Suzy And The Gentleman Stud

I have to be quiet right now.

I don't want to distract the goings on here in my back yard.

I'm sitting here on my deck in the sunshine of the last Saturday in November – and it's cold.

I wouldn't be here if I had the choice.

But I'm a chaperone right now.

"But Fred, I thought your little girls are seven and eight?"

It's not my daughters – it's my beautiful and faithful black lab Suzy.

She's on a date.

The lucky boy is a two year old golden lab stud named Samson. And he's quite the looker.

He's got papers. A pedigree.

Suzy only has a smile, a wink, and a handshake from a farmer in the county for credentials.

You see, we are hoping that Suzy can have puppies.

This is the weirdest date I have ever chaperoned. There is a whole lot of bum sniffing going on – followed by this mammoth of a lab pooping all over my back yard – and peeing to mark his territory.

And Suzy, my beloved best friend is acting like a little slut. And I am encouraging it. If find myself holding Suzy still so Samson can have a better sniff – and saying horrible things to him like "See that Samson? What's that eh boy?".

But my encouragement isn't working.

This is their third "date".

They have come close a couple of times, but poor Samson, the stud extraordinaire, seems to be missing a key talent for recognizing opportunity.

Poor Suzy.

After the last two dates were over, and Samson went home, she lied in the corner of the living room and just sulked – like the girl nobody wanted to dance with.

Right now they are getting close, but they are running out of time. I would imagine that her owner's – Graham and Rene – are nearing the time to pick up Sampson and take him back home.

I sure would like to tell them the good news – but so far – the relationship between Suzy and Sampson is only a platonic one.

Best friends – but not romantic friends.

Perhaps next time Suzy should maybe work a little harder – a little make up or perfume – maybe something a little slinky to send the message.

Right now all she is wearing is her red collar. But then that is all Suzy ever wears.

Perhaps I should take Samson for a walk, and have a little man-to-man with the pup. Explain that under normal conditions I would be grateful for his gentleman-like behavior, but that this is different, and I am actually rooting him on.

I feel like a pervert out here watching.

But we have to know if the deed is done. There are financial obligations associated to a successful outcome to this transaction. There is no room for supposing – or wondering.

What if the deal were done and six weeks later Suzy had malamute pups?

I could just see the small claims court on the television for that one.

"Mr. Brill, please state the Nature of your case."

"Well your honor, we paid for lab puppies, but instead we got malamutes! We demand a refund of our stud services"

"Please elaborate", would say the dignified and honorable judge.

"We paid a sum for this dog over here you honor to do the nasty with my faithful black lab Suzy"

"That's not a malamute?" would say the honorable judge.

"Your honor, Mr. Brill paid us for a service performed by my amazingly handsome stud Samson here" would counter-point our new friends Graham and Rene.

"He still doesn't look like a malamute", would reply the honorable judge.

"The malamute lives next door", I would reply. "It would seem .."

"I think I can deduce for myself what indeed it would seem, Mr. Brill", would shout the honorable judge. "Did Samson and Suzy ever actually do 'the nasty'?" – of course the courtroom would snicker.

"We think so, your honor!", I would say.

"We don't know for sure", would say Graham.

"He doesn't look like a malamute", would say the judge. "Case dismissed!"

So I kind of have to watch.

It's almost like Samson is just too nice. He kind of wants to, but he doesn't want to give Suzy a bad reputation.

But that malamute next door can't be trusted!

It’s Not Easy Being Green – But It Has To Be

I'll be the first to admit that I talk more about being green than I actually do.

I'll bet most of us do.

I was reading Ian Aspin's ReallyGoodThinking blog this morning - he was talking about how we have to be "Super Heros" - each and every one of us - to change the tide of the environmental changes we see happening before our eyes.

And I thought to myself - "Super Heros?, that sounds pretty hard. Good luck achieving that one!"

Clearly, with all due apologies to Kermit the frog, it's not easy being green.

I wrote a long piece here a year or so ago about developing trains that will carry cars like a ferry, and how if that were to happen – and actually catch on - the cars would evolve to be more compatible with the trains that ferry them.

But the two cars I own are gas guzzling pigs – A Chrysler 300 and a Jeep Liberty.

Why would I buy those two cars?

Because I live in the heart of North American automobile manufacturing – on both sides of the U.S. Canada border, and Chrysler (or Chryslers as we know them in Windsor) are a very big part of our local economy.

And because I got a really great deal on both.

I buy only the new style of low energy light bulbs – but only because the legislation in Ontario is that we have to use these bulbs. I actually like the old ones better – they don't need a warm up period when they turn on. If you flip the light switch they immediately come on bright – not dim like the new ones until they warm up to a point where you can see what you're doing.

I put environmentally friendly lawn care products on my lawn – but only because the province of Ontario has banned the old fashioned "good stuff".

We still use canned products like non-stick cooking sprays and such – that release fluorocarbons into the air and eat away at the o-zone.

And I will print an email or a word document or a spreadsheet so that I can take it away – digest it fully to completely understand what is being conveyed to me – and dispose of it into the office supplied shredding boxes when I'm done. If I need another copy – I print another copy when I need it.

Our washing machine uses only the "he" (high efficiency?) detergents – because that's the only type of detergent the washing machine can use – and it cleans our clothes much better than the old style one we had. And this dryer doesn't eat every button off my good dress shirts and slacks like the old one did.

I'm all for saving buttons. They're a bugger to sew back on.

Our swimming pool in the back yard re-uses most of the water it holds year after year – but we pump chlorine pucks, algaecides, and acidity equalizers into that water to keep it sparkling clear.

Who wants to swim in murky water?

One of the fellows I work with just finished installing some thirty-five or so solar panels on his roof. We were talking about it at lunch on Friday. He did the work himself and says he dumped about twenty-five grand into this project.

"I admire your conviction to do something to save the planet", I said.

"I'd love to tell you that's why I did it", said my slightly eccentric colleague. "Truth be told", he continued, "I did it for the financial return."

"Really?", I was kind of surprised, "How long before you can see a return on that twenty-five grand?"

"About six years?"

I just looked at him as he took another bite of grilled chicken.

"If I wouldn't have done the work myself, it would have taken be about fifteen years!"

I think he saw my confusion in the way my jaw dropped and my eyes bulged.

"It's not something everybody will jump up and do. I did it partially to see if I could", he explained. "It took about two years, and I cut a special hatch to my roof so I could get quick access".

"So I guess your wife has long left you then, eh?"

"No – she hasn't. She actually helped! Not voluntarily mind you!"

My eccentric friend – eccentric in the way many software programmers are eccentric – went on to continue telling me that the electricity he produces is now greater than the amount he consumes. He signed a twelve year contract with the power company – and he gets a larger check from the power company than he pays to the power company for the energy his house uses.

"All the power the panels create goes into the power grid and my house takes power from the grid just like anybody else's."

"The last time we talked, you were putting up a windmill?", I asked.

"I was, but the neighbors complained". He looked down at his plate.

They're not allowed to complain – another one of Ontario legislated green initiatives states that unless you are putting up a really big windmill, or unless your blocking a significant piece of scenery from your neighbors view, like a lake view or something – that they cannot complain.

"I didn't want the neighbors all hating me.", he said. "Besides, the maintenance to keep that turbine working efficiently enough to produce optimum power is pretty high".

Clearly, it is not easy being green.

Now, with all this being said, I know one thing to be true.

People – in general – meaning people who are not eccentric brilliant software programmers – are not going to go out of their way to be green.

People – in the manner of the common masses – will always take the path of least resistance.

The less the resistance – the better – until the clear advantage to the common masses clearly outweighs the inconvenience.

Twenty five grand for a large do-it-yourself project is not exactly the path of least resistance.

The only solar power used at my home is the blanket I put on my pool to warm up the water to a swimmable temperature in the early June and late August days. And those little garden lights that have strategically stuck in various parts of my grounds.

They both serve a convenient purpose and they do not do anything to contribute to the betterment of our environment.

Green cars either cost a ton of money – like the new hybrids and electric powered cars showing up on the market, or are so impractical for a family of four – like the smart cars by Mercedes – which look like they need to poles sticking out the front so the rickshaw pullers can help you get up enough speed to get on the expressway on-ramp.

They just don't fit yet.

I read a great book some years ago – written by an employee from IBM – in which he discussed what it took for a software program to reach "critical mass" – the point where everybody saw a feature in the program that they couldn't live without – like email of the day.

You have seen these applications emerge – the iPod to download and play your favorite music. The digital camera to take millions of high quality pictures to store on your computer and print when you need to. The various new applications on phones like texting that is quickly surpassing email as a means to communicate with friends and business colleagues.

These applications all have the same lowest common denominators. They are simple, they are convenient, they do not require a tremendous investment to use, and they are seen to make our immediate personal quality of life immediately better.

The push to be environmentally friendly has to continue to move this way. To be "green" must be convenient - and must show immediate benefit to the consumer.

It shouldn't have to be legislated by the government.

The green movement has to reach critical mass. Or – as Al Gore will quickly tell you, our planet is doomed.

Products we commonly use must become convenient and affordable to use to contribute our environmentally efficient objectives.

Currently there are some who a seen in the media as pushing the need to change our lifestyles quickly before the impacts of global warming completely change our big blue marble in horrific ways.

But their means for spreading their gospel is to guilt the masses into changing. Harping on our human flaws like our gluttonous waste of materials that demand greater landfills, or our gluttonous use of natural resources like water, clean air, and oil to serve our simple needs to get kids to soccer practice in large SUVs.

Making us feel bad won't make us change our ways.

And we don't as a broad mass of people yet fully recognize what the full extent of global warming means to us, more so to our children, or even more so to our children's children.

No matter how many power-point presentations turned into movies are presented by newly-bearded ex-presidential candidates.

We need that "What's in it for me" question to be clear – concise – and indisputable – understood by everyone!

And it has to be convenient.

The Inconvenient Truth exposed by Mr. Gore has to have a clearly convenient resolution. There has to be a resolution that everyone can adopt without sacrifice.

It's the law of achieving "critical mass".

It has to stop working against the path of least resistance, and instead start embracing that easy path.

People will go with the flow – if the flow goes where they want it to go!

I don't want to see the planet self destruct.

And I don't know how accurate the gloom and doom predictions of the environmental pundits of the day are.

But I do know that the as a whole, the human inhabitants of this planet are gluttons to the worst degree.

And gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins.

Now that being said, I really have to get to work hanging our Christmas lights today before it gets any colder. It's more convenient you see to hang them now.

And I'm proud to say they are all LED lights. So I'm doing my part.

Why? Because LED lights are cheaper to buy now, cheaper to turn on every night from now 'til New Years Day, and they look nicer than the old style.

It's beneficial to me to use LED Christjmas lights.

See what I mean?

Keys To Success

Times they are a changing.

Although I confess – I thought they changed a long time ago.

I stepped into the little kitchenette in my department this morning to grab a cup of office coffee.

No time to stop at Tim Horton's to grab my usual extra large double-double – office coffee would have to do.

A poster hung on the kitchen cupboard – above the microwave oven – the most prized advertising spot in the entire department.

You could announce anything and get a huge response by hanging your poster in this location – literally trapping every poor soul in the department to have to stand there and read it while the microwave slowly heats last night's left over supper comprised of stuff you didn't eat last night.

The poster was for a women's economic conference – to allow women to share insights as to how to be more successful.

"I want to be more successful too", I thought to myself as I read this poster.

At the bottom of the poster – disguised in a feminine fancy script so as not to be easily visible to the male eye – was written the single qualifying condition …

Exclusively for women!

"Hey …"

That can't be? We are now supposed to be equals, aren't we? Ever since Billy Jean King beat the snot out of that nerdy cross-dressing Bobby Riggs in the Battle of the Sexes tennis match back in the 70's? Ever since Margret Thatcher became Prime Minister of England, and Geraldine Feraldo ran for Vice President of the United States? Ever since Hillary Rodham Clinton ran for President only to get beaten by the first black man ever to run for office (bad timing or what?).

Ever since women's World Cup soccer?

Ever since Yoko Ono? And let's not forget Sarah Palin!

We were supposed to have transcended both race and gender prejudices by now. Right? The twenty first century and all that it brings?

That's why we now have metro-sexual men. Right?

I looked all over the cabinets in that tiny little kitchen for a second poster – the one for men – the one that held the date and time for the big Men's Only How To Be Successful seminar.

I couldn't find one.

I still had time waiting for the coffee to brew, and I stood there looking at the poster for women only to read. I hoped nobody would catch me – there might be a hint as to how to be successful in that poster somewhere.

Nope, I guess you have to go to the conference.

Then I started imagining what would happen if I showed up – with the twenty five dollar entrance fee – and tried to get in. Would they usher me out? Would they deny me access – access to these great keys of success that I am certain were to be delivered just the other side of that conference room door?

Would the cops come, and usher me away – take me down town? Call my wife?

I would likely have to dress in drag – a pant's suit – with reasonable shoes – something that would sing 'successful business woman'. And I could use my daughter's Hannah Montana blond Halloween wig.

But then I remembered I have a mustache and a beard now. I grow a beard most every November – and the mustache hides the scar on my upper lip – so I'm not shaving that off!

So much for going in drag.

What would they talk about?

It must be pretty juicy stuff if men aren't allowed in to hear it! I'll bet they are going to talk about how to get around the old-boy-business-networking that my dad and my dad's dad and his dad too worked so hard to set up for the last couple of millenniums. They will probably advise each other to start playing golf – and how to gain the edge in meetings by showing more cleavage – thus leaving the men in the department to babble and state wrong information – only to jump in with the right answers. They will talk about networking – and workshops – and sharing their feelings. All the while balancing teacups on their knees and munching delicately on little finger foods – and chocolates.

It's just not fair?

Then – only because our office coffee maker is nearly as slow as the elevator in our three story head office building – I started thinking about another angle. If there is no seminar for men only … then I should host one.

I could host the event in my garage. I could set my laptop on my workbench – and borrow one of those LCD projectors to shine a power point presentation up on the other wall – between the rakes, the hose wheel and the stack of old apartment size air conditioners we have moved several times but will likely never use again.

"Welcome to the Men's Only Workshop On How To Succeed More than Women" I will say, and I will show images of important women and motivate these men in my garage to believe these women are the enemy.

I will warn the men that now it is more important than ever to not be accused of sexual harassment in the workplace – because that will only play right into their hands! No dirty jokes – no off color humor. And I would suggest that from now on we refer to every female colleague as Miss.

"Why Miss Samantha – that is a very professional looking blouse you are wearing – but could you please button up the top two buttons – you are distracting me", I would say for an example.

And we would the share our feelings. "How did you feel about the Lions play last Sunday?" or "Didn't you think A-Rod had a great post season?".

After that, we would break, and retire down to my family room – where my family is not allowed – and we would play pool and shoot darts over a couple of beers – and see who could make the loudest noise come out of their body parts.

You have to play hardball these days. You can't just sit around doing a good job and think someone will notice and move you ahead in life. These women aren't sitting around. And apparently some of them in my office are looking to beat me out of the next promotion!

But imagine – if I followed through with this brilliant counter-strike of a plan – and I made up a poster to hang on the kitchen cupboard right next to the microwave – imagine the horrific complaints of a male only event being held that women could not attend – to help us men gain an advantage on those power-wielding ladies of the corporate world of today.

They would have me in front of the Manager of Human Resources explaining myself. And I would have to take some kind of a gender-sensitivity training course – probably on Sunday afternoons.

That's no good.

And it's not fair.

Finally the coffee maker had completed its task – and I poured myself a fresh cup mixed it with extra cream and sugar – when Madeline walked around the corner.

I mean Miss Madeline.

"How's the coffee, I just made it a few minutes ago?" asked Miss Madeline , with all the buttons on her blouse done up all the way.

"Pretty good!" I replied. I wasn't lying. It was actually a good cup of office coffee.

And I realized, I got it pretty good the way things are, and if I hung that poster I was dreaming up, I might not get coffee like that at the office ever again.