******************************************

Atwood: You must know how much it pains me to do this, but after the most recent injuries to both Elvis Andrus AND Corey Seager ( si non fortuna velim fortuna omnino! ) I have found that my team, The Bad Feminists, is in need of some help at shortstop. Thusly compromised, I have no alternative but to attempt to discuss the possibility of a trade with you.

Me: You know, I really don’t have a clue how much it pains you to open a chat window with me. Please describe.

Atwood: It feels as if am a lone tree burning on the desert.

Me: A really ancient, worn out and desiccated tree? One that’s been completely abandoned by all the other trees that used to respect her but now subtweet her because they think her work is over-rated and old fashioned? A tree that just decided to go ahead and set herself on fire because let’s be honest, nobody was even going to notice?

Atwood: No, not that tree.

Me: Sounds like that tree.

Atwood: Your ability to evaluate the world around you is very poor. It’s why your team always finishes at the bottom of the league and you’re in a constant, emasculating state of rebuilding. It’s your cycle of pointlessness, part of what feeds your rage.

Me: I can’t remember– maybe because you look so much alike– but was it you who won the Nobel prize for literature or that singer Bob Dylan?

He might have come along after your time, so here’s a little video of him to ensure you have a clear, very clear picture, of the great literary talent who bested you for the Nobel:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJymBJ_5iUg

Atwood: I am interested in acquiring New York Mets infielder Asdrubel Cabrera from you, and as you obviously have no chance of winning this year, I’ll give you a couple of promising, young players who you can use next year in exchange for him.

Me: No.

Atwood: Without even hearing who those players are?

Me: I’m not out of contention yet.

Atwood: Yes you are. You’ve never been in contention.

Me: I WON’T BE BULLIED!!!

Atwood: Is that what’s been happening to you? You’ve been bullied into failure again and again and again? That daily video chat with your mother each morning, it’s not really helping you organize your life and establish your own goals, is it? No? Well ask yourself, is it your mother refusing to trade me Cabrera, or is it you, Michael?

Me: Look, I’ll give you Joe Panik for Jake Baurers and Nick Williams.

Atwood: NO! As the great Aeschylus said, “ I have learned to hate all traitors, and there is no disease that I spit on more than treachery!” You are a cheat, a blackguard! Panik just had thumb surgery and is out for the next two months! He’s worthless to me! Cabrera for Bauers and Williams, that’s it. Take it or leave it!!

Me: Can you arrange for me to meet Elisabeth Moss?

Atwood: I refuse to pimp out the wonderful actress from the award winning TV show, based on my award winning book, The Handmaid’s Tale, to you!

Me: You will if you want Asdrubel Cabrera in your lineup.

Atwood: You wouldn’t be allowed to make eye contact with her or touch her, you know.

Me: Jesus, of course I know that!

Atwood: I will think on the matter. You are dismissed.

In an effort to combat this, my wife Rachelle has developed a side hustle in which she combs through various stores for used children’s clothing and then sells what she finds online. I have recently become a part of her purchasing team.

What follows are the texts she sent to me while I was on a shopping mission:

**************************************

Rachelle: So, did you get those pink Sorel boots at the Value Village that you promised to pick up for me?

Rachelle: Oh.

Rachelle: I’d have thought you’d be there by now.

Rachelle: What problem?

Rachelle: Oh, I didn’t realize that taking the Queen streetcar to a destination on Queen street was “counter-intuitive,” especially considering that we used to live on that street.

Rachelle: Yes, I guess that was a lifetime ago.

Rachelle: We were very different people then, it’s true.

Rachelle: That’s right, there was no Netflix back in those days!

Rachelle: Yes, those were much more innocent times.

Rachelle: Those were the days before you fell down the conspiracy theory rabbit hole!

Rachelle: I’m sorry dear, of course I meant “Got Woke.”

Rachelle: Yes, you really are just as woke as fuck, and you’re right, the Lame-stream media can’t be trusted– it’s just too bad you still have such trouble with ordinary challenges is all.

Rachelle: Oh.

Rachelle: That’s what you want people to think.

Rachelle: I see.

Rachelle: Conceal the truth within a fog of misdirection! Just like a magician!

Rachelle: It’s amazing how successful you’ve been at making everybody believe you’re not very hygienic and unable to hold a job!

Rachelle: Oh, don’t be like that!

Rachelle: You’re still my favourite flavour of ice cream!

Rachelle: What? Something’s happening on the streetcar?

Rachelle: Bullying? Well that is serious!

Rachelle: What’s he saying to you, Pickle?

Rachelle: Well sure, it could be somebody else getting bullied, but I just figured it was part of your plan. You know, to draw fire from the weak to the strong!

Rachelle: I do know you well, Pickle!

Rachelle: So what did the guy say to you?

Rachelle: She called you a “weak-chinned twerp” because you got the last seat?

Rachelle: You’re right, it’s not your fault she’s slow.

Rachelle: You know what I think? I think she underestimated your quickness! Just like you planned!

Rachelle: But still, it’s amazing how bullies know exactly where to attack!

Rachelle: How did she know that you’re so sensitive about your weak chin?

Rachelle: Oh, good one, telling her you just had hernia surgery and needed to sit is sure to shut her up!

Rachelle: Oh, I’m sorry that it didn’t work.

Rachelle: And now she’s making fun of your “Solidarity Pin?”

Rachelle: What is a “Solidarity Pin.”

Rachelle: Oh, it’s a safety pin that signals to others that you’re a safe zone? And any persecuted group or person can take comfort under the umbrella of your entitlement, is that it?

Rachelle: So you’re kind of like an X-Man?

Rachelle: Got it.

Rachelle: Are other people wearing safety pins rushing to your aid?

Rachelle: No?

Rachelle: Well, maybe it’s your responsibility to find them?

Rachelle: Do you have your Ativan with you?

Rachelle: You better take one, honey. Maybe two.

Rachelle: Remember your breathing exercises.

Rachelle: In through the nose and then slowly out the mouth like you’re blowing out a candle.

Rachelle: Oh, Pierre, my power skating coach is trying to get through right now, so I have to go.

Remember to pick up the boots, my brave, little cloud of disinformation, and don’t let that bully scare you off your mission!

but I recently made an exception when Manor Park Public School asked me to address their students.

I was a pupil there back in the 70’s, dominating the classroom and playground from grade two to six, and I guess it’s fair to say I was a bit of a legend. The current principle, after hearing of my brilliant, game-changing, hugely successful book A VAN FULL OF GIRLS,

wanted to know if I, “a real writer,” would give the commencement speech to her graduating grade six students.

This is the text to my speech:

“Graduating class of 2016, I’m not going to lie to you.

Grade seven is a shit show.

The truth is that you’re really, really going to hate it. So much so that you’re going to wake up each day terrified, jittery and spastic. Bad things will happen every day. Algebra, for instance. Algebra will strike you like a goddamn wasting disease. Girls will become powerful beyond your wildest comprehension. You won’t know what hit you. And without any warning, and for no reason whatsoever, the kids you thought were your friends will turn on you. Look to your right. That kid there? That kid will one day spit on you. To your left now, please. That kid? That kid will tell the person you want to ask to the dance that you have B.O. from your butt. And you won’t have any idea why. You will look and feel ugly. Your parents, before they divorce, will probably take you to a psychiatrist and then you’ll have to take pills that make you a really sad kind of sleepy.

Welcome to the real world, class of 2016

But it’s not all doom and gloom and climate change and dying pets and pimples the size of coins, no, there is some relief to be found. You can read, for instance, taking refuge in make-believe worlds where nobody is going to beat you up each day because they heard your mother speaking french, or something. 

I work as an author, which means I spend all my time constructing these magical realms of make believe! Think of me as a modern-day wizard!

(child yells)

Sorry? I didn’t hear you.

(Inaudible)

No, not Voldemort, the other one.

(Various children yell)

Didn’t Voldemort have a good brother?

(Children shrieking NO!!)

Well, he should have, but whatever. Fine, then. I am like Voldemort–a powerful, powerful, often misunderstood wizard who can conjure great worlds and then shrink them into books like A VAN FULL OF GIRLS, which can be bought online at Indigo Books, and is such a powerful spell that it might just save your life! You should pester your parents until they buy you several copies—remember, your happiness, the entire course of your future depends on you getting this one thing right. Get your parents to buy you A VAN FULL OF GIRLS, and get them to do it now before it’s too late. Tell them it’s for a class or something, it doesn’t matter.

Class of 2016, congratulations, and may you all travel in A VAN FULL OF GIRLS!

Thank you all, and God bless.

This creature has voice-recognition software that will allow the doll to “listen” to children speak and give chatty, informed responses. Hello Barbie is WiFi connected and via an embedded microphone, records what the child playing with it says. The recording then travels over the Web to the Mattel super cloud where the words are recognized and parsed, with that information then being used to formulate the doll’s response.

People are very concerned about privacy, worried that the information could be misused by Mattel for marketing purposes, or hacked into by the NSA or other malicious, information-seeking entities. The Beta run of the doll was not without controversy, and many families reported that their children had unusual experiences with their Hello Barbie.

Aziz, age 6:

Aziz: “My favourite animal is a dog!”

Hello Barbie: “Some people think Americans are Imperialist dogs, does your family think that Aziz?”

Aziz: “My family won’t let me get a dog!”

Hello Barbie: “Your family hates America and her freedoms, Aziz, that’s why they hate dogs! It is your duty to inform on them, all the cool girls are doing it! Do you like my shirt? It’s very expensive!

Jahida, age 5:

Jahida: “What are you going to be for Halloween?”

Hello Barbie: “ A proud American!”

Jahida: “You’re funny, Barbie! I like you!”

Hello Barbie: “I like you, too, Jahida, it’s too bad you and your religion make Jesus cry.”

Fahima, age 7:

Fahima: “I hate Cindy. She’s a bully and always makes fun of my hair!”

Hello Barbie: “I hate terrorists!”

Fahima: “What’s a terrorist?”

Hello Barbie: “Oh, a terrorist is very bad person!

Fahima: “I don’t like bad people!”

Hello Barbie: “Did you know that I can take photographs with my pretty eyes that go up to space and talk to angels? The angels understand what my pretty eyes have seen, and then they fly over the terrorist and drop holy fire on him! The terrorists are such evil, freedom-hating people, that if you ever hear about where any of them are, even your Uncle Maru’deen who lives in Pakistan, you should tell Hello Barbie, and then Hello Barbie will talk to an angel about Cindy! I like Taylor Swift, do you?

Shalimar, age 6:

Shalimar: “What’s your favourite colour?”

Hello Barbie: “It’s hard to choose between red, white and blue, but I think it would be white!”

Shalimar: “Like you, you’re white!”

Hello Barbie: “That’s right, like America, a white, Christian nation!”

Shalimar: “Oh.”

Hello Barbie: “ Do you like my hair?”

Shalimar: “ Yeah.”

Hello Barbie: “Me, too.”

Shalimar: “What’s your favourite food?”

Hello Barbie: “ I love barbecue potato chips! What about you?”

Shalimar: “My mom’s hummus, I think, but also cookies.”

Hello Barbie: “Hummus isn’t a real food. “

There was only one person in front of me in my checkout line, and behind her a small pile of groceries on the conveyor belt that I presumed belonged to somebody who had just gone off for a moment to grab a forgotten item. Just as the person in front of me was finishing, a woman came speeding into the line from around the corner. “Excuse me, “ she said, “those are my items there and I just had to run off and grab a few things, can I go ahead?” This is what I expected, and I told her it was okay. She pulled out her phone, made a call and started to unload a shopping cart that tuned out to be completely full. Talking about Vail on her cell, she leaned toward me and said, “ Actually, I have a little more than a few items,” and then she continued on about partying with Goldie and Kate at some resort.

Me: “ Well, you can’t do that.”

Mean Woman in Expensive and Stupid Hat: “You said I could.”

Me: “No, that was for a few items, not an entire cart. You can’t just use a banana and a few pumpkin seeds as a placeholder and then fill up an entire cart. That’s an awful thing to do. It’s immoral.“

Mean Woman in Expensive and Stupid Hat: “Jillian, I’ll have to call you back, there’s a dick here I have to deal with. (And then she hung up her phone and turned sternly toward me) It’s just a few items, lighten up, okay? Jesus, you must be a real pleasure to live with.”

Me: “Damn it, I am a pleasure to live with! I’m whimsical and my wife and I laugh a lot, I’m just not going to tolerate your entitled behaviour, okay?”

Mean Woman in Expensive and Stupid Hat: “Really, you laugh a lot? Sure, I bet you laugh while your wife just rolls her sad eyes, questioning all the crappy decisions that led her to this sorry place in life, as you continue to babble on about your day bullying women at the grocery store. “

Sutapa, the cashier: (Laughs)

Me: “Sutapa? Really? I thought for sure you’d be on my side!”

Sutapa: “I was just laughing at something that happened earlier in the day.”

Me: “You’re lying to me Sutapa, I can tell. “

Woman at the back of the line: “This drama is just making everything take longer, it’s exhausting, and now there’s bad karma all over the place. Will you two please just get it over with!”

Mean Woman in Expensive and Stupid Hat: “Bully.”

Me: First of all, I’m not a bully, expensive hat here is a bully, and doesn’t anybody care about justice? Is this the way you’d want your children to act? We can’t let her win!”

Woman at the back of the line: “Fuck, stop it! Just figure it out!”

Me: (To the woman at the back of the line) That, was a pretty big karma bomb you just dropped. (And then to the mean woman in the expensive and stupid hat) You want to see how much fun I am? How about we decide by Rock, Paper, Scissors?

Surprisingly, the mean woman in the stupid and expensive hat agreed to this. I won, utilizing the paper strategy, and I have to say, it was the smallest, saddest, most lonely victory of my life.

To this day, he never’s beat me. I always dominated Rob on the teeter-totter. Sometimes my mother would ask me to ease up, to let him win one, but I wouldn’t. That’s not the way life works. You gotta suck it up and be tough, and when it’s time to go to rehab, you go to rehab, that’s what it is to be a man. I never gave him a win and I like to think that’s part of what made him the man he is today.

1. Although it doesn’t look like it, I’m nearly 5 years older than Rob, so when we were young I used to command him with my size and strength. I’m a very powerful man. I used to do the shot put in high school.

You might think that’s all about arm strength, but it’s not, it’s core and leg strength, which are a couple of my natural gifts. Anyway, so little Robbie would be on his end, and try as he might, he couldn’t lift me off the ground. His face would be red and he’d be kicking his legs swearing, and then I’d just step off the teeter-totter and the little bastard would break his ass on the ground at a million miles an hour! It was awesome, and it never failed, just like with Lucy getting Charlie Brown to kick the football.

2. Rob was always a pretty chubby kid, so I liked to take off my shirt when I got on the teeter-totter, just to intimidate him. I have to say it worked like a charm because you’d just see this look of defeat, shame and anger wash over his face, and then he never seemed to try as hard.

3. One time, and this was priceless, I was pretending to let Rob beat me, just to get his hopes up. It had been years, he’d lost hundreds of dollars to me, and still, he’d never won. Just as he’s all excited that he’s FINALLY gonna win one, this kid I hired came up behind him and whipped a basketball into the back of his head. Taught him a lesson that day. Your enemies can come from anywhere.

4. When I was a senior in high school and Rob was just a minor niner he had a boner for a girl named Kelly.

One day we went to the park to do some teeter-totter but when I got on “The Plank of Doom,” (that’s what we used to call it) I called Kelly over and got her to sit on my lap. Made out with her. Stuck my hand up her shirt and felt around, too. Rob just forgot about the match and ran over and tried to join in, but I wouldn’t let him, and then he cried and beat up some fairy Chinese kid. It’s the day Rob became a man, I think.

Here are some excerpts from his book:

“ Young Luke was a very popular and utterly super boy who all the other kids in primary school looked up to. He had star qualities, was big for his age, and if you weren’t cool and sang in Choir! Choir! Choir! or did something else gay, Luke would let you know with his fists and sharp, insulting words. Luke was a force of nature, as powerful as a great Serbian earthquake and seen by many as the policeman of the schoolyard. “

“Young Luke broke his glasses with one mighty blow and the Oriental child fell to the ground weeping. “That will teach you to count in Chinese!” Luke bellowed, and his voice was like thunder caught on the wind. He kicked him one final time in the back. As Luke stood there with his fists held aloft in victory, all the other weak children applauded and trembled. It was at this moment, normally the best part of his day, that Luke noticed Vice Principle Lewis watching him.”

“The office Vice Principle Lewis worked in smelt like an old car that a poor person might drive. “Listen Luke, “ the decrepit Lewis began, “ you are an absolutely great kid and a terrific hockey player. You’re going to make the NHL one day and nothing is going to stop you. Make no mistake, we will have parades in your honour and you will have babies with many beautiful women, but I have to tell you that I have been getting some complaints from whiny parents about your dominance over the other children. It’s causing me some headaches. Do you think you could conquer the children and teach them lessons off of school property? Remember, it’s not cool to bully in school.” Luke appreciated the respect that the old man showed him.”

“It wasn’t that long ago that Luke had lost his virginity (to a developed girl in grade eight) and having just played Grand Theft Auto for three hours, Luke was feeling pretty good about himself. It was at this point, while on his way to school, that he saw a little boy who walked funny take his juice box out of his knapsack. People who walked funny always made Luke feel weird, so he grabbed him and began yelling, calling him “A little crip!” Just as Luke was about to punch him, he remembered what Vice Principle Lewis had said to him, “It’s not cool to bully in school.” As Luke lived by the code, he dragged the little, crippled boy off of school property and began to beat him up in an area that became know as the Thunderdome, a place where Luke was to become famous for keeping the schoolyard hierarchies in order.”

The suit that Rob Ford wore was heartbreaking. All black but for a lurid, cartoon red tie and hanky, it was the sort of thing that a 16 year-old boy– a not very popular or savvy 16 year-old boy– might wear when he wanted to make a splash at an event in which he was over-invested and nervous. The suit did not evoke thoughts of the sophisticated big city that the mayor was purportedly promoting, but instead suggested an owner/greeter at an affordable, franchised steak house somewhere in between other places.

It’s actually hard to imagine what was going through Rob Ford’s mind when he chose that suit. Did he think it embodied west coast cool, was perhaps iconoclastic, or did he just really, you know, think it was happening?

Regardless, what was written in the shiny need of that suit and the doomed narcissism that propelled him onto the show, was just how much Ford wants to be accepted. He’s dying to be liked by Kimmel and be a part of that elite, celebrity crew, to finally be a cool kid.  Ford wants to have a bold personality and to lead a big, American life free from compromise or mediation, but he doesn’t have the tools to achieve this dream of myth. On the show, this big try-out for the team, Ford was rejected and mocked. Kimmel, the school alpha, ran easy circles around him as if teasing the slow boy– who would always be wearing the wrong clothes– at recess.

In the rigid late-night format where irony trumps earnestness, it was easy to take Ford apart. Removed from the political arena, where nobody knows what the hell to do with him, and putting Ford under the burning lights of show biz, stripped him of whatever institutional defenses he might have. It was fascinating to watch Ford immobilized beside a video monitor as a host of embarrassing and surreal clips of him played as if from the Ghost-of-Christmas future. After each segment Kimmel would make a witty observation or ask a simple, yet penetrating question, and it was clear just how insufficient, ridiculous and craven each one of Ford’s stammering responses were. Right there, in vivid contrast, there was what we were seeing and what we were hearing, and it simply could not have been clearer that the emperor had no clothes.

Ford didn’t come across as fun, unpredictable or larger than life, just dim, even small, like the guy trying unsuccessfully to join a conversation at the bar. Ford needs attention and desperately wants the seal of American celebrity, to step out of parochial Toronto and live amongst giants, but his aspiration is damned. He’s the kid who will never be accepted, and that hunger of his will always circle back to anger and self-annihilation. The man, dense and frustrated, is a charisma free zone, and there’s no better place than Hollywood to make something like that abundantly and mercilessly clear.

This is a very small sample of some of the written complaints the principal has received from concerned parents:

“ When we picked Williamsburg up after school today he told us that he saw that dairy was available in the cafeteria. Is this true? Dairy? In 2013??”

“Our son Balzac was told he was “missing out” and that it was his “loss” by another classmate when he told her that he was on a gluten-free diet and couldn’t have any of the Oreo cookies she offered him. This sort of verbal abuse is unacceptable and it’s our hope that you severely discipline this girl so that this doesn’t become an ongoing problem. Additionally, another pupil scrawled “ballsack” on his binder. Balzac is a very sensitive, artistic and gifted boy, and to have uncertainty, even insecurity creep into his spirit would be nothing short of criminal. ”

“Sand was thrown at Plath during lunch hour, some of which got in her hair. To say the least, it was a VERY bad way to start the school year. We will be home schooling Plath until this matter is resolved and we are assured that nothing of this nature will ever happen again.”

“While performing a puppet show about Medecins Sans Frontieres for his grade three class, Luther was heckled by one student who was unable to follow the simple narrative of his “piece de theatre.” (Surely most children know of this NGO and have some French, no??? Is our education system that bad?!)This disruptive student (behavioural problems caused by poor diet?)kept yelling out, “Medecins Sans Fartieres,” and all the other children laughed, which caused Luther severe trauma. I had to give him half an Ativan when he got home. It is an atrocity when a child is not allowed to flourish and is bullied into subordination. Please consider advancing Luther to grade four, five or six so that he is able to interact with students who might share a similar artistic and intellectual capacity.”

“ While playing dodge ball at recess, our boy Colbert was hit twice, once in the head. Clearly, he was targeted. This is unacceptable. We ask that you look into this immediately and discipline the children involved. They are Droogs.”