Federal Reserve: No Secrets Here

Tax the rich, feed the poor, etc. Scripted? Aside from the odd clip available on the internet...

I don't routinely watch much mainstream cable news. Love the 3/4 length sleeve "The Who" shirt on Mr. Interviewee. Something I'd definitely want to slip into before shuffling off to the booze store before heading off to the protest to meet chicks and grab a hotdog. Good to see some of the kids still appreciate the great music. The stadium rock pioneers that hailed from a time that I sometimes wish I were a teenager during. Even still I dream of one day playing guitar and singing in a popular progressive-psychedelic rock band who's fan base is comprised mainly by hot MILFs and stylish drug dealers. Maybe we could even convince our favorite news man to have us on one of his broadcasts... we'll raise Cain!



   

Until next time.

More...


More...



ENOUGH!

Western Medicine & Public Death Care

Western medicine seems to put far more emphasis on treating symptoms resulting from poor lifestyle choices and circumstance. Decades of living a loveless life, not sleeping enough, and continually stressing about disease and dysfunction can wreak havoc on the immune system.

Take someone, let's say a man approaching middle age who has worked at a petrochemical refinery for ten hours a day for the last twenty years and whose basic diet is comprised of convenience foods and cheap beer. His exercise is limited to getting in and out of a pickup truck and walking a few steps several times a day. His sixteen year old daughter is dating some drug dealer twice her age, and he hasn't made love to his wife in almost a year. He feels immeasurable guilt about a clandestine visit to a "massage" parlour he impulsively made when he was drunk... six years ago. He has his mobile phone next to his ear for an average of an hour every working shift.

Our candidate goes to the doctor complaining about headaches and gastrointestinal issues, and the doctor asks, "Do you smoke?"

He smokes about ten or fifteen cigarettes a day, has the occasional cigar, and stresses about cutting back. The doctor prescribes a magic quit-smoking-pill and tells him not to make another appointment until he's quit smoking.

Re-Discovering Sir Mix-A-Lot: A short hip-hop / rap / pop music review written by a wannabe rocker.

In considering that my musical tastes lean most hardest toward psychedelic rock music from the 60's and 70's, I am probably not the best aficionado of good taste when it comes to criticizing the hip-hop / rap genre of music out here, but I do love a good song and dance; I know what I like. Sometimes... like after a nice grilled cheese sandwich and some discount brand lager, I crave hearing a bit of Black Sabbath or Captain Beefheart. Often, there are times that I'm feeling a little nostalgic, drunk, and no other singer can fill the void in my heart like Diana Ross. I've always been a tremendously huge fan of those gorgeous and talented ABBA girls:




ABBA to Zappa. I get off listening to whatever I deem to be a good song or well conceived piece of music regardless of whatever genre it may be classified under. When it comes to classical music, it's in the nuances found betwixt the notes and pauses  of the masterful works of J.S. Bach that charges-up my batteries more than even Mozart of Brahms:



The music of J.S. Bach is complex and definitive. The mediocrity of this particular recitation in comparison to what I've heard out there leaves much to be desired.  I Unless you're playing bluegrass, a song shouldn't be treated as though its a cannonball run. Given the serene complexity of every single one of  J.S. Bach's works that I've yet heard, it's a miracle to me that anyone can even play all the movements through to the finish at all! So I offer a hearty Bravo to the organist above, whoever he may be. Just playing anything on a full console pipe organ is impressive in itself. Being expected to sweep the foot pedals in correct order while noodling about with both hands on the keyboardz in an accurate and timely fashion would astound even the most stalwart of "hey, I can do that" type people. Isn't the pipe organ truly glorious? I thank metallurgy, acoustical physics, and Christianity for the wonder that is the pipe organ.

Hyper-galactic jumping into the century of motorcars and soda-pop, we find "rap" music. Rap music BAD! Church Hymns GOOD!

Just so you know, folks, I grew up fairly non-ecclesiastically. My folks never brought me to any church except for a couple of midnight masses in a couple of modest cathedrals here and there and what not... and yet still they managed still to instill into me some certain and strong sense of the Good Lord or God Almighty or whatever. For me, spending time with biblical passages is far better than spending time with some pseudo-wizened pontificating professor of textbook history: I say, read it (Bible) for yourself. Is it the words of 'GOD' that you're seeing? Since everything we know from history was probably written by our (human?) ancestors, should it not be that the scriptures themselves aren't prone to corruption from the time-traveler component if you believe in such things? Hey... it's all trajectories and velocities... it's all good, bro... just try some of this, Dear Reader....

Sir-Mix-A-Lot is one performer who's deeply etched into in my mind when I think back to the popular rap / hip-hop scene of music I was exposed to in the early-to-mid nineties. It was that Big Butts song that led me to further explore his works. Flashback ten years and I was listening to the Beastie Boys- dropping their needles and busting out honest-to-goodness spoiled-white-kid rhymes. I was about nine or ten back then, and at that age I didn't even know the meaning of Jewish. That is until I really started watching SNL on the furniture-piece television set in Mom & Dad's basement.

Watch this one first:




Warm reception in Glasgow for these innovators of modern American music at the time. The Beastie Boys. Lots of energy, great DJ, and interesting lyrics in a swingin' good performance, I say. So what's Sir-Mix-Alot up to these days?  Check out his slick website.  or just watch this crazy ode to the idolization of pricey performance cars. Sir-Mix-A-Lot pretends to be tough, but I bet I could personally whip him in a one on one fight.  It's hard to tell if he's tongue-in-cheek or not, but either way, I appreciate a good sprinkling of cheese in my pop music, and while this particular number isn't something I'd purposefully represent, it's got clever rhymes and sounds almost like a cross between Duran Duran and Lady Ga Ga:




I'm a white pussy who lives in Edmonton Alberta, and while it may be true that I mainly put the blame squarely on the shoulders  of Canadian immigration policies for most of our emerging problems, I still enjoy a good dose of exotic styles of music now and again, and I never blame the queue jumpers. How about some more music from the United States of America. Ice Cube anyone?





I think Ice Cube would easily see to it that Sir Mix-A-Lot chokes on his own teeth were they ever to get into a serious fist fight, eh? Doubt it would happen. Speaking from experience, musicians usually get tougher guys to do their fighting for them. I just know that I sure wouldn't want to piss the ol' Cube off. He looks like he could open a bag of dog food without so much as a really sharp knife. As a politically correct Canuck, I like how Ice Cube exposes the blame-shifting culture for what it is. Blame gangsterism. Blame your inability to tell the truth and whatnot. I think me and Mr. Cube would see eye-to-eye on a good many things, and I might only hope that he's still rich, reads this blog for himself, and invites me for a shindig at his place someday.

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Well that's all for the music review tonight.  For the life of me I cannot remember whatelse I was going to write about, and I'm far too lazy to start importing pictures right now, so I'll just call it a finish and would like to offer a little reminder to you, Dear Reader. Dear Reader I would ask for you to go ahead and cherish every good moment you have and to celebrate your loved ones. We are all but the frayed ends of a flash of light in the great cosmic scheme of things, Go boldly forth in your life's quest, Dear Reader, and whatever you do.... don't forget to bookmark my blog!



    

Paying Last Respects on Live Streaming Video

Just listening to Dave Breakenridge filling in for Dave Rutherford on local A.M. talk radio station 630 CHED. On this fine morning in Edmonton, he was discussing the transparent political opportunism behind the outpouring of words in the media regarding Jack Layton's recent untimely passing. Now of course political hacks and charitable organizations are going to capitalize upon something as capitulating as the death of a... wait for it... an enigmatic and charismatic career politician; the whole issue vaguely reminded me of a segment from America's Finest News Source:

Excitement Growing Among Beatles Fans For Paul McCartney's Funeral

I understand Jack was really a musician at heart. Playing eight ball and doing music... sounds like my kind of guy. Sitting down with my bowl of my morning oats in front of my computer, I decided to head on over to the CBC's website to get the latest on the late Jack Layton whilst shoveling down my daily ration of porridge. Much to my morbid delight, they had a LIVE video camera aimed at a closed casket, draped over by Our Own Canadian flag.

While there was also streaming audio to accompany the picture, aside from the appreciably low and sombre murmur throughout Toronto City Hall on this day, all that I could hear through my PC's Cambridge Soundworks speakers were the occasional bursts of rapid-fire automatic shutters admitting light through their zoom lenses- photo journalists hoping to capture those elusive instances of immensely genuine sorrow to replay on the evening news.

Groups of three to five mourners at a time were corralled into the peripheries of the live streaming video camera to pay their last (or maybe their first and last) respects to good old Jack before shuffling off to the job postings board or heading out to a demonstration or whatever. Each group had a good twenty seconds or so to stand in quiet contemplation... fellow politicians, friends, strangers, families, old grannies, union guys... even Olivia Chow was there.

Twenty seconds to stand there, pray, bow the head, drape scarves over the flags in the background, whatever- before filing off... just enough time for a quick once over from the biometric scanning hardware that we can only presume the evil "Harper Government" insisted be covertly installed for the event. Why? I tell you it's elementary, my Dear Reader, the scores of minority government supporters gathering in one place presented an irresistible golden opportunity for our Canadian Department of Immeasurable Doom to mine some good image data on minority government supporters, and to possibly help identify those few renegades who might not have a profile on Facebook yet. City Hall was a proper hotbed of folks who might be potentially threatening to our Majority Conservative Empire today. Sign the book, stand by the coffin, and move on through. Anyway, you could sure hear those cameras going off every time one of the more expressive mourners in the crowd shed a few crocodile tears as they all lined up alongside the coffin to pay respects.

While naught could I afford at this time to fly out East to share this outpouring of grievous emotion in person with my fellow Canadians, at least I could indulge my own voyeuristic self for a while from behind the computer screen and take a few "pictures" (screenshots) of my own thanks to CBC's coverage of this sad event. It was almost like being there in person, but without having to engage in idle chit-chat with anyone stinky, and while enjoying the sort of comfort only a steaming bowl of cereal in front of oneself can provide. Somehow I doubt they'd allow me to bring an open bowl of hot porridge through Toronto's City Hall?

Between big spoonfuls of oats and brown sugar, I would hit the [Prt Scr] to capture the following images from this mournful promenade of people from all walks of life. This impressive turnout could only be a testament to Jack Layton having truly been a man of a certain kind of people:

Click Here To See More Screen Captures

R.I.P Jack Layton - July 18, 1950 – August 22, 2011.

Thinking About Jack Layton

Well folks, I didn't even properly finish my last article and here I am already writing another on-line journal entry.

While I can't say that I've ever had the pleasure of meeting the man- the legend, I would like to say little more on the matter than to offer my sincerest condolences to his family and friends in their time of grief and mourning. I'd wish them all well, and wonder to myself if the old man would have liked listening to uplifting songs such as the one following:

I know you'll be dearly missed in these interesting times.

R.I.P. Mr. Jack Layton.

It's a shame you died so young, Sir. Now I'll never have the chance to introduce Mr. Jack Layton to my school of pool while we talk shop. If our nation's politics are something that interest you, might I suggest  you go ahead and click here to check out the website for the national political party this popular politician managed to elevate to the status of official opposition in Canada's House of Commons. I must doubt that everything about the NDP is necessarily wrong-headed idealism masquerading as good will.

As you may or may not be aware, Dear Reader, when it comes to matters of national importance, more often than not, my thinking tends to be aligned with conservative schools of thought. At least when it comes to fiscal planning and less government intrusion into private lives. Still, I appreciate that Canada has so many social safety nets in place for Her Citizens, fought for and won by opponents of The Crown's authority. Remember that trade unionists stopped the practice of sending mere children into coal mines and introduced the concept of days off and benefits. I feel that trade unions and tempered socialism still play a valuable role in keeping the so called establishment and corporate monopolies in check- even if they are somewhat bloated and cumbersome after generations of that inevitable state known as corruption. I think greed and corruption walk hand-in-hand, and are but irreconcilable aspects of the human condition by and large. What do you think?

Recently, our Canadian Military have arrived at the decision to revert to calling themselves The Royal Air Force / Army / Navy. A good number of opinionated Canadians will say it's a tremendous waste of funds to pay for such a reversion, but I say good on them. Bring on the fascist regime for all I care!

The iconography surrounding The Crown and it's related symbols: art not they lasting historic reminders preserved in form of precious metals and ribbons? Such medals awarded on behalf of His or Her Majesty do provide all manner of interesting decorations for serving members to display when attending formal  functions. I'm inclined to think that such minted pieces would serve as good conversation pieces among brothers and sisters in arms, as well as being family heirlooms to remind surviving relatives of their loved one's courageous deeds while away from home.


"

Since these awards for bravery and other noble deeds are not easily earned by the men and women in uniform, I say good on them. Army, Navy, & Air Force. Police. It's my sentiment that the divisional categorization of our Air, Sea, and Land forces might have spurned healthy competition and so made our Canadian Forces more efficient as a whole. Decentralize and optimize the three branches. Make no mistake: while many of the roles are basically non-combat support roles in technical or clerical fields by nature, war and defense are ultimately the business of effectively killing or paralyzing threats to our sovereignty and freedom we enjoy, and I should hope the folks willing to put their lives on the line would at least enjoy the infinite outpouring of support from the nation's very people they're sworn to protect. As we all well know, the best deterrent to war is a massively powerful defense force.

--- )-( ---



There goes my telephone... leaking again. I feel like I need to be left alone when I'm producing content for this big writing project of mine. I'd like to now present to you, Dear Reader, a few pictures, links and whatnot for your mental digestion. Now, I know I'm the type to go and on about whatever comes to mind, I've been meaning to share my thoughts about a subject that is very near to my own heart, and that is a fairly recent discovery to me.

Yes folks, I'd like to share with you today my thoughts about a most uniquely delicious berry I've found myself snacking on for the last few weeks. They're these potentially astringent little clusters of black fruit that grow abundantly around my neighbourhood. I hear they can be used to make a most delicious wine, and I must say, I can hardly pass up picking at least a few of them when I cross the these old trees with their wine coloured leaves while out on an August stroll through the park. Of course, one should always be prepared when picking these shiny little cherries that the bitter taste of this varietous species will sometimes live up to its' name- and then some. It'll have you puckering like a prim and proper fuddie duddie shaking his tired old head in disapproval of some fag bumming hangabout who's been loafing about in front of his quaint curiosities' shop since before noon.

"If you don't hurry up and scram... you, you cretinous, good-for-nothing layabout, I shall be inclined to call the authorities! Scram you urchin, before I lose any more custom thanks to the likes of you, you useless get! Scram I say!"  

I wouldn't want you upset with me, Dear Reader, and most certainly wouldn't want you blaming me if you ever were to find your taste buds to be in "Agony City" over allowing me to inspire a berry hunting outing. One should always exercise extreme prejudice when selecting any sort of wild berry, as we know certain poisonous varieties are often, I think, highly indiscernible from their safe to eat relatives and all. While I'm sure that my readership will surely know better, I'd like to offer a disclaimer. Just in case I've inspired you to go out looking for edible treats in the wild, might I suggest that you please employ extreme prejudice toward wild berries, and exercise the utmost of due diligence while mingling about in the kingdom of plants. Novices should consider bringing a trustworthy field guide or some notes along to help make a safe and sound selections of any flowering or fruit bearing plants. I believe the rule of thumb is that if there's any doubt whatsoever as to whether you're about to eat something harmful, always err on the side of caution and not risk having some awful kind of reaction to the plant. Picking mushrooms or skateboarding on the steps of something, please be careful out there, folks... whatever your endeavour may be! (I think I used at least three Canadian spellings: neighbourhood, coloured, and endeavour.)

Thoughts on Glenn Beck?

It's no secret to my close friends that I'm obsessed with current affairs and spend a great deal of time doing things like listening to conservative talk radio while perusing the mainstream media via cyberspace. Often times when my chums call to ask what I'm up to, the answer is: I'm seeking out the prevailing winds of public opinion on the Internet from the sanctuary that is my walk-in-closet-office, or maybe working on some writing of my own. While I'm now trying my best to focus this blog more on my artistic pursuits, the call to decry the overwhelming ignorance and astonishing hypocrisy so frighteningly prevalent in North American society these days often wins over. There are some instances, Dear Reader, that I hear a media tidbit and simply cannot shake the compulsion to voice my own opinions about the escalating stupidity of people in general.

"You do support freedom of speech, right?"

"Yes, but...."

There are no "ifs", "ands", or "buts" when it comes to freedom of speech, folks. I think I've touched on this before, and nothing spells hypocrisy like someone trying to impose conditions to a concept like freedom of expression. The key word here is freedom. Slanderous attacks are one thing, but either you have freedom of expression and freedom of speech, or, you have a state of censorship. It's really that simple.

We should hope that anyone making any statement in public would demonstrate enough sensibility to exercise at least a modicum of prudence and decency, but as we know, not everyone measures their words as carefully as a bought politician. Still, if we as a society are to see it fair to impose limits on something as benign as say, the level of vulgarity in someone's words, might this not prevent certain people from expressing the true nature of their beliefs in the court of public opinion? In other words, the mere fact that someone's at a lack for appropriate and polite adjectives doesn't necessarily invalidate their concerns. We're all adults and should be quite capable of critical thinking, so leave the idiots and hate mongering fools among us to expose themselves as such. I'm a grown-up and I'll decide who and what I deem worthy or not of listening to, and I firmly believe that everyone should in the least retain the basic right to have their say.

If for any reason you ever feel inclined to spend some time mingling with the dumbest of dumb-dumb dummies in the land, might I suggest you go and spend a little time at any college campus in whatever city of the United States. The wrongheaded thinking of the typical, almost invariably leftist-thinking college student is completely bewildering to anyone capable of even the simplest mental acrobatics. I can't help but to LOL over how fucked these self-entitled brainwashing victims are going to be once they collect their useless diplomas and have to contend with the real world under their self-imposed mountain of personal debt. My attention was drawn to a particular website after hearing its' founder interviewed on the Charles Adler Show this morning- please check out the following clip. It effectively exposes the sort of compartmentalized and hypocritical thinking you're likely to encounter when speaking with those of us who are in pursuit of "higher learning" these days:




Since I rarely bother too much with mainstream media these days, I haven't really formed much of an opinion about this Glenn Beck fellow, but after watching the above video, it's pretty obvious to me that the man has effectively entrenched himself as the premier whipping boy to more than a few of the brainless, welfare collecting university bums out there. I'll bet most of these "academics" are more familiar with the television series Friends than they are with Arthur Conan Doyle or Ernest Hemmingway.   

Riots vs. Anarchy and More

Riots in the U.K. I preferred anarchy? Did someone already tweet that? Anyhow, I think this time round the kids might not be all right after all. It's difficult to say whether it was all orchestrated from behind the curtain or not, but I would suspect that Europe has certainly reached a boiling point of sorts, and I believe what we're seeing are conditions promulgating out of years of socialistic pressures to achieve some unseen utopia vs. Imperialistic reasoning? I don't know... I just have to agree with David Cameron in that it's pure criminality and the spoiled little thugs are only making things worse for everyone. I can't imagine setting fires in anyone's neighbourhood, and this pure, unadulterated madness in the streets can only be indicative of frustrations that stem from a perceived inequality.

Since I'm a writer, and far too lazy to be much  good to anyone as a serious journalist, I won't go looking up transcripts and quote verbatim the girl from the interview I heard on the radio this morning. I will instead just tell you that this one particular young riot participant harboured an implicit hostility seemingly aimed at whoever she perceived to be, “the rich people.” It doesn't surprise me that her thinking is so misaligned, given the state of grade schooling throughout the western world nowadays and the negative permeations it's endured from bad politics, but there you have it folks. This girl obviously either doesn't care, or does not comprehend the difference between someone who is rich and someone who's let's say, a moderately affluent member of the upper-middle class running a shop on a busy street?






I should think there's no shortage of merchants throughout the many regions of Great Britain these days who are just barely scraping together the quid for their utility payments, never mind keeping their kids in music lessons or their pool boys employed? Setting fires and stealing electronics and jeans? For shame! 
 
Get back to your fatherless children, you little hussy of a cow, looting and rioting! And hey! All you so called “youths” out there... please don't paint all us “whites” with the same brush, dig? Youngsters of the world, I should say the last thing we need is a bloody race war when the good folks among us have come so far working together, living together, and building friendships. Canada is not perfect by any means and our relatively safe and peaceful cities are sometimes shaken by violence within certain identifiably ethnic enclaves, but it's still perhaps one of the better examples of ever elevating levels of immigration without ghettoizing segregation? 
That's all I care to say about this for now, except perhaps that I hope these hooligans cool their feet and that the nanny state doesn't become a merciless big brother as a result. Gosh, I thought thought England's police already had their snot in a know. Anyway, I'm getting out of place here... I'd like to get more regionally close to the news on the other side of the Atlantic, and visit my pals in the Washington for a while.




Democrat... Republican...The Fed... Oh my! Being a citizen of the country considered to be the U.S.A.'s closest trading partner and military ally, I of course take great concern in developments south of our border. All that I'll say on the subject of current affairs in the U.S. is that I would have to side with Independent Libertarians like Ron Paul over any so called Democrat or Republican. Whether they're cognizant of it or not, it should by now be bleedingly obvious that the "free world's" "elected" leaders have all been bought, and the congress is now no better than a collection of servile eunuchs? Anyway, I'd nominate this guy for most impassioned rant of the year award. I don't claim to know the big picture and I wouldn't claim to know how to begin to solve economic upheaval around the world, but I do know that this is some of the most refreshingly honest stuff I've heard in mainstream media for some time:





Dylan Ratigan... the man!


Closer to home, in my own little city of Edmonton, our Mayor has been busy discussing an approach with our new chief of police to deal with escalating levels of violent crime on our streets- as evidenced by nearly three dozen murders so far this year while Alberta's other big city has seen hardly a twelfth of our homicide numbers so far, it should warrant some pause for though about the issue. It's heartbreaking and terrifying to see such bloodshed in a place where I think that traditionally, most people seem to get along well enough without succinctly offing each other, so I hope whatever they come up with for a plan isn't so stupid that it only serves to hinder law abiding citizens and add fuel to the fire. I've witnessed some pretty seriously baffling projects and ridiculous policy making attempts in this here municipality over the years, and I know for a fact that many good folks who concern themselves with the direction of governmental ongoings would tend to agree wholeheartedly with me on the subject of political "miscreantism" over the last several years.

Well, Dear Reader, I've touched on a few things already, and while there's more I'd like to ramble on about, my time is indeed running out for now. As I have other obligations to attend to, I'll leave you with a bit of compu-talk / personal stuff, and I think we can just call this a finished article. After my work-job I'll probably take the dogs for a nice long stroll and snap some more digi-pics from around the hood. So long, and God Bless!
 

Still getting a hang of Oracle's “Open Office” word processor. If you haven't read me before, I'm still adjusting to using the Linux derived, “Ubuntu” operating system on my computer; I report such things in case you Dear Reader may per chance be someone who is considering doing a blog of their own. We can always talk shop: I'm always just as keen to share advice as I am open to suggestions. 

For the time being, I think I'm done with attempts to play with routers and Internet Protocols and all that egghead stuff. I think I should now try to focus my energies on music and literature as much as possible. More than one friend or acquaintance have suggested I might try writing a book, but I'm like, “Nah... I have to LIVE some more first.” Surely I must seek new adventures and spend a bit of time travvvelling to strange and exotic lands before even contemplating my own great Canadian novel. I think I might start with a little screenplay and go from there.

Shaw Cable Edmonton

I love Edmonton. I love the people of Edmonton. I really love where I live, and the city has been amazingly good to me over the years. Suffice it to say, I love attention- positive attention that is, and enjoy making a spectacle of myself. I have a serious affinity for booze, and will drink like a fish and party like a sailor any time that opportunity rears it's neutral head.  As much as I enjoy life sober, I'm truly a hammerheaded individual, and it can be exceedingly difficult for a man like myself to say no to beer, liquor, or wine.

While I'm generally a nice, happy and caring person, there's still, there's things that genuinely piss me off. Like anyone else, I can get mad when somebody steps on my toes, and I love nothing more than to vent my frustrations and share my observances with the public in this age of information. You want info? I got info!

Today was a bit of a strange day. It was late in the morning, and I was sitting outside the Bistro 112 sipping a dark, French roasted coffee with some honey and cream. Not just one, but two friends did I see. I'll just call them "D." and "S." 'D' & 'S' both just landed themselves new jobs in two different restaurants, restaurants which shall remain unnamed- to protect both the business, and my two friends' identities. Good for them. I firmly believe it's important, as well as lawful to protect people's personal and private information, but there are times however, when a situation calls for some sort of action, and when somebody is stalking me, I feel perfectly well justified to plaster their information all over the web. If you're keen to follow me around in your burgundy coloured Ford "Aerostar" van and watch me, than don't be surprised if I take your license plate number and a few photos. Really, it's the least I can do for someone who's considerate enough to follow me around throughout the day. Is this your van?

Ordinarily, I take the effort to ensure that no vehicle's license plates are ever showing in my pictures, but in this case I'd like to make an exception. Alberta "SDA 751," I'd like to share our new relationship with the world, and invite you to feel free to approach me anytime and tell me why you're so fascinated with me. Don't be bashful now!

Not long after taking that boring little snapshot above, I made some eggs and toast and was about to mentally prepare for writing this little write-up. In Edmonton, as well as most of Alberta, I think, you basically have two choices for telephone, cable, and Internet connection services: Shaw & Telus.


Gosh, it must've been about fifteen years since Telus took over the telephone reigns from Alberta Government Telephones (A.G.T.), and the Shaw family have been stringing coaxial cables up and down the prairies for decades. 

Today, mere minutes before writing this, a SHAW cable truck rolled up to my kitchen window, and here's what I saw:

What you're seeing in the image above, are the boots of the cable guy through a small glass window in the uppermost half of one of the rear entrances to my building. What kind of stupid git is so stupid as to position his ladder right in front of a doorway that could potentially swing open at any time? Seriously! We're both lucky I, or one of the other 200 or so residents here didn't come barreling out that back without looking first. I mean, open the fucking door or have a spotter or something, guys. 


Not only did I see a serious oversight in the safety department, this cable guy from Shaw also made a point of filling my kitchen with diesel exhaust from his pick-up truck for about five or six minutes. Next time, don't start your engine until you're ready to leave the premises please? My dogs happen to be asthmatic, alright? Sheesh! I didn't get past Shaw's automated voice menus to complain, but here's what I would've said: (coming soon)


Have a great night, folks!

 

Ural Sidecar & Motorcycle X-Canada Tour

IMZ-8 "Gear Up" sidecar equipped motorcycle. http://www.imz-ural.com/gearup/

http://www.ural.com/

Yet another installment of what's been on my mind as of late... and some links and pictures.

Motorcycles. I've always wanted to make a cross Canada trip on a motorbike. What would be even cooler is if I could somehow take Leo and Thalia along for the ride, which inspired me to put this little picture together:

Album Cover Art Concept

My little daydream led me to do some elementary research into the subject of two wheel drive motorbikes, and I stumbled upon a Russian manufacturer, Ural, makers of the IMZ-8 or "Gear Up", a sidecar equipped motorcycle. I imagine the side car might need a few custom retrofits to safely accomodate two dogs, and I should probably look into custom-fitted headgear and goggles for the pooches. I find the whole idea really exciting, but alas, I'm about $20 grand short of this particular pipe dream...

Anyway, it's been about half a year since Microsoft went to the wayside on my five-year-old, off the shelf PC, but I'm thoroughly pleased with the open-source linux-based graphical operating system commonly known as, "Ubuntu". Without getting too egg-headed about the whole affair, I'll just say that it was straightforward to install, it rarely crashes or struggles with tasks, and it seems to take nearly full advantage of my home computer's capabilities using less than half the space as MS Windows hogged for system related files. Today, I do Ubuntu. Or does Ubunto do me? Whatever!

Photos, photos, and more photos. When you keep two big dogs in a small flat, you need to go for lots of walks. When I go for walks I take lots of pictures sometimes- or- "digi-snaps" as I like to call them. Dogg walks and digi-snaps.

(Leo & Thalias owners) should've named their doubledogs Bonnie and Clyde, but I don't think Leo & Thalia's owners anticipated doubling their dogs when they named Thalia. Strange name, but I like it. It sounds like Italy, and of course I've always been fascinated with Italy. It's mostly the Italian people that fascinate me- and of course their superb mastery of the cuisinary arts which is probably unmatched anywhere... eclipsed maybe by secret chefs like myself, but if you were to ask my opinion for what it's worth, Italy takes the holistic gold medal for foods of the world. I don't mean to play favorites... I am Canadian after all, but the breadth and character of Italian home cooking... Mmmmm. I haven't even scraped the rim of the frying pan yet when it comes to world cuisine, but the endless variants of pasta and sauce... goodness me, I get randy just thinking about a big plate of spaghetti and meatballs that have been slow cooking for hours. Mamma Mia!

Abba - Mamma Mia

Faster Than a Hobo Can Hand-Roll a Few Discarded Butts Into a Smokable Cigarette

Ye Olde Traff-O-Matic Detector

Of course people you must know that all too often the things that happen in our lives aren't always quite what they seem to be from a first glance. The so called "conspiracy theorists" and their "tinfoil hat-wearing" believers are sometimes proven to be correct in the end... after the truth finally comes out in the wash. Sometimes, the great leaders of men around the globe really are engaged in some hidden, diabolical agenda who would love nothing more than to see you  squirming helplessly under their thumbs.

Just now, I learned from the radio that the world price for gold has risen yet again, this time by ten bucks or so, to $1626.90 / ounce. While I'm hardly qualified to even try to forecast what this could possibly mean for the average working slob, other than being an average working slob myself, I think it safe to presume that gold's fervor probably won't mean the price of an ice cream cone will be coming down anytime soon. I've heard some pinstripes suggest that a similar unprecedented rise in the Pound Sterling may soon trail it's cousin in the periodic table due to their natural and historic ratios and whatnot.

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I had overheard the cackling crew partying behind the bins at the outdoor recyclables depot earlier in the afternoon, and the hootin' hobos were still hollering by the time I went out for my evening walk after the nightly downpour I've now come to half expect from this summer in Edmonton.

When people tell me that they're non-judgmental, I can hardly stop myself from laughing. Everyone's judgmental to some degree, especially when they meet someone for the first time. This, as we know, is often referred to as a first impression.

As I'm sure I need not point out, Dear Reader, a first impression is something formed out of our learned stereotypes; elementary notions we then qualify or reject against certain experiential indicators. How is this person is dressed? How does their physical countenance measure-up? What sorts of behaviours are they exhibiting? What sorts of things are they saying, and how are they responding to my personal inquiries? One should keep in mind that a first impression is only as good as the person forming it. While some folks can be quite impressive in their ability to make accurate predictions about others, most of us should probably know that people can always surprise us by their actions or experiences.

Being a dab hand at sizing people up faster than a hobo can hand roll a few discarded butts into a smokable cigarette, I was not in the least surprised by what was about to come my way. Barreling toward me from across the street after bursting from the hedgerows surrounding the recycling depot (really just two rows of categorized dumpsters with a lane-way between for vehicles) was this rotund, middle-aged woman, dressed mostly in black, and carrying a purse. Her attire was relatively clean, and more suited to a job interview than a bush party. Her dangling earrings would suggest to me that she was probably out looking to get shagged...

"Excuse me! Excuse me, Sir!" she was shouting in my direction as I languidly walked by with my dogs, quite effectively interrupting my moment of serenity with my K-9 cohorts. Using my extraordinary powers of perception, I almost immediately ascertained that she was both reckless and intoxicated. Reckless because she was almost staggering as she crossed the street diagonally toward me, instead of using the marked intersection only a few steps away, and intoxicated, I presume, because she was emerging from an impromptu gathering of local homeless folk that had been carrying on a malt liquor party for at least several hours.

As she got closer to me and the doggies, she asked me to call her a cab.

"Okay... you're a cab!", I provoked.

"No, no..." she plunged her fat, clumsy finger into the palm of her other hand as though to indicate dialing a number. It's doubtful whether she could have even dialed something as simple as 911 in her current state.

"No, no! Kin you PHONE me a caaahb? A tax-eee!", she whiningly burbled.

"I'm afraid I cannot, Miss, for you see, I have not a mobile phone in my possession," I responded truthfully.

"Well den, how fahr is your plaaaace?" she ruefully inquired.

"Oh, I live on the other side of the river," I lied.

"Kin I walk wit you den?"

Why me? Why this wretched looking gaudy old woman and not some gorgeous young lady with a vocabulary that spans more than an inflection beyond the monosyllabic?

I'd like to point out that even if I did happen to have a cell phone, you can bet that I wouldn't be using it to call this hapless woman a taxi unless she could first demonstrate to my satisfaction that she had enough money to pay the driver the fare. Whenever I call a taxi from my land-line at home, they show up like Johnny on the spot because they know they can expect at least a modest tip from the likes of my friends and I. Enough fruitless calls from a telephone number to pick-up undesirables and it won't be long before your digits are blacklisted by the company's dispatch. Once upon a time I used to drive taxi myself, and nothing would make my blood boil like a fare dodger who not only wastes my time, but also my motor fuel.

Anyway, the poor woman was quickly losing her battle against gravity and managed to almost gracefully collapse under an old tree after no more than a few dozen steps along my route. Her glasses were coming apart, and her incoherence was beginning to mildly irritate me.

I suggested a pay-phone a few blocks away, but all she could seem to do was to uselessly fiddle with the broken arm of her designer eye wear. A feeble-looking exercise it was. It was as though this woman was thinking that the snapped-off arm of her glasses would somehow magically reattach itself to the edge of the specs... if she only believed strongly enough.

As irksome as I was finding this whole unwanted encounter to be, I'm not an entirely heartless bloke, and I feel a certain responsibility to strive to be more compassionate and to do whatever I can to be a good citizen. Obviously, just ignoring her wasn't an option. As ill-prepared and irresponsible as she seemed to be, this woman is probably someone's mother, or even grandmother. Perhaps her decision to engage in an impromptu drink-up with the downtown riffraff was just a one-off; she certainly didn't strike me as being especially mean or vindictive, but as I said, people can surprise you for better and for worse. Having noticed a few youngsters smoking weed or something on the park benches nearby, I approached.

"I was wondering if any of you might have a mobile phone to call this woman a cab," I suggested, "she seems a little pissed-up, and she tells me that her phone's out of juice. Can you help?"

That's right. She told me her cell phone "died." As I've frequently pointed out in this blog, I've never had a cell phone in my life. No sympathy here. at least on that front. If I can live without a mobile phone, so can just about anyone.  Nothing against people who use iPHONES or Nokias or the likes, Me, I'd just rather not feeling at though I need to depend on having one of these insidious devices at all. Having a mobile computer phone should just be a little bonus tool in my books, or for emergencies. Videotaping police brutality and whatnot. Not the seeming necessity it seems to be for so many. I think that for me, a cell phone would end up becoming more of an irritant than anything.. always ringing.

I do, however, have a little video camera that I sometimes bring out with me on walks, and I always make sure to account for its battery life. Ladies and Gents, when it comes to your cellulars- when you're out partying on the town, maybe it's not the best idea to spend two hours talking cosmetics with cousin Rita, and using up valuable minutes while you wait for service at some restaurant that would rather not have you there in the first place? Unless you have a cord and somewhere to plug your little telecommunication lifeline in for a recharge, save those minutes for when you really need them! That would be my advice. 

Anyhow, one of the fellows I approached for help in the park then borrowed his companion's cell phone and went to attend to the many needs of this heap of a woman. With that, my conscious was clean. I effectively passed the buck and thus freed myself to carry on with my business of self-reflection and walking the dogs.

Please keep in mind, Dear Reader, that in no way am I attempting to convey any sense superiority here; be it moral, ethical, or otherwise. Lord knows I've made some incredibly stupid and impulsive decisions over the years. I really hope I'm not sounding like too much of a jerk, but the thing  that gets me with this story is mostly the question of Miss "Bush Party's" age. She was being slightly aggressive and overly familiar with me. Did not this drunken "Lady Na Na", as it were, demonstrate a highly serious lack of foresight in arranging for her own transport? Especially when taking into consideration how old she is? I mean, seriously, she's no longer a sixteen year-old during a high school dance here.

This strange woman: asked me where I live within the first twenty seconds of speaking with her, and seemed to covet my two dogs... fair enough. She spent her afternoon getting drunk, and had a half-baked story about her backpack being at one of the local casinos. Hey, I've done sort-of similar things when I'm punched-out on the liquor, things I'm sure my friends wouldn't contest. In the first ninety seconds of meeting her for the first time, this woman made the presumption that I carried a cell phone, asked where I live, and wanted to walk with me? How dare she?

"Sure. I don't see why not," I said. She didn't see me roll my eyes!

I wasn't too worried about feeding her or anything, because she most certainly wasn't emaciated or without some kind of means... judging by the size of her purse. Quite to the contrary, she looked to me as though she might have been struggling for some time with a serious addiction to the KFC. KFC addiction can happen to just about anyone... especially good KFC. Mmmmm. She told me she was from outside of town.

All that mean and cruel stuff being said, she is of course a cherished fellow human being with hopes and problems like anyone else, but I've got my own worries, lady. More and more I tend to see the value in erring on the side of caution when  it comes to strangers in this city. I didn't get a very good first impression of this cow, and figured that the darn hussy can sleep it off under a pine tree for all I care! It's not like it's winter and the ground is frozen! Surely this wasn't the first time she's had to con her way out of trouble! Casinos & book-bags, oh my!

Of course in the end, I hope she's no worse for wear, and that also she made it home alright, but lady... think next time!

     

 

Alberta Mounties won't be charged in fatal shooting

A disturbing tragedy to be sure. Justice prevails, and so I'd offer congratulations to the Royal Mounties involved here. 

Lives lost violently really put an indelible blemish on the whole idea behind building vibrant neighbourhoods. Very saddening, this whole suicide by cop idea... One might pause for wonder about just how wrong things can seem to be in one's life to consider such a violent end for oneself, as this seems to be the case here? Will we ever get the wild out of the west?

I'm glad these Mounties aren't having to be taken away from their loved ones over what must have been a very harrowing situation for nearly anyone, I'd imagine, and I would offer my condolences to the victims friends and family of the deceased.

Otherwise, have a great night, folks, and keep informed and concerned about the ones that you love. Over and out.

New Horizons in Commercial Aviation: Introducing "Northeastwest Jet" Airlines

Although hopefully I speak too soon, this piece you're hopefully about to read could potentially be the last entry you see from Understudios for some time to come. The momentous cyber-wave I've been surfing my ideas atop for the last few years (high speed internet through my telephone line) might soon be crashing into the silicone shores. It's nothing I haven't been prepared for, however, as I tend to fly through life by the seat of my pants anyhow, but I did receive some 'important' automated message from my Internet service provider captured faithfully by my digital answering machine. Given my outright negligence toward any mail with little address windows on the envelope lately, I don't imagine it's a happy message, and in terms of my having 24/7 high speed internet access from the comfort of home, the future isn't looking all that friendly, eh Telus?

 Being that I rarely watch cable TV programs, I'm not familiar with very much of the consumer advertising coming down the pipe. I am however exposed to a few advertisers each Sunday when I watch Coronation Street on the CBC website; namely GMC, Charmin, IBM, West Jet, and the Telus ad with the cute little cat playfully swatting at bouncing, whirling graphics. I'd sure like a cat like that, but you can keep your complimentary X-Box. I have enough distractions in my life without the lure of a game station lying around, let me assure you Dear Reader.

West Jet seems to be in damage control mode after some bad press concerning an elderly woman who was refused access to a much needed oxygen tank which was cordoned in the cargo section of the plane, presumably due to the back-up canister's not having it's own regulator attached.

"So we said, 'Well, she has to have oxygen. What are we going to do?' I said, 'Will you let us get off the plane and exchange tanks?' Well no, they wouldn't let me do that," said the woman's daughter, who'd accompanied her on what must've seemed, from their perspective, an absolute nightmare. How much trouble could it have been, really? Even if it meant temporarily unloading half of the cargo onto the tarmac to accommodate this emphysematous woman's need to breath, could such an unplanned logistical feat have taken more than seventy minutes worth of man-hours to get at the thing?

I'm sure anyone who's flown before would be at least somewhat wise to anticipate for potential delays in the world of commercial aviation. Surely seventy minutes and a few hundred bucks to ensure all your passengers are at least breathing easy seems a small price to pay- especially for a company the size of West Jet. I wouldn't personally even bother flying commercially these days... you'll not see me on any commercial plane again until they stop groping and allow smoking!

If it were me on a flight accompanying MY Mom, I'd have to do something rash in order to stop myself from strangling these deferential bozos who would dare  act as gate keepers between my Mom' and her medical lifeline. Indeed, short of cutting-off their oxygen supply with my bare hands to see how they liked it, I would've said something like, “Well fine! I'll just use West Jet's oxygen then,” before summarily pulling the emergency kit from above to administer some urgently needed breathing assistance for my Mom. I would've then followed up with a very loud, “Where's the compassion people? My Mom's dying here, and these stupid ice queens are uniformly refusing to help us!”

West Jet. With the passage of this incident they have gone, in my estimation, from being the corporate underdog darling or aviation, to micro-managed laughing stock... especially after they decided to release a new series of ads which blatantly attempts to polish the optics of their public image to a squeaky-clean luster. I cannot help but imagine you've already chanced upon these advertisements, Dear Reader, presuming of course that you watch television in the first place. I'm not big on cable TV unless you count the mini-series “Breaking Bad”, or a live sporting match, but I do consider myself to be somewhat of an outspoken critic and aspiring screen-writer. 

Thus, I present to you, dear reader, my very own rendering of the "Northeastwest Jet" employee, who by default, also happens to be part owner of this proud company- as is always emphasized and reiterated by their commercial shtick department:

NEW HORIZONS 

IN COMMERCIAL AVIATION: 

Introducing 

"Northeastwest Jet" Airlines LLC.

 

At one of many busy airport concourse kiosks?

Scene 1

CUSTOMER: (Holding Oxygen Cannister.) Excuse me kind sir, but my Mother and I are en route to Vancouver and her canister expired, so she desperately needs some oxygen back in her breathing tubes for the remainder of our air travel. Her secondary canister happens to be in the airplanes cargo hold so I was wondering if you could tell me if this airport happens to have a facility on-site where she might possibly refill her oxygen canister during our stop-over here in...

AIRPORT SERVICES KIOSK ATTENDEE: You're flying with Northeastwest Jet, aren't you? They refused to help you didn't they? Of course we have medical grade oxygen here! How do you think we refill the emergency oxygen supplies on the aircraft? Don't worry, we'll get that bottle refilled pronto! (Receives Oxygen cannister and immediately hands it to a ready associate.)

CUSTOMER: Oh thank you so much! Of course we'll be better prepared next time, and get a second regulator for the back-up tank. I'm sorry we've inconvenienced everyone with this delay, but my dear old Mom's fading fast, and needs help right away! Mom's really old and becoming more feeble each year, and the Northeastwest Jet crew just seemed too preoccupied to do anything to help us.


Scene 2

KIOSK ATTENDEE: Don't worry, it's already filled and on it's way... it's nothing at all. We hear these stories ALL the time from the Northeastwest Jet Set. I guess being part owners of the company they're all too worried about their dividends to focus on the origin of their bread and butter. Or maybe they're off fixing some rich hussy's flat tire in the parkade.

ELDERLY WOMAN (Short of breath.): Thank you young man, but I feel you're being a wee bit too pragmatic on account of my experience with those Northeastwest Jet staffers... from what I've just seen, those flight attendants are just plain fuckers! All it ever seems they're ever doing on the flight is fucking around... people pay good money to fly, and in my day, we treated the elderly with dignity, I'll tell the cock-eyed son's of heathens...(Trailing off.)




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