Now on TikTok, in a historic first. I spotted an imported vodka at the liquor store called “Prince Igor” that I thought would be more apt as the rocket fuel for this, but ultimately went with a domestic brand, to keep my money out of Russian coffers. Would’ve thrown in a disclaimer here about how I meant no disrespect to Banff, except that nobody in Banff is actually from Banff. It’s a tourist town, where people might be conceived but are never born or raised. Last time I was there, half the town was Australian.
I shall be returning to school this fall to formally train in the medical sciences. The scope of what I’ve been doing these last couple of years has revolved around this line of work, so it seems like a natural fit. At first I appreciated the fact that I still had a job to do regardless of whether or not a provincewide COVID-19 lockdown was in effect, but along the way I had the pleasure of working with some actual professionals in the field, finding myself greatly admiring the fact that their culture values things like compassion and lovingkindness. A complete about-face from the vicious cutthroat slash-and-burn world of information technology.
Don’t get me wrong, I love building web apps. But to me, building an app has always been more of an endeavour than a job. Something one willfully devotes a great deal of time and elbow grease to simply because doing so provides joy and contentment, like a vintage Harley Davidson being restored in the garage. The presence of a corporate manager constantly breathing down my neck about how the Harley must be street-legal by a particular date always killed the joy for me. It felt like being told I have only three minutes to get my rocks off during a sexual encounter.
Unfortunately, our health care system is in shambles. A lot of essential medical personnel have either retired early or entered a different line of work. Not just because of the stress of dealing with the pandemic (which is taxing enough on its own), but also because of the psychotic behaviour of certain misguided souls who get all their medical information from Karen from Facebook and react to any request to get vaccinated as if it’s a demand that they cut off their penis. We all know the type…
However, I’m certainly no stranger to people exhibiting abnormal ways of thinking driven by fetishized superstitions and old wives’ tales. The formative years of my childhood were spent listening to my grandfather proclaim young-earth creationism the Truth with a capital T, denouncing those geologists who have actually studied the earth and heartily beg to differ as harlots of Satan (his arguably disturbing obsession with what consenting gay men choose to do with their own genitals warrants a separate blog post). A decade or so later, my mother found instant validation for her hatred of my teenage self’s favourite bands in then-current conspiracy theories about satanic backmasking, and would hear nothing of her validation being built on a pile of sensationalist horseshit that was designed to exploit the ignorance of white suburban mothers and scare them into giving more money to the church. This is to say nothing of the fact that I used to work for somebody who eventually went insane and stabbed a guy. In part because she fell for that silly old li(n)e about God having a plan for her life. Thus I’m pretty sure I can handle whatever the cultists throw at me. I’ve been told (recently) that I have the patience of a saint.
As a comfortable majority of us are aware, talk of a change of management at Twitter is afoot. Depending on to what extent the Muskian suckage sickens The Bird (which I anticipate to be significant, on account of our new would-be overlord’s dastardly plot to reanimate the orange monster from its eldritch crypt for no reason whatsoever other than for the evulz), I may find myself switching to another platform as the primary social tentacle of this website. Methinks the time has come to give that new kid on the block a whirl. I’ll probably get bored with TikTok after a week, but it’s nice to know it’s there as a backup in case Captain Elon’s woeful neglect of the rat problem forces me to abandon ship.
My voice isn’t the oratory chocolate of Sir David Attenborough and I probably totally goofed in putting this maiden TikTok creation together, but as an exercise in getting my hands dirty with the platform, it works.