I live my life by the philosophy that perfect doesn’t exist. Well, to me it’s more than a philosophy: it’s a provable fact. I firmly believe that there is nothing one hundred per cent perfect in this world. You might think that this is (uncharacteristically?) negative or defeatist, but it’s simply true. And I think that, generally, the flaws that disprove perfection are what make things interesting – and I would much rather be interesting, and surround myself, with interesting rather than perfect things. Perfect is boring.
Take Sauble Beach; the best beach in the world in my opinion. But you don’t think that there aren’t a handful of cigarette butts littered throughout the sand? And man, those seagulls are bold! One snatched a cookie right out of my hand, and in so doing, stabbed my thumb with it’s pointy beak and made me bleed. I was convinced I would die of rabies or hepatitis. One grabbed Hilary’s Big Bird toy from out of the sand when she was playing with Elise Webster-Toth (more on Elise later, my friends). We watched the seagull take off, fly right over the centre of the lake, and drop the toy into deep water. What the heck! These things prove that the beach isn’t perfect. But they’re interesting stories, and Sauble just wouldn’t be Sauble without rat-seagulls. We love it for this quirk.
Or what about Daniel Craig? Lord knows he’s not perfect! He strongly resembles Shrek. And yet…
I rest my case.