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It’s that time of year again: The time when columnists wax poetic about a new year’s resolutions, but since it’s the second week of the new year who really cares now? Raise your hand if you still have a resolution you haven’t broken. You there at the back, yes, put your hand down; we all know you’re lying.

I’ve decided to do something different and start the year by undertaking an in-depth examination of a major issue confronting our society today. In the manner of the great writers such as George Plimpton and Hunter S. Thompson I decided to live what I’m writing about so I can really experience the moment. At great personal risk to my self-esteem I decided to explore the dangerous world of “men’s grooming,” or “men’s grooming technology,” as some of the companies like to call it. In the beginning I experienced dread and apprehension. I felt emotions similar to what I imagine Stanley must have felt as he began his dangerous journey into the unknown in search of Dr. Livingstone. (Oh, just Google him.)

I’m from the latter end of the baby boomer generation, so when I became a “man”, grooming (for the dapper) consisted of a daily shower, soap, razor and a comb. Job done. If a man wanted aftershave it was “English Leather”,” Old Spice” or, for the truly adventurous, “Brut.” If you couldn’t pick it up it at the grocery store it wasn’t worth buying. No man wanted to risk smelling like a he’d been in a French bordello. (For the record, I have no idea what a French Bordello smells like, but if you have personal experience please drop me a line.)

Back to the present-day grooming world, during my in-the-trenches research I found societal expectations of men’s grooming in the 21st century was even more extreme than I had envisioned. There is now actually a “men’s grooming” industry. Who knew? The industry brings in big money. In Germany, in 2010, Germans (and reportedly some very strange looking French men) spent 503.91 million euros on male grooming. If that was converted into actual real money that would probably be equivalent to lots and lots. Did you know that there are ‘Men’s Spas”? They to “Male-specific treatments”. I shudder at the thought. I’m sorry Mr. Plimpton, but I will not go to a men’s spa. I have standards. They are admittedly very low, but nevertheless – I have them.

I discovered, upon visiting the men’s magazine section of a store where my generation originally found “girlie” magazines, that men can now purchase such titles as Men’s Health, Details, Esquire, GQ, Debonair Magazine and Men’s Vogue. Esquire of course has been around for years, but this isn’t the magazine of Ernest Hemingway (who was the quintessential real man of my generation with his articles on killing things) any longer. No. This is the magazine of articles such as “Wanna Be a Levi’s Model? Get on Instagram” and “How to Dress for Parties”. Have you looked at the ads in the modern men’s magazine? Why are the men all hairless? Is this the expected norm? Did someone just forget to send me the memo?

After some soul-searching I decided this was something I could experience for the good of the column. After all, in theory my hair would grow back. Do you now how many products exist for removing a man’s body hair? There’s a whole bunch. After careful research (which was the cheapest?) I purchased a tube of the stuff and took it home to try it out. I’m not the hairiest of men and, being of the wider body type persuasion, what body hair I do have tends to be spread over a larger surface area than most men’s. Once home, and keeping to the warnings to keep the cream away from many sensitive manly bits, I applied the cream to my chest. While my chest hair may be sparse, what it lacks in volume it more than makes up for in length. As directed I applied the cream with the included sponge and waited for five minutes (no less than two and no more than 10) before entering the shower for the next step. Now using the rough side of the supplied foam pad I wiped down the area that had the cream and to my surprise hair started to wipe away. Whether it was the product or me, the hair didn’t come off uniformly. I’m guessing that “thick layer of cream” must mean something different to the manufacturer than it does to me. I was left with naked patches of skin surrounded by seemingly random areas of hair tufts. I’m sure this was not the look I saw in the men’s magazines. I repeated the process over the course of three days but never managed to remove all the chest hair.

Of course, there are loads of other new men’s grooming products on the store shelves, “eyelid rejuvenation roll on” for example. I didn’t know my eyelids needed to be rejuvenated. Researching this column provides information I didn’t know I needed to know. Just so the rest of the man doesn’t get jealous of the eyelids, companies have created solutions for sensitive skin, rough skin, tired skin, and skin that isn’t tired yet, but might be in a few minutes. I chose not to try those products out. There is only so much I am willing to do for a column. My skin was still red from the chest hair removal. I purchased pre-shave balm, post-shave, body wash and man shampoo. Let me say again there are limits to my explorations so I took the safe route and whenever possible chose “Old Spice”, because to paraphrase the commercial we are all familiar with, I may not look like a fit, muscular man, but I can smell like one.

So, what did I learn? It’s time consuming to be a modern man. My own morning ablutions went from 20 minutes to 50. My wife didn’t notice anything different about me, although apparently I smell better now. I’m sure that was meant as a compliment. I never mentioned the chest hair removal attempt, but I’m thinking she might have noticed, as I’m sure I heard one or two stifled chuckles coming from the bed as I undressed, although I can’t be sure it was my newly mostly nude chest that caused them. I guess that research will have to wait for another column. Back to the 20th century for me.

Originally publisheed in The Cascade newspaper http://ufvcascade.ca

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What do you get when you take the headless corpse of a goat, two teams of 10 horses and riders with whips and lots and lots of testosterone? If you guessed “Buzkashi,” the national sport of Afghanistan, you can stop reading right here. If you said “what?”, then read on.

The sport of buzkashi is said to date to the 13th century and may have been enjoyed by luminaries, such as Ghengis Khan. Buzkashi is Dari for “goat grabbing,” and that pretty much explains the sport

There are two types of buzkashi: tudabari and qarajai. Tudabari is the simple version of the game, and honestly very few manly Afghans spend much time playing that version. Qarajai is the sport for the ultimate headless goat sport aficionado. In qarajai, both mounted teams gather in a circle around the designated starting position. In the center is the headless goat carcass. The goal of the game is for a rider to grab the goat—which usually weighs around 70 kilograms—and ride towards a post at the far end of the playing area. The rider or chapandaz (master player) rides around the post and back towards the starting position. The rider passes the starting point and drops the goat in his team’s circle; by doing this, players can score one or two points depending on the rules being used. At the end of the designated time, the team with the most points wins.

The game seems pretty straight forward, but while the chapandaz is grabbing the goat and riding away the opposing riders are doing their best to discourage him. The opposing team kick, hit and whip the rider that has the goat until the goat is dropped and then the next goat grabber moves in and the process is repeated.

The Afghan Olympic Federation has created a more formalized set of rules, but since the International Olympic Committee has strangely not indicated any immediate plans to include the sport in the official games, the more formalized rules have been slow to catch on within the world of buzkashi and are generally only followed in the city of Kabul. Did I mention that Rambo learned to play buzkashi in Rambo 3? Well, he did.

The cost to train a horse for the sport runs $700 – $2500. The average annual family income in Afghanistan is $426. The buzkashi season runs late October through March. The game is also played for special occasions such as weddings. Nothing says special day memories like the wedding photos taken with the headless goat grabbers.

The sport is not limited to Afghanistan and is played throughout Central Asia but with minor variations between countries. For those concerned about losing the pure essence of the sport need not be concerned as while rules may change, each country requires the use of some sort of dead animal during play.

Under the Taliban regime buzkashi was banned in Afghanistan, as the Taliban considered the game to be immoral. Absolutely no irony there then. Of course after the Taliban government fell the new government quickly removed the ban because a government has to have priorities. In other Afghanistan news the Tim Hortons franchise in Kandahar has closed, so no more coffee and doughnuts at halftime. Bummer.

Originally appeared in The Cascade Newspaper  http://ufvcascade.ca/

originally appeared in The Cascade http://ufvcascade.ca

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 Christmas, for millions, perhaps billions of people throughout the world is a time of cheer and good will. It is a time for friends and family to gather in celebration of joy, friendship, presents, candy, chocolate, turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, cranberry sauce and for a very few, that whole birth of Jesus thing.

Christmas is celebrated through many different traditions. In Holland, Santa, St. Nicholas or Sinterklaas is always very popular. He wears Bishop’s robes and is always accompanied by his faithful servant, Black Peter. In keeping with the spirit of Christmas, a white man in blackface wearing traditional Spanish clothing most often portrays Black Peter. As part of the holiday fun, children will paint their faces black and sing, “even if I’m black as coal I mean well.”

In Scotland, traditionalists celebrate Christmas by dancing around bonfires and eating oatmeal cakes. It is this sort of thing that makes one proud to be Scottish.

In France, Santa is called Père Noël. A traditional Christmas lunch may include such holiday fare as fois gras, lobster and oysters. Rumor has it that after the meal families gather together and practice the drafting of surrender documents for any anticipated military conflicts foreseen for the upcoming year.

Sad to say that despite all the happiness of the season for many it is also a time of great stress and impending doom and by many of course I mean men. For as long as Christmas has been Christmas, men have dreaded their significant other’s reaction to the gifts they have received. “Frankincense? What am I supposed to do with frankincense? Myrrh? Hey are you trying to say I smell?” Women, I hear you.

“Oh, I have everything I could possibly need. You don’t need to get me anything, but whatever you choose will be fine.”

In the name of all that is holy, please give us a list of what you really want. Just thinking about what we should buy for you makes us break out in a sweat and lose sleep. If you can do it for Santa you can do it for us. Honestly, it’s not that we intentionally buy you the wrong thing. We need guidance. Those gifts really did seem like the perfect gift and we were in fact thinking when we made the purchase. Now I appreciate that you think you’ve all been dropping hints for the last six months, but believe this if you believe nothing else we ever tell you, we weren’t aware that, “oh, isn’t that nice” meant you better get me that for Christmas. Honestly, we don’t understand subtle. It’s that kind of thinking that resulted in the Christmas we all want to forget. In our defense you did comment when we were at Sears that you’d like to get a new dishwasher.

“If you really loved me you’d know what I want.” Okay, I agree in principle that your statement might to a person of the female persuasion somehow make sense, but since you feel the need to explain to us how to properly brush our teeth do you really want to lay the responsibility for a tear free Christmas on our shoulders?

Contrary to what you may believe we do learn from our mistakes. We understand no weight loss books, no Victoria Secret lingerie, and no kitchen appliances. For the record though we don’t think it is totally fair when you tell us you like bears and then get upset when we buy you bear paw slippers with big claws. You often say we don’t notice how you look, but when we gave you the gift certificate for electrolysis you somehow twisted that around to be some sort of criticism. We’re just saying “mixed signals”. As to the year of the stripper pole, if you recall you did mention that you wanted to exercise more.

We do want to get you the perfect gift, but please consider the economy when making your list. We’re as romantic as the next guy, but the cost of the 12 days of Christmas gifts is now over $100,000. We could probably stretch the budget to cover a pear tree from Wal-Mart, but the lords-a-leaping are really out of our price range.

If we may, we would like to give you just a few pointers about our gifts this year. They may call it a man bag, but it’s really still a purse. As to “enhancer” underwear, do we really have to say anything? Please stay away from the “gifts for him” section of the store. Not all of us want sports themed gifts or power tools. We’re just saying.

 Originally appeared in The Cascade newspaper  http://ufvcascade.ca

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 Have you ever wondered what you would do if you had more money than sense? Well, Alberta dentist Michael Zuk has been able to actually live out that fantasy experience. Dr. Zuk, the author of the fascinating tome, “Confessions of a Former Cosmetic Dentist” recently purchased one of John Lennon’s molars, yes that John Lennon, for $31,000.  Zuk, the winner of the Red Deer Express Readers’ 2007 poll for “Best Dentist in Red Deer” collects animal teeth and celebrity memorabilia. By way of explanation Dr. Zuk told CTV News that he thought it was cool, “even though it’s a rotten tooth and it’s got tartar on it.”  I think I’m beginning to understand why going to the dentist always seems to cost so much. For the history buffs out there, Lennon gave the tooth to his housekeeper. I can’t help but think with all his money he should have just given her a raise.

Now of course, Dr. Zuk is not the only member of the “boy I have lots and lots of money to blow” club.  After undertaking exhaustive research requiring the use of more than one internet search engine I have discovered that true to the quote that was never uttered by P.T. Barnum, “there’s a sucker born every minute”, or at the very least there’s lots of kids with access to their parent’s credit cards.

What would you give to be the owner of hair that was cut from Elvis Presley’s head in 1958? Well, someone ponied up $15,000 for that privilege. How about French toast discarded by Justin Timberlake? $3,154. Who could forget the sale of Marilyn Monroe’s chest x-rays for $45,000? Okay so maybe that one makes sense, but what about a jar of Brad Pitt’s and Angelina Jolie’s breath captured in a jar as they walked by? $530. Now, I don’t suggest any sort of mental deficiency in the buyer who paid $2,075 for a used tissue filled with Scarlett Johannason’s nasal secretions but seriously? Are there no needy people in your town?

Of course auctions have a long and distinguished history. The word auction is derived from the Latin word “auctio”. My Latin is a bit rough, but I believe a loose translation is “junk that you’ve been hiding in the slave quarters that you better get rid of before the sun sets or I swear to Jupiter that I’m going to my mother’s villa and I’m taking the kitchen slaves with me.” I could be slightly off on one or two of the words.

Rumor has it that Henry VIII often auctioned off items at Ye Olde Auction House. Understandable, I mean can you imagine how many duplicate wedding presents he received? Awkward.

A recent auction in Edinburgh featured the sale of Victoria’s secret. No not that one I’m talking Queen Victoria. A pair of her majesty’s underwear appeared in their ginormous splendor at auction and sold for $14,000. Comprised of yards of creamy silk fabric and bearing the initials VR for Victoria Regina. No word on what the buyer intends to do with the knee-length unmentionables. For some strange reason the buyer wishes to remain anonymous.

In my enthusiasm I seemed to have strayed from the original focus of my column. I bet you’re surprised I had one. Dr. Zuk’s purchase isn’t the first time that notable teeth have been sold at auction, oh no. A set of baseball great Ty Cobb’s dentures sold for $8,000 and some lucky person is the proud owner of Winston Churchill’s dentures having paid a mere $24,000.  Ouch, I have a bit of a toothache. Let’s I start the bidding at $2,000.

 Originally appeared in The Cascade newspaper

http://ufvcascade.ca

Image by Anna Fischer via Flickr

I’ve often wondered who invented the cardboard tube. Okay, honestly until about five minutes ago I’d never given it a thought, but if I had the chance to meet the person who did invent the cardboard tube I’d like to go o them and say, “Really? Of all the things that you could have invented that would have actually been of benefit to mankind you came up with a tube to wind gift-wrapping paper and toilet roll around? What were you thinking?”

At this point some of you may be saying, “don’t be so critical”. To which I respond, “who are you talking to? I’m not even in the same room with you. I can’t hear you.” However, I digress I know there really are many uses for cardboard tubes. There is a whole paper towel tube craft industry out there and who hasn’t made napkin holders out of cardboard tubing? Perhaps the most interesting use for the product was devised by the “Cardboard Tube Fighting League” or as those in the league like to call it the CTFL. The name sort of says what they use cardboard tubes for so I’ll just skip over that part.

Cardboard tube fighting is one of the world’s lesser-known sports and some say perhaps that’s for good reason. You may be thinking this is a sport enjoyed by similarly minded people destined to die virgins, who enjoy getting together to discuss comic books, Dr. Who, Steampunk and debating whether a weekly shower is really necessary. Let me assure you that okay, while some of that may be true, cardboard tube fighting is a legitimate sport.

The sport is tolerated in at least three continents that I’m aware of, North America, Europe and Australia. There are literally dozens and dozens of people that take up this sport despite what their families may say.

The creator of this sport is Seattleite, Robert Easley or Rob to his friends. As Mr. Easley told a news reporter who drew the short straw, “You are attempting to break your opponents tube without breaking your own.” This may be an appropriate moment to point out that Mr. Easly also is also actively involved in “Live Action Role Playing” games. Now what is a sport without rules? For cardboard tube fighting the rules are pretty straightforward. Rule number 1, never talk about cardboard tube fighting. Actually that isn’t a rule I just think it’s probably a good idea if you don’t want to have total strangers randomly beating you up.

The rules state combatants must not to break their tubes. If the tube is broken the holder is determined to be a loser. If both duelists break their tubes they are both considered losers. I’m thinking even if they don’t break their tubes — no never mind. Stabbing and lunging is not permitted. No face hitting. Combatants must only use official CTFL cardboard tubes. Tubes must be held near the end. If a combatant holds the tube in the middle it is cause for disqualification. There are a few more rules but at this point even I don’t care what they are.

Competitions can either be multi-stage tournaments or battles. Tournaments have one winner, while battles result in shared victories. Tournament bouts can last between 30 minutes to hours or even minutes that just seem like hours. As an added bonus battle participants are permitted to wear cardboard armor. If that is not enticement enough to get involved, battle participants are subjected to live bagpipe music. Bragging rights and handmade cardboard swords are awarded as prizes.

Currently, there are three active branches of the CTFL located in Seattle, San Francisco, USA and Sydney, Australia. Bristol in the United Kingdom also has a fledging group of cardboard tube fighting enthusiasts.  The strength of the sport can best be summed up in the CTFL’s three core beliefs. People need more ways to play and take themselves less seriously. Events can be fun without alcohol and cardboard sword fighting is fun. The CTFL is always looking for new recruits and if you want more information you can check out their Facebook page. Any day now they are going to break 100 likes.

Published in The Cascade newspaper http://ufvcascade.ca

Published in The Cascade newspaper http://ufvcascade.ca

Frog jumping was made famous by Mark Twain in 1865 when his short story, “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” was published and since then there has been no holding back the popularity of the sport. Okay, for a few decades it may have disappeared, but in 1928 it came back with a vengeance and it is steadily growing to become the sport no one really is aware exists today. While there are many competitions throughout North America, the “Calaveras Frog Jumping Competition” is arguably the most prestigious event in the frog jumpers’ annual calendar.

The rules of the competition are strict. There are three amphibian competitors on the stage at any given time. Each frog must begin the jump while sitting with all four appendages on the launching pad. Once the contest begins only the frog and the frog jockey are permitted to be in front of the launching pad. If at anytime the frog jumps into the frog jockey or the frog jockey’s equipment the frog will be disqualified. The jump distance is measured from the launch pad to the length of three consecutive jumps of the frog. Competitors have a maximum of one minute to complete the three jumps. Jockeys may encourage their frogs by screaming, yelling or banging the stage. Once the frog leaves the launch pad, jockeys must not come into physical contact with their frogs. It is important to remember the frog catcher is not permitted to move until all three jumps have been completed on pain of immediate frog disqualification. The top 50 frogs compete in the “International Frog Jumping Grand Finals” where the top frog’s owners can earn as much as $5000 in prize money if the jumping record is broken.

While the competition is fierce, the issue of frog care is an important part of the frog jumping sport and there has been an official “frog welfare policy” in place since 1997. Frog jockeys or any member of the frog handling team that violates the policy or in any way abuses the competitors face banishment from the sport. The competition organizers are anticipating 10,000 frog competitors for the 2012 event.

In an unrelated bit of sporting news the frog leg eating championships will be held the day after the frog jumping competition has concluded.

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Originally appeared in The Cascade newspaper 

http://ufvcascade.ca

 http://ufvcascade.ca/