So far today I've made 3 trips to the printer. I'm enjoying huffing my lazy carcass up and down several flights of stairs and trundling off to pick up and drop stuff off. Truthfully the exercise is good for me and more specifically my chunk like midriff. Although at this point one might argue that the band "Weezer" was named after me. (Except that I really don't look that much like Buddy Holly, I know very few "homies", and none of whom of the ones I do know are currently dissing me or my girl
I've just gotten over some sort of stomach thing. I spent yesterday running between the couch and the lavatory (I prefer this term, it sounds more scientific that washroom.). Somewhere in the mix though, I finally got around to posting video clips.
In fact sitting at home all day can do wonders for productivity. Boredom can be a great motivator. I even managed to tweeze my eyebrows, which is good, because I was starting to look like Wolfman Jack. (Well, before he took his eternal dirt nap.)
"Bushy eyebrows aren't all that hip and groovy, you crazy kiddies. How ooooooow"
I recently got an Xbox 360, and so I spent a little time killing terrorists yesterday. This thing is far more realistic that I would have expected. All that's missing is the smell of smoke, and the waft of the shit left in a dying soldier's pants.
I think we should just give Bush an Xbox, that way he won't be wasting anymore money on "The War Against Terrorism" (T.W.A.T.) and will still accomplish about the same amount of progress. There will be a lot fewer grief stricken mothers if the whole thing got distilled down to a few hours of "Tom Clancy's Ghost Recon – Advance War Fighter."
More to come later…
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Just a thought...
I have always been fascinated by the notion that some species eat their young. It’s a splendid concept. I’m not entirely sure it’s true, but I do seem to recall a story about a male bear that killed its cubs, so as to not be challenged for dominance. It’s an almost Shakespearean concept. Rumour has it, that a “lost” sequel to Hamlet had a similar plot. (Involving homicidal bears… dressed up as fops and what not…)
I think it’s time humans adopted a more positive view about cannibalism. Sure there have been extreme cases, usually involving stranded soccer players, or lost artic explorers, but generally we as a whole have frowned on the thought. That my friends, is being wickedly short sighted on our part.
It might solve a few problems all at once. Let’s face it, a significant portion of the world’s population is hungry, and we have a lot of socially retarded dirt bags that would make some pretty tasty eating.
Who wouldn’t love to hear Chuck Heston bellow out “Soylent Green is made from Hilton”?
And now that the Olsen twins aren’t little kids, they need to be put into the stock pot too.
“What’s that flavour? I can’t put my finger on it. It has a gamey taste, but there’s also a whiff of disappointment to it,”
“Oh that’s just Mary Kate and Ashley…”
It would be a dream come true. If other species can do, I know that in my heart that with a little practice, with our collective nose to the grindstone, we could get into it. Let’s face it, with a little Montreal steak spice, and a few cloves of garlic, you can make anything taste edible.
K… Perhaps that’s an extreme thought. Think of it this way. If you are a useless waste of flesh and bone, and your existence has done nothing to help this species out, perhaps you were meant to meet your end this way. What if this was supposed to be your destiny? Perhaps your talent is to become a rib roast.
Besides, Britney Burgers has a ring to it. Say it with me now… “K-Fed for the underfed.”
It’s not that crazy.
I think it’s time humans adopted a more positive view about cannibalism. Sure there have been extreme cases, usually involving stranded soccer players, or lost artic explorers, but generally we as a whole have frowned on the thought. That my friends, is being wickedly short sighted on our part.
It might solve a few problems all at once. Let’s face it, a significant portion of the world’s population is hungry, and we have a lot of socially retarded dirt bags that would make some pretty tasty eating.
Who wouldn’t love to hear Chuck Heston bellow out “Soylent Green is made from Hilton”?
And now that the Olsen twins aren’t little kids, they need to be put into the stock pot too.
“What’s that flavour? I can’t put my finger on it. It has a gamey taste, but there’s also a whiff of disappointment to it,”
“Oh that’s just Mary Kate and Ashley…”
It would be a dream come true. If other species can do, I know that in my heart that with a little practice, with our collective nose to the grindstone, we could get into it. Let’s face it, with a little Montreal steak spice, and a few cloves of garlic, you can make anything taste edible.
K… Perhaps that’s an extreme thought. Think of it this way. If you are a useless waste of flesh and bone, and your existence has done nothing to help this species out, perhaps you were meant to meet your end this way. What if this was supposed to be your destiny? Perhaps your talent is to become a rib roast.
Besides, Britney Burgers has a ring to it. Say it with me now… “K-Fed for the underfed.”
It’s not that crazy.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Snow... Nikki, Shane, and Me...
There is more Goddamn snow in Calgary today. That is too cruel for words. This is like some sort of sick Groundhog Day joke. Today is supposed to be the first day of spring. It is as if Mother Nature just said "Fuck You!" and skipped on by. I personally believe she's an evil bitch, and I am convinced she must be stopped at all costs. She in my humble estimation represents a "clear and present danger" to my health and sanity. I feel like I'm walking on eggshells, and so far I'm laying the root causes on her evil wake...
But I digress, on to other stuff…
Edmonton came off without any hitches. All four shows were sold out. The club was packed to the absolute rafters. All of the shows rocked. Nikki and Shane were both fantastic, which made my job as smooth as silk. I love it when things run without a snag.
The bus ride up to Edmonton was tiring. The second we got off of the Red Arrow, we were whisked away to the studios of Sonic 102.9. That was really fun, the folks there are super friendly, and they loaded us down with swag. Nikki said sweaty genitals a lot while we were there. I liked that very much.
On the way to the club, before the shows on Friday, we found out that Yuks had hired extra security for the shows. Initially we were led to believe that they would be carrying tazers, which we all thought would have been fun. (A little excessive, but fun nonetheless) We all wanted to shock Shane. Nikki thought it would have made for a very funny new closer. I agreed. Shane seemed open to the idea. Alas we were misinformed. They just had handcuffs and bear spray. Shane was less open to that concept.
The shows went great, and then Shane and I got drunk. Really really really stinking drunk, and yet somehow we were still able to sell a pile of CDs and sign some autographs.
Saturday started with a trip to the West Ed, (After recuperating from the Friday's drinking…) where we managed a decent lunch, and did some shopping. I love the HMV at the West Ed. It's the biggest one in Canada, and I always managed to find some cool stuff there.
Then we headed back to the hotel to clean up before the evening's shows. Both shows rocked, and we managed to sell another pile of CDs and sign some more autographs. Much to my amazement, people had travelled far and wide to come see the show. (That Nikki Payne is a superstar for real…) There were folks from Winnipeg that came just for the show, and I met some folks from Fort McMurray too. All in all, I was mighty mighty (So much so I had to say mighty twice…) Impressed.
If only all gigs were like that. Happy belated St. Patrick's day to all.
But I digress, on to other stuff…
Edmonton came off without any hitches. All four shows were sold out. The club was packed to the absolute rafters. All of the shows rocked. Nikki and Shane were both fantastic, which made my job as smooth as silk. I love it when things run without a snag.
The bus ride up to Edmonton was tiring. The second we got off of the Red Arrow, we were whisked away to the studios of Sonic 102.9. That was really fun, the folks there are super friendly, and they loaded us down with swag. Nikki said sweaty genitals a lot while we were there. I liked that very much.
On the way to the club, before the shows on Friday, we found out that Yuks had hired extra security for the shows. Initially we were led to believe that they would be carrying tazers, which we all thought would have been fun. (A little excessive, but fun nonetheless) We all wanted to shock Shane. Nikki thought it would have made for a very funny new closer. I agreed. Shane seemed open to the idea. Alas we were misinformed. They just had handcuffs and bear spray. Shane was less open to that concept.
The shows went great, and then Shane and I got drunk. Really really really stinking drunk, and yet somehow we were still able to sell a pile of CDs and sign some autographs.
Saturday started with a trip to the West Ed, (After recuperating from the Friday's drinking…) where we managed a decent lunch, and did some shopping. I love the HMV at the West Ed. It's the biggest one in Canada, and I always managed to find some cool stuff there.
Then we headed back to the hotel to clean up before the evening's shows. Both shows rocked, and we managed to sell another pile of CDs and sign some more autographs. Much to my amazement, people had travelled far and wide to come see the show. (That Nikki Payne is a superstar for real…) There were folks from Winnipeg that came just for the show, and I met some folks from Fort McMurray too. All in all, I was mighty mighty (So much so I had to say mighty twice…) Impressed.
If only all gigs were like that. Happy belated St. Patrick's day to all.
Dear Captain, My Captain,
The Prime Minister is trying to buy your vote. He wants a majority, and he's willing to pay for it. This new federal budget smacks of a party on a mission. It's as if the Conservatives are looking at the Liberals and saying "Bring it Bitches!" In a single tabled document he's trying to buy families, seniors and the Bloc. (If I were a Quebecer I would be furious with my elected representation right about now…) You can practically see the saliva dripping off of the new budget.
I suspect in true Harper fashion, the jibes and jeers are going to get louder and louder, as they try to goad the Liberals into a showdown. (Let's not forget that the Prime Minister is a bully, and quite frankly a mean spirited prick.) This is a full on drama queen battle royal. Its gonna be really fun to watch, but will it be good for the country? Likely not. (But, it's not going to be boring.)
If Dion was smart, he'd just sit and smile. If I were the liberal leader, I'd drag out every agonizing moment. I'd bring a rocking chair into the House of Commons and just sit tight. The louder it got, the more I'd rock. (I might even learn how to knit.) Sadly though, Dion is a bit of a simpering wimp. I suspect he'll take the bait sooner rather than later, if only to try and rough up his weenie image. That would have some seriously tragic consequences. (Namely a Conservative Majority...)
I'm pretty sure that I'd let Harper trip over himself, because sooner or later the great ship Conservative is going to make a fatal mistake. There will be an iceberg in its future. Without question, they will eventually "chum" the waters themselves. It is the nature of government to implode; sometimes it just takes a while. (Ever notice that Finance Minister Jim Flaherty looks a lot like Boris Badinoff from the Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons? Come to think of it, Rona Ambrose looks like a chunky Natasha!)
"izzzz Vicked Boris?"
"Ja, is Vicked Natasha!"
The longer Harper and the other sausage fingered "brown shirts" have to wait, the better off the country will be. (It's like Jenga but with red necks in expensive suits… Not to mention a misplaced sense of entitlement.) Truthfully we need to let them lose their way, and start to get fat off the hog. I'm tempted to dangle a ham in front of them, just to see what happens.
My Grandpa gave me a great piece of advice once about politics. "Never trust a Conservative when he wants to spend money."
To me, it's kinda like watching a desperate poker player splash the pot, hoping that antics rather than the pair of deuces in hand, will cause the other players to fold
Don't get me wrong, for the time being, (I'm thinking short term here…) there is nothing wrong with a Conservative Minority. They can't get too uppity the way things stand, and while they're busy being little beavers trying to shore up their Dam, the country can lap up some of the spoils. After all, their spending, regardless of motivation, is currently at least somewhat helpful. (Although, it really doesn't go far enough… but that's for another post.)
I suspect in true Harper fashion, the jibes and jeers are going to get louder and louder, as they try to goad the Liberals into a showdown. (Let's not forget that the Prime Minister is a bully, and quite frankly a mean spirited prick.) This is a full on drama queen battle royal. Its gonna be really fun to watch, but will it be good for the country? Likely not. (But, it's not going to be boring.)
If Dion was smart, he'd just sit and smile. If I were the liberal leader, I'd drag out every agonizing moment. I'd bring a rocking chair into the House of Commons and just sit tight. The louder it got, the more I'd rock. (I might even learn how to knit.) Sadly though, Dion is a bit of a simpering wimp. I suspect he'll take the bait sooner rather than later, if only to try and rough up his weenie image. That would have some seriously tragic consequences. (Namely a Conservative Majority...)
I'm pretty sure that I'd let Harper trip over himself, because sooner or later the great ship Conservative is going to make a fatal mistake. There will be an iceberg in its future. Without question, they will eventually "chum" the waters themselves. It is the nature of government to implode; sometimes it just takes a while. (Ever notice that Finance Minister Jim Flaherty looks a lot like Boris Badinoff from the Rocky and Bullwinkle cartoons? Come to think of it, Rona Ambrose looks like a chunky Natasha!)
"izzzz Vicked Boris?"
"Ja, is Vicked Natasha!"
The longer Harper and the other sausage fingered "brown shirts" have to wait, the better off the country will be. (It's like Jenga but with red necks in expensive suits… Not to mention a misplaced sense of entitlement.) Truthfully we need to let them lose their way, and start to get fat off the hog. I'm tempted to dangle a ham in front of them, just to see what happens.
My Grandpa gave me a great piece of advice once about politics. "Never trust a Conservative when he wants to spend money."
To me, it's kinda like watching a desperate poker player splash the pot, hoping that antics rather than the pair of deuces in hand, will cause the other players to fold
Don't get me wrong, for the time being, (I'm thinking short term here…) there is nothing wrong with a Conservative Minority. They can't get too uppity the way things stand, and while they're busy being little beavers trying to shore up their Dam, the country can lap up some of the spoils. After all, their spending, regardless of motivation, is currently at least somewhat helpful. (Although, it really doesn't go far enough… but that's for another post.)
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
My Pony's Name is John...
The Democratic primaries are going to be really damn interesting. Clinton vs. Obama is likely going to be the main event battle, but I'm not convinced that's the real part of the contest everyone should be paying attention to. I suspect that the dark horse in this race is really John Edwards.
He's young, and dynamic, from the south, and not a challenge for Middle America. He won't ruffle the feathers of rural folk (not based on appearance anyway… This in 2007 is a sad commentary!) Nor will the religious right get too uppity with him. He's a bigger liberal that Clinton and Obama put together, and most importantly he's eloquent while still managing to be a "plain" speaker. He smacks of vox populi.
I like his affable southern charm, but what I like more is that he's willing to admit when he's wrong. He apologized to the American public for voting yes to Baby Bush's war. Clinton couldn't bring herself to do that, instead opting for the notion of "being misled" which is not at all the same thing. Truthfully Hillary comes off as arrogant, but with a sense of entitlement attached to it. I think that puts an unelectable stink on her and will ultimately crucify her chances over the long haul. (There is also something about her I find stifling. I bet poor ole Bill has a short leash these days…)
As for Obama, his admission of using drugs in college (actually inhaling pot smoke, and hitting the snow a little…) is refreshing, and clearly his level of intelligence, and sensibility have "serious contender" written all over him, but I think he's still too green around the edges. He needs to mature a little more, but once that happens I suspect he will be unstoppable. I believe one day he will be President. Just not anytime in the near future.
Which brings me back to John Edwards, who I totally believe should be the "here and now" candidate for the Democrats. It would be incredibly stupid for them not to see this. He shows something they've been missing for some time, namely strength of character. He doesn't strike me as the dithering liberal that the neo cons like to lambaste.
Ann Coulter called him a faggot, (In this day and age Ann Coulter condeming you is practically an endorsement...) but she just couldn't make it stick, mostly because no one would believe it anyway. He's done nothing but show interest in public service, and regardless of political stripe, no ones sees that as a bad thing. (Ann seems to forget that no one cares anymore… her day in the fascist sun is done. She's a liar and the entire world knows it. I suspect even her parents would be likely to tell her to the fuck shut up.)
Anyhoo… more on this as I think of it.
He's young, and dynamic, from the south, and not a challenge for Middle America. He won't ruffle the feathers of rural folk (not based on appearance anyway… This in 2007 is a sad commentary!) Nor will the religious right get too uppity with him. He's a bigger liberal that Clinton and Obama put together, and most importantly he's eloquent while still managing to be a "plain" speaker. He smacks of vox populi.
I like his affable southern charm, but what I like more is that he's willing to admit when he's wrong. He apologized to the American public for voting yes to Baby Bush's war. Clinton couldn't bring herself to do that, instead opting for the notion of "being misled" which is not at all the same thing. Truthfully Hillary comes off as arrogant, but with a sense of entitlement attached to it. I think that puts an unelectable stink on her and will ultimately crucify her chances over the long haul. (There is also something about her I find stifling. I bet poor ole Bill has a short leash these days…)
As for Obama, his admission of using drugs in college (actually inhaling pot smoke, and hitting the snow a little…) is refreshing, and clearly his level of intelligence, and sensibility have "serious contender" written all over him, but I think he's still too green around the edges. He needs to mature a little more, but once that happens I suspect he will be unstoppable. I believe one day he will be President. Just not anytime in the near future.
Which brings me back to John Edwards, who I totally believe should be the "here and now" candidate for the Democrats. It would be incredibly stupid for them not to see this. He shows something they've been missing for some time, namely strength of character. He doesn't strike me as the dithering liberal that the neo cons like to lambaste.
Ann Coulter called him a faggot, (In this day and age Ann Coulter condeming you is practically an endorsement...) but she just couldn't make it stick, mostly because no one would believe it anyway. He's done nothing but show interest in public service, and regardless of political stripe, no ones sees that as a bad thing. (Ann seems to forget that no one cares anymore… her day in the fascist sun is done. She's a liar and the entire world knows it. I suspect even her parents would be likely to tell her to the fuck shut up.)
Anyhoo… more on this as I think of it.
Stuffy Stuff Stuff Stuff...
This morning was met with less resistance than normal on my part. I’m feeling pretty good. I wouldn’t go so far as to say “Hale and Hearty” but at least I’m not crabby. The drive into work was quicker than normal, and light years better than the shit show that was yesterday’s commute. (Snow + Calgary drivers = shit show…) I swear to God, when the weather is bad here, people begin to very quickly show that their DNA is only a few strands away from a monkey’s. (Let the poo flinging begin…)
I’ve spent most of my day so far packing. I’m heading to a new project, which means yet another move to yet another building. This is the 5th time in four months that I’ve had to pack. I’m becoming some sort of packing wizard. I hope this is the last one for a while. Living out of boxes is one thing, but trying to work out of them is a total different story. (Why must I be a man in a suitcase?)
Other stuff,
I’ve been on a bit of a writing binge lately. There are a few new jokes that are starting to take some decent shape. They still need to be wrung out on stage, but their framework is looking very promising. I’m hoping to excise a significant chunk of older material in the next little while, and these could be really great replacements with just a little bit more polishing.
Still More Stuff…
I’ve given up meat for a while. I made the mistake of watching “Fast Food Nation.” There is a really graphic scene that takes place on the “kill floor” and it horrified me. It literally took all of my stamina not to get sick afterwards. It was so jarring and brutal. (I’ve seen some pretty heavy pictures from Iraq that seemed less brutal… Although that’s probably a sad commentary on its own…) I’m generally not sensitive or squeamish, but that really rattled me. At this point, regardless of my love of cheeseburgers, I’m not sure I want to eat meat again anytime soon. So for me now I shall gorge on “Boca Burgers” with cheese instead.
More to come as I think of it…
I’ve spent most of my day so far packing. I’m heading to a new project, which means yet another move to yet another building. This is the 5th time in four months that I’ve had to pack. I’m becoming some sort of packing wizard. I hope this is the last one for a while. Living out of boxes is one thing, but trying to work out of them is a total different story. (Why must I be a man in a suitcase?)
Other stuff,
I’ve been on a bit of a writing binge lately. There are a few new jokes that are starting to take some decent shape. They still need to be wrung out on stage, but their framework is looking very promising. I’m hoping to excise a significant chunk of older material in the next little while, and these could be really great replacements with just a little bit more polishing.
Still More Stuff…
I’ve given up meat for a while. I made the mistake of watching “Fast Food Nation.” There is a really graphic scene that takes place on the “kill floor” and it horrified me. It literally took all of my stamina not to get sick afterwards. It was so jarring and brutal. (I’ve seen some pretty heavy pictures from Iraq that seemed less brutal… Although that’s probably a sad commentary on its own…) I’m generally not sensitive or squeamish, but that really rattled me. At this point, regardless of my love of cheeseburgers, I’m not sure I want to eat meat again anytime soon. So for me now I shall gorge on “Boca Burgers” with cheese instead.
More to come as I think of it…
Monday, March 12, 2007
Morning
The alarm went off a little too early this morning. One of my eyes had been glued shut from the sleepy gunk that built up during the night. I was cranky. I fumbled out of bed, and tried to find my housecoat in the dark.
It's not unusual for me to stub my toe along the way. I curse a lot in the morning. It's a solid benchmark for my distain of all things morning related. I hate the fuckin' morning. Even the sounds of birds chirping, has a seeming negative effect on me. If only they had some sort of volume control.
To my way of thinking the only good morning thing is breakfast. I love me a good breakfast. But thanks to Denny's, Humpty's and a litany of other restaurants, you can get that stuff 24 hours a day. I tend to like my breakfast at noon, which is a much more civilized time of day to my way of thinking. I'm usually feeling pretty hale and hearty at that point in the day.
Due to some sort of genetic pre disposition, (The damn Irish side of me I suspect…) my feet hurt like a son of bitch in the morning. I need to walk on them for a little bit before the feeling goes away. It almost feels like the tendons have shrunk during the night, and they need to stretch back out before things feel right. Usually the first handful of steps are the worst. Even in my fuzzy slippers, I am uncomfortable.
I have a routine that I generally stick to. It seems to keep me going. (Sort of…) I get up, feed the dog, then she and I both go out on to the deck to have a smoke. (Well… I have the smoke, and she just sits there, a couple of inches ahead of my feet, waiting patiently. I am however considering trying to teach her to smoke… but that's another blog for another time.) It's our quiet waking up time. We both stare out onto the parking lot next to the house. We are two peas in a premature pod.
There we are man and dog, both of us having a slightly glazed over look about us. She sits befuddled, after being roused out of a dream most likely involving helpless cats and big meaty bones, and me left slack jawed with the sinking feeling that work is just a mere 45 minutes away from this point. Somehow, this has become our bonding ritual.
We are both immediately aware of how stock still and quiet the other is. These are the moments before my neck gets kinked up with the stress of the day. Juniper on the other hand will likely just slump over and catch some more sleep. I'm jealous of my dog, and that is truly sad. I'm beginning to wonder what she thinks of when she looks at me.
She's generally a nice dog, a little over eager, but affectionate and charming enough. This early though, she just tends to be a furry little zombie. (Sort of a furry little Muppet version of a zombie…) Her normal frenetic pace has been replaced with the occasional clumsy stretch and wide mouthed yawn. I am no better. (Just larger mostly…)
Once we go back into the house, she heads for her training mat, and goes about her business. We both have predictable routines. I stumble up the stairs and try and make my lazy carcass look somewhat presentable. Generally the dog has better luck with her task than I do with mine. Life would be great if all I had to wear was a collar.
If I could move slower I would. This is the daily process and quite truthfully it begins to feel like a Herculean effort by the end of the week. Somewhere along the way, I became a member of the rat race. I'm not sure how that happened, and worse still, I'm not sure quite what to do about it. Again I come to the realization that I'm jealous of my dog.
It's not unusual for me to stub my toe along the way. I curse a lot in the morning. It's a solid benchmark for my distain of all things morning related. I hate the fuckin' morning. Even the sounds of birds chirping, has a seeming negative effect on me. If only they had some sort of volume control.
To my way of thinking the only good morning thing is breakfast. I love me a good breakfast. But thanks to Denny's, Humpty's and a litany of other restaurants, you can get that stuff 24 hours a day. I tend to like my breakfast at noon, which is a much more civilized time of day to my way of thinking. I'm usually feeling pretty hale and hearty at that point in the day.
Due to some sort of genetic pre disposition, (The damn Irish side of me I suspect…) my feet hurt like a son of bitch in the morning. I need to walk on them for a little bit before the feeling goes away. It almost feels like the tendons have shrunk during the night, and they need to stretch back out before things feel right. Usually the first handful of steps are the worst. Even in my fuzzy slippers, I am uncomfortable.
I have a routine that I generally stick to. It seems to keep me going. (Sort of…) I get up, feed the dog, then she and I both go out on to the deck to have a smoke. (Well… I have the smoke, and she just sits there, a couple of inches ahead of my feet, waiting patiently. I am however considering trying to teach her to smoke… but that's another blog for another time.) It's our quiet waking up time. We both stare out onto the parking lot next to the house. We are two peas in a premature pod.
There we are man and dog, both of us having a slightly glazed over look about us. She sits befuddled, after being roused out of a dream most likely involving helpless cats and big meaty bones, and me left slack jawed with the sinking feeling that work is just a mere 45 minutes away from this point. Somehow, this has become our bonding ritual.
We are both immediately aware of how stock still and quiet the other is. These are the moments before my neck gets kinked up with the stress of the day. Juniper on the other hand will likely just slump over and catch some more sleep. I'm jealous of my dog, and that is truly sad. I'm beginning to wonder what she thinks of when she looks at me.
She's generally a nice dog, a little over eager, but affectionate and charming enough. This early though, she just tends to be a furry little zombie. (Sort of a furry little Muppet version of a zombie…) Her normal frenetic pace has been replaced with the occasional clumsy stretch and wide mouthed yawn. I am no better. (Just larger mostly…)
Once we go back into the house, she heads for her training mat, and goes about her business. We both have predictable routines. I stumble up the stairs and try and make my lazy carcass look somewhat presentable. Generally the dog has better luck with her task than I do with mine. Life would be great if all I had to wear was a collar.
If I could move slower I would. This is the daily process and quite truthfully it begins to feel like a Herculean effort by the end of the week. Somewhere along the way, I became a member of the rat race. I'm not sure how that happened, and worse still, I'm not sure quite what to do about it. Again I come to the realization that I'm jealous of my dog.
Got it, Got it, Got it, Need it, Got it...
I think it's tragic that we pay very little attention to the people we elect into office. Given the scope and responsibility of the job, you'd think people would want to "interview" the candidate before they got hired. Sure there's a lot of banter, and half hearted character assassinations, but do we ever really get to see the real deal? (I've given some really killer interviews over the years, and then been total crap at a job.)
But… Try to imagine any other job where the employer didn't interview the applicant. Imagine how many shitty buildings would get built or unsuccessful criminal convictions there would be, or really shitty hamburgers you'd have to eat.
The truth is we have to be more critical of those we elect. So many Canadians complain that "it doesn't matter who I vote for, they don't listen…" or "my vote doesn't matter" or my favorite "they're all the same anyway…" What we don't realize is that it's a vicious circle. It is with the absence of our watchful eyes that they have become corrupted.
Only when we truly pay attention do they follow the straight and narrow. Our future has to be in our own hands. If we take a fatalistic approach, we get what we deserve, namely shitty politicians. Sure it can be difficult to separate the wheat from the chaff, but if we don't take the time, who will? Sadly the answer is "no one!"
But I have an idea… (Another one…)
I think we should make budding politicians fight it out in the area. I want them to fight with tridents, nets, spears and swords. I want gladiators, and most assuredly I want blood. You want my vote? Are you willing to kill for it? More importantly are you willing to die for it? Picture this, "Those of you about to die, we elect you!" (Although picturing Harper in a loin cloth trying to "work" a sword is just about all my little brain can handle…)
We should make a sport out of it. Perhaps we could even print trading cards with the politicians on them. Like any other sports card, we could have their stats on the back. (As well as which party "drafted" them, and when they sold out and got "traded.") I love the idea of making each individual voting record more widely accessible.
Try to imagine kids in the school yard trading them. "I'll give you a Harper and a Dion for that Joe Clark and a Trudeau!" (That sounds like an awesome deal to me…) It's a brilliant thought isn't it?
But… Try to imagine any other job where the employer didn't interview the applicant. Imagine how many shitty buildings would get built or unsuccessful criminal convictions there would be, or really shitty hamburgers you'd have to eat.
The truth is we have to be more critical of those we elect. So many Canadians complain that "it doesn't matter who I vote for, they don't listen…" or "my vote doesn't matter" or my favorite "they're all the same anyway…" What we don't realize is that it's a vicious circle. It is with the absence of our watchful eyes that they have become corrupted.
Only when we truly pay attention do they follow the straight and narrow. Our future has to be in our own hands. If we take a fatalistic approach, we get what we deserve, namely shitty politicians. Sure it can be difficult to separate the wheat from the chaff, but if we don't take the time, who will? Sadly the answer is "no one!"
But I have an idea… (Another one…)
I think we should make budding politicians fight it out in the area. I want them to fight with tridents, nets, spears and swords. I want gladiators, and most assuredly I want blood. You want my vote? Are you willing to kill for it? More importantly are you willing to die for it? Picture this, "Those of you about to die, we elect you!" (Although picturing Harper in a loin cloth trying to "work" a sword is just about all my little brain can handle…)
We should make a sport out of it. Perhaps we could even print trading cards with the politicians on them. Like any other sports card, we could have their stats on the back. (As well as which party "drafted" them, and when they sold out and got "traded.") I love the idea of making each individual voting record more widely accessible.
Try to imagine kids in the school yard trading them. "I'll give you a Harper and a Dion for that Joe Clark and a Trudeau!" (That sounds like an awesome deal to me…) It's a brilliant thought isn't it?
Sunday, March 11, 2007
Let's Party...
I watched Man of The Year last night. I liked it. More specifically I liked the spirit of it. I've been chewing over the premise, and I have an idea. This one is just kooky enough that it just might work.
First though, I'd like you to think about these questions for a second. (Copy them and paste them into your comments... With answers...)
1)Do you think "The New Canadian Government" is creepy, and is ultimately run by a dick? (These aren't your daddy's Conservatives... Unless your daddy's last name was Goebbles...)
Is it just me, or does Stephen Harper's hair look like it once belonged to a Playmoblie action figure?
2)Are you convinced that Stephane Dion is a wimp? (It's hard to believe the Liberals could get even more shiftless.) I think he's more flacid than a pedophile's junk on a retirement cruise. Sure it might be all inclusive, and dinner's at 4pm, but it's all AC and no DC.
3)Does the notion of voting for Jack Layton invoke images of an eastern european car salesman. (Lada – made from recycled soviet era tank parts. Drives good Yes?) Besides he's got a moustache, and no good can come from that!
4)Are all the other Canadian political parties just a little too flaky and or freaky?
I think it's time for a real party of inclusion. We need a party for the rest of us. Don't you think it's time to vote for things you actually care about? Wouldn't it be great to not feel the need to vote defensively? I don't know about you, but the idea of voting for any of these rejects makes my skin crawl. This era of American style attack ads and smarmy bullshit in the house of commons, makes my stomach churn. Wouldn't it be great if we remembered that public debate doesn't need to lack civility. (I wish someone would remind Harper... He'd likely come off less dickish...)
It's time that Canadian politics excised personal agendas. It's time that social policy actually reflects the values of real Canadians. From this point on, there should be no room for closed minds. All it takes is a few disenfranchised people to stir the pot. Will you stir the pot with me?
Every year in Toronto there is a conclave of ideas. Artists, Politicians, Musicians, Scientists, and a plethora of other interesting professionals come together to share ideas. Imagine if we did that with our governance, oh what a wonderful world it would be.
One last thing, Talk minus action equals zero.
First though, I'd like you to think about these questions for a second. (Copy them and paste them into your comments... With answers...)
1)Do you think "The New Canadian Government" is creepy, and is ultimately run by a dick? (These aren't your daddy's Conservatives... Unless your daddy's last name was Goebbles...)
Is it just me, or does Stephen Harper's hair look like it once belonged to a Playmoblie action figure?
2)Are you convinced that Stephane Dion is a wimp? (It's hard to believe the Liberals could get even more shiftless.) I think he's more flacid than a pedophile's junk on a retirement cruise. Sure it might be all inclusive, and dinner's at 4pm, but it's all AC and no DC.
3)Does the notion of voting for Jack Layton invoke images of an eastern european car salesman. (Lada – made from recycled soviet era tank parts. Drives good Yes?) Besides he's got a moustache, and no good can come from that!
4)Are all the other Canadian political parties just a little too flaky and or freaky?
I think it's time for a real party of inclusion. We need a party for the rest of us. Don't you think it's time to vote for things you actually care about? Wouldn't it be great to not feel the need to vote defensively? I don't know about you, but the idea of voting for any of these rejects makes my skin crawl. This era of American style attack ads and smarmy bullshit in the house of commons, makes my stomach churn. Wouldn't it be great if we remembered that public debate doesn't need to lack civility. (I wish someone would remind Harper... He'd likely come off less dickish...)
It's time that Canadian politics excised personal agendas. It's time that social policy actually reflects the values of real Canadians. From this point on, there should be no room for closed minds. All it takes is a few disenfranchised people to stir the pot. Will you stir the pot with me?
Every year in Toronto there is a conclave of ideas. Artists, Politicians, Musicians, Scientists, and a plethora of other interesting professionals come together to share ideas. Imagine if we did that with our governance, oh what a wonderful world it would be.
One last thing, Talk minus action equals zero.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Harpo and The Goonies...
Stephen Harper and his band of power drunken neo cons seem to be flying pretty fast and loose these days. They're up in the polls, and figure now is the time to strike. The proverbial iron is hot, and the liberal body is not. (So to speak…)
His strategy so far has been to taunt the opposition parties, trying desperately to draw them into an election. His handlers, taking a lesson from their American counterparts in the Republican Party, (Yes the Democrats do it too…) have launched a volley of personal attack ads to goad, chide and persuade. It's very heavy handed though, much like dropping a nuclear bomb on a country whose army fights with sticks. (Hmmm… that sounds familiar for some reason… Bunker busters and what not…)
His agenda is to make the attacks so personal that he manages to push the right button. I hope for the country's sake, Layton and Dion will remind themselves that the P.M. is a dick, (A big one at that…) and that his bullying tactics are nothing but an obvious ploy to greedily get his sausage shaped fingers on a majority.
His lusting for a majority government is unkindly reminiscent of a crack whore trying to draw in an unwitting John. It couldn't be any more thinly veiled. Sheets of exercise paper have more thickness. (And substance for that matter…)
As if that wasn't enough, his courting of the ADQ in Quebec should be setting off klaxon horns all over the country. Why mess with the ruling Liberals? Especially since the Premier is really a conservative? Mr. Harper, are you really that petty? Instead of propping up a majority federalist party, you choose to prop up a party with the "chance" of a minority government. How does this help the country?
Why poke the sleeping sovereignty movement with a stick? Oh I know… Because you're a pretty and vendictive dick. I know... Cause I'm a vendictive dick too, and as they say "It takes one to know one!"
His strategy so far has been to taunt the opposition parties, trying desperately to draw them into an election. His handlers, taking a lesson from their American counterparts in the Republican Party, (Yes the Democrats do it too…) have launched a volley of personal attack ads to goad, chide and persuade. It's very heavy handed though, much like dropping a nuclear bomb on a country whose army fights with sticks. (Hmmm… that sounds familiar for some reason… Bunker busters and what not…)
His agenda is to make the attacks so personal that he manages to push the right button. I hope for the country's sake, Layton and Dion will remind themselves that the P.M. is a dick, (A big one at that…) and that his bullying tactics are nothing but an obvious ploy to greedily get his sausage shaped fingers on a majority.
His lusting for a majority government is unkindly reminiscent of a crack whore trying to draw in an unwitting John. It couldn't be any more thinly veiled. Sheets of exercise paper have more thickness. (And substance for that matter…)
As if that wasn't enough, his courting of the ADQ in Quebec should be setting off klaxon horns all over the country. Why mess with the ruling Liberals? Especially since the Premier is really a conservative? Mr. Harper, are you really that petty? Instead of propping up a majority federalist party, you choose to prop up a party with the "chance" of a minority government. How does this help the country?
Why poke the sleeping sovereignty movement with a stick? Oh I know… Because you're a pretty and vendictive dick. I know... Cause I'm a vendictive dick too, and as they say "It takes one to know one!"
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Grumble...
Grumble...
I'm tired. It's been a really long week. This day job thing is really kicking my ass. I spent my entire week doing rudimentary data entry. Nothing is as boring as data entry. 40 hours staring at a screen. Much to my chagrin, the pile of documents I've been dealing with doesn't seem to be diminishing I'm convinced that someone is sneaking papers into my pile.
Working for a living sucks ass. I really hate it.
The small of my back aches like a son of a bitch, and my shoulders feel like someone was kneeling on them. I now understand the plight of millions of office workers who suffer from repetitive strains. How people carry on day in and day out in offices mystifies me.
On Monday, I turn 36. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet. I've been feeling "old" lately. I seem to be unable reconcile the feeling that I'm behind schedule in some fashion. I can't put my finger on what exactly, but I feel like I can't catch up. (Fuck that sounds like the premise for some shitty Alabama song…)
Is this normal? I wish there was some sort of proper manual that could explain some of how I'm feeling. (Not some piece of shit 'Chicken Soup for the Soul" pile of crap… Which to me is as fake and contrived as an Anne Geddes photo. I'd rather run my gums across a belt sander than waste my time with that nonsense.)
I feel like I'm getting dumber too. I'm just a few moments away from giggling when I fart, and while part of me appreciates the simplicity of that, I'm also aghast by it. I've been unable to finish reading books, and my tragically basic understanding of English grammar has diminished greatly. I'm hoping that with some sleep these things might return to me. I'm not holding my breath though.
More to come later…
I'm tired. It's been a really long week. This day job thing is really kicking my ass. I spent my entire week doing rudimentary data entry. Nothing is as boring as data entry. 40 hours staring at a screen. Much to my chagrin, the pile of documents I've been dealing with doesn't seem to be diminishing I'm convinced that someone is sneaking papers into my pile.
Working for a living sucks ass. I really hate it.
The small of my back aches like a son of a bitch, and my shoulders feel like someone was kneeling on them. I now understand the plight of millions of office workers who suffer from repetitive strains. How people carry on day in and day out in offices mystifies me.
On Monday, I turn 36. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet. I've been feeling "old" lately. I seem to be unable reconcile the feeling that I'm behind schedule in some fashion. I can't put my finger on what exactly, but I feel like I can't catch up. (Fuck that sounds like the premise for some shitty Alabama song…)
Is this normal? I wish there was some sort of proper manual that could explain some of how I'm feeling. (Not some piece of shit 'Chicken Soup for the Soul" pile of crap… Which to me is as fake and contrived as an Anne Geddes photo. I'd rather run my gums across a belt sander than waste my time with that nonsense.)
I feel like I'm getting dumber too. I'm just a few moments away from giggling when I fart, and while part of me appreciates the simplicity of that, I'm also aghast by it. I've been unable to finish reading books, and my tragically basic understanding of English grammar has diminished greatly. I'm hoping that with some sleep these things might return to me. I'm not holding my breath though.
More to come later…
Some species eat their young...
Some species eat their young...
The shows on the weekend went really well. New material is forming quickly, as this character further cements itself into the act. I feel really strong on stage, and I seem to be getting faster in terms of "funny on the fly." It's a nice feeling.
I've started getting into some new concepts, one in particular about "notorious lifestyles" vs. genuine abilities and talents. I've touched on it a little in the past, but now it is becoming more thematic, as it starts to fit more ergonomically. I'm starting to believe that if you make a case for it, (And more importantly if it's funny…) then people will start to pay it a little more attention. I think over the next little while, I'm going to see how far I can take it.
The question I keep asking myself is "what is the john q public's threshold?" We humans by our nature (and especially us Canadians it seems…) love to see someone crater. The bigger the explosion in a social persona, the better it is. I am certainly no exception to this observation. I love it. It's like porn to me. It's like butter on popcorn, or jam on my toast. I lap this shit up willingly, and I'm okay with it.
But it doesn't mean that I don't see the harm in it. Part of what makes comedy good (in my most humble estimation…) it being able to point out, in no small measure, my own double standards and hypocrisy. I'm the first one to say "Hey, I'm a big retard, and I got some issues…"
It's hard not to take notice too, because let's face it, a traffic accident is still a traffic accident. The grisly details can't help but appeal to something very dark and primal inside us. I think we as humans get off on suffering, but only if the drama that leads up to it is flavorful enough. "It's gotta be juicy Junior!!! Real damn juicy…"
Watching the fallout from Anna Nicole Smith, Michael Richards, and Brittney certainly has gotten too much attention. Does it matter though? Do we use these people as a yard stick? Do we compare our relatively stayed lives to the super fantastic?
I think watching these personal explosions go off, permits us to feel better about ourselves. No matter how much we fuck up in our own lives, we are not nearly as doomed as they are. Is that fair? Does anyone really care? Fuelling our own neurosis in such a fashion can't be healthy. We are quickly becoming a species that "eats" it's own. Too bad it's out of sport and not from a necessity.
The shows on the weekend went really well. New material is forming quickly, as this character further cements itself into the act. I feel really strong on stage, and I seem to be getting faster in terms of "funny on the fly." It's a nice feeling.
I've started getting into some new concepts, one in particular about "notorious lifestyles" vs. genuine abilities and talents. I've touched on it a little in the past, but now it is becoming more thematic, as it starts to fit more ergonomically. I'm starting to believe that if you make a case for it, (And more importantly if it's funny…) then people will start to pay it a little more attention. I think over the next little while, I'm going to see how far I can take it.
The question I keep asking myself is "what is the john q public's threshold?" We humans by our nature (and especially us Canadians it seems…) love to see someone crater. The bigger the explosion in a social persona, the better it is. I am certainly no exception to this observation. I love it. It's like porn to me. It's like butter on popcorn, or jam on my toast. I lap this shit up willingly, and I'm okay with it.
But it doesn't mean that I don't see the harm in it. Part of what makes comedy good (in my most humble estimation…) it being able to point out, in no small measure, my own double standards and hypocrisy. I'm the first one to say "Hey, I'm a big retard, and I got some issues…"
It's hard not to take notice too, because let's face it, a traffic accident is still a traffic accident. The grisly details can't help but appeal to something very dark and primal inside us. I think we as humans get off on suffering, but only if the drama that leads up to it is flavorful enough. "It's gotta be juicy Junior!!! Real damn juicy…"
Watching the fallout from Anna Nicole Smith, Michael Richards, and Brittney certainly has gotten too much attention. Does it matter though? Do we use these people as a yard stick? Do we compare our relatively stayed lives to the super fantastic?
I think watching these personal explosions go off, permits us to feel better about ourselves. No matter how much we fuck up in our own lives, we are not nearly as doomed as they are. Is that fair? Does anyone really care? Fuelling our own neurosis in such a fashion can't be healthy. We are quickly becoming a species that "eats" it's own. Too bad it's out of sport and not from a necessity.
Just some thoughts...
"Send lawyers, guns and money, the shit has hit the fan!" – Warren Zevon
The office is all a flutter this morning. Things have gone about as far south as they can. (Save for ice skating with Satan, but even as I look over, he's lacing them up…)
Such is the curse of the Canadian comedian. The day job, while being necessary, has a tendency to come with their own steaming heap of problems.
I'm starting to itch for the road. This is rarely a good sign. Long drives, other comics shit, bad food, terrible service (because I'm little more than a living karaoke machine, and the comic before me was a dick…), not to mention time away from the homestead makes the prospects less than gleeful. Much like t he day job though, it's a necessary evil.
I need to get my sorry ass out there for an extended period. Playing the clubs is a lot of fun, but I have shit I need to hash out, and nothing works better than the road for that. (Some would argue differently, but this is what works for me.) Bouncing stuff off of cagey, less than appreciative audiences tends to temper material. The more battle tested the better. Once you stroll into a club with shiny new shit, you feel like a God.
Anyhoo… More to come soon.
The office is all a flutter this morning. Things have gone about as far south as they can. (Save for ice skating with Satan, but even as I look over, he's lacing them up…)
Such is the curse of the Canadian comedian. The day job, while being necessary, has a tendency to come with their own steaming heap of problems.
I'm starting to itch for the road. This is rarely a good sign. Long drives, other comics shit, bad food, terrible service (because I'm little more than a living karaoke machine, and the comic before me was a dick…), not to mention time away from the homestead makes the prospects less than gleeful. Much like t he day job though, it's a necessary evil.
I need to get my sorry ass out there for an extended period. Playing the clubs is a lot of fun, but I have shit I need to hash out, and nothing works better than the road for that. (Some would argue differently, but this is what works for me.) Bouncing stuff off of cagey, less than appreciative audiences tends to temper material. The more battle tested the better. Once you stroll into a club with shiny new shit, you feel like a God.
Anyhoo… More to come soon.
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