I've Got a Blog...Perhaps You'd Like to Read It

2010-07-16T11:48:00.001-07:00

Hello? Anyone? Helllloooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo?

...and you call yourselves Scottish nationalists?

2007-09-05T08:44:00.000-07:00

According to a story from the BBC today, Kenny MacAskill of the currently governing Scottish National Party (SNP) has introduced measures to ban "cut-price and free alcohol offers in Scottish shops." That is, MacAskill wants to end deeply discounted alcohol prices and "get one free" promotions. The measure is part of a larger campaign to end Scotland's "'destructive' drinking culture." The bodies of my ancestors - perfectly preserved, no doubt, by the alcohol in their systems - must be rolling over in their graves.

I say shame on you MacAskill. As a member of the Scottish National Party you parade yourself as a nationalist, yes? Nationalism is patriotic feeling based on language, religion, geography, and CULTURE. And I use caps-locked letters sparingly. Normally I just use italicized lettering; however I think MacAskill's gross crime against Scottish inebriation culture warrants the use of all upper-case typeface. What's next? A ban on Scottish soccer hooliganism? Or headbutts?
End destructive drinking culture? Where is your pride MacAskill? A man who can barely stand, peeing on a Glasgow street corner ought bring joy to your heart and a tear to your eye.

Think of the consequences of past temperance campaigns. In 1922, largely because he was against prohibition, Winston Churchill lost his seat in Parliament in the riding of Dundee, Scotland. Instead, Edwin Scrymgeor, a prohibitionist and namesake to the moronic Minister of Magic who refuses to take Dumbledore's advice in Harry Potter, won the seat. At any rate, when Churchill ran for office again in 1923 and 1924 it was in London constituencies. Not Scottish ones. To draw any number of illogical conclusions from this event, think of the lost glory! Churchill would have been remembered as a Scottish hero! Scotland would be remembered as having won the Battle of Britain. It would therefore be Scotland, and not the United States, nor the Soviet Union, who had saved the world from Adolf Hitler. All because of the temperance campaign.

Also, has anyone thought of the effect Scottish temperance would have on stand up comedy? Put an end to destructive drinking and you leave Scottish comedians with nothing. Nothing except loud profanity. The Irish would have a complete monopoly on destructive drinking-based humour.

So MacAskill, in the name of all that is drunken and urine stained, please, end the campaign to end destructive drinking in Scotland.

The God Delusion

2007-07-03T10:04:00.000-07:00

This past Christmas, I was given a book by my wife Amy. This is nothing unusual; I enjoy reading and often receive books as gifts. It was unusual however, that Amy would purchase for me a book by one of the world's foremost atheists, Richard Dawkins. It was indeed his latest book, the subject of some controversy lately, The God Delusion.

I was intrigued; not by the book so much as by its very shiny cover (I like shiny things). It was a shimery silver and looked almost like a mirror. However, after seeing Dawkins interviewed on The Hour with George Stroumboulopoulos and deciding that he was quite intelligent and witty, I decided that it might be worthwhile to spend some hours looking at the pages of the book as well as the cover.

My favourite book of all time (and I think it would be even if I did not agree with most of it) is Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis. Dawkins' book is sort of an anti-Mere Christianity; presenting an argument in favour of atheism. It falls roughly into three sections: the first deals with the philosophical arguments for God's existence that have been presented throughout history; the second provides a plausible alternative to a designed universe; and the third addresses some of the authors own concerns about religion. Dawkins, a trained biologist, presents very convincing scientific arguments; however, I was disappointed to find that his arguments against men like Aquinas and Lewis lacked any real substance or thought.

Two passages in particular demonstrate the weakness of Dawkins' arguments. The first of these is spoken in reference to this passage from Saint Thomas Aquinas' Summa Theologica:

"There are degrees of...goodness or perfection. But we judge these degrees only by comparison with a maximum...Therefore there must be some maximum to set the standard for perfection, and we call that maximum God."

Dawkins' reply is, "That's an argument? You might as well say, people vary in smelliness but we can make the comparison only by reference to a perfect maximum of conceivable smelliness. Therefore there must exist a pre-eminently peerless stinker..."

In addition to being merely an appeal to ridicule (this fallacy, actually, is ubiquitous in the book), this is clearly a false analogy. Goodness is an abstract entity, while odour is concrete. Therefore Dawkins' comparison does not work and his criticism is invalid. C.S. Lewis addresses the same issue in Mere Christianity saying:

"Everyone has heard people quarrelling...They say things like this: 'How'd you like it if anyone did the same to you?'...Now what interests me about these remarks is that the man who makes them is not merely saying that the other man's behaviour does not happen to please him. He is appealing to some kind of standard of behaviour which he expects the other man to know about."

Dawkins' argument is invalid because odours are non-absolute. To say the odour of a person is bad is, in Lewis' words, merely saying that the odour does not happen to please you. However to say something (or someone) is good or bad in and of itself is to appeal to an absolute standard outside of yourself. The God Delusion, therefore fails to properly address Aquinas' (or Lewis') argument. I suppose there's no shame however, in failing to compete with Aquinas; he was after all (with the possible exception of Isaac Newton) the greatest genius who ever lived.

The second passage that I think best demonstrates Dawkins' inability to address the philosophical arguments for God's existence is this one:

"A common argument, attributed among others to C.S. Lewis (who should have known better), states that, since Jesus claimed to be the Son of God, he must have been either right or else insane or a liar." Dawkins continues, "The historical evidence that Jesus claimed any sort of divine status is minimal. But even if that evidence were good, the trilemma on offer would be ludicrously inadequate. A fourth possibility, almost too obvious to need mentioning, is that Jesus was honestly mistaken."

Dawkins is speaking of a passage in Mere Christianity that, in addition to proving that indeed Christ did claim divinity, states this:

"A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic - on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg - or else he would be the Devil of Hell...Either this man was, and is, the Son of God; or else a madman or something worse."

And Lewis is right. He (correctly) presupposes what Dawkins does not: that it is impossible to be "honestly mistaken" about whether or not you are the omnipotent creator of the universe. We have names for people who think so; we call them, as Lewis does, madmen. Or Lunatics. Or bonkers. Or a thousand other names which we have applied to men like David Koresh. The trilemma that Lewis poses therefore remains intact.

Dawkins' does make some valid criticisms of arguments for God's existence. He wittily refutes, for example, St. Anselm's ontological proof. In addition to that, he makes some well-founded, appropriate criticisms of the Bible.

In any case, I have concentrated on what I found lacking in the book because, to me, that is most interesting. If I were to review the book more fully I could mention any number of praiseworthy attributes such as Dawkins' wit, style, clear and well written prose etc. etc. etc. Indeed the book is quite enjoyable and thought-provoking and I recommend reading it regardless of your personal viewpoints or religion.

Billy Connolly

2007-03-01T11:04:00.000-08:00

I already thought this guy was a genius for his comedy, I had no idea he could play the banjo like this.

Click here to see Billy Connolly play Cripple Creek (not the song by The Band).

Also, unless you want to here an enormous amount of profanity in a heavy Scottish accent (who wouldn't want to hear that?) I wouldn't recommend viewing any other Billy Connolly clips.

Toronto Snow Day

2007-02-14T07:35:00.001-08:00

I guess 4 snowflakes blew into the city off of Lake Ontario today because everyone is in a panic and everything has been shut down.

Actually I think we've been pounded with a wopping 8 or 9 centimetres of snow. Par for the course in Northern Ontario. I guess here this constitutes a big deal. Everything has been shut down and I guess everyone is hiding in their bomb shelters or something.

They never closed schools for us in the Soo. Four feet could fall in a night and we'd be there in Kingy's class the next day.

Of course when your teacher is Mr. Freeze, I guess a little snow doesn't bother him.

Attack the Internet? But it's so Wholesome

2007-02-07T09:05:00.000-08:00

According to this story in today's Globe and Mail, a group of hackers made a considerable attempt to derail the internet last night. From what I understand -- and I'm no techmologist -- they sent enormous quantities of information to three central sites that keep most of the internet running in an attempt overwhelm the computers and destory them. I guess Data and Jordi handled the situation though because internet usage was completely uninterupted. It's a darn good thing too, otherwise without the warning she received, my wife might have recklessly stopped for gas and left without checking for a gang member in the back seat, also I might not have sent that forward out in time to get a million dollars from Bill Gates.

In any case, a significant attack on the internet begs the question: why?

Whose life has the internet ever ruined? Certainly not the Star Wars Kid's. The internet is a source only of good.

Online banking has made paying bills and checking my balance ultra-convenient. And I feel perfectly secure - especially after that guy from the bank called last week to make sure the account number and PIN I told him matched his records. I'm sure the subsequent draining of all my savings is completely unrelated and will work itself out somehow.

Also, I sure am glad that the internet allows me to share my Christian faith simply by forwarding an email to everyone I know about how guilty I should feel about not sharing my Christian faith.

On top of all that, what marriage hasn't recieved a supportive boost from the secret viewing of pornography? Statistics that I made up that are neither true nor make any sense state that 100 per cent of marriages in which pornography is a part stay together 60 per cent of the time. Speaking of marriage, take a look at how the net has helped these folks

And who isn't thankful for Google Earth? I've killed more hours at work looking for satellite photos of my house -- no wonder I got canned (Oh yeah, Amy, we need to talk about my job).

In any case, let's not let a few crazies, left wing types mostly, get in the way of our ever so useful .com-ing.

Intersting news since my last post...

2007-01-28T12:00:00.000-08:00

I have this feeling that sometime next year, or possibly this year, someone is going to make a comment something to the effect of, "hey, remember blogs?"

This comment will have roughly the same effect as the comment, "hey, remember Alf?" or "hey, remember Ren & Stimpy?" or "hey, remember slap-on bracelets?" (does anyone else actually remember slap-on bracelets?).

Anyway...I figured I'd give an update to see if anyone is even still bothering to look at this site.

So first, interesting news related to me.

Well, last semester I often told my wife that, no, I can not do the dishes, help with making supper, or indeed even get off the couch because, unless she wanted me to flunk out of school, I needed the time to study. Following this, Amy would question the academic value of watching repeats of The Simpsons, to which I would reply, "you're an academic value."

Anyhoo, I guess all that not helping my wife around the house paid off because I managed some decent grades last semester. This led to the realization that one day in the not-so-distant future, I will graduate with an arts degree in history and english literature. This led to the further realization that unless I gain some classroom experience with which to apply to teachers college, I will be the proud possessor of an entirely useless degree. So I will soon be going twice a week to Port Credit Secondary School to be a teacher's aid in a history or an english class. In these classes I hope to gain valuable experience by being the only one in the class who is immature enough to do arm-pit farts while the teacher's back is turned, or make a comment such as, "Wilfred Laurier? More like Wilfred BORE-ier"

So that's about the only interesting news in my life at the moment. I apologize if, because of the title of this post you may have thought that there actually was some interesting news coming.

Next, interesting news from around the globe that doesn't get a lot of coverage in Canada.

My ancestral home of Scotland may be splitting off entirely from the United Kingdom one day soon. Elections for the Scottish Parliament are scheduled for May and the Scottish National Party (SNP) is well ahead in the polls. The SNP has said it will hold a referendum on seperation if it gets into power -- why does this sound so familiar? -- and polls show that about 53 - 55 per cent of the Scottish population favour independence. What kind of mischief will that crazy Mel Gibson stir up next?

What the new Scotland would look like, ie. a Dominion under the British Commonwealth, or a republic like (Southern) Ireland is still yet to be determined as far as I know. Also to be determined is whether or not the new government would allow my cattle-theiving family back into the new Scotland, and whether or not they have any use for people with useless arts degrees.

Oh yeah, let me mention that I turned on the word verification on this blog after the comments section of my last post became filled with blog-spam, including that unfortunate spam regarding 'shemale' something or other. So I apoligize if leaving a comment here makes you feel like your at the ticketmaster website. Smell you all later.

Sundin and Raycroft

2006-11-10T10:21:00.000-08:00

I know that no one who may read this, excepting me, cares about the Leafs. However, this is my blog; it's my birthday in two days; it's a free country; and I don't care what you all say, the Leafs are awesome; so if I want to ostricize the already small readership of this blog by writing about stuff no one cares about I will.

Anhoo, recently we lost both our Captain, Mats Sundin, and number one goalie Andrew Raycroft, both seen here. Sundin is out 3-4 weeks with a torn ligament in his elbow, and Raycroft is listed day to day with a groin injury.

Now since I was a teenager, the only way I have been able to express myself is through the medium of movies and television. Let me in this way, therefore, express how I feel about these two potentially catastrophic injuries.

"This is a bummer...man"

"!&$%*$...IS THAT GOAL REGULATION SIZE OR WHAT!!!"

"Dang!"

"You know what I blame this on the breakdown of? Society."

"This is no good. This is no good!!"

"I don't want to talk about last night...it'll only make me mad."

"I could have drownded Gilbert!!!"

I guess I'd be furious too...

2006-10-18T09:11:00.000-07:00

Every so often I begin to lose my faith in history. That is, lose my faith in doing a history degree, not lose my faith that history, in fact, happened. Then I am reminded of why I began taking history. It's not because I want to sharpen my intellect, or get a job teaching, or better myself in any way, rather it's so I can learn silly anecdotes such as the following.

In 1959, then Soviet President Nikita Khrushchev came to the U.S. to meet with then President Eisenhower. Khrushchev, on being given his itinerary for the trip, was delighted to see he would not be leaving the U.S. before he had a chance to visit Disneyland!!! This picture may have been taken at that very moment.

Or perhaps this one.

However, when the big day came, Sept. 19, 1959, Khrushchev was destined to be disappointed. The Soviet President and leader of the Communist world was told that he would not be allowed to enter Disneyland. This picture may have been taken at that very moment.

At that point the Soviet President, the same frightening man who had said to the U.S. and their allies, "Whether you like it or not, history is on our side. We will bury you!!!" (I added two of those exclamation points, but the first one is historically accurate) was then heard to say:

"just imagine, I a Premier, a Soviet representative, when I came here to this city, I was given a plan — a program of what I was to be shown and whom I was to meet here. But just now I was told that I could not go to Disneyland. I asked: 'Why not?'...For me the situation is inconceivable. I cannot find words..."

How unfortunate that President Khrushchev was denied access to Disneyland. Perhaps had he been able to ride that octupus ride and have his picture taken with Donald and Mickey, the subsequent events of the Cold War could have been avoided. As it was, President Khrushchev had to look for some more accomodating allies.

Joe's "Things I'm Thankful for" Thanksgiving list

2006-10-12T22:14:00.000-07:00

I know it's a little bit late for this, but since I have had a lot of reading to do, idiot corporations to tell off, and important decisions to make (Brodeur or Kiprusoff for my number 1 fantasy hockey team goalie?) I haven't yet had time to make my "Things I'm Thankful for" list. I figured that in the spirit of Chris Columbus and some Puritans coming to America in the year 14whatever to eat vegtables out of a big horn in the company of some friendly Indians (at least that's the Thanksgiving story I've pieced together through various bits of pop-culture), I too would express my thankfulness for everything that has been provided for me. So without any further introductory rambling, I am thankful for...

ugly, nerdy, and/or poorly dressed people at who's expense I am able to procure some small amount of self-esteem
a working vehicle that allows me to take full advantage of the big mistake made by the city of Mississauga in naming one of their streets Full Moon Crescent
the music of Neil Young, Kurt Cobain and a few others without which we may have been stuck in an endless cycle of hair and/or glam rock
a working vehicle that allows me to take full advantage of the big mistake made by the city of Mississauga in naming one of their streets Quail Run
Scott Feschuck's column in MacLean's that I'm totally ripping off with this list
whatever deficiency exists in my brain that allows me to watch endless repeats of The Simpsons and not get tired of it
the 20-plus forwards I get in my email inbox every single day, each of which is astoundingly clever and amusing
the wonderful civil servants of the Ontario government who kindly reminded me this week that my drivers licence and health card would be expiring and who will renew these two items for a bargain price of $75.00 each! Don't any of you expect the same deal though, I 'm pretty sure they did it for me only because the expirations happen to fall on my birthday.
the statue of that big naked guy in front of Union Station downtown which affords me an uproarious guffaw each time I look up and see his gizmo
Microsoft Powerpoint technology that is used in every class I take at U of T. I mean, seriously, how would I learn if I the topic of each lecture didn't float across a screen at the front of the room?
My wireless internet connection that allows the entire Yahoo! page to upload in well under 5 minutes

I guess that's it for now. Except for loved ones, food, safety, roof-over-head, all that's a pretty sweet deal too.

Speaking of "The Rebel Sell"...

2006-09-28T09:09:00.000-07:00

I read this on Andrew Potter's blog today. Take that snooty organic food people. No offence to any organic food people who read this.

organic times

Interesting update from the NY Times this weekend on the organic vs local fight. WalMart is bringing out its own brand of organic milk, but activists are complaining that the company they are getting the milk from is not organic enough. It seems that at the Aurora Organic Dairy, even though the cows do not get any hormones or antibiotics and the feed is all organic,”cows do not spend any significant time roaming pastures and eating fresh grass; instead they live on a diet high in grains.”

As the article goes on to note, “The controversy turns on how closely Aurora adheres to the principles behind the organic food movement. Many organic farmers say grass feeding is essential for organic dairy production because it is part of a cow’s natural behavior.”

Natural behaviour? Cows aren’t natural entities. Like dogs, they’re completely artificial. They’re basically living meat sculptures, shaped by humans, for human purposes, over thousands of years. Besides, who cares whether what they eat is part of their natural behaviour? You’re going to drink their milk. Once you’ve decided that you’re willing to swallow whatever comes out of a cow’s udder, you’ve pretty much abandoned any high ground on the “natural behaviour” front.

UPDATE: Chris sends this link, which serves as a handylook at the logical progression of the “local is better” movement. It doesn’t get much more local than this. Also, read his post here. He has far more patience than do I for the magical thinking of the organicists, and his post does a great job of getting to the nub of the matter, which is this: Is it that you care about ends, that is, about what actually goes into your body? Or do you care about means, that is, the route the food takes into your body. There are reasons for caring about both: Beef hormones are uncool because of what it does to me, while veal is uncool because of what it does to the living veal sculpture.

But sometimes, the concern over the route takes on a transparently religious quality, like Kosher, where rules are insisted upon not because they are worthwhile, but because they serve to distinguish the truly faithful from those who are just tourists. Or, in this case, WalMart shoppers.

The Daily Kudos

2006-09-25T09:07:00.000-07:00

Since school has started I find that between attending lectures and sitting on the bus and working I have little spare time. The spare time I do have is typically spent catching up on reading - some of which has been excellent, eg. I highly recommend a book called Edgar Huntley by Charles Brockden Brown, - and some of which has been dreadful, eg. I beg you not to waste your time reading anything by Margaret Atwood.

Anyhoo, all this to give account why - much to my mother and my wife's relief as they no longer are required to humour me by telling me I'm funny - I have not been writing on my blog of late.

Well now I find I am, for the most part, caught up on my reading (after reading a dreadful poem by - well I don't want to mention her name - let's call her M. Atwood - no, no how about Margaret A.) and have a few seconds to rant.

First, a little background. I know everyone who is roughly my age is aware of "tagging." For those who are not aware of what this is, let me describe it for you. There are a group of losers, hippy types mostly, who think they are "sticking it to the man" (that's hippy talk for rebelling aginst anything institutional) by creating a word-based logo and spray painting it on public property. From what I gather, they think that by rebelling, they are helping to free the minds of law abiding "squares" like you and me so that we will overthrow the repressive, technocratic "system" and we will all live in peace and harmony in an anarchistic paradise. Or, to paraphrase what I just said, there are a group of losers who spray paint stuff because in their world that constitutes a political statement. Here is an example.

In the Soo I have seen numerous instances of "tagging" but unfortunately the only particular "tag" I remember is the word SCAM (possibly SKAM) written about town in a stylized way. The word above appears to be owpillepri. I have no idea what that means, but I have to say the quotation marks crack me up. Quotation marks, or inverted commas are used for one of two purposes, but usually only just one. Primarily they are used to enclose a quotation (the other use is to indicate a title of a work such as "Edgar Huntley"). I wonder who it was made the profound remark, "owpillepri," that this "taggist" or "tagmeister" as I assume they like to be called, has put the word in quotation marks. Perhaps it was the tagmeisters' mentor (tagmentor?). On the day of his graduation from the tagmeister apprentice program his mentor, possibly stoned, said to him "owpillepri." Or possibly a friend, maybe with a mouth full of brownies had meant to say "hey, pass my pepsi," but fate intervened and a tagmeister was born.

Incidently, my incorrect use of inverted commas above, where I have said "tag" or any of its derivitives, are simply there because I think it is a stupid term and I feel the quotes distance me from actually using the term myself.

Anyhoo, now I'm a little off of my point. I got a little carried away making fun of the movement itself instead of the individual who I originally intended. What I wanted to say was kudos to a certain tagmeister because he has, without a doubt, become the herald of the imminent demise of tagging. Other tagmeisters generally choose words that suggest rebellion and defiance (such as scam and owpellperi), but the particular tagmeister who has made Clarkson, where I live, his "turf" (another stupid term), has chosen to stylize the word toast and spray paint it on public property in numerous locations. You read it properly, bread that has been heated to crispiness. The inference I draw is that every other word in the English language has been taking by other tagmeisters, and toast was the only word available. So I would guess that as soon as toast grows out of his phase of tagging there will be no more ugly spray painted words on stuff, because there are no more words to use. Toast is the last tagmeister.

That sounds pretty cool. "The Last Tagmeister." Coming soon to a theatre near you.

Anyhoo, Kudos toast. Kudos to you my counter-cultural friend. You have become the harbinger of a great message. The tagging movement, that great mobilization of geeks with nothing better to do with their time, who spray painted idiot stuff on walls to the minor irritation of the rest of us, has finally come to an end.

*anyone who would imply, or out and out say, that my ideas regarding the counter culture come entirely from one source, namely The Rebel Sell would be entirely correct

2 Year Anniversary

2006-09-03T11:24:00.000-07:00

Here we are at the end of another summer. End of summer means many different things to many different people. To most of my friends it means that, for the most part, holidays have been used up at least until Christmas so it's back to work at different careers and best of luck to all of you with all of that.

For me it means something different. Unlike my friends who went to university after high school, I squandered my time away working at several different jobs - nothing I'd call a career though. Let me put it to you this way. I have an extensive collection of nametags and hairnets.
So for me end of summer still means - though I am now (very close to) 26 years old - back to school.

Back to school, back to school,
to prove to Dad that I'm not a fool
my lunch packed up, my boots tied tight
I hope I don't get in a fight
OOOOh back to school, Back to school, back to school...

Anyhoo, yes back to school to complete the 1st of 3 years I still need to complete my degree. Oh well.

On top of back to school, end of summer also means wedding anniversary. Not only for me, but for several of my friends. Tomorrow will be two years for Amy and I. So I thought this would be a good time to recap my accomplisments since being married.

1. I have managed to make some progress toward obtaining my history/english degree. Of this I am quite proud. A mere four years after starting university I am only three short years away from completion. In those same 7 years many of my contemporaries will have earned MAs or even PHds, but I, advancing far beyond most will have earned the prestigious, ostentatious even, title of Bachelor of Arts.

2. I have managed to hold the same job and same position for even more than two years now. There are only a few who fit the profile of the elite group who enter the field of logistics, and fewer still who have worked their way to the position of Operations Clerk. Now I could be mistaken (though I am the one who works in the industry) but I believe the hierarchy in the logistics industry is as follows:
Operations Clerks
Executives
Management
Forklift and Truck Drivers

So as you can see, I've really climbed the ladder since Amy's uncle got me the job.

3. Amy and I have just moved from a one bedroom apartment with walls of plaster and brick to a house with walls made of plaster and straw bales.

4. We rescued a rabbit from a lifetime of boredom in a cage in someone's basement and have provided him with a lifetime of boredom in a cage in our living room.

5. While Amy, since we have been married has traveled the world becoming knowlegable about lifestyles and social problems in such places as Ethiopia and Israel, I have been hanging out here in the T.O. learning about different malodourous stinks on the bus and becoming more knowlegable about Toronto Maple Leafs stats and history.

6. I have managed to showcase my insanely horrible driving skills to Amy so that she now does all the driving.

So with 6 fine accomplishments under my belt - an average of 3/year you know - I enter my third year of marriage. None of you worry now...I plan to keep up the good work.

SWEEEEEEEET!!!!!

2006-07-18T08:28:00.000-07:00

After checking mapleleafs.com today, as I do everyday, and seeing that the Leafs signed this guy, I ran in circles babbling like an idiot, much like Homer Simpson when he sees a free trombolompaline in the newspaper.

Michael Peca was a big part of the Oilers run for the Cup this year.

And after signing these two guys (Hal Gill and Pavel Kubina)...

...to their blue line, as well as signing goalie Andrew Raycroft, and re-signing some of their younger guys, things aren't looking too bad for the 06-07 Leafs!

An Open Letter to the Good People at FIFA

2006-07-09T11:19:00.000-07:00

Wow!! That was one jim-dandy of a World Cup this year! Who would of thought that whoever it was who won would end up the big winner eh? I really thought it would be those other guys who also were playing great soccer. A big round of applause and a hardy handshake to all the fine folks at FIFA for organizing this thrilling event. We all appreciate the unrelenting sound of car horns after such exciting games as the one where the score got as high as 1-0, and that other one where the score got as high as 1-0.

Wow! To think that in a mere 90 minutes a single team could manage to pass the ball around enough that someone managed to get open and put the ball into a 300 foot wide net that even has a person in the way. I'm certain that all the players of that game celebrated by buying themselves a new designer outfit, a new pair of $1,000 shoes and manicures all around.

Now, though this year's event was exciting beyond the hopes and dreams of many people (who probably also enjoy such activities as watching paint dry and reading Margaret Atwood books), I do have a few suggestions to make the 2010 event even more exciting and thereby appealling to an even wider range of demographics some of which would include: me, and the other possibly ten people in the world who still think soccer sucks.

My suggestions are as follows:

1. I know that with the success of staged sports like WWF Wrestling it is tempting to hire actors to portray athletes, however it is unfair to your audience. I know as a child I wept bitterly to find out that the Hulkster had been defrauding me, telling me to eat my vitamins and to stay off of drugs, all the while pumping his own body full of steroids. You may wonder how I have come to know that soccer is a staged sport. Well, I deduced it through the following syllogistic logic:

All people who are capable of such convincing phony trips, falls and stumbles are hollywood actors.
All soccer players are capable of extremely convincing phony trips, falls, and stumbles (often feigning a broken leg, being carried off on a stretcher and returning within the same minute of play).
Therefore all soccer players are hollywood actors.

Also, does this look like an athlete or an actor?

My suggestion, therefore, to you at FIFA is to hire real athletes to play the sport of soccer. If you need to know what one looks like, please see Jason Smith (his picture is on this blog somewhere below). Smith took a puck to the face, had all his front teeth ripped out, and was back on the ice within 3 minutes.

2. Everywhere I go now I see these light-up shoes, resurrections of the 'LA Lights' that were put out by long-dead shoe company LA Gear in the 80s. My suggestion is that the game be played in the pitch black, with a ball that lights up in the same way as these shoes. Then in the final game all the players have to wear the shoes so you can't tell which is the ball and which is someone's ankle. Cool eh? The name of the game could be changed from 'futball' to 'ankleball'.

3. Going back to my suggestion of hiring real athletes...why not solve two sporting problems at once. Soccer needs real athletes, Sumo Wrestlers need to lose some weight...you see where I'm going? The new sport could be called Sumccor or Fatball.

4. For every player on the field a corresponding lion, tiger or bear. *Note* This strategy may backfire and lead to less exciting matches due to the fact that less scoring may occur.

5. Part of the problem with soccer is that the ball goes into the net so infrequently. I suggest we get rid of the ball altogether. Change the rules so perhaps we pick a player at random, perhaps through some sort of lottery, and we make him the focal point. We could say that he is "it". He chases other players and tries to place his hand anywhere on their person. The player who has been "tagged" then becomes "it". This could go on for 90 minutes and would be much more exciting. We could call the game "jugo de neranga" which is the only phrase I remember from spanish class. I assume it means "touch the other player."

6. I suggest that instead of the regulation 900 foot wide net, three poles sticking far into the air, all of different lengths, each with a hoop on the end of it. The goal of the game would then be to put the ball through one of these hoops. The problem is how to get the player that high into the air. If only someone would invent some sort of flying broomstick apparatus.

7. Make the players dress up in full scuba gear. Wouldn't be very exciting but it'd be frickin' hilarious.

8. Make players dress up in a full suit of armour. Wouldn't be very exciting but it'd be frickin' hilarious.

So, people at FIFA, until 2010 I bid you a very fond farewell. I can't wait to see which of my fine suggestions you decided to use.

Sincerly,

Joe MacLachlan

The Wonderful Institution of OSAP

2006-06-26T23:35:00.000-07:00

Due to something I said a few posts ago I feel I should justify this post before I start. I said a while ago, after making a joke about Stephen Harper that I wouldn't start talking about my political viewpoints. So let me say that that is not what this post is. It is not about whether I like or dislike the current Liberal Government in Ontario, it is just about something I find infurriating and feel the need to rant a little bit about.

Has anyone else seen this commercial with the girl who's working in a bakery or something to save money for school? And then her co-workers bake her a congratulations cake to send her off to university?

This ridiculous add says, "Sometimes it takes more than hard work to reach college or university. That's why Ontario is helping more students aim higher by introducing grants and doubling its investment in student aid. Find out about the new OSAP."

I also read this on the Ontario government webpage: "In 2006-07, the government will be extending eligibility for Access Grants to include students from families earning up to about $75,000 per year- roughly the average income for Ontario families."

Also this: "The 2006-07 improvements will benefit about 145,000 college and university students from low- and middle-income families."

Oh? Can someone please tell me why my OSAP application was denied on the grounds that my family (ie. Amy and I) make too much money? Obviously I'm not going to go blathering about our incomes here but let me tell you it ain't no 75 grand a year.

Is there any logical explanation as to why the Ontario government is going around bragging about their record and their policies regarding education after deciding to end the tuition freeze and thereby increase tuition again this fall (on advice from that fiscal genius Bob Rae) when education prices in Ontario are already the highest in the country?

Hurray for OSAP! Hurray for Ontario! Hey OSAP remember the time you re-assessed my funding when I was at Brock and decided to take almost $3000 of my funding back after I was already in St. Catharines and depending on that money to live? Ha ha. That was a good one. You guys really got me there. And remember the time you held my friend's funding for a couple months and then claimed that the fact that he'd been living without it for that long was proof that he didn't need it in the first place?

What a great record OSAP has. They've really earned the right to brag about it. They should really be proud of themselves.

Sorry if this rant sounds really bitter. To be honest with you I'm not that mad anymore about how OSAP has screwed me in the past. I'm only mad that they have the cahonies to go around bragging about their awesome record. I suppose, to be fair, there are those who never had any trouble with the program but for everyone of those there are two with stories like mine (or my friend's). So from all of us to OSAP:

The Daily Kudos

2006-06-19T22:36:00.000-07:00

During the Oilers playoff run I have ignored completely the MLB which I usually loosely follow throughout the summer. After the Oilers loss last night, I remembered that baseball exists and that I enjoy it, so I woke up this morning and went to bluejays.com and to check the standings. And low and behold, and by uncle Jonathan's corn-cob pipe the flipping Detroit Tigers are in first place with the best record in the MLB (47-24). What kind of a crazy, topsy-turvy world are we living in here? How did this happen? Some questions I will just never know the answer to. They will boggle, and baffle and irritate my brain and perhaps one day drive me to lunacy.

Other questions of this nature include: How is it possible that so many people in this world think it's funny to ask me where I'm goin' with that gun in my hand (with roughly half of them playing air guitar afterwards and mimicking the Jimi Hendrix guitar riff)? Or how does that sitcom with Charlie Sheen manage to stay on the air?

Last night, as I stepped off of the bus, another of these questions was added to my list and I would like to say kudos to the person who added them. This person has managed to pose a question to my brain that I will never know the answer to and which will forever irritate me.

Here is what happened. I stepped off of the bus at Lakeshore and noticed a young couple walking toward me. Incidentaly, the girl may or may not have been singer/songwriter Bif Naked while the guy may or may not have been this guy.

They were enjoying a lively conversation about something or other and as they passed by me I was used as an example for some point the girl was making. She said, "...just like that guy..." and then they both bust-a-gut laughing and walked away leaving me with the unanswerable question of what was so uproariously funny about my appearance to make me the subject of fun.
Now perhaps I ought to congratulate this girl for posing two unanswerable questions for my brain to chew on. The other being this: why are so many people in this world so thoroughly incapable of judging how loud they are speaking and who can or can not hear them?

Now, I think quite a bit about things. I say that not to be a braggart and to go tootling my own horn (because really I think only on idiot things that are relevant to no one), but only to say how much agony this put me through. I did a thorough tabulation of my appearance and found that I looked no more or less ridiculous than I normally do. My hair these days, by virtue of lacking a haircut for some months now, is something of an unruly bird's nest but I ruled that out as a possibility because really anything passes for 'a look' these days. I then looked at my clothes, corduroys and a green shirt. My shoes are a fairly standard pair of white runners, which hide my detestable feet. I know we MacLachlan's seem to sport unusually large noses...

My Nose (look at that monster)

Greg's Nose

...but really it was rather dark out so I have to dismiss that possibility.

I will never know why I was the subject of such jocularity. So kudos Biff Naked (or whoever you are), kudos to you my vociferous friend. You have contributed two more questions to my ever growing list of irritating questions to which I will never know the answer. Much greater men than I have gone mad from much less than irritating questions with no answers. Jonathan Swift I'm told, went mad from ringing in his ears.

GO OILERS GO!!!

2006-06-19T09:34:00.000-07:00

Game 7 is tonight and I just wanted to say Good Luck to all these guys (and the rest of the team and to MacTavish as well).

Not that they need luck. They're working for pucks, blocking shots, and out-skating and out-playing Carolina. Plus Carolina seems to have run out of steam. Who can blame them after losing Game 5 in overtime on a shorthanded goal?

The Daily Kudos

2006-06-14T11:05:00.000-07:00

Both Amy and I travel a lot for work. While Amy boards airplanes to fly to exotic locations in other countries and often on other continents to cover important geo-political issues and events, I board a bus and drive down different streets and avenues to a trucking company where I cover a big office chair with my fat rump. Most people would prefer Amy's situation to mine, but since I loathe flying and everything to do with it, and since I loathe the crowds at the airport, and since I'm extremely lazy, I prefer my situation. But it does leave me wife-less for sometimes weeks at a time.

I was recently in one of these situations when Amy was sent to Orlando, Florida to attend a conference of some kind. Incidentally, my cousin Mike Lysyj once had an amusing line about confereces that went as follows: "You're going to a conference? I've never been to a boring one of those...no wait...every single one." This is what I say to Amy every time she says she has a conference to go to. The joke has become a little tiresome really. In any case, back to my point. Amy was out of town for about one and a half weeks. It was during this time that I was finally allowed to let my true self shine and I really thought I ought to congratulate myself on all the awesome activities I engaged in while she was gone.

I've said elsewhere that my weekdays are entirely made up of routine. I won't here repeat the routine, I'll just say that it stayed pretty consistent during the time Amy was gone. However, the weekend was a different story. Saturday and Sunday was all about Joe.

Since my social skills are...well to be nice let's say sub-par...I don't really have a lot of friends here in the TO. I called up my one friend (my Dad) to see if he wanted to PAR-TÉ but he was busy or out of town that weekend. So I did what any self respecting loser with no friends would do which was to spend my weekend watching both the (original) Star Wars trilogy and the entire Lord of the Rings trilogy. And an awesome time was had by all who were involved. If I had cable, many episodes of Star Trek, Star Trek the Next Generation, Star Trek Deep Space Nine, Star Trek Voyageur, Star Trek Enterprise, Star Gate SG-1, Babylon 5, and Battlestar Galactica would also have been viewed. And an awesomer time would have been had. The funny thing is it didn't really strike me to be that nerdy of a thing to do until much later.

In a past Daily Kudos (I believe it was the first one actually) I gave the nick-name 'Kipling Ronald Dynamite' to a schoolmate of mine after this character from Napoleon Dynamite.

Perhaps, however, there is a person who is more deserving of that nick-name.

Little does Amy know, but I've already started planning my first Star Trek Convention. I have the right hook-ups too. I used to work with this girl at Starbucks who's dad planned them. Also, since you don't get by in the sci-fi business without a cool sci-fi name, I've decided to go to city hall and have my name officially changed to Trekulon Picard.

In any case, I really thought that I ought to recognize my awesome achievement of watching 15 straight hours of sci-fi and fantasy. It was everything I hoped it would be. So Kudos to me. My brother spoke recently of slowly sliding down the slope to Star Trek Nerdism (click here to read about it), well it seems that instead of slowly sliding down like Greg, I have willingly dove head first down the same slope. See you at the bottom Greg!

Kyle's Suggestion

2006-06-13T09:27:00.000-07:00

Bad

Good

Because no one should have to see...

The Daily Kudos

2006-06-08T12:05:00.000-07:00

Sunday night Amy and I made the trip around the lake from Mississauga to St. Catharines. Amy had a conference of sorts to cover at my old stomping grounds, Brock University. When we got there I demonstrated my superior knowledge of the campus by getting us lost. Then, after the meeting was over for that night, I demonstrated my superior knowledge of the campus by getting us lost again. Being at Brock reminded me of that period, not very long ago, before Amy and I were married when I would bus from St. Catharines to the TO to meet Amy at Yorkdale Mall so we could spend the weekend together. These weekends formed the basis of our relationship and we lived happily ever after except for the time we both ate something bad in the Dominican and had to fight over the bathroom and then a hurricane hit.

By the way, I know most of you, when you were at university or college spent your Friday nights partying and living it up with friends. The fact that I went to a different city to spend weekends with my (then) girlfriend has nothing to do with the amount friends I did or did not have at Brock. I had a friend there. I think his name was Ron. Or Tom. Once we had a conversation. I asked Ron (or whatever) to borrow a pen and he lent me one. And he did it gladly I might add.

Anyhoo, I’m off my point and rambling as I often do. So let me get to it. I just said Amy and I used to meet at Yorkdale Mall. I used to catch the bus to downtown TO and hop the subway up to our meeting point. These subway trips formed the basis of my superior knowledge of the city of Toronto which I demonstrate every time we are there by getting us lost. Now, it is not Yorkdale Mall itself who is the recipient of today’s Daily Kudos. Rather it is some engineer who designed the bathroom there. This man’s work, up until now, has been grossly and inexcusably underrated and underappreciated. So Kudos to the Unknown Engineer for his invaluable work in bathroom design at Yorkdale Mall.

Let me explain something about men’s bathrooms. I’m often baffled by the lack of thought that goes into this. In fact, I have often thought about starting my own business as a Bathroom Article Placement Consultant (interested investors should leave name, phone number, and email and I will be in touch). A bathroom is a place where you want privacy. Yet often a door is opened and your feet and pants-around-ankles are exposed to a mall full of people. Or a mirror is placed in that unfortunate location, at that unfortunate angle so as to give a little peep show to everyone in the mall should someone open the door.

Here’s a diagram I’ve drawn. Let me walk you through it. Those boxy type things at the top left are stalls with the toilets in them, beside those are the sinks above which sits the mirror. Down at the bottom right are the urinals and to the left of them is the door. That little guy there is an innocent passer-by and those dotted lines represent his line of vision.

All this is not so with the Yorkdale Mall bathroom. For one there were double doors. This is the easiest solution to these problems and many public bathrooms use this method. It’s not foolproof but it’s better than nothing. That’s only one safeguard the Unknown Engineer had put in place. There were a number of others. The greatest achievement of the Unknown Engineer was that he had created the stalls out of sound proof concrete, with a full door that extended all the way to the floor. Not like the typical bathroom stall where you can look under and say hello to your neighbour. Given, this eliminates the possibility of borrowing some toilet paper from your neighbour should the need arise, but that’s the only drawback I could think of.

At any rate, I really thought it was high time someone recognize the Unknown Engineer’s achievement in the field of Bathroom Article Placement. So kudos to the Unknown Engineer, kudos to you my good sir. Many a Yorkdale shopper have you saved from having to look at my hairy sasquatch legs underneath a bathroom stall.

Great Quote by Kurt Vonnegut

2006-06-06T10:10:00.000-07:00

Joe recently lent me A Man Without a Country by Kurt Vonnegut. Not exactly uplifting but I love it. Here's a great quote:

"Let's talk about women. Freud said he didn't know what women wanted. I know what women want: a whole lot of people to talk to. What do they want to talk about? They want to talk about everything.
What do men want? They want a lot of pals, and they wish people wouldn't get so mad at them.
Why are so many people getting divorced today? It's because most of us don't have extended families anymore. It used to be that when a man and a woman got married, the bride got a lot more people to talk to about everything. The groom got a lot more pals to tell dumb jokes to."

The Daily Kudos

2006-05-31T09:46:00.000-07:00

My days consist pretty much of routine...entirely of routine I should say. I get up at 11:30, I step out of the bedroom all squint-eyed and confused, I stub my toe on the desk as I walk to the coffee maker and say the "F" word (by which I mean fiddlesticks), when coffee is ready I read The Globe and Mail online. At 3:23 I curse and swear at my tardiness as I run to catch my bus which leaves at 3:24. I go north, and then transfer to go east and when I reach a certain point, I walk the rest of the way to work. This is my day. Day in, Day out. I'm fine with that. I'm not a big fan of new things. The rest of my week is the same. I like to know that Saturday Night consists of watching the hockey, I like to know that dinner out means going to The Pump House down the street (best restaurant in the GTA). I don't want to eat foreign foods in trendy places.

So needless to say, interruption of my routine is not looked upon favourably. Joe pointed this out in a recent post on his blog (see 'riding the bus' at http://joesambol.blogspot.com). Yet, for 2 straight weeks now an odd phenomenon has been occurring. Two women, let's call the The VVVIPs have caused a severe disruption in the space time continuum of the Joe universe.

Here is the scenario. I get off the bus and begin walking East on Eglinton Avenue, an extremely busy artery of Mississauga. I see in the distance the VVVIPs walking side by side. I move to the right of the sidewalk...my logic being that cars, here in North America drive on the right side of the road therefore, if the situation requires it, I ought walk on the right side of the sidewalk. As the VVVIPs approach they make absolutely no concession of the sidewalk, and I am forced to step onto the busy thoroughfare because there is a hedge on the left side of the sidewalk, followed by a guardrail where Eglinton goes overtop a stream (there are still a few streams left in the GTA.)

What is wrong with these women? Are they crazy? If they were two guys I would simply bump my shoulder against them like the guy in that old milk commercial who's scrawny and gets picked on until he drinks milk and gets way bigger than the guys who were picking on him ("Pardon me guys"). But they're ladies so I don't know what to do.

Perhaps a better man than I could arrive at a better conclusion. However, my second rate brain has looked at the facts and deduced that these women must be people of great importance. So kudos to the VVVIPs...perhaps, actually, I do Their Honours wrong with only 3 'V's...kudos to the VVVVIPs for their ascent to whatever position they hold that makes them so vastly superior to me. For such is your eminence and excellence that I Joe MacLachlan am not, apparently, allowed to place my unworthy shoes upon the same esplanade as thou, even at the risk of mine own unworthy life.

Another possible inference I thought of was that I have a particularly revolting pair of feet. The hair on my big toe is especially appetite suppressing. See?

Now I could perfectly well understand, if not condone, wanting those evil bastards as far away from one as possible. However, due to the flatness of my feet, and my weak girlish ankles I have been unable to wear my sandals of late. Those abominations I call feet were dually covered by socks and sneakers. So the only possible explanation for the behaviour of the VVVVIPs is that they are VVVVIPs.

To my knowledge, there are no foreign embassies in Mississauga, so we can rule out Ambassador of a foreign country. And, though for a short period in the middle-ages the Papacy did move from the Vatican to France, to my knowledge a new, female, two-person Pope has not been elected and moved to an industrial area of Mississauga. So, I don't really know what very very very very important position these women hold. Possibly they work for the Harper administration which is not to be questioned on any matter in any way under penalty of being horse-whipped (just kidding...this blog will in no way, shape or form become a platform of Joe's political view points...vote Quimby).

Whoever Their Worships are...Kudos VVVVVIPs, kuodos to you. Your greatness has forced me off the sidewalk and into oncoming traffic. Yet the privilege of walking within a few meters of Your Graces is well worth the risk. Please, continue unabated.

Wikipedia

2006-05-28T11:13:00.000-07:00

Though I enjoy writing on this blog, I would gladly put an end to the practice if the population of Earth would, every one of us, agree to put all our computers on an island and drop a bomb on it, or sink it into the ocean like Atlantis of legend. I sincerely believe we would all be better off. This 'labour saving' device certainly creates more labour than it saves. Also the rubbish that is spread around on the internet is the cause of enormous trouble. Just ask that old Scottish guy with the sideburns who used to do those commercials for Alexander Keith's.

Good news though. I recently read that some form of regulation is coming to the web. I'm a stupid idiot when it comes to computers so I don't know exactly how it works but it has something to do with virtual passports and what's allowed in what country. From what I read it should be in place by 2012 (probably at the same time as Canadian greenhouse gas emmissions are cut by 6% from 1990 levels) or so.

I brought this up with a few guys I know (they're tech guys) and they laughed at me. They were of the opinion that internet regulation was impossible and pointed out that plans have been in place for internet regulation for years but it never happens.

In any case the conversation led to talking about the free, online encyclopedia called Wikipedia. And since this is my blog and I can post whatever I want I thought I would post my opinion here. Everyone is entitled to their opinion (unless your opinion is that Joey is a pretty good show -- no one is entitled to that opinion) and here is mine. I dislike Wikipedia for this reason; there is nothing to stop me, Joe MacLachlan, from posting the following article at Wikipedia.

Lenningrad

This thriving agricultural metropolis, located on the horn of Africa, is the renowned birthplace of the Ferrari. The latest census information from 2004 show the city's current population at approximately 4.9 Million.

The city first appears in history in the Bronze Age, roughly from 500 to 450 BCE. Records show that a group of ancient Aztecs banished from their own civilzation after an attempted coup d'etat, journeyed in a Viking longboat from their former home in what is now Alaska to the African Gold Coast where the city was started. Here the Empire of Mali was thriving under Emperor Sumaguru of the Kante clan. They did not welcome the newcomers and war quickly broke out. The Aztec warriors, though exhausted from their longboat journey, defeated and subdued the Malinkes.

After bringing the Malinke Empire under submission the Aztec warriors chose Cocoxtli as their leader. It was the decision of Cocoxtli to build a great market on a salt trading route that led across the Sahara. The market was an unparalleled success and was given the name Leningrad from the Saharan Berber word Lengrous which simply means 'Salt'. Visitors poured into the market for a glimpse of Cocoxtli's Hanging Gardens, depicted here, today considered one of 7 Wonders of the Ancient World.

The good fortunes of the salt city were not, however, to last. Cocoxtli's empire provoked a war with the Songhay, a tribe primarily made up of hunters. The Songhay State had great prosperity built on their discovery of iron in approximately 600 BCE. Their wrath against the Leningrad Empire was provoked when Cocoxtli erected the great Stone Heads of Easter Island. The Songhay, residents of the shores of Lake Victoria, wherein lies Easter Island, called the heads blasphemous, and an insult to the Songhay and demanded Cocoxtli have them destroyed. When Cocoxtli refused the Songhay with their vastly superior weapons of iron, swept into Leningrad with and destroyed the city including, sadly, the vast and beautiful Hanging Gardens of Cocoxtli.

For centuries scholars have considered Leningrad to be a ficticious city. Though recent archeological work in Africa's horn have unearthed works of pottery on which are painted depictions of the battle of Leningrad, and which contain the name 'Coxtiliaai' a possible varation of the name of the great leader who built the city of Leningrad. Archeological digs continue on the Gold Coast to unearth definitively Leningration artifacts, with the hope uncovering the Holy Grail of Leningration archeology, the Tomb of Cocoxtli.

Now, I suppose the article is too short to publish at Wikipedia, but really I just wanted to 1, write a stupid piece of nonsense, and 2, make a point about an issue that only I care about (the two other guys probably never gave it a second thought once our conversation ended).

To write your own nonsense article for Wikipedia click here

The Daily Kudos

2006-05-25T09:48:00.000-07:00

After a cold but awesome long weekend in Battersea, ON, Amy and I made our triumphant return to Port Credit. What's triumphant you ask? Well, a few things really. One, we triumphantly battled through TO long-weekend traffic and I only broke 7 of 8 knuckles (and a thumb) punching the steering wheel a la Samir in Office Space -- yes I can still move the ring finger on my left hand. Two, I returned home to find that the Oilers had won game two (and have now won game three). A triumph for the Oilers is a triumph for me. You need not point out that I am only bandwagon hopping since the Leafs were not triumphant in their battle to even qualify for the playoffs.

Anyhoo, I returned to Port Credit and found something disturbing is taking place. A subtle but indisputable change is taking place here in Port Credit. In fact it is barely noticeable yet, but it's happening. I've noticed it for some time now, and the person responsible is the recipient of todays Daily Kudos.

Allow me to describe Port Credit. It's sort of trendy, which means Amy fits in well while I, far too much a product of the Soo, get strange looks from people because my shoes don't match my shirt. We are fairly close to the water front, which means rent and real estate are extremely cheap -- no wait, what's that other thing? Oh yeah, criminally exorbitant. Keep the real estate in mind, it comes into play later in this stupid blogpost.

Now let me describe the subtle change that is occuring here. It began happening a few months ago when I noticed an hilarious piece of graffiti. It was the words 'hammer time' appropriately written under the 'STOP' on a stop sign. The shrewd graffitist realized that these words, properly placed, would call to mind the words of 1990s rap sensation Stanley Kirk Burrell, aka Hammer, aka MC Hammer. At the time I thought nothing of it. I merely snickered and moved on (and by snicker and move on I mean, sat on the curb, bust a gut laughing and barely made my way home for soreness of my stomach).

Yet over the weekend this trend toward ghettoization saw a frighteningly rapid increase. Here's why:

Shoes over power lines. Four or five sets of them. I only took two pictures because I was far too lazy to walk over to where the others are. Plus on the way there's a particularly high curb that takes a great deal of effort to step up onto. I don't know what shoes on the power lines means or why or how it happens. All I know is that the shoes over power lines is a common occurance in every ghetto movie I've ever watched. You might say it's a ghetto trademark. In all ghetto movies there's always a lone shot of shoes over the power lines. Don't believe me? Rent Boyz in the Hood (and no I didn't just make a spelling error, the makers of the movie cleverly mis-spelled 'boys' with a 'z' to reflect actual ghetto pronunciation! Nice one!)

In any case, I have a theory as to why this is happening. And kudos to the criminal mastermind who is behind it, for this is a real estate con of Luthorian magnitude. I'm all but certain that what is happening here is that someone is going around graffitiing and throwing shoes over power lines in a diabolical attempt transform Port Credit into a thoroughly undersireable neighbourhood. At this point, this evil genius will buy up vast amounts of real estate in the area at a bargain price. Then without warning, BANG, all the graffiti is gone, shoes are down from power lines and Port Credit real estate is as valuable as ocean front property in Nevada.

So kudos Lex, kudos to you. With this scam you have stepped up the ladder from petty thug, to comic super villain, and no one, excepting one fat blogger, is any the wiser. And he is certainly not going to do anything about it.

Swift and Chaucer

2006-05-18T00:56:00.000-07:00

Swift

"But I drew my hanger and gave him a good blow with the flat side of it...When the beast felt the smart, he drew back, and roared so loud, that a herd of a least forty came flocking about me from the next field, howling and making odious faces; but I ran to the body of a tree, and leaning my back against it, kept them off, by waving my hanger. Several of this cursed brood getting hold of the branches behind, leaped up into the tree, from whence they began to discharge their excrements on my head: However, I escaped pretty well, by sticking close to the stem of the tree, but was almost stifled with filth, which fell about me on every side."

-Jonathan Swift, Gulliver's Travels

Chaucer

Context: A man named Absolom is in love Alison, another man's wife, and comes to see her in the middle of the night.

I've just posted the old-english (middle english actually) to look like I'm smart. The translation is below this.

"He cogheth first, and knokketh therwithal
Upon the wyndowe, right as he dide er.
This Alison answerde, "Who is ther
That knokketh so? I warante it a theef."

"Why, nay," quod he, "God woot, my sweete leef,
I am thyn Absolon, my deerelyng.
Of gold," quod he, "I have thee broght a ryng.
My mooder yaf it me, so God me save;
Ful fyn it is, and therto wel ygrave.
This wol I yeve thee, if thou me kisse."

This Nicholas was risen for to pisse,
And thoughte he wolde amenden al the jape;
He sholde kisse his ers er that he scape.
And up the wyndowe dide he hastily,
And out his ers he putteth pryvely

Over the buttok, to the haunche-bon;
And therwith spak this clerk, this Absolon,
"Spek, sweete bryd, I noot nat where thou art."
This Nicholas anon leet fle a fart,
As greet as it had been a thonder-dent,
That with the strook he was almoost yblent;

Translation:

He coughed at first, and then he knocked withal
Upon the window, as before, with care.
This Alison replied: "Now who is there?
And who knocks so? I'll warrant it's a thief."
"Why no," quoth he, "God knows, my sweet roseleaf,
I am your Absalom, my own darling!
Of gold," quoth he, "I have brought you a ring;
My mother gave it me, as I'll be saved;
Fine gold it is, and it is well engraved;
This will I give you for another kiss."
This Nicholas had risen for a piss,
And thought that it would carry on the jape
To have his arse kissed by this jack-a-nape.
And so he opened window hastily,
And put his arse out thereat, quietly,
Over the buttocks, showing the whole bum;
And thereto said this clerk, this Absalom,
"O speak, sweet bird, I know not where thou art."
This Nicholas just then let fly a fart
As loud as it had been a thunder-clap,
And well-nigh blinded Absalom, poor chap;

Geoffrey Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales: The Miller's Tale

The Daily Kudos

2006-05-17T12:13:00.000-07:00

After pointing out that Jonathan Swift too had an odd habit of writing about vulgar things (see comments in the post below), and I should point out that so too did Geoffrey Chaucer, I feel perfectly justified to write another discourse regarding human waste.

Actually I am just building on the foundation I already laid with the post below. In that post I pointed out that a recent MacLean's magazine calls attention to certain facts about underpants and feces. At the risk of violating some Canadian copyright laws, here is the whole quote:

"Always wash your hands after doing the laundry, if you use cold or warm water. University of Arizona microbiologist Charles Gerba says that while hot water sanitizes clothing, only five per cent of Americans still use the hot setting. They're allowing millions of germs that cause hepatitis A, cold and diarrhea to survive. And always wash your underwear separately. Studies have found the average pair of drawers contains a tenth of a gram of feces."

It's just a small sidebar at the bottom of a page really. But in any case it states what it states. MacLean's is, with the exception of The Presbyterian Record, and possibly some academic publications, probably the top magazine in Canada. Therefore I find it quite unlikely that there are any made-up facts here.

Therefore, due to the fact that I don't believe MacLean's made up any of this information, I have to conclude that actual academic studies were done on this matter. So I must say, Kudos to those fecal-minded members of the intelligentsia, that concerned panel of researchers, who actually put the time and the effort into studying this matter.

Perhaps what I should be saying to these researchers is kudos to your balls, because you've really got a pair. Now I am not familiar with the exact process that a research scientist goes through to acquire a grant from a university to do his study. But I assume he stands in front of a sizable committee that probably includes many of his peers including the head of his department, and a good deal of the top administrative staff of the university including the president. Now whoever performed the study in question here, stood before this distinguished audience of intelectually elite men and women and said something like:

"Ladies and gentlemen we live in grave times. The good citizens of this country, to say nothing of other fair nations across our globe, continue to launder their clothing in a grossly unsanitary fashion, mixing their undergarments with their outer garments, towels, and bed sheets. They know nothing of the mass volume of poop that contaminates their linen and the outer attire. To put a stop to this feculent threat, I would submit to you that we need to educate our population. What I am proposing is a study of approximately 2000 pairs of skivvies to determine the precise amount of fecal contamination."

Not to mention the logistical concerns of such a study. Whose underwear were they studying? Where did they get it? Maybe they just approached random people in the shopping mall. "Excuse me sir, you look like a man who does properly wipe his crack. Mind if we examine your jockeys for fecal remains?" I wouldn't be offended even a little bit.

What are the variables on a study like that? I mean one guy whose particularly prone to the Hershey squirt could muff the whole study. Same as one kid in a class who has a second rate brain brings down the whole class average.

At any rate...time is running short and my bus is soon to leave so I should say Kudos to you researchers and your giant pair of cahonies. You unabashedly stood in front of some of the greatest minds in our country and proposed a serious study of skid marks across our fair nation. Then you somehow obtained enough pairs of boxers and briefs to do a fair study. I look forward to your next study of how we men need to do a better job of shaking and can no longer hide behind "no matter how you shake and dance the last three drops go in your pants."

Update on the Underwear Crusade

2006-05-16T01:12:00.000-07:00

A recent MacLean's magazine states, and I kid you not, that an average pair of underwear "contains a tenth of a gram of feces." I assume that study is based on people who change their underwear daily. That means that those of us who have been crusading against Joe Boxer since I made that post on May 10, 06 have well over half a gram of feces in our underwear at this moment. Awesome.

The Daily Kudos (the lazy version)

2006-05-12T11:51:00.000-07:00

Kudos to Potter for this article. Potter, Wells, and Feschuck alone make my subscription to Maclean's worth while. The rest of the magazine is usually pretty good as well, when they're not putting Paris Hilton on the cover.

This article is also fantastic. I didn't know what he meant by 'coolhunting' at first but I'm pretty sure it just means trying to be Brad Pitt/James Dean/Miles Davis cool. He points out that that is not where it's at anymore. Quirky is the new cool. Which would account for the success of movies like Napoleon Dynamite, and shows like Trailer Park Boys.

Note: Scroll up when you click on the link. For some reason when you click it takes you to the middle of the page.

The Daily Kudos

2006-05-11T09:24:00.000-07:00

My wife can testify to the fact that probably more than two-thirds, possibly more than three-thirds of my weekly budget goes to Tim Hortons. I can not seem to walk or drive by a Tims without going inside to purchase a large double double, and more often than not the fattiest and tastiest of doughnuts the Boston Cream. It seems Tims does to me what the Death Star does to the Millenium Falcon in Star Wars. I know that it is unavoidable, with every passing moment I become more Tim's servant.

Anyhoo, the result of this is that every day without fail I walk into the office where I work with my coffee (and usually a little brown Tim's bag) and someone will always make the same comment. This comment is the subject of todays Daily Kudos. This comment is what some might call a 'joke'. I would call it a 'joke' I guess, if by 'joke' you mean 'comment that is likely to result in shirt pulled over head and uppercut.' The first guy who ever said it may have recieved a tiny smile not unlike the expression on the Mona Lisa. But every subsequent retelling of the 'joke' has recieved only a roll of the eyes. This joke is not exclusive to the office where I work, I'm sure everyone who has ever bought a Tim's coffee has heard the same one. This is the comment:

"Oh for me?" or "you shouldn't have!" or "hey where's mine" or "I hope you brought enough for everyone" or "you couldn't have got one more eh?" or a simple reaching for the cup with a "Thaaaaaanks" and so on and so on and so on and so on and on and on and on and on.

The amount, and the variety of people who make this joke is astounding. Shamefully, I have to admit that a few weeks ago I myself said this to someone. Before I could stop myself the words just tumbled out of my mouth and I had the same stupid grin on my face as though I had said something of unrivalled hilarity. In return I recieved the same nod of acknowledgement and rolling of eyes.

Yes the joke seems to pervade age, class, race, and gender. The only qualification, it seems, is being Canadian. That is why all of us, as Canadians, have earned kudos today for achieving a new level of lameness in our national humour.

Previously I had thought we couldn't get any more lame than our "Eh!" joke. Yes we Canadians say 'eh'. It's a little bit funny I guess. Worth poiting out? Sure. Worth bumper stickers, 5 dollar T-shirts, beer glasses, shot glasses, coffee mugs, slippers, hockey pucks, vanity licence plates, wall posters, callenders, place mats, TV trays, and more that all say "I'm Candadian Eh?" Not really. Pretty lame actually.

Yet somehow we as Canadians have come up with an even lamer joke. And somehow all of us who have made the joke think it's awesome when we're the one telling it. We all have that same stupid grin I was just talking about, and have our hand extended in the same way to recieve the coffee, and we all laugh at our own cleverness afterwards in spite of the lack of response from our victim.

What baffles me is that the joke only occurs over Tim's coffee. No one ever says "you shouldn't have" when I walk into the office with a cookie or some Junior Mints from the vending machine. And they're darn good cookies, and Junior Mints -- who's gonna turn down a Junior Mint? It's chocolate, it's peppermint. It's very refreshing. Why only Tims?

But these are the facts. Canadian humour, unlike the Canadian dollar, has hit a new low. Luckily this one lame joke has not completely tainted our national humour. We still have Jim Carrey, Mike Myers, Brent Butt, the Trailer Park Boys and the legacy of John Candy.

But still, Kudos Canada, Kudos to you. With the combined efforts of Tom Green and this new joke we could still surpass France (why pick on France you ask? Come on! Did anyone else see Le Divorce? I didn't think so) as being the least funny country in the world.

2006-05-11T00:00:00.000-07:00

It is now 2:40am and I would gladly buy both these guys a beer.

2006-05-10T23:25:00.000-07:00

This is Edmonton Oilers goal tender Dwyane Roloson. It's 2:20am and I would gladly buy this guy a beer if he was here.

The Daily Kudos

2006-05-10T08:19:00.000-07:00

With Amy in Winnipeg...actually Kenora by now...in any case, with Amy gone I've had to fend for myself this week. It's been rough doing everything for myself. I've had to cook for myself, put out the garbage myself (due to the current funk in the apartment that's set to happen sometime today), do my own dishes (due to the fact that I still have measuring cups to drink out of and tupperware to eat off of that's set to happen Sunday about an hour before Amy gets in) also I've had to pick up my own socks and underwear from around the apartment.

And here is the subject of todays Daily Kudos. Underwear. Boxer shorts to be specific. Joe Boxer boxer shorts to even more specific. To be more specific still Joe Boxer boxer shorts with a skid m-- never mind.

Anyhoo, let me get to the point. As I was picking up my boxer shorts from the kitchen -- I don't know how they got there but all the evidence points to them being caught around my slipper when I put it on in the morning and being dragged into the kitchen when I went to make coffee -- in any case as I was picking them up I noticed the label for the first time. The label is a glossy silver sort of material and I like shiny things, so I stopped and looked for a minute. Most of the label is standard fare. The little laundry symbols, the laundry advice, Made in Canada etc. But Joe Boxer has added a little something else to the label which is not so commonplace. Something that has earned Joe Boxer a place in the lame, poorly written, spelling error-ridden pages of the Daily Kudos.

Take a close look at this picture.

The words "CHANGE DAILY!" are printed on the label. So kudos goes to Joe Boxer today for edging out the aerosol can on which is printed "aim away from face" as being the pushiest consumer product I own. My car, which beeps at you in an irritating way if you don't put your seat belt on, was also in the running for this prize. Then it was disqualified on a technicality. To be in the running the product had to be something I own. Since I, and Amy, and Scotiabank at the moment all collectively own the car it had to gracefully bow out of the competition.

Since I am a stupid idiot, and spend my mental faculties on useless rather than important things, I've put a lot of thought into this. While my wife is gravely concerned with helping the poverty stricken areas of our country (see her blog -- the link is 'Amy' to the left), I am concerned with the label on my dirty gotchies. I'm fine with that though. In the words of John Prine, I are what I are and I ain't what I ain't.

Anyhow, "CHANGE DAILY"? Not only that but "CHANGE DAILY" exlamation point. Joe Boxer is telling me to change my undies daily all in capital letters with an exlamation point. This is no suggestion, this is a command. If the underwear had a voice it would be saying 'change daily' in that tone that Dads use that you know not to question. That tone where if you push it a little further you get yelled at and grounded for a week.

Pushy underwear, tell me what to do will you? Since when do underwear companies tell me how to live my life? I can't help but wonder what other helpful commands are on their way from Joe Boxer. Perhaps next we'll see: 'PULL SHORTS DOWN BEFORE SITTING ON TOILET'. Perhaps: 'WASH HANDS AFTER URINATION OR BOWEL MOVEMENT'. Maybe a helpful suggestion, or command rather on what to do with the toilet paper in the bathroom.

What really gets me is the little TM beside "CHANGE DAILY!" They have trademarked telling people to change their underwear every day. Joe Boxer does not want any other underwear companies telling people to change their underwear every day. Calvin Klein is not allowed to tell people to change their underwear.

I examined the evidence a little further, and by that I mean I stared at the shiny label a little longer and the motivation for Joe Boxer's command came to me. I noticed that unlike other underwear I examined that were made by cheap labour in India, China, Pakistan etc., Joe Boxers are made by less cheap labour in Canada. For this reason Joe needs me to change my underwear daily so it will ware out faster so I'll buy more Joe underwear so Joe can pay his expensive Canadian labour.

Well sir I have found my cause. I won't give in to the commands of the corporate world. I hope you'll all help me stick it to the man and join me in changing your underwear every other day! Or even better once a week (and not just on a certain upcoming camping trip where some of us were going to do that anyway). Yes, let us all join together and collectively stick it to the man by wearing dirty underwear.

Anyhoo, I don't really remember where I started or where I was going with this so I'd better wrap up by saying Kudos, Joe Boxer, Kudos to you. Your trademarked, capitalized (no pun intended), exclaimation of "CHANGE DAILY" on my underwear label has earned you the title of Pushiest Consumer Product.

2006-04-27T08:35:00.000-07:00

For those who don't know who the guys below are...they're The Ambiguously Gay Duo. They were part of a Saturday Night Live skit from a few years ago. Their names are Ace and Gary and, according to the theme song, they're extremely close in an ambiguous way.

Ace and Gary

2006-04-25T12:39:00.000-07:00

I just noticed that Aeroback Mountain bears a striking resemblance to someone.

The Daily Kudos

2006-04-23T10:14:00.000-07:00

There has been lately, a surprising lack of jerks and jack-asses to cross my path. I therefore have had no fodder for writing the Daily Kudos.

Just recently however, I remembered something that occured while I was writing my last research paper. I was more than a little irritable. In fact I think Amy walked by and put a glass in the sink, the 'clink' sound infuriated me and I bellowed, "SILENCE!!!!!" Actually that never happened, but I was really quite ornery. Cantankerous even.

Anyhoo, my ever congenial wife decided to try to cheer me up. She succeeded in fine style by showing me a workout video from 1982 staring aerobics guru Kathy Smith. Amy pointed out the male aerobics instructer and his ridiculous outfit. I have to admit I had a good hardy laugh. Yet I was thoroughly unprepared for the next phase of the video. Kathy Smith graciously gave up the spotlight and allowed the male aerobics instructor, who I will now call Aeroback Mountain, to take over the position of lead instructor. I don't believe that a hardier laugh ever managed to escape from my still sore diaphragm. The only possible rival to this level of hilarity is the scene in The Simpsons where Marge imagines Bart as a sleazy male stripper.

I'm terribly sorry that I'm not so savvy with computers and therefore I am unable to convert the VHS to a computer file which I could post. The best I could do was take pictures of my TV screen with Aeroback Mountain paused on it. But here he is none the less, in all his manly glory.

Aeroback Mountain could be congratulated on any number of assets and qualities he proudly possesses. Also, my wife Amy deserves congratulations for discovering the Aeroback Mountain video and recognizing both its hilarity and its potential for mood-modification. But what I really want to say to Aeroback Mountain is Kudos, sir, for wearing that outfit at a time when WWF Wrestling had not yet popularized the wearing of the one piece spandex highlight-your-package ensemble.

Now I did a little research (and by 'research' I mean 'googling') and found out that the World Wrestling Federation began the same year that this video was released, in 1982. This leaves no doubt that Aeroback Mountain was proudly frolicking and prancing in his one-piece long before Andre the Giant dawned his. In fact I would go so far as to say that Aeroback Mountain paved the way for Vince McMahon and his dream of staging phony wrestling matches between incredibly large men. I would bet, without any evidence whatsoever to back me up, that McMahon had all his plans in place for the WWF and simply lacked the courage to take that next step. He probably reasoned that he could never gain public acceptance of big, muscular, fully grown men in tight one-piece spandex. For McMahon, the dream was dying. The overgrown monsters he had hired to spuriously beat on each other would have to seek employment elsewhere.

That's when Kathy Smith stepped aside and Aeroback Mountain stepped proudly into the limelight wearing his ensemble of white belt, puffy white socks, blazing white sneakers and most importantly, the skin-tight, all-revealing, unitard. With that McMahon got on the horn to his monsters and said, "let's do it."

So Kudos Aeroback Mountain, Kudos to you. You had the balls, which we can clearly see through your insanely tight spandex, to ignore what was considered 'acceptable' and 'decent', and in doing so you boldy blazed a trail for an entertainment fad the gets sort of popular every few years. Well done sir!

Aaaaah Nuts!!

2006-04-17T13:14:00.000-07:00

Only have a second...I just wrote an exam (which went well) and now I have to jam some food down my throat and run to work. But wanted to say a quick congrats to the Leafs who made an awesome final push for the play-offs...going 8-0-2 in their last ten games. They beat the first place Ottawa Senators to stay alive on Saturday, only to be eliminated by Tampa Bay's Win. I was glad to see Sudin shut the mouths of his critics by scoring 4 goals and getting two assists against Florida the other night. Way to go boys! Can't wait for next year.

The Daily Kudos

2006-04-14T21:43:00.000-07:00

One of my favourite columnists, Andrew Potter, had this to say on his blog a few weeks ago:

Gossip can be a retailer's nightmare, a U.S. study says.

The Customer Dissatisfaction Study done by a retail consulting firm and U.S. business school shows that bad word-of-mouth is very common, gets bigger with the telling and is very discouraging to potential customers.

Let’s see what we can do for bell mobility.

I realize that some of you are thinking, "bell mobility is a proper name and should be capitalized." I'm well aware of the rules of syntax and grammar that apply, but bell mobility doesn't deserve to be capitalized.

bell mobility is the cell phone branch of the diabolical bell corporation. These bunch of clowns have had their corporate willy in my proverbial backside for well over two years now. Sorry for that rude analogy mom. I've come to the point with bell mobility where I don't have the energy to fight with them anymore and I've given up. So bell mobility, for your victory in the war against the MacLachlans, you are the recipient of todays Daily Kudos.

To be honest I don't really have the time or energy to recall and write down all the seperate miseries bell has brought upon the Port Credit MacLachlans. I really don't. I will tell you however, of just a few of the problems I've had.

When I signed up, they sent me no bill for about 8 months. When I finally recieved the bill it was somewhere between 8 and 9 hundred dollars. I received no breakdown of the bill and no explanation as to why the bill was so high. After wrestling with them for a couple of months, I got tired of it and just paid the bill.
I was also supposed to get a new phone for free after one year of service. Once the year was up, they changed it to 18 months.
Once the 18 months was up, they told me to get my free phone, I had to sign another 2 year contract. No thanks.
When I signed up, I was supposed to get 150 minutes of use, and free evenings and weekends. Additional minutes were 25 cents/minute. bell mobility soon left a message on my voicemail telling me the billing was changed and it was now 30 cents/minute. I called and told them I signed a contract saying otherwise. They proceeded to give an explanation that I in no way understood. I just gave up. What am I going to do? Sue them over 5 cents a minute?
Just recently, Amy's phone broke. The fact that she's very careful with her stuff, and the way the phone broke make it perfectly obvious it was a defect in the phone. Since we share the plan and the account is in my name, I took the phone to them. In spite of the following, which I copied and pasted from their website, "bell mobility is committed to providing our customers with the best after-sales service and warranty policies. Our after-sales service is available to assist you with any cell phone problems or repairs," they would do absolutely nothing for me. Wouldn't repair the phone and wouldn't give me another phone. Nothing.

Well, Kudos bell mobility, kudos to you. You have won the war against the Port Credit MacLachlans. I will pay the money to get out of this contract and never deal with you again. Though your competitors aren't all that super fantastic either, if I was offered free cable, internet, cell phone, and home phone service for life, with a bonus of a free trip to Hawaii, I would never deal with bell mobility again.

A Couple of Things

2006-04-12T23:17:00.000-07:00

First, after spending the 99 cents to download the new Sam Roberts single off of I-tunes, I went and bought the CD anyway. It's called Chemical City and it's excellent. I highly recommend buying it. It's every bit as good as his first CD We Were Born in a Flame.

Secondly, today I mourned the passing of my favourite time of year. It's always pretty tough on me because there's a little part of me that hopes it will last forever, but it never does. Alas, RRRRRoll Up The RRRRRim to Win is over for another year. There may be the odd contest cup lingering in some out of the way Tim's, but for the most part the free coffees, donuts, and Toyota Rav4's have all been given away.

I walked into Tim's at Eglinton and Tomken today, as I do every day, gave my nod to the girl who works there to signify I would be having my regular. A hopeful chant of "thousand bucks! thousand bucks! thousand bucks!" was steadily going through my head. However the girl placed the regular old brown cup on the counter. I peered over the counter hoping to see a some sign of the bright red and yellow, but there was none. Seeing the twinkle in my eye and the grin on my face fade at the the sight of the lackluster brown cup, I recieved a sympathetic smile. Little consolation for my dashed dreams of barbecue ownership. All that's left now is the RRRRoll up the RRRRim closing ceremonies which consists pretty much of getting that forwarded email with the picture of the rolled up rim someone has photoshopped to say "I peed in your cup. Enjoy!"

Thirdly, I found the option to allow people without blogs to post comments here. So post whatever you like. All I ask is that if you have to use profanities please use euphemized versions like "flip", "fark", "fudge" or those random symbols like number signs and stars and stuff.

Kiosk Disease - A Description by an Expert

2006-04-12T22:56:00.000-07:00

Bryan Halford who is, to my knowledge, the foremost authority on Kiosk Disease emailed this to me via my brother Greg.

The description is fairly long, but I decided to post it in its entirety because, as I said before, Kiosk Disease can not be taken lightly. The severity of the disease warrants taking some time to understand it and its symptoms.

First, Kiosk Disease is a form of mental breakdown due to the cramped spaces and extreme boredom of the Kiosk. I think my version was called Kiosk Madness. This disease first manifested itself in me in my first season at Bellevue Marina in the old shack-style kiosk that had one window, concrete floor and the wind used to blow through it like it was Swiss cheese. I think most prison cells are considered more cozy. The worst case I can remember off-hand was during May of that year when the weather was bad and nobody was doing any boating yet. It was extremely cold and windy so that we preferred to be inside the Swiss cheese building rather than sit outside. It wasn't much more comfortable inside. Pretty much nothing had happened all day and Sean Moore and I degenerated into raving lunatics. Yes, it was Kiosk Madness.

There are many known characteristics of this disease. The first stage is long conversations about nothing--kind of Seinfeld-ish type stuff.Gradually, one or both of the people involved will usually begin to speak about unspeakably gross things and progressively get more and more disgusting and disturbing. The person(s) involved will either not recognize or not care what is happening. As the madness sets in, the disease can exhibit a variety of symptoms that may or may not all be present at once.

One symptom is random acts of violence. Hitting or throwing things in the kiosk, hitting the person you share the kiosk with, or hitting yourself are all possibilities here. These acts are usually accompanied by noises of some kind. The noises are not really words, but rather more animal-like, guttural sounds. If words are spoken, they will usually make absolutely no sense. They are no longer words intended to communicate, but sounds attempting to pierce the blanket of isolation and boredom that Kiosk Madness induces. These noises can also be a separate symptom, without any associated acts of violence. This can include (but are not exclusive to) random screaming, barking, or the flapping of various body parts to achieve some sort of unique sound.

Another symptom is making up things to say for entertainment. It begins innocent enough, with your typical non-sequiturs, puns, nonsense, and odd-ball statements (i.e. "Nub") that are intended to be funny. These can be spoken normally, given a sort of spoken-word poetic rhythm, or become full-fledged songs. Songs may be musical or simply annoying. Any person listening to this might find it humourous, but often they don't. This doesn't matter to the afflicted person. He's got the Madness. Talking in strange voices would also fall into this category. This might include impersonations, weird voice alterations, or going under the influence of helium (if available).

Games can also be made up to try to break through the boredom. "Low-brow"does not begin to describe how juvenile these games often are. Joe mentioned some butt-slapping, but it can be much, much worse. The games made up by someone with Kiosk Madness will make most kindergarteners appear as mature as thirty-somethings by comparison. Weird walks, strange and unexplainable dancing, arm-flailing and other incomprehensible body movements might also be included here.

Kiosk Madness also produces extreme giddiness. Most things are funny. Hilariously funny. Even if they're not. Random fits of insane laughter are common. These fits may or may not be in response to an actual stimulus.This feature likely allows the person with the madness to justify most of the stupid and inane things that he does because they always SEEM funny.

Lastly, Kiosk Madness usually drives someone to annoy the person that is sharing the kiosk. This can be hell on the person who not mad. Violence, stupid games, speaking in gibberish, random yelling (sometimes in the person's face), repetitive noises, random laughter, and other odd behaviour will obviously begin to wear on the patience of the poor "sane" person. Unfortunately, this entertains someone with Kiosk Madness immensely and only spurs them on further. Some people will make an effort to leave the kiosk at this point, recognizing that the disease has fully set in. However, if the other person, who has so far resisted Kiosk madness themselves (a good indicator of strong mental fortuity), decides to stick around (cold or wet weather will often be a factor), this won't be for long. Eventually, the other person in the kiosk will join in--maybe in the spirit of the old saying "if you can't beat 'em, join 'em", or maybe for some other reason. In these extreme cases, both people will inevitably be insane. So, we can conclude that Kiosk Madness can be a communicable disease, transmitted by being in close proximity to an afflicted person. Two or more people with Kiosk Madness will feed off each other, doing progressively more extreme and off-the-wall things. This can be extremely dangerous in many ways, which I will not describe here (my lawyer has advised me not to).

That's the best "clinical" description of the disease I can think of right now. Maybe you can think of some stories that help to illustrate these points. I'm thinking if we can do a good enough job of this, we might beable to publish it in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) V. A man can dream, can't he...

The Daily Kudos

2006-04-10T23:28:00.000-07:00

Well after I slept for a while and went to work I think my Kiosk Disease has, at least for the most part, cleared up. Though I knew I still had a touch yesterday when Amy told me she thought I should brush my teeth before work. She gently proceeded to inform me that it would advisable to do so because I hadn't in three days.

Wanted to mention too that I finally bit the bullet and paid the 99 cents to download the new Sam Roberts single The Gate. I like what I hear. Bodes well for an awesome second CD that's being released today.

In any case, on to more important things. As I was out and about yesterday, getting over my Kiosk Disease, I observed something absolutely repulsive. Repulsive in the clogged toilet, smell of garbage way yes, but also repulsive in a different way. I mean, I'm as lazy as the rest of us. I drive my car down the block to go to the store, and I appreciate the new pre-lathered soap that you find in most public bathrooms these days. No more minutes wasted rubbing my hands together trying to lather that pesky gel soap. But I was particularly repulsed with the laziness, and lack of consideration of todays recipient of The Daily Kudos.

Today I say congratulations to the lazy wanker who left their kid's soiled diaper in a shopping cart outside No Frills. To make things simple I will refer to this individual merely as "Lazy Ass." I thought coming up with a clever and creative nickname was more than Lazy Ass deserved. (actually I just didn't feel like coming up with one because I'm a lazy ass.)

First of all, think of the poor grocery clerk who collects the buggies. I was a grocery store buggy guy for about four years so I really feel for him. For me, a simple banana peel left in a buggy was sufficient to spark an explosion of profanites the likes of which would offend a 17th Century Pirate. The poor grocery clerk is paid minimum wage for an already unpleasant job. Mostly, he answers questions of elderly people about the whereabout of bizarre items such as clam juice.
But yesterday Lazy Ass was feeling particularly lazy and decided to make the grocery clerks day even more unpleasant. Instead of walking to the garbage to deposit the foul object there, Lazy Ass just glanced left and right, and placed it in a shopping cart. He then drove off, leaving it for an unsuspecting teenage boy who, I would assume has no kids of his own, and therefore ought not to be subjected to the disagreeable task of handling a polluted diaper. It's your responsibility Lazy Ass. You should deal with it.

Secondly, this is a place where other people put food. Most likely food that we are going to eat. The thought of soiled diapers sitting in the exact spot where my food sits is beyond gross. That's gross man. I don't feel so hot. The crime becomes particularly odious when I think about the structure of No Frills. Allow me to ellaborate.

In this No Frills, the first area you walk into is the produce section. That means that upon walking into the store, the next No Frills shopper will begin filling the tainted cart with oranges and apples and so on, with nothing but a tiny layer of plastic between the cart and to food. You know how easily that plastic rips? A breath of wind will tear that stuff open. In some cases, for example, Ontario Strawberries that come in that little green plastic container like in the picture, there's absolutely nothing between the fruit and the remnants of baby's stringed carrots, or mushed up peas or whatever. The produce section being where it is gives the shopper no opportunity to create buffer of frozen pizzas and canned goods that at least have protective layers of cardboard and alluminum.

So kudos Lazy Ass, kudos to you. With your reluctance to take that eight second walk to the garbage can, you ruined a young man's entire day and created a potential health risk for all of us discount shoppers in Port Credit.

If you were thinking about pointing out the hypocrisy of this blog entry due to mine and Greg's identity as 'The Pooing Bandits' you need not bother. I've already thought of that.

Update on Kiosk Disease

2006-04-10T01:37:00.000-07:00

It's now 4:35am. Kiosk Disease has definately progressed. Made funny faces at myself in the mirror for a while. Then took this picture. Should probably go to bed and then get out of this apartment for a while.

Kiosk Disease

2006-04-09T21:57:00.000-07:00

There has been no Daily Kudos this weekend due to the fact that the Daily Kudos depends on my leaving the apartment and running into some jack ass who is worthy of writing about.

Since Friday I haven't really left the apartment, in fact I've been working on this paper for 50 some odd hours now minus time needed for basic biological funtions like sleeping, eating and watching the Leafs pound the Flyers on Saturday.

In any case, I just got up to perform another of those basic biological functions I was just talking about and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Ouch. I look like a hairy dirt bag who spent the night in a ditch. I took some pictures of myself so everyone could look and see how I look like some wino who lives in a box on Yonge street.

Upon further reflection I realized I had contracted a mild case of Kiosk Disease.

Let me explain a little of what Kiosk Disease is. I'm no expert mind you, but I'll try my best. The term was coined, as far as I know, by Bryan Halford. However actual documentary evidence on the history of the disease is lacking. Because of this credit for the name could possibly go to an immediate relation of mine, Greg MacLachlan, or to another individual, Josh Simon.

Regardless of which of the three named the affliction, it is certain that all three suffered accute cases in consecutive summers from about 2002 to 2004. Observation has yeilded some information about Kiosk Disease, however due to that fact that it is not a "real" disease, actual medical research has been limited.

What is known is what causes Kiosk Disease and what are the symptoms of Kiosk Disease. The affliction is contracted by spending too much time in too small a space. The three previously mentioned individuals contracted severe cases by spending countless hours in a space approximately 5 feet by 3 feet behind the counter of the Bellevue Marina Kiosk (hence Kiosk Disease). Symptoms include lack of care for personal hygiene and appearance as well as bizarre and irrational behaviour.

Also, since none of the female marina staff seems to have been affected, it is apparent that Kiosk Disease only affects males.

The worst observed case of Kiosk Disease saw both Halford and MacLachlan sitting in identical positions with legs over head, slapping buttocks, making odd noises with tongues wagging outside their mouths.

I became aware of my developing case of Kiosk Disease this evening while writing my paper on the Cold War. I inadvertently wrote the following on my screen which I have copied and pasted here:

"Michael MacLachlan, Norman MacLachlan, Tony Sambol, it semlls like cabbage here, amy thinlks the way i write paprs is odd boner jack toby jack that is leopard boner"

Apologies to my Mom for the immature and offensive use of the word "boner." However I thought it neccessary not to censor what I had written in order to illustrate the gravity and severity of Kiosk Disease.

My case is a mild one, though getting worse by the hour. It is yet to be seen how severe it will get by 5 or 6 am when I would guess I will be done my paper. Also yet to be seen is the number of people who will actually get to read this post. I may well read it after my Kiosk Disease has cleared up and decide that my personal embarrassment over the post outweighs its value as a warning against the dangers of Kiosk Disease.

The Daily Kudos

2006-04-07T09:57:00.000-07:00

Well, at the risk of showcasing how little social life I have by posting four blog entries in two days, I feel the need to congratulate someone else today.

Recently Amy and I took a trip to Mountsberg Conservation Area. Being maple syrup season, Amy thought it would be nice to take a brisk walk in the cool spring weather and follow it up with some pancakes and a hot cup of coffee. I thought the pancakes sounded great but we'd have to discuss the brisk walk.

Anyhoo, when we arrived we discovered, to our delight that Mountsberg houses what they called a "Raptor Centre" but what I called "the place with the Harry Potter bird!"

It is the Raptor/Harry Potter Centre (RHP Centre from now on) that is really the subject of this post. If you would kindly take a close look at the picture of the Bald Eagle I have above, you will notice in the background a sort of circular platform...at about three o'clock to the eagle's head. Sitting atop this little platform are some yellowish objects. Every bird cage in the RHP Centre was home to an identical platform with the same yellowish objects. Any guesses as to what these might be? If you want a hint, take a look at the first of the three pictures I posted - the one of the furry little baby animal that is insanely cute beyond all reason.

You may still be wondering where I am going and who I'm congratulating with this. So without further adieu, kudos to the Conservation Area employee who's job it is to kill adorable, fluffy little baby chicks to feed to hungry raptors. Now before you seal hunt supporters think I'm disagreeing with this practice, let me just tell you, I'm in complete support. This is one of the few legitimate congratulations on this blog.

Now I've put some pretty extensive thought into this and I don't think it's possible to get the chicks already dead. Where would you get dead chicks? I suppose you go to a poultry farm but there's no way little baby chicks are dying at a rate quick enough to satisfy the hunger of the many raptors housed at RHP Centre. They must be getting some of them live. Then what? I have a whole series of questions to ask regarding this. Do all the employees draw straws to see who has to do the dirty work? Is there a particularly twisted employee who volunteers? How do they do it? Is there neck-breaking? Is there head stomping? Do they have tools they use? And if so what are they named? Baby Chick-Impaler? Baby-Chick-Decapitator? Nut Cracker? Is the baby chick killing floor part of the elementary school tour? Does the RHP Centre employ a counsellor for those suffering from Post-Traumatic Chick Annhilation Syndrome (PTCAS)?

In any case, Kudos to the baby chick killer, kudos to you my friend. For you cold-heartedly massacre one of nature's most defenseless and adorable products with (I assume) little or no impact on your conscience.

*Disclaimer: this is meant to be a humourous entry and is in no way a judgement on the fine and hard working folk at the RHP Centre. Furthermore this is not in any way a statement against the killing of baby chicks to feed much cooler and much more majestic animals such as bald eagles and Harry Potter Birds...I mean Snowy Owls.

2006-04-06T22:27:00.000-07:00

For my Mom's benefit here's what Fubar means. A fubar is a guy who looks and acts like these guys. Until this movie came along we in the Soo called fubars 'derds'. To be clear 'derd' is still commonly used by Soo-ites, just not exclusively anymore.

The word fubar comes from the latin fobræ which means "not accepted."

Actually I just made that up. Fubar is an acronym for f***** up beyond all repair.

2006-04-06T12:25:00.000-07:00

Because I'm an idiot and have nothing better to think about, I was pondering this a little further and realized two things regarding the post below.

One is that there is a serious flaw in my logic. I never thought about the possibility that Taco Bell Man could have been leaving the building and that could have occurred not too long before I arrived. Let me just say this though. I think that is highly unlikely simply due to the time of night. Who, except people who are going to deficate on things in secret, is leaving to go out at One O'clock in the morning?

The second thing I realized is that, being the clod that I am, I made a gross infringement on political correctness. The possibility that Taco Bell Man could be Taco Bell Woman never even crossed my mind. But in the spirit of gender equality let me be the first to admit that it is completely possible that the foul crime was committed by a female.

I sincerely apologize for these oversights.

The Daily Kudos

2006-04-06T10:26:00.000-07:00

Before I begin the regular Daily Kudos, let me just give a legitimate congratulations to the makers of the show Lost. I just watched the last episode of the first season on DVD (thanks mom!) and today my back is sore because I was so tense watching it. So Kudos to those guys.

Now then, as most of my friends and family know, I work evenings at a trucking company. I get home at 1:00am every night...Actually 1:25am now thank you very much Dr. Phil...in any case I get home fairly late. I'm usually too tired and lazy to take the stairs even though it might just help me to shed the ever-inflating spare tire around my mid-section, therefore I always take the painfully slow elevator. Honestly I once read an entire column by Scott Feschuk while waiting for bloody thing.

Anyhoo, Kudos goes out today to the individual who lives in my building (apparently one floor above me) who's fart was still lingering in the elevator when I stepped on at 1:25 in the morning.

Here is what we know:

At 1:25am on the morning of April 4th, 2006, I pushed the call button for the elevator, it made its way ever so slowly from the 6th floor down to ground level where the doors opened and I was met by a stinky, rotten-egged slap in the face.
The Laundry Room in our building closes at 9:00pm on weekdays.
The weather in the GTA in the very early hours of April 4, 2006 was an unpleasant mix of snow and rain.
With the exception of my own wet footprints, the elevator floor was entirely dry.

From these facts I can deduce a few things. One is that, Taco Bell Man (as I will refer to him hereafter) must have come in from outside. I believe that I and my group of friends are the only ones immature enough to go around playing nicky-nine-doors within an apartment building. Therefore, other than doing laundry which we can rule out, Taco Bell Man has no reason to be wandering about within the confines of the building. This is important when you think about point number 3: the fact that the ground was wet outside.

Think about it. From the time Taco Bell Man left the elevator to the time I was subjected to his gastro intestinal abomination had to be at least an hour and a half. This is because each of my feet left a small, but none the less significant puddle of water underneath them, Taco Bell Man's feet must have done the same. In a poorly ventilated area like an elevator, it must have taken some time for that puddle to evaporate. That must have been one Jim Dandy of a fart. I should ask Joe Sambol's Dad how it's possible for water to evaporate at a faster rate than methane gas can dissipate.

So I say Kudos, Taco Bell Man, Kudos to you. From within your fast-food infested body, you produced a stench of such magnitude that it shook the very foundations of my nostrils a full hour and a half after it was triumphantly blasted through your Levis.

The Daily Kudos

2006-04-01T20:24:00.000-08:00

Again I should have been writing a paper but was watching the Leafs annihilate the Buffalo Sabres 7 – 0, and now that it’s too late to begin doing research I figured I might as well write something on my stupid blog that no one reads.

Now, until I can get some better evidence you’ll have to take my word for it that I did not make this up.

Today I say Kudos a company in Mississauga, Ontario with the most foolish and ridiculous name that, I would dare to say, any company has ever had.

That Company is B.R.E.S.T. Not, as would be expected, a pornographic movie store, or a cosmetic surgery consultant, or even some sort of feminist lobby group, no sir, BREST is a trucking company. Evidence, in case you don’t believe me can be found here, however, in the future I will try to take a picture of the company’s building with their logo.

BREST stands for this: Best Reliable Established Safe Trucking. Now, the way I see it is this. There’s no getting around it, this was done absolutely intentionally. It isn’t as though they came up with this fantastic combination of words and then, oops, it happens to spell a word for that somewhat sensitive part of the female anatomy. I’m 150 per cent sure they came up with the word BREST and then thought of some words to go with it. The one that really gets me is Established. I suppose I have to concede the fact that I know nothing about the history of the company. Nevertheless I’m willing to bet that they didn’t start the company as Best Reliable Safe Trucking, wait 5 or 10 years, and when the big day came and the board of directors thought it was time, add the word Established.

Thinking about all this I really have to wonder what other company names were considered. Perhaps they thought about Best Available Logistic Line Systems, or how about
Advantageous Responsible Shipping and Expeditors, or my favourite,
Safe Controlled Reliable Optimum Transportation Management* or SCROTM.

So kudos BREST, kudos to you. You join the ranks of: the makers of the movie ”Johnny Skidmarks,” the people who named the Anaheim Mighty Ducks, and people who name their kids things like Raymond Raymond or John Johnson. For you have all, apparently for the amusement of the rest of us, given to your product or service the silliest and most absurd of
names.

*credit for the company name 'SCROTM' really has to go to my wife Amy

2006-03-28T11:03:00.000-08:00

Also, congratulations to me because my Mom thinks I'm funny. (See comments in post below)

The Daily Kudos

2006-03-27T11:54:00.000-08:00

Well sir, it has taken me exactly 4 posts, and approximately 2 weeks, but I have managed to accomplish something myself that I feel is worthy of congratulations.

A few weeks ago Amy and I were in Ottawa visiting friends of ours, Joe and Marge. During this visit an episode of Saturday Night Live was aired and a band called Fallout Boy played two live performances.

I don’t have such a fine memory as to remember my comments verbatim, however, suffice it to say that many comments were made about how the band played too hard, the singer mumbled, the lyrics I could hear were stupid, and that the lead singer’s choice in headwear made him look silly. I obnoxiously ridiculed the band throughout the entire performance while my hosts attempted to listen and enjoy.

I believe that trip took place the weekend of March 4-5. Now, if my basic arithmetical skills don’t fail me (like my Grade 10 math teacher did), it was 21 days after this severe derision of Fallout Boy that Amy caught me savouring the hard-rock sounds of the very same…as shown in the pictoral recreation above. I actually snuck out to buy the CD a few days earlier on Monday, March 20. What all this means is that somewhere in the 15 days between seeing the band perform on the 4th, and buying the CD on the 20th, my opinion about the band’s style, enunciation, lyrics, and headwear all did a 180 U-turn.

I suppose that this would be acceptable if it were an isolated incident. However, with few exceptions, this is the pattern I have followed in almost any artist or band and even hobby that I enjoy. I’m ashamed to say that I have, in my life, scoffed at the likes of Tom Waits, Bob Dylan, The Tragically Hip, Sam Roberts, and Guns N’ Roses, all of which are now staples in my musical diet. Also, up until about 3 minutes before the start of the Leafs first game this season, I swore I’d never watch NHL hockey again. Now here I am begging Amy to get me an “Allison” or “Kaberle” jersey for an 8-month-early birthday present.

A great politician once said to his constituents, “you people are nothing but a pack a fickle mushheads.” So to myself I say: kudos Joe, kudos to you for joining the good people of the city of Springfield in being a “fickle mushhead.”

The Daily Kudos

2006-03-24T00:10:00.000-08:00

OR

Well, let me tell you...if there is a finer group of people than the 1 am bus crowd in a big city, I'm not aware of it.

Congratulations goes out today to the guy who has forced me to the decision to intentionally miss my bus for about the next two months.

Last night I was approached by a fellow who I will refer to as Dr. Phil. Appearance wise Dr. Phil who I met last night looks nothing like the real Dr. Phil. But his genuine insight into the depths my soul make me believe he is every bit as wise and noble as the beloved TV counseling guru.

While I was unobtrusively reading Macleans, Dr. Phil got on the bus, walked over and hovered over me for about two minutes. There's only so long I could pretend I didn't notice so I looked up to see why, in spite of the many seats available, someone had decided not only to stand, but to invade my personal space. There was Dr. Phil looking at me, smiling away. I have to admit, I was a little scared by the psychotic-looking grin upon his face and I was getting ready to punch him in the sweet spot as soon as he produced a weapon of any kind. He just stood there smiling until I felt awkward and said, "can I help you?" Apparently when I said "can I help you," Dr. Phil heard "please sit down and let us engage in conversation" because that is exactly what happened. Dr. Phil took the seat next to me in spite of, like I said before, the many other empty seats available.

Dr. Phil then told me he was a psychologist and held an Ph.D in that subject. I was a little skeptical because I don't generally meet professionals of that calibre who ride the bus and wear shabby clothing, but in any case he proceeded to give me a full psychological profile and analysis. He told me everything about myself, even stuff that I didn't know...like the fact that I enjoy taking risks, and how I have 3 brothers and he bets that I'm the youngest, then he got a little personal and told me that I enjoy dating older women. Apparently his observational skills are limited to reading body language, because he failed to observe the wedding ring on my finger, unless he was implying that I enjoy dating older women behind my wife's back. For that he would have got that punch in the sweet spot I was talking about.

What really got me though was that, where he was really accurate was that he kept repeating that I'm a quiet person who doesn't disturb others and doesn't like to be disturbed himself. He must have said that five times. Very insightful Dr. Phil!

When it came time for Dr. Phil to get off the bus, he asked for my telephone number. To this I replied, "well...I really don't have a pen." Dr. Phil produced one from somewhere though and then gave me his bus transfer to write on. Luckily I was able to stall for a minute by which time the bus was stopped and the door open and Dr. Phil had to run. However, just before he walked through the double doors, he turned with that psychotic grin on his face again and as the shadows of the night hit his face he said to me "I'll catch you tomorrow night!"

Dr. Phil's foreboding prediction is unfortunately all too likely to be true. Dr. Phil is a regular rider of the 1 am bus that I take night after night. I have therefore grudgingly come to the decision to intentionally miss my connecting bus every night and wait the twenty minutes for the next one.

So Kudos Dr. Phil, Kudos to you. I will now be getting home 20 minutes later every night for about 2 months, until hopefully you have found some other quarry and time has erased I and my 3 brothers entirely from your memory.

The Daily Kudos

2006-03-23T00:43:00.000-08:00

On Sunday night, while wasting valuable essay-writing time listening to the Leafs game, (which really wasn’t worth it…the only goal scored throughout the entire game was by Chad Kilger on a penalty shot) AM 640 played an advertisement for the Toronto Sun: the recipient of The Daily Kudos for March 20.

The Toronto Sun deserves congratulations for their Toronto Raptor’s B-Ball Bingo Extravaganza Contest. Perhaps they should receive kudos for their awesome contest name; however, Toronto Raptors Crazy B-Ball Bingo Extravaganza Contest receives congratulations today for giving away probably the crappiest prize ever excepting the time my 4th grade French teacher was giving away those lousy red-centred vanilla cookies, ironically, also for winning at bingo.

I suppose my opinion of the Toronto Raptor’s Crazy B-Ball Blastin’ Bingo Extravaganza Contest is rather subjective. There may be many people out there who think it’s a lovely prize.

The prize is this: roundtrip airfare to NYC to see a live performance by Blueman Group.

Blueman Group?

Are you kidding me? You’re telling me in all of New York City, one of the largest cities on the planet, there wasn’t a single act playing better than Blueman Group? Not even Nickleback was playing? Not Foreigner or some other 80’s band who quit their jobs a K-Mart to begin touring again? Not even that lady who came through Sault Ste. Marie once who called herself Shania Twin? Blueman Group???!

For those not familiar with Blueman Group, their name says it all really, but I posted a picture above. However I take no responsibility for the nightmares I’m sure the picture will induce. Are these guys not downright creepy? Is it just me? Does anyone enjoy watching these absolutely spine-chilling idiots gallivant about the stage to some weird new-age music?

In any case, kudos Toronto Raptor’s B-Ball Bingo and Musical Chairs Extravaganzarama Contest, Kudos to you. You have come up with the crappiest prize this side of 4th grade French teacher Mme. Casanato.

The Daily Kudos

2006-03-23T00:36:00.000-08:00

The first ever recipient of The Daily Kudos is a school fellow of mine whom I aptly refer to as Kipling Ronald Dynamite. For those who don’t know who this refers to…well you really need to watch Napoleon Dynamite…but until then I posted a picture of the movie character above.

Anyhoo, I have been observing Kipling Ronald for about six or seven months now. Kipling Ronald sat in front of me in a history lecture last semester, and also sits a few rows ahead of me this semester. I guess Kipling Ronald and I have the same taste in seating. Actually I would submit to you that Kipling Ronald has other reasons for his choice in seating.

Kip deserves our undying congratulations due to his perseverance in trying to win the heart of a young lady who is way out of his league. By Kip’s own ingenious design he has managed to sit beside this young lady in both the aforementioned lectures. Kip daily tries to impress the young lady by playing video games on his laptop during the lecture and racking up mad scores on Battle Quest. With each successive win he achieves he nudges her (causing her to make an unwanted swipe across her page with her pen) and turns his laptop to show her. Other attempts to impress the young lady have come in the form of showing off his formidable historical knowledge base by correcting the professor, then proceeding to showcase skills earned probably from years on the debate team by arguing with the professor over the fact.

Kudos Kipling Ronald, Kudos to you. You hang in there Top Gun! She’s bound to notice you. Maybe all it will take is to cement your combover a little more firmly to your head, or maybe you just need a new pair of blazing white running shoes to match your stylish leather jacket.

As an endnote, those of you who are concerned that perhaps Kipling Ronald would have his feelings hurt if he ever stumbled across this let me assure you that Kip is far to busy 'gaming' and training to become a cage fighter to ever stumble across this. Also, he certainly wouldn't know that this entry referred to him because in his mind how could his superior grades, video game skill, and advanced knowledge on every subject there ever was cause him to be anything but exceptionally popular?

2006-03-23T00:34:00.000-08:00

The Daily Kudos

All two readers of Keeping up with the MacLachlans (ie Amy and I) are in for a real treat in the weeks and months to come. Starting today a new feature will be added to the blog entitled The Daily Kudos. Please keep in mind that The Daily Kudos will be changed to The Weekly Kudos, or possibly The Bi-weekly or even Monthly Kudos entirely at my whim, or more likely, entirely due to how lazy I feel on any given day.

In any case, this new feature will be a tribute to those people who I seem to have the luck to meet on a daily and sometimes hourly basis who belong to the very bottom strata of the intelligence sphere. Occasionally there may be a legitimate congratulatory remark given to a deserving individual, but owing to the fact that it’s much easier and much more fun to point out other people’s faults than it is say anything positive about someone, these occasions will be few and far between.

One more note on The Daily Kudos: since there are other people and things to make fun of I won’t be able to criticize, attack, and condemn those stupid bunch of wankers at Mississauga Transit everyday. Therefore, due to their policy of overcharging me (approximately $85/month) to be subjected to chaotic, inconsistent bus schedules (honestly I usually don’t know if the bus I am on is really late or really early), ornery (to say the least) bus drivers, and weird, often smelly fellow bus riders (Mississauga Transit can hardly be blamed for their ridership but what the heck?), Mississauga Transit has earned itself a standing place on The Daily Kudos. Kudos Mississauga Transit, kudos to you.

(Any similarity between The Daily Kudos and popular radio host John Derringer’s Tool of the Day is purely coincidental)