Overrated, part 2 of 10

(See: part 1)

Welcome to part two of my whimsical countdown of the most overrated stars in music. As I said in the first post, I am excluding those talentless acts that are known to stink, like Jacko the Whacko, etc. And now, number 9....

9) Billy Joel - This had to be expected, coming after Elton John at number 10. In some respects, the Piano Man is a poor man's Elton. They have so much in common, they even toured together. But, I believe that Elton is a far superior pianist and his songs are far more musical.

They share an uncanny ability to write some serious duds. In Billy's case, one only has to think of Only the Good Die Young, Big Shot, and Just the Way You Are, She's Always a Woman, the ridiculous Uptown Girl, and many more! On the plus side, Joel composed Allentown, clearly his best song, both in musical style and message. Well, that's just my opinion.

I couldn't help thinking about Billy on Tuesday, when I dropped into a record store. The dude next to me was purchasing some sort of special edition of The Stranger. Why would anyone do that? I wondered. True, there was a moment in my life when I was momentarily interested in his music, but that faded and all that remains in one piece of vinyl. I will sell if for the best offer.

The good news is that Billy retired in 1993. The bad news is that he still tours and pumps out a series of greatest hits CDs. The even worse news is his foray into "classical" music. I guess he thinks he's Paul McCartney. Joel had considerable "help" in composing the pieces on Fantasies & Delusions, so I am not sure if it even qualifies as a Billy Joel album. On the other hand, the album lives up to it's name. Others have been harsher in their criticisms. Just read the one star reviews at Amazon and you'll see what I mean.



What's the matter with the songs he's singin'
Can't you tell that they're pretty lame
After listenin' to a couple albums
Well, they all start to sound the same

So he tried to change his musical style
He tossed all his ballads in the circular file
Then he found the punk sound
Breakin' ground all around
It's still Billy Joel to me

What's the matter with the tune he's writin'
Well, you know it's gonna be a smash
It's so nice when you're a big name artist
Doesn't matter if it sounds like trash

Now everybody thinks the new wave is super
Just ask Linda Ronstadt or even Alice Cooper
It's a big hit, isn't it
Even if it's a piece of junk
It's still Billy Joel to me

Woah, it doesn't matter what the critics say about him
'Cause he doesn't worry how they feel
When you're record's sellin' millions and it's goin' triple platinum
You don't worry 'bout your next meal
'Cause money is no big deal

Maybe he should dye his hair bright pink
And stick a safety pin through his cheeks
Then he'd really fit the new wave image
But he couldn't sit down for weeks

Don't you know about the record business, honey
You gotta be trendy if you wanna make some money
Now everybody's sayin' that he sure sounds funny
But it's still Billy Joel to me

All right, Alfred
Ooooooh

I can hardly wait 'til his next album
Well, I'll bet it's gonna be the rage
Buy a ticket to his next big concert
Well, I wonder what he'll do on stage

It might be disco and it might be the blues
Or maybe even somethin' like the B-52's
Just a handclap, finger snap
Even if it's mindless pap
It's still Billy Joel to me

Everybody's sayin' that he sure sounds funny
But it's still Billy Joel to me

See: part 3

Overrated, part 1 of 10

I once wrote about what I thought was the worst song of all time. I could produce a huge list of sucky bands and singers without any trouble. A sample list would include such "artists" as Michael Jackson, Madonna, Mariah Carey, Whitney Houston, George Michael, Culture Club, Duran Duran, Celine Dion, Spice Girls, Backstreet Boys, ABBA, Britney Spears, etc. That would be easy and pointless because everyone knows they are all talentless. I know you agree with me :-)

What would be better than that is a list of bands or singers that seem to get some critical acclaim but suck in reality. I came up with ten, just like Letterman.

10) Elton John - I am willing to admit that I was a fan of Reginald Kenneth Dwight when I was about 10 years old. I had some 45 RPM records and a few albums. In truth, there are a very small number of Elton John songs that I can still listen to. These include Funeral for A Friend, Levon (his finest composition), and Tiny Dancer, for example.

I even enjoyed watching him on Inside the Actor's Studio. But, the music has never done anything for me for a long long time. I am not sure when it all started to go so wrong for him, musically, but Sasson Says so Much didn't help matters. And, his reworking of Goodbye Norma Jean was simply embarrassing.

If you like him, I'd like to know why.

Read part two.

Pee Mobile

I've been thinking a lot about alternative energy recently, given the skyrocketing price of Light Sweet Crude. I am happy that alternative forms of energy are getting serious attention, but I am dismayed by the direction some of the trends are taking. I really think that we should be investing in clean energy, but this seems not to be happening.

Electric power is not clean. It is often manufactured by burning coal or by controlled nuclear reactions. Neither of these are clean sources of power. Until we have figured out what to do with the radioactive waste, and I don't mean burying it in the Canadian Shield, we shouldn't be using the technology. I realize that some electricity is generated by other means, like hydro electric power, but this is fraught with serious problems. One only has to look as far as the Three Gorges Dam or the destruction of the pacific salmon fisheries for evidence.

Ethanol is not clean either, and it could better be used for food. After all, there is an international food crisis. And then there is the issue of how much carbon must be used to produce ethanol. It makes more sense to me to use agricultural byproducts rather than food itself, so I am sort of happy that the Ontario Government has invested $7.5 million in project (at the University of Western Ontario) to turn things like corn husks and manure into fuel and biogas. Still, I wouldn't describe this as clean energy.

There is lots of conflicting information surrounding various water-powered cars, like those from Denny Klein or Stan Meyer - who was not poisoned, despite the rampant conspiracy theories - or the Genepax car. This still seems to be a dream, and I wonder what impact it would have on our water supplies. But, such an invention would be a step in the right direction. In my opinion, what we need is a car that runs on urine. It would give fill 'er up a whole new meaning.

There are lots of hits on Google for this topic, but I am not convinced that such an invention is ready. Urine certainly qualifies as a renewable resource. I guess we'll have to carefully study the emissions - of the car that is. It would also lead to other sources of revenue. Instead of finding a public washroom, you could ask someone if they require a fill up. I would sell mine for an affordable 25 cents per litre.

Meme (borrowed from Kate)

We had a power failure this AM, so I opted for an easy meme now that we are back online.

1.What is in the back of your car? - I don't have a car. In the back of the last one, you would find a snow brush and a box of tissues. The trunk was a different story.

2.What color is your toothbrush? - Grey, white, and blue.

3.Name one person who made you smile today. - A colleague who made a joke about the power failure.

4.What were you doing at 8:00 AM? - Sleeping :-)

5.What were you doing 45 minutes ago? - Working an a very short article for a newsletter.

6.What is your favorite candy? - Dark chocolate, but I am not sure it qualifies as candy: it is so much more than that. It's a lifestyle, really.

7.What is the last thing you said aloud? - "I don't think so."

8.What is the best ice cream flavor? - I don't eat ice cream, but I like Lemon sorbet. In my ice cream eating says, it would have been French Vanilla.

9.What is the last thing you had to drink? - Water.

10.What are you wearing right now? - A short sleeve button-down shirt with a pair of olive-coloured pants and black skate board shoes.

11.What is the last thing you ate? - A bowl of gluten-free corn flakes with soy milk.

12.Have you bought any new clothes this week? - No, but I really need to.

13.When was the last time you ran? - Last night at about 10:30 PM.

14.What was the last sporting event you watched? - The gentlemen's final at Wimbledon.

15.Ever go camping? - Yes. This was my family's annual vacation, but as I have said before, never take me camping.

16.Do you have a tan? - Just a bit on my arms and back of my neck.

17.Do you take vitamins daily? - Never. I don't believe in vitamins.

18.Do you go to church? - Never. I was dragged a few times over the years. I am not a fan of organized religion.

19.Do you like Chinese food more than pizza? - No, but I eat neither.

20.Do you drink your soda with a straw? - I hate straws.

21.Are you someone’s best friend? - I hope so?

22.What are you doing tomorrow? - Working.

23.Where is your dad? - At home, I suppose. He is recovering from some radiation treatments.

24.Can you say the alphabet backwards? - I have never tried, but I'd like to believe that I can, if only I had the brain energy.

25.Do you have a maid service clean your home? - How ridiculous. Wait, are there still French maids?

26.Do you have a favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time? - No.

27.What color is your car? - Don't have one, but old ones were - in order - brown, champagne, red, red.

28.How do you like your popcorn? - I rarely eat it, but perhaps with salt and maple syrup.

29.How did you get your worst scar? - It's on my right shin and I got it from falling from a ladder while painting the shutters of a hotel.

30.Look to your left. What do you see? - A vintage desk chair covered with turquoise leather.

31.What color is your watch? - White face, silver metal, and a black leather band that needs replacing, which is why I haven't worn it in about two years.

32.What do you think of when you think of Australia? - Funnel web spiders, dung beetles, surfing, sun hats, snakes, crocodiles, jelly fish, sharks, koala bears, The Dreaming.

33.Do you use chap stick? - Not once in my whole life, but I use chop sticks.

34.Do you have a dog? - No.

35.Last person you talked to on the phone? - A systems colleague.

36.Have you met anyone famous? - Yes: see point 5 in this post.

37. Any plans today? - Work, grocery shopping, buy the new Beck album.

38.How many states have you lived in? - Zero.

39.Do you dye your hair? - No. Why would I do that? Wait - maybe blond would be good...or red.

40.Do you like cats? -Yes, but I am allergic to the little bastards.

In Support of Dr. Henry Morgentaler

I wholeheartedly approve of the decision to award the Order of Canada to Dr. Henry Morgentaler. Some people have spoken out in opposition to this award, among them the Catholic Church and the reactionary Canada Family Action Coalition (CFAC).

Let's be clear on what the CFAC stands for. The CFAC is a homophobic, right wing club that is opposed to gay rights, same-sex marriage, and the rights of women. It has spoken out against Gardasil. It supports Bill C-10! CFAC is a collection of reactionary bible freaks trying to promote its religious agendas by hiding them in popular political issues, especially financial ones, such as taxation reform.

Here is an excerpt from Brian Rushfeldt spewing hatred against gays (you'll have to excuse the grammatical errors and ponderous writing in this segment. I've discovered that these people can't form a proper sentence half of the time):

"It is not respectful of diversity when I or others “like me”, whom oppose a certain sexual behavior are labeled, attacked. That sexual behavior I refer to happens to be very unnatural and in fact is known to spread a tremendous amount of diseases. But for me to oppose IT gains me and those “like me” reputations of bigot, homophobe, hateful, narrow minded, intolerant, fascist, Taliban and other nasty verbs and adjectives that I will not repeat. In fact my opposition to sodomy caused one person to send me, unsolicited, in an email (which the police are investigating), graphic images of two men sodomizing each other. The images reinforce the fact that it is an unnatural, unclean and unhealthy act upon another human being. This is not even an opinion , it is scientific fact in the 2000s. To those who disagree, I say get into the “progressive” learning curve and out of the stone age."

Thank you, Brian, for that meandering piece of garbage that simply promotes hatred. In another document, the CFCA refers to Svend Robinson as a "bisexual activist." Why can't he just be an activist? Go to the CFCA website, and you will discover lots of hatred, right wing propaganda, so-called Christian values, and grievous errors in syntax.

But, I am straying off topic, so let me get back to the point. Dr Morgentaler has been fighting for the rights of women for more than 40 years. He served time in prison defending the rights of women. He fought for the rights of women with great personal sacrifice. It's about time he was recognized for his achievements.

I am certain that the Governor-General will not give in to the religious fanatics. It's about time that Morgentaler was honored for his work. Let's keep the right wing hands off of his award.

A Play in Two Acts

SCENE ONE

(Thursday, July 3rd, 2008. Zydeco Fish, wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans, sits in his office. He reluctantly picks up his black office telephone and dials the phone.)

RECEPTIONIST

Good morning, [states name of company]. May I help you?

ZYDECO FISH

Hello. I am calling from _____ in Toronto. We ordered some _____ from you some time last year, and we need to re-order.

RECEPTIONIST

Thank you. I will have to transfer your call.

ZYDECO FISH

OK. Thank you.

(Zydeco Fish shifts is his chair, listening to the sounds of the phone being transferred. He glances at the clock and looks visibly disturbed that it is still morning. He picks up the apple on his desk and puts it down again.)

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

Hello?

ZYDECO FISH

Hello. I am calling from _____ in Toronto. We ordered some _____ from your company some time last year, and we need to order some more.

RECEPTIONIST

Oh, I am sorry. That didn't work. Let me try transferring you again.

ZYDECO FISH

OK. Thank you.

(Zydeco Fish rolls his eyes, shifts is his chair, listening to the sounds of the phone being transferred. He picks up the nectarine and examines it. He puts it back down, and looks up at the clock. He watches a colleague sit down at the scanner just outside of his office.)

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

Hello?

ZYDECO FISH

Hello. I am calling from _____ in Toronto. We ordered some _____ from you some time last year, and we need to make a new order.

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

I'm sorry but I have no idea what you are talking about.

ZYDECO FISH

Oh, I guess I was transferred to the wrong person. I will call her back. Goodbye.

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

Goodbye

(Zydeco Fish presses the release button on the phone and redials. He slouches a bit in his chair.)

RECEPTIONIST

Good morning, [states name of company]. May I help you?

ZYDECO FISH

Oh, hi. I just spoke with you a moment ago and you transferred me to someone who has no idea what I am talking about.

RECEPTIONIST

Oh, well, let me try again.

ZYDECO FISH

OK. Thanks.

(Zydeco Fish shifts is his chair, listening to the sound of the receptionist shuffle paper or drop something. He hears the familiar noise of the phone being transferred again. He brushes a couple of random hairs from his t-shirt. He toggles to his Flickr account to see if there are any new comments. He refreshes his email window. He clicks on Scrabulous in Facebook, but his two opponents haven't taken their turns yet.)

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

Hello?

ZYDECO FISH

Hello. I am calling from _____ in Toronto. We ordered some _____ from you some time last year, and we need to order a new batch.

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

I'm sorry but I have no idea what you are talking about.

ZYDECO FISH

Really?

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

This is the Human Resources Department.

ZYDECO FISH

It is? Your receptionist transferred me to you. Why would she do that?

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

I have no idea.

ZYDECO FISH

I guess I will just call her back.

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

Sorry about that.

ZYDECO FISH

No problem. Goodbye.

(Zydeco Fish presses the release button on his phone and redials. As he waits, he types www.msnbc.com and clicks on the Tech and Science link. He opens the article about Voyager 2, launched 30 years ago, which has reached the Termination Shock.)

RECEPTIONIST

Good morning, [states name of company]. May I help you?

ZYDECO FISH

Hi. I have spoken with you a couple of times just now, trying to order some ____. No one seems to have any idea what I am talking about. The last time, you transferred me to the Human Resources Department and the person I spoke with couldn't figure out why.

RECEPTIONIST

I thought that she would know who you should be speaking with. I am just filling in today. Can I put you on hold for a moment?

ZYDECO FISH

Why not?

(Zydeco Fish waits. He looks at the clock. The red voice mail light on his phone has lit up.)

RECEPTIONIST

OK. Let me transfer you.

ZYDECO FISH

Thank you.

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

Hello?

ZYDECO FISH

Oh, hello. I am calling from _____ in Toronto. We ordered some _____ from you some time last year, and we need to order more.

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

I'm sorry, but I don't know what you are talking about. Where are you trying to call?

ZYDECO FISH

Mississauga...from Toronto.

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

But where in Mississauga.

ZYDECO FISH

Your office at ____ ____ Parkway.

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

But, you are speaking with someone in Halifax right now.

ZYDECO FISH

That's odd. Your receptionist transferred me to you.

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

We don't have a receptionist.

ZYDECO FISH

You don't have a receptionist? Then who transferred me to you?

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

I don't know.

ZYDECO FISH

So, you can't help me?

UNIDENTIFIED PERSON

No. I have no idea who you should be speaking with.

ZYDECO FISH

Alright. Thanks for your help.

(Zydeco Fish hangs up the phone, picks up the apple and takes a bite. He looks disappointed with the apple.)

ACT TWO

(Friday, July 4th, 2008. Zydeco Fish, wearing a brownish t-shirt and blue jeans, sits in his office. He reluctantly picks up his black office telephone and dials the phone.)

RECEPTIONIST

Good morning, [states name of company]. May I help you?

ZYDECO FISH

Hi. I called yesterday trying to order some _____. I was never able to speak with anyone who could help me.

RECEPTIONIST

I don't know who to transfer you to. I can't help you.

ZYDECO FISH

Does your company sell ____?

RECEPTIONIST

I really don't know.

ZYDECO FISH

Wow, this is a very strange company.

RECEPTIONIST

Can I help you with anything else?

ZYDECO FISH

You haven't helped me with this.

RECEPTIONIST

I'm sorry. I have no information about this.

ZYDECO FISH

Alright... Goodbye.

(Zydeco Fish hangs up without waiting for a reply.)

FADE OUT:

THE END

I'm Back, Baby I'm Back

Here's the best story from my weekend trip to Rural, Ontario to visit certain family members. While in the nursing home where my mother lives (probably for the rest of her life), my daughter decided to play the piano in the lounge area. Just then, an aged woman ambled in and said: "how wonderful." My son was trying his best to interfere with his sister's piano recital, but the old woman repeated her refrain: "how wonderful, how wonderful" even as the protests commenced and the voices of the children became louder and louder.

She went on: "I was a school teacher." I felt a bit sad for her, but also was happy that these two children, now getting seriously irritated with one another over piano access, brought her some joy. While my daughter played a lovely rendition of Doe, a deer, a female deer, the ancient women found a seat, spread out a large absorbent pad (I suppose in the event of spontaneous incontinence), had a seat, and stared out the window.

While chatting with my sister and my mother, I heard snippets of the babble coming from the old lady, such as: "a school teacher...lovely, I was a school teacher..." I suppose she had gotten lost in her reminiscences. Seconds later, without any warning, she let out a loud "bitch!"

The good news is that this caused my mother to laugh. "What's she going on about now?" my mother asked. "She's a crazy one." I laughed a bit too, and then wondered if she had been my one of my school teachers, but decided against the possibility.

***

I feel like I have been away from work for a week, mostly because I have. I was at a conference last week (sorry, no review for you today, or ever, if you are lucky). On Monday, when I should have been enjoying an extra long weekend, thanks to Canada Day falling on a Tuesday, I was at an appointment with a retinal specialist, who confirmed that I have two "potentially dangerous" retinal tears. I think half of Toronto was in his office that day. He lasered one tear after a wait with dozens of others needing similar treatments. I go back in three weeks for another laser weld job.

I have spent most of today in meetings, which is not a good thing.

Feeling Poor in Forest Hill

I am younger that this Vice President. I am slimmer and better looking too. My hair is more lustrous. Oh, and I am taller ... and not so pale. He is as pale as Dracula's ass, if you ask me. And that accent made me think of Transylvania, until I was corrected. But, he is a nice guy with a beautiful house in Forest Hill, one of Toronto's wealthiest neighbourhoods, after The Bridal Path (TAFKAP's former 'hood) and Rosedale. I felt impoverished after the visit. The welcoming glass of Prosecco, the open bar, the pool, the caterers, the open bar, the kitchen, the open bar, the meticulously manicured lawn, the .... OK, I will stop listing the things I covet. Did I mention that I am younger and far more handsome?

Of course, I was under-dressed. Who could have anticipated all of those suits? I was in jeans. I did have a jacket, a vintage black suit jacket made in Fredericton, New Brunswick, of all places. Aren't all clothes now made off-shore? Are there any Canadian manufacturers of clothing left? Eventually, I slipped on the jacket, even though the temperature argued against such a move, but doing so made me feel less under-dressed, but not inconspicuous. After all, I had to decline all of the hors d'oeuvres as none seemed to be gluten-free. That must have aroused suspicion and I think the caterers began to wonder. The cold Prosecco was a good antidote to the heat, but then I had to cycle home, through Forest Hill Village, but at least it was all downhill from Forest Hill (and by that I mean the down slope of a hill, but it could equally suggest that I was on the way to an inferior or worse condition).

For the rest of this week, I will be at a conference. In fact, I am at the conference right now, doing all manner of conferency things. It looks to be a good conference, but I will be the judge of that.

Glossary of a Three-Year-Old

Sunscream - the cream applied to one's body in order to avoid sun burn and, possibly, skin cancer.

Porkchoppers - a cut of meat cut at a right angle to the spine of the swine, sometimes containing a rib bone or segment of a vertebra. Alternately, pigs with extraordinarily long front legs. These pigs look much like radically-customized motorcycles, with stretched front forks.

Stuff

1) I have a serious case of writer's block. I am supposed to be writing a brief article about a recent event sponsored by an organization to which I belong. I have been sitting on it for too long now, and I think I am stuck.

2) Ahoy, mateys, there still be bilge-sucking, sons-of-biscuit-eating, scurvy dog pirates on the high seas. Aha! Maybe I can write the article in pirate speak?

3) I am going to another conference later in the week (Wednesday to Friday). It conflicts with another conference that I wanted to go to, so that sucks. But, this conference should actually be a good one.

4) Next Monday, I have to see a retinal specialist because I have a "suspect retinal tear." The good news is that a laser can weld it closed, if this is what it proves to be, but it sounds painful. I am also on the hunt for new lunettes.

Another boring post, brought to you by the folks at Writer's Block.

Moving on Up

The good news just keeps rolling in. Today, I received my invitation from Matthew Johnson to be included in the "Honor Edition" of 2008-2009 edition of Who's Who! Ring the bells. I am famous indeed. Can the book deal/starring role/business opportunities be far behind? I think yes.

Johnson claims that "There is no cost to be included." The lying bastard if full of shit. Madison Who's Who is a vanity press, a vanity press that tries to rope you in with this glorious opportunity, and then they pressure you to bust out the AMEX. Oddly, the email contains a footer that states: "Madison Who's Who is not associated or affiliated with Marquis Who's Who or any other Who's Who." In other words, they stole the name too. Imagine trying to pull off this scam with a librarian! The jerks.

Of course, I confirmed all of this. It seems that lots of people have been offered a not-so-free listing in the upcoming edition. The scam has been reported to the FDIC. If you want shell out cash for a leather-bound book with your name in it, go right ahead. You might also be interested in the National Library of Poetry scam...I mean contest...too.

More on The War on Photography

And this is an even scarier example of what is going on in the USA:

The War on Photography (or, you can't photograph this and you can't photograph that)

I love the article Are photographers really a threat? Bruce Schneier of the Guardian sums up the ridiculous assaults on the rights of photographers by arguing:

The 9/11 terrorists didn't photograph anything. Nor did the London transport bombers, the Madrid bombers, or the liquid bombers arrested in 2006. Timothy McVeigh didn't photograph the Oklahoma City Federal Building. The Unabomber didn't photograph anything; neither did shoe-bomber Richard Reid. Photographs aren't being found amongst the papers of Palestinian suicide bombers. The IRA wasn't known for its photography. Even those manufactured terrorist plots that the US government likes to talk about -- the Ft. Dix terrorists, the JFK airport bombers, the Miami 7, the Lackawanna 6 -- no photography.

Indeed, and yet all over the west, photographers and normal citizens taking photos and videos in public spaces are being harassed by security and police. If you have 6 minutes to spare, have a look at this video of British police harassing a man for taking a video on public property:


And, it's not just in the UK. Photographers and tourists are routinely hassled in places like Washington DC, where there is a huge list of buildings that one is not permitted to photograph - even when standing on public property. Marc Fisher has written an interesting piece about that. The comments are interesting too. Americans have the right to bear arms, and maybe it's time to add the right to bear cameras to the constitution.

In Toronto, I have read about the stories of Toronto Flickr-types being confronted by security from the American Consulate for taking photos in the area, even when standing on public property. What is really perplexing is that there are photos of the US Consulate on the web (which can be found using a Google image search), not to mention satellite views using Google Earth.

And then there's this: Police appeal for bombing footage (!) First, they harass people for taking photos, and then they want the people to hand over the photos they didn't want you to take in the first place! This is ridonkulous.

So far, I have not been harassed, but I will be sure to mention the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms when it happens.

Planet Terror

In my opinion, Planet Terror only started to get going when Rose McGowan (Cherry Darling) got her machine gun leg, more than halfway through the film. I have no idea how she managed to pull the trigger; in fact, no triggering device was apparent, to me anyway. That didn't stop her from blasting the infected zombie-like dudes to smithereens with lots and lots of blood splatter.

I suppose if you are trying to emulate a grade b film, you have to go for the outrageous gore factor. Heads get blown off; one man's genitals melt away into a pool of bloody flesh; Cherry loses a leg; a helicopter is used to julienne some unfortunate diseased people (who look fairly disgusting). And, there is enough bad dialogue to please the most demanding b movie enthusiasts out there.

Rodriguez even tried to approximate the look and sound of a slightly beat up film. And so, we have blips and pops in the soundtrack, visible lines on the image to replicate a film that had been shown about 4000 times. And then there is the sound, the slightly muffled sound. I appreciate the effort, but I found this realistic homage to be very irritating. It was like sitting in an ancient review cinema that has only two speakers and one can barely discern what is being said. Beat up the film - yes. Destroy the sound - no, no, no.

Thanks to HMV's deals-of-the-day, I got my copy (double disc) for $6.99. It's essentially the price of a rental, so it was a good deal. I also picked up Death Proof for the same price, but have yet to screen it. I'll let you know what I think of it.

Sometimes,

all I do is go to meetings, like today, where I have meetings from 11:00 until 5:00. I'll be able to squeeze in lunch, but, you know, meetings are a necessary evil, right?

“Meetings are indispensable when you don't want to do anything.”
-John Kenneth Galbraith

“Meetings are an addictive, highly self-indulgent activity that corporations and other large organizations habitually engage in only because they cannot masturbate”
-Dave Barry

“People who enjoy meetings should not be in charge of anything.”
- Thomas Sowell

"Whoever invented the meeting must have had Hollywood in mind. I think they should consider giving Oscars for meetings: Best Meeting of the Year, Best Supporting Meeting, Best Meeting Based on Material from Another Meeting."
- William Goldman

"I've searched all the parks in all the cities and found no statues of committees."
- Gilbert K. Chesterton

Golf

I happened to catch a bit of the US Open on TV on Sunday. My opinion of golf has improved over the years, such that I am not terribly bored when watching it. I am not sure that I will run out and buy clubs, but you never know. Curling, if you ask me, is much more engaging to watch.

My question of the day is, why would anyone watch golf in person? It's one of those sports that is massively improved by TV, like the marathon of even speed walking, though that sport makes me laugh.

Now, I must get back to work after this brief post-weekend post.

Bill C-61 will Make most of us Criminals

I didn't think it was possible, but I hate the Conservative party even more now after the introduction of a regressive American-style copyright bill. I don't even know where to start with this damn bill. It simply sucks.

Imagine fining someone $20,000 for unlocking a cell phone! It's ludicrous. Adding a song from your CD to your kid's MP3 player will make you a criminal. Watching an out-of-region DVD will make you a criminal! If you watch a DVD on a Linux system, you will be a criminal. Do you have some old TV shows on VHS that you may or may never watch again? That collection will be illegal. Format shifting will be illegal.

The bill will criminalize the act of making a mixed tape (er...CD) and giving it away to, say, your girlfriend. I know this might sound like a Hi Fidelity moment, but this is an important life stage for many boys and men. It's part of the courtship ritual. The government has no right to interfere in that. Beside, we already pay a levy on blank media to cover such usage, so in the future, we will be paying a levy to cover an illegal activity!

CLA (the Canadian Library Association) and CAUT (the Canadian Association of University Teachers) have spoken out against this bill because it impedes access to electronic resources required for teaching and research and is a backlash against the victory won in the Supreme Court of Canada in the case between the Law Society of Upper Canada, the Ontario Bar Association, and CCH Canadian.

Michael Geist's blog is a good source of info, and there's a great discussion here.

Mamma Mia!

I will confess right now that I hate ABBA passionately, mostly because my dad was a huge fan and I had to endure hours and hours of Mamma Mia. It scarred me deeply. John McCain has announced his love of the not-so-Fab Four from Sweden.

Evidently he said: "You're a no-class guy if you like ABBA...I'm not embarrassed to say that I like ABBA." He also said that he would use ABBA music in every White House elevator, which is reason enough to decline any invitations I might get to the House of the President.

While digging into my ABBA memories, I discovered that there is a perfect song for McCain: I'm a Marionette. It's perfect for the McBush.

You're so free
That's what everybody's telling me
Yet I feel I'm like an outward-bound, pushed around, refugee
Something's wrong, got a feeling that I don't belong
As if I have come from outer space, out of place, like King Kong

I'm a marionette, just a marionette, pull the string
I'm a marionette, everybody's pet, just as long as I sing
I'm a marionette, see my pirouette, 'round and 'round
I'm a marionette, I'm a marionette, just a silly old clown

Like a doll, like a puppet with no will at all
And somebody taught me how to talk, how to walk, how to fall

Can't complain, I've got no-one but myself to blame
Something's happening I can't control, lost my hold, it's insane

I'm a marionette, just a marionette, pull the string
I'm a marionette, everybody's pet, just as long as I sing
I'm a marionette, see my pirouette, 'round and 'round
I'm a marionette, I'm a marionette, just a silly old clown

Look this way, just a little smile, is what they say
You look better on the photograph if you laugh, that's okay!!

I'm a marionette, just a marionette, pull the string
I'm a marionette, everybody's pet, just as long as I sing
I'm a marionette, see my pirouette, 'round and 'round
I'm a marionette, I'm a marionette, just a silly old clown

You're so free
That's what everybody's telling me
Yet I feel I'm like an outward-bound, pushed around, refugee

Ah, it's so perfect. And now, I am off for what I think is a half day meeting :-(

Baby Name Ideas

Apparently, more than 4000 Chinese children have been named Aoyun in the last 15 years. I know, that probably doesn't sound very interesting but Aoyun means Olympic Games. How would you like to be named that? I guess it's better than being named after the Pan Am Games.

There's more. Other popular names are Defend China, Space Travel, and Civilization. The latter is the name of almost 300,000 people! You have to love a nation that will take names from just about anything.

Which reminds me: I strongly believe that everyone ought to be given a provisional name by their parents, with the option of changing it when they reach the age of 18. At that point, you could change it without question to something that you really like, something good, like Aloysius or Ezekiel.

Bin City

I am still adjusting to the HUGE recycling bin the city dropped at the house about a month ago. It's so big, it takes an entire month to fill it, and it's not even the biggest bin available! I can barely squeeze it between the houses to get it out of view. I have to lean it almost flat against the ground in two places, give it a little lift a few inches further along to avoid the outdoor faucet, and finally execute a nice counterclockwise swirl. With some coaxing, I can just squeeze her in.

I really hate the look of all of these bins all over the place, in front yards, on porches, etc. If you ask me, the City had uglified Toronto. I am all for recycling, composting, and waste diversion, but I have to think that there are better means than these enormous bins.

Soon, phase two of bin madness will be thrust upon us. Look at the size of the largest bin! It's almost as big as the model. But, I see several good uses for a bin that large:

1) use it to dispose of your couch potato husband
2) toss in your irritating and/or nosy neighbour(s)
3) you could probably fit four or five screaming children in there (depending on their ages)

In other words, the largest bin is a great body-disposal system.

In summary, I am not entirely happy with these bins, even if I can agree with the intended outcome. Now, I just have to wait and see if someone steals them.

"Lou Reed got married and didn't invite me. I mean is it because he thought I'd bring too many people? I don't get it. He could have at least called. I mean he's doing so great. Why doesn't he call me?"

'Tis true, the King of New York City got married to Laurie Anderson on April 12. It's also true that he didn't invite me. I'll award bonus points if you can identify the source of that quote without consulting with Google or any other search engine. Just off the top of your head, please.

Disco Mystic has always confused me. I think I understand Metal Machine Music well enough, but Disco Mystic is perplexing. I mean, I think it's awesome, maybe one of Reed's best compositions. Maybe it's just 'cause I am a fan of repetitive music. but, I have always wondered if it is a joke. Is it?

As a whole, The Bells is way better than Growing up in Public - the mediocre follow-up that I ignore of my CD shelves - but far worse than the Blue Mask. Oh yeah, Under the Bottle, Waves of Fear, and the title track (perhaps my fav Lou Reed song of all time) are simply awesome. Well, if you like serious electric guitar with some feedback mixed in with a few softer tunes.

Why am I discussing Lou Reed, you might ask? Well, I realized that I haven't yet picked up Hudson River Wind Meditations, which is unusual but understandable considering it's an import ($$$). And then there is the photography. Yes, Lou is a photographer. Did you know that? We are simpatico.

BTW, this is an interesting post about the Bells, here.

Of course, you'll have to be a fan...

Sue Me

I don't use Classmates, for many reasons, but mostly because I am on Facebook (which is free) and I have heard many of the horror stories about Classmates auto-renewing subscriptions without permission. Anyway, I had to laugh at the terms of service at Classmates:

7) "You cannot link to our Website without our prior written consent."

You know, I really hate that. The world wide web is based on the principle of the hyperlinking of hypertext documents. If you don't want anyone to link to your site, get off the web! Go home now and leave the web to mature adults.

A no-linking policy sounds to me like a good method of restricting reviews and negative press. For instance, a list of dumb-ass websites would lose its punch if there were no links to the sites being reviewed. For example "Classmates sucks" has less of an impact than "Classmates sucks," right? You know I am right.

It's like when news sites reported that a nude photo of Vanessa Hudgens had surfaced on the web, but they didn't provide a link. That is only half the story. That, my friends, is irresponsible journalism. We all had to do the work finding the photo ourselves. News sites ought to be obligated to link to the thing they are talking about, be it Britney Spears without panties or Tom Cruise being all scientology-crazy, for example.

So, my point is that Classmates can sue me, or try to, but they'll never win.

P.S. I am loving this scheduled post feature. I wrote this on Tuesday and it will auto-magically get published at the designated time. That is awesome.

The Hollywood Librarian

I was so looking forward to The Hollywood Librarian, a feature-length film that presents itself as "a look at librarians through film." This movie has nothing to do with Hollywood, and it is certainly not a look at librarians through film. It is a misnamed, poorly edited, meandering hodge podge of disjointed vignettes that fails to cohere. Sure, there are occasional snippets of semi-famous movie scenes featuring librarians, but these are incidental and generally pass without comment, as if they are simply filler.

Evidently, Anne Seidl spent five years making this film, the first feature-length film about librarians, if you exclude Midnight Librarians ("Ever wonder what librarians do after hours when they remove their glasses, lose the orthopedic shoes and let their hair hang down?" ...). While I think many librarians will look favorably upon this film, I would be astonished if the general public shows any interest in it.

I could watch a well-executed documentary on just about any topic (I loved March of the Penguins, Crumb, Super Size Me, Best in Show, but I think I will draw the line at Nick Nolte: No Exit). The only thing that kept me watching The Hollywood Librarian is the fact that I am a librarian, but that didn't stop me from checking my watch every few minutes and wondering how much time was left. I'll never get that time back.

Some day, I will make a documentary about Librarians and I guarantee you that there will be nudity.

Obama

Boy, Hilary Clinton really messed that up. It was her campaign to lose, and she did just that, not that I care, really. At the outset, I merely hoped that the Democratic party would nominate someone who could defeat the Republican nominee, who, in this case, is an old man who loves war. Why elect someone who wants to bomb Iran?

Electing John McCain is just as bad as electing George Bush. Please don't do that. This is a chance to undo the damage caused by eight years of idiocy. The war against terror started off well enough. Even I supported the action in Afghanistan, but then it went off the rails at the hands of lying president. But, this has all been said before.

I know, some people will read this and curse the ravings of a so-called left-wing blogger. I don't define myself as a left-wing blogger, although my sympathies are clearly with the left. This may have something to do with being Canadian and our pseudo-socialist state. What most Americans call the left is really the centre in Canada.

The other thing I find astonishing is that the right denies global warming. I have even heard it referred to as the "global warming fiasco" on right-wing blogs. Is this because Al Gore (a Democrat) is the leading spokesperson for the movement to curtail pollution? Can the right wing really be that dumb?

Slow Banking

I once saw Carl Honoré speak very slowly - for almost an hour - about his book, In Praise of Slowness. I think even he acknowledged that an hour was too long, and it showed. What I took away from his talk is that some things should be slow; others, not so much.

Have you stood in line behind someone who seems to be doing a year's worth of financial transactions at the banking machine? What's up with that? There I was, waiting patiently behind an extremely disorganized woman who tried to juggle cash, bills, at least two banking cards, a plastic bag full of socks, and her purse. What was worse is that she was using one of those machines that are on the streets, right at College and Spadina. I was third in line. A person behind me bailed, deciding to head on over to College and Bathurst and take his chances over there. As usual, I made the wrong decision and waited and waited and waited.

At any supermarket, it is guaranteed that I will select the slowest line. My mere presence is enough to slow down any line. The person in front of me will argue about the price of pig feet or tripe and we end in in price check hell.

When a gust of wind came up, her cash (four or five $20 bills) went drifting down the street. Some good citizens tracked down the flying cash after she said "oh, shit" and ran after them, leaving another stack of cash and some banking cards on a ledge near the machine. She was still "logged in." When she returned, with a growing line behind her, she continued with her slow and disorganized banking.

Cards came out, new cards went in. PIN numbers were entered and re-entered. She stuffed envelopes down its throat. She withdrew cash; she seemed to put cash back in. She dropped her keys. Coins fells to the ground. The wind came up again, but she saved herself. Fifteen minutes later, she finally saw a line that had formed behind her, but this didn't make her go any faster. Fortunately, the dude in front of me gave up, leaving me next in line.

I always feel somewhat exposed when I do any banking on the street, and with good reason. Just a few days ago, police warned people to take extra precautions in Scarborough because people were being robbed at knife point at banking machines. It makes me wonder why we have any machines on the streets.

And now, I am going to slowly write a business plan. In fact, I have been slowly doing that for quite a while now, so maybe I should speed up.

Yorkville Music Walk


Last weekend, I joined the Yorkville Music Scene in the 1960s walk sponsored by Heritage Toronto:

Discover the birthplace of Canadian song. Visit the sites of famous clubs and coffeehouses like the Riverboat and the Penny Farthing and learn how stars such as Joni Mitchell and Neil Young got their start.

I was aware of some of the points highlighted by Nicholas Jennings, tour guide and author of Before the Goldrush. Throughout the tour, he showed memorabilia and some albums, passed along interesting trivia, and played some music. If you are interested in the early Toronto music scene, you might want to check this out, but I think you will have to wait until next year.

Although this tour concentrated on coffee houses in Yorkville, coffee houses existed in other parts of the city. For example, there was the Pornographic Onion Coffee House on Victoria Street:


Bruce Cockburn is in the upper right corner of this image, from 1969. I have no idea who the rest of the people are, however, but I think Nicholas would know. The guy in the lower left looks very familiar, and I think we talked about him on the tour, but since my memory is crap, I forget. If you know who any of these people are, please tell me.

Mother's Autograph Books

I have been digging through some boxes and discovered a couple of old autograph books that belonged to my mother when she was in elementary school. I think I rescued them from a fiery death years ago. They are filled with an interesting array poems - some stupid and some religious.

How about this:

[place deleted]
Jan 4, 1949

Dear ____

I love you little
I love you big
I love you like a little pig

your pal,
Florence

Which is followed by:

Jan 1st/49

Dear ____

Make us of one heart and mind
Courteous pitiful and kind
Lowly meek in thought and
Altogether like our Lord

Your Grand Dad ______

And then:

January, 24 1949,

Dear _____

All good girls love their brothers
But _____ so good has grown
That she loves other girls brothers
Far better than her own

Your friend,
Betty

In the second book, her mother wrote:

Jan 4, 1952

Dear _____

Your future lies before you
Like a sheet of driven snow,
Be careful how you step on it
For every mark will show

Your Mother

That is so like my grandmother, soon to be 89. She is so concerned with appearances, that woman.

What a Relief

One of the curious things about my job is that I have (essentially) no supervision. As faculty members, we are pretty much on our own to set our goals, get things done, anticipate, apologize, compensate, and cover our tracks. But, at this time every year, we have to submit an Annual Report. I say "have to" but it is truly optional, unless we want to get one of our pay increases.

So, we all flutter around at the last minute, compiling, writing, merging, trying to remember what it was we did last year. We add abstracts to articles published or presentations given; we add nice colour charts of instructional statistics; we make sure it is perfect and then submit two copies: one for our supervisor (the university librarian) and one for the Vice President Academic. I am almost 100% sure that the VPA does not read them, but they are stored somewhere on campus, probably in a subterranean bomb-proof vault. I keep a third copy for my ever-expanding dossier.

When I started here, I noticed that there was a great deal of secrecy regarding the content of annual reports. I found only one person who would show me hers (to make things fair, I showed her mine later). Because these reports are not shared, one is never sure if people are being entirely honest about the content. I could put something completely bogus and, most likely, no one would ever know.

So, this being the last working day of May, the end of the academic year, I am done. It is finished. It is all about accomplishment and future direction. By tomorrow, I will have forgotten what is in it.

Excerpts from my Journal (with minor improvements in syntax)

Houston, April 27, 2002

"The worst thing about this hotel and conference centre are the bathrooms. Really, it's the urinals. They are like minor toilets affixed to the wall, but they jut out about two feet. So, one must stand well back. This reduces one's privacy. Also, since they are full of water, everyone can hear how long you are urinating and how forcefully. It's really awful."

[snip]

"Walking from the Sheraton to the Galleria is a bit like walking out of an airport: it's not designed for that purpose. There are no sidewalks and the cars scream by on eight lane roads. Above, there is a raised expressway. I passed parking lot after parking lot. No one walks in Houston. [snip] After some tricky negotiations with streets and cars and walk signals that last - and I am serious here - about 5 seconds, I made it to the Galleria."

[snip]

"During the time between a session and the reception, I thought I would look around for some stores outside the Galleria. Aside from the oppressive heat and the fact that there was no easy way for pedestrians to walk away from the mall (in other words, there were no sidewalks), I discovered that there were no stores. This area is utter desolation. [snip] It must have been so odd to see pedestrians, that two taxi drivers asked me if I needed a ride while I was still in the parking lot."

[snip]

"I went into a pub-type place and asked the hostess about the menu. As I started to explain gluten, she suggested that I speak to the more experienced host. Somehow, he turned around what I said and thought that I must have wheat. He commented that I was "very specialized", and then proceeded to recommend a Monte Cristo sandwich that is deep fried in batter. I guess he figured that that ought to be enough wheat for anybody."

Houston, April 28, 2002

"The good news is that the pillow in the hotel room isn't too bad. The bad news is that the clock radio only has one volume level: ear-splitting. I had to smother it with a pillow so that the alarm wouldn't send me through the roof the next morning. The TV has two volume levels: loud and louder. The minimum volume almost blasted me out of the room. Are Texans hard of hearing?"

"Some other observations about Texans. They aren't as obese as I had expected (I had read an article in the Houston Free Press about obesity in Houstonians) and some do wear cowboy hats and boots. The first "native" I saw when I arrived at the airport was wearing a big black hat and cowboy boots. It was a sight. There was also a guy in fatigues with an automatic weapon at the metal detector."

[snip]

"Yesterday, the refreshments were Coke and cookies. I know that not everyone is a health food freak, but pop and cookies is really hitting the bottom of the barrel."

[snip]

"The longer I am here, the more I realize that this area reminds me of the Toronto airport but without the airport. The hotels, the construction, the lack of sidewalks, the lack of trees, the complete desolation is suited to an airport. I wonder why they just don't build an airport and compete the picture."

700

I have no idea why, but I like to celebrate meaningless milestones, so I thought I would take a moment to mark post number 700.

This is it.

So, here are a few things that the number 700 reminds me of:

The 700 Club (I didn't say they were good things).

...and, I think that's it.

Uh, well, there was the Minolta X-700 camera (I never owned one). Oh, how about this: 700 is the sum of four consecutive prime numbers: 167 + 173 + 179 + 181 (yeah, I had to look that one up).

Pretty dismal.

I have to go and write my annual report now.

Part Two - Held Captive on the 54th Floor (or, Superciliousness Run Rampant)

To recap: "Imagine behind trapped on the 54th floor of a building with no way to escape, short of a Hans Gruber exit."

The one thing that I find even more objectionable to religion at my door, is condescension. Waiting doesn't bother me. I waited for 15 or 20 minutes to be admitted to Toronto's second fastest elevator, and be transported to the 54th floor a mere 27 seconds after the doors closed. Now that was a speedy delivery. Once there, the patronizing began. The entrapment began. There was no way out.

Despite my preference for self-guided tours, I can understand how certain establishments may prefer to host an organized tour of the area. You don't want to let loose the yahoos in certain environments. On the other hand, you don't always want a tour that takes an hour, unless you have talented tour guides, and at the Toronto-Dominion Centre during day two of Doors Open Toronto, we did not.

The woman who gathered us together for the start of the tour actually said (and I paraphrase): "the artwork in there is more expensive than any of us can afford, so I like to tell the visitors to touch with your eyes." This came out in her best public school teacher voice and I had unpleasant flash backs to primary school trips to various places where we were chastised in advance.

This was the first time in ages that I felt like I was back in kindergarten. She actually told a group of adults, a group that went out of their way to take in a cultural event, to touch with their eyes! It got worse after that.

I'd just like to point out to the fine folks at TD that most of the people who went up to the 54th floor simply wanted to get a good view of the city. I am an art lover and was simply not interested in art that day, so when the head of the catering services came out to lecture us, in his best failed art-school-dropout manner, about the art, I wanted to scream. He actually said something like (and I paraphrase): "it doesn't matter if you like the art: what matters is that you have an opinion." Good god. I could tell that several people in the room knew more about the art than he did.

The lecture felt longer than it really was, no doubt. and when we were finally permitted access to the next room, he gave another long boring lecture about chairs, tables, lighting, and architecture. We were told to sit in chairs at the board table, but what I really wanted to do was look out of the window. I did snap a few photos from Canoe and in one other room at the end of the tour.

It felt like final bell at school when he reluctantly set his captive audience free. What a relief. Next year, I suggest that they place volunteers in each room and allow people to pass through the rooms at their own pace. I would have been out in 1/3 of the time.

I would have filled out an evaluation after the tour, but I felt like I had lost so much time, I couldn't be bothered. So, this is my evaluation. Count me out next year.

Held Captive on the 54th Floor

Imagine behind trapped on the 54th floor of a building with no way to escape, short of a Hans Gruber exit. But, the theme of captivity started much earlier in the day, the second day of Doors Open. First, I visited the Hare Krishna Temple on Avenue Road.

I am not averse to removing my shoes if asked. I was entering a holy place after all, and so I removed my shoes and placed them in a shoe hole, then wandered into the temple, hoping to have a look around and maybe take some photos. Instead, I was met by a devotee who apologized profusely for having been occupied with another visitor. Instead of leaving me to my own devices, he brought me over and assured me that he would offer a recap at the end to cover what I had missed.

And then, he proceeded to dump huge amounts of information about the Hare Krishna beginning with a photo of George Harrison. I was dying to leave, and not because of any antipathy to the Hare Krishna. I mean, I love their song, mostly because I am a fan of highly repetitive music. It's just that I had seen the temple and had a huge list of other places to go. Then, the refreshments person came by and apologized for not having the refreshments ready.

The whole time, some other devotee - with one tuft of hair on the back of his head - paced around the balcony that enclosed three fourths of the building. He was as mesmerizing as a pendulum, so exact in his pacing. Back and forth he went, almost like a rat in a cage, checking and rechecking for an exit or for enlightenment. I wondered if he was some sort of automaton. Back and forth he went with such deliberate precision I had to stop watching, though it was difficult to avert my eyes.

Soon enough, we got the onion and garlic speech. The minutes were ticking by and I was dying to leave, so I said: "Excuse me. I am really sorry, but I have to leave. I have some more engagements." The dude looked hurt, really. He tried to get another devotee to take me, and then I got the real sense that I was being proselytized to, and when that happens, I flee or slam doors. "Just five more minutes," he pleaded. You would have thought that his world was ending, just because I decided to bail.

I imagine that he cursed me, the garlic and onion eater, as I left to find my shoes.

* * *

So, this is a misnamed post. The 54th floor story will have to come tomorrow.

Doors Open, Day Two

Today wasn't quite so good, for a number of reasons, but perhaps I will post about that later. My travels took me to:

Hare Krishna Temple
Chapel of St. Catherine, Massey College, University of Toronto
Anshei Minsk Synagogue
Campbell House Museum
Four Seasons Centre for the Performing Arts
Canada Permanent Building
Design Exchange (former Toronto Stock Exchange)
Toronto-Dominion Centre
St. Lawrence Hall
Metropolitan United Church
St. Michael's Cathedral
First Evangelical Lutheran Church
MaRS Centre

I'm very hungry...

Doors Open, Day One

I am rather exhausted after my trek across the city on bicycle. I made it to these buildings today during the scheduled 10:00 to 5:00 openings:

Soldiers' Memorial Tower at the University of Toronto
Massey College University of Toronto (outside & courtyard only)
Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library at the University of Toronto
St. Thomas's Anglican Church
Church of the Redeemer
Japan Foundation
Annesley Hall at the University of Toronto
Emmanuel College at the University of Toronto
Christie House and Fontbonne Hall at the University of Toronto
Ontario Legislative Building (Queen's Park)
Canada Life
Old City Hall
City Hall
Osgoode Hall
Commerce Court North
St. George-the-Martyr
401 Richmond
Robertson Building
St. Stephens-in-the-Fields Anglican Church

I just need to plan my excursion for tomorrow. Oh, and I need a good night's sleep :-)

Stuff White People Like

"This blog is devoted to stuff that white people like"

I heard about this blog a few months back, and delved into it briefly. I made a return trip today and I have to say that it is hilarious. Post 99 is funny, and I guess I should confess that I use the Oxford comma. There's nothing wrong with that, people. But wait! I already noted that in a prior entry. Oh, and my mp3 player is full of legal tunes. No illegal downloading for this white guy, although some might argue that I have a ridiculously large music collection.

Have a nice weekend.

Doors Open

It's Doors Open time once again. Last year, I only managed to hit a small number of venues, but this year, I have mapped out my route and I will be far more engaged.

Yesterday, I purchased the Lowepro Fastpack 250, which can accommodate my laptop and my digital SLR plus lenses. I have room for cables, journal, mp3 player, charger, card reader, pens, cell phone, etc. I love this thing. For Doors Open this weekend, I will put on the pack, strap my tripod to my bike rack and head out. Tonight, I will be at the opening ceremonies at the ROM. I need to pick up a new compact flash card as well, maybe a 4GB card.

I haven't gone for a run all week. I am slow to get back at this full time. It's not like I am being lazy. After all, I cycle 15km per day, year round. On days when I run, that's 15km plus the run. It adds up.

So, back to work . . . I guess. It's Friday and my motivation is waning, big time. Apologies for the boring post. I wish I had something funny to say today. Maybe next week.

Dear Leonard,

You probably remember that I said "I promise to buy a ticket for your upcoming tour." I was bummed that you were broke, ripped off by that crazy woman. I said it and I meant it, at the time. The trouble is the ticket prices. Man oh man, the ticket prices. Why so much, dude? A friend got a seat to one of your shows down east for a fraction of the cost. Yes, I saw your tour in '93. I was lucky enough to have been in the audience of the Ralph Benmergui Show. I knew the lighting guy, so I got in to see the sound check too. That was sweet. I entered a contest to win tickets, but didn't. I guess I'll miss the last tour. What a drag.

Favourite recent quote from a colleague: "People who wear black jeans are hiding something."

Site of the day: Things younger than Republican Presidential candidate (oh, and did I forget to mention war hero?) John McCain

Conrad

So, I had a dream last night in which I was friends with Conrad Black. He's been in jail since March 3, 2008, but that fact was not reflected in my dream. I simply showed up at his house and was warmly greeted and offered a glass of some sort of Louis Latour wine. I am not sure why I remember this fact.

Later, we travelled to another property that he owned, one that was in a seedy part of town. It looked like hell from the outside, but the house was rather pleasant inside. The dream ended there. 76 months from now, if Conrad invited me over for a glass of wine, I'd certainly accept the invitation.

I blame this dream on my sickly state. Although I feel much better today, and actually dragged my sorry ass to work, I didn't sleep that well. Yesterday, I just flaked out and watched 7 episodes of Battlestar Galactica. I am still enjoying the show very much.

On the downside, I continue to be in deadly combat with a mouse and/or a rat, and I discovered a cash of food scraps they had taken from me and piled on top of my fridge, behind a basket. How do they manage to climb a fridge?

Ill

Damn. As Sunday evening approached, I recognized the symptoms of a cold, which was not surprising since the youngest managed to spit on my face a few times. Yup, I was sprayed with little drops of toddler spit laced with millions of germs from his cold. So, today, I am bedridden with a vicious cold. I didn't sleep well either. Long weekends are great, and longer ones are fantastic, but not when you are ill.

I am going to spend the day trying to figure out how I can get my own reality TV show. I have a few good ideas, but no fame or cash. I'll let you know if I have any breakthroughs.

Shift, Baby, Shift

Finally, I have my shift together. The left shift key on my laptop broke off months ago, which seriously hampered my typing, not that I type well, or anything. I realize that there is a right shift key, but I never use it and couldn't train myself to do so. Laptop keys are rather fragile and, bizarrely, there is nowhere you can buy just one key. I emailed a seller on eBay who does sell individual keys, but got no reply at all.

You can send back your laptop to the company and pay something like $250+ for them to install a new one and then wait for it to come back. You can also ask a repair shop to do it for you. The prices I was quoted ranged from $90 for the keyboard + $20 for installation, to $75 for the keyboard + $75 for installation. It seems like I would be getting shafted or shifted. I decided to do it myself.

But first, I bought some extra RAM and installed it. That gave me a much needed boost. Then, I bought a brand new keyboard on eBay from a store in Hong Kong for $9.99. With shipping, I paid almost $25. This afternoon, I partially disassembled my laptop, removed the old keyboard, and installed the new one. I am back in business and loving my left shift key. SEE.

* * *

Late yesterday, I realized that this is a long weekend. I knew that, but it just didn't click. I thought about taking half a day off, but managed to find some backup for the whole day. Now, I have a long list of other things to do...

Stiff Neck

I've had one for two days. I'm too busy to write anything else right now...

Conference Review

Welcome to my not funny conference review. I wish I had those two days back. Oh, the things I would do, the places I would go. Instead, I was trapped inside during some lovely weather and forced to endure a really awful conference. Even the free wine at the end did not make up for the dismal conference because it was awful wine, perhaps the worst Gewürztraminer I have ever had. Why didn't I choose the red as usual?

In part, I blame myself for I think I picked the wrong sessions. They sounded good on paper, but the reality was oh so different. I like structure in conference presentations, rather than feeling I have been drawn into a dialogue between the presenters. Some presenters spent part of the time discussing what the next point should be! Weird. Others went on and on, well past the scheduled ending times, clearly because they liked the sound of their own voices.

At the final reception, there were plates of fruit and snacks, which I indulged in, as well as some desserts, which I avoided, of course. I tried the ham wrapped asparagus, but it didn't sit well with me at all. Who wraps ham around asparagus? Worse, they hacked off the tops, leaving ham wrapped around asparagus stalks. It was bizarre and not very tasty at all. I avoided the the piles of cheeses too.

I'll stop now, because I'd hate to say anything too mean.

I have another conference at the end of June, and this one looks much better.

Two Days: Day Two

Day two starts now. We will return to our regularly-scheduled programming soon.

Two Days: Day One

A two-day conference commences now. Sometimes, I think I have too many conferences.

3.08

I went running with a friend last evening, the first time I have laced up the trainers in years and years. We did just over 3k, which was a nice gentle reminder of the old days. In high school, I was on the Track team and the Cross-Country team, but I preferred track, as I was really a sprinter (I once held a track record somewhere in southern Ontario, but that has probably been smashed by now). Middle distance didn't really do it for me back then.

When I started running with the X-Country team, I couldn't believe that people could be so chatty when they ran. Here we were, doing a 7.5K circuit, and they were all talking about what they were planning to do on Saturday night. I could barely speak. Soon, talking and running didn't seem so weird, and now I think it might be part of the experience.

The funniest thing was being reminded of the fartlek. Ah, the fartlek. No, this is not a small release of gas while running. It was hard to say fartlek with a straight face back in High School, and I still think it's funny now. Just try saying it and tell me that it's not funny. It's a riot. Oh, those Swedes...

I am Not a Pot Head

In fact, I haven't had a puff of marijuana in years, nor I have taken anything other than the occasional glass of wine.

But, I just have to say something about a letter to the editor in yesterday's Toronto Star. Jeanette Wiltshire describes marijuana as a gateway drug that causes "an addiction that ultimately spirals into other potent drugs." This is bogus, dude.

I am sure that some people find that marijuana is addictive, like cigarettes or booze. It's probably bad for your lungs too. But, I wish people would drop the garbage about this being some sort of gateway drug. I know lots of professionals, from lawyers, to doctors, to crown attorneys, to professors who have indulged in pot and have never had the need or desire to smoke crack.

Why isn't alcohol labeled a gateway drug? Because it is legal and billions of dollars in profits and tax money are raked in every year. I drink wine and am not addicted to alcohol and have never felt the need to snort coke. I have smoked marijuana and have never been addicted to it and have never felt the need to shoot heroine. In other words, just because something might be addictive to some people doesn't make it a gateway drug.

Addendum: And, besides, how do we know that the gateway drug is not alcohol? Alcohol is generally the first drug that members of our society use, so it would follow that if one takes any other drug, then alcohol (legal and freely-available) should get the blame as having been the gateway drug.

I Don't Get It

Sales of Grand Theft Auto have surpassed $500 million. Why?

B+

I give yesterday's conference a B+. Last year's was worth about a C-. The keynote address was good, despite the presenter's rather boring delivery. Clearly, he tried to be enthusiastic, but it didn't work. One plenary sessions was truly excellent; the other was a pile of dismal mediocrity and I was utterly unconvinced by her strange metrics of technological progress. That's what happens when economists speak to librarians, I suppose. I choose one dud session, but that happens at all conferences.

In August, I will be attending The International Federation of Library Associations and Institutions World Library and Information Congress in Quebec City. This is a rare opportunity, for the congress normally meets in rather exotic locations, like South Africa, Korea, and Norway, etc. I am looking forward to this very much, even with a very long train trip (we have to keep costs down, so no flights for us). I am already planning what video files to add to my computer for the trip down and back. Oh, and food - since the train food is generally all gluten-based, I will have to pack a ton of food.

Now, to catch up on a day of missed work, but first, a meeting, and then another meeting...

Conference Day

I decided to test out the new Blogger scheduled posting feature, so I wrote this last night and scheduled a post for 8:00 AM Monday, May 5th. I hope it works.

I am at a day-long conference today. I'll write a real post on Tuesday, but it won't be about the conference, or maybe it will be, since I have no more ideas. I am idea-less.

LSD (or, Confession #5), continued (part 1)

I am not one to immediately jump into a lake because a friend told me to. My method of operation has always been to conduct research about the lake and the dangers of jumping into it first. Only then would I jump.

So, the first thing I did when my friend, K1 (I'll call him K1 to distinguish him from K2), called one day to tell me that he had dropped acid at another friend's house is read a book called Recreational Drugs: Everything You Need to Know About... (by Lawrence A. Young, Linda G. Young, Marjorie M. Klein, Donald M. Klein, et al., Collier Books, 1977).

If someone completely unaware of the cultural and social history of drugs were to read the book Recreational Drugs, I can predict that they would recommend two things: that certain substances like marijuana, hashish, and maybe LSD should not be illegal; they would also enthusiastically argue that nicotine and alcohol should most definitely be illegal. The fact that marijuana is a controlled substance is stupid. Marijuana, as I have said over and over ought to be completely legal and freely available to adults.

The second thing I did was to grab a copy of a Timothy Leary book from my University library (I can't remember which one). I have a different Leary book on my bookcase right now, along with an entire shelf of Aldous Huxley books, including The Doors of Perception. Later, K2 and I watched a film about LSD in the library. I also read some general articles on the substance when I should have been writing my history papers. I also spent an evening surrounded by several tripping people in PB's house, and then went home to finish an essay. My information gathering was complete.

So, to make a long story short, K2 came by one day to my dad's house, and we took acid. The only problem arose when my dad came home from work at midnight. But, I am convinced that he viewed our fits of unexplained laughter as completely normal.

I had two main goals in mind for the evening:

1) Listen to music: K1 told me that Pink Floyd's Animals had never sounded so interesting and that all of his senses, in general, were heightened. I am not sure if he used the term mind-expanding, but that is what he described in essence. I immediatley selected Jon Hassel's Dream Theory in Malaya. After that, we ran though lots of records, but I can't remember what they were.

2) Have sex: Sadly, K2 was the wrong gender, so I concentrated on the music.

I wrote a very long journal entry years later about this experience and later ones, experiences that were not unlike what Albert Hofmann's described is his autobiography LSD: My Problem Child. The day after his second trip, he wrote that all of his senses were "vibrating in a condition of highest sensitivity, which then persisted for the entire day." I can relate to that and I remember having a conversation with a student on campus the next day and feeling like something had sharpened all of my senses.

Perhaps one day, I will post the journal entry, but it might require some censoring.

LSD (or, Confession #5)

Albert Hofmann, the Swiss dude who discovered LSD in 1938, died on April 29 at the age of 102. One of my goals in life is to live past the 100 year mark. It just makes sense to me. If this guy, Bob Hope, and George Burns can do, so can I. Of course, I'd like to live forever, but that invention is a long way off.

I could tell you lots about the studies and experiments with lysergic acid diethylamide in the quest for curing schizophrenia and other psychiatric disorders or the experiments conducted by the CIA and other intelligence agencies during the Cold War, but that you can easily find on the web. Instead, I will tell you two other stories.

The first is about Father Acid, a tall Rolling Stones fan who lived in my residence during my undergrad. He always had copious amounts of all kinds of drugs at hand, and he liked to trip on acid. Oddly, I did not take any kind of recreational drug during the first two years of my undergrad. I stayed with alcohol, a depressive, psychoactive drug that is probably more dangerous that several of the illegal drugs, but society has deemed it to be acceptable. But, back to Father Acid.

One day, he decided to leave his residence room and live in a tipi (or tepee, teepee) with two other dudes in a park by the river in winter. I wondered how he would survive without electricity to run his stereo system, but that did not seem to concern him. The funny part of the story is that the conservation authority eventually found them and pinned a note to the tipi to alert the squatters that there were living on government land and that they had to move.

Shortly thereafter, he was arrested while in possession of 1000 hits of acid and numerous other drugs, like barbiturates and amphetamines. I remember that he cut his hair prior to his trial, but I have no idea what happened to him after that.

I am running out of time, so part two will have to come tomorrow. I will leave you with a tip: don't buy LSD on the streets as much of it is laced with rat poison.

part 2