Old Laptop: Must Revive

In a quest to re-revive an old IBM Thinkpad, I sifted through many articles and forums surrounding the subject of operating systems. The piece you're reading now isn't intended to be a technical instructional as much as a high level overview of an approach that resulted in a fairly elegant, user friendly system on an outdated laptop computer powered by Linux.

If, like myself, you're only mildly acquainted with using a command line interpreter - or a black screen with a blinking cursor, your first order of business should be to ensure you have a primary web connected computer or tablet for referencing purposes. Many plug-and-play distributions do exist, but can be burdensome to older, memory deprived systems...

Here's a (very) rough breakdown of my Thinkpad's limitations:

• Intel Celeron M Processor (1.16 GHz) 
• 40 GB HDD
• 256 MB RAM

...which is why I chose to 'build' the o/s from a base installation up.

Installing a base (sans graphics / desktop) Linux distribution is simple enough - configuring everything appropriately using a shell with just a prompt and blinking cursor awaiting cryptic commands can be quite daunting. After reading several online reviews and poking around forums, I drew the conclusion that the 'Slackware' distribution might best suit my needs. Using a freely available program called "Rufus" on my Windows 7 PC, I installed the downloaded .iso on a USB flash drive.

I was wrong about Slackware. With all due respect to its developers (who are most certainly echelons above my own abilities in the realm of compu-skillz), I was somewhat put-off by a cute sounding embedded system FYI that struck me as somewhat of a shout-out to insiders. In a way that's kind of cool, but I'm not an insider, and so I ultimately settled on Arch Linux.

Likely you've surmised that my Thinkpad is equipped with USB ports. It also has a built-in WiFi adapter and network interface. When you boot the Arch Linux .iso from external media, it 'pops' the kernel into RAM (I think) and requires an internet connection to install on your HDD.

Your first order of business should be to establish and confirm web connectivity. Since I used a WiFi connection, this was simple enough with the USB booted system, but reactivating the adapter presented some challenges AFTER the installation.

Next you'll want to partition your hard disk drive(s). I just followed a schema I found on line that basically devotes 100 MB to the /boot partition, 1 GB for a 'swap' partition, 20 GB for the root system, and the remainder to the /home division.
I would recommend you take a fair bit of time to become accustomed to entering rudimentary commands.


  

On Learning Linux

After so much mucking about, and being faintly aware that the entire process is wrapped in a brilliant, yet haphazard fashion betwixt so many layers of abstraction that it must surely be transparent at some level, I finally manage to invoke a little icon on my Windows 7 operating system. The icon represents countless nuanced tangents and countless hours spent editing configuration files to achieve a simple result: enable the Windows spirited PC to read & write files contained on the HDD of a PC sitting right next to it, but engendered with a Linux o/s.

With the help of so many geniuses before me, I made a very particular something happen. Something so particular in fact, that I'd wager more than 99% of the whole worlds population might dismiss it as so much black magic. Were it not for the 0.001%  of dedicated computer science devotees, I'd probably be on tour with some stupid rock band.

The embarkation itself is half the battle. I know I'm not reinventing the wheel, but I'm marvelling at the spoke-work. Is it a complete waste of my time to become adept at identifying interoperability issues now that the information age is behind us now? Short answer: I don't care. For a Scrabble head like myself, the challenge is the whatever.

Drunk In The Twitterverse

Using twitter is a fantastic way to groom oneself into the habit of  expressing opinions and ideas succinctly. I've encountered Facebook users who shun Twitter entirely, and wonder why. I find the two platforms compliment one another. Of course, at the other end of the human spectrum, you'll find geniuses who write clever little programs that engage the platform automatically. Such programmatic routines are popularily known as 'bots', and they range from simple data mining or marketing structures to more advanced little robo-devils that indeed exhibit varying levels of artificial intelligence. Fascinating.

Rarely will you find me active on Twitter when I'm not not drinking. When I'm not drinking, you might find me engaged in a myriad of pursuits, mostly in computer land - playing games or learning about what goes on 'under the hood' of applications and networks. Sometimes I watch movies or intriguing serials on Netflix with the family. Hi Mom!

I think it's safe to say I've managed to effectively paralyze myself socially through the use of online platforms after several or more drinks. There's no point in dwelling on other people's opinions of me, and I sometimes wonder how other people even keep their composure in the midst of crumbling institutions, eroding traditions, and spiritual emptiness. It's a trap! Of course I'd be lying if I tried to tell you that it's not a little embarrassing to recall the things I'd written the night before, sure. I am well aware of the fact that I tend to become idiotic and surly, shining a light on my own twisted imagination before the many esteemed followers I've managed to accumulate over the years, but gosh darn it, I have such a blast doing so! I can only hope that there are others who find it as entertaining as I do.

I'll keep this entry brief, and use this update to inform anyone curious that I'm feeling extremely well despite being an unemployed chain smoking drunk. Truth be told, I can no longer even imagine living my life any differently, and just the thought of having to hold down some thankless, uninspiring job gives me the shivers! I count myself lucky to have so much free time. I'll conclude by inviting you to check out my online album at Souncloud under the moniker: Invalidator, and promise that I'm going to get to work on some new and exciting productions.

Thanks for stopping in!

That's a wrap!

My crystal ball needs a tune-up! Craig Copeland is still Cold Lake's mayor, and Scott Cyr is the new MLA for my riding. True to my word, I didn't bother casting a ballot.

The recent NDP triumph over the naysayers leaves me feeling mostly indifferent. Regardless of who's elected to collect public dollars and engineer policies, Alberta will not be shielded from the orchestrated elimination of the weak and vulnerable by the global corporate oligarchy.

My overall levels of creativity are in the dumps lately (See? I can't even think-up a clever anecdotal substitute for 'in the dumps'), and I've decided to take a lengthy reprieve from having anything to do with music, be it: purposefully listening to it; writing it; performing it; arranging it; or recording it. Hopefully such a conscious abandonment will eventually reignite my creative drive. I couldn't even be bothered to spruce-up this garbage track I pissed-out the other day:


The whole process of producing music has not only left me mentally exhausted, but has ultimately proven to be entirely unrewarding. Given the accessibility of streaming music and the peripheral cadre of innovative vultures who try to profit from it, I'm beginning to think I picked the wrong pursuit in life. I just hope all eight people subscribed to my Soundcloud channel won't mind too much.

The same goes for this blog, but I felt a farewell post was the least I could do before taking a refreshing hiatus from the nagging compulsion to update it even sporadically for a while. Twitter has proven to be platform enough for me to practice the succinct presentation of ideas and arguments.

Have a great summer folks! See you on #ableg!

Anticipating The Next Alberta

In order for me to vote PC in the upcoming provincial election, I'll need to vote for Craig Copeland. If he doesn't win, he'll simply resume his mayoral duty to our fair city. After peering long into my crystal ball, there's no doubt in my mind he will be victorious.

Perhaps some resident will see this as a a loss for the region. Mr. Copeland did after all manage to negotiate some lucrative federal payola for the city of Cold Lake during his tenure so far. Still, I think most of his municipal supporters would be pleased to elevate him to MLA where he'll have even more leverage to finagle even better shit for this neck of the woods.

Copeland's only worrisome competition has manifested itself under the Wildrose party umbrella in the form of one Scott Cyr. In the last provincial election, Bonnyville-Cold Lake's enigmatic Wildrose candidate nearly tied incumbent Laurie Hawn, so there's no doubt that a serious (if fractured after the Smith fracas) "down with the PC dynasty" contingent does exist in the region. Who knows, maybe Mr. Cyr will throw his name in the hat for mayor should Copeland win?


There's probably also enough youthful optimism in these parts to see the NDP candidate, Ellen Ulfsten (of whom I can find nothing about on the Internet except that she's polling around 4%), at least carve herself a visible slice on the pie chart. There's probably some background info available somewhere online, but I can't muster the wherewithal to dig for it right now.

It's fun to speculate outcomes during crunch time, but in all honesty, I don't feel someone like myself should even be entitled to vote provincially: I don't own property; I don't pay provincial income tax; I'm not gainfully employed, and I don't have kids. Any fool like me without a real stake in things, should be relegated to the kids table in my opinion.

If I were a voting man, I'd vote for Craig simply because I feel he deserves a promotion. He's spent enough time cutting his teeth at the municipal level, and it's high time he spends some time under the dome. A vote for the person rather than the party.

For some thoughtful and humourous insight into the current affairs of this fair province, with a sprinkle of contextual history and whatnot, get yourself over to Dave Climenhaga's blog!

On Twitter, I proposed that we get together for a pizza party / movie marathon one of these days, and he didn't seem altogether disinclined. I have this notion that he'd prepare some notes and a slide projector in anticipation of  his fan club showing up at his stoop for an informal lesson in provincial history.

I'm picturing stacks of newspapers in corners, floor to ceiling books, and probably a fluffy house cat or two? Or maybe he's married and his better half would entertain nothing of the sort? Anyway, I'll leave the ball in his court. Being that I live a good four hour drive away, he needn't worry about any surprise visits which aren't really my style anymore anyhow.
 

Dreaming Of UPS

Last week I shared some of my thoughts about the upcoming provincial election. Since I live with my folks, whatever's good for them, by extension, is good for me. I'll just vote for whoever I deem to be the most senior-friendly party. Mr. Swann, leader of the Alberta Liberal Party, appears to be around the same age as my folks.

Cleaning up my bedroom this afternoon, I was surprised to find a mostly smoked joint lodged in the underside of a beer bottle cap, and was momentarily conflicted - my mind rapidly positing questions: what have you got to lose, you've been pot free for months, and what noticeable advantages have manifested as a result of not smoking the stuff?

Before I could talk myself into getting high, I tossed the little bugger into the fireplace and got on with some music, eventually revamping this little tune:




My abundance of free time is truly a blessing. I am extremely grateful that I lead such a peaceful life after a once-over of the Drudge Report. It's war going on out there.

Last night, I had a horrifying nightmare. I was employed full-time as a UPS parcel delivery guy here in my hometown. A fate more cruel I can hardly imagine, as I know first hand what the job entails.

Having endured a stint driving a UPS package car in Calgary over a decade ago, I've resolved to never take employment as a courier dude again. It was boring at the best of times, and nerve wracking at the worst. Interestingly, in the dream I was issued a three wheeled delivery unit and, just now, while surfing for a good image of a UPS truck, I find this:

I had no idea they actually existed! Psufferin' Psuccotash! Maybe I'm psychic?

Anyway, in the dream, I was hours late to a scheduled drop off, and the whole shit show of an alternate reality was mired by overtones of futility and hopelessness.

Right before awakening from this ghoulish hellscape of a circumstance, and much relieved to find myself still fruitfully unemployed, my somnambulant self was aimlessly wandering around a snow covered parking lot with a parcel under my arm, unable to remember even where I'd parked the brown trike.

Finding things to keep myself busy with throughout the day has never been a struggle. I've recently begun working on a new slideshow accompanied talk-radio style program. I try to keep the components fairly basic because it's a considerable amount of legwork involved for just one person: write the script, play all the parts, sync-up the images, working the promotional angles...






 






  

Regular Knucklehead Talks Alberta's 2015 Election

If you check this blog out from time to time, you've probably noticed there's not a lot of rhyme nor reason to it. Sometimes I write facetious fiction, sometimes I promote my Soundclown channel or post an impromptu poem I've written. Tonight I'll write from the heart, and share my lack of opinions regarding the next provincial election and the candidates running for the coveted $230K salary and scandalous spending potential.

I really have no idea who to vote for in the next provincial election. Rachel, Jim, Greg, Brian, David, or what's her name? They're all more or less the same lawyer at the end of the day. Cautious. Groomed. PoliSci degree wielding public figures. Career politicians I seem to have very little in common with apart from being a heterosexual Christian.

All the runners do seem decent and capable enough in my estimation. I know that's simplistic and intellectually lazy, and I suppose having bulletproof optics has always pretty much been a prerequisite for senior governmental roles in Canada... it's just that news travels so fast these days. One little skeleton in the closet and it's "gonna start spending more time with the family" time?

That's the stuff that interests me far more than the person running. The grit. Who's managing the campaign? Who's behind the strategy? Some of the impulsive statements I've made online would quickly sink a fellow like me before I even got out of the gate... presuming I ever got it in my head to run for some elected post. My resume looks something like this:

Graduated From High School...


At least I have no delusions about the unlikelihood of standing a hope in hell in that arena. Regardless, I think it'd be a far more fascinating experience just to be a presence in a major candidate's war room some day. A speech writer or a dirt digger or something. Being the person at the helm seems like an exercise in self-flagellation. The constant scrutiny must be brutal at best. I'd probably hit the bottle pretty hard after the first bad press release.

As for the figures vying to represent the constituency in which I reside, I can't even be bothered to dig into their backgrounds much. The PC candidate also happens to bethe mayor of the 'city' I live in. His strongest opponent, running under the Wildrose Party banner, runs a local accounting practice. I like numbers people. They tend to view things realistically at least, but if they're dishonest, they also have the smarts to cook books.

I'm beginning to believe that Canada and all her Crowns (provinces) are now effectively under the control of a corporate oligarchy anyway. I view the democratic process as little more than a ballet staged to maintain the illusion of choice. Whoever does win will only have to answer to the ever present shadow government - the financiers, conglomerates, emirates, and entities looming behind a facade of tradition and importance. And then be the target of the people's ire for being stonewalled. 

Pomp and ceremony.

Alberta is running deficits, and the public service isn't happy with their lot. Are they ever? I don't care about teachers salaries, nurses' workloads, or file clerks' perks. I know food prices will go up along with student-teacher ratios, and pitchforks will come out when municipalities realize that they're powerless to contravene the new rules outlined by the masters of the global playing field. 

One prediction I've made is that the PCs are going to wheel-in electronic voting machines for the vote if they think there's even a slim chance they won't see a thirteenth consecutive majority. 

Vote? Why bother, brother! 

I'll leave you with this.

Act On Climate and Stuff

Gobal warning affects us all, and we all wanna do stuff, you know? Sometimes, I take afternoon naps and have these dreams in which I find myself in a classroom setting, and everyone is studying  CO2 emulsions. The professor is wearing a jean shirt and tells us not to trust the evil Harpar government because Canada is really just a metaphor for wastefulness and everything.

My job at Chapters gets me down because it doesn't pay much and I have to work weekends. This is why I ordered a Guy Fawkes mask to wear to rallies and pretense marches. I started looking on the internet (I only do internet at work because I can't figure out my neighbours' WiFi passwords) for ideas to make signs. I'm getting another tattoo next week - something to express my solidarity with the climate movement. It's not much, but at least it will have significance to me. Like when I decided to start stretching my earlobes after participating in the occupy wall street protests. It's like a secret badge of belonging.

Acting on climate is fun! I always did good on arts and crafts in school (not so good on math tests LOL) so I feel I can do my part to help the planet using Sharpie markers and Bristol board. Here is my idea for a sign (I'm not that good at doing graphics on computer - there's not supposed to be that white space) to take to the next rally.

I met my current life partner at the last Climate Action march in Bytown. She's taking creative writing studies at Carlton University and I'm so proud of her! She likes my dreadlocks and tattoos, but wants me to get a car. I don't understand because I thought she was against contributing to greenhouse gases. Shouldn't public transit and bicycles good enough for everyone? Also, I caught her eating a hamburger one day. I'm not so sure she's the one anymore. I might start keeping my eyes peeled for my next more suitable life partner when I go for free vegan lunch at the Buddhist temple. 

Man, I love renting at a place where heat and water is included in the rent. I find wearing too much clothing is restrictive to my creative process, so after work every day, I strip down and crank the heat after taking a good twenty minute hot shower. It's free right? May as well take advantage. I guess I'm kind of conflicted because people like me are supposed to reduce consumption, but maybe my conspicuous energy use will cut into my landlord's profits, and hurting the rich is more important than saving a bit of hot water. 

Some jerk told me I look like I'm ready to fall through my own asshole (I'm kind of on the skinny side) while I was heading into the municipal services building to reapply for my housing subsidy. I hate microaggresions like that! 

Laters!

Quantity Before Quality

I just upload music without giving much thought to people's impressions. My hope is that someone out there gets something out of it - musician's music if you will. Have a listen!

Gobal Warning Inaccuracies

It should come as no surpruse that a whopping eighty-seven percent of the gobal citizenry is convinced of gobal warning. An estimarted sixteen perchance of those who would conscribble themselves to be activitied in the green calamity have indicarted that they are more than peppered to take a once-and-for-all stance in their very own communihives.

"Heaven for fend we risk rinsing temperatures for the sake of extorting carbonimide," warbles second year enviromental scurvies student Humphrey Manguard, when asked if he feels if popular terms surrounding primate change are altogether inaccurate.

"Every day you see people get into their cats or jets and post image files or go places," he further laments.

Expats also warn that rinsing gobal temperatures account for nearly a half of ninety perchance of factual doomsday predictions. Moreover, scientifimists are now beginning to focus their addictions on the recalcitration of previous binary modals representing atmospheric buttons.

"Slowly but surely and without prejudice, we are tainting the bigger pitcher," fosters Dr. Plickle, a trailing researcher in the faculty of women's studies at Flimchester University of Universities.

"Granted, we are a song away from indemnifying any condusive evidence, but quite frankly, I'm having a hell of a great time dyking out with the undergrads."
  

Typing On Paper - It Goes Zip When It Moves

There's something to be said for hammering out words on a mechanical typewriter that's more than a half-a-century old. The surface of your coffee rippling with each ka-chunk of the carriage stops, the slapping of the strikers against a paper covered drum, the dinging of the margin bell, and the zipping of the tractor feed as you rip your finished page away. 

I don't take my fictional works all that seriously, but I did have a bit of a chortle over writing this frothy dweeb fodder! 

Shed Some Cash Here

I wanted the image seen above to appear as a header for this blog, but I don't believe the new stylistic template I've chosen allows for such provisions.

Allows for such provisions. Is that even grammatically correct? I think I read it somewhere once. 

If you're feeling philanthropiquesque, and you've always wanted to contribute directly to the arts - namely my art - please feel free to donate whatever you're comfortable with. This is the time of year I like to push for donations and pump my presence on the web. For whatever reason, the super-rich seem to be in a extra-generous mood during the months of April and May.

More articles to come. More music. Enough talk! Fill up my PayPal tank, pal!

Ride Sharing App Eyes Northern Alberta Community

Westlock, AB- Tired of taxis? Calling cabs getting you nowhere? Rural commuters that have been longing for a paid car service are rejoicing over a recent announcement from the CFO of the ride sharing newbie, Paycar last week.

"We've heard the consumer call loud and clear," says the company's chief spokesman, Alan Stike.  

"After looking at the results from a comprehensive analysis of the area, we're confident about expanding our services into several communities in Northern Alberta - including much of the Athabasca region," he related.

Deviant Derivatives & Derivative Deviations

Being a one-man-media-machine is truly a labour of love. It involves a great deal of typing, and typing burns calories. I spend at least eight hours a day reading and writing.

What sort of mathematical equation might be derived to quantify the number of calories burned vs. the number of words typed in a given period of time? It'd have look something like:

Where Delta 'T' is the period of time, 'c' is Words Typed / Minutes, and 'f' is the caloric differential.

I'm just kidding around here - my mathematical computational abilities leave much to be desired, and I really just wanted to show-off the "Math Input Panel" software that came bundled with my Windows 7 Home Premium distribution. One needn't be a math whiz to appreciate the sophistication under the hood of a program that recognizes moused-in chicken scratch and structures it into logical arrangements!

Producing covers of songs isn't something I usually do. It occurred to me that Belinda Carlisle's "Heaven Is A Place On Earth" sounds remarkably not unlike Bon Jovi's "Livin' On A Prayer" at a structural level. I was mulling about the idea of creating a hybrid of the two, but I had a number of emails urgently requiring my response that day. Anyway, you can listen to me sing it here:

  

Pot Head On Quitting Pot

When I was in high school, marijuana was all the rage.

I remember turning green one day in grade eleven, missing the bulk of afternoon classes after sharing a cigarette laced with 'feathered' hashish over the lunch break. I became quite nauseous and dizzy soon after our 'toke sesh' wrapped-up.

My little puke fest was somewhat curious given that this particular "smoke-pit special" (our high school had a pro-smoking courtyard) wasn't exactly my first dose of astronaut tobacco, and nobody else in our lunchtime bad-boy circle seemed to be suffering any ill effects afterward. Looking back, it must've just been something I ate that day.

Since those carefree times (and over a dozen or so pounds of plant matter later) my recent decision to abstain from pot altogether is not based on anything other than a personal desire to become reacquainted with a brain devoid of Mary Jane.

I'm neither an advocate nor a proponent of marijuana use.  I'm quite libertarian in approaching the subject, and obviously it would  be entirely hypocritical of me to ever chastise anyone for partaking in the rite of the devil weed.

For the longest time, I nearly convinced myself that my artistic side actually needed herbal jazz cigarettes to ignite the creative process. I knew it wasn't really true - I merely enjoyed the euphoric effects of pot, and was more than willing to conjure up all sorts of justifications for my continued use of it.

If you're someone who happens to be of the mindset where you somehow believe you cannot live without a perpetual supply of dried-out stuff in ziplock baggies, I would encourage you to challenge yourself to try dropping the habit altogether. Tell yourself: it'll just be for one single week.

Judging from my own experience, there's at least a modicum of truth to the claims that stopping routine pot use does not result in any significant physical withdrawl symptoms. Unlike severe alcohol dependency, you're not likely to find yourself hyperventilating through gritted teeth as you collect a bunch of jigsaw puzzle pieces strewn across the kitchen floor.

I suppose if you're someone who is depending upon THC for non-recreational purposes, it's another matter altogether - a matter in which I personally have only a limited understanding of.

On that note:

Judging Iron Foot Place

The curvilinear art of Canadian painter Alex Janvier is perhaps ranked among the most distinguished art in the world of modern Canadian art, and modern art abroad for that matter. I should confess however, that I'm one of those people who wouldn't know art if it were hidden in a pile of shiny steel balls on the side of the highway! Still, I'm sure I could spot a Janvier from an arena's length  away with my unaided eye.

In all seriousness, I grew up seeing one phase of Mr. Janvier's career unfurl in a flurry of sweeping lines and patterns that challenge the eye and capture the imagination. More than a few prints of his originals hang in the Cold Lake regional hospital - the same hospital where I was circumcised after converting to Judaism in my late teens.*

Can't recall the title, but this is one of my favorite Janvier paintings. 

His latest commissioned piece, "Iron Foot Place" is soon to be entombed in a section of Edmonton's new hockey-game arena known as The Winter Hard On.


Upon the revealing, Twitter's #yeg echo chamber was experiencing a leap frog like procession of excitement and praise for the $0.70 million dollar masterpiece. Soon after the announcement of its official selection for the rapidly integrating Rogers Place breezeway, the salivating Edmonton press were quickly competing to see who could type 'aboriginal' the fastest.

Though no art critic am I, I do know enough to know that one cannot fully appreciate any original painting or sculpture from merely looking at a digital picture of it.

My thing has always been music, but, sadly, Jimmy quit and Jodi got married. We sure did a great deal of tripping-out over plans to take Edmonton by storm with our unique brand of psychadelic rock music back in the day. We were loud and stoned anyway.

I'll be honest. I prefer the avant garde when it comes to paintings. While Alex's style never really spoke to my particular senses, I applaud his successful career all the same, and I am pleased to see that he's not showing any signs of slowing down. He's really old!

If anyone from Edmonton is reading this, here's an idea to jot down on one of those City Lab postcards your mayor is stashing around town: 

1) Prop up a whitewashed 30' X 30' board against a wall somewhere - maybe Rexall Place.

2) Enlist a group of minor hockey players with hockey sticks to line up thirty feet away.

3) Position a few high speed video cameras to record the action from different angles.

4) Have a volunteer ready to dunk 300 or so tennis balls in pails of different coloured paint, and toss   them into the line of fire one by one.

5) Allow time for paint to dry while editing the video footage of the event.

6) Call the resultant abstract piece "Slapshot City", and have all the kids sign their names to it.

7) Display "The Making Of Slapshot City" near the finished piece on a big flat panel display.

8) Don't forget who came up with the idea! You heard it here first!

Hey... you're welcome, Edmonton!



     
*I'm kidding of course. I'm still a Christian Gentile despite undergoing the surgical removal of my toque in my late teens.  
  

Facebook Fun With The Diesel Bun

A few days ago I discovered a Facebook page with an oilfield theme that allows you to submit anonymous posts via a proxy website. Being that I've never exactly worked "in the patch", I thought it'd be fun to see if I couldn't concoct a "confession" that was convincing enough to garner some feedback.


My first submission:

http://www.facebook.com/oilfieldconfessions

Forty-nine responses (not including sub-replies) greeted the fictional dilemma of my own design the following day. Here's the first one up:

http://www.facebook.com/oilfieldconfessions

Salient points duly noted! 

The Newfoundland gestapo is in full effect you fucking poors!

Now, I dare not fault my fellow man for submitting to whatever authoritarian dictates happen to stand between himself and his fulfillment of any financial obligations or goals he might have, but this particular Canadian Citizen would have to have a family to feed before even considering the act of urinating in a cup for a shot at earning a steady paycheck. 

In my opinion, such an act of submission is really no different than if you were to ask me to kneel before a boardroom of foreign chairmen just to be granted the privilege of begging them for a scrap of their fancifully exorbitant epicurean brunch platter spread out on some gleaming ebony table worth more than all the nutmeg in Grenada.  

Essentially, if my handshake and assurances aren't good enough to satisfy the imperial overlords of Canachin, then Chinada Inc. isn't good enough for me. 

The motives behind responsible corporate entities subjecting applicants to mandatory drug screening prior to contractually engaging them with inherently dangerous working commissions is entirely understandable for obvious reasons. Still, it only causes me to question what sorts of unsavory archetypes I might find myself thrown into the mix with in the field. It's my understanding, after all, that there exists both technical and administrative methods to foil the whole damn bloody "pre-employment" pissing process anyway.    

While my phony job offer spiel was impulsively written on a whim, my sentiment was partly genuine. And though it was inadvertent, I do feel a tad ashamed about eliciting heartfelt advice from the unsuspecting and the kindest respondents to the post. As for all the arrogant clever boots.... GOTCHA chump!  

My next anonymous submission was somewhat more creative - although I cannot take credit for inventing the idea of the "diesel bun" itself. In fact, it was a friend of mine who insisted it's a real phenomenon around drilling rigs, but I remain skeptical. He invoked a convincing indigenous-people's accent as he related it to me so many years ago and boy did I laugh! 

I could tell that several of the respondents to my little pretext were wise to its fabricated nature...

https://www.facebook.com/oilfieldconfessions

... and here, someone was right-quick to confront my fictional female swamper - with both guns blazing!

Yowza! Such a charmer! Showed me who's boss! 

From now on, whenever I fool someone, I'm going to abruptly shout, "Diesel Bun!" 

My internet access may be out of commission for an indeterminate period of time. Any contributions will expedite the restoration of my connectivity.  

Thanks for reading. 

Why Was A 9th Century Viking Woman buried with a ring that says 'for Allah' on it?

Yuri's Chamber

Yuri's Chamber

The shadow of her hair does trick
before a candle's flick'ring.
Smooth those rounding walls do spire
the mortar moist 'tween white stone brick.

Follow me she whispers quick;
It's time that you knew Ivan!
For though you slumber in your nid,
Do I not see behind those lids
That narrow with each question?

Counter clockwise down the steps,
Swifter, swifter, swifter.
Counter clockwise 'till the room
Where truth gives way to fiction!

Count the spines of volumes here,
And when you wake remember-
To never tell, this place near
Hell; but one to know the number
True, and keep in mind who's
After you!

Clockwise shall we now ascend as
Specters spiral 'twixt the shimmer
Of the graven spines that lead us
To the volumes- deep within the
Womb of saints' and tyrants'
Tales of blood O
Tales of toil well hidden!

Find me here but once again,
And I shall lead you once again:
Counter clockwise down these steps,
A league beneath the metochion.

White stone brick that binds with
Mortar seized and softened for its
Purpose with the sweat and tears of
Masons grand and graven all to house
The tomes of Yuri's chamber.
 
-I. IX

Luong Phong's Trunk

I will not eat green bile from snake,
I will not eat what Luong Phong make!

I would not eat no wart from toad, 
I would not eat it on the road!
Nor will I eat it fried or stewed,
Nor if it's served-up diced and gooed!

I do not eat dog, bug, nor skunk,
I do not eat from Luong Phong's trunk.

I do not think rice wine is nice,
I do not like my cheese with lice.

No rat no cat no monkey or fox,
Lest upon my house there falls a pox!

Some bug's wing is not my thing,
Please to my table do NOT bring,
Your serpent's platter filled with creep,
Fermented goop in some flung heap!

Blow your blowfish up your yin,
Your kitchen stinks like a bin of sin!

I do not eat for some taboo,

I don't eat crap, and nor should you!

Tape Head Insert Socket

Why complicate things? Simple solutions for people on the go. 

The Boogers

Edmonton's River Valley

One thing I liked about living in Downtown Edmonton is that you were never far from a patch of trees next to the river valley.

Here is a west facing Google Earth "Street View" image of 99th Avenue around 113th Street. It ends in a driveway at 114th street (where I've drawn the arrow), and look! There's a couple of hot Asian babes walking a dog! Maybe they're on their way to smoke some herb with me in my special toke-poke!

Hot Asian Babes