ChiaMac

The ChiaBlog has moved!

2006-05-31T23:59:00.000-04:00

Sorry folks, you're gonna have to do a little work and reset those "favourites" and bookmarks -- this Blogger site is no longer in active use; it is now relegated to Archive status.

Now, dubya dubya dubya dot skyperbole dot com is the place to be. My blog is up-and-running. Rejoice, one and all. Or at least me.

It's been a good run here at chiamac dot blogspot. I think we've all grown a bit, learned some things - about life, ourselves, the shallow pursuit of DVDs in a world gone mad. So if you're looking for the same old, rambling content ... then look no further ... Head directly to Skyperbole dot com -- full surfing speed ahead.

Go. Now.

Your laws do not compel me ...

2006-05-31T15:33:00.000-04:00

A double-bill of happiness arrived for me in the mail this morn: a large box containing the speakers I'd ordered from the States and atop that, my penultimate paycheque from, er, that show I worked on.

Gleefully child-like on the inside and only mildly tired on the outside, I rushed the package upstairs. Set everything up so that now I've got wireless tunes streaming from my computer to the lovely white speakers. They passed the first listening test, as I lay dreamily on my bed for an hour or so bathing in the poetry of Leonardo Di Cohen. Man, it has been a long time since I really listened to his stuff - he has no peer, in my mind.

The second test for the new speakers: the bass test. The best example of this for geeks like me is a certain beloved sound effect during Sauron's defeat from the prologue of LOTR: Fellowship of the Ring. And so it is that I plunked the DVD in, pressed play, and revelled in the bassy goodness. Holy techno-joy!

A Zam and Two Firsts

2006-05-31T00:21:00.000-04:00

1.

As she gets near the door to the 3QF balcony, Zam activates the affectionate side of her split-personality. She senses the limitless possibilities of the world outside and she is both attracted and repulsed by its many terrors. Swirling around my legs like a prowling shark, she transforms her typical chirps and grunts into near-meow-like utterances. And so, being released into the outside through a slide of the door, she bolts out and stops. She looks back at me and grunts again. What - freedom's not enough for you? I pull out the blue chair and sit down, careful to balance my glass of iced tea on the railing. She blinks at me warmly. Maybe this is it - maybe this is my chance. I wonder. I call her over - whistles and snaps. For a time, she is content to ignore me, content to laze in the sun, belly-flop, do whatever cats do when faced with an oppressive yet glorious heat. I stare at her, then look around for something to look at, now searching for the guy across the street who's always naked in the summertime. He's not there. I sip, and think about things. Zam stretches. She gets up, and meanders over as if obliging me. She barks. Again, through the legs, around, white fur ejected into the air. I reach down and stroke her back. She's mine. I grab her - without retort - and plunk her on my lap. She blinks at me, and wills another thousand hairs to oblivion in the cracks of the deck. I scratch the ears, and her purr becomes louder than the city traffic. She still won't commit though; she's on my lap, circling, rubbing against me, pressing her claws into my thighs, but she won't sit down. I don't want to be here too long. The heat's stifling, I've got laundry to do, I'm hungry. I need to force the issue. Make her sit. She hasn't jumped off yet; she's content. Just make it seem as though this is the most natural thing in the world. I scratch her head, make her follow my hand so she starts to get settled in my lap. She circles, her centre lowering; she's crouching now, almost there, always purring. She clutches at my leg and I softly push her mid-section down. There it is. I've never seen it from this creature before: she's sitting on my lap, in all of her blinking, shedding glory. Ritual demands a sacrifice though, so I must let her dig her claws into my knee. The pain is tolerable, for awhile. She kneads more, treating me like the furniture, almost ignoring me. But I don't let her forget. I rub her head and she gives me her fur, which is a rather useless gift, I'll admit. We sit for awhile, maybe two or five minutes, some passage of time anyway, until she jumps thud-like to the deck, leaving behind a scarred knee. I brush myself off and shade my eyes against the cloud of white. I have done good work, and have been rewarded. That is enough, for the moment.

2.

What the fuck are you doing?!? Get out of the goddamned toilet!!! Get the fuck out of here, you stupid little bitch-face beast! Look here, you moron, you have water - drink that, and don't you ever goddamned touch me again! Uughh.

Girls with bigtits Daedalus fanaticism

2006-05-30T22:26:00.000-04:00

... Heat.

It's rather unfortunate that the first heat-wave of the season has coincided with my post-employment (that's right, it's not "un"employment anymore) urge to spring-clean. All I've been able to get done today is a huge load of laundry and some hard drive maintenance. It's rare that I get such a strong cleaning bug, so I've got to jump on it before the feeling dissipates. The past couple of days I've been rooting through all my closet crap; if anyone wants some VHS tapes, come pick them up at the front of 3QF. I can already hear Daniel scurrying. The original Ratboy.

... Bees.

Apparently, our house has been infested with a horde of bees (does 10 constitute a horde?). These ain't no small-ass bees either; these are big-ass motherfuckers about the size of a loonie, or so it seems by their ominous shadows. Too bad it's unlikely the bees will take care of the bird that's pissing off Matt. I think that might give new meaning to "the birds and the bees." (One of my favourite Simpsons lines occurs when Bart, for some reason I cannot remember, is waxing philosophical about spring, and remarks on the subject of birds: "... Bees are trying to have sex with them." The writers of the Simpsons never waste an opportunity for a good bee-related joke.

... Comics.

Tebby's put the whammy on me. Ever since he told me about digital comic books - programs which allow you to read comics which, um, concerned citizens have scanned into digital files - I've been madly downloading stuff I'm interested in. It'd be nice if I could catch up on Iron Man after all these years of inactivity, instead of, say, plunking down a hundred or so bucks to collect all the back issues. So far I've got me some Iron Man, some X-Men, some classic Alan Moore; now I've just got to read it all.

-- And I just burst out laughing after glancing at a sticky note I wrote earlier: "Call Jerry re: bees."

Shiny disks are my friends ...

2006-05-29T13:31:00.000-04:00

Enjoy the TTC strike while you can (if you can). Nothing like a very watered-down variant of that glorious 2003 power-out to shut down a city.

Doesn't affect me at all, however, except there may be too many people attempting to do laundry.

...

I updated my DVD collection today and realized that, in a collection of 450-plus DVDs, I own one lone DVD that I've rated as a 1-star film (out of five): "The Phantom Menace." And I've got 15 DVDs that I'd rate as 2-star films. A few of these belong to collections ("Alien: Resurrection", "The Temple of Doom"), but most of these mediocrities I own for completist's sake ("Attack of the Clones", "Star Trek V"), for their curiousity value ("ZardoZ", "Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai"), and/or for the simple fact I just enjoy watchin' em ("Resident Evil", David Lynch's "Dune"). I suppose these films might be classified as guilty pleasures, but I no longer believe in the concept. Sometimes you just like bad movies, and that's that; but most of the time you try to like the good ones. The other 430-or-so movies in the collection I can make a case for their inclusion.

About a year I performed a very small purge of my collection - about 4 or 5 five movies - in order to rid myself of those movies which I felt had no 'right' to be in my collection. It really bothered me that movies like "Insomnia" and "Signs" were taking up precious shelf space (though no one would have ever noticed them on that massive wall o' flicks). Too much time to ponder such things perhaps, but talk of movies and our DVDs makes up much of the conversation at 3QF. Go figure.

...

Onwards, to food, and beyond!

Atonement

2006-05-28T23:30:00.000-04:00

Today's was a fine round of Kick-the-Ball-at-the-Goalie. With the Steves, Crazy British Mark, and the Wall of Janice missing in action, it seemed we might be in for an exhausting drubbing, especially after that ridiculous 50-foot shot I let in last week.

This game was all about getting back into action - faster and furiouser, so to speak. And I think we achieved that with our gritty and not entirely graceful 2-1 win. We opened the scoring early in the first half on an iffy play; one of their players tripped on the ball and the Jeffman just roared in towards the opponent's goal and willed the shot in using the powers of his weird Jeffbrain. Normally, we slow down play when a player falls onto the field; we didn't stop this time, and so we caught their defence napping. Frankly, I'm sure we've had several moments where we have napped similarly and given up goals. It happens.

Anyway, for the rest of the game our net was officially under siege. It was one of those games that a goalie thrives on: a lot of near-chances and broken plays, but not an overwhelming number of solid scoring plays ... just enough saves, leaps, deflections, and tip-aways to dispirit the opponent. Which is what goaltending is about. I'm not doing my job if the enemy feels confident about his chance of scoring. We managed to hold on for the remainder of the game, chipping it out on the sidelines, punting the ball aimlessly up the field, and breaking up their passing rhythm. It was a good game; Don Cherry would be proud.

Now the Yellow Wall is 2-2 on the season. After a couple of close losses, we "earned" a default win last week and earned a bonafide win this week. Perhaps next week we will improve further by dazzling our opponents with an impressive array of footwork and scoring prowess. Dare to dream.

X-austed

2006-05-27T02:17:00.000-04:00

Well, the boys made a trip out to the Paramount to take in the latest X-Men flick. Despite a few interesting characters scenes and a nice set-piece when Jean Grey goes bad-ass in her childhood home, the film is a failure from beginning to end. All of the weakest elements from the first film are present - clunky dialogue, rampant disregard for the canonical characters, and embarassingly belaboured themes. But in "X-Men: The Last Stand" director Brett Ratner displays few of the directorial subtleties which Bryan Singer brought to "X2: X-Men United."

While it may have seemed remarkable a few years ago that anyone could have made a good X-Men movie - this is iconic cheeseball comix territory after all - it now stands as nothing short of a miracle. Singer has moved on to Superman, which like the Batman film franchise achieved two successes before being ignominiously defeated by its two sequels - only to be later resurrected. These two franchises - and the uneven Spider-Man films and others - hinge on a single character; if you give that character the attention he/she deserves, you'll have a successful comic-book movie. In an ensemble piece like the X-Men films, every character in the battle should have his/her moment.

Singer's two X-Men films tried their hardest to do justice to the characters, and only occasionally failed: the interplay among the villains was quite enjoyable, and the duality of mutants as a metaphor for racial tension was explored quite respectfully. Ratner's film fails spectacularly in all such regards. Characters (like Rogue) make decisions which have little to do with their story arcs and thus have no emotional resonance; plants such as Magneto's betrayal of Mystique when she gets 'cured' of her mutant powers never pay off later in the film; and the use of powers offers little of the enjoyable teamwork of Singer's movies.

In addition, the screenwriters err in their choice of the storyline. The climax consists of Magneto and company attempting to capture the mutant (a boy named Leech) who is the source of a cure which permanently robs mutants of their powers, effectively rendering them into homo sapiens. And our boys (Wolverine et al) are fighting against Evil to, um, keep the mutant boy safe and apparently protect the right of any mutant to become human again.

Let me get this straight: all movie long, you've been telling us it's 'normal' to be a mutant (cuz Halle Berry as Storm tells us so), but the good guys are fighting for the corporation's right to enslave a mutant in a sterile white room and use him as a guinea pig. What the fuck is that?!? Holy flurking sellout, Batman! Sheesh, what do the writers think of anti-whaling activist Paul Watson (sp?) or of PETA or of animal rights activists? Have they not heard of civil disobedience?

Granted, Magneto's brand of disobedience is rather extreme - he has no qualms about killing mere humans, or even mutants who get in the way. But this is comic book philosophy, after all; themes are polarized to the dialectical extreme. So here's a thought: in the terms offered by the film, I believe that the Brotherhood of Evil Mutants is on the side of right. Only ultra-conservative nuts believe an anti-homosexuality pill or a skin-bleaching enzyme are morally justifiable options; yet this X-Men movie implicitly offers it as a possible alternative to the pain and stigma of being a mutant. Very reprehensible of you, Ratner and company, and I hope this franchise dies for good - no resurrections.

More cat ...

2006-05-26T00:43:00.000-04:00

image024
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

No, I don't know this woman and I don't know the cat. I've been posting a lot of other people's content lately, but that's too bad pour toi.

Anyway, look at this behemoth!

One more thing

2006-05-25T00:35:00.000-04:00

An addendum to the second-last post featuring the girl who is giving her cat a bath: No, neither I nor Matt know this girl. She is merely random internet goodness. One need not speculate on her singleness or whether she is dating either/both of us.

Now batting ... Ernie Wwwwwwwwwhitt!

2006-05-24T23:52:00.000-04:00

After an exciting and miserable day of computer-browsing (only the latter because I couldn't buy a computer), Dave & I headed down to the SkyDome to take in the great American pastime. We decided to spend a bit more cash than last time - which was a two-dollar special in the nosebleeds - and ended up in the lowest level of the outfield seats. So on a few occasions, we thrilled to the momentarily alarming site of a white speck enlarge to the size of a speeding ball of possible hurtiness. No harm was done, though the Blue Jays did lose 10-8, thanks to some terrible starting pitching and an equally mediocre bullpen.

To pass the time, Dave & I made up some mini-games of our own, including calling up Matt everytime the Blue Jays had a runner on second-base and yelling, "We've got a man in scoring position"; reintroducing the current batter as a blast-from-the-past Blue Jay (hence the title of this post); and what was more enjoyable, imagining how a game of baseball would be played if the players were all superhero mutants.

The latter conversation began when the Devil Rays scored a run because the Jays' second-baseman, Aaron Hill, had a line-drive ball tip off the end of his outstretched glove. I mused that If Hill's position had been played by, say, Nightcrawler, he could've just teleported anywhere and caught the ball instantly. He could even catch any foul ball for an out, so a player dare not make contact with the ball unless he's sure to get a hit. So what happens when you get Storm, the Hulk, Professor X, and yes, Superman in there. Games would be far more entertaining. Superman or The Flash just have to bunt the ball and race around the bases for an inside-the-infield homerun. Storm can speed up or slow down the ball with her wind power. The wild card Rogue kisses an opposing player and takes their powers for an inning or two. Imagine the glory of Doc Ock at the plate! DC versus Marvel, anyone? Why hasn't this videogame been made?!

You'd run into some odd ones though. Assuming you play by the standard rules, some pretty major heroes/villains would be rendered irrelevant: Batman and Magneto, to name a couple. Hell, at least Spider-Man could stick to the top of the outfield fence to snag homeruns. And what happened if Superman pitched? Sure, he'd get a perfect game every time, but his fastball would tear through his own catchers like, well, Superman's fastball tearing through catchers. I suspect Major League Baseball might quake in its collective boots ...

Another bit of enjoyment was figuring out which of the fans was more amusing/irritating: the hecklers screaming at the Devil Rays' left-fielder ("Crawford - You suck!!!" or some such cleverness) or the girls in front of us dancing and cheering at inappropriate intervals throughout the game. I pondered aloud (but not too loud) that one of the enthusiastic girls was probably rather exciting in bed, to which Dave replied something along the lines of "Yeah, but it would be random and awkward." But I can't fault her too much, cuz she seemed to be escorting her substantially more socially awkward older brother to the game, who I can only imagine had no understanding that the ballgame which he was attending was not merely a hallucination of his during a regular stint at the Clarke Institute but rather an actual-live-and-real ballpark where people were attempting to watch something that wasn't his schizoid-robot dance moves.

A fine night at the ballpark, indeed.

Brandy, check this out!

2006-05-22T15:44:00.000-04:00

I imagine that when Brandy washes Sammy, the process looks somewhat like this. There are few things on this good Earth more photogenicthan wide-angle closeups of cat faces. I love the folded, droopy ears in every single shot.

Other Adventures of Extreme Steve!

2006-05-22T13:10:00.000-04:00

Shaman
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

I have been proudly informed of Steve's latest crowning achievement: that his World of Warcraft shaman has finally maxed out at Level 60. Congratulations, Rocky, this is quite an honour, worthy of immortalization on the interwebographaphonic matrix.

My paladin, however, is stuck at level 54 and will remain there until the inevitable day that I decide to reinstate my WoW account.

Here's to Steve, taking on the world one videogame at a time.

Made you look

2006-05-21T00:20:00.000-04:00

I am currently in the turn-around period of my sleep schedule, which involves me playing lots of videogames and watching anime and sports, leaving me little to no "time" to post here. I promise I shall return in the next few days to kick-start my bloggy life.

By the way, due to a combination of Apple's bung-headedness and my own stupidity, I am rendered unable to update my website. This is because the latest update for iWeb (1.1) somehow corrupted a vital "domain" file when I first started up iWeb, and I am unable to recover the site. Had I erred on the side of caution (techies always tell you to back up before EVERY update), I'd still have an updateable site right now. So I shall take this opportunity to redesign the world of ChiaMac; big things are in store. Take heed ... or don't. It's your call.

If you liked yellow & purple, you're out of luck.

And Chris reveals the source of the mysterious light

2006-05-10T00:52:00.000-04:00

ChrisAlien-Nov00
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

Daniel blocks out a mysterious light, as if in disbelief

2006-05-10T00:51:00.000-04:00

Daniel-Nov00
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

I recall something somewhere somewhen

2006-05-10T00:47:00.000-04:00

In a remarkable turnaround of events, yesterday's slogfest has turned into today's snorefest. Having caught myself up a mere 6 1/2 hours into my shift, I now ponder what I shall do with my precious and well-earned free time. Mayhaps I shall bugger off early ... though I still have a few more hours of watching DVDs get burned to go. Ah, the glamour.

In other news, I've been craving money for the past while. There are too many toys I want (by which I mean electronic gadgets, not actual toys) ... oh, like an Xbox 360, a new Mac, a wireless router, a new hard drive, and my latest object-of-geeky-lust, a digital SLR camera. Alas, I must make shitloads of cash to rake in these fine consumer products. Give me money and I will be your consumer whore.

But I still despise commercials, damnit!

In yet other news, I still hurt from Sunday's inaugural soccer match. We were all a bit sloppy for much of the game, but such is to be expected from non-jocks who take half a year off from sports. We improved considerably as the game went on, and I made a couple of nice stops, which is always fun.

All those many years ago ...

2006-05-06T03:44:00.000-04:00

Hockey01
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

Yep, that's me - I have no idea what year that is or how old I was.

Ah, the days when I played the great Canadian game. On the ice, I was a right-winger, though not a particularly good one. Wasn't a strong skater, had a weak shot, but I had an okay backhander. One of the fond memories I have is winning the championship two years in a row (hey, just like the Blue Jays) and skating around the ice to "We Are The Champions."

One season, either grade eight or nine, I tallied my stats myself. The refs were always awful, so often goals were credited to the wrong players and/or assists were not given. By my own totals that season, I averaged almost a point a game - about 25 points in a mid-20-game season. I think I had about 7 or 8 goals, including a couple of 2-goal games. Not bad.

I was strictly a garbage-goal kind of player, much like I am when I play out of the net in soccer. Deflections, tip-ins, one-timers, redirections - those were my domain. One time we had a 2-on-0 breakaway; the goalie stopped my teammate's initial shot and went sprawling, and I just tapped the loose puck over the goalie.

Another time - my favourite goal ever - I had a full breakaway and beat the goalie chest-high on the glove side, after which I fell and slid into the boards. I was so proud I'd scored a "real" goal.

Athletically (and socially), I'd always been in my middle-older brother's shadow. He had a ton of real trophies - best ofs - and awards; more than a few of my trophies were of the 'Most Improved Player' ilk.

Consequently, I learned early on that I was never going to get anywhere in the sporting life. Perhaps if my family could have afforded goalie equipment, and/or if I'd been remotely inclined to improve my skating skills and attend goalie lessons (ironically, goalies HAVE to know how to skate), there may have been a future there.

I think about that a lot these days. I know - woulda shoulda coulda ... But I'm still searching for the thing I'm "good" at, because I want to be officially "good" at that thing which becomes my career.

Being "good" comes so easily to some, and sometimes not at all to others. There are so many things one can be "good" at in life, yet I'm still not sure how many of these things are important to me. In terms of my approach to my life's goals, I don't feel I've changed much in the past 12 years. And I'm not sure it that's being stagnant or unrealistic or unambitious, or perhaps the inverse of any of those. The "successful" people would attribute one or all of those traits to my current lifestyle. Sometimes I listen to those voices, sometimes not.

Good morning.

Flow'ring Fields Forever

2006-05-04T22:58:00.000-04:00

Fall'98-C&S
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

Tonight, I started the daunting task of scanning a bagful of photos and thought I'd post this set of photomat pics of Samara & me.

We took these while we were shooting "The Centre For Everyone" in winter of third year. We look so young & unjaded by the tragedies that would befall us.

This is actually one of my favourite photo-objects (digital or film) that I have, holding a treasured place with many cat pics, me as a South Park character, and me as a rock star.

who cares anyway?

2006-05-04T20:05:00.000-04:00

I totally forgot about the 1-year anniversary of me stopping this blog. I think that's a good sign.

Caribbean Queen

2006-05-04T19:57:00.000-04:00

Oh, amazing sunshine, you make me happy ...

This being one of my first extended journeys out of doors in daylight this spring, I was caught by surprise at how good it made me feel. I tend not to go out much at the best of times, and when my schedule is like it has been the past month, I end up spending almost all my time in my room. So sunshine and breezy warmth are long-lost and short-lived friends, soon to be replaced by scorching heat. Enjoy it while you can, eh.

This put me in the shopping mood. Now, anything (like, say, breathing) can put me in the mood to shop for DVDs or computer paraphernalia, but clothes-shopping is another matter. I do not exaggerate when I state that I buy clothes about once every two years. Hence the greater satisfaction at getting a new pair of shoes or a new shirt ...

After my trip through Dufferin Mall, I stopped in at an old haunt, Vena's Rotis (@ Bloor & Lansdowne) - some of the finest rotis in town, third-place to Bacchus Roti and Island Foods (though I've not eaten at Gandhi). My first visit to Vena's since I lived there two years ago, the eponymous proprietress Vena still remembered my name and order; and furthermore still remembered that Tina moved to the States, to which I responded that Tina had moved back to Toronto. Vena says "Hi" to you Tina, by the way. I was, however, saddened to see that one of the Indian restaurants I often ordered from has closed down, or rather changed ownership and been turned into an Indian-Canadian pub.

Oh yeah, I just remembered that on my way home, I saw a Hummer with the licence plate LHUMMER. There are some occasions in which the use of a rocket launcher is permitted.

The Aslans are coming, the Aslans are coming ...

2006-05-03T22:17:00.000-04:00

Last night, Dave giddily informed me of This Spartan Life, which is a talk-show presented entirely from within the online videogame "Halo."

It's pretty amazing.

Unusually intellectual for these types of online ventures - the first episode features noted media artist Peggy Ahwesh - the show is quite direct about its influences and its greater meaning. And for once, all this self-directed talk doesn't seem like glad-handing or misguided praise.

See, Daniel, "digital" is good.

A note about the budget.

2006-05-02T20:00:00.000-04:00

I agree with Matt - I like the convenience of paying 15% in sales taxes. Granted, this applies to Ontario only (Do any other provinces have 8% pst?); but it does make calculating taxes and tips so much easier.

Oh yeah, and the prospect of reducing sales taxes on top of personal and corporate taxes ain't so good neither ...

... for I am The Taxman!

2006-05-02T19:49:00.000-04:00

Another year, another series of incomprehensible forms and schedules designed solely, I'm sure, to confuse the under-educated and overly confused alike.

I like doing my taxes. It's one of the few times in the year that I get to reach over to the left-side of my brain and stretch my math-muscles. Though the calculations are quite basic - add, subtract, multiply, divide - I nevertheless get a thrill out of bringing my envelope of receipts and T4s to the "table," predicting what my refund or amount owing is, and then proceeding painstakingly through each of the forms and schedules, at the end of which I find out how close is my prediction. This year - despite the sophomore Ontario health premium - I ended up under-predicting my refund by a couple hundred dollars. Not bad. More favourable than last year, when I ended up owing several hundred bucks. While I don't begrudge paying out taxes at this time of year - yes, I'm not a Conservative - I'll admit it's always more enjoyable to receive money back.

Now I can finally buy that ivory backscratcher.

When life conspires to suck.

2006-04-29T04:20:00.000-04:00

Ugh.

This has been an AWFUL day. I found out I fucked something up yesterday, which began a night-long throbbing headache. Then, everyone and his sister were calling me requesting this and that, there are a million point two things to do, and to top it all off, I have to drop off a pair of DVDs to the producer/director at his home ... at 6 in the morning ...

Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

And -

Tebby beat me in ping-pong.

It - it just doesn't get any worse. Does it?

Phillip?! God ... he eats mayonnaise.

2006-04-28T04:07:00.000-04:00

Well, my evening - or more accurately, my workday - is winding down, and as we approach the end of another week, I realize that I'm anticipating next week's hiatus with some trepidation. Not only will I not be earning money for the week, but I'm hoping not to fall into my old habits too quickly as well. Unfortunately, I must maintain some semblance of my current insane hours, since I just have to get back into it for a couple more weeks after that. Then it's the job-search once more.

Another thing I'm looking forward to, rather unexpectedly, is making home-cooked meals. I'm getting sick of Thai food or Harvey's ... I don't think my stomach's thanking me either.

Overall, the gig is going well. Despite the hours and the usually intense workload and the craziness of our technological setup (all of which combined are the reasons I have a job right now anyway), I'm liking the work. The people are cool, except for Mr. Tebby. He's got an ego on his shoulders, I'll tell ya. At night, I can walk around the sets and imagine I'm in film school again ... except in film school, we didn't really have sets ... well, "Ligeia" did; everyone else shot 'on location.' I'm getting into amusing little pseudo-philosophical discussions with the other 'night' worker, Fred the security guy. I enjoy having the run of the place, and in particular not really having to deal with, um, a lot of people... Hey, I'm a computer-nerd, what can I say?

Hmm, going home soon. Can't write anymore. Tired. Later.

It's good to be alive ...

2006-04-26T15:55:00.000-04:00

Cuz, damn, do I love me some of those Honey Nut Cheerios.

Thank god for the shower curtain

2006-04-26T15:53:00.000-04:00

It turns out that people really do fall down in the shower and almost kill themselves. Whaddya know?

I blame Extreme Steve.

2006-04-20T04:54:00.000-04:00

You may think it sad that this might as well have been written by me.

I do not.

Who doesn't like fake pregnancy boobs?!?

2006-04-20T04:37:00.000-04:00

Shit ... I clicked "Order."

guys like me are mad for turtle meat ...

2006-04-20T04:29:00.000-04:00

I do not enjoy wasting my time fixing other people's mistakes.

I've just spent a couple of hours tediously fixing mistakes, a few of which were made by the other assistant, but most of which were committed by the camera department. Sigh. Anyway, that's my job. The night-shift guy. Actually, as often as not I do enjoy the craziness and the routine of the job; but I don't appreciate it when my work is complicated by the neglects of others. Alas ... it's not like I don't make mistakes either ... But I do feel awful about them when I make them.

I don't think I have anything more to say right now.

The Asians are coming, the Asians are coming...

2006-04-19T01:56:00.000-04:00

A little free time at work has afforded me a little stroll through my Amazon.ca account. I was checking out Sci-fi & Asian titles and Wish-listing them ... After about 15 minutes of this, I checked out my Shopping Cart, and realized I had 4 Asian films ready to go - 1 Korean and 3 Japanese. Weird. I must be in a mood or something. But on the plus side, there's Pulse. Gonna have to click Order, I think...

So this is how it is ... is it?

2006-04-15T16:50:00.000-04:00

Last night, I had a leftover curry that had obviously worked some bacterial voodoo on itself, so ... well ... I won't describe anymore ... I was quite unhappy as I'd been looking forward to it all week. Note to self: when a label reads "Use immediately after opening", you'd bloody well better follow that advice.

Since my days start at 5 or 6 pm now, my weekends more or less consist of me doing something in the evening - which is my late morning/afternoon - and then sitting in my room watching movies or playing videogames for 6 or 7 more hours. I don't like this schedule. I can't say that it varies too differently from my old schedule, even in terms of what I do with my free time, but those few later hours really do seem to make a difference. Whatever get-up-and-go I normally might have is entirely absent from me during this weird night-shift routine. Ironically, I'm probably more content when I'm busy at work.

So my website is up and running, though it's already a bit anachronistic (ie, I wanna do some different things with it), and there are a few glitches I have to iron out; but I thought I'd rather have a web-presence and receive feedback.

Go forth to www.metaballistic.com and, um, multiply my readership ...

Welcome to the Insult Blog.

2006-04-11T23:02:00.000-04:00

You fucking suck donkey balls; don't you know that?! I hate you, and your smelly pants too. Yeah, those stupid-looking things that you wear every goddamn day cuz you're too fucking cheap 'n' lazy to go buy some decent clothes. Jesus Honey-eatin' Christ, I'm so bloody sick of your incessant whining. Let's not even start on the snoring! Exactly what kind of a cross between a warthog and a hippopotamus are you?!? You stink, you and your whole lousy operation - and I quit!

Thank you for listening.

Winnie the Pooh says ...

2006-04-11T22:58:00.000-04:00

Post is in agreement:

Post wants more Honey. Give us more Honey. Honey all the time. Honey in the morning, Honey in the evening, and Honey all night long. Yes, Honey is aaaaall right!

Honey is tasty. Honey is yummy. Honey looks sweet. In short, Post thinks Honey ... is a honey.

News from the front will be sporadic, at best...

2006-04-09T17:13:00.000-04:00

So my first week of work ended up totalling about 68 hours ... No wonder all I can do is wander around the house in a zombie-like daze or stare at a TV screen and shoot stuff. I pray that the rest of the show is not like this.

Now I'm gonna gripe for a moment. I like everyone I'm working with. But I kinda feel that I'm getting tossed all the extra shit to clean up. I'm in a difficult bind cuz technically my job is to stay until all the work that's been left for me is done ... but this week has been so fucking crazy. Unlike the editors and the first assistant, I haven't been allowed the luxury of, say, deciding to go home after a 10-hour shift or so. I've gotta stay until it's done, or as done as it can be - which has translated into 13-hour work-days for me. I'm hoping it's just first-week jitters. This week I may have to stand up for myself ...

Actually, Friday night - because we were all caught up from my collossal effort on Thursday night - afforded me a fair amount of free time while at work; while other tasks were running I was surfing the interwebographaphone. That was a much-needed break from the previous stress-fest I'd been experiencing. See, a fair amount of my job is time-management - how to effectively coordinate all my tasks, on some occasions doing things simultaneously on three or four separate computers in order to save myself some grief. I'm starting to learn how to think on my feet, which is good. I may have lost one or two hours my first couple of nights because I didn't exactly know how to best manage everything ...

And I really don't like wasted time; it bothers me greatly.

Update...

2006-04-06T02:02:00.000-04:00

So ...

I'm just sittin' here ...

Waitin' for our drives to reboot ...

After crashin' ...

Again ... and again ...

I've lost about two hours of 'productivity' tonight to hardware problems. I am in a surprisingly good mood given the situation.

...

Oh, hey, my file copy worked - no crashing this time.

This may have been the most boring and useless post ever, but at least it took up some time for me!

My New Job

2006-04-05T16:53:00.000-04:00

I've been so tired for the past few days, I haven't really been able to write that much here about the new gig. But anyway, thanks to my myriad network of contacts (ie, Steve) I landed myself a second Trainee job, so I now just need one more gig in the next 7 months to qualify for the DGC. Taking a tip from Matt, who doesn't blog in specifics about his workplace - so as not to be internet-searchable - I shall do likewise and not mention the name of the show ...

Thanks to all my ChiaFans, who have sent their congrats and queries.

I just got into the office, and the editors told me they forgot to call me to have me come in later ... so I think I'm just going to be twiddling my thumbs for an hour or so until the crew gets shooting again. Also, I was told that most of the work that I spent many wee morning hours racing to complete has to be redone (though thankfully not by me right now) because there was an incorrent procedure in the post-synching (having nothing to do with me) from the get-go. Sheesh.

It's been fucking nuts. The first night I came home wondering if there was any possible reason I might want to stay in this career-path ... I was feeling rather down. But yesterday was a lot better. Learned some things, got better at others, and I'm just generally understanding the workflow more now. But I remain somewhat baffled by the enormity of the task at hand.

One of the exciting (read: terrifying) things about the show is that instead of shooting on HD tape, the footage is recorded to digital files on 4 Gigabyte media cards. And these cards are really expensive. Which means that the camera department only has about eight of these cards which only hold about 10 minutes of full-res High Def ... Every ten or so minutes, a guy from the camera dept drops off a couple of cards, takes the cards from which we've transferred the data onto our hard drive, and proceeds to erase and re-use the cards again and again. Which means that we're working entirely digitally, using a destructive means of recording. Already, somehow, somewhere (again, not at all my fault; it happened before I started working), an entire scene was lost in the digital aether.

Daniel, you can stop smirking now!

The Great Pea-Spilling Incident of April Four

2006-04-04T14:01:00.000-04:00

And just like that, the bag tumbled over. There were peas in the towels, peas in the cat food, peas in the water. They were scattered across the counter and all over the floor. There were peas in the dishes and in the glasses, and in the soap, and under the fridge, and maybe even in the tupperware beneath the sink. In short, there were peas everywhere.

This will amuse my enemies:

2006-04-04T06:32:00.000-04:00

One day of work is all it takes for me to realize that Hell does exist ... We just live in it every day. Praise be to Satan.

Nothin' more fun than waitin' for someone

2006-04-03T12:24:00.000-04:00

1.

Well, it turns out I coulda gone to Niagara Falls with Daniel, and I coulda gone to the movie with Dave, cuz I didn't get the call until 11:30 am today to come up for the job interview for the job that starts this evening.

So I have an interview. We shall see if I have a job or not.

2.

Last night I discovered I enjoy the movie about the giant ape more and more each time I watch it. And damned if I didn't tear up yet again when that big brute plummeted from the Empire State Building. Naomi Watts has officially joined my list of Film Goddesses alongside Michelle Pfeiffer and Cate Blanchett. Now that's a threesome.

It's strange ... but I think Kong works really well on the small screen - not all of the huge-scale stuff, mind you, but rather in terms of length. Most critics and viewers seem to really enjoy the movie but with qualifications about the length, which I too have voiced. But on video - rather than in the confines of the theatre, the length felt about right ... with the first hour and last hours working particularly well. But then I'd rather err on the side of the overlong than the too brief.

Last night I might've declared Kong the 'Greatest Film Ever Made' if PJ had only included a scene of Kong whipping barrels at the sailors... Mayhaps that shall be in the extended version.

Leafs declared 2005 Stanley Cup Champions

2006-04-01T10:04:00.000-05:00

The Associated Press reports:

In a move which has stunned hockey fans and reporters alike, the National Hockey League’s Board of Governors, at the behest of NHL Commissioner Gary Bettman, has announced it will award the 2005 Stanley Cup to the currently beleaguered Toronto Maple Leafs franchise.

The 2004/5 season was cancelled due to a lockout of the NHL Players’ Association, which had been unable to find common ground with the NHL management after the expiration of the previous collective bargaining agreement. After almost a year of failed talks, the NHL management and the Players’ Association finally negotiated a new agreement in July of 2005. This was only the second time since its inception in 1894 that the Stanley Cup had not been awarded.

During the lockout, an Ontario group known as ‘Justice for Stanley’ unsuccessfully took the NHL to court, arguing that the trophy should be awarded regardless of the absence of NHL play. At the time, the league refused to award the Cup, but admitted that it could in the future be awarded to the “best hockey team in Canada.”

At last night’s press conference in Toronto, when asked why the league would award the Cup to the lowly Maple Leafs, Bettman replied, “We felt it important to acknowledge the long tradition of hockey in Toronto, and to give something back to the city’s long-suffering fans … In 1993, they had a run at the Cup and were put out of contention by Wayne Gretzky. In other words, it took the greatest hockey player ever to ruin the Leafs’ chances.

“That night dashed the long-term hopes of the team and its fans. The Leafs franchise has never recovered, making it unlikely that the team will experience the kind of miraculous end to their drought as happened to baseball’s Boston Red Sox a couple of years ago … Therefore, in honour of that near-win over a decade ago, we have reconsidered our official position on the 2005 lockout, and we are content to award the 2005 Stanley Cup to the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

The Toronto Maple Leafs had not won the Stanley Cup since 1967, the first year the league expanded beyond the “Original Six” teams. In 1979, the NHL assimilated four teams from its defunct professional competitor, the World Hockey Association. Since then, the league has grown to thirty teams overall, mostly expansion teams based in the United States.

Some critics have complained that the increasing expansion of the NHL has stretched talent pools thinner and made it more difficult for teams to hold onto their core line-ups of players. Even storied teams like Toronto and Montreal have found their chances of success in the modern NHL dwindling. This season, the Leafs find themselves several games out of playoff contention, which is unlikely to change given the team’s season-long lacklustre play and mediocre goaltending. Every year, sixteen of the NHL’s thirty squads make the playoffs: if the Leafs continue playing as they have all season, it will be the first time in eight years that they fail to qualify for the post-season.

Prior to the press conference, NHLPA spokesman Ted Saskin defended the modern game, saying, “What we find now is that the field is a lot more even. You can’t really have dynasties like those of Montreal or the Oilers anymore. It’s a lot more open. Which also means the likelihood of any one team winning the Cup is greatly reduced.”

Such statements have naturally fed the fears of long-time Leafs’ fans that their team will never bring home another Cup. Regarding the news of the league’s decision, one Leafs’ fan, Joseph Thompson of Newmarket, ON, remarked, “It’s amazing. You don’t know how relieved I am. I mean, I’ve been a Leafs’ fan for, like, twenty-seven years now and not once did I ever really, you know, believe that they had a real shot at it. And yet still I watch every game, like – like some hypnotized, uh, zombie. Even if we didn’t actually earn it, it’s just nice to get some recognition for our pain, you know.”

Such paranoia regarding the Leafs’ performance has become common in Toronto. Famed CBC hockey commentator Ron MacLean observes that Leafs’ fans “are an interesting bunch of people. They find themselves to be part of an eternally hopeless cause, and yet that’s what binds them together … They constantly talk about the terrible days of Harold Ballard or that game against Gretzky. They’re a community. And they steadfastly believe that the team deserves a Cup – despite all objective evidence to the contrary.”

Bettman admits being somewhat swayed by the intimidating presence of Leafs’ fans: “When they gather in bars, you know, some of them are sullen or taciturn, but then you get those guys that’re just downright scary. I made an executive decision that perhaps we shouldn’t piss these guys off.”

Though there has been criticism of the NHL’s decision, most players and coaches have accepted the logic. Philadelphia Flyers’ head coach Ken Hitchcock said he hoped that this “will shut up those whining Leafs and their f***ing fans once and for all.”

The official ceremony will take place at the Air Canada Centre tonight after the Toronto-Buffalo game. When asked about tonight’s game, Toronto coach Pat Quinn remarked, “It’s gonna be a great night. We’re still in the playoff race, of course, and our boys are gonna try hard to get the ‘W’. It’s just comforting to know that even if we lose, we’ll win

so bloody tired ...

2006-03-30T11:55:00.000-05:00

Various things in the past 10 hours have conspired to keep me from achieving that glorious state of sleep, and since the NDP want me to get out there and vote, I guess I must give in and face the world.

Must shower first-wise.

I'm sorry, baby, really I am ...

2006-03-29T18:23:00.000-05:00

Apologies to my readers for my sporadic blogging the past couple of weeks. Not only is Blogger being a real fucking bitch - hanging for hours at a time - but I've been spending a lot of time writing a script this past week as well.

Dave & I are currently working on the Great Canadian Hockey Movie (tentatively titled "Bumblebees"). We bounce ideas back and forth and I, with my free time, have been writing them up. The idea is that Dave will direct this thing some time in the future. Now he & I had been talking about some project like this on and off after I pitched it to him several years ago. We even did 'research' like watching sports movies and the like to get a sense of the genre. But recently we actually started putting our pens where our mouths are ... and so far I'm pretty happy with what we've come up with. More than 50 pages in and it feels like there could be something to this. It's all very first-drafty, of course, but once all the ideas are on the page and in place, then we can deal with the more ominous task of editing, re-writing, and re-shaping the mofo. The big breakthrough, though, came on Saturday night when, after reading through the 18 pages I'd completed at that point, we riffed off each other and discovered the spine of the story.

Most significant to me, though: I've re-discovered the sheer joy of writing and exploring characters. Thank you, Amnon, for your book, which is working inspirational wonders.

And:

Then there's how much I looooove to write sex scenes. Of all kinds. Really, it's kinda wrong, how much I enjoy it. Not only is it titillating, but there's also such a satisfaction when you can create something of that type which seems fresh and character-driven. So often, sex scenes function just like action scenes -- you know, very little narrative or character going on; it's just about the spectacle or the anti-spectacle. While I'm certainly not averse to the occasional spectacle-based sex scene - much more so than a spectacle-based action scene - after awhile those scenes just seem a bit too staged. As if they're all just soft-core porn. Maybe I really should give up all my pretentions and just become a pornographer. Dear Penthouse ...

(Sheesh. I really hope my Mom doesn't read my blog -- Cam, keep her away!)

I'm only posting this because of the South Park connection, really

2006-03-24T15:31:00.000-05:00

Here is an article on the whole Cartoon debate which is much better written and sourced than my post a few weeks ago, and yes it does have something to do with South Park.

Before his dark materials...

2006-03-24T14:41:00.000-05:00

I have been a huge fan of Michael Moorcock's writings, fantasy and otherwise (I have most of the stuff he's written, which is a lot), since I was a mid-teenager. I have no recollection of how I got onto his particular brand of anti-heroic pulp fantasy in the first place. I suspect it was a LOTR-inspired binge into the fantasy sections of my school library and the local book shop during my high-school years, which also led me to Stephen R. Donaldson's Thomas Covenant novels and of course Robert E. Howard's original Conan books.

The most famous of Moorcock's books are the Elric novels, about an albino prince who seeks to rescue one beloved cousin (I love incest stories) from another not-so-beloved cousin and fails, thus setting off a chain of events leading to the potential destruction of the universe. If this all sounds very familiar, it ain't. A decade before Guy Gavriel Kay attempted to single-handedly reinvent Tolkien's high fantasy with The Fionavar Tapestry and way before Philip Pullman stunned the fantasy world with the incisive anger of His Dark Materials, Moorcock annihilated the preconceptions of the Hero's relationship to his world. (Yes, it's boy-centric.) The generic events may all be there, but the tone and interpretation are savagely different. The Elric novels themselves are one small part of a macrocosmic series of novels centred on an interdimensional, parallel-worlds-travelling Eternal Champion. The writer has spent a lifetime linking nearly all of his works into this massive super-narrative, and it was he who invented the fantasy concept of the "multiverse." I am not suggesting that Moorcock is among the greatest writers (though I've always very much enjoyed his writing style) but certainly his stories are some of those which resonate most deeply with my understanding of the world.

Which makes me shudder in terror at this. Yes, the minds who couldn't really get His Dark Materials off the ground are trying to get the Elric Saga made. I am terrified, for as surely as Matt has wanted to make Pullman's trilogy so I have longed to make the Elric movie(s). To the extent that a few years ago, I even considered just writing a first draft of a script. (I never did, of course; I generally don't write for fun, after all. I write only when I consider the prospect of actually getting something made.) Oh, the horror, the horror. As long as they don't cast Dakota Fanning as Cymoril (that would by just plain weird). Hmm, I wonder if they'll go the British-accent route, like every other fantasy movie and historical epic.

By the way, if you like fantasy and you've never read Kay's masterpiece The Sarantine Mosaic (consisting of "Sailing to Sarantium" and "Lord of Emperors"), you must!!! It takes place in a pseudo-Roman Empire, and has nary an elf, dwarf, or dragon; but the writing is lush, the story is life-destroyingly addictive, and the characters are vibrant. And if you don't like it then there really is something wrong with you. Consider it a test.

Ugh, part 81?

2006-03-23T00:58:00.000-05:00

A few weeks ago, I included a site-tracker on this blog so I could find out the search results that were bringing people to my site. And I've been stunned (yes, stunned, I tell you) to find out that my site rarely seems to rank very high in the results of search engines. Somehow I've managed to attract hits based on Miss Vickie's Lime & Black Pepper Chips and Clint Malarchuk Injury Video. I had to check up on that last one, cuz I'd totally forgotten I ever wrote about that ... Although I must've had the word 'video' somewhere else in the post, as I never owned or have wished to own footage of that horrible hockey injury (skate to the neck, blood everywhere, if you must know).

So in a desperate bid to attract perverts and/or strange people:

tits xxx Ashton Kutcher porn anal ass Olson Twins gay brothers Oasis kiss sex Natalie Portman nude lesbian sluts hot Oscars man action vagina cock motherfucker incest David Lynch stars suck balls Tera Patrick Tori Amos territory Stanley Kubrick prick snatch missionary vibrator girls gone wild pubic library savage beastiality cum rape spam Jenna Jameson what did you think you'd find? underage teens perhaps? kissing cousins whore David Hasselhoff extreme steve

Whew.

Well, I can sense those search results chiming in right now. Well, not yet - I must publish first.

Ugh, part 80

2006-03-23T00:41:00.000-05:00

Too much self-indulgent half-baked philosophizing? Note to self: there is such a thing.

Ugh, part 79

2006-03-23T00:39:00.000-05:00

Too much cheese? There is such a thing.

Squadrillions of friends

2006-03-22T17:06:00.000-05:00

1.

Matthew today pointed out that blogs are about imaginary friends ... implying that by reading a blog regularly we create an idealization of the blogger (good or bad) for ourselves and that this idealization, especially if we don't know the person, becomes a form of social contact.

I agree.

And I'm also pretty sure that the act of blogging itself is similarly a creation of such an imaginary friend: our narrativized selves (again good and/or bad). There is something both poignant and pathetic about a 'community' of people who feel the need to provide some semi-anonymous fictionalization of themselves to an unseen world. On the other hand, maybe this act of self-creation is a positive cultural phenomenon. Maybe we are taking the first few steps towards the hive mind or the transcendental consciousness of the species, wherein we will forsake the concepts of 'self' and 'other' forever. (Fat fucking chance! I also happen to like my 'self' and you 'others' - okay?!)

2.

Can't remember if I've blogged this before: A couple of years ago, I read about some scientific study in which various participants who watched differing amounts of TV and who all led different lives were asked to rate their confidence in their social lives. The people who watched several TV shows regularly claimed the highest overall satisfaction in their social lives and the people who watched TV sporadically claimed the lowest. (I don't know/remember how this was scored or in what manner the statistical analysis was calculated.) In short, it wasn't just about fantasy; the thesis was that the brain may already be hardwired to respond emotionally similar to recurring fantasy characters as to our real-world friends. Consciously, most of us are able to distinguish between the fantasy and the reality, between the friends of 'Friends' and the friends who come over for dinner. But inside, the brain apparently makes little distinction. And so a night in with the telly becomes a night out with the pals.

Anyone who has followed a TV show regularly - particularly a ludicrous soap opera, for example - understands this intuitively, if not verbally. We might laugh at this show's ridiculous acting or that show's lame plot contrivances, but because we 'know' the characters, we may continue to watch and feel at home in this world. Many of my friends (and I too) feel strongly attached to the Buffyverse and most of Joss Whedon's creations. Some become attached to the various characters of 'Survivor' or 'The Amazing Race' for the same reasons; and the fact that these shows are marketed as 'reality' only heightens this confusion between fantasy and reality-friends. Most of the people who I've heard express fascination with the reality shows of the past 5 or 6 years do it in terms of the characters they like or hate: I respect Richard Hatch; I love that American Idol guy; Paula Abdul's an idiot; What about those designing guys - they're hilarious ... and so on. No doubt this is no different than why we like many of the better sitcoms too: such as 'Cheers' where everybody knows your name (which song has sold a ton of sheet music so people can perform it at home.)

Again, it's not just identification - it's immersion.

Unfortunately, it often seems that the brain is not too discerning. The characters may be likeable and so we may continue to enjoy watching the show despite the fact that it sucks balls (which would explain much of the success of daytime TV).

3.

Much time and creative energy on the writer(s)' part goes into deciding when, say, two lead characters should consummate their long-planted feelings for each other, the problem being that seeing two people in love isn't dramatically interesting. We get bored. Though we understand the plot contrivances of reality shows, we continue to tune in, perhaps because all these reality shows so desperately flaunt our own perceived reality (Home Depot-sponsored castaways, outrageous designing shows...). Even the reality of the 1940s/50s Neorealist films is nothing more than a melodramatic Italian simulacrum; but at the time certain approaches to Neorealism were (illogically) praised for being more 'real' than others. (Let's not even talk about Dogme.) The fault is in ourselves; the brain appreciates similarity but it prizes difference, preferably in the model of a dramatic narrative, above that. And so the 'reality' of our fantasy friends can never approach too closely to our 'real' reality before we break out of the fantasy.

Which indicates to me that we intuit that 'self' (stasis) is good, but since 'other' means difference, it can lead to change both positive and negative. And stories are typically about mythologizing or deconstructing those changes to self. Those who don't attempt to understand that which is different - and, um, there really aren't any examples out there to support this, are there? - don't change their attitudes at all; they don't grow.

4.

It seems to me then that the brain's confusion between a TV social life and a real-world social life doesn't go that far to explaining the human need for stories; and I'm glad of that. Character is merely one aspect to story just as our friends are merely one aspect of our lives. And all are merely part of a complex internal system of digesting narrative and creating our own lives, which we constantly tear down and reconstruct. So too with the blogging world, one small tiny part ... but one which, like those TV shows, can be exclusionary. If most of your friends are unseen internet buddies or TV characters, there can't be much personal change, can there? Or what change there is cannot interact well with the external world. Now this is all very obvious. It's the reason we appreciate leading 'full' lives, whatever that means. But the opposite is true. If you are constantly diverted and never contemplative of the self, never comfortable in doing nothing, then there's not much opportunity for growth either.

I seem to have run myself out of words. I would like to think that I know these things, that I understand all this as it relates to my own life. Like many, I am extremely reluctant to change. I tend not to like being forced to confront things which are different, and I haven't always reacted gracefully in such situations. I suppose the truth is, in the words of the immortal Captain James Tiberius Kirk, "Reality is probably somewhere in the middle." Hmm. Thank you, oh recurring fantasy character, for explaining to me the nature of reality.

Not church-fun: real fun...

2006-03-20T13:16:00.000-05:00

The latest shocker from The Simpsons is that the Hamburgler was survived by his longtime companion Mayor McCheese. Holy shit! The lid is blown open off every children's Happy Meal ever. No more paper closets for the couple to hide in now.

But what is perhaps more shocking, and much more disturbing, is the suggested collusion between the elements of organized crime and the government officials of RonaldMcDonaldLand. Who else, besides Kent Brockman, has been keepng up on this story, or is even he blissfully unaware of the significance of the couple's union? Others may live in ignorance, feeling that peace has returned now that Hamburglar has passed on, but I know better: where there is one criminal, there may well be a thousand. We cannot let this story go unchallenged.

Also, what are the roles of Grimace and Birdie in this debacle? Is Birdie Ronald's whore? Is she addicted to the crack-like fries that Ronald keeps feeding her to the extent that when Ronald suggested she go out and whack Hamburgler to take the heat off his Playplace, she did it no questions asked? Or did Grimace smother Hamburgler with his globby purple form out of jealous love for Mayor McCheese? These are questions which must be asked, people. I know if I looked and acted like Grimace, and was made out to be a freak, I might enact some similar manner of revenge out of hatred towards the forces that created me. This is truly an unjust world, and Grimace has always been its bitch.

Finally, what is the role of Ronald McDonald in all this? He is the Puppet-master of RonaldMcDonaldLand, its titular patriarch, its God figure. But it's unclear what he does. Does this mean that Mayor McCheese is just an appointed official, a government-just-for-show, like Dubya's thrall to the shadowy figures inside the White House's inner sanctum? Has McCheese been trying, unlike Dubya, to wrest control from the secret oligarchy in an effort to return democracy to RonaldMcDonaldLand?

These are exciting times we live in. Keep your eyes and ears open, and be vigilant. We may well need to bring these fast-food nations to their knees...

Aliens build it

2006-03-19T20:58:00.000-05:00

Last week, Tina came over to support me during my illness. We watched "Raiders of the Lost Ark" and I found it a very odd experience. The movie is so silly and flippant, and I never remember this comic aspect to it. Somehow the film is able to subsume its more offensive passages under its comic veneer.

During the major chase sequence through Cairo, I was struck by how similar John Williams' score is to passages from Prokofiev's 'Cinderella.' This rather disturbed me at the time, though I can't say rightly if this is justified. So much of film scoring is about ripping off or adapting "real" music - whether it be Wagner, Holst, Prokofiev, Ligeti, Glass, whomever - that it hardly seems fair to complain about film composers doing their jobs.

Godard has been quoted as saying he prefers film music to be innocuous and of lesser quality - that way it doesn't, to his mind, interfere with the movie itself. I'm not sure how much this relates to blockbuster epics like "Star Wars" or "The Lord of the Rings," neither of which I'm sure Monsieur Godard is likely to be a fan. Certainly, a vast majority of film music is not particularly interesting in and of itself; I can think of very few composers I might place side-by-side with the pantheon of classical composers.

Howard Shore, at the very least, I am willing to add to the canon, if for no other scores than (of course) "The Lord of the Rings" and "Crash"; Nino Rota and Carter Burwell are other candidates. I suppose Williams deserves a place, though he is so guilty of theft that he's lucky all those dead composers don't come back and sue him for copyright issues. But if Spielberg is canonized so should Williams. (It irks me to admit such.) Time will tell whether or not film scores come to be considered the new 'classical' music, a postmodern version thereof without the connotation of 'popular' music, or continue to be seen as the retarded cousin.

L'animal du parti

2006-03-19T12:56:00.000-05:00

One more party, one more drunk. That seems to be what it's about. Matt & I realized the other day just how difficult it is to simply get laid when it's the same friends over and over. But then it's not about that, is it? (Or is it?!) Not that I have the social skills to aid in that situation; I'm purely a date-and-invite-over type of geek.

Another party I spent mostly in the kitchen. I ate almost nothing the entire time, though I did sample the hummus, which was excellent and the chocolate chips, which were quite tasty. Many ate of the ice cream and toppings, so that theme went over well, though obviously we'll have to do it again for summertime. Nicole kept putting food colouring in my beverages, followed by an M & M and a Ju Jube, and Brandy kept stealing my drinks. Erik fell to the kitchen floor yet again, so that was a bonus. And apparently, the lineup of teen-girl movies playing on the telly was a hit, at least so far as Bex and Brandy were concerned. At one point, I entered the living room to find Bex & Tama administering a massage to Matt and even though it was just a massage I felt like I'd attended the orgy from "Eyes Wide Shut." I think I screamed out, "Matt, how I hate you!" or some such. Throughout the evening there was much discussion of beavers, specifically of the Napanee-kind, more specifically the newspaper called The Napanee Beaver, which is so many types of hilarious. Also, it was heartening to meet a girl who avidly played videogames (she's taken). Oh girls-who-play-videogames, you are out there and you are sexy; come to me, please.

Later, several of us adjourned to the Brandy room, ostensibly to pet the cowering feline (by that, I mean Sammy), but ended up all ensconced on the bed, which I must say is amazingly comfortable. The blue tiger-striped tube-pillow is just about the best thing on the planet one might put one's head on.

Another 30 down; I suppose we'll be doing this all again to usher in Matt's 3rd decade of life.

In Memorium: 1997 - 2006

2006-03-18T13:31:00.000-05:00

Today, we at ChiaMac gather together to honour the memory of the dear, departed Chrisdish.

We shall not dwell on the mysterious circumstances of its demise, its improbable end-over tumble from the drying-rack to its shattered remains on the floor. Suffice it to say that authorities have ruled out foul play. And now we must perform the solemn task of moving on.

It was a good bowl, with a wholesome exterior and contours that made eating from it a pleasure. In life, the Chrisdish was unselfish and undemanding, asking only to be cleaned once in awhile. It seemed as if its entire being was wrapped up in the fulfilment of Chris' joy of eating. Truly, this is a dish to be missed. When time and wear had chipped its surface and youth had faded from its cracked visage, the Chrisdish never complained, never once asked to be taken from this world. Even during the great 3QF Dish-Relocation Wars of 2004 and 2005, the Chrisdish uttered nary a complaint; when returned to its rightful dormitory with the other plates - away from the serving and mixing bowls - it merely sighed in contentment, happy to get on with the rest of its life.

From the moment the Chrisdish was unwrapped in the Christmas of 1997 to its final day, this dish loved and was beloved. And we can think of no greater life lived than that.

Let us now close our eyes and observe a moment of silence, please.

.....

Thank you for your understanding.

Why I love David Cronenberg (and the French, apparently):

2006-03-16T13:37:00.000-05:00

(From an interview by Adam Nayman in Eye Weekly)

Nayman:

Another reality of the DVD age is that someone who watched the Oscars is going to rent your 1996 film 'Crash' by accident. And then probably freak out.

Cronenberg:

I have to tell you that when the producer of [Paul Haggis'] 'Crash' heard my complaints about the theft of the title, he said -- condescendingly -- that "perhaps someone will discover Mr. Cronenberg's 'Crash'." In five years, when the bloom is off [Haggis' movie], it's going to be confusing. In France, they refused to call that film 'Crash'. They called it 'Collision'. They said: "There is only one 'Crash'."

---

I couldn't agree more.

30.

2006-03-15T12:57:00.000-05:00

Happy Birthday to Brandy,

Happy Birthday to Brandy,

Happy Birthday to my roommate-who-is-now-really-really-really-old-and-who-if-she-isn't-already-dead-will-probably-end-up-hanging-herself-or-sticking-her-head-in-the-oven-out-of-sheer-hopelessness-at-the-emptiness-of-existence,

Happy Birthday to YOU!!!

Munch My Butt

2006-03-12T20:38:00.000-05:00

Anyone still doubting the superiority of The Simpsons needs to watch tonight's episode, structured as multiple flashbacks-within-flashbacks. My brain is still trying to suss out the storyline. A definite companion piece with '22 Short Films About Springfield' (about which on the DVD commentary the writer admits he stole the title from some art-film he never saw -- grrr!).

---------

In other news, the development of my website is proceeding apace. Which basically means it's more or less done, as far as a starter site is concerned, so I'll let the world know when it's up and running. Don't get too excited, cuz it's not that exciting. More of an exercise in how to get dumbtards like me to do cool stuff.

---------

And in other other news, I'm going to attempt a re-tackling of my Mosquito Moe movie, one last time. If I can't get something out of that footage now, I'm burning the negative forever ... in the proverbial sense, of course. Cuz it's video. Meaning there (ahem) is no negative. It's - it's a digital signal recorded on videotape. Ahem.

---------

And in yet more other other news, - ah, fuck it, I'm outta here!

Gimme consistency

2006-03-12T14:15:00.000-05:00

4 days and counting.

Still got my cough and I'm hoping it's not the pseudo-asthma thing I had last year. Maybe later in the week I'll visit the walk-in clinic if there's no change.

On account of this illness, I missed the epic trip to Buffalo with Brandy & friends. I'm kinda sad and kinda not that I missed the experience. She left at 9am and returned at 2 am, so I think whatever was going on out there in that car woulda damn near killed me, assuming my cold hadn't already.

Bikes 'n' Suits

2006-03-11T14:31:00.000-05:00

Just watched my DVD copy of "The Bicycle Thief" for the first time since I got it five years ago; first time I'd seen the movie in about 8 or so years. Wow, it's good. (FYI, the film concerns a family in post-WW2 Italy whose income is dependent on the possession of a bike; Antonio has received a 'good' city job as a posterer ... then of course the bike gets stolen. The rest of the movie is the unsuccessful quest for the bike. Sound riveting? It is, every frame.) One question though. All of the men wear suits, even the proletariat. So, in terms of dress, what distinguishes the proletariat from the bourgeoisie? The cut and wear of the suit? Do the wives make the suits from cheap cloth, or are the suits simply affordable like T-shirts are to us now? These are vital questions to which I've never received the answers...

So much babies ...

2006-03-10T21:30:00.000-05:00

And another couple is lost.

Steve, Brigitte, and I visited with Renee and her 3-month old twins Oliver and Max. The kids were cute, of course, and Renee in good spirits. But I'm glad to see Renee wasn't magically transported into "I'm-a-mother-I-created-life-the miracle-of-birth"-type of mania that seems to be so popular among new mothers. I'm always up for a healthy dose of pragmatic cynicism. Some people are baby-people; some people aren't. I am not. No surprises there, I'm sure.

It is conceivable that I could conceive a child, but it would have to be out of my power to do so. And - in some ways thankfully - it is currently out of my power to perform the act which leads to conception.

It was very amusing to see Roger's enjoyment of his child's screaming, however. Hmm, a father's love can do so much, can't it?

So now three of my friends are down and out. With most of my other friends coupled, can more babies be far behind?

Tell me, please

2006-03-09T16:10:00.000-05:00

Does anybody know why there are always horrific spelling and grammatical errors in spam? Wouldn't that make it easier to get caught by spam filters?

I'm so sick and tired

2006-03-09T15:34:00.000-05:00

At about 3:30 AM, I emerged from beneath my comforter to go to the bathroom and it felt like the difference between the day and night sides of Mercury. The cold seared through me, and the shakes began.

Me and the shakes go way back. Over the last ten years, the shakes have been my best indicator of forthcoming illness. This time, since I already had the cough, they were a little late. Typically, when I receive the shakes, it's followed the next day by a fever and, on one occasion, Chicken Pox. So far, no fever and thank god no fucking Pox.

Now, when I mention the shakes, I don't mean that I feel a bit chilly or that I have to huddle somewhere for warmth. I mean that my body is suffering a near-epileptic fit, I can't speak because of my chattering teeth, and it's difficult to move anywhere on account of the lack of basic control. Oddly enough, I kinda like the shakes. It doesn't last for more than a couple of minutes. And I really feel like I've made it through something substantial when it's over. Unfortunately, the shakes happen to a symptom of longer illness, whether it be a day or a week.

So I'm taking things slowly today, or at least feeling like I am. My body aches, my head throbs, I'm exhausted because I barely slept. I don't know if I'll be able to visit Renee tomorrow, or go to Buffalo on Saturday...

Ugh. I just wanna sit and watch movies and rest, but I have resumes to fax out, dammit.

The Shape of Things to Come

2006-03-08T17:09:00.000-05:00

I am taking a short break from the current addiction of my life - the online game 'World of Warcraft which Steve introduced me to back in September - in an effort to put my unemployment to better use. Certainly, I have not been spending all my time the past two-plus months playing videogames; many other diversions useless and otherwise have kept me pretty occupied, the Olympics and my return to blogging to name a couple.

As anyone who has seen my various collections - of books, CDs, DVDs, games... - can intuit, there is a compulsive aspect to my personality which can either feed or counter my inherent laziness. Sometimes my desire to make a video, for eg., becomes an obsession, thus overriding my procrastination, but other times I get caught up in a videogame, for eg., which annihilates my usefulness with regards to anything else in my life.

This compulsiveness is a very old trait of mine, unintentionally fostered as a loner (and sometimes lonely) child to help me feel better about my life. Time can pass very slowly if you don't have many friends and have few guiding interests. Hence the endless hours of my childhood spent designing roleplaying games from scratch, writing and drawing comics (which utterly sucked). In university, this morphed to writing short sci-fi stories and later a novel which I rewrote about 5 times (had to restart 2x from scratch because of hard drive crashes on my x286 DOS-equipped PC) but never finished ... because it sucked.

Enter my interest in screenwriting. Over the past few years, I have completed one first-draft of a feature screenplay and a third-draft of another. And yet neither of these scripts is close to camera-ready, assuming there were money and willingness anywhere to get them made. Now Dave & I are trying once again - rather tentatively thus far - to restart our interest in The Great Canadian Hockey Movie (as yet untitled, by the way). At the very least, my interest in a world beyond the confines of my room is being tickled. I'm currently working on my website, and hopefully Matt & I will be able to figure out how to transfer my Blogger archives to the site instead of opting out with a simple link.

I am in eternal envy of those who are able to manage their lives so gracefully. It can take me so much longer to get something done than others, mostly because I lack self-discipline. It took me about 9 months to get around to stringing cable and telephone lines up to my room because I knew I had to do it in such a way to be unintrusive to the roomies. I often wonder if I'm just a teenager trapped in an adult's body ... as if my compulsive nature has insulated me from the simplest difficulties of everyday life. Not that I see myself as merely an adult-aged teen: a well-defined sense of morality and consideration towards others are some of my better, mature characteristics. But I don't always see the proverbial forest...

Perhaps the thing that I think about most and which might be most disturbing too - how much does all this even bother me? Assuming I don't shuffle off this mortal coil in 2008 like Matt has predicted I will, will I be the same undisciplined, underambitious 'teenager' when I'm 50 or 60? What will have changed in the meantime? Watching 'Elizabethtown' I realized in the event of my parents' deaths, or even in the event of their infirmity, I wouldn't trust my ability to deal with all of the specifics. I can barely handle my taxes. But then, maybe this is all hand-wringing and when the time comes - not soon I hope - I will get through it with aplomb.

Ah, early-life crisis. I wish I had the money to buy a sports-car and a trophy-girlfriend ... but then maybe lack of money is the issue, after all.

A Road Trip to Avoid

2006-03-07T16:43:00.000-05:00

Last night I watched Cameron Crowe's 'Elizabethtown' - a director whose filmography has always made me trepidatious. 'Almost Famous' and 'Say Anything' are films which stand out because of their intelligent characters. There is no doubt that Crowe can write and direct interesting people for whom an audience can't help but root. And I must give a hand to anyone who can make Orlando Bloom's acting watchable, a feat which only Crowe and Peter Jackson have succesfully achieved thus far. Gore Verbinski and Ridley Scott should pay attention.

Some actors are remarkably director-dependent like that, but so it must follow that some directors are also actor-dependent. And Crowe without the energetic strangenesses of The Cusacks or the humanist precision of Frances McDormand is left adrift in his self-constructed sea of quirky sentimentality. In the first half-hour of 'Elizabethtown,' Drew (Bloom) visits his just-deceased father's casket and remarks about the look on his father's coroner-manipulated face: "Whimsical" is what he eventually says ... for that is Crowe's guiding statement about his film. We can look upon tragedy in a variety of ways, so rather than mourning the loss why not celebrate the fathomless mystery of life's unfolding, or better yet participate in it by going on an ill-advised road trip at the whim of a girl who's almost as cruel as Amelie? A very easy, apolitical philosophy rarely espoused by those who live in war zones or by those who have lost entire families to the ravages of disease. Thank you, Mr. Crowe.

Lest I seem too negative, I will backtrack to 'whimsy.' Whimsical is an excellent word to describe this film: "playfully quaint or fanciful, esp. in an appealing and amusing way" and "acting or behaving in a capricious manner." This film is full of whimsy. Death and marriage side-by-side, failure and success, all these themes are encapsulated whimsically but without wit. There is little that is particularly fun about the world Crowe presents. The effect is not so much spontaneity as controlled caprice, which obviously doesn't make sense. How many montage scenes of our lead lovers on the phone does it take to add up to a loving relationship? When you add in a healthy dose of nostalgic '70s rock, you can never have too many. All of the characters' wacky traits, strange or undesireable or sinful as they may be, are merely slaves to the writer/director's outrageous farce. An old friend of the family who swindled the dead father is unreasonably redeemed. An off-camera near-sexual-assault is transformed into a stand-up comedy routine. Rather than exploring the sociopolitical dimensions of what it means to be a failure in a capitalist-dominated country, Crowe opts out: 'failure' is merely an obstacle on the road to success which, in Crowe's mind, means ending up with the manipulative pixie. The whimsy is insufferable.

To be fair, the actors all try their damnedest to breathe life into this shallow examination of modern failure, but they like Drew must be content with their own modest successes. Kirsten Dunst is nearly radiant, Bloom manages some expressiveness for once, and poor Susan Sarandon must live in the shadow of the better-written anxious-mother role in 'Almost Famous.' 'Elizabethtown' is just that, though - a younger brother living in his older's shadow; or maybe it's just a sequel, self-satisfied in rehashing once-interesting themes and characters and attempting to enliven the proceedings with even-stranger observational behaviour. And we all know how often the sequel betters its predecessor.

... A-Changin'

2006-03-07T03:26:00.000-05:00

Don't run away just because the ChiaBlog looks different. Wait'll you get a load of the ChiaMac website ... um, once I get it up and ready. But don't hold your breath -- I'm not the fastest turtle in the tank. And it's not actually that exciting - there's only so much you can do with iWeb.

Anyhoo, once again, I've changed the Comments system. I'm no longer moderating. Instead, you'll have to decipher a series of clues, each more fiendish tha- ... Well, at the least you'll have to type in those stupid anti-spam letters. But the point is that you get instant gratification rather than waiting several hours for me to ponder whether or not I want to publish your comment.

So close ...

2006-03-06T17:21:00.000-05:00

Of late, I have been answering the phone more often in the off-chance that one of the numerous production offices to which I've sent my resume responds with a job interview. I figure that, since the next season of ReGenesis should be going to camera in the summer, I have exactly the right amount of time should a show come along now. So, please Toronto film world, hire an out-of-work Trainee Assistant Picture Editor.

Anyway, I got a call this afternoon from the Post Supervisor for "Step." He was very gracious and soon made it clear that he'd received my resume but that the show was too low-budget to hire a Trainee. And then he wished me luck.

How many times in my life have I experienced similar conversations - usually when I've asked out a girl - where my rising anticipation is so cruelly dashed into nothingness...?!?

At least I know that the resumes I'm faxing out are making it to the right people.

Ugh, part 78

2006-03-06T00:10:00.000-05:00

I'm very glad I was drunk through this entire Academy Awards; I'm not sure how my sober friends made it. Every year, it's the same-old thing. The Oscars are dull and predictable or dull and unpredicatable in the worst possible way, and every year I ask myself why I'm watching. Of course, it's 'de rigeur' for anyone to slam the Oscars - that's what everyone who has half a brain does - but it doesn't explain why we all watch, year after year. And for my part, I can (I think) honestly say that the only reason I watch, particularly since it's no longer a-The Lord of the Rings-year, is because there's usually some small gathering in the space that I live and it would be rude of me not to attend. I've always despised the Oscars - admittedly I don't know how much of that is genuine or merely cultural/assimilated reflex. Before the Yorkie crowd I hang out with now, I never watched the Oscars ... ever. And now it just seems like an annual ritual devolved into some vast cultural gambling test or sociological experiment.

One thing: Jon Stewart cannot save the Oscars; he certainly won't be back, that's for dang sure. He acquitted himself well, for the most part, though he did occasionally rely on the "c'mon this is good material" afterthought a few too many times.

I barely remember any of the awards, save Altman's honourary Oscar - of course, long well-deserved - and the fact that somehow what is supposed to be an utterly mediocre movie, "Memoirs of a Geisha" (which I admit I have not seen), was nominated for 4 awards and won Cinematography.

I also remember that "Crash" won Best Picture and Ang Lee won Best Director. Which, in Academy-ese, means that the Academy recognizes that Ang Lee did a better job with "Brokeback Mountain" and it was the better film, but due to the safe racial politics of "Crash" it seemed better that 2 social-message movies won than just a single, but far superior film ("Brokeback Mountain"). A few days ago, I told Brandy that "Crash" would win because it didn't have any scenes which visually represented queer desire in it ("Philadelphia" won because it was chaste) which obviously "Brokeback Mountain" does. Also, since everyone is 'guilty' in "Crash," it's a very easy movie to dismiss, politically speaking. "Crash" has nothing unique to add about American racial politics, whereas "Brokeback Mountain" takes a very streamlined story about two characters, and their very specific political and social problems with all of the consequences which those problems entail, and follows it through faithfully to the bitter end. "Crash" ends up seeming like a parlour trick in comparison. Unless we're talking about a Spike Lee joint, it's always safer to go for the 'race' movie than the 'gay' movie.

One last note: Did anyone else note the disturbing - and racist, anyone? - use of black presenters onstage. One black presenter was for Documentary Short - which subtext indicates 'keepin' it real, dontcha know, but not as real or important as the long subject' after all - and Queen Latifah for (what was it?) Best Score or Song (I'm sorry, I've forgotten which; I was rather drunk), something musical anyway. 'Nuff said. Them blacks know music as well. Some might say that such shortcomings were more than made up for by the fact that a race-based drama won Best Picture, "Tsotsi" for Best Foreign Film, and "Hustle and Flow" for Best Original Song. In reply I would say thank heavens for such microscopically small favours and maybe next year will be different ...

Not one of the best movies ever made...

2006-03-04T21:49:00.000-05:00

Some dude sent in a review to Amazon.ca gushing about King Kong. At the end, in all earnestness, he wrote this:

"If you liked this movie you'd also like: Godzilla: Final Wars, Lord of the Rings Trilogy, Alien Quadrilogy, Jarhead, Zathura, Brokeback Mountain, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire."

Uh-huh.

How to Revisit a Donkey

2006-03-04T19:13:00.000-05:00

Very late last night, Brandy & I crawled out of 3QF after some drinking and pillow-fighting to wind our way to The Comfort Zone to see my brother Brad and cousin Dean onstage. We were there just after midnight and the band playing before The Donkeys was doing an admirable job of ensuring there would be no audience left after the set. Man, they sucked with a capital F. The Donkeys, however, rocked ass. Brother Cameron assures me that you would call it 'stoner rock,' but I guess heavy rock would suffice. The sound in the basement that is The Comfort Zone was not terrific, but then I didn't come to hear the lyrics anyway. With a band like The Donkeys, it's all about the guitar and drums boring into the deepest nerves within your skull. No flesh shall be spared.

Apparently, my gong - a Christmas gift a few years ago - never survived the recording sessions; I am saddened but it was for a good cause at least. Seems the band might have an album out sooner than later.

This is a 2003 article from the Montreal Mirror about the boys.

And in the same paper a year later, this article indicates The Donkeys' local popularity (scroll down to 'Heaviest Local Bands').

Go Donkeys Go!

Ode to a Shitty Hockey Team

2006-03-04T13:20:00.000-05:00

The Leafs suck balls.

I have balls.

Therefore, the Leafs can suck my balls.

further proof I am a consumer whore

2006-03-03T01:16:00.000-05:00

Anyone who collects DVDs understands how difficult it is to find the perfect database-management software that doesn't cost an arm and a leg. Which is why about a year ago I tried out a little Mac application called 'fennel DVDManager.' I've used this for some time now and I find it to be a simple, intuitive program that I really like. Best of all, it's free, or more accurately it's donationware. One of the features I like most, and which I haven't yet used, is an Export to HTML option, which would allow me to post a link on my in-progress website for others to view my ever-expanding collection.

However, the software only allows for a single database and does not allow for an intuitive way to display your Owned DVDs without your Wish List DVDs; though you can, however, do the latter. So if you Own 74 DVDs, have a Wish List of 35, have Borrowed 2 from someone, and also Lent 1 out -- assuming you use the software to keep track of all this, which I do -- the database would total 110 DVDs. But as far as I'm concerned, only the ones I Own and Lend out count as far as my total number is concerned.

(Very geeky, I know.)

A few weeks ago, I sent Fennel an email detailing my concerns and gave them some concrete examples of features I might like to see implemented in the program that would persuade me to 'buy' it -- ie, since it's donationware, you can opt to give them a little money for further development, in lieu of a purchase price. I've been hedging about whether or not I wanted to pay, given my above concerns (even though I've been using the program for a year). One of my suggestions was a Collection filter, which the program would default to and which would indicate only the DVDs I Own and have Lent out. I would thus be free to make a full Wish List of as many movies as I want and it would automatically be sorted separately in the database; this would also facilitate sorting a Wish List for the Export to Web option.

Well, I just received a point-for-point response from one of the developers at Fennel Software. Not only was he apologetic of the delay (I didn't even expect a response), he was extremely thankful for my suggestions and indicated that one or two might actually be implemented, possibly sooner than later. (They're apparently working on an Intel version and some more advanced features right now.) In addition, he promised that he would follow-up with progress reports concerning any of my suggestions.

Sheeeeit -- now that is some damn-fine customer service!

Based on this response alone - even if they are never able to include my Collection filter - I will happily donate a little money to an indie developer and continue to use the program. And I loyally plug them here: if you are a Mac-user with a need for a simple, elegant DVD-management program, then check out DVDManager.

Well, it wasn't Chocolat.

2006-03-02T15:09:00.000-05:00

On Tuesday night, I got roped into seeing The Pink Panther (I should learn how to turn down free movies) and yesterday Dave & I caught Cache (I'm too lazy to frenchify the e). Predictably enough, the former is quite lame and the latter is quite an extraordinary piece of filmmaking.

The Pink Panther is as dull as the reviews have indicated, with but a few scattered chuckles and a couple of truly hilarious moments to alleviate the monotony. Comedy's a tricky thing, and even trickier when the stories are so trite and unengaging. Some occasionally clever wordplay gets lost amidst the (intentionally) horrific accents and the all-too-frequently telegraphed slapstick. Beyonce Knowles may be one of the most gorgeous creatures on Earth, but as soon as she opens her mouth the veil is lifted. For a few curative chuckles, I may have to pick myself up the DVDs of Roxanne and LA Story.

Based on the four movies of Michael Haneke's that I've seen -- The Castle, The Piano Teacher, Time of the Wolf, and Cache -- I'd have to say he's one of the more exciting modern deconstructionists. Cache is an ink-blot test of a film, in which just enough narrative clues have been provided to tease us into interpretive dead-ends; our cluelessness is a testament to his cosmic joke. And yet, the movie feels entirely satisfying and self-contained. The perp doesn't matter; it might as well be we, the viewers, who are recording and sending the videotapes, if for no other reason than to have an excuse to watch a movie.

My first Haneke film was The Castle, an adaptation of the Kafka novel. I'm a huge Kafka fan, so when I read about this film in the TIFF catalogue several years ago, it was a must-see for me. I'd never heard of Haneke before, had no idea of his rising status. I loved The Castle, more so than the previous German version I'd caught on TV. The Piano Teacher sealed my interest in the filmmaker and by then he'd garnished a reputation as a misanthropic nihilist. Reactionary critics and reviewers love those two words, as if dubbing something nihilistic or misanthropic eternally ascribes to it the magical property of aesthetic obscurity. Altman, the Coen brothers, Haneke, all misanthropic nihilists. (I remember Burton's Batman movies being described as nihilistic and misanthropic.) But I've always found that the so-called misanthopists and nihilists make the best moralists, precisely because they are unafraid of the most unpleasant characters and situations. The deconstruction styles of Altman and Haneke tend to remove the visual gloss that many movies purporting to examine moral issues retain, while the Coen brothers use their visual gloss to explicitly make po-mo comments on Hollywood genre.

Damn, this post took me about twice as long to write on account of the hour-long IM conversation with the Brandina, wherein we (or rather I) examined the possibility of initiating an online romance with her co-worker in order to drive that person to suicide. All in evil fun. What was that about misanthropy again?

For Brandy:

2006-03-02T13:50:00.000-05:00

The unfortunate truth is neither Sammy nor Zammy has accepted Jesus.

Amnon, the Book-binder

2006-03-01T12:08:00.000-05:00

Amnonpaper
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

My Mom clipped this article out for me, little realizing that Amnon had been a professor of mine. Hooray for the Yorkies!

I'm gonna go out and get his book ... even though I already paid several hundeds of dollars for the pleasure of learning this stuff already.

Idolatrous!

2006-02-28T18:31:00.000-05:00

"To demonize an entire country for the opinions -- however brazen they may be -- of a few of its citizens is just as misguided as saying Osama Bin Laden speaks for all Muslims. To use violence and intimidation to silence those one disagrees with is worse." Eye Weekly editorial, Feb. 9, 2006

I've been a bit apprehensive about writing this post. Much of my life has been spent concerned what other people think of me, an inward pre-occupation which belies my occasional (and necessary) stubbornness. At the heart of it, I am a sensitive human being. This may seem a strange way to broach the reason I posted the 12 Danish cartoons the way I did, but I think this might be more effective than my initial reaction, which was an ill-considered rant. At first, I wondered if I might lose my long-nurtured lefty credibility, but then I realized I didn't care so much because - as regards the issue of the cartoons - so much bullshit has been thrown around left-wing and right that one more opinion couldn't possibly matter.

Some quick background and some responses:

Anti-Danish protests
Lebanon apologizes to Denmark
Cartoon fury
Muhammad cartoons timeline
Eye Weekly editorial
Divinity, adieu
Why I published the cartoons

Avoiding all of the other issues wrapped up in this astonishing affair -- decades of foreign policy involving nations I'm not soon likely to visit; centuries of religious and cultural animousity; and the simple truth of human nature, that it can be so easy to give into the sway of the mob -- I made the decision that rather than printing all the cartoons at once (where my readers would just look at a few, then click away), I would instead post the cartoons as they might have appeared in the paper, one by one. My readers would thus see, as I did, that some of the cartoons were unfunny and pandered to stereotypes, but also -- and more importantly -- that they were merely dull satire and certainly not the "hate speech" they had been made out, by some, to be.

Since no crimes had been committed other than some poor taste and judgement, what could possibly be the justification for the global censure of what amounts to an idea? It might be a crime under Muslim law to publish images of Muhammad -- and that really is what sparked the initial protests (no?), not the racial stereotyping -- but such laws do not apply to Denmark or to any other Western nation. Separation of Church and State is the mark of the modern secular democracy, after all. (I am aware that the Christian Right holds a remarkable amount of power in the USA, but that's another issue.) To give into such pressure, whether Muslim or any other religion or ideology, is to foster further suppression, born of the fear that future ideas will provoke future violence. To give such credence to fear is to imbue the thing feared with an even greater power; self-censorship is thus often as dangerous as external censorship.

I suspect that many of the leaders who "condemn[ed] the cartoons" only looked at the worst ones, if even those. So much of the Western (non-violent) furor seems in retrospect to be rather analogous to the protests against "The Passion of the Christ" and "The Last Temptation of Christ" - crying anti-semitism in the former case and blasphemy in the latter without ever having seen the movies in the first place. When the cartoon protests raged, I did not read (still have not) of a prominent Western leader -- feel free to comment if you know otherwise -- who hadn't attempted to address the subject as if it were merely an issue of conflict-resolution. That is, framing the discussion in terms mollifying and compensatory to both sides. 'Freedom-of-speech is important but we must also temper this with respect for other cultures' sensitivities; so please don't publish the cartoons' went the political refrain. Paul Martin, Colin Powell, Bill Clinton, Kofi Annan (and countless others) all said as much. The political response was instantly to perform damage-control and "suppress" the cartoons. Is it not disturbing -- and dangerously trend-setting -- to give into such animousity so quickly?

I don't know if this makes me an ideologue of a sort. In a way, my posting the cartoons wasn't even so much about sticking up for freedom-of-speech, since the cartoons were already out there, but rather about making sure that more people could see the cartoons and decide for themselves whether or not they were offensive. Many people who posted/published the cartoons were not right-wing extremists trying to score points (though they did and do exist); they merely felt that the suppression of information would be more dangerous than any effects of the protests.

It is sad and unfortunate that people were killed and so many more injured. I have no doubt that the first protesters had no idea that their peaceful beginnings would be co-opted by radical fanatics; I'm sure that they, like most other rational people, regret the consequences of their actions. But regretting the consequences is different than saying we wouldn't do it again.

There are many vulgar, stereotypical, and ill-considered things which the varied media make public on any number of subjects. And when they do, their freedom to do so -- again, assuming no laws are broken -- should be protected and affirmed.

Go Priests!

2006-02-27T12:03:00.000-05:00

This is why my Canada includes Quebec (and is also why not all people who are religious are insane).

Donkeys in Toronto

2006-02-26T14:31:00.000-05:00

Donkeys in Toronto
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

My brother, Bradley, is bringing his Mont-Royal crew to Hogtown on FRIDAY, MARCH 3rd, 2006 at the Comfort Zone.

They are agressive, loud man-rockers, and I think The Donkeys are pretty darn good. For the ladies, there's likely to be some decent-looking guys partially nude, or they'll be in full costume (whatever that might be).

Anyway, The Donkeys will be on late, probably around 12:30 or so. (So says the bro.)

Olympi-eh

2006-02-26T14:03:00.000-05:00

Canada finishes in 3rd place behind Germany (29) and USA (25) with 24 medals, one shy of their stated goal. All in all, I have to say I'm very impressed. Thank you, athletes, for an exciting and sometimes disappointing year; but certainly the best-ever performance overall including two gold/silver finishes. Thank you, Ms. Klassen, for kicking serious ass (5 medals).

A special thanks to the (very) young goalie on the Italian female team. You captured my um heart. I hope to see you in person in Vancouver.

And to the men's hockey team, a special thanks for even bothering to show up.

(Perhaps they should read this incisive bit of humour. Thank you, The Onion, for making me actually LOL.)

Elliptical And Optical

2006-02-26T13:55:00.000-05:00

Last night, defeat hit me hard. After a masterful round of Scrabble at the house of Steve & Brigitte a couple of weeks ago, I'd hoped I'd be able to transfer some of that success to my parents' household. It was not meant to be. In one brief turn, I went from victory to defeat, a matter of a minute or so. In a solid second-place position, I placed my word on the board for 49 points. This was followed by my 3rd-place father, with a score of 51. After which, my brother decimated the opposition with a 71-point score, by merely adding a 'y' to the end of "clique." And my mom topped it off with a 30-point score. All in all, I think that was the most successful round I've ever played in.

But the hardest part of all was that I fell to 3rd place in the end on the basis of my unplayed tiles. Not a good night for the ChiaMac.

Serving you well since 1982...

2006-02-26T12:11:00.000-05:00

South Dakota has just passed a law rendering all abortions illegal except where the woman's life is at stake. Even rape is not considered a legitimate reason.

Excellent.

There is no greater argument for the supremacy of a strong federal government and against states' powers. (Hmm, I'm pro-separation of Church and State, con-states' powers, and mildly positive on The States -- English is weird.) Canadian pro-choice and pro-same sex marriage advocates all have Canada's Charter of Rights and Freedoms to thank for their liberties. Sure, the Americans have their constitution, but a fat lot of good that does when it can be interpreted so broadly, or seemingly tossed when ideology raises its weaselly shaped head.

(must avoid further smugness)

These polls seem to indicate that the American people, unsurprisingly, are not quite as crazy as many of their lawmakers. 66% of Americans wouldn't want to see Roe vs. Wade overturned, although almost 40% would prefer stricter limits on abortions. I do suspect, however, that if the big red machine tried to overturn Roe vs. Wade, a Democrat might make it into the White House again.

Meanwhile, in not-so-frigid Canadeh, Harper can't even mention abortion as an issue or else he'll end up on his ass. I shall now shower, content in the knowledge that if I knock up some comely lass, we can add to Canada's stockpile of stem cells.

And, if my source is correct, all covered under Health Care.

Sucking and pounding

2006-02-25T01:11:00.000-05:00

After escorting Brandy to the dentist and performing an unrelated errand of my own, I walked back home to find a car skulking in our driveway. Peering closer, I realized it was Brandy's friends Erik and Nicole. They were waiting to pick her up after the appointment and whisk her away into the night. But after a phone call and a brief conversation, I was enlisted into the evening's entertainment - a first, to be brought into the secret night-life that is the weekly Friday night shopping excursion of Greater Toronto. A Best Buy was had, dinner was had, as was much discussion of cock and vag and sucking and pounding, not to mention more Shoppers Drugs Marts than I ever want to be in again. A hidden world has been revealed. Fun may have been achieved but at the cost of what -- my innocence?

If you ask me whether or not my life will be the same, I will say "Sure." But I will utter it without conviction. The truth is I may never know the full impact of this evening until my dying day ... when at last I will know peace.

20 medals

2006-02-24T14:00:00.000-05:00

Brad Gushue and his team just won gold in Curling. When the CBC interviewed him, he started to cry. It was very sweet.

The tale of the 19th-inch

2006-02-24T13:05:00.000-05:00

I woke up in a bit of a haze this morning. There were footsteps and some thudding downstairs, and when I realized what it might be I burst from my bed and tossed aside the curtain. Down on the street, parked in front of the hydrant, was the Purolator truck.

It took me a half-second, perhaps even three-quarters, before I decided. I really didn't want to have to pick up the box from the station twenty minutes away. My hand grabbed the white robe, and I wriggled it on as I raced down the stairs. When I tentatively opened the front door, the truck hadn't yet left. I walked out into the morning sunshine, barefoot and berobed. On the right shoulder there was a two-inch tear in the terry cloth. It felt much larger.

I stepped towards the truck. The ground was cold, colder by the second it seemed. A woman and her daughter, far too young to be amused by my appearance, passed by. I could hear the courier inside the truck, shuffling something that was going somewhere to some person I'll never meet, but it took a moment for him to appear. The truck did not just drive away. He appeared, the man who would deliver me the box. He asked my name. I gave it. I told him he just woke me up. He ignored the comment and brusquely gave me something to sign.

My toes clenched, ten fleshy ice-cubes. A heavy box was handed off to me. I walked away carrying my bounty and the whirr of the engine revved up behind me.

It would take all of seven minutes for me to set up my new monitor and for the cats to realize what a wonderful toy a box can be.

Day 12 of 12

2006-02-23T11:28:00.000-05:00

danish012
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

2-0

2006-02-22T16:45:00.000-05:00

You guys got no less than you deserved.

Coming on strong

2006-02-22T16:06:00.000-05:00

Well, the Canadian Olympic team seems to be trying really hard to disprove my comment about our Olympians being "happy just to be at the Olympics." We got gold and silver in 1500m Speedskating, gold in Cross-country sprint, and silver in 3000m Speedskating Relay. With our strong showing today, we've bounced back into a tie for 4th place with the Americans and Norwegians. Cindy Klassen is emerging as the Canadian hero, with 4 medals to her name. Congrats to all our athletes.

Also, Team Canada is playing quite well in a nail-biter against the Russians. At the end of 2 periods, the score is 0-0. I'm losing my mind ... but just a little.

Day 11 of 12

2006-02-22T11:42:00.000-05:00

danish011
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

Bawdy Czeching

2006-02-21T12:50:00.000-05:00

If Czech goalie Dominik Hasek had been healthy so he could play, the Canadians would've lost that game, no question.

Doan, Richards, Pronger, and of course fine goaltender Brodeur can all stay for Team Canada. Everyone else, you guys can go home. Particularly McCabe. You haven't had a good shift the entire tournament. You're the best the Leafs have to offer? No wonder the team is so mediocre.

I'm pissed. Two-thirds of that was a terrible, terrible game. A 3-2 win -- only won by 2 soft goals which any other netminder than Vokoun would've stopped. Outshot and outplayed the remainder of the game. Not as terrible, of course, as the Finland and Switzerland games, so I guess this qualifies as baby steps.

But really, Mr. Quinn, bench McCabe, please!

My prediction:

I think the Canadians will play better tomorrow in the Quarterfinal game and beat whomever they're going to play. But as to the Semifinal game, I have grave doubts. If they make it into medal contention, they will win the Bronze, but no more. And they'll be lucky to do even that, based on their recent play.

Sheesh.

2006-02-21T11:21:00.000-05:00

So, um, the Canadian women get accused of racking up goals and then this comes along.

Why isn't this causing an uproar in the Olympic community, or better yet getting the Swedes kicked out?

I know, they're just words, but the fact that the Swedish coach might even mention it should provoke some response. Just no riots, please, people.

Day 10 of 12

2006-02-21T11:17:00.000-05:00

danish010
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

Day 9 of 12

2006-02-20T11:47:00.000-05:00

danish009
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

Day 8 of 12

2006-02-19T20:54:00.000-05:00

danish008
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

All Tristram, No Isolde

2006-02-18T19:44:00.000-05:00

Matt & I sallied on over to the Land of Cumber and took in a screening of Tristram Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story. Fucking hilarious. As soon as the theme from Barry Lyndon played over the woman's hysterical pregnancy, I was in for good. And hooray for Nino Rota. Not since Police Academy 5 have I laughed like that. Seriously, I jest.

Michael Winterbottom has developed a reputation for being prolific, but what pisses me off is how good some of his films are: Welcome to Sarajevo was an effective look at journalists in the Bosnian warzone long before Hollywood had entered its current anti-war liberalism; Code 46 was a sci-fi masterpiece and one of the best films in the last 3 years. I don't know yet how I rank Tristram Shandy, but at the very least it's the most fun I've had at a theatre in a calendarful of days. And is disturbingly right down my alley in terms of postmodern deconstruction. And it's got Kelly McDonald (insert Homer-salivating noise here).

If you enjoy movies-within-movies and deconstructive comedy at its best, see Tristram Shandy, now playing at only one theatre near you ... assuming you live in downtown Toronto, of course.

---

It nearly took away the sting of Canada's loss today.

This post is entitled "I could go on like this all fucking day"

2006-02-18T14:01:00.000-05:00

I could go on like -- WHAT THE FUCKING HELL HOW COULD THAT FUCKING HAPPEN? THE SWISS BEAT TEAM CANADA! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THE MOTHERFUCKING UNIVERSE YOU BITCHES!!!

This post is entitled "Oh Team Canada, oh how you fucking suck"

2006-02-18T14:00:00.001-05:00

Oh Team Canada, oh how you fucking suck!

This post is entitled "I hate the fucking Swiss"

2006-02-18T14:00:00.000-05:00

I hate the fucking Swiss!

Day 7 of 12

2006-02-18T12:10:00.000-05:00

danish007
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

Sweet sweet sour grapes

2006-02-17T14:28:00.000-05:00

Apologies in advance to any Americans who stumble across this humble Canuck's blog.

But I am SO fucking ecstatic that the Swedes just beat the Americans in the first Semi-final of women's hockey. Which means that the Yanks will be playing for bronze, heh heh. That'll teach ya to mouth off about Canadians running up the scores, ya bastards. (I was going to write 'bitches' but thought that might be a little too pointedly sexist.) Yes, nationalism is alive and well here at 3QF.

For those who don't know, a few days ago, an American player complained that the Canadian women were running up the scores (16-0 vs Italy, 12-0 vs Russia, and 8-1 vs Sweden).

"I'm upset that Canada has been running up the score, especially against the host nation," American Angela Ruggiero said on Monday. "There was no need for that. They're trying to pad their stats ... Canada is running up the score for whatever reasons – personal, short-term ... It does hurt our sport when one team is so dominant ... Beating Russia 12-0 after the Italy game, that doesn't help. If Italy had any hopes, or if their federation was thinking of helping women's hockey, well, this probably shattered them after the first game ... They'll say, 'How are we ever going to beat those guys?' If you don't have a shot of ever getting there, why not invest in another sport?"*

1. Goal differential can be important: all else being equal between two finalist teams, it determines the home-ice advantage. Since neither team will technically be home, the advantage here is that the "home-team" gets to change their lines last in order to match up against their opponents. It can be quite crucial sometimes.

2. Unlike the NHL, where running up the score is indeed bad form -- just ask Don Cherry -- the Olympic players have to be on top of their game at all times, from one game to the next. If the better team cruises to a victory without trying its best, then the team may not play as well in the next, more crucial, game. This is a very real concern, even though there are very few competitive teams in women's hockey. Now that the Americans have been relegated to the bronze, Canada has no excuse to lose a gold medal.

3. As someone who has played on the losing side of many games, being the target of a game of 'keep-away' can be far more humiliating than the other team taking you seriously and clobbering you 16-0. Those Italian and Russian players, dispirited thought they might be, got an extra period or two of real competition - and necessary experience - against the best women's hockey team in the world. I watched those games myself. The Italian goalie who played the first 2 periods may have let in 9 goals but she played a really good game. The Italian players - even the fans - were really into the game, had no illusions about the possibility of an upset, and they seemed to enjoy the game despite the lopsided score. The Italians played as hard as they could; they're just not a good team. The Russians are a better team; they played a lousy game. Even though it's looking like no team can touch the Canadians - not even the Americans - the Canadian players never want to go into a game thinking it's a cake-walk. I think that's what happened to the Americans and look - oh yeah, they're playing for the bronze, boo hoo.

4. Money will get spent on women's ice hockey in the future despite Ruggiero's claim (slippery-slope argue much, Angela!). The fact is it's a sexist world out there. Men's hockey, and almost all men's sports, still receive more money, more endorsements, and more prestige than women's. Blaming a future lack of funding of women's hockey on the outcome of one or two games is rather disingenuous. There are many sports where one or two countries seem to win almost every year, yet no one complains about such dynasties. Rather, rivalries are formed, which makes competition more exciting. I'm sure the Americans have crushed the Swedes by 8 or 9 goals before and now they've just been beaten themselves. In other words, the Swedes and Finns and all those other countries still invest money in their women's hockey teams. They didn't just sprout teams. In the near-future, there will be more exciting upsets too, when Canada doesn't always beat the lesser teams. (Knock on wood, the Canada-Finland game starts in half an hour.)

5. Each Olympics happens once every four years. It's not about being nice to the other team. Being gracious, yes, in victory as well as in defeat.

Ms. Ruggiero has a right to her comments, of course, and time might prove her right and me wrong; for now though, I'll just say she might want to let the Italians and Russians speak for themselves.

--------

* Condensed and rephrased from the article on CBC.ca.

Day 6 of 12

2006-02-17T12:39:00.000-05:00

danish006
Originally uploaded by Chiamac.

Addendum

2006-02-16T22:32:00.000-05:00

Congrats, however, to Jeff Buttle, the Canadian figure-skater who today pulled a bronze medal out of his ass.

Everyone remembers the runners-up?

2006-02-16T18:31:00.000-05:00

Another Olympics, another collection of Silvers and Bronzes.

I know. I'm being unfair, and I agree. But I'm not convinced of the extent to which I agree. Eight medals right now, fifth place.

Brian Williams - CBC's host of every Olympics since the Greeks were ancient - remarked yesterday that many of the Canadians seemed happy to simply be in contention for a medal. And if you watched some of the coverage of skiing as I did (cuz what else have I got to do?), he makes a convincing point. Never mind the argument about whether or not this athlete has the skill or pure talent to win a gold. But yesterday's skiers just wanted to make it down the course. Even to an entirely ignorant eye such as mine it was obvious that a couple of the women's downhill skiers were afraid of tackling the course head-on. And today, the speed-skaters achieved 2 silvers and 1 bronze. Hey, we're happy for the medals, of course. But the Canadian men in the speed-skating pursuit should have won gold; instead, they skated a second-place type of race.

This discussion of Canadian athletes occurs every Olympics. We're more passive, not just in sports where we're unlikely to win, but in those where the onus is on the athlete to lose as well. By contrast, the Americans give it their best in every sport. This philosophical difference seems to be borne out by the current medal standings: the Americans with 9 total medals to our 8 have six golds; we have only one. (We will get at least a couple more by the end of the Olympics, no doubt.)

Are the training regimens so different in Canada and the US? Differences in population, preferences in sports, and the amount of money available for athletics' programs probably account for some of this discrepancy. But lifestyle doesn't. Most North American athletes tend to have significant lives outside of the professional athletic circuit, unlike athletes from Russia and China who, for instance, spend so much time training and performing.

The fact is we do pretty well despite our limited resources. Our ability to contend in medals seems to be consistent from one Olympic year to the next, and we do a better job of contending than we do of winning. Analogous to our famed reserve, it is rare that we have a killer athlete who outclasses all others from one year to the next.

It's nice to get the medals, and it's nice to be here.

But sometimes you just wanna fucking clean up.