JPod

by Douglas Coupland

  In order to keep my podmates' minds off the insect-like sounds of Kaitlin's rustling food packaging, I made up a template and challenged them each to use five hundred words or less to sell themselves as if they were on eBay.

  IT workers > Game junkies > Infinite sadness > I am the ghost of troubled Joe

  All-purpose IT Worker & Stud.

  "Cancer Cowboy." One only. Cool in a SteveMcQueen Kind of Way.

  Description

  You are bidding on the fully functional IT worker "Cancer Cowboy," serial number: CASPER JAMES JESPERSON. 28 years old. Some scarring. What you see in the photo is what you get. Not responsible for congenital health issues or bastard children who may or may not appear on owner's doorstep.

  Cowboy has been extensively reconditioned by a recently vacated ex-girlfriend, and has had a NEW wardrobe installed by overpriced designer boutiques that give you cappuccinos while you shop. Cowboy's hair has also been beautifully reconditioned by a pair of nail scissors, half a bottle of tequila and persistent self-esteem issues.

  IT workers the world over know of Cancer Cowboy's manly prowess. Pilot your way through his many levels and bonus rounds, dodging STDs and provincial in-office cigarette smoking regulations. For double-gun firepower, acquire liquor, cleverly mixed CD song sets and antibiotics.

  Most sellers will not tell you what I'm telling you because they want you to believe their product is "mint" and will never break. That's obviously impossible.

  Click on picture to enlarge what is already large.

  Supersize picture

  Shipping and payment details

  L@@K WOW!!!!!

  Mega-Rare Tech Ho

  Complete w/ Stalled Career

  Description

  This auction is for Bree Jyang, who has fallen into the depressingly predictable yet still sexy Bettie Page look/thing/whatever.

  Bree is 64 inches tall and has jointed arms and legs and a moveable head. Her hair is long, black and rooted, and her makeup is flawless, complete with mole on left cheek.

  Bree also sometimes wears a large sombrero hat, a style that was brought back into the limelight when The Rocketeer was released, starring Jennifer Connelly and Timothy Dalton.

  Bree is wearing a gold silk-look crop top with a daring neckline and black and gold shoulder straps; her 7 1/2-inch heels are so Dita Von Teese.

  Bree's inner life is one of burlesque, complete with singers and saucy strippers, including famed female impersonator Vickie Lynn. In her mind, Bree has even made a guest appearance in the greatest stripper movie of all time, Varietease.

  Bree was born on April 22, 1980, in Nanaimo, BC, where she was known as Dark Queen of Bondage. Okay, not really, but she knew what she liked at an early age. In 2002 she was discovered by her parents to have not enough concern for her future, so she was shipped to one of 400 videogame design schools in Vancouver, where it turned out she not only had a flair for game design, but was also but a mere gentle puff of a rotating nipple tassel away from four local strip clubs.

  Bree is awaiting your interest. She has just changed her outfit and is now wearing a fabulous "Bow" bustier by Bali, style #8211, c. 1940s, with a black satin torso. The cups are stunning and have black sheer-illusion lace with the famous "circle stitch" for that sizzling sweater-girl bullet-bra look. The size on tag reads 36D and will fit up to a 38" bust. Bree would like to know what you are wearing, too.

  If Bree is something you've been looking for, don't let this pass you by! BUYBREE NOW AND SAVE! CHECK OUT MY OTHER AUCTIONS! SHOP EASILYBY THUMBNAIL PICTURE GALLERIES!

  Wage slavery > Temporary > Get to the point > Let X = X > Start

  2005 All-Star Winner Mark Jackson

  Buy it Now!

  Description

  You are bidding on a comprehensive LOT OF CHARACTER TRAITS made from premium DNA and SPECIFIC CULTURAL CIRCUMSTANCES: MARK JACKSON IS A TECH MONEY BONANZA CONTENDER, THREE-D CODER AND HARDWARE DESIGNER to name a few. This lot is also LOADED WITH FEATURES: PERSEVERANCE, AMBITION, A 3.9 COLLEGE GPA and, if I listen to my shit-head cubicle neighbours, EVIL.

  CODING LANGUAGES (C++, SOFTIMAGE) ABILITY TO BENCH PRESS 250, ENCYCLOPEDIC KNOWLEDGE OF NFL, CFL & NBA STATS, 4% BODY FAT, NATURALLY ENDOWED WITH EPIC GREEK MUSCLES (SIDES OF STOMACH). Currently KILLING TIME UNTIL MY SECRET HARDWARE IDEAS ARE PATENTED AND MADE GLOBAL. YOU LOOK AT RICH PEOPLE AND THEIR PICTURES AND WONDER, WHY IS THAT PERSON RICH AND NOT ME? THERE'S NO ANSWER TO THIS, EXCEPT TO SAY THAT I AM GOING TO BE RICH.

  Other GOOD VALUES appear in abundance in this lot, and exceed the best 2005 tech employees now being offered on eBay Everything you see will be included w/ no surprises.

  Quiet life > Unexamined > No frills > Normal > Undamaged

  Sensible Value for Typical Fellow

  Description

  John Doe comes with no scary Web links or disturbing images stashed in the bowels of his computer. Not one. What few cuts and dings exist are exposed for all to see, as is his small bald spot. John Doe is clean and sensible, but can also be stylish if enough advance notice is given. To be this good a deal, John has had to be stored in a garage for an awfully long time.

  John Doe is excellent for families and clean normal living. Yes, John Doe has all the features that are a must-have in today's hectic world.

  Dude > XBox > Wolverine > Open source

  Ethan Jarlewski

  Description

  Ethan was developed in a cool, dry, non-smoking home and was released in 1976. His body movements are disarmingly realistic, and his voice feature often works when connected to a compatible play set.

  Ethan is a hard-to-find item, especially in this condition, Good to Very Good or better. He has no tan and his acne ended four years ago. All wiring and plumbing is in good order. No manual is included, but his operation is highly intuitive. WARNING: Ethan does not respond well when people try to change him. Highest bidder takes him as is, NO REFUNDS.

  Ethan remains highly annoyed by the Sprite™ ad campaign from the late 1990s and early 2000s, even though that campaign is over. "Obey Your Thirst"—what kind of idiotic slogan is that? "Gee, I'm thirsty, but I'd better not drink anything, because that would mean obeying my thirst." Ethan is also annoyed by the Audi campaign that says, "Never Follow." Frankly, Ethan is annoyed with all of these dumb campaigns that indoctrinate millions of people into thinking they're tough-guy free spirits when, in fact, there's probably much to be said for following and, in any event, the food chain isn't structured to encompass millions of non-followers. So you end up with a population of frustrated, brink-of-bitterness cranks.

  Like anyone, Ethan Jarlewski enjoys a good game. Of the following true or false questions, only one is true. Choose which one and win an insider's discount and free shipping with real bubble-pack, not crumpled paper. Ethan is yours for the having—bid with confidence!

  . . .

  Dad phoned while I was trying to beat Super Metroid on a PC SNES emulator (in under an hour and ten, with no more than 50% items).

  "Ethan, come out to the set and spend time with me."

  "Dad, it's eleven p.m. I'm still at work. What's wrong?"

  "Is it so much to ask that you come cheer up your old man?"

  "Dad, hanging out on sets is boring. They're even more boring than ballrooms. Learn how to knit."

  "The food here sucks."

  "Dad, are you even listening to me?"

  "And the actress in this dog of a movie is vegan, so everybody else has to be one, too."

  "Unions allow that?"

  "Ethan, I really need you here."

  "Is it Ellen?"

  "No."

  "What is it, then?"

  "I said it was nothing. I just want to see you."

  "I'm going to hang up if you don't tell me what's going on."

  "Oh, all right. It's Kam Fong."

  "He's messing with your life?"

  "Yeah."

  "How? Why?"

  "He got . . . a speaking part on this movie."

  "What?"
<
br />   "What a prick, huh?"

  "He's not even an actor. How did he get a speaking part?"

  "Well, you know, since that night at the club, we've become pretty good friends, so I invited him out here to visit the set. I was taking him from the crew parking lot to the cameras, when he stepped in a puddle and dirtied his precious booties. He went mental in Mandarin, and the director heard him. How authentic! ht shrieked, and bingo. Kam Fong is Mister moo-goo-gai-pan-Charlie-Chan-me-so-horny Asian actor guy, and I'm still a generic asshole who gets blown up at the start of act one."

  "Being blown up is pretty good. At least for a few seconds the audience is focused entirely on you."

  "This big woof-woof of a movie is a gorefest. Nobody's going to notice me."

  "Hey wait—a vegan actress is doing a movie with so much violence?"

  "I know—weird, huh?"

  I couldn't keep Dad sidetracked for long.

  "All those years in voice training and method and workshops, and this shit-for-brains steps in a puddle, and he's already drawing blueprints for his personal trailer."

  "Dad, mellow out. It's a small speaking part. Big deal."

  Sniffle.

  "Dad, are you crying?"

  "Am I a jerk-off of a father to call his son in a time of need?"

  "Okay, okay, I'm coming. Where are you?"

  As I was driving out to Dad's shoot, Mom called my cell. "Ethan?"

  "Hi, Mom."

  "Where are you?"

  "In the car. I'm heading out to see Dad on the set."

  "Why?"

  "He called me up—he's bummed because Kam Fong got a speaking part in his movie."

  "What's the deal with your father and this new best friend of his, Mr. Kung Fu? They're on the phone all day, talking about ballroom dancing."

  "Mom, Kam Fong's head of a Chinese people-smuggling syndicate. He doesn't have time to be Dad's secret gay lover."

  "He's your father's gay lover?"

  "No. But he loves ballroom dancing, and you don't."

  "Ethan, you know how boring that ballroom world is."

  "Yeah, but Dad loves it."

  "All those divorcees dressed like fourteen-year-old figure skaters."

  "Well, now he finally has a friend to discuss it with."

  Silence.

  "Mom?"

  Silence again.

  "Mom—are you jealous?"

  "Me? No. Why should I be jealous? My husband is merely spending all his waking moments with a man who probably has five bolero jackets at the dry cleaners, and a dozen fruit-flavoured lip smackers concealed in an ostrich-feather clutch purse."

  "Mom, what are you doing up at"—I looked at the dash clock—"eleven-thirty?"

  " "I can't sleep."

  "How come?"

  "Oh, nothing."

  I let it go and said good night—it was too late in the day to investigate Mom's interior world, too.

  At the set, I found Dad and Kam Fong practising ballroom dance steps with invisible partners.

  So much for Dad being miserable.

  "Hi, guys."

  "We're rehearsing a variation on the East Coast Swing. Ready, Kam?"

  "Ready."

  As a duo, they began to move, and in my head I remembered all the colour-commentary dance notations I'd had to learn while growing up . . .

  ... backaway

  ... she turns

  ... he turns

  ... tuck-in release

  ... basic step in open position

  ... underarm turn in open position

  ... change of places

  ... crossover turn in open position

  ... behind the back changes

  ...flirtation . close.

  "I hear you got a speaking part, Kam Fong," I said when they stopped. "Congratulations."

  "I never thought of being in films before."

  "What's your character?"

  "I play a Chinese gang kingpin. The guy who was supposed to be playing it had an allergic reaction to erythromycin. He's dead."

  "It's your big break."

  "You said it."

  Dad didn't like this conversation. He cut it short. "Ethan, I have to go out to Port Coquitlam on an errand. Come with me."

  "Errand?"

  ' Yeah. The guy who helps your mother and me get boodeg satellite TV signals has gone to the Yucatan. We need to get a software patch for the satellite card from his brother. He lives way out in the boonies."

  "What's the hurry?"

  "Your mother wants to catch a Sex and the City marathon tomorrow, and I like to watch Band of Brothers in the mornings. It gives me a lift for the rest of the day."

  "Dad, just buy a satellite card. What's the big deal?"

  "Pay full price, when I can get one for almost nothing? Talk about throwing money away."

  "You North American young people spend money like crazy," added Kam.

  "He practically lives in restaurants," Dad said, nodding in my direction, "and last year he bought a fridge and paid retail."

  "Fool."

  "You dragged me out here just so you could have some company in the car?"

  "Yes."

  What the hell. "Oh, all right."

  Dad's car was being detailed by a gofer, while my car had been hemmed in by a trailer, so we borrowed Kam's two-ton smuggling-mobile. Our destination? A mildewed dump of a shack owned by some yokel named Clem. It bordered the slope of a Port Coquitlam forest recently scraped clean to make way for a subdivision. The trunks of the few trees that remained resembled telephone poles.

  Clem opened the door like an ElfQuest troll about to hand us a curse and a talisman. He motioned us inside, where all of the walls were made of heavily varnished logs seasoned by decades of nicotine. I spotted a bookshelf filled with Mel Gibson tapes and DVDs, and three flatulent German shepherd/lab crosses that evidently enjoyed the house's sauna-like atmosphere. Clem noticed me looking and said, "Mel is God. I think I've got your satellite card in the dining room. Don't mind the clutter." I scrutinized the walls—pictures of Clem's days as a longshoreman mingled with framed inspirational Alcoholics Anonymous plaques. There was a newspaper clipping of Clem holding a sockeye in the 1963 Sun Salmon Derby that had faded away almost to nothing. When Clem gave Dad the new card, we bolted for the truck. Once inside, we started laughing. Dad laid rubber, and I was glad the evening was coming to a close.

  The dashboard beeped. Dad looked down. "We're low on gas."

  "There's a Mohawk station down the hill."

  While Dad was filling up the truck, I went to the station's mini-mart to stock up on Slim Jims. At the cash I glanced out at the pumps and saw Lyle from the biker house filling up his hog—crap.

  The clerk asked if everything was okay, and I said, 'Yeah, yeah."

  A large delivery vehicle pulled in, giving me enough cover to scramble to our truck. Dad asked, "What's wrong with you?"

  "That guy on the bike."

  "What about him?"

  "Mom and I went to collect a few days ago."

  "And?"

  "His pit bull chomped Mom's leg, and she fired a few shots, and it was kind of a, um, mess."

  "Pit bull? Your mother told me it was a gardening wound—kneeling on a rake."

  Dad kept his cool while paying the cashier just ahead of Lyle, but once back in the truck, he announced, "Nobody's dog attacks my wife. Let's nail the bastard."

  I had no idea what Dad's plan was, but we pulled out from the pumps ahead of Lyle. "Dad, what are you—?"

  I heard Lyle's hog approaching us from behind. Once we were around the corner and out of sight of the gas station, Lyle gunned his throtde to pass us. Dad veered sharply into the other lane, walloping the bike, sending Lyle flying out into the roadside weeds. The hog somehow managed to get snagged beneath the truck.

  "Dad! Holy shit! The bike's stuck." The metallic scraping reminded me of trash cans being dragged down the driveway. "Are you going to stop or what?"

  "In a second."

  Sp
arks from the bike flared in the rear-view mirror. "Awesome light show," I said.

  A quarter-mile down the road, Dad stopped the truck, then reversed it a bit to dislodge the hog. Then he said, "Get out, son, and open the back. We're putting it in."

  "Why?"

  "So our dog breeder pal can walk home."

  As I got out, I heard Lyle screaming at us from back up the road. I looked his way, but he didn't seem to be running. I opened the back hatch.

  Dad said, "Grab the front wheel. On the count of three we toss it into the back. One. Two. Three—" The bike was heavier than I thought it would be.

  "Dad, this thing weighs a ton."

  "Let's get some help then."

  Dad shouted, " !" and from the deepest recesses of the truck emerged a half-dozen Chinese people.

  "Dad?"

  Dad shouted, " !" and the boat people hoisted the bike into the back. Dad closed the door. "Let's go."

  "What does , mean?"

  "Kam says it all the time into his cellphone. It means move your ass"

  EWTN Europe

  WAM/America's Kidz Network Dish Music—New Orleans Jazz

  Daystar

  Nickelodeon/Nick at Nite (East)

  Fox Kids Italia

  CD-Contemporary Jazz Flavors

  TV Marti

  America's Store

  Future TV USA

  Dish Music—Piano & Guitar Encore

  ESPN Now

  Hallmark Channel Mexico

  SatMex 5

  AlmavisiÓn

  Sky Link TV

  BBC America