A Thrill of Hope

Christmas to me has been something I've been sort of fascinated with in the last few years, simply because Christmas has always been a weird, uncomfortable time for me despite the significant presence it had in the various communties I have been surrounded by.
In the broad North American culture, I have observed three main portrayals of Christmas that filter through most North American lives. There are others, I know, but I cannot speak to those since I am only me. These are the ones I see and feel the most.

The most blatant portrayal is the vilified Commercial Christmas. The idea that there is an ideal Christmas where you have the perfect turkey dinner and Christmas tree and decorations and moments and presents for your loved ones. All of which that can be supplied with just the right tools and services for the right price. It's easy to see it's presence and to mock. Some people love the spectacle and bombast of the season because it highlights wonder and awe. Undoubtedly, the forced buying of presents for others does not really make sense in the religious context, but there is a sense of some kind of magic in the music and decorations that tries real hard to sell magic. Spoiler alert, it's just shiny noise.

Another prominent portrayal is the obvious religious context of Christmas. It's the story about the Son of God coming to earth to help show humanity the way to live a life that is fundamentally one that brings peace, justice, and love. That hope is not lost yet. For the wider North American culture, this time highlights the best aspects of the Christian philosophy where those who are in need are elevated and are to be cared for. However, it is obvious that as Christianity slowly loses it influence over North American culture, that this portrayal takes more of a backseat. Instead, it seems like the idea that declaring your affiliation with Christianity by demanding that "Merry Christmas" be said over "Happy Holidays" is the extent of the spiritual nature of the season.

The third portrayal of Christmas is the super popular family Christmas. This is the Christmas that is universally loved by North America. Even Christians soak their Christmas in the importance of family Christmas. Movies love family Christmas. The writers, directors, and performers love family Christmas because it highlights the best parts about being a human. They try to push their message through the noise of commercial Christmas. From a secular point of view, family Christmas is the ideal Christmas. Family Christmas highlights the idea that we should spend time, energy, and money on those we care about to show how much they matter to us.

This brings me back to my first paragraph. Christmas has always been a weird time for me throughout my life even though I have always wanted the best parts of the three kinds of Christmases.

In my younger days, Christmas was portrayed as religious day. It had to be. Our family could not afford Commercial Christmas. The house we rented we rented was too small to put up a tree in. So we had to put our gifts in a small pile and place one of our aloe vera plants (the pot of which was actually a used ice cream pail) on top. The presents were never in the realm of what the other kids from schoool got. They'd talk about getting the new video games or expensive sports equipment or whatever they as individuals treasured as I would get small gifts.

I knew Santa wasn't real because I never got a gift from him. Perhaps it stemmed from a belief system, but it makes much more sense that it was a financial reason that trumped any other consideration.

I remember that as a 10 year old, that I was aware of our financial situation to the degree that I braced myself going into Christmas Eve (when my family opened presents) by reminding myself that I was not likely to get what I wanted. That year really tested my resolve because out of my four gifts, three of them were clearly in boxes. The best gifts were always in boxes. If you picked up a package and it was soft, those were garbage gifts. What was I? A 36-year old man in need of socks? NO! I was kid that didn't have that awesome Legend of Zelda game.

With 3 boxed gifts, it was hard to not imagine that at least one would be something awesome.

I remember, though, thinking that I still needed to keep my expectations in line. I knew that we didn't have a lot of money. The evidence was everywhere.

However, the wonder that Commercial Christmas loves to draw out is hard to resist. I opened my Aunt Doris' gift first because she normally gave me shirts or socks and I figured that she might repeat herself. The worst kind of gifts for kids to be honest is shirts or socks. This year, though, she gave me a jigsaw puzzle. Honestly, for Aunt Doris, that was like her hitting a home run. Amazing Aunt Doris gift. I understand how a 70 year old woman would not know what to get a 10 year old. So a jigsaw puzzle for a kid that liked using his brain was a pretty alright gift. Arguably her best.

Then I moved to my mom. Mom and I never really vibed, so I also had low expectations. That's why I opened hers next. It was also a jigsaw puzzle. Now, you might think that that would be a disappointing gift after Aunt Doris. And it was. A little bit. But honestly, this was also a step up for mom.

Besides, next was dad's boxed gift. That had all the potential. Boxed gift? Dad? Those two factors greatly increased my chances of getting my filthy hands on that wondrous adventure of saving Princess Zelda.

Little did I realize that after I opened mom's gift, my dad was very concerned.

I opened dad's gift. It was another a jigsaw puzzle. I was shattered. I maintained my composure. But my wonder in the idea that maybe I would get the thing I wanted evaporated.

I would be remiss if I did not mention my brother in this story. His gift was the fourth one that Christmas. The reason I opened it last was not that I thought it would be the best, but rather that his wrapping job was something to be desired and it was clear that what he gave me was a thing that he made in industrial arts class that looks like it took its design philosophy from Homer Simpson's car design. If you have no idea what I am referring to, just know that I was bad.

After opening the presents, I gathered them up, feeling so guilty. Because I knew my family gave me the best presents they could. They just couldn't give me what Commercial Christmas was selling.

Before I move on to my next point, I should point out that I did receive my beloved Zelda game. In 1998, when the one of the most anticipated Zelda games of all time ("Legend Zelda: Ocarina of Time") came out in November, I opened it that Christmas. That was the first Christmas without dad, so mom really swung for the fences that year. To her credit, she got me what has been my most favourite gift of all time.

Also, I should point out that I am not good at giving presents. As much as I am complaining about others' gifts to me, my gifts have been usually lacklustre.

The point of this story is pointing to how the capitalist ideal of getting the perfect gift for yourself or for others soured those Christmases of my youth. And I had it good.

This is why quietly and slowly, my appreciation for the spiritual significance of Christmas grew. As a kid, spirituality takes time. It has to soak in. It has be realized on an individualized level. You don't pick up an appreciation because your parents tell you what you need to believe or why faith is beautiful.

However, as my family's financial situation disintegrated the falsehood and destructive nature of Commercial Christmas, my appreciation for the simplistic and vulnerable story of the nativity grew.

I liked getting up at 5am to go to the Christmas morning church service called "Julotta" (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julotta). It's the simple metaphor of the darkness of the world being overcome by hope as symbolized by the literal rising of the sun which is perfect for a young adult's brain to wrap around. We'd have a moment in the service that had us standing in a circle with lit candles and singing Christmas hymns. The only light we'd have would be the small flickers of flame and the slow, encompassing light of the dawn that would slowly, but inevitably, flood in through the eastern windows.

Those were some very good Christmases.

I'm going to pivot to talk about Family Christmas. Arguably the most sacred (from a North American culture perspective) kind of Christmas. You go to visit family and spend time with them and participate in those traditions as determined by the unique make up of the given family. This is a time to hopefully strengthen bonds within the family.

I have witnessed several different kinds of family Christmases. Aside from my own family, I have also seen the small collection of the various Christmases of my ex-wife's family, assorted families from different churches I've attended, and those of friends both Christian and atheist.

I know there are people out there who have witnessed more varieties of Christmas than me, but I also know that there are those who have witnessed less.

It is interesting to see so many improvisations on a core idea. There's a meal. There's family. There's gifts. Sometimes, there's prayers and Bible stories. Sometimes there's booze. Sometimes both. The order is different family to family. The rules are different family to family.

The thing that is universal?

Everyone is a little uncomfortable. At least to degrees.

For me, the family aspect of Christmas has been a bit of alienating factor.

In my own family, it was tied in with the gifts of trying to discern what an individual would want. Especially as I grew older and I realized it was essentially a series of contests testing how well you know them versus how well they know you. That's right, I just took another pot shot at Commercial Christmas in the midst of my critique of Family Christmas. Because although I am trying to offer a fresh take on Christmas, Commercial Christmas is, and always will be, the thing that actively destroys the spirit of Christmas. Scrooge is not the worst character in all of the Christmas stories, it is Kirk Cameron in "Saving Christmas".

Family Christmas is admittedly very nice.

If the circumstance happens to work.

If you happen to have a family to start. If you don't have one, Family Christmas hurts far more than Commercial Christmas. Many of you were probably expecting to hear that from the orphan.

It also expands and is worse for individuals whose families reject them for their sexuality or gender identity or mental health issues or addiction issues. Imagine being pushed away by those individuals who are supposed to be on your side during the time of year that culture declares louder than capitalist messages that "Family is the most important thing!"

I can't speak to those other issues.

But I can speak to being without my own physical family.

This was the first year where I was able to articulate to myself why I always feel uncomfortable at other families' Christmases. It's not that the families were not welcoming. It was never that. The people that have invited me over the years have made it very evident that they care for me and that they love me. I have never gotten the sense that they feel obligated.

I do sense the genuine desire of these families to share love with people. I will always be grateful and if I would be in their position, I would ideally be like them in bringing in people and share what I believe to be an important joy of the season.

I want to take a brief moment to underline how difficult this is for me to write about this topic. I never want people to think individuals in a position similar to mine are ungrateful or that it is better to not invite people like me to a Christmas gathering. This whole post is trying to dig into why Christmas is good. To tip the bit, I am saying that just like a Christmas that is centred around Commercialism is not good, neither is one that is centred around Family.

Where the ideallic Family Christmas fails is in the simple fact it cannot be universal. Even as I am welcomed into various spaces and given food and share in wonderful conversation, the feeling that that I am not a part of this family but rather an outsider that has been invited in is unavoidable.
As I witness family interact in the most emotionally vulnerable and open event of the North American calendar, I can't help think about my family. Or lack thereof. Seeing kids gather at the feet of the family leader as they read them the Christmas story seems like a dream taunted in front of me. Seeing a father or mother selflessly make and serve food to their family is hard. It goes on as Family Christmas is a series of traditions held up by a group of people that I happen to visit.

These kind of Christmases are hard because I am outside of it.

The ideal of Family Christmas is great when you have a good, supportive family. If you don't for whatever reason, that ideal is particularly poisonous turning what I think is a potentially rejuvenating time into a hard punch to the spiritual gut.

Now, that I've attacked the other two, it would seem that Christian Christmas is clearly the winner especially for someone like myself who identifies as a Christian. I even had a foreshadow with the whole reference to Julotta!

Well, I'm going to go and turn full Last Jedi on this and dismiss your expectations. That last sentence is very nerdy in two very different ways (in regards to Christianity and Star Wars) and I will try to explain myself to those who don't understand what I'm getting at.

As I've grown older in and have witnessed the impact of American politics on North American Christianity in a broad sense, it hurts as someone who loves the words of Christ. Especially with the undying support of Donald Trump within the evangelical Christian community. This is not meant to be a political post and I won't spend much time here, but it is undeniable how much poison Trump has injected into the North American Christian worldview.

It is hard enough with the warhawk position that America holds throughout most presidencies, but Trump amps up so many disconcerting aspects of American culture that I feel the Christianity of Jesus is being lost in North America and many Christians may not realize it. It seems like if someone perfectly reiterated what Jesus would want, Evangelical Christians would be the first to crucify them.

Backing off the specificality of Trumpian Christianity and coming back to Christmas, the troubling example is the demand that we say "Merry Christmas" over "Happy Holidays" like "Happy Holidays" is blasphemous.

Why it troubles me, is because it seems to miss the heart of Christ. I can't see Jesus getting angry at some retail clerk for saying "Happy Holidays".

Two reasons. First is that Jesus is about inclusion, especially to those who intend good towards others regardless of their belief. The second being that Christmas doesn't happen until December 25th. Before the 25th is Advent, which is a different season of the Christian calendar from Christmas. It would be more appropriate to say "Happy Holidays" to someone before December 25th because it is not Christmas and "Holiday" literally means "Holy day". So regardless of whether you're an atheist or a believer in a different religion or a hardcore Christian, "Happy Holidays" before December 25th is totally appropriate and more accurate. Bonus for those Christians who want to take Jesus' words to heart, you are welcoming all people by saying "Happy Holidays".

To me, that small thing is the perfect example of how Christianity in North America is missing the point.

Christians don't seem to have a problem with a President claiming to be a Christian and yet separating children from their families.

There is so much more, but it would be ridiculous for me to list everthing that a Christian should probably have a problem with the crass, business elite that dominates North American politics but somehow the North American Christianity simply does not.

Boiled down, it seems like Christians have sided with Herod over Mary and Joseph.

At this point, I have cast down the three prominent portrayals of Christmas. The Commercial. The Family. The Christian.

Clearly, I must hate Christmas.

Right?

No.

In fact, I love Christmas more than any other time in my life.

And the main reason is Advent.

Advent is fundamentally important in appreciating Christmas.

Advent has saved Christmas and Christ for me. It definitely was not the moneychanger that is Kirk Cameron. (I know I'm dunking on him a lot and not explaining myself but look, I have to take the precious attention you've given to me and keep this post moving. Maybe I can explain later.)

Advent in the Christian calendar is the four Sundays before Christmas. Advent in the Northern Hemisphere literally takes place in the darkest time of the year. Both literally and figuratively, Advent contemplates the darkness of the world and how is seems to get darker but also how we are to have hope. We are to look towards the hope that the Messiah comes and makes things right.

That no matter how dark things get, all is not lost.

Advent emboldens us to resolutely hold onto the idea that hope, joy, peace, and love are not dead.

It may be dark, but we are not done.

Then, when Christmas Day arrives, which is a day of the week that shifts every year because it is unpredictable when things can change, the world does change. It is less dark than the day before. Days get brighter.

It's a beautiful metaphor.

The story of Christmas and the story of Christ reminds me that God is on the side of those who are less fortunate. The poor. The unfairly imprisoned. The underdogs.

All of this reflection has led me to this conclusion.

I reject the flashy consumerism of the Commercial Christmas. (Although that's an easy one to dunk on.)

I reject the priveleged idea that family is what is important at Christmas, as good of a thing as it maybe. (Also, by the way, go see your family while you have them! Of course, go visit them! Unless, they don't welcome you for who you are, then come look me up and we'll get Chinese food on Christmas day)

I reject the Christian imperialism that comforts the rich and the powerful and that has undermined the vital power of the upside down kingdom where the last shall be first and the first shall be last. Instead, I embrace the holy and welcoming statement of Christ found in Advent that is "Happy Holidays!"

This Christmas and every Christmas after, I look forward to the coming of the Christ that upsets the status quo which I see a little bit day by day. I look forward to the new heaven and the new earth where the words of Jesus remind us: "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."

"How silently, how silently
The wondrous Gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
The blessings of His heaven
No ear may hear His coming
But in this world of sin
Where meek souls will receive Him still
- "O Little Town of Bethlehem"

Filliam Crowe Does Not Fit In

As I am writing this, I have a Christian audience in mind, but I really do hope that those who do not ascribe to the Christian faith may find encouragement and support.

Filliam Crowe is a simple man. He is a man out of time, with a look that he thinks is nice, but is out of date. He doesn’t own a cell phone, likely still has dial up for a computer he thought was pretty snazzy desktop from a garage sale. Pentiums are pretty good computers, he hears. He is not the smartest man, but he tries his best to explore and be vulnerable in a world he doesn’t fit into that well.

He is kind and has good intentions, but his clumsy nature gets him into all sorts of troubles. Troubles that can mount far beyond what he can handle.

What I appreciate about the character of Filliam is that no matter how dire it gets, he pushes on and never stops trying to remedy the situation he finds himself in and in the process is never one who harms people along the way.

A lot of the quagmires of Filliam finds himself are ones where he creates them himself but they are never ones that aim to harm people. He is a good natured man that does his best to see the good, encourage the good, and share the good.

Distilled down, Filliam Crowe is a man I want to be. I would rather be a man that bumbles and fumbles his way through spectacular failure on his way to creating a world more lovely than it was.

However, the world is not for the Filliam Crowe’s of the world.

Life is messy, dark, hard, and complicated.

It rewards people who do not care about the consequences that their actions may have on others. Filliam Crowe is a man that is does not function well in the real world and that is what makes him a comedic character. However, if I were ever in the position where people ridicule me and think I am a joke but I get to choose what kind of joke I am, I choose the joke to be that I am Filliam Crowe.

It only seems fitting that this is the Fringe where I introduce the world to the character of Filliam  as I find myself in a position where it can feel like I am being overwhelmed in a manner not unlike Filliam.

This may very well be the most difficult Fringe I have ever walked into. Aside from a rough go financially at the Winnipeg Fringe and the fact that “The Splendiferous Quagmires of Mr Filliam Crowe” is one of the most challenging creative endeavours I have ever taken on (I mean, an improvised physical comedy with no talking and no props is a stacked challenge), I have to deal with a situation that is deeply troubling for me as both a performer and a Christian.

Before I get to that, I need to give you context. I feel like I am stuck between two worlds. Sometimes I feel like I’m religious for my theatre community and yet too heretical for my Christian community. I have thoughts and ideas that I have learned from my two communities that would be so beneficial for the other side, but I sometimes feel like I cannot offer them because they are not welcomed. Whether or not that it is true, I do not know, but that is how I feel.

For the last few years, I have been the president of Sorry, Not Sorry Productions, an improv theatre company that I am proud to be a part of and beyond that to be considered their leader is an immense honour.

My focus has been on creating community and care for each other in the company. It always hurts my heart to see a break down between people and I always seek to repair the situation. Even if it seems impossible. Even when it’s unpopular. However, what I’ve learned in this role, as well as being a leader in church situations that a situation may not be repaired immediately. Maybe not ever.

As a Christian, you should desire the best outcome for everyone, including those who would be considered your enemy. However, you must always ultimately side with those who are mistreated, abused, or downtrodden. The God of Heaven is a God of the Upside Down Kingdom. Where those who are mistreated in this world, are held up in the other.

The situation I have been presented with is one where a person of Edmonton convicted of possessing child pornography two years ago has written a show for the Edmonton Fringe Festival and a local church has supported him and produced this particular show. A festival that my company is a part of. The man’s conviction has been one that has distinctly impacted people who have survived sexual abuse, assault, exploitation. Some of my people had interactions with him before they knew of his transgressions who now have their positive memories (due to his presences as a role model in the theatre community) poisoned by the revelation.

So what is a person like myself to do in this situation?

I am the leader of this group with folks who are deeply (and rightfully) distressed that they are sharing a platform with a man who has distinctly violated the trust of the Edmonton theatre community. I am also a man who believes in the risen Christ who redeems and also makes things right.

What am I to do as a man who is a Christian in a position of leadership in a secular theatrical group?

The answer that was clear to me was that those who are the downtrodden, abused, and mistreated in this world, but yet are justified in the Upside Down kingdom, are the ones that I, as a follower of Christ, should support. They may be mistreated here, but they are protected, restored, and loved in the Upside Down kingdom.

I have been called sanctimonious, despicable and a proponent of McCarthy-like censorship due my response in defending Sorry, Not Sorry’s position that it believes that the man’s show should be not be allowed to be a part of the Edmonton Fringe Festival.

I would like to reiterate, like I did in my interview, that I do not claim to speak for the whole of the Edmonton theatre community or the Edmonton Fringe. I claim to speak on behalf of a group called “Sorry, Not Sorry” who is inside the wider community. It is our right to decry the idea of this show going forward under the banner of the wider Edmonton theatre community due to idea that it makes us, as a group, uncomfortable that one who is convicted of child pornography is sharing our platform. Whether or not others join us or the Edmonton Fringe agrees with us is their decisions. Survivors of sexual violence, abuse, and exploitation need to be supported more than one convicted of a crime that contributes to these violations.

So, what of the man? What do I believe, as a grace-forward Christian, do with a man such as this? A man who has apparently joined with a church who has supported and guided him? A man who may have repented of his ways? A man, and his community, that has pointed to his faith as an option for everyone else to forget his transgressions?

I now need to turn to my understanding of the Christian faith.

The answer for me personally, as a Christian, is that even a sin that may be forgiven by the Lord, does not necessarily mean it should be forgiven in the eyes of the people to the point that the transgressor gets to do everything they used to be able to do. King David was denied the privilege of building the holy temple of God due to the blood he shed in the wars he waged. The Lord proclaimed that it is not right that David should build the temple due to his actions. And David accepted this.

In the same way, maybe David Belke, like his first names’ sake, has to relinquish the idea that he is allowed a voice in the realm of the Edmonton theatre community.

If the church that supports him wants to put on his play because they fully support his return to being a member that has influence on that community, that is their decision to make, but that is not enough to give him the capacity to speak into the wider Edmonton theatre community. This is of course the opinion of one man as a part of a theatre company that supports him inside the wider Edmonton theatre community. However, I know that I and Sorry, Not Sorry Productions are not the only ones. that feel that David Belke’s social debt is paid.

His debt according to the law may be paid, but his social debt to the Edmonton theatre community is not paid in my personal view and he should not be allowed back to the space yet.

So, when can David Belke pay back his social debt? I do not know. Honestly, it may never be paid back. However, if a specific community wants to support Belke’s show, then it will go forward with that support. As a member of the Edmonton theatre community, myself and Sorry, Not Sorry Productions do not, at this time, support Belke’s voice to one that is heard, especially when there are so many marginalized voices struggling to be heard who have not supported an industry such as child pornography.

And this is where, I, as David Rae, the human, wants to speak in a pastoral way. I really hope for redemption for Mr. Belke. I hope he is able to build up others. I hope he is able to be better. I pray for these things. But I fore mostly pray for the healing, restoration, and elevation of those who have been hurt and abused.

May the Upside Down kingdom of Christ be realized where those who are taken advantage of or abused are those who are given prominence and protection and find full restoration. May those who truly repent and leave behind their past and seek redemption find it even if it means they leave behind their prominence.

May those who seek to make this world better find strength.

May those who feel overwhelmed feel supported.

May those who feel like all hope is lost, find not hope but rather full restoration.

May those who hurt find healing.

May those wronged find justice.

May we open up the world to be a place where the Filliam Crowes of our world who live in awe, wonder, and love thrive, overcome and break down the awful traps that destroy people.

P.S. Sorry, Not Sorry Productions is facing an increase in angry rhetoric due to the words I have said in response to this situation in the theatre community and it would be appreciated if you show support by giving us a great review on Facebook or if you come out to our shows at the Edmonton Fringe. The three shows are “The Splendiferous Quagmires of Mr. Filliam Crowe”, “yegDND”, and “Agent Thunder”.

Reviews for the Edmonton Fringe Festival 2019

Since the closure of Vue Weekly here in Edmonton, there has been a deficit in the critical analysis of local theatre. Where can Edmontonians turn to to receive such consistent reviews such as one show receiving both a 0 star review and a 4.5 star review from the same publication. Worry not, for we, here at djracespade.blogspot.com, are ready to give the best critical analysis of some of the acts that will be present at the 2019 Edmonton Fringe Festival.

Vue Weekly prided itself in producing reviews after the first show of a given Fringe production. djracespade.blogspot.com holds itself to a higher standard by producing reviews of shows based entirely on past experience and the subjective prejudiced perspective of the idea of a show in order to give you, the valued reader, the most immediate reviews possible.

These reviews have been chosen due to their presence on the June 19th, 2019 edition of Odd Wednesday.

Nuiboi

Nuiboi pushes the boundaries of artistic expression, using delightful costumes, subversive messaging, and an expressive intention that seeks to touch you in the heart and evolve your mind. They encourage their fellow humans to be better and if you dare question their message about the importance of the finding a more humane humanity, I will fucking cut you. With a knife or a sword or a broken piece of my beer glass that I dropped as I openly sobbed over the hollow state of our humanity that Nuiboi succinctly critiques of our collective soul, unlike that hack of a band from the 90's. If you are unwilling to concede that Nuiboi's message should transform us into a more loving people, then you better start training at the gym, because I am loading up on steroids and hiding all sorts of illegal weapons on my being and formally challenging you to a duel to the death in the caged fighting pit I've set up in my backyard specifically designed to challenge, punish, and destroy critics of Nuiboi's brilliance and message of love.

7 Jesuses out of 7. Or Jesi if you have more of a background in Latin.


Merk Deux Soleil

Rebecca Merkley is a modern day, less assholeish version of Andy Kaufman, upsetting the applecart of traditional comedy and she successfully points out the flaw in human pride. Merkley and her Merk Deux Soleil has cornered the market of joy. Always smiling and always laughing, she is a person that is explicitly and viciously happy. She exudes the best qualities of life. You can't be sad around her or Berk Deux Soleil because she is like a reverse vampire where she bites into the neck of negativity and drains the cynicism and drains negativity from the audience and instead infects them with a curse of abundant joy and the audience is now a thrall to her will. Rebecca Merkley is now the dictator that dismisses the hopelessness and fear of the future, replacing it with an unending thirst for life.

Plelve clowns out of 9 circus tents.


Don't Not Talk to Strangers

What can I say? Don't tell people to not unavoid watching Don't Not Talk to Strangers because they will not be unimpressed. It is impossible to not overunderestimate their not unincredible talent because they don't not never fail to oversurpass your nigh impossible standards of comedy. Their style is very easily not inaccessible, very much not unlike this reviews fails to be. These are 7 strangers who do not feel like strangers but rather are more like the family I never visit ever since the fallout of them dying. (It's fine. I've gotten over it.)

15 candies out of 9 strangers.


The Debutantes Present: My Mistake

Readers of my reviews would likely expect that I would give a series of glowing reviews to all the acts tonight and then give a hilariously, aggressively antagonistic review to my own group for the larfs because that's where you assume I would put the twist. Well, if that's the case, fuck you! I'm a professional. I give all shows the same fair judgment to all shows I review regardless of my presence in them.

The Debutantes have ascended above the realms of humanity and gods; even the God of Abraham and David. The Debutantes, sometimes known as "The Debs", have once again embraced the heavenly bliss of God's love and acceptance as His chosen comedians. They cannot do any wrong. Their writing, delivery, direction all have made the angels cum with desire and the devils piss their pants in fear of the comedy they invoke.

The only exception to this is David Rae, who was only in charge of saying two simple lines. You may think that since this is a comedic review that I would dunk on myself, but guess again, fucktoid! Because despite his faulty memory, crippling anxiety, and crushing depression, he was able to present the rawness and vulnerability of humanity that can only be found in barely doing the minimum to rehearse.

The Debutantes get 9 boners out of 9 boners.


- David Rae
Reviewer for djracespade.blogspot.com

The Better Men

My life currently consists of a lot of shows. In particular, it was sketch and improv, which has me presenting a lot of characters. I’m always hoping to have a wide variety of characters so that it’s easier to cast me in all sorts of roles. However, I realized a curious happenstance as I reflected on three characters that I have been sharing to promote my current shows.

The three characters are strikingly similar. They share a lot of similarities and the small differences between them are also telling.

For me, when I am having to create a new character for a show or even something like playing Dungeons & Dragons, I may consider a few options, but the ones I feel strongest about and wind up doing are usually connected to thoughts, ideas, and reflections I’ve been chewing over in my life. They are characters that are not that far removed from me in ideals and even characters that I wish I was more like.

That’s why the similarities and shared traits of the characters struck me. Especially since I did not plan on them lining up to be scheduled in shows so closely together like this, but now that they have, it has me thinking about where I find myself right now.

This past year at yegDND, I’ve been playing a character named Clarence Smoot, a simple man who is based loosely on my brother and especially the traits I most admired about him. He is not really a capable adventurer, but rather out of a sense of duty to where needs are, he answers the call to step up. He’s almost like a biblical character in that he may be considered to be a weak choice by others but due to this faithfulness to doing what’s right, he may have an impact and make the world a better place. Maybe he’s overwhelmed by the situation, but the purity of his heart and his kindness in the face of it all, is what makes him admirable.

When we were working on doing a special marathon show for yegDND, it was offered that we could bring back a character from the past that we really enjoyed. I immediately thought of Ziggy. He’s a frost giant child who happens to be 6’4” and is strong as a bull, but naive like a child with wonder in his eyes. He wants to make the world better and become a hero. He has overly simplistic view of how the world works and has an undying hope in the idea that bad situations can be made better. He sees the good in things and loves discovering new things and believes that he can do anything. He is always welcoming to people even if they secretly mean to take advantage of his strength for their own means.

Finally, this summer, I am doing a one-person show where I will be doing a physical comedy that involves little to no talking of a character, named Filliam Crowe, who is wracked with social anxiety, but a desire to embrace life in its fullness and trying to do things to the best of his ability and fumbling and bumbling his way through it. The situation will get more and more out of hand as he tries to stay on top of it all until it turns into a full blown disaster. Throughout all of this, he is fuelled by an undying optimism no matter how much it gets out of hand. He may moments of defeat, but the idea that tomorrow is a new day keeps him from staying in defeat.

You can see why it struck me. It feels like I talked about the same character three different ways. They are different from each other in enough ways that makes watching the three characters a different experience.

Clarence has an awareness of his lack of talent as an adventurer, which makes his choice to be one who tries to be an adventurer admirable. He goes not because he believes that he will survive necessarily, but because someone has to do something about the woes of the world and maybe he can.

Ziggy is gullible and is simply unable to grasp the idea that people would lie to him. He trusts others implicitly and explicitly. He believes that the world can change.

Filliam is not trying to save the world, he just doesn’t want life to pass him by. He doesn’t want to miss opportunities to love, to experience, and to understand.

It’s that shared trait of eternal optimism that I desire the most. The idea that despite how bad things are (And they are. They are really bad in this world) that it is not over and regardless of how incapable that I may be to make things better, maybe my faithfulness to doing my best is rewarded. Not to me necessarily, (although if that is in the cards as well, awesome!) but rather this world is made better.

I feel like a lot of losses have come my way personally and I’ve done my best to do what is right but my optimism and drive to keep pushing for a better world is taking the hit. Especially when, in outside of my life, it seems like a callousness to other people continually seems to win. A leader can declare that the most vulnerable people are a threat and must be treated like animals or subhuman and they win elections or continued support.

It’s the thing that separates me from my three favourite characters that I’ve created is this knowledge that the worst parts of humanity currently have the upper hand and that I personally am playing short-handed. I am having a tough time maintaining optimism in the face of it.

I think that’s why the characters I’ve been drawn to to play are optimistic and the pinnacle of genuine hope and kind action. These characters are a part of my personal mythology that inspire me to still be as kind and hopeful as I can be. It is true that all the world’s problems are overwhelming and impossible to overcome by one individual, but at the very least, I have done my part to do the best an individual can in the face of it. Not inspired by the fear of hell, but rather by the love for this broken world.

This all brings me back to the world of Psalms. The Psalms are the poetry and song book of the Bible.

The idea that there are people who seem to go unstopped for their greed and vindictiveness was a thing that my own namesake raged against in these ancient texts. David was furious that people who abuse the poor and flagrantly flaunt their selfish ways go unpunished and it all boils him up.

David is often overwhelmed by the injustice of it all. He knows it because he has been on the run from the man who has power over the land and he wants to kill David.

David often feels like he is unable to stop it. And he was even king during some of these Psalms!

However, regardless of his position and social status, he came back to the idea that he would be faithful to what is right because that is what is required of us. We may not be able to stop the power of our enemies and those who do wrong to those most vulnerable, but we actually do not know for sure what could make the difference. It may be something small and because we are faithful, then those small moments may be what matters.

It should be pointed out that David was also, at times, a selfish man. He did things that were awful and shortsighted. He was willing to kill a man in order to preserve the perception of his righteousness. He is one of the best examples of a person who has high-minded ideals and can be a paragon of faithfulness and perseverance and yet is susceptible to making awful mistakes.

He is not Clarence or Ziggy or Filliam.

He is more selfish.

He is more realistic.

It makes sense that I am more like King David than those three characters I created. A man who was given so much by God and was one that made decisions that hurt people.

I will continue to pursue being more like Clarence, Ziggy, and Filliam, because it is people like that that love people more and make this world a better place. It is not the self-righteous who thinks they are morally better who necessarily make it better for others.

I should mention that one of the traits that I admire in the character of King David is his ability to realize his mistakes and his drive to make things right.

I would like to think I share that trait and it propels me to be more like those three characters and it will me to be remembered like Clarence or Ziggy or Filliam would be. An inspiring, kind optimist who loves unconditionally and truly makes the world better.

“I’ve heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don’t really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this:
The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah.”

- “Hallelujah” from the Leonard Cohen album “Various Positions”

Two Masters

Admittedly, this post is meant more for those who believe in the words of the Bible, but I hope these words resonant outside of that.

I enjoy the Lord's Prayer. I appreciate the simplicity of it and there's a certain poetry to it. There's a certain comfort that comes from saying it, knowing that many of the great believers, theologians and heroes of faith have said that prayer when they found themselves in times of turmoil and also in times of epiphany. That even when things are at the bleakest, that I could say the same words Jesus prayed. Maybe even in the garden before he was turned over to the authorities.

I remember saying that prayer in school. To me, it didn't seem out of place. It was a continuation of how I understood the world. That God was a given. That we could pray to Him and know He was present.

I also remember when we stopped saying the Lord's Prayer in school. It didn't bother me either. My understanding was that God was everywhere. He was not some kind of divine vampire that was not allowed into school unless He was invited. He was bigger than that. My six hours a day being inside the confines of a school building did not disconnect me from God.

Now, I can think of when God may seem distant or even not present at all and in the middle of junior high would definitely qualify as one of those times. When people are picking on you and you may feel worthless or you feel like you have to take advantage of other people's weaknesses to ensure you're not the one who's ostracized. It was times when it felt like you were alone and the future is clouded by uncertainty. I would pray sometimes for help and it was a small comfort in those times.

But to be honest, those prayers would be like a little bit like getting a text from a good friend. It was nice to know God was not gone but it still was so far from what I needed.

The times that I could point to God showing up, almost always involved a person showing up. Maybe it was a classmate in a moment of courage that stood up for me. Maybe it was a person who I rarely talked to who I found a connection with, reminding that people are not really that different. It was a person that gives you a big hug or warm words or quiet solidarity in times of pain or generous gifts that you needed but couldn't ask for.

When I think about "Let Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven", I think about those people, both Christian and not, who in those moments do good things. I believe that is God doing His will on earth. The answer to many prayers involve a person who is listening to what God wants to bring about in the world.

I don't believe that God has been kept out of schools as long as people continue to listen to His will. He didn't turn and sulk that we weren't praying to Him. He didn't "Well, they aren't praying publicly anymore, so let them have their fill of school shootings."

Funny enough, right before Jesus told his disciples the Lord's Prayer in Matthew 6:9-13, Jesus said this in verses 5-6: "When you pray, don't be like the hypocrites who love to pray publicly on street corners and in the synagogues where everyone can see them. I tell you the truth, that is all the reward they will ever get. But when you pray, go away by yourself, shut the door behind you, and pray to your Father in private. Then your Father, who sees everything, will reward you."

There's a sense that prayer is best done in times where there is quiet. Perhaps in a time where reflection can happen. I believe that the Lord's Prayer is supposed to inspire us to think about how we fit into this idea of "Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven." Praying the prayer in a school with others who may have a distaste for all things religious are not going to be changed. Prayer is for those who are seeking the Lord. If one believes in the power of prayer, they would also be the kind of person who would seek to the answer the prayers of others especially if you have been given the capability to help.

That all said, I admit that God has been replaced by many people to man-made idols that they believe will save them. Money is the most obvious one preachers will point to, but to me, the American idol is the gun. Although not specifically an American god, as I have seen many Canadians also believe that guns will save them, it is uniquely worshipped by the American society. So much has been sacrificed in the name of making sure no one removes high-powered, automatic weapons from the hands of anyone. For many, guns are sacred, they offer deliverance and security. They are considered holy, even.

But like all false gods, they also demand sacrifices for no return. And the sacrifices are mounting. The people are crying out. But who will answer their prayers? Perhaps people who are listening to the will of God.

In 2nd Kings, King Josiah realized that people had split their allegiance between God and Baal. They were praying to God, but they were also praying and sacrificing to Baal, believing they needed both. His decision was to rid the land of all idols from the lands in all their forms. King Josiah listened to the will of God.

Jesus himself said that no one can serve two masters. He will love one and hate the other. You may love God, but if you also love guns to the extent that no small measure of gun control is allowed, then you are serving two masters and you are choosing one over the other.

Jesus spoke about how if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out. It sometimes hurts to remove the thing that is causing you problems. Guns are beloved, but they are causing sin to be multiplied by several bullets a second.

Other countries face the same problems as America. Mental illness is everywhere. Violent media is everywhere. Angry vengeful men are everywhere. But there is only one country that faces the nonstop tragedy of mass shootings. It is the one that worships the gun.

Other countries have removed prayer from schools, but they don't face mass shootings on such a massive scale. Rather it is the one country who believes that guns are God-given.

I think it is appropriate to invoke the words of one of the prophets, Isaiah, who had hard words for those who believed they were doing the right things religiously while ignoring what the Lord wanted. Originally, it was more of a metaphor, but it is fittingly on the nose. Isaiah 1:15-17 says, "When you lift up your hands in prayer, I will not look. Though you offer many prayers, I will not listen, for your hands are covered with the blood of innocent victims. Wash yourselves and be clean! Get your sins out of my sight. Give up your evil ways. Learn to do good. Seek justice. Help the oppressed. Defend the cause of orphans. Fight for the rights of widows."

Guns will not save you. They only know how to destroy.

This brings me back to where I started. Prayers are being offered all over America about the violence that it is flooded in, but who will be the ones who listens to the will of God in this case. Is there enough faith in the God of peace that America can let go of its worship of the gun? I hope so. May God bless America and may God's will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Finally, for the NRA and their corporate friends:

"You fasten all the triggers

For the others to fire

Then you set back and watch

While the death count gets higher

You hide in your mansion

While the young people's blood

Flows out of their bodies

And is buried in the mud.

You've thrown the worst fear

That can ever be hurled

Fear to bring children into the world

For threatening my baby

Unborn and unnamed

You ain't worth the blood

That runs in your veins.

How much do I know

To talk out of turn

You might say that I'm young

You might say I'm unlearned

But there's one thing I know

Though I'm younger than you

Even Jesus would never

Forgive what you do."

- "Masters of War" from the Bob Dylan album "The Free Wheelin' Bob Dylan

Dad

March 1st usually sneaks up on me. To be fair, any time it is a new month, it doesn't normally register anything for me. That's why I never have any good pranks for April Fool's Day. My brain doesn't grasp it is even April until halfway through the day and then it clicks after that that I could have pulled off some great trick on an idiot. But I need more than a mere few hours to get into a rubber suit. This has already gotten off the rails.

March 1st usually sneaks up on me. It's again, about halfway through the day that I realize it's March and then that's when it sinks in. My dad died on March 1st and so it has been a certain amount of years since he's been gone.

When I realize this anniversary, I don't give more than a few cursory thoughts about it. I think about how it's been so long since he's been gone. I've lived more of my life without him that I did with him. It's been many years since I can remember how his voice. In fact, it was not even that long after he died that it faded into the mists. It was surprising how quickly it happened. The best I can do is half imagine him shouting and the way he kind of did it. Don't get me wrong, he didn't yell very much at all, but that's all I can recall. I can't even tell you anything he told me specifically.

That's not entirely true. There is one phrase that I remember and I will always remember. When I was mischievous little rapscallion, he'd always call me a "turkey-faced sheep". He never varied that phrase. I don't even know how he came up with it. It wasn't from TV or movies or anything. Nonetheless, that was his go to identifier for me. I was used to it as anyone who grows up with a repeated phrase and I didn't reflect on it until one day after him calling me that for 11 years (I assume the first time he would've called me that was when I was a toddler and I straight up stole his glass of clamato juice and downed it right in front of him before he could react in an act where I tried to establish my dominance). One day, he called me a turkey-faced sheep, as was tradition, but then he paused and said, "A turkey-faced sheep would look pretty weird." WHAT?! He didn't even know what he was saying all these years? What farce is this? Yeah, Les, that is pretty weird. I don't know what about me specifically invoked the idea of a sheep with the face of the ugliest bird in the world.

I don't haven't really thought about my dad too much in the past several years. I mean my life is so vastly different than when I knew him. There's no context to bring about memories of him in my world.

The thing that has struck me though over the years is just how prominent my dad was in my life. He was retired by the time I was 5 and so it was like I had a grandpa that lived in my house. In the summers, we'd go on these hour long walks around the town in the morning a few times a week. He was the first person that I would talk about all sorts of things. He told me things I don't know if he told anybody else in the world. When people would ask me who my best friend was in high school, I would say one of my friends who I spent much of my time with. However, I've discovered in my reflection of my time in Minnedosa, that truly, it was my dad who was my best friend. I knew him and he knew me.

I've also become aware of how rare of a relationship I had with my dad. Some people never had a strong father figure in the life or if they did, they had a job and they would have limited time with their kids. For me, my dad gave me so much time. We'd watch tv together and talk and he'd tell me stories. He was still an authority figure and I still treated him that way, but I could reason with him and converse with him.

I have been asked in the past about what made my dad such a great dad and at first, I didn't have a great response. I wouldn't say that he had any special parenting tricks. It wasn't like he had amazing spiritual insight since he never really went to church until his late 40's. He had trouble connecting with my brother. I concluded that why I respected him so much was that time I had with him. That's the only tip I have for parenting. It's time.

I feel like I've done generally okay without him in my life since he died when I was 15. Like I have food and can pay rent on my own. Sure, it would've been nice for him to have been able to teach me how to drive standard or talk about how to avoid the financial pitfalls my parents fell into. I've had to essentially find out for myself.

That's why March 1st usually sneaks up on me. I've been able to operate without his help as an adult and so I am not missing that element in my life.

This March 1st was different. I knew it was coming. Not because my calendar is calibrated to do a morbid countdown. I knew it was coming because I've been thinking about dad a lot lately and how I need him right now. Every time I wish I could talk to him about something, I'm reminded about the loss March brought about in my life.

I currently find myself in one of the darkest places I've ever been in. I don't have great solutions. All my options are going to be awful. I've never had before. I've been in situations that are tough, but I knew it was something you walk through and you will come out the other end okay and perhaps even stronger as person. This time, I dread it.

This post is not supposed to be about that, but rather how I've never wanted so bad to have one more chance to walk past the lake, over the dam, past the bison compound, through downtown Minnedosa with dad and talk with him. Ask him for his thoughts. What would he do? Because I have no idea. Not one. I have nothing. I don't have things he has said to cross-reference. I was 15 when he unexpectedly died. I wasn't asking him about these things. I never got to really talk about dating or marriage or life choices or careers.

Great. I just cried in the middle of this Starbucks.

The best I can guess as to where he may point me is something like the tried and true Psalm 23.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.

He makes me lie down in green pastures,

He leads me beside quiet waters,

He refreshes my soul.

He guides me along the right paths for His name's sake.

Even though I walk through the darkest valley,

I will fear no evil,

For you are with me;

Your rod and your staff,

They comfort me."

I know it was words like this that got my dad out of one the darkest times in his life. I trust that the words hold true of the Lord being my shepherd. Even if I'm a turkey-faced sheep.

To close this post, I am going to quote a song like I do every time, but this one is my dad's favourite hymn. It comforted him and it comforts me.

"I come to the garden alone,

While the dew is still on the roses,

And the voice I hear falling on my ear

The Son of God discloses.

  And He walks with me, and He talks with me,

  And He tells me I am His own;

  And the joy we share as we tarry there,

  None other has ever known.

He speaks, and the sound of His voice

Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,

And the melody that He gave to me

Within my heart is ringing.

  And He walks with me, and He talks with me,

  And He tells me I am His own;

  And the joy we share as we tarry there,

  None other has ever known.

I'd stay in the garden with Him,

Though the night around me be falling,

But He bids me go; through the voice of woe

His voice to me is calling.

  And He walks with me, and He talks with me,

  And He tells me I am His own;

  And the joy we share as we tarry there,

  None other has ever known."

- "In the Garden" by Charles A. Miles

A Better Valentine's Day

When David Bowie passed away not too long ago along with Alan Rickman within a couple of days of that, I was reminded again of the curious response of people pouring forth their sentiments of how these individuals impacted their lives and yet never mentioning it ever before that moment.

Bowie released his album on the Friday and not one person had mentioned in conversation or on Facebook anything about his new album. He dies and suddenly it's considered a masterpiece. I wonder if he hadn't died if that sentiment would come forth.

Hear me clearly, I think that people are sincere when they say they appreciate their heroes when they pass. I believe that people are not just fooling themselves when they say his final album was amazing. What is curious to me is how often you rarely hear about the impact a person has on one's life until that person is dead.

Now, I'm sure Mr. Bowie and Mr. Rickman were aware of how much people loved the work they produced and they had some idea of the impact they had. However, I want to bring it closer to home. Just like when the impact of faraway celebrities is rarely mentioned until their death, I see it the same with people in everyday life. It's not until the funeral when praise is lavished upon the individual for all their great qualities and accomplishments and impact. Does that person you admire for their honesty or hard work or kindness know that you hold them in such regard? I think it is often easy to neglect such a simple form of encouragement. We always believe that we will have time later. Or perhaps we don't believe it to be a worthwhile endeavour.

I think that's stupid. People are not going to benefit from your kind words once they're dead.

So what are we to do? How do you find a way to remind and push yourself to encourage another or to uphold people?

I believe the answer lies within what humans have done to help remind themselves. Use a reminder. Mark a special day to do it. Christmas reminds us of hope. New Year's reminds us that we can change. Remembrance Day reminds us of the depths of sacrifice. Thanksgiving reminds us of how we should be grateful for all that we have. I've heard the argument that these are attitudes and actions that we should do throughout the year and not relegate it to one day. I agree with that. However, life goes along and it is all too easy to forget these beautiful ideas and to raise it to the social consciousness to remind ourselves of the ideas that we hold important as a society.

I think encouragement for one another is a beautiful idea that is often forgotten.

My vote for a day to encourage people is Valentine's Day. Valentine's Day in North American tradition has been about expressing the depths of your love for another. It has always been about a romantic love which is nice, but hardly scratches the surface of the breadth of love. It also alienates many people who are not in a romantic relationship.

Wouldn't it be great if Valentine's Day was a day about expressing the depths of our love for one another but not just the romantic kind? What if it was also a day where you call or message or meet with two or three or twenty people that have impacted your life and inspire you? Wouldn't it be great to share your love of artists and heroes with people?

The best part is, that this day opens up for everyone. People without a romantic connection can be included. You can encourage people that maybe overlooked and would be overlooked for their whole lives.

Sure, it would be great if this happened all year, but it can hard to do that without a reminder.

So, my encouragement to you to contact a small selection of people in your life and express to them your care for them. Post on Facebook about artists and heroes that inspire you.

Make Valentine's Day about love.

"Look up here, I'm in heaven

I've got scars that can't be seen

I've got drama, can't be stolen

Everybody knows me now."

- "Lazarus" from the David Bowie album "Blackstar"

Remember

This Remembrance Day, it stands out to me how many people offer their thanks to the veterans and to those serving our country currently. What stood out to me was how vague many of the sentiments were. I thought about it more and realize that it makes sense. Especially, when the second World War (the last war that involved most of an entire generation) ended 70 years ago. I know that even for those who are my peers, some of their grandparents were too young to be a part of the war effort. Even if people do have grandparents who served in the war, many do not hear of their story. Perhaps it was too horrible or perhaps it simply doesn't come up. Many will hear stats such as that there were over 1,000,000 Canadian soldiers with over 42,000 of them dying during the war. Even though those numbers encapsulate many individual tragedies, they are just numbers. Humans have a hard time feeling bad for numbers.

That's why a personal story and a personal connection can turn one of those numbers into a someone we can identify with. It can bring the ideas of sacrifice and honour to a tangible picture.

I wonder if that many people lack that personal connection to someone from that era and although they intellectually understand the danger and sacrifice involved in such an event, maybe they feel detached from it all.

Growing up and going to Remembrance Day services at the school, I recall some of the other students and how disinterested they were in it. Now, I can understand it, but back then I could not.

That's because my own dad was a veteran of World War II. I was invested in those ceremonies because it involved my dad's own friends, classmates and even his other siblings. This was important to him and so it was important for me.

What I want to share with you today is what I can remember from what my dad told me about his experiences and my hope is that it will be a record for my own benefit, but also hopefully for those of you who feel so far away from the war. I want to take one of those numbers and make it real. I realize that I have a unique position of being closely related to someone involved in the war. I got to spend so much time with him because he was retired by the time I was 5. We would go for long walks around Minnedosa in the summer time. Sometimes we would talk about the war and his experiences and it's not until now that I realize how rare and beautiful a gift that was.

My dad, Les Rae, was born in 1925, which means he turned 18 in 1943. Four years of the war had already passed when he was enlisted and join the war effort. My uncle Frank was already over in Italy as artilleryman and my aunt Nina was a radar operator for the Navy. Dad told me about how there was a sense with his friends and peers that they needed to go and join. He told me that a few of the others who were too young would lie about their age and join. It was a sense of duty that drove them. Perhaps even the adventure of it.

He lived in a farming community west of Virden, Manitoba called Two Creeks. He told me about how throughout his teen years, the pilots who were training in their fighter planes would sometimes fly overhead and swoop down and fly right over your head with the roar of the engine blaring in your ear. My dad really wanted to join the air force. When he was old enough, he tried to join, but he was rejected because he failed his eye test. Not to be discouraged, he went to another place where the air force was recruiting and hoped to pass. To his chagrin, he got the same eye doctor and was once again rejected.

Enlisting in the army instead, my dad was sent to Kingston, Ontario which was the major army base of the Canadian Forces and went through basic training. He told me about the gruelling day long hikes with 80 pounds of gear on his back. One of the drills he had to do  was to crawl through the mud underneath barbed wire as they shot live ammo over them to simulate what it was like to crawl through the battlefield. They'd have to make their beds perfect so that if a commanding officer checked, they could bounce a quarter off the perfectly tight bedsheets. To contrast, I take up to an hour to get out of bed in the mornings.

After basic, my dad was assigned to be a signalman, which means he got to ride Harley Davidson motorcycles. Although it was not the same as flying a plane, it was still pretty exciting. The signalman’s job was to hand deliver messages when the officers did not want to use the radios to transmit secret plans. This also meant that the enemy would target the guys on motorcycles first to stop the messages from being delivered. My dad was sent to England for motorcycle training where they had learn how to expertly handle their machines. One of the tests was the riders would have to drive their bikes underneath a wire that was only a foot above the height of the bike and they’d have to duck.

Once done his training, my dad was sent to Germany to join the fight there. He was not there long when the German army surrendered. He was really fortunate given the dangerous role he had. Dad had told me about one signalman who he had met who had been involved at the battlefield. This other signalman was riding along when he stopped and looked around and realized that he was in the middle of a mine field. The enemy was firing at him and the only thing he could take cover behind was his bike. As he took cover, he prayed for the first time in his life. He realized he needed to move. Slowly pushing his bike along, he carefully navigated the field. Once out of the minefield and to safety, the reality of how close he was to death hit him as he looked upon his shrapnel-ridden bike. 

Another one of the stories that stood out to me was about the night the Germans surrendered. He and some of the other signalmen took the local German kids for rides on their bikes. Many Germans hated the war and some of them were opposed to the monster at the top as much as anyone else and were relieved that it was over. 

It's also worth noting that no one really knew of the holocaust while the war was going on. Much of that information came out after the war. Many people were unsure whether to be involved. Especially the United States. The States were cautious and stayed out of it. The presidential election taking place at the time had both candidates promising to not get involved because it was not the job of the United States of America to police the world. Funny how the times change.

Despite the German surrender, the war was not over. My dad was sent down to the southern United States to do some specialized jungle training so that they could send him to fight in Japan. While he training, the Americans dropped the two atomic bombs on Japan which lead to the surrender of the Japanese.

My dad was sent home. In the end, he never participated in any actual fighting. He’d tell me that some of the men who had seen fighting avoided talking about the war and what they saw because it was such a scary memory for them. War for many was not the exciting, flashy action movies and comic book stories that you see. War meant people were putting their lives, their minds and their souls on the line for their country.

I realize that this story is not a flashy story of heroism and sacrifice. One of the things I take away from my dad's story is that there were others like him who didn't have such a happy ending. They shared his hope for adventure and the deep sense of duty for his community. I can see how it was resonate with me to be involved in a such a vital way. This was a way you could have a strong sense of purpose. These men and women would serve selflessly because it was right to help your fellow countrymen.

Another thing that has struck me over the years is the idea that some veterans would not share their experiences because of the emotional trauma of what they saw. It's another kind of wound that would follow them for the rest of the their lives. I never met my uncle Frank. My family always spoke very highly of him. How he was funny, smart and handsome. He died sometime after the war when he was hit by a train as he was walking in Virden. What's interesting is that my family claims that it was an accident. That he didn't hear the train coming because of the wind. It sounds like a comforting lie. I always wondered how the war impacted him. They said he changed after the war. He was one of those that would not speak of his experience. I suppose we'll never know for sure what happened.

It's one of the reasons that I am grateful that my dad didn't experience the horrible realities of war like others faced. Many didn't get that benefit. They either died or came back never the same. Perhaps even living with those memories and unable to purge the horrors from the cages of their mind. 

I hope my dad's story is a reminder that the people who were involved in this war were like the rest of us. That war changes people. That war destroys people. That we must not take war lightly so as not to needlessly endanger those brave enough to defend us. That we push for peace. That we should live well so that the soldiers did not sacrifice themselves in vain.

I tell you this story in hopes that we do not forget and do not repeat.

"Kudos, my hero

Leaving all the best

You know my hero

The one that's on

There goes my hero

Watch him as he goes

There goes my hero

He's ordinary."

- "My Hero" from the Foo Fighters album "The Colour and the Shape"

Love Letter to the Edmonton Comedy Scene

(This post is in regards to an article in Vue Weekly, which you can find here: http://www.vueweekly.com/edmontons-underground-comedy-scene-is-weird-inclusive-and-positive/)

I was recently quoted and interviewed for an article in one of Edmonton's local arts papers that has led to a bit of a stir in the Edmonton comedy scene. The article focused on a supposed "underground" comedy scene (I guess Whyte avenue is considered underground? I wonder if the writer had confused "underground" with "south of the river") and it was presented in such a way that it made it seem like these shows were inclusive while the big comedy clubs and other shows were not. Which is not true.

This has led to many to be upset at such an idea as they should be. The comics that are hard working in the clubs and other shows are not creating an exclusive environment.

Some of their responses have pointed out something to the effect that those interviewed have no authority speaking on comedy because they are so new and/or are bad comedians. Some have indicated that those interviewed are creating a divide or are unfairly insulting fellow comedians. I can't speak for the others in the article. So I won't. I will, however, respond for myself.

I have no idea if my comments were considered to be hurtful or divisive or if it was simply because my name appeared in the article and thus it seemed like I agreed with the content of the article. Perhaps I'm being vain to assume people misunderstood me or even cared what I said. I don't particularly think my opinion is one of any authority in the scene. Some dude asked me questions and I answered them. The problem for me is if people did misunderstand me and felt slighted, then I should clarify myself.

I do believe that what I actually said in the article but not necessarily anything else. I tried to mention in my conversation with the reporter as many of the rooms I could think of including the Druid which was one of the shows that preceded the existence of Dr. Jokes and all of their kin. The Druid and Rouge Lounge are different than the alternative rooms, but they are just as vital.

I like the weird, alternative comedy-leaning rooms because they allowed me to explore concepts and were willing to go with me on my longer story-telling style. As well, like I also said, a comedian needs to do all kinds of rooms. You need to be able to win over crowds that don't innately like you because you're weird and adorable. As Lars Callieou has pointed out to me before, referring to something that Jerry Seinfeld said: "Good crowds help you explore; tough crowds help you edit."

My start in stand up comedy in Edmonton entailed going to the Druid comedy night (hosted by Lars) where I got my emotional teeth kicked in for months. I struggled to write short jokes that got quickly to a punchline and my round about pseudo-Stuart Mclean story-telling style didn't work great with a 5-minute set when a crowd can easily get distracted.

That's when I discovered Dr. Jokes where I was given more time for sets and I could explore premises and stories. It would give me some of my favoured bits that I still enjoy doing.

I still continued to go to the Druid and if forced me to come up with quicker jokes and I'm so thankful for that.

In the end, I do all these shows so that way I can go into the clubs and on the road and bring the best I can there. I would love to work consistently at the clubs, but I want to be good enough that they want me there. As Jim Gaffigan has said, "be so good that you are undeniable". I appreciate the clubs because they bring comedy to all sorts of people. They are a vital part of the engine of giving comics a chance to live and survive doing what they love.

The best part of stand up to me is that if a person feels like they have a point of view that they'd like to share with a crowd (perhaps a crowd of people that would normally disagree with them) you can. You may even plant the seeds to change minds. The only requirement is that you be funny. And you can't become as funny as you can be holed up in the rooms that you feel safe in.

What I'd like to end off this post is something positive. I know this may be hard for some of you comics to swallow but I'm not responsible for your cynicism.

I am thankful for the Druid. It's the first stage I ever performed on after I decided to become a standup comic. It has taught me some critical writing skills that I still need to work on. It also helped prepare me for road shows.

I am thankful for Dr. Jokes for allowing me to explore and giving me a place to figure things out.

I am thankful for Rouge Lounge because it was my great challenge for a long time. My style is weird to them there. That room was my Moby Dick if you will. I still remember the first time I did well there and I am always happy when I do.

I am thankful for the Comic Strip and the opportunity it is in this city. Major headliners come through and you have a chance to perform in front a diverse crowd. When shows are full there, it is so exciting to perform. Plus their joke battle show has lead me to find some of my best bits.

I am thankful for the Empress comedy show and the Underdog comedy show because of the opportunity to play for an engaged audience. I don't have to fight the crowd and I can experiment with some really weird ideas.

I was about to write a list of people to thank. But I realized that that I would likely get me in trouble. Just know that I try to learn from all of you and I appreciate it. Whether its comedy stuff or otherwise. Maybe I'll even tell you in person something instead of some note on the internet.

Just Jokes

It's weird to get a theatre degree and then wait 10 years before you actually start performing in a theatre. I mean, sure, I wrote sketches and videos for churches, camps and for kicks, but I haven't really had the experience of doing acting exercises and rehearsals since college. It has been a lot fun joining up with my improv troupe, Sorry Not Sorry. 

Improv is not really my strength in regards to acting. Normally, I prefer prepared scripts and thought out monologues and I always figured I'm not fast enough on my feet to effectively do improv. Honestly, I'm not as quick as some of the folks in the troupe who seem to have minds that can spontaneously combust into quips and jokes and characters that are funny and entertaining. I will say that my strength lies in my character work. If I can conceive a character, I can make it come to life. I suppose it was all those years of doing monologues with weird characters.

Anyway, that's the background to something that happened that caught me and had me reflecting for the next couple of days. We had a rehearsal where we focused on a long form story and we took suggestions for a location to be used at some point and we went with "church".

What ensued was a story about a new priest who was trying to help out this town that had fallen into a terrible debauchery since the last priest left. There was a couple of brothers who wanted to sabotage the new priest because they feared their pickle empire would suffer (because when people are debaucherous, they eat pickles - improv is weird sometimes). The story was cartoonish as people would switch from bad to good at the mere reading of any phrase in the Bible (or "bibble" as it was called by the unknowing bad people). It was silly and fun and everything turns out well. It was a pretty standard improv story.

After the story, one of the actors felt really apprehensive about doing such a story involving religion. He was concerned that it may come off as offensive to Christians because of the way improv has a natural tendency to trivialize whatever topic is involved. It is true that improv tends to play fast and loose with topics because it has to. If you are stopping and editing yourself, it will lead to a stilted presentation. I could appreciate how he felt about the whole thing. You don't want to make light of someone else's beliefs or philosophies or culture.

Some of you may feel like it may have been inappropriate to take the suggestion of "church" in the first place because that is what would lead to such a potentially hurtful situation. Here's the thing. I was the one who accepted the suggestion of "church" from the crowd. It was one we hadn't done before and I figured that it might be interesting to do.

Now, I have no idea if any one else in the troupe would identify themselves as Christian as so I don't know if they would have taken offence at it. I haven't tried to do the secret handshake to discover the others and so we could conspire to turn the group into a troupe that only does Christian messages and quotes the Bible every scene. (To be clear to everyone, I don't plan on doing that. That would be stupid.)

Admittedly, the way the church and members of the clergy and were portrayed in the scenes were very inaccurate. No one would just turn from selfish ways at the mere mention of a line from Jesus. A town doesn't become a complete den of inequity because there's no priest around. The Bible is not magic in that way. (Funny enough to me, it could have been made into a movie and it would been celebrated as a wonderful Christian film celebrated by the church for it's positive portrayal of Christianity.)

I suppose I had the "right" to be offended. It had took a jokey approach to my faith and could have been construed as being dismissive to my beliefs. This is where I say I shouldn't be offended. It would be stupid of me to be offended. It would be immature of me to be offended. If I would be offended at someone making fun of my faith (especially one where the church were portrayed as the good guys. How often does that happen anymore?) then I would communicate something far more damaging about Christianity that anything joked about. I believe it would communicate that my faith and my God is not strong enough to overlook a joke. It seems to me that if you can't bear to hear a joke about your beliefs then you probably don't believe in that thing very much. Also, it shows that you either lack the intelligence or humility to differentiate when someone is joking and when someone is trying to harm you.

The more defensive you are about your beliefs, the more uncertain you are in those beliefs. If all you hear about my beliefs is how I'm offended at something, then I'm missing out on the opportunity to talk about what is good about my beliefs.

If you can't take a joke, then I can't take you seriously.

"Some people try to find the meaning in life but that's the craziest thing you can do,

Because the meaning behind something as f***ed up as life would have to be pretty f***ed up too.

Some people think a wizard lives up in the sky

And he looks after people after people die

And also there's a monster underneath the dirt

And his job is to trick us into being jerks

But other people think none of that exists

And if you try to argue they get really pissed

The only thing upon which they can all agree

Is at the end of the day there's nothing more crazy that Scientology

People's opinions are all stupid and bizarre

Believing in stuff is mostly crap"

- "Life" from the Success 5000 album "Laughcore"