Damn right it gets better (but not for bullies)

This month is chock full of anti-bullying initiatives.  We have International Stand up to bullying day (November 19), Bullying Awareness Week ( November 14-20)  and Anti-Bullying Week (November 15-19). There are no doubt countless others.

It took a pretty high adolescent body count to finally get the issue taken seriously.

I was constantly bullied from grade school until about grade 10 (I can hear the collective gasp of disbelief ). I was a smidge overweight. I listened to the Beatles instead of Bon Jovi. I occasionally did and said odd or smart-ass things.  Nothing that ever hurt anyone, but for some reason a number of kids felt they had the right, nay the duty, to hurt me. And some adults agreed with them.  I was told to ignore them. I was told that I brought the torture on myself because I was so different and refused to hide it, that those poor bullies had no choice but to make my life hell.

I thought about killing myself almost every day.

It’s tempting to use this blog as a platform to scream for bully blood and demand that schools round the little fuckers up and throw them into a pit full of giant flesh-eating lizards. But in the years since graduation, I’ve learned a few things about these mini tyrants.

A little distance and a lot of therapy helped me figure bullying out. Much of their strength lay in numbers, which is why they tended to roam in little gangs (or cliques). How those who weren’t targeted stood by and watched in silence because they didn’t want to become targets themselves, not because they hated me.

I’ve also figured out those bullies were no better than me or any of the kids they picked on, and behind their smug hostility they knew it.

It’s likely their parents treated them like shit, and as no one was protecting them, they took it out on those they perceived as “weaker.” They were often ugly and dumb. Those who weren’t, like the elite Mean Girls, had their own insecurities. They were terrified that the slightest disturbance in the school caste system would threaten their status (and their spot at the cool cafeteria table) and had to keep us peasants downtrodden by any means necessary.

A U.S. study from 2003 found that bullies are seven times more likely than other students to carry weapons to school. Another found that children who bullied in grade 6 to 9 are six times more likely to have a criminal record by the age of 24. As adults, children who bully may display harassment in the workplace or may commit spousal, child, or senior abuse. Clearly, the problem does not magically end after graduation.

And if the internet had existed in my school days, damn straight it would have been utilized by the nasty kids. Those with the cranial capacity to turn on a computer, anyway.

But the internet is also full of resources for kids thinking death may be the only relief from the agony of school. Bullying is  a criminal offense, kids are finally learning.

http://www.torontopolice.on.ca/crimeprevention/bullying.php

They don’t have to take this shit.

I deal with the long-term effects of bullying to this very day. When you’re told you’re garbage nearly every day for years, eventually you believe it. Like I said before, I thought about killing myself constantly. But I got through my time in hell with the aid of a very strong imagination.

I often fantasized that one day I would win an Academy Award and I would use my acceptance speech time to “out” my former tormentors, knowing my legions of fans would mock and shun them and leave flaming bags of dog shit on their door steps. Those who weren’t in prison that is. Thanks largely to them repeatedly telling me how fat and ugly I was, I didn’t have the ego to pursue acting when I was young. I did take it up recently though (very casual and part-time) and now have two IMDB credits. If I ever get an award for anything, I won’t be mentioning my bullies.

I’ve forgotten most of their names.

I admit, I looked a few of them up on Facebook a couple of years ago out of morbid curiosity. I’m pleased to boast I look better than every single one of them. And their bios were bland and often contained blatant spelling errors. They also tend to live in the same bland suburb they were hatched in or worse.

My life is not what you’d call normal because I am not normal, as those bullies loved to point out.  But unlike in my school days, I see this as a good thing.  My literary stardom is imminent. I live in a great city in a nice place with two gorgeous and lovable cats. People pay me money to take my picture (not so fat and ugly anymore). I have purpose (being active in animal rights) and REAL friends who like me because of the quirks I was once shunned for. I’m alive, in every sense of the word.

I triumphed. Bully for them!

Undead Like Me

When my friend Danielle suggested we participate in this year’s Toronto Zombie Walk, my first thought was “yay!” I so rarely get to dress up as anything but an impoverished writer.

Thankfully it wasn’t too cold out on Saturday when 6,000 zombie wanna-bes converged in Trinity Bellwoods park. My own zombie flower child get up was dead amateurish compared to some of the others (there were scores of zombie brides and beauty queens, a sushi chef complete with a tray of severed finger sashimi and even a giant zombie banana) but once the undead parade headed down Dundas and the grunting for “braaaiiins” commenced, it was all about zombie unity. Crowds of gawkers took our pictures, a few passers-by looked confused and disgusted but that made it all the more fun to stay in character.

Sure, it started to rain around the time we hit Kensington Market but it’s not like we could look any worse.

At one point I was shot by an over-enthusiastic zombie hunter with those plastic arrows with the suction cups attached (anyone know what those are called?). I played along, pretending to crumble to the ground, moaning “biiitch!” It was all just a harmless charade, after all.

By the time we got to the Christie Pits Danielle and I were getting drenched by the rain and decided it was time to go home and start the long and complicated makeup removal process. No longer distracted by playing a zombie, I began to realize I was in considerable pain. Walking stiff-legged, arms aloft, occasionally bent and staggering across the city is more taxing than it looks. And that’s with my reasonable good health.

That night as I  curled up in fetal position on my heating pad I thought to myself, if being a zombie for a few hours is this tough, what must being genuinely undead be like?

Yes, being caught in the rain is no fun for us liv’uns, but can you imagine how bad you’d smell if you were damp and dead? And if I’d been shot by an actual zombie hunter, I’d have fallen apart the second I hit that pavement, limbs snapping off, howling in agony.

The origins of zombies are unclear. Depending on the movie you’re watching or the expert you ask, their condition is either the result of a virus, voodoo or an alien invasion of a zombie race that happened sometime in the 1950s (see Fido, probably my favorite zombie flick). But unlike with the seductive allure of the vampire, few if anyone actually chooses to become a zombie. And yet they live out their existence as targets of our fear and prejudice until they are finally shot dead or set on fire.

I wonder how many in the crowd were actual zombies just trying to feel like they belong for once in their afterlife? But really, are they so different from live people? Most of us go through life working endlessly at meaningless jobs  with the enthusiasm of Marvin the paranoid android from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Then we come home and clean our bland homes, look in on our kids as they sit transfixed before television sets muttering “liek” and “omigod!” and mow our chemically enhanced lawns on weekends. There is little joy in our lives.

If zombies did take over the planet, would we really be worse off?

Zombies don’t fight each other, especially over silly things like land ownership or who has the superior deity. They don’t recklessly use up the planet’s resources or steal or lie.

I’m not saying I would actively encourage a zombie invasion. But really, there are millions of things we should be more afraid of. All zombies want is to eat our brains, and so few of us are using them!

And with science advancing so quickly that soon we will be able to reproduce human brains in laboratories, there’s no reason we won’t be able to peacefully co-exist someday. And then we can have ourselves a real Zombie Walk every October!

You can eat brains and still hug trees!

Ronald gets atomic wedgie from cool pro-veg ad

The Golden Arches have recently lost a little more of their shininess.  McDonald’s has once again been called out for serving up mass quantities of disgusting, unhealthy fare, this time by the Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine (PCRM) via their new PSA below:

Naturally, McDonald’s has started yet another media equivalent of a schoolyard brawl.

Why single out McDonald’s in particular? They are the biggest fast food joint in the galaxy, with the most recognizable trademarks. They also cater to kids more than any other fast food chain, with Ronald serving up Happy Meals with the shiny plastic toys which they can enjoy on the indoor playground a lot of their locations thoughtfully provide (and by “thoughtfully” I mean they “thought” it would bring in a lot of kids accompanied by parents with money).

Being the biggest, they provide the largest amount of crap for public consumption. And after doing so for about fifty years, you’d think they’d have figured out that being that big brings a lot of attention, and not all of it will be good.

For an empire whose symbol is a clown, McDonald’s seriously lacks any sense of humor. The PSA is seen as so scandalous that it made the news before it even aired on television (currently only in the Washington D.C. area, during The Daily Show with Jon Stewart but I’m surprised it aired anywhere other than youtube).  Below is McDonald’s  response.

“This commercial is outrageous, misleading and unfair to all consumers. McDonald’s trusts our customers to put such outlandish propaganda in perspective, and to make food and lifestyle choices that are right for them.”

It bears repeating in italics.

“McDonald’s trusts our customers to put such outlandish propaganda in perspective, and to make food and lifestyle choices that are right for them.”

Since when is McDonald’s food the right lifestyle choice for anyone without a death wish?

McDonald’s Director of Nutrition Cindy Goody  claims “McDonald’s is committed to providing balanced menu choices and a variety of options to meet our customers’ needs and preferences.”

Variety? Are there any vegan options? Is there anything for Celiac sufferers? Other than a side salad and slices of apple (sans that caramel sauce) it’s slim pickins’. Even the fries are cooked in beef fat. Ew!

http://www.veganeatingout.com/mcdonalds>

Speaking of meatless options, a lot of critics are taking issue with PCRM’s sinister vegetarian agenda. Who do those hippie terrorists think they are, trying to save animals and make us healthy by taking away our cheeseburgers and “shakes?”

“If PETA members are interested in plant-based diets as part of their advocacy for animal rights, good for them. Our interest lies in plant-based diets for chronic disease prevention. We are not affiliated with PETA. We are an independent, nonprofit organization interested in nutrition for health,”  Susan Levin, M.S., R.D. Nutrition Director of PCRM tries to reassure the public.

When asked why PCRM chose to promote a vegetarian diet instead of just a “healthy diet,” Levin replied “Healthy is too vague. People don’t know what healthy means, but research shows plant-based vegan and vegetarian diets are healthiest for chronic disease prevention including heart disease, type 2 diabetes and some forms of cancer. Not only does research show you can prevent those diseases with plant-based diets but you can reverse symptoms of heart disease and diabetes.”

How about McD’s own sinister agenda in profiting handsomely off our junk food addiction?

As well as being the biggest, they are also the lamest. Their own ads range from tedious to annoying enough to send my finger racing for the mute button on my remote.  And their lawsuits, like school kids whining to their teachers when they’ve been called rude names, make them look pathetic and sad. Sure, they may have initially won McLibel, but they came off as looking like bullies that have been pantsed by the outsiders they once tormented. And then they were further humiliated by a movie about it.

http://www.mcspotlight.org/case/trial/story.html

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/McDonald%27s_legal_cases>>

Will they sue again?

That PSA cost PCRM a mere $7,000. Is McDonald’s  just pissed that with their astronomical budget that they have not been able to come up with a commercial that compelling since, well, ever? The recent bit with the three annoying girls singing about the new chicken sandwich has to be an embarrassment for them. Who is going to be swayed by an ad that makes you want to change the channel?

Try as they might, McD’s is rapidly losing their status. Perhaps they are scared that sooner or later all the cool kids will see how sad and toxic they are and abandon them to go hang out at the local Tofu Hut?

Sales may be slightly up (offering cheap food during a recession will do that), but their stock is definitely falling.

Ronald is wishing he were home schooled

Take this job and #@!^^*@##$!!!

I won’t rehash the story of rogue Jet Blue steward Steven Slater. Not because we all know the story, but because I doubt we’ve heard it all yet. We may have to wait for the movie.

http://www.cnn.com/2010/TRAVEL/08/09/new.york.escape.chute.opened/index.html

But it’s no bloody wonder he has achieved folk hero status. Customer service jobs are agony!

Sure, we’ve all been on the receiving end of rude clerks and surly waiters, but at least we have the option of bitching to the manager or the Better Business Bureau. I have worked in retail, call centers, fund-raising and waited tables to put a roof over my head and have seen humanity at its most uncouth. And short of customers actually throwing punches or pulling a gun, we have no recourse. We must stand there and smile and take all sorts of abuse.

Too many people think buying a plane ticket or a latte buys them the right to treat those who serve them like garbage.

I imagine Slater took a lot of crap before he reached his breaking point. Screaming kids (and the parents who let them scream), people catching smokes in the microscopic bathrooms, being hit on by drunken morons, people who flout the rules of safety even after they are patiently explained over and over. Friendly skies my arse!

Being on the front line dealing with the public is a pain even if you are a people person. If someone’s hamburger wasn’t cooked just the way a customer wanted it, it’s the server who gets the threats of lawsuits over salmonella poisoning and gets to relay it to the chef. And don’t try to get any sympathy from management, sitting behind the protective barriers of their desks or their clip boards. There are a lot of people out of work who could do your job, they will not hesitate to remind you before sending you back into battle.

Many times I wished I had the guts to hurl a Frappucino in some rude buggers face before storming out of Starschmucks forever. But I endured the java junkies and their insane demands (you don’t serve “French Vanillas”? I’m sorry, but did you see a sign outside that says Tim Freaking Hortons? No? You know why? Because there isn’t one! You’re going to have to settle for a plain old vanilla latte or drive the twenty minutes to get to Timmies and no amount of whining will tell me their secret formula!) until I had the safety net of a marginally better job. Even then all I had the guts to do was sign my resignation letter “I hope you’re not too miffed. Bye-eee!” and then dance a little jig after my final shift.

But then, I never ended up with a cut on my head due to passengers who deliberately flouted the rules of airline safety. And to those who say his dramatic exit was irrational and he inconvenienced a whole plane load of innocent people, take a good look at how bloody rude the average person is, imagine having to deal with hundreds of such people five days a week for thirty or so years. And take a good look at how you treat those who serve you.

In a show of seasonal self-restraint

Today is Festivus, the holiday for the rest of us.  The time of year when we battle our heads-of-household in Feats of Strength, stare at an undecorated pole and participate in the Airing of Grievances where we let everyone know how much they have pissed us off this past year.

And many have pissed me off in various degrees. But I’m feeling sentimental so I will air but a single grievance this year.

As I write this, a little gray and black tiger striped kitten lays all tuckered out on my bed.  Or lies. I’m not sure which.

He has been hanging out in my room for the past few hours. My nine-year-old cat Maggie keeps looking at me as if to say “and when is his mummy coming to take him away?” No, she is not amused. But at least she’s stopped hissing at him for a while.

But even if Maggie will have nothing to do with him, at least he is stretched out all warm and safe indoors with good holistic kitten food and clean water.  About a week ago, this was not the case. My friend Becca found him shivering in the street by himself.

The grievance I need to air is with everyone who is responsible for him being there.

Everyone who has decided they cannot be bothered to spay or neuter their cats should kick their own arses for being so bloody ignorant. Everyone who has ever abandoned an animal in their care in the streets should spend the night freezing  in a dumpster fighting with countless other cats for a bit of garbage.

And those individuals (who for now shall remain nameless) at The Toronto Humane Society whose atrocities against those they were paid and entrusted to protect resulted in the whole operation shutting down and have resulted in the needless deaths of countless animals.  I hope you are shown the same compassion and mercy when your fates are decided, be it by the law or by karma.

http://www.cbc.ca/canada/toronto/story/2009/12/22/ths-warrant-search464.html

All right, grievances aired somewhat. Happy Festivus!

How to give more than “stuff” this season

I was all set to write out my list for the traditional Festivus Airing of Grievances (and not for fun, I really am going to a Festivus party), when it occurred to me that, oh yeah, this is the present-buying time of year too.

Whatever you celebrate (and I hope everyone has something to celebrate)  Kwanza, Yule, Yak Shaving Day or other, it all comes down to Annual Gift Day. Except for Festivus. Festivus doesn’t do presents.

I’m not going to waste time bemoaning the commercialization of the birth of Jesus. Charlie Brown continues to do that very well.

But if we have to make it mostly about exchanging gifts, we can at least think a little about the gifts we buy and try to keep them somewhat in the spirit of the season. You know, Peace on Earth- love your fellow humans-why can’t we all just get along…

The Big Box stores neither need or deserve your money. They employ business practices that violate what should be basic human rights. Plus they tend to attract the sort of shoppers that decent human beings want to avoid.  Meanwhile, small boutiques that carry ethically-made clothing and gifts don’t have the giant billboards required for scratching their logos into our brain like the major chains.

The great news is, there are so many ethical alternatives. It is entirely possible  to find that perfect gift for grandma or your mall-doll sister without supporting child labor or the Evil Empire.

And it’s not difficult. Heck, you can even shop in your rattiest pajamas thanks to the internet. All the better to avoid the craziness of other shoppers.

You can score some quality presents for your loved ones while benefiting humans and animals at the Animal Rescue Site Store (shop.theanimalrescuesite.com/store/site.do?siteId=310). They offer everything from pretty clothes to accessories to pet products. And for those on your list who have everything, there are “gifts that give more.” Who needs another pointless trinket destined to collect dust when you can help build a house for a homeless dog or protect girls from cervical cancer in developing nations?

If you must handle merchandise before buying, there are shops like 10,000 Villages (www.tenthousandvillages.ca) all over Canada. Stores like this sell all sorts of fair trade household items and jewelry, with a vast selection of holiday ornaments which are so much cooler than the stuff you’d find at Canadian Tire.

For that animal-loving treehugger on your list (*cough-cough*) check out Panacea: An Eco-Shopping Oasis (588 Bloor Street West, Toronto). Toronto’s first and only vegan shop features clothing, make-up, accessories, personal care products, books and a vast array of tasty animal-free sweets. And the shopkeeper is very cool.

Got a hard-core teenager (or even an adult) to buy for? Check out Global Aware (19 Kensington Avenue; globalfairtrade.ca ). They stock magnets, buttons, postcards and stickers bearing delightful slogans like “hemp, hemp, HOORAY!” and “Capitalism is Organized Crime.”

Not lucky enough to live in Toronto? It’s as simple as typing ETHICAL SHOPS + NAME OF YOUR CITY into a search engine.

And if you’re really stuck, there’s always American Apparel. If you’re really stuck, that is.

There are still two more shopping weeks until December 25, so go and spread some real joy. Now!