The True Bay Roberts Legend

Reginald T. Badcock

Quote from Mordecai Richler's Barney's Version

"I'll bet you ten to one," I said, "that the covers of his notebooks are numbered and dated out of consideration for future scholars"

- that was the quote Joe

When you see the Gold in someone's eyes, it's hard to see the Silver in others'

Oh it bothers me so, that lights drive my soul

Rogers? What communication?

Are the people at Rogers Communications complete and utter idiots or what?

I have heard NOTHING but BAD things about their reception. I myself had to cancel my contract because I was wasn't getting the range that was set forth in my contract. They are infamous in Alberta and B.C. for garbage reception and anyone who comes home are forcibly incommunicado if they're on the Rogers Network.

Pretty nice when you come home for the Christmas holidays and the phone is rendered useless! Beware my ex-pats when you go out around the bay expecting your Rogers enabled phone to get reception.

Yet for some reason, unbeknownst to me (and I'm willing to bet many many others) their commercials feature the guy - with the far apart eyes - getting crappy reception and always losing calls juxtaposed with the "goodlooking" guy who always has impecable reception stating that he's with Rogers

Do the people at Rogers use their phones with Bell/Telus service? Because seriously how in God's name have they been able to market themselves as having good reception. I think they should fold based on that alone!

How do you like that rant Rick?

P.S. Don't anybody even think of copying that one

Why is he getting up so often?

So I've started a new job and it requires 16 days of training. Today was my second day on payroll and the first of seminars.

At the beginning of the class this morning we were taking frequent 5 minute breaks so we wouldn't get bored or fall asleep. It was great, some would go for a smoke or just chit chat and I would take out my book and endeavour to cut out a couple pages. After we had lunch and gathered back in the room and despite having just finished a coffee I was feeling quite drowsy.

Maybe 20 minutes into it I found myself holding my pee - hoping I could last until the next break - which I figured would come soon based upon the track record.

I should probably say too, that as my day progresses it is a mission of mine each day to attain good homeostasis via hydration. So being readily available, I had drank about 1 litre of water previous to lunch and only peed once, and that's not including the coffee I had (which is a diuretic of course) and the glass of orange juice I drank before showering plus the glass of milk I drank with my Nutella and Peanut Butter mixture sur mon whole wheat toast. Therefore, in an effort to get properly hydrated I drank roughly 2 litres before having lunch.

So having successfully held my pee for nearly half an hour I went to pee and on the way back to my seat I decided I should have another coffee, since I nearly fell asleep earlier. Half way through the cup I was dying to pee. Luckily we took a break, so off I went.

After the break I topped up my coffee and being anal, poured a cup of water as well to wash my mouth of the nasty after taste and to prevent staining on my teeth. Unfortunately for me I had to pee again within 10 minutes of sitting down again, so I walked from my seat at the very front to the rear where the entrance is located going past all the others and thought to myself "I hope this isn't going to be a reoccurring thing".

Well lo and behold, not even 20 minutes later I was up again walking past all the people in the room on the way to the washroom. This time I was growing paranoid of what the others in the room were thinking. I resolved to make no eye contact at all, trying not to bring attention to myself.

Back at my seat I finished my coffee and as I said earlier being anal - took mouthfuls of water and squished it around my mouth to wash it out a little. I guess the last of the coffee and the many mouthfuls of eau engorged my bladder and I was up again and on my way to the washroom. Still not making eye contact I walked to the opposite end of the room past all the others with the thought of whether or not they suspected I was doing drugs or something.

So, again back at my seat and 10 minutes into a video after we just came back from having a quick break I noticed a stench. Now I have been living in Alberta on and off for the past 5 years and I've noticed a particular smell associated with gas heated homes and buildings. This smell is very similar to rotten eggs, to the point that when I first moved into this house and noticing the smell I would walk around searching for the origin.It wasn't until this fall that I realized it was due to the gas heating. I had walked into my hotel room one day, a full 14 hours after leaving it and noticed an aroma as soon as I opened the door and passed through the undisturbed air. It was a tell tale sign for me - after narrowing down all the variables - that the gas heating was the culprit.

I say this only because this smell was ubiquitous, within the conference area, no better yet it was omnipotent, yes omniPOTENT. Good choice of words because if you remember I said the smell resembles rotten eggs or to a greater and worse degree: fart! Because if you've ever smelled this gas smell it's always mistaken for fart first!

Anyways, as I was saying, I was again on my way to the washroom amidst all the stink. However when I returned to my seat I wasn't fearful of them thinking I was doing lines of coke off the counter, rather that they suspected me responsible for some sort of explosive diarrhea, thus the stench!

Written to the iambic pentameter of the song "Raglan Road" sung by Luke Kelly

As I looked in her eyes twas great surprise as our lips softly met
As I held her there it was her stare that held my heart for true
For on those nights when she slept tight I dreamt of days to come
She laid by me with passions free it was where we were meant to be
Her long blonde hair on pillow near as our loved filled the air
The days when her smile would light a mile I let her sunshine in
But with utter grief and disbelief I knew we would soon part
I held her tight on every night so that her impression was made
And on those cold nights so far away I watched her from over here
I remembered her smile while I was on trial for I kept it in my heart
For on those days when we’d not part I would watch her once again
And when I came from far away I knew that we would do
Having baled my hay and next to her lay our life it would begin
No more those days when her sweet gaze was miles from me again

Cafe si vous plait

She hands over the remnants of a $5 bill après 2 cups of coffee have been extracted. Christ! I thought - as I struggled to add up the price of a single coffee - that shit used to be a lot cheaper when I first started drinking coffee.

That thought is then exacerbated with slight frustration realizing the amount of money I have spent for a drink that has often left me with anxiety and an inability to sleep.

Why coffee anyways? Back then I didn’t even enjoy the taste. Why not a milkshake or something I’d enjoy, like a soft drink? And what’s so soft about that stuff anyways? In grade 5 Mr. Kelloway emptied a can of cola into a glass with an iron nail in it, by the next day it had rusted.

Imagine your Teeth Children!

In the back of my mind I always figured the reason I came to drink this damn stuff was in an attempt to socialize. And in essence it was, but it made me feel pretentious. I would have much rathered tea.

By now I think my taste in coffee is refined a little, thanks in part to Richard Brown, who would religiously stop at Esquires for freshly ground French Roast each night on our way to work, a 12 hour shift mind you!

I no longer have a feeling of pretention as I now find utility in it and look forward to a “cup o joe” several times throughout the day. I prefer to buy it freshly ground and brewed at home, where I drink it black. I also use cold water now, so as to make it taste fresher (the water I mean). I got that from Keith and Craig on long nights studying for finals, or simply for nights studying. Engineers tend to be quite studious - it's a necessary adaptation - they need to be! Unless they plan on failing. Either way, after watching them pour cold water into the kettle I asked?
"The water coming from the boiler has been there longer than the water coming straight from the tap."
"Yes, not to mention precipitate", I said.
It made perfect sense.

My Mother used to boil the kettle après dinner using cold water. Just as her mother did and perhaps every other person she has seen put water into a kettle. I couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t just put hot water in there; taking it less time to boil.

Due to my persistence upon her to fill the kettle with hot water she began boiling the water just after we would sit for a meal, on a medium heat thus the kettle would be good and ready at the end. Then to her, my problem with the kettle taking too long to boil was no longer an issue. The fact remained that she never gave me an answer to satisfy my curiosity.

The problem still roamed around in my mind though, why would one do something that was obviously counter productive and never question it?
Why do we do things a certain way and with such frequency and not think to do it differently? I’m beginning to believe that people don’t think about stuff enough.

It's like the countless number of people I've watched eat a morsel of food and introduce liquid to the situation before they've even chewed it 3 times. Day after day I watched this one fella eat his lunch, he would take a bite of food, maybe chew it once and then take a mouthful of juice. I wanted to see him eat steak to see if he would do the same thing.

I could understand doing that if you didn't have teeth, because soaking it makes for easier mastication, but apparently it's not good on the gut, or at least that's what Vendenziehoffrhen said.

Mmm. . . Popcorn is it?

It shouldn't surprise you to know that when I was a child I prepared for my Brother a hearty meal of broken-up pieces of styrofoam, the flavour of which your house is likely insulated.

It was sometime in the early 80's when my parents or my Dad decided it was time to "finish" the basement in our young home. I was there for practically all of it. He had used the white styrofoam to place against the concrete and the itchy fiberglass variety next to that. You could imagine there being a lot of left over insulation of both varietals, and this I put to use.

Initially I had gathered up all the excess fiberglass and made a pile of it, in which I - wrapped up in my "skidoo suit" with the hood pulled tight - would pretend I was swimming in a vast unending ocean. You see I always had a great imagination and had become quite constructive after being weaned on the likes of a master craftsman by the name of Mr. Dressup.

Itchy and full of the dirt which accumulated over a busy basement floor complete with sawdust, I swam to the shore (basement floor) and dried myself off. I was warned days earlier when I was found walking along the insulation of the inside walls that the fiberglass was itchy and bad for me, but I had to find out for myself!

I didn't really learn my lesson until my second day of swimming when I got the damned stuff in my eye and scared my mother half to death when it was too painful for me to move my bloodshot eye within it's socket. So me - full of insulation and dirt - followed my Mom to the upstairs bathroom for a flushing of my eyeball. It was then, with the discomfort of water streaming into my sensitive eye that I decided my days of swimming in a vast ocean of fiberglass were over.

During this time of upgrading the basement my Brother Brad was at my side, and to keep us busy and out of trouble our Dad had fashioned a box from scrap pieces of wood laying around and said that we could help by picking up the pieces of styrofoam. I don't know about you, but my first encounter with this white material was bliss. First of all, it reminded me of Popcorn, it was slightly compressible and broke easily into many pieces. It had the functionality of "craftpaper", only on a higher level. Oh the possibilities.

Being anal at a young age I had cleaned this box our Father made to a degree worth of eating from and collected the refuse of styrofoam and broke them into smaller uniform pieces, which to me, resembled the Popcorn my brother cherished oh so well.

Out of curiosity and amusement I presented to my Brother this box of carefully sculpted insulation under the pretence that it was Popcorn.

To my pure and utter amazement he not only tried it but began eating it with gusto, and to the point that I was afraid he would run out.

So I, (still reeling from his display of satisfaction) not wanting to see my Brother go hungry, gathered more less manicured pieces of styrofoam to add to his plate. I watched joyfully, convincing myself that it wasn't that bad for him, and that he would simply poop it out like the stone of a plum, from which I had found out 1st hand years earlier. I continued to watch as he ate the styrofoam and listened to the characteristic scrunch and squeek of polystyrene polymers rubbing against teeth.

At one point I nearly laughed and gave myself away, but I held my composure and let him carry on doing what he was obviously enjoying.

It wasn't until many years well past puberty, that I relayed this story on a hot humid evening in the State of Quintana Roo, on the eastern part of the Yucatan Peninsula. far from the scene of the crime during a dinner in honour of his Matrimony.

My Mother was oblivious, as was his new Bride.

Mordecai Richler

I tell ya there's nothing like reading a Mordecai Richler book to make you realize how much you don't know! I have begun to read "Barney's Version" and 6 hours into it I'm only on page 12. I have been researching phrases, references, inferences, parallels and words that I either thought I knew, vaguely know or know nothing about.

Each paragraph is wrought with words that cannot be taken at face value or otherwise you will miss the whole point of him making use of such words or phrases. Like many of his previous books I have read, I have a list of words and a dictionary next to me. Only this time Microsoft Word is my scrap paper and Google is my research partner.

Already it looks to be a promising book, but as I further into it the larger my short term vocabulary becomes. People have wondered where I get the words I sometimes use, the "big words" I often put into prose, and Mordecai Richler is one of the sources for that. Because there's nothing worse than reading a book or a magazine and not fully appeciating the strength of the sentence due to not knowing the word of choice, and it is for this reason that I check out these words and their etymology in an effort to understand what the author had intended.

I use big words because sometimes one word encompasses what several may!

So I suggest everyone read a Mordecai Richler novel so that you too can spend several hours of research for each hour of reading. . . and at the end you'll have a larger vocabulary and a greater breadth of knowledge and most of all a snipit of understanding of his brand of Canadian culture.