Cabbages & Kings

Quote me... I dare ya!

2006-11-21T10:49:00.000-05:00

Years ago I was a regular contributor to the hilarious and much-missed comedy website CPFOG.com, which was run by my friend Gord. With a mandate to be funny AND Canadian, Gord had asked me to write some articles focusing on various aspects of Canadiana. When time pressure and life in general conspired to bring an end (hopefully still temporary) to CPFOG.com, I re-used some of the articles on my crappy blue website, which existed mainly as an effort to teach myself how to make a website. One of the articles was about a uniquely Canadian television experience called "Hinterland Who's Who." So that the rest of this story will almost make sense, I'm presenting that essay here in its entirety...

Hinterland Who's Who

Every time I hear the haunting strains of that lone flute playing its woodland theme, my mind drifts back to my childhood days. Back then, the whole family would gather around the television and tune in the CBC. It didn't matter what the program was, because we were waiting for the commercial breaks. Every commercial break was a potential chance to see another "Hinterland Who's Who" vignette.

We learned so much from those little gems of wilderfilm. So many childhood questions were answered by those sixty second time-fillers. Questions like, "What's a hinterland?" and "Why don't a muskox and a muskrat look alike?"

First aired in 1960, "Hinterland Who's Who" was developed because the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation couldn't sell enough advertising time to fill a commercial break. But, it had the added benefit of teaching Canadians, young and old, about the wonder and beauty to be found mere yards outside of their igloos or cabins. Narrated in a dull, flat tone by a dull, flat man, each segment examined the environment, behaviour, and general characteristics of a specific animal indigenous to the Canadian wilderness.

It was certainly an eye-opener for this young lad.

I learned the difference between the Greater Snow Goose and the Lesser Snow Goose.

I was privy to the secrets of the Snowshoe Hare.

I discovered that a Redhead isn't just the pretty girl in math class with the fiery temper, it is also a freaky-looking type of diving duck.

It was disclosed to me that the name of the Caribou is a corruption of the Micmac word "xalibu" which means "the one who paws."

The Semipalmated Sandpiper's feet are only partially webbed, otherwise they'd call it fully palmated.

The Lemmings of the Canadian Arctic have no suicidal tendencies whatsoever, unlike their European cousins, showing that even rodents know that Canada is the best country in the world.

That old black guy on Sanford & Son isn't the only Red Fox on television.

All this knowledge and more was mine for the asking with "Hinterland Who's Who" and ask I did. However, amongst all of the diverse tidbits and snippets of wisdom gleaned from this classic canuck creation, one fact stands out. "Vignette" was the first French word that I learned from someplace besides the other side of the cereal box.

And I know that everyone who grew up in Canada in the last half of the twentieth century can say the same thing.

As regular readers of my blog may have surmised, I'm a big fan of irony. I believe that irony is one of the greatresourcesal resourses in the universe and I get a warm feeling deep inside every time I find accidental irony.
Recently while doing my weekly Ego-Google, I found a hit on the official Hinterland Who's Who website. An excerpt from my essay has been quoted there in a sidebar on the Hinterland History page.
Initially, I thought it was a beautifully ironic case of sarcastic parody being mistaken for honest sentiment, but the more I thought about it, the more unlikely that seemed. Even briefly scanning the essay, one would note that it is not entirely serious or factual. It's (hopefully) an obvious bit of parody. The quote is credited to "T. Gregory Argall, Canadian Playwright, Humourist" so it seems apparent that they understand the comedic intent.
After some consideration I concluded that it is actually an irony within an irony....
They were trying to demonstrate the influence that the Hinterland Who's Who vignettes have had on creative and significant Canadians.
They think my opinion matters.
Oh, the sweet irony is so delicious, with a hard, crunchy shell and soft, chewy centre.
They've used the designation "Canadian Playwright, Humourist" like it actually means something. I got billing above Robert Bateman, fer cryin' out loud.
You can apply whatever titles and labels you like to yourself and it's just a bit of a ego-wank, but when others start applying those same titles to you, then it becomes "fact." Especially if they are government-funded.
They even quoted me in French.

A New Day of Freedom

2006-10-18T10:23:00.000-04:00

We are about to embark on a quest. An international quest. A quest for change. A quest for the betterment of life around the world. But don’t worry. We can change the world from right where we are: sitting on our butts at our computers. That’s right. Finally, the internet, e-mail and all of this wonderful technology will be put to a positive use. All humanity will benefit. But it’s up to you. You each need to do your part. Put the word out. Gather support for the cause. Start endless e-mail campaigns. We have a little under a year and a half to make this happen. If we fail, it will be another four years till we get another chance. Then another four years after that. Actually, we can just keep trying until we succeed. In the long run, we simply cannot fail. We will win.

I know what you’re thinking. "What the hell is he talking about?"

I’m talking about a basic human right that was built into the Gregorian calendar for the good of all mankind but has, thus far, not been used to its full potential. I’m talking about February 29th. The quadrennial readjustment of calendars.

It starts here.

A campaign to establish February 29th as an international holiday.

Leap Day.

Freedom Day.

Extra Day.

Call it whatever you want.

Write your Member of Parliament. Your Congressman. Your king. Your self-declared Ruler-For-Life. The United Nations. The CIA. Whoever is currently in charge, either overtly or covertly, of the political structure in your part of the world. Let them know how important this idea is. Urge them to ratify the plan.

For you doubters out there, here’s the rationale: Each year, you are given a certain number of specific tasks and it is your responsibility to see that they are completed. You probably aren’t given them all at once, but they are doled out over time. Professional responsibilities, personal responsibilities, projects at work, things your wife told you to do. Whatever. Tally up all of the tasks that are assigned to you in one year. It’s just about the same amount as the year before. And the year before that. And, on average, about the same as the guy next door. Basically, each year, life says to you, "Here’s what you’ve gotta do. You have 365 days. Go." And off you go and get it done. Good for you.

But every four years, we have an extra day. A Leap Year has 366 days. It seems fairly obvious that that day should be your’s to do what you want. Shut everything down on February 29th. No one has to go to work on that day. If you choose to work on Leap Day, that’s entirely up to you. That’s your right. But your boss shouldn’t be able to tell you to work on Leap Day.

You got everything done last year, right? 365 days. Worked your ass off, but you hit the mark on 365. So, you should be able to get it all done this year in 365 days. Take that extra day and do something just for you. Make it special.

That’s the vision I have for the world.

But we can’t do it without you. Show your support. Hound your government relentlessly until they see the brilliance and wisdom of this plan.

To aid in spreading the word about this plan, I have established an online petition, to be presented to the United Nations once we have collected 100,000,000 signatures from at least 56 different countries.

Please do your part to bring this dream to fruition. Click here to sign the petition. Pass the word on to everyone you know. We can do this. We can make this happen.

This is an idea whose time has come. Who are we to stand in its way?

tga

Photo Caption Challenge 10.0

2006-07-11T13:48:00.000-04:00

It's been quite a while since we've had a caption challenge.
Gord was whining to me the other night that he misses the photos, so I dug up this jem that I found years ago.
Standard rules apply...
1/ Look at the photo.
2/ Think of a humourous caption for the photo.
3/ Post the caption as a comment.
No prizes, merely vast potential for amusement.
The photo this time is slightly more adult in nature, so don't let your kids (or your boss) see the picture... unless they can think of something funny for a caption.

God could use an editor

2006-06-23T10:12:00.000-04:00

Last week my son and I had lunch with BillP and our conversation tended, as it does, to wander. At one point we found ourselves reviewing the ten commandments (the original, by God, not the Charlton Heston remake) and I took a somewhat editorial stance. There seems to be substantial redundancy in the whole package.
Let's refresh your memory and then I'll explain what I'm talking about.
* 1. Thou shalt have no other gods before me.
* 2. Thou shalt worship no graven idols or images.
* 3. Thou shalt not take the Lord's name in vain.
* 4. Thou shalt keep the Sabbath as the Lord's day.
* 5. Thou shalt honour thy mother and father.
* 6. Thou shalt not murder.
* 7. Thou shalt not commit adultery.
* 8. Thou shalt not steal.
* 9. Thou shalt not bear false witness.
* 10. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his house, nor his ass, nor his wife's ass, etc.
Okay, the first four commandments are simply God's ego trip and could be covered by one simple commandment: Respect God. Commandments 7, 8 and 9 can be summed up with, "If it ain't yours, you can't have it."
Just so we're clear on Number 9, "bearing false witness" means lying. "Thou shalt not be full of crap."
Then there's the matter of the misinterpretation of Number 3. Back in the day (Moses' day, that is) the act of taking the Lord's name in vain involved making an oath before God regarding something that one knows to be false. The more recent interpretation of substituting the Lord's name in place of "Wow" is actually wrong. That's right, all those times your mother cuffed you in the back of the head for swearing were based on misinterpretation. (Call your mom now and tell her. Or you could wait till Mother's Day and then cuff her in the back of the head.)
To clarify this, here's a couple of examples. According to God's Ten Commandments, it is perfectly acceptable to say, "Jesus H. tap-dancing Christ on a chocolate whole wheat cracker, this Goddamned coffee tastes like crap." However, saying something like, "I swear to God, Honey, you don't look fat in that dress," is wrong and violates God's laws and you'll go to Hell.
Anyway, back to editing the commandments. Here's all you really need...
* 1. Thou shalt respect God.
* 2. Thou shalt respect thy parents
* 3. Thou shalt not murder.
* 4. Thou shalt not have what isn't yours.
* 5. Thou shalt not bear false witness.
That's it, five commandments. It certainly would have been easier for Moses to carry them down the mountain. Of course, if you still want to go with ten for aesthetic reasons or out of respect for the Metric System or whatever, we've now freed up space for new commandments applicable to contemporary life.
Like, say, "Thou shalt not clog email boxes with spam," or something like that.
Give me your ideas.... We need five contemporary commandments that aren't already covered by the five list above.

The Brambleshot Blog

2006-06-13T12:32:00.000-04:00

In a comment to last week's posting of an excerpt from "The Brambleshot Papers" BillP requested a second chapter. Actually, what he said was, "Chapter two! Chapter two! Chapter two!"
I considered his request and realised that if I posted chapter two, BillP would simply comment, "Chapter three! Chapter three! Chapter three!" It would continue on like that and this blog would soon be about nothing but the demon detective story.
So I decided to make a new blog.
The Brambleshot Papers are now available as a place for the story to grow at its natural (or perhaps supernatural) pace.
Enjoy.

The Brambleshot Papers

2006-06-05T16:34:00.000-04:00

Many of the last few books I've read have included, after the actual novel, a preview of the next book by the same author. I don't know if that actually works as a marketing plan, but I'll try a variation on that idea here.
This is the first few pages of a book that I will eventually finish writing. (Probably should have waited till tomorrow to post this, for the full symbolic effect, but what the hell.)

THE BRAMBLESHOT PAPERS

At first, Brambleshot didn’t see any connection. At first, it all seemed decidedly random and, of course, in some ways it was meant to seem that way, but still...

The near miss with the bus as he crossed the street; the sidewalk lamp-post falling a little over an inch away from him; the fleeing bank robber who sprayed a proverbial hail of bullets in Brambleshot’s immediate vicinity without actually hitting him. Any of these events, individually, would be worthy of introduction into a conversation, or a suitable response to a "How was your day?" query. Collectively, this series of events would make him the focus of attention amongst the story-tellers down at the pub for hours.

Unfortunately, Brambleshot never went down to the pub and thus did not view things in terms of the stories that could be told about them. Indeed, he didn’t even have anyone interested in asking, "How was your day?" Let alone actually listening to whatever answer he might have.

So, it wasn’t until the piano plummeted down and crashed into the sidewalk in front of him that Brambleshot got the message. It wasn’t the piano itself that triggered the realization. It was the complete lack of ropes, cables, pulleys or any form of hoisting equipment whatsoever. That and the absence, in the building he was passing, of any windows large enough to pass a piano through.

It was then that the realization (if not the piano) finally struck him.

Someone was trying to get his attention.

Brambleshot quickly looked around, examining every face in the crowd. Almost immediately he spotted the person he was looking for. It was a frazzled looking, middle-management type with a boring suit and an even more boring haircut. It was also the only person looking the other way.

Under normal circumstances, not looking at someone is the perfect way to hide the fact that you are watching them. However, when a large piano suddenly drops from absolutely nowhere and shatters on the sidewalk, not looking is the perfect way to stand out like Bea Arthur at a Spike Lee film festival.

While a crowd of apparently suicidal on-lookers rushed toward the remains of the piano, seemingly to fling themselves into the path of a potential second piano, Brambleshot casually circled around the group to approach his watcher from the left side. Another problem with not actually looking at someone that you're watching is that, unless you're very good at it, you can easily loose track of them and end up not watching them at all. Thus it was that Brambleshot managed to get within ten feet of his target before the little devil decided to look back at the piano and the crowd and not Brambleshot.

"You!" growled Brambleshot in his most intimidating voice. His watcher turned his head so swiftly in response that Brambleshot actually heard bones snap in his neck. Not really an issue for this particular person, Brambleshot knew, but still, it was nice to be able to instil that degree of shock and fear into one of Big Red's minions, even after all this time.

"Gah!" screamed the minion before being engulfed in a thick black cloud that smelled of brimstone.

"Oh, no you don't," said Brambleshot as he lunged with startling speed to clamp his fist around the scrawny neck of his prey. When to smoke and stench cleared, Brambleshot drew the smaller man's face close to his, let his eyes redden just enough to show that he was not in the mood for games, and snarled, "Why are you here?"

"Ow!" Yelled the red-faced creature held in Brambleshot's grip. "Look what you did. That hurts."

Brambleshot hoisted his captive a bit higher so that he could get a better look at the rest of him. There wasn't much to see. Flailing arms in a white shirt and dark jacket. A dark tie hanging from a sweat-stained shirt collar. All of it coming to a sudden stop just below the ribcage, cauterized in an almost perfectly straight line from side to side. Portions of the jacket smouldered and sizzled, ruining the aesthetic balance of the line.

"Well, you have to expect that when you wear cheap polyester," said Brambleshot.

"Not the suit, you big lummox. Me! My legs are gone."

"Quit your whining. They'll grow back," replied the larger man and, as if on cue, the bottom of the severed torso began to bulge outward. With a horrible crunching and cracking sound legs formed and grew until they reached the ground. With a smirk, Brambleshot glanced down and said, "That's got to be embarrassing. Put some pants on."

With a defiant snap of the fingers, the smaller man invoked dark pants, black shoes and, for reasons Brambleshot could not fathom, white socks.

"That's probably better," commented Brambleshot as he lifted the fashion-challenged demon a few inches higher, raising the newly formed black shoes off the ground. With a slight shrug, he released his grip on the smaller creature's neck, letting him drop so suddenly that he nearly slumped into a heap before leaning against a parked car to regain his balance. "Now," continued Brambleshot, "I asked you a question. You haven't answered it yet. I hate repeating myself, but you're obviously a slow-witted little fellow, so here we go. Why are you here?" He let a slight rumble rise from the back of his throat before adding, "Don't make me ask a third time."

"No need to get nasty," came the reply. "The boss sent me. He, uh, he needs a favour."

"You're kidding."

"I'm not kidding. I don't do kidding. A bit of mischief, random deceit, but no kidding. It's, you know, too continental."

"Yeah, right. Whatever you say, Slick. What kind of favour does Nick need?"

The demon scratched nervously at his horned forehead and looked around. "He wouldn't tell me. Just said he needs your help and I should bring you to see him. Something about his daughter."

Brambleshot reached out and grabbed one of the horns on the creature's forehead and snapped it off with a flick of his wrist.

"Hey," cried the demon. "Growin' things back gets tiring, you know?" Already the open wound on his temple was healing over and forming a pointy lump.

"Tough. What in the nine circles makes you think that I would voluntarily go to him?"

"I don't know. He just said, is all."

"I walk back in there of my own free will and I'm a prisoner of the pits again. No, if he wants my help, he can come up her himself. He can come to my office, like anyone else who wants my help." Brambleshot flicked a business card at the demon and turned to leave. "Tell him to call first, make an appointment."

The nervous demon slumped relieved to the ground and watched the huge, former demon walk casually down the street, moving through the crowd and stepping effortlessly over the piano rubble. Reaching down with a shaky red hand, he pick up the business card and looked at the raised lettering. The words, "Ignatius Brambleshot - Private Investigator," stared back at him.

In a burst of filthy black smoke, he disappeared, leaving only the smell of sulphur as evidence that he had been there at all.

----

Small Medium at Large

2006-04-23T22:42:00.000-04:00

No, I'm not telling the joke about the homicidal midget fortune-teller. I've got another story to tell.
I was at work today and decided that I wanted pizza for lunch. I called the place I usually order from and after taking my order, the pizza switchboard operator made a tragic discovery. The store closest to where I work (ie the one that would make my pizza) wouldn't have a delivery driver until 5:00. They couldn't bring me my pizza. Yes, I had an issue with this, but that's another story.
I called Domino's instead. They had a driver, so the plan was working so far. I ordered my pizza and while waiting for it to arrive I experienced a rare lull in activity at work. Nary a ring from my phone for almost an hour.
The pizza arrived and the phone rang.
And rang.
And rang.
And rang.
The phone continued to ring until ten minutes after my pizza had reached room temperature. But that's another story.
(My life is full of other stories, yet these are the ones I tell.)
The actual point I making my meandering way towards came about during my phone call with Domino's. I asked for a small pizza. The Domino's phone jockey told me that the smallest size they have is medium. Think about that for a moment.
I didn't really feel like getting into it with him today so I let it slide, but I had a similar experience a couple of years ago in the Burger King drive through. I was ordering breakfast and wished to include in my morning repast a small order of hash browns. The kid in the squawking metal box snootily informed me that there are only two sizes: medium and large.
His attitude pissed me off (or perhaps I was just grumpy at the time, I don't recall) and I leaned out my car window and argued with squawk-box boy for a good three minutes. Cars were lining up behind me but I didn't care.
Medium is defined by the fact that it rests between small and large. That's what medium means. If your smallest size is medium, not only are you using moronically stunted crack-baby logic, but it is actually, by default, small!!!
You have two sizes. The one that isn't large...? It's SMALL!!
Look it up if you don't believe me. Pick any size dictionary you like, small, medium or large. I'm sure it'll be in there.
Yeah, yeah, I know, the market standard sizes are what they measure against and the smallest size they have is the size of a medium across the street at McDonalds, therefore they feel compelled to call it medium so as not to confuse any McCustomers who may have inadvertanly wandered into the wrong drive through.
Whatever.
That's stupid.
That's marketing by committee and there were probably lawyers involved, too, which it's flawed to begin with even before it's spoken aloud.
Consider this... If your small is the size of your competition's medium, then your customers will be so impressed with how much more "value" they get out of a small order when they buy it from you. There's an angle that doesn't require assigning randomly new definitions to words that people thought they knew the meaning of until corporate bull-speak got in the way.
They should just let me run these things and it will be so much simpler and tolerable.
Sure, I'm not an accredited marketing manager, but I fill short-notice open shifts at a security company with people who don't want to work... and I'm a playwright. It's a deadly combination.
Given enough time and inclination, I can convince anybody of anything.

Spot, The Blue Tiger

2006-04-18T09:35:00.000-04:00

Inspired by Rob and Hemingway, I have decided to adopt a pet.
He's a virtual pet named Spot. He has a cozy little corner at the bottom of my blog. Scroll down, you'll see him.
If he looks hungry, click on more and you can give him a steak. Hold it up high and make him jump for it.
He loves to play with his food. Sure, it's bad manners, but he's a tiger. What are you gonna do?

Reality Television - My Way

2006-03-14T10:58:00.000-05:00

I've got an idea for a new reality TV show. The show is called "The Guy Beside You" and the viewer is also the contestant.

A viewer ("The Primary Contestant") is chosen and placed in front of a television. In the chair beside him is a second contestant ("The Challenger"). The camera is focused on the challenger, whose task is to distract the primary contestant from watching the television. The television is showing live footage of the challenger trying to distract the primary contestant.

The television screen is framed with tiny sensors that constantly scan the primary contestant's eyes. If he looks away from the TV screen, he loses and the challenger becomes the primary contestant.

Anything is permitted for the purposes of "distraction" including assault. The challenger can use whatever props he bring with him, excluding traditional weapons. He must remain in physical contact with his chair at all times or face disqualification.

The primary contestant is armed, but there are only three bullets in his gun.

The challenger is replaced whenever they become incapacitated due to unconsciousness or death, or every ten minutes, whichever come first.

Gilbert Gottfried can be the host, at least until the primary contestant shoots him. Then Carrot Top gets the job.

Photo Caption Contest V9.0

2006-02-02T16:30:00.000-05:00

It's been far too long since the last photo caption competition.
Same old rules; post a comment with a caption for this photo.

Bonus question: What is this person's name?

Hey, get your hands off my hearth!!!

2006-01-10T20:22:00.000-05:00

One of the things we do regularly at work is residential security checks. Specifically, if you are obscenely wealth and spend a substantial amount of time not actually home, we will check your house on a regular basis to make sure no one has broken in. We'll alter the lighting and collect the mail so that there are no obvious signs that the house is unoccupied. Simple stuff, with the occasional dose of amusement. One house in particular, the owner has died and we are keeping an eye on the house until the estate is settled and the house gets sold. The other day when we picked up the latest load of junk mail, a loose, folded piece of paper was included in the bunch. Below is the message on this piece of paper, presented verbatim, syntax and punctuation intact, with the exception of the email address and phone number. I don't want to accidentally seem like I'm promoting this thing.

Will you share my dream? AND try to save with your hearth many, much life.

I' m new movie scenario and book writer. It's been a difficult couple of years for me .It's a battle every day for me. I am writing 2 true life story or movie and one life story will be a book, plus one action movie scenario .I write over the 600 pages. % 70 of project is done. For rest of project I need to make a lot of search need at least 3 translators and I need to go to 3 different places for the get real information's and add to scenarios and book. I'm poor person not rich. I have family also. These project's my future our dream, big example for our community. My book will be very powerful light in the dark road.

I need your help .I don't want to put my all work in garbage. Yes I know there is a lot of big hearths people standing behind me for help .I did not get any help until now only I work with my hearth .I did not sleep I put a lot of hours of my life. I want to stand on my feet with your help. I want to bring something special with your help. My goal is finish these projects .I showed my works to universities also. The answers was incredible personal work with no help I need economically help I have no money for finishing I need to go a few places for search I need to use money for translator and need to but programs and one computer and camera for the projects. I need to use money for notary and lawyer fee. Etc I have nobody behind me. . But all Torontonians will help me. I Believe I'm one of your' son or brother .Don't turn your face .Contact email myourlife@someserviceprovider.com call 647 XXX XXXX I can come true your place If you make donation over the 600$ your name and picture will appears on the book. I'm asking your a few hundred dollars donation for this book and scenarios, because; May be you are teacher or businessman or a doctor but I m very sure you know life is not easy. This book will be a step to learn some part of real life a) Good example for our children's b) No entry for dangers person to Canada c) Save more our money helps our community d) Duty of new immigrants etc. I open my hands first God second your hearth.

Wolfs are loves foggy weather. We can clean our weather together

MELIK GUVEN

Wow. This guy's a writer?
He certainly has a thing for your hearth, doesn't he? A wise man once said, "Jou keep using that word. I do not think that word means what jou think it means."
There are so many fascinating factors at play in this little missive. I particularly like the incredible run-on scentence in the middle. And that bit about wolfs and foggy weather? Pure frickin' poetry.
This makes that Nigerian banking scam email look like it was written by a four year-old.
Sadly, all of that effort was wasted because our boy Melik left the note in a dead man's mailbox.
Oh, well. Maybe next sucker.

Bibliophobia - It's good for kids

2006-01-07T20:17:00.000-05:00

OK, so maybe I've gone a little overboard with all of the books I've published on Lulu.com lately. I had a bit of a back-catalogue that was waiting for an outlet. Erik threatened to find me a support group to help deal with my apparent addiction to publishing. Fair enough.
My latest book is different from all the others. Style. Look. Shape. Target demographic. Purpose. All different.
I've written a children's book.
For the second year in a row, I've been invited (as an alleged local celebrity playwright - go figure) to read to some school children for Family Literacy Week (January 23-27). Last year I read "Curious George Learns The Alphabet" to a grade 1 class. I had a great time.
They told me that I could let the teacher choose a book or I could bring a book of my own choosing. The risk of saying something like that to a writer is that he may just write something.
And I did."Marty Scribbler Was Afraid Of Books" is the story of a young boy who is (you guessed it) afraid of books. When his class goes on a field trip to the library, he has to face his fears. In doing so he discovers that books aren't scary at all; they're actually kind of fun.
In many ways, this was my most challenging project as a writer, but also the most potentially rewarding. I didn't want to do just a generic funny-animal story. I wanted to somehow tie it all in to Family Literacy Week and follow the overall theme of encouraging kids to read. After I got the story itself figured out, I then had to pick up some pencils that hadn't been put to proper creative use in many years. I had to do the illustrations for the story. I experimented with all sorts of different looks and debated endlessly whether I wanted the book to be in colour or black-and-white; hard cover or paperback. I finally settled on a look that I liked, with a combination of watercolours and black ink.
I'm proud of the final result and the first copy will be donated to Esker Lake Public School when I read it to one of the classes at the end of the month.
The title of this post notwithstanding, children need books. If you have children, either your own or nieces and nephews, young cousins, street urchins that follow you around at lunchtime, whatever, please do all you can to get them reading. We were lucky with my son. He started reading at a relatively early age. I think a lot of that had to do with the fact that there are billions of books in my house and the whole family enjoys reading. As a two year old, Robert would see everyone else reading books and didn't want to miss out on whatever it was everyone was doing.
Read to your kids. Read with your kids. Read in front of your kids. Whatever it takes, but get them reading.
Read "Marty Scribbler Was Afraid Of Books" to them. (Yeah, you knew that was coming.) Or read them something else. I won't mind.
Just read.

My Evil Is In Flux

2005-12-31T11:28:00.000-05:00

Apparently my blog is more evil than Bill's blog.

Of course, the level of evil changes with each post. By the time I finish writing this my evil flux will have shifted.

Not too sure how I feel about having a shifty evil flux, but that's life in the 21st-ish Century.

Alternatively, basic math suggests , also.

So, I've got that in my favour. For now, anyway.

What's Next..? (2006 Edition)

2005-12-24T12:52:00.000-05:00

Rob has a list of predictions for 2006 over at AnotherStinkingBlog. He's a real ray of sunshine, isn't he? I was planning on making some predictions myself, but since Rob asked for them, we'll let him think it was his idea.

In 2006...

The last possible "Gee, that Michael Jackson is a freak, isn't he?" joke will be made (by a Zamboni driver in Winnipeg) and the topic will finally be retired from the bemused conversation repertoire of the western world.

I'll find that sock that disappeared in the laundry in 1983 (which will be odd, because I've moved three times since then).

Tim Burton will make another movie I have no interest in seeing.

Axl Rose will release his solo album "Chinese Democracy." (Just kidding about this one. He's never gonna finish that damned album.)

Paris Hilton will shut the hell up and just go away.

There will be a war someplace with lots of fighting. Stuff will be blown up.

Abba will reunite and launch a world tour with Elvis Costello. After three shows, the tour will be canceled because of disagreements about the performance line up. Abba and Costello will argue about who's on first. (I never get tired of that joke.)

Hollywood will continue to strip-mine ideas from old television shows. Next year's offerings will include...

* "Green Acres" an action-comedy with fast cars, slow combine harvesters, big guns and even bigger cows, starring Sam Elliott and Raquel Welsh.

* "My Three Sons" starring Martin Sheen, Emilio Estevez, Charlie Sheen and a spare Baldwin. Gilbert Gottfried will play Uncle Charlie.

* "Manimal" starring Jason Statham. This one's gonna so cool.

George W. Bush will make a rational and sensible decision based on real and verifiable facts. (Hey, I don't crush your hopes and dreams. Let me have this one.)

"A Year in the Death of Eddie Jester" will be optioned for a motion picture. Director Joss Whedon will hire me to adapt the play for the big screen.

Sales of my children's book "Marty Scribbler Was Afraid Of Books" will skyrocket, making me the next H A Rey. (Details soon on how you can do your part for this one.)

I'll make lots of money. Like LOTS. Huge amounts. Piles of money. Bags of money. Bags of mega-lotsedness. Of money. For me.

...And my final prediction for 2006... At last, after all these years, it will finally be ALL ABOUT ME!!!
(I've been waiting for this.)

Imitation is the sincerest form of... something.

2005-12-07T09:10:00.000-05:00

Yesterday on CP24, one of the scrolling news headlines declared, "British Eminem impersonator sentenced to life in prison in beating death of female law student." No other information was provided. This led to several questions coming to mind, not the least of which was, "There are Eminem impersonators?"
More on that later ("Moron. That later!"), but first let's address some of the secondary questions raised by this particular news-snippet.
The specific elements included intrigue me. The basic content is that this guy is going to prison because he killed a woman. Got it. How relevant is the fact that he was an Eminem impersonator? Or that she was a law student? Did he beat her to death because he thought that's what Eminem would do? (Something I'm almost sure Eminem's people would probably deny, given the inclination.) Did he do it because of the kitten theory? (Kittens are cute but they grow up to be cats. Law students may be cute, but they grow up to be lawyers.) Lord knows we could certainly do with fewer lawyers. (Some litigatory twit will probably try to sue me for saying that.)
But we don't know how relevant any of the factors are, because NO OTHER INFORMATION WAS PROVIDED. It wasn't covered on the "real" news on CP24. The yammering news readers didn't mention it all. Not a whiff.
Some of the scrolling headlines are self-explanatory. If, f'rinstance, the headline had read, "Shelly Long receives lifetime achievement award for beating agent to death" that would make sense and be clear to everyone. This headline left so many unanswered questions.
Which brings us back to the main point of pondering...
There are Eminem impersonators?
How low must your self-esteem be for you to base a career on pretending to be someone else?
OK, Elvis impersonating is a booming business and many seemingly misguided but probably quite clever people make a respectable living from it. Ski vacations notwithstanding, the town of Collingwood, Ontario owes its existence to Elvis impersonators.
Cher impersonators, solo or paired with the occasional Sonny clone, can be seen, and paid, quite regularly, as well.
Liza Minnelli and Michael Jackson are also lucrative impersonation subjects, though they both register much higher of the freak-meter than Elvis or his impersonators.
However, you gotta wonder about the second- and third-tier impersonators.
How screwed up does your life need to be for you want to be a Lindsay Lohan impersonator? A Bob Saget impersonator? A Jeff Probst impersonator?
Seriously, below a certain level, "celebrity" impersonation simply becomes a cry for euthanasia.

Whhheeeeeeee!!!!!!!!

2005-12-01T20:35:00.000-05:00

A couple of days ago I was reminded of two things, both at the same time.
1/ I am a fairly competent driver; and b/ There is always more one can learn about driving a car.
Where I work, we have a fleet of cars on the road for alarm response. Consequently, we have a fleet of drivers for those cars. About once a year we try to get some sort of advanced driving course organized.
Last year we rented one of the secondary airfields at CFB Borden and spent two days resurfacing it with rubber scraped from the tires of half a dozen rental cars as we learned evasive driving techniques under the supervision of professional race car driver Aaron Povoledo. We had a great time and I came away from it a better driver.
This year about fifteen of us went to the Skid Control School in Oakville. Another group of fifteen will go in about two weeks. At the Skid School they have a specially designed "Skid-Pan" which is basically an extra slippery stretch of asphalt, which is then treated with resin and sprayed liberally with water. The cars are equipped with over-inflated, bald tires and few other nifty little gimmicks. It is all designed to induce loss of vehicle control and skidding, so that you, as the driver, can learn how to regain and (more importantly) maintain control of the car.
It's a wild ride and a hell of a lot of fun.
There is a three-to-one student/instructor ratio and as wild and exciting as it is, the skid-pan is designed to ensure student safety above everything else. Before getting in the skid cars, there is some in-class instruction, which is surprisingly informative, even for someone who's been driving for years.
The in-car experience is almost beyond words. It is exciting, terrifying, nerve-wracking and confidence-building. There is no other feeling quite like being behind the wheel of a car that is moving diagonally in a straight line, yet still being able to honestly say, "I am in control of this car."
In addition to their many corporate, fleet-training clients, the Skid Control School also has individual instruction. As an added bonus, you get a certificate that is worth about a 5% rate reduction with many insurance companies.
Canadian weather is unpredictable, which makes Canadian driving challenging and dangerous. Stack the deck in your favour. Check out this school. The things you'll learn will make you a better driver.
And spinning the car around is a hoot! You'll love it.

Photo Caption Challenge V 8.0

2005-11-21T10:53:00.000-05:00

Time for another photo.

Click on Comments, add a caption for the photo, win great prizes!!!!

(OK, I'm just kidding about the prizes thing. There are no prizes. Sharing the gift of laughter should be reward enough...)

No, really... It's a word.

2005-11-20T21:19:00.000-05:00

Erik wrote this as a comment to my last posting:

UPDATE! UPDATE! UPDATE!
We want UPDATES!
C'mon, it's been over a week... ramble damn you!
[end rant]
Sunday, November 20, 2005 4:53:58 PM

It was posted under the name "Mugwug."
Mugwug is, in fact, Erik. (His secret is out.) Here's something else that Erik wrote recently...

The Hitchhikers Guide to the Zombocalypse.

This book contains reviews of more zombie movies than you thought existed. Being a Zombie Hunter himself, Erik is uniquely qualified to judge these movies, and he does, with his usual sharp wit.

The book is available at Lulu.com, just like so many of my books.

Yet (and here's the bit that irks me) he has sold more books than me and he's only got the one. You see, there's a whole Zombie Hunter community that's buying his book because, well, basically, because it's about zombies. They're just like that.

Now some of, and you know who you are, have bought some of my books and I'm grateful. Thank you. However, there are others of you, and you probably know who you are, who haven't bought any of my books, even though some of your achievements are actually mentioned, by name, in the books. Keep this up and I may just write a book listing some of your other achievements. You know, the ones you don't want your mother to know about. I'm not above doctoring photos, too.

So, to recap...
Zombie movie book: lot's o' fun.
My books: even mo' fun.
You should: buy m'books. Now.

You think I should work on my sales pitch?

tga

p.s. The spell checker wanted to change Mugwug to mucus. I said "No. Leave that to the witches."

Check the top of his head for a nipple.

2005-11-10T10:49:00.000-05:00

As many of you know, my day-job is Operations Director for a security company.
We try to do what we can to dissuade people of the delusion that security is the default vocation for any schmuck looking for a job. Not skilled enough to drive a taxi? Be a security guard. Get yourself killed.
Along with the basic application, we also have a brief written questionnaire designed to identify common sense and clear thinking, while weeding out the moronic and inane.
Below is a list of actual responses from people we did not hire. These are real. The hand-written responses are in italics, verbatim.

Name:

* Is not listed

How did you hear of us?

* I was reefered by my man.
* Whore I rent their daughter.

List things a Security Officer should never do while working.

* Unkeep his/her uniform.
* Swear at a mad person.
* Alcohol drinking
* Feel sleepy
* Not influence of drug
* Hand to the pant
* Romantically chase those around station.
* Take off uniform.
* Act crazy
* Undetect and unwriting the report for each impotent event.
* Look profeshanal
* Donging housework
* Talking aimless
* Gun, perfume, tourch, danger thing.
* Allow safety to be in jeopardy
* Try to pick up girls
* Use of cellophane
* Use fowl language
* Lyine
* Loose concentration
* Flow rules

What do you understand about the term "Deportment"?

* Please leave property.
* Comes from the root Deported
* Behaviour of the person or animal.
* An illegal migrant forced to send his/her country
* Team
* No
* Means section; eg Security Deportment, Financing Deportment
* To return to where you was before
* To have removed from this soil and return to theirs
* Helping other people with answer

Define the word "Terrorism"

* Someone who is causing harm to in a cent people
* Create the troubles for the humans
* A terrorism is a fear, which some people make it in peoples
* Somebody's number of group have some Gods and aims for achieve to their goal, they arrange to do some inhumanies and unfairness behavieors
* When someone suffer, no problem

If you are working and a parent comes to you to report a lost child, what would you do and what would you not do?

* I can't talk to my parents in laboor time
* First of all I would not, not help. And second I would get all the info... to help find the child.
* I handle every situation with pace and cool mind
* Use common sense and ask the supervisor if I have no clue.

What would you do if a gas leak occurred outside your home?

* I will make sure there is know fire around. I will never go close to flem. Will keep my body far from it too.
* Leave home. You should never start your car it may cause ignition.
* Don't lite a cigarette.

List things that are important when dealing with the public

* Be clam
* Be professional and palate
* Be alirt
* Greed and instruct
* Smell good!

One applicant listed his status as "A landed immigerewt."

Quotes from interviews:

* "I am a piece of clay and I need you guys to mold me."
* "I am involved with a politician."

Once again, these are from the people we did not hire.
Sadly, not all security companies are as discerning.

Huricane Winds at the Speed of Jackson

2005-11-10T09:30:00.000-05:00

Michael Jackson is still working on the song he plans to release as a benefit single to raise money for relief from Huricane Katrina.
Still working on it.
A single.
One song.
Not done yet.
New Orleans has re-opened almost all of their brothels and he's still working on one song.
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Back in 1985 "We Are The World" was written, recorded and released in about ten minutes. Of course, back then there were dozens of musicians and celebrities who wanted to work with him.
These days, no one wants to know him.
Well, almost no one...
R. Kelly has joined Michael Jackson on the project (no, really), not only as a performer but also as producer. If you're just getting a producer this late in the game, the project may be having some problems.
Speaking of problems and Michael Jackson, etc... Didn't R. Kelly have some legal problems a few years ago? Something about a videotaped liaison with an underage fan?
So, who's joining the project next? Jeffrey Jones?
Apparently some of the lyrics were found on Pete Townsend's computer, but he said it was just research for a book he's writing.

Book, book, book and.. uh... book.

2005-10-31T16:41:00.000-05:00

I did it.
I took the plunge and published a book with lulu.com.
It was so easy, I decided to publish three more books.
There's just no stopping me now. I'm a wildman. I'm reckless. I may just run with scissors! Watch out!
Lulu.com is a publish-on-demand book service for self-publishing. What that means is that I don't have to pay a whole bunch of money up front for a ten-thousand-book printing run and then try to sell them someplace. Lulu prints the books as they are ordered. The book doesn't exist until it is sold, thus I don't have to pay for it in advance. You do. Then Lulu pays me some of that.
Formatting the manuscript is the most challenging part and after that it's fairly easy and the final producted is a professionally published book, not some lame homemade-printing-press-in-the-basement, cheap-junk-crap, not-fit-to-wrap-fish, psuedo-book. It's real.
Which is kinda cool.
To start, I have published some plays, but I have plans to diversify with other books.

The Secret Lives of Sketch Artists
Three writers for a sketch comedy television program encounter complications in their working relationships when extra-marital activities are accidentally revealed. The tension starts to affect the content of their sketches, with hilarious results in this three act comedy.

A Parallax Triptych Volume 1
Three one-act plays that peek through the gaps in your reality.
"Spare Parts & Stray Plots" - A writer’s characters come to life and demand the freedom to speak their own minds. Art imitating life imitating art imitating Humphrey Bogart. Except for the fictitious parts, this is the true story of how this play was written.
"Just Another Business Lunch" - God and the Devil meet over lunch for their regular business review and discover several discrepancies in the accounting reports. Things are further complicated when a third party company launches a hostile take over of both of their operations.
"Faster Than A Single Bound" - The Super-Hero members of The Legion of Justice try to cope with new members, identity crises, insurance problems and municipal red tape.

A Parallax Triptych Volume 2
Three one-act plays with strong women in unusual jobs.
"Suburban Femmes Fatales And The Great Sports Bar Caper" - Four housewives amuse themselves by plotting the fictitious robbery of the local sports bar, which they feel has “stolen” their husbands. But it’s all just a game… isn’t it?
"Assassin Over Teakettle" - Corporate assassin, Natalia, is sent on a mission to locate a rival freelance killer. Unexpected twists and turns complicate the task as her target comes within reach. How does a vacationing small town couple fit into all of this? What is the secret buried in the past of Marty the room service guy? Who is Tireur Embusque?
"Holy Grail!" - A tired old Jewish man trains an atheist neo-punk folk-singer to replace him as the guardian of the Holy Grail.

A Parallax Triptych Volume 3
Three one-act plays from the darker places just outside your reach.
"Eric’s New Job" - After being struck by a car, Eric starts his afterlife career, taking a job as a Deceased Entities Afterlife Transfer Host (D.E.A.T.H.). His training goes relatively smoothly until he must literally confront a ghost from his past.
"Gaewulf" - It’s going to be difficult enough for Mike to tell his parents that he’s gay. Then he discovers that his lover is a werewolf. A beautiful full moon rises just as Mike’s parents arrive.
"Jeremy" - A psychological thriller about an unbalanced window dresser who seeks advice from her mannequins on how to deal with those she views as enemies.

Well, I've done my part. Now it's up to you. Log on to lulu.com and buy my books. (Kat in the U.K., if you think my blog is fun, wait'll you read my plays. More fun than your marshmallow brain can handle.)

Thanks to Erik for the tip about Lulu.

Photo Caption Challenge V 7.0

2005-10-20T19:14:00.000-04:00

BillP, using his clever psuedonym, Busvrgar, has demanded a new photo challenge. (Actually he just demanded a new photo, but the challenge is implied.)
This photo is courtesy of Faeriegirl. (Go thank the Wee One.)
Same rules: Click on "Comments" and post your caption(s) for the photo.

Photo Caption Challenge V6.0

2005-10-03T15:29:00.000-04:00

OK, this one is a little more challenging.
But that's why we call it a challenge, isn't it?
Seriously, I've got nothing. It's up to you guys to impress me.
Look at the picture, click on comments, post a funny caption for the picture.
How hard can it be, really?

tga

I'm a Web-Whore

2005-09-28T17:31:00.000-04:00

OK, see that banner thingy near the top of this page? Not that one. A bit lower. The one with the advertisements in it. Yeah, that one.
I'll bet you're wondering what the hell that's doing there, huh?
It's there because I signed on to be a Google Web-Whore. Every time you click on an ad in that banner (and you will, my puppets, you will) I make money. Not much, but money, nonetheless.
But that's not why I did it. Think about it. There's, what, five of you out there reading my ramblings. I certainly won't get rich off this, no matter how many times you click on the ads (and you will, my puppets, you will).
No, I did it because I'm curious.
You see, I don't choose what ads go on that banner. Google, Blogger and the AdSense people have this funky little program that places ads that specifically relate to what a blog is about.
For example, my good friend and fellow web-whore, Gord, has also signed on for this banner ad stuff on his blog at A Little Bite of Magic Cheese. His blog is about magic, so the ads placed there are related to magic. Which is why I giggled my butt off at Gord's insistence that David Blaine sucks, is a hack, disgraces "real" magicians, etc. while there is an ad for Blaine Street Magic at the top of his blog.
So, I'm curious to see what ads will appear on my blog. As you may have noticed, this blog isn't actually about anything in particular. In fact, it is often about nothing in general. What effect will that have on the ad-generator? Will I get ads for bat exterminators? Photo caption software? Kurt Vonnegut books? Sound-proof toilet bowls?
Whatever the ads are, I'm counting on you click on them and make me some money (and you will, my puppets, you will).

tga

. . . And loving it.

2005-09-28T10:07:00.000-04:00

86 is deep-sixed.
The shoe-phone is toes-to-the-sky.
Go go gadget sadness.
On September 25 Don Adams died.
I was at work when I read this sad bit of information on the news scroll running on the television in the corner. I immediately felt old when Mike, a young co-worker, said "Who?"
I whipped my shoe from my foot, held it to my ear and said, "Hello, Chief? Smart here," and Mike redeemed himself by catching the reference. (Unlike Chantal later in the day, for whom I had to invoke Inspector Gadget before she knew who I was talking about.) Turns out Mike has an eclectic familiarity with a lot of things, but just doesn't know names. For him, everyone is simply "the guy from that show." For example, Mike pointed out that the guy from KAOS was also the doctor on the Love Boat. Straightening my trivia-geek hat, I said, "Bernie Kopell." It's frightening sometimes, the obscure bits of useless minutiae floating dangerously close to the surface of my mind.
But back to the topic at hand. "Get Smart" was my first introduction to the idea of over-the-top humour. The show taught me that sometimes a joke can be so bad that it's good. They had catch phrases before anyone knew what a catch phrase was. They demonstrated something that Gord has recently re-learned: Sometimes the old jokes work.
I used to rush home from school to watch "Get Smart." It was always the preferred topic of recess conversation the next morning.
Hymie the robot.
Agent 13, hiding in a sofa cushion.
The lovely Barbara Feldon as Agent 99.
"Not the Craw! The Craw!"
"Sorry, Chief."
"Would you believe...?"
And the centerpiece of the show, Don Adams as Maxwell Smart, Agent 86 of CONTROL.
Sadly, the later attempts to revive the series and the characters failed to capture the real spirit of the original. Personally, I blame Andy Dick.
In 1975, Adams hosted a short-lived TV game show called "Don Adams' Screen Test." I made of point of watching that every week, too. I think it ran at 7:30 on Fridays. They would choose people from the audience, sometimes simply drag people in off the street, and have them re-enact scenes from famous movies, opposite professional actors. It was a brilliant piece of entertainment.
Adams' secret agent persona resurfaced with "Inspector Gadget." At first I was resistant to the idea, then it occurred to me that this would be an opportunity to introduce my son to Adams' unique style of line-delivery. More regular Adams viewing ensued in my house.
The absence of Don Adams was blatantly obvious in the tragically Disney live-action film of Inspector Gadget. Matthew Broderick has impressed me with some of his other work, but for me, there is only one Gadget.
(Broderick, more recently, starred in the Broadway production - and the soon-to-be-released remake film - of "The Producers," by Mel Brooks, who, along with Buck Henry, created "Get Smart" starring Don Adams, who later played Inspector Gadget, a character that was later played by Matthew Broderick, who, more recently, starred in the Broadway... --Ah the Circle of Life.)
Anyway, once again, back to matter at hand. Don Adams' death at the age of 83 has made me doubt my faith in the underlying symmetry of the universe, that oft-invoked well of accidental humour. It would have been much more fitting if he had lived just three more years. Do the math. You'll see what I mean.
Farewell, Maxwell Smart. You will be missed... by that much.

tga

Some random thoughts that aren't nearly as offensive as they could be...

2005-09-19T21:27:00.000-04:00

I saw an ad on TV today. The scene was a couple spending a romantic time in a row boat. The woman was an attractive blond whom I think also does that grapefruit shampoo ad. The guy was on the poor side of average, giving the impression that he's incredibly lucky just to have one chance at a romantic afternoon with this woman.
Then she gets a shocked look on her face and points at the bottom of the boat. Shockingly the boat has sprung a leak. A perfectly round leak about 5/8" in diameter. Almost like someone with a power drill, but no imagination, had deliberately made the hole prior to filming. Water is sprouting up and flooding into the boat.
Eager to prove that he is brave, resourceful and worthy of marriage, the man quickly puts a panicked look on his face, turns and starts rooting through his picnic basket for some sort of repair kit. The woman calmly reaches into her purse, takes out a box of Tampax tampons, removes one from the box and uses it to plug the hole in the boat.
Our hero turns around again to see that the boat is no longer flooding. In fact, thanks to the absorbency of Tampax products, there is no longer any water in the boat. She smiles proudly. He drops the unidentifiable random items he planned to use to stop the leak. The Tampax logo flashes on the screen and some trite voice-over sings the praises of the tampon.
The reason I'm recounting all of this is to point out a specific factor in the performance of the actor playing the guy in the boat. If you see the ad, watch for this. Only guys will recognize it for what it is, but this actor, with a single expression, for a fraction of a second, conveyed the only possible thought under such circumstances.
Just as the guy turned around, his eyes darting over the situation, assessing all of the various facts and their significance, just for the briefest of moments you could see the realization in his eyes.
He's not getting laid tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You know what someone should invent?
A way of sound-proofing a toilet seat.
Stay with me on this; I've given it far more thought than it really deserves.
The shape of a toilet bowl and the materials used to make a toilet bowl combine with the curious side effect of amplifying any sound that is created within the aforementioned bowl. It's basically an echo chamber under a vertical smile.
I've been around long enough to say with confidence that there no possible sounds made within the environment in question that you actually want amplified. These are sounds that you want suppressed.
Ever been in a public washroom and inadvertently perform a musical duet with the guy in the next stall? Kind of like dueling banjos, but with tubas and trumpets. The occasional trombone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I think they spiked my coffee at work. But I don't know with what. Look at the dancing colours.

tga

Photo Caption Challenge V 5.0

2005-09-16T09:01:00.000-04:00

This is the one that started it all. About two years ago, Bill sent out an email with the subject line "There's gotta be a good caption for this" and it had this photo attached.

My personal favourite at the time was: "The origami class desperately awaited their next shipment of paper."

Let's what all you creative little critters come up with this time.

The rules, for anyone new; Look at the picture, think of a funny caption, post it as a comment.

Linky-linky-link...

2005-09-14T18:51:00.000-04:00

Being relatively new to the blogsphere, I simply chose my favourite of the templates offered by Blogger.com. However, this particular template doesn't include the option of a list of links. Several friends of mine now have blogs, some of which, Todd, are more interesting than mine, and I'd like to share them with whoever is reading this.
Yes, the obvious solution is to change the template. But I like the look of this one. It sort of reflects what I've deluded myself into believing I'm going to achieve here. So instead I'll just list links in a post every couple of months...

The BillPages - Bill watches a lot of TV. Bill also follows a lot of news. He reads a lot of books, too. Bill goes through the motions of actually attending a place of employment and collecting a paycheque, but I don't think he actually works. He doesn't have time.

A Little Bit Of Cheese - Gord is a magician. He is also a funny guy (in every possible sense). Sadly, he can't spell worth a damn. A fun blog, nonetheless.

Anotherstinkingblog - Rob has, for now, taken the graffiti approach to blogging. Sort of guerrilla posting. He's got some interesting stuff.

Playing After Dark - Todd is new to blogging. This blog was named after the theatre production company he and his oh-so-lovely wife own. Check out his blog. It's self-explanatory.

Moral Flexibility - Erik is a gun collector, a zombie hunter, a new daddy and one of the sharpest wits I've ever worked with.

Tisha In China - Litisha has gone from Brampton to China to teach english. A bold and daunting task for an actress who was working the drive-through window at Wendy's two years ago. I'm impressed and proud of her.

The Yarn Harlot - Stephanie I have known since forever. Her blog focuses on one of her many habits; knitting. But don't let that scare you off. She has some very funny stuff on there and parts of it have been compiled into two books, available at quality literary retailers everywhere.

What's This Song? - Daphne is the orphan, still searching for her roots. She loves concert blisters and leather boots and she knows one fact; her act is to get loose. And we're just musicians, here to thin the thickness of your skin.

tga

The Return of Billy Pilgrim

2005-09-14T11:15:00.000-04:00

Kurt Vonnegut was on The Daily Show last night.
He is old and frail and seemed a bit unsteady on his feet. He also looks about eight feet tall. The most physically imposing frail old man I've seen in quite while. He spoke slowly in that way that old people do, making you lean forward a bit, trying to catch every word, almost making you resent the effort required just to carry on a conversation with this person. But in this case, it was worth the effort. Every word that came out of that old, frail mouth proved that the mind of Kurt Vonnegut is still young and vibrant and doesn't miss a thing.
I first started reading the books of Kurt Vonnegut during the latter part of my high school life. His storytelling technique is random and somewhat easy-going. Whenever I tried to read a non-Vonnegut novel after reading a couple of his books, I had to make an effort to readjust to a traditional (and comparatively boring) narrative style.
The thing about Vonnegut is that he steps about three feet to side and views the world from there. Then he'll point out something that was there all along, but you hadn't really noticed it. "The sky is blue," Vonnegut would say (for example) and I'd pause and look and consider his claim. "Look at that," I'd mutter. "The sky is blue. Why didn't I notice that before?"
Jon Stewart, the host of The Daily Show, apparently had similar experiences to my own, with the works of Vonnegut. Stewart is, when you get right down to it, simply a comedian who found the right hook and got lucky. He has interviewed senators, governors, ex-presidents; I think the Pope was on the show once. He has consistently looked them right in the eye and, while showing them due respect, let them know that he is on the same level as them and they are no better than anyone else. Kurt Vonnegut sat to desk with him last night and I thought Jon Stewart was going to actually bow down at Vonnegut's feet.
Vonnegut opened with a comment about how everyone has been picking on President Bush and saying bad things about him, so he's decided that he'd take this opportunity on television to some thing nice about the president. "He's not the dumbest person at the top level of the government," he declared. "The Secretary of Defense is the dumbest person at the top level of the government." He then presented an argument against the war in Iraq that I haven't heard before.
Think about that. With all of the opinions, rants, protests, etc. opposing various American activities in Iraq (and the surrounding areas), they all boil down to different presentations of the same basic facts. The Vonnegut points out a couple of other (obvious) facts and it's a whole new perspective. He didn't say, "This is wrong," or "This is warmongering," or "This is evil US aggression." His point was simply, "This is dumb."
He had his own lesson in democracy for the people of Iraq, based on the American model, because America perfected democracy.
1. After the first hundred years, you should free your slaves.
2. After about a hundred and fifty years, let your women vote.
3. During the early stages of your democracy a certain amount of genocide and ethnic cleansing is perfectly acceptable.
Another obvious note in the "Let's bring 'em democracy" boondoggle, based on known facts but not really identified before. Move three steps to the side and take another look.
The show was ending as Vonnegut pulled a folded and crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. It was his list of "Liberal crap I've heard enough of." Because they were out of time, Jon Stewart promised to post the list on the Daily Show website. Maybe I'm just too impatient, but it's not there yet.
I'll be checking every few minutes, just to find out what other obvious aspects of life have been eluding me.
Wow, the sky actually is blue.

tga

"My lawyer smokes crack." - - "My lawyer's on crystal meth."

2005-09-14T09:25:00.000-04:00

With all the tales of rape and murder and snipers and so on following the near-instantaneous collapse of society during the bureaucratic cock-up that was the aftermath of hurricane Katrina, it's expected that there will eventually be criminal charges filed against someone, or several someones.
The first ones hit the news today. The Louisiana State Prosecutor has filed murder charges against the owners of a nursing home in Katrina's path. Thirty-four patients/residents drowned when the hurricane hit Louisiana. At the press conference, the prosecutor stressed that distinction. "They drowned. Drowned. Did you get that? Is that clear enough for you? Drowned. They didn't die of natural causes. They drowned."
The owners of the nursing home are a cute couple. Their mug shots were on the news. The husband looks like some mutant hybrid of Danny Aiello and Nick Nolte. The wife looks like a combination of Doris Roberts and, well, Nick Nolte. They evacuated, but left all of their bed-ridden patients behind.
Their lawyer explains that they are completely innocent. That's what lawyers do, talking out of their asses like that. He says that they did not personally receive any mandatory evacuation notices. Therefore, apparently, when they themselves fled like rats ahead of the hurricane, they had no legal obligation to bring along the elderly and invalid people whom they were being paid a lot of money to care for.
Here's a fund-raising idea for hurricane relief. At a dollar per person I'm sure we could make billions of dollars, selling tickets to line up and kick this guy right in the nuts.
"Wait," I hear you cry. "It's not his fault he's insane. Mental illness is a tragic disease and needs to be treated with compassion."
True enough, but he's not just insane. He's an insane lawyer. Therefore we all need to line up and kick this guy right in the nuts.
And his clients, too. Because they are morally repulsive.

tga

Photo Caption Challenge V4.0

2005-09-07T17:38:00.000-04:00

It's that time again.

Look at the picture, think of something funny, post it as a comment.

If half a tree falls on a fence, does it still make a hell of a mess?

2005-09-05T12:48:00.000-04:00

About a month ago, a tree in my parent's backyard, finally gave in to gravity. It had, apparently, been rotting a bit inside and a particularly heavy rainfall was the catalyst for splitting the trunk down the middle, simply under its own weight.

The tree itself was more than forty years old and had provided an admirable amount of shade over the years. In its collapse it took out a good portion of a chain link fence that had almost as many years to its credit. Family and friends descended on the house to help with reducing the huge chunk of lumber into manageable pieces. On my side of the family, I'll admit that my wife and son did most of the hauling while I played with the chainsaw.

Once the fallen part of the tree was dealt with, there remained the half that was still standing. With only half a trunk, it was no longer a viable tree. It had to come down.

Enter Dave Jones. For those of you out there who know Dave Jones, this isn't him. This is a completely different Dave Jones who has been removing damaged trees from residential yards for about twenty years.

Completely ignoring gravity, he flew to the top of the half-tree and began removing branches. It was a sight to see, as he apparently levitated around the tree, a chainsaw artist, seeking the perfect toothpick that he knows must be lurking within the huge piece of wood.

Climbing vertical surfaces like a lemur with steel-toed boots, he was the envy of all the neighbourhood squirrels.

Despite his determination to ignore gravity, he made remarkable use of several other laws of physics. Tying a rope to a branch, he then looped that rope around a lower part of the tree before anchoring it to the ground. When he cut off the branch, it swung down on the rope, within inches of the roof of the house, before coming to rest within reach of his assistants on the ground.

He created many heart-stoppingly close non-impacts with swinging branches and the roof, simply based on his visual assessment of where to tie the rope. Never hit the house, but my parents held their breath on more than one occasion.

One for the road runners...

2005-09-02T21:04:00.000-04:00

As some of you may have guessed, being a brilliant writer of much-beloved comedies pays something on the low end of squat. It is for that reason that I have a somewhat day-like job as an Operations Director for a reasonably major player in the security industry. Gotta pay the bills. Among other things, I dispatch alarms and move a fleet of cars around the Greater Toronto Area, like a squad of puppets at my command, ready to do my bidding without question. Bwwaaahhahahahaha!!! Excuse me. Sorry about that.
Ahem.
Some of the readers of this blog are also in related businesses. This one is for them...
(Parts of this list were blatantly stolen from other lists; some were not.)

YOU KNOW YOU'RE IN MOBILE SECURITY IF...

You have the bladder capacity of five people.

You find youself using radio 10-codes in conversation with your friends and family.

You believe that 50% of people are a waste of good air.

When you go out for dinner with your family, you drive completey around the outside of the restaurant before parking your car.

You find humour in other people's stupidity.

You haven't used the express lanes of the highway in years because you never know when you'll have to change where you're going.

You believe in the aerial spraying of Prozac and birth control pills.

A cop has ever pulled you over just to say "Hi."

You disbelieve 90% of what you hear and 75% of what you see.

You have your weekends off planned for a year.

You know the location of every 24-hour coffee shop in the city, as well as which ones have the best washroom facilities.

You believe the government should require a permit to reproduce.

You refer to your favourite restaurant by the intersection at which it is located.

You have ever had to put the phone on hold before you begin laughing uncontrollably.

You think caffeine should come in IV form.

You find out a lot about paranoia just by following people around.

Whenever you enter a building, the first thing you look for is the alarm panel.

People flag you down on the street and ask you directions to strange places.

Cleaners are the bane of your existence.

You do not see daylight from November until May.

You've ever referred to Tuesday as "My weekend."

You believe that unspeakable evils will befall you if anyone says, "Boy, it sure is quiet tonight."

Caption Challenge V3.0

2005-08-30T13:39:00.000-04:00

Time for another photo caption challenge (mainly because I can't think of anything else to post on here right now).

You know how it works... Look at the picture. Think of a funny caption. Click on COMMENTS and post it for everyone else to laugh at...

Random ideas for discussion

2005-08-25T13:27:00.000-04:00

Turks & Caicos
Todd McGinnis told me about Turks & Caicos a while ago and the struggle continues.
In 1974 a private member's bill was introduced in the Canadian Parliament, proposing that Canada annex Turks & Caicos, a small group of islands in the Caribbean. Sadly, the bill was defeated. In 1988, Canada was approached by a delegation from the islands seeking a similar arrangement. Again, nothing really developed. In 2003, Edmonton Centre-East Member of Parliament, Peter Goldring, put forth a motion (M-474), proposing that Canada look into the possibility of annexing Turks & Caicos as Canada's 11th province. He'd already spoken to the government people on the islands and they were ready to open talks, also.
The first couple of times the idea came up, it was presented as, "Hey, let's do this." Apparently, this felt a little un-Canadian at the time. This time around, the idea was presented as, "Hey, let's think about doing this sometime." Gotta hand it to that Peter Goldring. He certainly knows how to appeal to Canadian sensibilities. He even got the attention of the CBC.
What, I hear you ask, is the deal with these Turks & Caicos? Well, the deal, as you so quaintly put it, is that if we make them Canada's 11th province (or 4th territory), there will be a Caribbean tourist destination within the Canadian economy. The Canadian dollar will be the currency. Canadian vacationers will not need a passport to fly down there in the winter. It'll be just like flying to Vancouver (except probably quicker and definitely sunnier). Air Canada already flys there. English is the predominant language, though there a lot of french spoken also. The total population is less than 20,000. The boost to the Canadian tourist economy will easily off-set providing Canadian-style socialized medicine for such a relatively small population. They want to join Canada. We don't have to convince them.
Write to your Member of Parliament and encourage them to get behind this idea. Do it for Canada. Do it for Turks & Caicos. Do it for me. Because, frankly, I could use a nice vacation.

Ink Monkeys
I've been reading "Rat Scabies and the Holy Grail" by Christopher Dawes. Dawes is a freelance music jounalist and the book chronicles his adventures with his neighbour, Rat Scabies, the former drummer for the punk band, The Damned. Scabies is, apparently, stark, raving mad, but in a really enjoyable kind of way. Scabies drags Dawes along on his semi-serious (but probably just to combat bordom) search for the Holy Grail. Obviously, they don't have a hope of actually finding the Grail, but it is an interesting and funny journal of the people they meet along the way and various things that distract and side track them from their goal. At one point during a lull in their search, Scabies latches onto another idea entirely: importing and selling Chinese Ink Monkeys.
According to legend, Chinese scholars in the 13th century were assisted in their writings by two-inch tall monkeys, that had been trained to carry inkpots, arrange pens and turn pages. Ink Monkeys had long been believed extinct, but recently there have been claims of new Ink Monkeys being discovered in remote parts of China. These claims are so dubious that they only rate a brief mention in cryptozoology forum at the Fortean Times website.
However, if Ink Monkeys have indeed returned, then I certainly want in on the ground floor of this marketing goldmine. They're small enough to be the perfect pet for families with new babies and easliy trained to help out with diaper changes, baby-feedings, etc.
The possibilities are almost endless. If only Ink Monkeys existed.
Curses! Foiled again.

Full Contact Bowling

The safety conscious bowler wears elbow pads and a helmet with a visor. A modified skateboard is strapped to the bowler's torso and both knee pads have wheels attached. The idea is, simply, don't let go of the ball. The other bowlers can, of course, release their bowling balls as they try to prevent to "bowler-in-play" from reaching the pins. Advanced players also have barbed wire at the end of the lane.
Who wants to join the league?

tga

Funny Photo Caption Challenge - Week 2.5

2005-08-25T11:41:00.000-04:00

Gather around, my children.

It's time for another funny photo caption challenge.

The rules are still simple. Look at the picture. Think of a funny caption. Click on "comments" and post your caption.

This picture is from my favourite Volvo commercial.....

tga

A bit to the side and down a little, but generally close to top o' the world, Ma! ... Well, I can see it from here, anyway... I think...

2005-08-24T15:46:00.000-04:00

I bought a new car last week. It was time to retire my old van. The brakes were going, the windshield was cracked, the driver's seat was broken and the bearings were going, resulting in a really dramatic wobble on the front end. I felt somewhat vulnerable while driving that van. The best treatment for "vulnerable driver syndrome" is a new car. I felt invincible with my new wheels under me. It was great.
Which means it was time for the puppeteers of the universe to step in and take me down a notch or two.
I drove my car into the parking of the "townhome community" in which we live and parked in my designated space. Some of the neighbourhood kids were playing soccer in the back area. As we were walking away from the car, the soccer ball got away from one of the kids and he called out to my son to get the ball, since it was moving rapidly towards him. However, the ball was only a few feet away from him when he heard the call, so Robert didn't have a lot of time to react. He put his foot out and caught the ball on the side, sending it off in a different direction, past me. I jogged after the ball and stopped it as it bounced up a small grass verge at the edge of the parking lot.
I turned, with my foot on the ball and saw one of the kids coming after the soccer ball. He stopped and hesitated when he saw that I had the ball. I smiled, made a challenging gesture and said, "Come on." He moved towards me and I, still feeling invincible, tapped the ball with my left foot and moved to my right, following the ball. Turns out that this young lad is a devious mix of Pele and Tie Domi. He was in front of me before I knew it, captured the ball with his feet and turned his shoulder to block me.
Just make sure you have the complete picture, let's recap. The grass verge upon which I had stopped the ball sloped upward so that I was standing about a foot and a half above the asphalt of the parking lot. I am six feet, five inches tall. This kid was about eight years old. When he blocked me with his shoulder, he essentially took me out at the knees. My feet stopped moving forward. The rest of me didn't. I was airborne.
Fortunately, my internal verbiage filter kicked in as I flew through the air. I've had problems with my internal filter lately; it hasn't been doing its job, which is to edit and review things before I say them. Recently at work, I was talking on the phone with a woman from one of the companies we deal with. It was a pleasant conversation and after we'd dealt with the actual business of the call, we just chatted for a minute about life in general. As we broke off the phone call she said, "You have a good one." An acceptable response to this would be, "You, too," or "Have a nice day," or something like that. I was shocked to hear myself actually saying, "Thanks for noticing." Fortunately she saw the humour and I'm still employed.
It seems I've been a parent long enough for my internal filter to be more finely tuned when children are around. As I flew through the air, a Tarantino-esque slew of profanity danced through my mind, but the words that came out of my mouth were simply, "Oh, you got me." Then I hit the ground. Hard.
Oh, asphalt, sweet asphalt.
My feelings of invincibility quickly evaporated as I realized that I had, indeed, been, uh, vinced.
Slowly climbing to my feet, I did a brief inventory of body parts. Everything was still there, but I certainly wouldn't be getting my deposit back. I'd sprained my wrist, scraped my forearm and dented my knee. A week later and my knee is still sore.
Nothing makes you feel your age quite like being beaten down by an eight year old.

tga

Dangling a carrot

2005-08-22T08:41:00.000-04:00

Years ago, before "motor-cars" and "auto-mobiles," when horses pulled carts and carriages, various techniques were used to motivate the horse. One of the most common efforts involved dangling a carrot from a string, tied to a stick. The horse would see the carrot hanging about a foot or so in front of its face and would walk forward, trying to get the tasty snack. This worked so well because horses are best known for their love of carrots. The general concept was adapted as a management technique in the twentieth century business world. Managers would motivate their employees by offering rewards, such as bonuses or wage increases. Often, as with the carrot and the horse, the promised reward was never actually obtained.
This is how the term, "Dangling a carrot" entered the common vernacular. (In the mid-1970's, in a certain sub-set of the film industry, "Dangling the carrot" had an entirely different meaning, but we're not going there.)

Every once in a while I will log onto Workopolis.com to check out the jobs listed for writers. Although I enjoy my current job as "Supreme Allied Commander" (aka Operations Director) for a major security company, if I can find a writing gig that pays twice as much, I'll jump on it. So far, however, I haven't found it and I probably won't. I'll have to settle for sporadic royalty cheques.
However, amongst the job listing I often find things that make me laugh. It seems that people who are looking to hire writers, usually are doing so because they can't write themselves. I mean, at all.
Here's an example. On August 17, a job was posted on Workopolis. I won't name the company, but just say that it is a major Canadian broadcaster, without government funding and not owned by someone with a biblical name. The job title was "Overnight Continuity Writer" and it was a role in the news department. The job description, as listed in the ad, is shown below...

Responsibilities:

Â· Combine visual and editorial elements to write the most up-to-date script possible for on-air presentation

Â· Ensure continuity in coverage of breaking and developing stories and communicate these developments to all concerned

Â· On occasion chase produce

Â· Find appropriate sources for on-air interviews

Â· Monitor wires and video sources

Â· Serve as a liaison for the Broadcast Producer

Did you catch that? No? Let's check it again.

Â· Combine visual and editorial elements to write the most up-to-date script possible for on-air presentation

Â· Ensure continuity in coverage of breaking and developing stories and communicate these developments to all concerned

Â· On occasion chase produce

Â· Find appropriate sources for on-air interviews

Â· Monitor wires and video sources

Â· Serve as a liaison for the Broadcast Producer

Chase produce? They seem to be taking this dangling carrot concept rather literally, don't you think?
Personally, I prefer the pursuit of cabbages.

tga

The sort of weekly photo caption challenge V2.0

2005-08-19T10:14:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I had a post with a photo attached. The text was this...

A while ago (ok, last week) I sent a picture (of elephants at the Globe and Mail) to a bunch of friends with the challenge of coming up with a humourous caption for the photo. Super-Bill stepped up and had about half a dozen lines in a few minutes. Everyone else wimped out and completely failed to even try being creative. As Phil Collins sang, oh so many years ago, "No reply at all." So I decided to open it up to the world. Or at least as much of the world as this blog actually reaches. The rules are simple... Look at the picture. Think of something funny. Post it as a comment. So, let's get started. Here's this week's photo:

Then there was no photo. I followed all of the proper steps for posting the photo, and it displayed everytime I when to the blog and looked. But no one else could see it. I tried reposting it half a dozen times. I'm still the only one who can see the damn thing. I saw that movie and it didn't have a good ending, so I've deleted the entire post and I'm starting over, with a different picture.

Can you see this...?

If you can see it, post a comment with a caption suggestion. I'll even accept the obvious Woody Allen reference.

tga

Blog-a-palooza, Blog-a-doodle-doo, Bloggeration, Blog-o-rama, Nous allons bloggerions...

2005-08-17T19:39:00.000-04:00

In a comment to my last post, Pint O' Guinness asked what blogging is.
Actually he wrote, "I don't understand blogging. I've asked people to explain its purpose or function and received vague bafflegab in return: "Blogging? Where you been livin' Guinness? Under a rock? Blogging is where you blog. You know... BLOG! I blog he blogs, she blogs, they blog, nous allons bloggerions, etc. etc." Now my friend TGA blogs. I apparently blog too. I still don't get it."

I've been blogging since Sunday (and boy are my arms tired). Drawing on my wealth of experience in the field of blog (watch where you step) I will attempt to explain blogging (with a minimum of italisized, parenthetical asides).

Technically, there should be an apostrophe at the start of the word "blog", like so... 'blog.
It's actually a shortened version of "weblog" an ancient Welsh word meaning, "Put your diary on display; someone will read it." Sadly, in common usage the word is missing the apostrophe, cuz the net isnt rily gud 4 spllng, gramer or punk2ashun.

Guinness (can I call you Pint?), if you go to the top of this page, off to the left you'll see a funky white B in a red logo, with the clever phrase "I power Blogger." Scroll up and look. Go on. We'll wait.....

Hmmm, hmmm, hmmm, la dee dadum, da dum da dee, dee da abraca-pocus. La dee dadum - Oh, you're back. Did you find it? Good for you. Here have a Scooby snack.

If you click on that really cool logo that our hosts at Blogger.com spent millions of dollars developing, you'll find your way, through the magic of the internet, to (surprise, surprise) Blogger.com where you can set up a blog of your own. It took me about five minutes, so within an hour, you, too, can be a blog-aholic.

As you may have noticed, I have avoided (and will hopefully continue to avoid) taking the Welsh meaning literally. No on-line diary entries for me. Frankly, my inner-most thoughts, feelings and emotions aren't that interesting. The good stuff is all on the surface.

To help in the continuing education of Pint (though, when I stand beside him, he looks more like Half-Pint), I plan on having some more Blog-related blogs in the future. I'm going to disect the Blogger.com "Terms of Usage." That should be fun. It was written by lawyers and they are comedy geniuseses.

tga

Creatures of the night... Shut up!

2005-08-15T20:16:00.000-04:00

Last Friday night, around 11:30 we heard a skritchy-skritchy noise in the ceiling while we were watching television. Off goes the TV as the wife and I stand and strike our individual "Vogue" poses, tilting our heads at odd angles trying to determine where the noise is coming from. As is always the case, once we actively focus on the sound, it stops. A little while later, I went upstairs with plans of turning in for the night. That's when I found Lefty Stitchnibbler, our faithful wonder-cat, voguing on his own, staring at the wall in the bathroom. The skritchy-skritchy noise now seemed to be coming from inside the wall. Then under the bathtub. Then in the wall. Tired and wanting nothing more than to just ignore this and deal with it in the morning, I suggested that a small squirrel had come in through the roof and managed to get inside the wall. Not much you can do about that at midnight. Morning is the time for such matters. So off we went to bed.

Around 2:30 in the morning, the cat went nuts. He was literally bouncing off the walls, running up and down the hall outside our bedroom, leaping, bounding, pouncing, landing heavily with a great thud. Lots of great thuds. The wall-squirrel really seemed to be getting to him. I heard my son get out of bed and I saw a sliver of light in the hallway as he opened his door to see what was going on. The door quickly shut again. My wife called out to him, to tell him the tale of wall-squirrel and nutty-cat. He didn't hear her. Next thing we know, he's knocking on the wall adjoining our rooms and calling out, "Mom, Dad, there's a bat in the house!"

Well, that got my ass out bed.

"What's he talking about?" I think to myself as I move down the hall. "A bat? That's stupid. It's a squirrel in the wall. That's all it is. What bat?" >SWOOP< "Oh, that bat. Holy crap!" My eyes darted around but the bat had vanished. Great. A bat that turns invisible. Damn you, Charles Darwin.

Then I spotted him, peeking over the top of the open closet door. There was just enough of him showing to look like a giant freakin' spider. Keeping my eyes on spider-bat, I told my son, "Robert, go downstairs and get me the blue toy baseball bat." Dutifully, my youthful sidekick left and returned with a comical blue club that had recently been used specifically for its comedic value in a stage play. "Great," I said. "Now go get me some night-vision goggles." He actually went down two steps before stopping and looking back at me. "Oh, right," I said. "We don't have any night-vision goggles. Nevermind." Robert then screwed up his courage and bravely went downstairs to lock himself in the other bathroom.

I opened the window in Robert's bedroom, because it has no screen. I closed the doors to all the other upstairs rooms, leaving only the path to the outside world. The cool night air drifted in. I stared at spider-bat. Spider-bat stared at me. I silent challenge passed between us and he launched, swooping over me, circling back and swooping again. With the blue comedy baseball bat I tried to encourage him to fly into Robert's room. Standing in my underwear, swinging an over-sized club above my head, I must have looked like a middle-aged Bam Bam Rubble. Eventually spider-bat flew into Robert's room and I quickly closed the door.

Now it was time for the second part of my cleverly ill-conceived plan. First of all, however, I opted to get dressed, as it occurred to me that naked bat wrestling is a stupid thing to have to explain at the hospital in the middle of the night. Or at anytime, for that matter. I even put on a hat, lest the bat be tempted to perch upon my comb-over. Armed with two flashlights, I summoned Robert back upstairs and told him to close the door as soon as I was in the room with the bat. I smoothly slipped in action-hero mode and crouched by the door. Throwing the door open, I rolled into the room and Robert closed the door behind. There I was, low to the floor, sweeping flashlight beams around the room like some poorly trained Jedi Knight with a couple of dollar store light-sabres. I did this for a full minute before deciding to just hit the light switch on the wall.

Batty was gone. I'd been in an empty room, displaying my dubious heroics to no one. With an anti-climactic sigh, I closed the window.

I have spent the days since trying to figure out how the bat actually got in the house. My from-the-roof-into-the-wall theory only goes so far. I have yet to find any way for him to get from inside the wall out to the "open" area of the house.

There is only one possible conclusion. Not only can this bat turn invisible, he can also move through solid objects.

Damn.

tga

The Kevin Smith of Brampton theatre

2005-08-14T15:30:00.000-04:00

I was recently interviewed regarding one of my plays. The interviewer, confirming his facts before starting the camera, said, "So you're the director of this play, right?" I replied that I was the both the writer and director of the play, as well as being one of the actors. With a chuckle, I tried to put it all in context for him and said, "I'm the Kevin Smith of Brampton theatre."
While efforts to claim such a title may seem a dubious endevour to some, others may well feel justified in saying, "Hey, what about Todd McGinnis?" (Still other would be perfectly warrented in asking, "Who the heck is Todd McGinnis and where the hell is Brampton?" - To them I say, "Read or don't read. Your choice. But whatever you do, please keep reading.")
So, is Todd McGinnis the Kevin Smith of Brampton theatre? Or is it me? Or is Kevin Smith moving to Brampton just to foil all our hopes and dreams? Let's compare...

Kevin Smith is a talented and funny writer of films, focusing mainly on comedy but having a knack for significant and touching drama.
Todd McGinnis is a talented and funny writer of plays, focusing mainly on comedy but having a knack for significant and touching drama.
I (T. Gregory Argall) have been told that I am a talented and funny writer of plays, focusing mainly on comedy but having a knack for significant and touching drama.
Round One - Points Even

Kevin Smith is an experienced director of movies with a film resume that reaches back many years. While he enjoys working with the same people on different projects, he will often seek out new talent to incorporate new faces into his films.
Todd McGinnis is an experienced director of stage plays with a theatrical resume that reaches back many years. While he enjoys working with the same people on different projects, he will often seek out new talent to incorporate new faces into his shows.
I (T. Gregory Argall) have been told that I an experienced director of stage plays with a theatrical resume that reaches back many years. While I enjoy working with the same people on different projects, I will often seek out new talent to incorporate new faces into my shows.
Round Two - Points Even

Anyone who has read or heard Kevin Smith commenting on his own performances in "Clerks" or "Chasing Amy" or "Dogma" knows that he considers himself to be a passable actor and gets screen time mainly for the perposes of narccisism.
Anyone who saw Todd McGinnis performing in "The Wild Guys" or "Knave of Hearts" or "Gone Fishin'" will agree that he is a fantastic actor.
Anyone who saw me (T. Gregory Argall) performing in "Cheaters" or "Eric's New Job" or "The Secret Lives of Sketch Artists" will agree that Todd McGinnis is a fantastic actor.
Round Three - Points - Todd 2 - Me 3

There you have it. I think even Mr. McGinnis and Mr. Smith would concur that, based on the criteria, I can claim the singularly insignificant title of "The Kevin Smith of Brampton theatre."

The real question is whether Bill Poulin is the Jason Mewes of Brampton theatre.

tga