Brain-spillings of JTL.

Baseball's changed a little.

2012-01-31T01:39:00.000-05:00

There's a guy on YouTube who puts whole vintage baseball games up. I'm not sure how he gets past the 10-minute limit, but he does. Also, I don't want to link directly to it, lest someone do a blind web search, find the link, alert Major League Baseball and have it shut down.

I'm currently finishing up a 1984 Cardinals-Cubs game, also known as "The Sandberg Game" for what the future Hall of Famer would do in the late and extra innings. (If you want to see it yourself, search 1984 cardinals cubs on the aforementioned video sharing site. You'll find it. You're welcome.) Things have changed a bit since then. Here's what jumped out at me.

Players back then were mostly regular-sized dudes. Hell, Ozzie Smith and Willie McGee look like little shrimps.
There was less time between pitches, for sure.
Closers were used much differently. The Cardinals' Bruce Sutter started the top of the 8th, batted for himself in the bottom of the 8th, and pitched the 9th. And the 10th.
Tommy Herr had glorious hair.
Darrell Porter didn't wear a helmet under his old-style catcher's mask. Just a cap turned backwards.
Not having constant on-screen graphics telling you the count, inning, pitch speed, your horoscope, the phase of the moon... y'know, whatever. Leave it off. Follow the damn game, jerks. Don't rely on the stupid graphics.
Holy shit the Cardinals ran all the time. Any of the reasonably fast Cardinals get on first, they're going. No questions asked. McGee, Andy Van Slyke, Ozzie, Lonnie Smith — bingo. Gone.
Holy shit Ozzie made fantastic plays. Range like crazy, accurate arm, threw on the fly.
Bob Costas, who was doing play-by-play, opined that on-base percentage was the most underrated statistic in the game. Maybe Billy Beane taped this game, watched it later, and developed Moneyball based on it.
Lots of guys used one or zero batting gloves. The way it should be.
There were a lot of Hall of Famers in this game: by my count there was Sandberg, Sutter and Ozzie Smith; Lee Smith, perpetually on the fringe, made it in there too (and picked up the win).
Sandberg really did have a hell of a game: 5-for-6, 2 HR, 7 RBI. Apparently in this game he became the only person ever to hit two home runs off Sutter in the same game.
Nobody uses Game-Winning RBI anymore, but I remember baseball cards pushing it in the '80s; they did on this broadcast too.
The Cardinals' powder-blue away uniforms were truly god-awful.
High stirrups should definitely come back.
Managers and players from the dugouts really screamed at the home-plate ump to disagree with ball-and-strike calls. These days, anyone says more than a peep, they get the ol' thumb.
It was great to hear Costas and colour-man Tony Kubek talk glowingly of Alan Trammell and Lou Whitaker, both as 1-2 hitters and as a double-play combination. They should both be in the damn Hall already.

This was actually a really, really entertaining game to watch. If you've got three hours to spare, give it a whirl.

Major League.

2012-01-28T15:03:00.002-05:00

It's becoming a yearly ritual.

Right around this time of the winter — if you can call this season winter, that is, with all the rain and above-freezing-ness going around — I get a little antsy. The Christmas season and its assorted festivities are over, spring is still a ways away, and Spring Training hasn't started yet.

What better time to throw Major League into the good old-fashioned Blu-Ray player and give it a whirl, then?

Some of the minor details are a bit off:

the stadium supposed to be in Cleveland was actually in Milwaukee
there's no way Spring Training starts on March 1
Lou Brown wouldn't be managing a single minor-league team for 30 years
I'm pretty sure Miss Fuel Injection would have a better body than Rene Russo... but it'd be close
if you tail a woman home from work and awkwardly walk into a dinner party hosted by her fiancé who hates you, you're probably just going to get the cops called on you*
major league baseball teams don't force their players to sleep in bunk-bed dorms

...and so on. But if you suspend a little bit of disbelief, it's a hell of a movie with a shit-ton of quotable moments.

The only quibble I have with it is the inclusion of the romantic subplot. Alright, Jake, we get it — you had the hots for a woman once, but you were a dick and she left and you "couldn't cut it in the Mexican League." But, yet again, a looooooooove story threatens to douse an otherwise hilarious movie with a bucket of piss-warm water. WHO CARES?! SHOW ME MORE OF PEDRO CERRANO WHIFFING ON CURVEBALLS! No wonder Kurt Vonnegut rarely put romance into his works of fiction.

At any rate, it's a great movie and you should watch it. Go Tigers!
_________________________________
* You're really going to want to take my word on this.

A lesson in South Scarberian, and a baseball signing.

2012-01-25T18:04:00.000-05:00

1. A Lesson in South Scarberian

Today we continue our series studying the dialect of the English language spoken in southern Scarborough.

beef ting (bēf tiŋ) cf. "beef thing"
an ongoing issue arising from a past injustice, or "beef"
e.g. "Alice doesn't speak to Bob anymore. It's a beef ting."
e.g. (vernacular) "Alice don wan talk to Bob no more, 's a beef ting, yo."

Since my time with a lot of native South Scarberian-speakers is coming to an end — first semester ended today — these lessons may become somewhat more infrequent in the forseeable future.

2. A Baseball Signing

In case you've been under a rock for the past 24 hours, the Tigers signed this guy:

That's Prince Fielder. He's a very good hitter. He's pictured here sometime in the past few years, playing for the Milwaukee Brewers. Below is his dad in the 1990s:

And, why yes, astute reader, that's a Detroit Tigers uniform on Cecil.

The wrinkle, of course, is that Prince doesn't really talk to Cecil anymore. See, Cecil went and blew a lot of money on gambling and bad investments when his career was over, divorced Prince's mom, and... well, Prince hasn't spoken to his dad much in the past decade-ish. Apparently relations are thawing somewhat, but there's still a long way to go.

It's a huge deal, too: 9 years, $214 million.

WOW.

Participatory satire.

2012-01-18T20:50:00.001-05:00

I'm not sure if you've been following Stephen Colbert's political career lately, but it sure is interesting — and an amazing example of satire being put into action. Let me explain through a series of bullet-points.

The background:

election laws in the US got all fucked-up by a Supreme Court decision a couple of years ago
they essentially said that groups could raise unlimited funds to support a candidate
these groups are called "Super PACs" (Political Action Committees)
they can't "coordinate" with candidates in any way, but they can support candidates by doing things like running ads

Colbert steps in:

to lampoon the ludicrousness of this new law, Colbert forms a Super PAC of his own
informally it's called "Stephen Colbert Super PAC," but officially it's called "Americans for a Better Tomorrow, Tomorrow"
he went in front of the Federal Election Commission (FEC) and basically said, "Let me raise a lot of money, and later figure out what I'm going to do with it"
they rubber-stamped his Super PAC's approval
a series of crazy campaign anti-ads aired in Iowa before their caucuses a few weeks ago, putting down various GOP candidates

Now things get interesting:

Colbert decides he wants to run in the South Carolina primary, which is this weekend
he has to hand over his Super PAC to someone, so he picks Jon Stewart
they rename the group to The Definitely Not Coordinating With Stephen Colbert Super PAC
the Super PAC's lawyer used to be the chair of the FEC, so he knows the rules inside and out
Colbert and Stewart continually pull off crazy moves that seem like they should be illegal under campaign rules, but are actually perfectly legal
e.g. Stewart hires all of Colbert's former Super PAC employees, Stewart tells Colbert what's going to be in the ads, the "new" Super PAC's lawyer is the same as the old one

The fun fine-print:

did I mention this lawyer, who is the DNCWSC Super PAC lawyer, is also Stephen Colbert's personal lawyer and longtime friend?
did I mention that Stewart and Colbert work for the same company and share business interests together?
did I mention that Stewart is one of the Colbert Report's executive producers?
did I mention that this is all legal under FEC rules?

Last night on the Daily Show, Colbert dropped by and chatted with — but did not coordinate with — Stewart, and they had their common lawyer on speakerphone the entire time they were goofing around. They told him to speak up if he heard anything illegal going on; they continually had to ask if he was still there or if he'd hung up, because even with Stewart telling Colbert what the Super PAC was going to do, right to his face, it wasn't illegal. At all.

This is absolutely brilliant satire. Actually, it goes beyond pure stand-on-the-sidelines-and-make-jokes satire: they're jumping right into the system and splashing around in it, precisely to show how ludicrous it is.

I'm reminded of the former Canadian political party, the Rhino Party, which actually fielded candidates in elections but had a formal set of policies that included ludicrous ideas. I'd wager to say that Colbert's dalliance is much more high-stakes, simply because of the huge amounts of money involved. (And, let's face it, Canada doesn't really matter that much in the grand scheme of things, but the US sure does.)

So, kudos to you, Dr. Colbert, and your Super PAC which you have absolutely nothing to do with.

Profanity on TV.

2012-01-10T23:32:00.002-05:00

There was a really interesting interview on the PBS Newshour tonight with a person — a lawyer by trade, I believe — who is following a case making its way up the court system in the US: essentially, a couple of broadcast TV networks are suing the FCC because they got slapped with fines after people said profanity on a couple of live shows a few years ago. Their angle is a curious one: they say that the FCC's rule about indecency on the air is so vague it harms their First Amendment rights to express themselves.

I couldn't help but think about a show I saw last night on the CBC, in prime time, which happened to include the words "shit" or "bullshit" about a dozen times in a half-hour show. The show had a disclaimer at the start and when coming back from commercial, and they did bleep out f-words and their various permutations, but... wow.

Loosen up, America, and let a little profanity slide. It's perfectly alright to put movie scenes of incredible violence on TV, but "shit" has to go? C'mon.

My latest crush.

2012-01-06T01:57:00.006-05:00

Look, I know you must think I have a thing for women-of-colour, based on my past (admitted) quasi-celebrity crushes I've listed on here. If memory serves, here's what we've got so far, in chronological order of crushery:

1. Oga Nwobosi, Weather Network reporter

The original and, dare I say, best. How can you top your first Basic Cable Crush? She set the bar pretty high: as high as that high-pressure ridge building over Manitoba, or something like that. Anyway, on we go to...

2. Sarika Sehgal, CBC Newsworld anchor

One day I was flipping idly through the channels, and... there she was. I assume her background is something Indian, or at least in that neighbourhood. But really, does that matter? Besides, if it's 25-below and the wind is howling, we all look the same in snowpants.

3. Sook-Yin Lee, musician/MuchMusic VJ/actor/CBC Radio host

I never had MuchMusic until I went to uni, but boy-howdy did I discover S-Y fast. Nowadays she hosts Definitely Not The Opera, and I am Definitely Smitten. (Have been for years.) She's a Facebook-friend of mine, so I expect her to propose marriage to me any day now. I'll keep you posted.

Fast-forward to tonight. Naturally, because I'm on holidays, I'm reverting to my natural night-owl hours, and I'm able to watch Conan O'Brien's show at its normal time. (Because I'm cheap and don't get The Comedy Network anymore, I wait until 1:05am when it's on CTV for free.) The monologue was funny, Conan promised to eventually air the Nog Hog sketch he cut (details here), Johnny Galecki told stories about his brother not remembering how old he was... and then...

4. Mindy Kaling, actor/writer/producer on The Office

I admit, I don't watch The Office much. Hell, I like the UK version better, and I don't think I've caught more than a couple of minutes of the US version in the past five years. I must've seen her on there maybe once or twice, and thought she was alright, but her character's annoying (by design). But, in person, she's whip-smart, funny (including being openly self-deprecating; pretty rare for a chick), urbane, and just all kinds of sexy. Hell, that picture above doesn't even do her justice. I don't even care that Mindy Kaling isn't even her real name. Hell, I don't even care that she's uh-MURR-i-cunn. She is just eighteen thousand different kinds of alright, man.

There we go, then. I live in the world's most multicultural city, so it'd stand to reason that my quasi-celebrity crushes would sample different cultures. (And don't even get me started on the MP for Scarborough―Rouge River.)

A few resolutions.

2012-01-01T17:59:00.002-05:00

In 2012 I resolve to...

Drink more.
Chase women more often.
Cook awesome food.
Bake more bread.
Spend less time at work.
See more baseball games.

...'cause ya gotta have goals.

But, being slightly more serious for a moment, I think the main thing I'm shooting for this year is to live more vibrantly. That can take on a bunch of different guises, some of which I've listed above.

A friend of mine asked me a couple of days ago how I'd rate 2011, and I gave it a B-plus. But then I started thinking back to 2007, my first full year back in Toronto after being in grad school, and... the years pretty much all run together. Don't get me wrong, there have definitely been important milestones along the way — but in the end I don't think I've changed a great deal since then (other than your standard growing older/wiser sort of deal).

Is this how life is? Do years blur together, indistinguishable from one another? I hope not. Then again, when we were all in uni, we couldn't picture making like Loverboy and "working for the weekend," but we all do, don't we?

A typically Icelandic conversation.

2011-12-30T15:02:00.002-05:00

By May of 1940, Germany had easily invaded Denmark and Norway, and the Allies thought that Germany was looking to steamroll its way across the North Atlantic. (They probably were.)

Iceland was formally neutral in World War II. It still had ties to Denmark — their king was still formally the head of the Icelandic government — so the fact that Germany invaded Denmark was sort of a big deal.

The UK thought it'd be a good idea to act first on securing Iceland; might as well grab it before the Krauts do, they surmised. So, they put together a sloppy invasion strategy — because Iceland had no military, it didn't have to be great — and set about the task.

In the middle of the night before British ships were to land, a reconnaissance plane was sent forward to scout out the harbour. The pilot mistakenly flew over downtown Reykjavík, and because Iceland didn't have any airplanes at the time, this woke a lot of people up, including the Prime Minister. So much for surprise.

At any rate, in the morning, the British ships came into the harbour, and a crowd of curious Icelanders was gathered around. The British consul in Iceland knew about the so-called invasion beforehand, so he went down to make sure everything was going smoothly. The crowd — which included some police officers — was getting in the way a bit:

British consul, to Icelandic police:

Would you mind getting the crowd to stand back a bit, so that the soldiers can get off the destroyer?

Police reply, essentially to the army that was there to invade them:

Certainly.

A little later, a pissed-off local did this:

One Icelander snatched a rifle from a [British] marine and stuffed a cigarette in it. He then threw it back to the marine and told him to be careful with it.

Ah, Iceland. My kind of place: endlessly polite, even to invading armies. Full story here.

Cooking Tip #1.

2011-12-27T15:33:00.004-05:00

Bacon grease really isn't all that good a substance to fry stuff in.

I usually put a little canola oil in the bottom of my pan before frying. I like it because it has a really high smoke point, unlike olive oil which smokes like crazy if I put the heat on anywhere past medium. Turns out, bacon grease does the exact same thing. Jesus, it looked like a god damn hot box in my kitchen when I was done cooking breakfast. I even took the battery out of my smoke detector, 'cause it was bound to go off like a fuckin' air raid siren.

So, in conclusion, while it sounds like a great idea to fry things in bacon grease... it's really just more trouble than it's worth.

Next time on Cooking Tips With the J-man: huckleberries. Once you've had fresh, you'll never go back to frozen!

Happy anniversary.

2011-12-26T23:32:00.003-05:00

Two things happened twenty years ago today.

1. Sgt Pepper taught the band to play.

(Jesus, how high were these guys?!)

2. The Soviet Union broke up.

I remember sitting on my grandparents' couch on Boxing Day, 1991 and watching the evening news that night after a family gathering. I just couldn't believe this big, huge, indestructible thing could just... end. Amazing.

The Current had a really interesting retrospective on it today. Definitely worth a listen.

Oh, teenagers.

2011-12-22T16:47:00.002-05:00

First off, a bit of Informal South Scarberian dialect to pass on to you:

facety (fās' tē) adj.
combative, argumentative, in one's face
e.g. "Leave me alone, don't be so facety."

Secondly, this story goes under the "Wow, kids can be exceptionally stupid" file. It happened to a colleague of mine yesterday, who is not one for exaggeration.

The student, who we will call "H" for anonymity's sake, was in a class yesterday with a supply teacher, who is one of our normal full-time teachers who's on a leave of absence this year doing her master's, but comes back frequently to supply on her days off to make a little cash.

The class which contains H is really quite a sight: a good majority of the complete and utter assholes of H's year — and, boy-howdy, there's a lot of 'em — somehow all ended up in the same room. It really is like that scene in The Usual Suspects where all these criminals are in the same holding cell, and naturally they start to plan a crime to commit when they get out.

Shockingly, though, yesterday they were actually being productive and completing the work that their regular teacher left behind for them... except H, who tried his best to let his inner a-hole-ness shine through a little more than it often does. For reference, H is black, and his family comes from Jamaica (although he was born here).

According to our intrepid supply teacher, H spent most of the class dicking-around and not doing a whole lot of anything. But, eventually he decided it'd be more fun to do the following:

use a computer in the room to shop for $200 sneakers
berate another student in the room for having "Wal-Mart sneakers"
make fun of Africans in general, and Nigerians in particular, by...

making monkey noises, and
imitating Zulu war dances

When the supply teacher confronted H about his racist and insane behaviour, he justified it as such (in a paraphrased way):

H: "Well, I'm black, so I can make fun of Africans. It's okay."
Teacher: "You know your ancestors came from Africa, right?"
H: "No they didn't! There's no way they did." (Presumably, he thought they were "only" from Jamaica, and didn't know/care how they got to Jamaica in the first place.)

(I'll give you a hint: most of them didn't end up in Jamaica of their own free will.)

So, what we have here is a case of terminal stupidity. Apparently the supply teacher attempted to give H a little history lesson, but he just wasn't believing any part of it. And even if he did believe it, he's still an idiot: because he's black he can make fun of any black person, in incredibly racist ways? That's like me mercilessly ripping on the Scots and Irish, which I'm pretty obviously descended from, and then denying my ancestors came from there but saying, "oh, it's okay, because I'm white I can rip on 'em."

Me: "Those cheap motherfucking Scots and those drunk Irish assholes. And don't get me started on people from the north of England!"
Someone: "Uh... isn't your family all from there, many generations ago?"
Me: "Fuck no! Not a damn chance. Don't you worry about this blond hair and my blue eyes and this pale-ass skin. I'm totally not-Celtic. At all."
Someone: "Really? You kinda look like it."
Me: "Hellz-no, dawg. Not in the least. But have you ever seen them on your box of Lucky Charms? What a little gay fag queer that leprechaun is! But it's alright, I'm white."

So, in the end, some kids are idiots. Most are alright, but some are just really, really, really stupid. As H's teacher puts it, "Most kids, even the ones you have that drive you crazy, have at least one redeeming quality. H has absolutely none."

One-sentence random thought #15.

2011-12-21T20:11:00.001-05:00

Discuss: text-messaging has become the new MSN.

It's that time of year again.

2011-12-15T22:29:00.002-05:00

Yup. It's that time of year when the daily grind has worn us down into a powder, the kids are getting squirrelly, there's all kinds of meetings and engagements and parties and such to attend, and you still sorta have to carry on and plough through your everyday routine even though we've had one weekday off since Labour Day. (And no, PD days don't count, because we gotta come in and do stuff, even though the kiddies get to stay home.)

Christmas gifts purchased: 0

Marking recently done: nearly 0

Times in the past two weeks when I've come home late from a ridiculous waste-of-time meeting and conked-out on my couch for multiple hours: 2

Six days of classes left to go, though — so, in the words of Carl Spackler, "I've got that going for me."

Everything's coming up J-man.

2011-12-06T19:35:00.003-05:00

Well, almost everything. But hey, c'est la vie.

1. Blue Jays Season Pass
No, I didn't suddenly switch allegiances: I'll be a Tiger fan until the day I die. But hey, having Major League Baseball a short bus-and-subway ride away from me is a pretty neat thing, so I'll go to some Jays games now and again. This year, the Jays have their super-amazing deal on again: the Blue Jays Fan Pass, formerly the Toronto Star Fan Pass, gets you into every Jays home game (except Opening Day) for a cool $99. That's eighty games for a hundred bones! You can't beat that deal, not even with your good crowbar. Sure, it's in the 500 level. And sure, the ushers have become Nazis about moving down into lower levels. But it's still a steal of a deal.

2. Trip to Florida
The Sixth Annual "J Goes To Florida To Watch Meaningless Baseball" trip is shaping up nicely for March. I bought my plane tickets and nailed down a rental car today... and I really have to say something here about the prices on rental cars. You can be searching for the same cars on the same days from two different vendors; one will be $35 a day, and the other will be $85 a day. It's nuts! At least I can (somewhat) understand the (convoluted) logic behind plane ticket pricing... but this? Pure craziness. Also: if you have to rent a car, do it through Expedia.

3. Trip to Chicago
Former frequent-commenter ECB is nearing the end of her time in the Windy City, and Porter had a good sale on plane tickets, and I got to take three days off whenever I wanted them for the first time ever (from my union in gratitude for working my ass off during the provincial election). Thus, this weekend I'm headed off to Chicago to finally go out for a serious round of drinking: I've done a lot of stuff in that city, but hitting a bar has (bizarrely) not been one of them. Then again, after this past weekend — yes, my chest still hurts today — I may not want to overdo it too much.

4. Christmas Holidays: Gettin' Closer
If I haven't mentioned it already, my two grade 9 classes are inSANE. Mind you, they're crazy for different reasons; my morning guys just don't give a shit, and my afternoon kids are pathologically frantic. Underneath the crazy, they're all actually pretty nice kids, and will someday make for functional adults, for the most part... but for now, I just gotta grit my teeth and get through it with minimal permanent damage. (For the first time ever, I thought today that I could use a massage; the area between my shoulder blades, and my upper back in general, feels really tense.) But, we've had a countdown on the office chalkboard for the past couple of days, and today it clicked down to 12 school days before The Break.

Ouch.

2011-12-05T20:26:00.003-05:00

Earlier this evening I was sitting on my couch and reading something, when I laughed.

And my chest hurt. Not in a heart-attack-y kind of way, but in a muscular kind of way.

At first I didn't know why. But it came to me: I puked so much on Sunday morning (after a hell of a Saturday night) that I still hurt, a day and a half later, indirectly.

Thank you, booze. I needed that.

Also: I really have to fucking grow up.

Another one clicks by.

2011-11-30T19:49:00.004-05:00

A wise man once said, "Every day above ground is a good day." That wise man may or may not have been my uncle Frank.

(Honestly, I have no idea who said that. It could've been him; he's been known to snap off a profound statement now and again. Then again, he had surgery for lung cancer and kept right on smoking, so you may want to doubt his capacity for logic and reason.)

It's a good notion, though; a solid way of looking at the world. Even if things don't quite turn out your way, what's the alternative? You're in the cold ground, someone else is nailing your wife, and some raccoon is probably taking a dump on your tombstone.

I turned 34 today. This means I'm solidly in my mid-30s. Y'know what, though? I'm fine with that. I really am. I mean, sure, I haven't got the whole romance thing locked up yet, I still haven't written the Great American Novel, and to this day I get my ass thoroughly kicked every time I play Scrabble.* But other than those little wrinkles, I think I'm doing fine overall.

Yep, your ol' pal J is doing alright, thankyouverymuch.

(Seriously, thank you for reading all my inane posts over the years. This thing has been going since the fall of 2004, when I was but a young buck, a graduate student chasing a dream of being a rockstar astronaut. Now that I am one, all I can say is that playing a the "Freebird" solo on the International Space Station was pretty damn amazing.)
_________________________
* I'm not entirely sure if this is true, seeing as I haven't played Scrabble in about a decade. But I assume it to be true.

Way to go, Mr. President.

2011-11-22T23:22:00.004-05:00

A little while ago, B. Hussein Obama set up a fancy-sounding "Congressional Supercommittee" to wrestle the ol' budget thing to the ground. You know, 12 people — six Democrats, six Republicans — who were going to single-handedly* save the US government's ass when it came to deficits and such.

Guess what? They failed.

SURPRISE,
SURPRISE.

Here's why the whole exercise was doomed from the start.

If the Supercommittee somehow was able to work together and magically figure out a way for the US government to avert financial disaster without wholesale hacking-and-slashing of various department budgets, that would've required compromise between parties. And, to quote Del Griffith, "You'd have better luck finding a three-legged ballerina."

If the Supercommittee failed to do this Herculean task, though? Automatic across-the-board cuts to everything the government buys.

So, lemme get this straight.

Obama allowed Republicans on this committee; a nice touch, but let's face it, the only thing they do is fuck shit up. Included on this is Sen. John Kyl (R—AZ), who has been ranked as the fourth-most-conservative Senator, and incidentally opposed the new START arms-reduction treaty with Russia. The other Republicans that got named (by Republicans) on this committee include Senators Rob Portman and Pat Toomey, and Representatives Jeb Hensarling, Fred Upton and Dave Camp, all of whom appear to be giant dicks.
These Republicans, in no way, shape or form, would EVER agree with a Democrat on ANYTHING. That's just how things are in Washington these days: stall, bicker, remain completely ideological, and for gosh sakes, don't you dare ever work with the other side on anything!
Thus, they were never going to get a deal done on anything.
Because they didn't get a deal, automatic huge spending cuts kick in for next year's budget. This is the sort of thing that makes Grover Norquist's nipples hard (along with a sizeable chunk of the GOP caucus).
So, if there was no deal — to which Republicans never would've agreed anyway — the Republicans win. If the parties had been able to work out a compromise, they'd have gotten something somewhat reasonable, I imagine. But we'll never find that out, will we?

In the end, it didn't work. But I could've told you that.
________________________________
* This group may in fact have 24 hands, not a single one.

Simpler is not always better.

2011-11-18T18:17:00.004-05:00

When it comes to contracts and tax forms and drinking-nights-out, simpler is definitely better. Not so in music.

I was driving home today, and the Doobie Brothers' "Long Train Runnin'" came on my iPod. Now, by any measure, this is a great song, even if the lyrics are a little nonsensical; but you know my stance on lyrics, namely, they don't mean anything and I don't listen to them and I don't care what they say. Besides, I'm too busy listening to the music (also alluded-to in another awesome Doobies' song).

But, what struck me about the song was that, in comparison to a lot of modern popular stuff, there was a hell of a lot going on, musically. I SoundCloud'd the intro, first verse and first chorus for your listening pleasure:

db by frisbeepilot

Layered guitars of all types, actual melodies, some form of technical skill required. On top of that, it's pleasing to the ear (at least to me).

Now, I thought to myself, What band is the complete opposite of this, musically? Naturally, exactly one (1) band came to mind:

With great distaste and much nausea, I headed over to YouTube to, ahem, "borrow" a little snippet of music so I could edit it neatly, SoundCloud it up, and present it to you. Alas, Nickelback's pretty possessive of their copyrighted material, and SoundCloud recognized the music in the clip as belonging to this horrific excuse for a musical act. So, I had to just embed the YouTube clip here... be forewarned, it is very, very loud, so please turn down your volume. (You can stop it at the 1:09 mark, but you'll want to do so much sooner.)

Awful, I know. But, let me try to explain why.

The lyrics are awful. So awful that I actually care. But, aside from that, here's what's going on:

The intro riff sounds like something the guitarist came up with two minutes before they started recording. Most likely it was something that sounds very similar to a riff he'd made for another song; this band has a history of things like that.
The music behind the lyrics in the verse is exactly the same as the intro riff, just turned down a bit. Nothing new is happening. At all.
All four lines in the first verse sound exactly the same. It's the same thing, repeated. A boring thing got repeated. Over and over.
The overall sound of the thing is... hard to describe. "Overprocessed" is the technical term for it, I guess. "Homogenous" is a little closer to what I want to say. "Steamroller-y" might get me almost there. "Shitty" is too obvious and not descriptive enough, but yet perfectly bang-on.
Chad Kroger's voice is legendarily grating, of course. But what gets me is that he's essentially shout-growling one note. There's no lyrical melody at all.
The bass and rhythm guitar are just chugging along, playing (a.) the exact same thing as each other, and (b.) the same note over and over. Go back and compare it with the Doobie Brothers' track, where there are multiple little hills and valleys, chords cycle through, and the bass has a melody all its own.

Who keeps buying all these Nickelback records, anyway? Certainly nobody I know. Anyway, if you need me, I'll be relaxing in my music nook.

One-sentence random thought #14.

2011-11-15T22:42:00.001-05:00

I know less about women than I ever thought possible.

Never a dull moment.

2011-11-12T13:29:00.002-05:00

I posted this to my FB status yesterday:

So, a kid has to write a test in my class today. His notes, which he can use for the test, are in his backpack. Someone put a lock on the zipper. A week ago.

Welcome to one of several dozen ridiculous situations I face, every day of my professional life.

And it's true. This is the sort of crazy crap I have to deal with, every day, 194 times a year. (And yes, we count.)

Usually it's the kids who make you shake your head. Sometimes, parents get into the mix. And, even occasionally, my colleagues do and say things that make me wonder, "You teach children for a living?"

There are a lot of things my job isn't, and one of these things is boring. I have to constantly be on my toes, always have to put on a reasonably happy face (even if I feel like crap or someone just did something completely idiotic), and since it's far easier to just come in and slog through a day if I'm feeling sick than to take a sick day — took my first one in nine years, last year — rain-or-shine, I'll be there.

(That being said, I do get three lieu-days from my union for working on assorted political campaigns this fall. One will be spent visiting ECB in Chicago; another will be spent (hopefully) watching the Detroit Tigers' home opener in April, assuming I can get a ticket; the third is just a random Friday in May that I had to pick because, well, I had another day coming.)

(Oh, and the April one is the day before Good Friday, which turns that weekend from a 4-day into an unprecedented 5-day. Will I even remember the kids' names?)

I've often thought to myself, I should write down all the crazy crap my kids say. It'd be amusing, for sure. But, to be honest, if I did that, I'd never have time to do anything else during the day. Because my memory's so terrible, I barely remember anything; the only reason I was able to write that down was because my kids were doing a test, and I have a computer on my front lab bench.

At any rate... there we go. If you're looking for a career where you are guaranteed not to ever, EVER be bored, c'mon down and sign yourself up.

On doohickeys.

2011-11-04T20:51:00.002-04:00

I have too many electronic thingamajigs these days.

And yes, new cellular telephone, you are partially at fault. (More on that later.)

Current gadgetry inventory:

one desktop computer (Linux)
two notebook computers (netbook runs Win7, laptop is an old iBook)
one iPod Touch (4th generation)
one cell phone (Blackberry Curve 9300)

See, here's the problem. With all these whatzits, there's a million ways to get in contact with me:

regular telephone
cell phone
email
text message
iMessage
MSN Messenger
Facebook Chat
Gmail Chat

Alright, I grant you, 1,000,000 ≠ 8, but you get the point: 8 is too many for me.

I have my cell phone on my coffee table presently. Will it ding and tell me I have a text?

MSN is on. (Does anyone use MSN anymore?) Who will contact me there?

I'm currently chatting with former blogger ECB on Facebook. Who else will pop up?

I've only contacted two people through iMessage so far. How the hell does it work?*

And don't even get me started on all the Strip-O-Grams I get on a daily basis. Really? Does a man need to see all those boobs?**

Anyway... this is stressing me out. I didn't think it would, but the addition of the cell phone has been the real tipping point. I don't want to have to think about all these things all at once. This is too many. Too many connections to people.

I was fine with landline and email. I really was.

You want to get in touch with me? Call my house. If I'm there, I'm probably alright to talk with you, unless I'm in the shower. But when I get out and dry myself off, I'll hear your message, and call you right back. Or, if I'm out of the house, that means I'm busy doing something else, so when I get back from doing whatever it was that I was doing, I'll check your message and get back to you.

Or, if you wanted to send me something electronically, or just have a textual conversation with me, or if it's not really urgent, or it's just more convenient to type, that's what email and Facebook/MSN messenger are for. If it's urgent, call me. If it's really urgent and I'm at work, call my work and they'll find me, I guarantee you. I've been working ten years and this situation has never come up; I'm not saying it never would, but y'know, ten years.

So, that's the point at which I find myself. I'm antsy, I really am. And I don't want to be. I'm not sure right now, but I think, most of the time, my cell phone will just be off. I don't want it dinging all the time. Call my landline; I've decided to keep it, and keep it as my primary means of communication. If you and I are planning on doing something, maybe I'll have my cell on me, but don't bet on it; I'm betting on you keeping your word, because there's a chance I've had to rearrange other things in my life in order to accommodate this thing we were supposed to be doing, and changing or cancelling at the last minute is a dick move, and then I'm sitting at home alone instead of doing the other thing I'd have been doing if I hadn't made a plan to do the thing with you that you just flaked-out on.

It's ok. I can change this plan I made, he's got his cell on him.

Ah, no, it's not ok.

...wow, I really got off on a rant there. But rants are good. I'm done, though.
____________________________________

* According to the Insane Clown Posse, probably magic.
** Yes, I do.

How to speak South Scarberian.

2011-10-31T21:43:00.004-04:00

I often tell my students, "Y'know, if I'd stayed back in my hometown to teach, I'd have missed out on so much good stuff." (Mind you, I probably would've missed out on hearing that a student of mine got led out of the school in cuffs for bringing a six-inch knife in the building — and, as far as I can deduce, to my classroom — but hey, life's funny sometimes.)

So, I bring you a bit of South Scarberian, circa Fall 2011. Please note that this may vary from area to area, and may only be particular to the part of southern Scarborough in which I work. No guarantees are made that this won't get you stabbed and/or shivved anywhere else, or even within the neighbourhood.*

extra (ĕk' strə)
adj. outrageous or out-of-the-ordinary, often somewhat derisively
Example: "Alice is being so extra today. She's even more annoying than usual."

snake (snāk)
adj. sneaky or underhanded
Example: "Teacher gave us a pop quiz yesterday; that was snake, yo."

greezy (grē' zē)
adj. sly or slick, in a potentially admirable way; cf. "greasy"
Example: "Did you see that move Bob pulled today in the basketball match? That was greezy, dawg."

Lexicographer's note:
Regrettably, my favourite piece of South Scarberian, "arms" (as to describe something which is seen as a slight, but not disrespectfully so) has no meaning anymore. Such is the fluidity of this particular dialect.
______________________________
* The school at which I teach is actually pretty great. That's not to say it's devoid of, well, let's call them "characters."

On Populism.

2011-10-25T19:35:00.002-04:00

pop·u·list (n.) \ˈpä-pyə-list\

1. a member of a political party claiming to represent the common people
2. a believer in the rights, wisdom, or virtues of the common people

Since the mid-1990s, so-called "populist" moments in North American politics have had one particular flavour: reactionary conservatism. The Reform Party in Canada, the Tea Party in the US and the Common Sense Revolution in Ontario were all, to some degree, populist — or, at the very least, a very vocal minority had their enthusiasm capitalized-upon by a political party willing to expand the sentiment to the wider electorate, for political gain. (See: Manning, Preston; Palin, Sarah; Harris, Douchefuck.)

Well, these days, there's a populist fog a-brewin', and it's the Occupy X movement. It's vague, but as Matt Taibbi suggests, that may not be such a bad thing at this juncture. To catch populist lightning in a bottle lately, you've had to be organized, fast and relentless... which pretty neatly describes today's neoconservative machines.

But this thing... it defies easy explanation, and that might serve it well, so long as they keep playing the media's game. The way to engender support is not to smash windows — I hope the protest movement has learned this by now, Black Bloc-types included — but to boil your key ideas down to a concise message which you can use as a lever to pry open the broader discourse. Remember "Yes We Can"? It was a little echo-y, but it got a black dude elected in the US of A, so maybe there's something to that tactic.

At any rate, it's going to be interesting to see how this all goes forward. I think the idea of 99%/1% is a great, short, punchy way to get the basic point across. The question is, can this rabble coalesce around some basic, tangible changes they want to see? I sure hope so.

Ugh.

2011-10-16T22:09:00.003-04:00

I'm disgusted that I'm writing this.

I really am.

But...

I'm strongly considering ditching my land line and going with a cell phone.

(pause for gasps of shock and horror)

Look... these things don't seem to be going away, much as I would like them to. And, my landline bill is $32 a month, even if I don't make a single long-distance call — which I usually don't, because I use a phone card which gives me a way better rate anyway.

Plus, there's the text-messaging thing. A lot of people seem to be into it, and it's kinda like portable email, which would be pretty useful.

GRRRR.

If you know me, and chances are you do, you know that the non-cell-phone thing is a big part of how I define myself. Perhaps it's misplaced angst, perhaps it's stubborn for stubbornness's sake. Maybe it's just idiotic. I'm not sure. I've always said that, "Oh, it's just a matter of time before I get one." Well, we may be rapidly approaching that time.

But... if I'm shelling out $32 a month for a landline, or $25 a month for an unlimited-local, unlimited-text, unlimited-data plan from Mobilicity, and I can get a free cell phone from a friend who found a fairly-recent Blackberry on the street and can (apparently) get it "broken" for five bucks at Pacific Mall so it'll work on any cell network... then what the hell am I doing giving Ma Bell all this extra money?

So... that's where I'm at.

And I hate it.

But, that's life sometimes.

OK, here's the plan.

2011-10-03T00:11:00.002-04:00

Tuesday, 1:55pm
Finish teaching a room full of grade 9s. Hopefully the walls are still intact.

2:00
Someone else starts my grade 12s off on research for their project.

2:10
I'm in my car, hitting the road... specifically the 401 westbound, hopefully before the majority of the afternoon rush.

5:30
Crossing the Bluewater Bridge from Sarnia to Port Huron, and hoping the afternoon rush hour doesn't really affect the lineup too much.

6:15
Dropping my stuff off at a hotel on the outskirts of Detroit.

7:30
Sipping a beer at the Beer Hall in Comerica Park.

8:30
First pitch of Tigers-Yankees, ALDS Game 4... section 218, Mezzanine level.

11:45-ish
The game ends, hopefully with a win for the good guys.

Wednesday, 12:30am-ish
Get all tucked into bed in the aforementioned hotel.

5:30
Wake up, shower, grab coffee and pastry.

6:00
Hit the road.

10:00
Arrive back in Toronto, fresh as a daisy.

10:20
Teach my period 2 grade 9s; my prep period is first that day.

This is gonna be NUTS.

The kiddies.

2011-09-27T19:27:00.002-04:00

Oh, the kiddies this year are interesting.

I wanted to wait until we were a couple of weeks into the school year before writing about them. That first little spell there is what I like to call the Honeymoon Period: they don't really know each other too well, and they don't know you at all, and all the grade 9's are scared shitless already. So, they'll sit quietly, do what you tell them, and won't even consider "misbehaving."

Friends, the Honeymoon is over.

I have two classes of Grade 9 Applied Science — "applied" meaning "not academic" meaning "kids who don't do well in science" — and one class of Grade 12 Earth & Space Science. That one is great; students are there because they want to be, and even if they're not, y'know, as nerdy as I am about all that stuff, at least they know how to play school.

The 9's, though... that's where I earn my money.

Last year's grade 9's were, on balance, sociopaths. I'm not sure if malicious is a strong enough word to describe the admittedly-small number of bad apples that spoiled the whole barrel, but you really had to see some of these kids to believe them. Aforementioned apples: twirpy, chirpy, pre-growth-spurt munchkins that acted like they owned the place from Day One. Teachers hated them, senoir students wanted to bash their heads in, and even their own better-mannered colleagues wanted them gone. Unfortunately, those idiots drowned-out the really good kids who are pretty liable to fly right under your radar if you're not looking for them.

Some of those kids passed all of their grade 9 subjects. Some did not. I have a few of them this year, and they are definitely not pleased to be in the same room as people a year younger than them. Case in point: a grade 10 girl, who seems fairly nice, is absolutely mortified that she's in the same room as her little grade-9 brother, who couldn't sit still for ten minutes if you offered to pay him $10,000 in unmarked bills for such a feat.

I have four students in those two classes (combined) that barely speak any English. Our English as a Second Language (ESL) classes have five classifications, from A (just got off the rickety plane direct from Kazblakistan) to E (good enough to at least attempt regular English classes). In one class I have two A's, from Hungary and Afghanistan; in the other, two very-different B's from Honduras and Cuba. My kid from Hungary probably has the lowest English skills of anyone I've ever taught, and that's saying something. Nonetheless, I've been scanning blocks of text from our textbook, OCRing them, and running them through Google Translate; we'll see how that works out.

The irony about my two Applied classes is that, for kids who are in those courses, they really need a good, focused classroom environment in order to do well — but, of course, this is never the kind of classroom environment you get, precisely because of the kids in it. Zing! Joke's on... well, probably me.

All in all, though, things are going alright. I had some students tell me on a quiz a couple of days ago that the following symbols are paired up with these elements:

Ca = cancer
F = fossil
N = nagnesium

...so it's a work-in-progress, as you can see.

Ah well. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: There's never, EVER a dull moment in my job.

So, here it is.

2011-09-11T15:34:00.002-04:00

Ten years later.

The world has changed in a lot of ways since that day, in some ways.

But in a lot of other, perhaps more important ways, things are still the same:

Rich people are still screwing poor people over by the billions.
Governments are corrupt in a lot of places.
Religious fanatics continue to brainwash massive amounts of people for personal gain.
The gap between haves and have-nots continues to grow, in both developed and developing countries.
We continue to ruin our planet with shocking efficiency.

I think perhaps the most pressing problem in North America these days is the virulent strain of anti-intellectualism we've been seeing for the past decade or so. I'd argue that its first big modern boost came during the 2000 US presidential election campaign, when people were flocking to George W Bush because he was such a plain-spoken good ol' boy; "There's someone I could sit down and have a beer with."

Well, I'm sorry. The president of the United States, the most powerful person in the world, should not necessarily be someone who is a regular-folk, straight-C student. In fact, quite the opposite should be true: I want that person to be the most brilliant damn person in the world. I couldn't care less how personable they are; Bill Clinton was a Rhodes scholar and was certainly a charmer, but the latter was merely icing on a very smart cake. (And yes, I know we could argue about how the Dems actually set up a lot of the financial problems we're seeing now, but that's an argument for another time.)

So now we have the Tea Party; again, an argument for another time. But the key feature is that these people are proud to not know anything. In a sense, they're a modern revival of the 1800s Know Nothing Party, which was against such things as immigration from predominantly Catholic countries. Substitute Muslim for Catholic in the 21st century, and there's your Tea Party. (Here's a shortcut to the main features of the Know Nothing platform.)

To me, this is a far greater danger to our society than, say, terrorism. Empires usually crumble under their own weight, not because of external factors or influences. Idiocracy might come to fruition a lot sooner than 2505 at the rate we're going, and that's not good for anyone.

There's an erection a-comin'.

2011-09-07T21:41:00.003-04:00

(And no, I never get tired of that joke.)

Executive Summary:

Seeing as my city now has a dipshit Conservative mayor, and my country has a snarky Conservative PM, would it be too much to ask to have a middle-of-the-road Liberal premier?

Long Story Long:

We have fixed provincial election dates in Ontario. I personally hate this, because it means the erstwhile campaigning began months and months ago, turning the election into a decidedly American-style affair. But hey, that's what our previous Conservative premier(s) gave us, so that's what we've gotta live with. (Besides, when you have flexible election dates, you can have fun, neat stuff like David Peterson calling a snap election pretty early in his mandate and having his ass handed to him by once-provincial-NDP-turned-interim-federal-Liberal leader Bob Rae. Good times. (Sorta.))

In the spring, Tim Hudak and the PCs were polling disturbingly high. Very disturbingly high. Even though the campaign was months away from its official start (i.e., today), a lot of us were shitting bricks over the numbers. Then the summer came, and people forgot about Hudak a bit, and the Libs' numbers started inching up. And now it's fall and the race is on and Blue and Red are pretty much neck-and-neck these days. (I'm not sure where Orange is, to be honest. I have nothing against Andrea Horwath (pronounced Horvath), but let's wait until the PCs are at least in a medically-induced coma before we can put some serious effort behind the NDP.)

(That is to say, I'm much more afraid of the Tories running Ontario than Horwath. It's sad that this has to be based on fear, and of whom I'm afraid the least, but...)

(...well, I don't really have a good answer for that. But, back to the task at hand.)

I've been not-so-secretly hoping — and actually somewhat expecting — Hudak to put his foot in his mouth this election campaign like John Tory did so beautifully in 2007. If you'll recall, Tory tried to shore-up his 905 Jewish/immigrant* vote by musing, "Hey, wouldn't it be great if taxes helped pay for private religious schools?" Tory couldn't have gift-wrapped a better sound bite for the Libs if he'd gone to the mall in December and stopped by the little table that wraps your presents for you and donates the profits to some local charity of some flavour. Naturally, that worked out well for me in '07.

And hey, it might just be happening again. Recently, Tim opined that the Liberal goverment's current program which has $12 million headed towards employers who hire immigrants with decent credentials and skills back home but can't find good jobs here is tantamount to "affirmative action" — and he's starting to refer to immigrants as "foreigners."

Now, don't get me wrong, I love a good Foreigner song. But referring to immigrants as foreigners clearly sets up an "us vs. them" mentality, as this Star article points out. I heard a clip of Dalton McGuinty on the radio today, sounding just about as angry as I've ever heard him — seriously, the guy would probably be humming showtunes if his house was burning down — slamming Hudak and comparing him to the Tea Party. And to Dalton's credit, the more I think about that comparison, the better it is.

Listen... I don't like it when politics turns ugly. I don't like campaigns that run on negatives. But McGuinty kicked a lot of verbal ass today, and it was an ass that needed to be kicked. (If it's Tim Hudak's ass, let me invoke Butthead (who's back with Beavis this fall in a series on MTV, hooray!) and call it "the ass of the ass.") More, please!

(And yes, today I am officially embracing parentheses within parentheses (like this), because it just makes sense.)
___________________________
* I'm not invoking this in any pejorative way at all. I dig Jews and immigrants; I count some of them among my very closest friends. I'm merely pointing out that the 905 had ridings that were real horse-races between the PCs and the Libs, and thumbing the scale in favour of these groups could've meant another few seats.

Time for them kiddies again.

2011-09-05T20:30:00.000-04:00

It's been a lovely summer, it really has.

(Except for the "it was so hot for most of the summer in Toronto that it made me want to chop my head off and stick it in the freezer for a good long while" bit.)

And so we have Labour Day. The last day of sleeping in, last day of sloth, last day of possibly not wearing pants a for a good chunk of a weekday.

It's alright, though. I really do enjoy the new challenge that each school year offers. Rumour has it we're getting another, ahem, interesting crew of grade 9's this year. Guess who's teaching several dozen of them? That's right, it's your ol' buddy J.

The night of Labour Day, I'm usually a little nervous, a little excited, and can't get to sleep too easily. Oddly enough, it's after 8 at the moment, and I'm not getting any of that — yet, at least.

An old department head of mine, who taught for over 30 years and retired because he didn't want or have to put up with the bullshit that a certain department member of ours threw and continues to throw around, once said: "If you're not even a little bit nervous on the night before the first day of school, you're not doing your job right."

Because I think I do my job (reasonably) well, maybe it's just a matter of time before I'll get the butterflies. Or maybe I'm just riding on a blissfull cloud because my Tigers just swept the third-place White Sox and nimbly got by the second-place Indians (aka "Cleveland Racist Nicknames") this afternoon. Or maybe it's all the booze I've been throwing down nonstop since getting back from the Great Flat Southwest this afternoon.

Either way... tomorrow morning, it's gonna be me and about 90 other grown-ups vs. 1500 teenagers. GAME ON.

Oh, hi!

2011-08-29T17:29:00.003-04:00

Well, hey there!

. . .

No, I didn't see you come in. Relax! Have a seat in the comfy pink chair.

. . .

Can I get you anything?

. . .

Well, I have some beers in the fridge, if you'd like one. I just picked some up today... Mill St Organic, a couple of Kozel, and some Red Baron if you're slumming-it.

. . .

Yeah, Kozel is Czech... I had a bunch of them during this mammoth drinking session in Brno with the-one-and-only-Matt. It was pretty hardcore... we started with the beers around 6:30, a group of five of us won a pub quiz which paid for about half of our bar tab, and then we ended up hitting another bar later on. I fell into bed after 3.

. . .

It's hard to resist when beers are a buck-fifty, and you just came from Denmark where the cheapest drink in town is easily $8.

. . .

Copenhagen was pretty. I liked it, but if I'd had another day, I'd have taken a day-trip up to Elsinore Castle.

. . .

Yeah, that one! Neat, eh?

. . .

Oh, I was just streaming Blitzen Trapper's latest album. I'm nuts about their last one, and this one's pretty solid so far too.

. . .

Yep, back into the school last week for three days, then back in most of this week. These school years don't just put themselves together, y'know. Back to the grind! I can't complain, though.

. . .

Alright, you gotta get going, eh? Gotta take your porcupine to the vet to get its yearly shots?

. . .

Yep, we all do. Gotta take care of the little guys. Seeya!

Goddag, København!

2011-08-09T11:53:00.002-04:00

Er... "good day, Copenhagen." (But you probably figured that out.)

So yes, I'm in Denmark. Last day here, too; got here on the 6th, leaving here tomorrow morning and heading off to Prague to join up with the one-and-only Matt. A few observations about this place:

1. Practically everyone here is pale.
If you know me — and, chances are if you're reading this, you do — you know I'm one exceptionally pale bastard. Oddly so, actually, for Canada... and especially so for Toronto. But ever since coming here, I feel like I more-or-less completely blend in with the native population, even moreso than in Iceland (I didn't have a crazy woolly beard like a lot of the local fellows).

2. I still managed to get a sunburn, which makes no sense.
A few months ago I decided to trace my roots, and found that a lot of them pointed to northern England (with a little Scotland and Ireland thrown in). Now, if you take a look at some history books... after about 900 AD, northern and eastern England were pretty thoroughly Danish, after hordes of vikings showed up on the shore and chased the locals away. Heck, Angles and Saxons (the quasi-original inhabitants of southern Great Britain) were dark-haired folks, and I sure don't fit that description. Thus, I am currently in the land of my raping-and-raiding ancestors, which means I should be built for this climate, right? Well, not after wandering around most of yesterday without a hat on. I suck at summer everywhere but Iceland and Ireland.

3. This place costs a god damn fortune.
Today I got a beer and an open-faced roast beef sandwich (called smørrebrød here, they're pretty common) at a hipster bar, and that cost me 99 kroner; xe.com (a handy-dandy currency-exchange-rate site) converts that to a bit over $18. And that's cheap! The other day I got a Carlsberg — not even a full pint or half-litre, and hell, they make the stuff here — and it ran me 55 kr, and I dare you to do the math on that one. Mind you, it was at a pretty nice little cafe, and tips are always included here, so in the end... that's still a fucking expensive-ass beer.

4. Women are gorgeous, but with a caveat.
If I was a scout for a supermodel talent agency — not such a bad moonlighting job, when you think about it — I'd definitely start looking for 'em here. Top-notch talent. However, the caveat is that there's a very typically Danish look: blonde, of course, with a slightly set-back chin and the bluest eyes you've ever laid yours on. Most women around here fall somewhere on this spectrum, and a lot of them fall on the drop-dead-gorgeous end. But, y'know, I kinda like seeing a drop-dead-gorgeous Asian or Indian or African woman now and again, and around here they're a real rarity. (As you might expect, Toronto excels at this sort of thing.)

5. Nationalmuseet needs more vikings.
I took a good look around there today, and while there are a ton of great exhibits, plenty of breathtaking artifacts and oodles of useful explanations guiding the visitor through... c'mon, man, give me more vikings! I can go anywhere and learn about Egypt; jeezie-creezie, every damn museum in the world has something on Egypt. Paintings are nice, too, to be sure. But where else am I going to get the story of the vikings, where they friggin' came from?! Three or four rooms were devoted to the viking era, and the most interesting thing was, "Well, you know, they're pretty misunderstood. They set up a lot of functional towns and trading systems, too." C'mon! Zazz it up a bit! Let's see a mock-up of my Danish 33-greats-grandfather hacking the head off my English 33-greats-grandmother's first husband! Horned helmets for the kids! Miniature Danish flags for everyone! I CAME FOR BLOOD!

Instead, I got, "There were a couple of raids. Now, here, look at these bronze bracelets they wore." Kee-roist.

All in all, though, it's a pretty nice town. Don't bother seeing the Little Mermaid statue if you come here, though. I caught a glimpse of it on the canal tour, and it's nothing to write home about. (Plus, it's not nearly as sexy as the Disney cartoon, and apparently Hans Christian Andersen's original story is quite depressing.)

It's hot here.

2011-07-26T00:24:00.004-04:00

That means a few things are true:

Motorcycles just blasted past my building, because there's a nice traffic light-free stretch in front of it, and it's nice and quiet and it's nighttime.
My little air conditioner's doing a yeoman's work these days. I gave it the night off because it's actually, somehow, in the 20s outside.
It's nice up north, though. Spent the weekend at my buddy Bob Sacamano's family's cottage up near North Bay. The Sacamanos' cottage is on a great little lake, and the sun sets opposite their dock real picturesque-like, and there's a beer store in town, which means I think you have a good idea what I drank all weekend.
It's baseball season, and the Tigers are in the thick of the AL Central race. They lost tonight, and the Cleveland Racist Nicknames won, which means the Tigers' lead is one measly game. S'alright, though. The sky isn't falling.
...yet.
The All Pale Countries Tour 2011 commences one week from today. This year's lineup includes Iceland (again), Denmark and the Czech Republic; yes, I know Czechs are technically Slavic in origin and not Nordic, but they're still pretty pale. And their beer is excellent.

Fitz and the Tantrums are from now, but sound like they're from then. They gave away their debut EP a couple of years ago, which was a genius move: it got the word (and their music) out to a whole lot of people. Have a listen to their big huge hit single, if you haven't already:

Enjoy!

Some observations about Indiana.

2011-07-15T22:59:00.002-04:00

I spent the day today somewhat leisurely making my way across Indiana, going from Chicago to Fort Wayne, where I'm staying at this somewhat kooky B&B downtown. Here's what struck me about the state:

There are a lot of churches here. A LOT of them.
A lot of those are really, really big.
Did you know that a shit-ton of Indiana's licence plates have a big ol' "In God We Trust" on them? It's true.
Valparaiso University is pretty small, for an American school that I've heard of. (I think they're decent at basketball.)
Whoa, they have less than 3000 undergraduates!
Downtown Fort Wayne is pretty, but the suburbs are... well, unimpressive to say the least. This is a trait shared by a lot of smaller US cities. I'm not entirely sure what to make of it.
The local baseball team here plays in a fantastic stadium, Parkview Field. They have a great selection of beers and the prices are decent, but just like every other place I've ordered chicken fingers in the US, they've never heard of serving them with plum sauce. Can you believe that?!

Four days, four US states, four baseball games: Illinois (Cubs last night), Indiana (Fort Wayne tonight), Michigan (Detroit tomorrow afternoon) and Ohio (Toledo on Sunday night). That's a lot of ballpark beer, but I think I'm up for it.

A blast from the past.

2011-07-06T18:00:00.004-04:00

It's summertime, which means one thing: RE-RUNS.

I'm kidding. (Sort-of.)

I was thumbing through some settings and such on this here site — something I get my team of interns, which I've light-heartedly nicknamed "JTL's Slave Army," to do for me — and I came across the gem reproduced below which I wrote in mid-December of 2006 but never posted. So I guess it's less of a "re-run" and more of an "unreleased classic from the vault." (Yeah, we'll go with that.)

The reason I post this is because a little earlier today, despite my vow of not chasing skirts this summer... well, DB was right, I lasted about two weeks. But, in my defence, the opportunity to strike up a lovely conversation really fell out of nowhere, so I figured I owed it to myself to give it the ol' college try. Moral of the story: NEVER TRY.

Enjoy the vitriol. (I honestly can't remember the incident below that prompted such an angry response. I think it might have been at a staff Christmas party, but I'm not sure where that could've been.)

* * * * * * *

Okay. This is what you don't do:

Strike up a great three-hour conversation with a guy. Share anecdotes about your family back and forth; talk about the teaching profession and your role in it; your disdain for most music these days, loud-ass Richmond Street clubs and "reality television." Move closer to him to suggest some sort of interest in him (because you know he's fucking interested in you: if any guy is talking to any girl, and he's single and straight, NEWSFLASH, IDIOT, HE IS TRYING TO PICK YOU UP, ESPECIALLY IF YOU'RE HOT). Share an easygoing, witty rapport that you've developed over the past few weeks. Have this conversation alone at a table with a guy while the rest of the guy's co-workers hit the dance floor and have a couple of them (middle-aged women, no less) make gestures to him suggesting, "Dude, awesome! She's totally digging you!" as the pair of you sit on the sidelines.

And then, THREE GOD DAMN HOURS into the conversation, casually drop this into the conversation:

"...blah blah, so yeah, my sister's boyfriend and mine are really good friends, blah blah..."

Do.
NOT.
Do this.

Even if you can.

And you will.

(Because you did.)

* * * * * * *

Actually... now that I think about it, I remember that it was a staff Christmas thing at a local banquet hall, being DJ'd by a former co-worker. I don't remember who the girl was, but I have a suspicion she was a teacher who was at our school for a one-semester thing, filling in for someone. Can't remember who, though. Maybe it's for the best.

The following things need to be said.

2011-06-30T16:03:00.003-04:00

I officially finished my ninth year of teaching today. I still feel like The New Guy.

I've been obsessed with this song (particularly the live version) for the past week-ish. I think the thing that gets me most about the live version is that it looks completely effortless, but is far more complex (in terms of musicianship) than most stuff released today.

I'm glad June has been this cool. Normally by Canada Day, my balls have been sweated off in their entirety.

The Europe vacation is nearly all planned: Reykjavík again, then Copenhagen, then meeting up with The One And Only Matt in Prague. I was trying to figure out a way to stop in Helsinki for a couple of days on my way back here — the cheapest PRG-YYZ flight was Finnair's two-legger through Helsinki — but apparently that'd be crazy-expensive. (The Finnair rep I called up yesterday morning was as puzzled as I was about it, and was equally unable to explain why a PRG-HEL-YYZ flight was $850-ish, but HEL-YYZ on the same day was $3000.)

Another option might involve going back through Stockholm, but staying there for a couple of days. I think that might be pretty nice, too. My kind of town, Stockholm.

I'm glad the Tigers have sent Phil Coke to the bullpen for now. I like Phil and all, but he really just wasn't getting it done as the fifth starter since the end of May. He did a great job in the 'pen last year, and even though he swore he could hack it in the rotation, he's much more useful to the team as a reliever.

In a couple of weeks, I'll potentially be watching four baseball games in four days, and there's a chance it'll be 5 in 4 days. I'm likely going to watch Roy Halladay's homecoming game on Saturday down at the Dome, which should be absolutely nuts, so I'm getting there as soon as the gates open.

Tomorrow night I plan on getting nice and toasty with a pal-o'-mine in honour of this great nation's birthday. Press Club at 10pm, if anyone's interested.

Back to work, union scum!

2011-06-26T23:06:00.002-04:00

Interesting facts I learned from this whole thing:

The CEO of Canada Post is named Deepak Chopra.
No, not that one.
Lisa Raitt, the Minister of Labour, is no relation to blues guitarist Bonnie Raitt.
Lisa Raitt is under the impression that CUPW caused this fiasco. CUPW was in a fully legal strike position, had a mandate from its workers to perform a job action, and they did: rotating strikes. Most people still got their mail. It was Canada Post — the company — which locked out its workers and made everyone stop getting their mail.
Lisa Raitt hates unions. But this isn't really much of a surprise.
Why do the Cons even bother having a Minister of Labour? They should just rename the position Minister of Cornholing Working People.
TV cameras are not allowed in the Senate.

So, everyone gets their mail... soon-ish. Fifty-eight hours in the House (and six in the Senate), and the Cons have legislated their second back-to-work orders in a month.

THANKS FOR
ELECTING THESE
ASSHOLES,
CANADA!

But, as a public sector worker myself... this raises the issue about public-sector unions in general. On the one hand, we do things that the public pays for: teach their kids, collect their garbage, sort their mail. These are all very useful services, obviously. But on the other hand, we're employees with rights and working conditions and all that jazz, and we don't really enjoy being trampled-upon by our employers, or by governments hell-bent on breaking our unions.

(And if the latest polls forecasting this fall's provincial election are anywhere close to right... oy-yoy-yoy, it's gonna be Herr Hudak in charge around here soon enough. Goddammit.)

So, Dear Public, don't worry, you'll get all your back issues of Juggs Weekly in due time. (And your pornographic magazines, too; we all know JW is Canada's best source of information about jugs, buckets, barrels and other containers. Nobody knows why they throw the extra g in there, but it's been spelled that way since the 1920s.)

The summer free from skirt-chasing.

2011-06-21T09:08:00.002-04:00

I usually don't talk about my love-life on here, because if I did, I'd post even less frequently than I currently do. (But, let me tell you who does: this girl right here. And she's great.)

I've spent the vast majority of my adult life as a single guy. I'm mostly alright with that; if I was completely alright with that, I doubt I'd have brought it up. (Hell, I'm alright with being right-handed, which is possibly why I never mention that fact on here... until now.) And I guess I could give a laundry-list of excuses:

haven't met the right one
haven't met the right one at the right time
shirtless, I don't look like Matthew McConaughey
I tend not to find myself surrounded by the ladies
I have a third arm
overall romantic incompetence

I could go on all day, lamenting my shortcomings — women love that, right? — but I'll save you (and my therapist*) the trouble. I'm fine, I'm (fairly) sure things'll click eventually, and I've been told by a few non-my-mom women that I'm something of a catch.

But, here's the thing: the search, the relentless search, is fucking tiring. And it's not an easy thing to turn off: we're hard-wired to find someone to screw to pass on that ol' DNA. Women may hear a biological clock ticking, and I'll grant you that's probably not too pleasant an ordeal. But it's not like we fellows get off scot-free either.

However, this summer — today being the first day thereof — I hereby vow to make a concerted effort to NOT actively chase skirts. I mean, if I'm out with some buds somewhere and I strike up a conversation with a Heather Graham look-alike who votes lefty, has a poster of Lou Whitaker on her wall and plays bass in a My Bloody Valentine tribute band,** I'm probably going to have to follow up on that. But that's probably going to be just about it, I think.

There was a very, very brief period of my life where I was able to turn off the radar: it was back in the late '90s, it only lasted a couple of months, and even though I was in the belly of the pressure-cooker that is the University of Waterloo, I'd never felt so relaxed. I realize that's a long time ago, and my life's a lot more complicated than it was back then... but, who knows? I think it's worth a shot.
______________________
* Dr. Jack Daniels; you may have heard of him.
** If one of these doesn't exist, I really should start one. I bought a bass off my brother this weekend — I've been babysitting it for months, so I figured I should stop screwing around and make it legal — and perhaps my future bride could use it.

South-Central Lambton County Crop Report.

2011-06-19T22:54:00.002-04:00

Here's what we have as of June 19th, in southern Brooke and southeastern Enniskillen townships:

Soybeans

Late start, with the wetness in May. Couldn't get the beans in on time — 2 weeks late, at the earliest — and that's showing up now. Plants should be about four inches tall; lots haven't even come up yet. Plus, with the dryness lately, that's not good either.

Corn

Up, but not as high as it should be. You know how it likes those hot, humid days, though (doesn't everybody?) — and if this summer's as hot as everyone says it's going to be, it should catch up alright.

Winter Wheat

Might be starting to hint at changing colour in some places; my grandfather seemed to think it had lightened up in the past couple of days. My cousin says it could use another good drenching in the next week or two. If it's dry, though, you'll get smaller kernels and a smaller yield.

Overall Precipitation

As mentioned, it was wet early but a lot of places have been dry lately. It's spotty, though; a few days ago, my uncle's neighbour got 7/10ths of an inch, but they barely got anything.

* * * * * * *

This is the sort of stuff my family talks about. I imagine yours is pretty much the same.

I know, I know.

2011-06-15T20:59:00.001-04:00

I'll post something soon, I promise.

More '90s music.

2011-05-28T15:19:00.004-04:00

I was in my music-nook recently, and happened to think about recently-elected NDP MP Andrew Cash. Turns out that I had a song of his from the early '90s on a compliation tape. (Remember tapes?)

(Alright, it was a tape I made from my buddy's CD; his older brother got it in his UWO frosh kit, and I have to say, it really is a stupendous collection of early-'90s alt-rock. Urge Overkill? The Posies? Early Sloan? Yes, yes, yes!)

Anyway, I came across a song I hadn't heard in more than a decade: "Could've Been Love" by a band called Ceremony. I didn't know anything about them at all, so I looked up the video on YouTube, and sure enough it was there.

The lead singer of that band is none other than Chastity Bono, who now calls himself Chaz and is fairly well along in his transition from female to male. However, that doesn't matter: what matters is that this song just really... I dunno, man, it's a darn-near-perfect pop-rock song. I've always been a fan of layering acoustic rhythm and electric lead guitar — having an electric rhythm guitar doesn't differentiate it much from the lead, in terms of tone, and then everything becomes a muddled-up mess.

That was the only single from the only album by Ceremony. As for the Andrew Cash song, it was called "A Lot Of Talk," was very good, and is unfortunately un-YouTubeable. Ah well.

God did it, of course.

2011-05-25T23:15:00.002-04:00

No, I'm not talking about the probably-averted Rapture — although apparently we're not entirely out of the woods yet. See you in October, Jesus!

I was watching the National tonight, and the second-biggest story (right after "Here's how hard Vancouver partied last night because the Canucks got into the Stanley Cup final") was about the big storms which have hit the American southeast. Indeed, the states of Missouri and Kansas and environs have been whalloped by these things, but a clip I saw pissed me off.

The clip showed a family that had all piled into a closet in their home to keep as safe from the tornado as possible. The mom described the situation, and the little girl chipped in, "We made it. God saved us."

Cue the anger.

Listen, if you know me — and chances are, if you're reading this, either (a.) you do, or (b.) I've paid you to read this, so it could go either way, really — you know my stance: hardcore agnostic. Don't know if there "is," don't know if there "isn't," and don't think anyone can know. But hey, the kid's about 8, whatever, I'll cut her some slack.

However... when you think about it, that statement makes no sense at all. Think about all the other good, decent, religious people that God killed, injured or made homeless — and God decided to save you? No disrespect intended, but... why you? Are you any more or less special of God's creations as anyone else?

And did God make all those other people die? Did He wreck their houses, their possessions, their lives? Did God kill those people with those twisters he sent? If the answer to all these questions is yes, then God is a giant dick.

And wait a second... if God "saved" you, then why did He go to all the trouble of making something so horrendous, only to save you from it? To prove His love for you? Jeepers H. Crackers, why would a God do that?!

"It's all a part of God's plan," is what someone says when they don't know why the fuck something random happened. Alice gets hit by a streetcar? God's plan. Bob falls down a mine shaft? God's plan. Stu gets nut cancer? You guessed it, God's plan.

I forget who said this — possibly Mark Twain, he said a lot of great stuff — that they didn't "believe in a trickster God." I think this holds a lot of water: why would an all-knowing, all-powerful, all-seeing entitiy pull suck a dick-move? Killing and all this stuff. It's crazy!

So the kid starts blabbing about God. Kid gets the idea from the parents. Parents brainwash the kid into GodGodGod. Cycle continues, until someone's bold enough to run off and join the circus.

Bah. Shoot me.

Good night.

More '90s videos.

2011-05-18T23:58:00.007-04:00

In the winter of '97, I was living in Deep River. (Well, to be accurate, I was at RR#1 Deep River, about a half-hour walk east of town.) It was a simpler time: I was a lowly co-op student working at AECL, plodding away on make-work projects for my Argentinian-Canadian boss who was infatuated with Diego Maradona. This comet was also crazy-bright in the sky. Good times.

I lived in the basement of a house on a country road. It must've been really, really illegal: the bedroom had exactly zero windows. (It was handy if I wanted to sleep until noon on a Saturday, though, as it could be exceptionally dark.) The pressure in the shower was nonexistent; it was like standing naked in a fog with a light breeze. One of my housemates was this Chinese guy who (a.) we barely ever saw, (b.) spoke little English, and (c.) cooked the most fucking disgusting-smelling food I've ever had the misfortune to smell.

My other two housemates were cousins, one originally from London and the other from Windsor. The Londoner was a soldier stationed at nearby CFB Petawawa, in his late 20s, had done a couple of tours in Kosovo, and gave me a ride home on Easter weekend which scared the bejeezus out of me. The Windsorite was in his mid 20s and worked at AECL as a full-time employee; driving skills unknown, but a fun fact is that he went to high school with the guys who would later form the Tea Party (the band, not the redneck political movement).

And the three of us loved, LOVED this video.

I think you can see why.
____________________________
UPDATE: Apparently the Tea Party is back together! Maybe the other two guys in the band decided that putting up with Jeff Martin's narcissism was worth it, to get a steady paycheque.

Teenagers Say the Darndest Things, Episode 4.

2011-05-13T17:54:00.004-04:00

I figured I'd better start numbering these. Why? BECAUSE I CAN FUCKING COUNT.

These are, again, second-hand but with a reliable source.

* * * * *

teacher is doing her thing, teaching a class
a kid from her previous class bursts in the door, shouting

Kid: "Miss, did I leave my gun in here?"

Teacher, calmly: "No, you didn't leave your gun in here."

K: "Did I say 'gun'? I meant 'cell phone'."

* * * * *

topic of conversation in the classroom:
continents moving tectonically, as related to climate change

K, sincerely: "So, Miss... are they doing any serious investigation as to whether Santa Claus exists?"

class laughs

K, again sincerely: "It's possible, you know."

N.B. this was the same girl that wanted to name her future daughter "Clitoria".

* * * * *

topic of conversation in the classroom:
some global cycles can take 100,000 years to complete

K: "So, a hundred thousand years ago... did Jesus even exist then?"

* * * * *

Concert Review:
Sharon Jones and the Dap-Kings
Sound Academy, last night

Fucking awesome.

* * * * *

Apparently I have about a dozen "followers" on this blog. I have no idea who all-but-one is (hi, Lang! Remember when we barely knew each other but shared a hotel room in Montreal?), and I have a feeling most of them are just fake accounts for spam, but hey, I've been wrong before. WHO ARE YOU? AND WHO IS YOUR DADDY? AND WHAT DOES HE DO? Speak up!

Good tune.

2011-05-11T01:13:00.003-04:00

Eels has always been a pretty strange outfit: they had a huge hit in 1996 — I suppose that largely paid the bills — and have been quietly putting out albums every few years since, despite the frontman and brains of the project, E, encountering a lot of personal tragedy (e.g. deaths of family members).

At any rate, the hit from '96 was Novocaine For The Soul, which got quite a bit of airplay on radio when it came out. It looks like they/he have a lot more success in places like the UK and Belgium than on this side of the pond. I hadn't thought about that song for a while, but it, and its accompanying video, are both extremely solid.

Thus, without further ado, is the aforementioned song. Enjoy.

Erection recap.

2011-05-03T23:02:00.006-04:00

Short answer: Canada, you fucking suck. I thought we were cool, brah.

Longer answer:

The following things happened.

1. The Liberals forgot to show up

This goes farther than "Mike Ignatieff is a lousy leader," unfortunately. This was a full-on, full-team failure: no coherent, nationwide punchy message; old-guarders like Volpe not being able to distinguish themselves anymore; lustres off high-profile incumbents like Dryden and Garneau wore off.

2. The NDP split the centre-left vote

Nobody wanted to admit it today, but this totally happened, and I have the half-assed graphs to prove it.

This is what happened in a lot of ridings, especially in Ontario, last time around: Libs won a lot of narrow victories (e.g. quite a few in the 905), often over Conservatives, with an NDP a distant third.

Possibly because of the reasons outlined in (1) above, some Libs on the Right of the party flipped blue, whereas considerably more on the Left flipped orange; I must admit I was thinking of joining the latter, as I usually paint myself as "my heart is orange but my head is red."

In the case of Don Valley West, where I live, it was much more a case of the Lib, Rob "The Rev" Oliphant, holding his ground and the Con, John "The Car Salesman" Carmichael picking up votes. Czech this shizz out:

        Erection    Lib Votes    Con Votes
         2008        22,212       19,441
         2011        22,353       22,992

Oliphant held on to his constituents, pretty much exactly. Carmichael, on the other hand, picked up over 3000 votes... but from where? In this riding, it'd be easy enough to say, "Well, all the rich folk, they told their butlers, Jeeves, instead of throwing another wad of Bordens on the fire, chauffeur me to the voting station, I want to mark an X for the Conservative fellow" — but there's more. Much more. And it's compelling.

DVW is a bizarre place: it has the highest average income of any riding in Canada, but it also has a shit-ton of new (presumably not so well off) immigrants in Thorncliffe Park, and a lot of them are from places like Pakistan and India.

DISCLAIMER: I fucking love Muslims. I teach a hell of a lot of them, and they're a stand-up bunch. I'm fortunate to count some amongst my close friends.

However... the conservative ones (i.e., religious, not politically) can get pretty touchy about the Queers, and Oliphant is gay (and married). A website aimed at the GTA Muslim community, themuslim.ca, all-but-trumpeted this fact in an op-ed piece in mid-April. As a result, FATMA (the Flemingdon and Thorncliffe Park Muslim Association) endorsed Carmichael because of his "family values" — never actually coming out and saying "we can't support the gay dude," but c'mon now, I'm not stupid.

This was all much easier to do after the mayoral election last fall, when conservative religious folks of many different stripes — including a crapload from immigrant-heavy places like Rexdale and Scarborough — were vigorously pushed away from George Smitherman (another gay dude) and towards Rob Ford (who is pretty anti-gay, to say the least). All Carmichael had to do was to bring this up to the major religious group in DVW, who'd always voted Liberal because of the legacy of the Trudeau era and its opening of the immigration doors decades, and the riding was his for the taking.

(I'm curious to know how many of those votes Carmichael picked up were from recent-citizenship Muslims, and/or active members of FATMA.)

3. Canadians just don't fucking care about crazy shit Harper pulled

Helena Guergis in Simcoe-Grey got booted out of the Conservative Caucus last year because of reasons Harper wouldn't acknowledge. Well, a few weeks ago, Guergis finally got her Access To Information information, and whadda ya know, it was full of lurid stories about doing coke off strippers' tits with her husband, former Con MP Rahim Jaffer. Mind you, none of it was actually proven — the P.I. who did the snooping said he had no actual, y'know, "evidence" of it — but my sources tell me Harper had it in for Guergis for years, and used this to boot her out.

Bev Oda in Durham slipped the word "not" into a policy document which stripped a prominent foreign aid organization, KAIROS, of tens of thousands of dollars. First she said she didn't know who added the word, then after a year of lying she came out and said, well, gosh, I guess it was me that told staff at CIDA to hand-write that little 3-letter word in there. The result: a historic Contempt of Parliament charge, which led to this whole election after a confidence vote.

And then there's all the stuff Steve himself has pulled off: muzzling the Cabinet, forcing all communications through the PMO, the infamous 5-Question Limit, ending of the media scrums in the lobby of the Parliament Buildings, silencing scientists that don't toe the party line, and the list goes on. As I said to my friends on Facebook the weekend before the election, if you vote Conservative, you are saying all of this is okay. Well, I guess Canadians don't mind getting dryly fucked up the democratic ass. I know I prefer lube.

(Actually, I sorta prefer, y'know, not getting fucked up the ass.)

* * * * *

I never thought I'd say this, but I think I'm going to stop following Canadian politics for a while. It's just too insane. I'm going to turn back to following American politics for a break.

Well, that's that.

2011-05-02T01:03:00.003-04:00

Bin Laden's gone.

To anyone who wants to trumpet George W. Bush and give him the credit for all this — e.g. a now-former-Facebook-friend of mine, but whatever, good riddance, she was a Republican religious nut anyway — I will offer this quote from Bush 43 from March 13, 2002, about Osama bin Laden:

"I don’t know where he is. I have no idea and I really don’t care. It’s not that important. It’s not our priority."

This was about, oh, seven months after 9/11, and six months after the initial invasion of Afghanistan.

Thank you, Dubya, for being a moron.

And thank you, American idiots, for voting for this douche. (Twice.)

Nardwuar, the Hip Flip, and federal leaders.

2011-04-28T18:49:00.004-04:00

If you're Canadian, you know about Nardwuar the Human Serviette. (If you don't, or if you want to learn more about this fascinating character, read this.)

Fun fact: Nardwuar was the person who asked Jean Chrétien the question at the press conference after the APEC fiasco about the protester who got pepper-sprayed by the cops (to which Chrétien's answer was, infamously, "Pepper? I put pepper on my steak.").

Fun fact: Nardwuar the Human Serviette is that man's legal name.

Anyhoo, on to the matter at hand.

We're balls-deep in an election up here, and with a few days to go it looks like crazy shit's happening: the NDP may well be (a.) the Official Opposition, and/or (b.) the governing party if Steve & Co. table the same budget after the election (assuming the Cons have a minority), it fails (which it will if it's the same budget, which it likely will be), and GG Dave "I Personally Gave Prominent Blogger/Sexual Dynamo JTL His Physics Degree At Waterloo" Johnston goes to the Leader of the Opposition — who could be Jack Fucking Layton! — and asks him, "Hey buddy, how's about formin' a gov'mint that has the confidence of the House?"

Natch, Steve Harper might brush it all off and say, in his condescending, passive-aggressive tone, "Well, obviously* Canadians don't want this reckless tax-raising hooligan as their Prime Minister." To you, Steve, I would say this:

EAT SHIT AND DIE,
OR FUCK OFF AT LEAST**

Wow. Really got off-track there. I'm off my meds, as you can see. The point is MIKE IGNATIEFF DID THE HIP-FLIP WITH NARDWUAR:

A few years earlier, Jack Layton had an illuminating conversation with Nardwuar, which also included the Hip-Flip:

As mentioned in the Ignatieff clip, Steve Harper's security goons hauled Nardwuar away when he asked to do the Hip-Flip with the leader of the Cons. So, you can draw your own conclusions about that. (No word on whether Gilles Duceppe or Elizabeth May have done it, but our crack research team will get right on that.)
____________________________
* This is Steve's favourite word, which roughly translates to, "You peons are just far too stupid for my superior intellect."
** This may well be the only time I quote the Insane Clown Posse for anything.

Yawn.

2011-04-25T21:22:00.004-04:00

Look... Sun TV News, Sun News Network, Fox News North, whatever the hell you want to call yourself: let me offer you a little advice.

Let's say you want to be the STRAIGHT TALK and HARD HITTING and WE TELL YOU WHAT THOSE OTHER ASSHOLES ARE TOO CHICKENSHIT TO SAY news network of Canada. This means a certain amount of, for lack of a better word, "bombast" is needed. You gotta punch it up!

I've watched snippets of a few different shows on this sad excuse for a news channel, and the one word I'd use to describe it is... boring. With the exception of known nitwit Ezra Levant showing the Prophet Mohammed cartoons on the first day, what sorts of waves has it made? Zero, that's how many.

Oh, don't get me wrong: they say things which are as idiotic as their broadcast cousins to the south. I just finished watching some moron say, on the topic of having some sort of nutritional and exercise guidelines put out by a government, and I'm paraphrasing here a bit, "I don't want the government telling me what I can and can't eat." And that was his big punchline.

(A few minutes earlier, they dragged David Frum out from his adopted cave in DC, only for him to say bizarre and noncommital things like, "If you are a conservative in Canada, you can feel very happy casting a vote for the Tories this election." Why wouldn't you, Dave? There's one party on the Right up here, and it sure ain't Layton's.)

Here's what you need, Sun:

This'll cure what ails ya.

I am reminded yet again about why I developed a crush on Sook-Yin Lee long ago.

2011-04-22T01:06:00.003-04:00

From 1989, with her band Bob's Your Uncle:

I mean, sure, she's young here; we were all younger then, obviously. But, it'd be about six years after this that I went off to uni, and thus had cable (and therefore MuchMusic) for the first time, and was exposed to this person for the first time and, well, it's been a slam-dunk ever since.

(Mind you, now that she works for The Mothership and hosts DNTO, well then, that just adds about a billion points to her hotness.)

Oh, Sook-Yin... you will be mine someday.

* * * * *

In other, shittier news, Steve Harper said this today:

My view is that the people of Canada expect the party that wins the election to govern the country ... anything else, the public will not buy.

The "anything else" he means, of course, is some sort of a coalition, which he seems to be pushing pretty hard, but with which I'm not sure he's getting a lot of traction. A couple of years ago when Stéphane Dion was leading the Libs, Steve made a lot of hay out of the false "Liberal/NDP/separatist" trilogy — the Bloc wasn't part of the coalition deal that Dion put forward, but Idiot Conservative Nation believes everything Steve says is true, so they fell for it — but I don't think it's working as well for him now.

My guess is that, mainly, people know Steve's an ass and will do and say anything to stay in power; this not only undermines the direct messages he wants to put out, but also calls into question every single move his government makes.

However... an intriguing new "anything else" option has come to light in the past few days, one which, interestingly, isn't dismissed out-of-hand by Mike Ignatieff. You see, Adrienne Clarkson put in this informal rule saying that, if a minority Parliament is defeated on a confidence motion within its first six months of forming a government, the GG won't automatically dissolve said Parliament but will consider asking the Leader of the Opposition to put together something which will have the confidence of the House.

As it currently stands, this could be a possible scenario:

The Cons win another minority, with the Libs forming a fairly solid opposition, or perhaps the Libs+NDP
Odds of this happening: fairly good. I don't see a huge groundswell in the electorate one way or another since the last election, and the NDP seem to have made gains, especially in Quebec.
The Cons stubbornly table the exact same budget that was headed for defeat in the House and thereby triggering an election... but they got nailed the day before that was scheduled for a confidence vote because, oh right, they lied to Parliament about money, and that ended up canning them.
Odds of this happening: I'd give it 50-50; they're stubborn on things like this, but when they realize it could mean them —gasp!— LOSING POWER, that might get their attention. But let's hope not.
The budget fails to pass; it's a confidence motion, wheeeee!
Odds of this happening: excellent, if the same budget is tabled. You're never going to get a dozen Libs or NDPers rolling over and taking it up the keyster for this one, and doubly so because it'd mean those parties would stay out of power. Duh!
Dave Johnston asks Mike Ignatieff to form a Parliament that can get the confidence of the House.
Odds of this happening: well, unless DJ wants to thumb his nose at AC, it has to happen. Them's the (unofficial) rules.

I, for one, welcome this chain of events (in the event the Libs don't win a majority or even a minority, and I'd give about 3-to-1 odds against the latter happening). Bring it on, baby.

Teenagers say the darndest things.

2011-04-19T18:19:00.003-04:00

These are admittedly second-hand, but (a.) the sources are reliable and (b.) they're pretty good. In both cases, both the student and teacher are female.

* * * * *

Student: Miss J! Miss J!

Teacher: Yes, what is it?

S: My friend and I were talking about baby names. [N.B. the student is not pregnant.]

T: Oh? What about them?

S, earnestly: Yeah, we were thinking that a good name for a girl would be... Clitoria.

T: Uh... that's... kind-of... not quite appropriate.

S, thinking for a second: Oh no! Not like that other word, Miss! This is totally different!

As a colleague of mine put it, "What are they going to call her as a short form? Clit?"

* * * * *

A generally well-liked, somewhat-grandmothery Irish-Canadian supply teacher, who knows our school well, is going through the attendance list at the start of a grade 9 science class, which is full of characters such as the following:

Student, with extreme attitude: WHY are you taking the attendance?

Teacher, somewhat befuddled: I have to see who's here and who's not.

S, getting more irate: Well, why don't you... just mark everyone absent?!

T: I think you'd better go to the office and cool down.

S, dismissively: Don't talk to me!

T: Excuse me?

S, snapping: WHY ARE YOU STILL TALKING TO ME?!?!?!

This one baffled pretty much everyone around the department today, and with good reason... until they found out who the student was, and everyone that knew her reacted with an, "Ahhhhh, alright, her." I swear, I can handle a dozen immature idiot 14-year-old boys, but just one of these girls... it's like they're on-guard 24/7, just looking for a reason to snap at you with all they've got.

* * * * *

People ask me if my job is boring, or repetitive, or somehow uninteresting. I think it's pretty clear that it ain't.

These things need to be said.

2011-04-18T19:48:00.003-04:00

I sure hope the Conservatives don't win a majority. I don't think they will, but hey, wackier things have happened. On the flipside, if they only win another minority, there are rumblings that ol' Steve is gonna get pushed out. This would work in the Libs' favour: the Cons would appear weak, would be trying to find their footing under a new leader, and might be more vulnerable than ever. Just sayin', Iggy.

I don't care what anyone says, Spacehog's Resident Alien album was great. Cruel To Be Kind was a snappy power-pop track. And didn't their frontman marry someone famous? I'd look it up, but.

Writing gig? Not exactly over, but not exactly torturous anymore. I have one more dealie to submit by May 4, which should be a breeze.

Marking? Omnipresent. Our mid-term report card marks are due tomorrow. Still have two class sets of quizzes to mark, but those ain't bad. Estimated commencement time of marking tonight: 10:45pm.

I have hooligans staying in my apartment this weekend, apparently. S'ok, they're not Scottish Soccer Hooligans. (Fun fact: both the people in that video, Mike Myers and the not-long-on-SNL Mark McKinney, are both Canadian.)

(Also: I had forgotten how great that fake-show was. "Give us a kiss." And a vomit-take! A staple of the early-mid '90s shows, and great if used sparingly.)

That about covers it, I suppose. Tah!

Oh, hi.

2011-04-11T17:51:00.003-04:00

I thought I saw you there.

Did I catch you looking?

Neat.

Yeah, I know things are quiet around here in April. And I wish I could say that it's because I've been busy banging your mom, but alas, the only thing I've been banging is my car door in frustration at the end of another long-ass day.*

(Actually, I take that back. These days haven't been terribly frustrating; more like, filled with meetings and baseball practices for the kiddies and stuff to fix around the department and the odd family get-together. Same-ol' same-ol'. I more just wanted a chance to make a joke that insinuates that I had carnal relations with your mother.*)

I've put my microwave oven on a power-bar, so it's off most of the time; I only flick the switch on when I'm about to use it. Makes sense; I have another clock in the kitchen anyway.** So, I guess that's new.

My niece beat me soundly in several games of Uno yesterday afternoon; I think the final tally was somewhere around 6-1 for her. I think she had an unfair advantage, though: it was "Uno Junior" and had pictures of Dora the Explorer on the cards. I hardly ever watch that show.***

I'm finally ploughing through Season 4 of my Kids in the Hall DVDs. They really managed to find themselves around this point in the series.****

So, in conclusion, life rolls merrily forward.*****
________________________________
* And your sister. (Applicable for both asterisk-instances.)
** So does your mom.
*** Except after I do your aunt's housekeeper.
**** Just like I found your cousin's friend's sexy co-worker's naughty bits.
***** I have probably had sex with you and everyone you know.******
****** God, I need to get laid.

It's done.

2011-04-01T00:01:00.002-04:00

You know that writing gig I've been bitching about for the past, oh, forever?

Well, tonight, at — I shit you not — five seconds to midnight, I clicked "Send" to fire off the last major thing I had to write for this project. I realize that it didn't really matter if it got sent out at 11:59:55pm tonight or 8:30am tomorrow morning; dude would open it up at the same time. But, on prinicple, I finished up that sumbitch ON TIME, MUTHAFUCKA.

I don't care if it's inappropriate to chug a beer at midnight on a Thursday sitting home alone listening to "Daybreaker" by Electric Light Orchestra. I'm gonna go do it. And you're not going to judge me.

Baseball season opens tomorrow.

2011-03-30T20:17:00.001-04:00

Bring it on.

GO TIGERS.

Sometimes days don't turn out the way you expect them to.

2011-03-28T19:58:00.004-04:00

Let's say you caught me this morning just after I rolled out of bed and asked me this:

Hey J, what do you think the odds are of you dropping trou and having your nuts felt up by a stranger today?

First off, I'd have wondered what you were doing in my bedroom. Secondly, where's my phone so I can call the cops on you? But thirdly, right after the 911 dispatcher would've reassured me that, yes, the police currently in transit have orders to "taze the intruder with vigorous brutality," I'd have considered your question and answered, "Not very likely, chum."*

Well, as the title of this post suggests, some days just bring you stuff you weren't expecting.

Let me explain.

I coach a high school baseball team. We're in the middle of early practices/tryouts — I'm not sure we'll have enough to actually form a team, but we'll see — and we had a short practice today in a gym at lunchtime. I threw a fateful batting-practice pitch — we use soft indoor balls, thank GOODNESS — and an ex-student of mine hit a screaming line drive right up the middle.

Yup. Caught it off a mean bounce square in the jimmies.

At first it hurt like fuck. And then it hurt a little less. Then, after about an hour, it didn't hurt at all. But at about 3:00, it hurt so bad I could barely stand.

Now, I'm not what you would call a "nancy" about such things. I have a pretty high tolerance for pain, in general. Three times in my life I've had pain this bad, and the other two involved me twisting my right ankle so bad I could hear it crunch. (Stupid Nike baseball cleats.)

(Actually, when I think about it, my top three most painful moments all involve baseball.)

On the advice of our head of boys' phys ed — they deal with sports injuries all the time — I headed to an emergency room for the first time since I was 6. After about three hours of waiting** the doc drew the curtain, I told my story, and he took a look-see. He said there was no major swelling, nothing appears to be ruptured or twisted, so with Tylenol and rest, I'll be fine.

So, how was your Monday? I bet yours involved less blunt-force trauma to your genitals than mine did.
__________________________________
* This all would have played out much differently if you happenned to have been Halle Berry.
** God damn, get me to a jurisdiction with private health care like the US!!!***
*** I hope you realize I'm kidding.

Let's have an erection.

2011-03-23T18:45:00.003-04:00

(And yes, I make that joke every time we go to the polls.)

"Canadians do not want another useless election."
"We put together a budget that helps ordinary Canadians."
"The Opposition is more interested in having voters go to the polls than in helping the people of this country."
— Steve Harper

"Jets and corporate tax cuts, that's what this budget gives out."
"There's not enough in the budget for seniors and working-class Canadians."
"The government has no respect for the institution of Parliament."
— Mike Ignatieff

"I have a moustache."
— Jack Layton

Looks like the writs will be dropped pretty soon; Steve's gonna visit my old buddy Dave Johnston* (current GG, former president of UW, and the guy who shook my hand and gave me my physics degree) and Parliament will be dissolved. The only question is, will the government fall on the budget itself, a separate non-confidence vote, or the bits about the Contempt of Parliament charge (which appears to have teeth)?

At any rate, this Parliament is a goner, and good riddance to bad garbage. If the Libs can't, at the very least, gain a whole bunch of seats from all these Conservative blunders — the Bev Oda "not" thing, the In-And-Out scandal, the shitty budget that Jimbo Flaherty had his shoes re-soled for — they deserve to be the Opposition again, plain and simple. Goddammit, Mike, Steve & Co. have given you the gun, the bullets and the target, and they're screaming "SHOOT! SHOOOOOOOOOOT!!!" at you. For fuck's sakes, man, pull that trigger.

Then again, the Liberals have a history of pulling defeat from the jaws of victory, so who knows what we'll get after the ballot boxes snap shut on May 2 or 9? The pollsters don't really predict much of a change, though, so that's kind of a bummer. The moral of the story, if there is one, is that, out of the four major party leaders, despite his stated intention of destroying my country, I still like Gilles Duceppe the best, as a person. If only he could harness his powers for good, eh?
_______________________________
* Fun fact about Dave, from Wikipedia: While at Harvard, under the coaching of Cooney Weiland, Johnston captained the varsity ice hockey team, was twice selected to the All-America team, and met and befriended Erich Segal, the two becoming jogging partners. In 1970, Segal wrote the best-selling novel Love Story, basing a character in the book — Davey, a captain of the hockey team — on Johnston.

Cereal Review: Trix Swirls.

2011-03-21T21:19:00.006-04:00

I'm always up for new adventures in breakfast cereal, as readers of this here blog are no doubt aware. So, when I was in a Target near Flint, Michigan on the way back from Florida — seriously, folks, Flint is super-cheap to fly out of, if you don't mind a bit of a relaxing/boring drive to get there — and I saw some cereal on for $2.50 a box... well, with the dollar at par these days, how could I pass that up?

Enter, Trix Swirls.

As far as I know, Trix isn't available in Canada... yet, I'd wager to say that the vast majority of Canadians under 60 know the slogan, "Silly rabbit, Trix is for kids!" The box I picked up looked neo-retro like this, possibly because the "give-away" was a plug for watching retro cartoons Underdog and Tennesee Tuxedo on some website somewhere that's probably blocked outside the US anyway. (Assholes.)

Simply put, this shit is terrible. They're coloured-up to the tits, and the box professes that they're "naturally and artificially fruit-flavored [sic]" — and yet, when they hit my mouth, there really wasn't a whole lot of flavour to speak of. They sure smelled fruity, which is strange, because when you think about it, does breakfast cereal usually have a smell?

At any rate, these ended up being like smaller Corn Pops, which aren't that bad, I suppose. I was expecting a whole lot more out of Trix Swirls, but in the end they were pretty disappointing.

CEREAL RATING RUBRIC

Appearance: 4/5 (very colourful... a bit too colourful, maybe?)
Mouthfeel: 3/5 (slightly firmer than Corn Pops, not altogether unpleasant but not novel)
Taste: 1.5/5 (as discussed above)
Giveaway: 1/5 (retro TV is what YouTube is for... well, that and awesome music videos)

Overall grade: 9.5/20
Nothing exciting. Was hoping for more.

Oh, hello there.

2011-03-20T21:01:00.002-04:00

Hi, peoples.

I've been away.

But now I'm back.

A recap:

working my ass off on this writing gig, but actually getting somewhere
attending three full days of union meetings
going to Florida for six days and seeing some gloriously meaningless baseball games
spending a lot of time in transit

Needless to say, a busy week-and-a-half-ish. But hey, life's like that sometimes.

Also: a few more people are "following" this blog, whatever that means. Does that mean you follow me around in real life, too? If so, could you write down stuff I tell myself not to forget? 'Cause I could use a little help with that.

(I forget things.)

But alas, it's the last night of March Break, and I have marking to do. Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose.

Finally: fuck you, Mohammar Gaddhafi (or however it is you spell your name). You promise to make the streets run red with the blood of your own people, you deserve to get your ass tore up.

One-sentence random thought #13.

2011-03-08T20:02:00.001-05:00

This post should be called "Trying to procrastinate from a writing job you hate but not being very inventive at doing so."

Stephen Harper is a cock.

2011-03-03T19:07:00.004-05:00

You knew this already, but here's more proof.

I think the bit near the bottom that referenced Louis XIV of France — he said "L'état, c'est moi" — is particularly telling. Hell, didn't Hosni Mubarak, in his bizarre address just a couple of days before stepping down, say "I am Egypt"? Or was that Muammar Gaddafi, about being Libya? Or does it matter? Mubarak and Gaddafi were/are tyrants, and while I'm not (exactly) comparing Stephen Harper to them... well... if it looks like shit and smells like shit, it's probably shit.

Can we have an election, please? And can the Liberals not be incompetent this time?

Cereal Review: Kashi Honey Sunshine.

2011-03-02T19:05:00.004-05:00

Executive Summary: Somewhat lousy.

Detailed Review:

I got this because I received an email offer for a coupon for a free box. I filled in my address, clicked "Send," and waited patiently by the mailbox for it to come (missing two months of work and getting fired in the process; totally worth it).

Today was the day: I would redeem my coupon for a box of horrendously overpriced cereal. It's 340 g, and retails for FIVE BUCKS at FOOD BASICS (just about the cheapest place around for any edible foodstuff, except possibly for shitty Bravo pasta sauce, but that's barely edible anyway).

Armed with a coupon (but faced with an extraordinarily long lineup), I got my box, trundled on home, milked it up, and tried it.

similar in shape to Corn Bran, but the bits are about 20% smaller
somewhat simiar in taste to Corn Bran, but slightly sweeter
quickly acquires the consistency of wet newsprint
really, folks, not that exciting.

Kashi makes some delicious granola bars, but they're as overpriced as their cereal. I think their marketing angle is that their ingredients are all natural; if this is what "all natural" cereal is like, give me the artificial-est store-brand Fruit Whirls ya got, pal.

Overall Verdict: No way I'd spend the money for a box of this. Maybe their other cereals are better, but this ain't exactly getting my hopes up.

And now the chickens start coming home to fucking roost.

2011-02-28T20:16:00.004-05:00

Alright, enough about music. Back to politics: this time, of the local flavour.

In case you've been under a rock, Rob Ford was elected mayor of Toronto this past fall. Rob's dad, a businessman (quite a wealthy one, to boot) and backbencher in the Mike Harris regime... well, that's pretty much all you need to know. Ford the Younger campaigned on a "Stop the Gravy Train" platform, which was catchy and populist-as-all-get-out, and he won.

(God help us, he won.)

A bunch of councillors won with the same message, hell-bent on slamming the brakes on said Train. "Respect for Taxpayers" was another common motto, because hey, we all pay taxes in this town, right? That's what we are, Taxpaying Things In The 416. We're not citizens. Perish the thought.

Anyway, I digress.

First thing was first, when Ford found himself with the Chain of Office: scrap that dastardly $60-a-year Vehicle Registration Tax! Respect for taxpayers, indeed. (I admit, when I renewed my plates for two years back in November — might as well, it saves me the hassle every other year — the bill stung: couple o' hunnies for the sticker, plus a sweet buck-twenty straight to the City.) Who cares that property taxes in the City, as opposed to the 905, are crazy-low? Cars (and trucks, and buses, but not streetcars and damn sure not bikes) are what roads are built for, stupid!

However:

1. That $60/year fee for having a car and a Toronto address? That brought in a ton of money, and it was one of the first things done under the City of Toronto Act, through the province, in order to generate a little extra scratch for Hogtown because, well, we do a lot of stuff here, and that shit ain't free. But, more importantly...

2. Turns out there wasn't as much Gravy as Ford & Co. thought there was. Just this past weekend, newly-minted, Ford-backing, alliteration-enhanced councillor from the Beach(es), Mary-Margaret McMahon, was quoted to say, and I'm paraphrasing slightly, "Y'know, there isn't as much gravy here as we'd planned. This is going to be hard."

Well.

As hard as it might be for you to believe, I don't relish the "I told you so" moment as much as you might think. I mean, it's a little satisfying, for sure, but in the end, who comes out on top? It's like a prison rodeo: there are no real winners.

All I can say is that, when Ford went cap-in-hand to the Province with a wish-list, Dwight Duncan made like Little Bessie from Lake Charles, Louisiana and "tore it up and threw it in [his] face, just for a laugh,"* and Tim Hudak suggested it was because Ford beat George Smitherman (a former McGuinty Minister of Health) last fall... well, it'd be funnier if I didn't have to fucking live here, but I do.

The moral of the story, I think, was perfectly summed up, once upon a time, by Little Richard: Don't let your mouth write checks your tail can't cover.
___________________________________________
* This is a great song, and always will be.

Album review: The King Of Limbs.

2011-02-22T20:28:00.005-05:00

In case you haven't been within a hundred miles of me in the past four days, Radiohead released their new album (a day early, no less), The King Of Limbs.

In case you didn't know already, I'm a huge fan of the boys. There aren't too many artists/groups that I'd blindly trust with a new project — several times bitten, forever shy — but Radiohead is a band to whom I will always give the benefit of the doubt.

First impression:

Dark and smoky. But gooooood dark and smoky.

Further analysis:

I've listened to this album three times since I downloaded it (legally, of course) on Friday, a day before it was supposed to have been released. It hasn't taken me long to really appreciate what's going on here.

Overall, it's a departure from their most recent pair of albums; those tended to veer back into guitar-based territory, which they do well too (obviously). As Matt Blair suggested, things venture into the Kid A-ish realm of things, and I'll agree with that sentiment. However, whereas Kid A was the first time they plunged into, as ex-blogger ECB refers to it, "bleepy bloopy" music — resulting in a wholesale yet sometimes overly technical commitment to electronica — this time, they're going into it with the full knowledge of what sorts of things are possible, what sorts of things aren't, and how far they should wade into that end of the pool.

Long story short: It works.

Long story longer: When they want to dial things back and make them more atmospheric, they do. When they want to reel-in that obscure part of your brain wholly dedicated to complex beats, they do. And, perhaps most surprisingly for a record like this, whenever they want to get a solid groove going, they do.

It's not a long album, but I'm alright with that. What this album is, though, is thorougly impressive. I'm not sure exactly where this'll end up in my ranked list of the Radiohead canon, but you'd better believe it's going to be near the top, and that is damn high praise from this inconsequential (but nerdy) reviewer.

Get it here. (The mp3 version is fine.) Seriously, folks, pay for this music. I will openly admit I download music illegally from time to time, just like you do. But don't steal this. It's nine bucks, and you have nine bucks.

Creating a top-40 pop hit.

2011-02-21T00:25:00.003-05:00

Look, I know I've been beating the drum of "top-40 pop music sucks" for pretty much, well, my entire adult life. But if you can have two guys go from zero to entirely finished track in well under eight hours, one of two things must be true:

These two guys are Paul McCartney and John Lennon
Top-40 pop music is actually pretty easy to write

The challenge was to go from nothing to a finished song in eight hours. These guys had plenty of time to spare, with a burger break in the middle. Watch the "magic" unfold:

Then, once you're done that, watch this live track by Humble Pie in about 1971-ish to cleanse your palate:

You're welcome.

Catchy cheesy 80s pop, V-day, and dead fridges.

2011-02-16T23:58:00.006-05:00

A miscellany of assorted randomness: it's been a while.

1. Catchy Cheesy 80s Pop

If you know me — and, chances are you do — you know I'm a music snob. But, if you know me — which you probably do — you know I'm a sucker for good pop songwriting, even if it happens to be the ultimate fromage.

Hence, a song I've been obsessed with lately, "King Of Wishful Thinking" by Go West. I must warn you, however: for those of you who know my musical tastes — an ultra-extended version of the "Supper's Ready" suite by a proggy trippy weirdo Peter Gabriel-fronted Genesis? Sign me up! — this may be a bit, well, jarring. But, here goes.

(There's a version with better sound quality here, but it wouldn't embed in a web page, because some people are fascists.) Sometime site-contributor (and apparently now-ex-blogger) ECB apparently loves this song too, so at least I'm not alone, except on...

2. Valentine's Day

Glad that shit's over for another year.

3. Dead Fridges

My fridge died on Saturday morning: the inside of both compartments looked like someone had sprayed a fine layer of black photocopier toner in it, and it smelled ghastly chemically.

People say renting an apartment is "throwing your money away." They might be right, or they might be wrong. But, I gotta say, it's pretty swell to be able to call up your super, tell them, "Hey, my fridge is dead, I need another one," and another one magically appears in a couple of days.

Take that, mortgage slaves!

* * * * * *

In an attempt to perhaps re-establish my rock cred around here, I will present to you the most soulful white guy ever: Steve Winwood, as a member of the Spencer Davis Group. This is about 1967, which means Winwood was about nineteen goddamn years old.

I wish I had more to say.

2011-02-11T00:42:00.002-05:00

Tomorrow I'm going to work a full day, then I'm going to:

supervise a bunch of students doing the tail end of the 30 Hour Famine, until 10pm... then,
go to a house party wherein a friend of mine is going to debut a short film he and some friends worked on, and it's bound to be (a.) hilarious and (b.) exceptionally weird.

Most Friday nights I'm content to sit on my couch, drink a beer, and be in bed by 10:30.

Inside the mind of Lil Wayne.

2011-01-29T14:15:00.002-05:00

Just in case you don't get Rollling Stone, here are a couple of excerpts from a feature-length interview with Lil Wayne.

(For those of you not into hip-hop as much as I am, Mr. Lil is a rapper who just happened to have a loaded .40-calibre pistol with him on a tour bus, which cops found because they smelled marijuana smoke near the bus and decided to have a bit of a peek inside. The Wayner spent 242 days at the Greybar Hotel for that little misdeed, but he's back out... thank goodness!)

After Mr. Carter (his given name is Dwayne Michael Carter, Jr.) watched a Heat-Hornets game and didn't get personally greeted by LeBron James and Dwayne Wade courtside:

Them n***as never speak to a n***a. They don't chuck me the deuce or nothing! N***a spent all that money on them fucking tickets... come holla at me!

Later, regarding the same incident:

I asked my ho why they don't speak to me, and she said, "'Cause you always rooting against them." But everybody they've played, I'm cool with a n***a on the other team! We sit right there by them little bitch-ass n***as. At least come ask me why I'm not rooting for you.

Regarding the lack of conjugal visits in prison, and how it wasn't really a problem (over dinner with a girl he's currently dating):

If you meet a girl on tour, you know she just wants to get fucked. But I don't fuck. I make love. If you get it on with me, you gotta know I'm gonna look you in the eyes. You're gonna be touched. You're gonna feel it. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna take a few minutes to go talk to my girl.

From a new song he was working on:

We 'bout everything and everything goes
Bitch, n***a, shit, bitch, take a picture
Tonight I'll probably fuck another n***a's girl
Party time, excellent, Wayne's World.

Listen, I realize this guy doesn't represent all hip-hop artists; a friend of mine who's much more familiar with the genre made the analogy of, "He is to hip-hop what the Insane Clown Posse is to rock." But, as another friend of mine often says when some knucklehead acts like an idiot and besmirches the good name of other members of their identifiable group: "You're not helping."
________________________________________________

In unrelated news, I get the feeling Rogers doesn't like me using torrents to download things. I have one going presently (for what I will not say), and it's only coming down at maybe 100 kbps — nowhere near enough to use up all my bandwidth — but is slowing all other internet data to an absolute crawl. As soon as I pause the torrent, everything else is bunny-quick. So much for Net Neutrality, eh?

"Brown Sugar": A Lyrical Deconstruction.

2011-01-23T13:45:00.002-05:00

I did this before with Foreigner's "Hot Blooded," and the crowd went wild. So, I present to you the second in a 3500-part series of Lyrical Deconstructions: the song "Brown Sugar" from the Rolling Stones, found in their excellent 1971 release, Sticky Fingers.

If you've listened to an hour's worth of any classic rock radio station, chances are you've heard this song at least three times. But after I bought the album and listened to it on my own, I really started to appreciate how bitchingly-awesome this song is. Keef's opening riff is a classic (and is stupidly easy to play if you switch to an open-G tuning, which he often uses), and the whole thing just swings like a badass track should.

A fine cut, indeed. Now to the lyrics. (Repetitious choruses were omitted.)

* * * * * * * *

Gold coast slave ship bound for cotton fields
Sold in a market down in New Orleans
Off to a solid start, Mick: glamorizing the slave trade through song.

Scarred old slaver knows he's doing alright
Hear him with the women just around midnight
Some old guy — who buys and sells humans for a living, and is horribly disfigured to boot — gets more quinny than Jim Carrey, Tom Brady and Charlie Sheen combined. And yet, I find meeting women exceptionally difficult. The plot thickens.

Brown sugar, how come you taste so good?
Brown sugar, just like a young girl should
Much like Foreigner's Lou Gramm, the protagonist has an obsession with young women; specifically, probably, cunnilingus with said young women. The question is, if the slave girl is under 18, is it still stat rape if she's not technically a "person" under the law?

Drums beating, cold English blood runs hot
Lady of the house wonderin' when it's gonna stop
The phrase "English blood runs hot" might be the most ridiculous one ever used in song. When you think "English men," you think about Prince Charles, Richard Attenborough and Hugh Grant (when he's not getting beejers from hookers): stuffy and stodgy, not "hot blooded" like a certain American band we all know and love.

House boy knows that he's doing alright
You shoulda heard him just around midnight
The term "house boy" could go a couple of different ways here. Is it a young male slave who does work around the house and seduces white wives with his African libido in his spare time? Let's say yes.

I bet your mama was a tent show queen
And all her boyfriends were sweet sixteen
The girl's mother may have been the feature performer at a "tent show," in a travelling circus.* Was she the Bearded Lady? Records from that era are spotty at best. Also, her mom may have been a fellow pedophile, like the protagonist. What kind of a circus are they running here?

I'm no schoolboy but I know what I like
You shoulda heard me just around midnight
The protagonist cops to being older. Finally, a moment of truth.

I said yeah, yeah, yeah, woo
How come you... how come you taste so good?
Because they spent an entire ocean voyage being penned-up like veal calves, that's why.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, woo
Just like a... just like a black girl should
So now he's saying black girls "should" be kept in the horrific conditions found on slave ships? Not only does he have a thing for (then-) taboo sexual trysts, he is a proponent of slavery. (As were most of the Founding Fathers of the USA, for the record.)

* * * * * * * *

In conclusion, the focal point of the story appears to be a mildly pedophilic pro-slavery slave-lover. I guess that's not too hard to wrap your brain around, except when you realize this story was woven into one of the greatest rock and roll songs ever made (it made Rolling Stone magazine's Top 500 of all time).
___________________________________
* Indiana post-alternative band Murder By Death started its own label in 2006, called Tent Show Records. It's a fact.

Neil Young, Young Old Man.

2011-01-17T23:53:00.004-05:00

Here's a 1971 performance of a then-new song, "Heart Of Gold," off After the Gold Rush, which is one stupendously fantastically amazing album.

A few things about this:

Even though he was 26 when this was filmed, he somehow comes across like a 50 year old. Sorta looks like one, and definitely acts like one.
His diction is a hundred times clearer than any modern pop song. I'm not sure if this is good or bad, but one of the reasons I don't generally pay attention to lyrics is because I can't fucking make them out most of the time, thank you Kurt Cobain.
I love how he's casually fumbling around for a harmonica in the right key, making small-talk, looking a bit lost or clumsy, then drops an astonishing song on an unsuspecting crowd like a god damn atomic bomb.
He has a really weird voice, but it somehow fits. I have no idea why.

I'd never seen Jimmy Fallon's impression of Neil Young before, but it's a good one. Here he is on his show, as Neil, singing a song based on one performed by a very kooky hopeful from American Idol (who, as you might guess, didn't make the cut). He's dead-on. (You may have to turn your volume down slightly, as it's a bit loud.)

I'm impressed. And yes, it's "Pants On The Ground."

Well, this is nice.

2011-01-11T21:52:00.003-05:00

Rush Limbaugh has a take on the Tuscon shooter, natch.

What Mr. Loughner knows is that he has the full support of a major political party in this country. He's sitting there in jail. He knows what's going on, he knows that...the Democrat party is attempting to find anybody but him to blame. He knows if he plays his cards right, he's just a victim. He's the latest in a never-ending parade of victims brought about by the unfairness of America...this guy clearly understands he's getting all the attention and he understands he's got a political party doing everything it can, plus a local sheriff doing everything that they can to make sure he's not convicted of murder — but something lesser.

Well, that's nice of him to say.

* * * * * * * * *

In other, much less consequential news, I hope you didn't get the impression from my last post that I didn't like any music these days. I just listened to side 1 of Blitzen Trapper's Black River Killer EP from '09, and it is fucking great. Next up (after side 2, of course) is their 2010 full-length, Destroyer of the Void, and I expect that'll be good, too. Take that, assholes.

I know what's wrong with music today.

2011-01-09T10:58:00.003-05:00

Hardly anybody has soul anymore.

Jack White has it, and he's trying his hardest to spread the word, which is commendable.

Kings of Leon used to have it, and they try to repress it as much as they can so they can sell more records.

Aretha Franklin could read the phone book with more soul than everything every top-40 radio station has played in the last decade, combined.

Quirky artists like the Flaming Lips don't have it, but they're fun enough to be farily interesting (despite me not really liking the Flaming Lips too much).

I'm listening to Cat Stevens' excellent Tea for the Tillerman, which I picked up used for a buck in Seattle last week, and the soul practically drips from the vinyl. (This adds to my oddly-large collection of albums from the year 1970; I'm probably up around ten.)

Blue Rodeo has it. So do the Sadies.

Jon Spencer has a bit, but acts like he has a lot. I wish he had more, and so does he, but that's the way it goes sometimes.

The Black Eyed Peas have none, and they seem to revel in it.

You don't out-Conservative a Conservative.

2011-01-04T17:33:00.005-05:00

It's been a while since I've watched the 5pm politics show on CBC Newsworld... so much so that:

The channel isn't called Newsworld anymore, it's CBC News Network
Don Newman retired and was replaced by the Corporation's jack-of-all-trades, Evan Solomon (aka "the Ralph Benmergui of the 21st Century")

As my headachey self nestled under the duvet on the couch to take in a roundtable discussion between an advisor to Steve Harper, a Liberal MP from St. John's and an NDP MP from Vancouver, I was reminded again why I dislike debating anything with (modern) conservatives:

Often, they are smarmy douches.

A good example of this was when Solomon addressed a question to the three of them about Steve's latest Cabinet shuffle, specifically the appointment of former Global TV news anchor Peter Kent as the new Minister of the Environment.

The Liberal: "Five Ministers of the Environment in the past four years? This shows that the Conservatives really don't care about the environment too much."

The NDPer: "We're the international laughingstock when it comes to the environment. We've become followers instead of leaders."

The Con: "Canadians want the economy to stay the course. We're staying the course. We cut taxes. We stay the course. Oh, and Canadians want us to stay the course."

Way to dodge the question, buddy. Then again, I suppose it's your job to pass off shitburgers as Big Macs, ain't it?

Anyway, the point I was trying to make was that the Conservative hack managed to drag the Liberal MP into a debate about the economy (surprise, surprise; fuck, why do people take the bait so easily?). This prompted the Liberal to proudly tout that, under Paul Martin, they balanced the budget, cut taxes, and so on — essentially, using plays out of the Conservative playbook.

Short response: Don't do that, asshole!

Longer response: Look, if people want someone to cut their taxes and fuck their gov't services up the ass, they're never going to vote for a Liberal anyway. And if you keep shouting from on-high that you're awesome at cutting taxes, your Liberal base is going to start wondering, "Hey, wait a minute, are you a Liberal or a Conservative?" Then they stop voting for you, and you have... uh... wait, how many years has Steve Harper been our fucking Prime Minister, anyway?

Yeah.

Anyway, I hurt. Time for Tylenol and horizontality.
__________________________________
(I must say, the eye-candy on this show is better than it was in Newman's tenure: the foxy Reshmi Nair provides news updates now and again. Oww! Well done, Mothership! I now have a new Basic Cable Crush... first Oga Nwobosi, then Sarika Sehgal, and now the comely Ms. Nair... hmm, I seem to have a thing for women-of-colour telling me information.)

Kind of a bummer.

2010-12-27T17:03:00.002-05:00

I'm in Vancouver airport at the moment, on my way to Seattle. Thank you for the free Wi-fi, YVR — and thanks for catching up to 2005, Pearson Airport, by providing some of your own. I guess the highest landing fees in the world are finally paying for something other than whatever the hell that architectural experiment called Terminal 1 is.

(Pretty, though.)

Anyway, on the way out I watched The Social Network and FUBAR 2 (way to go, Deaner!), and was struck by the following things about the former:

Now I kinda feel like a douche for being on Facebook.
I also feel douchey for having been on it extremely early (probably winter '05-ish, not too long after it came to Queen's).
This was a good movie, all in all.
Blogging is exceptionally narcissistic, and this is a type of thing I try to avoid, as a matter of course.

So... to write or not to write, that is the question. Plenty of these here blogs have fallen by the wayside — I suppose the world can be summarized in 140 characters — and yet, I soldier on here. This thing tells me I've posted right around 1000 times since late 2004 — hey, this blog's been around longer than I've been on Facebook! I oughtta update my status to show... aw, shit, I'm a douche again.* — and I suppose I still find it useful, so I imagine I'll just keep going. I'm sure my readership these days is in the low single-digits. And yet. Soldiering.

You know what's messed up? When you spend five hours in a plane, you really don't know what time it is. I've lost all track of time. I know it's light out here. Is it still 2010?
__________________
* Don't worry, I'm not one of "those people" who would update their status to say "Hey, I just had a $10 ham sandwich and Diet Coke at YVR, and someone's snoring a few seats over in the waiting area! Woo!" Hell, I went a couple of years with a blank status on there. I never have a picture of myself up, but that's mostly so the kiddies don't find me. In conclusion, I'm a douche.

Video of the day.

2010-12-21T19:07:00.004-05:00

There are a few things we can learn from the video to 1981's "Caught Up In You" by southern-rockers 38 Special.

They go as follows.

Women who wear shirts open to their navel with no bra underneath are probably just cockteases, but on the other hand they might just invite you back to their hotel room for sex.
Chest hair is awesome.
One drummer is not enough.
Three guitars are just about right.
More bars need red-and-white checkered tablecloths.

Anything else catch your attention, other than the generalized awesomeness of this song?

Evolution.

2010-12-18T13:43:00.001-05:00

The conclusion from this article is that, alright, we're making progress, but we have a hell of a long way to go. Don't worry, I'm doing my part.

Yup.

2010-12-16T18:54:00.003-05:00

Life is good when...

your favourite baseball team re-signs a pretty good player to a pretty reasonable deal
you're sipping a Guinness
tomorrow's the last day of work for two weeks, and it's gonna be an easy one
tomorrow night is the White Cowbell Christmas Cocktacular
those next two weeks will be spent galavanting-about and visiting and chilling the fuck out

Yup. Good indeed.

Teenagers say the darndest things.

2010-12-13T18:20:00.003-05:00

One of my grade 12s, this morning:

Him:

So I was looking through the store flyers this weekend and I saw a Toys R Us one which had a section in the middle you could take out, which had coupons on it. I couldn't stop laughing. It said, "Pull out and save $600."

Me:

From what I'm told, you'd end up saving way more than $600.

Ah, kids. So wise. (The ones who pull out and save, anyway.)

Oh, the catchiness.

2010-12-12T11:28:00.004-05:00

Last night I did yet another 20-minute set at Everyone's a DJ — fun times, as always.

But, it's funny, you know.

You can spend hours and hours digging up awesome tracks from obscure artists, and that's fine if you're playing them for fellow music nerds. ("Come on, this is a rare outtake of John Lennon singing with Lemmy from Motörhead, backed by Gene Krupa, doing 'You Are The Sunshine Of My Life'! Frank Sinatra was in the corner of the studio doing blow with Richard Pryor!")

But in the end, when you play "Everybody Have Fun Tonight", the crowd fucking loves it, including the Jägermeister Girls who were there giving out swag and samples, who must've been all of 19, in shorty-short skirts.

Also on Catchiness Corner today: "You Get What You Give" by the New Radicals. They had this one hit in 1998, and because frontman Gregg Alexander was sick of publicity and touring, he broke up the band in 1999. Remember the hubbub over the celebrities he called-out in the outro? Turns out that he was curious to see if the media would pay attention to that line, or the one before it which talked about the FDA, health insurance and cloning, and we know how that turned out.

I need a vacation.

2010-12-06T19:38:00.001-05:00

...no, I think I pretty much covered everything in the title.

Yet another late night at work.

2010-11-29T18:30:00.004-05:00

Yep, 6:30 and I'm still here. I sure do know how to live it up.

Piece of advice, though.

Here's what not to do:

Spend an hour and a half writing a quiz, eventually armwrestling Microsoft Word into submission.
Print it off.
Close the document.
Because you've been at work forever and your judgement is all cloudy and fuzzy, OBLITERATE THE QUIZ FROM YOUR COMPUTER even though you said you'd send a copy to a colleague before you left so she could look it over tonight or first-thing tomorrow morning.
Spend another 45 minutes re-creating the thing from a blank document.

The countdown on the wall suggests 14 more school days until the break.

Please get here, Christmas Holidays. Please. I beg you.

The new Kings of Leon album.

2010-11-28T15:14:00.003-05:00

Yeah, I know I've pretty much disowned this band, but in the grand scheme of all things universal, my opinion doesn't really amount to a hill of beans, does it?

At any rate, I figured it'd be worth my time to check out their latest release, Come Around Sundown. I will fully admit that I didn't pay for it. But, to that fact, I will also submit this retort: this band has made me put down good money for two very shitty, very mainstream, exceptionally average albums before this one.

* * * * * * *

Executive summary: Not bad. Not great, but not bad.

Detailed summary:

It's loud, compressed out to maximum volume 99% of the time. Every last bit of sonic room is filled with rhythm guitars, echoes of all sorts, cymbals, harmony vocals, and assorted flotsam and jetsam.

Tracks 1-3 aren't so bad. They're a little more subdued, and the third cut, "Pryo," is almost easy to listen to, except when they decide to get all arena-rock towards the end.

The fourth cut, "Mary," wants to pay homage to 1950s early rock-and-roll, but does so in the loudest possible way, which undercuts the whole effort.

Number five, "The Face," is clearly going to be released as a single. By golly, when did this band turn into shitty late-era U2, anyway?

"Back Down South" contains hints of fiddle, but seriously, the whole thing is dripping with way too much reverb.

Track #10, "Pony Up," sounds like KoL trying to be XTC.

My favourite track of the lot is #11, "Birthday" — not just because the ol' odometer is flipping over in a couple of days, but because it actually has the audacity to be (relatively) quiet, most of the time.

Overall, this album's structure is a lot like Because of the Times: the first half is front-loaded with big, loud stadium-rock numbers; then they sit back, relax a bit, and make tunes that (I presume) the band wants to make, rather than the record company pushing this thing.

Just for fun, I queued-up Aha Shake Heartbreak right after listening to Come Around Sundown, so I could contrast them right beside one another, and WOW. Listen to anything on the last three albums, then listen to "Milk" from ASH, and... holy crap. The earlier stuff sounds like it's being played in your living room with the band trying hard not to disturb the Crazy Cat Lady* downstairs, in comparison to the later stuff which aims to annoy people forty miles away.

Conclusion: The new album isn't bad, per se; the production annoys me more than anything. The song structures are really conventional, which isn't surprising seeing as how they've gone on the record to say they want to appeal to as many fans as possible. I'm glad I didn't buy this record — I'm saving my pennies for the new Bees album, and hopefully Sonic Boom has the vinyl — and I will delete it from my computer forthwith. But, if you let me at the original tapes so I could make it sound the way I wanted... yeah, I think we'd have something to work with here.
_______________________________
* She's actually been pretty calm these days.

And now, a very important message.

2010-11-24T20:04:00.002-05:00

Gentlemen and gentlewomen, this urgent message is brought to you by a couple of erstwhile Englishmen. Heed their advice, or pay the consequences.

Please just shoot me now.

2010-11-21T23:32:00.004-05:00

I've never had a cold be so intensely bad for so long. Normally I get a sore throat for a day or two, have a day of sniffles, a day of chest congestion, and I'm home free. This is DAY FUCKING EIGHT of feeling really shitty, and I've just about had it.

For the past four days I've been hacking like a chain-smoker. On Friday night, when out to dinner with a friend, an admittedly-delicious (and normally rather innocuous) club sandwich triggered a coughing fit of epic proportions. I think the rest of the Kelsey's probably thought I was trying to infect everyone with the bubonic plague or something.

Saturday, the bro came down, we watched a whole lot of Eastbound & Down, ran around town a bit, then hooked up with a couple of friends and headed over to Grossman's. The band was good, the beers were tasty, and we even got to see a bit of high drama: two women bolted from the dance floor, they had words, one poured a drink on the other, who batted the pint glass out of the pourer's hand, and the pourer stormed out the door. Fun! What better way to cap off the evening than with "a plate of BBQ pork" from the Kom Jug, then? (Seriously, that's what Mike/Bob Sacamano ordered, and by-gum, that's what he got.)

On Saturday night, when talking with my brother and friends, we spent some time in a bar with some live music, so I had to get a little shout-y. This is hard on the voice even when I'm not sick — teaching sorta wrecks it a little each day anyway, and loud bars don't help — but when you essentially have to give it 110% for a couple of hours just to be heard, you don't sound too good at the end. Last night when I went to bed, I sounded really croaky; this morning, when I first spoke, I barely had anything there, and that freaked me the hell out. All day I've made a conscious effort not to use my voice (after my brother left), which has been really strange; it turns out that I talk to myself a hell of a lot when I'm alone.

Anyway, today, I swear, I've tried to be productive. Not very hard, mind you, but I did try. I did manage to get the main parts of what I had to get done for tomorrow for this Ministry/ILC writing gig tonight, and tomorrow I just need to fill in some gaps and bundle this off to the bastards. (Why did I sign up for this, anyway? Becoming Education Czar of Ontario isn't going to be a cakewalk, I suppose.) Granted, after banging out the first few bits of it, I got really sleepy and zonked-out for a two-hour nap on the futon here in the spare room, but hey, a fella's gotta do what a fella's gotta do.

...marking? What marking? Oh, you mean the giant pile of it that I didn't touch? Well, there's always tomorrow. Ugh.

(Seems like a common theme, doesn't it?)

Fuck this, I'm tired and sick. I need to sleep. This shit can wait until later.

Here's how my "day off" went.

2010-11-19T17:37:00.002-05:00

It's funny, on professional development (PD) days, kids assume we get the day off, too.

Not so, muchachos and muchachas.

Normally we get subjected to guest-speakers and workshops which are mildly-interesting at best, and eye-gougingly boring at worst. But, I got sent a flyer from UofT a few weeks ago which advertised a day-long program for the PD day, put on by the Faculty of Engineering, catered lunch provided. I put the call out to the rest of the department: "Do you want to stick around the school and be put through hell-on-earth, or do you want to go downtown and learn neat stuff and get fed?"

All but one of us signed up for the UofT thing, and I have my doubts about the holdout.

Unfortunately, the day got off to a rousing start just after 5am, when I woke up with possibly the most excruciatingly painful muscle cramp I've ever had in my life, in my left calf. Apparently bananas (and the potassium they contain) help with preventing muscle cramps, but I've had four bananas in the past three days, so fuck you. My calf is still sore as hell.

My cold is at the point where (a.) I'm hacking up bizarre things (e.g. I may or may not have coughed up my gallbladder), (b.) my throat spontaneously gets as dry as the Sahara and I'd better have water at the ready, and (c.) my voice is 90% gone and all breathy and hoarse and wheezy and not sexy in the least, unlike a couple of days ago when it was all low and Barry White-ish (but yet when I tried to sing something really low to try and take advantage of this new vocal range, I found it impossible to control the pitch, so I was all over the place, and thank goodness I live alone).

Apparently my cold also causes run-on sentences.

I'm not used to taking the TTC downtown during the thick of rush hour — the closest I came was a few years ago, when I took a course at UofT which started at 8, so I guess missed the peak busy-ness by getting on the bus at 7:15. I never really thought about the sardine-tin situation on subways south from St Clair at 8:20 on a weekday, but I sure found out about it today. If we're supposed to all be good citizens and taking transit, how on earth can you fit more people on those trains?!

At any rate, once I got down there and all settled-in, the day was actually pretty interesting and fun. A bunch of us made roller coasters using pipe insulation and masking tape, and ours totally worked on the first try (and every subsequent run); lunch was delicious; and we had a really good set of round-table discussions on various issues facing students making the transition from high school to university courses. A fruitful (but slightly physically painful) day, for sure.

I just hope I'm well enough to do a little drinking on Saturday night; the bro is coming down, I'm going to try to get another couple of people together to put together a posse, and grand adventures will be had around town.

Also: TWENTY SCHOOL DAYS UNTIL THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS.

Huzzah.

Quasimedical treatment semi-update #2: Sweating it out.

2010-11-17T07:11:00.003-05:00

Perspiration: Hoodie, track pants, extra duvet... woke up a little tiny bit moist, but not that "sweaty," really.

Symptoms update: I feel a little better overall, but I have a headache and the cold has now gone down into my chest. The sore throat is mostly gone.

Somewhat baseless hypothesizing: It's hard to say if the change was because of the sweating or my body's natural reaction — colds change anyway — but I don't think a sweat-a-thon would necessarily do any harm. If you think about it, that's what fevers are all about: your body is trying to make life miserable for whatever pathogen has invaded, so if you pile-on the blankets, you're helping out, right?

Quasimedical treatment semi-update: Sweating it out.

2010-11-16T21:44:00.004-05:00

If you've shared a bed with me — and if you're reading this, chances are you probably have, because I'm a whore — you know that I'm generally quite furnace-like under the covers, and no, I'm not intoning any innuendo there. I generate a lot of heat. Hell, even in the winter, I'll probably only sleep in boxer-briefs, with one cotton sheet up to my neck, and a duvet up to my waist.

So, last night, eager to try the "Sweat Out the Cold" experiment, I donned a shirt and a hoodie, and pulled the duvet all the way up to my face. When I awoke this morning, I found (to my surprise) that I was not drenched in sweat; I was merely a tad warm.

Tonight's plan: shirt, hoodie, track pants, socks, two duvets. If this doesn't turn me into a sopping wet (and hopefully head-cold-free) sweaty guy, I'll be goddamned.

Quasimedical treatment preview: Sweat it out.

2010-11-15T23:04:00.004-05:00

Around midday Saturday I started feeling not-so-well: headache, hurt all over, sore throat, the usual. Continued on into Sunday, and of course today at work.

A colleague of mine said that her fiancé has a remedy for whenever he gets a cold: before going to bed, he gets all bundled up in a sweater and pants, wraps himself in a comforter, and "sweats it out." She claims that, the next day, he never has a cold — "but I share the bed too, and it's a little gross to have him sweating so much." (For the record, he's a huge beast of a man who's 6'7" and played football in uni; she can't be much more than 5'3" and might, might crack triple-digits on a scale.)

Seeing as how the NyQuil Experiment ended in tingly fingertips and next-day fuzziness, I think I'd be willing to give this one a try. Track-pants and hoodie, here I come.

A worthwhile cause.

2010-11-14T10:52:00.003-05:00

If you're looking for a charity to support, there can't be any better cause in this world than the education of girls and women in Afghanistan.

An article in today's Star.

The school itself, with a link to donate quickly and easily online, if that's your thing.

It doesn't take much. Ten bucks helps, and I know you spent at least that amount on fancy pretentious coffee just last week, you jerks.

The Tea Party and history.

2010-11-14T10:18:00.003-05:00

You know about the Tea Party deal in the US, I know you do. And, if you're reading this and/or you know me, it's somewhere on the spectrum between "mildly unsettling" and "get the Y2K bunker back up and running if Palin gets the nod in '12".

I've spent some time thinking about this movement, and the one roadblock I keep running into is, "How do conservatives manage to coax people, especially poor people, to vote against their own best interests?" Then again, I suppose "best" is a subjective term, and I have a different view of it than your average Tea Partier — "best" to me means your health care tab is picked up by the country, but to them "best" means "get the government the fuck away from my health care" — and I'd say that I've now thought about this whole idea, just now, more than your average TPer, but that's just a little jab at those wackos. Sorry, folks.

Anyway, this article in today's Star examines the role of the US Constitution (a document I quite like, for the record) in the TP movement.* I think it nicely examines the way some Americans have thought of their country for the past few decades, and how the canonization of the Consitution has worked out.
________________________________________
* I am aware of the connection between "TP" and a "movement" of a particular, bathroom, sort. I may be somewhat nerdy but, above all else, I am puerile.

An apology.

2010-11-11T22:49:00.003-05:00

I'm sorry I haven't been writing much lately. I've been stupidly busy at work, and other stuff just seems to find me on the weekends and evenings too. I'm not sure why this school year seems to be so much busier than previous ones, but it is, and by quite a bit.

But, if it matters to you, I do feel mild pangs of guilt when I flip through my bookmarks, see the one for my blog, and think, "Damn, I really oughtta write something."

A whirlwind weekend's recap.

2010-11-04T21:43:00.003-04:00

As promised (to some), a full recap of my Weekend to Restore Sanity and/or Fear...

Friday: Flying and Driving

flew out of the Island airport on Porter
super-nice to fly out of, can definitely recommend
met the fellows at Newark, picked up the car
hit up a Target to buy sensible shoes and water, granola bars
rolled into the hotel at about 2am

Saturday: Standing and Walking

woke up a little late for a breakfast meet-up
met lovely folks on the Metro and on the streets
got handed "Team Fear" signs on a corner
joined the crowd by 9:30 or 10ish; already tons of folks there
read numerous hilarious signs
Roots and John Legend came on and played
Mythbusters had us doing the wave and jumping in unison to trigger seismometers
Stewart and Colbert came out and made some jokes
Cat Stevens/Yusuf Islam and Ozzy Osbourne battled with "Peace Train" and "Crazy Train" (you can figure out which comedian was behind whom)
score was settled with the O'Jays singing "Love Train"
correspondents were funny, crowd was polite
good time had by all 250,000-ish attendees
Metro was packed afterward so we just walked to the bar in Adams Morgan
had some beers, then had some burgers, and then more beers
tuckered-out and in bed by 10

Sunday: Whole Lotta Jersey

encountered stupid traffic jams on way down to DC; determined not to repeat said slow-assed-ness on way back
had great breakfast in Maryland; first encounter with scrapple deemed successful
saw lots of New Jersey; some is OK, most is an eyesore
saw Christine O'Donnell campaign signs in Delaware
sat in front of drunk chowderheads on plane ride back

A hell of a weekend, all told. Definitely one for the books.

FOR SHIT'S SAKES

2010-10-25T20:14:00.002-04:00

MAYOR

FAT

FUCK

An album I forgot was great.

2010-10-20T19:52:00.002-04:00

I listened to Superunknown by Soundgarden on my way to and from work today. A couple of things jumped out at me.

Start to finish, stem to stern, soup to nuts, this is one fantastic album. There are a couple of tracks I don't like quite as well as some others, but not enough-so to skip past them (Radiohead's The Bends and OK Computer are in this boat, too).
It's heavy; unbelievably heavy in places ("Fourth Of July" comes to mind). It's sludgy and crunchy in spots, just plain-ol' intense in others. But...
...it has an airiness and melodicity to it (if that's a word). Unlike modern nu-metal-inspired bands — if indeed nu-metal can ever be "inspirational" — this doesn't suffocate under its own weight, nor is it pasteurized and liquefied and electronically compressed to hell like today's stuff (Disturbed, I'm looking at you). There's room for the music to breathe.
I read somewhere that when Soundgarden wrote songs, they never really noticed the odd time meters that fell out — or, in many cases, jumped-ship mid-song — until afterward. But, like every good music nerd, I noticed, and the end result is an album that challenges a new part of your brain: "Oh? You think you got this song pegged? Well, lemme throw this at ya." Magnificent.

This was the first Soundgarden album I bought (probably in about '96ish). I can't remember where I got it, but I remember being so blown away by it, I went back and picked up their previous album, Badmotorfinger, very soon after at the late, great Dr. Disc* on campus at UW. It took me a while to get into the earlier album; it's a little rougher around the edges than Superunknown, but once you acquaint yourself with its surroundings, it's just as satisfying to listen to.

While Soundgarden may have recently reunited, it's still unclear if they're going to record any new music. Alice in Chains got back together (minus Layne Staley for obvious reasons) and recorded a new album, which is absolute shit and sounds like every other band out there. Part of me wants Cornell & Co. not to record a new album, for the same reason I wasn't completely sold on the idea of Clerks 2 right away: if it's bad, it could tarnish the earlier work.

Then again, this album is so good, I'm not sure if it's tarnish-able at all.
__________________________________
* This was the only place I ever walked into, heard music playing, asked the clerk what the album was, and bought it. The album? Girlfriend by Matthew Sweet, which I still love, because I have a huge thing for power-pop.

Unpleasant Task Deathmatch: Marking vs. Dishes.

2010-10-05T18:21:00.005-04:00

The following are activities I enjoy more than either marking stuff or doing my dishes:

doing my taxes
doing my bookie's taxes
doing my bookie (sorry, Rocco)
eating dry Life cereal
eating drywall
shoving assorted moistened appendages into empty light sockets
acting as a "human shield"
acting in an off-off-Broadway revival of "Yentl" with me in the additionally-gender-crossed lead role
dancing the tango in the middle of my street during rush hour
watching a Rita Rudner stand-up routine
playing bass for Supertramp
wearing cufflinks made of radioactive hornets
being Rob Ford's mayoral campaign manager
being Sarah Thompson's mayoral campaign manager
being John Malkovich
writing this blog post
changing the battery in my smoke detector on the same weekend we change the clocks*

* Fire prevention starts with you. Be safety-wise.

So, in honour of these two activities and my pure hatred for both — and as a way for procrastinating from doing either — I've devised a list of pros and cons for each.

Activity	Pros	Cons
Dishes	* can listen to the radio while I'm doing them * really don't take a lot of time * after I'm done I can cook cool stuff to eat	* occasionally disgusting stuff baked onto them * increases incidence of "dishpan hands" * this shit never really ends, ever
Marking	* I get a better knowledge of my students' strengths and weaknesses * I'm paid to do it * it's a professional obligation	* it shows how shitty a teacher I am * there is no more mind-numbingly-repetitive task on the planet * this shit never really ends, ever

So, there you have it. The winner? Me, for successfully putting off doing both for a good ten minutes.

Mainstream music is shitty again, surprise, surprise.

2010-09-26T12:33:00.006-04:00

At the back of every issue of Rolling Stone magazine is a page showing a few different music charts: lately it's been Billboard's top 40 albums, CMJ's top 10 College Radio albums (this is the only chart I pay attention to), the iTunes top 10 songs, and a chart in the "From the Vault" section, some time ago.

This week's "From the Vault" comes from September 28, 2000. It was a simpler time: extremist nuts hadn't rammed planes into buildings, Clinton was still president, Parliament hadn't been prorogued (twice), and a crackerjack young physics teacher was still pretty wet-behind-the-ears at his new gig. Also, as you can see, shitty music ruled the charts:

#1: Madonna — "Music"
#2: 98 Degrees — "Give Me Just One Night (Una Noche)"
#3: Janet — "Doesn't Really Matter"
#4: Destiny's Child — "Jumpin', Jumpin'"
#5: 3 Doors Down — "Kryptonite"
#6: Matchbox Twenty — "Bent"
#7: Sisqó — "Incomplete"
#8: Nelly — "(Hot S**t) Country Grammar"
#9: Christina Aguilera — "Come On Over Baby (All I Want Is You)"
#10: Creed — "With Arms Wide Open"

A few things jump out at me from this chart.

I hate every song I know on it.
People really liked putting parentheses in song titles.
I remember a buddy of mine loving the song "Kryptonite" and thinking that it was boring and plodding and I just couldn't stand the sound of it.
Sisqó had a second song? Really?
The women on this chart didn't openly and proudly pass themselves off as whores. (More on this later.)
Insert your own Creed joke here.

And now, without further ado, here's this week's iTunes top 10 songs (because apparently that's how people buy music these days):

#1: Katy Perry — "Teenage Dream"
#2: Bruno Mars — "Just The Way You Are"
#3: Talo Cruz — "Dynamite"
#4: Eminem — "Love The Way You Lie"
#5: Usher — "DJ Got Us Fallin' In Love"
#6: Enrique Iglesias — "I Like It"
#7: Nelly — "Just A Dream"
#8: Ke$ha — "Take It Off"
#9: Taylor Swift — "Mine"
#10: B.o.B — "Magic"

Observations:

I'd heard of 8 of these artists before.
Of those eight, I only know of 7 of them because I subscribe to Rolling Stone; the only one whose music I've ever come across on my own was Eminem, and that was a decade ago ("My Name Is").
Of the three women on this list, the first hit single for two of them had "I'm either sexually open-minded or outright promiscuous" as a theme (Perry's "I Kissed A Girl" and Ke$ha's "Tik Tok").
Nelly's song contains the romantic line, "My lover, my life, my shorty, my wife." I suppose if basketball jerseys can be considered high-fashion, "my shorty" could plausibly be a term of endearment.
I spent about ten minutes investigating these songs through YouTube (all with several million hits; I guess they're popular songs, eh?), and there was only one song I didn't truly hate.
You thought it was the Taylor Swift one, didn't you? It isn't. Bruno Mars' song was the best of the lot, but that's really not saying much. (Plus, he's dreamy.)

Much like the chart from ten years ago, I would never choose to listen to any of these songs. I would never listen to a radio station that would play them. I do not like them, Sam I am.

In somewhat-related news, I finally got around to listening to Rick Wakeman's The Six Wives of Henry VIII record which I picked up in the summer. Given the liner notes' explanation by the author of the concept of the album...

The album is based around my interpretations of the musical characteristics of the wives of Henry VIII. Although the style may not always be in keeping with their individual history, it is my personal conception of their characters in relation to keyboard instruments."

...I thought it would be way more insufferably pretentious than it actually was. (I mean, look at that album cover!) In fact, it was rather enjoyable. In conclusion, it was the second-best 50 cents I spent all summer (to the two quarters I laid down for a vinyl copy of Steely Dan's Pretzel Logic, which I will put on right after I type this sentence).

(Sometimes I think I was born about 30 years too late.)

Medication Report: Generic NyQuil.

2010-09-22T19:58:00.002-04:00

Overall result: moderately successful

Synopsis:

The directions on the side of the box suggested that I take one, and if nothing happened that time, the next time I take a dose, take two.

I downed one of the gigantic pills at about 9pm, and sat down to watch the Toronto mayoral debate on CP24, hoping that cold medication would somehow make Rob Ford make sense. (No dice there.)

After about 45 minutes, I didn't really feel anything except a bit of numbness in my fingertips, but I didn't really connect that with the NyQuil. I wasn't being hit with a wave of drowsiness or anything, so at about 10 I decided I'd take another, and hit the sack soon after.

At about 2am, there was a pretty magnificent thunderstorm raging outside, which woke me up. I felt pretty darn good — no sniffling, no congestion, no coughing — but again, my fingertips (and now my fingers and parts of my hands) felt all numb and tingly. But, when I closed my eyes again, I started seeing stuff which looked kinda freaky — there was a cloud or something that was coming at me, and somehow crumpling up or some shit — so I had to open my eyes for a minute.

To (fake-) NyQuil's credit, I did end up sleeping a full night. The problem is, I felt really weird until about 2pm. I'd walk down the hall and my head wouldn't feel connected to my feet. I think the best word to describe it would be "fuzzy."

Granted, sometimes I like feeling fuzzy. Hell, getting fuzzy is sometimes the point of a whole Saturday night, isn't it? But when I'm at work and need to be sharp as a tack for those little rug-rats, fuzzy ain't what I'm looking for. Strangely enough, I haven't felt any major cold symptoms all day and evening.

Conclusion: Maybe only the one pill next time.

Medication Preview: Generic NyQuil.

2010-09-21T17:38:00.002-04:00

Name: Rexall Nighttime Cold & Flu
Format: liquid-filled capsules
Colour: green (D&C yellow #10, FD&C blue #1)

Medicinal ingredients:

Dextromethorphan hydrobromide (15 mg)
Pseudoephedrine hydrochloride (30 mg)
Doxylamine succinate (6.25 mg)
Acetaminophen (325 mg)

Pussying-out factor: 4.6/5

Yeah, I have a cold. And yeah, I'm becoming a pussy in my thirties: hotels and not hostels, flying and not driving, California Condor eggs and not chicken eggs. (They really do make the best omelettes. C'mon over sometime, I'll make you one.) And so, I will decide to revel in my pussitude by, for the first time, taking the generic equivalent of NyQuil to knock my ass out sometime around 9pm tonight.

Tomorrow I'll let you know how it went. I'll be sure to leave the heavy-machinery-operating until then... sorry if I had an appointment with you tonight to drive your combine to bring in some of the corn. Give my secretary, Doris, a call to reschedule.

OK, listen up, you assholes.

2010-09-20T18:07:00.005-04:00

This one's directed at people in the 416.

ROB
FORD
IS A
COCK

I could list dozens of reasons (here's one of the latest) why this guy is a gigantic douche... and yet, he seems to be far, far ahead of anyone else in the polls for the Toronto mayoral race.

You know what, 416? Go ahead. I dare you, go ahead and make Rob Ford the mayor. He'll rip out streetcar lines and shit-can Transit City, get drunk and scream at people at Leafs games (again), cut services out the yin-yang, insinuate (again) that Asains "work like dogs," and contract-out and sell off anything that isn't tied down.

You thought Mike Harris was bad? At least Mike Harris didn't outwardly act like a xenophobic bully. Rob Ford wears his asshole-ish-ness on his sleeve.

Mark my words: he will ruin this city.

* * * * * * *

Heather Mallick's piece in the Star gets somewhere close to the point, but I think she misses the big one: nobody else in this race has done anything. "Furious" George Smitherman? Rocco "I just kicked my own campaign in the balls with a stupid 'Goodfellas'-themed spot" Rossi? Joe "Pants" Pantalone? Sarah "Vague answers are my calling card" Thompson? Puh-leeeze.

Tell me one non-ridiculous thing that each of them has said. Go ahead, tell me.

You can't, can you?

That's because, just like Michael Ignatieff, these people are all up against a giant boob of a politician and are too (a.) chickenshit, (b.) inept, (c.) oblivious or (d.) all of the above TO FUCKING DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT.

I just hope the Democrats who face Tea Party candidates aren't this way in the midterm elections this fall. (But I imagine they probably will be.)

Douchebag Club Report: C Lounge.

2010-09-19T14:06:00.003-04:00

If you know me — and, if you're reading this, chances are you do — you'll know that my tastes in drinking establishments lean strongly towards the proletarian. My favourite bar in all of Toronto is Sneaky Dee's (main floor; upstairs is for concerts, even though the acoustics are terrible), a place which openly encourages graffiti, and I must say I've left my mark there.

A friend of mine, and a friend of hers, celebrated their birthdays last night. I'm always up for a good round of drinking, so the plan was for a bunch of us to assemble at the friend's friend's condo building's party room and pre-drink, before heading out to a club "to be named later." Midweek this past week, an email went out to the partygoers: the club would be the C Lounge. Go ahead, peruse its website.

I was strongly considering not even going. I mean, people that go to places like that are a hell of a lot prettier than I am, and you just know the music is going to be this bland, stupid, electronic-y stuff that one might expect at a low-budget fashion show. (This is pure conjecture, as I've never been to a fashion show of any budget categorization.) The result: right on all counts.

Granted, it's pretty fun to eyeball nubile twentysomethings wearing their Saturday Night Best; I just wish I'd worn my glasses. I was none too pleased, however, at the fact that, because it's TIFF season, the normal $10 cover was doubled to TWENTY GOD DAMN DOLLARS JUST TO GET IN THE DOOR. I'm no cheapskate by any means; I'm just offended on principle. Does this cover charge keep the rabble out? Most people can scrape together twenty dollars, rabble included. The benefit of being with my friend's group is that we were guest-listed beforehand, which means we got to skip the line, which runs a very close second to cover charges in terms of things that piss me off about douchey clubs.

The place is very nice inside, don't get me wrong. The main (indoor) part has a good, long main bar, and service was very prompt; there was a second satellite bar indoors that, I imagine, had a slightly more limited selection. White couches were everwhere, but hardly anyone was sitting on them, and a couple of us wondered if they were saved for VIPs, and we sure as hell weren't VIPs, so we just continued standing. Outdoors, there's another bar, more couches, and the pool you see on their website, which is maybe two feet deep; it's interesting to see, for sure.

A rye and coke cost me eight dollars plus tip. A bit outrageous, but honestly, I was expecting double-digits, so this wasn't so bad. For comparison, the average beer in a bar in Reykjavik ran about 700 kroner, which was about $6.50 this summer; in Stockholm in 2001, I remember paying the equivalent of $8 for a pint (but Sweden has crazy-high booze tax on regular-strength beer).

I split from the C Lounge at around 1 so I could catch a subway back home. As I left, I pulled my iPod out of my pocket, shoved the earphones in, pushed play, and a song by Humble Pie brought a huge grin to my face: it was a perfect antidote to the electro-club nonsense I'd been subjected to for the previous hour or two.

All in all, not a bad night. Pretty girls, somewhat-expensive drinks (but the pre-drinking was free, so it evened-out), and a delicious pepperoni slice from Mamma's Pizza on the way home. Not too shabby an evening.

Tired is the new black.

2010-09-15T22:29:00.002-04:00

Alright, so, we've been back at this "teaching" thing for a week now.

Every damn day I'm in there extra early (8-ish), and I think the only day I've left before 5:30 was on Friday, when a good chunk of the staff hit up a pub near the school. And, all day, I'm running around doing stuff for other people (and occasionally myself). Consequently, when I get home, all I can think about is sleep.

Shit, laundry beckons. Hol' on.

. . .

Some bastard scooped me on the dryer. C'mon, man, it's after 10, that shit should be free.

Anyway.

Like a fool, though, I'm thinking of applying for a side-gig wherein I'll write material for the Ministry of Education so that kids can take the Earth & Space Science course online (I'm teaching it now and like it a lot). Stepping-stones to world domination, that's the way I see it.

I decided to give up being the union rep at my school this year. I wear a lot of hats at that place already, so I thought I'd step back on this one; besides, someone else was pretty keen to do it, so why the hell not? I'll still be a go-to guy for some stuff, and will likely be the vice-rep... but it'll be nice not to have to be the main person for everyone's concerns. "Gee, that sounds like something you should take to John." Oooooh, I like the ring of that.

However... I'm still going to this union retreat thing on the weekend of October 1-3 — which is the same night (again) as Nuit Blanche. A couple of years ago, I bailed on the union thing early so I could go to the All Night Art Thing; seeing as how I've already resolved to not go to Spring Training in Florida this upcoming March Break so I can go to the stupid annual union meeting (pro: free booze and hotel room; con: 8:30am financial report the morning after clocks shift ahead), I figure they owe me. I'm skippin' out after Saturday dinner, and that's that.

* * * * * * *

I'm sorry this is so disjointed. I feel terrible if I don't write every so often, but for the past week my life has been "eat, work, sleep" — except for this past weekend where I headed to London to visit an old pal who lives in Brooklyn these days, and Sunday night where our baseball team advanced to the semifinals of the division above the one we played in last year, which is pretty darn good for our rag-tag group. I had a couple of nice hits, played some decent D, and had a lovely time (although I still hurt, which is sad).