From Within the Cube Walls

My day job is IT Geek for a Very Large Corporation. There are pluses and minuses that go with that territory. On one hand, I get to work on some pretty cool projects and people assume I know what I'm talking about since I'm old (in IT years). On the minus side, I get invited to a lot of meetings - most of them conference calls that go on way too long.

Oftentimes, I don't really need to be sitting on those calls. I'm just there because some MBA-type feels better knowing there's a Geek on standby to settle disputes involving Star Wars trivia (this has yet to happen). To pass the time, I often make my own fun by chatting online with Peer Geeks. In the interest of full-disclosure, 'on-line' really means 'inside our corporate network'.

As as exercise in 'you are there', I thought I'd lift the veil of corporate intrigue and post a snippet of one of these sanity saving exchanges. I can't believe I get paid for being this stupid-lame. This is all real, with only the names changed to protect the IT Geek image. Enjoy!

Other Geek [9:04 AM]:

I was forced to switch to Firefox last night.

I feel dirty

Me Being Bored [9:04 AM]:

Welcome, brother. You are safe here.

Other Geek [9:09 AM]:

Here's the deal. XP told me there were updates (including the optional update to IE8). Foolishly, I went for it. I then went to miniclip to play pool and it failed. I was angered. I went back to the checkpoint it wrote before installing everything and it corrupted registry. I went back to the previous checkpoint and all was cool, but the banners were gone from my IE 7 browser. I could not get them back. I tried to download the install from MS. I could not download anything. I went to another PC, downloaded firefox. Installed it on my problem PC and it worked. so I uninstalled IE7. re-installed it and it works. However, I left Firefox as my browser of choice. The funny thing is that the miniclip game still does not work - on any PC i have. It had nothing to do with the browser.

not banners......toolbars

I lost my toolbars in IE7

Me Being Bored [9:09 AM]:

Firefox rox

Other Geek [9:11 AM]:

it's the same. It looks the same as IE7/8. It runs the same, it inherited my tab preferences (IE7 has tabs), my favorites, my homepage, my cookies, everything. I would bet that Kid and Wife don't even notice.

Opera rox

Me Being Bored [9:12 AM]:

I use Safari on my iPod

Other Geek [9:13 AM]:

It's no Opera. There are hacks to make it work on Apple TV.

Me Being Bored [9:14 AM]:

Hacking Apple hardware is a mug's game, I think.

Other Geek [9:16 AM]:

It's more mainstream than that, I think. http://www.atvflash.com/

imagine - Google earth on Apple TV.

Me Being Bored [9:16 AM]:

that would be pretty cool

Other Geek [9:18 AM]:

In fact, on Apple TV, Google Earth is LIVE. The images are delivered in REAL TIME. Cars driving down the road. bombs going off in Foreign Countries. You know, all laughing aside - that's not beyond the realm of possibilities.

Me Being Bored [9:18 AM]:

whoa! I saw that on CSI

Other Geek [9:19 AM]:

No, that was using a black light to find fingerprints.

Or maybe you're thinking of how they flick at a piece of dangling flesh for dramatic effect.

Me Being Bored [9:26 AM]:

No, no - it was fingerprints. Matlock was sure the culprit's fingerprints were in a backyard but McGruber couldn’t figure out how to melt the lock to get into that backyard so Quirky Genius Geek Goth Girl commandeered a Google Earth satellite and they zoomed into the backyard and found the fingerprints with 2 MINUTES LEFT in the episode. And then they all took their sunglasses off and wore them in cool affected poses while the credits rolled - inexplicably over a racing speedboat that had nothing to do with the story.

Other Geek [9:26 AM]:

I love it when a plan comes together !

I pitty da fool

Me Being Bored [9:27 AM]:

Book 'em Dano

Other Geek [9:27 AM]:

Holy crap..... they enabled this a couple of years ago and I didn't know....... http://googlesightseeing.com/2007/04/01/live-satellite-images-in-google-earth/

30 Days of Teh Stoopid

Contrary to a half-hearted 2009 resolution, I'm not posting much these days. I'd like to blame it on a short attention-span fed by 140 characters of Twitter or perhaps an obsession with Facebook. But that would be a lie since I'm spending precious little time in those places, too. It really comes down the malaise of having nothing much to say and no real drive to say it.

So here's what I'm thinking: a post every day for the entirety of September. For good or for bad, Mika the Cat and I will force thoughts into words into finger/paw muscles into cohesive groupings of electrons on the PC monitor. And we'll do it every day, for 30 days.

I think this could work. September will be interesting.

The evenings are getting cooler, and I'm content to sit in front of a keyboard with Mika's warmth on my lap. JediBoy begins his high-school phase while BandGeek contemplates her final(?) year there. My nemesis, the Steel-Set pool, will de-construct in a few days - perhaps for the last time. There will surely be another Geek Meet. There will be video games. A new season of television offers the usual promises that we know will ultimately disappoint. I will finish reading a book. Disney will buy more stuff. I will continue to get inspiration from other voices.

I think this could work.

See what we did? We made a blog post on September 1st! If Mika were awake, she'd probably offer a High Five.

Did Not See This Coming...

I have no idea what to make of this: Disney agrees to aquire Marvel.

The mind reels, and I suppose this will be driven by what Disney intends to do with Marvel. From a theme-park perspective there are some interesting issues. Off the top of my head, this makes me wonder about the ever-so-awesome Spiderman ride at Universal Studios, Florida.

Weird. Just weird.

No Humans Allowed

JediBoy and I went to see District 9 a few nights ago. We think you should, too.

Yup, it's definitely sci-fi. It has a fair helping of weaponry a-blazin' and a big spaceship and lots of running around. The special effects are simply not very noticeable - they're just that good. On a technical level, I don't know that I've ever seen anything like it. I mean that in a good way.

There are some negatives, I suppose: a few plot holes that are pretty minor to all but the most prickly critics.

If action and effects floats your boat, then it's a pretty good bet for your movie dollars. But the reasons JediBoy and I walked out of the darkness loving this movie are the reasons that any movie is deemed 'great': story and characters.

I'll not give much away, except to say that the story-line does not rely on explosions or loud noises (although it does make liberal use of the F-word). Instead, it plays with your emotions, ties them into knots, and takes you to a conclusion that makes sense. The characters - especially Sharlto Copely in the lead - are fully-formed, economical, and mostly mesmerizing from the moment you first meet them. Altogether, this movie explores what it is to be human and humane.

We loved this movie. And we bet you will, too.

Kottage Kavalcade

Because you want to know, I've distilled my cottage journal into it's pure essence: 7 days of fighting against Man and Nature for my very survival.

Day 1 - Get There Alive

• I fine-tune my unpatented 30:1 Fun Uncertainty Ratio (FUR). That's 30 minutes of packing activity for every 1 day of cottage time. This covers clothing, books, DVDs, games, iTunes downloads, etc. for all possible weather and roommate conditions. FUR also applies to camping trips - albeit with an overall 60-minute penalty for non-electrical campsites.
  
• cap off a typical Travel Day by watching Harrison Ford play Action-Hero President in 'Air Force One'. My jestful critique a la Mystery Science Theater 3000 only serves to offend my sister-in-law and elicit several "So what would be a good movie to you?". I have no energy to respond.
  

Day 2 - The Tribe Has Spoken

• Brother-In-Law, Sister-In-Law and their sentient drool-machine, Shadow, head back to London by Noon, leaving Dee, the kids, and I to fight off bears and Hummingbirds by ourselves.
  
• Spend the afternoon Spring-cleaning the cottage to force Dee's allergies into abatement (see: Shadow). As the last window is cleaned and the vacuum motor spins down into silence, the rains sweep in from Georgian Bay. Remainder of day is spent finishing 'World War Z' and losing my pocket-change to a crooked 13 year-old card shark.

Day 3 - Conlflicted

• The Sun peeks out enough to convince us that the beach was viable. While Dee and the kids heed the frigid water's clarion call, I feel the need to do something useful to justify some later goofing-off time. I spend a few hours power-washing old stain from the deck while others frolic in the surf. I become Les Nessman and the power-washer - my violin.
• My In-laws (Dee's folks) arrive later in the day, which means that I am duty-bound to sit in a lawn chair with a beer and watch my father-In-Law cook something on the barbeque. This is a non-negotiable tradition and the only allowable forum for politics and local gossip.

Day 4 - 20 Year-Old Routines

• The typical cottage groove: breakfast, cleanup, lunch, cleanup, dinner, cleanup. Somewhere in there is a glass of wine or a beer (or two). Some fish are hunted from a metal boat, and they prove elusive. Rummoli is used to pass the evening hours.
  
• I spend some time applying water-seal to the deck and am rewarded with beer and conversation near a barbeque device.

Day 5 - It Had To Be Snakes

• Awake and staring into the horrific fractal-orange 'bedroom' carpet. I think too hard about the thousands of life-choices that led me to be staring into this carpet. Also wondering about the thousands of choices that led someone to green-light the production of this carpet.
• Spend time underneath the cottage repairing some leaky waterpipes. Also spend some time trying not to think about the possibility of snakes hiding in the piles of leaves under the cottage. These thoughts are pushed from my head later on courtesy of the fumes emanting from the stain we apply to one of the cottage's sleeping cabins.
  
• In the afternoon I nearly step on a fucking rattlesnake. I catch the fucking rattllesnake with a rake and a pail to dispose of him in the woods. I then lose the very pissed fucking rattlesnake out of the pail and catch him once more. He's more pissed at this point as I run into the woods in a determined effort to avoid pissing him off even more. The lessons: rattlesnakes fucking jump, rattlesnakes are fucking fast, I do not fucking like rattlesnakes.

Day 6 - And Now A Word From The Bear

• Awake to find a bear in the backyard helping himself to the compost-pit buffet. I secretly wonder if bears are afraid of snakes, and I decide it doesn't matter. I'm not a big fan of either life-form, anyways. I make note that the bear enters and exits the yard near our outhouse. Joy.
  
• Spend the whole day reading Anathem, taking a boat-tour to the dump, and swimming a little bit with the kids. I secretly feel guilty about not staining the deck today. We boat to a nearby lodge for a restaurant dinner.

Day 7 - End Game

• It's the last day at the cottage, and the day is uncomfortably cold. I work on some mathematics to predict why the presence of an outhouse seems to propel the bladder into overdrive - especially at 4am. I am not successful in developing the appropriate model. I cannot imagine how the bear fits in.
  
• We pack our belongings and make note of all the items that were not used (I'm looking at you Breakfast Club DVD!). We make our way home and, by mid-evening, I am thanking my toilets for just being there. You know?
  

Help Me Obi-Wan

Noon tomorrow we hit the road for our annual trek to Dee's family cottage. This will mark twenty-something annual pilgrimages I've made to the modest little spot on Georgian Bay near Parry Sound. But I've come to be pretty ambivalent about the experience.

It's an idyllic enough place - quiet, isloated, lovely little beachfront, accessible only to those with a boat and a map. But, for me, there's only so much fishing, swimming, sitting in the outhouse, or reading by the dock that I can seriously take. But when you're there, you're there. Weather permitting, it's a good hour into town: boat to marina, marina to car, car to town. Heading out to a movie theater or restaurant - doing anything remotely spontaneous and urban - is not really in the cards.

So I always make the best of it. Since the place is 40+ years old there are always repairs that need attention. Lots of repairs. And I read a lot. And I swim with the kids. And then I read some more. And then I fix something else.

There's no Internet service there, of course. And I'm told that the satellite TV service may not yet be turned on. So I have a lot of books and DVDs ready to go. I've loaded the iPod with more hours of podcasts than I could possibly consume. A few bottles of Red are sitting in the loading area. And I have my eye on someone's DS.

The weather is looking reasonable for sitting outside. This is good because, you know, I'm going to be reading a lot and trying to recall what indoor plumbing and The Internet are all about.

Takin' Care Of Business

Apropos of the increasingly infrequent effluent that is posted here, let me share this fascinating question:

What Do Americans Canadians Have Against Awesome Toilets?

Think about that a bit. What do we have against awesome toilets? Then again, what qualifies as an 'awesome' toilet? Maybe a built-in book rack, a wine bar, cold cathode running lights, Internet access?

As we do with cellphones and robots, we must look to the Japanese for answers. From the article:

A typical Japanese loo, for instance, would do some or all of these things for the user:

* Cleanse “front and back” with three separate streams of water
* Dry “front and back” with air blowers
* Warm the seat
* Automatically put down the seat (a feature cleverly dubbed the “marriage saver”)
* Illuminate itself with a programmable nightlight
* Monitor medical conditions by preforming urine tests
* De-ionize the air to remove odors
* Play a soothing waterfall or birdsong soundtrack “to drown out embarrassing noises.”

Be honest, you and I would give our eye-teeth for any of those features. Instead, we just get cheap novelty gadgets to fill the void.

And if I know the Japanese mind (and I don't), I'm betting those features are customizable. Imagine the thrill of fully-choregraphed fountains, lights, and music - all serving to amuse, inspire, and sanitize. Couple this with some self-cleaning technology, and why would you ever leave the environs of your commode?

Then I Googled and discovered that I did not want to spend $5000 on a toilet. But, dammit, I have a dream.

Brandi and Wine

What irresistable force could ever dissuade me from the Geek Round Table? It's simple - Couple Stuff.

A few months back some long-time friends - another couple - invited us for a weekend away from the kids. They were taking our friendship to the next level by inviting us to a gourmet dinner and jazz concert in Niagara-On-The-Lake. The vein of Seinfeld plot material was rich. Hanging out with friends is one thing, but sharing a suite at the Kia-Ora B&B is asking for trouble. Added to that was the small detail that I had no understanding or particular interest in jazz. On the plus side: no kids, lots of wine, and lots of food.

So there we were at the Hillebrand Jazz Festival on July 11. Our friends are members of some kind of wine club, so our tickets for the day were decidedly VIP-ish. At shortly after Noon we were sampling wine in a posh Hillebrand back room. By 12:45pm we were sipping Welcome Champagne on the empty Festival stage. Shortly after 1pm we were seated with 50-ish other guests at a long table in an underground wine cellar - enjoying foods I cannot pronounce matched with various wines I cannot afford.

Between 4pm and 8pm, we were very buzzed and seated in cosy sling-chairs, front-row center of the stage. 4 hours, 4 acts - and I had a blast. It could have been the effects of more wine and snacks brought to our chairs, but the music (and musicianship) were a revelation under sunny Niagara skies.

The line-up had a few familiar names punctuated with the word 'Juno'. There were local favourites, Joe Sealy’s Jazzbirds. There was Canadian jazz star Carol Welsman. The finale was owned by the Shuffle Demons who, despite having recorded Spadina Bus so many years ago, rocked the joint big-time. Their presence on the stage drew many ladies who'd been revving their engines for hours using white wine as fuel. Now they were there to dance for the Demons - one or two even opting to flash the band for a free t-shirt.

And then there was Brandi.

Brandi Disterheft was the opening act - and easily the highlight of the Festival. She, too, has garnered a Juno for her debut CD. She's 20-something, she's cute, she can sing, and she plays her bass with a pained passion that is almost spiritual. I fell in love - as did a few other glassy-eyed males in my vicinity.

The rest of the weekend was just as glowing. There were long walks and long talks and lots of the local Niagara history towards which I've always felt a weird kinship. We even managed a meandering tour of a few more local vineyards - sampling the goods as we went. Seinfeld be damned, but I cannot remember ever having a more relaxing weekend.

But that Brandi... See if you don't agree.

Flotsam

In no particular order, stuff that has been keeping me off the Innertubes for the past week or so:

JediBoy graduated Grade 8 last week, so we are officially done with elementary school. It was a nice evening with the just the right sense of occasion about it, notwithstanding the predaliction for the larger girls to wear the shorter dresses. I have to believe clothes shops are employing fun-house mirrors these days. Back to the point: The Boy carried himself well and quietly walked off with an armful of awards. We really-and-truly couldn't be prouder of that guy.

My In-Laws - from Voidlands north of Sudbury - were invited guests for the JediBoy festivities, so we've had company. I enjoy hanging out with my father-in-law, but it's always a challenge keeping him busy. On this visit, he had some bathroom renovation work lined up at my sister-in-law's which meant, of course, so did I. He's disappeared back to the north country and I have a vanity still to be installed. I am Karma's bitch.

My fountain idea continues to twist and morph and I have yet to actually do anything. It started off as a simple idea to mount a couple of Grecian-style pots on the edge of the pond and have them spew a gentle trickle into the pond. Then I decided that maybe I could mount some coloured LED bulbs inside the urn - maybe even in-line with the water! From there, I imagined creating a Mickey Mouse topiary that would be holding a magic fountain pot! Alas, I can no longer find the right topiary frame and so I think I'm back to my original idea. On a postive note, I've learned a ton about topiaries and I'm thinking that making one would be a cool project on its own. And I've got this neat idea to make a 'leapfrog fountain' using solenoid valves and the principles of laminar flow and..... *sigh* Never happen.

Carnival of Monsters won't let me post any comments. It's probably for the best - some might say.

Anathem has been started. I shall say no more until there is more to say.

There are rumblings of another Geek Meet in July. I'm down for that (as the kids say). As far as I know, my only no-fly-zones are July 11, 12, and 18.

Oh, and it looks like I have a bird feeder to fix.

Living Dangerously

"Don't meet people in real life that you only know from the Internet".

That's what I tell my kids to keep them safe.

So I broke the rules (sorta, kinda) this weekend and met up with some folks that I've known mostly by their Innertube personas for quite some time and, yet, I had never actually met in meatspace.

I'm glad I broke the rules.

It's tough to pinpoint when-and-how the idea was born for our modest Geek Meet, although I think a near-miss on Free Comic Book Day might have been a recent catalyst. However the whole thing started, it was Jim Dandy that corraled everyone for a few hours of coffee-talk and comic-browsing. In addition to Mr. Dandy and myself were adamkantor, London's own Alpha Geek, and his charming-yet-deadly better half, Vulcan Ninja. A final addition to the round table - described to me as a roller-babe with a thing for Daleks - was a no-show due to an unfortunate geographical mix-up not of her making.

Meeting new people, even when they're not total strangers, is a pretty stressful thing for me. I tend to overcompensate for my natural anxiety through varied techniques: talking too fast, talking too loud, losing sight of a story's ending, and often wondering in which jacket I might have left my memory. But after a few cleansing breaths before I exited the van (true!), I screwed my courage to the sticking place, bought a large coffee, and it was introductions all round.

I'll simply say that it was a really lovely few hours. A nicer group of people one could not find, and it was not long before the Geek stories, updates, news, and rumours were out there on the table with the coffee cups. I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

So many thanks, everyone. It was really great to finally meet you all - and to feel so at home. Let's do it again some time, eh?

Things That Make Me Stop...

It was a lovely weekend - all solitary moments under shining Sun leading to red wine conversations under a gentle velvet night-sky. At one point I found myself driving in the environs of Oxford and Waterloo, and I spotted these young artists creating frogs. The picture does not capture the true colours, so I encourage you to see for yourself sometime. Oh, that the suburban graffiti-boys had an inkling of such talent.

I Lose The Bet

More fun with cellphone cams: One of my walking partners (sans sticks, I might add) recently bet me that London's storied Jet D'Eau would be broken down by the end of June. I took the more charitable view that we'd make it until Autumn before repairs were necessary. By mid-day today, this was the sad tableau down the Forks.


Heavy equipment, a portable sewage sucker, disassembled jets, a man with a clipboard - we wept from the bridge.

Update: I'm pleased to announce that by 5pm all was as it should be, and the glorious arches of tawny liquid were once again creating rainbows to thrill the graffitti-boys patrolling the riverside playground. Halleluiah! In your face Eiffel Tower!

Because It's E3 Time

In cleaning out the old email filters I came across this bit of fun. It reminded me that for every Docker-wearing 28 year-old pacing the floor at E3 with his slicked-back hair, a vendor tag announcing 'iSomething' or 'eSomething', and a snappy patter that includes 'convergence' - there's a legion of schmucks who'll believe it.

Jet D'ewwww

London's brand-spanking new flood-control system is deemed 'ineffective'. Sources inside City Hall blame the Metric system, a rusted compass, and Board of Control. More details as the story unfolds.

Balls? We Don't Know From Balls...

I went for a lunch-time constitutional through Harris Park recently and came upon a crew taking down a damaged tree. The only way to describe this tree is to confirm that was Ent-sized. The crew of 3 was taking it down piece-by-piece, limb-by-limb - without a crane. See for yourself below, and tell me if you feel a little less manly for having done so.


And in case things aren't clear, that's a guy climbing around with 2 (yes, 2) chainsaws in tow.

Taking Stock And Feeling Frightened

Tomorrow I have to go to Toronto for a meeting. It's not my favourite way to spend a Wednesday, but it's an infrequent-yet-necessary evil that comes with my job. The silver lining is that I always get to travel Via1, which means big chairs, decent meals, and lots of wine.

So here's the thing that is giving me pause to reflect: I apparently have a deep-rooted need to pack geek survival gear for even the shortest of trips. Tomorrow's sojourn will see me on the 6:30am train to Toronto and returning on the Noon train back to London - a journey lasting about 8 hours in total, with at least 4 hours involving 'sitting on trains'.

As I peer inside my shoulder bag (it's a very manly leathery thing) I find:

- a fully-charged iPod with an up-to-date selection of music, videos, Disney podcasts, and games
- a standby iPod charger
- the first 2 volumes of Sandman
- a plastic Mewtew (good luck charm - long story)
- a couple of thumb drives containing gawd-knows-what
- a disposable digital vidcam
- a couple of pieces of paper which I probably need for my meeting

Sure hope I don't get bored.

best. FCBD. evar. almost.

Today was a far more productive Free Comic Book Day than I had even hoped. My usual FCBD compadre, JediBoy, was at a school event (long story...) that kept him tied up until Noon-ish. This threw a major wrench into our plans in a few ways: (1) we wouldn't be hitting the streets until the afternoon and (2) JediBoy was coming off his first all-nighter (again, long story...) which I feared would sap his staying power.

Of course, FCBD is about the collective power of geekery, and JediBoy was able to roll a pretty decent Stamina score. In fact, we were able to hit all 6 participating stores in town, which is a first for us! Our FCBD bags came home absolutely stuffed with treasure. In addition to the freebies, we continued our tradition of purchasing a little something at every comic-book store we hit - just our way of saying 'thanks', I suppose.

A few of the highlights of the day:

- Standing in line at Heroes and hearing someone 10 line-minutes behind us offer a free pizza to the crowd - an offer that was quickly accepted.

- Running into a good friend (with his 2 little kids in tow) and having a few minutes for breezy chat

- Serious haggling in the basement of L.A. Mood with a fellow who just wanted to move merchandise out the door, price be damned

- Seeing Sailer Moon cosplayers sashaying up and down Dundas Street

- Discussing with Bruno the best strategy for avoiding crowded screenings of Wolverine

- Getting that last passport stamp....

So what about the 'almost' part, you ask?

Since I was on JediBoy's schedule and had no idea of how we would be attacking FCBD, I had little hope of a pre-arranged confab with noted geeks, Kid Dork and Jim Dandy. That was kind of disappointing on it's own. Karma wasn't done with me yet, however. As I pointed the red Matrix down Dundas Street at approximately 1:40pm in search of parking spaces, imagine the biatch-slap as I spied Mssrs. Dork and Dandy in the environs of Heroes. A third member of the party was spotted but not identfied. I'm assuming it was Mrs. Dork(?). A U-turn was not possible (and would have been slightly stalkeresque), so all I could do was watch green sneakers disappear into my rear-view mirror's horizon.

So guys, I still have my $1.45 for a large double-double. Maybe some other time, eh?

In the meantime, I have some reading to do.

Whispering Into The Void

I'm feeling like a stalker these days. I'm talking, of course, about my recent forays into the worlds of Facebook and Twitter. It's a bit of a lark - just seeing what all the fuss is about. I'm finding that while I have nothing very compelling to say, I'm really not alone there. The up-side is that the whole experience feeds the minimal attention-span I've honed to a fine edge on a steady diet of Sesame Street re-runs and random YouTube searching.

So here's the thing: I'm lazy about finding online friends. In my laziness, I'm leaning on some of the Usual Suspects who form the core of like-minded wiseacres to whom I tend to gravitate in cyberspace. Said another way, they're the folks who are silly enough to (1) let me post comments on their much-better blogs and (2) make themselves easily found elsewhere on the Innertubes. So now I'm showing up on Facebook and Twitter like a creepy version of whack-a-mole, and I'm leaving little messages on their Walls and following their Tweets. Every click of the 'OK' button brings the giddy anticipation of Wilde-ian repartee followed by the dismal self-doubt that maybe I'm just another ant at the picnic.

I'm not sure how long this will last. The pressure to feed personal commentary into the great maw of social networking might overwhelm my fundamental laziness. But if you see that I'm becoming a pest (and you know who you are), just know that it's all for science. And for the rest of you, you can find me on Facebook over here and on Twitter over there. And if neither of those work for you, there's always email.

Got Shovel?

This is an actual headline from CNN:

CNN retakes lead in Twitter battle with Ashton Kutcher

Let that sink in a moment. Let it roll around your brain and mingle with your stored-away facts and thoughts and aspirations.

Done?

Now tell me honestly: You're thinking it's time to build that bomb shelter and get it stocked, right?

I thought so.

Right For All The Wrong Reasons

Not since Chocolate Rain has the Innertubes seen a bigger feel-good-story-cum-meme than that of Susan Boyle. My genuine hope is that Ms. Boyle is able to translate her 15 minutes into a modest singing career. By all measures that matter, she deserves it.

But here's the rub: parts of her story makes me damned angry.

As she walked out on to the stage, my very first thought was that I was seeing a character from a Wallace & Gromit film. I mean that only in a good way - middle-class English from a snug little village where people tend to their own lives. Her cat, Pebbles, was just icing on the cake.

On one level, her story is remarkable, of course. Out of nowhere special comes an obviously gifted voice and a secret drive to share it with an audience (beyond Pebbles, of course). But there is an ugliness at work, too. It was in the audience that night and it's on the news every night since.

Like a story with a surprise ending, Susan Boyle doesn't look the part - and we're startled to discover otherwise. She's not glamourous or fashionable or thin or blonde or glib or whatever she's supposed to be. And for all that, we have no expectation of greatness for this woman. And when she proves otherwise, we shriek and clap and say "Good for you, Susan" in a voice typically reserved for speaking with foreigners and the infirm.

Good for you, Susan. And I really mean it.

When Choice Hurts

London's Alpha Geek recently posted a review of the new Nintendo DSi - and it got me thinking a bit about choices. By rights, I think most people probably believe choices are a good thing. If I'm hungry for pizza, I like that I can choose my toppings. If I need shoes, I'll probably look at several pair before I pick my usual white sneakers. But sometimes, when more than a few bucks are on the line, I wonder of choice is a bad thing.

Let's start with Nintendo. Is it me, or is their product cycle for handheld gaming getting shorter with each crank of the Nintendo widget machine? Game&Watch begat Gameboy which begat Gameboy Pocket which begat Gameboy Color which begat Gameboy Advance which begat Gameboy Advance SP which begat Nintendo DS which begat Nintendo DS Lite which begat

Nintendo DSi (and I'm likely missing something, somewhere here). We now seem to measure the distance between models in months when it used to seem like years.

With every new device - a new feature or two and the subtle threat of backwards incompatibility. In the Nintendo mould, new features are put out there in the hopes of finding novel ways for Developers to incorporate them into games. But this constant evolution usually leaves me cold insofar as I hate to leave behind solid old investments to make way for better ergonomics or web surfing on a tiny screen. Maybe I'm too old and cheap for this racket.

Exhibit Number 2: selecting a GPS. I've been meaning to replace my long-gone GPS with a new one - mostly for car trips. As I've discovered, there are lots of choices. I just want a device with a nice screen, color maps, and a pleasant Moneypenney voice that tells where to go and when to stop. Instead I have to decide whether I want MP3 support, FM-based trafiic reports, selectable vehicle icons, routes, waypoint support, multi-calc auto-routing, books-on-podcast subcriptions, and 50 other options I cannot remember. The good people at Garmin have managed to package and re-package these options into about 4 different product lines and 30 different models. Predictably, I'm stumped. Just when I find one that does simple stuff for a fair price, the model is discontinued and I have to start over. I'm lost with or without a GPS, I fear.

I think Henry Ford probably had is right - and I'll just take the black one, thanks.

Paging Captain Obvious....

I draw your attention towards the Freeps daily dose o'stupid, 'We Asked You'. Instead of the 96 shut-ins who typically respond to the daily poll, we got something a little, um, juxtapositional today.

I sorely wish this was some printing press underling's idea of sly humour - a bit of glistening irony for those with a quick eye. But, alas, I'm guessing it's a coincidence of supernatural proportions.

And now I await the inevitable letters to the editor, or an eye-glaser penned by the likes of Rory Leishman.

The Grab-Bag

Using a term held dear in the heart of my 16 year-old daughter, here are some 'random things' I've been thinking about:

• Can one ever have too many books? The answer is 'yes' - if you have to move them from one place to another. That's what I've been doing. I moved 2 bookshelves from one room to another this past weekend. Then I spent 2 days putting coats of paint on some walls. This evening I shall, again, move 2 bookshelves from the one room to another. And it's all for a bunch of books I mostly keep as pretty pets. I think it might be time to consider donating some.
  

• I did make some time to see The Watchmen last evening. The SuperOmniMegaPaloozaPlex was suprisingly devoid of people on a Sunday night during March Break - but Theater 8 was absolutely packed for the 8:30pm show. My take: very, very good movie. I liked it a lot, and the ending worked for me - moreso as I've been thinking about it today. As for my angst about what 18A really means, I chose to leave my teenaged son at home. This turned out to be the right choice. The Watchmen is very true to the source material - which means it is violent and graphic in more ways than a kid should know about.
  


• My companions in Theater 8 last evening are fellows I've know for 30-ish years. Back in the day, these were my go-to guys for prolonged rounds of D&D, weekends of Risk, Star Wars at the old Park Theater, and all the other things geeks do when they're 16-ish and waiting to be noticed by girls. As I sat there in Theater 8, I couldn't help but reflect on the fact that we're all still sitting together in movie theaters watching geek fare. And true to form, we're planning to get together later in the week for a game of Risk - with our own geeky kids in tow, ready to learn why Madagascar never really matters very much. I love this kind of personal continutity - these links to an unencumbered Me. Or perhaps I'm in a 30-year rut.
  
  
• This evening my teenaged son, JediBoy, (yes, that one) submitted his audition video for Diary Of A Wimpy Kid. He has adored the books and has decided he should be in the upcoming movie. It should be understood that JediBoy is the shy, quiet type - so creating an audition video is a Big Deal for him. To suggest it's out of character is to suggest that our hometown of London, Ontario is sort of a boring place (duh!). Nevertheless, we spent 13 takes acting out the prescribed audition scene, and then dutifully sent it into the ether. I don't expect he's the right type (they're looking for a Bill Murray-esque personality), but I admire the hell out of my son for just trying.

And for the record, I've never believed in 'random things'.

Follow The Money

As confounding as these recent Dr. Who shennnanigans are, there's little wonder that we find lucre involved. Witness this quiet little announcement. The alarms bells chime for the obvious:

• Center for the Study of Media and Culture in Small Nations? Really? I've been to Cardiff, so whatever...
  
• What alien language is that?
  
• The annoucement is a giant anagram for 'Death to the Daleks and their African toady, Mugabe. And Catherine Tate is forty' - with a few letters left over as a diversion.

Art Bell, are you listening??

First, Daleks In Bogs....

.....and then it got weird.

This puzzle needs a few more edge pieces, but the light of day shall prevail.

Another Grassy Knoll?

We've been had, and there's no telling how deep this subterfuge goes. For decades we've been told Untruths masquerading as simple entertainment. Why the Time Lords entrusted the BBC as their Ministry of Disinformation is beyond my understanding. Things that are thought to be buried always find a way of becoming unburied, it seems. Were Daleks really the bad guys, or is everything we ever believed just a fiction, a cover-story, to hide an ugly truth? All I know is that the conspiracy had begun to unravel.

The Kid Is Alright (I Hope)

There's something oddly impressive about the qualities of focus and commitment displayed by Geeks when they're on a mission. How else can one explain Cosplay, the pagentry of the sci-fi convention floor, or days-long line-ups for the newest installment of Star Wars? And so it has been for my only son, JediBoy - a nascent Geek with a major jones for the Watchmen film.

Rewind to last Summer. As I left him behind for a week-long stay with my in-laws at the family cottage, I made a point of pressing a copy of Watchmen into his young hands. I wasn't sure he'd get into the story - its complexities and decidely mature subject matter. He skimmed a few pages before the boat ferried his Mom and Dad back to the promise of indoor plumbing. His verdict: it wasn't grabbing his attention. "Fair enough", I thought - but I left the book with him anyways.

After a few rainy cottage days with little to do but re-read the same comics and perhaps push Link across a 3-inch screen in search of treasure, JediBoy telephoned to let me know he'd picked up the book again.

"Dad, I've been reading the Watchmen", he said.

"Great!", I answered. "How far have you gotten? Further than before?"

"Ummm.... I finished it. All of it.". His voice trailed off. "Ummm...Dad?"

"Yes?". I sounded tentative.

"It's.... There's some inappropriate stuff in there. I'm only 12 you know.".

This was classic JediBoy - straighter than I was at his age and incapable of dishonesty.

"I know.", I said. "I thought you could handle it. Should we talk about it?".

I could feel his whole body relax - even on the phone. "It was awesome! I really liked it!".

"Great!", I said. "You know they're making a movie."

I could feel the hook plunge deep inside his brain. I knew that feeling. It was that frantic sense of 'must have now' I can remember feeling in 1976 when I first encountered the promise of Star Wars.

Since that exchange we've both been tracking the progress of Synder's film version - checking out trailers and bits of news here and there. It's been a sort of mental Advent Calendar exercise leading up to March 6. All the while I've been secretly dreading the possibility that the film might slavishly translate the book - mature themes and all.

And by all accounts the film has done just that. The first inklings of issues were the American TV commercials that confirmed an R-rating. JediBoy has been on tenterhooks worrying about the possibility he might not be able to see Watchmen in Ontario theaters. Much to his relief, of course, the film has earned an 18A rating allowing him the possibility of seeing Rorschach & Friends on the big screen.

Every good story needs conflict, so here's mine: after all of the anticipation (his and mine), would I be a responsible parent by taking him to see this movie? Would I be an uptight dickwad for not taking him to see this movie?

I've been purusing the Innertubes for a few hours, trying to see if others adults have asked the same questions of themselves. After weeding out the idiotic debates about whether drinking and smoking should drive an R-rating, I found a pretty even split between the No and Yes camps. In other words, there were no clear answers.

So here's my feeling on the matter: JediBoy is 13. He's a good kid that knows what's real and what's not, what's right and what's wrong. We sometimes watch other 'mature stuff' together (such as South Park) - even if some storylines mean we'll be changing the channel. In the end, I trusted him enough to read the book.

There's a collection of Usual Suspects with whom I've spent the past 30 years making pilgrimages to darkened theaters to take in the latest cinematic Geek treasures. From the highs (Indiana Jones, Batman, Star Wars) to the lows (Doom, The League of Extraordinary Gentleman), we've seen them all. Naturally, we plan to numb our butts for Watchmen sometime during March Break.

And JediBoy will be there, too - medium popcorn and a root beer at the ready. I'll let you know how it goes.

Bizzaro World

Don't ask me how I found a video involving Amanda Palmer, her underwear, a ukelele, Neil Gaiman, his laptop, and dark intimations of his Scientology ties - but I did.

Clearly, I Am Not Ready For Retirement Living

I'm a little bored today. I awoke at 5am with a monster headache - and it wasn't the usual case of falling comatose with a book on my chest, a cat across my arm, and my head wrenched 1-degree too far to the left in a jumble of sweat-stained pillows. Nope, this was a real honest-to-goodness headache. Add the nausea induced by merely sitting up-right and the low-grade mucus production of late - and it was a lock that The Office would need to limp along without me today.

So back to the whole 'bored' problem. After a few hours of wiggling free the spike that surely was buried in the back of my head, I felt human enough to do something other than stare at daytime TV and listen to Mika purr beside me. It's never seldom that I get the better part of a day at home to do whatever I want, and I wanted my own Ferris Bueller experience.

First stop: officially finish the last couple of vinyl rips and sort out the library of 2,800 or so MP3s that are the fruits of my labour these last few months.

Second stop: Read the paper and try to eat something.

Third stop: Finish reading The Road - which I'd started the previous evening (thanks for the kick in the butt, KD).

Fourth stop: Nothing. I feel like crap. I don't want to go out. I don't have the stamina for a video game. My head won't survive any more reading. I'm.....bored.

It's only 2pm - and I have at least 1 more hour of Me Time. Somewhere, out there, people are building stories that will be re-told around their dinner tables tonight. But here, inside, where time has lost its meaning, Ferris can only shake his head and sigh.

For You Shall Know My Meme...

Life is full of coincidences, right?

Like when I'd light up a smoke at a bus stop (in a past life, alright?), it was a guarantee that the bus would come by within 30 seconds - schedule be damned.

Like when I send the kids to school in light jackets and shorts, it's pretty much a certainty that snow is coming soon.

Like when I have a day off and time to make a big breakfast for myself, it's one of the 62 holidays that shut down the Freeps' printing presses (and I have to force one of the kids out the door to find me a real paper before breakfast gets cold).

Like when I post a crappy little piece about Facebook on February 3rd and someone else - someone who gets paid for these kinds of things - posts their less-crappy little piece about Facebook on February 7th.

Karma says that Herman might owe me a beer. I'll even go with something domestic.

Minty - With a Slight Tingle

Because I so love Make magazine, but some projects can only be sucessful in Dreamland, it was time to do something more suited to the semi-133t skilz of JediBoy and I. We chose a nifty little portable iPod charger - the MintyBoost. It's purpose: provide emergency battery-powered recharging for an iPod (or a cellphone or an MP3 player or whatever can live on 5V recharging) for those times when you can't simply plug something into the wall. We've finished one charger already, and we're working on a second. For less than $35 in parts and a few hours of our time, it's not a bad deal. Observe:

Take one tin of Altoids
(we chose the mints, but gum works, too).

Empty out the mints for later!


Cut a hole in the side for a USB plug. I found
that drilling works best, although some
folks have cool nibbler tools that makes this
step a lot easier.

Add some circuitry stuff and batteries. Line
the tin bottom with duct tape (to avoid
circuit shorts) and hot-glue everything in place.

Plug in your iPod and re-charge!

Not Gonna Wear A Black Turtleneck

My family gave me an iPod Touch for my birthday back in December. That's some pretty extravagant schwag for me since I'm usually the guy imploring folks to save thier dough when it comes to gift-giving. This approach is just my passive/agressive way of saying, "Anything I really want costs way too much.".

Nonetheless, an iPod Touch is what I got as a sort of restitution for last Summer's unfortunate alignment of JediBoy, my backpack full of gizmos, and Rose Point Marina's murky waters. The Touch is something I'd never get for myself, but it's pretty cool in that Apple-ly way of being pretty cool. I'll not be fellating a life-sized cutout of Steve Jobs anytime soon, but for listening to my Disney podcasts, the Touch beats my ancient Shuffle by a country mile.

But the Touch is more than a Shuffle on steroids. It does a bunch of other stuff really well, and is kind of mediocre in other areas.

The Good:

• Built-in wi-fi with excellent web browsing and email support
• Loads of applications - many of them free. Example: one free app shows all the nearest Tim Horton's via a Google Map mashup
• includes Calendar and Contact List applications
• includes iPod-specific versions of popular services, including: YouTube, Google Maps, Facebook, The Weather Network, etc.
  
• 32Gb holds a lot of music and videos (a friend of mine has one and walks around with Buffy Season 1 comfortably in his pocket)
• It's small, slim, and the touch screen is simply amazing
• The touchscreen keyboard works quite well - even for fumble fingered folks like me
  

The Meh:

• The Calendar and Contact List apps can't hold a candle to what Palm provided many years ago (the Touch is not quite yet what I'd call a PDA)
• Applications - free or not - can only be loaded through the Apple iTunes biosphere
  
• No support (yet) for copy/paste when you create text
• The browser does not support Flash - allegedly due to on-going negotiations between Apple and Adobe
• Battery size was lost at the expense of keeping the device slimmed down
• no built-in Bluetooth, GPS, or camera (like it's big brother the iPhone)
• No external keyboard or Ethernet support (would really make this a portable netbook-ish device)

So that's my review, I guess. It's an awesome little gadget - and I do love gadgets. In the interest of full disclosure, I did type this post using my Touch while sitting in my favourite TV-watching comfy chair. It took a solid 20 minutes of hunting and pecking on the touchscreen keyboard - and I shan't be doing that too often.

Angst Is For Emo Kids

Leave it to KD and David to pull back on the joystick when the mood of the blogosphere starts into a death spin of introspection and general boringness (oh ya, that's a word). My own measly postings of late have the distinct whininess usually reserved for the inside cover of a teenager's school binder (only with less doodling). I get it, guys - time to lighten up.

Since I'm currently ripping old vinyl, I'll share this overly-earnest toe-tapper from the past.

Shadows Across My Face

The Middle of the story can be summed up quite easily: David S. became my very first really-and-truly Facebook Friend yesterday. It was a lovely surprise - almost too lovely. At the heart of it beats a simple truth that all of us (really) find some amount of validation in being noticed. And that's all there was to it - the pleasure of being noticed and acknowledged without ever expecting it. I think that might be at the core of the Facebook phenomenon. Maybe.

Beginning and End can now be told.

In the Beginning, I created a Facebook account to just annoy the Hell out of my 16 year-old daughter, BandGeek. I have teased her pretty consistently about her massive circle of Facebook Friends and how that whole world seemed to be a little short on content or substance. They Tag and they Poke and they write on each other's Wall - and I marvel at it just a bit.

To grok this meme, she suggested I create my own account, and she went so far as to add me as her Friend. Several minutes later, she removed me as her Friend. Parents, I'm told, should not really 'social network' with their kids. Bad things can happen. Information can go astray. Her advice: maybe find some Friends more my own age.

So my account sat there unloved, unused, Friend-less. I hadn't made much of an effort to seek out anyone on my own. And then Middle came along, and you know that part of the tale.

In the End - which is not really the end but just what I was doing a few minutes ago - I decided to poke around a bit inside the Facebook world. I kind of get the drift of things, I suppose: commenting, following others, just sort of keeping in touch in a multi-casting kind of way.

I started to search around for people I knew (or used to know). That's the true power of Facebook: making connections across geography and time. I found a few people I knew from school, and that was pretty cool. There were names I hadn't thought about in years. There were some names that were familiar somehow, and yet not.

And then I ran across Her - an old flame from my college days. She had a picture posted, and it punched me in the gut without the barest hint of "Look out, stupid!". I haven't been in touch with Her in more than 20 years, but the power of encountering someone from the past - someone that resonated - is pretty powerful stuff, indeed. No, this isn't middle-age crisis territory. Rather, I think it's just a new path for some old memories to claw their way to consciousness - a shortcut heretofore unknown.

So, yes, the End of the story seems to be about ghosts and what to do with them. I may reach out to some of these spectres - give them form and substance by shining a bit of light on them. Others will probably remain as wispy memories, worth a smile and nothing more.

I Will See This

And so will you.



Right?

Say Fanboi Three Times Fast...

There's cool, there's awesome, and there's sublime. Then there's.... coolsomeblime?

That's what this is - coolsomeblime.

When Meetspace and Meatspace Don't Meet

I missed last night's Who Tavern and I'm a tad pissed about it. Two reasons: I missed it, I said I was pretty sure I'd be there.

Before I continue, let's level-set with the best explanation of Who Tavern I can find.

Clear enough? Let's continue.

My Innertubes friend, The Kid, extended a very gracious invitation a few days ago to hang-out at a local variation of such an event. While my Saturday night was already booked, I was pretty sure that I'd be able to show up a little later in the evening and see what's what. While generally a shy fellow inside, I was intrigued by the idea of meeting some fellow Dr. Who fans. I was also intrigued by the promise of walking to up my Innertubes friends, The Kid and Jim Dandy, extending a firm handshake and saying in a loud-but-not-overly-jovial voice, "Hi, my name is Kevin - but you might know me as Crazylegs. So, what are we drinking? I'm buying the first round.".

But like so many things I plan at the last minute, Fate conspired against me.

Strike 1: Our (slightly) out-of-town visitors lingered awhile longer than they planned - hoping the snow might taper off for the drive home. As we eventually bade farewell and bon chance to our guests, my attention focused on JediBoy's hours-old Xbox360 wireless adaptor.

Strike 2: I had promised to get XboxLive up-and-running before the night was done. I'm an IT professional - so how hard was it gonna be? The Xbox360, of course, had an answer for that question that required an obscene amount of tinkering with port-forwarding, MS Live accounts, and parental permissions.

Before all my obligations were met, the clock was on the wrong side of 10pm and I elected to just shovel the driveway and feel bad.

So guys - my apologies. I hope you had a good time. And should the planets align someday and we're all in the same place at the same time, remember: I'm buying.

Looking For Plan B

Any de-stressing and muscle relaxation I may have achieved after 2 weeks of doing-nothing-in-particular vacation has been obliterated after just 3 days back at work. And even winning the lottery has become just a little more elusive.

What's it all for, anyways?

My Sonic Roadmap

So I've had this little side-project going in fits and starts since last September to digitize all of our recorded music. I'm not sure of the precise rationale for doing this other than it seems like a good thing to rip all of our unused, unloved cassettes and vinyl to something a little more convenient for these modern times. Dee and the kids are iPod afficionados and it seemed reasonable that they would appreciate having all our great old music in a more iTunes-friendly format.

So for the past 4 months I've had the guts of our stereo plugged into the back of our PC as I've beavered away at this tedious task. I decided to tackle the cassette tapes first. Many of these tapes are close to 30 years old(!!). One - The Mamas and the Papas - is closer to 40 years and belonged to my parents when cassettes were on the cutting edge of audio tech.

It's been an unexpectedly poignant experience - memories that have not seen much daylight in so long. I've seen some childhood, my first car (a very used Firebird Esprit), an old friend's cigarette-burned couch, a spontaneous dance in front of the Western Fair bandshell, my embarrassing early-80's proto-punk harcut, a make-out session with my soon-to-be (much) Better Half - all pieces of Me brought into musical form and shape.

It's been a good time.

As I type these words, the final tape - tape #110 - is unwinding it's dusty secrets into the digital world. The tape: Steve Martin - A Wild and Crazy Guy. I haven't listened to it in many, many years, but I nearly wore it out when it was new. It was a gift expressly from my Dad on my 16th birthday. On occasions that demanded gifts, the selection duties were always left to Mom. But 16 was something different in my Dad's eyes, and he knew I loved Steve Martin. The fact that the tape had a bit of bad language was an added bonus. It was Dad's way of saying, "You've arrived, Son. You can be your own man, now.". It was good day, back in our house on Calgary Street.

All that from a little plastic ribbon. And upstairs, on a long shelf, are many more old LPs waiting to tell their stories, too. I can already hear their dusty voices.

2009 - The Year of More Frequent Fluff

OMG Update! How could I have forgotten the most formative employment experience of my so-called life? At the tender age of 12 I delivered the morning edition of the Freeps (back when they had more than 1 edition, but no Sunday paper). I was out of bed at 4:30am to make my rounds and did my collecting after dinner a fewe nights a week. We had to 'collect' because 'mail' hadn't yet been invented. All that for a princely $20 a week plus tips at Christmas. I don't wanna brag, but there was a time that my route was the largest in the city - Second Street, Third Street, and all the streets in between.

I never make New Year's resolutions because (and I'm being honest here) I haven't the willpower to do what's good for me. By lunchtime on January 1st I pretty much know that 'good' and 'enjoyable' are generally not on speaking terms. You can guess who wins.

But I did set a goal or two for 2009 (more like guidelines really) and one of them is to post a little bit more this year. I get lots of ideas, but typically I procrastinate too much to write them down. As luck would have it, my Innertube Friend David provided the inspiration for 2009's inaugural entry here at the Theater. Consider this a streak of 1.

The objective he set for me: list all the paying jobs I've ever had. He's even giving me the 'out' to keep it vague so as to protect my anonymity. While I appreciate the opportunity to bend the rules a bit, I think my secret identity is pretty much protected by the fact that there are less than a dozen regular patrons to the Theater.

And so, here is what I've been willing to do for a bit of filthy lucre:

Line-worker in a plastics factory for too many Summers. Interesting fact #1: I once assembled Weebles Treehouses. Interesting fact #2: it was the assembly process for these Treehouses that led to a terrible scar on the middle finger of my right hand.

Painted the outside of a local factory (it took the whole Summer). I learned never to use latex paint in the rain.

Worked the counter at a dry-cleaners. Dry-cleaning is not 'dry' by the way.

Did telephone sales for a company that organized country-and-western concerts for charities. Yes, I shilled Kitty Wells tickets on the backs of disabled kids. I am so going to Hell.

Assembled solar water-heating systems for swimming pools. They didn't really work and the company went out of business after I left. Coincidence? Oh, and I worked with biker dudes (nice guys!).

Was a house-painter for a company that specialized in church steeples and those grand old 3-story places on Waterloo Street. You know, the ones with the fancy gables about a hundred feet off the ground? I do not like heights very much.

Got paid $20 once to help change a ceiling fan in the upper reaches of the cathedral at St. Paul's. I do not like heights very much and I'm Catholic, but I liked that my friend gave me the $20 to take his place in this procedure.

Held a co-op IT job at Nova Corp. in Calgary. I was supposed to be learning computer programming, but they had me doing pseudo-clerical stuff. It was okay since they paid all my travel expenses and I ended up sharing an apartment with 3 cute girls.

Held a co-op IT job at (now-defunct) Burroughs Corp. in Toronto. This was the worst job I ever had. I commuted round-trip from downtown Hamilton to North York every day for 4 months. The conveyances required were GO bus, TTC subway, TTC bus, and my feet. It was awful.

Worked as freelance programmer - targeting small businesses who needed basic software on-the-cheap. I discovered that small businesses who buy software on-the-cheap only do so because they have no money. One such (now-defunct) local business paid me with a repossesed Commodore64 they took as payment from one of their deadbeat Customers. Irony does not pay the bills.

Worked as a programmer/analyst for (now-defunct) Robert Hunt Corp. in London. It was a family-owned business that I swear was the prototype for Dallas. While a generally lousy place to work, I did meet my precious Dee there - so it was all worthwhile.

Worked various IT positions - programming, database design, etc. - for good ol' Canada Trust in London, Ontario. After we were bought out and merged into TD Bank, the new proprieters kept me on the payroll. While it was a generally frightening transition, it seems to have worked out nicely after all.

As you might notice, almost every employer I ever had is no longer in business. I'm sure it's just a coincidence.

Oh, and Adam? Tag, you're next.

Holiday Wishes For You

We've spent the past few days having a pre-Christmas visit with Dee's folks in the frigid environs of Levack, Ontario. I had high hopes to post a few pictures from there - just to show the folks in the Banana Belt what -32C looks like. Alas, this did not happen for numerous reasons which include: repairing my father-in-law's PC, a shopping trip to Sudbury, my yearly hour of churchy goodness, and constant feasting on my mother-in-law's to-die-for baking. All in all, a pretty decent trip (even the churchy bits) - but always too short.

The weather was another story and I can only conclude that Mother Nature is pretty pissed about something. The 7-hour drive to Levack was uneventful and easy - notwithstanding that it was bookended by winter storms on the day previous and day after we travelled. While in Levack, the temperatures were astoundingly cold - too cold for any outdoor activities. The drive back was not so much a 'trip' as it was a Foreign Legion march. In total, a 10-hour trek through bad weather and slushy roads. The final leg from Kitchener to London took 2 hours with speeds never breaking the 40 km/h mark.

The final indignity was having to shovel more that 40 cm of snow from the driveway last evening, and another 10 cm of wet, heavy stuff again today. But now the final preparations are nearly complete for Christmas and I await the neighbours who'll be dropping by for a Christmas Eve visit. While the weather outside is indeed frightful, Christmas will be undoubtedly delightful.

So to all my Innertube friends: may your Christmas be wooly-sock warm and full of fellowship and good cheer. My gift to you is music - music that you won't be able to get out of your head.

Merry Christmas - and you're welcome.

Eco-Friendly Space Travel?

So I'm driving home from work a few days back and I get behind a little Honda fuel-efficient something-or-other heading West on Riverside. I was thinking to myself, "Damn you all to H-E-double-hockeysticks for not buying North American!" when I noticed his bumper-sticker. So I took advantage of a well-timed red light to whip out my cellphone (screw you McGuinty!) and snapped a quick picture. The bumper-sticker read:

My Other Car is a TARDIS

Without the benefit of the TV-show technology that Jack Bauer uses every week to identify blood-spray patterns and foreign terrorists from high above the Earth's atmosphere, you'll just have to take my word that the above picture is the real deal. It made me smile at the end of what had otherwise been a craptacular day working for Da Man.

Oh Yes, I'm All That

Update: The video below was created here. Check it out. Impress a Loved One!

Under normal circumstances, I would never mention that this is a Special Day. But my friends over at Disney went and made a big deal about today being my birthday. So I thought I'd acknowledge that, yes, today I turn 46 years old(ish). I also thought I'd share this little present from my friends in Orlando.

Thanks, Mickey!!

Is This Shark-Jumping?

So Jediboy and I have been watching these commercials for the new 'Mortal Kombat vs. DC Universe' game - MK vs. DC for the kool kids. I'm a bit underwhelmed based on the fact that I've never quite grokked the popularity of Mortal Kombat. I figure this title will be a success with lots of fanboys snapping up copies all the while piling on the posts in the appropriate IRC channels and discussion boards.

Then Jediboy asks me, "Who's more powerful - DC or Marvel guys?". I'm ashamed to admit I really don't know how to answer him. Sure, I darken Bruno's door from time to time, but I've only ever been a gadfly in the comic book world.

But I know guys who'l know The Truth. So what's The Truth guys?