I spuddle.

Seaworld spokespeople are now saying that perhaps they won’t use “Tilly” in any more performance-based shows.   This is what we call “spin”.   They are facing a lot of pressure from activist groups.    They are going to play the middle ground until this story drops out of the news.

Then Tilly will perform again.   And the next person who accidentally falls into his pool?   I wouldn’t want to be that person.

Of course, the idea that they would euthanize or remove the whale is ludicrous, the whale is priceless.   Consider that it is no longer legal to capture wild orcas for marine parks and the sperm of whales born in capitivity is much less viable (draw your own conclusions there).   In order to continue milking the great cash cow that is captive killer whales, it is imperative that Seaworld keep Tilikum alive and healthy and breeding.   Period.   Full stop.

And if he can perform for money along the way, well, GREAT.

This is not news.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot in the last few days, obviously, and I feel like crying, gnashing my teeth, wringing my hands.   Because no matter how strongly I feel, no matter how strongly YOU feel, the only people who can change anything are, indeed, the people at Seaworld.

And if one of them dared to speak up and suggest that Seaworld might have to change their focus, indeed their BRANDING which focuses entirely on the happy-go-lucky orca that they’ve created in a nation’s imagination, they would be fired and there are no end of humans willing to fill their six-figure jobs.

There is an ENDLESS supply of humans who would happily exploit killer whales so that they can drive a Mercedes and live in 5000 square feet of ocean-fronting luxury.

THERE IS NO END.

So even if one executive changes his tune.   Even if one person starts to care…

So what?

IS it impossible?

Maybe it is.

****

This whale story will not leave the news.   It’s stuck there, like a chicken bone in the throat of a nation.    It has become the subject of heated debate on the internet, on television, everywhere you go people have an opinion.    A LOT of people seem to think that Seaworld is some sort of saviour of the animals.   That seeing wild animal shows gives them a love for animals that extends to saving the animals in the wild.   That what happened was a horrible accident but that the show must go on for the greater good.   For the whales’ sake.

It’s SAVING them.

Saving them from WHAT?

They wouldn’t NEED saving if it weren’t for humans, determined as we are to love them so.

****

The news has, for the most part, been downright silly, not the least reason of which is probably at the behest of the madly spinning PR wheels of Seaworld itself.  That some right-wing fundamentalist Christian group is calling for a stoning of the whale is probably the best thing to happen for Seaworld in days.   THAT story can be played up to eye-rolling and laughter.   THAT story can deflect from the facts.   THAT story will make people choose sides, and in so doing, obviously will choose Seaworld’s rational-sounding scientists over extremist religious ideology.

The dozens of other groups that have offered up entirely viable alternatives do not get much typespace in the papers and certainly no air time on TV.   The “better” story is the comical, unrealistic one — for one thing, it’s probably not even possible to STONE a whale to death — because people want to feel superior and to  laugh.   Yes, laugh.   Because it’s stupid.   It’s a stupid idea, an extremist group who wants attention, and at the end of the day, it’s a joke.

But it also turns the larger story into a joke.   The truth gets muddied behind all the hilarity.

And there is still nothing hilarious about it.

***

When I wrote my last blog post, I felt like I have a few times in my life after delivering an impassioned speech.   When I’m done, I feel like YES, I have won at least THIS audience, THIS group of people over to my way of thinking.   And then, on my way out, I hear someone saying, “Yeah, well, I still like the whale show.”

And I’m entirely deflated.

***

I got a lot of, “Well, I’m not one of those animal activists, but I guess it probably is a bit wrong.”   Wha-huh?

For one thing, why is “animal activist” seen as such an eye-roller?   Why would you NOT want to identify with animal activists?   It makes me think of feminism and how people who misunderstand the fundamental definition of feminism who say, “Well, I’m not a feminist BUT…”

You ARE a feminist if you believe that women should be paid the same as men for doing the same job.

You ARE an animal activist if you are willing to speak out about man’s inhumanity to beast.   It’s not a bad thing, people.   It’s really not.

****

To make matters even more complicated, the family of Dawn Brancheau is now fighting a legal battle to keep the footage of the incident off YOUR TV.   I have mixed feelings about this.   First and foremost, I feel their pain.    No, it should not be on TV.   Absolutely.   NOT.

It is not a spectacle.   It is not entertainment.

On the other hand, I’m also suspicious.   Not of the family, no.    But of Seaworld.   I think that SEAWORLD wants to keep this video off your TV.   Because I’ve seen it.   I don’t know why I watched it.   On many levels, I wish that I hadn’t.

I was shocked, in spite of what I’d heard, in spite of what I already knew.   Shocked that the person wielding the camera (the footage begins with a shot of his/her little girl, watching the show) did not put the camera down and at least shield their child — who looked to be around four — from witnessing the horror.   Shocked that there wasn’t more alarm, more of an emergency atmosphere, more basic human panic.

I didn’t watch it all, but I watched the first couple of minutes, and what I saw was the girl in the water and the whale exhibiting the same whale behaviour that you see when wild whales “play” — a behaviour that mimics hunting without the kill — with seals.

I saw the whale let go many many times, the girl swimming in the water.

I saw NO ONE extending a net to pull her out.  NO ONE extending any sort of visible help.   Three or four other trainers stood on the deck, gesturing.  Maybe they were screaming, I don’t know, there was no sound, but it looked pretty restrained.

I’m not sure of the power of the gesture but I’m guessing that a 12,000 pound wild animal doesn’t pay much heed to it.    Which he didn’t.

Obviously.

From my untrained eye, it looked like no one had a clue what to do.

Not.  A.   Clue.

This was an animal that had killed twice before.   Was there no procedure in place?   If not, who is responsible?

It comes down to the same answer:

SEAWORLD.

Seaworld was entirely responsible.   100%.   The people.   Not the animal.

I do not blame the victim, she was doing her job and by all accounts was good at it.   She chose a job that I would not have chosen, but so what?   It was not her FAULT, nor did she invite it.    She was following instructions from the people who signed her paycheque.

Full stop.

****

The other “new” part of this story that I find chilling is the 911 call.   Have you heard it?  I’ve never heard anyone sound so blase about something so extreme.   I’ve never heard anyone so casual in the face of a situation so dire.

Did the people at Seaworld honestly not know of this animal’s history?   Did they not understand?

****

Another blog I read suggested that people who are focussing time on attention on the situation are selfish.   Don’t they know that people are starving to death?   PEOPLE.   In America.   Who CARES about the whales when there is so much MORE to care about?   Isn’t cancer more important?   Isn’t there a long long list of what should come first?   Aren’t the people who actually devote their lives to saving the killer whales sort of… silly?

NO.

They aren’t.   There are a million causes.    All of them have merit, all of them are important to someone.   Every single person would prioritize them differently.

No one is saying you should quit your day job and sign up for Greenpeace.   No one is suggesting you devote your life to shutting down Seaworld and its ilk.

We are — I am — suggesting only this:   STOP going to see the whales in captivity.   Let your money talk.   You can then TAKE that money and spend it on a charity of your choice.   It’s activism without you having to do a single thing.

All YOU have to do is say “No.”

Please.    Even if you think it’s silly, even if you actually don’t care that much.

Just say NO.

Is that so much to ask?

Filed under: Whales | No Comments »

So I was going to blog a bunch of snark about this wedding which of course ABC is doing up like crazy to try to refute the fact that their series does not actually result in a myriad of happy, fairy-tale endings, then I actually WATCHED the wedding and all I feel is … myenh.   Nothing.   Honestly, I did blame a lot of the world’s ills on Jason Mesnick, who in the Single Most Classless Gesture of all time dumped Melissa Rycroft on national television after PREVIOUSLY dumping Molly on national television and then begged Molly to take him back and GOD it was SO ANNOYING that I couldn’t stand it.   If I’m being honest, I found Jason grating from the word “go”, and it wasn’t probably his fault, it was just his general over-eagerness that I found repugnant and his smile that said, “I’m so desperate, I really am.”   So I never liked the guy and then with all the weird humiliation and balcony hysterics, I was just OVER him.

Read more »

Filed under: The Bachelor | No Comments »

Here’s the thing:  I am trying not to be so busy.   I am always so busy (especially now that I’m babysitter-free due to The Single Most Ridiculous Teen Angst Drama in the History of The Planet Earth) and as a result, I run around feeling all the time like I’m LATE (this is because I usually am late) and then instead of slowing down and just enjoying life, damn it, I’m in SUCH A HURRY that I realize suddenly that I’ve forgotten what I’ve done all day but it was all done in a huge rush and I didn’t get done even 10% of what I should have done.

It’s killing me.

So this is me, slowing down.   ON THE RECORD.

I am writing this on my blog to remind me (and you, because I am here to TELL YOU WHAT TO DO) that it’s much easier to breathe if you aren’t always trying to do 8000 things in a day and that the world will keep turning even if you are a bit late in your rewrites and the inside of the fridge is sort of gross and you have five bags of stuff to take to donate and the kids want to go to the museum and you haven’t uploaded any pictures for a week and you really should finish that bulletin board project so that pictures don’t have to be taped all over the walls and actually you should most of all be WORKING because the book is due in June and that other one is SO CLOSE to being finished that you should just get it done FIRST and money doesn’t grow on trees which reminds you that  you have to call the tree guy to see about having the trees pruned and that big branch removed so the vegetables aren’t in the shade and ALSO the vegetable garden needs to be cleared out and prepped for planting and what about the weeding and the fact that from the outside, the house looks like a crack den or at least the home of someone so elderly they can’t be bothered anymore with appearances and really you should clean the stairs at least or probably paint them and those dead leaves all over the front lawn are from LAST FALL and it’s already spring and maybe the kids should know how to read already so you should teach them and OMG there is just NO TIME for any of this so instead of doing any of it you should just sit around and feel overwhelmed and then go to the rec centre and check your blood pressure just in case the idea of all that you have to do that you haven’t done (laundry! the dishes!  the beds! the kids’ drawers which are full of too-small clothes! OH AND THE WORK!) is giving you a coronary.

Here’s the plan:  I’m going to do a bit of work while The Birdy watches Shark Tale for the tenth time (she likes the music for dancing purposes) and then we’re going to play/work in the garden.   That’s all.   Our entire day.    Maybe there will be some sparkly princess dresses, too.   And probably Play-Doh.

STOP AND SMELL THE ROSES.   That’s an order.   Granted, the roses need to be pruned first and haven’t actually bloomed yet, but you don’t have to be so literal.   Just go sniff the weeds and try not to feel too depressed about the fact that there are so many of them.   Sniffing weeds, smelling roses =  same thing, really.   But don’t do it very vigorously because the other day I went to blow a dandelion clock for The Birdy (and to spread the plague of dandelions further over our mostly-moss and weed “lawn”) and I inhaled one accidentally and it hurt for about two hours and now I secretly believe that there is an actual dandelion growing in my lung.   You laugh now but will you still be laughing when you see the X-ray?   I THINK NOT.

Filed under: Kids, Me, Myself and I | No Comments »

OK, first of all, I’d like to start off with a big huge fat “I TOLD YOU SO.”  There is no font large enough for the way that I am actually shouting that from the couch, so I won’t bother to change it, also because I don’t know how.

Now I’m doing the “I told you so” dance around the living room, except not really because how could I type and dance at the same time?   That would be a real talent that certainly I WISH that I had.   Think of all the books I could get written!   Read more »

Filed under: The Bachelor | 3 Comments »

A long time ago – 1999, to be exact – I wrote and published a YA novel called Dream Water.   I wanted to write a book about a group of teens who (as children) had witnessed the worst possible thing I knew, and how they continued to deal with the trauma of that through their lives.   I based the book on a real-life incident, an incident that in a lot of ways changed my life and certainly my point-of-view.

The incident was the 1991 drowning death of a trainer at our local marine park (Sealand of the Pacific).   The trainer was killed by a whale named Tilikum.   I did not know the details of the accident at the time that I wrote the book, I just knew that it had occurred.   I fictionalized it and used it as a starting point for a novel that, in turn, I could use as a platform for discussion about keeping whales in captivity.

In writing the book, I learned a lot of things that are shocking.   Some things — once you know them — you can’t ever forget.

***

When orcas are captured in the wild for very lucrative sales to marine parks, the most common (and easiest) method is to follow this checklist:

1.   Find a mother and a baby.

2.   Kill the mother, usually by simply shooting her with an AK47, or the more traditional method of spearing.

3.   Drag the mother’s corpse behind your boat.

4.  The baby will follow you wherever you go.   Thus solving the problem of how to pull a live, fighting whale in a net.

5.  Name your price.

They say that this practice is now illegal — it is most certainly morally reprehensible — and for the most part, SeaWorld and its ilk now breed their own captive whales.   Tilikum was one of the last whales who was captured in the wild.   Details of his capture off the coast of Iceland have never been released.

***

When I was a young child, going to Sealand was a treat.  I can still remember exactly how it looked, the particular salty smell of the air there, the buckets of fish that got tossed in the water, the tiny whale pool with the three orcas, circling.   A trainer would stand up on a lifeguard stand, holding a hoop.  The whales would jump through it.  It was like a cartoon come to life.   Like magic.

When encouraged with fish, the whales would spit on the crowd.   They would attempt — in their too-small pool — to demonstrate whale behaviors.  This was “better” than the big American parks where trainers got onto the backs of the animals and performed acrobatics.

THIS was “natural”.

****

When I got older, the coveted summer job in town was the one at Sealand.  I applied, but I never got the job.   Instead, I worked at the Haunted Mansion.   I worked at Miniature World.   I sold ice cream and tickets to play mini golf.   I never got to work with the whales, no matter how many times I said that I wanted to be a marine biologist, that I really really loved the whales.

I had this idea of myself as some kind of Whale Whisperer.   The whales would love me, I just knew it.  I had been going to see them at Sealand for so long, I felt like I knew them.   We had a connection.   I felt it.   I loved them.

But I never got the chance.

***

When Keltie Byrne was killed by Tilikum, I was living in Vancouver.   I read the story over and over.   She was around the same age as me.

She could have BEEN me.

I was so shocked, it was as if Mickey Mouse had suddenly become Jack the Ripper.    There was a disconnect.

A whale did that?   But whales are so beautiful.

We love the whales.

Don’t they know that?

And that’s when I started doing my homework.

****

As a race, we humans tend to personify whales, orcas and dolphins in particular.    We are always rabbiting on about how smart they are, how they have langauge, how they are SO LIKE US.    But the truth is that apart from the fact that we are both the top of our food chains, we have little in common.

They are 12,000 pound predators built to survive in the ocean.

We are measly in comparison.    We would not survive for more than twenty minutes in the waters where these animals thrive.

They travel thousands of miles a year, following their food supply.   They fight for dominance.    They kill.

We are seekers of entertainment.   We are governed by money.

They have no comprehension of the value of cash.

We are kings.

And in our kingdoms, we have made killer whales our court jesters.

They are kings.

But their kingdoms don’t look like ours.

***

Up until last fall, the SeaWorld franchise was owned by Anheuser Busch.   Yes, the beer company.   Every year, the profits from the SeaWorld parks totalled in the near-billion dollar range.    Last year, Anheuser Busch sold the chain to another conglomerate for 2.7 billion dollars.   TWO POINT SEVEN BILLION DOLLARS.

Corporations do not answer to anyone except their shareholders.  Their entire purpose is to generate revenue.   It is not to “save the whales”.   Their job is not to care, it is to make more and more and more money.   Period..

And the amount of money that these animals generate is mind-boggling.   How much money people are willing to pay to watch the so-called domestication of a killer whale is unbelievable.    Millions of people drag their kids out to see shows there every year.   Year on year, they perpetuate the myth that whales are entertaining and fun.

It is a fact that the whales are the biggest attraction at these parks.   That’s what people are paying to see.

They willfully overlook the facts.   Such as, the whales do not EAT if they do not perform.

Just yesterday, someone very close to me said, “Well, they wouldn’t do it if they didn’t want to.   You can’t MAKE a whale do something.”

Maybe if you breed the whale for the entire purpose of your entertainment, he won’t know any different.

Maybe if you punish him for NOT entertaining, he’ll learn to “like” it.

At Sealand of the Pacific, there was a misguided attempt on the part of a Free The Whales organization to cut the nets and release the whales.  As a result of this, the whales were kept in locked pens at night, no more spacious than a horse’s stall.   They became sick.   They became aggressive.

They started blowing blood from their blowholes because their circulation was becoming impeded.

Trainers quit.   Trainers complained.   The animals were getting sick and their behavior was changing.

There were plenty of red flags.

But still, they performed.

But they probably wouldn’t have if they didn’t want to.   Right?

***

Whales are constantly using echolocation, which in small pools continually bounces off the walls and eventually begins to affect the whale’s sanity.   Yes, their sanity.   If we are going to humanize the entire whale species, imbue them with emotions and human motivations, then we must also accept that they can be tortured.   That they can be driven crazy.

Take a human.   Kill his family.   Imprison him.    Feed him.    Break him down and then teach him to perform.

Applaud him.

How is it not the same thing?

Would we pay to see a person in the same circumstance?   A kidnapped child, forced to do acrobatics for food?

Would YOU?

***

There is now a public voice that is piping up and saying, “You can’t blame the whale.”    As though that is even an ISSUE.

It’s not even about BLAMING the whale.    The whale is an animal.   A wild animal in the truest sense.

****

Tilikum — the same whale who killed Keltie Byrne in 1991, went on to kill a homeless man in 1999 and another trainer.   Yesterday.   At SeaWorld in Florida.   You’ve probably seen it on the news.

I don’t blame the whale, although I do think this is a whale who has (and is) a serious threat and a serious problem.  I do not think the whale should be destroyed, but I do agree with PETA and feel very strongly that he should be removed from SeaWorld.   He should be kept in a coastal sanctuary, fed, and looked after until he dies of natural causes.  He cannot be released — he would not survive in the wild.

He cannot — and should not — be kept as a tourist attraction.

Who do I blame?

I blame the people who put him there.   I blame the hunters who caught and sold him for millions to Sealand of the Pacific.   I blame Bob Wright who, in turn, sold him to SeaWorld for a reported $10,000,000 in 1991.   I blame SeaWorld for covering up the death of the homeless man and muddying the story with half-truths and continuing to make the animal perform even though it was NEVER intended that he perform again.

He was sold for stud.

Period.

But then you have a whale, right?  And you have an audience who wants to see more and more and more of that whale.   LOOK AT THE WHALE!   OMG!   HE’S SO AWESOME!

Yes, he is.

He was probably awesome in the wild, too.

More awesome.

There, he was born to be a king.

***

Ultimately, I blame the audience.   The audience, after all, turned this into a billion dollar industry and it is not going to stop.   It is never going to stop.

You cannot stop something with such an unstoppable force behind it.   Money — that kind of money — is as powerful as any other force on earth.

The ONLY way to stop the barbaric capture and on-going mistreatment of killer whales is to stop the flow of money.  STOP paying your money to go see them.   STOP viewing killer whales as ENTERTAINMENT.   Just stop.   Period.

STOP IT.

Stop taking your kids to see the whales.   Stop encouraging them to believe that these animals exist for our amusement.   Stop perpetuating the myth that the animals enjoy it.

Certainly the ones who were born in captivity know nothing else.   If you bred a human for the purposes of entertainment, would that make it OK?  Would you say, “The entire reason that I had this baby was so that I could sell them to the circus.”   So the ongoing mistreatment of the child would be acceptable?

Would you say the child liked it?    Because he knew no better?

I don’t think so.

We are not gods.

We are not kings.

We do not get to make these choices.

****

When I was doing my research, I ran into an interesting assortment of people who worked at marine parks and stated again and again that marine biologists and scientists were employed by SeaWorld.   That the animals weren’t mistreated at all.   (The pools are bigger now.   They are “nice”, after all.)   That taking them out of the ocean and putting them in a small tank and “encouraging” them to perform tricks so that rich corporations could get richer isn’t inherently “mistreating” them.

SeaWorld staff have helped stranded animals, rescued whales in the wild, done good work.   They have a charity.   They raise money.   Apparently this is supposed to negate the very basic fact that 42 orcas (20 of whom are owned by SeaWorld, who are fast becoming the globe’s go-to guys for orca breeding and sales) are still — even after all we know, all we’ve learned — our court jesters.

It doesn’t negate anything.

****

Staff from marine parks who have quit will say that the marine biologists and vets who work at SeaWorld are mostly concerned with the following:

1.  How to keep the whales alive.

2.  How to breed the whales so that more whales are available.

3.  How to balance antibiotic dosages to reduce the infections that plague captive whales.

Very noble, no?

NO.

****

Yesterday at around the same time as Dawn Brancheau was being drowned in the mouth of Tilikum, I was on the school playground, talking to a friend about EXACTLY this subject.    About how Keltie Byrne died.    About why I’m so fiercely opinionated when it comes to the subject of captive orcas.   About why I will NEVER take my kids to a marine park that keeps orcas.

It was exactly the same time.   I just mention it because I find it chilling.   Even while I was saying the words, “That particular whale will likely kill any and all humans who fall into his pool,” he was doing just that.

It was entirely, 100% predictable.

In the wild, Tilikum would likely have been a dominant bull.  How can we expect a dominant bull to be a clown?   It makes no sense.

***

SeaWorld has released a series of statements in light of the most recent accident.   They want to be off the hook for this.   They are pleading innocence.  After all, trainers weren’t “allowed” in the water with Tilikum because he was “different”.

That’s true.

Most of SeaWorld’s whales are captive bred.

Tilikum was a wild whale who was forcibly confined.

Yes, he’s “different”.

And Dawn Brancheau wasn’t, after all, “allowed” to be in the water with him.

The fact that eyewitnesses report that the whale dragged her INTO the water, notwithstanding.

****

The most recent news from this story is that SeaWorld will not euthanize the animal.    Was that ever really being considered?   Come on now, he’s worth tens of millions of dollars.

TENS OF MILLIONS.

No way would they euthanize that animal.   Never.

On Thursday morning, cars snaked out of the parking lot of that marine park.   People were lining up to see.   One woman, who actually witnessed the accident with her two preschoolers, came back.   Because her kids “didn’t get much of a chance to see the whales properly”.   REALLY?   They saw a predator killing prey.   Haven’t they seen enough?

THAT woman, SHE is the problem.

All those people who lined up to visit the VERY NEXT DAY.   THEY are the problem.

THIS IS NOT ENTERTAINMENT.

****

I obviously feel really strongly about this.   The bottom line is that I do not see why — cannot COMPREHEND why — we view killer whales as animals that should be grateful and happy to do tricks for us.    I do not understand it.

Please help me to stop this craziness.   We are the only ones who can.

Remember how there used to be circuses with wild animals?   Elephants being caravanned around the country.   Lions being controlled by a man with a whip.

You don’t see those too much anymore.   Public opinion of circuses changed.   The circuses changed.   A “circus” now is something different.

So let’s change public opinion about marine parks, too.   Let’s make them something different.   I’m going to repeat myself now because this is important:

Stop buying the tickets.

Stop treating these animals like they are toys.

Stop teaching your children that THIS is what orcas were meant to do.

Please.

Just STOP.

Filed under: Whales | 3 Comments »

Last Saturday, my friend Martha Ralph was killed when a stolen Honda cut her off on the Malahat.   She was on a motorcycle driven by her long-time boyfriend, Larry Machnee.    They didn’t have a chance.   He died on the scene and she died later that day in hospital.

When I found out, I was at my mum’s house, reading the paper.   I’d just flipped open the first section and there was a big, colour photo of Martini (no one really ever called her Martha) and Larry, under a headline that said something about a stolen car and nine charges.   I didn’t get it.   I looked at the picture and re-read the headline.   I couldn’t make it fit.   The headline mentioned a dual fatality, a Saanich couple, and a stolen car and a 25 year old man.   It still made no sense.   I folded the paper over and went to make a cup of tea.   When I got to the sink, I noticed my hands were shaking.   I actually thought to myself, “Why are my hands shaking?  That’s so weird.”

It was like my brain had already processed the information on one level, but on another I was in such deep denial I still didn’t understand.   That’s never happened to me before.   I always thought of denial as something more conscious.   I really, truly didn’t comprehend.

I sat down again with my tea, carefully unfolded the paper with my shaking hands, and read the article.   And that’s when I found out that Martini was gone.

One stolen car.   One kid out for a joyride.   Two deaths.

People always say nice things about other people when they die, but in this case what Martini’s son says in the article is the truth, she didn’t have a mean bone in her body.   She was the nicest person you’ll ever meet.   Only now, you won’t get a chance.

I’ve spent a few days thinking about what happened and feeling angry about the circumstances and feeling so sad for Martini and Larry and their kids and all their friends.   I’ve also spent a lot of time regretting.   The truth is that although we’d been friends for sixteen years, I hadn’t actually seen her for months.   I’m always busy, you see.    Always.   And I blow people off because I don’t have time and there is always some future when the kids are in school and I’ll be freed up to go for walks and coffee, but for now, I say, “Too busy.”   I’m sorry I was “too busy” to see her last time she called, I’m so so sorry.   Because sometimes, you just don’t get another chance.

RIP Martini and Larry.    I miss you already.

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This episode was prefaced with a commercial for an upcoming news story about the best wiener.   It featured video footage of a couple of dozen bloated sausages sizzling on a barbecue.   WHY this made me laugh so hard is a mystery that could only be solved by Miss Marple, but I did start watching this with a smile on my lips and a song in my heart.   Except it wasn’t a song, it was just a bunch of blood being swished around in the four chambers because actually that’s all my heart does.   Unlike Jake’s heart which CRIES!  It does!  His heart cried at least five times in this way-too-long recap episode interspersed with footage of boring crap that we didn’t care about.   BUT also!  Tenley’s heart doesn’t just efficiently move oxygenated blood around the body, it SMILES!  It does!   Awesome!  They are a perfect couple!  Let’s wrap all this up RIGHT NOW!

But no.   Because first we are forced against our will to see something that will ostensibly surprise us:  WHAT HAPPENS WHEN FORMER CONTESTANTS GET TOGETHER!   I turned to Mr. Spuddle and said, “Well, I bet there’s a hot tub.”  And lo, it was like I had magical powers because, bam, there they all were frolicking merrily in an oversized hot tub that screamed “I AM SWIRLING WITH THE KIND OF BACTERIA THAT WILL CAUSE YOU TO HAVE TO USE AN OINTMENT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIVES!”   There is really nothing on this planet that is more tacky and horrifying than seeing what happens to former bachelors and bachelorettes when the camera goes off, I’ve just learned.   I’m not sure if this was meant to be some sort of warning to young people, like a public service announcement that says, “If you go on this show, it’s not just a temporary leave from your dignity, it’s a lifelong affliction.”   It was just flat-out depressing.   Yes, they jiggle along to do charity work, but even that was nauseating because doing charity work is awesometastic, but if you have to film yourself doing it and make sure everyone knows you did it, it’s just tasteless, self-aggrandizing nonsense that says, “I’M SO GREAT!  LOOK AT ME BEING GREAT!  AREN’T I AWESOME?”  Answer:   No.  You are annoying.   I was mostly disappointed to see Kiptyn.   I don’t know why.   I just thought the kid had SOME class.   Wrong again.   Sigh.

I don’t know WHY we were forced to look at the cleavage of these people for so long, but I initially thought it was some kind of misguided promo for a new series that I heard that was being spun off from The Bachelor, some horrific trainwreck of a Big Brother rip-off wherein former Bachelor contestants hook up indiscriminately in a “mansion”.  But they didn’t mention it, so maybe they came to their senses and cancelled it.   I, for one, have now seen enough of the former contestants to know that I never ever ever want to set eyes on them again.   Silicone just doesn’t age well and neither does constantly seeking sex with multiple partners.   What was “fun and sexy” when you were 21 starts to look “sad and sordid” when you are NOT 21.  SOMEONE TELL THESE PEOPLE THAT.   PLEASE.   FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND BUDDHA AND EVERY OTHER HOLY ENTITY THAT HAS EVER EXISTED.

You know those discount stores where you can find designer clothes for less?  But when you walk in there and look at the racks and racks of unique items, as a whole they just look like crappy junk?  That is the exact same phenomenon that applies to this show.   Individually, some of these people may be attractive or even possibly smart and nice, but as a group, they just look like a close up of a petri dish of herpes bacteria.

I think the upshot was that now that they are no longer on the show, they are still pulling each other.   Are we meant to be happy about this or just sort of disgusted?   No idea, but I do know that just watching it made me feel like maybe I needed to go bathe in a vat of boiling bleach.   Can you get an STD from just LOOKING at Wes?   Yes?   See, that’s what I thought, too.

But back to what we are really here for, which is this boring season and the dull, short pilot who we’ve been forced to endure.   There is a beautiful, fabulous irony entrenched in all this, which is the sharp contrast between Jake earnestly searching for love and Ali spouting a bunch of crap about love and Gia sobbing about love and basically everything about LOVE vs. reality.   The reality is that this show will introduce you to itching and open sores that you never before imagined you’d know about.  And looking at the 10,000 former bachelor/ettes, you realize that NOT ONE SINGLE ONE OF THEM FOUND LOVE.   Yes, yes, Trista and Ryan, blah blah blah.   Then, if you have any IQ whatsoever, you conclude that this is NOT a show about finding love, it is a show about showcasing the tatas that you paid good money for, after all.   Or, if you’re an idiot, you persist in your incorrect belief that this season UNLIKE ALL THE OTHERS is going to end with a fairytale wedding and a happily ever after that is not just a happy ending.

But oblivious to the endless footage of what really happens to you after the camera goes off, we have to endure all the heartache and pain of what it was like to not be selected by Jake.    At one point during the endless montages of crap we’d already watched, Mr. Spuddle went outside and came back in again and I watched him open and close the door.   He was like, “Why are you staring at me?”  And I shrugged and said, “It’s either watch you open and close the front door — which is gripping, by the way — or look at the TV and if I look at the TV, my head may actually explode, so I thought it was safer to stare pointlessly at you opening and closing the door.”   I probably missed the best part of the show doing this, but you know, it’s not my fault.   It’s Mr. Spuddle’s.  HE OPENED AND CLOSED THE DOOR.

Anyway, yadda yadda.   Jake didn’t pick them, they are bummed out.   He acknowledges that Christina was the most awesome chick he didn’t pick, which was true, she was the only one who was even remotely likeable.   Then it gets so boring that to spice it up, they bring out Rozlyn, who they should be thanking for giving them a scandal that at least temporarily improved ratings.   She was boffing a producer, she still is, she’s defensive and goggle-eyed about it, everyone else is disappointed in her lack of character for besmirching the Bachelor franchise with her sluttiness.   HA HA HA HA HA HA.   OMG.   HA HA HA HA HA.   HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.    Apparently, they overlooked the fact that the Bachelor franchise is a cathouse  that was built on a foundation of sluts.    Ella tells her story at least three times about Rozlyn being on all fours and asking someone to get Ryan to put her to bed.   Rozlyn denies everything in a way that suggests that she’s used to being judged, which I’m sure she is.   Because, well, yeah.    You know.   She somehow goes on to mention that Ryan was actually married and then spouts some nonsense about how Chris flirted with his wife.   Yeah, CHRIS is the worst player in this whole drama.   Let’s not overlook the fact that not only were you competing for “love” with Jake at the same time as boffing a producer, but you were boffing a MARRIED producer.  Awesome!  You come out of this smelling like a rose, if that rose smells like the really really cheap perfume favoured by hookers.

What mystified me most about the Rozlyn Hour was why they never said the producer’s name.  It grew tiresome as everyone self-edited to insert the words “the producer” where most of the time you would just say “Ryan Callahan”.   Because why are we so diligently protecting his dignity?   Does not compute.   Yes, I understand protecting his wife’s dignity, but really, he deserves no respect.

Finally, Jake was dredged up and some artful camera work made him look at first taller than Chris and then the same height and then like he’d been shrunk in the wash.   As much work has gone into making Jake look tall as goes into hiding the identity of Ryan Callahan.   Again, je ne comprende pas.   He’s short.   The producer’s name is Ryan.   Let’s all move on, shall we?

Michelle takes the stage and does nothing as amusing as I’d hoped that she’d do, so I really have nothing to say about that.   Next up, Ali jabbers about how her job is important to her and that women should be in the workplace.   Is she going to burn her bra?   Is it 1970?  Because if not, then Ali is about 40 years behind the curveball.   Ali, sweetie, women have been working for many decades.   It’s 2010.   Try to keep up.

This is all out of order, but who cares?   Ashleigh says a bunch of nonsense that makes her seem even trashier and less classy than she was on the show, which is hard to imagine.    Elizabeth laughs at herself and the whole  wacky kissing lark that she dreamed up and we’re forced to watch it all again, and I run from the room crying about what my life has become and WHY.

Then Gia tearfully takes her seat and lisps about love and opening up, I swear OPENING UP was the single most overworked phrase this season and I still don’t know what the hell it’s supposed to mean.   At this point, Mr. Spuddle piped up and stated that he was in love with Gia.   While I helped him fill out the application to be one of the twenty-five men competing for her breasts heart, I wondered if it was at all possible that maybe I’d created a monster by ever forcing him to watch this trainwreck in the first place.   Oh wellz, what’s done is done.

So now I’m going to stumble off and pick up the shattered pieces of my broken life and I’ll see you next week when Jake makes his final decision.   And even though I know (SPOILER ALERT!) that he picks Vienna, a little birdie is telling me that he’s not going to pick either of them and that we haven’t seen the last of like, you know, like Ali, even though many of us would voluntarily donate BOTH our eyes to science to just insure that couldn’t possibly happen.    STAY TUNED!   Also, FYI, I don’t have very much inside information, at least half of that spoiler was just crap that I made up.  But that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?  IT’S ALL A BUNCH OF CRAP STUFFED INTO A SAUSAGE CASING.   See what I did there?  I referred back to something I said in the first paragraph.   That’s Essay Writing 101.   Conclude with something that mirrors your hypothesis!   EVERYONE ON THIS SHOW IS A WIENER.

THE END.

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The funny thing is that watching other people kissing makes me really uncomfortable.   It’s just one of those things that ain’t pretty.   It’s AWKWARD.   It’s embarrassing.   Needless to say, I’ve spent much of this season of The Bachelor contemplating how our fireplace (which is below the TV) really is an eyesore and maybe I should get a screen to put in front of it so I don’t have to look at it, but then the kids would just play with the screen and it would never be located in front of the fireplace and probably there wouldn’t be any point.   So I’m stuck with the ugly fireplace but if I want to look away from the fireplace I’m forced to watch Jake LICKING the faces of these three tawdry beasts with whom he is polluting my FAVOURITE ISLAND with smut.   Oh, sorry, he’s just trying to “open them up”.   He wants to open these women up so badly that he ought to be a surgeon, not a pilot.   Oh, wait, I forgot, he didn’t get into medical school.   Oh wellz.   You win a few, you lose a few.   In the case of this show, I feel like everyone loses.   What is the prize here again?   JAKE?   Ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaaa.   Also, I think they’ve been opened up at least one time too many already.   Unless you’re opening them up to remove bags of plastic, I think they should be disallowed from surgeon’s offices for the rest of their lives.

So the show opens with Jake blathering on endlessly about the three remaining women in a way that made me want to hurt myself badly with a fork and I’m not really into injuries or pain.   You can see fantasies of naked boobies prancing through his merry eyes as he jabbers on, or maybe I just think that because the camera kept lingering on the preposterously large breasts of “contestants”.   Having bought (and read!) US magazine this week (an all time low in my life, I admit), I know that Gina has had hers done twice and Vienna bought hers while her husband was serving nobly overseas by emptying his bank account into the outstretched palm of the plastic surgeon at Tits’R'Us.

Anyway, it’s OVERNIGHT DATE week and Jake can hardly keep still in his seat.   After not getting any action perhaps EVER due to his negligible dating skillz, he is now going to go crazy THREE NIGHTS IN A ROW.   I hope he’s taking some kind of preventative antibiotics.

So now we’re in St. Lucia.   Did I tell you that Mr. Spuddle and I went to St. Lucia in 2006?   Well, we did.   And it was SO AMAZING.    Except now it’s ruined because it’s associated with this sordid travesty and YES I AM SOBBING OPENLY RIGHT NOW.   We did not stay in any of the places displayed on this show and we laughed merrily as they visited the market “to shop like St. Lucians do”, because, yeah, without a camera crew, it is NOTHING like that.   Trust me.   Also, native St. Lucians do not spend $50 on shell necklaces imported from China, they don’t have that kind of disposable income.   But whatevs.   I am not here to do a travel piece on St. Lucia because for some reason instead of writing intelligent and interesting things, I’ve decided to write about a show that I now openly loathe.   I will say, because I’m incapable of shutting up, that we DID go to a grocery store where St. Lucians actually DO shop and it was eye opening and made me feel like a greedy capitalist pig just out of the sheer guilt I felt about the choices we had back home.    Also, it was apparent that the friendly people of St. Lucia would really prefer it if the tourists stuck to the parts of the island that they’d already sold out and stayed the hell out of their Piggly Wiggly.   Except it wasn’t a Piggly Wiggly.   I just like saying Piggly Wiggly.

Oh, I interrupt my own post to say that I’ve just heard on the rumour mill that Ali is the next Bachelorette and if that’s the case, ABC, I am not going to be like you know totally OMG watching.   Period.   And where would the world be without THIS BLOG?   Exactly.   Please write to ABC and tell them “PLEASE, NOOOOO.”   I’d do it, but I’m far too lazy.

OK, fine, so now we’re dating and here is Gina playing with her lips and looking coy.   WHAT on earth is on her mind?   Gosh, I have no idea.   So after frolicking around on “their private island” (yeah, all those St. Lucians are actually just props on the SET that is YOUR SAD LIFE), going into the water in one bay and somehow emerging about five miles away (i.e. poor editing), and making out with all kinds of water in the background, there is a dinner during which Jake actually says, “Aw, she looks like a little ballerina!”   Which, frankly, made me dry heave.  I probably would have thrown up for real if I’d been bothered to get off the couch.   Then they ate, or rather, he ate, and she toyed with her lips to the point where I became downright angry.   STOP TOUCHING YOUR LIPS.   God.  I think I’m beginning to crack under the pressure of forcing myself to watch this show.    Then Jake produces the Surprising Invitation from Chris Harrison!   WHAT A SHOCK!   You know, I can’t help wondering if it would kill the producers to maybe present it differently each year, with different WORDING at least or maybe if one of the contestants could just go ahead and NOT be surprised by the Least Surprising Thing in Television History.   I don’t know.  Maybe I’m just snarky.   Anyway, off they go and Jake gets a night of playing with the boobies, which presumably he did because boy oh boy does he ever look happy (if not extra repulsively self-satisfied) the next day.

Which brings us to Tenley.   FOR THE LOVE OF GOD AND ALL THINGS HOLY AND EVEN THINGS THAT ARE NOT HOLY, I’M GOING TO LOSE IT IF I HEAR ABOUT THE EX HUSBAND ONE MORE TIME .  She got a weird date that involved a picnic in the mud, which is mystifying because some of the most beautiful beaches in the world are on St. Lucia, and she scored a non-photogenic patch of mud.   During the picnic, she asked very very very important questions, such as “Will we picnic in real life?” and then prattled on about how grateful she is that Jake notices that she has values and how much she appreciates that even though she’s been married, he still is into sleeping with her.   LIKE BEING MARRIED AND THEN DIVORCED IS A CHARACTER FLAW?   I don’t think so.   Her husband cheated.  It would have been more of a character flaw to stay with him and if she apologizes ONE MORE TIME I’m going to start fast forwarding every time she speaks.   Because I know what she’s going to say:

1.  She loves to dance.

2.  She choreographed it herself!

3.  She has only ever been with one man!

4.  She has an ex-husband!

5.  He cheated on her!

Her heart is as tender as a baby clam that’s been dropped from a great height by a ravenous gull and gosh, what better way to get back into the game and open your heart to love than with a guy who slept with one girl the night before and then another the night AFTER you.   I’d think if you’d only ever been with one man, you’d be pretty choosy about who is next and maybe would want to avoid VD, as opposed to picking a man-slut and opening yourself up to syphillis.   But what do I know?   I’m an old-fashioned type girl, sort of.   But not actually, because I met Mr. Spuddle on the internetz, oh yes I did.   BUT AT LEAST IT WASN’T A SORDID REALITY DATING SHOW.    Jake explains to Tenley that their life is going to be one endless flight on United after another and she reacts as though she’s won first prize in the raffle during the church picnic.   Well, she’s not going to partake in these fantasy flights to Kentucky anyway, because we all know that Vienna is the lucky recipient of endless frequent flyer miles, but boy Jake is excited to sleep with her.    He’s practically panting, and we are all ready to actually forgo any future TV watching in favour of sitting in a dark room with our eyes closed undergoing intense hypnosis in an effort to rid our mind of the images of Jake getting lucky for a second night in a row and Tenley checking her “morals” and “values” at the door of the fantasy suite.

Next up?  Vienna.   Jake is in love lust with Vienna and as such, the show is already over and more embarrassing to watch than usual because even though he’s a good Christian boy, he’s in love lust with one woman and MORE than willing to boff a couple of others when the opportunity comes up.   I must say that if I were Vienna and heard how many times he called me “immature” on TV, I’d drop him in a hot second.   She’s YOUNG, Jake.   Not the same thing as “immature”.  She’s actually the approximate maturity level you would expect from someone who has only been legal for two years.   The word “immature”, however,  would describe YOU.   YOU ARE THIRTY THREE YEARS OLD.   Jake wants to mature WITH Vienna, but he’s overlooking the fact that he has a ten year head start.

Vienna is rilly rilly rilly rilly into Jake and rilly rilly rilly into winning and is also willing to spout on about how much she LOVES him, all the while beaming like a Price is Right model during the shocase showdown.  She is truly an idiot and although I swore I would never say anything openly mean about this bimbos on this blog, I guess I’m a hypocrite because I just did.   Oops.   She seems confused about whether THIS TV world would be her life, or whether her actual life would be one spent living with a personality-free*, $50,000/year pilot being thrifty with the grocery money and wishing they could afford a hotel in whatever dreary city they can fly to for free.    I’ve heard that Jake is now single again so I guess the scales fell from her eyes as soon as the frenzied excitement of “winning” passed.   I can’t say the word “winning” in this context without laughing so hard, I forget what I’m going to say next.   I’m sure it wasn’t important.

The amount of kissing and dry humping in this date was so cloyingly over the top that I had to check the cable box to see if I’d accidentally dialled up an adult channel by mistake.   Wink wink, nudge nudge.   Then I mentally renovated my entire living room and cried.   Then I hit the fast forward button because there is only so much I can take.   So I missed some in the sense that I didn’t WATCH some but I didn’t actually miss it AT ALL.

But wait!   Ali is not gone for good.   The producers sloppily clip together a scene that makes it look like Jake’s asking her to come to St. Lucia!   And we are fooled!   For almost two minutes!   Then we are forced — as punishment — to watch the World’s Most Painfully Awkward Conversation!   Jake is apathetic!   But Ali?    Like totally, she made a mistake!  You know, like!   The worst like thing in her life!   She wants him back!   But Ali is not a good actress!   And Jake is not a good actor!   So the upshot is that she fake cries and gets … to be the next Bachelorette!  And en masse, America stops watching ABC!

That segment dragged on for so long that I did fast forward to the end and not surprisingly — because I already know what happened — Gina is sent back to New York where she will be forced to find another major league athlete to decorate the arm of while toying with her lips coyly.   I just hope she can stop him from sleeping with all her friends.   There is something about her that I find downright sad.   I think it’s because I am a psychiatrist.    Oh, wait, no I’m not.   I mean, psychologist!   Except I’m not one of those either.   BUT I did take Psych 101 about 20 years ago, and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that Gina uses her sexuality to mask the deep insecurity that she struggles with as a result of being bullied as a child.   She really needs to downplay that shizzle because it’s really off-putting.  Almost certainly, she’ll marry a hockey/baseball/basketball player and go on to lead a life of privilege and wealth, so probably she’ll be OK, either way.    I’m just saying.   I mean, it wouldn’t be much of a blog if I didn’t practice some amateur analysis, would it?

Coming up next week, The Bachelor franchise ruins the South end of St. Lucia!   We meet Jake’s parents!   Jake chooses a wife!  Except not really because first the boring episode where The Bachelor Tells All by not saying anything new and/or interesting and scrunching up his face in what he imagines is a “charming grin” but in real life just looks like a self-satisfied smirk.    At least we’ll have Michelle explaining her particular brand of krazy, which might just be funny enough to make the episode worthwhile.   We’ll see, won’t we?

*  Seriously, he has so little personality that I think he may actually BE a black hole, a giant void into which the people around him also lose their personalities and wake up a week later scratching their heads and wondering why they are so bored to be alive.

Filed under: The Bachelor, The Bachelorette | 2 Comments »

Well, it happened.   The Bun — who is FOUR, btw, not SIX as one would expect in this situation — has lost his first tooth.   I know, right?   WHAT HAPPENED?   It seems like just yesterday we were all in a lather because his teeth were just coming in and he was fussy.    Now they are falling OUT and we are supposed to be happy?  WTF?   I will say that he has declared it the “best thing ever” so I try not to cry about the alarming passage of time and omg one day I’ll be old and even DEAD and he’ll be all growed up with babies of his own who are growing teeth and then losing them again alarmingly quickly.

You know that Robert Munsch book called “I Love You Forever”?   The Bun losing his tooth has ricocheted me right into that story, except I swear to the gods that I will never climb a ladder and crawl into his master bedroom where he is asleep with his wife.  That’s just creepy.   Except I might.  Because he is my boy!  MY BABY!   [sob!]

And it’s possible that I’m a little codependent, if that means “completely too overly attached to my children in their current toddler-esque state and already irreperably sad about their inevitable grown-updness and leaving-of-me.”

So, to recap:  For him?  BEST DAY EVER.   For me?  DEPRESSING REMINDER OF THE PASSAGE OF TIME.   It’s a cute picture though, or would be if it wasn’t so clear that he’d had ham and beans for dinner that I never bothered to wipe from his face.   Oops.   So, also a depressing reminder of how unkempt my children can be when it’s late in the day and Mummy is crushed by the weight of the sentimental sadness she feels about the tooth and the little gappy place where the tooth once resided.

Aw.   Smooch.

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Holy Hannah, time flies.   I’m sure this season just began with a bunch of cheesy schmaltz about “cloud nine” and now, lo, we are on the cusp of the finale and I have to admit that I was wrong because apart from the first couple of episodes, Jake has managed to mostly keep his shirt on, and the fact that he is a pilot has not been really mentioned.   THANK THE GODZ.   Not because I have anything against pilots, but I really couldn’t stand to hear that “On the Wings of Love” song stuck on repeat through the entire season.   Handily, they’ve also (mostly) dropped the cloud nine references, which leads me to believe that the producers READ MY BLOG and TAKE MY ADVICE!*   Here’s some more advice!  Stop putting Jake on the high chair during interviews!  It’s silly!  We know he is short!   We are over it!   If by “we”, I mean “me”! Read more »

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