Blowing your wad

I've had several weeks to contemplate the perils and pitfalls of Christmas shopping.
Thank goodness,Christmas shopping has but one day left. I have to say, I was wary and fearful of shopping before the day, but now I must admit, I am more freaked out at the prospect of hitting the stores once again for boxing day. This, the most wild day in the history of consumer spending. Gone are the days when one toy was enough for the kids, a piece of jewelry would do for the wife or a power tool would suffice for the man of the house. Indeed, anything now bearing the slightest taint of domesticity or practicality can provoke serious discord in a family. It is in fact now the norm to out do yourself every year and it seems that the safest gifts are ones that contain a TV screen the size of either a living-room wall, a tiny device to store hoards of music or most recently, the coveted X-Box 360. The turmoil that swirled in my brain over that terrible responsibility in what to buy for the limited amount of people that actually got on my list this year was as much as if I had to buy for my entire past graduating high school class. My total budget, in sweaty hands, was something in the order of two hundred dollars...Ok, maybe a little more. Perusing the wares of every local shop in my neighborhood, in desperate search of something that would meet my budget, I was met with rude and pushy sales people, angry customers and over priced nonsense. At last, in a sweet shop, I discovered the perfect gifts for the ladies that keep me looking presentable to the rest of the world. The gifts were lovely jewel encrusted ornaments: butterflies, angels and other winged creatures. The looks on their faces as they opened the beautifully wrapped packages. With the exception of purchasing gifts on my favorite famed streets, I had the ease and pleasure of ordering product online. Here I was, worrying that the shopping for 2005 would leave me in the cold. Fortunately, credit cards and the internet allow for a whole new shopping experience and an ease that is indescribable. The only worry I was now faced with was whether the goods would actually arrive on time. Most made it quite clear that they would honor all orders placed before the 20th and guarantee their deliveries to arrive before Christmas. They didn't lie! Aside from birthdays, Christmas is the only time of year when I am forced to shop. I've often heard that shopping makes for good therapy. Shopping under pressure however, does not apply to this past time. It is important to know the prices of things before going head first into any purchase (this is what caused most of my headaches this year). I checked and rechecked, which was a huge undertaking, the prices of things, all in the hopes of being a good consumer. I bought CD's for a friend, a travel case for another, at least 5 boxes of gourmet chocolates (ordered online) and gift certificates for the remaining people on the list. In the end, I had spent every last cent I had put away on gift wrap, but I was smart and went to the dollar store.
So, boxing day will arrive in a flash, list of must haves in hand and I will be ready. One of my good friends claims that wearing your cup is a must and playing defense will save you from any grievous bodily harm. We agree!

Take me to the Pilate

After much hesitation, I finally gave in and saw Mel Gibsons, The Passion of the Christ. By now, everyone knows that this film has been the target of an extraordinary campaign of attempted censorship on the part of the Anti-Defamation League. I have to say, after watching this interpretation of possibly the most historical event ever known to man, I was not put off by it at all. I agree that it is quite an aggressively Christian movie, but that can't come as a surprise, as the director himself is just that, a devout Christian. There is nothing in The Passion regarding the Jewish leaders of the time and their treatment of Christ that does not come from the New Testament itself, which Christians regard as divinely inspired. (In fact, it has been verified and the key events are confirmed by the Jewish Talmud.) Gibson invents nothing, embellishes nothing, does nothing to suggest that all Jews rejected Christ or sought his death. The Passion limits the time frame to Jesus' last 18 hours of life, it doesn't take on the notion that the Jews didn't accept their Messiah (I think this would have changed a lot of peoples opinions of the film, if it had). It has always been suggested (even when I was in school) that Christians have sometimes been contorted to lay the responsibility for Jesus' execution at the feet of the Jewish people, a contortion that has long fueled the fires of anti-Semitism. The film Gibson has made, however, is reviving an ancient and divisive argument: who really killed Jesus? This set me wondering too, so I looked it up. As a matter of history, the Roman Empire did; as a matter of theology, the sins of the world drove Jesus to the cross, and the Catholic Church holds that Christians themselves bear "the gravest responsibility for the torments inflicted upon Jesus." Many Jewish leaders and theologians feared the film, with its portraits of the Jewish high priest Caiaphas leading an angry mob and of Pilate as a reluctant, sympathetic executioner,that it could reverse 40 years of work explaining the common bonds between Judaism and Christianity. Gibson has vehemently defended the film against charges of anti-Semitism, saying he does not believe in blood guilt and citing the church teaching that the transgressions and failings of all mankind led to the Passion, not just the sins of the Jewish people. "So it's not singling them out and saying, 'They did it.' That's not so," Gibson told the Global Catholic Network. "We're all culpable. I don't want to lynch any Jews...I love them. I pray for them." WWJD? indeed!

Melodies Rhapsodical

Sometimes little pieces of heaven fall upon your ears and there's nothing left to do but share the experience with those around you. This week I had the luxury of walking into a sale at my favorite cd shop and purchased a total of 12 cd's. Amongst these gems is a truly remarkable find: The Decemberists, Picaresque. This offering, headed by the outrageously talented singer/songwriter Colin Meloy, is both exciting and overwhelming. The opening track, the infanta, is a showcase for Meloy's astounding linguistic prowess as well as his ability to create vast imagery (which will undoubtedly remind you of Led Zepplin). Throughout the album, we are treated to epic story telling, matched brilliantly by an old English folk style, mixed with an unmistakable indie tone. The track the sporting life , which has been compared to Belle and Sebastian, is also heavily influenced by The Smiths, Placebo, as well as The House Martins. It's been said that Meloy has a pet obsession with historical romance and the sea (which immediately had me thinking back to Mike Scott from the Waterboys) and is most notably evident through the giant tale the mariner's revenge song. The track the bagmans gambit is wonderfully intriguing, as our orator sings to us about forbidden love mixed with espionage. I felt as though the lyrics were ripped straight out of a crime novel. Like so many voices and sounds in our new indie generation, they really defy description, as they swell and crash like storm-bred waves upon your ears...you just have to surrender and listen. I promise that this atmospheric cd will provide you with the right amount of escapism and will leave you feeling totally satisfied.

Metaphors from the ether

Parable of the Pencil
The pencil maker took the pencil aside just before putting him into the box.There are 5 things you need to know, he told the pencil before I end you out into the world. Always remember them and never forget and you will become the best pencil you can be.
One:
You will be able to do many great things , but only if you allow yourself to be held in someone's hand.
Two:
You will experience a painful sharpening from time to time, but you will need it to become a better pencil.
Three:
You will be able to correct any mistakes you might make.
Four:
The most important part of you will always be what is inside.
Five:
On every surface you are used on , you must leave your mark. No matter what the condition , you must continue to write.

The pencil understood and promised to remember and went into the box with purpose in its heart.

Nemesis at the gates

Having spent a lot of time this week with my special friend, I was once again forced to ponder things that until recently, had remained tucked away in the annals of my mind. Over lunch at our usual spot, we got to talking about World War II, Music, South Park, The Simpsons, Politics... but one subject that he brought up really sparked my interest: THE SMURFS. It's been well documented, both at University level and on the net (though distinguishing between the two these days is proving quite difficult) that the smurf society was really based on communism. I searched through many written theories on this subject and thought I might share just a few insights into their world: The Smurfs, though not drab by any means, had a pretty standard dress code. Each smurf wore minor accessories that differentiated them from each other. This systematic uniform is argued by some as a representation of the largely uniform style of attire dominant in several early periods of the Soviet Union and The People's Republic of China, including the "Mao suit". Even though the evil wizard Gargamel and his loyal feline worker, Azrael, are argued to represent an analogy of the forces of capitalism, it would be more correct to say that they represent the forces of reaction. In fact Gargamel desires to capture the smurfs in order to turn them into gold through a magical process of boiling (a clear indication of it's preference for rent over risk capital). His greed drives him to great lengths in what is said to be a parallel of the Cold War and its extreme struggle. The capitalistic forces want to devour socialism, as the West wanted to do to the USSR and its allies according to Cold War propaganda. Gargamel can be seen as a pure capitalist; he wishes to turn everything into a commodity, including the individuals of a living society. The smurfs live in an egalitarian utopia. Each smurf has a particular skill and each performs tasks for the benefit of the community. There is no system of monetary exchange or even barter in the Smurf village. The village is under a planned economy, under the leadership of Papa Smurf, and to some extent, Brainy Smurf. Each member of the community is a Smurf, and each has Smurf as a suffix to their own name; this can be seen as analogous to the use of "comrade". The Smurfs have a tendency to use the word 'smurf' as a prefix or suffix to many sentences. This could be seen as an identity to create a strong group identity or a way to eliminate influences from other cultures. This is similar to what was practiced under Soviet Russia. Ironically, as communism fell in Russia, it was around that time that The Smurfs were lost from tv syndication and comic publication.

Taciturnly better off

This is an article written by RAYA KUZYK, a journalist living in NYC.
Though the idea of breaking up with someone in power point form is very modern, it's also, given the outcome, a really bad idea...you be the judge:

Point 1: We Had Fun. Point 2: It's Over. Point 3: Get Lost.
LAST spring I broke up with someone perfect. Perfectly, that is. Last spring I broke up with someone perfectly. I set out exactly which aspects of our relationship were lacking and why, meticulously charted our decline, and pared months of frustration and disillusionment to a succinct set of woes, all without uttering a word.
It was the most orderly way I'd ever ended a relationship and the first time I'd walked away from a breakup feeling richer for it. All told, it was a source of great personal satisfaction and accomplishment, until the moment it dawned on me that I hadn't managed to pull it off.
Like most people, I don't end relationships gracefully. In trying to make the final exchange sound less like a crushing blow and more like, oh, just another glitch in our madcap dating adventure, I end up expressing myself in the most blasé terms, with an overreliance on words like "nice," "fine" and "good." Of course my own head has been on the chopping block often enough, and when it's happening to me, I always think, I would never do this to anyone, not like this.
Yet when it's my turn to do the deed, some of what comes out of my mouth sounds, even to my ears, staggeringly unkind.
So when my last relationship started going bad, I decided I would come better prepared to the breakup by working out my delivery in advance. I began by jotting my relationship-related grievances onto a legal pad. Because this turned into an exercise of procrastination, months flew by until suddenly I had a new problem.
Though I had postponed the inevitable long enough to be certain that I was doing the right thing, I had also drawn it out to the point where human decency (and dating etiquette) called for a sensitively handled breakup. A breakup of a higher standard than the one to which I would have been held had I ended our relationship when I first realized we had no future.
Technically that would have been from the get-go: Nick was engaged to another woman. But after two and a half years of engagement he showed no signs of intending to marry. His prospective in-laws were growing impatient; his fiancée was becoming unnaturally preoccupied with china; and still, every Sunday, I would find him sprawled on my living room floor scanning the real estate ads for the ultimate bachelor pad.
When I would raise the issue, he would agree he wasn't being fair to her, then whistle at the cost of some West Village walk-up. It was unsettling for me to realize that by putting off the inevitable with his fiancée, Nick was doing the exact thing I was with him (but at least I was taking notes).
My notes began as sad, whimsical musings, graduated to heated accusations and then spread from there. Whenever I would home in on a particular problem, a hundred others would sprout up that demanded contextualizing.
I started having to rely on mathematical symbols and contrived a Pantone color chart system that reflected the range of my moods in his company. (To convey the magnitude of the project, lilac and heliotrope were two colors on which I commonly relied.) Soon I had filled my entire legal pad and turned to using scraps of paper I found around the apartment.
Every time Nick would leave the dinner table to answer his cellphone or disengage himself from a conversation to send an e-mail message on his BlackBerry, I would tear a sheet of paper from my appointment book or swoop in on a napkin and write down something new.
Finally, to contain the mess of notes I had scribbled, I stapled them to the sheets of my legal pad until I was left with a fat fan of mismatched papers: a rounded, tattered orb.
At a loss at what to do next, I called my sister, Tamara.
"That's great that you're putting so much thought into it," she said.
"Only I'm having trouble quantifying things," I confessed. "I've got more charts and graphs than I do complete sentences."
"Well, it's still helped you put things in perspective, hasn't it?"
A thought struck me then. "You know, I'm really tempted to just PowerPoint the whole thing."
I was half-joking. But in the silence that followed I thought: Why not? What could possibly show more serious consideration of the matter, more meticulousness, more care? Besides, I remembered distastefully, Nick was such a technophile. And that's when the feelings of resentment that had flowed so freely from my pen crept back into my head, and I sensed myself growing dangerous. After all the time he had decided to spend with his gadgets (not to mention his fiancée) instead of with me, it would be perfect. I wouldn't just be giving him a standard-issue breakup, I'd be upgrading us to the 2006 version.
In converting the contents of my paper orb to PowerPoint, I broke down my message into two parts. In Part 1, I mapped our relationship into four stages - "All Day in Bed," "Oh. You're Engaged?," "Avoiding the Obvious" and "No Substance" - each of which was broken down into substages (e.g., "We Start Sleeping Together," "So What if We Have No Future?," "Is This Another One of Your Things at My Apartment?," "It's Just Taking Too Much Energy" and so on).
An x-y graph conjectured how invested each of us was in our relationship throughout the aforementioned four major stages.
Part 2 meanwhile focused on our ups and downs and speculated as to why we even bothered. This I conveyed through a montage of photographs that blew up to reveal the gradual tightening of our expressions through time; the emergence of new lines; how much, essentially, our misery had aged us.
I designed the presentation to be narrated by subtitles that streamed across the screen at a pace just slow enough for Nick to read before they faded to black (which, incidentally, was another grievance of mine: the man was no speed-reader).
It took me several hours. Not long after I finished, Nick called to remind me we had dinner reservations for that same night. I hadn't forgotten.
We met at the restaurant bar, saddled up and ordered our drinks. After my third scotch and soda I said it: "Let's end things now, tonight, while we're a little buzzed and in good moods."
He paled, straightened, slumped. "Why?"
I reached into my bag and, nodding somberly, pulled out my laptop, resting it on the bar in front of us.
For the next 20 minutes Nick sat lighted by the screen's glow. Because I wasn't responsible for voicing the presentation myself, I started freely on my fourth drink while using my other hand to prompt each slide.
I am so right on about some of this stuff, I thought as the slides advanced. I watched his face for any change of expression, any dawning of understanding, any silent accord, but his features stayed exactly put. Either he was captivated, or, I more strongly suspected, this was again an issue of his reading pace.
When the presentation ended (with a bulleted list enumerating the many good times we had had, to end on an up note), I snapped my laptop shut and turned to face him. "Well?"
He ordered another drink, and we sat in complete silence for as long as it took him to finish it. I slipped my laptop back into my bag, paid the tab and hailed myself a cab.
My ride home was invigorating. Was it really going to be that easy? I replayed the night's events in my head in slo-mo. Then I re-replayed them, this time from Nick's perspective, imagining what he must have been thinking at the sight of that final slide and decided that, ultimately, not only had I done the most gratifying thing but by far the kindest.
Though, granted, my purity of intent and the manner of my delivery were questionable, the message was tame: there was a big difference between what I had angrily put to paper and what I had ended up using in the presentation. Because I had chosen my words more carefully in the latter, I had succeeded - or so I thought -in not just getting the job done but leaving him with a little something to consider.
ON entering my apartment and catching sight of the answering machine, I suddenly felt less sure of myself. The machine, indicating seven new messages by way of a furiously blinking red light, did not divine warm tidings.
I set my laptop down, walked over and hit "play." For a few seconds I heard Nick's breathing. Then, "You're sick." And again, "Sick." I slumped onto the couch and took in the next five messages, which, with varying degrees of tastefulness, communicated the same sentiment.
It hurt him more than I thought it would. I had started out honestly convinced that altruism had motivated me, that I had wanted to end our relationship precisely and painlessly and that this was the best way to do it. Then it got ugly; I got ugly.
Regardless of whether or not I was aware of it, I had a point I wanted to make before saying goodbye to this man. And now, having made it, there was no comfort in knowing I had proven myself to be exactly the type of woman he had always accused me of being and I had always secretly hoped I wasn't: emotionless and inconsiderate. I wondered what Tamara would say if I told her I had actually gone through with it.
In Nick's final message, by which time, thankfully, he seemed to be losing momentum, I thought I could hear the faint sound of his fiancée's voice asking if he had managed to call the florist, and I felt momentarily heartened. Everyone, I decided, has his own sick way of sending a message, and if mine hadn't worked, his certainly hadn't either.

Diatribes from the edge

Apparently this is going around NYC at the moment. (His response, one word: OUCH!)

1st is a girl's apology email for cheating.

2nd is his reply which was forwarded to his entire address book.

Brad,
It would be difficult for me to be any more miserable right now, I feel like the worst person ever. First, let me start by saying that I am truly truly sorry, and I hate myself for hurting you. Of all the people in the whole entire world, you were honestly the last person that I would ever want to wrong in any way. There is no excuse at all or anything that happened, so I won't even try other than to say all of us had WAY too much to drink, and I did a stupid thing. I can handle you being pissed at me, I absolutely deserve it, I can even handle the ugly words that were exchanged between us, what I can't handle is thinking that you see me as a different person. It is weird, I feel like I just went through a horrible break up or something. The world looked funny yesterday, I couldn't crack a smile if you paid me, there are songs I can't listen to, and I just feel beyond crushed. I don't know if you meant everything you said to me, and I am hoping that you didn't. I know that I was wrong on many levels, but I am also hoping that this is something that we can deal with. I know it sounds totally crazy and stupid, but you have come to play such a significant role in my life, I can't imagine my days without you. It is totally strange and weird to say that, and you could say that my behavior didn't reflect that, and you would be correct. I hate feeling like you hate me, and I hate feeling like all of your friends think I am a terrible person, because I am not. I know there is nothing I can say or do to take back what happened, but I just want you to know that fighting with you was just about the worst thing I could have ever imagined. It was right up there with one of the ugliest nights of my life, and I would give anything in the world to rewind and fix it. I am not sure if you will respond to this, part of me thinks that you won't. If not today, then maybe some other time. Also, thanks for getting my stuff together, although I think my sunglasses are still at your house, if you could keep your eyes peeled for them that would be great. I can't even focus or work today, I can't eat, I seriously feel like it was an ugly break up, and I am hoping against hopes that it was not that and you are not done with me. Please don't cut me off, I really don't think I can handle that.
I am so sorry.
Elizabeth

RESPONSE:

Dear Elizabeth,
Thank you for your concern. I'll be sure to file it away under "L" for "Long-winded diatribes from drunken whores I couldn't care less about".
You did a stupid thing huh? No...doing long division and forgetting to carry the one is "a stupid thing"; Mixing in a red sock with a load of whites is "a stupid thing"; Blowing some guy in a bathroom for 45minutes while I sit at the bar wondering if you're taking so long because you ate too much bran that morning isn't as much a "Stupid thing" as it is grounds for permanent removal from my social calendar.
To be honest, I'm not sure if it was more amusing that you went and degraded yourself in a public toilet not once but twice in a 2 hour span, or that you seemed to think that by saying "Well, I didn't F**k him" somehow gave you a clean slate. So forgive me if I couldn't care less if the world "looked funny" to you yesterday. Since your world revolves around blow dryers, golden retrievers, Prada Bags and Jelly Beans, I'm sure it must have been most unsettling to actually have to consider someone else's feelings for 24 hours straight. The good news for you is that my friends don't think you're a terrible person, they just think you're the average run of the mill cum-guzzling blond who commands about as much respect as your average child porn collector. I could be wrong but, it's pretty hard to respect some B&T chick who comes out to spend the night at my place even though she's seeing someone else in New jersey and winds up tongue-bathing the taint of anyone who decides 30 minutes of droning commentary on Colin Farrell's new haircut is worth putting up with for a hand job in the men's room. The good thing about being a guy is that when I eventually bump into the young lad who finger-blasted you on top of a towel dispenser last Saturday, we'll have a shot and laugh our heads off about the time it happened.
By the way, for the amount of time you claim to spend in spin class you really must be doing something wrong to sport the thunder thighs you do. Watching you parade around my bedroom in a thong was a little like watching sea lions mate. Thought you might like to know.
PS. I forwarded about 100 people on this email.
Talk to you never,
Brad

Searching through the distortion

First we had the Sex Pistols. We could always count on the bad boys to stir up some controversy through politics channeled through the world of music. Whether it was delivered through outrageous antics on stage or blasphemous words against the monarchy, the message was always clear. They were punks and convention was possibly the furthest thing from their minds. This sort of thing I understand, there was a message to their madness (note how I didn't use the usual cliche, method).
Enter the 21st century and we have the likes of Oasis, brought to us by the ever annoying Gallagher brothers, Liam and Noel. Oasis got their foot in the door and kicked it down, no questions asked. Naturally, everyone within (and out of) the music industry agrees that they have borrowed heavily from the Beatles. They themselves have no problem admitting to this. It's Noel's songs, Liam's voice, Liam's sex appeal, the right management and the label. They've got the lot when it comes to the music. The one thing that I simply can't get my head around is their complete and utter disdain towards other people. Their arrogance astounds. Recently they were at a music awards ceremony where Chris Martin of Coldplay was up on stage making his acceptance speech and there, in the front row, was none other than Liam, mouthing off at him. Chris, ever the gentleman replied by saying something like " and I think Liam, even though he's being rude, he's charming"...to which Liam replied, in notably drunken tones "I'm being polite, knobhead!"...Liam, goading him on, "Come on Chris, have a pop!" Chris wondered what was being said and asked him to repeat, so Liam said "you're a plant pot!", trying to be funny. These kinds of insults are actually tame compared to some of the other behaviors that have been spawned by the devilish duo. They've gotten into drunken brawls at their local, punched out the press, held interviews where the only words that were audible consisted of four letters or less, given the two finger salute to every photographer and fan they've ever come into contact with, made utter jokes of their marriages, proclaimed things like "Lennon was right. And we are bigger than Jesus. We will be as big as the Beatles, if not bigger." Every time I read the press on them, I am baffled as to why they say the things they do and why they engage in public displays of rudeness or why they get up to the shit that they do. One thing is for certain, they have their millions of pounds between them to keep their conscience(s) clear, which in turn allows them to, well, not give a rats ass what the public think. A writer at Select magazine said it best "In the Gallaghers world, it's better to talk bullshit all day than be silent for one minute".

Through the looking glass

As I have shared before, I am anything but a devoutly religious person. However, my willingness to be open to new and interesting aspects of religion and culture surprise even me. I have always been a fan of author C.S. Lewis. Now that Hollywood has taken hold of the THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE (adapted from the well known British and admittedly Christian writer), I had to give some feedback . I read that conservative Christians are busy promoting and using the new film as a tool for evangelism. However, the producers hope its Christian symbolism does not limit its appeal to the widest possible audience. This is quite the conundrum. To sum up, it's an adventure tale of good versus evil, and now the advance hype, which itself is reaching epic proportions, has people discussing it's other symbolism. Anyone who's ever read the series of books will see it, with characters like Aslan (the lion, who is truly representative of the death and resurrection of Christ). Most of the film is reportedly not interpreted with language that is right out of the Bible, but you would have to be pretty blind not to see what the symbols mean and to hear what the words mean. Kids will likely not "get it", unless of course they have been exposed to religion on a higher level and have a deep understanding of symbolism. Perhaps now that Disney and the geniuses at Walden Media have gotten a hold of this book, it'll turn into the blockbuster it's slated to become and religious mass marketing will, as a result, rise to even greater proportions. Personally, I think media usually makes for lousy evangelism (there are the exceptions however,...Remember the Vaticans views on the purely brilliant ad campaign using a nun to promote safer sex?!). I am sure most of you would agree that there isn't some sort of magic bullet that you shoot someone with and they automatically go, "Oh, I've got faith." Generally speaking, that's not how media works. Media changes people over time, it's insidious! C.S. Lewis himself would attest to that. Ironically, he was not emotionally attracted to Christian belief at all (for most of his life anyway). It was not something that he really wanted. In fact, he fought very hard against it. He said in his autobiography that on the night when he got down on his knees and admitted that God was God, he said, "I was perhaps at that time the most dejected and reluctant convert in all of England." I wonder then, how he would feel, now that the film version of his book (with 6 more in this series) is about to explode on the masses.

Wooly Bullies

Children's author Grant Slatter came up with the slogan "where did all the odd socks go?" to capture the imagination of the young mind. But then 25,000 pairs of his odd socks really got stolen. The batch of odd socks which accompany his books - worth around £125,000 - are now in the hands of thieves who stole the woolly footwear from a truck depot in England. The socks had been destined for Woolworths stores as a must-have accessory to accompany the Oddies storybook. Mr. Slatter's book and sock set are hyped to become THE children Christmas sensation in the UK.
Mr Slatter said: "It is ironic. The whole fact that they have gone missing is a story, it's ridiculous." Oddies is about a fantasy land where all the odd socks end up after losing their pairing in the washing machine. This is such a brilliant concept, one that I am sure many of us have often thought of writing about ourselves. The author says that there are all kinds of oddies - policeman, nurse, footballer and even robber oddies - who go round stealing odd socks. In a twist, the socks are actually insured and the theft has raised publicity about the Oddies book. Can you say publicity stunt?

Matters literary...

I recently read about one of the most fascinating writers of our time, John Hodgman. He is totally irreverant, with a keen dry sense of humor...he reminds me a little of David Sedaris, Sara Vowel and David Rackoff combined, but much more nerdy...sexy too, but definitely nerdy... he's a former professional literary agent who lives in New York City, where he curates and hosts The Little Gray Book Lectures. He is a contributing writer at the New York Times Mag and a well known voice on public radio's This American Life. His fiction, non-fiction, and genres in-between have appeared in The Paris Review, McSweeney's, and The Believer. He's just released a new book called, The Areas of My Expertise.
Here's just a glimpse into his thoughts on the book...
Everything you need to know about my book is contained within its title: THE AREAS OF MY EXPERTISE. That is actually the shorthand title. The full title is:
"An Almanac of Complete World Knowledge Compiled With Instructive Annotation and Appranged in Useful Order by Me, JOHN HODGMAN, a professional writer, in THE AREAS OF MY EXPERTISE, Which Areas Include Matters Historical, Matters Literary, Matters Cryptozoological, Hobo Matters, Food, Drink, and Cheese (a Kind of Food), Squirrels & Lobsters & Eels, Haircuts, Utopia, What Will happen in the Future, and Most Other Subjects."
Which is to say that it is a handy desk reference and book of interesting trivia in the tradition of THE BOOK OF LISTS or THE PEOPLE'S ALMANAC, with the distinction that in MY book, all of the historical oddities and amazing true facts contained within it are entirely MADE UP, by me. This, paradoxically, allows it to be more
true. There are of course many fake reference books that precede and overshadow mine, whether we speak of THE DEVIL'S DICTIONARY, Borges's BOOK OF IMAGINARY BEINGS, or that other uncredited work of Borges, the Advanced Dungeons and Dragons MONSTER MANUAL. Indeed, many of the tallest tales surrounding Davy Crockett were circulated in the 19th century by the very popular and sometimes crude "Crockett's Almanacs," so there is a long history of the misinforming impulse within the form itself.
What these books lack, I suppose, are my own personal limitations and my own personal
and unhealthy focus on hoboes. Hoboes are that mysterious wandering people who once traveled our land by boxcar, singing strange songs and marking up every town with their cryptic little chalk symbols. There are, of course, still those who take on the train-hopping lifestyle and crusty pants of the hobo, but they are emulators and nostalgics--what we call, in the hobo observation business, "faux-boes." You can read more about this in my book, the title of which may be found above.
My thoughts on being a published writer: It is, of course, far more civilized to work IN publishing rather than being subjected to it. To become a writer is to become a beast of constant desperation: for funds and for attention and for readers. I think it is better suited to one less naturally anxious than I. I am so excited, happy, nervous, self-loathing, and proud that I just fell down again stunned. This time, I shall not get up again. Thank you.

That is all.

Strange impresarios

In hanging out with my special friend, I came to the conclusion that he is my muse on many levels. He gets me thinking about things that usually lay dormant, but today is an exception.
Remember the Gruesomes? They were the creepy prehistoric neighbors who moved in next door to the Flintstones. Since The Flintstones was based on The Honeymooners, and the Gruesomes were clearly inspired by The Addams Family, their meeting was a TV moment of dizzying cleverness, but somewhere along the way the genetic lines were split. Their philosophies on life and all that inspired them were truly fascinating. Possibly the strangest couple in the universe.
Weirdly, the diminutive, green complexioned troglodyte who also looks suspiciously like a version of Gomez, with his wife Creepela, the tall / lanky anorexic, shrill speaker who looks more like a caricature cross between the wicked witch of the east and Angelica Houston. Who could forget their son Goblin (Gobby for short), with his pet, the huge Schneider the spider. Once they begin their occupancy of the beautifully dilapidated Tombstone Manor is when the fun truly begins. The bemused Flintstones and Rubbles observe the offload from a moving van of the Gruesomes furniture, appliances, and pets: electric chair of early torture chamber period, guillotine cheese slicer, and giant bird; and their arrival in a hearse station wagon at their new home with a portable storm cloud shifting positions from above the hearse to atop Tombstone Manor (this was saying way more about their state of mind and the true depth of their views on life outside the home). The best bit of all is when Weirdly comes to the Flintstones front door to request a cup of red ants, and Fred laughs hysterically at what he believes is Gruesome's sense of humor. (Gruesome is serious, however, as it's for his anteater who's not yet had its lunch: Mr. Gruesome: "I'm Gruesome". Fred:"I was just about to say that." Mr Gruesome:"No, I'm Weirdly". Fred: "Yeah, you are sort of. But knowing it is half the battle.") BRILLIANT!
Later, on Wilma's invitation, Weirdly and Creepella luncheon on sandwiches which then culminates in Creepella dining on the tea cup and saucer ("these are delicious!). Despite his aversion to the Gruesomes' tastes, Fred agrees to act as caretaker for Gobby. Barney joins Fred in the task, and the two cavemen-light quickly experience the frights within the Gruesome abode as they strive to protect precocious Gobby, who really needs no protection at all, from the Gruesome Hela monster, an iguana, man-eating plant, basement alligators, octopus,as well as one shadowy giant ghoul, Gobby's uncle. Gobby is completely "at home" amid such grotesque phenomena, but his caretakers are terrified and endeavor without success to flee Tombstone Manor. Weirdly and Creepella return to their house of horrors from their excursion to find Fred and Barney imprisoned by the octopus' tentacles and command Gobby to order Ocky to release the men. Fred's indignation at his neighbors' disgusting way of life disintegrates when he learns that Mr. and Mrs. Gruesome are television celebrities in search of Bedrock talent for their variety show and auditions his bombastic jig in their livingroom, only to be rejected and dropped through a trap door outside to join Barney, who earlier and also to no avail, performed his own act for the strange impresarios. This of course, all gives way to one of the most memorable episodes of all: "The Hatrocks and the Gruesomes". The Hatrocks declared a truce with the Flintstones and come to Bedrock and Flintstone home territory to visit. Fred does not dare to offend his irritating guests, whose extended stay is crowding his family out of their own house, not to mention skyrocketing their food bill. Fred asks the Gruesomes to scare the irritating Hatrocks into leaving his property, but the Hatrocks are anything but frightened by the Gruesomes. Fred's last hope involves bombarding the Hatrocks' ears with some detested and now legendary "bug music" (a clear and distinct jab at the Beatles). The backwoods Hatrocks cannot abide the singing and quickly make haste to the worlds fair.
Now it's a new age and time for a revival...does anyone know Tim Burton's phone number?

Singapore Sling

It occurred to me the other day, after speaking with my Saturday friend, that I was not the only person around that had a big problem with others chewing gum in public. I have always enjoyed a good cleansing...some spearmint or cinnamon can be extremely refreshing after a meal full of garlic. However, what I do take issue with is the loud chomping and mashing that we are subjected to while in the public domain. We humans have been chewing gum for centuries, with very few side effects, except those brought on by sheer disgust. One of the nice side effects of chewing gum is that you increase the production of saliva, which is usually good for oral hygiene and breath. The bad side effects are things like sorbitol poisonning from too much sugarless gum (I have had several bouts of this during my lifetime, thus proving that too much of anything is not always good), mouth ulcers (see, it doesn't just come from things like chewing tobacco), high blood pressure and low blood potassium. Chewing gum in public places has given way the word "gumfitti", referring to gum pollution in public places, like graffiti. Gumfitti has created a whole new (and very expensive) industry involving fancy gum-removal devices like solvents and liquid nitrogen to be used to get the stuff off the streets and from other inhabited places like: park benches, tables, walls, statues, schools, all public transport... You name it...There is gum everywhere! I think that the law makers in Singapore got it right. They are one of the only places on the planet that has made the use of chewing gum for most non-medical purposes completely illegal and if you're caught, it's punishable by law. I am not suggesting that people should do away with this seemingly harmless and recreational past time, but I do think that we should at least respect our environment as well as the people who may be within ear shot.

It's Good To Be The King

This is a column brought to us by Tom Feran.
It points out my thoughts on the Burger King king so aptly, I had to share it...

If I had it my way, the king would go!
Spider-Man came to the door Monday night, along with Prince Valiant, a ghost and a couple of witches.
Fortunately, the Burger King king did not show up. I had steeled myself against the chance he would, but I don't know if you can really prepare for something like that.
If it happened, I imagine you would just drop the candy bowl and head for the liquor cabinet or gun rack, whichever is closer.
Maybe that's the mark of a really good Halloween costume. It probably comes closer to the trick-or-treat idea than the kids who dressed up as the Founding Fathers in a worthy but frankly nerdy masquerade. I should have told them to find Dick Cheney's undisclosed location to see what kind of candy he dishes out.
Nothing creeps me out faster than the Burger King king -- the guy in the oversize plastic head with a frozen smile that looks like a glazed death mask of the Unabomber.
The masks were supposedly the hottest item of the season. Burger King sold them out at 9 bucks a pop on a Web site, bkmasks.com, which features the king jumping out in a booga-booga fright move.
Somebody on eBay was selling "information on where you can purchase this mask" -- not the mask itself -- for $7, which is as close to a scam as you can get. There was also a $25 blow-up version. Bidding on these items topped $100.
All of this probably qualifies as evidence of a really effective advertising campaign. I just wonder why weird and disturbing characters are so popular hawking fast food, although it probably started with Ronald McDonald.
Ronald McDonald is a clown. Clowns are disturbing. If you are alone at night in a dark alley and get to choose between facing the Grim Reaper and a clown, you should take the Reaper.
Ronald and his sidekicks were a big success, however, and they set the table for more disturbing characters. Some people would nominate Jared, the fat guy who got thin eating Subway sandwiches. But he looks like Brad Pitt compared to the creepy talking "Bob" baby flogging Quizno's. Shudder.

Stop the world, I want to get off!

You know we're all in trouble when a former Catholic pop-singer cum-self-proclaimed English Rose-cum-reincarnated Biblical Hebrew character jumps to the aid of an egomaniacal Stepford wife marrying actor-cum-shrink...

MADONNA SAYS: 'LEAVE TOM CRUISE ALONE' .
Superstar MADONNA has leapt to the defence of TOM CRUISE, after witnessing the actor receive criticism over his controversial Scientology religion. .
After years of subtly practicing the religion, Cruise has began to speak more openly about his love for the Church of Scientology and has converted his pregnant fiancee KATIE HOLMES. .
Madonna, who has been slammed over her following of the Kabbalah, insists Cruise is happy as a Scientologist and the public and media should respect his religion. .
She tells the New York Daily News, "I find it very strange that it's (Scientology) so disturbing to people. It's not hurting anybody. "If it makes Tom Cruise happy, I don't care if he prays to turtles. And I don't think anybody else should." .
When discussing her love for the Kabbalah - a mystical offshoot of Judaism - Madonna is disgusted when critics label it a 'cult'.
She says, "We're all in a cult. In this cult we're not encouraged to ask questions. And if we do ask questions, we aren't going to get a straight answer.
The world's in the cult of celebrity. That's the irony of it."

Modern Times My Foot

What do guys really think?...here's a disturbing insight...

On women and relationships:

As Bill Maher crudely summed it up to Craig Ferguson on the "Late Late Show" on CBS: "Women get in relationships because they want somebody to talk to. Men want women to shut up."

Or, as Craig Bierko, a musical comedy star and actor who played one of Carrie's boyfriends on "Sex and the City," said, "Deep down, beneath the bluster and machismo, men are simply afraid to say that what they're truly looking for in a woman is an intelligent, confident and dependable partner in life whom they can devote themselves to unconditionally until she's 40."

Felix Dennis, who created the top-selling magazine Maxim, said "If we see you in the morning and night, why call us at work?"

A NY Times reader named Ray Lewis said: "Smart women are draining at times."

Some guys even have the audacity to say things like: "I'll get the check. You only have girl money." (This is actually a real term used by a select few in our current dating climate).

I know this boorish thought process can't be true of every man (I have met a few evolved ones in my lifetime), but these kinds of comments simply lead me to wonder why we bother to get involved with men in the first place....or maybe I am just having a bad day.

The Face Off

The Montreal Mayoral debates got under way this evening, between primary candidates: current Mayor, Gerald Tremblay and opposition leader, Pierre Bourque. Tremblay's pet name for Bourque early on was: "Flip Flop"...this was a fairly apt description given what ensued for the half hour following. Bourque's team should have done their homework and armed themselves with correct information and prepared the speaker with solid retorts. Instead, when facing off with a very concise and erudite Tremblay, he came across as confused, bumbling on facts and in my opinion, shrinking every second and losing all credibility when offering his "plans" for the next four years. He spoke about offering breaks to students, the elderly and the handicapped with a city wide program...what does this entail?...what is he offering exactly?? Hedid make claims that he wants to be the "people's mayor"... in what capacity? Could he have expanded on this? OF COURSE! Instead, he made more reaching promises, like putting a freeze on public transit fares and not increasing taxes in the various municipalities, but we don't get any sense as to how he can actually accomplish this without burdening the very people it's meant to protect or where exactly it is that the money to support this is meant to come from. Tremblay is a man with a good team and a clear vision... "laying a foundation for a new city, focusing on priorities like managing the tax dollars, protecting green spaces, celebrating diversity and heritage amongst the cultural communities, investing in roads and infrastructures / social housing, to continue to make Montreal a place of prosperity and progress...etc..." all issues that really matter to the average citizen. No utopian mumbo-jumbo, but all realistic and more than manageable. GO MONTREAL, indeed!

Hear and now

It's a wonderfully cool cloudy day in the big city and what a better way to celebrate the weekend than with new music. Today's offering comes to us from a relatively new UK band (2003), called Athlete, the album: "Tourist". Right out of the gate the similarities to ColdPlay are evident. However, there is something else going on here. The longer I play this cd, it becomes quite clear that it's a great mix of broader influences. If you listen closely, you'll find them a bit quirky, not in a Thom Yorke way, but there is something to Joel Pott's emo voice and the way he delivers the lyrics, that tease your senses and really make you fall in love their sound.
The opening track "Chances" is simply wonderous. The piano, the breaks in his voice, the orchestral beats...stunning. "Half Light" is more pop-oriented and wispy. It instantly reminded me of Robert Smith (The Cure) mixed with a bit of Tom Chaplin (Keane). The track "Trading Air" has the musical earmarkings of a Bowie influence. "Street Map" is a modern day love song. At three minutes into the track, you're taken away on this magic ride with blasts of firework beats and a voice that really pulls at your heart. The last song, called " I Love" is a sweet song, anchored down by excellent guitar work and sprinkled with bits of cool pulsing synthesizers , full of hope and happiness.
Overall, a good'un.

Masterminds

Reliving the past…what a concept. Rarely achieved and seldom done successfully. However, in the world of music, there are the exceptions. In 1994 Suede, as we came to know and love them, were no more. When Bernard Butler split company with Brett Anderson, it was deemed "a severed alliance that could never be repaired". Fast forward to the 21st Century and we have The Tears. This, the long awaited (and very surprising) reunion between two of the best songwriters ever to come out of England. Their latest offering is called “Here come the tears”. It will instantly remind you of several Suede albums, now ripe with hints of healing and a result that is both epic and astonishing. Dog Man Star, possibly the best album ever recorded, is definitely an influence here. “A Love As Strong As Death” brings back all the ethereal and grand sounds of “Still Life” (not in his infamous operatic way, but just as compelling). To me, this one is another classic sci-fi lullaby. The strings, the horns, the swaying guitars and Bretts voice soaring between the ears...pure heaven! I immediately loved “Two Creatures” which could have been taken straight off the “Coming Up” cd. As it plays on, you instantly envision a glamorous couple running through the streets of London, longing to escape the rush and bustle of the big city…searching for the sun and quiet seaside life (this is typically Suede’s mantra). “The Ghost Of You” is, in a word (with no pun intended here), haunting, in dealing with the aftermath of a death or more aptly, the death of a relationship and the seemingly impossible task of moving on.
Largely, this album covers all genres, from brash and beautiful pop songs, to ballads that will fill your soul, but all delivered in "perfectly formed packages". If you know your music, you might make comparisons to Mark Bolan, Bowie, Jarvis Cocker and even, dare I say, Mr. Simon Le Bon! Glam Rock never sounded so good.
Q magazine dubbed this cd " hopelessly overwrought" and "Frustratingly wrong-headed"...OH SHUT THE FECK UP!

Is breaking up that hard to do?

I simply love this article.
It's written by Ann Marie McQueen and it's views on dating and breaking up are spot on...

"Somehow I have become excellent at breaking up. I haven't, of course, always been like this.

There was a time, years and years ago, when I would make almost any excuse to drive by my estranged boyfriend's house, apparently hoping the sight of me in a speeding car would prompt thoughts of reconciliation. I once spent days lying in a darkened dorm room with a similarly broken-hearted roommate, the two of us shunning showers, emerging greasy-haired for mugs of hot Neo Citran, though neither was suffering from a cold. I did drunk-dial, and there was that uncomfortable lunch where I pretended to be excited about hearing about his new girlfriend while ignoring a searing pain in my chest.

The thing that has me thinking about this, aside from that recent liquor commercial where a succession of guys helpfully whisper absurd breakup excuses in their buddy's ear, is the new book Greg Behrendt wrote with his wife Amiira: It's Called Breakup Because It's Broken: The Smart Girl's Breakup Buddy.

Yes, the Sex and the City He's Just Not That Into You guy has decided we girls need more of his kind of talking-to.

"Breakups hurt like a motherf*#ker, but they are not the end of the world," writes Behrendt in Chapter One. "The pain is temporary, and if handled properly, they can even be life-changing."

I wholeheartedly agree, though I could do without the pints of ice cream/goblets of pinot noir cliches sprinkled throughout this (despite the subject matter) fun and frothy tome. Men aren't so good at breaking up either. I'm not the only woman who's pondered a restraining order while ignoring her persistently ringing doorbell. Unfortunately men just aren't nearly as likely to lurk around the self-help section.

Behrendt's point -- and I hate to hand it to the lucrative catchphrase coiner, but he does have one -- is that when it comes to breaking up, we often make it much harder on ourselves than it has to be.

As a sort of perverse rule, both men and women tend to like to elongate our suffering in this area. We do things like hang on to old stuff, look at happy pictures, play sentimental songs, go to places our ex might be, drink and eat too much to try to dull the pain.

We can't let go

We get stuck, but only because we can't let go. We linger on where we were, to avoid thinking about where we want to be.

Those who've been there, and frankly, I don't trust anyone who hasn't, know what I'm talking about: That individual who loudly proclaims being over his/her ex, then proceeds to reference his/her ex in 85% of his/her conversations.

If I'm honest, it's been about five years since I had a true broken heart. And back then, I could have used a gander at Behrendt's yet-to-be conceived of book. Sadly, he was still an unknown standup comedian while I was sleeping on a bare mattress, taking two weeks just to find enough energy to unpack the apartment I'd moved into and find my sheets.

I'm certain that wouldn't happen now that I've reached this current advanced state of breakup expertise. And though I'm not eager to test my new resolve -- that whole depths-of-despair thing was a bit of a bitch, as I recall -- I have learned a few things. Like cutting off all access after breaking up. What good will e-mailing do? Why call? Maybe we can be friends, I've come to realize, but not right now.

Even when faced with The Sudden Silence, which is what a friend and I have dubbed the abrupt, unexplained end of a once-promising romance in the early stages of dating, when explanations are apparently not required, the options are clear. Chin up, dignity intact, remembering closure only means knowing you'll wake up one day soon and the silence will be gone.

Hey, if Behrendt's little book with its lists and charts and, yes, even suggestions to journal and scrapbook through the pain can help just a few girls act less pathetic, I'm all for it.

I'm not quite sure what my hard-won breaking up skills say about my relationship-having abilities. Personally, I think getting good at giving up on a relationship that doesn't work -- whether someone has helped you to that realization or you came to it on your own -- means figuring out what you want so you can find one that does.

My last boyfriend was as accomplished a breaker-upper as I. He once told me "I simply turn the page." He wasn't lying.

We broke up on the phone. In a rare moment in the history of humans, both of us simply accepted our relationship had reached an intractable position and there was only one thing to do.

I'm sure he was sad; I know I was. But reaching out would have only put off the inevitable.

He was even a delight to bump into months later. Not weird, or standoffish, or mean.

Just a person I dated once, who made me glad I did.

I can't help hoping my future doesn't hold much more breaking up in it. I mean, how much practice does one person need?

But if two people are not going to end up with each other, I can't think of a better way for them to be."

Timeless values?

Dave Attell once made a joke about the Amish, saying "you know why I love to make fun of them, cos they'll never find out!"...well, this week we get one more reason to talk about the sect and question their reasoning...it seems that they've never condoned vaccinating their children against basic diseases. Outbreaks of preventable diseases such as polio, measles, rubella, and pertussis have all appeared within the Amish community in recent years. In North America, the population of Amish have virtually no vaccination coverage against such afflictions. The risks of contracting a disease like polio are almost extinct within the US, but if you're not vaccinated, well, that's another story entirely...
Now the Amish are paying the price, as polio has reared it's ugly head amongst their devoutly conservative community. Five cases have been discovered and so, the debate amongst it's elders has arisen again as to whether or not the vaccinations should exist at all. I'd like to know how it was concluded in the first place that in administering vaccinations it was somehow deemed immoral or blasphemous. Is it that unreasonable to want to help children grow up free of disease?

Dive bombing

So, the Dew Action Pro Sports Tour has come to an end this weekend and I gotta say, I'm a little sad. The BMX vert finals were held this afternoon and all the beautiful boys were out in their glory to perform the tricks of their well crafted trade. Jamie Bestwisk stole the show and took home the victory cup. Simon Tibron, Kevin Robinson and Chad Cagy worked out the kinks and lined up the top three. Put to extraordinary tunes, we saw them all throw it down in style. Jamie managed to go so high off the ramps, due to his extremely smooth riding. So much so, that it forced our hosts to burst out "he's so high, you could get giraffes under there!". When he was finished his glory ride, the audience went mad and proclaimed their joy by doing their best impression a la Wayne and Garth and began waving their arms in the "we're not worthy" vein (leading the pack was Ryan Guettler, another hero from these games). We witnessed a laundry list of tricks like the impossible table top, whipping the frame, the tail whip flair and the superman double tail whip. These feats sealed the deal on the day and pretty well transcended bike riding as we've come to know it. I for one, cannot wait until the end of November to see all the highlights from the tour.

Savage influence...

One would not usually equate Toledo Ohio with violence and rioting in the streets. Until now, we've reserved these incidents to LA.
It's normally a place of quiet beauty and select culture, with it's museums, ballet and symphony.
However, today will likely be a day that most of it's residents will surely want to forget. In a effort to allow freedom of speech and expression to reign, the city decided to let a Neo Nazi Group calling itself "America's Nazi Party" hold a demonstration which was in protest, of all things, against black crimes and gangs in their city. The group maintains that these "attacks" are almost always perpetuated against the white residents of the city. The group gathered at a city park just before noon and were to march under police protection. The news of the planned march was not taken lightly by the black community, who only the night before, were urged by some black city leaders and clergy to stay away and avoid giving it any credibility. Several people weren't going to let this happen without retaliation, even though the march was canceled in the end. About one-quarter of a mile away, along the planned march route, a mob formed.
The city was forced to use 150 police officers in both helicopters and on horseback, as well as on foot. They chased gangs of kids through the streets after several businesses and properties were destroyed and the gangs began throwing rocks and bottles at law enforcement. A group pounded on a storefront, others overturned cars and set a fire in a nearby bar. As a result, over 100 people were arrested.
The saddest irony is that the Nazi rally managed to insight the very behavior that they wanted to protest against in the first place. In the immortal words of Lou Dobbs from CNN, "This whole incident is one that I would categorize as a mindless response to a hate group". We agree.

Unloading

This came to me from a friend and I thought it was worth sharing:

Put The Glass Down...
A lecturer was giving a lecture to his students on stress management.
He raised a glass of water and asked the audience, "How heavy do you think
this glass of water is?" The students' answers ranged from 20g to 500gm.
"It does not matter on the absolute weight. It depends on how long you
hold it. If I hold it for a minute, it is OK. If I hold it for an hour,
I will have an ache in my right arm. If I hold it for a day, you will
have to call an ambulance. It is the exact same weight, but the longer I hold it,
the heavier it becomes."
If we carry our burdens all the time, sooner or later,
we will not be able to carry on with the burden becoming increasingly heavier.
What you have to do is to put the glass down, rest for a while before holding it up again.
We have to put down the burden periodically, so that we can be refreshed
and are able to carry on.
Whatever burdens you are having now on your shoulders, let it down for a
moment if you can. Pick it up again later when you have rested and cleared your head.
Relax.
Life is short, enjoy it now!

Towing the party line

I've lived in Montreal my entire life and followed our provincial politics with great concern for as long as I can remember. The campaign for a new mayor of our city began weeks ago and the trail has gotten seriously ugly, with no end in sight. Just when I thought we'd moved well beyond our having to endure the division between our two languages, we managed to get hauled back into the fire again. This time it was for the slogan "GO MONTREAL", which was somehow deemed too English by the French language police and it's separatist followers. RUBBISH! (how's that for a bit o' English!?).
Just this past week, more stupidities reared their head. This time in the form of municipal corruption accusations, where millions of dollars in contributions of $100 or more are now being questioned.
It seems to me (and most of the friends I surround myself with) that there is a "witch hunt" going on now in an attempt to make these municipal elections more news-worthy and create doubt by sensationalism (what else is new?). Former Mayor, Pierre Bourque, is accusing Gerald Tremblay of giving too many contracts to the private sector, and as part of his own political agenda, he claims that if elected into office again, he will form an ethics committee to probe into such issues.
To me, this is pandering and filibustering of the worst kind.
Thank goodness there is a voice of reason out there, represented by our chief electoral officer, who is refusing to start any investigations into party financing. I say, let's concentrate on getting Tremblay, in my opinion the most qualified person running, re-elected for another term and start working on issues that really matter.

Banking on stupidity

Few things in this world make me want to close myself off from the media forever. However, this week I read that there was an ongoing debate in the world of celebrity as to whether or not Tyra Banks' breasts were real. The uber-model extraodinaire asked an LA plastic surgeon to visit her on set of her recently created talk show to examine her on camera and finally put any rumors to rest on the matter. She supposedly demanded that all the men in the audience promptly leave the studio. She took off her bra, put on a robe and then to everyone's amazement, the doc proceeded to squeeze the charmins right then and there...later, he and his assistant performed a sonogram to be absolutely sure there were no foreign parts detected anywhere. The verdict, they're real.
Phew...That's a relief!

Hearing is believing

Well, today was a glorious day, as some new music finally arrived in the post.
I'll begin with Damien Rice. The album is called "O", and not since the world was introduced to Nick Drake and Jeff Buckley, has anyone (at least in my opinion) managed to compose songs that stir the soul and break your heart to the level that he can. Although the entire album is a stunner, there are two stand out tracks that will send chills up your spine: "Cold Water" and "Eskimo". So haunting and magnificent.
My second selection is Josh Rouse. This offering, called "Nashville" is a perfect recipe for folky blues with a peppering of strings and piano. His beautiful lyrics and crystal clear voice give us a glimpse into a very personal life journal. Put to music, it draws you in so closely, you feel as though you might be walking through a film of his life. From childhood stories to his grown up tales of heartache, every song speaks to you. The tune "Streetlights" is a sad tale of disconnect. So much so, that we get the sense he might just be singing about himself. "Middle School Frown" is a lyrical apology to a girl he mistreated in his youth. "Sad Eyes" is about coming out the other side of a failed marriage, with his offerings of faith, solace and encouragement (It's instantly reminiscent of Todd Rundgren). Like me, I am sure you'll want this cd to go on forever.
My final review is "Gene". As my old boyfriend used to say, "They're the band that write and sing the songs that The Smiths just never got round to". I couldn't agree more. "As Good As It Gets" is a compilation of many of their masterpieces. They are every bit as talented in conveying their messages of unrequited love and sadness as The Smiths ever were. They are also quite adept in their ability to paint vast pictures of both Manchester and London for the listener. The romantically lamentable "Olympian" to the sheer desperation of "Speak To Me Someone" and the pain of "You'll Never Walk Again" will have you crying out for more.

Ancient Chinese Secret, huh?

What happens to old liquor bottles when they die? If it's in China, they might end up back on the bar shelf, filled with something other than pure alcohol.
At least 10 people were arrested and more than 7,000 bottles of phony whiskey, cognac and other spirits were seized following a months long investigation into a nationwide bootlegging operation in China.
The gang collected empty, discarded bottles of name brand liquors and then filled them with generic drinking alcohol blended to taste, look and smell like the real deal. Wine samplers said the fake alcohol would easily have fooled ordinary consumers. This guy and his "associates" sold the stuff to nightclub managers around China who denied knowing it was fake, despite its heavily discounted price. The scheme began to unravel after police in the eastern port city of Tianjin received a tip from the China office of a Hong Kong liquor industry association that "spurious" liquor was being sold in the city on an usually large scale.
The guy was arrested with several others at his makeshift bottling plant in southern China and faces a sentence of 15 years to life in prison if convicted.
The case highlights the broad scope of fakery in China, where gangs counterfeit pretty much everything they can get their hands on.
An intellectual property rights crackdown launched last year, designated "Operation Mountain Eagle" has led to the cracking of more than 1,800 cases involving more than 1.3 billion yuan in sales of counterfeits. Result!

Every rose has it's thorn

Here are some rare personal ads that are definitely blog-worthy...

Groovy chick (24) seeks big hunk into otter greasing and cosy evenings at home. Box no: 8146

Rugged middle aged man, own teeth, seeks similar lady (without moustache) for social functions and housekeeping duties. Apply box no: 7321

Ickle bunny wants big bear for warm cuddles and heavy drinking sessions - must be clean and violent. Box no: 2648

Middle aged accordion enthusiast currently living with Mother seeks female for unsavoury practices. Dogs tolerated. Box no: 5955

Gorgeous gal, early 20s with showbiz connections seeks cool soulmate. Must have nice trousers & set of drums. Send photo. Box no: 7624

Bondage & string enthusiast, early 30s athletic female, seeks timid man, 18 - 60. Snuff takers preferred but not essential. Phone 882674 after 7.00pm.

Sheep for sale. Also dead horse available to suitable home. Box no: 9542

Pogo stick collector, male, mid 40s is looking 18 - 24yr old wild totty with adventurous nature. Ugly or fat women need not apply. Box no: 5423

Sensitive but macho poet/musician is waiting for Miss right - must have big chin and work in media. Box no: 4867

Snuffles the dog seeks bitch on heat. GSOH, non smoking. No scrubbers. Box no: 8568

Strikingly attractive professional lady, strict disciplinarian, seeks mild mannered gentleman for occasional torrid evenings of sick and perverse sado-masochism involving fish and lard. No weirdos please. Box no: 6585

The unessentials

Have you ever hated a song so much it made your teeth hurt? Pretty solid question, considering the musical offerings we've had to suffer through over the years. Forget the obvious picks like Jessica Simpson, Britney Spears or The Backstreet Boys (thankfully,none of which I own). Of late, I have been rediscovering my cd collection. I have found myslef listening, to what I thought at the time, was music more than worthy of my time. I came across some tunes that should be hung out to dry for all time. My first observation was the debut album by Third Eye Blind. Most of us will recall their break out track - "Semi-Charmed Life", which I have to admit, was pretty catchy and the lyrics very telling. The songs "How's it gonna be" and "The Background" are extremely haunting and tell the story perfectly of what can happen after a relationship turns sour. It's the rest of the album that defies explanation...you've never heard anything quite so objectionable! Which brings me to the very worst pick of all time, Dishwalla's "Pet your friends". This album is curdled milk to the extreme. I purchased this, without listening to it in the store first, which was an obvious mistake. Not only does this album make your teeth hurt, it might even make your ears bleed! Now I'll share a little of my own thoughts mixed with that of my Saturday Friend...we agree to a degree that ColdPlay have gone on to make a third album that, well, sounds exactly like the first two. I read somewhere that the lead singer of Snow Patrol (one the best new bands around) was asked to express himself about what they, as a band, had planned for the coming year. He replied in a very sweet way: "A new album, but I am terrified about it. It has to be good because I want people to realize that the last one wasn't a fluke". This is precisely how I feel about ColdPlay. They created a first cd which was brilliant (I'd be inclined to call this a fluke), filled with wonderfully tragic lyrics and a piano sound that stays with you long after the cd is over. That is, until they sold out the track "Yellow" to the media. This hit the airwaves like a smack upside the head...tuning into ABC for some primetime tv viewing became gut wrenching, as you knew the song was going to ring out during the stations promotional breaks. At that point, respect for them was lost and it was ruled that they were in a constant state of replay.

Last night I dreamed somebody cared

"Call me jaded, but the rubber bracelet was cool for about 15 minutes when no one knew what it stood for (referring to the original yellow Lance Armstrong model), but they have now passed out of “cool” and have become “tool”. This is overkill of the most egregious kind. Yuck! Why can’t people be normal and just donate $20 bucks to the Red Cross and be done with it?" I read this rant earlier today and I couldn't agree more. Only this morning I was stood in line at the car dealer when a man in his early 60's was walking about the place sporting, on each wrist, about six or seven of these "cause" bracelets, looking more like a multi-colored clown than a concerned citizen. I peered over my shoulder to get a closer look at his forearms and I was seconds from confronting him...begging the question WHY? He was a trendy man...this was evident by his choice of clothing and shoes, down to his sunglasses...but there is a line and he obviously crossed it.

Quote of the day

"When life gives you lemons, find someone that you despise and squirt them in the eye!"

FREEFLOW 411

The Dew Action Sports Tour continues and it never seems to disappoint.
Early on in the competition, we saw Ryan Guettler, our favorite Aussie, literally knock himself out during the first dirt run on his BMX. He took his jump and the next thing you knew, he was collapsed on the ground like a rag doll. This guy must have a horseshoe up his rear end, because later in the tour, he was back with a vengeance, in what the host called "one of the narliest moments ever in the history of the games", to showcase his tricks on the vert ramps. Although he wasn't successful in his endeavors due to his earlier injuries and some dizziness, keeping him from making top rank, the fans seemed to applaud his efforts as though he had anyway. During the next segment, we witnessed Scotty Cranmer do his thang and when it was all over, Kenan Harkin, a veteran BMX'er himself (he was the very first bicycle freestylist to perform a 360 backflip, ever!) stopped to interview the very young rider (all of 18 years old), commenting on the versatility he showed and asking about the complexities of his style...when the interview was completed, Cranmer looked into the camera and said "thank you SIR!"...I laughed so hard and clearly the hilarity of the moment wasn't lost on the co-hosts either, Pat Parnell and Robbie Floyd, who are both, like Kenan, sitting somewhere in their 30's, no doubt looking ancient to the athletes of these games, where I suspect the average age is probably around 22 years old.
Speaking of age, Dave Mirra, who is still himself quite young, is probably now considered to be the grand-daddy of the BMX world, now at the ripe old age of 31.
Quick, fetch me my walker and meds!

The chemicals between

Some great quotes about of all things, men...

"Fuck you and your untouchable face. Fuck you for existing in the first place."

"P.M.S.= Putting up with Men's Sh*t! "

"Men adore me, until I show my intelligence, assertiveness and independence. Then I suddenly seem to be a BITCH! Men are such fearful creatures!"

"If a man is standing alone in the woods and says something.....is he still wrong?"

"No matter how good he looks, some girl out there is sick and tired of his bullshit."

"I've come to the conclusion that my soulmate is having a never-ending dinner party with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny."

"Women might be able to fake orgasms, but men can fake whole relationships."

"Everyone is someone else's weirdo."

"Asking a man to be loyal and faithful is like asking a pig to fly!"

"I'm not ready for a commitment. Translation: I just want you to act like a wife, not actually be one."

"Guys who complain about going "down there" because, well..you know...the smell. I kindly invite them to visit the business end of a set of balls."

"Men are like parking lots....
All the good ones are taken and the rest are handicapped!"

"A recent survey asked 100 sexually active women: "Does your c*nt twitch after sex?"
98% replied: "No, he just rolls over and goes to sleep.."

Subarashii kotoba

Last year, one of the most insightful and intriguing films was released: Garden State, written and directed by the Scrubs guy, Zach Braff. I watched this movie with great anticipation and I must say, it delivered well beyond my expectations. It manages to cover some fairly serious issues, such as death, relationships, the impact of love, fear, loss and apathy. I was moved to tears several times but also found laughter in the most uncomfortable of situations...this is truly excellent scripting.
A couple of stand out lines from the film that made their way into my memory:

"I'm ok with being unimpressive, I sleep better."

"If you can't laugh at yourself, life is going to seem a lot longer than you'd like."

Do yourself a big favor and don't miss this movie.
The soundtrack is pretty flavorful too.

3D Life

Sometimes there is no explaining away the images that pass you by. Thankfully there exists a blog forum to share it all.
I know one thing for sure, I have a very interesting waking life.
I drove through the Olympic Village yesterday and it smelled of freshly baked bread. I don't know why, as from all accounts, there isn't a factory in sight. This went on for blocks and blocks... you could really taste the air. Then as I was stopped at a light, three butterflies, with distinctive stripes, fluttered past my windscreen (now that I think of it, they must have escaped from the "insect-arium" --> that's for all you South Park fans). In the afternoon, I had some minor surgery and was given some pretty interesting drugs. In my altered state, here's what I observed as I sat waiting for a cab... I looked up and I was on a street that I swear had no name (and no, that isn't my attempt at quoting the U2 song), I saw two really ugly people kissing and all I could think about was Gary Shandling and his rules on that ("you know who you are...stop that!"), then I spotted ants building a hill / home on a construction site and I am certain that the ant foreman was yelling at the workers...looked like there was a union negotiation going on, as all the marching had stopped at one point (good thing they weren't fire ants!), then there was the old couple that was trying to get into the medical building, canes on hand, and some students were pushing past them...the old man started to yell out in Yiddish and the kids screamed back in some language I couldn't make out (sounded slightly mocking and was more than likely made up),when all of a sudden, the man whacks one of the kids with his mighty staff...I was so taken aback, but burst out laughing.
Got in the cab and the music was so disturbing that I asked the driver to turn it off...he turned it down instead. Had THE bumpiest ride ever...he must have hit every pothole in the city and when I finally found my front door, I threw up!

Jesus don't want me for a sunbeam

Kurt Cobain once wrote that "all we know is all we are"...I disagree. I am by no means a religious person, but sometimes we all need to seek out something to either aspire to, or in my case, listen to... something else other than the voices in ones own head. People that know me well realize by now that most of my religious knowledge and interests come from either cartoons or seriously skewed writings. However, within the last year, I have been hooked on the sermons given by the young and very charismatic evangelist Joel Osteen. I like the fact that each time I seem to be seeking reason or counsel on something specific, he's usually on that topic when I tune in to catch him. For instance, there was the time that I was having to deal with a lot of others' negativity and it was bringing me down, big time. It's no secret that I can't abide what I deem "toxic" people and I usually do my utmost to keep them at bay. Sometimes this isn't always possible, as most of the individuals closest to me have been in that position for so many years, that striking them out is not the reasonable thing to do. Instead, I try to talk with them, help them to see other points of view or in some cases, just tell a joke. In extreme cases, I'll just retreat to my own surroundings, listen to knowing music or read and chill. I know from personal experience that some of the worst karma from others can really affect you.
I have always tried to maintain a well balanced and disciplined mind. To stay hopeful and to think only good thoughts, even when it's killing me to do it. I must admit, I failed miserably at this in recent times and lost out in the process. I am trying now to get into faith. Today Joel spoke about what responsibilities we have unto ourselves. How your own personal happiness is up to you, not someone else. How we can't control every person or every situation, but that attitude is important and to enjoy every day, no matter the circumstance...that one definition of joy is calm delight...in other words, be at peace, no matter what. Easy to say, not always easy to do. He suggests that if you feel defeated and full of regret, you can either give into it and pretty much give all of your power away in the process or you can decide to stand guard over the doorway of your own mind and in doing so, achieve inner happiness. I used to hear people say, "don't give life to your fears by speaking them out" and usually dismissed it by saying "they're cracked! What is that, a cult saying?". But it's absolutely true! I'm not deluded enough to expect to be able to walk around all the time with a smile on my face or see the positive...we all know there is a lot of shit in this world to contend with and sometimes you don't have the energy...or maybe it's just because you don't want to look like a complete lunatic in doing so. All this to say, I do have to admit that seeing the lighter side of most situations is easier than seeking out the negative and walking round with a sour puss on.
Sermon'out.

Adversity quotient...

A while back I learned thru the teachings of Dr. Paul Stoltz that there are three different types of people:
Quitters, campers and climbers.
To be a climber, you have to 1. be significant to someone (even yourself), 2. have a picture of the future and 3. feel the fear, but do it anyway and to always remember, YOU DON'T GET STRENGTH UNLESS YOU HAVE ADVERSITY.
I recently went through my own bit of personal adversity.
I expressed myself without fear and got something back in return that I wasn't prepared for...rejection.
Someone once told me that you're never too high to fall, but it's what you do with the outcome of it that counts most of all. I remembered that the first recipe for happiness is to always avoid too lengthy meditations on the past.

With goals in mind, this entry although real is certainly metaphoric...it comes to us from one of my very adventurous friends...
"What inspired me to climb Kili was a book I read years ago by Michael Crichton called "Travels". In one chapter, he talks about his climb up the mountain, and I was inspired to do the same. I had forgotten the details in the book, so I purchased it the other day, and last night, I re-read the chapter. I was very disappointed, and satisfied at the same time!! He actually SAYS he made it to the summit, but anyone who has now climbed Kilimanjaro knows that his statement is false!! He actually only made it to Gilman's point, which is still about an hour and a half from Uhuru - the highest point on the mountain. As well, he was still below Stella point, which is the rim of the crater, and the start of the magnificent viewing spots for the remaining 10 glaciers which still adorn the top.

My satisfaction comes in knowing that I DID make it to the top - all the way to Uhuru peak."

Beautiful!

Defiantly uplifting

My scrapbook of quotes:

"It doesn't matter if other people have bigger problems...
Until I get a bigger problem, mine is the biggest!"

"Tact is the unsaid part of what you think."

"There is no such thing as a sad ending. In time, every ending will become happy. The sad ending is only because the author stops telling the story. But, the story goes on, it's just a story untold."

"If you saw ypur house burning and there was a cat and Rembrant inside the burning house, which would you save? The cat or the Rembrant?
Well, you'd save the cat, because the cat is alive and art is dead! It's paint, on a canvas, which is dead...seemingly; but, if you save the art, the art represents life - without art, you couldn't discuss the cat, love the cat, touch the cat..."

"Because we don't know when we will die, we get to think of life as an inexhaustible well. Yet, everything happens only a certain number of times and a very small number really. How many times will you remember a certain afternoon of your childhood, some afternoon that's so deeply a part of your being, that you can't conceive of your life without it? Perhaps four or five times more, perhaps not even that. How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty and yet, it all seems limitless."

"Apollo stood on the high cliff. Come to the edge, he said. It's too high, they said. Come to the edge, he said. We'll fall, they said. Come to the edge, he said...and they did...and he pushed them....and they flew."

"Abundance and prosperity belong to each and every one of us. The trouble is, most people cannot accept that, so they lives lives of denial and self deprevation. You should not make the mistake...enjoy! May it be the first of many great indulgences in your life."

"Parted friends coming in contact at long intervals are like the characters of a play. The living drama maintains it's interest at every reappearance."

"If you measure success as a quantitive thing, you'll be very sad at the end of the day. Happiness isn't success, success is happiness."

"I know I am god, because when I pray, I find I am talking to myself."

"Goals are like stars; they may not be reached, but they can always be your guide."

"Success in relationships is more than finding the right person; it's being the right person."

"IF = Instant Failure."

"If A=Success, then the formula is:
A=X+Y+Z
X is work
Y is play
and Z is...KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT!
Nobody ever learns anything while they are talking. If you make it a habit to listen more than you speak, you can't go too far wrong." -- Albert Einstein

Superstars of irony

As is fitting for a world bent on irony, this might get you laughing, as it did me:
There is a company, called Clear Play, which takes any Hollywood film (on DVD) and filters/edits out all the profanity, sex scenes, violence and pretty much anything deemed inappropriate for our little ones (and prudes alike). This kind of service, although appreciated by a certain minority, is also incredibly maligned by those producers and directors within the film community at large.
The last name of the CEO for the company: Aho
Is it just me, or does his name seem edited too?

Driven into therapy

Most of my mates know that due to the nature of my job, I spend a lot of time on the road in my car. This affords me the opportunity to see many areas of the great city that I live in. Along my daily commutes, I am priviledged (and then again, not so much) to observe many interesting people and goings on about town. Here are just some of the things that I noticed this week:
Stopped at a railway crossing, there were several pedestrians and cyclists, along with the many cars, as the trains ran by. I happened upon a man, who was navigating his ancient 10-speed, in what I can only describe as a SPEEDO!
He had a cigarette strategically dangling out one side of his mouth which sported a very unique and terribly cheesy handlebar moustache. He had a six pack in the front basket of his bike and naturally, was wearing socks with sandals. I rubbed my eyes, hard, in disbelief, but when the head-fog cleared, he was in fact still there!
Then there was the truck driver who was inspecting his engine on a side street. I was just leaving a clients lot when I spotted him. He was parked just across from my car and when I got into the drivers seat, I was instantly faced with his back as he was trying to make his way up into the cab portion of his vehicle. At the very moment that I turned on the ignition, he hoisted himself up and bam! as if on cue, his ass crack revealed itself to me, as he proceeded to lose his jeans. I was so mortified, but in the hilarity of the moment, I burst out laughing. I am sure he heard me.
Later in the day, as if my brain could take anymore, I witnessed a real life mullet and equally disturbing pair of mutton chops...all on the same person! Where are the grooming and style police when you need them?

Divine Imagery

You can find religion and pretty much anything having to do with sex, everywhere.
It was reported from Taiwan that advertisers were forced to pull an anti-aids campaign ad that had a nun as a spokesperson holding a condom. The advert featured the holy roller preaching "Although I don't need one, even I know". Apparently this was plastered all over the walls of various hospitals in the region, as well as in train stations. It was said that the Catholic Church was outraged. Their reason: "nuns take vows of poverty, chastity and obedience and the Vatican considers all forms of contraception a sin." Although using a sister of mercy to promote safe sex is somewhat in poor taste, you have to admit, it's totally thought provoking. There are about 23 million people living in Taipei, of those, 300,000 are Catholics. Not only should they be promoting safer sex, they should also seriously address the issue of birth control. Actually, this puts me in the mind of The Simpsons when Marge equated the Vatican with it's opposition to birth control by stating: "no one is going Catholic...three children is enough thank you very much!".

Where's your head at?

I was chatting to a special friend the other day and he told me that the smell of Jersey Milk chocolate bars reminded him of fall. This set me wondering. How many of us suppress our olfactory senses, never expressing them to anyone. For those of you who aren't familiar with what "olfactory" senses are, here's what you should ask yourself: "How do you smell? Why do you smell? Have you ever actually thought about it? Did you ever smell something that made you hungry, happy, upset, angry...or made you recall a certain memory? Well, there is a part of our brain that contains something called the olfactory bulb located in the front of the brain which communicates scent. There are many theories surrounding the exact process to our sense of smell. The most popular of these theories are comprised of molecular rings and receptors that cause us to take in odor proteins, resulting in smells." I find this to be a fascinating part of the human makeup. With this in mind, I wanted to share exactly what smells gave me that deja vu feeling:
Stale cigarettes and coffee reminds me of my afterschool bible classes, where myself and a bunch of gradeschool kids would gather. It was held in the basement of the teachers home and clearly, though I didn't know it then, she was a chainsmoker and caffeine addict.
The odor of certain fried foods reminds me of my numerous visits (as an adult and a youngster) to my grandparents' homes.
Bleach and medicinal smells have me recalling all the visits I had to make to the hospital and nursing homes where my grandparents eventually ended up spending their remaining days. This is especially awful and I get really melancholy when in the face of it.
Certain deodorants remind me of a former boyfriends t-shirts. One of which I stole after a trip together and kept, unwashed, for months, until I accidentally threw it in a load of laundry. Serves me right for stealing it in the first place...you can all stop judging me now!.

Pushing the senses...

I suppose my appreciation for music began when I was a pre-teen. My brother was a Dj and thus, my exposure to all manner of different sounds began. Until a few years ago, I couldn't get enough of a band called Suede. Their influences: obviously Bowie, Bolan, Echo and the Bunnymen and the ever melancholy lyrics of duo Morrissey and Marr. The sound: always larger than life, fusing rock beats with orchestral overtures. It always manages to take me to a place that is euphoric. Since 1992, the music scene in the UK produced bands that took us from the ridiculous (Bronski Beat) to the sublime (Blur). From this, spawn a realm of sound that defies description and tickles the senses endlessly. My new obsession is a collaboration of the band Blur (amongst others), called Gorillaz. This animated pop-group combines hip-hop, dub sounds and trippy tunes that will provoke anyone to get their groove on. The genius behind this toon-army is down to Damon Albarn and artist Jamie Hewlett (most people familiar with the comic Tank Girl will recognize his work and moniker). The vision, techniques and colors used to create these 2D wonders are magnificent. If this animation creation doesn't peek your interest (and I defy anyone to pass it by without comment), surely the music will inspire and compel you to think beyond what any of us have come to expect from artists. Experimenting with the mainstream never sounded so good.

The legend in Somerset...

cool rants
The place: Somerset, England
The property: Bay Tree Manor
While renovating the southern wall on their property, an American couple living in England had a landscaper/contractor come and survey the area. He looked around, then told them that he was sure that because the home was built in the late 1600's that there was more than likely a well on the property some place. With ordinary metal hangers, he began water dowsing, making his way round the land and low and behold, the moment he came upon traces of water underground, the wires crossed! There was indeed a well.
Soon after they built up the well, complete with rope and bucket.
One night, whilst entertaining friends, they decided to use the well to chill some ale.
They lowered 6 bottles into the well and later went over to retrieve them for consumption.
Upon lifting up the rope, they soon discovered that two were missing and nowhere to be found within the well itself.
Legend has it that the property is inhabited by faeries. Thus, there are at least two faeries wandering round, underground or in the surrounding forest, drunk!

Sayonara Boris!

cool rants
So it finally happened. Robert Novak mouthed off during a live debate on CNN and walked off the set.
CNN was mortified by his obvious disregard for the viewing public and the reputation of that of the newstation and put him on suspension. Hallelujah!
This guy has been nothing more than pain in the backside of viewers for years. Crossfire was always interesting, but when he was on, it made your blood boil. During a debate with James Carville (hosted by Ed Henry), a few words were exchanged that let's just say, made Novak quite angry. Carville took some pot shots while discussing Novaks views on the GOP candidacy of Katherine Harris, teasing him about his leftist ways and asking him to prove that he had a backbone. Novak was outraged and instead of coming back at him with an equally compelling remark, he called it "bullshit" and promptly walked off the set. This, from a man that continues to refuse commentary for his involvement in outing the name of CIA officer Valerie Plame in his newspaper column. In the meantime, respected NY Times journalist Judith Miller has been jailed for months now for her lack of cooperation in the investigation in refusing to give up her sources. Novak should be probed, and deeply for his involvement. Come to think of it, maybe some time in the big house would help to that end.... ;-)

The last supper...

cool rants

I hope that some of you caught the Daily Show on Wednesday night this week, with pseudo journalist Bernard Goldberg as guest. It was simply brilliant. Jon was so quick and his comments on Bernies book were unreal. The book discusses Bernies' take on the list of so-called 100 people who are destroying America. Jon proceeded to challenge Goldberg on how his book was nothing more than Hollywood tripe, aimed at the right. It was interesting and ironic that the journalist-light hadn't even considered those who hold the real power, the big wigs in Wahshington, not Hollywood.
I say, damn Oprah's book club! Jon has created a following in the literary world that could beat her nonsense in a dual any day.

On another note, I decided that my blog would be a great venue for those wanting the share a list of dinner guests they'd like to see at their table. The list should include anyone from history (living or dead), any artist, singer, playwright, business mogul, designer, writer/journalist, movie star...You name it and a brief reason why.
Here's mine:
I would invite Jesus, because you know we need answers and I'd like to ask him what he thinks of South Park and The Simpsons take on him.
Jon Stewart for the brilliant quips, observations and in the off chance that I decided to also invite Tucker Carlson and Robert Novak, something like a war would break out!
Lisa Simpson for her take on just about everything, that, the perspective of a brilliant 8 year old girl.
Chris Cornell for the sound and the face. Additionally, I'd also like to ask him why he felt compelled to write the song "kickstand", which was obviously about dick!
Rick James because everyone wants to know how he became so messed up and also to inquire about how he really felt about working with Dave Chapelle.
Scott Weiland because the lyrics to his songs defy explanation and it can't just be the drugs talking.
Darwin because theology is something we never talk enough about and I want a proper debate on creationism vs. evolution.
Alexander the Great, because conquering takes a lot of chutzpah and knowing how he managed to do it would help to clarify a lot of unanswered questions in history.
Michelangelo because the paintings were awesome and to ask if he had a good chiropractor.
Homer, both Groening version and epic poet, because you know the two don't mix, but the outcome would be hilarious.

I am sure there are plenty of other people that will pop into my head, but for now, this is my entry.
Feel free to share yours.