I happened to be in New York last week, hiding out from hostile Bruins fans after an ill-advised trip to Boston to watch the Canucks get butchered in Game 3 of the Stanley Cup.  I rode into the Apple as word broke of the teacup sex scandal surrounding New York Congressman Andrew Weiner.   For those of you who’ve recently emerged from a coma,  I’ll summarize; married politician takes pictures of penis then sends them on Twitter to a half dozen women, none of whom happen to be his wife – thus giving new meaning to the phrase “junk mail.” Now, two weeks after news of the dong shots first popped up (along with double entendres like the ones you’ll read in this post),  Weiner has opted to resign, saying the fallout from the scandal has made it effectively impossible for him to represent the constituents in his district. It’s the kind of lapse in judgment that gives late night talk show hosts and cable news networks reason to believe God loves them, and them alone.

Now, given how frequently they seem to occur, you’d think American pundits would be kind of blasé about political sex scandals – yet somehow they always find a way to be shocked (SHOCKED!!) when an elected official does something inappropriate.  So the thing that struck me about being in New York at the time (aside from the ridiculous New York Post headlines – “Pop Goes the Weasel”? Ugh) was how sanguine New Yorkers were.  I made no attempt at an empirical study, but I did speak to several New Yorkers about Andrew’s boner. For the most part they were downright European in their level of concern – which is to say they couldn’t really give a shit.

There was Richie, a bartender at an Upper West Side joint called Malachy’s, who called the whole thing “minuh league bool-shit.”  He’s right – on the radioactive scale of career implosions, this is low grade plutonium: it isn’t the 1963 Profumo scandal, when a member of the British cabinet was caught sleeping with a woman who was also sleeping with an alleged Russian spy.   It isn’t former Florida Congressman Mark Foley harassing teenaged boys.  This isn’t the late Francois Mitterand keeping one family with his wife and another with his mistress, or John Edwards allegedly using campaign contributions to cover up his secret love child, or Berlusconi with…well, with any woman who will let him stick his penis inside her.   It doesn’t even rise to the level of Clinton’s “secret sauce” on Monica’s dress in the Oval Office…the biggest scandal there was the amount of money spent finding out about it.  This IS more scandalous than former NY Congressman Chris Lee’s shirtless pics, but the speed with which that guy resigned makes me think there were even bigger, uglier skeletons lurking in his closet.

On the whole, New Yorkers seem to be “whatevs” about their aptly-named native son.  Rachel, an impossibly gorgeous NYU student from Brooklyn with whom I rode the L train into Manhattan, pretty much summed it up: ‘no crimes were committed, no government funds were embezzled, no public trust was breached, so…who gives a fuck?’ (imagine that said with a Brooklyn accent – it’s way more fun).   Voters in Wiener’s district seem to agree with her: when asked if Andrew’s member should stay in Congress, more than half said yes.  This was in stark contrast to Democratic shrew Nancy Pelosi, who demanded in very shrill terms that he resign.  Mind you, Weiner’s support may’ve been soft – unlike Weiner himself. As Richie put it, he may need to resign “if only to get that Pelosi bitch and all the others to shut the hell up.  Now do you wanna gossip, or do you wanna ‘nother fuckin’ drink?”

I suppose I get the ambivalence -  Noo Yawkers are like Al Pacino -“been around…seen things, y’know” – and they aren’t hung up on personal impropriety as much as people inside the Beltway or the Bible Belt might be.  New Yorkers understand that even smart guys do stupid things in their personal lives (“why hello there, Governor Spitzer”), but that doesn’t mean they’re bad at their job, or should lose their job – if that were the case, unemployment rates would skyrocket.  To paraphrase Walt Whitman, New Yorkers are large enough to contain contradictions – or in Weiner’s case, just large.

Of course, just because New Yorkers are glib doesn’t mean they’re blind to a basic truth – that salting Twitter with pictures of your cock is not exactly smooth, to the extent one has to wonder if Congressman Bonehead isn’t some kind of idiot savant.  This kind of clumsy exhibitionism is right out of the Cro Magnon Narcissist’s dating manual, next to clubbing a woman over the head – neither subtle nor sexy. To call Weiner’s behaviour sophomoric would be insulting to sophomores – at least they’ve tweeted and sexted enough to know if you put explicit photos of yourself online, they will get probably get out – especially if you’re hot and/or hold public office.

So Weiner has joined a sad fraternity, comprised mostly of dim bulb pro athletes – Brett Favre, the horselike Greg Oden, and the porn-handled Grady Sizemore.   It could be these guys were swept up in some kind of celebrity douche-fugue that made them think their reputations were untouchable. More likely it never occurred to them that pictures of their penises would go viral because personal technology arrived rather late in their lives.  They’re still so enchanted by it’s novelty – “FINALLY, I can send unsolicited pictures of my junk to women” – they failed to realize, as author Sloane Crosley put it, that “information technology is like getting undressed with the shades open: if you can see the neighbors, chances are they see you.”

Pages: 1 2

Dear Ah-nold,

After reading of the indiscretion with your housekeeper, and the love child that came from it, I could only think of one thing…well, okay, two things: 1) next to fucking the nanny, fucking the housekeeper is the BIGGEST cliché ever, and 2) you are a medical miracle.

You’re a miracle because it’s apparent that steroid use has not shriveled your testes in any way.  Quite the contrary, in fact.  People all over the world are talking on cell phones and wondering why their calls keep getting dropped. Now we know – it’s because your balls were blocking their signal.  Thanks to the revelation of your bastard lovechild, cell providers can put communications satellites in orbit around your nuts to correct the problem.

Let’s review the bidding – not only did you lie by omission about an affair and a child, you did it sucessfully for FOURTEEN YEARS!!  That’s like, a millennium in TMZ time (NOTE: TMZ time is measured by taking a calendar year, multiplying it by TMZ’s unrelenting search for smut, then dividing that by an average TMZ reader’s attention span).   As if that wasn’t enough…you let baby mama continue to work for you almost a decade after you knocked her up! She was even pregnant AND working at your house the same time Maria was pregnant with your youngest child!  To be this brazen requires testicles so huge they reside in two different time zones!

So fuck Larry Craig and his wide stance, or Chris Lee and his shirtless pics – that’s petty Beltway bullshit.  You’re the Terminator, man – NOTHING about you is small.

Naturally, people everywhere are feigning righteous indignation as they suck up every detail, but I assure you, I’m not one of them.  I’ve stepped out on enough girlfriends to know I have no business acting as your moral compass.   If I’m no longer a douchebag, it’s partly because I realize the devastation that comes from betraying a loved one’s trust, but mostly because it’s just easier to remember the truth.  I’m getting both lazy and forgetful in old age.

That’s what makes the fact you carried this lie for so long so amazing to me  - to paraphrase Ron Burgundy, I’m not mad,  I’m just impressed. This could be the publicity equivalent of Ebola virus, yet you kept a lid on this tighter than those shorts you wore in Pumping Iron. It probably helps that the circle of trust on this one was pretty small – just you and the maid.   Still, lies are a huge burden (even for a guy like yourself, who benches…what? 300 now?), and most times you can only carry them for so long.  So I suppose you had to lay down your burden eventually, but I can’t help but think you could’ve kept this a secret indefinitely if you’d just expanded your circle to include one more person – your wife.

Pages: 1 2

Dear Stephen,

 

Let me just say congratulations – you did it! Thanks to the twin miracles of parliamentary democracy and the first-past-the-post electoral system, you have done an amazing thing – get Canadians to elect a Harper majority despite the fact that you lead it. Everyone says America is where anything is possible, but that’s not true.  In America, to be elected leader you have to at least be likable. I doubt that even the people who voted for you would say that about you, and therein lies the genius of your victory.

Up until now all those pesky, insolent opposition MPs had the audacity to question your judgment. Well, no more – now, you are free to do whatever the fuck you want, and if Parliament doesn’t like it, it can suck it. Don’t like how you’ve decorated the government lobby in the House of Commons, replacing portraits of former PMs with pictures of yourself? Suck it. Don’t like that you’ve instructed bureaucrats to change all references to “The Government of Canada” in official correspondence to “The Harper Government”? Suck it.  Don’t like that you tried to cut opposition parties off at the knees by eliminating their public campaign financing (which is what actually forced you to prorogue Parliament the first time)? Suck it. Don’t like that you’ve introduced cybercrime legislation that allows for more government authority to invade personal privacy than the problem requires, and could be open to abuse by politicians who are controlling and mildly paranoid? Suck it.  Don’t like your supplicants impugning the character of whistleblowers on the Afghan detainee scandal? Suck it.  Don’t like that you may’ve bent campaign financing rules to free up more money for attack ads?  Suck it. Don’t like that you regularly punish civil servants and people in your own party for disagreeing with you? Su…well, you get the picture.

I will say it again, Steve – you have succeeded where I have failed, in that you have made being an asshole work for you.  Before, the ‘blessings’ of your autocratic nature were limited to people unfortunate enough to work for you. Then, the excesses of your deeply flawed personality found their way into the operation of government.  Now, everyone in Canada gets to experience your…uh…Harperness.

Of course, at least 60% of Canadians may not find it as charming as you do, and in that regard I can’t help but wonder if you’re going to miss all those pesky, insolent MPs who kept calling you on your bullshit.   Sure, they may’ve kept you from doing everything you wanted, but here’s the thing – were you to do everything you wanted, I believe you’d piss a lot of people off and end up getting voted out of office next time around.   The blind spot in a controlling nature is that you often lack the self-awareness to realize when you’ve gone too far, and by severely punishing even the mildest of dissent there’s no one working for you with the nerve to say when you’re not wearing any clothes.

By keeping you in check, those opposition MPs managed to successfully bring out your better leadership qualities while curbing your much uglier ones.  Maybe you hated those guys (and a few of them were worth hating), but in a funny way they were saving you from yourself.   I suggested in my previous post that if you won a majority, we were much pretty much fucked.  You may not realize this, but by “we” I meant you as well.

Of course, who am I to say? I’ve been wrong before – just ask your Heritage Minister, James Moore.  I once told him (on national TV, no less) that he was high for thinking Gladiator would win the Oscar for Best Picture. Look how that turned out.    It could be you’ll become a Better Man and develop the circumspection to govern a country where the majority of folks don’t agree with you, but will keep you in office if you don’t indulge your Nixon-esque side.  Or maybe people will learn to enjoy being led by a twerp.  This is Canada, where anything is really possible.

In the meantime I will show you the respect you’ve undoubtedly earned.  I will no longer refer to you as a regular old asshole.  From now, I will call you Mr. Asshole.

Good luck!

 

Chris

 

This photo of Steve McQueen is one of my favorites.  It was taken in 1963 by McQueen’s friend, photographer William Claxton, who actually stood on the passenger seat snapping pictures as McQueen raced down LA’s Muholland Drive at 100 mph.  I like this photo so much I had a 4 x 3 foot print made of it, which sits over my desk at home.  It’s under the constant, unrelenting gaze of St. Steven here that I’ve written most of my blog posts, although more recently I’ve found myself just staring back it him, mind completely blank, praying he might offer some kind of inspiration.

Well, it seems like St. Steven was listening, because as I stared at at this picture it occurred to me I’ve never written about why I find him so admirable.  Anyone who comes over to the house comments on the picture, but rarely do they ask why I’m a fan.   I suppose they think it’s for the same reason everyone else does -  handsome movie star/style icon/anti-hero with a taste for fast cars, fast motorcycles, and fast women.

The thing is, I like McQueen for something else altogether – his hubris.   Webster defines hubris as “excessive arrogance” – a totally flaccid explanation which doesn’t really capture how awesomely descriptive the word truly is.   Hubris actually comes from Greek tragedy – characters cursed by it possessed an excess of ambition or pride. They were out of touch with reality and overestimated their capabilities, which ultimately caused their ruin.

Pages: 1 2

In the first year of his presidency, Ronald Reagan spent countless hours trying to persuade congressmen to approve a crucial sale of military planes to Saudi Arabia.  By all accounts, it was a grueling effort that a took a personal toll, so when Congress voted (by a narrow margin) to approve the deal, Reagan turned to an aide and said “I feel like I’ve just crapped a pineapple.”

That’s pretty much describes my feelings all year with this blog.  And just like anything you might expel from your bowels (pineapples or otherwise) I’m not sure if I’m proud of the results so much as glad that the year is over.

To recap: 365 days ago I vowed to become a Better Man by today.  In my first post, I wrote about waking up Christmas morning to find the tires on my car slashed.  It was the final insult in a year’s worth of indignities, and the parallels weren’t lost on me: my easy ride on the wheels of good fortune had been suddenly deflated by the ugly vicissitudes of life.

And so this blog was born, a chronicle of my efforts not only to reverse my fortunes, but to change for the better – to find the wisdom and fortitude to overcome my crises. I’d resolved to do this by taking on several laudable, hare-brained and occasionally dangerous projects, all designed to improve the quality of my character.    In the process,  I learned a few lessons:

LESSON #1: It’s Okay To Make Wildly Unrealistic Plans That You Fail to Achieve.

When Joseph Stalin ruled the Soviet Union, he laid out several Five Year Plans that came with virtually impossible economic targets the workers had to achieve.  We’re talking crazy goals, like wheat production that required more farmland than physically existed in the entire country.  When the workers failed to achieve their targets, Stalin made sure heads rolled…literally. That’s too bad, because in spite of the “failure” the Soviet Union still achieved phenomenal economic growth, outpacing even some capitalist countries.  Cranky, homicidal Joe was so focussed on what didn’t happen that he couldn’t see the progress his country had made.

In my Better Man-ifesto, I came up with nine very ambitious projects, ones with high numbers for both artistic merit and technical difficulty.  I did not stick the landing on most of them.  Project “Do Me a Solid” was all about volunteering, yet the most  I ever volunteered for was seconds at dinner. The God Project was another disaster – although I must admit my heart wasn’t in it. Having grown up going to church, suddenly going back felt a little like going to the fridge for the milk, finding it had gone stale, then putting it back thinking if I return later it might be good again.  In all, I failed to complete ANY of the projects in their entirety,  including the seemingly easy goal of being a Better Asshole (Project Ari Gold).

Now, it’d be easy to pull a Stalin and dwell my failures, but that would mean overlooking the unanticipated successes of this year.  Take Project Renaissance Man (self-reliance and technical aptitude) – I didn’t pick up ANY of the skills I’d set out to learning.  However,  I’ve since compensated for it by discovering my inner Boy Scout – for example, I may not know how to fix my motorcycle, but now wherever I ride I carry a space blanket, canteen, and a survival knife in my saddle bags.  That way if I break down on the highway, at least I won’t die of exposure, dehydration, or bear attacks.  In fact, my house is now littered with how-to guides, and wherever I go I carry tools for most crises, even if I don’t know how to use them.

Pages: 1 2 3

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jk9QYuslcP8

Lately, I’ve been giving a lot of thought to how I might become a Better Man through career advancement, and I think I may’ve found a role model.  His name: Rick Sanchez.

Now I admit, Rick is a low wattage bulb, and possibly unstable, but he has made his limited gifts work for him, although I rarely bothered to watch Rick’s List on CNN.  For that matter, I’ve never watched Glenn Beck, or Sean Hannity, Bill O’Reilly, Lew Dobbs, Jim Kramer or any other of those frothy-mouthed, Howard Beale wannabes either.   There’s nothing high-minded about my disinterest – I was just jealous.  That these men could be successful in television (even though their qualifications are dubious and their opinions often grossly misinformed) made me think just one thing: Fuck me, I could’ve made it too.

Historically, my exposure to their programs was limited to the selected morsels served up by Jon Stewart (a man with unique gifts, thus making his show bearable for me to watch).  Surely Stewart and his writers must believe in God, because it’s almost as these gaff-prone numskulls were created specifically for mockery by The Daily Show – can you imagine how dull the program would be if they weren’t around?

I suspect Stewart realizes how symbiotic his relationship with the pundit cabal is, and I think some of the sharper ones in that group know it too: thanks to the most trusted newscaster in America (Time Magazine called Stewart that, not me), these guys are exposed to a broad segment of people who would otherwise having nothing to do with them.   A lot of people could happily live out their lives without ever hearing these gentlemen and their rabid gobblygook (I’ve been waiting for an occasion to use that word!), so The Daily Show has had the effect of elevating their presence from “possibly harmful white noise that taints intelligent debate” to “something to which we should pay marginal attention”.

Pages: 1 2

Happy Canada Day, Steve!

Maybe you remember me – I sent you a letter back in January, asking if you’d show me what it takes to be a proper asshole.  You see, it had occurred to me that trying to treat others as decently as I can wasn’t necessarily getting me anywhere, so perhaps being a Better Man involved chasing naked self-interest no matter how much it hurt and/or infuriated other people…in other words, the kind of things you do.   I suspect you didn’t read that letter – although your bearing occasionally reminds me of Dwight Schrute (with less guile)  you can still be a polarizing public figure when you want to be.  I’m sure you’re inundated with more letters/death threats than 10 prime ministers could read in all their lifetimes combined, so it might be easy to overlook mine.   Mind you, a part of me likes to think you did read it and haven’t replied because….well, that’s what an asshole would do.

Regardless of whether you got back to me or not, I figured I could at least learn from your example, but you’ve maintained a barometric control on your inherent douche-ness…you laid low during the Olympics,  kept both your cool and a tight lid on the whole Afghanistan detainee thing.  I was starting to feel a little cheated, that I wasn’t going to see the kind of assholery I’ve come to enjoy from you…that is, until the G20 last weekend.

Now, we both know that many hands have been wrung over the money you spent on security…a billion dollars, almost 51 times the cost of G20 security in Pittsburgh last year, and more than all security costs for previous G8/G20s combined.  With that much cheese one could be excused for thinking you created a clone army of riot police, or perhaps hired the A-Team.  One has to wonder how much of it actually went to security as opposed to, say,  pork barrel projects in federal ridings that could prove crucial in the next election, but I’m just talking out my ass there – although if that did happen, then good for you!  Supreme dick move/quasi abuse of power! (Oh wait, wasn’t that exactly the sort of thing you hammered the Liberals for during when the sponsorship scandal? Never mind.)

Pages: 1 2

It took a friend I play hockey with to point out the metaphysical piece of toilet paper trailing on my shoe:  in some circumstances, I have the capacity to be a petulant bully.  I honestly had no idea, and it got me thinking: perhaps I’m perpetrating a whole bunch of anti-social behaviours I don’t know about that demand correction.

So I reached out to some of  my closest friends, asking them to share one bad thing about me. Being my friends and knowing me well, I figured they would have informed opinions based on long experience as well as personal judgment. I assured them they could be honest and forthright knowing I wouldn’t get offended, but to make it easier for them to share (and for me to hear it) I also asked them to say one good thing.  Here’s how they responded:

Chris is a man who boasts many interests, and chief among them is himself. I have oft been regaled long into the night as he holds forth lustily and at length on the subject of said self, regardless of the level of interest exhibited by his captive audience. That said, his is a condition common to many men of a certain age who have yet to meet the sacrifices required by fatherhood. The good news is that he’s an exellent sport and I know he will take this on the chin.

That’s from Guy, a friend who backs up his loyalty with action.  He’s also blunt and preternaturally critical, so I knew I could count on him to give me something truly cutting.  Guy did not disappoint. I’ve always thought I’ve been somewhat circumspect when it comes to discussing the topic of me, but I can admit I’m wrong…either that, or Guy is just sick of hanging out with me.  Either way, it was excellent criticism, and exactly the kind for which I’m looking.

Good thing: Seemingly unfiltered. Like, you always show yourself to be exactly who you are, which makes you fun to be around because it comes from such an honest place that is so sincere & genuine, it feels special to be a part of it – we always know a visit with Chris will be one of our favorites of the year.

Bad thing: You don’t always listen, including to yourself.

That’s from my friends Katie and Colby, a married couple so cute you just want to throw them both off the roof of a skyscraper.  They need to give themselves more credit for making me feel safe enough to be myself.  As for their criticism…I think perhaps an inability to listen goes hand-in-hand with a penchant for talking about oneself at length, as Guy suggests I do.   The most charismatic people on earth are great listeners (it’s been said that Bill Clinton listened so well he could make you feel like the only person in the room), so this is sage advice.  I’m not sure if by suggesting that I don’t listen to myself that I’m talking bullshit (“Just listen to yourself!”) but Katie and Colby would be neither so mean nor so obtuse, so it’s probably something else…I hope.

Good thing: You are a totally non-judgmental person.

Bad Thing: You try too hard. You get a little pretentious, or you name drop or put on a show, and it comes across as phoney. Stop being afraid to just be yourself.

That last one was courtesy of my friend Catherine. It seems to contradict what Katie and Colby are saying, although its perhaps more a matter of me “putting on the dog” for someone with whom I want to either work or date.  It’s troublesome to think I’m giving the exact opposite impression of what I want them to have, but at least now I know why I’m still single at my age and can barely find work.

Good thing: Amazing speaker/story teller. You always hold the attention of the people you’re talking to and deliver so well. One of the most thoughtful, entertaining people I know.

Bad thing: Overly intense on first impressions. You outshine too quickly with your character and delivery and it turns off some people. Perhaps slow it down and allow the meek to open up a bit before going full tilt. Ease them into a full Nelson.

Yikes! Intense on first impressions…suddenly I think I’m coming across as Ted Bundy after he’s drank a case of Red Bull.  However,  I love my friend Peter’s ability to soften his criticism, as though I’m so interesting it’s just…TOO!…MUCH!!  Nonetheless he’s right.  I’m prone to filling the gaps left in conversations by others, gaps that perhaps should be filled by someone else.

Good Thing: One of your most compelling characteristics is an unbridled ability to ooze WARMTH. There’s a genuine glow that you radiate when conversing with others; an interest in what someone has to say, excitement for another persons stories & experience. You laugh easily and envelope people with a feeling of utter ease & comfort. Back in the day, I introduced you to an older actor I knew, a terrific BORE of a man. I tried to communicate my embarrassment with pleading looks of apology everytime something radically stupid came out of his mouth. But no matter! You had filed away any inkling of judgement for this person, and embraced everything he said with an open mind & heart. My respect for you soared! You were so warm, so genuinely interested and so good natured about the whole experience that I vowed to try to be as graceful & kind as you are; to be as open & good natured when I found myself in similar circumstances.

Bad Thing: I believe that you may fall prey to putting too much emphasis on outward appearences, and if you stopped scanning rooms for the most outwardly beautiful woman in the room, you’d have a better shot at an enduring worthwhile relationship.

This is from my amiga Shannon, and her good comment directly contradicts what Guy, Katie and Colby just said.  I haven’t seen Shannon as recently as I’ve seen the others, so perhaps I used to listen to others well but over time I’ve gotten WORSE!  As for her bad comment…guilty as charged.  Mind you, EVERY guy does this, whether they cop to it or not.  In my defense I have little in common with the most beautiful women in the room, which is why I’ve cultivated relationships with the most interesting ones instead. Then again, none of those interesting relationships have worked out, so perhaps I need to date more vapid hotties.

Good thing: You are genuinely curious and eager to learn, and I have never once seen you treat people differently based on their connections or status. You make people feel welcome and like you are interested in their life, regardless of who they are.

Bad thing: You use self-deprecation as a means of hiding or avoiding. Sometimes it reads as someone not confident enough to put themselves out there and apply 100 per cent effort, and other times it reads as possibly false modesty, like you know you’re good at something but don’t want to seem like a douche for saying so. I’m not saying this is the truth, it’s just how it reads.

Once again, a note from a friend I haven’t seen in a while whose good comments make me think I’m worse today than I was  a few years ago.  Could it be that as my life becomes increasingly more lacklustre,  I’m getting more self-absorbed and thoughtless? The tragedy of my life could be the less interesting I become, the more I talk about myself.  As for the bad thing – well, I used to tell people that self-deprecation is something ego-maniacs use to hide their vanity. By the way, did I mention I hate myself?

This is from my friend Piers:

Good thing: very well-spoken.

Bad Thing: occasionally glib.

What I say: Points for brevity.

You act without first considering how others might feel about what you’re doing.

That’s from the woman I’m currently seeing.  She’s absolutely right.  What’s worse? I take actions that I know might affect others, but I don’t want them to prevent me from doing what I want.    I always believed in the adage  ”it’s easier to apologize than to ask permission”, but maybe it’s time to let my unilateralism go.

Soooo…..I’d had many responses to my request, and if there is a trend emerging from my friend’s comments, it’s this: I have a great capacity for warmth and charity of spirit, but I am more self-aborbsed and less considerate today than I have been in the past.   This is bittersweet news, as it means that friends have had to put up with my douchey behavour of the past few months  (years?), but also that they’ve seen enough good stuff in me that they’re prepared to tolerate it…for now, at least.  If there’s one message in all of this is, I think it’s this:  if I want to be a Better Man I have to re-learn how to add more to the lives of others than I take away.

Jock assholes are like acne – they affect all of us at some point (usually in high school) and some of us get them worse than others.  Just like acne, jock assholes can leave visible scars but for the most part  we all recover from them and go on to lead full lives.  About the only people immune to the irritation caused by jock assholes are other jock assholes.

As for me, I’ve listened to Morrissey and Bob Mould, read Milan Kundera (and I think I understood most of it) and grew up with a personal style that is best described as Rick Astley meets Layne Staley.  I’ve never snapped a teammate’s bare ass with a towel,  never mated with a prom queen or pissed on the door handles of a geek’s car.  It never occurred to me that anyone might confuse me with an actual jock asshole, chest-bumping and date-raping my way through my natural habitat.  Yet that is precisely how Lena thinks of me. Apparently, she has felt this way for months.

Lena is a woman I occasionally play co-ed street hockey with on Sundays.  She can be loud and is often prone to saying wildly inappropriate things in mixed company.  She has the courage of her convictions, even when her convictions fly in the face of facts or common sense.   If being crass and opinionated was an Olympic sport,  Lena’s face would be on a box of Wheaties. However, she’s also warm-hearted and genuine (qualities she seeks out in others) and is blessed by occasional moments of uncommon clarity.  That’s probably why I couldn’t dismiss what she said out-of-hand; she sent me a note after reading the open letter to my dad. I quote: “This was so good it surprised me.  I always thought you were some jock asshole.”

Now, saying “I thought you were gay” would be an understandable misperception – my apartment is tidy and I kind of like that Bronski Beat song.  To me,  ”I always thought you were a jock asshole”  was like saying “I always thought you were a Zulu warrior” or “I always thought you were the guy who invented Insulin”. I know that in her own inimitable way Lena was offering a compliment. If her assessment was wrong, it was only because….well, Lena’s wrong about a lot of things.

Except Lena is not wrong.   As I thought about it more, I realized that in the context in which she knows me, she’s absolutely right: when I play hockey, I play like a jock asshole.   I’m one of the biggest guys who plays, and I’ve learned to compensate for my lack of skill by using my size and strength to either muscle or intimidate other players, including the females.   I’m not above barking at a female opponent to scare her off the puck.  Lena even watched as my ex (who also plays) and I got into a shouting match simply because I was mad at her for scoring on me.

I’m not sure how I could have been blind to it so long, and that got me thinking:  if I can be a jock asshole and not know it, can I also be blind to the possibility that I may be…oh, I don’t know… a wet, flapping douchebag perhaps? In other words, are there are things essential to my nature to which I’m completely oblivious?  Am I Bruce Willis in The Sixth Sense?

I  knew that if I was to be a Better Man this year,  I may need to enlist the help of friends. However, I was never sure how they might help…until now.   Who is better equipped to point out those glaring personal flaws to which I am unaware than the people who know and love me best?

That’s why I have sent the following note to several of my friends:

FROM: Chris Nelson

RE: One Good Thing, One Bad Thing

Somerset Maugham once said that “people ask for criticism when secretly they want praise.” Is it too much to ask for both?

Some of you may be aware that I’ve turned this year into a personal improvement lab, with yours truly as the primary test rat. I’ve been chronicling my exploits on my blog, at the-better-man.com

So far, all I’ve required of you is your willingness to read whatever drivel I publish, but now I’m reaching out for assistance with an upcoming post – I want you to tell me one good thing about me, and one bad thing.

I would like each of you to take a moment and think about one thing you admire about me, and then one thing that stands out as a glaring character deficit, something that could stand improvement. If you’re feeling uneasy, remember that I asked for it. Think of it as helping me achieve a goal.

Now, I’m not looking for anyone to shine me on – I don’t require empty platitudes any more than I need harsh generalities. I thought of asking because I love all of you and I trust that anything you say will be constructive, so you need not worry about saying something that will either hurt my feelings or go to my head. Should you agree to help, please remember to a) be thoughtful, b) be funny, and c) be prepared for me to quote you directly when I post the responses on my blog.

So, roast away kids….and thanks!

This is the classic “kiss and a slap” or “iron fist in a velvet glove” approach – I figured they’d be more forthcoming with their criticism if they could first soften it with a little praise.    Then,  I might go about addressing those criticisms,  taking a hard look at myself and finding ways to correct them.   Naturally, dear reader, you’re welcome to weigh in as well (Curt, have you given up on me yet?).   Replies in my next blog….

Hi Steve! (Can I call you Steve?)

My name is Chris, and I’m working on being a Better Man for the next year.  I’ve lined up a few projects for myself to tackle, and I realize you’d be the perfect man to help with one of them. Basically, I think I might need to be a bigger asshole in order to be a better man.

You see, it occurred to me that I’ve spent a good portion of my life being more or less honest, trying with my limited gifts to be as decent as I can.  I can’t say I’ve always succeeded, but I’ve tried:  I’ve been polite, courteous, followed the rules, not just in letter but in spirit.  Whenever I said I believed in something, I tried to stick to it.  Sounds so…Canadian, doesn’t it?

Anyway, it’s gotten me nowhere.  I’m unemployed (thanks for the cheques, BTW, they’re coming in handy),  I’m single,  I’m broke and I have zero prospects.  So it occurred to me that I shouldn’t limit my definition of what a better man is – I mean, what if a Better Man isn’t someone who is honest, forthright, and sticks to principle? What if a Better Man is fiendishly clever, amoral, and never lets his principles get in the way of pursuing naked self-interest in order to get what he wants?  What I’m saying, Steve, is that you may be proving the argument that says to be a better man, you have to be an complete dick.

And you didn’t come by your prick-ish-ness naturally.   You’ve been hard at over the last few years. I remember when you were just starting out in politics, and you always bleated about how  Canadians needed better representation in government.  You said they’d never get it so long as we had those dusty old rules that technically still make us a constitutional monarchy.  Yet, proroguing Parliament on a whim and shutting down democracy for two months is something that could never happen if those rules didn’t exist.  You have managed to stifle democracy in a democratic country, and you’ve done it by using the same antiquated parliamentary system you vowed to fix.   You took the enemies of your conscience and made them …frenemies! Nice.

Take the Senate, for example… first, you were all pissy about an unelected Senate, and what a travesty it was.  Then, you were contrite about how you haven’t done anything about the Senate (by blaming the Liberals). But now that you’ve called a two month timeout, you’ll APPOINT the shit out of that senate house so you may use it to work on…wait for it… SENATE REFORM. Up is down. Black is white. Masterful!

Oh, I just remembered something else!  You know how you went on and on  about the Liberal sponsorship scandal costing Canadians $250 million dollars? Well, cost-wise, this extended snow day may end up costing just as much.   The time and money that have gone into the parliamentary committees, the work that went into proposed legislation..all wasted. When Parliament resumes, you’ll have to start all those new bills from scratch.  Now, when the sponsorship  scandal was still an open sore on our body politic, you had plenty of indignant opinions about it.  Here? Not a whisper, but as you told Mansbridge , you already got the bills passed that your party wanted, so who cares? Brilliant!

Speaking of scandals,  there’s your pirouette on the “alleged” torture of Afghan detainees. THAT was a thing of beauty, the way you dismissed the moral imperative of looking into the abuse of human beings on the grounds that the issue doesn’t poll well.  Here you are, a “champion” of Canadians’ need to be more involved in the affairs of their country, now banking on their apathy.  Total dick move, man! Assholes don’t “DO inquiries” – those are for suckers, like Liberals.

So let’s add it up; you’re stacking the deck in the Senate, sweeping the torture scandal under the rug,  wasting millions of taxpayer dollars in time and money on plans for the country that will die on the vine,  and no one can stop you because hey! YOU’RE PLAYING BY THE RULES! And you achieved all this because you were unafraid to eat your principles in the same way a dingo eats babies.  You blow off anyone who questions you (or even fire them, like some of your independent watchdogs), you treat Canadians as  ignoramuses (not to mention some of your ministers, what with you barring them from speaking to the media)….excuse the gushing but what a ruthless, free-wheeling, unapologetic asshole you’ve become! You’ve climbed Everest in nothing but a Jock Strap.  Bravo, Steve-O, BRAV-O!!!

What’s truly ballsy is you’ve managed to do all this with a MINORITY government, the political equivalent of a three-seven offsuit.  I must confess… I always thought you were scary, but I figured that with a minority you could go off your meds and not cause much damage.  But then there was all those speeches about government accountability, transparency, and fiscal conservatism at a time when we needed it, and I SO! BOUGHT! IT! You totally got me!!!  That, my friend, is the greatest gift of any asshole – to be able to convince people that you’re something you’re not, then have your way with them.  Some jerkwads do that to their girlfriends, but you did it to an ENTIRE COUNTRY!  You’re like the Yoda of assholes!

I won’t even get into the LAST time you shut down Parliament because you were afraid you’d lose your job, and then said it was because the opposition was trying to hijack democracy  (even though what they were prepared to do was totally allowed under the rules of parliamentary democracy)! All I will say is…well… you’re an inspiration!  I feel I MUST know what it takes to be Prime Douchebag such as you are now. It’s not like you’re busy right now (and you’re still getting paid – SHOW ME how to do that!!) so hook a brutha up!

I admit, I do feel weird asking for your help since I never voted for you but give it some thought, okay?  I’ve called this Project “ARI GOLD” but if it helps things,  I’d consider changing it to “Project: STEPHEN HARPER”. How’s THAT for a carrot?

Alright…break on 3! 1! 2! 3! BREAK!

Chris.

p.s. Oh yeah, I was going to mention this other project called MODEL CITIZEN. It’s all about trying to get politically engaged, taking active interest and get involved in the decisions that shape the country…actually, come to think of it, you probably don’t care about that one.  Forget it.

p.p.s  Check out these jugheads on Facebook! The obviously don’t appreciate your brilliance the same way I do.