Beggar Charlie

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Cash Cow?

TV has a lot about mysteries on it. A couple of mysteries I have thought about are the Chupacabra and Cattle mutilations. Then one night it occurred to me. I have always thought the only animal to take blood out of a creature and leave the body behind is man, ditto for mutilating. Of course these mystery shows liked to posit that it was coming from aliens. The Chupacabra being an escaped pet of aliens who have visited Earth. The cow mutilations come from the aliens themselves. But I wondered, why would aliens leave a body they could just as easily take with them? To make a long story short, I looked at other animal stories. Stories of poachers. So who leaves the body of an animal to rot? Poachers. Think of the African elephant and Siberian tiger whose remains are found all over their habitat. And why are they poached? Medicine. Or for nickknacks made of ivory or rhinoceros horn. What is taken from the cows is their sex organs. So maybe there's a market for cow sex organs somewhere? Why would a poacher just have a herd of cows when they could steal some for less? And for the animals in Latin-America? Blood is drained. So maybe there's a need for blood in some market in the world? Just a thought. But I can't bring myself to believe that an alien would come millions of miles to Earth just to steal and cow's uterus.

Saturday, January 23, 2016

February 2

It's coming up. My fifty-eighth birthday. I am getting old. No, I don't really care anymore, I went through that trauma back when I was in my forties and realized that no one would buy or give me anything anymore because they thought I was pretty. That is for young women. I don't mind. I'm looking forward to all the benefits of senior life. Like discounts. This year I'm going to have a cake, too. Last year I didn't, I was trying to lose weight. But I've found out that my problem with losing weight isn't overeating, it's under activity. I'm on the computer most of the day and don't get out much. I have a friend who mountain bikes. He can eat anything that he wants to. So this year, for my fifty-eighth year, I'm going to get more active. It's going to be hard. I have a wrecked left knee and flibitis in my right elbow. I have a back which goes out everytime I do something I'm not used to. This is old age. So I have to try to find something interesting to do that I can do. Soccer is a possibility. All you do is run. I won't be good at the start but maybe I can get better. Of course that's not possible in winter. Another thing is, every year I buy myself a birthday gift. I don't want anything, really, but I am going to buy a really big steak. I'm looking forward to it. Winter birthdays are lots of fun. It's a real nice break in the cold days to celebrate anything, I find. Anyway I'm going to have a good time.

Saturday, January 9, 2016

The Children's Chocolate Bar Strike

It was 1947. The war was over and costs that had been held down by the war were zooming up. A chocolate bar in Canada was five cents. But cost of sugar etc was up. So the chocolate companies decided to raise the price to eight cents. A boy went down to get a bar and noticed the price. He complained and soon he and some friends were on a picket line outside the shop. The idea caught on. More and more boys and girls showed up to picket the high price of chocolate. Newspapers zeroed in on the children and the children's chocolate strike was born. It was country-wide and looked on with some amusement by the adults. The chocolate companies tried to reason with the kids. Tried to tell them about soaring costs of making the candy. Kids didn't listen. Then, on the eve of the biggest strike that was to hit Canada, a telephone call came it. The children, it said, are being used by the communists to derail the capitalist economy. No one knows who made the call. Overnight parents forbade their children to strike, fearing their sons and daughters were pawns of communist sympathizers. It was over as quick and as sudden as it began. The price of chocolate held at eight cents and now is about two dollars. But oh, those were interesting times.

Tuesday, December 29, 2015


Well we had a pretty good Christmas and holiday over all. I know, I know, it isn't over yet. There's still New Years Eve and New Years Day to go through before we get back on our usual schedule. Okay. But I like to take stock before the new year, just to relax a bit in the in-between week and think whether it was good this year. I think yes. We had a great turkey. We had great presents. Everything came off beautifully. So it was good. What's New Years anyway but a chance to get sloshed? I might buy David a bottle of wine. I got him a new brand this year Hanging Man and he liked it very much. But it was white. He likes red better. Or maybe an Italian wine. He hasn't worn his cap yet. I got him one that has a maple leaf. Of course, one thing, my birthday is in February. So I'm looking forward to that. So all in all, this time of year is good to me and it always has been. So I'll see you all in 2016 and have a great one.

Monday, December 14, 2015

Dream Graves

At 57, I've reached the age where I'm giving up on some of my physical dreams as being 'not able' to complete. When I was younger I used to walk along the bicycle paths. One is in Quebec. I would just cross the bridge and the bicycle track ran along the river. Once when I was walking, I saw a sign that said 'Quebec City' and an arrow. I was quite excited and decided that some day, I would get a bike and go along the track from Hull to Quebec City. What fun! I would have to take money for motels and food, but wow, what a great thing to do. My only problem is I never learned how to ride a bike. No worries. I would learn. I was young, right? Years go by and I would think of my 'trip' from time to time and watch it slip farther away from me. Now that my left knee has so much arthritis that my patella rides freely, only held by the tendons, I realize that there's no way I will be able to bike up to Quebec. I didn't even learn how to ride. Bah. But wait, there's other things a person can do. Only I haven't come up with many of them. Well, one of my mother's cousins went whitewater rafting when she was 73 but she said it was real easy run, just hold on. That's a great idea. I would love to be on a river, outside. Just hold on. Hmmm. Of course, technology might make things a little easier for older people. I'm sure there is a bike that runs on a motor. Not a motorcycle, but a regular bike. Why I'm sure I could learn to ride that. Or wait. In Ottawa, in summer, they have the Corridor Special on the train. Kingston to Quebec City for twenty-nine dollars. Well, I can sit on a train. And take a friend. We could even bring our own food. It's a six hour trip. I have been to Quebec City already, years ago. But I've always wanted to go again. Maybe it doesn't matter so much how I get there.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

Late Snow, Great Snow

It was supposed to snow today. So far, it's been all sunshine. And it's not too cold. Last week, we had a 14 degrees Thursday. This is November. In the old days, about twenty, thirty years ago, this time of the year was covered in snow and about twenty degrees below zero. It's common in Ottawa to hear people say, "If this is global warming, I like it." Which may be ignorant and selfish but I kinda feel the same way, too. Except I like the first snow of the season. I've always liked the first snow of the season. I love watching the flakes come down and the quiet of it all. Of course since I live in downtown Ottawa it isn't too quiet. Not like when I visit my friends out in Smith Falls, ON in the winter and they have a snow day there. I love to see people walk around in the snow and how happy they are. But in Ottawa, everyone complains about snow. People on the street, the radio and the television. Because of the driving. Now a lot of people who know things will say Ottawa drivers are especially bad. I don't know. I do often see people turn from the wrong lane and not signalling and I've gotten used to watching the driver of the nearest car when I'm crossing the street. Just to see if he/she is paying attention. Sometimes they aren't. A woman texting once almost ran me down in Chinatown. She wasn't even aware that she had done so. Back to snow, Tuesday is also supposed to snow. Now since it hasn't snowed today, I'm looking forward to Tuesday. But I'm not sure I want it to snow too much. I am getting old. Now I guess I'll go and walk around in the sun.

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

Monroe Isadore

Well, sometimes I don't know what to make of the world. I spend some time trying to figure out which country is the best in terms of safety etc. I used to think it was Norway and then some guy shot a bunch of kids on an island. Sweden's out, too. That leaves Finland and Denmark. But wait, what am I talking about? I heard a story that shocked me and need to talk about it and wonder how many countries this could happen in. I'm talking about the 107 year old man named Monroe Isadore, who got confused when people came to take him away to a nursing home and lay down on his bed with a gun, firing into the ceiling. Someone sent out the S.W.A.T. team. Why? I can't figure out why anyone would need twenty big men with assault weapons to contain a deaf, blind centenarian. They had a camera on him all the time. They knew he was not a threat. He would not even be a threat to a wussie like me. Why didn't they yell out that they were police? His family says he would for sure have come out. I can't get the image from my mind of ten young, strong men with assault weapons pumping bullets into a terrified 107 year old man who couldn't see them. It's clear from the tape that he was terrified, he had no idea who was trying to get into his house. Why didn't they send in some of his family? But the question is: which countries could this happen in? It could not happen in Canada where the cops will wait all night if they have to, just to resolve things peacefully. I think it could happen in South American countries and I really think it's a shame that it happened in America. Of course, happening there, it is on the news and people have a right to comment. Anyway, I think it must be hard to live in a country with so many guns although that isn't really an issue here. Except that an old man shouldn't need a gun. So R.I.P. Monroe Isadore. I'm really sorry that you couldn't end your life peacefully, that it had to end with a whole bunch of panicky cops killing you. Hope you find justice in Heaven.