We’ll Put A Boot In Your Ass, It’s The American Way

It’s no secret that I’m a patriotic person who gets so aroused at the thought of freedom that I may or may not have tried to look up the Statue of Liberty’s robe to see her labia of liberty when I visited New York City for the first time (more like Snatch-ue of Liberty, am I right?).  In fact, I’m so patriotic that “I love America” was one of only three things I included in the online dating profile I made a few years ago that lead to exactly 239 dates (if you must know, the other two things were “I am terrified of every kind of mustard” and “My penis is somewhere in between 4 and 17 inches long”).  I’m well aware that my patriotism could sometimes be interpreted as if I’m playing some sort of character and only pretend to care about America to be funny or something, but the truth is that I really do have a strong passion for my country.  While foreigners (and even a majority of Americans) scoff at how ridiculous it is that the cast of Jersey Shore are all millionaires, that singular fact epitomizes why I love the US of A so much (even though I also agree that it’s ridiculous that they’re rich) – it’s the only country in the world where literally anyone and everyone has a chance to make a name for themselves, even alcoholic douchers from New Jersey (like you, Barrale).  Simply put, this is the land of opportunity, where anyone can be anything they want to be.  Sure it helps to be born into a wealthy family or to be given freak athletic genes if you want to make it to the big leagues, but at the end of the day, every American is born with a blank slate and a world of opportunity ahead of them.  It’s on us to make the most of these chances.

(One more thing and I’m done with this part of my rant: I was watching coverage of the royal wedding last week – but only because [insert acceptable excuse here]!!! – and I saw something about how Kate Middleton’s mom was chastised by the British media a few years ago for chewing gum in the Queen’s presence.  Now, I respect British traditions and actually do find the history of the royal family to be fascinating stuff, but I think I speak for all Americans when I say that I’m thankful I live in a country where I can not only chew gum in front of the president, but I can also tell him to lick my chode without any real repercussions if my heart desires.  I know Kate Middleton’s mom didn’t actually break any laws and wasn’t arrested or anything, but still.  The fact that she got chastised in the media was bad enough.  By comparison, disrespecting and disagreeing with the president is actually some Americans’ favorite pastime, not to mention a great way to get your own show on Fox News. So yeah, just another reason why America rules.)

With all of that being said, because I’ve made it clear in the past how patriotic I am, I seem to be the guy that the Trillion Man March turns to whenever something happens that could warrant a USA chant.  No matter the time of year, I get all sorts of emails, tweets, Facebook messages/posts, etc. from the TMM whenever you all see a patriotic YouTube video, a news story that triggers national pride, or a badass picture of Teddy Roosevelt shooting bigfoot while smoking a cigar.  For many of you, I’m apparently your patriotic correspondent who you turn to when America is kicking ass and taking names.  So when the news broke that Osama bin Laden had been killed in Pakistan, I knew I’d get bombarded by the TMM, which was ultimately exactly what happened.  And so, because of this reaction, I feel obligated to address bin Laden’s death, since I’m sure it would be a huge letdown for some of you if I ignored it altogether and didn’t at least offer my thoughts.  It still baffles me why anyone would care about my opinion on anything that could even remotely be considered a serious topic, but nonetheless some of you apparently do, so here’s how I feel about it.

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On the morning of September 11, 2001, a librarian from my school came into the classroom I was in and whispered something to my 8th grade US history teacher that left him visibly shaken.  Once the librarian left the room, my teacher somberly relayed the news to us: someone had flown a plane into the World Trade Center.  Being an ignorant 14-year-old, I had no idea what the World Trade Center was and therefore thought something along the lines of, “It’s sad and all, but plane crashes happen all the time.  Why did our librarian interrupt class to tell us about a random plane crash?”  This was the prevalent thought in our classroom, as pretty much nobody other than our teacher had the slightest clue what the World Trade Center was.  As it turned out, though, it didn’t really matter that I didn’t know what the WTC was, because even when I did ultimately learn that planes crashed into the tallest buildings in NYC, I still didn’t give much thought to it all due to the fact that I wasn’t mature enough comprehend the magnitude of death in general, let alone the deaths of thousands of people at once (regretfully, I remember being more concerned about whether or not we would play our football game the next day than anything else).  But now, almost ten years later, I can comprehend death, which is why the death of Osama bin Laden is such a big deal to me.  I can now comprehend the magnitude of all the deaths he caused, and in turn can comprehend the magnitude of his own death.

The fact of the matter is that because 9/11 happened when I was just 14-years-old, Osama bin Laden has been the most wanted man in the world for almost half of my life.  That is truly incredible for me to think about.  What’s even crazier to think about is that there are very few things I remember before 9/11, which means that it’s difficult for me to remember a world in which bin Laden wasn’t the most dangerous man on the planet and didn’t have his sights set on bringing total destruction to the country I live in.  So nevermind the fact that he was supposedly just a figurehead at this point and didn’t have all that much power with Al Qaeda.  Nevermind the fact that killing him doesn’t mean the war against terrorism is over.  And nevermind the fact that the terrorists will most likely try to retaliate.  At the end of the day, the most evil person to walk the face of the earth in my lifetime – a man singlehandedly responsible for thousands of innocent civilian lives and public enemy #1 for the American people – is dead. That in and of itself is a very big deal and is reason to celebrate.

There are a lot of self-righteous people who are trying to say it’s a disgrace that people would cheer the death of another human being, no matter how evil he may have been.  And there are also people who think bin Laden deserved a fair trial and killing him makes us just as inhumane as the terrorists are.  God bless these people. I think it’s awesome that there are people in this world who are compassionate and have such a strong moral fiber that they’re willing to treat Osama with the same respect as they would a loved one.  But I’m not one of these people.  The way I see it, bin Laden has repeatedly made it clear that he’s not actually a human but is instead a monster.  And the last time I checked, the protocol when dealing with monsters/zombies isn’t to slap some handcuffs on them, waste time and money on a trial that would obviously result in capital punishment, and then just shrug our shoulders and ho-hum as someone who has been terrorizing us for years dies.  No, the protocol is to put a bullet between his eyes, throw his ass on the express train to Hell, and rejoice that the world is rid of one less demon.

Let me lastly say that I’m not naïve in thinking that America is suddenly fixed now.  We are far from perfect and still have a bunch of problems that need to be addressed.  But this doesn’t mean we shouldn’t celebrate a significantly historic victory.  The bottom line is that I would make absolutely no difference in the war on terror if instead of celebrating in the streets and partying at Mirror Lake, I decided to stay focused and try to figure out how to fix America.  The beauty of our country is that I can sit on my lazy ass and play FIFA all day while the big shots in Washington figure out how to fix our problems (for the record, I couldn’t care less about politics. Everyone I know who is interested in politics basically just bitches all day about how the other party is wrong. I’m not interested in bitching so I just stay out of it altogether).  Whether or not I riot in the streets in celebration has literally zero effect on the American mission to end terrorism. 

Sorry for the rant and sorry for being serious with all of this, but I honestly do view this as a historic time in America and felt compelled to quickly write about it, not only because it’s a significant time in our country’s history but also because some of the holier-than-thou people who are criticizing the majority of Americans for being excited kinda piss me off.  We aren’t necessarily excited that a human being died – we’re excited that no matter what else happens with this war on terror, the man who killed thousands of our innocent civilians and caused one of the most somber times in American history will never again hurt a single one of us.  Screw every other detail about the situation.  That alone is enough for me to be absolutely ecstatic.  Sorry I’m not sorry.

God bless our troops and God bless the United States of America.

Proud To Be A Buckeye But Even Prouder To Be An American,

Mark Titus

Club Trillion Founder

Diversity – Experiencing What It’s Like to Be Different

When we think of diversity, we tend to think of what’s different about others. We typically use our own characteristics as benchmarks – particularly if we’re part of the mainstream population (i.e., if we’re surrounded by lots of other people quite similar to us). However, have you ever turned the tables and paused to consider what is different about you? What do others consider unusual or out-of-the-norm? What characteristics, attitudes, or behaviours do you have that others think are a little bit strange?

Gerry and I travel extensively, which provides lots of opportunities for us to reflect on being different, particularly in terms of nationality, race, ethnicity, religious beliefs, language, and culture. As a very pale-skinned redhead, there are many places in the world where I stand out like a white shirt under a black light – I pretty much glow in the midst of a sea of darker skin and hair (redheads are a global minority, losing ground quickly – currently thought to comprise only 1 - 2% of the world’s population). However, it’s rare that our difference is perceived as a disadvantage; I, therefore, can’t say I’ve experienced the types of extreme prejudice and discrimination that many other minorities encounter every day.

When we’re in foreign countries, we’re constantly reminded of our incompetence. No matter how prepared we try to be, we can never use local transit as effectively as the locals. We are slow to count out payment for a purchase. We stumble over words to request the simplest things. And, just like foreigners anywhere, we miss the familiar items and foods from “home.”

My experience as a foreigner is very different when I’m an invited subject matter expert than when I’m an anonymous traveller. In the first role, I often have people who prepare for my arrival and ensure that I’m comfortable, safe, and taken care of. In the latter role, I’m more likely to be teased, laughed at, or taken advantage of – it’s clear that many people find “different” strange and not something to aspire to. In Northern China, I lost count of the number of people trying to sell me a solution to fix my freckles (I didn’t realize they were a problem before then). In a remote region of Malaysia, well off the typical tourist track, a small child cried every time her mother brought her within 6 feet of me (she’d never seen a white-skinned person with flaming red hair before). In Marrakesh, accepting an offer of tea resulted in the expectation that we’d purchase a Berber carpet (we learned from that one – this is similar in many parts of the world!).

In the Canadian workplace, we constantly encounter difference and we’re asked to embrace it. However, sometimes we’re “colour-blind” and simply don’t realize the discrimination and challenges that our diverse colleagues encounter every day. To increase your awareness, I encourage you to put yourself in the position of being the outsider – attend cultural celebrations, travel, volunteer at a community event that’s outside of your normal routine, use a form of local transit that you’re unfamiliar with, eat dinner at a restaurant frequented by members of a different ethnic group, accompany a local family to the food bank, or spend a day on the street with a homeless person. Be different to learn about difference. Then support diversity initiatives in your workplace to ensure that those perceived as different have a safe place to fully contribute their talents.

Interested in learning more about diversity? Life Strategies has a variety of courses, including:

• Immigrant Experience (20 hours)


• International/Global Careers (20 hours)


• Understanding Diverse Clients (20 hours)


• Managing Diversity at Work (10 hours)

Rick Mercer - VIA Rail High Speed Rail Spoof

Excellent spoof on how slow VIA Rail is compared to the rest of the modern world. Rick Mercer could have added a line about how expensive it is. WATCH THE VIDEO HERE.

Windsor Star - Bullet Trains Editorial

Seems the Windsor Star is getting on board with the high idea of high speed trains from Windsor to Quebec City. Read the article here.

Coping With A Realization

Before I get started, let me first remind everyone that the Bloodhound Gang’s most popular CD was not only entitled “Hooray for Boobies”, but the actual disc was flesh-colored (for white people anyway) and came with instructions to stick your tongue through the hole of the disc to make it look like a boob. I think I speak for everyone who was 12-years-old when that CD came out (like I was) when I say that this was quite possibly the single funniest thing in the world at the time.  I actually think I may have called the Bloodhound Gang “geniuses”, which looking back might have been giving them maybe just a little too much credit, but still. The fact of the matter is that they made a CD that looked like a boob, and for 12-year-old guys, that’s all it really takes to earn the “genius” label.  I regret nothing.

(By the way, getting a group of guys together and dressing like the Bloodhound Gang from “The Bad Touch” video would make a phenomenal Halloween costume.  I suggest you get on that now.  You’re welcome for the idea.)

Since I’m kind of on the topic of being 12-years-old and since – let’s be honest – I have no idea what to write about with this blog post and I’m basically just spitballing at this point, I guess I could discuss how I had a revelation since you last heard from me and realized that I live pretty much the same lifestyle I did when I was 12 (and school was out for the summer).  I mean, I still don’t have a real job and can therefore do whatever I want all day every day, I still have the exact same diet as I did 11 years ago, I still watch the same TV shows, and I still get nervous when I talk to attractive 14-year-old girls (whoops – um, please disregard that last part).  In fact, the only real differences now are that I have bills to pay (but even so, I only pay them when I feel like it), I can actually get arrested for egging my neighbor’s house and taking a dump in their shrubs, and I don’t sneak down to my parents’ basement to watch scrambled Cinemax at 2 in the morning.  Oh, and I now have a crippling amount of debt thanks to student loans and overusing credit cards (and apparently not paying my bills on time).  Can’t forget about that one.

Anyway, the first time I should have known I was recently living a 12-year-old’s lifestyle was when I went shopping for groceries with my fiancée last week and she put gross things like lettuce, asparagus, and broccoli into the cart and I honestly loaded up on nothing but cereal, cookies, ice cream, and Spaghetti O’s.  Anyone who knows me on a personal level will tell you that I’m a notoriously picky eater, which is to say that I basically only eat meats and sweets (“Meats & Sweets” kinda sounds like it could be the name of a gay club, doesn’t it?), and I’ve been that way my entire life.  I’ve never really given much thought to the fact that I’m 23-years-old and I’m basically still eating from the kids’ menu, mostly because I think the food I eat is delicious and don’t see a reason to change.  I’ve just always poured myself a tub full of Cap’n Crunch’s Oops! All Berries, wolfed it down, and not thought twice about it.

(I’ve got two things I need to get off my chest real quick: 1- As far as I’m concerned, Oops! All Berries is the best mistake in the history of mankind and will most likely remain at the top spot on that list until my first child is born, and 2- How have the Cap’n Crunch people not corrected the mistake by now? They’ve been making Oops! All Berries for almost 15 years. At this point, I think it’s clear that it’s no longer a mistake and they know exactly what they’re doing. Because of this, I think they need to change the name to “This Perceived Accident Was Actually Premeditated! All Berries”.  Just saying.)

Anyway, where was I? Oh, right – I’m a picky eater.  So, about five days ago I got a terrible stomach ache and thought it was nothing more than some strange coincidence because my last blog post was probably my favorite piece of writing I’ve ever done in my life and it focused almost exclusively on pooping (side note: I was happy to see The Relationship Poop Cycle was so well-received by the Trillion Man March. You guys are awesome).  I expected it to be just a routine stomach ache that would pass with a painful 30-45 minute poo, but it turned out to be much, much worse.  Starting on Saturday, for about four days straight, it felt like a swarm of bees flew up my rectum, stung the sh*t out of my bunghole, and then set off a bunch of firecrackers to top it all off.  In other words, it has not been a pleasant week for me. 

After a few days of battling the stomach ache, I realized that my original thought that this was somehow related to “The Relationship Poop Cycle” was dead wrong.  That’s because, after further review, I’m fairly confident that my stomach aches are directly related to the fact that my dinner pretty much every night consists of two cans of Spaghetti O’s, two PB&J sammiches, and one big ass bowl of ice cream for dessert.  I can’t say for sure, but I think my body has finally had enough and is trying to tell me to grow the F up and start eating foods that aren’t exclusively found at the tip of the food pyramid (I like my food pyramid like I like my foreplay – “just the tip”).

(Let’s do another one of my patented paragraphs in parentheses.  Alright, so after eating Spaghetti O’s for about a week straight, I have another irrelevant theory.  Here it is: I’m fully convinced that Campbell’s spent millions of dollars on years of research to figure out the size of the average American fork prong, and then made the smallest Spaghetti O just slightly bigger than that.  Think about it.  Once you eat most of your Spaghetti O’s and you’ve only got a few stragglers left, what do you do? You start looping those bitches on your fork until you can’t fit anymore on there, that’s what.  Well, when I was eating the Spaghetti O’s this week, I noticed that the smallest O’s barely fit on the fork and you can usually only get one or two stacked on each prong at a time, which was something I somehow missed all these years.  The way I see it, Campbell’s purposely made these Spaghetti O’s this small because they wanted to stimulate kids’ brains and make them really focus on looping the biggest O’s first, the medium-sized O’s second, and top the stack off with the smallest O’s.  This way you can’t just randomly loop the O’s but instead you have to have a strategy to attack them.  Well, Campbell’s, I’m a product of the ADHD generation and don’t have the attention span for your manipulative games now that I’m a grown-up.  So do me a favor and get rid of the small O’s, because my only other option is to use a spoon.  And in my household, using a spoon to eat Spaghetti O’s is the highest possible form of blasphemy.)

Last Friday, I was again reminded that I was living a 12-year-old’s lifestyle when I stayed in that night to watch Friday Night Smackdown! instead of going out, getting drunk, and making terrible decisions like pretty much everyone else my age does.  I haven’t watched pro wrestling in years, but ever since The Rock announced his comeback recently, I’ve started paying a little more attention to what’s going on (it was obvious Triple H wasn’t going to beat The Undertaker at Wrestlemania and I don’t understand how anyone could’ve possibly thought he would.  Also, hearing about Edge’s injury damn near brought a tear to my eye.  He was a master on the mic and was one of my all-time favorites, which is why I paid tribute to his career by spearing my fiancée as she walked through our front door the other day).

Anyway, much like my prolonged stomach ache has made me reconsider my juvenile diet, there are three reasons why I think it’s time for me to grow up and stop following WWE again (the same three reasons I stopped watching in the first place).  The first of these is simple – the WWE is racist. Now, I know that the WWE has a long history of pumping up racial stereotypes when creating characters (the most notorious example of this being Tony Atlas’ alter ego, Saba Simba), but that’s not what I’m talking about here.  No, I’m more concerned with the fact that it’s always the Hispanic announcers who have someone bodyslammed through their table.  Sure the American announcers get their table destroyed every now and then, but it’s almost always after the Hispanic guys get theirs annihilated first.  In fact, according to the Elias Sports Bureau, 94% of the time that only one announcing table is destroyed in a WWE match, it’s the Hispanics who are left to deal with the damage.  Just try and tell me that’s not racism.  You can’t.

The second reason I’m frustrated with the WWE is because they still have women’s matches.  That’s right – I’m all about racial equality, but gender equality can S my D and make me a sandwich.  I’ve got nothing against women per se, as evidenced by the fact that I’ve made love to more than 258 of them and even plan on living with one for the rest of my life.  My problem is more with women’s sports, especially the masculine sports like wrestling, football, and boxing.  On paper, women’s wrestling seems like a great idea.  Put smoking hot women in skimpy clothes and have them catfight? R U SRS? I’ve got a half chub just thinking about it.  This is just about every man’s initial reaction to women’s wrestling.  But when their matches actually start, it only takes somewhere between 10-20 seconds to figure out that there is literally zero chance that any of the girls will inadvertently lose their tops.  And that’s really the only reason for watching women’s matches in the first place.  Once it’s established that that’s not happening, all you’re left with is a bunch of unathletic chicks screwing up simple wrestling moves.  Sure their matches never last too long, but by the time you factor in their intros and the commercials before and/or after their match, that’s a 5-10 minute block that’s basically going to waste.  Coincidentally, because women’s matches are such a waste of time, that’s usually the part of the broadcast that I get up and make myself a sandwich.  And by that, I obviously mean that I have my fiancée make me a sandwich cause she’s a woman and that’s her job.

(Relax, ladies. I’m only half serious.)

Finally, the last and most important reason I’ve more or less given up on pro wrestling is because I just can’t stomach a WWE where guys like John Cena, The Miz, Wade Barrett, and Jack Swagger are marquee names.  This has nothing to do with these wrestlers being faces or heels (good guys or bad guys, for those of you who didn’t know), but rather because all four of these guys seems like world champion douchers.  The WWE I know and love featured Stone Cold Steve Austin flipping people off, drinking beer in the ring, and reminding everyone that Austin 3:16 says I just whopped your ass. The WWE I know and love featured The Rock dropping The People’s Elbow on fools, laying the smack down, and putting his boot straight up your candy ass.  The WWE I know and love never revolved around a bunch of douchey white guys with terrible personas who basically look like stereotypical frat boys with (more) steroids pumped into them.  Simply put, you’re never going to hear someone say, “The Miz is such a badass.”  And, the way I see it, that’s a serious problem.

So that pretty much sums up my last week and a half.  I still enjoy the fact that I can sleep in and play video games all day if I want to (who wouldn’t?), but it’s clear that it’s time for me to start making some changes to my 12-year-old lifestyle, starting with trying some vegetables and watching more thought-provoking shows on TV (you know, like Jersey Shore and The Real Housewives).  Much like Uncle Joey and the Toys R Us kids before him, I’ve always prided myself on celebrating youth and not wanting to grow up.  But this past week has been a wake-up call, and writing all of this down (in an admittedly disjointed and improvisational manner) has been pretty therapeutic for me.  I need to make some changes and I need to make them now.  The only problem, though, is that my mom just brought home a ton of groceries and my Super Mario Kart isn’t going to play itself.  So if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some Fruit by the Foot and a date with Bowser on Rainbow Road calling my name.  I’ll start growing up tomorrow.

Proud To Be An American But Even Prouder To Be A Buckeye,

Mark Titus

Club Trillion Founder

Quebec City mayor wants a high-speed train

Montreal Gazette - Quebec City Mayor Regis Labeaume sits on a completed SNCF high speed rail study funded by the Mayors along the Windsor-Quebec City corridor waiting for Stephen Harper to release the now buried $3 million Fed-Prov HSR study. Only in Canada can taxpayers be kept from seeing a study they paid for. READ THE STORY HERE

The Charitable Route to Teambuilding

Charities and not-for-profit organizations are busy planning events and fundraisers; for some, these large annual events are their biggest source of revenue. These events also provide the perfect opportunity for your organization to get involved, make a difference in your community, and strengthen your team – all at the same time. Consider pulling a group together to support a good cause – something that speaks to your company’s mission/values and gives back to your community. It’s a great teambuilding exercise which will foster pride in your company. Life Strategies recently participated in the Big Brothers, Big Sisters’ Bowl for Kids Sake event. We had a wonderful time and made a difference in the process. Remember – you don’t need a large team to make an impact. With only 6 team members collecting donations, we raised over $1700.00 through cash and online donations!! Big Brothers, Big Sister is still collecting donations – click here to contribute