Sometimes You're the Bug...

I don't know who first came up with it but it's a marvellous saying. Sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the bug.

It's like sometimes you win, sometimes you lose...but far more descriptive. I mean have you ever had it happen to you? You're driving along as the sun's just gone down. You turn on your lights in the dusk and the bugs just seem to flock to your windshield, drawn as if by a magnet. Now, of course, you're faced with a choice. Do you just leave them be or do you flip on the windshield wipers and shoot windshield wiper fluid at your windshield. If it's ever happened to you, you know this is a no-win situation. Trying to clean them off usually makes it worse. You better hope you find a gas station...or a guy at the side of the road who wants a dollar...with a squeegee. That's the only way.

And, of course, the bug never wins. It's always the windshield that comes out on top.

When I was a kid, though, riding my bike on paths through nearby fields, the bugs won...in a suicidal fashion. Of course I had no windshield on my bike. And as I pedalled faster and faster I'd open my mouth wide to catch my breath and, alas, that wasn't all I caught. Yep, I swallowed a bug or two in my time. Quite a few, actually. And people wondered why I looked bug-eyed half the time.

Sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the bug has a sense of finality, doesn't it? I mean sometimes you're the screen door, sometimes you're the bug doesn't carry with it the same sense of doom and meeting your maker. And sometimes you're the window, sometime you're the bug doesn't work because there's a 50/50 chance the window'll be open.

It's like Mark Knopfler and Dire Straits once said...

Sometimes you're the windshield
Sometimes you're the bug
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're a fool in love
Sometimes you're the louisville slugger baby
Sometimes you're the ball
Sometimes it all comes together baby
Sometimes you're going to lose it all

Not only that, he sang it, too:

The Polka Dot Door

A long time ago, when I was 22, my first child was born. That kid grew up on a little Canadian kid's show called Polka Dot Door, produced by the TV Ontario network. And Dad, more often than not, sat through those shows with his little one. Nine or so years later when a brother, and a year after that when a sister came along number one son was moving on to Knight Rider and The Dukes of Hazzard. But there was a nice overlap where his siblings picked up where he had left off with Polka Dot Door. And Dad was right there to welcome them. So you're looking at a Polka Dot Door veteran. The show began in 1971 and ran to 1993. I didn't watch the full run but I did get in my fair share. The formula was pretty simple. A young male and female host, which seemed to change every week, sang songs, told stories, made crafts and generally did their best stimulate little brains. The show opened as follows... Imagination Day! Oh boy! ...

Hello Goodbye

Today a bit of a reflective piece. Rather than being funny, this is about the funny. It's a day of mixed emotion at nonamedufus . You see, after several months of inactivity I've dropped a couple of former blogger buddies off my blog roll. I kept hanging on and hanging on hoping they'd return to active blogging but, alas, after waiting in one case five months I've decided to let them go. I'm going to miss - going to? I have been missing - Margo at the Screaming Me-Me . She was one funny lady. From time to time she and I would engage in a feud or two for several days at a time but it was all in fun both for us and, I think, for our readers. And we'd leave each other funny comments, poking fun at each other. I miss her friendship and our humorous exchanges. The other blogger I'm letting go is Chelle, The Offended Blogger . Chelle was a special lady. In addition to her own blog she created and managed Humor Bloggers Dot Com where humour bloggers like m...

The Dangling Conversation

There's a debate underway in my household between my wife and I. I say "underway" because it hasn't quite reached the "raging" stage. If you want raging, my wife (a Francophone) and I (an Anglophone) from time to time (usually in a weak moment of my own making) slip into our number one discussion around why we don't speak more French at home - ergo - when am I, a former public servant who learned French at the expense of our gracious taxpayers and was technically rated bilingual (even though I hardly used it), going to improve my use of Canada's other language? This one never gets resolved, hence it's ongoing nature. But the current debate is over a remark I casually made the other day. I'm no geek, but with a lot of time on my hands I surf the web, converse on Facebook and such and - I have to admit - "I'm nonamedufus and I'm a Twitterholic". In an epiphany-like moment I was struck by the apparent impact of social networkin...

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