Just a little holiday update...

So far the Christmas season has been brilliant. The time with my friends and family has been well spent indeed. It has been a good time to recharge my batteries. Before I got here, I was woefully on about half power. (If that...) Gone is the exhaustion of the last few months and I feel healthier than I have for some time. It's almost as if the trip home has been more of a respite in a sanitarium. The black circles under my eyes have started to fade as has the quickness of my temper.

Santa did well to us again this year. It seems his generosity becomes less restrained with each passing year. It's going to be tricky to travel back to Alberta with all this loot in tow. Hopefully Air Canada will be a little more forgiving with the amount of luggage I can bring back with me.

Anyway, more to come later...

12/16/05 Recently Added To The Collection...

Here's some neat stuff that's been added to the collection lately.

1) Face To Face - Shoot The Moon. Normally I'm not much of a "Greatest Hits package" kind of guy, But this one is good. These guys are one of my all time favorites, and I was sad when I heard of their demise. The liner notes are excellent, and the tunes speak for themselves.

2) Uncovered: The Whole Truth About The Iraq War - An excellent documentary by Rob Greenwald. a gem in a world overrun by lazy conservative media. The people at The Disinformation Company rock.

3) walmart - The High Cost of Low Prices - This one will piss you off. Walmart is evil. Go to Zellers. The disinformation company just keeps them coming.

Cheers

12/15/05 Black Steel In The Hour of Chaos

The execution of Stanley Tookie Williams should be regarded as nothing less than a tragedy. America has once again proven that it prefers revenge to redemption. Regardless of his crimes (Which he denied right to the moment of his execution.), the man became a role model of what a citizen should be.

Stanley was an author, an activist, and a man trying to atone for his past. His regret for the part that he played in the formation of the Crips was always at the forefront. This was a changed man. This was a man who wanted to make a difference.

For his efforts, he was nominated on 6 different occasions for a Nobel Prize. How many death row inmates have been nominated once, let alone 6 times?

Schwarzenegger had a golden opportunity to show the world that criminals can be rehabilitated, and that a man can rise above his misdeeds. Instead he dropped it like a hot potato. For a former action movie hero, he sure demonstrated a lack of spine. How very sad.

Hopefully his death was not in vain.

12/08/05

I like to take little breaks with this blog. It helps me from writing for the sake of writing. Generally I like to have something to say before I sit down and spew. Lately I’ve been feeling good, and little is picking at my brain. Perhaps I’m just too excited about Christmas, and feeling intoxicated by it’s impending arrival. Perhaps, I’m just really not miffed about much right now.

I’ve done a lot of roadwork lately. The last 6 weeks have been filled with one weekend adventure after another, and I have been lucky to work with a lot of great people. This weekend is no exception. I get to work with one of my best friends. This makes me happy. The destination on the other hand, is less appealing to me.

I’m headed to Cranbrook. That town and I have a troubled relationship. It boils down to the fact that I’m a level headed, rational, thinking human being, and the citizens of this mountain berg are religious lunatics. (To the point of being obnoxious about it.) We have very little common ground. (Other than we need food and oxygen…) I have begun to understand what a Japanese tourist must feel like while visiting the Arizona memorial.

I have spent the better part of a year learning that you can’t judge a book by its cover, but I’ve read the book on Cranbrook. (Well, really it was more of a leaflet.) The last time I was there, it felt like I had been torn from the bosom of comfort, and thrust out into the harsh light of day. (And the doctor forgot to slap my ass.)

I have learned not to expect much from that town. Hopefully I‘ll be happily surprised this time, but I’m not holding my breath. I suppose it could be worse, I could be going to William’s Lake.

Other stuff…

I listened to an interview with Stephen Colbert on NPR (National Public Radio in the United States…) and I have to say, he is very funny. I like what he had to say. I think I actually find him funnier out of character than in, although the Colbert Report is very funny in it’s own right. I think it’s a great spoof of Sean Hannity, and that other blowhard Bill O'Reilly.

Anyway I have to scoot.

More later…

11/30/05

This post may piss some people off, but I don’t really care. Tonight I saw a piece on the news that infuriated me. There is a move afoot to change the name of the Christmas tree.

Apparently the forces of political correctness would rather it be called a “Holiday tree”. What utter rot. What purpose does this possibly serve? This is nothing more than a foolish waste of time. Has our society completely lost its fucking mind?

Now I’m not much of a Christian. Truthfully a lot of that collection of beliefs makes me equally angry, however, it strikes me that this kind of nonsense just serves to highlight differences rather than embrace them.

Thanks to guilty feeling white folks, we have successfully re branded Christmas. It’s no longer good practice to wish people “Merry Christmas” now it has to be “Happy Holidays.” I for one refuse to say that. I will not utter those words. I will say Merry Christmas, or Happy Hanukkah (Joyous Kwanzaa… etc.)

I am a firm believer that every single person in the world should have the right to practice their own traditions. Buddhists, Christians, Muslims, Wiccans, and everyone else big and small should have their rights and freedoms protected. (Celebrations of faith inclusive.) Show me a petition and I’ll sign it, give me a march and I’ll be first in line, but I will not embrace sheltering others from our traditions. Especially the ones we hold the dearest.

I am more than willing to join others in celebrating different traditions, but at no point do I want people to change them. It is not my right to interfere. (Unless it causes harm to others…)

Imagine changing the name of a Menorah to “Holiday Candelabra”. That would never happen. What would happen if we insisted that Ramadan be renamed “Period of Self Denial and Reflection.” Imagine the uproar that would cause. Imagine a Crucifix being called “The Magic T.”

Perhaps we should just do our thing and just not worry about it. Last time I checked Christmas was not a celebration of intolerence, so we should stop treating it that way.

I'm pretty sure most people wouldn't give a hoot. Why would they? At no point is this designed to run over someone else's cultural differences, just to celebrate our own.

Until then... I'm gonna put decorations on the Christmas Tree.

11/29/05 Abuse Your Illusions

This is a fantastic book. If you like a little conspiracy theory then this is the book for you.
It's been condemed by the likes of Ann Coulter, Bill O'Reiley, and Rush Limbaugh... So you know it's gotta be good.

There are some really good articles in here from Howard Zinn, Greg Palast and William Blum.

Check it out.

11/22/05 Sympathy for the Devil...

I am a firm believer that our sins follow us, lurking behind in the shadows. No matter where we go in our lives, they will always be with us. (Spooky huh?) It doesn’t mean that we can’t expose them for what they are, only that they are a constant and usually unwelcome travelling companion… To me they are like a stowaway on the soul, or a bitchy neighbour that refuses to fuck off and move.

My friend Daniel once compared it to dragging mines behind you, with the belief that if you slow down even for an instant, it could have catastrophic results. I think I agree to a certain extent, but from that catastrophe comes resolution, and usually freedom.

I also believe those same sins play a major part in defining our character. (Whether we like it or not.) In some ways, the exposition of our flaws and lapsed judgement are far more telling about us than we would like to believe. Sadly, the good stuff tends to get lost in the shuffle. Only by seeing one’s character undone, do we ever really get to see the mettle that someone’s made of. How’s that for irony?

But that’s the way society wants it anyway. (Which speaks to society’s sins too…) We celebrate the downfall of others with overwhelming zeal. Few things entertain us more than watching someone’s life fully and completely implode. I must admit I love it. Seeing some poor schmuck get done it by his own stupidity is more entertaining to me than a good hockey game. (Hopefully I won’t get struck by lightening for saying that…)

That’s not to say that the good things in our character should be ignored. There must after all be some sense of balance; otherwise the whole thing would go to shit. Hell our world has heroes, who rise to the occasion when needed, and without them we would have no moral compass. (Here in lies that balance.)

But we have villains too. Without them we’d likely be unable to examine our darker selves. Everyone has a seedy underbelly. The Pope’s got one, and so does your mom, it’s the nature of who we are. It’s normal.

That is unless you happen to be Gary Glitter. Then you have stepped outside of normal. Normal is not even on the map. Sadly, Gary is in the middle of his catastrophe. His mines collided the second he decided to pursue Vietnamese children for sex. His resolution and freedom apparently will come guised as a firing squad. That poor dumb bastard. Instead of getting help for his problems, he chose the stupid plan.

Something tells me there will be no “Rock & Roll part 3” in anyone’s future.

His sins come from an inability to deal with a fading identity, and a lifetime of excess. It’s funny how indulgences can seem trivial at the time, but come with their own set of problems. I suspect if you were to ask him before he became a success, or even at the mid point of his career where he’d be in 2005, I doubt highly he would ever say “Um facing the death penalty for screwing little Asian girls.”

I’ve heard a lot of people over the years complain that the world is going to hell in a hand basket. I have never believed it. Not once. I think it’s just our sins coming to collect on a debt.

Perhaps if we took less time to celebrate notorious lifestyles, and spend a little more of it dealing with our shit, we’d all be happier.

11/18/05 Stop Me if You Think You've Heard This One Before...

When I was in college I had a classmate that refused to believe that man descended from apes. Now, he was a quite religious fellow, (Actually he was selectively religious… As I find most are…) and believed in the biblical creation story, including the whole Adam and Eve thing.

I was shocked. I had never met a creationist before. I nearly had to scrape my bottom lip off of the floor. I had always assumed that humans had figured that those stories were more about subtext and less about the literal plot line.

Shortly after that conversation with him, I traveled to the United States. I was in North Dakota, and low and behold I met another creationist, and then another, and another. I felt like I had been teleported to the middle ages. I wondered if I should bring up the “concept” of a globe shaped planet or discuss how the earth travels on an elliptical path around the sun.

Lately there has been a lot of debate about how life started on earth. There are three main camps, Evolutionists, Creationists, and those who believe in Intelligent Design. I would fall into the first camp. I’m a firm believer in science. Perhaps it comes from discoveries that lean very heavily towards Darwin’s theories. One needs only to gaze upon the Australopithecus and Neanderthal to see a distant relative of Homo sapiens.

In addition, given the racial diversity on this planet, I find it difficult to believe that someone (i.e. God) waved a magic wand and POOF… Suddenly there were whites and blacks, Asians and Aboriginals. It just seems too neat and tidy. Humans have struggled since the dawn of our existence, and it only makes sense that Mother Nature might have made some changes along the way to move us forward. (Some could argue that she did too much…)

That being said, I am always willing to entertain a debate. I figure in the grand scheme of things I know squat, zip, zero, nada. Challenge me… It will likely be good for both of us.

Creationists on the other hand reject science completely. (Well… At least in terms of how we got here… Cancer treatments on the other hand…). They believe that humans owe their existence to God. I take no issue with that belief… I figure if that’s what gets you through the day then good on you.

I do however have a problem with absolutes. Most creationists seem to totally unwilling to even entertain other ideas. I find that brings out the Doubting Thomas in me. Show me the holes… Convince me, or at least try to. (But please leave out the whole bible thing. It may be the word of God… But man wrote it down, and was bound to fuck it up regardless of how it was inspired…)

Using the same logic, serious diseases are God’s responsibility too.

God: I think I need a disease that liquefies internal organs. OOOH… and one that literally eats flesh… and hell why not something that causes cell replication go completely berserk… Oh I know… something that totally destroys immune systems…

As if someone who created and loves us could ever be that cruel…

The most interesting of the three camps seems to be those who embrace Intelligent Design. This in a nutshell is the compromise between creationists and evolutionists.
Basically it comes down to this. The world and all it’s creatures have evolved, but that evolution was planned by a higher power. (God… Little Grey aliens, Bootsy Collins…)
To my way of thinking this is nothing more than fence sitting. It’s like a shitty compromise forced on you by your parents on a family camping trip.

The biggest loophole in this theory is this. Intelligent Design implies ultimately that Paris Hilton, the entire cast of “Friends’, George Bush, and the manatee are all part of someone’s grand scheme.

If that is that is the case, there’s a higher power out there with some serious explaining to do. I could understand a hybrid of Paris and a manatee… I mean, who wouldn’t want to see that. (Although it could be argued that Nicole Ritche might actually be that hybrid…)

Perhaps it’s less of an actual plan, and more of the embodiment of a celestial sense of humour.

Grey #1: Hey Grink… Check this shit out… I call them humans…

Grey #2: No Fuckin’ way… That’s some crazy assed shit… You da bomb Sniglor… Humans… that’s too funny.

On behalf of the manatees (and myself…) I’d just like to say pick one… Then we can move along and evolve.

11/16/05

I have spent the last few days trying to take stock of where I am in life. Mind you, I’m not looking for any sort of revelation or epiphany; I’m just going over a checklist in my head. What have I achieved? Where am I going next? Etc…

Sometimes I need a moment to peer over what’s been done, and more importantly what needs to get done. It’s a good exercise. I recommend it. You’ll be amazed how much it helps in sorting priorities. I find that most people I know in the real world rarely take the time (or even seem to have the time…) to press the pause button.

I find this kind of mental sifting usually surfaces into my conscience when I’m at the point of complete exhaustion. This time is no different by any stretch. I don’t know why I insist on grinding myself into near oblivion. Perhaps there’s something I need to learn, but I wish I knew how to stop it once in a while. I guess it’s not too terribly different than zany other pattern people fall into, but I think it might be killing me. (Well not in the literal sense…)

I had not one but two shows last night. Both of them were sold out. (Not cause I was on the show… I wish… One day perhaps…) The club was totally packed to the gills. It was a strange Tuesday at Yuks. Normally it’s their amateur night, and there is very little expectation (See none…) to perform. Last night however was a special event. Jaime Kennedy was in town for a couple of quick concert series shows, and I got the call to be the middle act for him.

I was already wiped before the first show, but I managed to give it a decent go. I fuelled up on shitty bar coffee and popcorn, then leapt into action. (Well… I guess it was more of a “Sorta staggered into action” kinda thing… But I digress…). The changes I’ve made in cadence and delivery style are working well and the exhaustion just seemed to enhance them. They appear to give off a sense of agitated frustration, which lends well to my natural character.

The second show was far more fun for me. I managed to shake off the exhaustion and put the jets on. But even better than that, I got to totally railroad a heckler. She had no idea what had hit her. I’m sure she’s sitting at work today trying to figure out why she smells like smoke. (I suspect that crucifixion would have been less painful route for her.)

I lit her up six times. Each time I whacked her, the crowd roared louder, vaulting me to near godhood. That just made her more livid. If only she had been blessed with brains in addition to a trashy mouth. At one point she was trying to “call me out” it was really quite funny. I snapped her like a twig, and had a shit-eating grin on the whole time. I gotta say… It felt really good.

It’s been a great year of change for me. Stand up has changed for me. The wide-eyed enthusiasm I had when I started has mutated. For me now, it has become more about becoming a skilled practitioner of the craft. I love it more than ever, but I have become more focused. The detail involved is becoming more acute to me, and so then the fine-tuning has truly begun in earnest. I’m now more concerned about the nuances of Stand up, and less so about material. I now realize material is more of an anchor and not the whole damn boat like it used to be for me.

Watching Jaime Kennedy taught me a few things too. The first of which is this; ANYONE can do this job. Few do it well, but any schmo with a movie deal can eek out 40 minutes worth of material. (Which says to me that there might be a Gary Sinise concert special sooner than you might think…Imagine just how brilliantly unfunny that would be…)

Kennedy’s act was an exercise in patience. There were so many clumsy hacky things’ going on that it almost made me cry. (Insert Canadian beer jokes, and Dr, Phil impersonations here.) More importantly there was an almost total absence of finesse. (I wasn’t looking for scripting or even polish… but perhaps substance or at least a conscious train of thought.) It was more like watching someone playing the role of a comic in a movie. But then again he brought a documentary crew, so in a way I guess that hits the nail right on the head.

Once in a while he got off on a decent riff, but at no point did he ever look sure-footed. He just looked uncomfortable like an awkward teenager on a first date. Nothing he did stood out. If you were to ask me to recite a joke from his set, I would sadly be unable to. There was nothing that said to me “This man is a star!” It was mediocre at best.

His handler was a dude named Justin. He had an air of arrogance about him. (Gracious but arrogant at the same time…) He seemed to really enjoy name-dropping and generally being a bit of a dork. He kinda looked like a bobble head with good teeth. (He struck me as the kind of dude that doesn’t realize he’s the hired help…)

Anyway I need some sleep…

Subb - Daylight Saving

Will wonders never cease... This is a pop punk record that doesn't suck. These days that’s getting harder and harder to say. Sadly Its a bit of a tricky disc to find, but it totally rocks. This Montreal band has a really crisp sound and the song writing is far and above any of their slack assed contemporaries. It kicks bands like A Simple Plan and Sum 41 right in the teeth. (But then again… they both suck ass.)

If you can find it, then you should just buy it.

11/09/05 Balcony Oratorio Vol. 2

Sweet Mother of God… I’m on day 3 of having this fucking cold. I have been reduced to smoking menthol cigarettes. They are truly the gross, but smoking my normal Camels just incites vicious coughing fits, and that is about as much fun as smacking myself in the stones with a bal peen hammer.

But enough belly aching about my stupid cold…

The balcony oratorio continues with some zeal this evening. It seems these people just don’t get the concept that most people sleep at 1:42 in the morning. You’d swear it was noon the way these ignorant twits blather on.

The main event tonight is a little more on the banal side. It appears as if someone’s cat has gotten loose, and joyfully I get to hear all the minutia of its impending recapture. I find myself at the window trying to see the commotion. Try to imagine me rubber necking as my idiot neighbours attempt to collect the fugitive feline. I do my best to contact the furry little beast using telepathy…

“Run Kitty… These people are white trash… run for your life… There is a better place for you… Run… Run you furry little bastard…”

Apparently I made a connection. The cat was off like a shot. This caused a furious tirade of cursing. That made me smile. It managed to escape the tyranny of the incredibly stupid. No more kitty concentration camp, just freedom. Eat some birds my little friend… Let their tiny feathers fill you with happiness.

With a little luck some decent person will find the cat before animal services does.

11/08/05 The Death Of Marcus

I have a cold. A big nasty evil stinking cold… I hate colds. I really really really fucking hate them. The word hatred is actually too lightweight of a term for it. (The English language really needs to come up with a new word for that kind of hatred.) It’s truly one of the most unpleasant experiences I can think of. Other than the ability to catch up on what I’ve missed on TV lately, there’s absolutely nothing good that can come from this demon sickness.

Much to my chagrin, I fully and completely transform into a little boy when I’m sick. How Erin puts up with me when I fell like I’m on deaths door, I’ll never understand. I get more whiney and grumpy with sniff and wheeze. Let’s face colds just plain suck. I wish I could eradicate the common cold from the face of the earth. Die you evil microbial bastards die…

I‘ve likely had this satanic beast of a cold of mine for several days now, but the symptoms didn’t decide to arrive at the party until yesterday. At least I wasn’t hacking my guts up on stage. That would have sucked. I would have felt bad for the people in the front row. That’s just what everybody needs… Dinner and a flu… with some dick jokes thrown in for good measure and for only a mere 15 bucks a head. It’s a paltry sum for a gift that keeps on giving for at least a week.

I rose out of bed at 6 am feeling like a giant sack of crap. The wheezing started right away too. The second the alarm clock went off so did my lungs. I got up and immediately started to cough and for a second I thought it wasn’t going to stop. I went and had some breakfast, the free continental kind that comes from hotels looking to attract frugal businessmen. Mike and I talked about politics, but our conversation was punctuated by me coughing loudly and clutching my chest. Each cough felt like someone stabbing me. I now understand what the victim in a slasher flick feels like.

The symptoms got worse in the car. I sucked on cough drop after cough drop, hoping it would help prevent the stabbing pain. It sort of worked, but I still had the odd coughing fit. I felt really bad for Mike having to travel with a human germ factory, but he was really good about it. I hope he didn’t get this nasty sickness, I know I’d feel real shitty about it if he did.

When I got home, I immediately went to the drugstore to get some supplies. By the time I was done, I had racked up nearly 80 bucks worth of medicine. It costs a lot to be sick these days. The quarterback I chose in the offensive against my cold is Nyquil. It’s the equivalent of the atomic bomb to the common cold. (Some people say its Buckley’s that really does the trick… But those people are evil…) I took a hit of it with an apple juice chaser, and passed out rather quickly. I had some really weird dreams. Too weird to describe in any sensible fashion…

Today I feel even worse than I did yesterday. Even though I slept from 11pm last night till 3pm today. I’m still really groggy, and really very tired. I feel weak like a little kitten. I tried talking to my parents on the phone, but I couldn’t keep a train of thought going for more than about 30 seconds. They should add temporary ADD as a side effect on the Nyquil bottle.

But I’d have to say the worst part for me is that feeling like you are standing outside of yourself. Although the achy dizziness in not that pleasant either.

Anyway… I’m off to continue the battle. Hopefully tomorrow I’ll feel like a smaller bag of crap…

End of Transmission

11/06/05 So Many Miles...

Well I’ve had another week of touring. (Chasing the dream…) My touring partner for this run is Mike Dambra. I’ve learned a lot from him on this trip. He’s been totally great to travel with. I enjoy his company, and we’ve been getting along really well. Although I’ve known him for years, this was the first time they put us on the road together. So far it seems to be a pretty good fit.

Regardless of having a chum on this trip, I have begun to understand one of the themes of the movie “Lost in Translation.” I have felt pretty lonely over the last few days, but more than that, I really feel out of sorts. Lately it seems that there have been too many miles in a very short time. In just 10 days, I’ve traveled nearly 3422 kilometers, been in 5 different cities, and performed in front of nearly 1300 people. It makes my head a little dizzy when I think about it.

Don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying myself, but I feel a little out of place. I long for my bed, and more so for the lovely person that I share it with. Thank god I’ll be home for a while. I need to spend some time being husband, and not being funny disappearing guy.

The Saskatchewan shows were good. In fact Saskatoon was very good for the most part. Usually the people there get into the show, and this was no exception. Truthfully, if anything, they got a little too into the show.

Things were pretty much going according to plan until some drunken idiot stood up and got on the stage with Mike. He put his arm around him, and tried to squeeze him down to his knees.

People in the front testified that he was squeezing so hard you could see his knuckles blanche. Mike was eventually able to push him back and get him off the stage, but it took a few minutes, and a quick little jab to the solar plexus. I couldn’t believe it, but what was more unbelievable was that no one from the venue even bothered to try and help stop it.

It’s like they didn’t even understand that it wasn’t cool. They did just stood there. It was, as far as I’m concerned completely disrespectful, and totally careless. They looked at a serious security concern and dismissed it as if it was nothing, and for that I’m a little disappointed.

Sadly this wasn’t the first time this has happened there. A friend of mine had beer steins throw at him and he dealt with much the same ambivalence. It’s a great room, I just hope they deal with security better in the future.

The show in Regina was good too. There was actually a table that came from Saskatoon to see the show. Apparently there weren’t able to get tickets, so they drove out to come and see us. I thought that was very cool. After the show I chatted with them, and had my picture taken with a few people. The word was that the venue was very pleased with the show, and that people were talking about it over breakfast in the hotel.


Now it’s Sunday and I’m in Brandon. It’s a city that’s in the middle of a transformation. There’s a lot of new construction going on here and there’s a feeling of improving prosperity. The typical big box crap is moving in, and the chain restaurants are on just about every corner. It sure has changed a lot since the last time I was here. It’s still a little Spartan, but that’s not meant as a jab, it just tends to be the nature of smaller Canadian cities.

Mind you, I know very little about this city. (Or the entire province of Manitoba for that matter.) I know it has a hockey team called the Wheat Kings, and other than that, the only other notion that stuck me is that it seems a bit starved for entertainment.

Our hotel is nice enough, (Actually it’s a hefty leg above most places I’ve been put up…) but it’s also really out of the way. The gig is actually located on the other end of the city, not a big deal, but not normally what I’m used to.

Previous to tonight, I had come to understand that Canadian show business usually means traveling insane distances, to perform in front of a luke warm crowd in a bar and grill in the middle of fucking nowhereville. (Generally that statement is gospel… but it’s fun nonetheless…) My prejudices sometimes get the better of me, and my first impression tonight was misplaced. (Well at least the part about luke warm audiences anyway…)

I should start this off by letting you know that earlier today, I found out that the venue permits minors to attend the show. That creped me out a little. (A lot actually…) I was told that regardless of that, they did in fact have signs to warn people about content, but for some reason that really didn’t appease the knot building in my stomach. (Those of you that have seen me know that I’m not what you’d call a family act.)

Anyway… the show went very well. The owner of the restaurant wants to have us back. He was actually a little overbearing and adamant about, but he was a decent fellow anyway. (And the service was exceptional.)

I even did an interview for some T V people (But I think they were students…)

Anyway I need some sleep…

10/31/05 The Death Of Halloween

It kind of sucked that Halloween fell on a Monday this year. For me, it kind of wrecks the festivities a little. A lot of people did stuff on the weekend, but for me it's the day of or no dice. To me Halloween is not just a reason to get dressed up in a costume and get hammered. (Although that part is fun too…)

For me Halloween is a celebration of our more basic fears. It's a wonderful time to drag out all the things that go bump in the night. What better way to face your fears than to dress like the very thing that puts a lump in your throat? It's the celebration of that suspicious shadow, or creaking noise. It's a time to embrace and embody the things that scare the shit out of you the most. Bring on the Zombies, Vampires, Witches and fucked up Clowns.

Halloween gets a bit of a raw deal these days. People have gotten so worked up over urban legends about razor blades and syringes that fun has been completely beaten out of it. (According to Cecil Adams from The Straight Dope, there has never been an actual recorded case of harmful devices in Halloween candy… Not a single one… But once again paranoia prevails…)

But there is something lurking in the shadows that is even more destructive to Halloween. Those nutty Fundamentalist Christians have branded Halloween as a satanic ritual, and vehemently suggest that celebrating it should be seen as a sinful and immoral act. (Never mind that a lot of Christian ritual came from pagan belief systems… or that the very next day in the calendar is called “All Saints Day” Geesh… You'd figure they get enough celebrations that they much just want to fuck off on this one.)

Worse still they have taken the concept of Horror (and or Haunted…) Houses and turned them into something truly hateful. The Christian Horror House, or more correctly Hell House, uses prejudice and mistruths to create fear. This list shows the common elements of Hell Houses.

This is the most common component by far, an over the top reenactment of the murder of Cassie Bernall, a teenage victim from Columbine High School. As the urban legend goes, she was asked whether she believed in God, answered yes, and was murdered for it. (For the record, this is completely fabricated. Cassie was killed there, but according to eyewitnesses, she didn't say anything nor was asked anything. Nope… Not a peep in fact. Not only does it dishonor the people who died and suffered at Columbine, but it's also really tasteless…)

Another biggie in the Hell House is satanic human sacrifice. (Hmmm that happens all the time. I can't go anywhere without the fear of being kidnapped and offered up to old Scratch and his minions… Bloody Satanists… Seriously… It must be like once a week at least… Gotta beat them back with a stick… I mean really…)

Next in the tour… The abortion clinic. This one comes complete with screaming, and lots and lots of blood. (Again with the tacky…) I'm not going to get into detail with this one. Let's just say it's barely a step above having a guy in a back alley with a coat hanger. (Propping up ones beliefs is one thing… Turning into the Texas Chainsaw Massacre is quite another…)

But lets not forget Gays and Lesbians. They usually get roasted in hell. Or there's a coffin that has AIDS written on it while demons dance around it… or some other such nonsense. (It's like theatre for literal thinkers… How sad…) they make sure to use lots and lots of taunting demons add that little extra so as to really drive the point home. (Ever read one of those Jack Chick bible tract comic thingies? Same shit… only live action… Fuck you Spidey.)

But straight people get a good whacking too. Enter the personal tragedies of pre marital sex; add some clumsy adulterous seduction scene… oh and add the evils of other religions too… oooh and the occult... (like worshipping someone who rose from the dead, and stis at the right hand of his invisible father... I'm not trying to be hateful here, nor am I dismissing faith...I just wanna point out some similarities...)

Oh the humanity… I just love the irony of condemning a sinful practice by using another. Bigotry. How sad we've become. Instead of turning the other cheek, or just plain letting go of our hatred, we focus it like a laser on others. If we can't understand, we destroy it. We always fear the things we don't understand.

Hence the destruction of Halloween, and for what it's worth, I think that fundamentalists need Halloween more than the rest of us do. I reccomend that next year, you crazy fundies dress up for Halloween like a Satanic Lesbian on her way to an abortion clinic. Maybe you'll finally get it.

Trick or Treat…


p.s. Just for fun, if you click on the title of this post, it will take to you to a great spoof page about Hell Houses.

10/30/05 Kelowna

This past weekend’s trip to Kelowna will go down in the history books as one of the strangest experiences of my life.

The flight in was very quick; a paltry 38 minutes from take off to touchdown. Not what I’d normally call a heavy-duty investment in time. I spend more time daydreaming in the run of a day. Walking to and from work takes more time, and I do that nearly everyday.

Normally 38 minutes means very little to me. Unless that 38 minutes is taken up by sitting in a very cramped row of seats, with some fat Shithead in a Snap on Tools jacket, who insists on rocking back and forth, (while gawking at the latest issue of Maxim… and drooling like a monkey…)

My knee collided repeatedly with his chair. I now know what a pinball bumper must feel like. As if that wasn’t enough, there was an old woman behind me trying to shove her hockey bag of a purse under the seat. I became wedged in. She just kept kicking at it. So in addition to have my knees pulverized, my feet were now at an awkward angle. Every smack from him seemed to work in time with every shove from her. The result was the feeling of lightning ripping through my legs. I’m pretty sure the Nazis used this technique to extract information from the most unwilling of POWS.

When I got off the plane, and once my knees regained feeling and normal function, I found a cab and sped off to the hotel.

Once I got there, I discovered that they weren’t expecting me. Nope… They were looking for Mike Craigdallie. It took twenty minutes to the whole thing straightened out. Once I got a room, I decided to go and get some chow. I headed off to the venue, only to discover that the show posters were wrong as well. They never bothered to fix it either.

Then I discovered that they no longer provide a discount for comics. Not a huge issue, just a little hiccup.

So, fast-forward to show time. The venue is sold out, and the show goes pretty well. The feature, who I hadn’t met until mere minutes before the show, turns out to be a really good guy. So Thursday turns out to be a good night.

Friday morning I wake up with a ripper of a migraine. I was eating Tylenol like Smarties, trying to nuke that fucker in its tracks. It finally started to clear at about 6 pm. I was still feeling its after effects as I walked onto the stage.

The show started off okay, but it just really didn’t get going. The front row wasn’t very cooperative, and I just didn’t seem to get the room motivated. I tried, but it just didn’t catch. It was like trying to light wet matches.

The Saturday show was worse. Before I had even said a word, two drunk, and very trashy women in the front row decided they wanted to take the show over. I smoked them 5 or 6 times, and it didn’t matter. They just kept going. After 20 minutes of having to deal with them the management of the club finally decided to do something about them. By that time I was so angry, it was difficult to stay focused. At least I took the bullet, and alleviated any static they would have given Pete.

After the show, we decided to get some Pizza. Around the corner from our hotel was a pizza place called “Pizzaway.” They have excellent food. Pete and I ordered, and waited in the shop till it was ready.

We were chatting away, and had both looked out the window at the same time. It was at that moment that a red sports car came tearing through the parking lot. It ripped down, and tried to head out onto the street. A police crusier came up the same street to cut it off, and the red car crashed into a tree. Suddenly there were 5 more police cars, and officers running to the newly wrecked car, guns drawn, and screaming very loudly.

They were like piranhas on a carcass. The door of the car was ripped open, and the cops dragged the driver out and pinned him to the ground. Then I heard the words “Canada wide,” and “warrant” too, and then a lot of screaming from the perp.

After that we got to eat our pizza and get interviewed by an RCMP constable for a while. She was quite pleasant, but still very efficient.

It was almost impossible to get to sleep after that. Pete offered to take me to the bus station for 7 this morning, but I just let him sleep. I figured at least one of us should get a decent sleep. After a mere 10 hours on the bus I made it home.

I’m not sure how I feel about the weekend. I’m exhausted and a little shell shocked.

Broken Social Scene

Broken Social Scene
Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

Some Groovy tunes... Another sweet record from the Arts & Crafts label. If you like alternative pop... this is the record for you.

10/26/05 Scott free in the Double wide...

So… Condi Rice came here yesterday with a message from Washington, “Stop the apocalyptic language about the softwood lumber dispute…” which I have to say, came off more like “Shut you mouth bitches…” There’s nothing quite as humiliating as a dismissive and patronizing pat on the ass, the only thing missing from her remarks was “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and fix me a sammich…” The absolute gall required to pull this kind of crap off would be the stuff of legends, if it weren’t so indefensible.

Mind you, her attitude was not too terribly surprising, especially given that America always tries to make us feel bad whenever we call them out for breaking the rules. How dare we as a nation demand that they respect the law? A law they agreed on in good faith. Imagine a child trying to spank a parent, and you’ll get the picture.

If the shoe was on the other foot, how would the conversation go? Condi would be here with the Sheriff, ready to seize whatever wasn’t nailed down. Make no mistake about it.

The rift between our countries is growing. There are no more band-aid solutions. We are each other’s biggest trading partners and we need to sit down and have a realistic dialogue about where we are going, and how we can solve these problems… The marriage can be saved, but it’s time for counselling.

In the mean time, we should ignore her message, and be as loud as humanly possible. Let America know that we are fed up with this bullshit. If we are not equals in this partnership called NAFTA, then it’s time we left it. We are being treated like a hound dog forced to sleep in the yard, while the master gets the goose down. It’s time to say enough is enough.

It’s sad that we have to resort to shaming America into paying her debts, but apparently we have no choice.

I have an idea… and it just might work. I say we hire a collection agency to get the money back for us, all 5 billion of it. Imagine calling the White House 15 times a day, and sending those snarky pay up now letters. Eventually Bush and Co. is sure to crack. I’ve seen many a friend’s will be crushed by the relentless actions of a collections agent.

Agent: Hello… Is this Mr. George Bush of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue?

Bush: Ahhh… Yes… Who is this?

Agent: Mr. Bush… I work for a collections company. It seems you haven’t been paying your debt to Canada… We need to square this up immediately…

Bush: Yes… ah… Canada. right… how much was that again?

Agent: 5 Billion dollars sir.

Bush: Well… I don’t seem to have that much cash on hand right now… I’ve spent a little more than I thought I would dealing with a little spat on terrorism…

Agent: Well do you have any friends or family that might be willing to lend you the money?

Bush: Well… Let’s see, there’s France… Oh wait… I got drunk, and was kind of a dick to them… Britain… Tony’s broke too… Shit… maybe daddy might have the cash… Can I send you some post-dated cheques?

Agent: Um… no, you burned us on that one last time… Payment is required in full…

Bush: You guys sure have me by the short and curlies… I feel like an armadillo in a foxhole… Tell you what… I’ll go to the post office right now and get a money order…

Blah blah blah…

Or perhaps a repo man… that would be awesome…

Peon: Sir, there is a man here, and he says he’s here to take your desk, and keys to the “football”

Anyway…

10/23/05 Maple Cream Donuts

The fall is in full swing, and my world is getting busy again. The day job has its ups and downs, but clearly there is more activity going on, and more to come for sure.

The night job is getting much busier too. This week I’m off to the beautiful city of Kelowna, I quite like it there. The people are nice enough, and the hotel is comfortable. To me going there is sort of like a mini vacation, it’s a great place to get a few days much needed rest.

The city has a wafting smell of cedar in the air, it reminds me of being in a sauna. The streets are well manicured and its neighbourhoods are well kept. It has “Stepford Wife” written all over it. It’s a city where industry and tourism meet hand in hand, and from what I can tell, there seems to be no clash between the two.

After that, I’m home for a few days, then off to do the whirlwind tour of Saskatchewan and Manitoba. (Hopefully a few familiar faces will come out in Saskatoon…)

Lately it seems that, much like my friend Brett, I am becoming a well-read vagabond. I may maintain a home and personal relationships, but in actuality, I’m still just a man in a suitcase.

Other Stuff…

There was a thing in Dose (a daily newspaper here in Calgary…) today about how Canada is becoming a bastion of Porn entertainment production. Apparently as the article suggests, we Canadians have a more lax attitude about porn than our American cousins.

After doing the odd straw poll on stage, I’m inclined to agree. The more interesting thing to me is that women are more open about the subject. Ten years ago, most women I knew looked at porn with disgust, and identified it with objectification. Now it seems the attitude can be best described by saying, “Put it on, and put it in me…”

Whenever I approach the subject from the stage, it’s the women who are the loudest. Their reaction is almost always positive. The impression I get is that more and more women are finding porn liberating, this to me is a notable change in attitude. Men on the other had are still afraid that an admission of this nature makes them look like perverts, so hence the best response I get are some tense looks and a lot of staring at feet.

Now I realize that socially, Canada has become a little more progressive. Our attitudes towards sex, drugs, and same sex relations have become more a little more European in nature. But the claims that were made in Dose, still strike me as odd for a number of reasons. 1) America is still the front-runner (by a large margin…) when it comes to making and distributing adult entertainment. 2) There can’t really that big a market for watching pastie white people bump uglies? 3) Name more than 2 Canadian porn stars without doing a google search… I bet you can’t. 4) I suspect that little of the Canadian production is for Canadian companies. I think it’s more likely that American companies are cashing in on the fact you can videotape a blowjob here for 15 percent less. (A bargain at half the savings…) 5) It’s hard enough to get a dramatic film shot in this country. I can only imagine how hard it is to get money to make a fuck film.

I'll leave my conjecture for you to debate.

10/23/05 Balcony Oratorio

It’s 3:35 am and I’m alert and awake. I think I have become the human embodiment of an Owl. (Well minus the fucked up eyes… And I’ll likely pass on the steady diet of rodents.) Sometimes insomnia can be fun. Tonight is definitely one of those kinda nights.

Thanks to wireless Internet, I can write this and still gawk at the live action version of “Ritchie Rich”. (The commercial breaks have made it really funny. 4 ads for a Spokane sex shop, and 3 for an “Adult” chat line. Just brilliant… Exactly what the fine people at Harvey comics had in mind when they sold the TV rights.)

More entertaining though is the drunken argument taking place just to the south of my balcony. It never ceases to amaze me when and what people will fight over.

The main event tonight appears to be a “Bitch” fight over who stole whose boyfriend. So far it’s very funny. I love hearing white girls from the suburbs of Calgary utter nonsense like “Oh You didn’t!!!” and “Bring it Bitch…” I’m not sure Shakespeare could have penned the dialog better.

Because of the way my building was constructed, the sounds from outside actually amplify. Over the last year or so I have heard some real doozeys. For a while, I used to pretend I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I found that I actually enjoyed listening in. It’s like some perverse radio show, only occasionally the police show up. (Killjoys…)

Earlier tonight I was treated to a conversation where two dudes chatted about their most recent V.D. tests. I guess people don’t realize that others could be listening. I’ve thought about buying a shotgun microphone, and recording what I hear. I think it could be a really cool multimedia project.

Perhaps a blog dedicated to it. I can see the title already… Something like “Balcony Oratorio” or maybe something more direct… “Here’s a bunch of Weird Shit My Neighbours Have Been Saying.”

How about “Bitch Fights and V.D. Tests…”

To quote the TV show Frasier… “I’m listening…”

10/20/05

Today has been an emotional day for me. I have been running the gamut of highs and lows, and I can’t seem to wrap my head around why. It feels like I might cry one minute, and the next I feel like laughing till I fall over. (It reminds me of a rubber band that’s been stretched just to the breaking point, and then released before it actually happens.)

Perhaps it’s just the change in seasons… The seasons here shift gears rather poorly. It’s like a teenager trying to learn how to use a standard gearbox for the first time. There’s an awful lot of jerking back and forth, and not much good to show for it.

It was snowing a little when I left the house for work. No good can come from that. The weather prognosticators insist that winter will roar in like a lion this year, and will likely bring the entire pride for an extended stay. I can’t say I’m wildly excited about that prospect.

Other stuff…

Bill Clinton was in town this week to pick up a cheque from Canada to help out with relief for Katrina victims. (Survivors?) He, from all accounts was very gracious, and gave us a little pat on the back for our efforts. (Think less Monica, and more favourite uncle…)

He also stepped into the fray about Canada’s position in the world’s oil game. He understands something that Bush and Company just doesn’t get. Rumour has it that Canada is the new oil power in the world. Alberta alone is sitting on a reserve that is larger that what the Saudi’s have to play with, and makes Texas look like barely more than a Texaco station.

But Clinton is not the only one who gets this. There are a couple of Republican senators who have taken notice too. Their words have been kind towards Canada, and seem to be carefully chosen. They seem to understand that it’s important to stem the war of words taking place between Ottawa and Washington.

Apparently all you have to say is… “Perhaps the Chinese would like all this oil we have here…” and out come the niceties… “Canada is an excellent neighbour and a good friend to us…” etc…

It's amazing when you have money, how people's manners change.

10/16/05

I’ve always wanted a motorcycle. A big obnoxiously loud bike, and in fact, the bigger it is, the better it would be. I want one with a motor so big, that it rattles windowpanes as it passes by. The kind of bike that makes you feel like THOR descending down from Valhalla and thundering into the breach of battle. (Insert “Ride of the Valkyries” here…)

Now by looking at me, you’d be hard pressed to think of me as a biker. (Or even a wannabe…) I don’t give off anything even remotely close to the sense of toughness that one would normally associate with motorcycles. (Not even close…) There is nothing wild or unfurled about me, but even still, my attraction to bikes in undeniable.

As a child, whenever I saw bikers I looked on with a sense of awe. Some people see them as unwashed hooligans, full of antisocial rage and generally unsavoury in nature, but I don’t see it that way. To me they evoke images medieval knights rushing off to slay the dragon and save the day. They conjured up adventure, and seem to relish in the thrill of the open road.

Even back then, I associated motorcycles with freedom. Perhaps it’s a misconception, but for some reason, I don’t think it is. Nothing sounds more like freedom to me than tearing up asphalt. Mind you, I’m not alone here… I know a lot of people who would love nothing more than to drop the hammer on a hog and leave the world in a trail of dust.

Anyway, the reason why I’m blathering on here is because on Saturday night, I (along with Freddie…) did a show for a Harley Davidson dealer. It was for the nice folks at Gasoline Alley Harley Davidson in Red Deer, and I must say, they put on quite a fancy little shindig. They tarted up the joint a little, and put on a spread. Good food, good booze, and great people. It was really a winning combination.

I only wish that I knew more about motorcycles. That way I would have had more to chat about, but I admitted to my ignorance on the topic, and people very politely tried to give me the goods as best they could. I think its cool when people look for common ground with one another. It makes the world a better place.

I saw one bike that was beautiful cobalt blue. It almost looked like sapphire. I think the bike was what they call a Soft Tail. It was stunning. There was so much chrome on it that you could shave just by gazing into its shiny reflection. The woman who owned it was friendly, and we have a good chat about its colour.

Apparently they had initially decided to have an Elvis impersonator come to entertain them, but at the last minute he got sick, and happily we got the gig. I would go back there in a heartbeat. It really was an enriching experience for me. I think it was just because they were so down to earth, and so genuinely pleased by our performance. You could tell they were happy to have us.

The stage was set up in the service bay, but at no time did it feel wrong. In fact, it was quite the opposite. It felt like home. Like the audience was in my living room. That kicks ass. After the show, the owners and patrons had big grins on. We had done well, and they were pleased.

10/08/05 “The Boogey man is coming, The Boogey man is coming…”

Bush has been blathering on about “Muslim Empires” a lot lately. Is it just me, or does this sound like the beginning of another protracted campaign to try and justify something?

It’s become both tragic and hilarious to watch him try and defend his remarks. He’s become the boy who cried wolf one too many times. (Except he hasn’t figured that part out yet… Happily though, it appears the American populace has caught on.)

There are some things that Bush needs to handle if he ever wants to be taken seriously again. (Both domestically and internationally…) The first and most crucial of which is to admit that the war isn’t going well. It’s like the worst kept secret ever, and an admission could actually give him a little breathing room. Direct and honest discourse might actually halt the free fall in his popularity. Just admit to what Americans are already thinking.

All it would take to say is this, “We’ve fucked up… It’s all gone to crap” It’s so simple and effective, and for the first time ever, Bush’s people could claim transparency without having to endure the press corps sniggering. (In a perfect world, I’d like to see him shake Michael Moore’s hand and then apologize… but beggars can’t be choosers…)

The second thing is to blast FEMA and Homeland security for their ham fisted operations in New Orleans. He should have been raising hell right from the start. But in his usual fashion, he lollygagged on the whole thing.

Ever look at his eyes during a public address? He looks like a freshly caught trout, glassy and dazed. (Like he had just been smacked off a rock, or suffered some other sort of blunt force trauma.) In some ways I kind of feel bad for him. He is not only the terrorist’s favourite target, but apparently Mother Nature’s bitch too.

What is it about this presidency that prevents it from reacting in an appropriate time frame? He needs to explain how the evacuation got turned into a racial issue. This needs to be addressed or the future ramifications will be dire.

Then he needs to engage an even more aggressive (See Positive…) program to help the hurricane and flood victims. The initial response was so shabby that it actually boggles the mind. (Especially for a country that is fixated on “Safety”) but the issues that arisen from this, can still can be fixed. (Mind you, I’m convinced that rebuilding New Orleans is not the answer… but there could be some creative ways to relocate people, and earnestly help them to establish new lives. Imagine what that money could do for those people. i.e. Education programs, Housing programs, Health Programs,)

The next thing on the agenda is to admit that he’s derailed the American economy. The national debt has taken on a life of it’s own, and his tax cuts will serve only to further ham string America’s future. Say goodbye social security, and say hello to soup kitchens.

Under his watch, America has floundered. It’s amazing to me that under Clinton (Who was as beleaguered as it gets…) the American economy was on fire. His policies were responsible for the most growth seen since the 1950’s. Even if Bush had left it on autopilot, it still wouldn’t be as grim as it looks now. How he and his neo con buddies can still justify this homage to Reaganomics is baffling. For a President who doesn’t like spending… he sure has done a lot of it. Too bad his priorities are fucked.

Lastly, pay your worldly debts. The United Nations has been waiting for the better part of Bush’s presidency for a cheque. (Being part of a club means paying your dues… Just ask the Lions, Elks, and members of the Loyal Order of Water Buffalos.) Unless you just want to be a freeloader…America the panhandler nation… That should ring hollow shouldn’t it? Especially since it’s the richest nation in the world… Perhaps the rest of the world would stop looking at America like a grinning buffoon.

How can you expect the world to be friendly if you welch on your debts? Mr. Bush, you should be embarrassed about not paying Canada the money your government owes because of the soft wood lumber dispute. You expect loyalty and friendship from other nations, and yet do nothing to inspire it. . If as a nation you expect other countries to be behaving as global citizens, perhaps you should try it in earnest first.

10/06/05

Wow… That last post kicked up a bit more dust than I would have expected. It’s amazing what kind of adventure a few words can take you on. I never expected that my thoughts would inspire some people to unload on me. Over the last year, I’ve had a few little skirmishes on here, but never a personal attack. Well, not a spiteful one.

But it’s time to move forward. No time like the present to step away from the lolly gagging. Life is too short to get caught up in the ramblings of others. (Especially when they have no bearing in my life… well none other than to make me weep for the death of common sense.) Besides the recent personal accomplishments I’ve made prevent me from letting this nonsense get to me. I’ve got bigger and tastier fish to fry.

So for those of you who decided to unfurl your venom on me, I have just this to say…
“Good luck with that, and I hope you find a more sporting victim…”

On to other things…

Last night I had a gig at Yuks. I really enjoyed myself. I decided to walked away from material quickly, and got into a nice little stream of conscious moment. I managed to come up with a few things that will eventually become bits. They worked reasonably well just as free formed ideas, so I can’t wait to see what happens once they get fleshed out a bit. Still there seems to be no clean, happy nice people jokes popping up… just filth… but filth with potential. I want to write just one squeaky-clean joke. Just to be able to say, “see… I can write a nice joke…”

I hung out with Brett last night. I always enjoy that. As people and friends, we are a lot alike. (Sometimes too much perhaps…and definitely more so than I think I ever realized before.) We both have a remarkably small threshold for other people’s bullshit. We wound up at the restaurant formerly known as “Husky House” and spent a couple of hours just shooting the shit. It’s funny how we can sit there drinking decafe and talk about the differences between Republics and Monarchies. (Although somehow sodomy jokes always make it into the mix.)

Anyway, I’m tired… I might actually get some sleep tonight.

10/03/05

The office is cold today. The day in general has a bit of a frosty air to it. When I left the house this morning, with my boss’s dog in tow, (I was dog sitting yesterday…) it was about minus five. Fall seems to have given way to the ugly that is winter. Yuck. I looked at the dog thinking, “what I wouldn’t give for a fur coat right about now.”

I couldn’t stop at the café this morning. Having Clio (the dog.) made it impossible. Today was one of those days where a hot chocolate first thing, would have started things off well. My teeth clacked together like a deformed child trying to operate a castanet.

Nevertheless we made it to work in one piece.

On to other things…

I had to fire someone today. That makes me sad. I hate that. It’s the worst part of my day job. It’s never fun to tell someone that they are no longer wanted or needed. I think that’s actually kind of hateful. Having been on the other end of that conversation once or twice, I can relate. It’s ugly. The news makes you feel ugly. It always made me a little numb.

However it was warranted, and that sucks just as much. It bothers me when people just fuck up the job. It’s hardly the kind of job that requires the skill of a surgeon, or the exacting precision of a Rocket scientist. You just require a little patience, and a good phone voice. (Things like grammar and manners are useful too…)

Why someone would choose to shoot themselves in the foot amazes me…

10/02/05

I am a firm believer that late night TV sucks a tremendous amount of ass. It’s always sucked, but now it’s worse than ever. I am hard pressed to name something in entertainment land that sucks quite as much. (Well besides pro wrestling, and televised golf… and perhaps “The Vagina Monologues” as performed by panel members of “The View.” For the record, Star Jones really needs to shut the fuck up once in a while.)

From chat lines for losers, to miracle cures, and even the shabby investment schemes, TV has been overrun with flim flam artists. Which begs a question… Who, in the year 2005 is falling for any of this shit? You’d have to be as dumb as a stick. (Or have voted for a Bush…)

I think P.T. Barnum was right. There is really is one born every minute. Only a complete moron could listen to Chuck Norris drone on and on about fitness equipment. (Chuck Norris… now that really is scraping the bottom of the celebrity barrel. Dr. Ho looks like a fucking genius in comparison.)

I used to like watching late night movies. Sure they were crap too, but quite often they were a fun little guilty pleasure. (Usually some stale movie of the week involving a boy in a bubble, a burning bed, or a cancer survival story starring Joyce Dewitt… or a splendid mix of the three.) Sadly they have mostly gone the way of the dinosaur.

It seems that commercials and other forms of advertising have become so commonplace that we have totally forgiven their intrusion in our lives. Fewer and fewer things are sacred, even churches have been besmirched by it. How did this happen? At what point did people decide that we could live with this crap.

Apparently there is a move to put product placements in books. Books… I have seen evil, and it is advertising in books. As if it wasn’t hard enough to find a good read these days, now I have to scan what I’m buying, just to ensure that some Shithead hasn’t polluted the content with an ad for Pepsi, or Microsoft or whatever…

Nothing is sacred, and that is a tragedy.

Stars - Set Yourself on Fire

Stars - Set Yourself on Fire
Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

The Most Serene Republic - Underwater Cinematographer

The Most Serene Republic - Underwater Cinematographer
Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

10/01/05

If this day went any slower, I think I’d seriously consider ramming a pencil into my eye socket, just to try and relieve the boredom. I wish I were kidding. It is so slow today. It’s painful to endure its reticent pace. I am wholly unable to recall a time (at least in recent memory.) where time just outright fails to move forward.

I realize that the statement, “A watched pot never boils…” is homespun wisdom, but this just feels ridiculous. It’s like some sick fucked up joke.

Perhaps it’s just because I’m in a bad mood. My world is cloudy today. I find myself in an unreasonable state of mind. It’s one of those days where I’d rather spit nails, or kick puppies than deal with anyone. Needless to say, I woke up with considerably less than cheer in my heart. Morning showed up like an uninvited guest today. (Much like a relative you’re forced to be nice to, even though you’d rather pretend you’re having a stroke, or falsely plead guilty to a murder to avoid them.)

I’m not sure what’s picking at my ass, but it’s pissing me off. I could sense something foul last night, but I tried to shake it, but it appears not to have worked.

Anyway, enough of my tantrum…

I had a lot of fun on Wednesday. The Yuks gang had a benefit for the victims / survivors of the disaster in New Orleans. It was a good show. The crowd was a little smaller than I would have expected, but it didn’t detract from the fun.

Cory Makk was the emcee. She just got nominated for a Canadian comedy award. I hope she wins. She’s a class act all the way.

Last night Erin and I went to see “Corpse Bride”. It was very good. I really like Tim Burton, and I like how he plays with gothic style. It wasn’t as good as “A Nightmare Before Christmas”, but it was totally enjoyable.

I also picked up a couple of cool CD’s. Stars – Set Yourself on Fire, and The Most Serene Republic – Underwater Cinematographer. You should check them both out.

Anyway… More to come later…

09/28/05 Hockey...

Sports Illustrated is projecting that the Calgary Flames will finish 1st overall in the hockey season. I couldn’t be more happy. My team is back. Hockey is back, and for the moment everything seems perfect.

My only bitch is this. It is now nearly impossible to get tickets. I got an email from the team’s marketing department, letting me know that they are having a lottery to purchase tickets. That sucks… It looks as if I’ll be just watching the games on TV this season. (Or deal with scalpers… Although I may have to resort to that just to get my fix.

Go Flames Go…

09/25/05 Just a quick update...

I just rose from a coma. I left the club right after my second set. Thanks to Carol Ann and Eamon, I made it home before I keeled over from exhaustion. I was feeling a little touch and go for most of the night. Strangely a couple of scotches seemed to keep me on track.

The first show went really, really well. I am using less material to get the job done. My bits are expanding nicely, and the show is getting much more personable than ever before. It’s less about the need to be funny, and more about the fact that I am funny. I’m finally starting to get what my contemporaries have been telling about letting my character loose, and it’s working.

Bill Macintosh, who is quickly becoming one of my favorite comics in the business, says that I’ve got a “Guy who’s come to fix the furnace” feel to my show. He’s says it’s blue collar, but clever. It’s more clever than the audience is expecting, and that’s why it works so well. It’s the first time someone has identified the character by name. I think he’s bang on too. But I think it requires a little more reflection on my part.

More to come later …

Jim White - No Such Place

Jim White - No Such Place
Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

This is one of my favourite discs of all time. Jim White is a kooky alt.country artist from Florida. He has some of the best lyrics I have ever heard.

Check out the songs:
1) Handcuffed to a fence in Mississippi
2) The Wound That Never Heals
3) 10 Miles to Go on a 9 Mile road.

09/24/05 Happy Accidents with the Fireboy...

There are many things that I have wanted to be in my life, but I never was able to stick to just one. (Well until recently…) Society tells us that your average person will have six different career paths in their lifetime. That seems like a lot, but truthfully I have had many more than that… and likely will find more along the way.

Here is a brief list of the jobs I’ve tackled over the years. There are in not particular order. I thought about listing them from worst to best, but I decided it really didn’t matter too much.

1) Stand up comic. (My Favourite, and current vocation. Hopefully the one I will be attached to for the rest of my life.)
2) Photographer (This one was fun too, except when it came to taking pictures or pets or children… or some fucked up combination of the two.)
3) Video Editor / DVD Impressionist (I used to work for a scumbag who got his money from the mob. His name was Bill and he was the biggest liar I have ever met. At least once a day I had to politely explain to our clients that he was a “little off base”, and then give them more realistic answers to their questions. )
4) Key Grip / Best Boy (Right our of film school, I went to work on 5 features… then decided that I’d rather be in front of the camera than behind it.)
5) Merchandiser (I was caught up in some sort of strange Edwardian plot. I got married to the boss’s daughter… it didn’t go well…)
6) Movie store clerk (I loved this job… It was the slowest store on the planet… I watched movies all day…)
7) Record store guy. (I spent everything that I earned. I left with a kick ass music collection.)
8) Call centre manager (This one has been really good to me over the years. Esp. the one I work at now.)
9) Radio DJ (This one was voluntary… but I worked harder at this than most jobs.)
10) Construction worker (I hated this job.)
11) Computer geek (Being a mouse jockey was fun… but it got a little boring at times.)
12) McShitty’s grill guy (The worst job I have ever had. It sucked the life right out of me.)
13) Pizza Guy (This one was pretty shitty too. I hated rolling dough. The people who owned the joint were nice, but the people who worked there were only marginally less painful than what I imagine hauling razor wire across your crotch might be.)

So far I’ve had twice the amount of jobs that most people ever have in their lives. Only two of them have ever been what I would call career jobs. At no point would say McShitty’s is a vocation. In Darwin’s food chain, it’s barely a notch above bag lady. I find it sad when I see older people who work there. To me it’s a sign of resignation. I guess it beats eating Alpo and living on the streets, but there is something to be said for self respect too.

If I could ever give anyone some solid advice, it would be this. Never give up. Never accept defeat. Anyone can rise above that kind of mediocrity. In fact if you work for Mc Shitty’s or any other piece of shit fast food job… I beg of you… Rise up and slay your oppressive slave masters, bring a shit storm down on them. Turn it into a “Lord of the Flies” type thing. And while you’re at it… Burn the joint to the ground. Sure you’ll likely go to jail… But at least you can hold your head up high as you are escorted to your cell. Self-respect is within your grasp. All you have to do is reach for it. (Besides you’ll be doing society a solid in the process… and let’s face it… beheading someone with a spatula is a pretty funny concept.)

But I digress…

It’s odd how even as a child; we start to identify career paths. Usually there is an immediate gender bias (Insert blue for boys & pink for girls logic here.) As a child my ambitions were centred around being a cowboy, or a fireman, or more likely a hybrid of the two… (Fireboy… Fire Cow… Cowman… err… perhaps I’ll just move on here…)

I remember vividly tearing up the sidewalk on my little orange tricycle, dressed in a cowboy vest, cap guns in my holster, and a fireman’s helmet, and for the record, I was brilliant at making a siren noise. (Much to my parents chagrin…) It could be said that I was a weird child. (There are many would argue that not much has changed.)

A couple of years ago, I went back to see one of my old high school teachers. He often used to ask me in class if I thought I was a comedian. I think he thought he was being rather clever in dealing with my all to frequent outbursts. Happily I gave him my business card, and all he did was smirk. Perhaps it was his own inadvertent premonition, or maybe just maybe the joke was on him and he knew it. Either way I was amused.

I never intended to become a comic. It just sort of happened. At no point was it ever a longing desire. It was an pleasant accident, and the best surprise I could have ever imagined.

More to come later.

09/23/05 I Have Nightmares of Photostatic Clones

It was chilly this morning. Not in a terrible, unpleasant way, but in a sort of seemingly premature way. I had to take the bus this morning. I hate the bus. People always look like they’re on their way to some sort of grim business. The way some looked this morning, I half expected to see soldiers with dogs waiting at every stop, barking instructions in mock German at them as they extricated themselves from the vehicle.

It was truly a sombre lot for the most part. No one seemed to be ready to rush the day headlong. At no point was there a fear that the bus would break out into the chorus of “A Rush And Push and This Land is Ours…” Not that I can really say too much here. Mind you, I was in no real shape to give the world a “Fred Astaire” style heal kick either, but at least I had managed to get my motor started.

Before I left the house this morning, I gazed with frank disapproval at the black rings around my eyes. The person in the mirror didn’t look like me. It seemed more like a Xerox copy of me. The features were the same, but the details were fuzzy. (And it look like there was too much toner used…) I feel I have become exhaustion’s bitch. There is just too much to do before Sunday’s rest. I would kill for a nap… Just a little one… 20 minutes would do… and yet it doesn’t seem to appear in the cards.

We have spent the week looking after Erin’s parent’s place. They have a little white dog named Harvey. He’s a total spaz. He’s afraid of everything, and more specifically me. He looks at me like I have wronged him in some fashion. Well he did… Yesterday he and I had a breakthrough. We went for a couple of walks together, and he was playful and excited. It was nice. Later we both had a little nap. I conked out first, and when I woke up, I noticed that he had curled up in my lap.

I have a heap of shows this week. Tuesday I went to Banff with Kevin McGrath. He’s a good guy, but also an odd duck. But then again, who isn’t a little strange in the land of stand up?

Anyway More to come later…

09/16/05 Clash of The Titans

I have had the mixed fortune over the years to work with an odd assortment of people. You’d be hard pressed to come up with an oddity that would surprise me. From Tourettes Syndrome to Multiple personality disorder, I have seen it all. I am constantly amazed what passes for functional in our society. Make no mistake, I believe that everyone can and should offer something to society, but I have often questioned the judgment of the powers that be.

A prime example would be the previously mentioned case of Tourettes Syndrome. At one time I worked at a radio station in Newfoundland. We had struck what we thought would be a clever deal with social services. We would provide training and practical skills for those who would normally fall through the cracks and in return they would help fund our little community radio station. How could this possibly go wrong?

Well, this is how… Someone at social services decided to send a radio station someone who had no control over the words that escaped his lips. Either that caseworker had the best sense of humour in the history of mankind, or was a totally evil bastard. They wanted us to train this poor fellow as a “news reader…”

Now you can imagine how this might go horribly wrong. For the record, the thoughts currently connecting in your head as you read this are dead on. (In a sort of 2+2 = 4 kind of way.)

The end result was like some sort of grisly, fucked up traffic accident. You’d be surprised at just exactly how stupid you feel when trying to explain the situation to the CRTC. (It’s well past the point of having a dumb smirk on your face, and much more like realizing that you’ve just set your groin on fire… only 25 percent more painful…) It’s one of those moments, when it would have been much wiser to have just ripped up your broadcasting license on the spot, than sit there try and justify the scenario.

Anyway. For all the havoc that was cause, the poor fellow that was caught in the middle of it all was just a poor schmuck that was dealt a really shitty hand. For as difficult a situation as it was, it really wasn’t his fault. (Not by any stretch…)

He was (and I suppose still is…) a decent human, and seemingly good spirited fellow. I never heard him gripe once about his syndrome or it’s affects ever. Not once in the two years that I knew him.

Currently in my land of many hats, there is a woman who seems to be afflicted by her own sense of misery. From what I know of her, she is a single woman in her early 60’s. She’s rather plain and about as average as it gets, and judging her by appearance, she reminds me of a little white mouse. (In fact I think I’ll refer to her as The Misery Mouse from now on…)

There’s hardly a day that goes by, where she isn’t regaling me with some sordid tale of woe.

From deaths to strange medical emergencies, she somehow manages to run the whole gamut. There’s always some sort of tragedy on the horizon, and it always fills her with dread and sorrow. (To the point where she is unable to function…)

It’s gotten to the point where I find it difficult to talk to her. I find it soul crushing. I am totally unable to understand how anyone can be that hyper sensitive. It strikes me that you would rot to pieces trying to shoulder that much ugly emotion.

Anyway, I find it sad that an otherwise totally healthy person can ride the misery train, and a man with an affliction that severely hampers his social interactions whistles on his way to work.

Ain’t life fucked sometimes?

Calgary Cont'd - Sitting Eagle

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Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

This is my favourite statue in Calgary. Sitting Eagle was a native chief...

It just looks so strong and proud...

Calgary's Stephen Ave.

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Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

This is the lunchtime stroll area. At noon on any given weekday, 50,000 people come out on to the Ave.

There are a lot of buskers, and small little vendors on the Ave. There are a lot of panhandlers too...

The big white in the picture are supposed to be trees. Giant metal trees... Giant gaudy metal trees...

I really think ones made out of real wood and leaves would have been better.

Calgary Cont'd

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Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

This used to be a Western Canadian based television station called A-Channel. IT got purchased by the Chum group in Toronto, and is now one of their affiliates.

I find it a little too slick looking for Calgary.

09/15/05 Calgary Pics

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Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

This is a picture of an access point to the plus 15 walkway.

For you non Calgarians, most of the office buildings in our city are connected by a network of skywalks.

It's also a neat, serpentine maze of shops, and services.

Notice the cowboy hat on the little guy? Sure it's a little goofy... but it speaks to our down home charm.

The Blog's first Birthday

Today is the first anniversary of this blog. Imagine… A whole year of stuff that has funneled out of my head, and I’m not sure if it’s really done me or anyone else any good. I know I have some dedicated readers; I’m just not sure how many.

I can only promise that the next year will track the changes in my life, much as the previous has. What adventures do I have in store for me? Who knows?

In the meantime, I think I need a cake and some streamers. Well okay, just the cake… truthfully I need little excuse to get me some cake.

Anyway here are some quotes that I’ve chosen to help celebrate.

“An author is a fool who, not content with boring those he lives with, insists on boring future generations.” - Charles de Montesquieu, French lawyer & philosopher (1689 - 1755)

“Everyone has the obligation to ponder well his own specific traits of character. He must also regulate them adequately and not wonder whether someone else's traits might suit him better. The more definitely his own a man's character is, the better it fits him.” –Cicero, Roman author, orator, & politician (106 BC - 43 BC)

“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I needed to be.” - Douglas Adams, English humorist & science fiction novelist (1952 - 2001)

My Messy Desk

My Messy Desk
Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

This is where this blog usually comes from. Sure it's a mess, but for some reason I find it comfortable.

I actually clean it up once in a while, but it takes exactly 10 seconds for me to turn it all upside down again.

The Stairwell of my Building.

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Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

I thought this picture was neat.

09/12/05

Edmonton was good fun. The Friday shows were only about half full, but still managed to be pretty cool. I was a little uncomfortable in the first show, mostly because the stage is much higher than I am used to, and there is a notably strange echo. By the second show I was back up to speed, and it was all systems go after that.

The Saturday show was like a gift from the heavens. The club was packed to the gills, and the audience was ready to rock. Bill got them fast, and then Howie Miller went up and sealed the deal. This audience was pumped and primed. When I hit the stage, you could feel the electricity in the air, as it snapped and crackled, it was almost as if I had been hooked up to a Vander Graff generator. The audience exploded after the first joke, and I didn't look back after that. They were mine, and they new it.

It's moments like that where you understand why you do what you do. The communication was clear, and the intended receiver got the message. There was no error in the system, no fly in the ointment. For the first time in a while, I truly felt like a rock star. Stand up no longer feels like a hobby I get paid for. It now feels like a career.

Edmonton is a funny place. The people there really are great. (IF you exclude the area that we normally stay in… which can be a little dicey from time to time.) Edmontonians however have some obvious flaws, namely their pesky and insistent love of the Oilers. They cling to what was, and not what is. (But then as a Flames fan I am equally guilty…) But for all practical purposes they are fine people.

The city itself is fairly curious. The main drags are nice enough, but there are a lot of areas that look more like they had just been kinda slapped up. There's barely a lick of paint, or a dash of concrete to lace it all together. It looks a lot less like urban planning, and a lot more like a diorama created by some 6th grade C student (with a bad case of the shakes...) But then again, the river valley is stunning, and the Whyte Ave area is pretty damn funky. You can find what you want in Edmonton, and it seems like a nice place to live, but It's not the prettiest city overall.

The hotel they put us in is okay. In the past, the rooms have been reasonably comfortable, or at least clean (ish). I wish I could say that was the case this time. The carpet was stained, as were the walls. One wall in particular had a bit of a splatter on it. It could have been cola; it could have been blood, either way I'm pretty sure that CSI Edmonton probably should have come to take a peek before they gave me the room.

I did a little bit of shopping while I was there. I avoided the West Edmonton mall in favour of a few much smaller malls with mom and pop type stores in them. There wasn't much around, (Except for some real snazzy knock off hip-hop duds… For only the most frugal of the hard rhyming set…) so I took a jaunt over to a strip mall that had some larger anchor stores. I had the most luck though at Zellers. I found Dickies work shirts there for cheap. In the boutique shops they fetch 60 or 70 bucks. At Zellers, I found the very same shirts for a paltry $15.99. I snapped up a few, so now I'm set for the coming fall.

Saturday night after the show, I went down to Whyte Avenue for a bit. First I hit the Commercial Hotel. There was a blues band playing, but they really weren't all that interesting. (White folks playing the blues rarely is…) I decided to go for a walk down the bar strip. I came across a punk bar. Well really it was a seedy old warehouse that had some bands playing in it. I think the Kids thought I was a narc. I went in to see what was going on. The girl at the door asked me for ID. I gave it too her, and her eyes widened.

Punk Rock Girl: “You're 34…”

Me: Yes…

Punk Rock Girl: Wow… why are you here? Are you looking for your kid?

Me: I don't have any kids… I just like punk rock…

Punk Rock Girl: Cool… It's 3 bucks to get in…

Me: A bargain at twice the price…

Punk Rock Girl: Wah?

Me: Never mind…

And then I walked in. The smell of stale beer and sweat was overwhelming. It reminded me of old cheese. It was more pungent than I normally tend to enjoy. I had forgotten what a punk rock show smelled like. It had been a very long time. (Over a decade for sure.) Someone next to me started to puke, and it was at that moment I remembered why I stopped going. I grew up… It was a happy revelation.

Long gone are the days of hurling myself at high velocity towards the sea of bodies. The memories of poorly tuned guitars and stale punk politics have been replace by a sense of forward motion. The zeal I once had has mutated into something new. Optimism.

I think about the old halcyon days with great nostalgia. But I live in a much cooler place now. I live in a world where I am shaping my own destiny, and following my dreams. Punk rock was the start of beating my own path, and for that I owe something, but now I have out grown it's misguided idealism, in favour of my own newer misguided idealism. But at least it's mine.

I went back to my hotel with a smile on my face. I slept like a baby for once.

Me...

DSC02712
Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

This was taken for me by a very nice man in a Hell's Angels jacket... Happily he gave me the camera back...

Howie

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Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

This is another one of my pals in Edmonton. Howie Miller... He's a like a wind up toy... well... Like a wind up toy with a megaphone...

Winston

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Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.

This is one of my favourite guys in Edmonton. His name is Winston Herbert... He's a super good dude...

09/10/05 The Edmonton Marquee

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Originally uploaded by whiskeydrenched.