'Dog. Saw. Man.'

2009-05-31T20:46:00.006-04:00

This is what George labelled this picture when he sent it to Courtney from his iPhone. It was taken up at the Walker's cottage in Coboconk, home of WCONK - Conk Radio. The town opted for 'Coby' as a nickname - I still go with 'The Conk.' I think it's much more powerful.

Atticus doesn't like it when people he feels should be inside with him are outside, or when he is kept inside when he would rather be outside, especially when he can see those people through the sliding glass door.

I was building a cat tree for the kittens and didn't want to saw indoors with a giant puppy at my heels. There's no emergency vet in Coboconk.

I'm back in Toronto, as well. I took an early train back home. Ottawa got stale - rrreeeaaalll fast.

Suzuki Style: Check It!

2009-05-29T14:11:00.009-04:00

So I was at LAC going through the 1977-1978 Annual Report of the now defunct Science Council of Canada, and they always have a list of that years members at the beginning of it so people can put names to faces. Who do I come across?

BAM! SUZUKI! Surrounded by the whitest of white males, and a few whiter than white females, there's this long-haired, goateed, wire-rim glassed, non-white male in what appears to be ... not a business suit, of all things. How 'bout that?

And when everyone else is looking like Mr. Harold L. Snyder from St. John's, Nfld, you tend to notice a guy like David a whole lot faster than usual. Also, I didn't even realize that 'Quirks and Quarks' had been around that long!

So here's to sticking out in a crowd, and the good work that Suzuki does, despite being a bit of an arrogant dick these days.

Newfoundland Wedding!

2009-05-29T10:43:00.006-04:00

I would like to thank Ms. Janice Molloy and Mr. John Crosby not only for getting married next year, and not only for generally being awesome Newfoundlanders, and not so much for getting married in November in the freezing cold, but mostly for invitin' me! So Congrats not only to Janice and John, but mostly to me for after having been invited!

Newfoundland weddings, pictured above, are known for their general good times, and I am greatly looking forward to November 12th, 2010. But not looking forward as much to getting there - in winter - around highway Moose and snow squalls. At least all the tree's in Newfoundland will provide some wind cover, right? All those tree's in Newfoundland?

And special thanks to Janice for being on the ball - and in Ottawa this past Monday night - so that we could catch up. We had a great time! I hadn't seen that girl in five years, and now she's getting married. They grow up so fast...

(P.S. Janice is the one dancing in the photo, and I think John is the burley man rockin' grey flannel on grey cotton checkin' her out. I'm the contemplative man in white flannel fastidiously studying her dance moves. Courtney may or may not be playing the accordion: or that could be Kurt Vonnegut's ghost, I don't know. Anything can happen in Newfoundland - it's Canada's Las Vegas! Good Newfoundland times. Can't wait!)

In Honour of the Namesake

2009-05-25T23:11:00.011-04:00

Sir Robert Laird Borden: 8th Prime Minister of Canada, founder of Borden House, and one hell of a guy. (Note: only one of the aforementioned facts about Robert Borden is unquestionably true. The other's are heresay and estimations.)

His statue is on the west side of the West Block of Parliament, facing the Supreme Court of Canada. I passed by it on the way to meet Farish for dinner and thought I would snap a picture or two to commemorate the man who our old street was named after and who, very indirectly, is responsible for the glorious blog you are currently enjoying. So don't thank me: thank this cast-iron likeness of a Conservative Prime Minister ranked #7th overall of Canadian PM's up to Jean Chretien.

Strangely enough, as if assuming they would remain bitter opponents well into the afterlife, the designers of Parliament Hill placed the statue of Wilfrid Laurier on the east side of the East Block facing the Chateau Laurier, the exact opposite positioning of Borden's statue. If Laurier was unable to forget his loss to Borden in the 1911 'Reciprocity' election, their statue's will guarantee their legendary animosity continues well into a time when people have stopped knowing who either Prime Minister was, what they did, how they matter, or why we should give a good God damn.

To Borden - je mais souviens, brother; even when no one else does.

Back to the Grind

2009-05-25T08:50:00.007-04:00

So with Courtney come and gone, it's back to the LAC grind. The CAG starts up tomorrow at Carleton, so I'd like to get everything done at the Archives today if I can, so that if the conference is riveting (though how often is that ever the case?) I can stick around there most of the time. And since it's only around the corner from my place, it will be easy to get back and forth if need be. It's about a 5 minute bike ride.

In case anyone out there was wondering what exactly I was doing at LAC, here's an example. So far, I have snapped about 268 pictures just like this one, and I have a stack of books in my locker at the LAC which will probably total another 200 or so photos. Keep in mind that is most cases, each photo represents two pages. And after I take all these photos, then I have to actually READ them all at some as yet undetermined point in time.

So I got that going for me, right?

(Also, there is a video of an amazing 3-D simulation of how the human heart works for medical students on YouTube. It's pretty good. And the heart is kinda gross.)

"You Can Never Go Home Again - But You Can Shop There"

2009-05-24T22:50:00.005-04:00

Now I have a greater sense about what John Cusack was talking about in Grosse Pointe Blank when his old home in Grosse Point, MI, has been torn down and replaced with a convenience store. He had the above witicism to share with Alan Arkin, who played his shrink.

When Courtney and I drove to Quebec City on Friday, I thought it might be fun to take a detour along the Ottawa River and go through Rockland, ON, where I spent a week shy of three months of my life back when I was 18 on Katimavik. I navigated my way through dimly (and sadly) familiar streets and found that our old Victorian house had been torn down, and the property sold to developers who had put up cookie-cutter box homes and a low-rise apartment unit. Annie had told me a few years ago that the house had been torn down, but I had to see it to believe it. And Christ was it a sad sight. And to be clear, the only reason why it was sad is because the only good thing about my stay in Rockland regarding Katimavik was the house itself: a giant, six bedroom, three floor Victorian-era house that seemingly had no end. It was beautiful. And now it's gone.

Not to say that I had fond memories of Rockland, ON, but damn: I will never willingly pull my car over and stop in Rockland unless I have a flat. And even then, I would just as soon ride on the rim until I get to the next, equally depressing town. And speaking of the town, a leopard cannot change its spots, which is a polite way of saying that Rockland, ON, once a dump, WILL NEVER, EVER, BE ANYTHING BUT A DUMP. Given one word to sum up her Rockland experience, Courtney opted for "bleak" or "soul-crushing." I allowed for a tie.

So while I can never go home again to Rockland, ON, or shop there, I can opt for a sad photo of the space where my house used to be, and a passive aggressive rant about a pathetically small-minded and awful town that the government forced me to live in for a while back in '03.

Oddest Double Bill EVER!

2009-05-19T22:49:00.004-04:00

It's official - if Mayfair Theatre was a dude, I would be totally gay for it. 100%. Without fail. Fo' sho'. But someone let the ball drop this week with a double bill featuring One Week with Joshua Jackson followed by Kung Fu Hustle. I spoke with a Mayfair staffer after the shows were out, and even she was left asking waada g'wan was up with the choice in features. So it wasn't just me.

One Week - I'll be brief. While definitely not as bad as I was expecting for a movie that uses Roll Up The Rim To Win as a plot device (thank you, Court), the movie relied much too heavily upon factors external to the actual writing of the movie. For instance, too much was invested in the Canadian landscape, the talent of Canadian musicians (not only for their music, but for their willingness to give cameo's in the movie, including Gord Downie smoking the sticky green and Joel Plaskett busking in T.O.'s financial district), and the knowledge that ladies would swoon at Jackson again, and again, and again as he stared off into the distant sunset pondering his fate. Without the music (which never stopped) and the beautiful Canadian panorama, there was a moderately interesting story behind driven by the scenery. Looks good on Canada, but not so good on the movie.

Being away from home, the shots of Toronto and the fact that the movie was unashamedly Canadian did score points with me, in addition to the fact that it didn't give you everything that your sappy heart wanted that your logical mind was calling shenanigans on.

Kung Fu Hustle was Kung Fu Hustle. What can I say? Ridiculous, amazing, funny, impressive: if I would recommend you see One Week on TV if its On Demand, Kung Fu Hustle would be worth paying for. Many times. It was my pleasure to see on the big screen for $5. An older man in his 60's was making his way out of Kung Fu Hustle and he turned to me smiling, and said: "What a great way to end the day!"

Needless to say, I agreed.

Unrelated but funny P.S.: I was stuck waiting in line today at LAC for an archivist to be available, and I was in line behind this Rastafarian guy with the big hat and the long beard. We must have waited in line, just the two of us, for about 15-20 minutes while these two douchebags in the office just kept blathering away. We were both getting really tired of waiting, and without thinking, in my post-Grand Theft Auto IV days, I muttered "waada g'wan" without thinking that I was waiting behind an honest-to-God Rastfarian. He kinda looked back, but didn't say anything. Dodged that one...

No - Thank YOU International Museum Day 2009!

2009-05-18T17:30:00.007-04:00

I thought Erika was full of crap the other day when she mentioned that we all should hit up some Ottawa museums because Monday, in addition to being Victoria Day, was also International Museum Day. It sounded too made up to be something that people would actually have lobbied to have recognized as a real day. Live and learn, I guess. This years theme: Museums and Tourism, though an explanation as to what this means, exactly, was hard to come by.

So while this could also be BOG Pt. II, it's not titled as such, but is labeled accordingly. I set out on my bike without eating to make sure I had enough time to check everything out. I had destinations, but the route was undetermined. So I headed out towards the new Canadian War Museum (pictured above in artists rendition mode) and the Canadian Museum of Civilization in Hull - and saved over $20 by going today, thankyouverymuch. Both of them were jam-packed, the Civilization Museum especially. The new war museum was really interesting and well done, but I can't help but feel that they wanted to pander to children a little too much. (A funny example - they had a '24 - CTU' board game in the gift shop. WHY?) They managed to incorporate all the large vehicles they had in storage at Vimy House into their new museum building in the Le Breton Gallery which was neat. Also, the veterans puttering around with canes and scooters talking with visitors and providing personal stories to accompany the artifacts was a nice touch.

I did leave a note at their suggestion box saying that their effort to address the Dresden bombing controversy by claiming that "this was a source of ongoing controversy" was not quite good enough, and that while ample time was spent describing the heroism of the pilots (which I dont doubt for a minute), no time was spent talking about the consequences and those then and now who have condemned the acts of fire-bombing demanded by Allied Bombing Command.

The Civilization Museum was nice, too. Very well done, but maybe a free day on a holiday Monday was not the best time to hit these places up if I had qualms about crowds. And screaming children...

The Killing & Paths of Glory Double Bill

2009-05-17T16:51:00.005-04:00

First off, and I wont say much - lotta dudes at a Stanley Kubrick double bill of The Killing and Paths of Glory on a Sunday afternoon; whole lotta dudes. I wont say it was a single guy sausage-fest, but I will say this: 17 people in the audience for The Killing - - zero chicks. You do the math.

Second, double bills are tiring, but the movies were good. I hadn't seen The Killing, but as far as late-in-life film noir goes, it was pretty good. Wouldn't write home about it, but I would kill time between movies and dinner writing on my blog about it. But that's different.

I saw Paths of Glory when I was 15 I think, and while I would say that I got it, as a movie message, it was great seeing it on the big screen. And Kirk Douglas is Kirk Douglas: amazing, but always in a hokey kinda way. Like he's trying too hard, all the time, to be Kirk Douglas, actor.

Still - two movies for $5 aint bad. And I might be wrong, but one scene in the movie with Kirk Douglas and George Mcready as Gen. Mireau looked familiar, like it was shown as the memorial image at the Oscars after the actor died and they wanted to commemorate them. BUT - after having looking it up on imdb.com, Geogre Mcready died in July 1973, largely on account of having been born in 1899. So the odds of me seeing his Oscar tribute montage a few months ago are pretty slim. And since Kirk Douglas is still alive and kicking, it wasn't him.

Huh... That's gonna bug me...

Sir Sam Hughes and I

2009-05-17T11:46:00.003-04:00

My answer to Marley and Me.

I had to break one of the rules of our relationship that I wouldn't abuse my power and pick him up, but dammit - as I said to Court, I knew this picture would be too good to pass up. So now I've got to win back Sir Sam Hughes trust.

And I've only got two weeks left to do it.

Christ, I've still got two weeks left here? Damn...

CAG Double Take?

2009-05-16T23:41:00.002-04:00

So apparently - even though Emily told me forever ago, I'm only now seeing it to be true - I am presenting twice at the Canadian Association of Geographers conference at Carleton. I have one on Wednesday with a group called 'Water and Environmental Policy' and on Thursday with The Political Spaces cluster of U of T people. I could call and ask them them to drop me from the Wednesday group, but at least I'm with other water people, which would be a first.

There's also a field trip to the Diefenbunker on Friday the 29th which I'm definitely hitting up. Waad'a Gwan, Diefenbunk? Waad'a Gwan?

24 City @ Mayfair Theatre

2009-05-16T20:23:00.006-04:00

I'll admit - I've been really bored and trapped inside for most of the day due to rain, and now that it has stopped, I'm looking for something - ANYTHING - to get me out of the house. Since my attempt at interaction with Star/Wendy today failed horribly, I'm getting out. I told her that her brownies were burning in the oven and then tried to make joke with her when she wanted to throw the whole pan out. Strangest thing was that she never said a word to me throughout the entire interaction, even when I asked her a question: "Do you think any of them can be saved?" She just made a small noise and awkwardly walked away. So that happened...

And the only place close by is Mayfair Theatre, so I'm going to check out 24 City by Chinese director Jia Zhang-Ke. It's 8:29 - the movie starts in 31 minutes, and I'll let you know how it when when I get home! To tide you over until I return, here is a link to the trailer on YouTube.

- - - - - - -

And I'm back. It's 11:19, and I just got in. First and foremost, the Mayfair Theatre is beautiful for an old theatre from the 1930's - as I said to Court, it makes the Bloor Cinema in T.O. look like a pile of dilapidated puke in comparison. So that's a good start.

24 City was very enjoyable, even though three people right in front of me walked out about 25 minutes into it. It was very slow and methodical in its telling of a very sad daily history of Chinese workers of various generations and the experiences they had when their aeronautical factory known as '420' moves to a city in the south-west of China called Chengdu in 1958. Recently, the factory is torn down to make way for a condo community known as '24 City' - kind of like that condo development near the SkyDome and Front Street which will have its own schools, parks, and grocery stores by the time its completed - and they interview/film people with connections to '420' and the city to better understand the impact that the factory had on their lives, their parents lives, and their children's lives.

There are - very - rare moments of humour, but overall it's filled with very sad stories of loss and missed opportunities, harsh realities and often harsher self-realizations. I was left with a feeling at the end of every scene that something was about to happen, as if the movie was about set-ups without conclusions. And while this could have been very frustrating and unsatisfying, strangely it wasn't. The set-ups were so well done and beautifully shot, that this was often enough, even without clear or well-stated resolutions.

Director Jia Zhang-Ke is quoted as likening the movie to the history of Chinese human and social development in the past 50 years. It's a good way of putting it. And 24 City, however slow and occasionally plodding it comes across to viewers - including those who walked out tonight - is well worth seeing.

Bike-O-Geography I: Tulip Fest Edition

2009-05-15T20:11:00.009-04:00

This should actually be Part II of what I am calling "Bike-O-Geography" - BOG, hereafter to save time and space - (a play on the infinitely more comprehensible and recognizable Psychogeography), since I actually went on my first BOG last night.

Last night I set out at 6:25 and ended up back home at 8:10 after having ridden from my place north along the Canal to Rideau Hall before turning around. Along the way I saw the PM's Motorcade going into 24 Sussex Drive, a flock of Red-Wing Blackbirds fight off a crow coming close to one of their nests, two Canada Geese couples with nine gooslings among them feeding, a really nice stranger with a four month old Golden Retriever puppy named Tammy, some decommissioned WWII-era 25 lb. artillery pieces, old people on boats along the canal, lovers lying on the grass, waterfalls from the Rideau River into the Ottawa, to name a few things along the way. But without an iPhone, Blackberry, or camera at the ready, this is all I can report.

Today, however, I had a camera handy, which is why this is BOG Pt. 1. So while I have set up a flickr account to store most of them, there are a couple handy to give you the idea. I ended up at the International Pavillion of Tulip Fest 2009 on my way home by accident, and wandered around different countries hocking their cultural wares and food stuffs. A volunteer gave me directions to the actual flowers, which are only a few minutes from my house.

Along Queen Elizabeth Drive which winds around Dow's Lake there are over 350,000 tulips from Holland which bloom every year in just about every colour imaginable. Even though its getting late in the season for tulips, most of them are still out and going strong, though with an expected heat wave this weekend, their days might be numbered (sorry Court!) It was as neat wandering among the people looking at the flowers as it was seeing the tulips themselves: young an old,

families with newborns and strollers, cyclists (like me), immigrant families, tourists (also like me), all jostling to get the best picture, and all lining up for $4 Beaver Tails. (I resisted, but I might go back this weekend for one.) I rode back along the Dow's Lake/Canal trail, and headed home.

And dinner wasn't so disappointing tonight either, so I got that going for me, right?

Reever, in the Study, with the Tripod

2009-05-15T16:51:00.005-04:00

Chances are, if the LAC were a game of Clue, and some poor LAC or Access to Information and Privacy (ATIP) employee were to be found dead tomorrow - sorry, the LAC is actually closed until Tuesday the 19th because of Victoria Day on Monday - the above would probably be the winning formula.

I was getting help from this very sweet French Canadian Librarian (Sophie) in trying to understand why documents in the paper indices were not actually located on the online database (only 30-40% of their documents are listed online, I later found out) and I turned to Sophie and had to say: "It seems to me that the Archives doesn't actually want you to find anything, pretty much ever." She laughed, and said "Yeah." Just - "yeah."

No refuting on her end, because she knows - she knows how they operate, and the meta-hoops within hoops within microscopic hoops you need to jump through. All just to find out that the document you need, when you find it after 50 minutes of help from a staff member, is Restricted Code 32, and will take 4-6 weeks to be released to you, if it is at all. And you've only got two weeks left.

At least my view from the Study where I murdered that ATIP staffer is pretty. And Karen wont be getting her Tripod back - it's in lock-up. And I need bail money...

Dinner Fail

2009-05-14T17:24:00.006-04:00

So I left the house for the first time today at 4:05 pm - it had just stopped raining, and I figured I didn't want to spend 30 hours in a 12' X 12' room or I might start thinking I can run along the tops of the trees outside my window a la Twilight.

So I went to the library down the road to read there, figuring a change of scenery never hurt anyone. But I spent the entire time thinking about how amazing it would be to make a Shepherd's Pie type concoction for dinner. I had all the ingredients, and all the know-how, so what's stopping me?

Gauging from the picture (which was the final product), something clearly stopped me. And it was the kitchen. What do I miss most about my home in Toronto? Aside from Courtney - no obligation needed, I really do miss her - it would have to be my kitchen. We have done an excellent job - Court, mostly - at amassing a huge volume of kitchen gadgets and utensils, some more useless than others. And you begin to take them for granted.

I.e. - when I go to make my Shepherd's Pie (which in my mind looks idyllic), and I find there is no potato peeler, no ceramic dish to bake it in the oven, no potato masher, and I've bought no butter, milk, or maple syrup to put in the potato's, the whole idea kinda falls to pieces. Sweet potato's never mash the same as Yukon Gold, full veggie pieces dont blend as well as pea or corn kernals, and veggie ground-round is never quite as moist as real ground beef. So maybe I didn't have all the right ingredients, after all...

I made due - a dull knife substituted for the peeler, a spatula for a masher after I boiled the piss out of the sweet potato's, no baking was possible since we had no dish, pan, or convection over, and the potato's remained without dressing. (It's a hard life, I know!) And what you see in the picture is what I am left with. Tasty enough, but not quite what I had in mind.

So maybe the tag line for this post is a little harsh: perhaps it was less a fail, than a disappointing monstrosity containing all the ingredients of a Shepherd's Pie, with none of the finesse.

Sir Sam Hughes, Bunny.

2009-05-14T10:44:00.006-04:00

This is Sir Sam Hughes.

He went Ape Stuff last night around midnight and knocked down his water cylinder with the ball-bearing at the end of it, and his one toy in a fit of rage. He looks at me like he wants out of this cage so badly, but I dont know if I should, and his owner (I dont know who that is, exactly) is never to be seen. So instead I walk past him down the stairs and let him sniff my arm.

If nothing else, I am a new smell in the life of Sir Sam Hughes, Bunny. Mom would be so proud...

Paris 1919 @ LAC

2009-05-13T17:05:00.013-04:00

So first off - it was a bit strange to have a mixture between original documentary footage spliced with century old photos, and then throw in paid actors playing Clemenceau, Wilson, Lloyd George, and the Italian PM who did dick, in addition to a smattering of other Europeans, Arabs, Jews, civil servants, and mapmakers who round off the cast. The director did as good a job with it as he could, but I always felt as if George Clemenceau's larger-than-life 'stache (see below) was always about to fall off his face because they didn't have it in the budget for the good facial hair adhesive.

Second of all, not only would it be near impossible to convey something of this scope and significance in any medium (save an HBO mini-series with $9 million an episode behind it), but Margaret MacMillan's book was already so near perfection that anything they did with it under her title would seem, somehow, less than what the book as able to accomplish. In addition, the director (who also wrote and produced it, I think) outlines for himself in a Globe and Mail article all the aspects of the film that he wanted to explore more of, but based on serious limitations (only 10 days shooting in Paris, the limited budget of an NFB co-production, etc) he achieved whatever he could with this movie that, apparently, has been in the works for nearly a decade.

Keeping that all in mind, what about the actual movie? I liked it, but it might have been because its about an era I find very fascinating, and because it was based on a fabulous book about a truly remarkable screw-up in human history, though there are, arguably, many to choose from. This one, unlike many of its competitors, still manages to have wide-reaching ramifications that we, in the 21st Century, still cannot shake ourselves of. This is our shame now as it was the post-war leaders' shame then.

It all comes down to scale (spoken like a true geographer!), and the movie was not up to the task of representing something of this magnitude in such a small scale fashion. It was as if the film was conscious of its small size from the beginning: a boy in his father's clothes, convincing others that he can pull it off. And at moment's Paris: 1919 could, but it fell short of its overall objective of conveying the total magnitude of the events in question. Yet to be fair to the director, Paul Cohen, I dont know if he could have.

I could have stayed for the Q & A after the movie ended and asked him that myself, but as anyone who has been to a conference with me knows: I hate Q & A's. They are masturbatory circle-jerks, typically moreso for the audience participants than the director, and I have nothing to do with them. Call me rude, I dont care: point out that if I was the one at the podium I would feel a little differently, and I would tell you you're probably right - - but that at my core I know that if I was in the crowd, I'd be thinking about getting the hell out of Dodge myself. If I wanted to hear old people bleed on about how they feel and try and pose it like a question, I would visit old folk's homes and convince them I'm their lost grandchild, or attend City Council meetings.

But I dont - so I dont...

So on a scale of 1 (I Love You, Man) to 10 (Chinatown), Paris: 1919 gets a 6, unlike Courtney who is a 'solid 7!'

First Day @ LAC

2009-05-13T16:44:00.013-04:00

LAC is the short form for the Library and Archives of Canada, by the way.

So I forgot my camera to start the day, which was a bad way to begin. Everyone had camera's, and the scanner I brought is good, but loud: and the room I'm in is as quiet as a crypt. So a whirling and buzzing scanner seemed more like an annoyance to those around me than a fantastic study aid.

All went well - I've got more stuff ordered for tomorrow, two lockers with boxes in them full of text documents that I'll photograph tomorrow afternoon, and a list of what needles in those boxes of needles I need to pay attention to. Which is key. Had an expensive lunch at the Cafeteria at LAC, so I'll be packing a lunch tomorrow fo' sho'.

I realized as well that the Cafeteria was really familiar in a shabby kind of way, and then I remembered that when I was in Katimavik, stationed in Rockland, ON, just outside of Ottawa, that we came into the Archives one day for a volunteering thing to package together ten commemorative hockey cards into a plastic bag that LAC was giving out at an event. They needed something like 10,000 of these packs, and our asshole Project Leader signed us up for it. And we spent the entire day in that same Cafeteria packing hockey cards for the reward of...? You guessed it - a pack or two of our very own to take home with us.

I'm gonna check out Paris: 1919 the Documentary by the NFB tonight for free at the Archives. It's only other showing for the next while is at Cannes, Hot Docs, and a film festival in Tel Aviv. And since it's free, and the book was amazing, I guess I kinda have to check it out.

I'll let you all ('cause I know there are oh-so-many out there) how it is...

Ottawa and the LAC

2009-05-12T21:39:00.010-04:00

So I am in Ottawa until the end of May for Archival Research at the the National Archives. I've also got a double shot at the Canadian Association of Geographers Conference at Carleton where I'm presenting with the Political Spaces cluster from U of T Geography. Hopefully this will go a little better than my presentation at the AAG in Vegas, but who knows. It's the same speech, but hopefully a different crowd.

I'm at the house that I'm subletting and all is well enough. The room is nice, the neighbourhood is great. I have one other housemate that I know of - a timid Chinese undergrad from Carleton whose name is Star of all things (I guess her parents had a lot of friends who had already named their little girls 'Wendy') and after giving me the keys and Internet code, she disappeared into her room and closed the door. Not another word from her for the rest of the day. So chances are, I will have a am three weeks of getting a lot of work done without people to talk to or TV to waste my time with. This has its ups and downs...

Star/Wendy has a rabbit that has no name. I find this as bizarre as I do kinda sad, or at least unimaginative. In light of his incessant sniffing and the crazy glean in his eyes when he looks at my as I walk down the stairs, I have decided to name it Sir Sam Hughes, in honour of Canada's first Minister of Militia during World War One. Hughes is the happy looking fellow in the image: in the right light, Hughes has his own rabbit-esq resemblance. This rabbit, like Hughes himself, was kinda crazy (he issued shovels to WWI soldiers that had a giant hole in the middle of it, arguing that it was good for both digging and cover from enemy bullets, tasks which it failed admirably at, no doubt at the cost of many thousands of Canadian soldiers lives before the shovels were removed from the battlefield) and trapped in a theoretical cage of his own making. Both will live rather ignominious lives, I am sure of that.

First day at the Archives tomorrow. Let's see how we do. No doubt better than Sir Sam did at his job...

Until then...

First Day of School...

2008-09-08T17:01:00.006-04:00

Reever, on his big first day of Graduate classes for his Masters in Geography. Courtney insisted on commemorating the big day for all to see. It was weird being on campus during Frosh Week and seeing so many kids running around in bright neon t-shirts with shitty college designs on them.

I had a few Dazed and Confused moments during the Frosh Week concert last Friday, except instead of high school girls staying the same age while Matthew McConaughey got older, it was frosh girls and me. I think Courtney told me at least once at the concert to stop being so lecherous - I was just floored at how provocatively some of them dressed on their first day!

We grow up so fast, don't we? 'Cept for Frosh girls: they keep staying the same age...

Funny thing is, this photo was taken about five minutes before I went to the backyard and found the back deck broken and my bike stolen. See how blissful I am in my ignorance?

Oh No He Didn't...

2008-09-08T15:42:00.017-04:00

Said he wouldn't do it, but the sonofabitch did it anyway and called an early election to suit the needs of his failing majority, rather than waiting to have the election at set, four-year intervals as he promised he would. So in light of the recent election announced for October 4th, 2008, here is my consolidated list of Stephen Harper's thoughts on GOOD's, BAD's, and QUESTIONABLE's in Canadian life.

GOOD:

- Big Oil in Alberta

- Environmental Degradation Through Tar Sands Oil Extraction
- De-centralized Government and a weaker Federal Canadian state

- Promotion of "Distinct Society" Status for Quebec

- George W. Bush and the militarization of the Northern and Western hemisphere

- Going on Safari in Afghanistan

- Evangelicals; Cowboys; Brokeback Mountain

- Eating Kittens (I don't know where this photo originated, but I found it on Google Images. And it's terrifying!)

- Sweater-vests; Spray-on hair; Lying...

QUESTIONABLE:

- Climate Change

- The place of intelligent women in (his) government seen in the distinct lack of any intelligent women promoted to important and/or critical portfolio's

- Integrity; his marriage with his wife; that he is not robotic in everything but his passionate hatred of homosexuals, pregnant women seeking abortions, and the environment

BAD:

- Funding for the Arts

- Same-sex Marriage

- Reproductive Rights

- Freedom to those in the Arts to create art forms free from government censorship

- Sharing power, even with members of his own party: this includes Minister's, too

- People who live in cities; Ontario; Torontonians...

- Tofu: and people who eat Tofu

It's on, you bullying, smug douchebag...

It's on...

No One Loves A Good 'Freebird' Reference More Than Me...

2008-09-05T10:54:00.003-04:00

And The Daily Show provided one of the best I've seen in a good, long while. And, what's more, it was able to knock former New York mayor, of 9/11 fame, Rudy Giuliani down a peg or two. At least it would, if he wasn't already a monster incapable of human feelings or emotions. Like shame. Particularly shame.

Here's the Freebird link - since I can't just imbed the video, which sucks.

There's also an amazing clip from Samantha Bee in which she attempts to get some rather stubborn Republicans in Minnesota to simply say a word, so hateful to their ears: "choice." It's terrifying to see that a young woman is physically not able to bring herself to say the word, knowing as she does that if she does say "choice," that she might not have a leg to stand on regarding other choices, such as reproductive choices and freedoms. It's absolutely hilarious, but again - I was more struck by how scary it is that a young woman, who by all accounts is a contemporary of mine, could lead such a different life than mine that she could not even bring herself to admit that choice is a good thing.

Creepy... Here is the link for the Samantha Bee clip...

From One Sea Otter To Another...

2008-09-03T20:44:00.009-04:00

Happy Anniversary, Court...

It was yesterday, but I was too sad yesterday about my bike to post.

Sad About Bike = Smaller Than Happiness About You

To The Asshole Who Stole My Bike On September 2nd, 2008...

2008-09-03T13:37:00.005-04:00

You, good Sir, who no doubt lives in the half-way home behind my Apartment and is probably going to sell my beautiful, two-year old Fuji Hybrid to Uncle Jacob on Spadina for $15 with which to buy more crack, are a super douchebag who had no right to take something that did not belong to you. And you broke part of our deck in your bloodthirsty cleptomania and I now have to call my landlord and report that part of our deck has been smashed up by you, you super douchebag, in your efforts to steal my beautiful, goddamn bike that was my main method of transportation, leaving my relatively screwed for my first week of classes next week. And I'll be damned if I'll rely on the Carleton Streetcar to get anywhere - I'd sooner wait on Jesus' resurrection.

I noticed the other day on Craigslist that someone was offering a reward for their Cannondale Racing Bike which was stolen from underneath the Princess Gates at the CNE: I was wondering if I should go on Craigslist and advertise a reward for not the safe return of my bike, but for your ass on a platter. It would be like Mr. Burns turning off the beer taps in Springfield and telling people to take it up with Homer Simpson unless Homer gave him Bobo the bear, thus turning everyone in Springfield against him. Either way, I don't think it would bring my bike back - and I don't have the kind of money that people might want for the capture of another human being. So yeah...

I'll just be sad instead, and think about all the improvements I made to the bike that I won't be able to enjoy anymore, and the good times that I've had, but are not able to have again with my Fuji Hybrid.

R.I.P. Fuji Hybrid - as I said to Courtney, I at least hope you get bought and used by someone who will ride you, treat you well, and replace your front spokes, rather than getting tossed in someone's backyard until they need another fix. A man can hope, can't he?

Tropical Weather Fay

2008-08-28T10:27:00.008-04:00

You know a storm is not all that bad when it's not even called a Hurricane - or even a storm for that matter - but is simply referred to as 'Tropical Weather.' And what's funnier is that in some parts of the world, in this case North Carolina, they have even taken to naming their rare bursts of 'Tropical Weather.'

Behold - the awesome power of Mother Nature has taken the form of - Tropical Weather Fay.

And it has caused this rather large man some mild discomfort in the form of some wet cuffs: discomfort so great, mind you, that he has called upon the assistance of emergency rescue workers who provided him with a) a crash helmet, b) a Personal Floatation Device (Really?), and c) a human chain link to get to 'safety.' Thank God he escaped from his red Pontiac Sunfire back there in one piece. You've got to be careful with Tropical Weather.

"I just went to buy some new tires for my Sunfire," he claimed. "And then next thing I knew there was all this tropical weather around me." He added: "I think I'm going to have to buy some new pants. Or maybe just get these ones dry-cleaned. Yeah - yeah I'll probably just do that."

(Also, I love how bored the rescue worker behind the large guy looks. He's probably trained for natural disasters, and look at him: he's stuck hauling a fat guy out of twelve inches of rain.)

Photo curtesy of Courtney, bored while waiting for our Rogers Cable Guy to return from his truck. She found it on the Day in Photo's section of the Globe and Mail website: also, the Globe staffer stuck labelling the photo also went so far as to lable the middle guy as the motorist to differentiate him from the rescue workers. This made my morning!

The Unoriginality of Paul Martin Jr.

2008-08-27T10:00:00.009-04:00

This has been bugging me a while, now, but I only just remembered it when I heard about Harper telling GG Michaelle Jean not to go to Beijing for the Paralympic Games Opening Ceremony because he may need here here to dissolve Parliament if he chooses to force an election for the Fall. He opted instead to send Ontario Lt. Gov. Michael Only, himself a quadriplegic, which makes more sense to me anyway.

This is how unoriginal Harper's predecessor, PM Paul Martin Jr., was in selecting his Governor General. On the left, the Governor General as selected by former Liberal PM Jean Chretien. On the right, the Governor General as selected by former Liberal PM Paul Martin Jr.

VS.

GG Jean is married to an uglier, dumber, and older version of John Ralston Saul. (Who has an awesome new book coming out in September! Which I'm super excited about!) Martin in his unoriginality picks a successor for Clarkson who is essentially, in most ways, her doppleganger: a woman from a minority background, the daughter of immigrants, who found her prominence in Canadian journalism circles, and married an old, white guy, just like Adrienne Clarkson did.

Except Clarkson married two old white guys - beat that, Jean!

A Is For...

2008-08-25T22:21:00.002-04:00

ANDREW!

This was from a novelty shop in New York, NY, on a Labour Day trip last year in 2007. It weighed about 75 lbs. Stupid heavy for a giant 'A'...

But then how much would be a reasonable amount for a giant 'A' to weigh?

Obama Loses the Saddleback Faith Debate...

2008-08-25T14:38:00.016-04:00

But the often over-looked question that remains festering in my bones is whether there should ever have been a faith debate in the United States to begin with. I have not seen anyone asking this critical question, and I find this as troubling as the fact that the debate occured at all, let alone carried any credible political clout. One would think - wrongly, apparently - that the historic separation of church and state would have rendered this antiquated notion (by North American standards, at least) pathetically anachronistic.

Not so. Appearing at the Saddleback Church for the first, albeit informal and not face-to-face Presidential Debate, moderator and man-of-the-cloth Rick Warren, himself something of a celebrity as he attempts to fill the void as "America's Pastor" left by Billy Graham, presented a series of faith-based questions to each presumptive candidate individually. The crowd hung on every word as each candidate weighed in on issues that, unfathomably, refuse to die in this world, but especially in America at large: gay marriage, abortion, and what being a Christian in this hectic, modern world means to each man.

In brief, each man was able to lay bare his personal moral compass, leaving it for America - and, to a lesser extent, the world - to decide which direction on offer they prefer. While it is up to each camp to convince America why their man 'won' a debate that, by all accounts, should not even exist, here are two reasons why Obama lost.

Firstly, he affirmed in his academic-speak too cowardly to offend that not only is he against same-sex marriage (he prefers 'Civil Union' as a more appropriate term), but that, for him, life begins at inception. For the latter response, he was summarily boo'd by an overwhelmingly evangelical crowd not so right-wing and hateful of equality and human rights they find personally distasteful as I had initially thought. So good on them for booing Obama for his backward and cowardly abortion response. And secondly, Obama lost because he should be above peddling a late-in-life religious finding for political gain. It's sad, and it's low. And to use an already flawed forum to espouse his rather un-Democratic views is laregly just confusing for Democrats: though, I suppose, an appropriately Republican venue.

But my question remains unanswered: why did this event happen in the first place in a supposedly secular nation like the United States of America? And moreover, why was this religious "debate" given the credence that it was? Jesus will not decide the next American election: human beings with real existences facing real consequences to their very real actions on Election Day and beyond will decide who next leads the free world. Not Jesus Christ.

I remain unconvinced. Why do these religious stump speaches matter?

Courtney & Margaret

2008-08-25T13:42:00.005-04:00

My two ladies...

...and the jerk...the lovable, douchebaggy jerk...

"I Love This City" - September, 2006

2008-08-21T18:37:00.010-04:00

I took this the day after my birthday in 2006 when we went for $3.00 breakfast at the Green Room, hung over as shit, and looking for grease.

I was surrounded by friends and roommates, some of them both of those things at once; past partners and current loves, the city and the sunshine. And the grease; you can't forget about the Green Room grease. I saw this grafitti and I wanted to remember that I do love this city. Sometimes...

This was us after breakfast...

And this is Nate in a wife-beater... Just 'cause...

MEC Presents: Tour de Greenbelt

2008-08-21T12:11:00.008-04:00

Ready. Set. Meander! They had me hooked just with their slogan! So - who's in?

I won't be able to participate in the ride on September 20th or the 21st because it's Courtney's birthday on the 20th and we'll probably be doing something that day, but the rides the following weekend seem like fun down in Southern Ontario.

If anyone is interested just let me know - I might see about driving down there for at least one of them, but I don't know which one yet. And if anyone is interested in coming along, I would defintiely have room for a few people to come with. I might need to buy a bike rack, though, for the van.

As to the route: any thoughts? There is the 65km point-to-point Burlington to St. Catherine's trail on Saturday, September 27th and the 30 km looped route around Niagara-on-the-Lake on Sunday, September 28th. Registration for each day is $30 and includes food and activities and shuttles and drinks, and while fundraising is completely unnecessary, any money you choose to raise is 100% donated to local biking groups to help keep biking trails in good repair. So I can get behind that...

Check out the full details here at the Tour de Greenbelt website. This seems like an amazing idea, and leave it to MEC to organize the whole thing.

Overheard In The Building Above My Work

2008-08-20T16:41:00.002-04:00

The Scene: two young women, mid-twenties, dressed in overly-classy business casual wear, walking down the hallway from their building towards the carpark. They were not unattractive, but had probably spent two-thirds of their day working on attaining their respective looks.

As I pass them by I hear:

Girl #1: I don't know. I don't know if this is too slutty or not. (Referring to her own attire.)

Girl #2: No, it's totally not. The rule for work attire is that if you're going to show cleavage, you can't wear a short skirt, like what I'm wearing. And if you're going to wear a short skirt, then you probably shouldn't show too much boob. Then it would be too slutty. So no - you're fine.

Girl #1: Oh, ok - if that's the rule. (Emphasis added.)

Ladies - is that the rule? And if your friend makes it up and says it's the rule, are you obligated to believe them? To be honest, I don't think Girl #1 needed all that jazz about rules, though I'm sure it made her feel better - she just wanted to hear she wasn't dressed like a slut. Which she wasn't, but I wasn't going to wade into that.

Insert creepy stranger -

Creepy Stranger #1: If I may? I wouldn't worry. I think you've got a classy leg-to-cleavage ratio happening. Not too much boob for the amount of leg you're showing off. It's working for you, so I'd go with it.

Muskoka Cottages: For The Stupidly Wealthy Among Us

2008-08-19T11:26:00.006-04:00

The Economist this week ran a story about the future of cottage country in Canada when the average cottage in Muskoka has now risen to over $8 million. That's six zero's at the end of that eight!

What the article doesn't indicate is that the Muskoka's have always been the cottage country for the wealthy only - at least in my memory - and that this is not the norm across the country. Semantics, maybe, but an important distinction lest anyone reading it think that cottages are that inaccessible right across the board. It does refer largely to cottage country just beyond the cities edge: and not the far North of places like Ontario and British Columbia.

The funniest - and scariest part - of the article comes from a comment in the online article posted by a self-identified American who suggests that if Canada is running out of prime lakefront real estate, the solution is to use our hoards of "hydrocarbon money" and, quite simply, build more lakes artificially. And he refers to, get this, China's ability to create artificial lakes and mountains in the lead-up to the Beijing Games as an example of how this can work.

Huh...

Grey Cup 2008 - Countdown to Montreal

2008-08-15T12:32:00.006-04:00

T-minus 100 days, or, if you will, 100 big sleeps left till the Crey Cup. The suspense is killing me...

Yes, November 23rd is the Big Day. We've bought our tickets - Pete will be physically attending the game with me while our respective partners, Karen and Courtney, will spend the $188 per ticket that Pete and I spent on the game on shopping on Rue St. Catherines. So everybody walks away happy. I've already notified my Grad School supervisor of the time I will be taking off as well - beyond the game, there is the weekend, from November 20th to November 24th, for pre-game festivities.

Courtney is concerned I will buy blue overalls from Mark's Work Warehouse and sew a bunch of CFL gitch all over it. And maybe even buy myself a hard hat - I dont know why, but it's the thing to do in the CFL it seems. Perhaps - but I will never paint my face, so I think we're about even.

Why am I writing about this now? Firstly, the Argonauts are playing Montreal tonight and I was reminded of it. And secondly, it's a slow Friday at work, and I had time to create the following drawing using Microsoft Paint and the awesome power of Microsoft 2000 - Millenium Edition.

Photo a Day for 6,797 Days

2008-08-14T16:34:00.003-04:00

After I finished the Democracy Now! podcast for today, and after I had worked my way through the Audio Economist for the week, I was getting desperate at work for something to listen to keep my mind occupied with something - anything! - while I drone away. Searching through the CBC Podcasting website, I began rummaging through old episodes of Spark, CBC Radio's technology podcast. I picked one at random...

Although I listen primarily because of Nora Young's uncannily soothing voice - and because I could have sworn at a conference in 2007 we both attended that she was giving me the bedroom eyes from across the room despite the presence of a woman I took to be her partner - this podcast featured a story on a man who discovered a website whereby a man was digitizing 6,597 photo's that his deceased friend had taken in this life between 1979 and 1997 when he died. A photo a day, every day, for eighteen years. The photo listed above is widely known as the one which struck a chord with a majority of viewers: it is the photo of the day for October 5th, 1997, and it features an engagement ring and his wife of a month before he died, lying in the background, blurred.

The complete list of photo's can be found here.

The story is remarkable, and incredibly sad at the same time. It's worth a listen - and for more reason's than Nora Young's voice. I feel like I should post a missed connection about that on Craig'sList or something:

You: a widely known CBC Radio host with a voice I could swim in mediating a session at the Couchiching Summer Conference in 2007, standing casually cool with your partner at the post-session reception.

Me: a University of Toronto student known for asking asshole's tough questions at these conferences and ducking out before the old people hoard the microphone at question period, too shy to take your bedroom eyes up on their offer.

I thought our eyes met and something electric passed between us. Was I right?

Wait a Minute...The Chinese Cheated?

2008-08-12T09:40:00.006-04:00

For Olympic Gold? Ok - silver? Did they stoop so low as to cheat for shameful Olympic bronze? Nope - they went so far in their quest for Olympic Glory and the opportunity to present a modern, polished China that they fudged the Opening Ceremonies. Dont believe such a dastardly allegation could be true?

BBC broke the story, so it's got to be true. You can see the whole article here.

Apparently, the little girl who was "signing" Ode to the Motherland, was faking the whole time. Not surprising - I said at least twice as I watched this eerily smiling little girl that she was clearly faking it, but I thought at least it was her voice on tape. But no - they took another, uglier girl who had a better voice (pictured right) and used her voice and the pretty girl's face (pictured left). Their rationale was that it was "in the best interests of the country."

VS.

They also fudged some of the fireworks as well. The 29 giant steps from Tiananmen Square - which were awesome, by the way - were done the night before to ensure perfection and a taped version was presented as happening live at the Opening Ceremonies.

The following interpretive poem on the subject, entitled The Rape and Degradation of Ancient Custom: How to Turn a Blind Eye Through Sport, was submitted by my brother-in-law, Dave. I thank him for bringing this to my attention.

The 'footage' display produced before the big day?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!
That little girl wasn't singing you say?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!
The sky is grey from smoke not smog?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!
You have a list of human rights violations seven miles long?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!
The judges they scored under much duress?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!
How much must we find out before you confess?
Shenanigans! Shenanigans! Shenanigans!

To win over the West is easy you see,
knowledge isn't power, it's money and greed.

Should Vancouver 2010 be worried about topping the Chinese? Hardly - we have two years to tape it, perfect it, add in our CG effects and images, and when they say we faked it - hell, it was in the best interests of the country.

Of Mosquito's and Home Foreclosures

2008-08-06T14:02:00.004-04:00

I was listening to the Audio Economist today at work and heard a story about the strangest connection.

With the mortgage crisis in America, one of the hardest hit area's is some of the richer parts of California, including large parts of Orange County. With so many Southern California homes having pools, once the former owners forclose on the mortgage and abandon the property, their pools are also left derelict. And ever since West Nile Virus arrived on the West Coast of America in 2003, shallow, slow-moving pools have been the mosquitos carrying the virus' breeding ground of choice. In the past year, the number of deaths atrributed to West Nile in Southern California has risen sharply to 76 from only a handful: the number of avian deaths also continues to rise at a much higher rate than human deaths.

This has gotten to be a large enough issue that the California legislature has declared it the responsibility of the banks that seize derelict properties to tend to the pools while the property is being assessed for resale, specifically to fight the breeding of mosquitos which may be carrying the virus.

At least SoCal bank tellers can add another job to their C.V.: pool boys...

The full print article can be accessed here.

Did John Graves Simcoe Have A Cottage?

2008-08-06T10:45:00.011-04:00

Well - another August Long Weekend has come and gone (Simcoe Day, to be exact), and we've only got one left before the Fall becomes official, and tired minds looking to escape the tedium of their paper-pushing summer jobs can actually look forward to going back to school. Not content with being Reever BA, I'm pushing for the upgraded model. By this time next year, I could almost be Reever MA.

But this isn't about the Fall - not yet. This is about cottages, and the verb version of cottage - to go "cottaging." Anyone who has grown up in Southern Ontario, the land that John Graves Simcoe (pictured) took definitively from both the French and Aboriginals before them, will be familiar with the idea of the cottage, if not necessarily the expression "to go cottaging." My Simcoe Day question was whether the concept, if not the practice of cottaging, was a uniquely Canadian experience, if only to a certain degree.

To find out how things are done in other parts of the world, I contacted some far-flung friends.

My friend Alex, living in Munich, Germany, told me that her only experience with cottaging came, funnily enough, when she was briefly living outside of Toronto a number of years ago. In Germany, the equivalent would be camping, if not - more likely - hopping on a cheap RyanAir or AirBerlin flight to the South of France or Italy. Since people are only likely to own one home, the odds of owning a second home - i.e. a cottage - are pretty slim, and nowhere near cheaper than taking two or three week vacations to close-by European locations. I suppose if I was an hour-long flight from the French Riviera I might not care so much about my cottage either, unless it too was in the French Riviera!

Tennille, living in Queensland, Australia, also pointed to camping as the closest equivalent. While I think the Aussie's take camping much more seriously than the Germans, Tennille mentions that the odds of owning a cottage, as supposed to a tent and a car, are slim. Again - when you are only a few hours away from New Zealand, Fiji, and the Pacific Rim (to name a few exotic locales), having a three bedroom cottage on a lake is not necessarily so grand, even if you've got a canoe.

So what did I learn this Simcoe Day? Cottaging make sense for Southern Ontarians, and in this sense, I feel like it might be more unique to the Golden Horseshoe, and Canada in general, than other places in the world. It presents an opportunity for escape - along with thousands of other Torontonian's and GTA'ers seeking the same refuge from city or suburban life - that simply cannot be achieved by picnicking at the Lakeshore, though that's plenty nice too. My thought is that perhaps if we lived within three hours of all of Europe, the Mediterranean, and the Pacific Rim instead of being three hours away from Kingston, Buffalo, and Penatanguishine, we might not think cottages are such hot shit after all!

*Two Quick Facts About Simcoe: his father was a member of the Royal Navy who sailed under famous explorer James Cook and fought at the Battle of Louisbourg that softened up New France for British taking. Simcoe's daughter, Katherine, died in infancy here in Toronto and is buried in a cemetery park near Bathurst and Portland, south of King Street. *

Overheard at the IGA in Coboconk, ON

2008-08-05T15:10:00.003-04:00

16 Year Old Local IGA Staff Member: I'm sorry, ma'am, but your debit card isn't working. Would you like me to try again, or do you have a credit card you could use...or cash?

Snooty, Middle-Aged Torontonian Woman From Rosedale or Forrest Hill: What? My debit card has worked in London, it has worked in Paris, Amsterdam, and it has worked in Rome. I dont see any reason why it shouldn't work here.

16 Year Old Local IGA Staff Member: *stares blankly...says nothing...tries again*

This is the kind of stuff that makes me hate wealth - and, sometimes, living in Toronto.

Ralph Klein Guest Hosts on CBC's 'The House'

2008-08-05T12:24:00.014-04:00

Quote of the Week:

"The media generally does not give credit to the oil companies"

- Ralph Klein, Saturday August 2nd, CBC's The House

Regarding Environmental efforts to clean up the Alberta Tar Sands

Oh, boy - the winds of change are sweeping through the CBC's national HQ in Ottawa if they would be so desperate as to bring on former Alberta Premier Ralph Klein to guest host instead of regular The House host Kathleen Petty, no doubt away on summer holidays. Didn't anyone tell them that Trudeau's ghost was available? Or what about Brain Mulroney? Where's that douchebag at these days?

Speaking of old politicians - August 2nd's Dinosaur edition of The House would not have been complete without special guest appearance by not only former Ontario Premier Mike Harris - who encouraged Klein to play hookey from the CBC and acquiesced to his blaming it on Harris since "everyone blames everything on me, anyway" - but also by former Liberal Prime Minister Jean Chretien.

In between Klein's railing against everything from health care in Canada to the environment, the economy to modern journalism, and managing to mention his success despite "everyone being against him," Klein and Chretien's interview comes across as a lively encounter between two interesting, through ideologically opposed old men. They laugh, they spar: they tell embarrassing old stories of fighting over Kyoto in Moscow in the mid-1990's. Hearing Klein talk about the skewed logic behind climate change is topped only by Chretien's continuing subtle digs against Paul Martin - this time for doing nothing to help fulfill Chretien's promise in signing onto Kyoto once he became Prime Minister.

What this interview lacked most was a discussion about both of their tendencies to become physically violent with those around them when frustrated. Think way back to Chretien's irate throttling of a pushy journalist on the Hill; and think back only a few years to Klein's pushing a young, female Page in Parliament across the floor towards the opposition, tripping her up and nearly knocking her over. Both were later forced to apologize. Both were caught on camera.

The most interesting item to emerge from their banter? The confession from Klein that had Jean Chretien been nominated Liberal Party Leader after Trudeau's second - and final - resignation from politics in 1984 instead of John Turner, that Klein would have run for Chretien - as a Liberal! - in Calgary in the 1984 federal election. Instead he goes on to rank in the top 5 most Conservative politicians this country has ever produced.

He would make Stephen Harper proud...

After the Move...

2008-08-02T23:39:00.002-04:00

I'd like to say its done and done for moving between August 1st and 2nd, but this was largely just Phases I and II complete. I'd say about 85% of our stuff is in the new place, and so only the loose ends of packing up small stuff at the old house and cleaning it out, and then the equally arduous process of unpacking and putting things in order remains.

But we already have our floor-to-ceiling wall of books up and running, which was both practical and fanciful - it got about 20 boxes out of the way, but it also allows Court to feel as if she were in Manhattan, or at least the classy part of Brooklyn. We politely declined Karen's offer to stand outside our window and shout something about walking, and how she was doing it. Here.

Thanks to Nate, Pete, and Karen for all your help today in packing and moving. While this was Nate hitting me back for helping him move at least four times already - Ajax to Montrose; Montrose to Ajax; Ajax to Beverley; Beverley to Borden - Pete and Karen upped the friendship ante and insured that when they move out of their current place at some point, if I am on the continent and still have the use of my limbs, that I'm legally bound to help them. Well played, neighbours. I'll see you in Hell...

And the largest benefit so far to having a new place with Court? Blogging on an unlocked wireless network located somewhere in our neighbourhood at midnight in my underpants. Aaahhh...

Consumption as Commemoration

2008-08-01T09:48:00.007-04:00

Cannibalism is one thing: at the very least, there is protein to be gained from eating your fellow human beings should your situation be dire enough, or your fetish strong enough. While still kinda gross, I can get behind cannibalism in as much as the bare bones idea behind it makes enough sense to me - in a gross way.

Let's switch gears...

I was spending a lovely Spring trip in Paris this past March with Courtney when she lets fly that when her mother and father pass away, the thought had crossed her mind that a sensible thing to do with their bodies, after cremation, was to consume them in a beverage as a form of commemoration. And if that wasn't - to me - disgusting enough, she then suggested that if I should die tomorrow, and she was looking for a way to mourn me, it would not be unthinkable for her to suggest to my parents that she be allowed to consume part of my ashes as well.

Now let's hold up for a second...

Firstly, I hope to be buried so that what's left of me can help enrich the soil around me, at least making the grass atop my grave lush and healthy and green for all the people who come to visit! So I have no interest in cremation. But secondly, and far more importantly, is the fact that I find the practice of consuming your relatives ashes rather comically disgusting. To be fair, Courtney's reasoning is similar to any defense of this I hear: that it's a supreme act of commemoration, one final chance to be close to the people you have lost through keeping them with you forever...Until you urinate...

Our friends weighed in on the debate. Julie e-mailed me a link to information about the Uape Indians of the Amazon who mix their dead relatives ashes with alcohol. This lead to a Sex and the City-type debate over the question: if your ashes were mixed into a cocktail for your friends to consume after you died, what cocktail would you be? And this same topic was the subject of a 2006 Japanese film entitled 12 Days, in which the lead, after having lost her partner, consumes her ashes in twelve smoothies over twelve days to mourn her passing. So the idea is not unprecedented, just a little creepy to me. Am I alone on this one? Is this just wierd to me?

And while I won't be drawing up my Final Will and Testament just yet, if I do, I might look into adding a clause or two against having my ashes consumed:

"Under no circumstances shall Courtney Jane Purdy Walker, or any other human being, cremate me for the pusposes of consuming my ashes in any beverage, alcoholic or otherwise."

'Do You Know Someone Worships You?'

2008-07-31T10:39:00.003-04:00

Sometime last year as I was driving out of the IKEA parking lot I got a call from my sister laughingly wondering if I was aware that, in the vastness of Cyber-space, someone had created a shrine to Andrew Reeves? And that upon closer inspection I was that Andrew Reeves?

After wondering who the hell it would have been making something like that - that creepy girl in High School who said I looked like Christian Bale and then turned on me in an MSN conversation? That girl from the Dance Cave who, drunkenly, I gave my phone number to, two weeks after Courtney and I first started dating? - it suddenly hit me.

A good freind of mine from High School, Kayla, created a blog with Angelfire - HA! - that recorded the e-mails I sent out to my friends when I left in OAC for a seven-month volunteer programme called Katimavik. And while the e-mails themselves provide a nostalgic glimpse into Andrew in High School, the funniest thing is the pictures. And the one posted above is just a sample. (By the way, that is me, Kevin Dowse, and Nate Robertson.) Word...

So here is the Andrew Reeves Shrine for all those interested in getting a better glimpse into the world of High School Andrew. Though for the life of me, I don't know why you would...

Go West, Young, Poorly Educated Man!

2008-07-30T16:57:00.003-04:00

This makes me smile in a way I would never tell my Albertan friends if I had any Albertan friends, which I don't think I do.

The Globe and Mail reported on July 29th that because of the obscene amounts of money flying around the province due to tar sand development, which is seeing wage increases in everything from jobs actually related to oil extraction to working at Wendy's, that the percentage of students staying in High School to get their diploma has dropped to a near-record low of 67.9% of those who enter High School.

Is this a record low? Try 63.9 % in 1999. Close...

So now those same people helping to destory the environment - and the Country, depending on your views - with often reckless disregard for what the rest of the Country thinks, is now also the province with the highest amount of students not even bothering themselves to acquire a secondary education! Has no one told Alberta that money is not everything? Are they ever going to have to answer and make retributions for the environmental destruction they're responsible for?

Simplistic though it is, one of the first things the Rest of Canada can do is stop going west to Alberta in search of high-paying labour that merely exacerbates the problem. Non-stop flights between St. John's, Newfoundland, and Fort McMurray, Alberta, denote a torubling relationship between one of the poorest provinces in the Confederation and its richest: the one-way flow of men and women seeking jobs heading west, and the one-way eastern flow of wages back to struggling families. Ends have to be met, and families have to be fed, but in the larger scheme of things, supporting the beast that is tar sands oil extraction for personal gain only serves to make the damage being done that much more irrepairable.

Did I say I was smiling, earlier? If only to mask my terror...

Blowin' Smoke

2008-07-24T09:54:00.006-04:00

I was on my way to hockey the other day at Main Street and Gerard Street East - damn near in Scarborough - when a girl a bit younger than me lit up a smoke in front of me at the subway stop. People who have been around smokers, or been caught behind them on the sidewalk, know the distinctive smell of a freshly lit smoke and how it feels like its tearing your esophagus a new asshole. She then blew a huge amount of smoke in my face without knowing it...

I got wondering about scenarios, something I do to pass the time. They usually involve me being much more belligerent, or righteous, or courageous than I actually am - righting a wrong, telling someone what I think about a behavioural trait of theirs, et cetera. Then I wondered if I told this girl she had blown smoke in my face, and she then proceeded to blow smoke intentionally into my face, if an acceptable reaction to this - if retaliation can even be seen as acceptable - would be to spit on her.

Is that tit for tat, or has that gone too far? Is that close enough to Jay-Z's "If you kill my dog, Im'a kill yo' cat?" If someone blows smoke in your face, and you're not a smoker and can't do something equally disgusting and rude without physically assaulting them, is spitting on them an equivalent reaction? Is spitting on someone physical assault?

I don't know - jury's still out on this one. Again - Andrew of my scenario's might do that, but mild-mannered Andrew of this world certainly wouldn't. Real world Andrew might spit on the douchebags in the above photo, though - thank you Google Images for bringing these turds to my attention. Too bad I'm not the Hulk...

Is This Stupid?

2008-07-21T10:20:00.005-04:00

So I have a boring job - this is not very new, or unique to me,but it's an important contextual note that you should remember. Part of what I do involves the removal of many tens of thousands of used staples from old member files. I have gone through two staple removers in the process - the pin came out of one and shattered in my hand and the other one experienced such intense and sustained pressure on the plastic wings that they snapped in two right in my hand. I should contact the WSIB - I need to learn my rights regarding the refusal of unsafe work.

But what the hell should I do with these untold thousands of used - and useless - staples. Up to now I had simply been throwing them out every day, which struck me as a waste of both garbage bags (for a few measely staples hidden at the bottom of the bag? Really?) and unnecessary, considering they are metal, and that metal can be recycled, as scrap or otherwise.

So I Googled it the other day and came across a UK website called How Can I Recycle This and found an article with user feedback on how used staples can be recycled. (Even if you don't generate a lot of used staples in your day-to-day life the article is worth checking out for this creepy guy 'Andy' - who is not me, by the by - who is trying to not only pick up another poster named 'Kim,' but has described in detail how he would use staples as a means of slow and painful torture...

Wierded out...

So the questions are twofold: now that I too have begun saving my staples for future recycling consideration at work, is this stupid? And depending on your answer, what would be the best way to recycle them other than dumping them in the recycle bin and hoping it doesn't piss the cleaner's off? I have already tried their patience I'm sure by taping a note to my garbage bin saying "Please do not throw away my staples." I'm sure they think the summer staff must have been hired from an outreach programme, and/or that I'm mildly retarded.

But not as retarded as this kid. Click on the WSIB link to see other pictures from the 2007 WSIB Young Workers Safety Campaign. They're pretty hilarious...

Lord & Taylor now Lord and Master of HBC

2008-07-18T08:56:00.003-04:00

I'm more than a little pissed off here. I was ready to jump into a Canadianist rant that would have made Mel Hurtig and his poorly published diatribes against American investment in Canada proud. But then I read more closely into the National Post article (I know, but of all the papers it's not surprising they covered it on the front page), and discovered that it's actually worse, or not as worse as I had originally suspected. I cannot decide which.

Canada didn't lose HBC, the oldest and arguably most prestigious commercial institution in the country, to an American equity firm on Thursday. It was gone as early as 2006 when it was bought by a South Carolinian business tycoon - though not Stephen Colbert, though that might have been interesting - for a (paltry) $1.1 billion. Here I was ready to lament the loss of another venerable Canadian institution when I realized that it was already long gone...

...And that not much changed. Am I sad to learn that HBC has changed hands from one American business interest to another? Of course. Did it change my everyday life significantly, or the lives of other Canadians? Probably not. This is not GM announcing that it's cutting 20% of all well-paying, salaried positions across North America. That will cut some families to the quick, and everything we can should be done to soften that blow. But this? Other than the opening of 10 to 15 Lord & Taylor stores in Canada and the intention to make HBC more competitive with Holt Renfrew and less competitive with Sears Canada, I am not sure what the problem is. I find HBC routinely too expensive for my blood as it stands - if they choose to go more up-scale and compete with Holt, all the more power to them! Yuppies with cash are a lucrative market, and HBC may even be able to shed the sense that shopping there was only cool for your mom in the 1960's, if not your Grandmother in the 40's. Or if you wanted Olympic gitch.

So this Canadian nationalist will join the national lament over HBC - if there was one, which I doubt there was - to a degree. Like all good Canadians I've got my Points Blanket (a throwback to the original 100% wool blankets first traded between French voyageurs and Aboriginals) and at least one hoodie with something related to Team Canada. And while it would be nice if HBC was in Canadian hands, they're not closing them down; they're not changing the name; and they're not taking the company in a direction that it was not already travelling in, so I for one am not incredibly concerned. And you can still get your Olympic gitch there, so everyone can let out that sigh of relief they've been holding in.

And besides - when we lost the incredible Railroad Hotels that dot the major cities and geographical wonders of this country (think Quebec City, think Lake Louise, think Ottawa) to Fairmont Hotels nobody blinked. And when Fairmont was bought by the Saudi Royal Family, this seemed only natural. And more recently the purchase of the Hockey Night in Canada themesong by CTV should have convinced Canadians that, in all honesty, nothing is untouchable these days, and anything can be bought.

It does beg a few questions, though. If not these, then what institutions and buildings are sacred to Canadians? And where will we draw the line?

This Week in Sports...

2008-07-17T11:36:00.003-04:00

It was a busy week in the Sports World of Reever this week. And other than an appalling game by the Toronto Argonauts last week in Edmonton and a horrible showing in Week #3 in my CFL Pick 'Em pool, I'd say things are looking up. Let's start from the top...

BADMINTON - Sunday - Jimmie Simpson Community Centre on Queen Street East

Sweat my ass off in a CC basement with a bunch of Asian players, 49X better than I am, and not even breaking a sweat while they play that much better than I am. Probably shouldn't have worn grey - nothing shows the levels and degree's of sweat, and its creeping south movement from my neckline to the waist, quite like grey. Hell of a lot of fun though with Rev. MC n8 - sadly Kevin Dowse will not be joining us next Sunday, but it is his Birthday, so I'll let it go this time...

SOCCER - Monday - Lamport Stadium on King Street West at Dufferin Street

Maybe it was the stadium lights, maybe it was the fact that we had gone 0-2 in our first two games this season after finishing second of seven in the Spring season, but I told Courtney and n8 before the game that we had to win this one. And win we did, 1-nil, against a team of hard-core, aggressive Spaniards that reminded me of one of the reasons I was cheering for Deutschland in the Euro Cup final.

And who got that one, game-winning goal? I was able to fulfill my promise to myself that by the end of the season my soccer skills would have improved enough that I could score at least one goal, and it happened. I am now good enough at soccer to score one goal in the Toronto Community Sport & Social Club Recreational soccer league. Word. It wasn't pretty, but I got my own rebound, and booted 'er in with my left foot three feet from the goal line with the goalie sprawling on the ground.

The funniest part? I was so excited I lost my shit and ran down the field towards our team's end. I met n8 half-way down the field trying to put his shirt over his head, but since he was borrowing my sister's kids sized jersey it wouldn't fit over his head! I did the airplane swooping motion down the field, and even ripped my jersey off, left it in the middle of the field, and brandished my DDR soccer jersey underneath that I got when I was in Berlin in April. Thankfully everyone was really happy and excited for me, rather than wondering what the hell this asshole was doing. It was only one goal - and not even a pretty one at that!

I sheepishly tried to say sorry during the post-game handshake with the other team, but everyone says 'good game, good game, good game' so quickly I didn't have much time. Thankfully I didn't lose us any spirit points...Oops...

FLOOR HOCKEY - Tuesday - Ted Reeve Arena at Main Street and Gerrard Street East

Lack of girls was solved at the last minute when three showed up out of nowhere. I don't think people realize how big a hockey arena is until you have to run every inch of it to try and come back and win a game you know you can't. We lost 6-2, not a great showing, and now sit at 1-1-0. We tried to come up with a name, but I think we're going to stick with Team 4. It has memories...

SOFTBALL - Wednesday - Downview Park at Keele Street and Wilson Street

Normally I get nosebleeds this far north in the city, but thankfully not tonight. After an exhausting search for the diamond (Keele Street going north actually disappears from beneah your car - we found ourselves on Old Weston Road of a sudden) we get there and the game has begun. After a great opening inning, we get sluggish and our bats suddenly die on us against the only other undefeated team in our league.

Suddenly we're down by 8 runs, but then we bring it all back. We get seven runs in the 6th, and now its 12-10. But in the last inning we let in an easy run after a teammate yelled at Courtney for not getting a ball at home plate that had gone underneath the fence and would have required her to break or at least wrench her arm in order to retrieve it, and were down 13-10. A questionable call by our first base coach on my single forced me out for leaving the baseline when I had to scramble back to first, and we couldn't do much else. I had a lousy night offensively (0-4) but came up with a few catches at CF. We drop to 2-1-0, though still not bad...

And now I take a few days to keep packing for our move, and give me feet and arms a chance to recuperate. God speed little feet...

The Barenaked Ladies Of My Youth...

2008-07-17T10:08:00.004-04:00

I nearly lost my shit yesterday when I read about Steven Page of BNL fame being busted in Fayatteville, NY, for cocaine and marijuana use and possession. A former housemate of ours recently moved back in with her parents who just moved to Fayatteville from Michigan, and she cliamed nothing exciting ever happens there. Well that's a lie...

I e-mailed the article to my honeymooning sister in Prague with the subject "What the fuck?" because BNL was the first concert I ever went to with her at Massey Hall when I was 12. When they were BIG. I'm talking Stunt! just came out and One Week was fucking played everywhere kind of big. We got picked up on Shuter Street by my dad in his blue pick-up when he got off working a 12 hour shift at the Main plant downtown. I fell asleep in the truck on the way home, high off the adreneline of having snuck into better seats in the balcony to hear a crooning Ed Robertson sing Light Up My Room. That was the height of sophistication and emotion at 12...

So I was thrown for a loop to hear about fourth degree drug charges being laid against a recently separated, father-of-three Steven Page in upstate New York. It's made all the worse by BNL's recent tour for their children's album Snacktime! (Snacktime!? Really?) and the fact that there's never really a good time to get busted for drugs in America. Ever. Because the charge against him carries a maximum sentence of 15 years, which could put a damper on BNL's Disney-affiliated North American tour. Or on Page's ability to be there for his children's lives! And all this because someone left a car parked awkwardly with a door left open in front of their apartment - and because he was caught with a tonne of blow on the table and sticky fingers...

I'm not going to poke fun - this is too sad for that, actually. I respected him too much as a kid to degrade him now. He made a costly mistake, which he's probably never going to be able to live down, which is too bad for him. So instead of putting a picture up of him looking super sketchy like most people have done, the above image is Page as he should be recalled. Happy, nerdy, and doing his thing...Gordon-styles!

(And that probably is him in Grade 9 - Christ he looks young...And bigger. So he probably wasn't doing blow just then...)

Election Day Suggestion

2007-09-25T03:19:00.000-04:00

With all the confusion over how to vote in the referendum and what candidate has your best interests in mind, there is one candidate that is all too often over-looked. Hedge your bets on the NINTH party option.

Re: Fruit Flies

2007-08-10T14:15:00.000-04:00

Fruit Flies are evil. And they are slowly taking over Borden House. If the members of Borden House disappear, you will be sure to find us tied up in the basement as the fruit flies cavort around, being gross and eating all our sweet Ontario peaches.

Down with the fruit fly, the most annoying of all the flies!

Au Revoir, N8

2007-08-08T16:11:00.001-04:00

And so, with much ballyhoo, our young N8 set forth into the world, with not much more than his laptop and his much envied china-hat. From Hamilton to London, from London to Paris... what will our young hero see? What will our young hero experience? Will he find the answers to those eternal questions: are the girls in France hotter than they are in Canada? how long can a person live on baguette and cheese? how long can a person stay in a country without a work visa?

All these things and more will be answered as the borden house expatriate ventures into the world beyond, leaving the rest of us to the fruit flies.

(separate post on the evil of fruit flies to follow)

Gameboy Colour

2007-07-05T13:48:00.000-04:00

Now you can play all your favorite moments from the life of Andrew Nelson. A must have for any serious gamer.

Coming July 7th

(Happy Birthday)

Eulogy for a Cat

2007-07-03T13:59:00.000-04:00

The Life and Times of Mouse "Mouser" Robertson (1991-2007)

Like many cats, Mouser was born. His grey coat and unproportionately large ears (that he later grew into) had earned him the name "Mickey" amoung the family to which he was born. When a young Nathan Robertson came to take a look at the kittens, young "Mickey" knew that he had found a friend, a sort of kindred spirit or BFF. The two bonded instantly, and, against every fiber of his being, the cat was named after his hated enemy, "Mouse".

Many years they spent together, going through all the ups and downs of life. But from almost being eaten by foster children to being separated when the now adult Nathan moved downtown, the two never lost the romance. Mouse was never far from Nathan's side. The two of them, completely secure with their sexuality, slept in the same bed most nights, and always managed to work out their disagreements with patience and open dialogue.

Interesting facts about Mouse: He had a sister from the same litter named Hannah, who went with Nathan's surrogate father when his parents split up in 1999. In his younger years (and for most of his life) he was, indisputably, an asshole of a cat. He would bite a nose if given half a chance, often in one's sleep (as Nathan found time and time again, when he woke up with a bleeding nose). Moreover, he would take it one step further and play mind games, sitting at the foot of the bed of children who had taunted him earlier that day and using his notoriety as a "nose biter" to keep them awake and nervous all night. He really didn't like kids. Also of note, he lost a chunk out of his right ear and his right fang in a fight with a neighbourhood cat in his time at the Reeves'. Still though, Charlie, the other cat, must have gotten his, because the two of them never fought again after that.

Truly Mouse's was a life that was full of excitement, and when he took sick and was no longer able to eat or drink, it was a tragic day; not a dry eye in the house. But when it was all done, no one could deny that this ornery cat saw his share of good days. If one believed in that sort of thing, I'm sure he would be spending his afterlife in the endless soft grass of the suburbs in summer.

Rest now in peace.

Edo, say it ain't so!!

2007-06-06T16:09:00.000-04:00

If you haven't heard yet, you will soon. Regrettably, Edo Sushi, the best sushi place in town with their succulant spicy ebi maki starting at only $2.99, has burned down. It was a quite the scene that spring morning when I walked down Baldwin street, as I always do, on my way to the Papaya Tree, only to find Baldwin closed down where it meets Spadina. The girl at Planet Aid had to break the news to me. I could hardly believe it, especially considering just the night before Andrew Nelson and I had been munching on their raw fishy delicacies.

It is interesting to note that throughout our last meal there, there was this high pitched buzzing that no one could figure out. Was the fire already beginning at that point? Were we eating maki while the textile place next door was ablaze?? Furthermore, since they were putting up the chairs and closing the restaurant as we were leaving, we can (with a disturbing mixture of pride and nausea) claim that we were the LAST PEOPLE TO EVER EAT THERE!

Does sushi have a future? Definately. In the meantime I have to occupy my tastebuds with the likes of JunJun, Tokyo Sushi, and (the old standard who doesn't REALLY need our business) New Gen. None of these will ever replace Edo. It will forever remain in our hearts as a fantastic place to go when you're high and get like 30 pieces of sushi for under $30 after tax + tip. But much like New Gen, Edo will rise from the ashes and be reincarnated with their insurance money to be better than before! I predict not only a new Edo Sushi, but an Edo Korean Grill down the street!

Photos: The White Store

2007-06-06T15:37:00.000-04:00

Jerry Jacobs Day

2007-06-06T15:14:00.000-04:00

Good Morning! This is the POLICE!!!

Friday, June 1st, 2007; 7:00am
Borden House and her guests are awoken by the loud and unmistakeable knocking of the police. The Michiganians who were crashing in the front room answered the door and let the two officers in, as resident Andrew Nelson, hears a walkie-talkie pass his window.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck..."

The officers make their way through the house, pressing toward the attic: "Who lives on the third floor of this house?!?! IS IT JERRY JACOBS!?! Are YOU Jerry Jacobs??!"

Uncertain who exactly the fuck Jerry Jacobs is, Reever and C-Wok are woken up, while they make their way upstairs into the dark attic where Merideth Denning lie unsuspecting.

BAM!! Flash light in the face! "Are you alone up here?! Where is Jerry Jacobs??"

All Ms. Denning could see was a flashlight in her face and a large man in her room. Meanwhile downstairs in Mr. Nelson's room "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck..."

When it was at last established that we had NO idea who Jerry Jacobs was, we discovered that the police had been called in for a suicide. I don't know where this call came from, but I suspect prankery (I mean honestly: Jerry Jacobs, it sounds like a really lame super hero name). BUT, on the off chance that there really is a Jerry Jacobs out there, maybe down the street from us, and the officers who scared the crap out of us were unable to stop him from ending it all, we at Borden House are declaring June 1st to be national Jerry Jacobs day! (Check your local municipality to see if it counts as a long weekend).

So Happy Jerry Jacobs Day!!

[Editors note: The residents of Borden House are law abiding citizens and have no reason to fear the law -- and if you tell anybody about this I'll bury you in the garden with the last person that crossed me.]

Sofia Bohdanowicz

2007-04-19T01:51:00.000-04:00

The newest member of the Borden House feel-goodery.

She enjoys filmmaking, yoga, and being a vegan. But above all things, she is a girl, and I'm pretty sure girls have cooties.

-- Under Construction --

2007-04-03T00:12:00.000-04:00

NOTICE:

The Borden House Blog is currently under construction. Please stay tuned while we finish our regularly scheduled maintenance.

-MNGMNT

Lest we Forget...

2006-11-11T19:26:00.000-05:00

November 11th, 2006 - Rememberence Day

In looking at the many pictures around our house, I realized that a year ago around this time was that infamous night of rowdy Caving I remember so well (considering). I discovered this when I realized I was wearing a poppy -- a puzzle pieced together so skillfully it could have been an episode of CSI.

Here are the four pictures that survived that night in vague chronological order (yes, Nelson was on the floor BEFORE we got to the Cave). Pamela Tung, photographer, took these pictures presumably as black-mail material, but has yet to collect on them. Makes me wonder what she's holding out for...

In their day they were reckless, they were loud, they were patriots. But above all things they were drunk. There were incidents of running over cars, garbage can abuse, not to mention using garbage cans to abuse cars (ones that were already wrecked like ourselves, mind you!) But sure enough, one day there will be a Borden House Games, and those games will include Garbage Can Hurling, and the potentially less destructive (though better ranged) VCR Hurling.

In any case, I just thought these pictures needed to be on this blog. They're classics. Thank you for tuning into this very special Rememberence Day post. Goodnight, and goodday.

Now for a Rap

2006-11-03T00:04:00.000-05:00

Ain't payin' rent till we get our old cheques,
Still don't have a stove 'cuz the landlord forgets,
It's rainin' in the attic, but in all respects,
We some badass muthafuckas who want yo' mutha fo' sex!

Word...

Retrospective: The Party's coming from Inside the House!

2006-10-30T16:04:00.000-05:00

Saturday 28th, Halloween
Since the dawn of time, or thereabouts, the residents of Borden House have been notorious party-throwers. The original parties would have been more primitive, with skin-drums instead of sub-woofers, turpentine instead of G&T's, bee's wax candles instead of fertility candles, but the spirit is very much the same as the days of old -- and those spirits sure made an appearance this Hallowe'en'en'en'en (being 4 e'ens before the hallowed eve).

"This Halloween had an almost New Years-esque intensity," states John Hand-cock (played by Nathan Robertson), "I give it three-thumbs up!!"

"I give it three-thumbs up!" repeat the Copy-Cats........?

The night saw a wide range of costumes, from a small squad of guerrilla's, to skunks, to a man in a kissing-booth, paper-bag royalty, a wookie, and...um...monster-hands...Almost everyone was dressed up somehow, even if it was just as themselves (which, as proven by one Mr. Field, can actually require a lot more effort than you'd think -- I predict a lot more Ryan Field costumes in 2007). The party estimate stood at about 60-70 boils and ghouls; yup, I said boils and ghouls alright...I'm bringing it back.

Reports from the party-front confirm that the night was definitely on fire. Perhaps it was the spirits, perhaps the wine, or maybe it was the fertility candles, but people seemed to be hooking up left and right. To those of you who left with someone, consider it a token of our appreciation here at Borden House -- a loot bag of sorts. To those of you [us] who did not...there's still New Years...

* * *
Andrew 'Sexy-Back' Reeves 'Baby-Back' Reever reports on clean-up the next day: "This is like a movie-theatre times 50!"

Reever, René and Nate spent a couple hours cleaning the mess that was several hours in the making. The smell of 'party' was still heavy in the air (and smelled a lot like LYCHEE) and was virtually impossible to escape considering the phenomenal adhesive power of alcohol spilled on the floor. But in no time the place was back to par, and our hosts went on with their lives, a little tired from (in some cases) being up until 5:45am, but ultimately with an extra hour in their pockets -- thank you daylight savings time!

So to those of you who made it: thank you for making it a night to remember, or in some cases, to forget and then be reminded of later while asking "I ate WHAT?!" And those of you that didn't make it, I've got cartons of eggs...I'll see you on Halloween...

Halloween Costume Ideas

2006-10-26T01:35:00.000-04:00

As promised, some kind of Blog entry about the upcoming party. It won't be glamourous, and it won't be insightful, but I'll be goddamned if it's not funny...

Ladies, pay close attention now.
[Just click the white screen below and the video will play.]

Nuit Blanche means White Night

2006-10-03T01:17:00.000-04:00

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 1st
Sunrise. At last. It's hard to make sense of the night's events, but from what I can tell, for 12 glorious hours, the streets of Toronto were turned into a surreal art showcase of the most random sort. Having known virtually nothing about "Nuit Blanche" until the night of, I found myself getting more and more excited at the prospect of meandering about the streets until all hours of the morning, and when we did hit the town, it was beautiful to see how strange and artistic our city can be when prompted by corporate sponsorship (thank you Scotiabank!)

It's a little difficult to describe Nuit Blanche in one broad term, but generally it was a series of installation pieces located all over the city, including such things as neon Elvis lyrics in the windows along Baldwin Street, a woman eating cake for 12 hours in slow motion on University, a huge twister game in the shadow of OCAD, a disco-yurt in the Hart House reading room (complete with multi-coloured dance-floor), and countless other oddities. The fog in Philosopher's Walk was truly something to see; rows and rows of mist jets obscuring the valley, light shining through the trees, and huddled masses trying to keep from stepping off the path into shoe-stealing mud. The gay-penguin exhibit at the Harrison Bathhouse was also quite interesting with it's filmographic exploration of the gay-penguin lives Roy & Silo, plus swimming by candlelight under the projection of artsy montages and eerie music.

But above all, I think what did it for me was the Ballroom Dancing. We get into the University Settlement House and make our way toward the gymnasium, all the while feeling like we're on our way into a grade 8 dance. Then it hits me: a rubber ball the size of my head. Balls are flying everywhere as adults become children in a giant ball-throwing battle royale. I found it fascinating how much you learn about people by putting them in a room full of balls. You've got the people who are excited just throwing them up in the air. Then in the middle, sitting in a circle, dressed in black with their backpacks on, are the dark, apathetic youths with their angst and their "I'm cool cause I'm different" attitudes, being pelted from all sides. You've then got the constructive types who were trying to shoot for the basketball net. Then you've got the people with anger-management issues who took full advantage of the situation and whipped balls at people as hard as they could. Yes, if you ever want to know who your true friends are, put them in a room full of balls.

All tolled, we covered most of Section A and B and I got in at 6:30am. The art was delicious, and I hope that this is the first of many White Nights, although my suggestion for next year would be to pick a less rainy season to have it in.

n8

En Memoriam: On the Rocks

2006-07-24T12:29:00.000-04:00

JULY 14-16th, 2006
Under the command of Cpt. Richard "Skinny Dick" Lam, 15 brave souls set out on the HMS Inappropriate in search of a new life on the Georgian Bay. What happened to this team of pioneers along the way, many have speculated, but for the first time since their miraculous return, survivor Nathan Robertson tells all.

"It was a dark and moonless night," claims Robertson, "the air was chile [chilly] as we came to the docks after the endless Terminal 3 loop at the airport. I wasn't so sure that Cpt. Lam was right of mind. He began demanding my right sock, for what, I can only guess."

"When we finally arrived at the cottage, we unpacked our provisions and played some music to calm the crew down. A few of us stayed awake until dawn; I think we all had the same fear that our Captain had led us into dangerous waters, showing us footage of dangerous sharks. We all asked ourself, was this why he brought us here?"

"The second day was more settled than the first. Nerves had been calmed and reserves had arrived. By this point we numbered 15, and in the event of madness, the crew would be able to properly handle the mutiny."

Of course, Skinny Dick wasn't the only one in danger of madness.

Late Saturday night, the crew gathered by the campfire. That's when it happened. Maybe it was something in the air, maybe it was the sauce, but the next thing you know, Chris was breathing fire and Ingo was naked. At first they seemed to be the only ones affected, but it wasn't long before a whole fleet of White Whales came to shore. With the moon glistening off the majestic cheeks of the water-mammals, it became clear why they had come...

[Editor's Note: While water-nudity may be cheeky and fun, what's not fun is having the lake swallow your swim trunks and having to use a flower-pot to cover your shame... although, I suppose I can see how that could also be cheeky and fun...]

Despite nudie-swimming misadventures, nudie-piggy-back fights, and nudie-swimsuit searching, most of the crew managed to survive through Saturday, and after eating all the meat of their fallen comrades on Sunday, they bid a fond fairwell to the little house on the hill, loaded back into the boat, and set sail for civilization again. They learned many things this weekend, including but not limitted to:

never look at the photographer when he's doing his thing

while bacon grease may be better than ash water, neither should be imbibed

and there is absolutely no situation that a backhoe can't get you out of...

W-I-L-C-O

2006-07-16T23:11:00.000-04:00

When I sat down on the bed next to you
You started to cry
I said, maybe if I leave, you'll want me
To come back home
Or maybe all you mean, is leave me alone
At least that's what you said

You're irresistible when you get mad
Isn't it sad, I'm immune
I thought it was cute
For you to kiss
My purple black eye
Even though I caught it from you
I still think we're serious
At least that's what you said

'At Least Thats What You Said' - A Ghost is Born (2004)

After that last line, they just rock out for like five minutes. It's more amazing live then I could have hoped for...

July 7th. Wilco. Massey Hall - a double edged venue.

Aside from The White Stripes at the Molson Amphitheatre - the ultimate in gawdy Toronto music venues - this was the best show I've ever seen; seen by fluke, enjoyed in full.

They called us 'motherfuckers' for not standing by half way through the show, an unfortunate by-product of cushy Massey Hall seating for those not cramped in the Alps. Jeff 'Two Encore' Tweedy - lead singer - was surprised at the lively response he got when he 'invited' Toronto to get into the show, still amazed Canadians needed invitations to fully enjoy a show they payed upwards of $50 for.

(Mind you, he had to ask first, and ask what they weren't doing that we wanted them to. The appreciation up to here had been respectful, but not exuberant. Tweedy was waiting for it to get rowdy - he wanted rock n' roll. Until then, he had gotten Sunday afternoon Concert-in-the-Park.)

Throw in a shirt for $35 - a poster for $25. Wilco was far from priceless: I spent in one night the retroactive back pay I got the day before from a raise at Queen's Park which was effective from April to June. Totally worth it, especially for one of the few bands that I'd allow myself to blow $110 bucks on...

Now if I can get up to Ottawa, they're playing Blues Fest...

...hhmmm...

(Oh yeah, I didn't take that picture either. I WISH we were that close. We got middle balcony seats, but dead centre. I got the photo from Google Images, now advertising themselves as the largest repository of online images on the internet. Google for President, man. They're taking it all over...)

The Borden House 'Saga Continues...

2006-07-08T22:18:00.000-04:00

Some of us got Monday off - some of us decided to head up the mighty 400, pass the mighty "Welcome to the Oak Ridges Morraine" sign, the puny "You are now entering the Greenbelt" sign, and the non-existent "This is the Greater Golden Horseshoe" sign up to Wasaga Beach.

Beach, burns, and bums. And suburban kids with Jewish-fro's and kickin' sub-woofers in borrowed cars. Open doors, and rolled-down windows. Communally accepted identity theft - encouraged, and rampant. Life in the (905) run amok.

Most photo's from the trip can be seen at:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/23452938@N00/
and at
http://www.lomohomes.com/pameluhhh, along with many other awesome photo's from our friendly neighbourhood neighbour Pamela "Spamela" Tung. You should check 'em out...

Best part of the day? Kiwi-Cherry, and $2.97 giant Watermelon - which I'm still eating almost a week later...

Rock n' Roll...

(Sorry about the strange writing in the first parahraph. I'm still getting the hang of this thing. Something happened, and I can't get it to go back. Booo. Deal with it.)

Borden House does Free Concerts!

2006-06-25T12:23:00.000-04:00

FRIDAY, JUNE 23rd
This weekend, Gord "One Encore" Downie and his Tragically Hip rocked historic Fort York in the shadow of the Gardner Expressway. Fans of all ages poured into the fort asking themselves "Will he play Ahead by a Century?" But I ask you, where were the real fans? The few, the proud, the cheap...

That's right, in the free-seats. Just outside the fences held together by twist-ties, our heroes made their stand, rockin' to the aryan twang and kabitzing with security guards. It was a similar scene the next day...

SATURDAY, JUNE 24th
The Borden House Concert Series continues, as Borden House does The Islands! Feist, Bloc Party, and Broken Social Scene as enjoyed from across the river on Centre Island. A $50 value for the price of a $6 ferry ticket. As the random fellow with his LCBO bag full of Pabst Blue Ribbon beside us points out: "Yeah, it's cheaper AND you get free beer!" I'm sure he meant you can bring your own, but who was I to tell him otherwise.

In amoungst all the mind blowing performances and thrill of virtual piracy, this reporter learned one thing...people at concerts can get very desperate for a place to urinate. And when they do, it's our job as reporters to take pictures of them from across the water and shout things like "I C.U.P.!!"

Why? Because, my friend, they'd do it to you...

Retrospective: St. Paddy's Day 2006

2006-06-13T19:52:00.000-04:00

REEVER: I was just moving some songs over from my laptop to my PC and I came across some pictures from St. Paddy's Day a while back when some of us hit up the Wolf & Firkin where my sister works.

The following us a brief snippet of that night. While I remember most of it, I dont remember most of it, if you know what I'm saying...You know...eh? Yeah...

n8 and I never did meet up for long. By the time he was able to make it, Court and I were on our way somesplace else. If nothing else, we partied together in spirit...

P.S. That would be Dave's junk we're so enthusiastically pointing at...

Girl on blog, boys on couches on cars.

2006-06-12T20:13:00.000-04:00

Basically the worst thing in the whole goddamn world is moving. Even worse is moving at night. When it's raining. However, the Borden House Moving Team Inc. made my experience enjoyable, and most of all, hilarious.

Observe:

And so, with a little help from my kitchen table, couch and stereo, I was welcomed to the Borden house.
The moral of this story is... putting couches on the roofs of parents' vans is only a little bit of a bad idea. Mostly it's just awesome.

- C.j.

Retrospective: And They Went Their Separate Ways...

2006-06-04T13:06:00.000-04:00

REEVER: Never have there been so many groups going to different nightclubs on the same night. Dance Cave; The Phoenix; The Boat; Stones Place 'Big Primpin'...

"A Borden House divided cannot stand," so saith Abe Lincoln, who was a real whiz with night clubs.

Group fondlings, two fisted drinking, G & T reunions. Borden house kitchen had it all..

All in all, we avoided bigotry by going our separate ways. The result? A long ass line-up at the Dance Cave.

Here's a picture or two from the evening.
I just like the look on n8's face...

Primer - The movie so nice you'll see it twice

2006-06-01T18:01:00.000-04:00

I just saw Primer. Damn that's an amazing movie!! Now would someone kindly explain to me a few things...?

Retrospective: Why Can't we be Friends?

2006-05-29T19:47:00.000-04:00

MAY 19th, 2006
The first of the post-Nelson events in the Borden House leisure series, "Why Can't we be Friends?" was a night of magic and political intrigue. While this event did not feature the "Dance Cove" it was highlighted by some brief moments of dancing in the kitchen as party-attendee Ryan Field slid with questionable grace through host Nate Robertson's legs.

" 'Why Can't we be Friends' was an important step for Borden House," claims Nate when asked, "It shows that despite having lost an integral member of the Borden team, we can still rock a party!"

When asked to comment, Reever said simply: "Hey! I can remember the whole night and I didn't wake up beside a bucket that says Puke & Brains...I'd say that's a success!"

As a side note, our kitchen light has now become a public forum. Let us know how we're doing here at Borden House by leaving suggestions on our light!

[NB: Quotes are pending confirmation from our fact checker]

Photos Courtesy of Reever

May 19th: Where Were You Party People?

2006-05-26T17:02:00.000-04:00

REEVER: That's Right - At Borden House.

(Well, most of you were. Some were M.I.A. As in the military term, not as in the Sri Lankan singer of the same name...)

I've just now gotten around to putting the pictures from our May 2-4 Party - coincidently, not held on May 24th - up on the 'net.

Here's one of them: doesn't seem very party-esq, but I thought it was pretty cool. It's Courtney twirling a string-light I think. I'll be finding a way to post the rest of them soon, or putting a link up on the site some time soon.

For now, Courage...

Not a Balloon

2006-05-24T00:21:00.000-04:00

Contrary to popular belief, this is in fact not a balloon (as illustrated by our friend Niel's courteous message). The picture you are seeing is in fact our kitchen light. Interestingly enough we had planned to break our kitchen light in some spectacular way involving dry-ice and a volcano, but that idea sorta fell through. However people seemed intent on popping this light along with the other balloons, and when jabbing it with sparklers yielded no results, someone (I name no names) thought his lighter would make short work of it. He was, however, wrong...

Retrospective: NYE 2K6+1

2006-05-23T23:01:00.000-04:00

This was the scene at 125 Borden on New Years day-morning-afternoon. A reporter reports: "I used to be a God-fearing man...Let's just say that now I take communion only for the wine and crackers."

Ouch! If cleanliness is next to godliness, let's just say that it was not very clean.
(Note attached: "Hey, you wanna do something about that last analogy before you publish it? Thanks!")

Retrospective: NYE 2K6

2006-05-23T22:29:00.000-04:00

What started off as a simple question: "Are we cool enough to throw a New Years party?" turned, ironically, into an answer: "Possibly..."

* * *

"We just started e-mailing, calling, texting people we knew, and next thing you know, SHITFUCK! We've got like a hundred people in our house!!" raves a very excited Nathan Robertson.

One-hundred people indeed! Some say well over 100, but whatever the number, one thing's for sure: the roof was on fire.

With so many people in one place I'm sure everybody has completely different recollections of the party, and with so much sauce around I'm sure there are some with no recollections of the party whatsoever who would say "Borden House? Who's that? Sounds like an asshole..." But wherever you were at New Years when the balloons dropped or the kitchen light was set on fire, at least you were spending it with your friends at Borden House (who are the only people who will ever love you you worthless whore...you'll never find anyone better! Now back in the kitchen!)

Wow Man...Its Like...It's Like It's Really Happening...

2006-05-22T23:07:00.000-04:00

To Dave who said that our having our own house blog would effectively make us more lame...BEHOLD! The ultimate Blog...

Stay tuned...