In the 22 days since I last posted, I got a new job in Guelph as a supervisor, had Christmas in Timmins, and got sick twice. I'm in the middle of sickiness bout #2, which is odd for me. Run-down? Maybe, but it's a hell of a time for it to start considering I report to work at my new job next Tuesday.
Christmas in Timmins was fun. (I went sliding/sledding!) It was my wife's first time away from North Bay for the holidays, and the first time that my brothers and I were all home for the holidays at the same time in about four years. K. had fun, though I knew that she missed being home. The drive back to North Bay was brutal, as there were a lot of people on the road, and a lot of them driving at or below the speed limit. So painful. One of my presents was "Lies, and the lying liars who tell them", by Al Franken. Incredible piece of work, really, and I think that I shall post some quotes in a few days. Then, another medium for Bush Bashing was given to me, which is the George Bush calendar. It actually has a quote for every day of the year. In reading the camera, I've come to the conclusion why so many comics expend little effort in going after this guy. He does most of the damage to himself.
Which really makes me wonder why people ignore it. But that's another story, and I'm all sicked out.
Later.
Tuesday, December 28, 2004
Monday, December 06, 2004
Rurality, meetingosity, and the trafficking of cows.
The English language may not be dead, but it is certainly choking on a piece of meat. Now that the likes of Pierre Berton (RIP) have ridden off into the sunset, there are less and less "groups of folks" (thank you President Bush) to adminster grammatical heimlich manouevers.
Some examples: The other day, while visiting Halifax, President Bush referred to the ban of Canadian beef by American special interest farmers that just want to be able to gouge American consumers... and I quote:
"I don't know if you've got bureaucracy here in Canada or not, but we've got one in America, and there are a series of rules that have to be met in order for us to be able to allow the trafficking of cows back and forth," he said. "So we're working as quickly as we can. And I understand the impact it's had on your industry here."
Trafficking of cows? What the hell? I don't remember the last time I felt the urge to snort a whole side of beef. I'm absolutely blown away.
Today in a meeting about servicing rural and remote regions, a colleague referred to the "rurality" of the situation. At that point, the meetingosity of the whole situation became too much for me and I started sniggering a fair bit.
These are just some examples of the English language gone bad. I'm not prince in this respect, but most of my maligning is usually deliberate. These folks aren't even trying.
Snerg.
Some examples: The other day, while visiting Halifax, President Bush referred to the ban of Canadian beef by American special interest farmers that just want to be able to gouge American consumers... and I quote:
"I don't know if you've got bureaucracy here in Canada or not, but we've got one in America, and there are a series of rules that have to be met in order for us to be able to allow the trafficking of cows back and forth," he said. "So we're working as quickly as we can. And I understand the impact it's had on your industry here."
Trafficking of cows? What the hell? I don't remember the last time I felt the urge to snort a whole side of beef. I'm absolutely blown away.
Today in a meeting about servicing rural and remote regions, a colleague referred to the "rurality" of the situation. At that point, the meetingosity of the whole situation became too much for me and I started sniggering a fair bit.
These are just some examples of the English language gone bad. I'm not prince in this respect, but most of my maligning is usually deliberate. These folks aren't even trying.
Snerg.
Friday, November 26, 2004
Scraping the bottom of the barrel.
Yep. They did it. CNN.com, my web-based filthy habit, decided to inform the world on the front-end of their homepage that the Bush twins are turning 23 years old over the American thanksgiving holidays. What a relief. For a moment I was worried that they were actually going to fill the void left by the conclusion of the Scott Peterson trial with some actual news coverage.
I liken my morbid fascination with what my friend has dubbed "Chicken Noodle News" to the same kind of hypnotic effect that Homer Simpson's jiggling fat had when Gillian Anderson put his half-naked body on the treadmill to lose some weight. You just can't wait to be disgusted even further.
It of course makes sense. North American culture is obsessed with either grossing out or scaring the hell out of itself. It's all part of that innate desire that we have to inflict some kind of pain on ourselves. I have theory about that. Historically and presently, people on this end of the planet haven't had to put up with half of the crap that the rest of the world has had to endure. We're essentially talking about over 300 million people with a rough case of what the experts call "survivor guilt". Or should I say "cross-bearing envy"? Seriously, kids, who doesn't like to feel accomplished for toughing out a day at school or the office while sick with a case of the sniffles? Our lives in general have such little challenge or controversy that we feel compelled to inject chaos into our lives every chance we get. People likely cheat on spouses because they're bored, most shoplifters don't really need what they steal, and kids butt to the front of the line with the same sprirt that we kick around ant hills for fun. Don't tell me that you've never tried it... it's amazing how those little chuckers rebuild those things twice as big....
But I digress. The bottom line is that if we were lemmings, we would be negotiating a group rate to pitch ourselves off of the cliff every spring.
It is in the spirit of that kind of self-infliction that I entered into a fools bet last week with Ginny. I was certain that a guest star on CSI was none other than the same guy who played Lietenant Tom Paris on Star Trek Voyager. Yes, it was a geek's bet. Now, it ended up that it was played by someone who could have easily been this guy's twin. Nevertheless, I am now contracted to Ginny to be her slave for a day, as per the condition of our bet. Now, I am normally good at trivia and matters of general knowledge, but have a bad history when it comes to identifying TV stars for some strange reason. (Honestly, who would have thought the guy who plays the doctor on Everwood was Treat Williams, and not Billy Ray Cyrus? Who?) So with this knowledge in hand, why in god's name would I enter a fool's bet like that?
The answer? I'm clearly a sucker for punishment. A very willing sucker for punishment. After all, it gave me something to write about.
I liken my morbid fascination with what my friend has dubbed "Chicken Noodle News" to the same kind of hypnotic effect that Homer Simpson's jiggling fat had when Gillian Anderson put his half-naked body on the treadmill to lose some weight. You just can't wait to be disgusted even further.
It of course makes sense. North American culture is obsessed with either grossing out or scaring the hell out of itself. It's all part of that innate desire that we have to inflict some kind of pain on ourselves. I have theory about that. Historically and presently, people on this end of the planet haven't had to put up with half of the crap that the rest of the world has had to endure. We're essentially talking about over 300 million people with a rough case of what the experts call "survivor guilt". Or should I say "cross-bearing envy"? Seriously, kids, who doesn't like to feel accomplished for toughing out a day at school or the office while sick with a case of the sniffles? Our lives in general have such little challenge or controversy that we feel compelled to inject chaos into our lives every chance we get. People likely cheat on spouses because they're bored, most shoplifters don't really need what they steal, and kids butt to the front of the line with the same sprirt that we kick around ant hills for fun. Don't tell me that you've never tried it... it's amazing how those little chuckers rebuild those things twice as big....
But I digress. The bottom line is that if we were lemmings, we would be negotiating a group rate to pitch ourselves off of the cliff every spring.
It is in the spirit of that kind of self-infliction that I entered into a fools bet last week with Ginny. I was certain that a guest star on CSI was none other than the same guy who played Lietenant Tom Paris on Star Trek Voyager. Yes, it was a geek's bet. Now, it ended up that it was played by someone who could have easily been this guy's twin. Nevertheless, I am now contracted to Ginny to be her slave for a day, as per the condition of our bet. Now, I am normally good at trivia and matters of general knowledge, but have a bad history when it comes to identifying TV stars for some strange reason. (Honestly, who would have thought the guy who plays the doctor on Everwood was Treat Williams, and not Billy Ray Cyrus? Who?) So with this knowledge in hand, why in god's name would I enter a fool's bet like that?
The answer? I'm clearly a sucker for punishment. A very willing sucker for punishment. After all, it gave me something to write about.
Thursday, November 18, 2004
Did I Ask For Too Little... More Than A Lot?
My dad was in town and decided to treat K. and I to dinner. I'm 26 and he still does that, and I still accept. It feels too surreal if its done any other way.
We went to Casey's, and ordered our beverages. Then, we decided to order mushroom caps and onion rings. Apparently, their new head-office revised menu decided to ditch those two. Head office did, however, graciously leave their more expensive appetizers on the menu, and then proceed to charge an average of a dollar more for those items in question. Who is going to pay $9.99 for six to seven chicken wings? Not this sucker. I'm saving my money for something sensible, like a crack-coccaine binge. I didn't say much right off the bat but it was pretty clear that I wasn't impressed, and the apologetic nature of our server did the opposite of placate me.
My rage escalated. I suggested another place that we could go to that had our fave appetizers, and then proceeded to walk up to the waitress and cancel our drink order, informing her that we would be going to another establishment. We went to the moose, where they had what we wanted, plus their frigging awesome wings.
K. seemed moderately shocked that I would do something as outlandish as cancel an order, and she's right, it is not "normal" to do that. It is, however, in my mind, quite proper. I don't think that people should have ridiculously high standards, but if an establishment doesn't meet their needs, they should politely change establishments, and not feel compelled to stay just because they occupied the booth at that chow joint for a minute or two. It feels awkward to leave like that, or send food back to the kitchen, or complain about slow service, but it can also, when done responsibly, be quite liberating.
Oh, and we got a beta fish. We're calling it Shark-Bait.
We went to Casey's, and ordered our beverages. Then, we decided to order mushroom caps and onion rings. Apparently, their new head-office revised menu decided to ditch those two. Head office did, however, graciously leave their more expensive appetizers on the menu, and then proceed to charge an average of a dollar more for those items in question. Who is going to pay $9.99 for six to seven chicken wings? Not this sucker. I'm saving my money for something sensible, like a crack-coccaine binge. I didn't say much right off the bat but it was pretty clear that I wasn't impressed, and the apologetic nature of our server did the opposite of placate me.
My rage escalated. I suggested another place that we could go to that had our fave appetizers, and then proceeded to walk up to the waitress and cancel our drink order, informing her that we would be going to another establishment. We went to the moose, where they had what we wanted, plus their frigging awesome wings.
K. seemed moderately shocked that I would do something as outlandish as cancel an order, and she's right, it is not "normal" to do that. It is, however, in my mind, quite proper. I don't think that people should have ridiculously high standards, but if an establishment doesn't meet their needs, they should politely change establishments, and not feel compelled to stay just because they occupied the booth at that chow joint for a minute or two. It feels awkward to leave like that, or send food back to the kitchen, or complain about slow service, but it can also, when done responsibly, be quite liberating.
Oh, and we got a beta fish. We're calling it Shark-Bait.
Tuesday, November 16, 2004
Take Me Back To The Start....
Yes, well, I'm talking with my boss and I thought that I burned all bridges when I mentioned that I was actively looking for employment with another ministry. As an intern, I'm entitled, but if I got employment elsewhere soon, I would be leaving after only six months. This would seem strangely familiar, as it is my track record for jobs over the last year and a half. I'm never fired, I just leave to go up a few pay scales and get more experience. I just always have to kick myself back to the beginning of the learning curve, which can be a little draining at times.
My manager was suprisingly cool about the notion, and offered to make some calls on my behalf to scout out opportunities.
I really should clue into this whole world. I always stress out about leaving, and then realize that "oh my god", the business will continue in my absence quite fine, thank you. Of course, my nervousness about leaving is not really about my delusions of indespensibility, but about my sense of loyalty to organizations I work for. I think that is a good thing. I am usually pretty loyal and focused in whichever place I work. If I find that my heart is not in a job, I WILL leave it. It is simple as that.
Enough of my sanctimonious prattling. The lark visited this past weekend, and it was le fun. I think that my wife would have liked to have spent more time alone with her, but it was quite difficult to accomplish. It is quite difficult for one to spend everyday with a friend for two or three years, and then POOF discover that it is no longer the status quo. I can empathize. I had a few friends in my high school years that I spent almost every day with... all three moved out west. It must have been my stench or something.
Wow, most nonsensical and disordered entry yet. The re-election of the Bush has totally taken the wind out of my sails.
John Morgan died today. That's rough. He was easily one of my favorite Canadian comedians.
My manager was suprisingly cool about the notion, and offered to make some calls on my behalf to scout out opportunities.
I really should clue into this whole world. I always stress out about leaving, and then realize that "oh my god", the business will continue in my absence quite fine, thank you. Of course, my nervousness about leaving is not really about my delusions of indespensibility, but about my sense of loyalty to organizations I work for. I think that is a good thing. I am usually pretty loyal and focused in whichever place I work. If I find that my heart is not in a job, I WILL leave it. It is simple as that.
Enough of my sanctimonious prattling. The lark visited this past weekend, and it was le fun. I think that my wife would have liked to have spent more time alone with her, but it was quite difficult to accomplish. It is quite difficult for one to spend everyday with a friend for two or three years, and then POOF discover that it is no longer the status quo. I can empathize. I had a few friends in my high school years that I spent almost every day with... all three moved out west. It must have been my stench or something.
Wow, most nonsensical and disordered entry yet. The re-election of the Bush has totally taken the wind out of my sails.
John Morgan died today. That's rough. He was easily one of my favorite Canadian comedians.
Thursday, November 11, 2004
The Last Post
Memorial Gardens was packed to the gills today. I stood outside the main arena area, close to where the zamboni comes in. Two minutes of silence passed, and then two men began to play "The Last Post". I could hear the other one clear as a bell across the arena. The second was performed by an elderly veteran a few feet away from me. His face showed signs of strain as his trumpet sputtered to a start. His rendition sounded tired, flawed, and seemed to be off tune with his counterpart's. It was easily the most beautiful thing that I had ever heard.
.
My dad's father was leading a convoy across a bridge in Italy. The driver of the lead truck was scared to cross the bridge because of enemy fire in the area. The convoy would have been caught in the fight if they had not crossed the bridge. My grandfather pulled out his pistol, pointed it at the man's head, and said "You will drive this truck across this bridge or I will shoot you myself."
He was no older than I am now.
He was no older than I am now.
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