These fond memories were all salvaged from abandoned, dilapidated, crumbling buildings that I explored during my UrbEx days.

UrbEx (or Urban Exploration), traces a large proportion of its origins to Infiltration.org, based in Toronto, and later UER.ca (UrbEx Resources), possibly also Toronto-based. As enthusiasts are quick to point out, people have been exploring (including structures, abandoned or otherwise), since exploration has existed. The only real difference with UrbEx is the fact that a label and a hardhat have been slapped on it.

In 99% of the cases, UrbExers are breaking the law by trespassing, so that’s part of the fun right there.  Then there are the dangerous conditions of some of the buildings, that’s a plus. Also, some locations are remote enough that if you get stuck, you might be seriously fucked.

And then, sometimes, you hit on a cache of salvageables, items that need to be saved. I had no qualms about snatching any of these things before someone set fire to the place, or it was flooded, or collapsed, or was collapsed, etc. etc. In fact, after seeing what happened to some of the places I’d visited, I wish I’d been able to give more things a home.

I took photos too but I don’t know what happened to them. I suspect they’re burned onto some CD sitting around my flat but that doesn’t narrow down the culprits. Hopefully I’ll find them one day, and find them worth sharing.

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It’s so nice to have the pleasure of your company for another instalment of the Guide. I do hope that life has treated you kindly and that during the odd times when it hasn’t that you’ve had some opportunities to practice being practical. And, more importantly, that that practice has brought you some satisfaction.

In this edition I’d like to pull back from street level and look at a couple of larger forms of urban insolence: government and transit. It’s certainly not necessary to go into any sort of detail; insolence comes in many forms from both sides at this level, from new taxes to higher bus fares, and these are not necessarily local or even urban issues. In fact, as I hope you’ll find, the topics covered here have broader applications.

However, for the practical gentleman this poses a profound conundrum: does one take up arms and revolt against increasingly unjust overlords at great risk to oneself and one’s family, or does one resort to enjoyable but much less effective flaming paper bags (with surprise) left on doorsteps?

Alas, neither option seems agreeable, does it? On the one hand we must choose between radical criminal action, on the other classically amusing but ultimately ineffectual pranks. What’s the practical gentleman to do?

A great deal of wisdom has been scratched onto the walls of prisons as regards these matters, but please allow me to at least get the ball rolling:

The Continental

When one can’t be direct but wishes to nonetheless improve a situation, one must think outside the box. If more money is involuntarily leaving our pocket, more must come in to replenish it. It’s a simple balancing act. Thus, the practical gentleman takes his case directly to the people, bypassing the tight-fisted upper echelons altogether.

In this approach, we simply ask passersby to donate for charity, and I must stress strongly that this is not the same as asking for hand-outs. That would be most ungentlemanly and besides, this is an investment. To convince our fellows of this, however, we are required to present our case with a little more flair. Some call this marketing.

We simply invest in a nice colour print-out of the charity we’re representing, a nice binder to put it on the cover of, and a few hundred charitable donation “receipts” to give to anyone who requests them, to go in said binder. And a pen :) The charity is of course you, only jazzed up a bit; marketed better. Try some interesting twists on your name, combine it with a slogan, borrow a nice logo, but keep it all simple. For example, “The Patrick Fund – Fighting poverty at hom e and abroad”. The name must always be entirely truthful and you should always have a full explanation at the ready. In this case, it is a fund that is in my name and to be used to fight poverty in my home, possibly also to fight that woman I don’t much care for. With minor typographical errors.

For the logo, simply take an existing one from anything around you (using a cell phone camera, for example), and cut off everything but a quarter of the image. For simpler logos, like the Nike swoosh, you may have to use a half of the photo. Or, if cutting doesn’t produce satisfactory results, simply flip the image around horizontally or vertically. The McDonald’s golden arches easily become William’s golden catch basin — for money!

But, most importantly, you must add a prominent outline of the African continent on the logo (hence, “The Continental”). This lets people know you like geography. If you don’t, maybe now’s the time you gave it another try! People aren’t going to give their money to just any old schmuck on the street. Let them know how worldly you are, what a great investment you’ll be, why they should believe. Africa, the symbol of hope.

In this way you don’t hide behind any small print and your honesty and commitment to being upfront will shine through. The donations will come pouring in! At the end of the day you can go home satisfied that your fellow human beings have helped you because of a shared sense of civility. Take that, government!

The Convenient

Did you know that local businesses often provide instant financial support to anyone who strolls in through their front doors? It’s true. In most convenience stores, for example, often placed clearly and visibly in front of the cash register is the leave-a-penny take-a-penny bowl. Most store owners don’t contribute to it so they have no say in how it’s apportioned; it’s a social support system by the people, for the people. Including you.

Penny contributions can be made when pennies are abundant in your life. When they’re scarce, you can of course take. But be sure to do so a penny at a time, thus affording someone else the opportunity to take every alternate penny if they wish. A two-second wait period is customary unless no one else is in front of the counter with you.

The only drawback of the take-a-penny system is that some stores carry larger caches than others. I suggest carrying a strong bag (the pennies will get heavy!) and visiting as many shops as you can. Remember, those pennies already belong to you so you’re not required to make idle chit-chat with the shopkeeper. If they give you any trouble, simply threaten to call police. If this is not your style, you may instead opt to dress provocatively. Ladies will have an advantage over the gentlemen here, I’m afraid. Sorry fellas, we can’t win ‘em all.

The Economic

Many economic pundits have been putting forth the idea that being environmentally conscious and being profitable don’t necessarily have to be exclusive of each other. In fact, an amazing array of novel ideas is beginning to surface during these difficult financial times, many of them designed to produce environmental benefits, and many of those turning in tidy profits for anyone willing to put in some effort. The concept of carbon credits, for example, is ingenious but it hasn’t quite caught on yet. The problem is simply a dearth of mass adoption. This means that the market is still very much wide open … for anyone willing to roll up their sleeves and work for it.

Honest rewards for honest labour.

The further upshot of this is that the practical gentleman may rest well at night knowing that he’s earning an income from a noble pursuit, its influence continuing well into the future. The only requirement is a nice smile and a number of carbon credit certificates. There is no currently accepted standard for these – be creative, but keep the initial batch inexpensive. The idea is not to lose money here :)

Now the hard part: we go door to door selling carbon credits. There’s no trick here, you just have to shake hands, sip tea, and sell the hell outta that carbon!

Eventually, you may want to to invest in some fancy paper certificates — set yourself apart from the competition. Just work the cost into the price of the credits.

You can promise clients that each carbon credit they buy will be used to directly sequester a certain amount of green (in your pocket), ‘n house gasses. Not sure exactly what those gasses would be, but probably natural (this is a good, light-hearted jest to open the conversation with – and be sure to hug the potential client).

Of course, you must guarantee each and every certificate. Should the client ever wish to redeem it, you must exchange the credit for the appropriate amount of carbon. Although it’s difficult to get pure carbon, rough carbon (mixed with impurities) may be produced simply by burning something to ashes. This is your contractual obligation so you must honour the request within a reasonable time frame.

One of the biggest arguments against buying credits in this way is that (it is claimed) they are really used to prevent the environmental effects of burning stuff. Haha! What nuthouse did that escape from? If you buy a carbon credit, you should be able to exchange it for carbon. Who’s going to pay for not getting something? When the customer understands that this certificate is worth something, then it becomes a lot more valuable. Treat each buyer like the intelligent human being they are; logic will always wins the day ;)

You’ll have to do some research into going carbon credit prices but, since you probably won’t have any immediate competition in your neighbourhood, you may just be able to set whatever price you want. Just be sure not to price yourself out of the market! :D

I hope, dear reader, these points will help you through the tough times. They were inspired by a certain form of insolence, but their application turns out to be much broader. If the challenge was to think outside the box, hopefully that has been achieved. Certainly they are merely a spot from which to cast off, but hopefully they’ll chart a course to some pleasant tropical island with nice beaches, nice people, and nice drinks with little umbrellas in them. Even Mexico might be a nice escape.

Wishing you a bon voyage!

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Wonderful! :D

Well, let me not waste any more of your time with idle small talk. After all, we’re both here to discuss matters of the practically passive-aggressive gentleman as regards the urban sphere. And the rudeness therein. Right?

For this instalment, I’ve been blessed with the endorsement of the Toronto Transit Commission. Sort of. Lets not belabour that point because what’s important is the general agreement that as temperatures drop, people will be required to be in close quarters with one another as public transit passengers. Notwithstanding the challenges of H1N1, an even larger threat looms on the horizon. It wears the face of the young buck who decides to use the seat in front of him as a footrest, or the young buckette who insists that everyone should hear her mobile conversation, or sometimes that young crowd over there who believe that no one should disembark the train before they first board.

Such behaviour is crass, uncouth, and frankly, insolent. So what’s the practical gentleman to do?

A great deal has been scribed on the walls of public washrooms as regards these matters, but please allow me to at least get the ball rolling:

Flatulence for Feet

A variation of this technique was featured in a previous guide. However, on closer inspection, the advice within that guide proved most unpractical. Gathering large numbers of people together is difficult enough. Doing so for group farts, even more so.

However, working individually, I believe it could be accomplished. The premise is the same as in the previous guide; load up on legumes, Brussels sprouts, and anything that will arm your gut with something genuinely unpleasant. Improvise: eggs, onions (good on both ends), fried garlic (ditto! plus delicious!), pickled cabbages, and so on. Make a meal of it. :D

Then, when you spot yonder young man with legs outstretched o’er the spot in front of him, shoes dripping wet muck directly into the middle of the seat, you must smite him directly! And of course, by that I mean that you simply sit beside him, saddle up good and close, and start tearing off some justice. Be all cool and relaxed about it, like you’ve just come home, sat on the couch, and just let it all hang out. “Ahhh. Comfy.” The odour should infect the cabin forthwith.

If the offending party protests, simply smile and inquire why he should get to make himself at home and you can’t. You paid your ticket like everyone else, didn’t you? Feet on the seat? Okay. But I get to fart. It’s how I get comfortable.

Hopefully the point will be driven straight up the nose and off the seat.

Of course, you could also simply try asking him to take his  feet off the seat first, but that would defeat the purpose of the ghastly meal you’d ingested the night before, wouldn’t it?

Music for Mouths

Is it safe to assume that most of us have cell phones today? Why not use them to battle those who abuse their own mobiles by TALKING TOO LOUD. For this, you need to read a section of your owner’s manual for the device to figure out how to preview ringtone sounds and set the speaker volume to maximum. You probably already know how – I trust that all TCL readers are exceptionally clever.

In this exercise the offending party, who is making a racket into her mobile, is simply approached. No interaction required; in fact, a nonchalant looking the other way is more effective. Then, our mobile phone is extracted from its hiding place, and the previewing of the ringtones commences. At top volume. Start bobbing your head. Damn, all so good – can’t decide. “Hello, Moto” – funky fresh!

“Excuse me sir, could you please stop doing that?!” (over the din *giggle*)

“Huh?!” *looking genuinely puzzled, but not enough to stop playback*

“Could you please stop doing that?!”

“Oh!! Oh!!” *sudden stop*

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear my phone over the din of your voice. And din (*wearing a look that says “smarten up!”*) means loud noise.”

You can leave that last bit off; it’s there just for extra bite. :D

To be even less conspicuous you could use the music playback capabilities of your phone to loop a frenetic sounding ringtone. Many phones may have a record option, in which case you can simply scream into the phone to record your message. Plug your headphones into your MP3 player, turn that bad boy up, and do the same with your phone. Use your back pocket to host the merry noisemaker – good if you’re standing and the offending party’s sitting. You get the added benefit of having the racket coming directly from your ass. Terrific!

Again, there is the option of approaching the offending party and simply asking them to tone it down if possible, but what waste of much research and masterful skill, don’t you think?

Pricks for Pushers

This particular example of insolence may do more than simply annoy you, it may cause you to miss your stop entirely. In this scenario, the offending parties are multiple, seemingly aligned against you and closing in as a unit (this actually happens regularly!). You just need for one person to step aside and let you through because you’ve got nowhere else to go but back onto the train. Alas, no one does you the courtesy.

In this case, I feel it’s fair to single out one person who seems to be particularly obstinate, and simply approach him, stare at his crotchal area for a bit, point firmly to it, and returning to look him in the eye say, “Your penis is showing.” Fully serious face.

If it happens to be a woman who is hell-bent on pushing you back on the train, the same words may work just as well if delivered with conviction. I find that a single nod while speaking to drive home the point is the gesture that makes it a serious matter.

The point here isn’t to deliver a crushing insult or even a glancing blow, it’s simply to stun the opponent momentarily while you brush by them with an “excuse me”. Classy.

This example is one of those rare cases where I believe there is no alternative approach. There simply isn’t time to reason in that situation, and the offending party’s ego shouldn’t be sufficiently bruised to make him want to miss his train. Or her train. Though in all honesty,  a delivery by a lady to a gentleman is probably the most powerful version of this technique. Ladies will have an advantage over the gentlemen here, I’m afraid. Sorry fellas, we can’t win ‘em all.

–

Well, wasn’t that a rousing collection of techniques? I certainly do hope you get some practical use out of them. Apply liberally, for insolence does not sleep when we are tired. We should seek to banish it from within our midst at every opportunity. Because, and I don’t know about you, but I must admit to an innate dislike of the wet seat, the unnecessary noise, and the strange unwillingness to hold back just one second so that I can leave the train.

However, I firmly believe that together, we can lick this problem, one offending party at a time. As long as we hold to the ideals of justice, truth, an eye for an eye, and two men enter — one man leaves, then we can be sure we’re doing it for the right reasons.

Till next time!

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Of course, the effrontery of The War would have been ample fodder for the practical gentleman, but as you may recall, I was required to relinquish my post for the War effort.

Happily, those days are now behind me and we may once again walk down the instructive path of the refined, practical gentleman together. So it is with great pleasure that I present today’s topic, the Sudden Stop.

Undoubtedly, we all find ourselves in one specific type of situation from time to time. Please allow me to illustrate.

Picture yourself walking up Yonge Street:

The crowd ahead is occupying almost the entire sidewalk. The whole bulk, with you in tow, is moving … slowly … but moving. You’d like to pass, but with every cabby trying to mow you down the moment you set foot on the road, there’s no choice but to be patient. So you are.

*whistling an idle tune*

And then it speeds up! Great! You’re moving at a good clip, everybody’s hopping … now you’re moving!

BAM!

Three or four people suddenly stop dead, all on queue – psychically linked somehow – right in front of you.

Have you been drinking a bit? Maybe you’ve been dipping into the baggie a little? Tired and cranky? All of the previous? Now that’s a full-on flesh on flesh pile-up with bits of you touching all the unsavoury bits of him and … oh my God, does he not shower?! *KHAK* (that’s onomatopoeia for gross)

Or perhaps you’re on the ball – Concentration McGee – and you can feel it in your bones; these people are all going to come to the realization that they’ve already passed Abercrombie and Fitch and, seemingly all sharing the same delayed brain, stop at the exact same moment. With your cat-like reflexes you — *ptang!* (bullet ricochet) –  stop on a dime. In fact, you’re so quick, you actually have time to mull over the possibility of bowling into them anyway, just for fun.

One must now ask that ever-present question: what’s the practical gentleman to do?

A great deal of literature deals with the subject of the Sudden Stop, but allow me to at least get the ball rolling:

The Sprung Gherkin

This simple effect is sure to be a crowd pleaser.

Simply make physical contact with the offending party as described in the primary collision scenario above. Though this will be unpleasant, the reward will be well worth it.

Now simply drop to the ground, holding your crotch tightly, grimacing in excruciating “pain”. Deliver the following dialogue: “Awwwrrr! I think the stitches fell out! Oh my God this feels like … awwwwrrr!” (It’s best to rehearse this ahead of time.)

Arise.

You now have the option of hobbling your way through a parted crowd with understandable urgency, or accepting some cab money from the offending parties to shoot off to see your “doctor”.

The Burgled Trouser

Although this scenario may be put to good use by anyone if properly played, ladies will have an advantage over the gentlemen here, I’m afraid. Sorry fellas, we can’t win ‘em all.

As with the Gherkin effect, this will require you to make physical contact with the offending party. In this instance, however, care must be used to choose the male offending party. Preferably one with a girlfriend :)

As with the previous effect, place your hands over your crotch (ladies, you can be significantly more creative), leap back and yell, “Get your damn hand off me you sick [favourite expletive]!”

If the offending party tries to get a word in, remind him in detail of the full scrotal inspection he just gave you (again, ladies, go nuts).

I’m afraid this doesn’t accomplish much but it sure will make you feel good. And what if the girlfriend already suspected he was gay (or pervert)? Ahh. Didn’t your afternoon just get a little sunnier?

The Snafu’d Tourist

It’s good to be reminded that among pedestrian groups there will usually be some tourists. They couldn’t be more prominent: cameras, assorted Toronto paraphernalia, maps, sensible shoes:

With them, be gentle, for they know not what they do. Try to avoid colliding, if possible. If you do bump into each other, it is incumbent on you to be courteous but practical.

Remind them that coming to a sudden stop in the middle of a busy sidewalk, even just to quickly check their map, is not only dangerous but illegal: “Oh man, you guys lucked out. Last week I stopped on the sidewalk for, like, half a second, and the cop was already writing me the ticket. Yeah! They ticket you for stopping. A hundred and twenty bucks, can you believe it? Man, City Hall. What a bunch of hosebags! Can’t believe that law even passed. But hey, listen, you seem like nice folks so I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Lean in close and whisper, “They can’t ticket you for standing in a parking lot.”

With a nod, wink, and a friendly “shoo-shoo”, wave them goodbye and wish them green lights the entire way.

Keep moving! That’s it!

Now you’ve done everyone a service. Doesn’t that feel wonderful?

I find it very rewarding to be able to share with you these practical examples of how to deal with modern urban insolence. It is gratifying to know that not all of the techniques at the practical gentleman’s disposal are rough, but it is equally comforting to know that they are nonetheless at hand. So to speak.

Thank you once again for your attention and most kind patronage. Until next time!

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This time we have a website and a comfortable patch of grass. I would applaud this effort, I really would. But I actually started to read the web page:

“We want to re-examine public space and to create work which explores our relationship with the space we inhabit. We wish to de-center and disrupt the accepted n…”

*snore*

*snore*

Wuzzuh?!

*wipe drool*

I don’t know what that site meant but I’ve reprimanded my netbook for showing it to me. I’m sorely tempted to put my programming skills to use in creating a tedious content filter of some sort. When it would detect a web page that fell below the customizable tedium level, the browser would warn you with a gentle weeping sound lest you waste a moment of your valuable life. Also, a shudder if your hardware is equipped for it.

Meh. I’d rather be outside anyway. It’s hard to be bored, especially with Caribana just around the corner. And the rampant crime that goes with it:

That’ll go up to twenty bucks on the weekend. Bumbaclot!

Lamport Stadium is where the Caribana judging takes place, and if memory serves, they have about one-hundred million-billion floats and get-ups to evaluate. It’s a lot, whatever the precise number is.

When it comes to parade costumes, people go certifiably insane. They seal themselves up in darkened workshops for months on end, devoid of any human contact. There, they toil away, metamorphosing wire, fabric, and sequins into wings, antennae, and gaudy headdresses.

Finally, after many months and a third refinancing of the house, they emerge.

As a beautiful, gargantuan butterfly!

I’m sure it’s much more impressive than it looks. From what I remember of past parades, the costumes are enormous. That thing he’s pulling out of the truck is probably meant to be worn on the eyebrow. The rest of the costume usually arrives by helicopter.

I suppose I can understand why they’d want these creations protected behind fences this weekend, but I’m not sure if they’re legally allowed to call it Caribana unless everyone, including spectators, are jumping around. Seems like a fence would dampen that enthusiasm.

When I walked along Lakeshore Boulevard (the parade route) today, it felt a bit like I was in a penitentiary exercise yard. With the natural barrier of Lake Ontario on one side, and the gun-turret-like projections of the Direct Energy Centre on the other, winin’ and/or grinin’ just seems out of place.

Guess we’ll just have to see.

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And then, counting to ten, I find my special happy place and ask: What would the practical gentleman do?

This is, after all, undesired behaviour that does deserve to be dealt with. While I feel that mild destruction of property is justified when a life has been threatened, in this case we must temper our response. He / she is simply in the state of being a jerk and thus requiring an equal but opposite rejerktion.

The field of study here is broad and varied, but allow me to at least get the ball rolling:

The Bait and Jerk

Simple to do and requiring nothing more than a swift foot, simply tap on the offending party’s shoulder while moving around and in front of them. The nimbler the dance, the greater the effect — you have time to straighten up and posture like you’ve been there a while. Dare you look back and start a conversation to complain about the lines at GO stations? I’ll leave that one up to you.

The Jerk and Switch

A good talking to can sometimes be persuasive, but so often it descends into all sorts of pejorative expressions. There is a wonderful technique I learned, involving minimal conversation, that can be used to let the offending party know just how much of a dullard they are. Incidentally, you can also use it to get you out of having to pay for dinner.

For this you get an unwilling participant to help you out; security are good because they usually don’t have the power to arrest you afterward. But really, anyone can be co-opted. It’s also useful to use someone a bit further away so that they can’t easily hear you. That’s important.

Timing is also important.

First, signal the co-opted friend (perhaps soon to be enemy). Wave at them, get their attention. Once you have them, hold up your hand  to signal them to wait a moment. This gesture is very authoritative. Now turn around and get the attention of the offending party. Be direct: it’s urgent, but only because someone is desperately trying to get their attention back there. Point the co-opter out in the crowd.

Now utter the magic words, “that woman / man there needs to talk to you. Says they have something of yours?” Include a shrug because you’re not sure if you heard it right. Right?

If the confusion that results lasts for a few moments at the right time of day, you can stack a few people in line between you and the offending party before they manage to return. Now you have witnesses!

The Jerk Chicken

Just scream at the top of your lungs. Belt it out; let all the beauty of the universe out in a long, bellowing roar. Screech like you’re having a steak knife driven dramatically through your heart. Ladies will have an advantage over the gentlemen here, I’m afraid. Sorry fellas, we can’t win ‘em all.

Now that everyone is frozen stiff with terror and shock, simply step in front of the offending party whilst assuring everyone that it’s simply a misunderstanding. Non-violent resolution to a conflict, see? All sorted, the gentleman / lady simply made a mistake.

And when security start to question you, simply ask if violence was the right answer in that situation. And should you be wasting security’s time with such matters? I mean, wasn’t that solution the most appropriate for the situation?

Hot coffee is, after all, for enjoying and not wasting on someone’s face.

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That’s something I understand only too well. Riding on the regional GO train not only wasn’t an economically viable alternative (gas+parking+maintenance was cheaper than taking the train), but it was also an extremely frustrating exercise.

When infrequent trains or equipment would break down, GO would offer no alternatives. Despite the fact that they have a fleet of alternate vehicles (buses), they would simply shut down the system and, literally, leave everyone stranded. If the much bigger and less subsidized TTC were to do this, young Adam Giambrone would be out on his ear.

So, let’s see: GO transit sucks for so many reasons + it’s cheaper to drive than it is to take GO = everyone drives

Toronto city hall has managed to entirely miss this equation, but I suppose you can’t blame them if they’ve never had their testicles dyed blue with the chemical flush that splashes around the shallow toilet bowl of a moving train. And only after you’ve put your hand in a pile of stuff do you discover that there’s no water in the tap, all the paper towels have been used to plug up the toilet (oh, Jesus! The blue water’s almost at the rim!), and the last of the toilet paper is stuck to your shoe with a heel-bound sample of self-same stuff. And now the knock on the door: “Ticket inspector! Need to see your ticket!

Driving is just more pleasant.

So I get why people want to drive, and I happen to think a recent proposal to ban right turns on red lights in the city is boneheaded. Besides, I don’t think the inconsiderate and frankly dangerous jerks who pick off people at intersections would care one way or another.

I witnessed an altercation between a motorist and a jogger where the motorist yelled at a woman for, “running in the street.”  The lady retorted with, “Pedestrians have the right of way, and especially on a green light! I can run back and forth all I like if I want to!”

Right on, lady!

Unfortunately, Mr. and Mrs. Jerk, Jerk junior, and little miss Jerkette were already peeling out onto Lakeshore boulevard in their angry little suburban minivan (they had an Oshawa sticker on the back).

That’s the sad truth of it: the troglodyte behind the wheel barely has the opposable thumbs to operate the signals let alone understand our complex human speech. Bright colours and loud noises startle him (or her), and sends him into a fit (I think it’s called “road rage”), so he’s pretty much constantly screaming at everything around him.

I don’t mind calling such people rude names; people’s lives are at stake, and over what? So the driver can rush to the next stoplight ten meters down the road? Won’t you join me in wishing them all a heartfelt “fuck you”, another for the horse they rode in on, and one for each life they’ve put into danger?

They probably won’t hear a word. By the time your middle fingers come to full mast, they’ll be mowing down another crowd of pedestrians further down the road.

What’s a practical gentleman to do?

I’m usually in favour of something embarrassing or pejorative, but it’s clear that in this situation that won’t work. The metal shell that protects the offending party makes most standard gestures futile.

Cycling enthusiasts long ago came up with the brilliant key-down-the-side of the car, but paint jobs are surprisingly difficult to scratch these days. It’s also a procedure that can be noisy, potentially resulting in fisticuffs.

Why risk that when there are other interesting solutions?

All of these require preparation of some sort but this wouldn’t be the “practical” guide if they weren’t easy to prepare.

The first of these is very cost-effective and easy to carry around on the street: eggs. They can be kept intact or broken. I believe that scrambled (raw) would be most effective, but I don’t think you’ll lose the effectiveness either way.

Eggs on a car may seem like an obvious, even juvenile, act, but eggs are well known to either discolour or even completely strip paint off of cars. They don’t do this immediately and if the driver stops and cleans them right away, no harm will be done.  If the driver keeps on like a maniac without slowing down, the eggs will deliver delayed justice without remorse. Can you think of a more poignant and ironic way to say you care?

For an immediate effect, the ladies have an advantage over the gents. A simple splash of nail polish (this is what all those awful colours are for), will provide you with satisfaction and chuckles for quite some time. Removing this colour after it’s dried will mean potentially removing the surrounding paint as well; they bond very well. The situation can be made infinitely more amusing if one were to splay themselves on the hood of the car, blood-red polish splashed on hood and windshield, and perhaps a blood-curdling scream if one can be mustered.

If you’re already adding paint, why not consider removing it again? Some lacquer thinner (even nail polish remover may work), and that electric blue car suddenly seems less cheery. Alas, dear reader, this technique is not one that I am personally acquainted with so I can’t recommend the most effective product. But if you spend any time walking in the city, I’m certain you’ll have ample opportunity to conduct field research of your own.

In closing, I would like to remind you that this is act is important for everyone’s safety, not just your own. I can guarantee that I will avoid any horribly defaced car I see in the future; teach your kids to do the same.

Think of the children!

You don’t have to try ‘em to know, most drugs will mess you up in one way or another, more or less. Seems like you get good bang for your buck most of the time. Cigarettes do what…give you a head rush for a couple of minutes? Seems like an awful cheap buzz to me.

But whatever. Just, please, try to keep it downwind when you’re near a group. It just seems like a courteous thing to do, you know?

I was set to thinking down this path by events that took place in the second installment (here’s the first)  in what I’m now calling the The Practical Gentleman’s Guide to Urban Insolence. I think it has a nice ring to it. The practical aspect comes from the truly useful actionable advice I can offer when confronted with unpleasantness; such as the gentleman who managed to blanket a group of people with his Malboro so entirely, he hardly seemed to notice the harsh glances he was getting from downwind. Mostly, I think, people were upset because he abandoned his spot even further downwind for this prime location, seemingly for no other reason than he enjoyed the view.

I suppose he has as much right to smoke as I do to not and, you know, there’s that entire “well if not on the sidewalk, then where?” thing. Yeah, just take it down there where it don’t bother so many people.

Common — as in, for most people — Courtesy — as in, it’s a nice thing to do.

This would not be the practical gentleman’s guide if there weren’t some advice on dealing with the more societally obtuse subjects for whom courtesy is neither common nor a word in the vocabulary.

I’m certain this may have been suggested before (on a smaller scale), but I was thinking that as a planned group demonstration, this could be quite effective.

First would come the day-before meals. They would have to be planned very carefully to be as friendly to the bacteria in the lower intestine as possible; foods like cabbage, onions, brussels sprouts, cauliflower, broccoli, and beans. There are other alternatives that will work better for others, but it’d be hard to go wrong either way. It’s the effort that counts!

The next day, spotting the offending target, the group would all line up upwind and face all gluteous maximii at said target. At the mark, all would release the most rancorous, malodorous, belching fart they could muster, and send it on its way with a kiss. The breeze would do all the work, delivering the malevolent chemical message to the receiving party.

Job well done! High-fives all around!

Then run.

I had been depending on the bitter cold to stay in place; I needed liquids to be able to flash-freeze on contact with surfaces. Unfortunately, a major thaw settled over the city and I ended up with nothing more than slush and puddles, and my originally planned topic ran down the storm drain along with everything else.

I was moping along until, my eye being drawn by a reflected glint of sunlight, I spotted something just as worthy of an in-depth article: a filthy snowbank, slowly disintegrating in the gentle afternoon sun, dislodging it’s treasures onto the sidewalk.

It occurred to me that the layers of the grimy snow (and more importantly their contents) were, in a sense, a sort of stratified time capsule much like the earth embankments of traditional archeological digs. Each line represented a period in which it snowed sufficiently to engulf any lost or discarded articles.

We could (more or less) correlate these layers’ contents to actual calendar days and trace the history of the pile.  A whole two months’ worth of history just lay there in the dirty ice waiting to be uncovered! It became clear that the breadth and width of the project would be staggering. Cataloging each find would prove exceedingly time consuming,  so I had to satisfy myself with a cursory examination, analysis, and much plagiarized research [bet you didn't know this was science!], results of which are listed here for your leisurely perusal.

Winter Clothing

This is by far the most common seasonal urban artifact. Most items show evidence of having fallen from pockets or been carelessly cast off, but there are occasional areas where this theory breaks down as entire matching ensembles have been discovered. More rarely, an occasional parka makes an appearance as do understandably discarded ear muffs.

The evidence clearly demonstrates past cultures’ penchant for disposable outerwear. We can only guess at what other perversions these “people” had.

Footwear

This ancient remnant is most often found in the Muntadhar al-Zaidi era strata of archeological sites. Most puzzling to scholars has been the almost complete absence of the second shoe or boot, leading some researchers to posit that humans during this era (roughly sixty days ago) were single-legged and travelled by means of hopping. Scientists have yet to figure out how boots or shoes would become so easily dislodged, especially in mid-winter. However, there is a general consensus that having the ability to always buy shoes at half price would make the items less valuable and more likely to be tossed aside.

Appliances

Large, unwieldy behemoths were apparently the order of the day during the last days of the Joe The Plummer era. Boffins [the thesaurus does indeed have many entries in this area] believe that the generation’s influx of new appliances  (informally named the “Christmas” era) produced an overabundance of crappy late-eighties housewares that required immediate disposal. While such artifacts may be seen within almost all strata, truly ancient representations appear mainly around college dorms and student housing. Recent discoveries, including the monstrous “Rotisserie” (pictured left) have cast doubt on the veracity of previous findings. Suggestions to explain such shocking discoveries include:

• The guys responsible for disposing of it were really lazy.
• The guys responsible for disposing of it got high before work.
• Both of the above.

Perhaps future investigations will reveal the true answer.

Excrement

Canine feces (or “dog shit” as they’re called by researchers) are often found at the lowest-most layers of the strata. At this advanced age, artifacts suffer from significant bleaching and aging, producing brittle and fragile specimens. In fact, any casual passerby may carelessly dismiss “dog shit” for brittle sugar sticks or, in more extreme cases of decay, icing sugar.

One would be well advised to not to attempt to taste such findings, however, but instead to deliver them to experts for analysis. Flaming paper bags are the preferred mode of delivery.

Cigarettes

This is a refreshingly familiar relic to most readers. In fact, you might be sucking on one right now. That cool menthol breeze has wafted through every layer of history, leaving it’s indelible mark on each one. Despite the ever-present coughing, wheezing, and horking of loogies by enthusiasts, this timeless pastime continues to be a big hit with city residents and visitors alike.

Perhaps most surprising is how little each new era has changed the ubiquitous little c-stick. At each stratum one can find butts in various states of decomposition, from the just-smoked to the nicotine-stain-with-a-filter, but all with roughly the same dimensions.

For a long time this similarity puzzled investigators until one brilliant discovery last Wednesday. Roaming bands of bums were seen to be smoking discarded cigarettes down to the nub resulting in the same length as all archeological butts. Surely this is no coincidence.

Natural Resources

These are found mostly in the bottom-most layer of sites. Typical components include various caches of petro-chemical pools, pre-formed aluminum deposits, nickel disks, and ancient flora and fauna  (e.g. rats, potted plants, etc.)

Being blocked by a deeper layer of sedimentary concrete, little else is known beyond this time period.

The Future of S.U.A.

I’m happy to have brought you this glimpse at what, I’m sure you’ll agree, is a fascinating subject. Future seasonal urban archeology is bound to be a rewarding field for any young up-and-comer that is able to hold back their bile. Each new season offers fresh opportunities to explore the strange and disgusting refuse of months gone by, and there doesn’t seem to be any shortage of raw research materials forecast for the near future.

Perhaps, if the forecast agrees with me, that original idea I mentioned at the top will also find its way to the surface. In the meantime, be sure to separate your recyclables.

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