Showing posts with label General Junk. Show all posts
Showing posts with label General Junk. Show all posts

Tuesday, October 17

With Great Power...

Okay, so you're a superhero, let's say. Your super abilities are not really important to this discussion, except that they must include an ability that comes into play in the scenario below. Also, because of the nature of your abilities, and the community you live in, it's somewhat important that your secret identity remain secret.

Let's say that you're on the bus back home, after a long day at work. By work I mean the "normal" job you get paid to do in the real world, where your superhero abilities don't *necessarily* come into play.

Okay, so you're on the bus back home. The bus is moving along at a good clip. All of a sudden it stops short, causing people on board to lurch forward. Most passengers are able to compensate to the shifting physics. The eager newspaper reporter, with the camera at the ready, has compensated. So, too did the girl or guy upon whom you have a secret superhero crush. But one passenger, a young child, a young boy, let's say, a happy young boy, he cannot compensate in time. He's sitting in such a seat on the bus that causes him to fly out of his seat, fly forward, towards a pole on the bus. A dangerous, hard metal pole. Now, because you have the ability to suss out the situation, you see that he's going to fly face first into the pole, and probably do some serious damage to himself. You also know that if you act quickly enough, you can use your abilities to catch him. You can stop him from smashing face first into the pole. Problem is, if you do, your quick action will more than likely cause people to wonder how you did this. Some of the more clever passengers will likely piece together that you've got superhero abilities. If they do, then it may very well become more difficult for you to perform your superhero obligations (whatever they are for you).



So, the question is: Do you save the child and risk revealing yourself? Or do you let the child suffer the accident and save your identity for more *important* moments?



Personally, I allow the child to smash his face into the pole.



With Great Power...

Okay, so you're a superhero, let's say. Your super abilities are not really important to this discussion, except that they must include an ability that comes into play in the scenario below. Also, because of the nature of your abilities, and the community you live in, it's somewhat important that your secret identity remain secret.

Let's say that you're on the bus back home, after a long day at work. By work I mean the "normal" job you get paid to do in the real world, where your superhero abilities don't *necessarily* come into play.

Okay, so you're on the bus back home. The bus is moving along at a good clip. All of a sudden it stops short, causing people on board to lurch forward. Most passengers are able to compensate to the shifting physics. The eager newspaper reporter, with the camera at the ready, has compensated. So, too did the girl or guy upon whom you have a secret superhero crush. But one passenger, a young child, a young boy, let's say, a happy young boy, he cannot compensate in time. He's sitting in such a seat on the bus that causes him to fly out of his seat, fly forward, towards a pole on the bus. A dangerous, hard metal pole. Now, because you have the ability to suss out the situation, you see that he's going to fly face first into the pole, and probably do some serious damage to himself. You also know that if you act quickly enough, you can use your abilities to catch him. You can stop him from smashing face first into the pole. Problem is, if you do, your quick action will more than likely cause people to wonder how you did this. Some of the more clever passengers will likely piece together that you've got superhero abilities. If they do, then it may very well become more difficult for you to perform your superhero obligations (whatever they are for you).



So, the question is: Do you save the child and risk revealing yourself? Or do you let the child suffer the accident and save your identity for more *important* moments?



Personally, I allow the child to smash his face into the pole.



Wednesday, August 30

I'll Give You Five Dollars To Stop Playing

All morning long, I'd been looking forward to going outside for lunch on this beautiful end-of-summer day, getting a slice of pizza (from Jack's), taking it to the Confederation Centre concrete lawn, sitting down and eating it.  I was looking forward to listening to my iPod, sitting and eating a slice of pizza, and watching the people walk by.
It was all ruined by a bagpiper.  Yep.  I got my slice, went to the Confed Centre, sat down, all the while listening to various songs on the iPod.  Then the bagpiper started.  Or, more likely, continued. And wouldn't stop.
Let me tell you right now that I enjoy a good bagpiping.  In its proper circumstance, there's nothing more lovely than a piper piping.  Okay, well not "lovely".  How about stirring?  I'm of Scottish heritage and have a special place in my heart for the pipes (not so much with haggis), in its place. There's nothing more stirring (yeah, "stirring" works) than a piper leading a regiment of Scottish Highlander soldiers off to battle, for instance.  Or the image of a loan piper, kilted the whole nine yards, playing out in the glade on a misty, foggy morning.  It'll get me every time.  Or, at least, once in a while.
But when I hear the pipes in unexpected and unwanted places, such as by the round benches in front of the Confed Centre on Queen Street, in the middle of a work day, I don't long for the hearth and heather.  I long for a poisoned dart.  The problem with the pipes is that the sound travels so far.  You can be hundreds of yards away, and the sound still pierces your ears like a banshee's scream pierces the night.  Like the news of Jon Bonet's not-murderer's capture, there's no escaping.  Especially when the piper isn't very good, as this guy was (or is it "wasn't"?).  It sounded like he was hitting random notes.  Random high-squawking notes of no particular melody.  And of no particular rhythm.  And it travelled all over the community, on the wings of the fresh late-summer breeze.  Ugh.  Not even Rob Zombie's Dragula through the headphones could dilute the noise.
Go ahead and busk.  Just use an acoustic guitar is all I ask. Or juggling pins, if you must.  Or get white-faced and mime (can't believe I'm longing for the silent busking of that mime guy!!) and get caught in an invisible box (outside the box - see previous post).  Just do something that limits your range of influence.  Don't go and spoil the whole neighbourhood.
So, anyway, thanks, bagpiper.  Thanks for ruining my anticipated lunch hour.



I'll Give You Five Dollars To Stop Playing

All morning long, I'd been looking forward to going outside for lunch on this beautiful end-of-summer day, getting a slice of pizza (from Jack's), taking it to the Confederation Centre concrete lawn, sitting down and eating it.  I was looking forward to listening to my iPod, sitting and eating a slice of pizza, and watching the people walk by.
It was all ruined by a bagpiper.  Yep.  I got my slice, went to the Confed Centre, sat down, all the while listening to various songs on the iPod.  Then the bagpiper started.  Or, more likely, continued. And wouldn't stop.
Let me tell you right now that I enjoy a good bagpiping.  In its proper circumstance, there's nothing more lovely than a piper piping.  Okay, well not "lovely".  How about stirring?  I'm of Scottish heritage and have a special place in my heart for the pipes (not so much with haggis), in its place. There's nothing more stirring (yeah, "stirring" works) than a piper leading a regiment of Scottish Highlander soldiers off to battle, for instance.  Or the image of a loan piper, kilted the whole nine yards, playing out in the glade on a misty, foggy morning.  It'll get me every time.  Or, at least, once in a while.
But when I hear the pipes in unexpected and unwanted places, such as by the round benches in front of the Confed Centre on Queen Street, in the middle of a work day, I don't long for the hearth and heather.  I long for a poisoned dart.  The problem with the pipes is that the sound travels so far.  You can be hundreds of yards away, and the sound still pierces your ears like a banshee's scream pierces the night.  Like the news of Jon Bonet's not-murderer's capture, there's no escaping.  Especially when the piper isn't very good, as this guy was (or is it "wasn't"?).  It sounded like he was hitting random notes.  Random high-squawking notes of no particular melody.  And of no particular rhythm.  And it travelled all over the community, on the wings of the fresh late-summer breeze.  Ugh.  Not even Rob Zombie's Dragula through the headphones could dilute the noise.
Go ahead and busk.  Just use an acoustic guitar is all I ask. Or juggling pins, if you must.  Or get white-faced and mime (can't believe I'm longing for the silent busking of that mime guy!!) and get caught in an invisible box (outside the box - see previous post).  Just do something that limits your range of influence.  Don't go and spoil the whole neighbourhood.
So, anyway, thanks, bagpiper.  Thanks for ruining my anticipated lunch hour.



Thursday, June 1

Butch, Sundance & Pamela Anderson

You may remember a couple of months ago, I was approached by a sort of grassroots marketing company and asked if I'd be interested in reviewing the newly released DVD of Pamela Anderson and posting it to my blog.  Of course you remember.  This blog is very important to you.  Anyway, I said I'd be delighted to do that (no qualms here about being a shill for the Hollywood machine).  So they sent me the DVD and I watched it, and posted what I thought was a fairly un-shill like review.  I'm not going to bother to find the post and provide a link to it, because somehow that implies these posts have worth.  And while I suspect a number of readers get disconsolate if I don't post something fresh for them to read each day, and they would argue that these posts do have worth, at least to them, I prefer to think of these posts as empty vessels.
So, I reviewed it and that was that.  Until today, when the same company emails me and asks if I'd be interested in presenting another review.  Whereas last time I had to trek through the sludge of comedy that focused far too much on Miss Anderson's gaping beaver (alleged)  (Alleged gaping, not alleged beaver, because I think we're all pretty sure she's not got dangling participles down there), this time I may have struck gold.  I'll be sent a DVD of a new collector's edition of one of my favourite movies:  Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.

And just now, having re-read those last couple of sentences, I realise how sad and pathetic it is to create a post about how one is excited about the anticipation of receiving a free DVD in return for being something of a corporate whore.
No.  I will not allow myself to fall for that kind of talk.  I am a valued member of the critical press.  My opinion is cherished.

It is also for sale.  If anyone else wants to send me stuff in return for my honest opinion of it, I'll gladly listen to your offers.  Perhaps you have a photo you took, and you have no idea if it's Art.  Send it to me, and I'll tell you.  Maybe you're in charge of soliciting low-ranking bloggers for their opinions on how well the latest video iPod works.  Send me one, and I'll tell the world what I think.  Maybe you sell frozen beefsteak from the western provinces and are trying to get a foothold here in Eastern Canada.  Ship some steaks my way and I'll cook 'em up and eat 'em.  Then I'll tell the great multitudes of readers (conservatively estimated now at at least tens of ones) whether they're worth purchasing.



Saturday, April 1

My April Fool's Joke On You All

Oh my god, did you hear the news?  Well-Known Celebrity died last night.  That is so sad.  And I was so looking forward to Well-Known Celbrity's upcoming movie and/or song and/or book  (okay, well, not book, because, seriously, how many authors can be classified as a W-K C?)
Sorry I don't have a direct link to the news item, but I'm sure if you look on the front page of any news website, you'll find out all the details.  Apparently, it was a drug overdose, which is so unexpected coming from Well-Known Celebrity because of all the charity work s/he's done.




Okay, can't keep it up any longer!  You guys are all so pwned!!!  I made it up!  Well-Known Celebrity isn't dead at all!!  Ha Ha!!  Ummm, do you remember what day it is today?  It's April First, otherwise known as April Fool's Day.  And I can definitely say that YOU are the fool for being hooked into believing such a ludicrous story.  As if Well-Known Celebrity would ever die from a drug overdose.

Huh?  Whattyamean I "gave the joke away in the post's title"?

Oh.  Shit.  Guess the joke's on me then, isn't it.  There, you happy now?  With that superior, contemptible, pitious look on your face right now.  Yeah, okay, laugh at me.  I don't care.  You always were such an asshole!

Huh?  Whattyamean I "can delete and change the title of the post before I click on the 'Publish' button"?  What Publish button?  Oh, you mean *this* Publish button.  And you're saying I should click on it?  Okay, if you say so...



Tuesday, March 14

I Want My SUV

Okay, I've been away for a few days, but I just got back from wherever I was, and I read all this kerfuffle about a kid who found a Tim Horton's cup in the garbage and asked another kid to help roll up the rim, as the contest is wont to have you do.  Turns out the kid wins the top prize, an SUV.  Okay, great, but the another kid who helped roll up the rim claimed entitlement to share in the prize, for helping to roll up the rim.  Okay, personally, I think that's bollocks and it should all be awarded to the kid who found the cup.
Now I hear that the the person who threw out the cup in the first place is demanding a part of the action.  Again, that's bullshit.  But, it got me thinking.

If these people are able to make their claims based on baloney, then I should make my claim too.  And here it is:  I demand a portion of the prize, because, you see, I was in line just in front of the person who bought the "winning" cup.  Amazing, I know, but as true as true can be.  Now, normally when I'm at Tims, I buy two coffees (one for right away and the other to nuke later at work), and that day, for some strange reason, I only bought the one.  So, by rights, since I usually buy two cups, the cup that the guy bought should really have been mine.

No?  Okay then.



Wednesday, October 19

Sarah Silverman

I've been a fan of Sarah Silverman for a few years.  If I ever was to do standup comedy, I think I'd want to do the kind of comedy she does.
Here's a link to a New Yorker article on her.



Monday, September 26

Free Nucular Missiles For US Children

Here is a link to a video of one of George W. Bush's State of the Union addresses.  Well, okay, perhaps he didn't say all of those words in exactly that order, but a little bit of judicious editing of the video gets to the real subtext of his agenda.



"Our first goal is to show utter contempt for the environment. I have sent you a comprehensive energy plan to devestate communities, kill wildlife, and burn away millions of acres of treasured forests."
"One by one, the terrorists are learning we are building a culture to encourage international terrorism."



Sunday, September 25

Did You Try Rebooting Your Vehicle?

I guess I never posted the outcome of my stalling vehicle problem from last week.  How could you all go on with your lives without knowing the status of my car?  I am so sorry for leaving you in the dark.



So, last Monday, we called Dave's Auto Electric.  They had, on Friday, put in a new alternator, and still our car was stalling pretty much all the time.  We suffered through it through the weekend.  On Monday, Dave's Auto Electric tell us they can't see us on Monday, maybe can squeeze us in on Tuesday.  We get tired of their apparent lacksadaisacal disinterest in our car and call up Walter Piccott Chev Olds.  Usually, I'm reluctant to take a car to a dealer for service, but this being third option, seemed like a good time to try them out, service charges be damned.  They can't take us on Monday, but if we drop by, say 7:45 on Tuesday, they'll look at the car almost first thing.
So, Karyn takes the car in for 7:45, and heads off for work.  I stay home, because last week I was a bum.  At around 10am, the phone rings and it's WPCO, and the car is ready to be picked up.  My father graciously offers to take me there and I go to the service area.
They tell me, that because the new battery we got, the car's computer system "wasn't reading the codes right" and so they basically reformatted the computer, put in all the correct codes, and the car should be fine now.
Uh huh.  I've heard that four or five times in the previous week, so I'm skeptical.  I pay the 44 dollars (basically it cost me an hour of labour, or there abouts, no parts, so that's good), and get in the car to drive it away.  As I'm driving off the lot, the car stalls, just as it had so many times in the past week.  Totally frustrated, I prepare to park the car, get out and try to be rational and calm as I tell them they've missed the problem, just like everyone else.  Instead, though, I decide to drive it a bit, to see if it works itself out.  I go to my parent's for a tea, and when I leave the car stalls again.  Before I take it back to Walter Piccott's, I decide to drive it around for a bit.  So, I take it on yet another drive around the north shore to see it the long drive allows the computer to reset itself.
Not once during the long drive does the car stall.  It still doesn't sound so great, though.  I don't allow myself to get any hopes up.  I decide to drive it around in town, a real stop and start test.  It doesn't stall once, yet it sometimes sounds like it wants to.  That's not enough of a reason to take it back to Walter Piccott's though, so I decide to wait until it begins to stall again.
So far, knock on wood, it hasn't stalled again since.  And each day, its idle sounds more and more healthy.
Maybe it's fixed.



Monday, September 19

Talk Like A Pirate Day

Today is Talk Like A Pirate Day.



Just like last year, I choose to speak like a pirate who is a bit more educated, and has a better grasp of the English language, than your more typical (one might say "stereotyped") pirate.



So, in my finest pirate voice, I say:  a good day to you all, my friends.



Also, today is my 40th birthday.



Sunday, September 18

I'm Feeling A Bit Sensortive

Sunday - One week ago today:
My wife calls me (I was at home) from church and tells me the car won't start.  Ignition won't turn over at all, car clock is dead.  Surmised that the battery's dead.  Can't boost it because she can't (nor my father in law) get the hood open.  A couple of years ago, the plastic hood release latch next to the driver's side seat broke, and it's been more and more frustrating getting the hood opened, to the point in the past couple of weeks, where it's almost impossible.  In fact, I think I am the one who knows how to open the hood.
So, her parents give her a ride home from church and take me in to see if I can open the hood and start the car.  Getting the hood open involves cutting the carpet on the floor and stipping the plastic cording around the release wire.  After about ten minutes, I get the hood open, put booster cables on the car and it starts immediately.  Drive to my in-laws and borrow their battery charger.  The charger tells me that the battery is basically fully-charged.  Hmmm, I think, doesn't sound like a dead battery problem.  Assume, though, that it is.
Monday:
Car starts no problem in the morning.  At noon, I drive to pick up DaveS for lunch.  Get in the car, and ignition won't turn over.  Swear a bit and get Dave to get his car and boost it.  Starts no problem.  I decide to take it to our mechanic.  I do, and tell him the problem.  We both agree that a new battery will likely solve the problem.  So, on Monday, the car gets a new battery.  Driving home on Monday evening, after picking up the car from the garage, it stalls at every intersection I come to.  I swear a bit at this new development.
Tuesday:
Take the car back to the mechanic, who says he'll look into it.  I leave the car there all day.  Pick up the car (no charge for the second look) after mechanic's gone home, and the same problem.  Car stalls at every intersection.  Plus it starts to stall if I'm driving down the road without my foot on the gas.  Zen training keeps me from swearing much.  Plus I was pretty much expecting it to be not solved.
Wednesday:
Take the car back to the mechanic.  Says he'll look at it again, but admits he's puzzled. If he can't solve it, he suggests I take it to a place where they can run computer diagnoses on it.  I come back around noon and he says he was talking to someone at Dave's Auto Electric.  He suggested that the computer needs to reset, and to do that, the car needs to be taken on a good long drive (he suggested 45 minutes).  Not allowing myself to believe this would work, I nonetheless go for a lunch-time drive around Brackley, the north shore, Tracedie, etc.  Car is driving better, but once I get back into town, it begins to stall again.  No swearing at all, because I knew the outcome and was prepared for it.
Thursday:
Call early in the morning to Dave's Auto Electric (the place our mechanic suggested we go), but they say they're booked up on Thursday but would try to squeeze us in on Friday.  Because my wife and I had places we needed to go on Thursday and Friday, and were totally frustrated by driving a car that continually stalls, my father graciously offered to loan us his car.  He says it sounds like a faulty sensor.  I agree and expect that's what Dave's Auto Electric will find. We leave our car at my parents.
Friday:
Drop car off at Dave's Auto Electric, but because my wife and I are both busy all day, I ask my father if he'd be the contact.  Mid-afternoon, he goes to pick up the car.  They've installed a new alternator (that and labour = 225 dollars), they take it for a test drive and it's still stalling.  They suggest to my father that we take it for a good drive to reset the computer.  There is confusion from them why they were not able to check the sensors.  I am totally deflated at this point and do not press the issue, so  we take the car for a drive.  No change. Still stalling.
Saturday:
Drive the car into town to do the things I had scheduled.  Car stalls continually.
Sunday:
My wife drives the car to church.  I didn't ask her, but I assume it's continually stalling.
Monday (the day after today):
I don't know whether to go back to Dave's Auto Electric, or to take the car to a certified GM Chevy dealership and let them gouge me with their exorbanent labour charges.  Of if I'll be able to make an appointment at either or any place.



If the car doesn't get fixed at the next place we take it, I'll be officially pissed off.



Thursday, September 1

Isis Oh Isis, You Mystical Terrorist

Bush Government Vows To Hunt Down Katrinal-Quieda Leader Known as “God”



With a handful of papers and documents under his arm that he claims show undisputed evidence of the connection between the devastation caused by the recent hurricane attack and a new Al Quieda off-shoot terrorist cell known as Katrinal-Quieda , White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan today vowed, on behalf of “the good and suffering people of America, and all the free world nations that are free and suffering along with us in our time of need and suffering and freedom”, to use all available military and intelligence resources to “hunt down and capture and kill the leader and all high-level members of the terrorist group, conveniently named and pictured here in this newest package of Terrorist Bubble-Gum Trading Cards” ™.



When asked by a reporter for the names of the terrorists in question, McClellan said “Well, we know they were in allegiance with Saddam Hussein, and right now we are concentrating on extrapolating that information from Saddam.  So far, we have four names.  First and foremost on the list, at the top of the list, is the terrorist known as God.  He has a number of aliases, of course, but here in America, he’s known as God.”



Research indicates that God has been suspected in many previous natural disaster attacks all over the world, including a massive world-wide flooding that devastated all of civilization except for one family and a menagerie of animals, led by a man who called himself Noah.



McClellan went on to warn that if any so-called Americans knew of God by any of his other aliases, such as Vishnu or Allah, they “could well expect to be visited for questioning and possible detention”.

Other terrorists that McClellan mentioned in today's press conference that “America is dutifully and single-mindedly searching for… well, single-mindedly except for, oh, what’s his name?  That other guy we’re supposed to be hunting, the one that claimed to be responsible for Saddam Hussein’s attacks on the World Trade Centres and Philadelphia?  What is it, I’m serious.  I honestly cannot think of his name now… Pretty sure it had, like, three names in it, kinda like Tiffany Amberson Thiessen.  It’s right there, on the tip of my tongue… Starts with ‘K’?...  I wanna say Kevin Bacon, but I know that’s not right… Osama!!!  Osama Bin Laden!!!  That’s it!!  It’s been so long since he’s even been mentioned anywhere, that I’ve almost completely forgotten his name.  And that’s funny, because he’s like a pretty serious dude we should be getting, right?  I mean, not as serious as Saddam Hussein, but still, not one to forget the name of.  Sorry ‘bout that,” are “an Iraqi named Poseidon, who we believe may have been responsible for the rising of the waters, and Thor, who most likely had something to do with the dramatic increase in wind.  The fourth of the terrorists we have a handle on is Isis. To be honest, we’re not really sure if Isis was involved, or really, what Isis would have done to assist in the devastation.  There are solid facts that indicate that Isis may have caused a snake to come out of the dust.  Possibly a snake full of weapons of mass destruction.”



At this point, Press Secretary McClellan allowed only one more question from the press corp, then drew two eyes and a nose on the side of his fist and began moving his thumb as if it were a lower lip, and asked himself, “Mr. McClellan, how serious is President Bush taking this latest attack against freedom, and how serious is he upset about the loss of life thus far?”, to which he replied “Well, President Bush is totally serious in his devotion to go after these guys in his total pursuit to save freedom, and is also seriously upset about the loss of life this far.”



The Agency for Homeland Security asks that anyone who may see God, or the other suspected Katrinal-Quieda terrorists, or anyone who looks suspicious or foreign, to immediately shoot them and then phone for cartage pickup.



Wednesday, August 3

The Greater Wow

Answer me this:
Would a person from, say, the year 1749 be more impressed with today's indoor plumbling-slash-toilet, or more impressed with the toilet paper on a roll?



Now, on first flush, one might think that the toilet would make a greater impression, but when you think about it, you might be inclined to say the toilet paper would make more of an impact.



Discuss.



Thursday, June 30

Three-Fifths of a Fist of Chicken

Remember the good old days, when I'd update this site fairly regularly, with sometime entertaining (at least attempted), sometime inane postings about Nothing In Particular?
Then I kind of fell off the Blog Bandwagon.  I began to have trouble justifying to myself the bother of writing my stupid little bits of uselessness, and my number and regularity of posts dropped dramatically.
But, now, though, I feel I must return a bit to the old days and report on the saga of the chicken fingers.



It had been quite a while since I went back for chicken fingers to that place where the guy treated me well (or did he?  perhaps he treated everyone equally well...) by giving me 5 big fingers of chicken and copious amounts of fries.  Why did I stop going?  Well, I got tired, for one, of eating chicken fingers once a week, and for two, sometimes I went and they didn't have chicken fingers.  That was enough to keep me away for a month or two.
Yesterday, I went back, and the Generous Guy was nowhere to be seen (in fact, I noticed as I'd walk by that he's been there less and less lately, usually replaced by a early-20's girl). Now, there was an older woman who waited on me and an older guy who was kind of hovering.  It had a real feel of New Management.
How would that affect my chicken finger supply?  Well, as the title of this post suggests, I got three fingers only.  And not big fingers like Generous Guy used to give me.  Three piddly little chicken fingers (but still a large amount of fries).  I almost complained about how I used to get 5 fingers, but I didn't bother.  I didn't like the vibe of the new people and the chicken fingers'n'fries thing had been not doing if for me lately, so instead of complaining, I figure I'll just not go back much, if at all.
While I was there, an old guy ordered after me.  He was probably in his 80s and walked around with one of those four-footed canes. I liked him right away, because he was on the ball.  Whenever I see older people like him at fast food places or take-outs, they often seem distressed trying to figure out the food and ordering, etc.  Not this guy, though, he was totally in command of his faculties and very fast-food savvy.  His order was ready before mine (as it took a while for the fingers to cook) and I saw he would have difficulty with carrying his tray, plus the package he had, plus the cane, so I offered to help him by taking his tray to a table.  He was thankful and I felt good.
When I got back to the counter, my food was ready.  I noticed that the fries were covering the fingers, and I assumed that they did that to hide the lame number of fingers they had given me.



Anyway, this may be the final entry in the saga of the chicken fingers.



Friday, June 24

Canada Rocks! A First Act Review

So, I had just spent about an hour writing a long detailed review of Canada Rocks, the new Confederation Centre musical.  I went into detail about those things that I liked (not a lot of things, to be honest) and those things that I didn't like (the majority of the length of the post).  Just as I was finishing up, a brief power outage caused me to lose it all.  With it was lost my desire to review it again.
But review it I must!



What I liked:
- I thought the band was fantastic.  A really sharp, great, tight band.
- I thought most of the songs were performed really well.  Most of the singers have great voices and overall, they did a great job of singing the songs in the style of the artists who originally performed them.



What I didn't like:
- The show was waaaaay too long, with waaaay too many songs included.  So long that I couldn't bear to stay for the second act.  Yes, I left at intermission.  Admittedly, the show I saw was the very first preview performance (a glorified dress rehearsal, I suppose) and I understand that since that performance, the show was scissored and cut to a more managable length.
- The real reason I left, though, wasn't because of the length, but because of the stuff that took place between the far-too-many songs.  The dialogue and story (hard to call it a story, with plot and all) was terrible and pointless.  It was about some fakey-fake Old Canadian Rocker taking the train across Canada.  He meets up with vain, young Canadian Icon (get it?) starlet who declares all those old Canadian Rock Songs to be Ancient History!  Old Rocker says "Oh Yeah?  Listen to this:  Sooooooo  oooooooo    ooooooo     ooooooooo maaaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaa aaaaaaaaa  aaaaaaa!".  They then travel across country in an uninspired, unappealing  travel-rock-ulogue that highlights All The Great Canadian Songs, Old And New!  Along the way, there's an Entertainment Reporter who checks in with them to see how things are progressing.
-Reporter uses a potentially cool gimmick:  a live video feed, projected onto the two video screens that adorn the wings of the stage.  The coolness of this gimmick, though, was quickly diminished as it became evident that the camera operator wasn't a cinematographer in any respect.  Most of the live shots were nothing more than unfocused shots of actors asses and the floor and the wings.  When there wasn't live video, the screens on the side displayed various boring photos and uninteresting stills representing the artists whose songs the performers were singing.  It was very Canada Post Vignettes/Hinterland Who's Who in that respect.  Very dry and uninspired use of the video elements.
-The set itself was also dry and uninspired.  A too-large platform upstage for the band to play on, a couple of flats that had some colour designs on them, and the absolute puzzle of the set:  a couple of dozen hanging hubcaps.  What?  Why?  Are they supposed to represent travel, like the travelling across the country by train?  Okay, but hubcaps are on cars, you know, not trains.  But, whatever.  Boo on that set design.
-Remember I mentioned how I didn't like the dialogue between songs?  Here's why.  First, it was that crappy type of sing-songy, rhyming couplet type shit of dialogue:



And now the train sets down the tracks
Our Rocker's finished with Halifax
The East is more than bodhrans and fiddles
And more to eat than chowder and viddles
As now where will our next stop be?
The great Rock Town of Shubenacadie.



Just terrible.  (that of course, wasn't real dialogue from the show, but I think it's accurate in a satirical way)  I really felt bad for the actors for having to say it.  Secondly, the dialogue was awful because it was irrelevant and pointless.  Because the 'story' had no gravitas or import, the dialogue for it was also worthless and unimportant to us, the audience.
- I thought the dancers were wasted.  When I go to see a musical (I guess this is more a Musical Revue, though?) I expect to see a bit of dance.  I'm not a big fan of dance, but I do enjoy it every so often.  I believe when I allow myself to enjoy it, I can usually 'get it'.   Not so with Canada Rocks, though.  The real problem with it (from my admittedly neophyte perspective) was that there didn't seem to be any direction in the choreography.  People were dancing whatever moves they wanted, it seemed, whenever they wanted.  I can't believe I'm about to type this but:  Would it have killed you to include even one artsy-fartsy interpretive dance for even one of the songs?
- That leads me to another fairly big complaint I had:  I was really bugged by the lacksadaisacal way in which the actors seemed to wander around the stage, onto the stage, off the stage, at apparently random on bizarre times.  This applied to bit actors/dancers right up to the main players of the show.  Someone would be singing a song, more or less alone on stage and various people would kind of wander out, kind of listen for a moment or two, then wander off, or across the stage...??  What? The?  Hell? Was? That?  Oftentimes, when people were on stage for any period of time, (to 'dig' the music, I assume, like fans or groupies) they'd eventually end up looking like they were bored.  Groups of three or four people, sitting on the stage, or leaning against the band's platform, looking like they're not paying attention to what's going on.  Was that just me projecting my disinterest onto them?  Who knows, but they often looked bored.  Too many people needlessly on stage doing nothing really, just being there.  I didn't like that.
-Apart from the one segment of comedy which I saw,  the show is totally devoid of humour.  I don't mean there aren't enough jokes.  I mean the show takes itself and its subject far too seriously.  Loosen the hell up.  It's a show about rock and roll, and it's presented in a kind of button-down shirt style.  Rip the shirts off a bit and flash your wangs and tits! (metaphorically speaking)
- There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the list of songs and to why they were performed when they were.  Song selection seemed totally arbitrary and pointless.  There was a vague east to west thing happening, but that concept was broken so often as to become valueless.  Bryan Adams and Sk8trBoi were performed, for instance, while the Rock Train was in Atlantic Canada.
-And of course, there were way too many songs.  In the first act.  Show started at 7:30 and first act was over at 9:10.  That's one big act.  Again, though, I understand that cuts were made, so perhaps it's better now?  Unless, though, they cut a pile of songs, and totally cut or rewrite the ridiculous between songs crapola, the show is still a pile of trouble, in my opinion.
Which is too bad, because there is some incredible talent in the production.  Only a few of the songs in the one act I saw were on the down side of good.  Most were fantastic.
As the act progressed, and as it continued to Not End, I started getting angry at the performers for singing another song.  About three quarters of the way through, every time a new song was started, I convinced myself that it was the final song of the act.  Still, though, they'd segue into another and I'd get angry again as they continued to Take Forever!  Near the end of the act, it seemed to have taken so bloody long that I had started to believe that they combined the two acts into one and were going straight through to the end.  No such luck.  Intermission came and it wasn't a difficult decision to make for the exits.
During a couple of the intervals when I wasn't wishing the act would end, I began thinking of the ways I'd improve the show.  Here's what I came up with.
1) Perform the show at the MacKenzie.  This is not a MainStage show.  It just isn't.  How great it'd be in a more intimate setting, especially if they improved the story.
2) Improve the story.  Do this by giving the peformers actual motives and conflicts and plot progressions. Give the actors something to invest some emotion into.  The bland, humourless fluff that sits between the songs now is pretty awful.  It wouldn't take much effort to inject some life into the script.  How about picking and choosing songs a bit more carefully, and make the contents/lyrics of the songs part of the story/plot.  Or not.
3) Failing that, I'd scrap entirely the between songs shit, and totally make it a song-fest.  "Canada's got some great songs, folks.  Here they are for the next two hours, performed by some pretty talented people."  Each night, mix up the playlist a little bit.
4) Don't make it a show that Senior Citizens might enjoy.  I know they're an important demographic to the Centre, with the bus tours and whatnot, but designing the show as one everyone might like just turns it into one which nobody will like.  Get some balls, Centre, and produce a show that has some balls.
5) Change the name.  Canada Rocks! as it stands now, is a lie.  A suggested name for the show as it was the night I saw it:  Canada Has Turned Up The Volume On Some Songs Made Popular By Canadian Pop Entertainers And Presents It In A Bland Non-Threatening Way For All To Enjoy But None To Love



Friday, June 17

The Best Poker and Blackjack Hand

Okay, so you are playing cards in some weird environment where the hand you play in the poker game must be the same hand you play in the blackjack game.  In other words, the same five cards in your hand (I know, sometimes blackjack hands are more or fewer than five cards) must be used for both the poker and blackjack hands.



So, what is the best possible 5 card hand for both poker and blackjack?



I have surmised that it is the four 5s and an ace:  21 in blackjack and a four of a kind, ace high for poker.



You cannot beat that hand.  Can you?



Friday, May 20

Tar Zan Rub Ber Band

The folks over at Screenhead called this video "possibly the greatest thing we've ever seen."  That statement, of course, is one which begs to be brought down.
However, watching it, I may just have to agree.  It is possibly the greatest thing I've ever seen.



Wednesday, May 11

The Anti-Courtesy Call

A couple of weeks ago, the phone rang, during our dinner, I answered and it was some customer service representative from one of our banks or credit cards.  He explained this is a customer service call, and asked to speak to my wife (since, I assume, the credit card from that bank happens to be in her name).  I told him she wasn't home, which was true, and would he like to speak to me, since we share the bank account and the credit card.
He said no, he has to speak to Karyn.
You *have to* speak to her?  (I was put off by the urgency and insistence in his voice.)
"Yes."
Well, is it something important, that you *have to* speak to her?
"No, nothing like that.  It's simply a customer courtesy call."
A courtesy call in which you *have to* speak to my wife?
"That's right."
Well, she's not home.
"Is there a better time to reach her?"
No.
"Maybe tomorrow at the same time?"
I don't know when she'll be home, specifically.  I mean you can try, but I'll not guarantee anything.  Okay, bye.
"Thank you."



That bugged me.  I wanted to grill him on the definition of 'courtesy' and how I didn't think cold-calls like this were much of a courtesy to their clients.  Oh well.



Tonight, the phone rings.  Long distance.  Oh good, I think.  I answer, and it's a pleasant, professional sounding woman on the other end.
"May I speak to Karyn, please."
Karyn's not home right now.  Which, again, was true.
"Is there another time that would be more convenient to speak to her?"
No.  Is there something I can help you with?  I'm her husband and we share the account.
"No thank you. I really must speak with Karyn.  It's just a courtesy call from {blank} bank to see if there's anything we can do for her."
I see.  This is the third time (I lied, it was the second only, but three sounds like more trouble) I've received this call for her.  Doesn't really seem like much of a courtesy to keep bothering your customers like this.
"Maybe I could just call back another time and try to get her again."
Yeah, no.  You'll probably just get me again. It's not very courteous to keep calling us.  Is there any way you can take her off this call list?
"Uhhhh..."
Because it's not really a courtesy to be receiving these phone calls from you. In fact, it's the opposite of courtesy.  It's a nuisance.  Can you remove her name so she doesn't get called again?"
"Yes.  Yes, I can do that."
Thank you.
"Okay. Bye."