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Jack Tait hopped off of his blue tricycle and began smashing the faces of the fourteen men who abused him when he was a young boy of seven.  one by one.  swing by swing.  Jack hit them hard and hit them lots.  blood splattering everywhere.  Jack both smiled and sweat.  huffed and puffed.  sixty years of pent up anger released in his many swings.  he used to fuck girls for the same reason.  some make love.  Jack Tait releases his rage.  rage against the many who have hurt him over the years.  and there are many.  there are plenty.  Jack Tait took one last swing and threw his bat down.  he also took a piss.  he then hopped on his blue tricycle and rode away.  naked with his one ball dangling in the cold air.  he rode past dirty smelly bums and dirty smelly politicians.  he even rode past the odd dirty smelly cop.  everyone dirty and smelly in their own way.  Jack Tait was once an altar boy but now lives alone and only prays to his bottle of Jack.  the odd time he listens to The Cure but mostly just drinks and jerks off.  he also plants tomatoes but only in the summer.
  Jack Tait eventually made it home.  he hopped off his bike and placed it on the side of his rundown farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. he looked around and then went inside.  he heard howls from the coyotes and yelps from the cats.  he ignored both.  he went directly to his fridge and opened the door.  he then opened his throat after he opened his frozen bottle of Jack and took four big swigs.  he then sat down on his shitty purple reclining chair.  he found an old yearbook and opened it up.  everything opening suddenly.  he looked at all his past teachers and past students.  he also looked at past fucks and past rejections.  love nowhere.  phoniness everywhere.  “why did life take such a turn for the worse?”  Jack often wondered.  life was once filled with freedom and love and drugs and sex.  it was also filled with fun.  then it turned into selfishness and rules and phoniness and rich maggots looking down on people more talented and more refreshing.  fake British useless women looking down on people more talented and more refreshing.  boring dolts and boring folks.  boring cunts and boring stunts.  a life filled with shitty people and shitty lies.  shitty music and shitty books.  Jack Tait sat and pondered.  he sat and pondered some more.  he sat and pondered so long that his hair had turned grey.  now bald.  he picked his left nostril and came out with blood.  he looked to the Lord above and screamed, “why do young boys and young girls get raped and tortured????  why do people in the Phillipines suffer through typhoons and tsunamis when they are so god damned religious????  why did my Dad die at such a young age???  why did Olivia Wise die of cancer at such a young age???  why did Cal get cancer at such a young age??? why is there cancer period???  GOD YOU CAN PERFORM MIRACLES AND YET PEOPLE ARE SUFFERING AND MAGGOTS ARE RULING THE FUCKING WORLD!!!  WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU???”  silence.  Jack Tait then smashed his bottle of Jack against the side wall where there are marks of bottles from previous rants and then went to sleep.  he first put zit cream on his nose and looked at old pictures of his family when he was six.  he also prayed to the almighty Allah. he prayed for peace and love in a world filled with greed and dullness.  he also asked Allah if he could restore his hair.  and his ball.
  Jack Tait woke up the next day still bald and still with one nut.  prayers once again going unanswered.  LOVE HUMANS NOT GODS.

Jack Tait sat in his purple reclining chair drinking a big bottle of Jack and looked outside and saw nothing but snow and ice.  he was tired and bored. lonely and sad.  he had fucked over one hundred and fifty girls in his life but only felt love three times.  he recently tried to recount how many times he had jerked off in his lifetime and he figured somewhere in the fifteen thousand range.  Jack Tait has always been a horny man.  no need to apologize.  in a world filled with geeks, wimps, pansies, maggots, and babies Jack Tait knew that he did not belong.  “the world is for the weak.  the follower.  the puppet.”  Jack Tait has one sagging ball and a big hairy belly.  Jack Tait is a legend.
  Jack knew that life was slowly coming to an end but he had no answers.  he was once a man filled with hopes.  dreams.  family.  options.  now he sits in his lonely farmhouse in the middle of nowhere and drinks his big bottle of Jack.  he occasionally leaves to attack the mice and squirrels but lately he has become bored.  tired.  lazy.  he wants to go out and experience new things.  new women.  new food.  but he has no money.  no hair.  no car.  he needs a  change of scenery but has lost his mind.  he recently was attacked by six Mexicans with long wavy black hair.  he was also attacked by fourteen drunk Indians.  Jack offered them his Jack Daniels but they laughed at him and began beating him to the ground with their peace pipes.  “fucking Indians and their fucking peace pipes.  next time an injun comes on my god damned property I will shove his peace pipe up his god damned drunken mother fucking ass Johnny!!!”
  Jack Tait smashed his bedroom window with his bat and fell out onto the snowy ground outside.  he jumped on his blue cold tricycle and started pedalling.  he was naked and red.  old and almost dead.  one ball dangling extremely close to his wheel.  Jack Tait was mad.  sad.  He was swinging his bat and cycling at the same time.  he learned this in grade three.  his teacher was dumb.  uninterested.  so was his principal.  Jack Tait continued to swing and also continued to scream.  “God save the Queen.  God save the Queen.  God save the Queen.”  Jack Tait was now frozen.  his mind fuzzy.  filled with sixty years of fucking mush and fucking lies.  sixty years of booze.  sixty years of failures and fights.  filled with memories of good friends.  and lousy fucks.  lousy people and lousy rules.  lousy jobs.  lousy bosses.  lousy Leaf teams.  lousy Blue Jays teams as well.  lousy mayors and lousy prime ministers.  one big fucking blob of lousiness!!!  Jack Tait suddenly fell off of his bike.  “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!”  Jack Tait rolled around in the snow with blood coming out of his ear and worms coming out of his bare bum.  “HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!!!  HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLP!!!  HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP!!!”  screams went unanswered so Jack stopped screaming.  he jumped back on his bike and cycled into the closest indian town he could find.  he wanted booze and he wanted it fast.  he knew that he was stereotyping but he also knew that everyone stereotyped.  especially cops and bosses.  he quickly found a drunken chief on the side of the shitty road and drunkenly approached him.  “hey you drunken injun…you got any booze for sale???”  “who are you my fair son?”  “I am Jack Tait.  ruler of the lonely.  now do you have any booze?”  “for you Mr. Tait I will give you my right ball.”  Jack Tait sat back.  drunk.  confused.  he looked at chief and wanted to kiss him.  he wanted to rob him.  he wanted his right ball but knew that right balls were meant for right winged kooks.  he looked to the sky above and sang Gloria by The Doors.  he cried as he sang.  he was then attacked by a pit bull.  he fell to the ground with blood splattering out of his spleen.  “help.  please chief.  I will be your friend.  please?  help me.”  Jack Tait wanted help the way his Dad once wanted help when he lay on the ground paralyzed and dying from a major brain hemorrhage.  all the soccer kids watching.  “please chief.  please help me.”  Chief drunkenly staggered to the pit bull and with one tomahawk chop sliced the pit bull in half and saved poor Jack Tait.  he then ran off.  Jack stared as he lay bleeding profusely.  “I love you Chief.  I love you.”  the chief didn’t hear.  the sky became dark and Jack closed his eyes.  naked and alone.  one day closer to death.  one day closer to life.  365 days goes by very quickly.  in an instant you die.  sad.
 

I left my house with Rylee at 8:15am today.  Friday November 22, 2012.  twelve years since the supposed apocalypse.  twelve years closer to death. we took the elevator downstairs to P2.  “Daddy…I’ll race ya.”  “You’re too fast Rylee.”  then I run but Rylee runs faster.  I let her win.  she laughs.  so do I.  we jump in the car and leave for school.  Rylee’s.  not mine.
  we exit the building and the rain comes down.  dark.  cold.  early.  there is a re-mix on the radio and Rylee sings.  so do I.  I try to please her.  always try to please her.  “try” being the operative word.  we arrive at her school around 8:30am and I bring Rylee into the gymnasium where all the kids line up.  being taught to be followers at a young age.  I say “bye” to Rylee and give her a big kiss.  she says “bye” back and walks away with her friends.  I walk away alone to my car. 
  I jump in my car and head north to the 401.  destination…Port Hope…shoe appointment.  drive for one and a half hours without traffic.  a first for everything.  listen to sigur ros and think.  feel.  smile. reflect.  love driving by myself on long trips.  I have always been a dreamer.  one and a half hours later I arrive at Gould’s Footwear.  I find a parking spot and park.  put a toonie into the machine.  cash grab.  then I bring my samples to the store.  I show Julia the samples and she likes them.  so do I.  she gives me a lesson on my shoes.  I am a pretty face.  she then orders some shoes.  I pack up my shoes say “bye” and leave.  I stop in to see her husband John at another store and have a brief chat and then leave.  I walk past a few cute girls.  I look. they look back but nothing is said.  I am married and they probably have boyfriends.  life is filled with lessons and temptations.  regrets are bad.  especially when you are laying on your deathbed.  live life but respect humans who respect you. 
  I leave Port Hope and head to Peterborough.  music still on.  Triggy calls me to give me directions to Save Our Soles.  lucky for me.  we chat.  speaker phone.  we hang up and then I proceed.  sigur ros is soooooooooooooo good.  I stop for gas.  pay cash for once.  take a piss.  dirty bathroom and then leave.  I say “thanks.”  I always say “thanks.”
  I arrive in Peterborough an hour later.  I find a gas station and ask a young guy with a beard for directions.  he was thorough.  very thorough.  he gave me exact directions and I wanted to search for him afterwards to thanks him for being so precise.  we live in a world where people only care about themselves but he was not one of THEM.
  I found a parking spot in downtown Peterborough and once again put a toonie in the machine.  once again a cash grab.  I locked the car door and walked to Save Our Soles.  I arrived and saw Shelby.  she was busy but we said “hi” to each other.  she introduced me to some of her staff.  I then explained all the benefits of Red Wing Shoes.  there are many but the main one being MADE IN THE USA.  in a world filled with products being made on the cheap in china Red Wing boots are authentically made in the USA.  high quality.  authentic.  real.  just like me.  most boots are fake.  cheap.  low quality like most people.  Shelby asks her two managers to speak with me about Red Wing Shoes.  also about Daniel Wellington watches.  we speak.  laugh.  speak some more.  customers walking in and interrupting.  not on purpose.  good people.  small town.  is this where all the good ones are???
  after two hours I leave.  I awkwardly give Shelby a hug and then leave.  downtown Peterborough.  I walk back to my car in the rain.  look at all the real people.  angry but real.  I arrive at my car and see a yellow parking ticket.  do the maggots that work these types of jobs not have any fucking skill whatsoever to do anything different???  fucking peasants everywhere…even in small towns.  I drive away.  call Triggy.  she is upset about the ticket.  so am I.  I am hungry so I stop for a sub.  I am on a health kick.  I expect an overweight and unattractive girl behind the counter but instead I get a cute and friendly skinny girl.  life is full of surprises!!!  I eat my sub filled with veggies but then eat a bag of chips and a diet coke.  life.  I eat it all up and then take a piss in the dirty toilet.  I then leave.  I ask the owner of the sub shop (old and unattractive) for directions to the highway and she says, “go straight up Landsdowne and you will see it.”  I went straight up Lansdowne and never saw it.  lost but kept driving.  music still on.  rain still falling.  I eventually find hwy 7 and know that I am sort of on the right track.  I drive on.  sigur ros making me cry.
  I drive two hours on calm roadways in a calm state and eventually make it back to Toronto.  TRAFFIC.  ALWAYS FUCKING TRAFFIC.  Triggy calls and tells me her and Rylee are off to dance.  I wish Rylee luck and then rush to the liquor store for a bottle of wine.  I grab a cheap bottle of good wine and rush home.  hoping to get a quick run in.  feeling fat.  old.  ugly.  I don’t quite make it.  get home and then Triggy calls.  “we’re downstairs.  can you let us in?”  “sure.”  I walk down and let my two loves in.  they are happy.  so am I.  life filled with twists and turns.  we all walk to the elevator.  we enter the elevator with a black drug dealer.  i’m not racist just factual.  there are also white drug dealers but this drug dealer was black so I pointed it out.  he gets off on ground floor.  off to do a deal.  I have used drugs before.  probably will again.  we get to the tenth floor and get out.  we enter our condo and slam the door shut.  happily.  I will hate it when we all get older and see each other less and less.  eventually I will die and never see Rylee and Triggy ever again.  life is so great and so sad all at the same time.  SHIT…or SIGH.

I leave the house at noon.  drive.  music on.  bonnie prince billy.  window down.  hot.  always hot.  cold wind blowing on my hot face.  right lane.  slow lane.  today slower than other days.  get onto the gardiner expressway.  no traffic.  a first for everything.  drive.  now in the fast lane driving fast.  peaceful.  five minutes later I get off.  Jarvis street.  angry.  “superiors” never listen to “inferiors”.  they pretend to listen but they don’t listen.  phoniness everywhere.  I get off the off ramp at Jarvis and go left.  stuck.  red light.  a bum begs for money.  I give him a quarter.  normally I don’t but today I am angry and when I am angry I am present and when I am present I see things more clearly.  the bum smiled.  so did I.  I then drive north on Jarvis and eventually find a parking lot to park in.  I put my credit card into the machine and then it spits it out and the wooden stick opens and I drive in.  I drive around and around and up and up and then find a parking spot on the fourth floor.  I get out of the car and walk away.  I then turn around and press the button on my key thingy and it locks the door.  I then walk down four floors of stairs and exit the building.  cold air.  refreshing cold air.  now I walk north on yonge street.  I walk past cute girls.  ugly girls that are still cute and then past ugly girls that are ugly and past men who are ugly or not ugly.  irrelevant.  I arrive at uncle Otis. a cool store in Yorkville.  I speak with the cool and friendly staff and then say “BYE” and exit.  I walk south on yonge this time.  I walk past all kinds of people again.  the city walk is exciting.  always exciting.  I miss my city walking.  walking and observing.  observing and walking.  freedom in a non free world.  I walk south and pop into another store.  I say “HI” to Lucy the owner.  she is very nice and tells me she swims everyday.  she tells me I look older because I now have a beard.  but she quickly apologizes and says that “it has been eight years since I last saw you.”  I think that I look like I am nineteen still.  getting old sucks.  we talk for awhile and while we talk she is always smiling.  this makes me smile.  I then leave and walk back to my car.  I walk by a candy store and buy Rylee a BIG lollipop.  I speak with the girl behind the counter.  she is very nice.  only twenty one years old.  she lives with her Mom and doesn’t have a Dad in her life.  she tells me that my wife is lucky to be with a guy sixteen years older than her (me).  I tell her that I am lucky.  perceptions.  I eventually say “BYE” and leave.  I walk alone up to my car.  it is getting dark and I have a lollipop for Rylee.  I walk past lots of girls and boys again.  I eventually make it to my car and jump in.  I now drive around and around and down and down and eventually get to the exit.  I stick my credit card into the machine and pay ten dollars.  the wooden stick opens up and I drive out.  I turn right and drive down church street.  many gay guys walking around.  I see the sailor pub on the left.  I visited this pub once and saw lots of naked men screwing each other up the bum on the various TV’s all over the bar.  didn’t think much of it then.  don’t think much of it now.  to each their own.  I continue to drive.  stop light after stop light.  I have one hour until my audition so I drive down to the distillery district.  I park and get out of my car.  I walk on the cobblestone walkways and decide to visit my friend, Gigi, who owns partner’s film company.  I hop on the elevator and press floor four.  I get off the elevator and walk into the big office.  I see a girl working on her computer and ask her if Gigi is around and she tells me that he just left for parent teacher interviews.  I tell her that my parents knew Gigi’s parents and she said, “too bad.  Gigi would have loved to see you.”  I said “yeah” and walk away.  I then drive to my audition and the building is packed.  I see an old commercial friend of mine and we laugh.  I then see the casting director and we laugh.  everyone now laughing.  I then am called to go into my audition with my fake wife.  fake son.  fake daughter.  I fake I am scared.  and then walk out of the room.  audition over.  I jump into my car that I illegally parked at staples and drive south.  gas light on.  I then SIT in traffic.  I sit and I sit.  bonnie prince billy still on.  if I had the cure I would have played that.  I sit for half an hour and then decide to turn left and go back to where I came from and start a whole new route.  TORONTO TRAFFIC SUCKS!!!  walking is much better.  I head up parliament.  dirty people and dirty cars.  dirty apartments and dirty dogs.  drivers going very slowly.  traffic lights completely inefficient.  get in the left lane.  STUCK.  move to the right.  STUCK.  slow drivers and slow lights.  dumb drivers and dumb politicians.  the world is filled with pretty girls and dumb people.
  one and a half hours later I am almost home.  dinner is on the table.  I am starving.  need coffee filters.  also need zit cream.  been eating more greens and not getting zits but my paranoia takes over.  go into shoppers drug mart and find coffee filters and my zit cream.  I then go to the check out counter.  two lines.  one cashier is old and fat the other is young and attractive…sort of…not really but better than old and fat so I choose her lane.  only one person in front of me.  old and unattractive.  dull and white.  she puts her items on the checkout table and then pulls out coupons.  “FOR FUCK SAKES!!!  I CHOSE THE WRONG FUCKING LINE!!!”  this old, white, dull, unattractive lady begins pulling out coupon after coupon.  she then argues about some discount card.  completely unaware of the line behind her.  stand and wait.  restless.  hungry.  thinking about buying beer.  not wanting to but habits are hard to break.  twenty minutes later this dull dunce decides to go to a different counter.  “why are the dull and unattractive also the slow and dumb???”  fucking peasants.  I pay the semi attractive cashier for my zit cream and coffee filters and then walk to the liquor store.  I caved in.  buy four guinness tallboys and drive away.  gaslight now ready to burst I pull into the esso station.  drive to one pump.  “out of order”  drive to another…”out of order.”  then watch cars impatiently honking other cars.  I fill up my car with the cheapest gas possible and wait for my receipt.  it tells me that I have to go inside to get it.  “FUCK ME.”  go in get my receipt.  another fucking line-up.  get my receipt and drive home.  I arrive safely and soundly two fucking hours after my fucking audition that I won’t fucking land. 
  I give  Nicole and Rylee big hugs and eat my dinner.  I then rant about how useless our politicians are and how useless most people are.  Rylee tells me to shut up.  I then drink my four beers and go to bed.