Reset

I went to the gym today. I go a lot. If I didn’t go to the gym, I would be a raging alcoholic, and if you’ve read or listened to any current events since the pre-Trumpian era, you could not blame me. All around the world, small-dicked Napoleons are popping up as if it was a climate deal that caused a hatch of them. Don’t get me wrong, Trudeau is not the leader we need–I am not defending him, but the conservative party(purposely lower case) is not the answer. That’s like getting rid of your gardener because he lost another fucking rake, and then hiring a company that specializes in BURNING EVERYTHING. Theresa May is my pick. She’s smarter than you. She’s smarter than most people–Agh, I wasn’t intending on writing about politics. My intention was to tell you about a thing I saw and a thought I had. I will begin that now:



I’m at the gym, giddy that I might make it through another day as a human. I’m in the middle of a weight workout. Oh it’s not a big deal. It’s maintenance stuff so I can continue to open jars of pickles, carry my groceries up the stairs, and should I ever again be offered the possibility of sex, feel good about the prospects of that one, medieval role-play that I have always…but I digress. I’m standing, resting between reps, and I find myself staring at the south wall. It’s fewer than ten feet away from me, decorously painted in the gym’s thematic blue and black. There are electrical boxes on the wall. Lots of them. And I am intrigued. There are at least three, tall, thin black boxes of different sizes, mounted one beside the other. There are black pipes–larger than Rob Ford’s meth pipe, but smaller than the exhaust pipe on Doug Ford’s stupid asshole van–that run from one to the next, but also straight up the wall. There is a larger metal box, higher up. It is beige, and has the pipes running in from below, and then a couple running out the top. Some pipes run up into the ceiling and into oblivion, heaven, I imagine. Others run off to the side. One connects with, or possibly runs behind an enormous logo sign. At least I assume it’s a sign. It could be some kind of portal. Probably.



What caught my eye, was the western-most box the size of a good slab-cake, that had a blinking red light on it. The light was so small that I hardly noticed it at first, but once found, I could not look away.  This light, this cute little beacon–what was it for? And were all of these other boxes and conduits arranged just for this light? Was this THE LIGHT? The reason I thought that, was because the eastern-most box, all in black, had a pie-shaped switch that pointed to ‘ON.’ But below ‘ON,’ was–  

                                                                OFF.

“My God,” I thought. “I’ve found it. I’ve found the great switch of things, which was mentioned in the Bible and in the Lee Valley Catalogue. Or, wait, it was NEVER mentioned in the Bible. I haven’t seen the latest Lee Valley so you’re on your own there.”  Can you imagine? 


“Jesus, what’s going on down there?”
“Well, Dad, the world is fucked, and the idiots have the keys.”
“Son. Language.”
“Sorry DAD, but things are so bad that it’s just a cluster-fuck. Oh damn. Oh…GOODNESSS. Sorry DAD. ‘Fuck,’ is, I’m sorry to say, the best word to describe the scene.”
“Well, DID YOU TRY TURNING IT OFF AND ON?” said God.


You see? I wasn’t paying attention that day in religion class (Sorry master David W.) but I think it seeped into my subconscious. Could it be? Is this the very switch before me? Here, in the middle of my two sets of 15 reps? 


Wouldn’t’ it be nice? Can you feel it? Imagine being able to reset the world. Just walk in to my gym, pull the switch and start again. 

Fuck.




Would you be so kind to throw me a note if you have read this piece to the end? Thank you.