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

Hard Hat Zone

No, this is not a post about Thinkman.

Moments ago, I popped a hard hat on my head and went up to investigate the recent renovations and to select my new office. I had a choice of two offices, both roomy but lacking windows. I will have to give up my windowed office with lots of natural light pouring in, for a equally nice office illuminated by artificial light. In my current office, I rarely have to switch on the lights, which I like very much.

I regret not taking my camera along and getting a photo of me in a hard hat. I think I looked good and it made me wonder if I had made a wrong carer choice along the way. I think I'd rock the hard hat, tool belt, work boot look. Plus, when you are in that uniform, you get to whistle at the ladies with no reprisals. It's expected behaviour.

Of course, I'd probably have a stupid nickname, but that is good news to me, 'cause I've never really had a good nickname, except for Zydeco Fish, but few people in my real life know about this blog and so no one calls me that.

TV Shows I have been Watching

Battlestar Galactica - I really love this show. It seems to realistically depict spaceflight and future technology without the fantastical Star Trek gadgets. My only complaint is that Captain Apollo, the CAG, hot shot pilot, and son of Commander Adama has the voice of a 8 year old boy. Couldn't they have found someone who has gone through puberty?

Dexter - I have finished the first two seasons and am awaiting the third. This is a really awesome show, but I am a little distressed to have discovered that Michael C. Hall is dating Jennifer Carpenter, who plays Deb, his adopted sister. It just does not seem right to me. It's so incestuous :-)

30 Rock - It's back after the strike - as I have already mentioned - and it is still awesome.

Curb Your Enthusiasm - Larry David makes me cringe a few times every episode, but I also laugh a great deal. Who would have guessed that this would be the most successful post-Seinfeld show?

Damn Kids

Yesterday in the park I clashed with a group of obnoxious foul-mouthed prepubescent boys (5 kids about 9 or 10 years old). Also in the park, were my two kids (aged almost 3 and almost 7), plus two other kids a bit younger. I walked over the little shits and said very sternly: "There are little kids here, so kill the language." They shut up.

Of course, they left a pile of litter behind them when they finally left, and I would have said something, but they sneaked away. Suddenly, I am left to ponder the word snuck, which sounds like the past participle of a mid afternoon snack.

A few years back, I confronted another group of kids who had invaded the toddler part of a park, and were exuberantly climbing on the monkey bars, etc. They left a pile of refuse on the ground when they turned to go. I said, "You know, I saw the house that you came out of across the street and I am going to knock and that door if you don't pick up all of that garbage you left behind." They cleaned it up.

I could give you more examples, but that would be excessive. I do wonder what I would have done if this most recent group refused to shut up, or, perhaps worse, decided to swarm me. I already know how many 5 year olds I can take in a fight, but these guys were a bit older and might have proven to be tougher. Would it have been excessive to throw sand in their faces and kick them in the groin?

My Bohemian Index

After listening to Kevin Stolarick (Prosperity Institute at the University of Toronto) speak for an hour on the Creative Class recently, I was left to ponder what a Personalized Bohemian Index might look like. Of course, the Bohemian Index, devised by Richard Florida and his cohorts, deviates somewhat from the dictionary definition of bohemian:

Main Entry: Bo·he·mi·an

Pronunciation: \-mē-ən\

Function: noun

Date: 1555

b: a person (as a writer or an artist) living an unconventional life usually in a colony with others (Merriam-Webster)

Florida's indexes (which also include a Gay Index and a Diversity Index) measure the prevalence of writers, artists, and performers in a location, usually a city and its relationship with urban regeneration. If you want to know more, you should check out The Rise of the Creative Class.* His theory suggests that the dense concentrations of high-tech workers, artists, musicians, and gay men correspond with a higher level of economic development and prosperity.

I am left to ponder my Bohemian Index. Since I am neither gay nor diverse, I will avoid the other two indexes. I might hold a few unorthodox or antiestablishment political or social viewpoints, although I am not interested in voluntary poverty. So, I have no answers yet, but when I figure it out, you will be the first to know.

____
* Florida, Richard. The Rise of the Creative Class: And How It's Transforming Work, Leisure, Community and Everyday Life. Basic Books, 2002, ISBN-10: 0465024769, ISBN-12: 978-0465024766.

Pinkynail

OK, so I was just at a long session from a database vendor, and the presenter used the term pinkynail (or, maybe pinkienail) rather than thumbnail when referring to a scaled-down image. Very odd.

Helmets, Fires, Medical Emergencies, Stuff, and Dead Soldiers

I saw a woman today wearing her helmet incorrectly, which is not unusual, but she also had it on backwards.* Seriously.

When I arrived at work, there was a fire blazing in the garbage can near the entrance that I use. The security guards, who were walking leisurely to the scene, suggested busting out the marshmallows, but I was not convinced given all of the toxins in burning plastics and lord knows what else might have been in the can.

I suspect smokers, of course, because many are still pissed-off at the no-smoking law that restricts puffing near doorways.

Moments later, the 911 team rolled onto campus to deal with someone on the pavement. I have no idea how this person ended up there.

According to CNN: "There have been 4,354 coalition deaths -- 4,046 Americans, two Australians, 176 Britons, 13 Bulgarians, one Czech, seven Danes, two Dutch, two Estonians, one Fijian, one Hungarian, 33 Itaians, one Kazakh, one Korean, three Latvian, 22 Poles, three Romanians, five Salvadoran, four Slovaks, 11 Spaniards, two Thai and 18 Ukrainians -- in the war in Iraq as of April 23, 2008..."

Let's hope the McCain doesn't win, or the toll will go even higher.

Lastly, maia blogged about an interesting video, and I think you should watch it.
___
*I often see people who wear cycling helmets incorrectly. The main issue is that people push them back on their head, when they ought to be forward and level, because in most cycling mishaps, the cyclist falls forward.

Pissed Off

To the scurvy bastard who walked up to my house last night, opened my green bin, dumped the decaying smelly organic material all over my property, and then stole my green bin, I hope something terrible happens to you today - like you accidentally flush your keys down the toilet or a pit bull bites you in the groin.

***

The city's web site states that I have to purchase a new bin, which is exactly the reason some thief made off with mine. Offering replacement bins is clearly the thing to do. I tried calling the city, navigated the menus, and finally heard: "to speak with an agent, press 4." The next sound I hear was a busy signal!

Moments later, I tried calling the Canada Customs and Revenue Agency. After locating the proper phone number and verifying that I was calling within operating hours, I again got a busy signal. I set up a login for the My Account feature at CCRA, which is a laborious process. It took ages to enter all of the information, and when I had finally done it, I was told that I would have to wait for, like, 5 days until they mail me a security code.

Now, I realize that security is important, but I already gave them my SIN number, date of birth, line 150 from a prior return, the answers to three questions, etc.

What's wrong with government agencies?

Update: They just replied to my email message to tell me that: "The City is not responsible for any lost/stolen or missing bins. You will have to purchase a new bin. The cost is $18.00 ( including taxes)." Great.

Another Conversation with my Daughter

Upon noticing a white shirt hanging in the closet, my daughter (age 6) said:

Daughter: You have a white shirt?

Me: Yeah.

Daughter: But you never ever wear white!

Me: Well, sometimes, one needs a white shirt. But you are right, I usually avoid white.

Daughter: Only dads that are 30 wear white. Really young dads.

News Roundup

1) Edward Lorenz, the "father" of chaos theory has died. His cause of death has been traced to a butterfly in Brazil.

2) Sex and the City death: a plot leak suggests that a character will die in the up-coming Sex and the City movie. This has raised my interest in the movie from zero to one on a scale of 1 to 100. If it were up to me, I would put Carrie out of her misery and donate her shoes to charity.

3) Obama says McCain would be a better president than George Bush. He also noted that crunchy is better than smoothie.

4) The Bird's Nest - the Olympic stadium in Beijing - was unveiled recently. Since the upper half of the stadium is obscured by smog, those seats come with a complementary gas mask.

Obsolete Skills

A colleague alerted us to ObsoleteSkills.com. I find this site to be very amusing, but there are some things on this list that I still have to do, like:

adjusting the rabbit ears on the top of a TV - I do not have cable...

putting a needle on a vinyl record, but not very frequently.

buy a roll of film - I have three cameras loaded with film right now and some of them require that I know how to focus a camera.

clicking the up and down arrows of a vertical scrollbar - now that is just stupid. I still do that.

calling a phone sex line ... no, wait, I never did that.

A Painting

By me, from a painting session with the kids.

It droppeth as the gentle fart from heaven
Upon the place beneath.

I originally titled this post God's Ass, but I thought that was a bit vulgar. Then, I considered Cosmic Flatus, Mysterium Flatulosmographicum, and Cutting the Universal Wind. My final title retains some poetic qualities, I hope.

But, anyway, this is an interesting project. NASA wants to place close to 100,000 antennas on the dark side of the moon to form what it is calling the Dark Ages Lunar Interferometer (DALI). The principal behind this is simple: the bigger the telescope, the farther back in time you can see. And, by placing it on the far side of the moon, you can eliminate interference from earth transmissions, etc.

In theory, you could see back to the "dark ages" of the universe, right after the Big Bang. In other words, you would see clouds of ionized gas drifting around. Maybe my brain is helplessly stuck at the age of 14, but I can't help but thinking that if we look far enough back, we would see a huge butt, right after it had broken some wind.

Just when I thought that I was being too juvenile, I read the second last line of the article on Space:

Probing the dark ages presents the opportunity to watch the young Universe evolve," said Joseph Lazio, NRL astronomer and head of the DALI proposal.

Probing? Really. He said that. And, I thought of the fundament...again. But, I do like the idea of the telescope.

666, A Stream of Consciousness Post

This is post number 666. Too bad 666 has lost its impact, since the revelation in May 2005 that the number of the beast is really 616. So much for that Iron Maiden song. 666 sounds much better, if you ask me. It has punch. 616 sounds like an area code ... hang on a minute ... yup, that's in Michigan. I knew there was something odd about Michigan. Michigan has been hiding something, and now I know what it is.

Anyway, heavy metal reminds of all of those hot summer days spent cruising the streets of southern Ontario with my metal-head cousin in his souped-up Duster or Dart. Occasionally, there would be beer close at hand, sometimes too close. Far less often, some interested girls might happen by only to lose interest very quickly. That, I blamed on a number of things: my cousin's weak attempt at a moustache, which made his upper lip look soiled; the blaring heavy metal, which made it impossible to have a conversation (or at least his failure to get the ballad queued up in time - those monster ballads are there for a reason); and his belief that the car could do all of the talking for him. He would just pull over and say "hey," hoping that would be enough.

I learned a lot about heavy metal that summer, and while I can still sing along to a goodly number of soothing heavy metal anthems -- you can sign me up for AC/DC karaoke any day -- I did not gain any appreciation for the art form. I think it's the screeching high pitched vocals more than anything. I was never fond of the Eddie Van Halen school of self-indulgent guitar solos, but I am not afraid of a little heavy guitar.

I like Led Zeppelin, as I have already mentioned here, and some punk, later Ministry, Nine Inch Nails, some selections from Tool, even. But, those posers in big hair with a voices like castratos do nothing for me at all. Don't even get me started on the likes of Twisted Sister or Warrant or ...

Lemon and Lime

Finally, 30 Rock is back on the air. Of all the shows I watch, and that is not many, I missed 30 Rock the most. It might be the funniest show on TV right now, and its return to air with the MILF Island storyline was hilarious. (Hint: if you are not sure what a MILF is, you might want to look here, but be warned that it is an adult term). In the bad news department, I took this quiz and discovered that I am most like Liz Lemon. And I thought I would have been most like Jack Donaghy.

Anyway, moving from Lemons to Limes, I finally saw The Third Man. It's a stylish, paranoid thriller. The British Film Institute voted it the best British film of the 2oth Century. I don't know enough about British films to agree or disagree, but I would have to say that it is a great story with there was some solid acting and fantastic cinematography. And, let's not forget the fine performances from the dog and the cat.

Harry Lime: Don't be so gloomy. After all it's not that awful. Like the fella says, in Italy for 30 years under the Borgias they had warfare, terror, murder, and bloodshed, but they produced Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and the Renaissance. In Switzerland they had brotherly love - they had 500 years of democracy and peace, and what did that produce? The cuckoo clock.

New Job and Caffeine

As I mentioned previously, I have a new job (same place, new responsibilities). The only problem is that I am retaining my old job until someone can take over my old job, and I have no idea when that will be. So, I am doing two jobs and I feel a bit schizophrenic.

So, today I had the gluten-free and vegan chocolate cake at Tinto on Roncesvalles Ave. This is amazing cake. It tastes the like the real deal. The trouble is that the server gave me coffee with caffeine, and I feel like I have been given uppers. Since I avoid caffeine, it has a serious effect on me. Right now, I feel like I could write a novel in an hour or so. The caffeine also explains why I am posting on a weekend. It also means that I will not get much sleep tonight, and I will be sleepy tomorrow. I hate it when that happens.

Flickr Video

I have to confess that I am a little dismayed that Flickr is now accepting videos. If that is not enough, videos are appearing in Explore pages mixed in with the photographs! This is chaos. I love video and I think that YouTube is great, but Flickr is not YouTube and YouTube is not Flickr.

By the way, why isn't YouTube called YourTube or MyTube?

Yahoo! - who owns Flickr - already has a video sharing site, so why do we need Flickr videos mixing it up with a distinctly different art form? At least they have instituted a policy that users only upload videos that they have created and the vids must be shorter than 90 seconds. Still, I am not fooled by Flickr's description of videos as "long photographs."

So far, the videos that I have seen are not that good, but I did view a couple of good ones. Maybe I will change my mind if I ever decide to make some videos. I have already received invitations to join video groups even though I have no videos to share.

I do like this one, though:



I am drying off after my rainy ride in this morning.

Do the Test

I think that posting a video is kind of cheating, because it is not a real post. Nevertheless, this is really cool, and anyone who is a cyclist or an automobile driver ought to watch it. Thank you to Maia for telling me about this one.



Oddly, I am locked out of my email account this morning. It gives me a certain degree of peace, but also a bit of anxiety.

Free Tibet

I have never been in favour of Olympic boycotts. I feel terrible for those athletes who have trained for years for a chance to compete. The US-led boycott of the 1980 Moscow Olympics was really sad, and the 1984 Soviet-block boycott of the LA Olympics was dumb retaliation. There have been other boycotts as well, and I think that they had very little impact, except on the athletes.

There has been some pressure on world leaders to boycott the opening ceremonies, but I don't think that goes far enough. I would hope that all athletes boycott the ceremonies as well.

I have to say that I am really amazed that China was selected as the host nation given its occupation of Tibet. The ecology and integrity of Tibet is being completely destroyed. Of course, we can't forget China's relations with Sudan, but that is another huge topic.

* * *

I cycled to work in the pouring rain this morning. Because of some limited rain gear, I have wet feet. My rain pants kept my pants dry, but it soaked though my coat. I hate it when that happens.

Down with 8 Glass of Water per Day

Finally, people are beginning to recognize that it is dumb to drink 8 glasses of water per day, something that I could never do anyway. Two kidney experts argue that such a practice has no benefits and may, in fact, be harmful to some people. Boy, this sounds like a news report. The kidney dudes conclude that drinking all of this water:

does not suppress appetite
does not flush toxins from your body
does not reduce headaches
does not improve your skin
(the research article was published in the American Journal of Physiology)

In 1945, the U.S. Food and Nutrition Board advised people to imbibe 8 glasses of fluids every day. This recommendation has always puzzled me because our bodies tell us when to drink. We get thirsty and we drink. Trying to force all of that water down one's throat is unpleasant and stupid. Besides, we get fluids from the things we eat, fruit, vegetables, etc.

We don't need to port around bottles of water, or worse, those Nalgene-type polycarbonate bottles that contain Bisphenol-A (BPA), an endocrine disruptor.

* * * * *

Oh, and in other news, I have a new job. Same place - different job.
So, there's work to be done.

Another Conversation with my Daughter

In the bath, she told me how a boy who used to sit behind her kept pulling her hair. They are both 6 years old.

Daughter: Does anyone pull your hair in class?
Me: I am at work all day, and I only have one class - my French class - on Thursdays.
Daughter: But, does anyone pull your hair in French class?
Me: No ... well, not so far.
Daughter: Are there any pretty girls in your class?
Me: Yes, I think so.
Daughter: What are their names?
Me: I am not sure I can remember all of their names.

I told her (en français) that my French prof is from France.

Daughter: He's from France! Wow, that must be so cool. He must be really good at making pasta.
Me: Pasta is an Italian dish.
Daughter: It is?
Me: Yes, but my French prof can speak Italian and Spanish too.
Daughter: Well, maybe you can go to Paris and have pizza.

The End of Jericho

So that's it for Jericho. I thought the show was OK, but the ratings killed it. It's too bad really, but networks are constantly killing off good shows and pumping out garbage.

Essential Links

I am off to a very long meeting that will last most of the day, so, I present a list of essential links for the John-obsessed, following on from yesterday's post. By the way, I think I should mention that I thought that Mr. Cusack was really good in Being John Malkovich. It was his best performance. Other than that, meh.

John @ Wikipedia
John @ IMDB
A John Fan Club - seems like it's free to join
Another John Fan Club - this guy is popular
John @ HuffPost - blog posts written by the man himself

OK, that ought to be enough to get you started. Have a nice Friday.

The Coming of Apokalupsis Eschaton

Here are more signs that the end is near.

1) Mariah Carey has surpassed Elvis in number of #1 hits. Only the Beatles have had more #1 hits. If she ever does pass the Beatles, the end of the world will be upon us.

2) Someone came into the library yesterday wearing a tiara. A friend of mine wore a tiara at her wedding. My daughter has had several in her collection of dress-up paraphernalia. I know I have seen pageant queens wearing them, but I can't remember the last time I saw someone walking around campus wearing one.

3) A woman has been charged with stalking John Cusack! WTF! Why on earth would anyone want to stalk John Cusack? By the way, John was in Toronto yesterday.

There are more signs, but I have to run to a meeting now...

Bovinae


Some cattle, photographed by my mother when she was very young, with a Kodak Brownie Hawkeye. I prevented my mother from selling the camera in a lawn sale, and it's been in my possession every since. The trouble is that it was damaged some years ago.

After scanning close to 1000 of my mother's old photos, I am forced to consider the possibility that she is partly responsible for my love of photography. I am also forced to recognize that advancing technology killed any photographic skill she may have had. Most of her early photos were taken with a medium format camera, as you can see from the photo above. I love big square negatives much more than the 35 mm variety.

She dumped her clumsy camera for one of those compact cameras that used 110 cartridge film. The first kind used disposable flash cubes, and later ones had a built-in flash. This led, of course, to colour balance problems, grain, and generally bad photos and, eventually, red-eye. When I was eight or nine years old, I was gifted with a Kodak Instamatic 126, which was not much better.

Anyway, I like the cows.

Looking for a Good Home

In light of some circumstances beyond my control, I need to find new homes for my small family of Fawn and White Indian Runner Ducks. You can get photos and standards here for this breed of duck.

The patriarch, Jack, is a fine example. He is lean with a perfect wedge-shaped bill. He stands 75 inches tall and has full, alert, and bright eyes. His partner, Jill, has tight, smooth, and hard feathers, and stands a very straight 66 inches from bean to toe. Their children, Wanda and Richard, are joyful, playful, and loving. These guys will do you well in the show pen.

If I can't find a new home for them, I will be forced to find room for them in my freezer and then practice my French cookery skills. I found a very nice recipe for Duck a l'orange.

I am offering these fine birds on a first-come, first-served basis. I will also hand over all of my copies of IRDA newsletters.

Ringo has a Really Big Nose

My daughter, almost 7 years old, has a growing fondness for the Beatles, largely because she recently watched Help! She loved the madcap adventures of the four motley gentlemen from Liverpool very much. But, I now have a suspicion that she thinks Ringo is called Ringo because he was in possession of the sacrificial ring in that film.

We sat down and had a look at some Beatles clips on Youtube and had a wide ranging discussion of all things Beatles. Mostly, she wanted to know who sang what and why didn't Ringo sing more songs. That is not a complex question, but diplomacy won out in the end. I didn't want to slight Ringo in any way. But, then she said that Ringo is a really good drummer, perhaps the best she's ever heard, aside from the drummer in the Doodlebops, perhaps.

I resisted the urge to pass on my favourite John Lennon quote, which was his reply to an interviewer's question as to whether Ringo is the best drummer in the world.

John said: "He's not even the best drummer in the Beatles." Oh, so cutting and so true.

My daughter went on to ask:

"Why does George look depressed?" Hmmm, does he? I thought she would have said something about his ears.

"Why was John shot?" Now that is a tough question, and I really didn't answer it very well. I hardly knew what to say. I remember that day as clearly as it was yesterday, but I am not sure anyone could really answer that question, especially when the person asking is so young and innocent.

I wondered if she was so fond of Ringo because she knows that John and George are dead. Perhaps she is subconsciously aware of the McCartney-Mills fiasco, and so Ringo appears to be the least damaged, but then we did a quick Google image search and she read a caption beneath a photo of Ringo and said "Ringo had a second wife?" Maybe the infatuation died there, because she followed that with "Ringo has a really big nose!"

Killer Coke

Killercoke.org is a fascinating site. Just make sure you don't type killercoke.com, or you'll end up in a corporate Coca Cola site. There is a quick re-direct to cokefacts.org that most web surfers would not even notice. This stinks, if you ask me, because I am sure that Coca-Cola would never permit anyone to redirect traffic from a URL that is almost identical to coca-cola.com to any other web site.

I hope everyone turned their lights out for the hour between 8:00 and 9:00 PM.

Lisa and Brian and Helen and John and Anne and George

It turns out that your name can say a lot about you. Some dude named Richard Wiseman collected the opinions of 6000 people on names and it turns out that some names are poorly perceived. The Name Experiment came to these conclusions:

Least successful: Lisa and Brian

Least lucky: Helen and John

Least attractive: Ann and George

I think this is silly. What about Burritt or Laksmono or Abundie or Nattapong? What about Pornwadee or Thembisa or Berneatha or Mistymarie? You can't tell me that Rupert is more attractive than George or that Chastity is more successful than Lisa.

But, I just realized that this survey happened in the UK, so it all makes sense. Happy Friday.

The Bible is Dumb and so is the New Testament

"He that is wounded in the stones, or hath his privy member cut off, shall not enter into the congregation of the LORD." -- Deuteronomy 23:1

"When a man strikes his male or female slave with a rod so hard that the slave dies under his hand, he shall be punished. If, however, the slave survives for a day or two, he is not to be punished, since the slave is his own property." Exodus 21:20-21.

"Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife, even as Christ is the head of the church: and he is the saviour of the body. Therefore as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be to their own husbands in everything." Ephesians 5:22-24.

Yup. there are pages and pages of dumb statements in both books. I'd go on, but I have things to do and this would take all day.

New Music

Some music currently in rotation on my MP3 player or stereo:

1) Feu Thérèse - I have been spinning their latest, Ça Va Cogner, and am quite enjoying the dark pop mayhem.

"The Feu Therese mandate of knitting critical and non-conformist elements right into their song structures, instead of having these 'collide' with the music as if from outside, has reached a new level of bizarre sublimation on their new record."

2) Metric - Old World Underground, Where Are You Now? I really like Dead Disco. Metric might best be described as 21st Century New Wave.

3 & 4) Hrsta - Ghosts Will Come And Kiss Our Eyes, a "collection of gently foreboding psych-folk" and L'éclat du ciel était insoutenable - "infused with endless waves of psilocybin pathos..."

5 & 6) Hangedup - Kicker in Tow and Clatter for Control are the 2nd and 3rd releases from this Montreal-based viola & drum duo. Both are sublime.

"On [Kicker in Tow], they prove themselves one of the most powerful, hypnotic and relentless duos currently mining the subterrain of instrumental avant rock. Genevieve Heistek's amplified viola screams through a propulsive blend of drones and doublestops, while Eric Craven's drumming spurts and hisses like an ornate, early-industrial steam engine."

On Clatter for Control "Gen's bi-amplified viola rig, linked to a live audio looper, creates a vortex of jigs, reels and air-raid drones, pummeled along by some of the heaviest polyrhythmic skinbeating we've ever heard."

More later, maybe.

Ailing

My mother isn't dying, exactly. She probably has a good deal of life left in her, but you'd never know it to look at her. She's not old, really, but she looks it. Still recovering from a broken hip, she lies in a bed in a home because her mother, about to turn 89, can't look after her and will probably end up in some sort of retirement home herself.

I didn't ask if she is still wearing Depends and I didn't stay long enough to find out for myself, but I did wonder about the mixture of smells emanating from the facility. It was like the smell old, mixed with chicken soup, feet, and disinfectant.

The kids and I hovered by the end of the bed while I tried to communicate with her. No, she isn't quite sure how her hip was fixed, whether the surgeons used pins or not. No, she is not sure when she will be able to give up her walker, or when she will be able to walk farther than a few feet without assistance. "They tell me I'll be able to walk again," but she didn't sound very sure of her statement.

In the room she shares with three other women, there were two TVs competing with each other. The kids, not accustomed to the sight of people slowly dying, turned their gazes to the closest TV and watched a women in the final stages of labour, ultimately giving birth to a baby in a birthing pool. The scenes were tastefully done, but an old woman asked me pointedly if they should be watching such as thing as a woman having a baby. Imagine the nerve. Of course they can watch, I retorted, but I wish I had been blunter. She ambled past me in her walker, out to catch some excitement in the common room, I presume.

After 40 minutes, I could not longer resist the pleas to leave (but part of that probably had to do with the upcoming Easter egg hunt), and I had to admit that any longer might do psychological damage to me as well. We set off the door alarm on the way out, just as we did upon arrival.

My mother is on a waiting list for a bed in a home close to my sister's house. A bed should be free in two to four months, or, as soon as someone dies.

Easter Monday

According to Wikipedia, which is occasionally wrong, "Easter Monday is an official holiday in the following countries:" The list that follows includes Canada. Wrong again, Wikipedia. I am at work today, right now on Easter Monday. Banks, the government, and schools observe Easter Monday as a holiday, but the vast majority of people in Canada have to work.

It's terribly sad, I know, and I would much prefer to be at home, shoveling what I hope is the last snow of the winter.

Stop Whining

Anne Murray, who had turned her back on the Juno Awards for years and years, until she was admitted to the Juno Hall of Fame, is upset that she was left off the ballot for best album. So, now we have six nominees instead of five, leading her to state that: "The person who is not supposed to be in there could conceivably win." So what? The whole awards process stinks anyway. Imagine a system where the nominees are chosen simply based on sales? I can assure that the top five best selling albums are generally not even close to the best albums of the year.

This year, the nominees for Album of the Year include the screaming Celine Dion, the woman who has a voice like Mac Truck and a face like an Afghan Hound. I have never ever seen the appeal of her ear-wrenching noise. Worse, she has two albums in the running. If there is any justice, the award should go to Feist. She deserves it.

Maybe Anne Murray should win a Juno...in the category of best music for nursing and retirement homes. You know, music for geriatrics, the infirm, the incontinent, and the nearly dead.

Fire Destroys Bush Presidential Library

WASHINGTON (Reuters) - A tragic fire on Monday destroyed the personal library of President George W. Bush. Both of his books have been lost.

Presidential spokesman Ari Fleischer said the president was devastated, as he had not yet finished coloring the second one.

Dirty Butts

Chances are that someone reading this post is a smoker. That's OK. You can smoke. I don't really care, unless you are polluting my air, as my mother did for my entire childhood. I have vivid memories of being ferried around in our car filled with smoke and being unable to roll down the window in winter. Our house stank of smoke. My clothes always stank of smoke. I hated it.

Now, I have a question for those of you who do smoke, and that is why do so many smokers flick their butts onto the ground? In my opinion, that is littering. I realize that not all smokers do this, but it is clear that many do, as evidenced by a photograph in The Fixer's column in yesterday's Toronto Star. Yup, that's a mound of disgusting cigarette butts. It can take up to 15 years for these butts to decay, and while they do, they release toxic crap. Worse, it seems to me that many smokers expect someone else to pick up after them. I would be very surprised if these same smokers throw their butts on their own property or leave them on their living room floors. Why do they think it's OK to throw them on the sidewalk?

At my place of employment, there are large "no smoking within so many feet" signs that absolutely no one pays any attention to. Smokers light up right under them, or they huddle in the doorways to the building and we non-smokers are forced to breathe in their foul effluence. And this, naturally, returns us to the question of second-hand smoke.

There was a time when I called myself a Joe Jackson fan. Those days are done. The man has his head up his ass if he thinks that second-hand smoke is harmless. His argument is an amazing display of intellectual collapse. It fails to cohere and he throws out opinions without any credible scientific fact to support them. Instead, he pokes holes in the articles that suggest that second-hand smoking is harmful, but this is done without sufficient scientific rigor. Mr. Jackson, if you want to attack the weight of the scientific evidence, you need a real study with real controls.

Jackson accuses those people advocating for a smoking ban in public spaces as being part of a "junk science bonanza"! Of course, this is all in defense of his addiction. Besides, even if it turns out that there is no conclusive proof that second-hand smoke is harmless (doubtful considering all of the chemicals in tobacco), I hate smelling like an ashtray after a night in the pub with friends. Thank god for the ban in Ontario. I am so happy that I can breath in bars and restaurants.

I worked as a bartender one summer during my undergrad and I swear the thick fog of smoke took years of my life. Mr. Jackson, if you are really pro-choice, as you say, then you would permit those who work in public places to have a choice too. I choose no smoke.

St. Patrick's Day

In honour of St. Patrick's Day, I present a brief list of Irish things that I like as well as an anti-list of things I don't like, right off the top of my head. I should point out that I have never been to Ireland, but a great grandmother was born there.

The Good List

1) The Pogues - some really fine music with some punk-like political outspokenness.

2) Van Morrison - "Morrison is widely considered one of the most unusual and influential vocalists in the history of rock and roll" (Wikipedia)

3) Irish (Gaeilge) - I like the sound of the language.

4) Stout - but I can no longer drink it :-(

5) The Craythur, or uisce beatha :-)

6) Leprechaun - I want one to show me the way to a pot-of-gold, or two.


The Anti-List

1) U2 - The Unforgettable Fire was OK, but I think that the Joshua Tree is the most over-rated album in the history of music. All-in-all, I find them to be a very mediocre group.

2) Riverdance - I can see the appeal of the tap dance, but not Riverdance: it's far too upright, or something. Same goes for Lord of the Dance.

3) Green - It doesn't really suit me, unless it's a mossy green.

4) Colm Meaney - The man can't act!

Time Travel

One of the things that has always irritated me about the concept of time travel is the idea that you could go back in time and alter the future. Back to Future is based on this principle, as are a good number of Star Trek episodes, as well as the entire Terminator franchise (movies and the TV series). I have always liked the idea of time travel, but the notion that you could somehow prevent your own birth perplexes me. I mean, if that were true, then you would never have been born in the first place. Surely you see what I mean.

My favorite comment on time travel is from Stephen Hawking, who said:

"So it might seem possible, that as we advance in science and technology, we might be able to construct a wormhole, or warp space and time in some other way, so as to be able to travel into our past. If this were the case, it would raise a whole host of questions and problems. One of these is, if sometime in the future, we learn to travel in time, why hasn't someone come back from the future, to tell us how to do it."

That's a damn good question, Mr. Hawking. He also notes that we have not been "over run by tourists from the future." Imagine meeting your great great great grandchildren. That would be screwed up. So, Hawking has already confirmed my belief that we cannot travel through time.

But, a new study argues that, if time travel does become possible, there will be certain constants that cannot be changed. So, as much as I'd love to travel back in time and prevent the invention of leaf blowers and stickers on fruits and vegetables, the new model for time travel suggests that this is not possible.

Before we talk about this new idea, I feel that I should point out that this so-called new model was my idea all along, but since I am not a theoretical physicist (well, not in the conventional sense), I could not attract any attention to it and no one would publish my idea because I could not support it with proper mathematical formulae.

Anyway, on to the "new" model:

"Researchers speculate that time travel can occur within a kind of feedback loop where backwards movement is possible, but only in a way that is 'complementary' to the present.

In other words, you can pop back in time and have a look around, but you cannot do anything that will alter the present you left behind."

I still don't believe we will ever be able to travel through time, but this model makes sense to me. So, take that Star Trek, and your stupid Temporal Prime Directive.

Zydeco Fish

Isn't this weird? Someone has made a video about me :-) It's even called Zydeco Fish.

A Conversation with a Driver

Have you ever had a conversation and later wished that you could redo it? I had one the other day, when a co-worker asked if I still cycled in the winter.

"Yes," I replied.

"Are you one of those cyclists who take up a entire lane?" she wanted to know. Man, her antipathy and fury towards cyclists was so complete, I thought she was going to lose it, but she added a meek laugh at the end to cover up her anger.

I said something like, "occasionally, we have to use the entire lane because of potholes, manhole covers, grates, ice, snow, etc. What I should have said is "are you one of those drivers who park or drive in the bike lane?"

And then, she asked, "are you one of those cyclists who swerve around cars?" I said something like, "I go around cars that are turning right, because it is safer, and I do pass cars that are driving slower than I am cycling. I pass taxis that are picking up or dropping off fares, because, otherwise, you might get doored."

What I should have said was "are you one of those drivers who opens your door without checking to see if there are bicycles coming? Are you one of those drivers who turn right in front of cyclists without shoulder-checking? Are you one of those drivers who pull over to the side of the road without shoulder-checking? Are you one of those drivers who get in their car to take a two minute drive to pick up milk or cigarettes from your corner store? Are you one of those drivers who is contributing to global warming while I freeze my face off in winter while I get some exercise?"

And, I just found this in the Highway Traffic Act:

Use of radio headphones prohibited

215 No driver of a motor vehicle or operator of a bicycle shall, while operating the motor vehicle or bicycle on a highway, wear, on both ears, headphones which are used for the purpose of listening to a radio or a recording.

So, Running42K, you are a law breaker.

Water, or Please don't Flush your Meds!

Some scary articles:

1) Tainted drinking water kept under wraps:

"When water providers find pharmaceuticals in drinking water, they rarely tell the public. When researchers make the same discoveries, they usually don’t identify the cities involved."

2) How meds in water could impact human cells:

"Our research shows mixtures are so prevalent,” said Dana Kolpin, a U.S. Geological Survey water expert who launched a plethora of research in 2002 after finding pharmaceuticals in most samples taken from 139 streams in 30 states. “If there are any cumulative or additive issues, you can’t just dismiss things so quickly.”

3) Pharmaceuticals lurking in U.S. drinking water:

"A vast array of pharmaceuticals — including antibiotics, anti-convulsants, mood stabilizers and sex hormones — have been found in the drinking water supplies of at least 41 million Americans, an Associated Press investigation shows."

4) How safe is your city's drinking water?:

"Some water systems said tests had been negative, but the AP found independent research showing otherwise. Both prescription and non-prescription drugs were detected."

5) Study finds pharmaceuticals common in Cdn water:

"Painkillers, anti-inflammatories and prescription drugs used to treat epilepsy and blood cholesterol were found in waters near sewage treatment plants across the country, according to the first Canadian study of the problem paid for in part by Environment Canada and obtained under the Access to Information Act."

Thou shall not pollute the Earth

In related news, the Vatican listed new sins recently, and it is interesting to note that one of the new sins is pollution. Flushing your unused medication is pollution. Take them back to the pharmacy, please.

Riders on the Storm

I think it was Wisconsin, home to Eric Forman, where it happened. Suddenly, dozens of tornadoes fell out of the sky: I sprinted to get my camera. I shot some amazing photos of tornadoes ripping up the state. I caught them forming, coming down, destroying, dissipating. Some even looked like mushroom clouds. Some where all white, some black and sinister.

In the distance, I saw a hot air balloon caught in the raging clouds, but accepted a companion's explanation that they were riding the storm. It was some sort of new extreme sport. Soon, the balloon came near, rising and falling like a giant yo-yo (speaking of which, I saw a clip on TV that suggested that the yo-yo was invented as a weapon, but the Wikipedia suggests otherwise). I was almost crushed by the gondola, but I managed to get an amazing photo of it from directly below with an enormous black funnel cloud looming above.

Just then, the tiger cub escaped and so did its lunch, which was a small colony of rats and mice. They scattered everywhere, perhaps alarmed by the storms. In despair, the apparent owner of the cub attached his pick up truck to a hot air balloon, intent on riding the storm in his F350. But, someone lassoed the escaped feline, and everything returned to normal, although the storms continued, inexorably.

Pillows and more on Last Chance U

They looked fluffy, and I was worried, but they flattened out nicely under the weight of my head. Oh, thank you Quality Hotel, thank you. You saved me from a stiff neck. Yes, that has been my curse: pillows that make it feel like I am sleeping on a concrete block; pillows that force my chin into my chest or force my head back so far when stretched out on my stomach, it feels like I am being given slow whiplash; pillows that cause major neck destruction, and every hotel has them, or so I thought. Who can sleep on a pillow that thick? It makes no sense at all. Do you walk around with some brace forcing your head into your chest? Of course not, so why should your pillow be 10 inches thick?

I have actually resorted to folding up towels and putting them in pillow cases to form pseudo-pillows in my hotel travels around North America. On other occasions, I have dispensed with the pillow entirely, like in Edmonton, where the room had 8 pillows, all of them part of a sinister terrorist plot to ruin my cervical vertebrae. The CIA might consider recruiting hotel pillows as part of its torture program against extrajudicial Al-Quaeda captives. I think such pillows would be more effective than waterboarding.

But, thanks to the Quality Hotel, I was able to get a good night's sleep and enjoy my conference at the U of Zero, as a colleague calls the U of O.

Back to the topic of Last Chance U, it could be Lakehead. I recall this university being derided when I was in high school, and so I did a brief web search and found this comment about Lakehead:

i can´t go on with saying that you are the worst in canada because i don´t know all of canadian universities. but i can say you are one of the suckiest in ontario.

you are down there with nipissing/windsor/laurentian. i would personally go to the baby university (uoit) than your crappy school. (link)

Maybe there are several last chance Us. Happy Friday, people.

Late Trains, Ex-Cons, and our own Mr. Bean

I am not sure if I am ever happy to be in Ottawa, especially not in winter. It's so freakin' cold in the nation's capital, which is probably why we have so many corrupt politicians. That kind of weather would make anyone sour and turn them criminal. Just ask our cab driver.

We hopped in a cab at the train station after an extra long train trip. Our four hour trip became five hours because of some delays, like a broken down train ahead of us. It is a little odd to be suddenly moving in reverse, tracking over ground we had already passed so that we could change tracks and skirt the dead train ahead. Anyway, we made it, somewhat later than we had planned. Then, we were off to the Ottawa Market were I had a salmon fillet that cost $29 plus two $8 glasses of Shiraz. Maybe that is why we have so many corrupt politicians.

Our taxi driver decided to be our personal tour guide, pointing our things like the RCMP Headquarters, the University of Ottawa/L’Université d’Ottawa, and the old jail. And then he added that "I did time there in '65." At least we knew it wasn't for murder, 'cause he'd have been locked up for a lot longer than that. He had tats all over both hands, and I assume over the rest of his body as well, which is odd because he looked so clean cut otherwise. I guess he has rehabilitated himself. I regret not asking what his crime was. Maybe he had been a corrupt politician?

And then it snowed again. It snowed a lot more.

* * *

Every time I travel with a certain colleague, he manages to be the source of immense amounts of unintentional hilarity. For one thing, he can sleep anywhere. He slept in the car most of the way back from Brock University (the real Last Chance U, if you ask me, even though Google thinks it's Carleton). He slept in the most uncomfortable chair I have ever seen while awaiting the beginning of a lecture at McMaster University. He managed to sleep for most of the train ride back from Ottawa, even after mentioning that he woke up at 3:00 AM the previous night. And, he blamed it on jet lag after his flight back from Shanghai, even though I assume that he must have slept the whole way back :-) The funniest thing is that he always puts on his coat and wears it like some sort of sleeping bag, with the hood pulled down over his face. I'd post a photo (which I have) but perhaps I better not do that.

Anyway, I can't give you a rundown of this man's hilariousness: that would consume way too much time and space, so I'll just leave you with one: when he stood up from our breakfast table at some dubious and curious breakfast & lunch chain, he managed to spill all of the water on the table, leaving us all baffled but laughing. It doesn't sound funny, but it was. I guess you had to be there.

* * *

I read most of Will Self's Dr. Mukti and Other Tales of Woe on the train ride to Ottawa. He's a good writer.

the snow is falling

since my left shift key is broken, i am forgoing capitalization.

the snow, perhaps the leading edge of another promised winter storm, is falling in ottawa. it makes me wonder if this will affect the train.

this wireless network at the hotel is anemic and it bumps me off every minute or two, so this will be a short post.

i have to get on my coat and trudge up to the university of ottawa, which some folks call 'last chance u." and i thought that was brock...

Jason Reitman

I was lucky enough to get a seat in a guest lecture given by Jason Reitman last Friday. Don't feel obligated to follow that link (g-d, I hate MySpace). As you know, he directed Juno. My lame ass pseudo-review is here. Don't feel obligated to follow that link either. My literary review of The Squid and the Whale is much better, as is my spectacular and totally hilarious restaurant review. I mean, those were real reviews, written for my reviewing class. Feel free to follow those links.

This dude is hilarious. (I hope I can use the word hilarious twice in one post. The word itself is hilarious). Jason clearly has a natural gift for comedy. His stories were funny and even his jokes were funny. I snapped a few photos during, but shied away from the post-lecture scrum in the lobby, although I did move in and take a couple of photos.

Too bad you missed it. If you ever get the chance to hear him speak, I suggest you go.

On a librarianish note, I was amused to hear him point out a factual error in a Wikipedia entry, not that I am a harsh critic of the site. As I always say, it needs to be approached cautiously, like when you are trying to walk through a mine field. I've said that before, right?

P.S. I am taking the train to Ottawa today. I'll be back to work on Thursday.

A Jerry Seinfeld Moment and Double-Dipping

On my way to a meeting last Thursday, I dropped my pen on the floor of the men's washroom. For a brief moment (perhaps a nanosecond) I considered picking it up, but I was suddenly horrified by what kind of bacteria might have attached itself to it in that short period of time. A recent study on the 5 second rule concluded that whatever bacteria is on the floor is immediately transferred to the object that has impacted the floor, but the authors note that there is far less bacteria on the floor than we expect, except in men's washrooms, to which I have already alluded.

So, I did what Jerry Seinfeld would do and left it where it landed. No, I don't consider that littering. I never litter. I knew that later, some custodial staff person (one day, robots will have this job) will come in to clean and refresh the supplies and this person will sweep up the pen and either throw it away or put it in his/her pocket. Either way is fine with me.

By the way, I dropped the pen at 9:55 AM, and it was still there at 5:00 PM, but it was gone the next morning.

In related news, a study* has concluded that Double-Dipping does indeed spread cooties. The study found that "for every time a bitten cracker went back into the bowl, hundreds, and probably even thousands of bacteria cells went with it." In other words, the dip becomes a bacterial soup. It makes me cringe. I am not, nor have I ever been, a double-dipper because, as Timmy said to George, "that's like putting your whole mouth right in the dip."

*To be published in the Journal of Food Safety, 2008.

February 30th

Did you know that February, in some calendars - like the Swedish Calendar (prior to 1753), the Soviet Revolutionary Calendar (which was ceased in 1931), and the Early Julian Calendar - occasionally had a February 30th? It all leads to me to wonder we don't have a more precise calendar. Of course, there are lots of examples of calendar reform, but I simply want to know how we can make summer longer in Canada. Moving the planet would be a good idea.

More importantly, I've broken my left shift key on my Toshiba laptop. This might mean that I will need to purchase a new keyboard, and they are not cheap. There is a company in the UK that sells single keys, but not for my model. At least the keys can be replaced, unlike some brands, where you must get a new keyboard. if you know of someone in Tdot that sells keys for Toshibas, please let me know.