The Creation Story (Alternative Version left out of Genesis)

March 10th, 2010

For centuries, God’s creation story was passed down orally.  I first heard it through a friend of a friend of someone who was almost there.  Here’s how it goes.

Creation

In the beginning, God wasn’t really sure that it was the beginning.  After all, humans weren’t around yet and weren’t they the ones who invented time?

Still, God had an inkling.  It’s time to get down to work, he thought to himself aloud and then giggled because no-one was there to hear him.

This made him ponder the question, if a god makes a world in a universe and there is no-one there to see it, does it really exist at all?

“I better add people to the mix”, God decided (although it should be acknowledged that at this point, God didn’t call himself God yet.  After all, with no people around, who was he supposed to be God to? Why not be Alfred, Linda or Hugh?).

With all this confusion, it’s a wonder that the project got off the ground at all.  Perhaps this is best explained by the fact that there was no ground either.  It was impossible to get off to a bad start because there had never been another start.  God was number one by default.  Besides, He hadn’t even conjured up ideas of right and wrong.

Under these forgiving circumstances (which further confuses things because it implies that someone else was around to offer God forgiveness) Yahweh got down to business.  When I say Yahweh, I am of course referring to God (who ended up with a few different names because He was lonely and wanted to feel like He was surrounded by peers similar to Himself).  These nicknames are generally known to religious insiders as God’s first creations, but because of the majesty of His other works, they usually don’t get a lot of airplay.

“Genesis”, God yelled to get the ball rolling.  Right then and there, Jehovah knew that creating a detailed universe would require a lot of heavy lifting.  Since it was His first work week ever, God made Himself a promise.  “If you work hard all week, I’ll give you Saturday off”, the Lord told Himself, immediately reaping the benefits of self employment.  Days, nights, Saturdays: God was making all of this stuff up on the fly.  And so, God was the first ever to create the concept of “winging it”.

During these sessions, God stumbled upon the fact that he didn’t even need to get physical.  All he had to do was say “Let there be” and things seemed to happen.  Light, night, water, land: a lot of this stuff was accidental due to God adding subjects to His sentences.  Still, God saw that it was good and so He thought, why not make some animals?

In His fabled few day career, these were “I Am’s” greatest achievements yet.  People often give “G” credit for making animals of every kind, but really, He was just trying to make anything.  Faces, noses, ears and limbs became His rhythm.  In the interest of variety, He threw in horns and hooves here and there.  Sometimes, the creatures He made frightened Him.  If the armadillo wasn’t a clear sign that things were spinning out of control, then the platypus was a cry for help that couldn’t be ignored (although it was, because who else was there to lend a helping hand?).

God finally set to work creating people to run this hotdog stand of a planet.  His resources spent and the “Let there be” catchphrase growing old, he settled upon making human beings out of dirt and each other.  It wasn’t His finest hour, but then again, it was pretty much Friday.

The work week behind him, He rested (which is basically what He had been doing since before the beginning of time).

By: Alex Headley

(the very Headley of, Headley Talks, a blog written by Headley but inspired by God.)

"Click here to save your creation settings.  If you don't, all life on Venus and Mars will be lost."

"Click here to save your creation settings. Failure to do so will end life on Venus and Mars."



The Hotdog Insider (All You Need To Know)

March 7th, 2010

Consider today’s blog an instructional manual.  Online courses seem to be all the rage these days, and so, I too will begin to offer tutorial “how to” articles designed to dumb down the mysteries of life.

Today’s topic: the “street meat” hotdog.  Allow “Headley Talks” to be your eHarmony source for finding the perfect Frank.  By the end of this session, you should be able to:

  • Know where to go for street meet in Toronto.
  • Identify proper hotdog prices.
  • Recognize distinctions between wiener pushers and true hotdog entrepreneurs.
  • Demonstrate proper hotdog purchasing etiquette.
  • Understand “hotdog appropriate” situations (circumstances where it is o.k. to eat a hotdog).

Let’s get started.

Where can I find my hotdog?

Locating a hotdog vendor is as easy as finding a Chinese person in China.  Have you ever seen two streets intersect?  It’s called an intersection.  Go to one and there’s sure to be a hotdog vendor on every corner.  Now the challenge becomes “which hotdog vendor do I go to?”.

What should I be looking for when selecting my hotdog vendor?

When selecting a vendor, the first thing I examine is umbrella colours.  For me, a true hotdog umbrella is yellow, red or black.  These colours show a strong knowledge of hotdog history.  They represent condiments, the flame and the filth of the grill.  A purple and white umbrella is an immediate sign grilling ineptitude.  Steer clear of their sirens.  Let the smoke of the black, red and yellow reel you in.

I’m staring straight into my hotdog vendor’s eyes.  How can I be confident that he has strong hotdog breeding capabilities?

First, while operating the hotdog stand, your vendor should not be doing anything that even remotely resembles breeding.  This is an unnecessary step in the hotdog making process.  If you have suspicions, walk away.

That said, check out your vendor’s hygiene.  Does he look haggard? Greasy?  Have dirt underneath his fingernails? Smell like he uses the toppings as his own personal cologne?  If so, then the man deserves checkmarks.  Remember, you’re not making out with him, you’re just eating his food.  Less time in the bathtub equals more time on the barbeque.  The verdict is in.  The man can grill.

I want the best, but I’m on a budget.  What should I be expecting to pay?

Much like prostitution, this is still a street business so forget debit or credit: have your cash ready.

As for the numbers, if the figure is over two-hundred dollars, then check out the street names.  His idea of giving you street meat might be slightly different than your own.

Under most circumstances, the price of a good hotdog is in step with the current subway fare.  Anything less and you’re running the risk of a “bum” dog.

I’m new to this.  How do I make a proper hotdog money exchange?

There is no right or wrong way for a hotdog deal to go down. Think of it as a dance where the vendor takes the lead.  Perhaps he’ll ask for the money up front.  Maybe the exchange will happen in sync with the hotdog transfer itself.  As for the drink, it can really be offered at any time.  This is also a situation where you can show initiative by ordering your beverage as part of your hotdog declaration.

When is it the appropriate time to have a hotdog?

As a midday snack, before a first kiss, as a dish at a wedding banquet, during a bout with diarrhoea: hotdog time is anytime. Just stay calm, remain composed and enjoy the moment.  It only happens three times a day.

By: Alex Headley

(the very Headley of, Headley Talks. In this dog eat dog world, you should be the dog doing most of the eating.)

Heaven in a bun.

Basketball at the Winter Games

March 4th, 2010

“You’re a moron.  Walk away.  I can’t even look at you.”

That was my brother’s response when I suggested that basketball be a part of the Winter Games.

“The Winter Games are made up of sports that include elements of winter”, he ranted.  “Ice, snow, hills, the outdoors: these are the hallmarks of Winter Olympic sports.  Do large men running around in tank tops sound like the Swiss Alps to you?”

With that, he put on his toque, stepped outside and engaged himself in the only   winter activity that he’s passionate about these days: a wintertime cigarette.  For him, this is his torch relay, his Gretzky on the back of a pickup truck moment.  When it comes to his opinions, he certainly thinks he’s The Great One. As I looked through the front curtains to see his still angry eyes burning above the embers and ash, I wished I had the chance to explain what I meant.

True, basketball isn’t a sport that evokes images of the Great White North, but didn’t James Naismith invent the game to be played indoors during the winter?  The NBA season spans October through June and so do most college and grade school basketball programs.  Yes, Street Ball is extremely popular in summer, but that’s not what is being played at the Olympics.  Organized basketball in gymnasiums remains a winter activity (exactly as Naismith intended).  In this light, it appears to belong to the Winter Games.

But as my brother pointed out to me upon returning from the calming influence of nicotine, basketball doesn’t happen because of winter; it happens in spite of it.  And yes, basketball, gymnastics, weight lifting, ping pong and ball room dancing have nothing to do with the summer either, but the idea of “Summer” Olympics is a relatively new concept.  Really, the Summer Olympics are simply the Olympics.  “Summer”, he reminded me, “is a tag sometimes used to distinguish the original Olympics from the Winter Games.”  Therefore, there is no onus on Summer Olympic sports to be “summery”.  The same rules don’t apply.

And so, it is with a heavy heart that I retract my proposal to make basketball a part of the Winter Games.  I apologize if people were offended in any way by my attempts to replace ice dancing with Kobe Bryant, Steve Nash and LeBron James.  When the Grizzlies skipped town, basketball left Vancouver forever.  With any luck, my brother will leave my place by the end of the afternoon.

By: Alex Headley

(the very Headley of, Headley Talks, a blog that has never really cared about basketball.  I don’t know why I’ve started now.)

"Old Man Winter".

Oh, Cole Harbour Nova Scotia

March 1st, 2010

Fireworks, road hockey, “Sid the Kid” chants, impromptu renditions of “Oh Canada”: such was the scene at Whitby’s Four Corners last night after Canada’s latest Paul Henderson beat Ryan Miller to lift the nation to men’s Olympic hockey gold.

Crosby’s stick generated a euphoria that swept across the country quicker than a Bill Mosienko hat trick. You didn’t have to be inside Canada Hockey Place to be at the heart of the magic.  Acton, Kamloops, Brandon, Corner Brook:  wherever you were, that was the top of the mountain.

For me, that apex was Brock and Dundas.  Here, Canada hockey fans from Whitby’s four quadrants poured into the town’s historic crossroads for Jockstock 2010.  All ‘jocking’ aside, it was a night that the Corners will long remember.  For one brief moment, the facades of Whitby’s yesteryear played host to today’s emerging Canadian spirit.

Horn honking, flag draping, truck hopping, celebratory high fives: these were the sounds of a nation defining itself, of a country realizing the importance of putting a stake in something, of a people coming to terms with displaying their normally reserved sense of national pride.

And proud we should be.  Fourteen gold medals, a staggering six of them won in the Games’ final three days. Speed skating, snowboarding and curling made it a gold rush to the finish.  Crosby’s frozen moment in time dropped the definitive curtain on a Games owned by Canada.  In a sense, the whole “Own The Podium” campaign went into overtime.  When all was said and done, America may have out-medaled Canada, but Canada owned the pinnacle of the podium.  It was a gold medal Games for a gold medal nation.  We’re the best of the best.  We’re number one.

By: Alex Headley

(The very Headley of, Headley Talks, a blog soon to feature exclusively Russian content.  See you in Sochi 2014.)

Mr. Perfect.

Mr. Perfect.

Bring on the Yankees

February 27th, 2010

“We’ve got to hold on to what we’ve got. ‘Cause it doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not.”

Bon Jovi’s message was Team Canada’s over-riding sentiment in the dying seconds last night as they squeaked out a 3-2 victory over Slovakia.

In the first period, Canada carried over momentum from their dominant performance Wednesday night when they rubbed out the Russians.  Goals from Marleau and Morrow confirmed Canada’s supremacy and seemingly put to bed the idea that Wednesday’s performance was an apparition.  Getzlaf’s late second period marker bordered on putting the game out of reach.  Going into the third, Canada was once again hockey royalty.  Their dance card filled, the final twenty minutes were merely a formality.  But while they were checking in to the gold medal game, Slovakia almost checked them out of the tournament.

Third period goals from Visnovsky and Handzus put the country right back into a state of National Crisis.  A brilliant save by Roberto Luongo in the game’s last gasps averted derailment and calmed the Slovakian storm.

Safe, victorious and washed up on the Vancouver shore, Canada now takes on its final test, a re-play of last Sunday’s game.  And so, a new chapter will be added to a rivalry that includes 1812, the Alaskan Boundary dispute, the 1996 World Cup of Hockey and Salt Lake City 2002.  This time however, there will be no Canadian Brett Hull in American clothing.  If America is to reign victorious all over Canada’s homecoming, then they’re going to have to do it with products that were actually made in the USA.

The final day of the games and it all comes down to this.  Own The Podium starts today.  Bring gold back to Canada.  It’s time it came home.

By: Alex Headley

(the very Headley of, Headley Talks, a blog that lives for tomorrow.  Beyond that really depends on the outcome of the Canada/USA game.)

Canada's Benedict Arnold.

Over For Ovechkin

February 25th, 2010

“All’s well that ends well.” That’s how Shakespeare sees it.  Though the men’s Olympic ice hockey tournament in Vancouver is far from ending pleasantly, it does appear that Canada’s comedy of errors have at least temporarily been corrected.

First period trouble with Norway, a shoot out with the Swiss, a psychologically devastating loss to the Americans: they’re all distant memories, pebbles in the sand on a beach being crashed by the waves of a 7-3 victory over Russia.

Alexander Ovechkin, Evgeni Malkin and Ilya Kovalchuk are all names that will soon be forgotten in Vancouver 2010 Olympic history.  Ovechkin’s hit on Jagr has already become an echo of days gone by, a nod to a time and place when all was right with Russian hockey and Canada was a desperate nation trying to catch up.

And that, in essence, is what makes men’s ice hockey at the Winter Games so crazy.  It’s the difference a day makes.  One minute, Ovechkin is a Russian Czar, the face of international hockey, delivering the hit that is said to define the tournament.  The next, he’s a lowly serf plodding his way back to Washington wondering where it all went wrong.

But the winds of change aren’t Alex’s to bear alone.  Just ask Canadian forward Corey Perry, a last minute goat in a 5-3 loss to the Americans.

What was he thinking?, a medal starved nation asked of Perry’s paralysis during an attempt to clear the puck in the dying seconds.  The man’s whole hockey playing identity was called into question.  Yet two days later, here we are, living in the land of Perry and Getzlaf, Canada’s new dynamic duo dubbed bears of the boards.

The difference between Perry and Ovechkin?  Perry’s team lost at the right time.  For Alex, the tournament is over.  There will be no shot at redemption.

By: Alex Headley (the very Headley of, Headley Talks, a blog that recognizes the importance of a crescendo.)

Send in the clowns.

Oh Canada, Where Art Thou?

February 22nd, 2010

Over twenty-four hours since the Canada/U.S. hockey debacle and still, people are pouring into support centres and calling kid’s help lines.

“Pull Marty and bring in Luongo”, a desperate country cries in preparation for a game against a German nation once too scary to mention.

Yes, it appears as though St. Martin has been crucified, his name stricken from three Stanley Cups, one Olympic gold medal, a World Cup of hockey and the NHL record books in the process.  Luongo’s claim to fame?  He’s not Martin Brodeur, he didn’t lose 5-3 to the Americans and he shut out the mighty Norway 8-0.

Mike Babcock no doubt, will have no trouble pushing the panic button and making the switch.  After all, the man juggles line combinations more readily than Elton John changes costumes during a two hour set.  In the last two games, one could say that Mr. Babcock likes over-coaching as much as Marty enjoys over-handling the puck.

While I’m not convinced that Roberto Luongo is the key to Canadian victory, I have to acknowledge that in the absence of the trapezoid, Marty’s approach has been a little too cavalier.  If Shawshank Redemption has taught us anything, it’s that once people have been trapped on the inside for too long, they forget how to behave when they get out.

If Babcock goes with Luongo against Germany, he better be prepared to go with him again verses Russia.  Really, the decision he is making is not who will be my goalie verses Germany but rather who will be my goalie for the rest of the Olympic Games?

As much as I like Marty, Canada can’t afford to give him a bounce back game in such a short tournament.  The fact that Canada has significantly outshot their opponents in the last two games with minimal results also does little to help Brodeur’s case.

Canada may need a goaltending change psychologically more than anything else.  Unlike the what have you done for me lately mad lynch mob, I don’t question his current abilities or his stature in the sport.

Having said that, change for the sake of change is sometimes necessary.  Here  are some other areas Mike Babcock and his staff might want to consider improving if Canada is to have any hope of capturing gold on home ice:

Shorten the bench

Great players like Sidney Crosby, Ryan Getzlaf and Rick Nash can’t excel if they’re not getting the ice time.  Crosby clocking in at under twenty minutes is unacceptable.  Canada needs to live and die with its top guns.  The tournament should be theirs to win or lose.

Stop playing certain players all together

Just because the team has seven defensemen dressed, it doesn’t mean Babcock has to play them.  Unfortunately for Chris Pronger, his play is best left to the memories of 2002.  Even the NHL sized ice surface isn’t enough to prevent him from looking sluggish against elite competition.  Backup goaltender, move over.  If I have my way, there will be a new gate keeper in Vancouver.

Familiarity breeds contempt (or chemistry!)

Yes, we all know that Heatley, Thornton and Marleau  can play together, but what about everyone else?  After all, if Canada is to win, the three aforementioned players can’t be Canada’s “Go to” line.  Am I about to entrust Canada’s medal hopes to Joe Thornton?  Not bloody likely!  Nor should Coach Babcock.  He needs to create line combinations that he can stick to for more than a period.  The man changes his mind more wilfully than Italy during the Second World War.  Hopefully, the game against Germany will provide the perfect training ground for developing line chemistry.  Having said that, don’t overlook this game Canada.  It’s a practice with dire consequences.

By: Alex Headley

(the very Headley of, Headley Talks. “Like a bridge over troubled water, I will lay me down.”)

Babcock

The difference between Mike Babcock and an accomplished actor? Mike doesn't know his lines.

Favourite Olympic Sports

February 21st, 2010

Now that we’re knee deep in the Games, it’s time to talk about our favourite Olympic sports.  Me?  I’m the kind of guy who likes competitions that teach critical life skills.  Biathlon is important training in how to take out the enemy.  Downhill skiing is a perfect exercise in how to escape a bear.

Which is why I prefer the Winter Games to the Summer Olympics.  Think about it for a minute.  What is the 100 metre dash really teaching you?  How to escape momentarily from the cops only to be caught a little ways up the road?  Yet this is a marquee Olympic event adored by millions.  When it comes to useful skills like cross country running, not nearly as many people care.

And how about the even more ridiculous speed walking.  What’s the life lesson here?  Is the IOC trying to teach us the proper way to storm out of a room?  If so, the competition should end with door slamming.

Maybe they’re preparing us for the hip problems and mall walking that come with old age.  Better yet, speed walking may come in handy when nature calls and you have to get to the washroom at the other end of a building.  Sure, you could run, but then you risk leaving it all behind!  Sometimes, a ridiculous walk can really help you hold on to human dignity.

As I watch the Olympics, the real appeal for me is the knowledge that I’m watching the best athletes the world has to offer in each respective sport.  These are the best hockey players anywhere.  When it comes to curling, there are no finer rock chuckers on the planet.

Which brings me to yet another bone of contention with the 100 metre dash.  Humans aren’t the fastest mammals on the planet.  Forget Usain Bolt, Maurice Greene and Donovan Bailey: if I want to see something fast, I’ll go watch a cheetah.  Why should it matter who wins the 100 metres when the winner is never going to be able to beat a horse?

But a sport like baseball, that I can get into.  You can train an African jungle cat for a lifetime and it’s never going to be able to hit a split finger fastball.

The same goes for beach volleyball.  You can give a cheetah all the coaching in the world, but it’s never going to be able to serve a floater.  Not to mention the fact that cheetahs don’t look very good in bikinis.  Unless of course, you count Cheetara, but one animated television series does not a successful cheetah woman make.

For sports involving any level of intellect, I’m sticking with humans.  In the track world however, forget the athlete in the puma gear.  I’m going with the real puma every time.

By: Alex Headley

(the very Headley of, Headley Talks, a blog that is quite prepared to leave entertainment to the rest of the Animal Kingdom.)

Animal Olympic hopeful.

Animal Olympic hopeful.

Olympic Women’s Hockey

February 17th, 2010

In the aftermath of Canada’s 18-0 slaughter of Slovakia, some people are questioning the legitimacy of women’s hockey as an Olympic sport.  Add the USA’s 12-1drubbing of China and the skeptics have their argument: the talent pool lacks balanced competition.  Therefore, it should be banned.

Leave it to Canadian journalists to consider removing a sport where our nation is practically guaranteed to win a medal.  And this in a home Olympic year where the country’s motto is “own the podium.”

We’ve become so comfortable in our failures that we don’t know how to handle the joy of success.  When Jeremy Wotherspoon finds yet another way to disappoint, we take solace in the fact that we understand inferiority.  But when Canadians are victorious, we immediately revert back to “Ben Johnson Syndrome”.  Canada’s the best?  There must be some mistake.  Forget about celebrating our greatness.  What’s wrong with the other countries competing?

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Olympic Suggestions

February 15th, 2010

A few days in and here I am, already looking for ways to improve the Winter Olympics.  Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy endless skating laps, ski jumps and opening ceremony commentary as much as the next guy. Still, as I sit here aboard my lazy boy in my official Canadian Olympic winter toque, I feel it’s my National duty to offer programming proposals that may develop the future direction of the Games.  If the athletes can push themselves to greater heights, then why can’t I?  That said, here are my suggestions:

Speed Skating really should be ‘speed’ skating (skating on speed). Hyperactivity, lane rage and increased pile ups will make for an entertaining sports spectacle the whole family can enjoy.  Erectile dysfunction (a known side effect of the drug) will also ensure that the male athletes look appropriate in their body suits.

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