Vancouver Island

Alright you bastards, here’s another post. I am simultaneously angry and nostalgic today so there’s no telling what will come out. I’m watching a documentary on the cougars of Vancouver Island, where I am told I was born. All the evidence points that way, earliest memories etc, so I’m going to go with it. Says there on Vancouver Island they have more cougar attacks than anywhere else. Cougars are also called Pumas or Mountain Lions in other places. But the proper word is cougar. You say mountain lion in Canada and somebody will slap you. Well, I’d slap you.

At the same time I am re-boxing the wireless router I bought on Saturday, which works as well at transmitting and receiving data as many other wireless things I own like ashtrays and socks but, unlike those things, has no other use like extinguishing cigarettes or clothing one’s feet. I suppose you could put out a cigarette on the router if you had to but it’s plastic so, you know, that shit’s bad for you.

Well the cougar show is over and nobody even got killed in all these “attacks”. More of a swatting than an attack. No ruptured jugulars or crushed windpipes, which is the cat way. Not like a bear which will start gnawing on you any old place (little secret, all that “play dead” stuff is for the tourists, if a bear is chewing on you my advice is to run away) . One little girl would have copped one, but she was wearing a life jacket which conveniently protected her neck. Also cougars are afraid of the colour orange, nobody knows why so don’t question it.

But I did see my childhood home on the show, in the background of one shot. It looked smaller than I remember and needed a coat of paint. One of the shutters was crooked and for a moment I thought….Nah, I didn’t see my fucking house, you tool. Fuck you’re gullible.