldn’t watch him read, but she still got them all correct. She could hear his voice change when he read the right answer.

Such an interesting woman, so intuitive, and she noticed everything. As she dug her elbow into the soft tissue of my shoulder she taught me how to be a good subject, “You’re holding your breath. You have to breath through it.” I miss her.

These relationships don’t last. You move cities, or they quit, or begin working at a high priced salon who’s prices I can’t justify. That’s what happened to the last one.

Breaking up is hard. I’m stressed out. Which is the last thing you need when your masseuse has dumped you.

Now I have to go back to the horrible experience of masseuse dating. The first person I tried was terrible. I’ve had puppies kiss me harder than that.

Then my wife booked a guy. I enjoy massage too much for it to be a guy, plus men think they are tough, so they massage by digging in their fingers. Women work with their smaller stature and go straight to the elbows. Women give harder massages.

Anyway, this guy was a train wreck. He would just stop moving, and for an uncomfortable length of time, just stand there with his hands resting on my back. All I could hear was the bullshit new age lute music and his deep breathing. What the fuck is he doing up there? Is he trying to send energy into me? A good massage should not feel too long, or creepy, and this was both.

Deep tissue massage enthusiast seeks partner. I’m punctual and a good tipper. You’re an interesting woman with soft hands and stern elbows, who has no interest in mystisim. We both appreciate a good silence and a stretched ligament. Waiting for your call!

This isn’t intellectual snobbery. You don’t have to have an advanced degree to appreciate that you should be listening to the American Cancer Society, over Suzanne Somers. Right?

People do listen to Suzanne Somers’ advice on their health. Why is that? Everyone has an opinion, but not all are equal weight. I’m with Science on this. I’m always with Science.

If I push you over, your ass will hit the ground. How long that takes, and how hard you land, is predictable, measurable, and consistent. Age, race, language, spirituality, political views, language, ideology, your entire belief system, is irrelevant. If I push you over, your ass will accelerate towards the ground at exactly the same speed regardless of what you believe. It works the same for every person and thing, in every place. Gravity doesn’t care what you believe. That’s a reality we all share. That’s Science.

Human life expectancy has more than doubled in the last hundred years. Science did that. Not ancient wisdom, not good parenting, not herbal remedies, not belief or religion, it was Science and modern medicine that doubled the amount of time people get to listen to fools on television.

Jenny McCarthy was Playboy Playmate™ of the year in 1993. That’s how she became well known. She went on to host a dating game show on MTV, then acting roles, and wrote several books. She’s beautiful and funny, no doubt. She also has opinions that contradict Science.

Jenny McCarthy says there is a link between vaccinations and Autism. She claims the vaccination for measles, mumps, and rubella, which has prevented the deaths of an estimated 1.4 Million people, causes Autism. She knows this because of her experience as a mother, as proof she cites studies which the Scientific community have thoroughly discredited.

“There is a cult of ignorance in the United States, and there always has been. The strain of anti-intellectualism has been constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that ‘my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.” – Isaac Asimov

My nephew has Autism. Great kid. You don’t have to spend much time with him before you understand there’s lots more of him locked inside. You get this because his disorder ebbs and flows. It’s like a thing that fights him.

My sister and her husband are intelligent people, educated intelligent people who have an autistic son. I can’t imagine how frustrating it is to hear advise from well meaning people prefaced with, “I saw Jenny McCarthy on Oprah, and she says, …”. I’d find it difficult to be patient.

No one knows what causes Autism, it’s likely not one thing. It’s a multi layered problem that requires expertise ranging from Nutritionists to Neuroscientists. Research is going on all over the world, but there are still more questions than answers. Science doesn’t have the answer to Autism, but I can assure you, neither does Jenny McCarthy.

It’s going to take many people, so much smarter than you or I, working hard in universities, laboratories, and hospitals, to find the keys needed to loosen the grip of my nephew’s disorder. People doing that work aren’t getting famous or rich, and they may or may not be pretty. There are not many Scientist working on treatments for Autism, or Cancer, or Alzheimer’s, or any disease, that would qualify to pose for Playboy magazine, or host a dating game show on MTV. But luckily, those aren’t relevant qualifications for doing advanced medical research.

Value the opinion of talk show hosts and models at your peril. At all our peril, really, because ignorance has an impact. Childhood diseases we thought we eradicated are making a come back, and becoming immune to the few antibiotics we have to treat them, because people are choosing not to vaccinate their kids based on fear and the opinion of someone who’s qualifications end at being lovely.

There are answers to Autism. People practicing good Science, will find them. The problems we face are complex, and the scope of human knowledge is vast. Solutions can not be found if we abandon facts, evidence, and rational thought as crucial to their discovery, or put our faith in people who should be eliminated from the discussion through the application of common sense. I suggest, as a good solid guideline for adult life, that you do not take medical advise from a Playmate™.

Resources

Autism – Centers For Disease Control And Prevention

The danger of Science denial – Michael Specter (TED Video)

MEASLES, MUMPS, AND RUBELLA VACCINATION AND AUTISM – New England Journal of Medicine – evidence points to no link

Immunization Safety Review: Vaccines and Autism – Institute of Medicine: No connection between MMR vacines or thimerosal and autism

NY TImes – Three separate trials determine that thimerosal, a preservative containing mercury, does not cause autism.

Responding to a fourth trial judgment that dismisses a connection between vaccinations and autism, advocacy group Autism Speaks, who has previously supported the idea of a connection, released a statement: ”While we have great empathy for all parents of children with autism, it is important to keep in mind that, given the present state of the science, the proven benefits of vaccinating a child to protect them against serious diseases far outweigh the hypothesized risk that vaccinations might cause autism,”

Partly, this is an “in comparison to you” statement. She gets up before me and she couldn’t be louder. I go to bed after her and I’m as quiet and stealthy as a church mouse. I take a degree of pride in my ability to navigate the pitch black bedroom without waking her. I don’t manage it every time, but the effort is always there, and I think a little acknowledgment isn’t too much to ask.

Instead, on the rare occasions I forget about my gym bag and trip over it as I glide through the room, I inevitably hear her roll over and say, “Nice job, Ninja.” It’s scathing.

Today she confronted me. “You woke me up again last night. I saw you holding your phone in front of you like a flashlight.”

It’s true, I’ve adjusted my methods. The bit of illumination from my phone screen helps me avoid random obstacles on the bedroom floor. I don’t get the thrill of doing it in the dark, but I see the gym bag snares before I step into them. It’s a compromise, but I’m not a purist, it’s the results that count.

“Phbbt! Ninja?! You use a flashlight… You’re a fuck’n flashlight Ninja!”

It’s that lack of respect that really stings.

The International Criminal Court, which prosecutes individuals for genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes, issued arrest warrants for Joseph Kony and a few of his comrades in 2005. They put him on a Most Wanted list. Do such things matter? They should.

Anyone can make a list. The internet is full of them. If a Most Wanted list by the ICC has the same impact as a blog  that lists, “Top 10 Biggest Jerks in the World”, then the ICC stops being relevant.

Do we support the idea of identifying people who are doing terrible things, and bringing them to justice. I think we do, but making that a reality is complicated. It’s not the movies, you can’t just phone up SEAL Team 6, and have them parachute into the jungle to get the bad man. Finding and capturing a man, who is an expert at hiding in dense jungle, and who uses child soldiers as bodyguards, is going to be extremely difficult, and messy. Is it the right solution? That’s a complex discussion, but it’s one worth having.

The organization that produced this video, Invisible Children, has opened itself up to criticism, much of it valid. Is producing movies the right way to spend a charities money? Is it the right way to address war crimes? Should a charity be promoting violence as the simple solution to complex problems? Will arresting Kony solve the deeper underlying problems of the region? These are all good questions, and this video is why they are being asked.

I’m working with teenagers who are among those who were briefly passionate about a war criminal and international justice. That’s astounding. This video is unlikely to accomplish it’s goal, Kony’s arrest, but it did get millions of people interested, and at least partly informed, on a dark subject that had little chance of standing out on the internet, or capturing the attention of a an audience used to consuming videos of cute kittens and hilarious prat falls. That’s an accomplishment that should be applauded. Shining a light on the ugliness of the world is one of the things the internet does best, and I believe it makes a difference.

If the video inspired you, but now you’re disenchanted with the whole thing, and don’t know what to do, donate money! Money makes a difference, and you have it, yes you, the one reading this on a high tech device. If you want to help Uganda, or child soldiers, or just war torn shit holes in general:

• Unicef – The UN’s children charity
• Kiva – loan money to individuals and groups in Uganda trying to better their lives

Have you ever driven in traffic? You know what I mean then, people are morons. Not you and I, obviously, but other people. You’ve seen them; people driving cars who are aggressive, impatient, slow, inefficient, unsafe, distracted, illegal, foolish, dangerous, and unaware, or indifferent, to basic rules and procedures. The average person should not be in charge of a 2,200 kg (5000 pound), 350 Horse Power machine capable of 180 kph (110 mph).

One million people a year die in traffic. Automobiles are the number one killer of young people; 400,000 under 25.

Vehicles account for more than half of petroleum use in North America. You and I, driving to the grocery store, use half the oil we have. It’s an obscene use of a valuable and vanishing resource.

There are millions of square meters of asphalt. In cities it can exceed half of the land area. Huge swaths of it spiderweb our lives, and even during rush hour, they are mostly empty. A highway, running at full traffic capacity, is 93% vacant space.

Elevators were manually controlled at one time. A lever, operated by a person, moved you up and down. But that is in the past, because machines can move us around faster, safer, and more efficiently. Why are we still driving cars?

That may sound like a leap. It’s not. Existing technology can drive a car, and make traffic completely automated. The benefits would be amazing. We just needs to decide to do it.

I am obsessed with the idea of automated traffic. For years I’ve been sitting at stop lights pondering algorithms to control robot cars. Thankfully there are people smarter than I am doing the same thing. My wife wants to trade the car in on something else. I’m holding out.

“What are you looking at?”

“That black fish!”

There is an aquarium behind me. A handful of colourful fish weave through the artificial world. They say fish are soothing.

“He keeps chasing the yellow fish around. He’s being a jerk.”

“Maybe they’re playing a game. How do you know it’s not fun?”

“See there he goes again. It’s not a game. Look at the yellow fish. He’s thinking, ‘Why won’t that guy leave me alone!’ ”

I feel obligated to point out that we are not characters in Finding Nemo. “I don’t think that fish is thinking anything.”

“He’s doing it again! What an asshole!”

I love that she thinks one fish is being mean to another fish, and is getting genuinely upset about it. I tell her so. Although let’s remember our priorities, it’s date night. So, I add, “Now quit worrying about the fucking fish and pay attention to me.”

“Did you just threaten to give me a karate chop to my wind pipe?”

“That’s right.”

“And you’re going to argue with me that you’re a little butch.”

It took me a week, but I won that argument. Although any ground I gained, I lost when I told her my love increased for her twelve to thirteen percent.

Do you ever forget to put the sheets back on the bed until right before bed time? I hate that. You’re all geared up to climb in to a comfy bed and let the days troubles ease away, and the naked bed mocks you.

That’s what happened. We forgot to make the bed. The sheets were upstairs in a pile, and I was dreading that one last chore. I bitched about it as I trudged up the stairs to our room. But when I walked in and saw that she had made the bed without a word as a nice surprise, I looked at her and said, “My love for you just increased twelve to thirteen percent.” She wasn’t impressed.

I argued that she should be. Increasing our love, grown over our 9 year history, in one instant, 12 to 13 percent, is impressive. I mean, she didn’t give me a kidney, she just made the bed. I figured I had been pretty generous. She’s an accountant, she appreciates numbers, she saw my point. Still, I was getting in a habit of digging myself into holes. So when I brought up the blue cheese I was already in trouble.

We were hanging out, and I said I loved her, and she asked, “How much?” Yes, dorky, and sickly sweet, but we were by ourselves, and this is a game we like to play. Don’t judge. I try to stay away from the standards, I try stretch a bit, and this time I said, “I’d give up blue cheese for you.”

“Blue cheese! You’d give up mold for me! Nice.”

“But blue cheese is so awesome.”

She wasn’t buying it. The word “mold” was used repeatedly. It seemed to me she was concentrating on the wrong details. The point was that I loved blue cheese and I offered to give it up for her.

“But blue cheese! Moldy stinky cheese! Why not chocolate?! If you asked me, I’d say chocolate.”

Well now we were just arguing the relative merits of different foods. It’s the sincerity of the offer that makes a difference. And when I made it, my offer was genuine, hers was not. When pressed she admitted her giving up chocolate was unlikely.

“See, that’s the difference. I meant it.”

“So you’re going to give up blue cheese for me? To prove you love me?”

“Well not now. You’ve ruined it.”

“Seriously! Seriously? What the fuck’r you doing?”

“You looked so cute.” She finds my confused morning look and awry hair boyish and endearing. “It’s a good picture. It shows why I love you.” At least the camera was pointed at my face, that’s something.

I was a 35 year old Engineer and computer programmer, with no experience that would recommend me to the job of acrobat, but enthusiasm counters almost anything. I became a professional circus performer.

I just phoned up a circus company. I said, “A lady you know from Edmonton said I should call you when I moved to Vancouver. I liked her circus class. Um, she said I should call you?” I was nervous about this. They said, “See you Monday night.” So after work I went, and I trained with them for about about two years.

I tried many things. The first one I loved, was standing on the end of the Teeterboard when two people jumped off a tower on to the other end. The result was a rocket ride three or four storeys into the air.

The teeterboard pushes you up with an impressive force. When you first learn, you simply stand as stiff as the board you are on. As you progress you learn how to make a tiny jump, only a small bend of your knees, and then you straighten in time with the jumpers from the tower. The smallest of efforts, properly timed, are magnified by the springy board and give you extra height. However, if you are out of alignment, or your timing is off, the board will drive your feet upwards so hard that your knees buckle, and you will do what is refered to as a buck-a-roo. I only ever did one buck-a-roo, it was enough to end my career as a Teeterboard artist.

Every Wednesday we did Teeterboard. I did it for, probably eight evenings. For the first six I wore a safety harness, in my mind, it was part of the ride. The seventh night the harness came off at the end of practice. I did a couple landings without thinking about that too much, the evening ended with success. On the eighth night, I lost it, a bit, and that was enough.

As the feet of the two tower jumpers began to descend, my concentration drifted, and when I found it again, that board was driving my feet straight into my ass. The next day it felt like I had done a couple hundred deep knee bends. I was thrown, ass over tea kettle, limbs flailing, in a small awkward arc that had me landing on my head. My spotters guided me to the ground safely, but it changed my perspective. This fabulous fun would never replace my income, and was an irretrievably stupid risk for a man who made his living using the contents of his skull.

So, I mostly praticed two person hand to hand acrobatics, which I was much better at anyway. My partner and I worked on tricks, or moves, tie enough of those together successfully, you end up with a performance.

In this trick. My partner and I face each other two strides apart. I’m crouching slightly, my elbows are locked and my hands are laced between my knees. She walks forward, places her hands on my shoulders, steps one foot into the cradle of my palms, and as she drives her body up I straighten, lifting her foot. On the way up, she pirouettes as I separate my hands, I catch her other foot as she completes the spin, she locks every muscle in her body, I catch her momentum, and we end with her standing in my hands at shoulder level. Simple.

We couldn’t get it. Night after night I thought, “I’ll never be strong enough, she’s too heavy, I’m old, my back hurts, this whole thing is ridiculous! But we are so close!” I didn’t think I’d be able to do it.

Unlocking the secrets of an acrobatics move was fun, and something entirely unique, or it was for me. You have to find a language to express a physical movement that alludes description. It becomes this nebulous thing. You know it’s wrong, but you can’t find the words to say why. Actually, I never knew, I was terrible at knowing what was wrong, but they did.

Two members of our group were helping us practice. They were also boy / girl hand to hand actobats. They were strong and talented performers who had mastered this trick, and went on to circus fame. On this day however, they were trying to help my partner and I figure out the problem.

The girl training us tried it with me a couple of times. The two of us couldn’t do it either, so there was no doubt the source of the problem, it was me. She stepped back and said, “I don’t know. I can’t push. He’s gooshy.”

My partner is French. Her English is excellent, but this lost her, so she wrinkled her forehead and asked, “What is gooshy?”

“I don’t know. I go to stand, and he’s not there, his hands aren’t solid. I can’t push. He’s gooshy.”

Now she got it. “Yes! You’re gooshy!” she said, and threw her hand at me in exasperation. They watch me now. As she steps into my hands I drop them a fraction. I was readying myself to lift an enormous weight, except she wasn’t, she was tiny, but I was trying to do all the work. When she began to push I fell out below her, so I had to catch her first, which worked against both of us, and felt impossible.

As I crouched down ready to try again I muttered my new mantra, “No gooshy, no gooshy, no gooshy.” And I moved against her foot as soon as I felt it. Fluid power, like an arc on graph paper, up over my head, spin, and she’s standing in my hands. Beautiful. Simple.

It’s the beginning of February. Usually I’m thinking uncharitable thoughts about the people crowding the exercise equipment. Just give up on your stupid New Year’s Resolution already. New leaf time.

Yoga, tennis, walking, rock climbing, swimming, rowing, boxing, biking, dancing, bowling, running, stretching, or maybe the flying trapeze. Find something you can enjoy. You’re body is a depreciating asset, but there is unfound power and grace in it yet. There is poetry in motion.

I was paid for one circus performance. It was the hardest won money of my life. I’m proud of it.

Thank you:

• Peter and Nino, founders of The Underground Circus, who trained me.
• Jeff and Kelsey, featured performers in their second Cirque du Soliel show, who discovered what made me gooshy.
• Marie-eve, actress, acrobat, stunt woman, and yoga teacher who trusted me to balance her in the air, when she probably shouldn’t have.
• The family I met at the Underground Circus.

My apologies:

To you, for that being so much like liner notes, from a teen heartbreak album.