Capitalizing on the Spirit of X-Mas

After looking on and off at Digital SLR cameras for over a year, and moreso since the dollar hit parity with the US, I couldn't pass up the deal on my new Digital Rebel XT.

For the most part I had done all the research comparing the entry level SLR models months ago, so it only took a little more reading, and an assuring e-mail from px about the performance of his, albeit higher end, but comparable camera.

Also impressive was that I got the camera in the mail one and a half business days after I confirmed purchase online, despite the number of units (1000 of my camera model alone) they must have been shipping out. Mark one in favour of the efficiency of a big box chain I suppose.

I've barely scratched the surface on its function use so far, and have been extremely impressed. I've expertly captured (lucked into) some nice shots already, but I'm sure there will be plenty more to come, so I'll hold those back for now, and wow you all with some outstanding birthday shots on my old camera.

Despite only a few of the people 'maybe attending' showing up, the birthday was a blast. Rounds of shots, with not a single prairie fire consumed, NTN trivia, a rumble in the streetside garden 5 feet from the bar, and a scarf not more than 6 hours old (a gift from the girlfriend no less) lost and presumably donated to a homeless man. The hangover didn't even really bring home the fact that I was another year older this time around.

X-mas around here was, as expected, a low key affair. But New Years is going to put an end to all the relaxing, a trip to a friend's cottage for a few days ironically is going to be the least relaxing part of my holidays. Though it should provide some great opportunities to play with my new toy. A lengthy photo post here should follow.

Happy New Year.

The Christians Need to Reclaim Christmas

I forget what network was touting this story line, but I am pretty sure it was the local CTV outlet advertising a segment on Christmas, and asking the question along the lines of "is it time for Christians to reclaim Christmas?" Are they serious!? First of all, I guarantee that its some of the purest 'Christians' our there that go and inflate numbers to the point that the average person spends $1000 on x-mas gifts, and buy into the whole commercialism they turn around and say is tainting the holiday.

But at this point, when the mission for many seems to be to convert the world anyways, why not embrace that everyone has bought into a holiday that in many cases transcends religious borders. Its not just Christians that are buying Christmas presents, and sharing in a sense of community around this time of year. While some downplay the issue, or keep low key during the holidays, there are plenty more that engage in the same gift giving, camaraderie and such that the 'holiday season' has really become; and after all, isn't that the point?

If some Jesus figure was to become the latest incarnate and come along and see people more or less enjoying getting together with people for the holidays, wouldn't they praise it? I sure didn't complain when one of the girls at the lab last term brought in pastries for everyone for Diwali, and I guarantee there will be no Hindu outcry against me for partaking in part of the ritual of one of their sacred days. But the Christians say its time to restake claim to the holiday? I say its a bunch of bullshit inspired by guilty conscience for not living up to what you feel your scripture asks of you, combined with an elitist mentality.

No need to start a crusade against commercialism or whatever else if you're one of these people with a guilty conscience, just go to church at more than just Christmas and Easter. For the rest of us who just see it as a time to relax, and for those that aren't wracked with guilt, grab some eggnog, and enjoy your new toys and drinking with your friends and family. It will be back to work soon enough.

In all honesty, happy holidays to everyone, regardless of your beliefs. Let me know if you see any good boxing day deals on Digital SLR cameras.

"..shorter of breath, and one day closer to death."

Yes friends, its that day of the year again. Late December, the most important birthday of the year. No uncertainty or fictitiousness about this one, unfortunately.

I'll be spending my day playing games, and making sure to not be heading uptown on an empty stomach. The night will undoubtedly be spent drinking, and fielding questions about if/when/why/why not I'm going back to school/work; questions that I've been hearing all to often lately. I suppose if I'd just make up my mind it would make things a lot easier. Perhaps I'll just go with lying to people for the night. In any case, I'm sure the questions will be met with abrupt responses, so if you're reading this ahead of meeting me at the bar tonight, you've been warned. If you're not reading it till after you've talked to me tonight, you know why I was that way.

And here's hoping I'm actually functional enough tomorrow to go out and finish grabbing a few little gifts for x-mas so I don't have to go out at all this weekend in the madness.

Cheers.


Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day
You fritter and waste the hours in an off hand way
Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town
Waiting for someone or something to show you the way

Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain
You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today
And then one day you find ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun

And you run and you run to catch up with the sun, but its sinking
And racing around to come up behind you again
The sun is the same in the relative way, but youre older
Shorter of breath and one day closer to death

Every year is getting shorter, never seem to find the time
Plans that either come to naught or half a page of scribbled lines
Hanging on in quiet desperation is the english way
The time is gone, the song is over, thought Id something more to say

Home, home again
I like to be here when I can
And when I come home cold and tired
Its good to warm my bones beside the fire
Far away across the field
The tolling of the iron bell
Calls the faithful to their knees
To hear the softly spoken magic spells.
Time - Pink Floyd

Palmula Handerson

I guess after 3 marriages, it doesn't take a person long to recognize when its going south. But shit, I'm sure a lot of people keep dairy products in their fridges for longer than that lasted.

Prenups, 2 month marriages; nothing like washing out more meaning from an already faded tardition.

Who knows if there's a whole new sex tape scandal that will come out of this one. I wonder what the Vegas books have the odds at. On the same note...I wonder what the chances are that Pamela ends up back with one of Tommy or 'Kid' in the next 4 months. Vegas making money off of a Canadian woman that isn't named Dion? What?

Crackdown

It appears that there is some kind of crackdown on liquor licensed venues in the area. I understand shutting down strip clubs because of contact between the patrons and the girls, but is revoking a license from a bar because people go there to drink really necessary?

The Stampede Corral in Kitchener is losing it's liquor license for 15 days. The Alcohol and Gaming Commission of Ontario issued the suspension after an incident in May of this year.
In a release the Commission said drunken patrons were observed in the bar.

These people must have been a wreck, else the officer on hand had a real stick up their ass; probably because they were forced to be hanging around observing the goings on at the Stampede.

In news that would also seem to be explained by lots of drinking, bloggers Danielle and Chad got engaged while I was neglecting reading this week. Something that can be proposed over Gmail chat can't be all bad, or can it? In any case, congratulations are in order.

And now its time to go grab some booze before the weather drops a big white turd everywhere.

I Never Went to Junior High

The Catholic school board I was brought up in didn't have a junior high; just elementary and highschool each with its own little divisions, for what mostly seemed to be inter-school sport competition purposes. That said, it was shortly after the middle school/junior highschool time period had I been in school that I started mailing it in effort-wise.

It comes as no surprise then that I haven't written here for a few weeks after having been certified as a junior high accomplished blog 'writer'.

Three months at work has flown by, but it hasn't changed the status of my bachelors thesis, which is still a work in progress. I've stretched the definitions of the words 'work' and 'progress'. Its December 1st, and the people with the gaudiest of x-mas decorations already have them blazing at night. The mall parking lots are packed, and I have next to no ideas for gift giving this year, though I know none of them will be decorative x-mas coffee mugs or glasses.

Why is it that people give these little sets as gifts? 4 or 6 glasses at a time that don't fit with all the other tacky sets that are given during the holidays every year. We have at least 4 different sets sitting in boxes in the fruit cellar that never see the light of day, and likely never will. Its where poinsettia laced, reindeer printed glasses go to die.

And now its time to go dream up gift ideas that are only moderately better than a box of glasses.

I've Come So Far

Found on Raymi's blog.

Rock & Roll Review

So almost a week later, I guess I could write something about the Matthew Good show. It was, as expected, a fantastic show, replete with humourous banter, and Ted Nugent appreciation. The highlights for me were Prime Time Deliverance, Silent Army in the Trees, a 5 minute tangent about the miraculous healing powers of ingested Vick's VapoRub and the acoustic re-working of Suburbia, which I hope to be laid down at some point in a studio setting.

It was so good infact that I attempted to get last minute tickets for the Hamilton show, but by the time I was able to find someone that wanted to go with me, a trip to pick up tickets in Mississauga from the seller on eBay, and then backtrack to Hamilton would have put us 45 minutes into Matt's set.

The time since has been filled with little to no work to do, an e-mail to potential Masters supervisors for the winter, and the first 3 seasons of the Office since Monday night. I caught what I assumed to be a re-run about 2 months ago and finally remembered to download some last week. Those who have seen it know by now why I haven't been able to stop watching since, those who haven't, this is what torrents are for. Absolute hilarity, though Steve Carell's character does get to be a bit much at times. I'm sure in the normal half hour prescribed doses, there's no issue, but that's what a slightly addictive personality will do.

This post would have been a lot better if my camera wasn't a piece of shit in low any light.

BlackD'yerRoll

8 hours driving, and 10 hours of actual dirty fieldwork in the past 2 days. Its nice when the time flies like that, though you can only play along with so many classic rock trivia call-in shows before you feel you should really call in with the answer and save the poor people. That is until you remember that the tickets they're giving away are for a Pink Floyd cover act and some Canadian 80's rock bands who, while catchy, are not great.

If only I could have remembered that drum outtro was from Rock and Roll, I would have been at a Loverboy show.

But instead, I'll be at the Matt Good acoustic show on campus tomorrow night. Small venue, acoustic show, and decent sound from every show I've ever seen there; it all promises to be a good show. And since I'm working on campus tomorrow, I may have to try to drop by and see if I can coerce my way into a sound check, though I won't keep my hopes up.

Guitar Hero Killed the Radio Star

Video never did kill it, but guitar hero just might. Sure the game might teach people to respect some of the greatest guitar riffs of all time, but why not actually learn the instrument for real. It'll be far more entertaining in the long run and more enjoyable than hitting some buttons on a plastic mock guitar.

Its not even as challenging as getting people together to play a game of hockey or football or something, where playing a game as a substitute seems to fit. The next thing you know there will be an Eating Hero set of games.

Hey press these buttons to eat your twinkies and cheetos. Hit the secret bonus sequence for all you can eat ice-cream bar!!. Yea, they're not real, but you'll set one sexy high score.

On second thought, Eating Hero might not be the worst idea for some lazy ass kids out there. They'll be too busy game-eating to real-eat. I guess the qualification shouldn't be limited to kids either as there are some damned lazy people out there who aren't simply genetically predisposed to these kind of things. Nonetheless, we can all just blame it on the government and let them tax us more to deal with the problem.

Rock Dungeon

I spent the last two days at work cutting rock core in the basement of one of the biology buildings. Dirty, wet, loud, and yet peaceful. Working for 15 hours in a two day period, I didn't see a single living person down there.

That's not to say that I saw any dead people either, though at least one person has died down there; from my recollection, a girl who hung herself from the pipes during midterms the year before I started my degree. Things like this happen more often than you'd think to students, but the school does its best to hide the realities of these things. Probably for the best for the families of the dead.

But a few days down there to yourself, not bothered by anyone, and taking your life should be the last thing on your mind. Plus, I had some time to work on some do-it-yourself (read cheap) x-mas gifts. I know, with all my bitterness and contempt for winter, I should be punched in the face for mentioning it, but hey, I've learned you have to jump on these things when they present themselves...kind of like...well never mind. Steak's on..

Mailing It In

Mailing it in is trendy, but i fly in the face of cutesy. See: Tony, Nick, or Anthony.

Oktoberfest Sucks

Have I mentioned lately how much I love the admin around the university? Really I do. I love how none of their multiple online systems seem to interact with one another. I love how the different departments of the admin themselves don't interact. I love them not putting my paycheque through on the scheduled pay date, with a MasterCard bill sitting and collecting interest. I love the vagueness of the responses when I ask for some clarification in trying to track down just what happened to my money. And I especially love being told that my pay request would be in on a specific date, that being today, and still not finding it there.

Other people get charged twice for their tuition because no-one cross checks things.

And still others are forced to write petitions to stay in school only to be informed, after being told that the petition was denied, that a completely different term from the one that the petition was written for was actually considered. Was there any kind of outline of the whole petition process to be found anywhere on line, or were people more forthcoming on the phone, this kind of thing could be avoided. But instead, the administration around the university just continues to build great report with those that ever have dealings with them.

And then there are the people swarming to the city for North America's biggest beer festival. Driving like idiots. Staggering around like idiots. Closing streets. Its an overrated sham, like every other year. I don't understand why people need an excuse to drink beer in the first place; but then they wait until the price on it is jacked up, and the stuff being served is old stock being cleared off in mass quantities. Don't get me started on sitting through the awful music, along with accordion accompanied covers of otherwise tolerable songs.

Am I bitter? Just a little bit. But at least not watered down like all those $6 cups of beer that in no way actually taste like a good German brew.

Gary Bettman Is A Douchebag...

...but this has already been well established. The latest is this farce of an opening of the season in London, England. While I'm all for spreading the game, and developing new interest, Britain seems to be about the last place that would make sense to go. Are there even any active British players? Doubtful. Sure the 2 games between the Ducks and Kings have sold out, but on multiple networks I tuned into yesterday there was speculation about perhaps having a group of teams in Europe as part of the NHL as well. If Gary Bettman thinks he can compete with soccer, cricket and rugby in England, and most of the rest of Europe, he is going to be shown, once again, how wrong he really is.

He can't even get it done right in a bunch of American markets, nevermind the complete shunning of Canada. What's that you say? You are a billionaire investor looking to grossly overpay just so you can bring a team up into a market where people will actually go out to the games? You sir shall be cockblocked. Twice.

And don't think I didn't notice that the pre-game opening of yesterday's game included the British and American national anthems with no sign of standing on guard for thee. A cookie goes to the first person who correctly responds with the country that 12 of 24 of the Kings, and 16 of 27 of the Ducks come from.

I'm fully in support of another player strike just to see Bettman take a walk. The NHL's players (for the most part) aren't involved in murder trials, its referees aren't involved in game fixing, sure some of its owners may be tied up in gambling rings, but the hockey pool is the one thing the NHL has and always will have going for it. It was fantasy hockey before fantasy hockey. Despite all this, the NHL still is pretty much ignored anywhere but Canada. But lets not bring a team up here Gary, lets look at Las Vegas and London, England. Just ask the Coyotes how well a hockey team in the desert works.

Who's Idea Was This Whole Work Thing Anyways

I'm feeling kind of dead after putting in a ton of hours already this week, but I'm sure I'll find some energy somewhere for tomorrow's Logan Day festivities. Its funny/sad that I was complaining about my thesis in the post from this time last year, and its still not done.

Anyways, the bar night is gonna be held in the former stripper room at the Huether again, and promises to be a good time. Dodging thesis supervisors at the day's activities might not be as much fun, but I did finally legitimately start looking at my project again, so I have that.

I could write a much better thesis on how much the Edge replays garbage music in a given work day after spending the past 3 listening to it while doing field work. But we all already know this. I swear if I hear that goddamned Silversun Pickups song one more time I am going to go postal. Most. Annoying. Vocals. Ever....and the rhythm isn't much better.

Although it did remind me to go check out the Barry Bonds homerun ball vote that was also discussed frequently on the radio in the past few days. Awesome on Marc Ecko for having the money, stupidity, and yet brilliance to pull this off; though I'm sure its not hurting the marketing department either.

Go Vote. That is all.

Parabolic Annoying

I'm all for technological advance in delivering better sound and video to me at home infront of the TV, particularly when it comes to sports coverage. But all day today I've noticed, particularly in the NFL coverage, but also baseball, that they've taken it too far. I don't mind the features where they mic up players and take soundbytes though a game. Interviewing baseball managers early in innings is also tolerable. What I can't take now is listening to the fucking 13 year-old kid in the second row screaming incoherent gibberish repeatedly and it being picked up on the game audio and getting pumped into my rec room.

Also, the 49ers are now 2-0...NFC Championship is next!

For the non-sports inclined...I picked up tickets to the Matt Good stop in town the other day, and am pumped for that. That is, if I'll be in town. The prof I'm working for this term wants to meet this week, presumably to discuss upcoming work in Wisconsin, South Carolina, Florida, Wyoming, and/or California; all of which I will do my best to avoid.

Until then, someone please shut up this goddamned kid in Miami.

I Say Taco, You Say Tuesday; Taco

You know you've let yourself become grossly out of shape when you pull a muscle in your shoulder reaching across your room to hit the snooze button on your alarm clock. Those 8 extra minutes before shoving off to work this morning seemed glorious at the time, but the pull that I felt all day long while moving desks, monitors and CPUs wasn't quite as much to be celebrated.

It was nice to be actually hard at it though after a pretty dry first day back in the working world. Being around the University again has been good to, and has gotten up a little bit of motivation to get my thesis officially done and move on to the grad school application process.

Taco Tuesday today at the Bomber though was more of a disappointment. What used to be something like $3 for a well stuffed taco has become a shell with lettuce that leaves you searching for anything more than a biteful of meat (or beans for those hopping on and off the vegetarian train) for $4.75; the extra cost presumably to help cover last year's Boston Pizza style makeover of the bar. The first thing a student going to a student bar wants after all is a nice wood finish, not cheap food and drink on their student budget. Never mind the loss of the couches and projector on which student requests for movies could be made throughout the afternoon.

Being that I'm working again, I am in no position to complain too much, but I'll be looking for something more fulfilling, and more quickly served with the same $4.75 for the rest of the term; likely some cold barley sandwiches at Kickoffs.

Digital World

A digital world makes it much easier to carry out experiments with appreciable accuracy and precision. Take this educational, scientific gem for example. That kind of proof simply can't be reproduced on the old spring-scale analog equipment.

I'm starting a job helping with research projects back at the university next week for at least the fall, but none of the work will yield such informative results as the above experiment.

WiFight It?

I came across an interesting article this morning on the BBC, wherein a man in London, England became the third person arrested for 'stealing' wireless signals, inspiring some debate as to whether it really should be illegal to do so.

It is, as the article states, easy enough for a person to set up simple encryption on their wireless access point to keep people from easily using their signal, and in most cases it would seem this would be a strong enough hint that that particular signal is not intended for public use. When my connection has gone down for a length of time in the past, or when I've been travelling, I've felt no shame for finding the strongest available unsecure network to troubleshoot any problems with my ISP, or to check my e-mail and such while away. As new neighbours have come in over the past few years, more of the networks around me have become secured, but still leaving one or two viable options.

Surely enough, there are ways to work around those safeguards, but not taking the hint that the network is secured, and then attempting to circumvent it then starts to become an issue of hacking versus 'stealing' wireless signals, and should be treated as such.

Once a wireless signal is broadcast however, it is out there, in its limited range, traveling at the speed of light, so I'm not sure how it itself can be stolen. Of course this in most cases would be a question of semantics, where the general idea is that connecting to a wireless access point in turn gives you access to the internet. And this is likely where the whole issue became a sticking point in the first place, with the large provider companies having the money to attempt to force action against the practice. At this point one could get into the whole debate over how internet service charges, at least around here, seem to generally increase, with no increase, or infact some decreases in the quality of service, but that can be saved for another rant.

The fact is most people either pay for a set bandwidth, which in most cases I've ever seen goes 90% unused, or pay for an unlimited bandwidth service. Now, if the 'offending' wireless 'thief' is legitimate in just using the wireless access occasionally to check e-mail, troubleshoot their own connection problem, or even browse the news, the actual data transfer is a tiny fraction of even a 10 gigabyte per month service. On the other hand, if people go ahead and attempt to use a neighbour's connection for file sharing and the like, easily transferring large amounts of data, then concern may be warranted. Nonetheless, if you and your neighbour were to come to an agreement to do so, without defaulting on payments either for the initial service, or any charges for going over bandwidth, then there should be no way for that to be an illegal practice. In either the low or high bandwidth case, the service is paid for, and the user has willingly left their access point open to anyone with the capability to see it.

From the service perspective, it is somewhat similar to the debate of whether it should be chargeable to split your cable TV signal once it is in your home, and suffering the associated loss in signal strength, and so quality, if you so choose. Like the article states, it is no different than using the light from someone's window to read by, nor is it disparate from benefitting from the heat or cold of surrounding units in an apartment building.

Simply if you don't want people using your wireless connection, encrypt it. If ISP's don't want shared service, then they should give step by step instructions as to how to configure their router so as not to provide access to the service (though it should still allow for unsecure access to that wireless network for local networking should the user wish).

Two Moons Morons

It always astounds me just how ignorant people can really be. The latest is the Facebook event (yes, I know, the fact that its a Facebook event says a lot to start with) that I've gotten notice of some of my contacts signing on to 'attend' over the past few days. Its called "TWO MOONS, AUGUST 27th 2007" (remember, to gain credibility, its always important to capitalize the entire title of your e-mail/group/event/etc). The idea is that, at 12:30, apparently Mars is gonna strap on some booster rockets and fly in so close that it looks the same size as our moon, and then its gonna be gone way out to its normal home again.

Two moons on 27 August*



August 27th the Whole World is waiting for.........

Planet Mars will be the brightest in the night sky

starting August.



It will look as large as the full moon to the naked

eye. This will cultivate on August 27 when Mars comes

within 34.65M miles of earth. Be sure to watch the sky

on August 27 12:30 am . It will look like the earth

has 2 moons. The next time Mars may come this close is

in 2287.



Share this with your friends as NO ONE ALIVE TODAY

will ever see it again.

--

During this time it will also apparently cultivate? Perhaps some new martian corn will be sown and be the new cost effective source for ethanol?

It blows my mind that people think a planet, visible in the night sky on most given nights, is miraculously going to swoop in, for a one hour viewing event and then be gone again. Mars is roughly twice the diameter of our moon, so even if somehow physically possible, it would have to come in to around the twice the distance away as our moon, which on average is about 385 000 km. Of course the claim above is some 34 650 000 miles which is about 55 760 000 km, which is actually the accurate distance for when Mars and Earth are at their closest. At that distance, it would take 70-75x magnification to be the same size as the moon (55760000 km / 2 * 385000km).

And fear not, because a quick check in one of my books infact tells me that these close approaches occur every 25 to 30 years, so there is no need to forsake your firstborn child or something for the sake of seeing this miraculous 'cultivation'.

Its downright scary to think how uncritical people can be, though in retrospect not as much surprising in the realm of Facebook and all its other retarded new 'features'. Maybe we should just invite those Martians in anyways, idiots like us surely don't deserve sole use of our atmosphere. I bet they could write a really killer 'Zombie' Facebook app too!

Coon Lake

After the funeral on Monday, and some running around on Tuesday, Carolyn and I took off to meet up with some friends camping on Tuesday night. As it was we made great time for the typical four to four and a half hour drive to Algonquin, making it to the site near the far side of the park in a bit under 4 hours.

Driving the winding highway 60 in the rain after dark though was cause to slow down, and infact the two does that we had to stop for in the middle of the road ended up being the largest wildlife we saw the whole time we were up there. On my two previous trips into Algonquin park, there had been no shortage of moose sightings, but they managed to shy away from Carolyn for 5 days.

Despite a cool, windy and rainy weather system blowing through most of the time, we got enough of a break to get in some hiking and kayaking, and huddled around the fire with drinks to keep warm at night. Eventually the rain and wind was enough to start showing leaks at the seams, but having taken the van, I was able to clear out enough space in there to sleep comfortably. It ended up being so comfortable infact, that any similar car camping trips in the future will find me sleeping in the back.

There's a lot to be said for being properly prepared for a camping trip, and this time around was a much better experience than the previous struggle, but now its back to the reality of family drama in dividing an estate 12 ways, and finishing some semblance of a thesis.

Of course Carolyn noticed that this tree was well hung.

 

Time It's Time

Yesterday morning my grandmother passed away at 83. After a stroke 3 years ago, she was never the same quick, sarcastic, but gentle 'Oma' she had been to her dozens of grandchildren before. Until the end though she maintained her stubbornness, and that was likely the reason she left us when she did, refusing to go into a proper care facility.

The past few times I dropped her off and walked her back to her apartment, there was a bit of sadness in her eyes amongst the confusion that strokes are notorious for. I think it was a realization that she had lost the sharpness she had once had, and was never going to get it back. But she put on the best brave face she could, and tried to hide it from the whole family, most of whom were adequately convinced.

Born in Holland in 1924, she lived there during the war, and told stories when I was a kid of soldiers marching through their farm field, and aiding downed Allied pilots. She married an older man, with 8 children from a wife previously passed that she took to be her own, and treated them that way until the day she died. My grandfather himself died when my mother was only 4. Ultimately, my grandmother raised 12 children, as well as assisting in a great way both myself and moreso my brother in the drama that was brought on by my own father as part of our parents' divorce.

She infact lived with us at the time my brother was born; at the age of 67 still waking up at 5am every morning to go in to work at the local necktie factory. At 7 years old at that point, I would sneak into her room at night to stay up and watch the old black and white movies that were less about the movie and more about the staying up late for me at that point. Some nights she would pretend not to notice, or pretend that I was asleep, but most others she'd let me in on her late night Melba toast and cheese snack.

Moving ahead seven or eight years later, she took on the role of chauffeur and almost second-mom after my dad bailed with our family vehicle, leaving her to drive my mother to work for long hours, myself to school on the way, and housing and feeding my brother during the school week. And then, not long after my brother started spending more time back at home with some replenished normalcy to all of our everyday lives, she had her stroke (infact the largest of a suspected numerous small ones). And, as I mentioned, things were just never quite the same.

There's a time for all of us in the end, and my grandmother certainly lived a beautiful life before hers. Should there be truth to tales of angels looking over one's shoulder, I expect she's there now. Its easy to see how that concept makes dealing with death easier for some at least.

'Now that its over, rest your head'

And on the Seventh Day I Rested

After a few weeks straight of working at it every day, there are a few more doors to be painted for my room, and I can wash my hands of this renovation project. But we're finally getting some proper summer weather, and in time for a long weekend for once, so its time to kick back and take a few days off, and instead of sinking money into tools and trim and pain, carefully invest in beer for the weekend.

I say carefully because I got a call this morning from Steve letting me know the details for meeting up with him and his wife at Algonquin in a couple weeks, and am not going to have a whole bunch of money to play with for that excursion. Not working for a calendar year is starting to hurt. So long as I don't go ahead and fuck myself over like last time around when I forgot, among other things, a sleeping bag, and spent a night shivering, an exorbitant amount of money on a blanket, and the rest of my trip feeling slightly jaded with the experience.

Not all of my money lately has gone to the renovation though. The latest White Stripes album is fantastically written, and complete with the typical catchy beats and riffs that they rock out so well. My favourites from it are Rag and Bone, which has a great fun energy, and Cause and Effect which can be interpreted any number of ways and to me is a great closing track for the album.

And of course, a legitimate candidate for album of the year so far, Matthew Good's latest, which I managed to score a signed copy of 5 minutes before selling out. Hospital Music, knowing the story leading up to the writing of the album, is one of the most open and honest collections of music you could ever expect to hear, with some excellent covers of Daniel Johnston's True Love Will Find You in the End (which was also covered by Beck on one of his recent albums) and Moon Over Marin by The Dead Kennedys. I honestly hadn't heard the Dead Kennedys version until after hearing Matt's version, so I'm likely biased in describing it as a much better put together rendition, but I'm saying it anyways. That's something that can't be said for most cover versions of songs ever done, with the Jimi Hendrix version of Bob Dylan's All Along the Watchtower and Pearl Jam's take on Last Kiss being other cases that come to mind.

I'm sure now I'll think of a number more though while I kick back with a few beers on the balcony for the weekend and attempt not to sweat it out as fast as I drink it. Dunno what this whole 'Civic Holiday' is about anyways, but I'll take it!

Bonds, Barry*

Barry Bonds is now one homerun away from tying Hank Aaron's career record. While being a total classless prick for his entire career is justification enough for him to be booed mercilessly when he does tie and break the record, personality faults shouldn't be enough to keep one out of the record books (nor should they keep Pete Rose out of Cooperstown, but that's another debate). On the other hand, the undeniable tie between him and performance enhancing drugs through the BALCO scandal should be enough to at least see some note made in the record books alongside his record.

Several fellow high profile BALCO customers have since tested positive for, or admitted to obtaining and using performance enhancing drugs, including Marion Jones, Tim Montgomery and Jason Giambi. In addition are the claims laid by staff with the lab that Bonds did infact use. While obviously not guilty by association with those other people, it is pretty clear that Bonds used some form of performance enhancement during the prime of his homerun hitting career.

At this point nothing will keep him strictly out of the record books, particularly since an outright rule against steroid use doesn't appear to have existed in baseball rules at the time. However an asterisk, or an entirely separate column are justified both for his single season record (and possibly McGwire's 2nd place entry) and for the career total; "Career homeruns hit, assisted", "Most homeruns hit with use of performance enhancing drugs".

In the short term, the best I can hope for is that he continues swinging too hard at the ball through the weekend series at home, and then goes ahead and ties and breaks the record away where the fans will be more likely to give him the far less than positive reception he deserves, not only for his steroid use, but for the lack of class he has brought to ballparks and locker rooms throughout his career. Good on Bob Costas for not backing down after the way Bonds has regarded the media through the years, even better on the fans in LA or San Diego in the upcoming series' if they boo and heckle the hell out of him when the moment comes where he ties and surpasses the record.

Looking down the road, Alex Rodriguez is on pace to hit the 755 mark almost a full season faster than Barry, and he hasn't really hit the later career homerun hitting surge yet. While No-Rod has his own building collection of classlessness (take his bush league interference play in Toronto earlier this season), he still has time to atone for himself, and at least attempts to be media friendly in a city where the media is regarded as being the furthest from the same.

I'd Barbecue A Salad If I Could

The Best Part About Being 'Tragically Uninteresting'

The best part about being "tragically uninteresting" is that I happen to catch incoming links from sites like this one in my site stats. It seems that someone's taken the time out of their much more interesting lives to make a blog with what appears to be the sole purpose of trashing other UW blogs he comes across.

What's startling is that one would take the time to read through a blog they describe as boring and dribble, and even follow outlinks to its last.FM account to look at my musical preferences. What's more amazing; that they do this for a number of blogs, actually spend money on an internet domain name like 'uwspectator' to give some sense of credibility or self-importance (and yet not posting even a first name or pen name anywhere on the site), and then further take time out of their exciting lives to write summaries for each of them (mine's here)! You really have to commend the man for his efforts, after all, the only thing better than a boring blog, is a boring summary of a boring blog.

Putting aside the far too simple gay jokes though, and the apparent dislike for people who are critical of the current government's policies, instead of simply allowing things to be foisted upon them, regarding this as Conservative hatred, I have to honestly give it credit for its humourous approach.

One has to wonder though, why someone who hates Waterloo so much would choose to go there, or not move elsewhere, and instead wallow in their bitterness, and lurk around a whole bunch more websites from people at Waterloo with so many other better, and admittedly far more interesting and well written sites out there.

Poker in the Back

I need to stop drinking so much when I play poker. Sure I may still play well enough to win occasionally, but most often all I have to show for my efforts the next morning is a hangover. This morning was no exception, although we did split the fairly large pot from last night's big game between the final 3, covering some of my losses.

And my being out of action all morning really means nothing to my renovation progress as I've had to cake the drywall mud on extra thick and wait for it to dry in an attempt to mask the shoddy construction around the window and door casings. Its true what they say about old houses being a lot of work, but if nothing else, I know at least that its built solid, if not always square and even.

Speaking of solid construction, the new Smashing Pumpkins album holds up alright. Its not quite as epic as the Mellon Collie album was, but then to expect anything like that album would be setting yourself up for disappointment right from the start. That said, it rocks hard, and despite the loss of James Iha on guitar, the songs certainly aren't lacking. I think I'll be buying this one, along with the new MG when it comes out, and the Traveling Wilburys set will likely find its way on to this month's mastercard bill as well.

A job needs to find its way to me soon too, or those mastercard bills are really going to start becoming more of an issue.

Steady as She Goes

I've been semi-busy making steady progress on the renovations, while dropping more money than I'd initially expected. In the end it will be worth it though for having insulation in some of the walls, setting it in a class nearly of its own compared with the rest of the house. The rest of the walls in time too will need to be torn down and insulation put in. With the old plaster walls it'd be too difficult to simply cut holes and have a company blow in loose fill insulation and patch up the walls so that they looked like the original again, which is both a pain in the ass, and an expensive proposition.

But with the closet already lined with cedar, and drywall hung from the ceiling, and the walls to go tomorrow, I can see the daylight. Some mudding, sanding, and trimming this week, and then with any luck painting next weekend, and I can move back into some normalcy.

In more relevant news, 6 more Canadians were killed this week, with another 4 injured this morning, in continuing the mission that we were never sent in the first place to do, but coerced into by the Bush administration's own 'sweet' talking. And of all the most ridiculous things I've seen written, Harper has the audacity to say that 'now is not the time to politicize the mission'. On the contrary, it is the absolutely most critical time to politicize the mission and have the opposition make an actual assertive move to bring Canadians home from a war that never truly was about keeping the peace. Instead of sitting on their hands, passing motions of 'desire' to have troops moved out in 2009 or beyond, some action needs to be taken. The deaths of more soldiers shouldn't be cause for us to hush up and unquestioningly accept the bullshit that's fed to the people, and in particular the soldiers of this country, it should be cause for outcry. Or, we could just don our favourite cowboy hats and boots and head on down to the Calgary Stampede for some boot-scootin', and forget that whole 'Afghanistan' thing. Yee-haw!

Tape Select B - Side A

In cleaning out my room to do renovation work I came across a case full of cassette tapes, as well as some 8-tracks I swiped from my parents' collections when I was a kid. Some of the cassettes, I can honestly say, I didn't know I had, including gems from Rob Van Winkle, MC Hammer, and the king of pop himitself. On the other hand, I see nothing wrong with owning 8-track copies of Bat Out of Hell, or Supertramp's Crime of the Century.

Along with the legit (2 legit 2 quit?) tapes though, I also came across my collections of mix tapes, some of them with the tracks written out in neat handwriting as I had nothing better to do at 12 years old, others printed off from some of the earliest versions of MS Publisher. These were the tapes that were nearly worn out listening to All Apologies or Black Hole Sun or One. If you're picturing me now as one of those kids walking around in a plaid shirt and ripped jeans, a few years behind the actual 'grunge' peak, you'd be absolutely right. Don't forget the quasi Kurt undercut.

Anyways, I found my mix tapes, and having just put the stock radio and tape deck back into my old van before its as yet unspecified date with the junkyard, I decided to throw one in the other day. Its remarkable how many of the songs I actually still enjoy, even with the tone not fading in and out from heating and cooling of the tape sitting in the sweltering car or being constantly fast-forwarded or rewound.

It was almost enough to make me want to bust out a tape deck and make a new one for this era. Which brings us to the new Matt Good single, and how I'd consider registering on iTunes and buying it, if it weren't for all the digital rights management crap. I like to be able to move my music around, between my PC and my laptop, or occasionally a memory stick to listen at school, and on to mp3 mix discs which have taken over for me from tapes. See I buy mp3 capable DVD and CD players for my car and home entertainment system for a reason, and to have to worry about whether the song will actually play because of the DRM is just a big pain in the ass. I ran into a similar problem with the Foo Fighters two years ago with the copy protection on the actual physical CD.

Its no fault of the artists either in most cases, but the money grubbing execs, who I guess aren't making enough off the $100's concert tickets and $billions in music sales still, despite file sharing. Nonetheless, I will be grabbing a copy of the CD the day it comes out anyways, as I'm still a sucker for the tangible, and for album art, and so feel no guilt about acquiring a copy of the track in other ways, perhaps to make myself a mix tape circa 2007.

Financial Crisis Averted

After taking a look at some $1000 SLR camera options, I'm glad to have my old camera back. It turns out I really can't hold my liquor as well as in days passed, and I simply left my camera at the bar. Yes the camera has certainly seen better days, and it seems to take grainier shots every time I turn it on, but I can't really ask much more for all the times I've dropped it while pushing cars, or stumbling around bonfires.

I will have to sink some of the money saved in not having to buy a new camera into building up my tolerance again though; an insurance policy against leaving my camera, or any other valuables behind at the bar in the future.

Getting the camera back also allowed me to take some shots of my room before I begin the reconstruction. After disturbing at least one family of mice in my attic last week moving insulation aside to knock down the plaster ceiling, I found that there was already strapping in place for the drop-ceiling that was up. So I've decided that instead of moving around a bunch more insulation, and sweating my balls off in the 40+ degree attic, I'll just hang drywall from the strapping and be done with it.

Of course all that doesn't really interest you, but the pencil sketch of Adolf on the inside of the wall sheathing from the 1940's might? If not that, you can trace the history of colours in the room on the back side of the radiator.

Beer, the Cause of, and Solution to All Life's Problems

It would seem that some time between going out for some beer on Thursday night and now I lost my camera. While I remember having it on the patio, and taking pictures while up there, the point after that is somewhat of a blur. What confuses me is that I had less than a pitcher of beer, which is generally nowhere near enough to make me leave my camera on the patio table. Yet I still have barely any recollection of the night.

After this morning checking all the usual key and wallet drop locations around the house, where my camera also ends up getting emptied from my pocket, I have no other explanation though besides that I left it at the bar, or it fell out in the backseat of my buddy's car who is now gone to be A Ho at Boise State University for a few weeks.

While I'd love to take it all as a sign that I finally need to get myself the digital SLR I want, I simply don't have the money for those kinds of things at the moment. And so its off to do another sweep of the house.

Drought Over

After not winning a night of poker since around the christmas season, I finally managed to make it out of heads up and not get burned by some ridiculous card on the river, thus making myself a hard earned $6 richer. Of course poker makes me thirsty, and I drank more like $15 worth of beer in playing, but that, and the lingering headache this morning were a small price to pay for the glory.

On top of that, I may have some work lined up for later in the summer, pending a meeting with the department's resident paleoclimate professor. Today would have been my convocation, had I had the interest in attending, or had I yet completed my still outstanding thesis. Instead I'm looking just far enough past all that to get some money in my pocket, and dwell on what exactly it is I want to do for at least the next 2 years.

While sitting around not writing more important, but less entertaining things, I ended up stumbling across a do-it-yourself improvement for wireless routers that might as well have come straight from the 3 'Lone Gunmen' nerds from the X-Files. I have yet to test it myself, although a buddy of mine has already tried a similar approach, and found a dramatic increase to the strength of his wireless signal. It costs about a half hour of time, a few pieces of cardboard, and some tinfoil, so for any of you out there with issues with getting a good signal to your laptop wireless card, or to a remote PC, I'd give it a try before dropping money on antennas and other crap they'll try to push on you at Future Shop or Best Buy. Its not a technological marvel on par with say a 'gay bomb', but its something.

I'll post the successfulness of my attempts later, but now its time to grill some meat while continuing my march towards skin cancer.

Abusive Relationship

Well, the paramedics were sent in to Kanata, Ontario last night some time in the late second period, and prevented a mass choking event that appeared to be well on its way. The obstruction of the Senators' airways could be heard across Canada (that is if you could block out the sound of Harry Neale and Bob Cole's atrocious play-by-play). But now instead of 3-0, its 2-1 and a series has broken out. Pronger should get suspended for at least a game for his elbow to McAmmond, more if you take into consideration the proximity to his hit from behind in the Detroit series. Its one thing to play aggressively and with fire, its another to play dangerously. Add to that the events around his departure from Edmonton after a season last year, and you're looking at one unclassy player.

Speaking of dangerous blows to the head, Carolyn needs a two game suspension for her actions. I took a Chronicles of Narnia DVD in the nose thrown by her while I had dozed off on the futon waiting for her to pick a movie. The claim is that it was intended to land on my chest, but I am not willing to believe that. Abuse I tell you.

The movie itself was okay, for the parts where I wasn't asleep, but talk about some bad green-screen special effects. Maybe the people at the Weta workshop responsible for LOTR have set the bar too high for themselves with effects in these fantasy movies now, but there were some moments in there that look like they could have come straight off the same special effects stage as some 80's classic like Willow or Labyrinth, without the additional bonus of David Bowie in an 80's power rock mullet wig or little people midgets.

As an aside, you haven't seen anything until you've seen a midget with a mullet.

This Just In, Weather Forecasting Still Useless

The forecasts all weekend have been calling for a 70-80% chance of rain, thwarting any notions of making plans to do something outside. Finally the rain hits 2:00 Sunday afternoon. At least I managed to get out for a little while yesterday.

Nature's been a real asshole this weekend.

At a Medium Pace

Slowly, but more steadily now, my thesis is getting written. Much to my surprise, my unofficial transcript already has me listed as being awarded a Bachelor of Science Degree with Honours, despite the thesis being listed as in progress. Actually, I retract that statement about surprise, because the university admin from day 1 has never been on top of things quite the way they should be, so really it comes as no shock at all. Somehow managed to stay on the Dean's Honours List as well.

With all that said, I'm not feeling too guilty about sitting outside in the 30 degree weather, cruising the web and listening to music.

I've set myself up with a last.fm account to keep track of what I've been listening to, and find some new similar stuff. Always more toys to play with. In that light, I've also been thinking about getting myself an iPod finally, and maybe a Mac to play around with to go with it. Of course these things cost money, and despite my transcript saying I'm a hydrogeologist now, that's not official, and nor do I have any job fitting that, or any other description.

But this weather sure is great!

“Blow them all away in the name of the Lord.”

Well, I was feeling uninspired to write anything at all, until I happened to check my comments and found the following:

Drive-by shootings were punishment for listening to gangster rap.
The regions in Africa that suffer from drought/famine are the same that have a very high incidence of female genitile mutilation.



Manifest Destiny dictates a white-man's prophecy - White-man's world, white-man's Apocolypse

Twenty-somethings are conditioned to respond positively to magic::::::they are the extacy generation.
This is not by accident. Expect they will be an important generation ("in charge", etc) when the battle between the Anti-Christ and Second Coming of Christ ocurrs.
This of course will be a 20-year war-revelry cycle distraction theater, and they want these people consumed by the high level of magic that will ocurr.
This generation is The Damned.
You're all going to die PEAKING like you're on X.


Austrian Sigmund Freud is known as the father of psychoanalysis, yet people have (mental) health problems because of their disfavor, illustrating the preditory purpose of this discipline, this individual.
These people.
Of course Hitler was Austrian:::An Austrian-born leading a foreign nation. Glock, maker of the semi-automatic gun favored by black street gangs such as the Bloods and the Crips, is Austrian.
RedBull Energy drink, Buwdeiser both Austrian. What role do Austrians play in the cigarette industry??

The Holocaust was foreshadowing, yet another example of the Jews sacrificing to help the disfavored::::
1. 1492 exodus from Spain. Spain became evil - financed Columbus, initiated missionaries, USA (dumping ground of disfavored victimized by god), etc.
2. Spread throughout Europe as clue to Christians worshipping a false god.
3. "Quasi-Holocaust claim" contradicting boss.
4. 5. 6. 7. etc. etc. etc.
The Apocalypse (or an Apocalyptic event) will be initiated by an Austrian. When the national referendum to allow foreign-born individuals to run for president is introduced I recommend you DEFY and vote NO!! In the years prior to this vote the gods will send POWERFUL clues suggesting the IMPORTANCE OF DEFIANCE.

Apex of irony in the Situaiton:::Jew calls in Quasi-Holocaust claim and takes boss, re-igniting the flames of anti-Semitism among blacks & rednecks in the crucial years before the black holocaust:::::::

-------------------------------------------------- ----------------

Italy's boot is a clue showing the god's intent with the Romans AND their active involvement::::The gods micromanaged the Eutruscans into their role as Romans, just as they micromanaged me with Artificial Intelligence into the role they scripted for this Situation.
Oshkosh is a clue just as Lake Michigan and Green Bay are clues::::Oshkosh is the ejaculate clue:::Life springs forth from this region.
Expect your traditional Second Coming of Christ to come from the region. The gods dirtied me up but the Second Coming will be squeeky clean. Consistant with the possibility of matrilinial lineage it may be the mother's family from the Lake Win
Drive-by shootings were punish | 05.16.07 - 9:23 pm | #

Ripe with its typos, its also got an abundance of its own conspirational religious undertones. Not sure if its a new bot out there that posts on halo scan, a whacked out random, or a friend fucking with the comments, but feel free to opine.

The post title is ripped from this collection and commentary on Jerry Falwell by Roy El-Saghir over at MG.

Also expanding on the slightly fanatic, I'm interested in seeing the Panorama feature on BBC on Scientology in light of the controversy around it. The British scientologists are apparently offering their own video rebuttal which I'll also try to view to get all sides, but its been my understanding for a while that Scientology is just a money-grubbing cult on growth hormones with celebrity backers. Perhaps there are some misrepesentations by radical splinters of scientology like those in Islam that BushCo seek to 'democratize' and so on, but I have a feeling that the BBC report, and others aren't so far from the truth from the reactions they elicit.

Otherwise, like I lead with, I am uninspired.

A Fart That Shakes The Nuts

Thursday night was poker night with the guys, and I found that lady luck is still off on a Bahamian vacation or something for me. But when you're playing for laughable $2 buy-ins, the idea is just to sit and drink some beers and have a good time, and in that light I'm a pro comparable to any of the best. Thursday night after the beers however I slept (yes infact slept, not passed out) in a position for which my neck has let me know about it since with some kind of pinched nerve or something. Being stubborn as I am, I refuse to seek an actual diagnosis, instead offering my own prescribed remedies as I see fit. Hot showers, heating pads, stretching, ignoring, and self medicating with alcohol all have provided at least temporary relief, and the ache is slowly going away. Hopefully by morning its to the point where I can sit at the computer for a period beyond a half hour to accomplish some formal writing.

This weekend, instead of coddling my neck like I tried to no avail on Friday, I opted to try not to let it get me down. Last night was board games and beers in what might as well have been called couples night, but thankfully was not quite so contrived. After a humiliation in Pictionary, we moved on to a loose game of Balderdash.

For those of you unfamiliar with the latter, its a game in which real, but obscure words are listed on cards, and those playing attempt to create a definition that matches the true one, or to make the other players believe theirs to be the real one. Invariably, the game degrades to nonsense and badgering within 4 or 5 words. From 'a gay duck' to 'for the cleanest snatch in town' to 'Dave blows goats' the game degrades quickly sober, and exponentially faster when drinking. This leads us to last night's new hall of fame quote with:

balthazar (n.) - a fart that shakes the nuts

Now, the true definition is infact a wine bottle holding 13 quarts, but by the time that came up, its true meaning was beyond all repair forever, with a whole new can of adjectives and adverbs opened up.

Yes, this blog has resorted to toilet humour. I'm shocked I managed to hold out this long.

I also managed to get out of the house for a while this afternoon to nerd out on some more geocaching, but mostly to get some sun. After driving around in the country for a few hours, it was decided that we should hit up the town of Fergus for their Dairy Queen and use of a bathroom, since some of us (clearly not myself) are opposed to using a convenient tree or bush. We ended up coming across a BMW car rally in the parking lot of the new big block store plaza found on the outskirts of every self-respecting town of 5,000 or more these days. Some sharp looking Audis and Porsches were also parked in their midst.

And then, of course, framed in the most perfect of backdrops, your requisite Honda Civic with the hood popped showing off the turbo kit and whatever else thrown in to give the illusion of having the same performance as the lower end of the nicer cars there for the same combined price. Also requisite is the flat grey primer colour with rough patches of some half-assed body work until money on the pimp my ride project ran out.

Piles of Papers

Apparently its May 1st already, and two more less than notable weeks have passed in the annals of my life. I keep pushing the boundaries of patience and tolerance with my thesis supervisors, and really, my own brain in not getting my thesis done. I have finally got an introduction more or less completed, but now am swamped in papers to read and past theses that in all honesty should have been read months ago, not looked at for the first time now.

The most annoying part of it all is that these bachelor level theses seem to be entirely self serving, and not really of any use beyond making an example of themselves to students, and the occasional reference to them in further BS theses. The two I have checked out from the department library were unopened until I got my hands on them after sitting there for a year already. I'm sure a number of the much older bachelors theses sitting in that library haven't had their pages exposed to the air since they were printed as well.

For now the room renovation has stopped mid demolition, with my rad pulled away from the wall and a tray collecting water from the furnace system as it pumps out excess, with no way for me to cap the old line and its unusual fittings. I'm left with stress building over sitting down to put the thesis together, and walls just waiting to absorb the brunt of that stress, but no justifiable time to go and take a prybar to those walls.

Death to Winter

Dusty Springcleaning

When I undertook the notion of renovating my room, I neglected the lack of space elsewhere in the house for my crap. Two days later I think I've cleared out all that is going to find a temporary home elsewhere, without moving bulky furniture up or down stairs.

In cleaning up the attic so that I can clear the wool insulation (with a high proportion of high R factor mouse droppings) away from my ceiling to rip it down, I am across a bunch of old crap my parents had stored away and time forgot. My dad was a notorious packrat, and so amongst the crap he left behind I found a yellowed copy of a newspaper from the first day of the 1990 Gulf War, and a box of 24 empty Coca Cola World Series commemorative cans with the scores from the games in the Jays 1992 title over the Braves.

Amongst the other random boxes, I found a box of my mom's old dolls, all of them staring up to greet me as I removed the lid, and a number of old beer coasters from brews that likely are no longer available to add to my bottle collection.

But a trip to the LCBO to feed the thirst of inhaling two days of dust and spiderwebs provided me with four new flavours to explore during poker tonight. Two germans, a french, and finally a true aussie. Maybe a review with their names pending.

Exhausted

The eggs are scrambled. The noodle's cooked. The brain's fried. But my last exam ever for my undergrad degree is done and gone, and hopefully passed. But instead of being full of energy to go to Toronto, and get some things done around the house that have been a long time coming, I'm absolutely drained.

The miserable, cold weather sure isn't helping the situation, but its slowly shaping up for the long term I think. Hopefully by the time May rolls around when the Jays have their next discount game I won't have to wear a coat to the game and it will be easier to get some other people on board with the idea.

During my last exam yesterday, for the first time in the 6 years I've been on campus, some assclown pulled a fire alarm, forcing everyone in the building to drop their exams and saunter outside into the gusting wind, snow and rain. At the time I was absolutely pissed at the idiot, but then I came home only to look at the news and see the loose details coming out on yet another school shooting tragedy. Something about the animal killing of 32 people will quickly put a fire alarm inconvenience to get out of an exam in its place.

Once again some kid loses control of reality, whether you blame it on the 'system' failing to be there for him, or video games, or TV, the fact of the matter remains that if there isn't such easy access to guns, every disaffected youth out there can't go run out and grab himself a semi-automatic weapon to relieve some stress. Now instead 33 are dead, and there will likely be a series of copycat threats and attempts across North America like those that followed Columbine.

People will be living in a heightened state of anxiety on campuses for weeks to months to come fearing that their school will be added to somber lists with Columbine, Dawson College, and West Nickel Mines Amish School.

People kill people, easy access to guns just facilitates it in large volume mass-destruction. Its time that governments do something more serious about gun control, particularly those governments that fail to even restrict assault weapons.

Bubble Machine

One exam down, three to go in the next 65 hours or so. That's 100 carefully shaded in scantron bubbles so far, and too many more to go. Since its finals time again, my nose today started emulating the outdoor faucet on the side of the house that froze and cracked this winter. I'm sure the people sitting next to me absolutely loved my sniffling tonight.

I don't feel the least bad for it though after all the sniffling, rustling, inappropriate questions and cell phones I've put up with over the years.

And in less than 3 days it will all be over, and time for some relaxation and a trip down to Toronto on Tuesday night where I won't have to worry about undue traffic around the ACC. I wonder what Mats is handicapping these days?

In more worthy Toronto team news, both the Jays and Raptors pulled off huge wins over Detroit tonight. If you asked me, or any honest person, in October if I could imagine the Raptors with a shot at 2nd place in the Eastern Conference, there would of course have been an emphatic 'no', but what a show these guys have put on. And with the average age of this team, things should only be looking up for the next 3 or 4 years. Bryan Colangelo deserves most of that credit for pulling together the talent pool he has, but Sam Mitchell also deserves an apology from me for being very much a skeptic of his coaching ability. Ultimately he's the one that's gotten this team believing there is no 'I'.

And now I have nothing except psychology terms and bacteria names plying into the little folds of tissue in my head so its time to climb back into my hole, grab some vaporub, throw on the tube and get some sleep.

Endless Distraction

Around this time of year every year is like christmas for all the sports networks. With the NHL and NBA winding down their seasons with tight playoff races, the Masters kicking off the golf grand slam tour, and baseball and auto racing starting up for the summer, there is no need for the fluff pieces on some local phenom who never comes to fruition, or annoying banter between hosts.

All that sports activity also serves as a major distraction to the tri-annual studying season. Being a resident minority here in Leaf nation, I get sucked into the whims of the vast blind majority and all their uneducated devotion to a shitty hockey team. And so last night saw me crammed into an overcrowded bar, packed with blue and white jerseys, as well as the disgustingly tacky pink alternatives whining about every possible bullshit non-call or call against possible.

And then what do you know, the Leafs get some absolute shit luck garbage goals as are so typical of their teams over the years, and they keep themselves alive in the playoffs. To top the evening off, the Avalanche dropped the ball on their playoff run, only to get the help they would have needed from the Oilers beating Calgary and leaving the control in the hands of Colorado.

So where does that leave me today?

After actually managing to get some productive studying in, its left me channel surfing between the Jays game, the Masters, and the New York Islanders game hoping beyond hopes that the acquisition of Ryan Smyth from the Oilers pays dividends, if only to be eliminated in the first round of the playoffs.

Right now the Isles are up 1-0 and holding tough, making it look like those Canadian teams that aren't in Ottawa will soon get a whole bunch more blind bandwagon hopping support from the large proportion of Leafs fans who actually know nothing of the sport. At this point I don't become much better throwing my support towards the Sens and Canucks, but not so much blindly as hoping to get a cup in Canada for a talented team that isn't the Red Wings for example. The best possible outcome being a Sens cup win just to incense all the Leaf fans that much more.

With that I wish you a happy easter if you celebrate it, and a happy playoffs which you definitely should be celebrating.

Update: In the same vein as last night's fans: na na naa naa, na na naa naa heeyyy heeyyy heyyy, goodbye. What's another year to wait after 40 anyways right?

Pride by Division

I was browsing through the local AM news radio station's website this morning, which I find to be one of the better sources of timely local news, despite its less than insightful writing typically filled with grammatical and spelling errors.

On occasion I look over at the national and international columns to see if there's anything I missed in the bigger news sources, and I did so this morning, to see a mention of the first annual North America Outgames, which apparently slipped past me earlier in the week on CBC.

Now I've made it known before that I have no issues with people's lifestyle choices, so long as they don't adversely affect others, in ways beyond just making them uncomfortable for whatever reason. But when groups of whatever minority or belief go out and bitch to society about not being more broadly accepted or feeling segregated, and then create for themselves an event like this, you have to wonder what they really want.

Are they saying that being gay makes them uncompetitive in sports on other levels? The valid (and correct) argument is that gay people are no different than anyone else save for their lifestyle choice. Are they intentionally trying to draw parallels between themselves and those that truly are disadvantaged, for whom the Special Olympics was created?

If you want to do a better job of being accepted rather than shunned by certain communities, it would seem like a good idea to stop perpetuating mentalities of difference where really none exists. If you can't hack it as an athlete, you can't hack it, go on and find your calling elsewhere. Its not prejudice that's keeping you from Olympic gold.

Fun Fact Friday III

House centipedes eat a variety of insects and spiders, and thrive in humid, warm environments, making them most active in the spring and fall in mid-latitudes associated with weather change. The conditions most conducive to these qualities are basements and bathrooms. Their rigid bodies make them very quick. Girlfriends, upon seeing a said quick moving house centipede in the spring, bolting across her boyfriend's basement floor may herself bolt up the stairs and wait for you to "do something about that thing eww eww eww", and proceed to shake out all blankets before being able to watch TV again.

The U.S. Department of Labour (via my Psych textbook) lists, among other things dope sprayer, bosom presser, cookie breaker, impregnator and impregnator helper in its Dictionary of Occupational Titles. Once again I've been shown that I am pursuing the wrong career path.

The samples from Reservoir Dogs and Pulp Fiction in the Fun Lovin Criminals song Scooby Snacks were taken without legal permission, and so Quentin Tarantino has gone on to collect writing credit and royalties for the song.

My thesis deadline is April 6th, exactly one week away. I have not written a word. April 6th is also a recognized holiday (good friday), and setting due dates or exams on said day is against school policy. I'm wondering exactly how I might work this to my favour; perhaps by waxing born-again for a few days.

Turning into a Plot: RedOx

Thanks to Steve for accurately depicting my flow model:

My final thesis presentation was yesterday, and given that I haven't started putting down my thesis on paper or on screen yet, it was a bit of a challenge to scramble everything together into a coherent, intelligent sounding presentation. Ultimately, I'm not sure that it ever did reach those goals, but its done and gone now. In theory, my undergrad will be done and gone in three and a half weeks, but I really don't see me having a fully edited copy of my thesis in by then, while still having managed to squeeze in some exam prep.

This evening the department is hosting its annual banquet for the 4th year students, and despite the fact that its a cash bar, I'm going to try to put on a happy face and see if I can't score myself at least some summer work around the school, while I decide what I want to do in terms of going on to a masters, or joining the real world.

Turning into a Plot

St. Patty's Gong Show

Actually, contrary to most expectations, St. Patty's this year wasn't much of a show at all. There was no hitting the Bomber beer tent before noon to have my recommended yearly intake of green food colouring. There was no group sabotage of otherwise drinkable beer with salt and pepper shakers. There wasn't even a noon 'til midnight binge, barely removing myself from the same chair at the BarleyWorks this year. Instead, some 'retro' EA Sports game on PS2, some Belgian and German wheat beers (since I dropped the ball on getting myself a substantial quantity of, or in fact, any Harp or Smithwick's), and some movies.

Not very Irish of me, I'm aware, but I have my health to show for it today. Will I use the lack of feeling like I got punched in the liver to get to work on the final presentation for my thesis I am expected to make on Thursday? Probably not. Will I watch more of round 2 of college hoops, and pretend like I knew what was going on beyond the top 4 or 5 teams in the country before this tournament started? More than likely. Will I listen to the Jays game, and think about ways in which Gustavo 'DUI' Chacin's career could now parallel Boomer Wells'? You bet.

There's still one week til the Fantasy Baseball Draft, get signed up!

Update: I was listening to the Ongoing History of New Music archives earlier this week, in particular to a two part show on Tool, when Alan Cross played a sample of a lullaby version of one of their songs. Curious, I looked it up and found that, not only are there some hilarious renditions of Tool, but a bunch of other bands from Bjork to Metallica and a bunch in between. Check out some of the samples here.

Its March; Gimme a Break

Snow days are spectacular events when they happen. A few days after the fact however, once your assignment and exam time-line for the following week gets all compressed; not so much. On the plus side, I'm done everything for 2 of my classes til exams. On the horizon though, 3 exams in a 24 hour period, 4 exams in 4 days. Under some circumstances I could probably have one of those deferred, but because the distance education office and registrars office seem to refuse to work together (a recurring theme with many of the University administrative services) I likely won't be able to do much about getting bent over and made a multiple-choice bubble colouring bitch.

But this week is over, and the weather is looking up. Forecast highs above freezing for the next week, and some rain in there to help melt the thick pack of grungy gray-white, pebble and car-part filled snow lining the streets.

Hopefully I'll manage to unwind this weekend, have a few beers, and help the girlfriend celebrate her birthday. Then next week I can resume the stress involved with grinding out my thesis before the 22nd, and hoping to hell that the government tax system gets its shit together soon so I can file my return and get some much needed cash returned to my needy student self. That's enough whining for now though.

Funny story for the day. I'm out picking up some gas, and running some other errands. I'm stopped at a traffic light, when this year or two old black Nissan Sentra pulls up to me with sports seat belts and after-market rims, and the sound system blasting out some modern hip-hop. I look at the driver, and there's this balding, greying, forty-five to fifty year old white guy droppin' more bombs than the bible's got psalms right along with his system. That, combined with the fact that it was warm enough for me to have the windows down and hear it all, made my day.