Customer Satisfaction Survey

Here on Spaceship Orion, we aim to please.

We realize that we go all over the place in subject matter.

Big

Small

Absurd

Or Just plain stupid.

But we want your feedback. Our customer relations department has spent months developing the following survey, which should take only a few hours of your time to read and then several days to fill out.

Please respond promptly. In return, we'll send you a gift and will actually continue blogging, although perhaps at a nominal cost, details of which we may include in the fine print of some future blog post.

CUSTOMER SATISFACTION SURVEY

SNIPPETS FROM SPACESHIP ORION

JANUARY 2008

1. As a loyal reader of WW's blog, I would rate my overall satisfaction at (pick one of the numbers shown on a scale of 1-10 with 1 being less satisfied and 10 being bordering on orgasmic)

10

2. My most memorable WW blog post was...

PLENTY OF SPACE HERE FOR YOU TO WRITE

3. My least memorable WW blog post that I actually remember was...(fill this space)

4. I don't remember ANY WW blog posts and I just stumbled upon this ridiculous website by Googling the words "Gay Socks Sex" (If true, just check here or type out the word, "yes") or "Famous shaving accidents" (check here or type the word, "yes.")

5. I first found this blog by (check one):

a. accident;

b. misadventure;

c. Homo Escapeon's blog;

d. MJ's blog;

e. Stace's blog;

f. Anna's blog;

g. George W. Bush's blog on most wanted Dubya teasers;

h. Ziggi's blog;

i. Andrea's blog;

j. Gautami's blog;

k. Googling: "Most Brilliant Man in Universe";

l. Laurie's blog;

m. Dinahmow's blog;

n. Hildegarde's blog;

o. Oh, you know who you are.

6. I want WW to blog more about (Pick one, none, or as many as you want):

a. his love life;

b. his kids;

c. his view of world politics, especially in the Excited States;

d. what it's like to actually live in a spaceship and hail from another planet;

e. his appliances, including what's in them and what's behind them;

f. how to properly clean your bathroom, including the toilet, and which way toilet paper should be installed on the toilet paper thingie;

g. how to deal with ear and nose hairs;

h. Who did WW tease today and how;

i. my latest car repair;

j. Socks and sex;

k. Yet more investigations of the differences between the male and female brains;

l. Other (If you wish, add details on a piece of paper; do not fold)

In addition, we would like to ask you a few more questions to get a representative indication from the general population about complex socio-economic trends, with some of the information possibly being used for future posts.

1. Do you have an uncle named Bob?

2. Have you ever wondered whether WW's various avatars are actually legitimate illustrations of what he really looks like?

3. Would you care anyway?

4. Do you ever secretly wonder why anyone would actually choose to live in Canada?

5. Do you think it's possible that Homo Escapeons and WW are actually one in the same person, or at least somehow joined at the hip?

6. What is your favourite board game or card game?

7. What is the funniest word you know of? (Examples: Doily; brassiere; panties)

Thank you for your time. If you would like, add other suggestions as you see fit. Another survey may be circulated in the future, once it gets warmer outside.

As a bonus for filling out this questionnaire, for those of you who have wondered about Spaceship Orion, here are the lyrics from that great 1973 song by Ozark Mountain Daredevils, for which I can't find the vid on YouTube:

Spaceship Orion
(Larry Lee)

when the man comes to you
tells you what you always knew was comin'
you feel it came twice as fast
you always thought the world would last way past you

but now you find it's time
'cause there's nothin' left around you
spaceship orion's there waiting to part the air above you

waiting to take you
waiting to place you
in a world exactly different
from the one you leave behind

if you find it man you're lucky
but it still won't be the same
if can't be like home
it can't feel like home
to you there....

it can't be like home
it can't feel like home
to you there
if can't be like home
it can't feel like home
to you there

19.4 YEARS TIL DEATH DO US PART

ACCORDING TO THE LATEST STATISTICS CANADA NUMBERS, I HAVE 19.4 YEARS TO LIVE.

That's right, less than two decades.

Yep, by around 2027, at least based on 2005 stats and current health technology, I'll be little more than a pile of ashes inside some little dusty urn in my daughter's or son's attic.

Or wherever they decide to put me.

Here's the briefest of details on the story:

Average age at death rising in Canada: StatsCan
Updated Mon. Jan. 14 2008 10:11 AM ET
CTV.ca News Staff
THE average age at death for Canadians is rising and the gap in the annual number of deaths between men and women is narrowing, reports Statistics Canada. In 2005, the average age at death for the overall population was 74.2 years.
The average varied widely across Canada, peaking at 75.6 years in Prince Edward Island. The lowest was Nunavut, with an average of just 47.8 years. (Manitoba came out at 74.6 overall; males 71.6, females 77.6).
In 2005, a total of 230,132 people died in Canada, up 1.6 per cent from 2004 -- the fastest annual increase since 2002. The long-term upward trend continues in the wake of a growing and aging population, says StatsCan.

So if I'm 52.2 years old now, I'll live another 19.4 years by my calculations (based on a 71.6-year lifespan), which would bring me to death's door (in 2005 numbers, remember) sometime in April of 2027.

Maybe they'll be jettisoning our corpses into outer space by then. Perhaps they'll come up with some brilliant health-care advances that will be able to extend my existence.

Or maybe they'll put my body into deep-freeze and bring me back to life a few hundred years later, when such technology exists. Or, possibly, they could extract DNA from me and clone me every 71.6 years in perpetuity.

Or...maybe not.

One for the Boys (The Exploding Egg Caper)

I'VE NEVER SEEN MY SON LAUGH SO HARD FOR SO LONG.

And I've never seen my daughter roll her eyes with so much disdain for him and for me...and then refuse to look at me as I tried to take her picture after the fact. She even tried to hide from the camera lens in embarrassment.

My only regret is that I didn't actually see it happen.

Let me set the scene:

Saturday, Jan. 12, 2008, 9:08 a.m.

Daughter, 19, wakes up before dad, 52, and son, 16. Takes her usual place as Queen of the Planet on the couch, turns on TV, hides remote control inside blanket on top of her, knowing how much we both hate her shows.

9:18 a.m.

Dad wakes up, scratches self, crawls out of bed, turns on kettle for coffee, says good morning to daughter, gets paper from mailbox, starts reading with coffee in hand.

10 a.m.

Son awakens to extent he ever really awakens. Immediately commandeers computer to play Final Fantasy game. Hair all amok, as usual. Mumbles something that resembles "I'm hungry."

10:22 a.m.

Dad starts preparing standard homemade egg and bacon with melted cheese on muffin for son. Asks daughter if she would like egg/cheese with mixture. "Yes, please," she orders. Continues to watch innane TV shows.

10:45 a.m.

Daughter has now disappeared into room and closed door, leaving mindless TV crap blaring. Talks to boyfriend on phone. Son finds online Final Fantasy player from UK who needs his help battling bad guys.

Attempts to have Dad reverse cooking process so he can be Mr. Superhero for UK neophyte. Dad glares at him threateningly. Son says: "OK, Dad! OK!"

11:03 a.m.

Dad, reckoning he must feed beast first, shouts out "Evan! Breakfast!" Sends son off to living room with food. Son promptly changes channels on TV, thankfully.

Dad starts cooking daughter's egg, throws muffins in toaster, slices cheese.

11:08 a.m.

Dad calls daughter for breakfast. Recommends V8 high-fibre/low fat juice as culinary accompaniment. Is politely ignored by daughter, who trapses off like princess into living room and assumes control of TV remote.

11:15 a.m.

Dad, now in computer room/bedroom, hears son roar with laughter as daughter almost screams in disgust. Son bursts into my room in hysterics and falls on my bed.

"Monica's egg exploded! The egg yolk's in her hair and all over the place! HA HA HA HA HA!!!

11:15.09 a.m.

"HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!," Dad says as he and son resound together in revelry and merriment.

11:15.18 a.m.

"You guys are such morons," daughter exclaims as she brushes yolk out of her hair with fine-toothed comb, ignoring Dad's reminders that she had whined about him always overcooking eggs in the past.

And then they lived happily ever after.

Long Distance

Oh boy.

And I do mean boy.

But boy means male, and a boy can be any age, really.



I thought my son, 16, was over his long-distance relationship with a girl who used to go to his school and who moved about seven hours north of here.



In fact, it was only Thursday night that he told me thought he would end it, acknowledging that he thought I was right. That's now changed again because she'll be able to come and visit every once in a while.


I had been gently trying to tell him that, well, long-distance relationships don't work, or at least rarely can.


See, there's this problem.



You can get emotionally attached in a beautiful way. But how can you really know who or what you are getting attached to? I mean, totally?



You're getting attached to something or someone you can't see, can't feel, can't touch.


You can't see their eyes when you say something, you can't be mesmerized or repelled or whatever by their body language and little nuances, can't see how they are at 6 a.m. or 11 p.m. or in between.



Emotional attachments, don't get me wrong, are spectacular. They're the foundation, if they last, for amazing relationships. Those kinds of things can't be denied and they're what we all seek the most, I think.



But emotions are just part of the equation, and even then, they can't be totally believed if they're just by email, text messaging, IM or whatever. There's chemistry and intermingling and other neat stuff that no electronic medium can replicate.



There's a look in the eyes, a recoil to the touch, a turn of the cheek towards or away, a whine or a frown or whatever that makes all the difference...smells, unique features or ways of doing things...



A hand placed on the lover's lap that just isn't visible or possible from hundreds or thousands of kilometres or miles away, no matter how passionate you want to be.



I have had, or have tried to have, such relationships. And the results have been, to use a cliche, close but no cigar.



There's a reason why we are creatures who have evolved things like dances and other social occasions to meet members of the opposite sex (or whatever sex we prefer). It's called reality, which includes using all of our natural senses.



My son's decided that because she can come here and visit a few times, that he won't split with her. He knows what I think, because I've told him, but he's going ahead anyway, which is what I've told him he's got to do.



I want him to learn on his own, without me dictating to him, and I want him to make his own mistakes, if that's what this is, and I think it is. We've gotten past the issue of long-distance telephone bills and that stuff.




Now it's just about him and her. I think he'll eventually figure it out himself, but for now, some girl 700 kms. away is almost all he's thinking about.



There's something lovely about that, but also tragic in the sense that the prospects are dim.



But life's prospects are always dim, if you look at it in a negative way. He will learn. And I want him to learn. And to love.