People Who Say I Look Like Someone Else

You know what I hate? People who say I look like someone else.

In my early 20's when I had longer hair, people used to say I looked like actor Jeff Goldblum, a goofy-looking guy and movie star, to be sure, but at least he was married to mega hot-babe, Geena Davis. I guess I didn't mind that one so much - at least people were looking. 

But  - for the past 10 years, after putting on some weight and cutting the long hair, I frequently have people coming up to me and telling me I look like someone else - movie star, comedian and deceased, Rodney Dangerfield.

Right. I look like a dead, white, 72-year-old, stocky, Jewish comedian. I tell ya, I get no respect. No respect at all.

People says it's either my eyes (I have wacky screwed up, bulgy eyes? No!) or it's my mannerism (what, am I always shaking my leg and tugging at my shirt collar? No!). Regardless of why, it ticks me off.

What gives people the right to say stuff like that to me? Do I invite ridicule? No! Perhaps if I was told I looked similar to pretty-boy Brad Pitt, I wouldn't take such offense, but Rappin' Rodney?  

I'm not saying people are right or wrong in their assessment of my looks and collar tugging - I'm just asking what ever happened to people minding their own damn business? Do people say whatever is on their damn mind, regardless of the consequences? My blogs, not withstanding, of course.

I don't go out of my way to tell people they look like someone else. I'm Andrew, dammit. I look like friggin' Andrew! What gives complete strangers the right to come up to me and tell me that I look like someone else? Nothing does. Boundaries, people. Boundaries. Remember, if you can't say something nice about a specific person, say nothing at all.

You know what I hate?  

People... well, yes, people, but specifically people who say I look like someone else. 

Drifters

No... I''m not talking about those folks who drift from job-to-job and town-to-town killing people - or even those who don't do me any favours like David (my real name is Bruce) Banner (the Hulk) and Canada's Littlest Hobo (London the dog) who go around helping people - but not me.

Rather, I'm talking about that person who when walking on the sidewalk, drifts as though the wind was blowing them hither and yon. I'm talking about the drifter who can't walk a straight line. 

Every single stinking day, I have ---dare I say it? - WOMEN who are unable to walk straight . Maybe there are guys who do this, but in all honesty, I've not been cut off by one. Women... feel free to rebut.

For women, I know that (actually, I'm assuming) that it's tough to walk in heels or move with skirts that bind you at the thigh... and sure, no one really wants to walk on a grate (I'm assuming heels, again)... I'm actually aware of these things and do NOT take offense when you suddenly swerve into my walking path without caring who's behind or beside you.

It's when there's nothing underfoot and you still can't walk straight! Aaaaghgh! Yes, I'm a quick walker. And yes, perhaps I could sneak up on you. If you were a deaf wombat. But have a care! 

A few years ago on Boxing Day here in Toronto, we had a shooting right at one of the busiest shopping areas in the country. One of the accused shooters - I believe now found guilty - complained that if people were street smarter, no one would have got hurt.

He's an idiot, but I see his point. Gunshots? Duck. Don't go running - you might get hit by the idiots shooting at other idiots. 

Relative to this blog: I guess what he is saying (and me, too), is that people need to be aware of their surroundings. 

If you would like to have a nice casual walk to wherever you are la-di-dah-ing, you still have to be aware of your surroundings. You have to be street smart. Walk straight. If you have to avoid a grate... well, they don't just randomly pop up. You can see them well in advance... take a look around - make sure you aren't going to cut anyone off behind or beside you and proceed when clear.

To me, it's obvious which of you walkers actually have a driver's license. Drive as you walk? Walk as you drive. Defensively. And straight!

I hate people who don't walk straight. Drifters.

One Joker in Oz

My dear friend Michael Hutchison wrote to me today - September 1 - and asked me if I hate Australians.
Of course it was asked tongue in cheek. Still, it warrants a response.

I first met Michael in 1992, I believe while I lived in Japan. Michael was there with his gorgeous wife and three young children - the youngest of whom is now in university. Michael is a scientist currently living in Brisbane, Queensland, Australia. He was the guy who introduced me to the Emperor's throne in Japan. You can read about that adventure here in the It's A Wonderful Rife blog - SIT. On a lark last year, I tracked him down over the Internet. It was actually easy because I figured how many Australian fish scientists could there be who also worked in Japan? Apparently he was the only one. And the rare spelling of his surname combined with the scientist stuff and the Japan stuff, and teh Australian stuff... well, it only took three minutes.

Still, he surprised me today when he wrote to me with this: 


"Do you hate Australians who tell you it is the first day of spring and the mango tree, macadamia nut tree, orange tree, lime tree and avocado tree are all flowering in their garden? Or should I wait until mid-Canadian winter to tell you about my workplace under the coconut trees next to the warm white sandy beach?"

Michael, ol buddy, ol pal. I don't hate Australians. Not only do I think your wife and kids are fantastic, but I've also slept with a few of the other beautiful women from there (he brags).

But I do think that I hate you today - and quite possibly later this mid-winter.