Segarini: Where to Begin….

Jack Bauer and BobYes…that’s me and Jack Bauer. He kept me locked in a room for 2 weeks and questioned me about my involvement in a nefarious plot to overthrow the tiny country of Pottselvania with someone called ‘Borisandnatasha’. Fortunately, I was rescued by 2 agents code-named “Moose and Squirrel”. I asked Bauer to break one of my fingers so I could prove I was with him, but we were drinking at Cherry Cola’s and my fingers just bent back…wouldn’t break. You will just have to take my word for it.


It has been a while since I’ve had the time (and the inclination) to sit down at the keyboard and 2-finger type another column for you all. He reasons for this are many and varied, but they all pretty much boil down to one thing…

There are not enough hours in the day.

Still…it feels mighty fine to be sitting here now, pack of smokes at the ready, a bourbon and diet near at hand, and a cool breeze flowing up the pant legs of my boxers.

I’m back in the saddle, Baby! Oh wait…the phone….


Before we go any further, I believe I owe you complete transparency and full disclosure. So, in the spirit of fairplay and political leadership, I offer the reasons I have been remiss in carrying out my sworn duty to entertain, enlighten, and educate you, my patient and understanding, (and much loved by me) readers.


The Reasons (or Excuses) for Why I Fucked Up

Having to Text Instead of Making a Phone Call

Star-Trek-Characters-Then-and-NowThanks to our fascination with and complete worship of the youth culture, a 30 second phone call to exchange information with someone has been replaced by a series of frustrating, badly spelled, idiotically compromised by auto-correct, time consuming, irritating, interruptive texts that usually end up resolving nothing and taking forever. A simple ‘yes or no’ question can lead startrek_shatner_gorn_spot-620x345to epic answers and anecdotes about the other person’s belief system or why ST: TOS is better than JJ’s reboot.

I don’t care.

Shut up and text me your fucking address…and please don’t interrupt me again just to text ‘K’. Jesus….!


Can No One Else Hear The Damn Door?

I have two roommates who are always home watching television. I am usually in the living room working on this, that or the other. Someone knocks on the door. No one answers the door. I answer the door. It is never for me. I hate the door.



MicrowaveI have to eat 5 or 6 times a day. Twice to take the meds for my adult onset diabetes, and the rest of the time because that’s what the doctors say I have to do. It means having to prepare and cook something to eat, or nuke something to eat, or go GET something to eat, or order out for something to eat. They all take time. Waiting for the delivery, waiting for the oven to heat up, waiting for the meat to marinate, waiting for the water to boil…it just goes on and on. And do I work while I’m waiting? Yes…yes I do…but that is ALWAYS when someone texts me…or knocks on the door. Sometimes, people knock on the door and then text me to tell me they are at the door. Seriously. I’m not kidding. You know who you are.


The Bathroom

Pee BreakI remember a time when I only had to go to the bathroom a couple of times a day. Those days are gone. I also remember being able to wait (without discomfort) if I was in the middle of something and didn’t want to interrupt my momentum or train of thought. Those days are also gone. Now when I have to go…I have to go immediately. Not only that, but I am getting less mileage per drink than ever before. A night of drinking used to result in a trip or two to the can. Now a can of beer results in multiple trips to the loo. You old folks know what I’m talking about, you youngsters…well, if you’re lucky you’ll find out someday.

…and if ANY of you say “See a doctor” or “There’s something wrong with you”, or “Quit drinking and eat Kale Chips and make smoothies out of wheatgrass and mangos”, I will find you, tie you to a chair, and force-feed you hot dogs, Big Macs, Twinkies, and Gummi Bears until you top out at 280 lbs and develop a craving for red meat, Real Housewives of Atlanta, and lard.



Facebook interrupts lifeLike Medusa, if you even glance at it you turn to stone and are unable to look away. It is the Intertoobz equivalent of crack. You lose all sense of time and are unable to tear yourself away until you realize the sun is coming up and you have spent the last hour commenting on a political screed from some armchair pundit who believes that the Gov’mint is involved in a conspiracy to replace real food with McDonalds, force you to learn how to juggle and ride a unicycle, accept what Drake, Minaj, and Deadmau5 do as music/art/genius, and be afraid of your food, your water, your police, and your socks. Especially your socks.

Facebook also loves to remind you that cancer, rape, and dragging fido behind your pickup for 5 miles over a gravel road is bad, (because none of us are apparently aware of that enough) letting everyone know how miserable/awesome/philosophical you are, and if you love your mom/dad/sister/brother/kids/grandkids/sunsets/kittens to make sure to share/make this your status/berate those who do not ‘Like’ your post.

Who can tear themselves away from such riveting bullying and righteousness?

Not even the strongest of us, my friends.

We are helplessly bound to stare at it once it’s engaged, like the inability to not slow down when driving past an accident on the highway lest we miss a body part lying in the road, or an opportunity to snap a photo of the carnage with our phones…and share it on Facebook.

ZeppelinNo wonder most kids have abandoned Facebook for sites unknown to us adults. They are sick of our preaching, bullying, and obsession with ‘60s and ‘70s rock bands and videos of songs that they are sick of hearing about. Doesn’t ANYONE realize that we ALL know where to find multiple versions of ‘Stairway to Heaven’, ‘Smoke on the Water’, and anything by the Rolling Stones’ and Janis Joplin’?

…and don’t get me started about the haters.


Writers Block

This happens to every writer at one time or another. Unlike a flaccid penis, there is no little blue pill to correct the impotence that one suffers at the hands of stress, other pressing matters, loss of concentration, or the blahs when it comes to regaining your rock hard, creative mind-woody.

You sit, staring at your monitor and keyboard and a blank Word .doc writers-blockscreen…

…and you wait.

And wait…

And wait…





Stare out the window.

Check your email.

Check Facebook messages.



Go to Buzzfeed.

Become fascinated with “22 Things Hipsters Do Ironically”, “16 Life Saving Frozen Foods”, “37 Products That Won’t Be Around in 45 Minutes”,  “The Most Disturbing Cat Pictures Ever”, and “28 Hilarious Photos of Drunks at Funerals”.

Check your email again.



Reluctantly click on the Xhamster porn site.

Hope your roommates don’t come home.

Put the box of tissues back on the dining room table.

Make a sandwich after you have a smoke.



How-to-Worm-Your-Way-Out-of-a-Writer’s-Block1Either go to bed, or back to the Facebook newsfeed to see if anyone commented on your comments.



Give up.


Computer Malfunctions

“Unable to connect to the Internet at this time”

“Please check your settings”

“This document is no longer available”

“Computer will reboot in 3…2…1…”

“WARNING! A virus has been detected in your computer. Click here to remove!”

“A Program is trying to Access the Internet. Allow? Block?”

“Windows thinks this document is a badly written piece of tripe. Please try again”

“Times New Roman no longer wants to have anything to do with you.”

“Please change your shirt. You have been wearing the same one for 5 days”


“Out of Memory. Also out of Eggs, Milk, and Bread. Go to the Store”

“Your allotted time has expired. Please log in”

“A Scheduled Scan is about to Begin. If you didn’t save your .doc, you can kiss it goodbye”

“404 Error. We don’t know why either”

“Hard Drive Space is Low. Please stop typing, you long-winded freak”

“Hi. I’m your computer. I hate you”


So Here’s the Deal…

LyingFingersCross_I_swearThroughout this coming week, along with our regular contributor’s columns, I will be posting columns that will bring us up to date. From my NXNE report, to the major storm Toronto suffered this past Monday. Then, I will endeavor to NEVER to get this far behind again. Seriously. I mean it…just remember that I said “endevour”.

And I do sincerely thank you for your patience and your continued support of this blog and the fine writers who occupy it.

We love you all.

Don’t forget to check out these Bobcasts. Two new ones will be added soon.



Segarini’s regular column appears here every Friday

Contact us at

DBAWIS ButtonBob “The Iceman” Segarini was in the bands The Family Tree, Roxy, The Wackers, The Dudes, and The Segarini Band and nominated for a Juno for production in 1978. He also hosted “Late Great Movies” on CITY TV, was a producer of Much Music, and an on-air personality on CHUM FM, Q107, SIRIUS Sat/Rad’s Iceberg 95, (now 85), and now publishes, edits, and writes for DBAWIS, osts The Bobcast every Monday night at Cherry Cola’s, and continues to write music, make music, and record.


3 Responses to “Segarini: Where to Begin….”

  1. pete kashur Says:

    “Quit drinking and eat Kale Chips and make smoothies out of wheatgrass and mangos”, I will find you, tie you to a chair, and force-feed you hot dogs, Big Macs, Twinkies, and Gummi Bears until you top out at 280 lbs ”

    …let me know. i’ll bring double downs, fries and gravy…..

  2. I love this post!! But then, I love everything you write, Bob, just put some pants on, okay?

  3. Reblogged this on A Light Beyond the Hedge and commented:
    My friend, Bob Segarini… what else can I say?

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