I worry for iPods, and the iPeople that inhabit them.



It isn't like this is a big innovation, or anything. MP3 players have been around for a long time. When I ask iPeople about what is it that makes the iPod so special, the only thing they can ultimately come up with is the distinctive white ear-nubbins.

These 'ear-nubbins' (my own word, I am disinclined to expend the energy and time necessary to search the weeb for what they are officially called) are the kind of personal sound system that inserts directly in the ear. The result? Total blacking out of any real world aural awareness!

In the heavy traffic of downtown Toronto (well, heavy for Canada, anyway), I have seen people wearing ear-nubbins walking, on bikes, or worst of all, driving cars. (That way, they can't hear my screams!).

People that wear ear-nubbins in public in a large city, unless they are in a park or something, deserve mention in the Darwin Awards when they are inevitably killed in some senseless accident that could have been avoided if they were a little more defensively minded.

LESSON: DON'T DISABLE ONE OF YOUR PRIMARY SENSES IN DANGEROUS SITUATIONS.

There. I have said it.

What is it with Australians?

Is it just me, or are they way, WAY too happy? I was working as a breakfast cook at a hotel in Lake Louise, AB in the mid-90s, where a significant proportion of the staff were Australian. While the Canadians on the morning shift (6h00-14h30) were uniformly glum (and rightly so), the Australians were so uniformly cheery that I often had to control the urge to break a chair over their collective heads.

When they gathered as a group for social events, they reminded me of nothing so much as a pack of happy, hooting, rambunctious monkeys.

True, there was that one Australian dude a dozen or so years ago that went psycho and gunned down a bunch of his countrymen, but I consider him the exception that proves the rule.

They still seem like a group of happy monkeys.

Monkeys, I say!

Thanks to A-lo from Mäko Media for the new, somewhat macabre header image. As much as I like it, I am still finding it disturbing to confront first thing in the morning, when I am still "oot a' the pipes".

General Smedley Butler.
One of the Good Ones.

"WAR is a racket. It always has been.

It is possibly the oldest, easily the most profitable, surely the most vicious. It is the only one international in scope. It is the only one in which the profits are reckoned in dollars and the losses in lives."

-Maj.-Gen. Smedley Butler, War is a Racket

That Smedley Butler actually ever even existed gives me some hope -- maybe all the militarists aren't assholes, after all.

Butler was "the most decorated Marine in U.S. history", yet he wrote War Is A Racket, amongst other things.

A choice quote, written in an article for Common Sense magazine:

"I spent 33 years and four months in active military service and during that period I spent most of my time as a high class muscle man for Big Business, for Wall Street and the bankers. In short, I was a racketeer, a gangster for capitalism. I helped make Mexico and especially Tampico safe for American oil interests in 1914. I helped make Haiti and Cuba a decent place for the National City Bank boys to collect revenues in. I helped in the raping of half a dozen Central American republics for the benefit of Wall Street. I helped purify Nicaragua for the International Banking House of Brown Brothers in 1902–1912. I brought light to the Dominican Republic for the American sugar interests in 1916. I helped make Honduras right for the American fruit companies in 1903. In China in 1927 I helped see to it that Standard Oil went on its way unmolested."

Hey! Get your tongue out of there, fatso!

Will the humiliations never cease? First Canada sends our own troops as sepoys to Afganistan to help pacify the locals in advance of a new oil pipeline, then Stephen Harper starts quoting Bush and mentions Allah in his throne speech. (Whoops! Typo: it wasn't Allah, it was Jesus, or something).

Check out Canadian Ally, owned and operated by the government of Canada.

Apparently, "Canadian Ally" was put together as a reminder to our southern neighbors that we Canadians are their biggest ball-cuppers. So, at least until the new passport law comes into effect, we are desperately encouraging "Americans" to come up to Canada: debase our frenchie women at strip joints, drive poorly, and feel free to over-fish/hunt our natural resources. (How I feel? don't let the door hit your bums on the way out!)


Money talks, Liberal or Conservative. It is the stronger than normal obsequiousness that I find most disturbing.

This Afganistan thing, championed by the continued slavering, blathering bullshit of Marcus Gee on the editorial page of the Globe and Mail , along with "embedded" journalists like Christie Blatchford, seems like obvious propaganda. The majority of Canadians think we shouldn't be in Afganistan, but according to the Globe and Mail editorial page, this is because the Canadian public hasn't been "educated" on the topic enough. (BTW, I wonder which poor enlisted fucker has to "take a hit for the team" to keep 'Blatch' in line?).

We all know it is bullshit, except for iron-Maggie Wente. Her 'latte-land friends' are "in like with Stephen Harper", as opposed to "in love", you see.

Has the Globe been infiltrated from outer space??!? Seriously...

Another view of the LOST Hatch-map

(DON'T click on the image! I am still figuring out how to work with the blogger.com CSS, and all it does now is reproduce itself in a new window.)


This one has an overlay of the scrawled comments on the door, including a handy latin translation key.

If I had the time (ie. I was unemployed, or "at leisure", as they say) I would take the time to compare this overlay with the other versions of the map out there, just to make sure I wasn't helping to distribute disinformation.

For, now, however, I will have to accept this map as it is presented.

All of a sudden, I am interested in U.S. immigration policy!



I have been reading (during working hours, of course) a bunch of articles about the *huge* rally in Los Angeles last weekend. This one "Immigration, African Americans, and Race Discourse" was especially interesting, in that it treats immigration questions from a perspective than I had previously never considered.

A quote from the link posted above:

The proof that European immigration was devastating to blacks is that as soon as immigration was cut off by the First World War, it triggered a massive migration of blacks to cities in the North and West, resulting in the most significant economic advance since the abolition of slavery. The relationship between immigration and race caught the attention of the New Republic, which in 1916 printed an editorial under the caption: "The Superfluous Negro." The editorial began as follows: "The average Pole or Italian arriving at Ellis Island does not realize that he is the deadly foe of the native Negro . . . It is a silent conflict on a gigantic scale.

Joke from SpongeBob SquarePants' standup routine


"What do you call a vampire whose car has broken down 3 miles from a blood bank?"

"A cab."

Right now, I can't decide whether this is really, really funny, or very, very lame... This is a show that seems to appeal to sentients aged 1.5 (human years-- my nephew) to 5.5 (dog years-- me).

It has a different vibe than "the Simpsons" (which incidentally I used to love in, oh say, 1992, 10 YEARS AGO), with less talking and more physical gags. The hilarious shoutouts to alert, reality-based adults are almost continual.

Why adults are amused by SpongeBob is no mystery to me. The thing I ponder is what would a toddler find entertaining about SpongeBob?

It is entirely possible that the things I find annoying (for example, the sudden enlarging of the eyes for the sickening 40s disney-style cutesy-poo effect) are the exact things this child likes about SpongeBob. So I guess I shouldn't complain...

6 Months in...

And this #*$& replacement hip is still giving me a fair amount of pain. I certainly don't feel like I have a "new lease on life", which is the typical sort of reaction I hear from people that have had hip replacements.

Also, if you look closely at the x-ray, it appears the plastic "cup" that is the receiving end of my hip replacement is attached to my pelvic bone with a 2 " wood screw.

PS. Where are my genetilia!?! They should at least have some sort of shadowy form, shouldn't they? The fat in my inner thighs seem to come through ok, so WTF?

They still hire lighthouse keepers!

As you can see here, there is still at least eighteen positions available for this great job, even today, in this time of relentless, relentless automation. Addendum: I must admit that I hadn't read the job posting all the way to the end, and the requirement "Must be prepared to travel by helicopter and/or boat" gives me pause. That doesn't sound like a *real* lighthouse-keeping job. Helicopters, fer Wotan's sake?

In my early teens I thought this would be a great job (and my family mercilessly mocked me about this) because:
a) you get paid to live in a remote location next to a large body of water, probably some place picturesque, with an evocative name like "Cape Farewell", "Thunder Bay", or "Desolation Island".
b) The background soundtrack to your life would include sounds like foghorns, seagulls, distant ships' bells and crashing surf, rather than internal combustion engines, car horns, streetcar metal and people bellowing swear-words in Portugese.
c) you only have to deal with other humans once in a while, rather than ALL DAY LONG. That way, encounters with other humans are things to be cherished, rather than avoided.

I will modify this posting as thoughts slowly percolate into my conscious mind...

Capitalism abolished!

Today I took part in yet another "peace march" in downtown Toronto. While I believe that these sorts of things are a waste of time, especially when the main point of reference is the Iraqi occupation (which Canada is not, thus far, involved in), I still went because it was a sunny, relatively warm day and I find that involving myself in these events relieves, to a certain extent, that feeling of bitterness and cynicism that sometimes comes upon me.

As I had predicted would happen, a couple of times during the march I got "misty", as the Fonz would say.

Anyhoo, good exercise, more than enough vitamin D absorbed via sunlight, a warm feeling that perhaps humans in general aren't scum.

Maybe there is some value to these events after all!


Looking south along University Avenue towards the U.S. Consulate. (Addendum: photo credit Marta, again.)


Counter-demonstrators. A couple of dudes standing around, one waving a U.S. flag, the other wearing a U.S. flag as a cape.


Marta fighting the power.


One of Marta's artistic shots.


Marching along Yonge Street.


Marching along Yonge Street.



Who knew the Pakistani flag was so attractive? I sure didn't.

Serbian Takeout


A Bosnian colleague of mine ordered in Serbian takeout for a meeting that was held during lunch today. If I was a little more "on the ball", as my dad used to say, I would have had my digicam with me and could have taken some snaps.

As it is, all I can say is that the Ćevapi (minced meat rolls- apparently a speciality of Sarajevo) was very tasty. (I had hoped that others would agree to exchange different small portions of the various menu items present, so that I could have a taste of everything, but I was very much disappointed.)

Some colleagues even had the gall to complain that they received smaller portions than others (figure it out, niggah! Barbequed shrimp is going to be smaller in quantity compared to "minced meat" when both entrees are the same price!), but luckily the consensus amongst the team was that this was a great break from the dreary routine of pizza.

The Globe and Mail sucks, ok?

It was the paper I read growing up. I always despised the Toronto Star for its wishy-washy human interest stories and its weekend-edition 4 inch thick load of advertising bullshit.

This weekend, however, I came full circle. I wish I lived in Quebec because at least the Montreal Gazette would be available. Now, I will be forced to relax with the Star on weekends.

Why? It is the straws that broke the camel's back.

First, starting six months ago or so, the editorials start getting really annoying. Not in a "they don't agree with what I believe" sense of annoying, I am used to that. They have gotten annoying in that the narrative 'tone' of the editorials has adopted some sort of weird, reproving, "only a schoolchild couldn't understand" condescending vibe. I am not sure which wanker is responsible, but I suspect Marcus Gee.

Second, they fired Heather Mallick.

Third, as a buttress for the inane meanderings of narcissistic Leah McLaren, it appears that they have hired REBECCA ECKLER for a weekly column. Holy shit! These two whinging self-involved cows on the same page! It is like cold fusion all over again.

At least they aren't totally similar-- while Rebecca studiously records her post-partum angst from calgary, Leah can share with us her childless angst from toronto, or, occasionally, her "farm". (She is apparently a farmer, too, didn't you know?)

Rule Britannia

Here is a video of a bunch of british squaddies assaulting some captured iraqi children.

Best of Indie Toronto

Go here and vote for the best of Indie Toronto. Voting open til Feb. 28, so be sure to go there and vote for Oyster Boy and Golden Turtle!

Vincent Gallo merchandise!

For all those fans of Buffalo 66. I haven't seen Brown Bunny, but I bet it is really good.

If you scroll down the page you will see that you can buy Vincent Gallo’s sperm for $1 million!

“Price includes all costs related to one attempt at an in-vitro fertilization.”

And I quote further:

“If the purchaser of the sperm chooses the option of natural insemination, there is an additional charge of $500,000. However, if after being presented detailed photographs of the purchaser, Mr. Gallo may be willing to waive the natural insemination fee and charge only for the sperm itself.”

Even more!

“Mr. Gallo is 5'11" and has blue eyes. There are no known genetic deformities in his ancestry (no cripples) and no history of congenital diseases. If you have seen The Brown Bunny, you know the potential size of the genitals if it's a boy. (8 inches if he's like his father.) I don't know exactly how a well hung father can enhance the physical makeup of a female baby, but it can't hurt... Mr. Gallo maintains the right to refuse sale of his sperm to those of extremely dark complexions. Though a fan of Franco Harris, Derek Jeter, Lenny Kravitz and Lena Horne, Mr. Gallo does not want to be part of that type of integration.”

This site is a treasure trove of all things Gallo. I don't know enough about Vincent Gallo to know whether this is a huge piss-take or not.

Photo album: road rage in kensington market.

The Results from the 2006 general election, a screenshot of the flash application hosted by the Toronto Star.

Tonight is the big night!

And if the predictions on this site are right, then things are going to turn out exactly the way I was hoping: a Conservative minority government with the NDP holding the balance of power!

This will prevent the Conservatives from doing any real damage to the country and force the Liberals to dump that sycophantic piece of shit Paul Martin in favour of someone with a pulse.

As an added bonus, the Canadian public will be exposed to the edifying spectacle of the various newly elected Conservatives emerging from under their rocks into the full light of public exposure. Rick Mercer speculates about a possible Conservative cabinet.

Fun times ahead!

Earlier this summer, as I was biking along College St. past Queen's Park (site of the provincial legislature) I couldn't help but notice that there were a disportionately large number of South Asians around.



No surprise! The Tigers of Tamil Eelam were having a big political rally in front of the Ontario Legislature, and when I say big, I mean it-- there were 100s of thousands of them. I think every Sri Lankan in Eastern North America was there, and man were they having a good time.

These photos definitely don't do justice to the high decibel level of this event. The huge speakers dominating the main stage were pumping out a bhangra beat so strong I was afraid it would affect my heart rhythm. At the same time, various political personalities were haranguing the crowd via a video display screen.