Sure, he walked on water, but did he wear a cape?

My only personal experience of born-again Christianity:

At Thanksgiving dinner several years ago my wife, Anne, and I, along with my parents and my brother, Mike, were gathered around my uncle Gord's dining room table, drooling over the aroma of mashed potatoes, roast turkey, squash, stuffing, gravy and fruit pies warming in the oven. Sitting across the table from me were my cousin's young sons, Rod and Todd Flanders. (Okay, obviously not their real names - their father was a wild child who discovered Jesus after badly losing a barroom brawl. My cousin lost the fight, that is, not Jesus.)

Now, the turkey was still being carved in the kitchen, and to make conversation, my cousin, Colin, sitting next to me, asked Rod a question: "Who is the greatest superhero in the whole wide world?" We were all expecting a Batman vs. Superman debate, with maybe some X-Men thrown in for spice. The new Superman movie was in production, Batman Begins was in theatres, and the X-Men movies were in full swing too.

To our eternal delight, Rod's eyes lit up, and with the full confidence and enthusiasm only an eight year old boy can muster, he shouted, "GOD!", punctuating his yell with a raised fist and a huge smile. Todd, sitting next to him, nodded enthusiastically and laughed.

Cue the barely-contained guffaws from my brother and I.

Colin, ever the trooper, shook his head and said, "No, okay, let me rephrase: Who is the greatest superhero that God created?"

Rod and Todd's eyes met, and for a brief, shining moment, I thought I could see them telepathically communicating, weighing heroic feats against awesome powers, judging climactic battles against cool costumes and gear, and carefully selecting the greatest superhero of them all:

"JESUS!" they yelled in unison.

My brother and I dissolved into gales of laughter. I laughed until I ejected my spleen. Mike laughed so hard he ruptured space-time and now lives as a Turkish warlord in 1073 AD. Anne, meeting my uncle's family for the first time I might add, buried her face in her hands in embarrassment and gave serious thought to handing me back her engagement ring.

Then the turkey arrived, and we all gave thanks, and had a lovely dinner.

 Edit: The superhero questionner's name is actually Colin, not Scott, like in the original post. Never blog before consuming adequate amounts of caffeine.

BP's Christmas Gift to Us All

 I now present BP's "The Twelve Days of Christmas," in honour of this article on Business Week's website: BP Oil Leak May Last Until Christmas

Verse twelve:

On the twelfth day of Christmas, BP gave to me,
Twelve - weeks (so far!) of failure,
Eleven - pipes a-bursting,
Ten - twitterers tweeting,
Nine - months a-leaking (by Christmas!),
Eight - goodbye, endangered species,
Seven - swans a-suffocating,
Six - CEOs praying,
Five - fishermen ruuuuuined,
Four - dying birds,
Three - top kills,
Two - turtles, dead,
And an environmental catastrophe.

Alright, so a songwriter I ain't, but you get the picture.

Thoughts from Canada's Worst Driver

Flicking around through the channels last night before the hockey game (Go Chicago!), and I happened upon an episode from the first season of Canada's Worst Driver. If you haven't had the pleasure, each season of Canada's Worst Driver (CWD) takes eight truly awful drivers and runs them through a rehab program, with lessons and challenges designed to correct their bad habits. It's two parts schadenfreude, one part horror show, as you watch these reckless speeders, nervous wrecks, and clueless morons smash, bash, crash, gash, and mash their way through cardboard boxes and Styrofoam mannequins (sometimes with their loved ones' faces on them!)

Now, I am scared of the nervous drivers, the ones who can't get up to speed on the highway, don't know how to merge, and plain stop thinking when they panic. The ones I'm really scared of though, are the ones who think they're good drivers, and have absolutely no respect for the lives and safety of anyone else on the road. In the episode I watched last night, there were two drivers in particular, Bob and Faith Ann, who happily raced down a two-lane rural road at around 150 km/h (around 93 mph, for my American friends), with Faith Ann trying to block Bob from passing her. Bob likes to play "bumper tag," meaning he cuts in front of drivers who annoy him and then slams on the brakes. Faith Ann, before coming on the show, had already caused a nasty collision that required a steel pole to be inserted in her leg.

Deep breath here. What kind of selfish, irresponsible, bone-headed, egotistical, sociopathic, callously short-sighted moron does it take to believe that kind of driving behaviour is okay for them? I guess I just answered my own question with a string of adjectives. I remember reading a story in the ninth grade about a man causing someone's death in a violent car accident, then waking up to discover it was a Matrix-like simulation run as part of his test for his driver's license. When he asks if he passed and gets to drive now, he's told that anyone who would want to drive after murdering a fellow driver out of negligence doesn't deserve his license. Preachy, I know, but to a ninth-grader, it made a lot of sense, and it simply illustrates the truth of the maxim to respect every other driver on the road. It's the refusal to think about the consequences of their actions that make the drivers like Bob and Faith Ann so scary to me. They have the skills to be good drivers, but completely lack the social conscience required to be safe.

As I thought more about CWD, I wondered if there was any connection between the conscience-free mindset of the horrendous drivers on the show, and the anarchy that permeates the typical unmoderated forum or, the comments under a Youtube video. (Note: if you ever need to feel better about yourself, spend half an hour reading through the comments on a popular video and rejoice in the fact that you are not one of them.) I would argue that just as the relative anonymity afforded by the internet helps engender consequence-free hatred and flaming, the relative anonymity of being but one car on a road network full of vehicles can help engender a feeling of invulnerability to an arrogant driver. 

I say relative anonymity in both cases because there are obviously some safeguards and observation mechanisms in place - moderators, registered IP addresses and required logins on some websites; and police, traffic cameras, and responsible drivers with cell phones on the roads, for instance. Still, I don't believe it's much of a stretch to see a similarity between an arrogant driver and a comment troll. Each operates under the belief that there are no real consequences to themselves for their actions. What's a speeding ticket to an unrepentant speeder but another badge of honour or a temporary nuisance? What's a flame war to a troll but sustenance? They don't consider the consequences of their actions to others, or simply don't care.

One of my favourite stand-up comedians is a man named Tim Nutt, and he asked a great question: shouldn't stupidity hurt? Just a little ice-cream headache when you say or do something stupid. "I'm going to troll this guy." Oww. "I'm putting my retirement savings into lottery tickets!" Owwwww. "I think I'll order a KFC Double Down." OWWWWW, my head! (And my heart!) "The tiger's asleep, I'll just climb over the fence and get a closer picture." AAAAAARGH, MY HEAD! MY LEG! MY SPLEEN!

Bob, Faith Ann - I hope you have an ice cream headache and grow a conscience before we're reading headlines about you.