Potpurri!

Oh, what a week it has been, so let's tee it off and aim for the fairway.


ATTACK OF THE ROBOCALLS

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Before this week I had never even heard of the word "Robocalls", and that's saying something because I've worked (and currently work) in call centres for pushing four years now.  I mean, I knew what they were?  Who hasn't heard this?

Here is, ah say, here is your captain speaking.

But here's the word, plastered everywhere in exceptionally bold print.  ROBOCALLS.  Now, if only they could get rid of ROBOFAXES, I'd be just as happy.  How happy?  Somewhere in this ballpark.

PC Load Letter?  Not anymore!

In all seriousness, this is a really deeply unsettling story.  If I were you, I'd read about it.  All about it.  I won't really comment on it because it's such a fluid, changing story and there's just so much going on that it's not worth it.  However, I will say this.

I am really saddened by this - not by the electoral fraud or lies and accusations or spin or cover-up.  I mean, that's Ottawa.  You do what you can to make right, you know?  I'm just really bummed (more about bums up next, by the way) because I have so many really great memories of the six months I lived in Guelph.  It's a really great place, about half the size of Regina with a formidable university and exceptional transit services.  Nice shiny malls, a whole bunch of history, the Speed River cutting through town under the Edinburgh Rd. bridge and lovely bowling greens and gazebos.  It's just a really nice place, and I remember it well, and I'm just so bummed that had I have still been living there, I would have been called on election day by Elections Canada and notified that my polling station had changed.  I would have leapt onto the bus, gone to work in the morning on election day, worked, and hopped a bus back downtown for the polling station - that wasn't there. 

Someone just lied to me.  I mean, I just got a call this morning from someone saying that they were Elections Canada, but they weren't.  Their whole intent was to deceive me in the hopes that, geez, it's a quarter after 5:00 and I gotta go run for groceries yet and then we're going out to Wimpy's and then the polls are all closed.

See that bench there?  In Wimpy's?  In Guelph?  Second from the end on the right?  Raccoon Inc. was there!

Damn it!  And my vote's gone.  Spoiled.  I would be one less opposition (make no mistake) vote.  My vote was stolen, because one less opposition vote is just as good as one Conservative vote.  And I'd be pretty pissed, because I take my civic duties seriously.  Voting, jury duty, all that fun stuff.  Canada's a great place, but you get what you put in, and so yes, I'd be pissed.  And saddened, too.  This is a dark week for democracy here and a new low for our government.  Every time I think that there's a bottom here somewhere, they scrape deeper into the mud.


OH I ALWAYS MEET MY BODHISATTVAS IN THE STREET!

Moody blue to the extreme.

So earlier this week I finished reading Machiavelli's "Discourses" and I poked around my study for something new to read at night.  I was kinda beat from reading Machiavelli, Aquinas (at great length), Russel, and mystery novels from Stout and LeBlanc, so I thought it might be nice for a change of pace, and lo and behold, I've still got that old copy of "The Dharma Bums" sitting around.  I'm about six chapters in now and I'm hooked.  Mind you, not so much for the content of the work but for the style.  There's something that's just absolutely awesome about Jack's style, but I want to say this first.

I would not eat them in a box either, man.  We're all in a box, though, in some way.  Free your mind!

At no point ever anywhere have I seen Jack wear a beret.
At no point ever anywhere have I seen Jack wear a turtleneck.
At no point ever anywhere have I seen Jack wear sunglasses.
At no point ever anywhere have I seen Jack wear a beard.
The classic image of the beatnik really doesn't have much to do with the whole vibe that was their founding fathers.  Indeed, Jack's books paint a much different picture.  Rather than a pack of pretentious hipsters a la...

I LEFT THE OCEAN.  IT'S TOO CURRENT.

.., what you get is something far more spiritual and meaningful.  You get asceticism and sincerity in his words.  You get this yearning for the meaning of human experience, and it's all tied together with his style of writing.  It's not quite a stream of consciousness, but close.  It's kind of like this sort of bare bones retelling of these stories on box cars, in shacks, on trails, guzzling wine, having sex, and all this intimate stuff.  In fact, that's the word that I would use.  It's a very intimate look at cross-section of one generation's yearning for expression and spirituality presented in a most intuitive way.

As a last word on this, take a look at any top 50, or even top 25 American books ever written.  Chances are Kerouac is on there at least once, and richly deserved I might add.  You may say, pfeh!  American...  My rebuttal to that would be, fear not!  Both his parents were Quebecois.  Dig it.


NERD: A CONUNDRUM

Alright.  Time for a thought experiment.  Now follow along carefully - there will be a test at the end.  Ready?

Male nerd.

Female nerd.

Male nerd.  (This is not a younger picture of me, I swear.)

Female nerd.

Male nerd.

Female nerd.

And now for the test:

Could someone please explain to me why male nerds are dorky and female nerds are sexy?

Well, I'd ask the guy who invented the word, but he passed away in 1991.  Yes, Theodor "Dr. Seuss" Geisel invented the word "nerd" in 1950 in the book "If I Ran The Zoo".  However, "nerd" didn't start meaning, well, nerd until the 1970's.  Until then you were just square, daddy-o.  I guess the world may never know.


THE CASE OF THE NARCOLEPTIC NINCOMPOOP

Now if it was more like this, it'd be way easier to stay awake!

And now for the curious case of Rob Anders.  I'm just gonna start unloading with both barrels now if you don't mind.

How easy is it to be an Alberta MP?!  You're gonna get 80% of the vote every time out (since Landslide Annie) because those dopes are damn bullheaded to get it through their thick skulls that competition is good for business.  So now you get this clown here, Rob Anders, Honourable Member for Calgary Whatever, falling asleep in Parliament.

Initially my reaction was something like this: Falling asleep in Parliament?!  I get that it's boring as anything, but for God's sake, you're being paid a king's ransom to be there.  Well, maybe not a king's ransom, but his salary could easily vouchsafe an earl, baron, or viscount.  I guarantee it.  So he sits there and nods off, but you know what?  Honestly, deep down, if someone's droning on about something asinine, I have no issue with that at all.  I fell asleep in physics before.  I fell asleep on a bus ride across town before.  That's fine.  That's a human thing as much as it is anything.

But then when you do it again this week at a House of Commons committee (which again, is fine), and then deny it, now I get pissed.  If you fall asleep in a committee room, surrounded by people, and then deny it when you have a gaggle of witnesses, and then you turn around and blame the accuser of lying because he has NDP ties, then buddy you're worse than sleepyhead.  You're an unethical liar.

What the hell is wrong with these people?!  You know, here in the real world, when we make a mistake, we apologize for it.  You don't go around accusing people when we get caught red handed, and you sure as hell don't need a statement crafted by the Prime Minister's Office in order to convey that apology when you eventually get around to it, either.  What kind of dolts are running this place these days?!  Honestly!  It really, really makes me mad when you can't do such a simple thing as apologizing if you screw up, and the lengths that people will go to avoid apologizing are just extraordinary!  It's boggling.  It really is.

Ach!  Enough.  On to the next one.


OFF WITH HIS HEAD!

Smile for the birdie!

Now, I've done my fair share of slagging Ron Wilson in this blog, and as it turns out that I'm not alone in my opinion.  This week saw the fans at the Air Canada Centre in Toronto chanting "FI-RE WIL-SON!", and if you know Toronto crowds it's hard enough to get them to yawn let alone get them engaged in the game.  After going 1-9-1 in his last several games (ouch, by the way), slagging his goalies publicly along the way and otherwise having a "meh" attitude about things, enough was enough.  You know, I got one prophecy right and one prophecy wrong.  I was absolutely correct in assuming that the contract extension would prove to be a sweet severance package, but wrong that they would go with someone other than Randy Carlyle.

On the other hand, though, I do feel sorry for him.  How responsible could a coach possibly be for a god awful team.  I mean, this is not Emilio Estevez in the Mighty Ducks we're talking about here.  These are your Toronto Maple Loafs.

On yet another hand, the great province of Saskatchewan has no hockey team, so it's easy as hell to slag the life outta everyone else's teams.  Fun, too.  But if Saskatoon gets this team they're wanting...  Meh, I'll still like baseball better.

And that's all the time we have for tonight, daddy-o.  Stay cool, man, practice your ohm omne padme ohms, and feel free to trash your young goalies in front of the cameras.  Try to stay awake unless you're trying to sleep, and don't forget that this is the age of the geek.  Oh, and if a robot calls, go run pick up your nearest Asimov novel, fry his circuits with a nifty logical paradox, and stick it to those dirty rotten cheaters.  Good night!