zydeco fish

El Camino

2011-12-07T09:07:00.001-05:00

I picked up a copy of El Camino, the new CD from the Black Keys. I do emphasize that I purchased the CD, rather than than the digital tracks. The CD packaging is really fine and you would miss that with the digital version.

My initial impression is that the Keys have lost the blues. It's gone, and it made me think about The Police who abandoned reggae with Ghost in the Machine. That was a tragedy and The Police were never the same again. It heralded a decline into commercial mediocrity, leading to Sting's equally mediocre solo career, though I will allow that Dream of the Blue Turtles is a fabulous record.

I like the energy of El Camino, and on third or fourth listen, it is growing on me. Dan's guitar sounds awesome, I appreciate the more complex arrangements, and the overall sound of the CD is excellent. But, I do miss the blues.

"Just got to Be" From Magic Potion:

"Lonely Boy" from El Camino:

Scientology

2011-11-29T16:05:00.001-05:00

Two guys were just prostrating themselves outside my door in deep prayer to their g-d. On the topic of religion, I defer to Christopher Hitchens: “That which can be asserted without evidence, can be dismissed without evidence.” Amen, so to speak.

Coincidentally, I am reading Inside Scientology: The Story of America's Most Secretive Religion by Janet Reitman. I already knew that scientology was a huge steaming crock of shit, and possibly a cult, though I will leave that assessment to the experts. What is clear from reading this book is that scientology is less a religion and more a self-help organization. It is a self-help organization that will help itself to your bank account if you are not careful. Making scientology a religion had everything to do with tax-free status and zero to do with anything spiritual.

There is nothing new about religions making money. Just look at the obscene wealth of the catholic church. I am not against the accumulation of capital, so long as the accumulators pay taxes, and scientology managed to weasel out of it. Revoking that status would be a good first step to eradicating this nefarious organization. And, if you want to accuse me of having some bias against scientology, I should add that I am in favour of eradicating all religions everywhere.

Cover Songs

2011-11-28T12:20:00.001-05:00

As I was listening to Johnny Cash sing Personal Jesus last weekend, I said to C that this song makes more sense in this arrangement. I didn't mind some Depeche Mode songs back in the day, but I was never a huge fan, and I didn't really like Personal Jesus, until I heard Johnny Cash sing it. On the same note, I have to say that Johnny's version of Hurt is fantastic and maybe even better than the original, though I personally do not like the distortion at the end of the song.

This made me think of some other cover songs that are better than the originals. I don't think Dyan would mind me saying that Hendrix does a better version of All Along the Watchtower. Still, we have to give credit to Dylan for writing such a great song.

And then, I was forced to think of all of the cover versions that are worse than the original, like Knockin' on Heaven's Door. In my humble opinion, Guns n' Roses ruined this song, but I guess it had the benefit of introducing the song to many people who had never heard it before, though now they probably assume that it was written by GnR, which I guess has happened many times with cover versions.

Although I am a huge Bowie fan, I was less than impressed by his cover of Cactus. I don't think it's possible to improve on the Pixies recording. I feel the same way about Bowie's cover of Jonathan Richman's Pablo Picasso. On the other hand, John Cale's cover of that song is awesome. And, speaking of Cale, I just picked up his new EP, which is OK, but I need to give it a few more spins to be sure (yes, spins: I still buy CDs).

Champagne Lunch

2011-11-25T08:57:00.001-05:00

At least yesterday's all-day meeting had real champagne at lunch.

Plumbing

2011-11-22T11:53:00.001-05:00

Too bad I didn't go to plumbing school. How is it possible that 10 minutes of work costs a tad over $200? On an hourly rate, that's extortionate. I recall years ago paying $250 for a plumber to replace a two foot length of copper pipe. It took about 15 minutes. Of course, they sometimes have to deal with rats, roaches, and poop, so I guess there's that.

On Electic Bikes

2011-11-17T11:23:00.001-05:00

But, before I get to ebikes, I have to report that I came within inches of being splattered on the asphalt on my morning commute when some numbskull in an SUV made a right turn without shoulder checking. So, I followed him into the parking lot, where he kept driving, clearly aware that I was tailing him. Finally, he had no choice but to stop, and when his passenger opened the door, I explained that he needs to shoulder check before making a right turn, after which she apologized (the driver refused to look at me), and then I said, "well look next time." And, now, ebikes...

I appeal to the lawmakers of this province to review the licensing requirements for ebikes. Currently, the requirements are:

No driver's licence is required
No written test is required
No vehicle registration or plate is required
No motor vehicle liability insurance is required

(from: http://www.mto.gov.on.ca/english/dandv/vehicle/emerging/e-bike-faq.shtml#a9)

Having been forced to share the road (and by that I mean bikes lanes) with ebikes, I'd say it's time for a review. I realize that what I am about to say will strike some as hypocritical. Or, what's worse is that I might end up appearing as ignorant as Jacob Richler.

If there's one thing I cannot stand it is those who argue that all cyclists are law-breakers and dangerous, and that's simply not true. I know that there are lots of law-abiding cyclists out there who stop at traffic lights and don't ride on sidewalks. And, of course, there are lots of responsible ebike riders, but many of my interactions have left me angry and feeling like I am in danger when riding my bicycle.

The aspect that most concerns me is having to share a bike lane with a motorized vehicle. According to the website referenced above, ebikes would seem to be welcome in bike lanes:

E-bikes are allowed to travel anywhere bicycles are permitted to travel. Any municipal by-law prohibiting bicycles from highways under their jurisdiction also apply to e-bikes. Municipalities may also pass by-laws specific to e-bikes that prohibit them from municipal roads, sidewalks, bike paths, bike trails, and bike lanes under their jurisdiction.

And, indeed, the city of Toronto bike lane bylaws state the following: "According to City of Toronto bike lane bylaws, bicycles must be propelled by muscular power."(http://www.toronto.ca/cycling/). So, if you are driving an ebike, please GET OUT OF THE BIKE LANE! You are breaking the law.

I have been honked at, passed very closely at high speeds, and cursed at by ebike riders. Last year, I had an altercation with an ebiker who repeatedly honked at me, and then sped by so close that her useless pedals almost clipped me. I'm all for sharing the road, but bike lanes in Toronto are reserved for non-motorized vehicles.

Yesterday, on my cycle home, an ebike came screaming up beside me at what must have been the maximum 32 km/h. He cut in front of me and then drove up onto the sidewalk where he continued for about 50 to 75 feet before stopping. I worried that anyone exiting a store would have been hit.

I fail to see why these bikes are exempt from licensing laws. They are motorized. They travel at generally faster speeds that bikes. Someone will be hit and injured by one of these things in the future. That's a given.

Most of these things look like electric scooters, so even the name is perplexing. All riders ought to be required to take a safety course like those for motorcycles. I am opposed to the licensing of bicycles because they are non-polluting. Ebikes are polluting. The electricity most likely comes from coal or nuclear power, neither of which are green.

Accidents Waiting to Happen

2011-11-17T09:14:00.001-05:00

So last night I experienced one of those infuriating dreams where the protagonist is unable to complete a task or do something that ought to be simple. In this case, I was sent back to high school (I have no idea why) and I had arrived late to school owing to the fact that my mother drove me in a rather circuitous route.

My mother, I should point out, never ever drove me to school. I should also add that she was probably the world's worst driver. The walk from our house to the high school was one kilometre, so there was no need for a ride anyway. But, we were late, I think because we also stopped to pick up my brother and then we witnessed a strange tire-changing accident near the school.

Once inside the school, I could not manage to find where my classes were, and that was frustrating. So, perhaps the interpretation is that something is frustrating me lately? Who knows?

Anyway, I was cycling to work today, as I have done for years. I see lots of screwed up things during these rides, like people applying makeup and shaving while driving. This morning, I looked to my left and saw a women in a white Smart car eating a bowl of cereal while she was driving. That doesn't seem very smart to me. Between traffic lights, she held the tupperware container in her right hand while she steered with her left. At a traffic light, she dug in, filling her face with Corn Flakes or whatever the hell it was. I once saw a guy eating cereal while walking down Yonge Street, but this was the first time I ever saw someone driving and eating cereal.

Just to review, it is now illegal to use a handheld device (such as a cell phone) while operating a motor vehicle. Someone please tell me that's it's illegal to eat while driving. It has to be. The woman is an accident waiting to happen, just like my mother, though she managed never to have had an accident, but I think she caused lots.

2011-11-15T01:00:00.000-05:00

A look at my CD collection, part 5: the Boss

I was infatuated with Bruce Springsteen when I was a teenager. I had all of his albums, and I went around proselytizing to anyone who would listen, and even those who wouldn't. K and & saw him in concert at the Ex in 1984 during the Born in the USA tour.

Oddly, I abandoned the Boss right after this, mostly because I was in the midst of a musical education, the likes of which brought to me to some wild and interesting destinations. Even without the exposure to new and interesting music, I would have abandoned the Boss anyway. Although I recall liking Born in the USA upon release, I quickly tired of it. I have a more favourable attitude to this album 27 years later, but I wouldn't rank it among my favs.

Upon hearing some tracks from Devils and Dust, I began to reacquaint myself with Springsteen's music. Currently, I would characterize myself as a fan, but not a rabid one. I recently picked up a ridiculously cheap copy of Tougher Than the Rest - 100 Best Bruce Springsteen Songs by June Skinner Sawyers. I have to say that I am perplexed by some of her choices. I really can't take anyone seriously who would compile such a book and leave out Streets of Fire or Candy's Room for example. I am willing to accept her conclusion that Jungleland is overwrought, even though it was once my favourite Springsteen song.

There are other peculiarities as well in this book. Why include all but one of the songs from Nebraska? If you ask me, Used Cars is a better song than State Trooper. And, the inclusion of so many songs from Tunnel of Love, one of Springsteen's weaker albums, amazes me. Why include any songs at all from Human Touch or Lucky Town? These are minor albums that do not impress me at all. And, what about "It's hard to be a Saint in the City", "Does this Bus Stop at ....."

But, by far the most peculiar thing about this book is the omission of Long Time Coming, a song that ranks as my second favourite Springsteen song of all time, right after Backstreets.

On my CD shelves you will find lots of CDs from the Boss and if you dig into my vinyl you will also see some interesting stuff, like bootlegs, EPs, 45s, and coloured vinyl. Perhaps my return to Springsteen says something about my age, or maybe it says something about the direction Springsteen has taken recently. I really can't say.

The Funeral

2011-11-14T14:14:00.001-05:00

I sure hope that was my last funeral for a while. Three funerals in one and a half years is too many, especially since the last two were so close together.

I had seen my mother the day before she passed away, and so I had to make a return trip to the town of my birth the next day to meet with my sister (as co-executor) and plan the funeral, write the obituary, call relatives and friends, meet with the bank to start the estate process, order flowers for the funeral, and meet with the minister. All of this, I have mentioned before.

I went back three days later to meet with the lawyer. He was in the midst of handling my grandmother's estate, and now has this to do as well. Essentially, money is being passed from my mother's estate to hers, where it will be divided into quarters and then doled out to the four children.

My brother (the one who suffered the debilitating stroke) came with us. All of this planning and legal red taps is not fun. I will have to make three to four return trips to meet with the lawyer as the process rolls along, and to go back to the bank when we set up an estate bank account. I think I'd rather not have been named an executor. But, it could be worse: I could be much farther away. It's about a 1.5 hour drive, so I guess that's not too bad.

The cost of funerals is alarming to me. When you add it all up, we are almost at $15000. That's just crazy. I sure hope no one spends that amount to burn me. Just give me a pine box. These elaborate caskets seem so wasteful to me, as does using arable land to bury people.

23 Days

2011-11-08T08:50:00.000-05:00

Twenty-three days after her mother died, my mother passed away. I have lost a grandmother and a mother in the space of three weeks. I think one can safely assume that my mother gave up on life after her mother passed. She went into an immediate and steep decline, refusing food and collapsing in on herself.

It can't be a coincidence. Mother came to the funeral. She was alert, made off-colour remarks, as she has always done. True, she was confined to a wheelchair, but she looked nowhere near death, so her passing was a tremendous surprise to us all. Now, the usual suspects are gathering on Friday for another funeral, my third in one and a half years.

As co-executor of the will, I helped my sister with the funeral arrangements, flowers, announcements, etc. We also visited the bank to get the estate paperwork underway. We have an appointment with the lawyer later this week. Late yesterday, we met with the minister, the same person who did the ceremony for my father's funeral last May.

Let me say for the record that if I die after a long life, I want a party, not a solemn affair filled with references to imaginary beings, such as my mom would prefer. She was a church-goer. I suppose some of us like being told that they are sinners. I know it, but I also know that this is who were are, that this is how we evolved. Also, I have a very liberal definition of a sin, and I would prefer to use a term other than sin. Killing is not a sin - it's a crime, unless you are at war, or maybe it's still a crime, but not a sin in that case. I would like to go on record as saying that I have coveted a neighbour's wife, probably more than once. His ass, on the other hand, not so much. But, cars and houses have all been coveted by me over the years. But, enough of gods. But, wait, perhaps it would be fun to have someone presiding over my funeral who could make references to Jupiter and Zeus. Maybe he could suggest that I angered Zeus, and he cut me down, after first summoning a thunderstorm or two to show his displeasure.

The minister asked us to come up with things that she (or one of us) can share with those assembled, With my dad, this was an easy task. When I think of my dad, I think of laughter. When I think of my mom, I think of depression, stubbornness, and a general disinterest in life. So, on some levels, it's amazing that she lived as long as she did. It's a real struggle to talk about someone whose only pleasures were Nescafe, Macdonald Menthol cigarettes, and romance novels.

I will be struggling with unearthing good memories of my mother for the rest of the week.

RIP

2011-11-06T22:06:00.002-05:00

My mother passed away this afternoon.

14 Days

2011-11-04T11:35:00.000-04:00

Another depressing post ...

Doctors are often wrong. There were wrong about my brother, and they may well be wrong about my mother. They give her 10 to 14 days. She is not eating and can't use her hands, so is only having water fed to her through a straw. How long can she go on with only water to sustain her? We don't know yet if she will refuse her dialysis treatment, but now that she is no longer receiving anti-depressants, this is likely.

Of course, I am left to think about my father and my mother, because I will soon have no parents. I was always closer to my father. He was the gregarious, funny, joyous one in the family. He loved to have a good time and he liked to laugh and make jokes. He liked traveling (to beaches, mostly), making wine, operating the BBQ. My mother, on the other hand, was always quiet, reserved, and--let's face it--depressed. If I try to summon up a visual image of my mother, it is this: she sits at table or in a living room chair with a cigarette smouldering in an ash tray with a cup of instant coffee, reading either a Harlequin novel or a magazine such as True Romance.

She never got any exercise, never had any hobbies (aside from a short-lived effort at numismatics, cut short by my brother's thievery), and a brief foray into the bizarre world of liquid embroidery. She did accompany my father on trips to the Caribbean, but I really have no idea if she liked these excursions. Other than that, she was a couch potato, but she did read, unlike my father.

She once told me that she first became aware of her depression when was was a teenager, which might explain why she took up smoking at age fourteen. I have read that there is a link between smoking and depression. She also told me that she was careful never to reveal her depression because she legitimately feared that she would be placed in a psychiatric hospital, something she did have to face as an adult when I was away at University. One of the things I am grateful for is not having inherited her depression. I think I am clear of that one, but I do worry about Alzheimer's, which afflicted her mother, and is creeping into my mother's brain. I hope I dodge that one too.

Anyway, the plan is to head out to the far reaches or rural southern Ontario this weekend and visit with her. It's not going to be pleasant.

Mother

2011-11-03T11:07:00.000-04:00

My father passed away a year and a half ago. My grandmother passed away a couple of weeks ago. Now, my mother is apparently in her last days. She has been on dialysis for years, has low blood levels, can no longer walk, and is now confined to a bed (under a restraint order) lest she should try to get out and collapse. She has a mass of fluid on her lungs that might be cancer, but the doctors fear that she would not survive the invasive cancer testing procedure.

She yells out frequently, and there is a suspicion that the drugs are contributing to this behaviour. She asks to be let out of there and howls in pain. So, the doctors are reducing her drugs: no more anti-depressants, no more meds for high cholesterol. But, she is on Oxycontin and antibiotics and a medicated inhaler.

The doctors believe she is dying and now there is a DNR order. It's odd, because she came to my grandmother's (her mother's) funeral recently, though it was nearly impossible to get her in and out of the vehicle. Her legs are useless and she screamed with pain, complaining that she was being abandoned, even as three of us were trying to stuff her into a mini van.

I know that she is lonely in that nursing home. When my dad passed, she didn't really react, but he was someone she knew for years--most of her life, in fact--and I think that had an effect. And now, her mother is gone and, although she has always claimed to have hated her mother, she must miss her. After all, she lived with her for years and years until she was admitted to a nursing home, years before her mother met the same fate. It seems like her mother was her only friend.

She mumbles nonsense in between asking to be set free from the nursing home. Perhaps she has given up? On the other hand, she may hang on for years. You never really know, I guess, but at present, it seems grim.

Sprawl II

2011-11-03T09:41:00.000-04:00

I love this song, and I really like this new arrangement.

Occupy Toronto

2011-11-02T13:51:00.000-04:00

I have walked through the Occupy Toronto encampment a couple of times recently. I have some sympathy with the movement, and I truly believe that the group raises important points that deserve wider discussion. The big bailouts given to major corporations and banks worldwide concerned me, especially as taxpayer money was used. No bailouts were given to homeowners facing foreclosure. As Neil Young sang:

There’s a bailout coming but it’s not for me
 It’s for all those creeps watching tickers on TV
 There’s a bailout coming but it’s not for me

Millions of people were stripped of their homes (or they simply walked away) as a result of some really disastrous banking policies that should never have been permitted. Homeowners were caught up in the middle of bad banking. On the other hand, it is clear to me that the consequences of not bailing out banks and corporations would have led to far more severe economic consequences.

The problem with Occupy Toronto is twofold. First, Canada was spared the worst of the economic crisis, so they might have difficulty achieving any more traction that they currently have. Second, they have marginalized themselves by the choice of location for this demonstration. They are clearly too far from the economic centre of Toronto. Granted, they would have had a hard time establishing a foothold anywhere near Bay street, so St. James Park it is.

I asked a person involved with the movement if she knew how many people are generally present in the park as part of Occupy Toronto. She said that there were 250 to 300 tents, and that there could be as many as 400 people camping out. She also tried to hand me a flyer for an event that happened on the 29th of October, and then asked me what the date was. I can commiserate: while camping, I often loose track of time.

I think that the 99% vs. 1% is far too simplistic. I am not the 1%, but I am certainly not the 99%. I think that there is a middle ground, a large percentage that would not consider themselves part of the 99%, but recognize that they are not the 1% either. I don't see this as a problem.

The other thing I observed (and this might just have been a reflection of when I went and where I chose to stand), but it occurred to that the use of cigarettes by protesters is far too pervasive and indefensible. I kept having to move to avoid noxious smoke. I mean, if you are upset with multinational corporations, why smoke? Tobacco companies are notorious for destroying the health of the world's citizens, leading to escalating health and social costs. I had to chuckle at the smoke-free area after having seen signs opposing alcohol consumption in general, as such use might inhibit revolution. It seems to me that Occupy Toronto should be an entirely smoke-free zone. Stop giving profits to evil corporations who suck money out of the pockets of those who can generally least afford it. Do that, and you will get more sympathy from me.

Stephen Fry on the Catholic Church

2011-10-28T15:25:00.000-04:00

This is well worth watching, as are the Hitchens segments too.

Funeral

2011-10-27T15:48:00.002-04:00

I think one sign of aging is when you see certain people only at funerals. At my grandmother's funeral a couple of weeks back, I saw people (relatives really) whom I had not seen since my father's funeral a year and a half ago. It reminds me of younger days when I saw certain people only at weddings.

Anyway, my maternal grandmother passed away recently just short of her 92nd birthday. She lived a long life, so this was not a morbid affair, but one with humour and stories. She married at age 18, in a classic Ontario 1930s shotgun wedding, something that had been kept a closely-guarded secret for years. My grandmother refused to entertain questions about how old she was when she married in combination with the question of how old she currently was. I assumed that this was part of a larger plan to hide her age, but it was an effort to hide her shame, a shame she seemed to carry for most of her life. Once Alzheimer's crept in, I suppose she no longer thought about it.

Of course, by the time I had figured it out, pregnancy out of wedlock was no longer an issue, at least for most people. After all, my brothers had been spreading their seed far and wide with no regard for tradition, and that seemed like normal practice to me.

Alzheimer's is a horrible affliction and I hope I never have to confront it. The first time my grandmother failed to recognize me was a shock. After some time, she managed to put it all together, but more recently, she didn't have a clue, and that was very sad.

She is now resting (I'm not sure that I like this term) beside her husband who predeceased her by 29 years, and her grandson, who passed away at the age of 5. I remember him well.

RiP: A Remix Manifesto

2011-10-26T16:22:00.000-04:00

This is awesome. Watch it.

Technical Difficulties

2011-10-25T12:21:00.001-04:00

Epic fail on the tech front today, but only a handful of people showed up to witness it anyway.

Lulu and Blogging

2011-10-21T11:29:00.002-04:00

I am struggling to like the new and unlikely union of Lou Reed and Metallica. In case you haven't heard, they recorded a double CD and are now streaming the tunes online. It kind of leaves me speechless, which could indicate that we are listening to genius or it might be that Lulu is the worst album ever made. It's really difficult to say.

I have been a Lou Reed fan for ages, but there is not a single Metallica CD in my collection. I think the only song I could recognize as Metallica's is "Enter Sandman". I don't hate it, but it's not really my cup of tea. I am not even going to attempt to review Lulu. Just listen to it and see what you think. I should point out that I am not afraid of heavy music. After all, I do have some Tool in my collection as well as some Black Sabbath. But, I am not a metal head.

_____

I am not sure if this post reflects a return to blogging. Occasionally, I recall with fondness some of the post I have published here. And, sometimes, I think about digital diets. Many blogs have died with the rise of Facebook, mine included. I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook for many reasons. But, I persevere mostly because I have immediate connections with family and friends and it's a great place to share family photos. It's also a huge waste of time.

I tried Google+, but aside from Circles (which is a really fabulous idea), I have little good to say about it. Generally, my friends on Google+ are the same as my friends on Facebook (though there are fewer of them), so when I realized that I was posting the same info twice, I stopped updating Google+. As for Twitter, I have had two accounts and I can conclusively say that I hate Twitter. It's truly amazing to me that so many people are addicted to it. Maybe if I liked Justin Beaver, things would be different.

The real problem, of course, it that it is impossible to keep up with everything that has been posted by friends, and if you tried, you would never get anything done. You would be reading and commenting all day long.

And that leaves Flickr, the place where I spend most of my time. Flickr is my favourite place to be. That's not to say that Flickr is not without its problems. I could name several things I hate about Flickr.

I may post again, or I may not. It's unclear.

2011-03-09T18:41:00.002-05:00

Closing, probably for good

It's been fun, but my enthusiasm for blogging is dead. If you want to connect with me on another network, just send me a message. I am on Facebook, Flickr, and Twitter, although I am very ambivalent about Twitter, having deleted my first account and just recently set up a new one. I am not sure if I will stay there.

Contact me here: zydecofish @ gmail dot com.

Goodbye and thanks for all the fish.

2011-02-07T11:31:00.000-05:00

Super Bowl Half Time Show :(

I think that the word suck doesn't even begin to describe this half time mess. Perhaps quantum sucking is a better description. There is no way that the half time show could ever be confused with music.

2011-01-27T13:30:00.000-05:00

The Butt by Will Self

Don't you hate it when you favourite writers write a book that irritates you? I sure do. Self, a writer I admire, has just done that with The Butt. After the fist few pages, it meanders into absurdity, which I normally would quite like, especially from the likes of Self, who has penned some really fantastic and satirical novels. Great Apes, for example, is quite excellent. Reading The Butt, however, only made me wish that the book was 100 pages shorter. Why did it take so long to get to the end? And then there was that overpowering sadness at the loss of so much time spent cursing this book.

The reader never knows what kind of bizarre or fantastic world is going to unfold in a Will Self novel. Nor is s/he incapable of being in awe of his linguistic skill and vocabulary. But, this book borders on the incomprehensible. Sure, there are some amusing passages, and one cannot help but admire his writing, but I was left with a feeling that this wasn't really the best he could do. I truly felt tired at the end of it, and I had no interest in recalling any part of the book after chucked it aside with considerable relief, like a cigarette butt left to slowly disintegrate over time in a ditch.

Read Will Self, but skip this one.

2011-01-19T10:49:00.001-05:00

Damn Spam!

Apologies if you have received spam from my email account. Some bastards hacked in and "borrowed" my email account and posted to this blog. I have had to change my password. I have no idea how they managed to do it, since my password was not really a word, more like a string of letters and number.

Anyway, if you want to retaliate, feel free to email bomb them using the email addresses listed in their message.

The hack came from IP 58.49.251.55 in China on January 18th, 2011.

2011-01-01T00:10:00.005-05:00

On Religion

(Sadly, this blog is either dead or very close to it).

I do not hail from a religious family. I think that this is a positive thing, and I remain thankful for that. On the other hand, certain traditions that have currency among religious sects have invaded the cultural zeitgeist and led to travesties, such as widespread circumcision, for which I am not thankful. But this post is not about genital mutilation. It is about religion.

I was baptized in the Presbyterian church and, as far as I can remember, the only times I ever set foot in a church for many years hence were to appreciate the architecture or for weddings or funerals. I was in my third year of my undergraduate degree when I checked out a Christmas sermon with a female friend (not a girl friend). We sat at the back. I have to say that I remember very little, but what I do remember was that I was sinner. The message was repeated over and over again.

As a child, I was spared Sunday School, spared religious indoctrination of any kind, but knowledge of it seeps in from many places, like literature and TV and movies. One can't really exist in our society without being aware of faith. Nor should we. We need to know what is written, but there is no reason to believe it.

Very early on in my life, I discovered that there were other religions. I recently read that there could be 3800+ religions just on our little planet. Doesn't it strike you as intolerant and chauvinistic to accept your religion (the one you were born into) and by extension reject all others? When I first learned that there were other religions backed by legions of blind followers, I moved from agnosticism to atheism fairly quickly. I was still in public school when I made the switch. For me, Jesus Christ was equal to Santa Claus or a character in your favourite childhood fairy tale.

if you have spent any time reading the bible or the new testament or the Koran or other "holy" texts, you will no doubt be aware that they are filled with impossible acts and impossible-to-believe stories. Are we really to believe that for all of human existence, god ignored us and then, for some odd reason, he decided to intervene but only to a handful of people in a remote area of the middle east? I say no, but don't believe me.

I beg you to read god is Not Great by Christopher Hitchens. He does a magnificent job of annihilating all religions, including Islam, the so-called religion of peace. Islam is a violent religion. Hitchens argues that "The real axis of evil is Christianity, Judaism, and Islam." I agree one hundred per cent. No educated person could ever read the scriptures and come away thinking that they are to be believed. And, no one could come away with the belief that religion makes us peaceful. Pick up any history book are read about the evils that religion has brought to the world.

The people who wrote the various scriptures had two goals in mind:

1) to impose a bizarre morality
2) to explain where we came from

I beg you to also read The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. No thinking, educated person could ever read Dawkins and Hitchens and argue that there is a god watching everything we do and say and think. It's nonsense. These "holy" books are obsolete, at least in terms of the points above. I would never advocate eliminating these books, well, except for the Book of Mormon, perhaps.

Darwin was correct. Humans evolved. We were not created by some dude in six days; nor did some god begin the process of so-called intelligent design (which is merely code for creationism). Creationism has had its time. There is irrefutable evidence that we evolved; there is zero evidence that we were created, other than the pages of a book that has no author. There is simply no proof for anything in these religious writings.

On a different Christmas eve, many years after I ventured into a church with my friend, I was dragged to a Catholic church for an Xmas service. Again, I was admonished for being a sinner, yet I knew that I was "created" in god's own image. Does no one else see the problem with this or with original sin? It's nonsense.

The world would be much better off without any religions. It would be a more peaceful planet without Islam and without Christian sects running around Africa trying to convert everyone in sight. Without religion, the world would have been spared a plethora of religious wars and crusades. Count up the wars that have been (or are) religious and those that weren't, and you will see what I mean.

We would all be farther ahead if we adopted a humanist outlook free from religious dogma and deception. And, someone really has to bring the Pope in for questioning about child rape. He knows more than he is saying. What kind of a sick organization permits and enables the rape of children?

2010-08-31T13:39:00.001-04:00

The Best Rock and Roll Band in America

I saw them in July in TO :-)

2010-08-17T07:39:00.001-04:00

Vacation...
back later this week.

2010-08-13T14:17:00.000-04:00

This Movie is Broken

Last night, we attended an Open Roof Films screening of This Movie is Broken in the parking lot of Amsterdam Brewery. Prior to the film, a Toronto band called The Little Black Dress (not to be confused with Little Black Dress) played a few tunes.

I guess it's common for more than one band to choose the same or similar names. The difference here is the definite article. I don't like the name at all. I think both bands should give up and try a new name. Leaving that aside, I was not terribly impressed with the band. The sound was OK and the music was not too bad, but I couldn't get past the lyrics and the vocals. Maybe it just wasn't my cup of tea. Anyway, on to the movie.

I love Broken Social Scene. I like many of the offshoots too. So, I was happy with the live concert, documentary portion of the film. I enjoyed that part very very much. As for the rest of the film, well, not so much. In fact, I felt that the film was quite boring aside from the music, at least until we got to the twist near the end. Yes, that was surprising and it served as a wake up segment. But, I found that scene hard to believe though well done. Still, it was enjoyable, and then we had a leisurely bike ride home along the very dark waterfront trail.

That's it. Have a nice weekend.

2010-08-10T11:24:00.002-04:00

Reads

Pseudo-reviews of some of the books I have read recently...

The Zero by Jess Walter - This is the second Walter book I have read (the other being Citizen Vince). IMHO, The Zero is better. This book also happens to be the third 9/11 book I have read. I'd rank Ken Kalfus's A Disorder Peculiar to the Country higher than The Zero, but I'd place The Zero ahead of DeLillo's Falling Man, a novel I did not really like, though I admit it has moments of genius. The Zero is a kind of thriller, I suppose, and a sort of dark comedy with some noir thrown in. It'sa good summer read.

The Grifters by Jim Thomspon - Essential Jim Thompson.

The Elementary Particles by Michel Houellebecq - I loved Platform very much. This book?: not so much. Despite the graphic sex that should appeal to me, the book reads like a too-long essay on the social history of France told by way of biographies of two half brothers. The trouble is that the novel is unbelievably boring.

A Partisan's Daughter by Louis De Bernieres - I am a huge fan of this writer, but I hated this book.

Choke by Chuck Palahniuk - I really wanted to like this book, but I didn't. I mean, it's OK, and it's certainly not terrible. If you removed the sex parts, though, you would be left with an unreadable book. I'd really hate to use the word stupid to describe this book, but I might have to.

The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall - I imagine that if the publisher packaged this book as a mass market paperback and placed it at the checkout at supermarkets, it would sell quite a few copies. I fail to understand why this book is being referred to as literary. I just don't see that. It's a quirky sort of book that is not challenging to read. Literary it is not. It might pass for good. It's not brilliant.

Ratner's Star by Don DeLillo - I'm a big fan of DeLillo. I've loved everything I had read, except for Falling Man, as I have already mentioned. This book is great, but a bit of a chore to get through. If you are a serious DeLillo fan, you will already have read it anyway.

Kockroach by Tyler Knox - Kockroach is sort of the reverse of Kafka's Metamorphosis. Imagine a cockroach turning into a man who gets involved in organized crime. It's a fun read.

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon - The idea behind this novel is fascinating and I enjoyed it at some level, but I would say that it shouldn't have been a novel. I really think that this book would have been better as a long short story or a novella. I think it was difficult for the author to sustain the story, or maybe I simply tired of it.

The Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs by Irvine Welsh - I suppose this is a modern twist The Picture of Dorian Gray. It's thoroughly enjoyable, but you have to accept the crazy supernatural concept.

Leading the Cheers by Justin Cartwright - Not bad, but Justin has done better. White Lightning, for example, is better.

Señor Vivo and the Coca Lord by Louis De Bernieres - Awesome. This is book two in the Latin American trilogy. Book three is waiting for me. De Bernieres is a talented writer and he has a gift for comedy and political satire.

2010-08-09T10:57:00.000-04:00

G20

Thankfully, I was unable to go downtown to have a look around the G20 protests. If I had, I am sure I would have been arrested, probably for the crime of taking photos or simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, even if that place was the designated protest site.

As we have heard, the police arrested people with very little or no cause, including reporters. I think the police ought to be held accountable for the failure to contain the violence everyone knew was coming, despite the obscene amount of cash spent on security. The police ought to be accountable for the catch-and-release program, in which they illegally arrested people just to get them off the streets, even if they were peaceful protesters.

I am a law-abiding citizen who has never had anything but respect for our police, but I am shocked and appalled by the police tactics during the G20. We lived in a police state during the summit. It was like martial law without the declaration.

We need a comprehensive and independent review of all police actions during the summit. We also need clarity of the issue of the security fence being declared a public work. After a brief visit to the fence to take a couple of shots, I bailed, when I saw others with cameras being searched and asked to produce ID for no reason.

I would never have described myself as anti-police, but after the G20, I have lost faith in the police.

2010-08-06T11:03:00.000-04:00

The Funeral

Back in May, I had the solemn task of attending my father's funeral. Of course, it was a sad day, and yet it was punctuated by stories and laughter, as always happens at funerals when family and friends remember the lives of those who have passed. In some ways, it was like any other funeral I have attended. We had an afternoon visitation and an evening visitation, followed by the funeral the next day.

Perhaps it's my age speaking, but I have to say that I was stunned by what people choose to wear to the visitations. My cousin wore a pair of ratty old jeans, white running shoes, and a faded yellow t-shirt. Others came in shorts and sandals, short skirts and halter tops, and garments that made it look like they had been out for a hike. I do not think that a black dress or suit are requirements any more (though I wore a black suit), I think that people ought to make an effort to dress properly to show respect. I think it's insulting to the family to show up wearing something you would wear to a bar-b-que or to change a flat on your car.

At the funeral home, I was greeted by an aged woman who asked if I knew who she was. A name popped into my head immediately, but then I rejected it thinking that it was an impossibility that she could still be alive. After a few seconds, I uttered her name at the same time as she. I almost fainted. How is it possible that you are still alive, I wanted to ask. I manged to restrain myself. My grandmother is older (now 91), but I always thought that this woman was even older, but maybe that has to do with the beard and mustache she has sported for her entire life. And, of course, this explains why she never remarried after her husband died a very young man.

I knew the even older woman standing beside her instantly, though she was even older. She is someone I could never forget. Throughout the day and the next, I saw people I hadn't seen in 20, 30 or more years. So, I guess the themes of the day were grieving, nostalgia, remembrance, and reacquaintance.

2010-08-05T17:01:00.001-04:00

Bike Tax

What is it with all of the people suggesting that cyclists should be taxed or licensed? You've got to be kidding me. Stop the madness!

1) Erecting financial barriers to physical fitness is a bad idea. We ought to do whatever we can to encourage exercise - walking, cycling, running, etc. Imposing costs will prevent at least some from cycling, and will ultimately put pressure on our health care system. We are getting fatter, or so I have read. Let's all get some exercise.

2) All levels of government should do everything they can to promote green methods of transportation. Whether you accept the theory of climate change is irrelevant. Cars pollute; bikes do not. I've cycled through enough exhaust to know that we need less pollution.

3) I am frustrated by those who suggest that cyclists ought to pay for the road since they use it. By that argument, we ought to tax everyone who uses the roads and sidewalks. This would include skateboarders, roller bladers, runners, and even pedestrians, including moms pushing baby carriages.

4) Cyclists pay taxes, despite what the anti-cyclists say. Even renters pay taxes indirectly. We all pay tax. Cyclists ought to get a tax break, not penalty for helping the environment and getting some exercise.

5) Bikes do not damage the roads. Cars and trucks damage the roads, and so it makes sense for them to pay for vehicle registration and other fees.

6) Many lower-income residents (especially students) can not afford such a fee.

7) I've read long rants from drivers who complain about cyclists getting in their way, slowing them down on their way to work or to the corner store. Drivers ought to promote cycling. Imagine if all of the cyclists they drive past were drivers stuck in traffic in front of them. Wouldn't it be better to get some of those people out of the cars on the road ahead and make more room on the road?

Imagine a family of four that wants to take a bike ride through some residential streets on a Sunday afternoon. Suddenly, they have to pay for four licenses? It's ludicrous. And, what if you have two bikes? Do you pay twice?

Despite what Rob Ford believes, cycling is good for everybody. Rob Ford really needs to hop on a bike and go for a ride.

2010-06-01T15:46:00.000-04:00

A Pause

I will probably not post anything for much of the summer. My blogging enthusiasm has waned and I have little interest at the moment. Maybe later this summer or fall. Have a nice summer.

2010-05-17T00:11:00.000-04:00

RIP

I am sad to have to write that my father passed away on Friday, May 14th. It's been a difficult year, with my brother's stroke and my mother's declining health: she is frail and depressed and looks ten years older than she is. I will make a return trip to the town of my birth for the funeral this week.

2010-05-12T07:55:00.000-04:00

Sad Day

I am taking the kids to see their grandpa today, probably for the last time. The doctors don't expect him to make it past the weekend.

2010-05-04T14:25:00.000-04:00

My Dad & Brother

I headed out to the rural parts of Ontario last weekend to visit my father in hospital. He has been battling various types of cancer for a few years, but the illness now seems to be taking a greater toll. I am sure that the steady stream of pharmaceuticals are also inflicting some sort of hell on his brain and systems. He was not vocal at all, only managing a few mumbles, though since the visit, he has been more communicative.

My step-mom fed him soup and ice cream, I have to say that watching one's formerly vital father being fed is not a pleasant sight. It reminded me of when I fed my children. It's the same really: they turn their heads to refuse the offering; they decide they want more; they change their minds. He looked weak and frail, something I could never have imagined when I was young.

My dad's future is uncertain. Doctors are reluctant to offer an estimate on his remaining time, but seeing as though the cancer has migrated to his spine, his time here would seem to be severely limited. Even if he rebounds, he will not go home. My step-mom can't control him. It may have been the drugs, but he recently moved some furniture out of the house and threw a plant out the door as well. Even when he was at home, he wanted to "go home" and waited for the movers to take his stuff back to his real house, in his real town, and be with his real wife. This may be Capgras Syndrome, wherein those afflicted feel that a family member is an impostor.

My mother has been in a nursing home for two or three years, since she broke her hip. Her mother, now 90, is also in a nursing home. She has no idea who anyone is anymore. And then there is my brother. The good news is that the doctor was proven to be completely wrong in his diagnosis.

My brother, once thought to be on his deathbed, executed some sort of remarkable recovery. He can walk with the aid of a walker. He can talk. He has problems with short-term memory. His is weaker on one side. He remains, it has to be said, susceptible to further strokes.

My brother, should he continue to improve, will be placed in a rehabilitation facility. My dad, should he improve, will end up in a nursing home for some period of time. Most of my family will be in institutions.

2010-04-28T12:07:00.000-04:00

The Gum Thief

I guess I keep hoping for the best whenever I pick up a Douglas Coupland novel. I liked the early stuff, such as Generation X and Shampoo Planet, but then I hated most of the other stuff. Microserfs is the worst book I have ever read, and probably the worst book ever written. It perplexes me when I note that someone has awarded it 5 stars on Amazon.

I read Eleanor Rigby when it came out. I got an advance copy directly from Mr. Coupland. He signed it for me too. I hated it. I hate The Gum Thief too.

The book has no plot. There is a vague story with lots of his quirky pop culture references, but the book has little to keep one reading, except for the bizarre Glove Pond novel-within-a-novel sections. To me, this is the most interesting part of the book, and it goes nowhere after its dusty beginning, except for a meandering ending.

The only real plot event is one that is telegraphed early in the book, and it follows a clichéd trip to Europe device that is disappointing and not terribly interesting.

Of course, those of you love DC will love it. I will probably avoid Mr. Coupland from now on, but I still plan to finally visit Canoe Landing Park this summer.

2010-04-08T14:44:00.000-04:00

A Look at my CD Collection, Part 9: Daniel Ash (and David J)

Got distracted by various things. Life is busy, and I have been neglecting my blog. I took an extra long weekend last week and have another long weekend this weekend. Every weekend ought to be long, if you ask me. Anyway, because I have nothing better to write about and because blogging expectations have rarely been lower, I continue with a series of self-indulgent posts.

___

Bauhaus disintegrated into several subsequent (and less interesting) parts starting in 1983, when the band first broke up. Bauhaus reformed many years later, but I have no idea what is happening now. I will save my discussion of Bauhaus, Peter Murphy, Love and Rockets, and Tones on Tail for later. But now, I have to talk about Daniel Ash and a little bit about David J, both of whom were members of Bauhaus.

I would describe Daniel Ash's first solo record, Coming Down (1991) as a mediocre affair. I got this CD free from CFNY. I got lots of freebies from CFNY over the years. I was never comfortable with calling this station The Edge. To me, this station died when it stopped being The Spirit of Radio. Sadly, it is now owned by Corus, and has been reduced to a crappy radio station, just like all of the others.

Coming Down isn't terrible but it isn't great either. A highlight for me is the title track. I also like the guitar lick in Daniel Ash's This Love too. The sad truth is that I haven't played this CD in probably 15 years, which says a lot. Perhaps I should sell it. Not surprisingly, I have no other CDs from Mr. Ash.

Having said that, I was less impressed with David J's solo work. I picked up the Candy on the Cross EP and was quite interested to learn that he covered one of my favourite John Cale songs, Antarctica Starts Here. This track did nothing for me, and I think that the sad experience of listening to that EP scarred me and prevented me from buying any more of his music. Maybe that's unfair, and I guess I ought to investigate his other music.

The truth seems to be that Love and Rockets and Tones on Tail are better than Daniel Ash of David J on their own. The same is true of Bauhaus, a band that is far greater than the sum of its parts.

2010-03-24T09:57:00.000-04:00

Trip Recap, Part 6

Still in Zurich...

It's funny how some individuals have problems with certain things. Maybe you are squeamish about small birds; maybe you are scared of heights; maybe you are unable to use a cork screw; maybe you have problems opening and closing locks...well, European locks at any rate.

Imagine having meandered around Zurich, stopping here and there, checking out the scene, withdrawing funds from Swiss bank accounts, when suddenly, deep within the Zurich University Botanical Gardens, an urge to micturate overcomes you. Naturally, you would seek out the facilities, which, in our lucky case, happened to be dead ahead of us.

So, my traveling companion heads straight for the small building which appeared to house toilets. There were three doors. Suddenly, I had flashbacks to Monty Hall's Let's Make Deal. Will she take door number one, door number two, or door number three?

First, she heads of door number one and either pushes it or pulls it, but the door doesn't move. She moves on to door number two and either pushes it or pulls it, but the door doesn't move. Note that she either pushed or pulled, rather than attempting both directions. I was standing back, admiring the view of the city, as the gardens are raised and one got a rather good view of Zurich. The third door had a set of keys dangling provocatively in the lock. I hadn't noticed this until I turned to see C. turning the key in the lock, back and forth, round and round.

Of course, I had seen these lock manoeuvrings during our stay in Paris, at the impossibly small apartment. I neglected to mention that the door to that apartment had three locks. My companion, I realized, is European-lock-challenged. North American locks seem to pose no problems. It's the turn-left-two-and-a-quarter-turn type of lock that seems most confounding.

Suddenly, we hear banging and clanging and panicked screams from the inside. Within a few short seconds, she had managed to lock a workman in his office and was unable to unlock the door. I imagined that the Swiss gentleman must have been worrying that we were locking him in so that we could make off with various botanical samples, or worse.

I hurried over the scene, and freed the man, who looked completely stunned after having been confined to his office by two strange Canadians. His expression suggested that he needed an explanation, and my companion tried to comply, but then he looked decidedly non-impressed. I suppressed the urge to tell him that this is what happens when you leave you keys in the lock, but I was afraid of being expelled from Switzerland. He removed the keys from the lock and went back into his office. I hope he learned his lesson.

After rescuing the man, I wandered over and pushed or pulled on the door (you know, like tried both directions) of what appeared to be the female can and it opened. With her bladder empty, we were able to continue on through the foliage.

2010-03-22T09:23:00.001-04:00

A look at my CD collection, part 8: Anjani - Blue Alert

Finally, changing topics...

Q: What kind of a 76 year-old-man dates a 51 year-old-woman?

A: Leonard Cohen

I kind of hate Leonard Cohen, with his constant cadre of women and his perfect songs. Damn him all to hell. Blue Alert is what happens when you pair the best song-writer of the 20th Century with a good voice. It's a jazzy affair, but I think the lyrics are stronger than the music. There is something not quite right with the musical direction on the album, but I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's that the mellowness overwhelms the lyrics to such an extent as to make the songs anemic. But, I am not a jazz expert by any means.

2010-03-17T09:22:00.000-04:00

Sometimes, Doctors are Wrong

Soon after visiting my brother in the hospital, he developed a fever. This turn of events seemed to strengthen the belief that the doctor had been quite correct. Everyone thought that this would be the thing to end it all, but then something almost miraculous happened.

After ten days of unconsciousness, he "woke up." This is amazing, unexpected news, but it is not exactly as good as is sounds. He cannot speak. He can only open his eyes for a few seconds at a time. His is so weak on the right side, that he cannot really move his right arm. He cannot swallow, meaning that they have to keep a tube in his throat. He cannot eat because his stomach will not function properly and nothing is kept down. He is on oxygen. Of course, since he cannot speak, it is unclear if he is suffering from any brain damage, aside from the obvious speech issue. He did manage to shake his head in reply to some questions.

What lies ahead, should he continue to come out of this, is months of rehabilitation and a long, slow recovery. I am not sure that recovery is the correct word since he will most likely have limited mobility and a poor quality of life. The doctor emphasized that my brother remains in grave condition and that he is very ill. The doctor is uncertain what lies ahead. In fact, his original prognosis might still hold true.

So, again, we wait.

2010-03-07T17:36:00.002-05:00

I Have two Brothers but I am Brotherless

My brother is going to die.

It's almost impossible to describe the overwhelming sense of sadness in that hospital room. With my sister, step-mom, my brother's step-daughter, and her child, we stood around trying to make sense of it all. Five days after his hemorrhagic stroke, he is still unresponsive. The doctor described two possible outcomes. The less likely is that he will surface and, in the best possible scenario, will de disabled and have massive brain damage. The other - more likely scenario - is that he will slip into a coma and die of something else, like an infection, perhaps pneumonia. So certain is he of this outcome, that we all agreed with a "do not resuscitate" plan. In short, my brother is going to die, but we don't know exactly when. It could take hours or days or weeks or longer. But, the timing is irrelevant: my brother is already gone.

The average hospital bed is not up to the task of containing a 475+ pound man. By some estimates, he is over 500 pounds, but that won't last, not in a hospital bed, especially since his stomach no longer functions: the food forced into him by a tube is regurgitated immediately. My brother fills the bed completely, like a child lying in a bed made for a toy doll. Cables and tubes connect him to an array of medical instruments: a heart rate monitor, a blood pressure cuff, two IVs, and a respirator with its long tube running down his throat.

Throughout the day, I experienced a deep sense of guilt and anger. My brother is such an asshole. It's difficult to write that about a family member, one who is on the verge of death, but he is an asshole and it has always pissed me off. I was supposed to be his friend. I was supposed to be close to him for my entire life. We were both supposed to have kids who would play with each other and come over at Christmas. We were supposed to go to the beach together. Or, he was just supposed to be around, to be an unconditional friend, to a part of my life. Instead, he bailed on his entire family, after being a jerk when he was an adolescent.

His three kids (the first of whom came when he was only 16) were sexually abused; the mother and step-father were sent off to prison, the kids being distributed to various foster homes, never to be seen again, though we are looking for them. Sure, he paid some child support, but only after court orders, and then that dried up when he went on a disability pension. He made no effort to find them. He didn't try to obtain custody after the trial when their step-father was found guilty of sexual assault and the mother found guilty of permitting it to happen.

I am angry with my brother for ruining so much of my childhood. From his violent behaviour toward me to the theft of family possessions, he was a complete bastard. What can you say about someone who would steal from his own family? At least my other brother, the one who left home when I was 4 years old, never stole from us. He sold drugs and paid the price, and then I never really saw him again. He disappeared and I have seen in a handful of times, and only twice in the past 25 years, maybe 5 times since I was four years old. It's like he was never my brother. He is a mystery to me and I can't even say that I know him.

In the hospital, staring at him in the bed, I was inexplicably on the verge of tears, for a man I never liked, for a man that failed to be a brother, who was a terrible son, a lousy human being, and a disinterested father. He spent his life barely able to survive, finally ending up a on disability pension because he was too obese to work. He has sleep apnea, hypertension, diabetes, asthma, troubles with blood clots, and a weak heart. By all accounts he ate massive amounts of unhealthy food and had an immense passion for smoking. I still insist that this is the outcome he wanted: he wanted to be pitied, to be the village freak, and he did it. In the end, I might compare him with Ignatius J. Reilly, but without the creativity, or maybe Homer Simpson, but a Homer without any sense of responsibility or love for anyone other than himself.

You may think this uncharitable, but it's true. The way he spoke clearly indicated that he loved attention. If he was sick, everyone knew about it. Everyone knew how many pills he had to take each day because he displayed them in his apartment for some sort of pitying effect.

After a conversation with the doctor, we went to have lunch, and then drove to his apartment. It's difficult to think about him as being dead, when his is still alive and breathing, but we were forced to investigate the bills, to pay the landlord the overdue rent, to plan for the emptying of the apartment.

The floor around his bed is scarred with burns from cigarettes that fell through his hands as he drifted off to sleep. Miraculously, there was never a fire. He gave up smoking six months ago when he needed oxygen. The bedroom has six oxygen tanks; he has a night-time breathing apparatus. Another oxygen machine sits in the living room. I looked around the dismal place and was stunned to see a shelf of family photographs.

I didn't speak to him over the past 25 years, maybe once or twice. I was angry with him and could never understand how my father could have forgiven him so easily. My mother too. But, I guess that's what parents do. Standing there, staring at the photographs, I began to feel angry with myself for being the holdout, especially when my sister said she had been speaking with him recently. And then, I saw two photos of me and my two kids (whom he has never met) on a shelf along with recent photos of my sister. My sister had sent him photos and he ran out to buy frames so he could display them.

I felt like such an idiot. In the back of my mind, I always assumed that our paths would cross, that we would speak again, that we could forget all of the garbage of the past, but now that's impossible. He is dying in a hospital, and I am pissed off, but I am not sure if I am angry about him dying or for him failing to be a brother. How is it that I ended up with two brothers who walked away from their family and never tried to keep in contact with any of us?

I got back in the rental car and headed back to Toronto, feeling a profound sense of loss for a brother I hardly knew.

2010-03-03T10:51:00.000-05:00

Brother

My estranged brother has had a stroke. This is both odd and not odd. It is odd because he is young, only 17 months older than me. On the other hand, he is morbidly obese and he leads a very unhealthy lifestyle. (You can read more about my brother here and here).

He remains unresponsive in a hospital bed, about to be shifted to a different hospital where a neurologist can examine him. Initially, we were told that the prognosis is grave. Currently, I have no idea and am just waiting to get the updates.

2010-02-16T11:44:00.000-05:00

The Olympics, a few words...

In the spirit of athleticism, I spent most of the last four days on the couch watching the Olympics. Too bad I had to go back to work. Well, there was a break long enough for a trip to the theatre to see Up in the Air.

Thank God we got a gold medal. I was sick of hearing that we had never won on home soil. It was as if that was all the reporters could find to talk about. The media kind of sucks, when you think about it. The media pumps up medal hopes to a point of hysteria. How is that fair to the athletes? You would have thought that gold in the men's downhill and men's 500m speed skating were guaranteed. Give it a rest.

And, a word to Brian Williams about math. He suggested that Canada has gone 33 years (or so) without winning a gold. That is stupid. The Olympics have not been running continuously in Canada since 1976.

What else? Dale Begg-Smith is a loser, a loser who made a fortune creating malware that might have infected your computer. I have never seen someone so upset with a silver medal. What a suck. Stay in Australia.

More later.

2010-02-12T23:16:00.001-05:00

Olympics: Opening Ceremonies

Boring, boring, boring.

2010-02-12T22:53:00.000-05:00

Olympics: Opening Ceremonies

I wonder if Ashley MacIsaac is wearing underwear.

2010-02-12T22:48:00.000-05:00

Olympics: Opening Ceremonies

The song sung by Nellie & Bryan is lame! It sucks.

2010-02-12T21:12:00.002-05:00

Olympics: Opening Ceremony: Anthem

Who the hell came up with this arrangement for the National Anthem? I think it sucks.

2010-02-12T09:34:00.000-05:00

Trip Recap, Part 5

Skipping ahead to Zurich, here's something you would never see in Toronto: a bar under a freeway. It worked. It's really difficult to explain why this worked and I am not sure how such a thing would be received in Toronto. I tried to imagine such a place under the Gardiner, and I couldn't.

2010-02-11T15:04:00.000-05:00

A Look at my CD Collection, part 7: Aidan Baker, including ARC

Several years ago, I picked up a copy of ARC's Feral and was really impressed. Later, I made sure that I checked them out when they played at C'est What? (on August 19th, 2003). My CD collection contains:

ARC/Aidan Baker - Repercussion (Piehead Records 2002 Series – Volume 1)

ARC - Feral

Aidan Baker - Concretion

Aidan Baker - Cicatrice

Aidan Baker - Within the Final Circle

Aidan Baker - Ichneumon

Aidan Baker - Tense Surfaces

Aidan Baker - Dance of Lonely Molecules

A couple of these were free downloads. It's Thursday, but it really feels like Friday because I am taking tomorrow off and Monday is Family Day, so I am looking ahead to a four day weekend. What I am trying to say is that I have not the energy to try to describe the music. Also, I just got back from an hour of lunchtime yoga, and I feel all bendy and relaxed. My fingers are not responding well to the task of typing. But, here is a good review of Feral.

Baker likes to use looping techniques on various instruments, notably the guitar, but also the flute, for example. If you like this kind of treatment, you might like it, but this is not the kind of music you would sing along to or dance around the bedroom to while putting away laundry. It's more complex than that.

Oddly, everyone I spoke to at the Ambient Ping that evening assumed that I was a musician. I am not sure why. Perhaps ARC is musicians' music or perhaps it's that musicians seem to have more of an open mind when it comes to music than your average iTunes shopper. It really kills me, as I have often said, that people only want to buy a song or two from a CD. I have always been an album man. If there are only one or two good songs on an album, I wouldn't buy it. I still listen to albums, rather than songs, but I do occasionally put the iPod on shuffle to see what kind of magic might happen.

Why, just yesterday as I was walking with the iPod, I heard European Son by the Velvet Underground followed by Bowie's Queen Bitch and then Bauhaus covering Bowie's Ziggy Stardust. That was quite the playlist. Sometimes, the shuffle seems to be possessed and every other song is from the same artist, which is odd.

Baker is a poet too, and has published a few volumes. I am not familiar with his writing. He has an extensive discography. Check out his Wikipedia entry for those details.

Happy Friday and have a good weekend.

2010-02-08T11:46:00.004-05:00

ZF's Perfect Frittata Recipe

The perfect frittata starts with a chicken. Oh, and if you don't have any idea what a frittata is, let me enlighten you. It's evidently of Italian origin and normally made with eggs and chopped vegetables or meat. It's probably best just to look up a few recipes, and then try this one as it is the best one.

So, as I was saying, the perfect frittata recipe commences with a chicken. So, first you buy a nice chicken and take it home. You will want a dead chicken, unless you are fond of killing things. Slather some olive oil and sea salt on the chicken and set the bird aside. (If you have a preferred chicken recipe, please follow it. Alert: don't put potatoes in with your chicken because they don't belong there. If you really want potatoes, roast them in a separate pan. And, for the love of God, don't put plain white potatoes in the frittata!).

Step two: cut up lots vegetables. And, by this I mean parsnips (remember to cut out the woody cores), carrots, sweet potatoes (yams), one or two onions, and squash. Alert: please use butternut squash. Most other types of squash are inferior.

Put the vegetables in a large roasting pan. Remember I said to cut up lots of vegetables? We need extra for part two of the recipe, so cut up lots and use a large roasting pan. I use a pan large enough for a turkey or a medium penguin. Throw in the vegetables along with sea salt and olive oil.

I like to give the vegetables a head start, so pop them into the oven for ten minutes or so at 375 and then throw the bird on top and cook until done. When I was a younger man, I hated recipes that said "cook until done." How the hell are you supposed to know what that means if you have never cooked before? I am so over that now, so I can say things like "cook until done" and laugh at those who have no idea what it means.

Now, eat your chicken and vegetables, but remember that we have to save some for the frittata that you will make the next day.

After dinner, go to bed. Well, I suppose that you will have to clean up the kitchen first, and put the leftovers in the fridge. Get out of bed the next day. Now, you can either have the frittata for breakfast, brunch, lunch, or dinner. Yes, it is that versatile. If you are having it for breakfast or brunch, start making it when you get out of bed. Otherwise, cook up some bacon and eggs for breakfast and do this later.

OK, so here is the recipe.

Chop up some bacon. Use half a package or a third of a package. This all depends on how many leftover vegetables you have and how big of a frittata you plan to make. Throw the pieces of bacon into a cast iron pan and cook until crisp. Once crisp, remove from pan and place the bacon on a paper towel.

Retain some or all of the bacon grease in the pan and add a sliced onion and garlic. When these have partially cooked, add a zucchini (cut in rounds) and a red or orange or yellow pepper (cut in slices). Alert: please do not use green peppers. This is an inferior pepper. And, remember a green bell pepper is simply an immature red pepper. It's like eating a green banana. You want a ripe red bell pepper or its luscious cousins, the yellow or the orange. Oh, and you could add broccoli, but I only do that if I have no zucchini. It's OK, but I think it's not as good as using a zucchini. You could also use asparagus.

Once the vegetables are nicely on their way, add the leftover vegetables from the chicken. Stir it up and let it all warm through. Beat some eggs in a bowl. The size of your pan and the amount of vegetables will determine the number of eggs. It could be 5, 6, or 7 or more. Don't include the shells. Add a bit of milk (soy milk, please) and some pepper. You won't need any salt.

Pour this over the contents of the pan. You may find that you will need an extra egg. If so, beat one up and pour it in. It's probably best to cover the pan with a lid to help it cook through the middle. When it looks cooked on top, just stick a knife in to make sure you don't have any gooey egginess inside.

Now, you will stick the pan under the broiler in your oven. I put in in for a short time, and then sprinkle the bacon over the top. Some of you people who are addicted to cheese may want to add the congealed breast milk of a hairy 2000 pound animal, or even parmesan. Feel free to ruin it, but I would prefer if you didn't. Don't burn it.

Cut it and serve it, perhaps with a salad on the side, if this is a lunch menu item.

And, there you have an easy recipe.

By the way, you can use the leftover chicken in any number of ways. I like to make chicken salad. Mmmmn, mayo...

2010-01-28T10:24:00.000-05:00

Blogger Fail

Well, you know when you have failed as a blogger when you receive email like this:

More importantly, what has happened to your blog? It used to be hip (like the Simpsons) now it's not (like the Simpsons). Perhaps you can inject some life into it by writing entries under a series of "guest contributers" such as "Lionel the 30-Year Old Bedwetter" or "The Fetus." Just a suggestion.

I am not sure about writing guest entries myself, but I'd be happy to entertain posts from guest contributors. Send them on.

2010-01-19T14:53:00.000-05:00

Be Careful what you Ask for

The temperature in my office soared to a crazy 80.6 degrees after hovering around 61 degrees for weeks. This, after it was fixed, and fixed a bit too well, if you ask me. Still, I'd rather work in the 80s than the 60s. I couldn't really type with cold hands, but in this heat, I am all limber, but craving a piña colada and wondering where my sandals are.

After leaving my office door open, and permitting some of the heat to flow out, it drops a bit, but it is still a bit too hot. I'd hate to complain, and be thrust back into the ice age.

On the downside, the high temperatures force me to remember to put my lunch in the fridge, something I normally forgot to do, but with such cool temperatures, it mattered not.

Oh, and I think (as I crack a yawn) that the warm temps are causing me to tire more quickly that when it was cold. I need to create space under my desk to sleep, like George Costanza. That would be sweet.

2010-01-12T11:45:00.000-05:00

Heat!

Finally, I have heat! My office has been cold, very cold, as cold as 60 degrees, necessitating the wearing of a fleece. It was so cold, I had difficulty typing. I hated coming back to my office, preferring to stay wherever was warmer, like my bed. But, finally, after some visits from the folks who are supposed to fix things, it is fixed.

The dude climbed into the ceiling and noted that the vent to my office was closed. He opened it and I can actually feel the heat coming in. It is so nice. Of course, if it gets too warm (unlikely in this brutal building), I might need a nap. Wait, I need a nap anyway, owing to the difficulty I had in sleeping last night.

I am generally a good sleeper, taking no longer than a few minutes to fall asleep. But, last night, the hours ticked away and nothing. I hate it when that happens. So, I am yawning. In fact, I am yawning while I type this, but at least I am warmer. No more long underwear in my office!

2010-01-11T20:24:00.000-05:00

A Dream

Last night, I had a dream that I was hangin' out with David Bowie. I am not sure if we were friends, but I was in his house, helping myself to beverages from his fridge, which had doors at both front and back, I gather so that nothing got lost in the recesses of the appliance. And, the fridge was situated in such as way so that you could approach it from two sides. Talk about conveniences.

After eying a nice, cool drink, I suddenly was only able to find small cold medicine vials and other things that appeared to be homeopathic substances. I never did find my drink, and then Iman came into the kitchen and I decided to find out where David went.

The end.

2010-01-11T14:35:00.000-05:00

WTF?

At lunch, I stood in line behind a youngish-looking university student as she paid for her $1.00 can of pop. I have yet to understand why people drink diet pop (or even regular pop for that mater).

I considered that topic for a moment and was then stunned as I watched her pay for her purchase. After tax, she was looking at a massive $1.13 bill. Out came the debit card.

Seriously? She used a debit card to pay for $1.13! I never use any kind of plastic if it's under $10. I bet her transaction fee was 50 cents. For a brief moment, I considered paying for her drink, but that feeling of chivalry (or whatever it was) passed quickly.

This was on my way back from checking out some lingering sales. I am in a clothing crisis and really need to add to my wardrobe in a bad way. I am not done yet, though I picked up two shirts and two pairs of pants.

2010-01-08T15:47:00.000-05:00

On Books and Trophies

My bookcases are overflowing. I have boxes of books in a closet that I have not unpacked since the last move because I have no shelf space for them. I acquire new books frequently. I may have finally figured out why I have so many books.

While watching Dexter the other day, I was hit with an interesting insight, which may or may not be original. Dex finds his way into a serial killer's house and notes the killer's collection of trophies. These were award plaques hanging on a wall for various projects he had undertaken that correspond with and commemorate his kills. If you watch Dexter, you will know that Dex has his own collection of trophies. I thought about that while thinking about the Kindle and book piracy and music downloading.

I have zero interest in the Kindle or any other eBook reader. To me, an eBook reader is about as exciting as a lump of coal. I have always loved the tactile experience of reading: turning the pages, holding the book, appreciating the design, deciding if the font is a good choice, touching the paper. Much of that disappears when a book is transformed into ones and zeros. I think that sucks and it could well mean that the end of the world is upon us. I feel the same way about music: I like to own the CD, not an inferior digital copy.

For some reason, I do not necessarily feel this way about movies or TV shows. These have always been disposable to me. Although I own some DVDs, I don't have an urge to collect them, unless they are absolute favourites, like Seinfeld, or are ludicrously cheap, like Strangers With Candy (the movie), which I bought for $1.99.

I have often wondered why I like to own books. I rarely read library books and I rarely borrow books from others. I like to own books. Here's another curious fact: I rarely read books twice, though it has happened (Brave New World, for example). So, why do I own them? Well, there I was watching Dexter and then it occurred to me that perhaps I get the same pleasure from having shelves of books as Dexter does from having a bunch of microscope slides with drops of blood. Both are trophies.

I can look at my shelves and feel a certain sense of accomplishment, a certain sense of erudition (though that is arguable), and a certain sense of my own history from what I see lined up. Of course, if that were truly the case, I ought to eliminate the books I attempted to read but stopped from boredom or frustration. But, I suppose they are also part of my reading history. There are, of course, those books I have acquired but never got around to reading. Maybe someday, my pretties, maybe someday.

2010-01-07T14:39:00.004-05:00

A Look at my CD Collection, part 6: Apostle of Hustle

Well, I hope I am not boring you with these musical excursions. If I am, so be it. So, on to Apostle of Hustle (as much as I hate to link to a myspace Page; is there anything uglier than myspace?). By the way, I am still in the A section.

Andrew Whiteman, the guy who formed Apostle of Hustle, is also the lead guitarist for Broken Social Scene (note that I opted against linking to myspace). By the way, more about BSS later. In my opinion Folkloric Feel, the first A of H Album, is the best one, and Folkloric Feel is the best song. You might disagree with me.

I read somewhere that Andrew Whiteman dated Feist for a while. I think this was before she appeared on Sesame Street. I don't keep up with celebrity gossip as it takes too much brain power. I walk around in a state of blissful ignorance. I can confirm that ignorance is bliss. I am ignorant about so many things that my life is almost pure bliss.

And now, a very weird video from Apostle of Hustle:

2010-01-06T10:30:00.001-05:00

Church Bulletins

I don't normally post this type of thing, but I found this to be rather hilarious. I have no idea where they came from.

Thank God for church ladies with typewriters. These sentences actually appeared in church bulletins or were announced in church services (Summer, 2008 Release).

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The Fasting & Prayer Conference includes meals.
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The sermon this morning: 'Jesus Walks on Water.' The sermon tonight: 'Searching for Jesus.'
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Our youth basketball team is back in action Wednesday at 8 PM in the recreation hall. Come out and watch us kill Christ the King.
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Ladies, don't forget the rummage sale. It's a chance to get rid of those things not worth keeping around the house. Bring your husbands.
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The peacemaking meeting scheduled for today has been cancelled due to a conflict.
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Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our community. Smile at someone who is hard to love. Say 'Hell' to someone who doesn't care much about you.
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Don't let worry kill you off - let the Church help.
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Miss Charlene Mason sang 'I will not pass this way again,' giving obvious pleasure to the congregation.
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For those of you who have children and don't know it, we have a nursery downstairs.
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Next Thursday there will be tryouts for the choir. They need all the help they can get.
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The Rector will preach his farewell message after which the choir will sing: 'Break Forth Into Joy.'
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Irving Benson and Jessie Carter were married on October 24 in the church. So ends a friendship that began in their school days.
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A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall.. Music will follow.
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At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be 'What Is Hell?' Come early and listen to our choir practice.
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Eight new choir robes are currently needed due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.
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Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.
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Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.
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The church will host an evening of fine dining, super entertainment and gracious hostility.
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Potluck supper Sunday at 5:00 PM - prayer and medication to follow.
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The ladies of the Church have cast off clothing of every kind. They may be seen in the basement on Friday afternoon.
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This evening at 7 PM there will be a hymn singing in the park across from the Church. Bring a blanket and come prepared to sin.
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Ladies Bible Study will be held Thursday morning at 10 AM. All ladies are invited to lunch in the Fellowship Hall after the B. S. is done.
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The pastor would appreciate it if the ladies of the congregation would lend him their electric girdles for the pancake breakfast next Sunday.
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Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door.
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The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare's Hamlet in the Church basement Friday at 7 PM. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.
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Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.
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2010-01-05T10:31:00.000-05:00

A Look at my CD Collection, part 5: Alexisonfire

Alexisonfire is a so-called post-hardcore group from St. Catharines, Ontario. I picked up a copy of Watch Out! for a few dollars a while back. I listen to it from time-to-time, but it's not in high-rotation because it isn't the kind of thing you would throw on while kicking back with your favourite novel or when hosting a dinner party. But, it's rather good for the iPod. For some reason, I prefer listening to music that has an edge on the iPod. Maybe it gets me in motion and gets me there faster, unless I am on a train of plane. In those cases, I usually select something quieter, like Brian Eno or maybe something like Bob Dylan.

By the way, the group is pronounced like "Alexis On Fire."

2010-01-04T09:58:00.001-05:00

The Best of Zydeco Fish 2009 (You might also enjoy: best of 2008, 2007, 2006; 2005; 2004; 2003)

Well, here it is, my annual list.

1) Shining 'cross this dark highway where our sins lie unatoned - On music and cycling in winter, sort of.
2) Gran Torino - A review.

3) Pink - The colour, not the singer.

4) Damn those Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses - I hate religion.
5) The Numbers - The stats on the European vacation.
6) Shopping with the Ancient and the Insane - I don't think I have ever gone back on a Friday.
7) Trip Recap, part 2 - Musings about a free, but tiny, apartment.
8) C@#* Explosion! - Wifi craziness.
9) On Jacket Holding, Photography, and the AGO - No, I have not been back

2010-01-02T14:39:00.000-05:00

Stopping to Pull up My Socks

It's been so long since I've owned a real, insulated pair of winter boots, that I had forgotten something elementary: one's socks tend to slip off inside the boot while walking and when removing the boots. I am having flashbacks to my childhood days. It's irritating to say the least. On the other hand, my feet have never been so warm. In fact, while walking in -20 degree weather this morning, my feet remained warm, almost too warm. Is it possible for boots to be too warm? It might be.

So, this is the last thing I will say about these new boots. Reluctantly, I go back to work on Monday :-(

2010-01-01T09:12:00.001-05:00

Happy New Year

to you.

2009-12-24T22:01:00.003-05:00

Trip Recap, Part 4

It rained and puddles formed below the Eiffel Tower. For some reason, I decided against going up the Eiffel Tower. After all, I have to have something to do the next time I go to Paris, right?

Lots of souvenir hucksters were actively selling paraphernalia round the tower. I even saw a couple of guys pack up and flee when the cops came. I wondered if they were illegals or simply unable to pay the fine, whatever it is for selling shit without a vendor permit.

Anyway, the tower is quite awesome.

2009-12-21T14:06:00.003-05:00

Trip Recap, Part 3

The view from the first place we visited (extended family), but didn't stay. Instead, we dragged our bags around the corner to the smallest apartment in the world.

Soon after snapping this photo, we walked to the Eiffel Tower, which I am sure you have already noticed, is at the top of the frame. Visiting what is arguably the most iconic edifice in Paris, was a great way to start the vacation.

I did have a quick nap in this apartment, which was nice, but way too short.

2009-12-18T15:37:00.002-05:00

A Look at my CD Collection, part 4 - Laurie Anderson

I acquired a cassette copy of Home of the Brave years ago from a friend (Thanks Pete). At the time, I was fascinated by the guitar playing of Adrian Belew, who showed up on the three glorious King Crimson albums in the 1980s, and many more later on. The first of that trilogy (Discipline) remains as perhaps my most favourite album of all time, but more on that another day. Anyway, Adrian plays some wicked guitar on Mister Heartbreak and Home of the Brave.

Later, I added some Laurie Anderson vinyl to my collection, most of which I still have. Yes, I am old enough to remember vinyl. I regret selling some of my records when I became infatuated with compact discs, mostly because early digital mastering really sucked, but it has gotten better. Still, there is something about the warmth of a vinyl recording that is lacking on CD.

The most perplexing thing about Laurie Anderson is not her weird music; that, I like. The first track of hers I ever heard was O Superman and I couldn't really believe what I was hearing. I still think this song is awesome and I continue to appreciate the bizarreness of it. I have included the video below, thanks to YouTube. As I was saying, the most perplexing thing about Laurie Anderson is that she married Lou Reed. I am a huge Lou Reed fan and I have all of his albums and those of The Velvet Underground too.

(see other posts about Lou: one, two, three)

So, although I like Reed's music, isn't it generally agreed that he is somewhat ugly? Who am I to judge?, you might ask. Good point. Someone once said that beauty is only skin deep.

Anyway, I have three Laurie Anderson CDs and some vinyl. I like her music very much.

2009-12-17T13:27:00.001-05:00

Remembrance of Things Past

With the temperature hovering around minus 11 Celsius, and knowing that by cycling, I would create a wind chill on top of whatever the wind chill was this morning, I dressed warmly for the ride in to work. The choice of clothing included my new Caribou Sorel boots (good to minus 40 degrees), a winter coat, (suitable for cycling), and two additional layers below. I pulled on my Hot Paws mitts that have never failed to keep my hands warm. Below my helmet, I wore one of those furry hats with the earflaps. The only thing that was cold was my face, and I can't do anything about that because a scarf causes my glasses to fog up and then freeze, leading to a potentially dangerous situation.

I wheeled around the corner and the fist thing I saw reminded me of my youth. A high school student ambled along in nothing more than a hoodie. He had no mitts or gloves, no hat, and no boots. He reminded my of my winter high school days, but even then, I elected to wear mitts and a coat. I just avoided hats, mostly because I hated to disturb my nicely coiffed hair.

I reflected for a moment about how old I have been feeling recently. Happily, I noted that I don't really care if anyone sees me wearing a hat anymore, just as long as it lacks those ridiculous pom-poms. I hate pom-poms, and I have previously owned hats that forced me to hack off the dumb pom-pom. Who created this abomination anyway?

I wonder if this kid will be found later, frozen and blue. I would have said frozen in s snowbank somewhere, but there really isn't any snow to speak of in Tdot at the moment.

2009-12-17T10:35:00.003-05:00

A Look at my CD Collection, part 3

Because I have nothing else to write about ...

Africanesque

It's often difficult to recall when or why I have acquired certain CDs. I have no memory of when I bought this one, but I think I picked it up on the basis of its price and on the fact that it contains a track by Ali Farka Touré and Ry Cooder (Diaraby) and another by Henri Dikongué (Ndol'asu). Also, I was really interested in African Music, at one point, especially musicians like Babatunde Olatunji. There's something about African drumming that really appeals to me. I love Brazilian drumming too.

Africanesque is a fabulous introduction to African music, containing roots music and well as other genres, like European fusion. It represents many, but not all, African nations. But, unless you like African music, you probably wouldn't like this.

Arabica - A North African Voyage into Sound

It's often difficult to recall when or why I have acquired certain CDs. I have no memory of when I bought this one, but I think I picked it up on the basis of its price, since I had no idea who any of these musicians are. The CD contains traditional North African musical styles fused with Arabian, Middle East grooves and European electronica. Some tracks are better than others. It's not a brilliant collection, but it's not too bad.

My goal for today is to finish my Christmas shopping.

2009-12-16T22:36:00.000-05:00

ZF has a New Pair of Boots

Yup, I bought a pair of Sorel Boots. My feet have never been so warm. As a matter of fact, as I cycled home this evening, I wondered if perhaps they were too warm. But, the temperature will drop lots more, and I will be grateful for the superior warmth of these fine boots. Sorel ought to pay me for such an endorsement.

2009-12-15T10:18:00.002-05:00

A Look at my CD Collection, part 2 - John Hudak

I downloaded two releases (legally) by John Hudak with -1348- from The Internet Archive some time ago. The Internet Archive is a great source for all kinds of things, especially music. If you are a Dead Head -- and I am not -- you should definitely check it out.

I am really interested in musical experiments, and I am fond of minimalism, drones, and repetition. That's not to say that I don't enjoy a fine melody, because I do. There is something about extended drawn-out soundscapes that contain very little in the way of variation. Of course, this reminds me of a dinner party I had at my house once for an association of which I was president. I put on Steve Reich's Music for Eighteen Musicians, thinking that it would be a pleasing accompaniment to dinner and conversation. About 15 minutes into the piece, someone (perhaps the secretary or the treasurer) complained that the music was giving her a headache. Good thing I hadn't put on Gavin Bryars' Jesus Blood!

Reich's piece has much more going on in it that I require. There have been times when the drone of a piece of machinery has struck me as the perfect piece of music. I also like symmetrical structures. If you add these two together, it says a lot about what I like photograph, normally. Brian Eno's Thursday Afternoon is a fine example of ambient minimalism. It's 61 minutes of perfect music, and not just for Thursday afternoons. I also like noise, or music from the avant-garde that employs dissonance and atonality. There are lots of examples of this genre, of course, but to give you some examples, I would suggest the music of John Cale and Tony Conrad from the Inside the Dream Syndicate years, as well as the music of Lamonte Young right through to Sonic Youth and Lou Reed's Metal Machine Music.

I think I am getting sidetracked.

Since I really do not like listening to music on a computer, I burned the two John Hudak releases to CD. They are:

-1348- and John Hudak - Tacitus Journey
-1348- and John Hudak - The Idiot

These releases contain hints at some of the things I mentioned above. You might not like it, but you just might. Hudak's discography is quite long and he has made appearances on many other recordings, if you care about that.

Three more days of work, and then I am off until January 4th :-)

2009-12-14T11:52:00.002-05:00

A Look at my CD Collection, part 1:
1-Speed Bike: Droopy Butt Begone!

This was the first release (2000) from Aidan Girt, the drummer from Godspeed You! Black Emperor and Exhaust. I believe that he played drums on the first release from A Silver Mt. Zion entitled: He Has Left Us Alone but Shafts of Light Sometimes Grace the Corner of Our Rooms.

For this release, Girt re-used some of his old beats. He cut them up, looped them, and added some field recordings. The last thing you will hear is the sound of a toilet flushing to compliment the final track, Any Movement That Forgets About Class Is A Bowel Movement.

Constellation records describes the CD as follows:

The heart of the record finds slow loping beats ebbing and flowing around a beautiful palette of melodic figures and harmonic whirrs on “Just Another Jive-Assed White Colonial Theft”; a sustained hip-hop groove anchoring the playful sample stew of “Why Are All The Dogs Dying Of Cancer” and the house-inflected beat workouts of “My Kitchen Is Tiananmen Square.” link

I couldn't have said it any better, so I won't even try.

2009-12-10T09:30:00.002-05:00

Some Recent Reads

OK, so here are a bunch of mini reviews/comments on some of the books that I have read recently, which probably means within the last couple of months, or so. I am sure that I have missed a few.

Justin Cartwright - In Every Face I Meet

I still fail to understand why Justin Cartwright is not more famous. He ought to be. This book was short-listed for the Booker Prize. It didn't win. I am not certain that it should have won. It's good, for sure, but not his best. I still prefer White Lightning, but this is certainly a good book. I'll give it an 8/10.

Jess Walter - Citizen Vince

I don't normally read crime fiction. There might be crime in the fiction I read, but the genre is not something I normally check out. I can't really say why that is. It just is. So, I read Citizen Vince mostly because I liked what was written on the back cover. The blurb mentioned sex, drugs, prostitution - all good things, really. It mentioned mobsters and a cross-country chase. While it is true that all of these elements are part of this book, I have to say emphatically that the blurb is over-written. That's not to say that I was disappointed. After all, the book is a lot more subtle than the blurb would have you believe. The protagonist is not such a bad guy, for a bad guy. He's truly reformed, though still earning some money on the side by means of a few illegal activities. So, yes, he's a bad guy doing bad guy things, and yet we like him in a noirish way. He's alright, in many ways, and one feels for his plight. The book is alright too, but I wouldn't suggest that you read it. I would suggest that you read the blurb and then decide if you want to read it. Just remember that the cover copy is over-written. I give this book a 6.5/10. If you are one of those crime fiction readers, you would probably rate it higher, maybe even an 8.5/10.

Paul Quarrington - King Leary

Paul Quarrington could be my favourite Canadian writer. Sadly, he has been diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. I have read many of his books and recently read King Leary while on the train to Montreal. Leary won the Stephen Leacock Memorial Medal for Humour. Stephen Leacock was a funny Canadian writer who wrote lots of funny things, by the way. This book is probably deserving of the award, as it is funny and a good read. But, I have very little to go on, since the only other Leacock winner I have read is Jake and the Kid by W.O. Mitchell, but that was really read to me in public school by the teacher a long time ago. I tried to read Barney's Version, another Leacock winner, but found it unbearably boring. My fav Quarrington novel has to be Whale Music, but his best piece of writing is The Boy on the Back of the Turtle. I give King Leary 8/10.

Jim Thompson - After Dark, My Sweet

I don't normally read crime fiction. Wait, I already said that. This book, however, might better be described as pulp fiction, but not in a Tarantino kind of way. It may be that Jim Thompson has been overlooked as a writer, despite the evidence that he was on to something. This book was made into a film. I know, that's not really a good indicator of a book's relative value, but it is interesting to consider, especially when you note that other Thompson books were filmed as well. These books include The Grifters and The Getaway, which was filmed twice, I believe, the first time by Sam Peckinpah.

Anyway, I liked this piece of noir pulp fiction and I am thinking that I should locate the film. I'll rate this book a 7.5/10.

Louis de Bernières - The War of Don Emmanuel's Nether Parts

This book is a satirical, magical, and hilarious look at a fictionalized nation in South America. The writing is so genuinely terrific that it is a difficult book to put down. Other words that might describe this book could be zany and beautiful and violent. At the heart of this book is a parody of third world banana republics, filled with unusual characters and with hilarious yet poignant observations. It might not be everyone's cup of tea, but I loved it. I have almost finished the second book in the trilogy: Senor Vivo and the Coca Lord, which is funnier that it's predecessor. The third and final book in the trilogy - The Troublesome Offspring of Cardinal Guzman - is waiting for me on my bookcase. The first two books in this trilogy deserve a rating of 9.9/10.

Don Delillo - Falling Man

I never thought that it would happen, but Don DeLillo has finally penned a novel that I did not like. Sure, there are the usual pieces of genius and his poetical use of the English language, but this book left me unimpressed. Let me just say that the dialogue irritated me. No one speaks the way they do in this book. It doesn't mater who the character is, everyone speaks in a jarring, fragmented fashion that is difficult to accept. I appreciate what DeLillo is trying to achieve, but I am not convinced that he pulled it off. For that, I have to give this a 6/10.

Graham Swift - Out of this World

This is perhaps a minor work from Swift and, while I think I enjoyed it, it really didn't stay with me. I have no complaints, no praise, and not much at all to say about it. The book is fine, but not at all out-of-this-world. If you are planning to read Swift, better start somewhere else, say with Last Orders. 6.5/10 for this one.

Gao Xingjian - Buying a Fishing Rod for My Grandfather, Stories

Are these really stories? They feel more like random pieces of prose. I suppose that they qualify as both. This is an entertaining book and it's extremely well-written. It's enjoyable, but I didn't think too hard about what I was reading. The words just flowed over me and I absorbed them. 8.5/10

2009-12-09T10:56:00.001-05:00

Wet

So, I cycled today, which may have been a mistake. I discovered that my boots are no longer water-proof and so my feet were swimming in cold water by the time I was less than halfway through my ride. I have a dry pair of shoes in my office, which I am wearing without socks. I hope the socks dry before my cycle home, but it probably will make no difference, since the boots have no chance of drying in such a short period of time.

It's a shame because I bought a crazy-ass pair of boots that are good to minus 40 and water-proof. In fact, I used them to shovel the wet wintery sludge from my sidewalk this morning. I felt that they were too cumbersome to cycle in, but they would have been a much better choice. Fashion should never trump comfort. That fashion can lose out is a sign of age, if you ask me. By this logic, I am not yet old.

I remember walking the 1.5 KM trip to and from high school in minus 20 or worse weather and foregoing a hat. I was too concerned that someone would see me. Dumb, you say and I agree. On those days when it was even colder, I would take the route less travelled, with my toque on, taking a risk that someone would see me, and then removing the hat for the last part of my journey, as I closed in on the school. Yes, it was dumb, but I never got any frostbite. Oddly, I wore my hat after school during winter track when we ran around the frozen streets, but I guess the coach prevailed upon us. At least I am now comfortable wearing a hat, so maybe I am aging after all.

OK, well, maybe I can dry my socks using the hand dryer in the bathroom ...

2009-12-02T20:22:00.000-05:00

The Road (The Movie) - Two Ratings

If the success of a movie is to be measured by how faithfully it translates the written word to the big screen, then The Road deserves a score of ten out of ten. The cinematography is sublime. The disintegrating post-apocalyptic world is rendered hauntingly and precisely. It's a grey world with little to no colour. It's a depressing landscape filled with dead trees, an ashen sky, burnt out cities, and roving bands of cannibals. All of this is impressive and faithful to my reading of the book.

The plot, too, follows very closely that of the book and I have no issues with omissions or minor changes. For this, I give the movie a ten out of ten and would argue that this film is the best possible adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's novel. But, that doesn't necessarily make it a good film. At the conclusion of the film, C. assessed it at 6.5 out of ten. She might be right.

I really like the novel. It is a gripping story and I read it compulsively. Good books don't always make good movies, and The Road is a prime example of that phenomenon. So, while it may well be a great book, the movie just doesn't work. Still, I would give it a 7.5 because I liked the novel so much.

With the exception of Wonder Boys (as I often mention), I generally prefer the novel to the film adaptation, and so it holds true for this film too. Read the book; skip the movie.

2009-12-02T09:14:00.003-05:00

Happy Birthday to....

Me.

I'll be in an all-day colloquium today and an all-day meeting tomorrow :-(

2009-12-01T09:54:00.000-05:00

Down with Twitter!

My experiment with Twitter ended a few weeks ago. I posted my last so-called tweet is late October, and now, I move on for many reasons.

1) Twitter is a dumb word.
2) Tweet is even dumber.
3) 140 words is too short for anything but a semi-grammatical grunt.
4) I kept attracting unsavory followers offering hidden links to scandalous sites.
5) Twitter is continually over-capacity.
6) I am all for Web 2.0, but Twitter's purpose is to limited that I only ever see things like: I am about to take a dump; I am off to the to store to buy condoms. In other words, it is a constant source of useless micro-information.
7) I don't need constant reminders that people lead boring lives.
8) I already have a few Ego 2.0 outlets, and don't need another.
9) I really think Twitter inflates one's perceived sense of importance.
10) Twitter would have been much better if I had thought of it and had given it a good name.

I hope Twitter dies and soon. Down with Twitter!

2009-11-30T16:55:00.003-05:00

Gormenghast

Recently, I read the first two books in Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast trilogy, Titus Groan and Gormenghast. I really have no idea why these books are classified as fantasy. I shy away from the category, lest anyone think that I spend my time in dark basements playing Dungeons and Dragons. I have never played Dungeons and Dragons and don't want to start. Let me also say that I have never read Lord of the Rings, so I can't really make any statements about it, beyond what I know about the films. As you might recall, I had a hard time staying awake during the first two films and didn't bother with the third. Even typing that statement about LoR made me very tired. This is just to say that I am not very knowledgeable about fantasy.

I came to Gormenghast accidentally, having seen part of the TV series years ago, but then forgetting about it and not remembering what it was that I saw. Such is my sieve-like brain. Anyway, I read the first book on the strength of some really fabulous recommendations from many respected people, including Robertson Davies and Anthony Burgess, whom I greatly admired. To my amazement, there is very little that is fantastical about these books (or, perhaps I really do not understand fantasy). Having just read some Dickens, I would suggest that they fit more easily into that genre. They are gothic and grand and thoroughly Dickensian, but maybe better written. It's clear that Peake is a poet for his prose is indeed poetry.

Naturally, I had to watch the British mini-series after reading the books. I am somewhat disappointed. Except in the case of Wonder Boys, I always find that the book is better than the film or mini-series. The Gormenghast books are vastly superior to the mini-series and I was left feeling a bit betrayed.

About the series, I will say this: I liked the casting, generally, but hated the music completely. I found the numerous plot changes to be irritating. I realize that certain things need to be edited out to fit running times and commercial breaks, but leaving out characters and changing fundamental plot elements baffles me. I found myself becoming irritated by these many changes and hoping that perhaps someone with a greater sense of loyalty to the books will one day make a faithful adaptation.

2009-11-16T09:43:00.002-05:00

C@#* Explosion!

So, there I was, walking down a peaceful tree-lined street in Toronto, just minding my own business, when I shoved my hand deep into my pocket and pulled out my iPod Touch. Ah, I love this fine piece of equipment. It's smooth, shiny, and wonderful to hold. I inserted the earbuds into my ears to fire up the tunes.

Remembering that wifi was still enabled, I decided to turn it off, so as to save some battery power. As I was doing this, I noted the names of the wireless networks in this fine neighbourhood. There were several nondescript Bell networks with boring names like BELL127; there were a few people who had applied names to their networks, like Lisa this or John that, and many such derivatives with a few pet names thrown into the mix, and possibly a superhero or two.

But then I saw a most curious wireless network called - get ready for this - Cock Explosion! I am not lying. Lots of thoughts passed through my head, like, what if his mother comes to visit and wants to hop on his wireless network with her little pink netbook?

Dude's Mom: "What's your network name?"

Dude: "Cock explosion."

Dude's Mom: "What?"

Dude: "Cock explosion."

Dude's Mom: "You're network is called cock explosion?"

Dude: "Yeah, cock explosion."

Dude's Mom: "Why would you call your network cock explosion?"

Dude: "Why not? Cock explosion is a great name. It's very visual."

Dude's Mom: "I'm afraid to ask what your network key is..."

I am sure that his dad would understand all of this, but not his mom. A colleague told me a similar story about a network in NYC he encountered that was called something like Porn-Loving Bi-Girl. A father would understand that too, but not a mom.

But, back to the story. You see that I made the assumption that this is a network operated by a male. I mean, what women would called her network Cock Explosion? I can think of a few good names for a racy female network, and this doesn't make the list. CG later suggested that perhaps it belonged to an escort who was very good at her job. I am not convinced, but I give him marks for coming (if you'll excuse the gratuitous use of that word) up with alternative suggestions.

My immediate reaction is that this guy must be a porn hound. I imagined him (but not in any great detail) ending up like Quagmire, once he had discovered the wonders of broadband. Now, there was no way to figure out which house this Cock Explosion was emanating from, and even if I knew, I would have steered well clear of it. There were no obvious signs anywhere as to which of these properties was home to Cock Explosion. I couldn't see any Farrah Fawcett posters in the windows, at any rate. I detected no one furiously closing curtain or blinds. It was all peaceful, but I wondered, if I stood there long enough, if I would be able to hear any cock explosions. I decided that this was not a good idea, and resumed my journey, up to a pub to meet two friends and have a beverage.

2009-11-13T10:14:00.000-05:00

Carrie Prejean

Why is it that every loser on the planet has been on Entertainment Tonight but not me? I deserve to be on that show as much as these other mercenary fame-hunting idiots. Quite honestly, I don't know who most of the people are on the show, but the whole experience is like a train wreck. I mean, the cult of celebrity has come to a point where the so-called celebrities are nobodies. If you don't believe me, just check out Dancing with the Stars. This is the best they can do? The definition of star has fallen to such a point where even I qualify as a star.

Now, after that preamble, we come to Carrie Prejean. I have a vague memory of Carrie Prejean saying something ludicrous and sexist about same-sex marriage. She is a right-wing homophobe. I just read that she had used some of her pageant winnings from the Miss USA pageant to buy breast implants. I guess she has to prepare for a career in porn, should this beauty thing not work out.

Then there was a breach of contract and a settlement of some sort, and now she is selling her book. I can tell you that even if I were trapped in a space ship for three or four months on my way to Mars with only her book for a distraction, I would not read it - well, maybe for a laugh, but reading it would probably lead to permanent brain damage.

Serendipitously, I clicked on a CNN video of her being a jerk on the Larry King Show. Have a look as the spoiled brat has a tantrum on the air:

Talk about a little princess. I have to say that the word inappropriate was an inappropriate choice or words. And then, I discovered that there is a sex tape. Big deal. I suppose she is trying to keep up with Verne Troyer. I mean, who doesn't have a sex tape? Even I have a sex tape.

I am angry with myself for giving this small-brained so-called beauty pageant queen with a face like a razor blade even more publicity. The good news is that she will suffer the ignominy of having her book remaindered soon.

2009-10-30T11:20:00.000-04:00

Shopping with the Ancient and the Insane

I took last Friday afternoon off to get some stuff accomplished prior to a busy weekend. First, I decided to do the grocery shopping. What's going on with Friday afternoons in grocery stores? Why are so many weird people allowed to be in public on Friday afternoons?

Immediately upon entering the store, I was confronted with a man who seemed to like talking to pumpkins. He then turned to me and discussed the prices of produce as compared with all of the other local stores. Pumpkins, he assured me, were cheaper here than in the other shops, but then he seemed a little perplexed that I did not buy any, but then neither did he. Pumpkin man moved sideways to examine the butter nut squash and he tried to persuade me to buy one, which I did, because I needed one. He then went off to have a conversation with the avocados.

I had to wait to select apples, because someone had unfolded his flyer across the entire bin, as if it were his personal table. And, let me tell you, all of these people were armed with flyers, man. They were buying items simply because they were on sale. How else do you explain someone buying liver? I know, some of these people are from that age group that still believes that liver is good for you. Suckers!

I put my earbuds in and walked the aisles with a great deal of difficulty because Friday shoppers seem to have no understanding of how to park one's cart so as to let others pass by. I was stuck behind a woman accompanying her blind husband who, quite frankly, was squeezing the mangoes a bit too hard. I felt worried for the melons in the next bin. Is it possible that he thought that he was at home and that those mangoes were really his wife's ... ? Well, never mind.

I continued around, marveling at the toothless hoards drooling over the saltines, the aged ambling about with able walkers, one of whom was sniffing chicken wrapped in plastic, and those who seemed to have no business in a grocery store whatsoever.

I quickly skirted the near riot by the Depends, and then made my way to the check out, where the person in front of me had all of her credit cards declined; she had no cash to speak of with her. Quickly, I backed out only to end up behind some belligerent jerk who argued over the limits. For some reason, he wanted more than 10 cases of pop.

So, my new rule is to avoid Friday afternoon shopping, unless I have no choice.

2009-10-22T15:36:00.005-04:00

Trip Recap, part 2

What was I saying again? Oh yeah, I never argue with free.

One's senses always seem to be heightened when one takes to the streets of a new city. Cities smell different. They look different. They feel different. Dragging my suitcase over to the world's smallest apartment, I keep noticing how weird everything was. I blame part of that on sleep deprivation. So, over to the apartment, from one tiny elevator to another tiny elevator, past a smoking dog.

I am not claustrophobic, but this free apartment is insanity. Now, if someone gave me title to this apartment for all time, for me to use whenever I dropped into Paris, I might say no. Free accommodations are fantastic, and I never say no to free, but next time I just might.

Once the bed was unfolded, the entire room was filled, save a small alleyway around the perimeter. Now, you might think that would be OK, but the roof had a serious pitch on the east side, upon which I bashed my head several times. Of course, I am well accustomed to head bashing, and have reduced my brain cell count by a factor of ten over the years, so I ought to be used to this, but it turned old very quickly.

To stand at the sink (yes, there was a sink in this room) meant that one had to tilt one's head a good thirty degrees to port and stand as far west as possible. Below the sink were an assortment of pots and pans, but bending over proved problematic. Next to the pots was a small bar fridge. Above the fridge sat a two burner hot plate, but I feared actually using it without a good deal of scrutiny because I felt that the sloping ceiling, skimming the tops of the pots, would burst into flames at any second.

Believe it or not, they managed to fit a shower stall in the room, right at the entrance. Aside from when I was sleeping, this was the most comfortable spot in the room, but I did keep smashing my arms against the enclosure and usually managed to accidentally turn the water off a few times during each shower. So, we had a room not much bigger than a double bed, a sink with bar fridge and shower stall. Oh, and there was no bathroom: the whole place was a shower room, really, what with the steam flowing out of the shower stall. I just had to hang up my shirts and let them steam.

So, to use the facilities, one had to trip down the hall (bonjour here, bonjour there, along the way) until one came to a toilet room. Now, if I stood in front of the toilet to micturate, the entire quadrangle became intimately acquainted with my anatomy. There are no secrets in Paris, I guess. If one had to sit, they quadrangle people got a view of the back of your head. No big deal there.

There was no sink in the toiletroom, but there was a sink that looked positively Roman outside, or you could walk back to your room, tilt your head 30 degrees to the port side, and wash your hands there, but jumping into the shower was actually easier. If you hung your towel and clothes correctly, you could get a good motion going and be fully clothed with just a few twists and turns and grunts and almost no bruises.

2009-10-21T09:41:00.000-04:00

Trip Recap, part 1

It's funny how I spent three weeks in Europe and haven't really said much about it. So, I guess it's time. Speaking of time, I am aging. Years ago, I took the night flight to London and, when I arrived, I continued throughout the day even though I did not sleep on the plane. By the way, I am envious of those who can sleep on trains and planes. I can't do it. Anyway, years ago, I popped off the plane in London, and engaged with the city. I slept later, as usual. It was no big deal.

This time, I was whacked after the flight to Paris. I could barely keep my eyes open. Eventually, I decided to take a nap, and left instructions to be woken in 1.5 hours. I woke up in a daze and stumbled around the apartment as if I hadn't slept for days. I was confused, couldn't think straight, and hardly knew where I was. But then, I looked out the window and saw the Eiffel Tower and the traffic on Rue Montparnasse and quickly figured it out. So, the lesson to be learned is that I am getting old. Crap

The good news about the flight is that Air Canada came up with very good gluten-free food options that were also free of dairy! I was quite impressed. Ages ago, when Air Canada offered no such menu choices, I requested a fruit plate, thinking that such a menu item would contain fruit. Sure, there was a bit of fruit, but the thing came with a baguette, half a pound of cheese, and a piece of cake. In what universe is that considered to be a fruit plate? The poor fruits were seriously outnumbered by glutinous substances and congealed bovine slime! But, back to the story.

This trip to Europe was so many months ago, I can't even remember what we did on day one, other than transport our bags to the smallest apartment I have ever seen. Really, it was a room, a closet, in fact. It was so small, that to rent the place would be illegal according to the various laws of France. But, it was free, and I never argue with free.

2009-10-20T10:31:00.000-04:00

Take a Walk on the Wild Side

I bought two pairs of shoes last weekend in Montreal. On Saturday night, we had a couple of drinks at Bily Kun, and met up with a friend from TO. Damn, it gets cold early in Montreal. Winter must suck in Montreal.

2009-10-14T09:27:00.000-04:00

Trip

I am off to Montreal tomorrow and will return Sunday. Have a nice weekend.

2009-10-13T11:04:00.000-04:00

ESL-isms

I know a woman who collects funny ESL sayings. I think she started this because her mother referred to the the HMV music stores as HIV. I knew another person who called a hangover an overhang. Hilarious indeed. A colleague just sent me an email, and instead of saying, "no one can remember anything," she wrote, "No one can remember everything!" I can't argue with that, can I? Anyway, this reminds of a Bruce Cockburn album called You've Never Seen Everything. So true.

2009-10-13T09:46:00.000-04:00

I AM NOT SAFE

Check out this freaky email message I received in two different email accounts:

From DIGO GROUPS izubeidat@psi.uned.es
Sent Monday, October 12, 2009 12:30 pm
Subject YOU ARE NOT SAFE

with respect to you i signed a contrate deal to accasinate you, but my feeling's wont allow me to do that because of your personality. please reaply me now.for forther information.I expect you to reaply withen 3 days of reciveing this message.

I have grown accustomed to all manner of spam that insults my intelligence, like that from Nigerian Princesses, who think that they need my help to cash a cheque. It's ludicrous. But, threatening someone with assassination (or, accasinatation) is going too far, if you ask me.

But, what really irritates me is illiteracy. I know that spammers routinely misspell words to get past spam blockers. So, if it were up to me, I would construct an email filter that blocks any messages with more that a few spelling errors or grievous errors in syntax.

Maybe someone could do that for me. Please!

2009-10-09T12:18:00.000-04:00

Comments Comments Comments

I am not certain if I am busy or distracted or lazy, but, as you may have noticed, I have not gone out into the blogosphere and left a trail of pithy comments for ages. You may have also noticed that I have not posted very much lately either, and that is because I am either too busy or too distracted or too lazy. You see, the post is part one, and then one has to turn around and leave a trail of pithy comments all over the blogosphere, a task I currently find too troublesome since I am either too busy or too distracted or too lazy. This is odd, really, because no blogger should feel that s/he can't blog simply because s/he feels that s/he will fail to uphold the other end of some tacit social obligation. So, that's that. I plan to post more soon. As for commenting, we will see how it goes.

2009-10-08T16:06:00.002-04:00

I like this song. I even bought the CD.

2009-10-01T09:27:00.003-04:00

Owls

As I was walking down the street, a bird fell out of a tree and landed on my shoulder. It was difficult to see it, because of where it chose to alight. Have you ever tried to look at your shoulder? I could feel its feet, gripping my flesh, making me a bit nervous. Just then, I looked to my right and noticed two other birds on a branch right near me. Clearly, they were siblings. I had no idea what kind of birds these were, and I felt foolish, because I should have known.

As I was deep in thought, trying to put a name to these birds, a man walked past carrying a black bear. I asked him if he knew what these birds were. They were owls. Yes, owls, but they looked like they had been bred with penguins. I panicked, ducked a little, looked to the sky, fearing I was about to suffer the same fate as Lord Sepulchrave, 76th Earl of Groan. My companion, to whom I hadn't paid any attention until then, clearly had no such fear. All I could think to do, once I had noted that the sky was clear, was to take these orphan birds to some sort of animal hospital or bird sanctuary.

I strapped them to my bike, and headed out, finally finding such a place. However, when the warden of the bird sanctuary inspected my owls, he concluded that they were stuffed. Indeed, as I ripped open the plastic bags that I had sealed them in, I agreed that they were plushies. But, as he left to finish building his grand piano, these owls became more animated and then I realized that they were hungry. Seeing no mice or other types of rodentia lurking about, I found apples in a neighbouring farm. I stole some apples from the hens, and fought my way into the dusty road (feeling a bit like the father in The Road, who finds ash-covered apples in a dead orchard), and tried to orient myself.

I decided to head south, toward the amber light, and then my son woke up and woke me up too. It was 4:55, and I never got back to sleep, but I heard the little one sawing logs for the next two hours, while my brain obsessed about things, like why I couldn't get back to sleep.

2009-09-17T14:21:00.004-04:00

Talk Talk Talk

A librarian I know once said that she became a librarian because she didn't like public speaking or computers. She now realizes how ridiculous this sounds. Most academic librarians spend all day in front of a computer (currently, that's my new iMac) and some of us spend a lot of hours in classes handing out wisdom. Today, I did my annual talk to 150 1st year students in a certain professional department. I think this was my fourth session so far this term. Last week, I spoke to 110 science students. I have more sessions coming up, including a three hour research methods class for some masters students. Who would want to listen to me speak for three hours? I don't even think Barrack Obama could hold their attention for that long.

Well, that's all I have to say about that. I guess I have to get back to work and continue being a bad blogger.

Oh, have you seen those Hitler videos on youtube? The video is taken from a feature film. (The original clip is somewhere on youtube) but people keep adding their own subtitles. Some are hilarious, like:

And there are more!

2009-09-09T12:28:00.002-04:00

Busy/Beatles/Macs/Roller Derby

Yup, it's September and the kids are back in school, which means I am busy, busy, busy. A colleague of mine refers to the students at this time of year as the "boob and bellybutton brigade." Judging by what I just saw at the reference desk, she is dead-on. Sometimes I like my job.

I have been adjusting to the Mac world. On my desk at work is a brand new iMac. In fact, I am typing on it right now. I am not sure how long the keys will remain white, however. At home, I have a brand new MacBook pro. I like it. Talk about a solid piece of machinery. The bottom is milled from a single piece of aluminum. I've gone over to the bright side, so take that Bill Gates. I have moved into my new office, so everything feels new and improved.

I am kind of interested in the new Beatles remasters, but not that interested enough to shell out for them. If anyone wants to buy me one or both box sets, I'd be happy to allow you to do that.

Did you know that there is a women-only boxing club in TO? I kid you not:

http://www.torontonewsgirls.com/

It's cool, but probably not as cool as the rolling derby librarian in Toronto. She is a member of the Death Track Dolls. Someday, I will get out and see them in action.

There: another boring post perfectly-executed.

2009-09-03T09:51:00.003-04:00

Darcy Allan Sheppard (Al)

Last night, I joined the memorial ride for Darcy Allan Sheppard, along with about 1000 other cyclists. We headed east on Bloor, rode south on Yonge to Queen Street and then headed up University Avenue. Lots of Police on bikes joined us and blocked traffic to permit the cyclists to make their way. Generally, the cars and crowd seemed tolerant, but I heard a few derisive comments from the sidelines.

In case you have no idea what happened, a couple of nights ago, Michael Bryant, the former Attorney General of Ontario, rammed into Al's bike. Al confronted the driver from the passenger side, then went round to the driver side of the car. Bryant decided to flee, so Al grabbed the car door and hung on, clearly an unwise decision. The fact that he had allegedly been drinking did not help. The amazing thing is what happened next, something that has been caught by surveillance video and witnessed by many people.

Bryant speed away at high speed on the wrong side of the street, later mounting the sidewalk in an attempt to dislodge Al from his car. He drove into mailboxes and poles before Al was finally shaken loose. In the end, his rear wheels drove over the cyclist, killing him. Al was pronounced dead at a local hospital.

It is difficult to defend the actions of an enraged cyclist who grabs onto a car, but I have to think that if I were in that situation, I would have stopped my car. What kind of a maniac makes the reckless decision to scrape the guy from his car? What was his lawyer girlfriend sitting in the passenger seat thinking about this?

Bryant was touted by some as being a future Premier of the province. This is clearly never going to happen, and I have to think that he is cursing himself for succumbing to a fit road rage. At the memorial, someone suggested that he is likely to only get 2 years. That's not enough.

As many of you know, I cycle year round in Toronto and I have had my share of run-ins with motorists. The two groups tend to hate each other, and I blame that on the lousy cycling infrastructure in this city (this view was reinforced by my recent trip to Amsterdam, which is a cycling paradise by comparison). I also blame it on distracted drivers who are always in a hurry.

Yes, there are lots of idiotic cyclists. This morning, for example, I stopped at a red light and watched as 10 cyclists passed me and proceeded through the intersection as if the light were green. This pisses me off because drivers take this as evidence that all cyclists are law breakers. I stop all all red lights. But, I may do a rolling stop at stop signs on quiet residential streets when it is safe and clear. I see nothing wrong with that.

Head over to a main street and I see cyclists with headphones, cyclists racing through red lights, cyclists peeling out of sides streets and on to main streets without looking (I often have to ring my bell at them), cyclists riding on the wrong side of the street, cyclists riding without lights, etc. Listen, my fellow cyclists, if you want respect on the roads, you must ride responsibly, even if it means waiting out 20 seconds at a traffic light when there are no cars coming the other way. To the drivers out there, please share the road. To the city, please invest in more cycling lanes and clear them in winter.

2009-09-02T15:53:00.000-04:00

Reading Update (because yesterday's post wasn't boring enough)

To follow on from yesterday's extremely boring post, I offer another extremely boring post about books that I have recently read.

Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens

Although I enjoyed this book, I sincerely hope that Dickens didn't always resort to improbable coincidences in his novels. I mean, Great Expectations had enough of that for anybody. Oliver Twist contains even more astounding coincidences. It's a bit tiring and hard to accept, but it does help to wrap up the plot nicely.

This was the second Dickens book for me. It took me many years to finally get around to reading Boz and I am happy that I did. But really, enough with the coincidental plot devises already. A Tale of Two Cities awaits my attention.

Fabrizio's Return by Mark Frutkin

Fabrizio's Return is a lighthearted and somewhat comedic novel about a priest being assessed years after the fact for potential sainthood by the Devil's Advocate, a Jesuit sent by the Pope to ask all of the tough questions and dig around for details. Along the way, we meet many interesting characters, including a rather comedic and insolent dwarf called Omero and Rodolfo, a man who wears a skeleton on his back. The novel features magical potions and seductions and music. All-in-all, this is a very good book.

Rachel Papers by Martin Amis

I have read lots of Amis, but never got around to this one, until recently. It's pretty good for a first novel. It has lots of sex and hilarity. I am not sure what to say about it, beyond that. It's well-written (of course) and a quick read. If you like Amis, you will probably like this.

Other People by Martin Amis

What a strange book is this. There is a mystery at the heart of the story about a woman who has amnesia. She manages to piece together parts of her history, but we are left to deduce other things about her and her past. Personally, I wouldn't rank this as being among my favourite Amis books (that honour might go to London Fields or Dead Babies). Still, if you must read everything he has written, you don't need me to recommend it, because you will have already read it.

The Road by Cormac McCarthy

I mentioned this book in yesterday's post, but here it is again. I was totally engrossed in this book. Sure, there may be other post-apocalyptic novels out there, but this is a very poetic one. Every time I check Amazon.com for reviews on books I have read, I am stunned. Sure, more than 1000 people rated this as a 5 star book. Bizarrely, nearly 200, or so, seem to think that this book merits only 1 star. I shouldn't be surprised at this stage. Look at reviews for books generally regarded as literary masterpieces, and some doofus will give it one star. Even more perplexing is the fact that Microserfs -- one of the books on my list of the worst books ever written, along with The Mysteries of Pittsburgh - a book that also gets my vote for dumb titles that bear no relation to the book -- receives so many 5 star reviews.

Anyway, The Road is a fascinating book. The prose is powerful and poetic, yet restrained. It paints an evocative picture. I will admit to wondering - as Mister Anchovy did in a comment to the preceding post - how this could possibly be made into a movie. Well, if they take great liberties, then perhaps. I hope it stays true to the book.

OK, no more pseudo-book reviews, at least for a while.

2009-09-01T11:11:00.003-04:00

Michael Chabon

Among the books I read recently are several by Michael Chabon. Here are some brief notes.

Maps and Legends

This collection of non-fiction pieces is really a showcase for Chabon's vocabulary. If you are looking for lots of examples of purple prose in one manuscript, this is the book for you. Some of these pieces are enjoyable--if overwritten--but others left me cold. I have little interest in comic books, and so I skimmed those essays quickly. I would recommend this book for hardcore Chabon fans only or for those who want to improve their vocabulary.

The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay

As I just said, I have no interest in comic books, so you might wonder why I would read a fictionalized account of the rise of the comic book in America. Good question. I have no idea what the answer is. So, yeah, this is a story about the comic book in the US of A. Despite the subject matter, the book is quite engaging and very well-written. It probably deserves the Pulitzer Prize that it won. While it might not be Chabon's finest novel, it is right up there. The ending made sense too. It is 646 pages, but it didn't feel like it.

The Final Solution: A Story of Detection

I really looked forward to reading this compact novella about Sherlock Holmes, though he is not mentioned by name in the book. I was not blown away. That's not to say that this is not a good and worthwhile read. The story is deceptively simple, and one that ends without the perfect Holmesian deduction; yet, there is something elegant in the writing and the ending, where it is left to the reader to divine the answers.

The Mysteries of Pittsburgh

In my growing list of worst books I have ever read, I will add this piece of garbage. It's perplexing that this novel ever found a publisher. The protagonist is a boring sexually-confused chap who seems to cry a lot. His father is a gangster. The story is dumb. There are sections when the writer slips out of the first-person narrative into an implausible omnipotent first person narration. In other words, he becomes a mind reader. And then there are the little irritating things like tides on Lake Erie.

If you want to read Chabon, skip this one and stick go for Wonder Boys or The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay, or maybe even the book that follows.

The Yiddish Policemen's Union

I am not really sure that I am qualified to comment on this book. There is so much Jewish lore that I do not understand, and I think I missed some of the subtleties of the plot because of that. I hated the first 120 pages and, looking back, I feel that my distaste for this book was a reaction to just having just read Chabon's abysmal first novel, The Mysteries of Pittsburgh. I was still angry that such a piece of trash was ever published.

TYPU needs an edit. There are digressions that serve absolutely no purpose at all, and make the novel longer than it needs to be. I could give you examples, but I won't. It's a good and interesting book. It's nice to see that Chabon has improved as a writer since his first stinker was published in '89.

This is soon to be a Coen Brothers movie. I would like to see it when it comes out a couple of years down the road.

Wonder Boys
I saw this film ages ago, when I had no idea who Mr. Chabon was. I loved this movie. I still love this movie. Normally, I would never read a book if I have already seen a film adaptation, but I made an exception in this case. I have a nagging feeling that the movie is better. I can't believe I wrote that line, because I have never felt that way before. The book is always better. The book is supposed to be better. Of course, this means that I will have to see the film again to see if I am right about this.

2009-08-31T10:59:00.000-04:00

Back to Work and Getting Re-adjusted

Well, that was a long break from life. I took a lot of time off in August and did lots of stuff, and neglected other things, like a leaking eve on my house. C'est la vie, non? I decided that during my time away that I was not going to come back to my high-paid job. Who needs the aggravation? Who needs the money? The trouble with coming back is all of the crap that piles up. I have lots of it. I will be digging out, going to meetings, teaching some classes. This is why I want to be independently wealthy. Well, that's one of the reasons. I just want to be rich, "%$#&ing fifthly %$#&ing stinking rich." Yeah, that is from a song. I bet you don't know which one.

I read a number of books last month. I may even tell you what they are. I just finished Cormac McCarthy's The Road only to discover that a film version will be released in October. That was good timing. I quite like seeing movies after having just read the book, but I don't generally read books if I have seen the film with a recent notable exception that I will relate tomorrow or later, if I can find the time.

And now, I must do some work...

2009-07-23T09:30:00.000-04:00

Hiatus

I will be taking a hiatus for most of the rest of the summer, but don't be surprised if a podcast should appear here during that time. It might just happen. I shall return.

Since it was raining this morning, I decided to take the subway to work, something I rarely do. I continue to be amazed at what I see on the subway. For one, I still cannot believe that there are people who willingly wear Crocs in public. WTF! To me, that's like wearing your slippers to work/school. Now, I am fully aware that some people reading this post probably own Crocs and will swear that they are the most comfortable footwear they have ever owned. Well, good for you. They are ugly and dumb. Unless you are a child, leave the Crocs at home. Wear them to the beach, if you must.

As I have said very many times, I am stunned that any woman would apply makeup in public. I gather it's because they are pressed for time, or something. Who knows? This morning, I watched two young women apply all manner of face paint while sitting on a crowded subway car. The one on the right spent about 15 minutes applying mascara to her upper right eyelash: it just went on and on and on. The other had a tray of various blushes, eye shadows, lipsticks, etc. The oddest thing is that she devised a new (well to me anyway) use for a dessert spoon.

From my position, I was uncertain as to what exactly she was doing with the utensil. I came to two possible conclusions: she used the spoon to apply mascara; or, she used it to curl her eyelashes. I wish I had an answer. I should probably add, for the sake of full disclosure, that I really do not like makeup, especially lipstick.

2009-07-13T10:21:00.003-04:00

The Ugliest Male Celebrity

Last Friday night, while freezing on a Queen Street patio during Toronto's unseasonably cold summer, this topic came up. I have to say that creating a list of the ugliest celebrity women would be far easier (think Sarah Jessica Parker or Celine Dion).

Now, two of the women in attendance have been embroiled in this argument for some time and are deadlocked: For them, it's Gerard Depardieu versus Notorious B.I.G. While I think that there is some merit to both making the list, Notorious B.I.G. is (I guess that should be was) far uglier.

But, for my money, I suggested one of the three Jerrys: Jerry Stiller, Jerry Orbach, or Jerry Lewis. Of course, one could easily add Jerry Seinfeld. Other names that came up were people like Keith Richards, Conan O'Brien, and Edward James Olmos. Wait, I suggested those three. Later, I regretted not adding Hervé Villechaize or Axl Rose or Ron Howard. Someone said Bryan Adams, but I am not convinced.

So, is it Gerard Depardieu or Notorious B.I.G.or someone else?

2009-07-06T14:05:00.003-04:00

Moving Offices, again

As I pack up my office for yet another move to a temporary office (my 7th office) and, ultimately to my brand new office (my 8th office), I am left to ponder movies. You have seen the segments where disgraced employees are escorted out of the building. Or, in other cases, people who have quit walk out of the office. Inevitably, they carry one file box with a few items including: a picture frame, a coffee mug, maybe a pennant for their favourite baseball team. That's it. It's always the same. I'd need a small van. Seriously.

In three years, I will again move to a new office. It's a fact, kids.

2009-07-02T12:47:00.006-04:00

Go to Hell Purolator Courier

Just to review, I have already posted about an infuriating encounter with Purolator Courier. So, just to prove that this was not an isolated incident, I can tell you about a recent event.

Because I choose a different MacBook configuration from the standard, I had to order via the online Apple Canada Store. You know what this means: couriers. I purchased two pieces of equipment, which means, they are sending two packages via two separate couriers: the much-hated Purolator and the much-hated UPS. Does that make any sense? So, here's the rundown:

Monday: Note left on my door saying delivery was attempted and informing me that I had to pick up my package up at 800 Kipling Avenue, which is miles and miles from where I live.

Monday: I call and insist on a redelivery. I scheduled that and got a confirmation number, after being transferred to someone who knew what they were doing. In truth, I had this nagging feeling that the package would never arrive, given my history with Purolator.

Wednesday was a holiday in Canada, so it was scheduled for Thursday.

Thursday: part way through Thursday morning, I decide to track my package. Guess what? It is waiting for pick-up at the depot at 800 Kipling Avenue, which is miles and miles from my house. It never made it back on a truck.

The dude on the phone was absolutely no help. All he could say was that the package would not be delivered today. Again, I ask, how can Purolator call itself a courier company? They don't really deliver anything, do they? They make one lame attempt and then make the people waiting do all of the work. Purolator is useless. And, if you don't believe me, just Google "Purolator sucks" and see what comes up.

2009-06-26T20:12:00.002-04:00

RIP

Michael Jackson: I never liked your music. I have never owned any of your music and I never will. The Jackson 5 were OK, though. They had some soul. The single glove never bothered me very much, nor did the pajamas. I'd were pajamas in public if I could get away with it, and maybe even a mask. Why not? I was more confused with ever-changing shape of your face, especially your nose. Why the ski jump at the end? I'd go for something a little more subdued if I were in the market for a new nose. More likely, I'd got for a Tycho Brahe kind of nose.

Ed McMahon: Mr. Sidekick, RIP. I never won the Sweepstakes, not that I tried: the damn thing was way too complicated. I am still not sure if you were funny. My gut says no. It also tells me that you fell short of your potential. Hank Kingsley is the man! Oh yeah, Jeffrey Tambor out-Ed-ed you, my friend. I hope you enjoy showing up unexpectedly at people's houses with big cheques in Heaven.

Farrah Fawcett: You will always be Farrah Fawcett-Majors to me. Damn, I was jealous of the Six Million Dollar Man. He had an action-packed TV show, a hot wife, and action figures in his likeness. And then what? The Fall Guy? A failed film career? I have to wonder if things would have been different had you stayed together. I don't blame you though: he's kind of an ugly man, after all.