So, let’s say you’re Vincent Condron. Let’s say you’ve been ducking under the legal radar for the better part of six years, on account of there’s a warrant out to have your ass in handcuffs because you went off and did something braindead stupid. Now let’s say you played it smart the last several years. Laying low, keeping quiet, straightening yourself out, and just generally–well, you know–keeping yourself the hell out of trouble. Or, failing that, out of the country. Now let’s say someone from Britain, who just so happens to be the country having the warrant out to arrest your ass, catches your eye. You probably aren’t going to put yourself and your new fiance up for public enjoyment in that country and lead the cops pretty much right to you, right? … Please note: if you agreed with this, take a bow. Then, consider yourself smarter than Vincent, who apparently won himself a wedding and proceeded to land his mugshot in the local paper. Which landed him in handcuffs. The good news, for him and his new bride at least, is they decided not to actually lock him up–apparently, ho hum, he’s a changed man, now. The bad news? If he’s not a changed man, somebody just bought them a jailhouse wedding. I’ll let you consider that for, oh, just a moment. Okay, time’s up.
Category: random crap
I’ve heard of praying for a better break in life. Hell, I’ve heard of just praying for the mysterious discovery of a qwerky rich relative who just so happens to have $40000000000000000 sitting around they don’t plan to do a whole lot with. Somebody’s apparently decided to hell with this mess and is cutting out the middle man. By way of google. And it gets me this.
Apr 26 6:06am: Jesus could you please deposit
I wonder if our poor lost soul’s still waiting on that check…
So. When you’ve escentially been cornered and forced to admit to smoking crack by way of every single one of your denials blowing up in your face, you pretty much can’t go any lower, right? Of course not. It’s when your public life, scandalous as it might be, becomes the very material worthy of a snerkwhile remix that you pretty much can’t go any lower. See also: Rob Ford yesterday, versus Rob Ford today. Very quite probably the best kind of spin ever put on a Rob Ford the Crackmayor story. And I didn’t have a damn thing to do with it. It’s not embedded, so RSS and email types should have no problem grabbing it. stream and/or download the thing at will–I don’t think it’s covered under copyright.
Hat tip to KiSS 92.5, who actually put this thing together. I only wish I coulda been there for the mashing.
Update: And right on the heels of this one, a remix of Ford’s crack confession hits Youtube. This one’s an embed, unfortunately, so if you’re reading this by way of RSS or email you’ll need to click over to the site and smack play. but it just might be worth it. You may suck as Toronto’s mayor, but you’ve got a future in what passes for modern music, Rob old chap.
You may or may not remember me making mention of a restaurant in San Francisco trying what I figured to be a questionable ice cream recipe. Not, you see, that I have a problem with garlic. But in ice cream, I think that might just be a little much for me. It was apparently way too much for one googler. Their solution? Well, you see…
Feb 18 2:58am: go to the stinking rose and shove all the garlic ice cream up my ass
One actually has to wonder if the one what landed here figured that would be an improvement. One also has to wonder if I should be keeping an eye out for potential charges of indecent offenses committed with an almost food item. Oddly, I’m not really any more likely to decide to get adventurous in the garlic ice cream department. I, er, wonder why…
The search engines have conspired to ruin me. Or at least screw with my head. I was just beginning to gloo together a post on how since SSL encription became the standard with places like google, keeping an eye on stats for amusement reasons has become just slightly less amusing. And then along comes our friend the sexual deviant from India. And our sexual deviant friend from India drops this into the mix.
Oct 20 11:27am: water fuck
I don’t even know where you were trying to go, pal. Really I don’t. But I hope you got there. Just please remember to at least pretend to use protection. Fake it if you have to. In the meantime, remind me never to think about accusing the search engines of conspiring to deprive me of amusement again. Well, at least until 2014.
Update: He searched for water porn, and instead discovered my no hot water rant. From 2007. And folks said google didn’t have a sense of humour.
Could also have been titled: This is precisely the snark I was looking for.
I mock politicians and the folks they hire on a semi-regular basis. On the blog, on Twitter, in person, you name it. But every so often, I have to give them their due. It’s a little late–and by a little I mean pretty much half a year, but I just got round to reading and doing something about this. Someone, apparently with a hugely awesome amount of time on their hands, actually petitioned the US government to build a death star for national defense. That self-same person got over 30000 other people with awesomely huge amounts of time on their hands to sign it. The result? The White House was legally required–this was before they raised that requirement to 100000–to respond to that petition. And respond, they did. Oh good lord did they ever.
OFFICIAL WHITE HOUSE RESPONSE TO
Secure resources and funding, and begin construction of a Death Star by 2016.
This Isn’t the Petition Response You’re Looking For
By Paul Shawcross
The Administration shares your desire for job creation and a strong national defense, but a Death Star isn’t on the horizon. Here are a few reasons:
.The construction of the Death Star has been estimated to cost more than $850,000,000,000,000,000. We’re working hard to reduce the deficit, not expand it.
.The Administration does not support blowing up planets.
.Why would we spend countless taxpayer dollars on a Death Star with a fundamental flaw that can be exploited by a one-man starship? However, look carefully and you’ll notice something already floating in the sky – that’s no Moon, it’s a Space Station! Yes, we already have a giant, football field-sized International Space Station in orbit around the Earth that’s helping us learn how humans can live and thrive in space for long durations. The Space Station has six astronauts – American, Russian, and Canadian – living in it right now, conducting research, learning how to live and work in space over long periods of time, routinely welcoming visiting spacecraft and repairing onboard garbage mashers, etc. We’ve also got two robot science labs – one wielding a laser – roving around Mars, looking at whether life ever existed on the Red Planet.
Keep in mind, space is no longer just government-only. Private American companies, through NASA’s Commercial Crew and Cargo Program Office (C3PO), are ferrying cargo – and soon, crew – to space for NASA, and are pursuing human missions to the Moon this decade.
Even though the United States doesn’t have anything that can do the Kessel Run in less than 12 parsecs, we’ve got two spacecraft leaving the Solar System and we’re building a probe that will fly to the exterior layers of the Sun. We are discovering hundreds of new planets in other star systems and building a much more powerful successor to the Hubble Space Telescope that will see back to the early days of the universe.
We don’t have a Death Star, but we do have floating robot assistants on the Space Station, a President who knows his way around a light saber and advanced (marshmallow) cannon, and the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, which is supporting research on building Luke’s arm, floating droids, and quadruped walkers.
We are living in the future! Enjoy it. Or better yet, help build it by pursuing a career in a science, technology, engineering or math-related field. The President has held the first-ever White Housescience fairs and Astronomy Night on the South Lawn because he knows these domains are critical to our country’s future, and to ensuring the United States continues leading the world in doing big things.
If you do pursue a career in a science, technology, engineering or math-related field, the Force will be with us! Remember, the Death Star’s power to destroy a planet, or even a whole star system, is insignificant next to the power of the Force.
Paul Shawcross is Chief of the Science and Space Branch at the White House Office of Management and Budget
You know, if they’d put the money they’re sinking into things like the NSA into stuff like this instead, we might actually have something here. And to think–the only folks who may or may not have been mocked to write this thing are, well, the folks what gave that petition legs in the first place. Now, if they’d just get on with providing federal funding for the development of a replicator a la Star Trek, good things just might happen. Like the ability to download a pizza. Hey–I’d download a pizza.
So I meant to do this thing more often and yada, yada, yada. Now I’ve got a nifty little empty where most of July’s random bits of I have no idea what should be and absolutely nothing to put there–except, well, more random bits of I have no idea what. Story of my life. And a play on a thing in a game I started not really playing–but that’s another entry, if I can ever remember to get to writing it.
I’m starting to get back into things I used to do somewhat regularly, including that whole school thing. Or rather, chasing people around with regards that whole school thing. It seems if one wants to take an online class in geekery from a school explicitly set up for teaching that material to the visually impaired, the door’s wide open. If you instead want to take that self-same course, regulated by the self-same company, but at a local college and still in a somewhat accessible format, step 1 is build your own door. It’s what a geek gets for wanting to actually be out of the house a while to get shit done, but you’ll have that. So I’ve got emails in with people, who’ve got their own emails in with people, who’re having a meeting or two with other people, who’ve got emails in with other people, and yada yada where’s my vodka. It’s kind of fun, if you don’t mind the occasional migraine. I’m used to it, so whichever. Just educate me already.
On top of that, I’m still tossing stones into the job market just to see what hits. So far, I’ve gotten a handful of automated “thanks for your application” emails, and… That appears to be about it. Well that was productive. I’d probably get a little farther if I had something to toss on a resume that was a little more recent than, say, 2008. Which I’m working on. Also: see above.
I’ve been back and forth to Pembroke a handful of times over the last while. And Pembroke’s come to me a few times, which is always nice. Still not even close to used to living in this house, and I’ve been here since the end of freaking January. The fact that I haven’t actually lived in a two-story house since I was in highschool might have a vague kind of something to do with it. And the fact it belongs to me–well, in about as much as a thing you pay rent on belongs to you–might be something else. I’m used to apartments. Namely, the ones in which you can throw a rock from the front door and, if aimed right, can hit your footboard. Which was every apartment I’ve ever actually paid rent on up until about last year, so this is a thing that needs adjusting to. On the bright side, it doesn’t toss me for a loop quite as much when I end up spending a couple days at mom’s. My only complaint with this place is it doesn’t come with AC. Of course the fact we’re not paying extra for heat easily cancels out that complaint, particularly in about mid-February when the very thought of going outside is enough to make you wrap the blankets around you and forget you had plans for the day. It’s a nice place, and I don’t see me leaving it any time soon, but good lord does it take getting used to. Apparently it also takes an age to properly furnish, but you’ll have that. It’s not like we’ve got a use just yet for the rooms with nothing in them anyway, so this works. Related: I have my entertainment room! Now just to add the entertainment.
Other things have happened that I could have probably mocked, but then promptly forgot I was going to. Let’s see. List format? Why, sure.
- Remember all that talk from Toronto on how this was the year for the Bluejays, and they were heading for at the very least a .500 season, if not some postseason activity? Remember how they tossed all this money into a rebuild during the offseason, got a bunch of people with decent to good numbers, stuck them on the team and said “Go own the damn field”? Remember how in May people were saying it’s too early to write the team off yet? Yeah. Is it still too early?
- Dear 16-year-old me. For reasons of integrity, dismiss any and all thoughts of entering politics. Better yet, add any and all thoughts of entering politics to your personal blacklist. And for crying in the sink get back to figuring out where the school network’s single point of failure actually was. Hint: you were close when you traced the connection to a router in the basement. Hey–it could be worth something someday. And by something, I mean probably more than $90000 from Harper’s chief of staff.
- I now have positive confirmation. It’s not other people’s children I have a problem with. It’s other people. There’s an entry on that floating around amidst a tangled wire or two. I’ll go find it and get back to you.
- The more I read, the more I’m convinced not actually moving to the US when I was being told things were much more stable/flexible than they are up here was probably the smartest decision I ever made. Well, okay, second smartest. The smartest has me right where I’m at now. The more that slides across my desk, the more convinced I am that the US constitution, by both major players, is just a thing they toss out to shush the masses. And they say our government’s whacked.
- Related to the last, but still somewhat separate. The NSA’s still lying, still spying, and still lying about spying. And every word of this blog post has probably just been copied to that datacenter they’ve got going on in Utah. Hope yall enjoy the read, folks. Do drop by and say hello once in a while, yeah?
So that’s life and mockery if you’re me. Now. Where’d I put the essay I was working on for those college professorial types?
Because we’ve had very little actual debate about what the hell the NSA’s in the middle of and if we even really need or want it there (thanks bunches, secret courts of secret interpretations of otherwise not so secret laws), somebody thought it might be fun to create one. So now, we have the 2013, pro-NSA Barack Obama versus the 2006 apparently anti-NSA Joe Biden. And just for the record, the 2006 side wins. If it wasn’t for the fact he probably won’t be in politics after the 2014 election, I’d be placing bets on how long before someone uses this in an ad campaign. Ah screw it. Who’d like to make a wager?
And every once in a while, somebody drops by and leaves me a something I can relate to. This is the last 5 years or so, roughly summarized. And it needs to be said–I couldn’t do it any better myself.
Nov 26 12:10pm: nowhere is hiring
Truer words were never spoken, young googler. By the way, could you use a geek? I’m cheap…
This only maybe matters to 1.25 of you, but I found it vaguely amusing. Since the day of its creation, no one could decide whether the .gif file format should actually be pronounced as it’s spelled, or as JIF instead. For whatever reason, the guy what invented it was remarkably silent on the topic–until recently. And he’s apparently quite offended that so many have so willingly mispronounced the word–apparently, the J way’s the right way, and he’d like for people to start using it right the hell now thank you please. Personally, I’ll stick with saying GIF. Sorry, dude. But because somebody thought quickly enough to mock the hell out of it, and because I can’t hope to be that good, have a Youtube video. If someone could steal a screenshot of this and send it to me in JIF–er I mean GIF–format, that’d be awesome. Readers of the RSS or email variety, jump on over to the site and have a watch. I’d make it available to you in your reader of choice, but flash says no. Blame Adobe. It’s good for you.
Most of you have probably already seen some variation of this. The owner of Amy’s Baking Company, in arizona, figures cooking is what she was born to do. She remains so convinced of this that she started, with help from her husband, a restaurant. Just one problem. Pretty much no one who’s ever been there, including the staff, agrees. That hasn’t stopped her, of course, from proclaiming this precisely what God intended her to do–and creating no fewer than a dozen lables for everyone under the sun who’s ever disagreed.
So when Gordon Ramsay, of Kitchen Nightmares fame, agreed to do an episode about her restaurant, she took it as a sign from God. Sheff Ramsay, she said, would prove all the hateful haters who hate dead wrong. Except, of course, for that small part wherein just no (note: Long video is long. It’s why we’re not embedding it here, thanks much.). Instead, everything folks were saying was wrong with this restaurant suddenly became wrong with this restaurant on national TV–and, now, on Youtube. And her reaction? Just keep screaming, screaming screaming. then play the appology card and announce the grand reopening. Because, you know, that works so well.
It must absolutely suck to go for a PR boost like that and have it absolutely blow up in your face. I mean not that I’d know, not being brainless enough to 1: continuously bang my head against a thing I just plain suck at and 2: nearly strangle myself with denial of the reality that I really do suck at it. It’s why you don’t see me anywhere near the kitchen in any capacity but the helpfully helpful. But you do have to wonder at what point it becomes apparent that God’s calling for you might have been a wrong number. If you’re Amy, it might aughta think about being somewhere around now. Mostly because I’m sure even he’s running out of ways to tell her.
So, I’m sitting here nomming on supper, and a thought sort of pokes me in the eye. Well, okay, there’s also that one that says I’ve done this whole neglect the blog thing again, but that one’s always there. Especially when I find things to mock, put them aside, even download local copies of mockables just in the event they run off, then promptly forget to set aside the time to mock. But this one, just for the sake of being there, decides there will be no forgetting to write. And, well, far be it from me to ignore, well, me.
I now have proof. We, as a society, have blown right past screwed and are cruising for a permanent spot in hell. And the fool doing the driving’s got a piss poor sense of irony. Let’s line things up.
- First, a near strike by workers at the LCBO, that only comes to a miss at a little bit past 10 on Thursday night. Keep in mind, they don’t call this May 2-4 weekend for no damn good reason–there’s drinking involved. Lots of it. Well, unless you’re me (I should really fix that). So a strike, by the only folks in Ontario legally allowed to sell anything other than beer, on the weekend where a lot of people tend to go through a lot of anything other than beer, tends to be a wee bit problematic. More than a few people more than likely spent a chunk of Thursday emptying out the store before the boozepocolypse. Which reminds me–I expect to see that $50000000000000000 noted in a much smaller budget shortfall, Ontario government. Lowering the provincial half of the HST wouldn’t hurt either.
- That was the warning shot. Then, on Friday morning, most of the province–and apparently as far out as Cleveland–was earthquaked. Measured around 5.2 at its center, so the folks say, with a 4.2 aftershock about 10 minutes later. No major damage, but then, that wasn’t the plan. That was strike 2.
- Strike 3 happened in Toronto. No, I’m serious. And it’s been happening all weekend. And it’s not about to blow over, on account of the guy at its center’s up and stuck his head in the sand. No, he will not be named. He need not be named. It explains itself.
Image source: Toronto Savvy
You’ll note I’m staying clear away from anything involving Ottawa, senators, Ottawa Senators, and things named Duffy. These misformed beasts can be lumped together under the heading of collateral damage. Not that the train wreck we get to watch now isn’t damage enough all on its own, but you’ll have that. So where does that leave us? Welp, if the conspiracy theorists are right, next comes the firing squad and folks sitting on disability support get a special spot at the front of the line. Me, I prefer to look at it from a different perspective. We’ve all got a one-way ticket straight to hell. Bright side: someone else is doing the driving, so if yall don’t mind too terribly, I think I’ll go get started on the drinking. Hey, it’s cheaper than moron insurance.
I swear one of these days these’ll get old. That day is not today. From the land of the Google, we get a partial statement. And it even has a degree of truth to it.
Nov 14 11:05am: welfare and odsp create jobs
… For any aspiring social worker, whether you’re actually qualified to be one or not, depending entirely on your definition of qualified. Oh, you were meaning they create jobs for their recipients? Well–no one’s offered to hire me, yet. On second thought, perhaps a call to my case worker’s in order…
One of the things that keeps me close to Ottawa is that it’s got all of the convenience of a major city, but the atmosphere of a small town. More often than not, that’s a thing that kind of comes out when you least expect it. Like on the first weekend of actual warm weather, when I’m sitting here working on I forget what, and out of the blue, completely from absolutely nowhere–or maybe just around the corner, comes a thing I haven’t heard since I was, we’ll say, 13.
Apparently, I’m not sure if it’s this part of the city or just this community, but somebody from somewhere drives an ice cream truck. And at about quarter past 8 on Saturday, the thing sat in front of my house for a good 20 minutes. Over top of the music, I swear there must have been a good dozen kids out there at any one time. I was halfway tempted to go nab something, if only because again, not since I was maybe 13. Sadly that required both money and the motivation to find something that would have been appropriate to wear even in my front yard, given what would have been my extremely close proximity to the afore mentioned dozen kids. And since I wasn’t sure I had the first and couldn’t be arsed to find the second, I contented myself with sitting here listening. Because really, that’s probably the second best sign of summer in existence–second only to the only solution to 35 above freezing being a vanilla milk shake at a temperature approximately 35 below freezing. That having been said, though, if it’s not a one-time thing I’m storing a stash of quarters in my sock drawer. Because signs of summer, dammit.
I spent 5 years, we’ll call it, in Ottawa altogether, not counting the year I spent in small-town exile. And until now, I had absolutely no clue such a creature even existed in the city–although I did find other small town style things to be mildly impressed at. It’s the kind of thing you don’t much hear about in the major cities, like your toronto, or your Vancouver, or places like that. It’s what Pembroke could potentially be, if it wanted to be. And it’s a thing that goes awesome well with baseball–provided the team what plays the baseball actually shows up (Sidenote: thanks for yesterday. More, please.). And the thing only took 5 years to find. Because huge small town city is huge, and it almost comes off like several smaller towns all slammed together under one moderately disfunctional city council.
Because I can’t hear a thing without sharing, and since this is pretty much what I got to hear for 20 minutes on Saturday, and because my ability to record what I heard was sharply hindered by my lack of decent recording equipment, combined with the above mentioned lack of motivation to find me something worth wearing in that close proximity to kids, have your very own ice cream truck. Because signs of summer, dammit. Yes, even if you’re one of the 7 people still shoveling your driveway this morning (PS: Better you than me.). Anyone have some spare quarters? My sock drawer’s looking a little empty.
And sometimes, I keep things around simply because somewhere out there, there probably is someone desperate enough to have tossed this into a legitimate dating site’s search system. With, er, probably about equal results, now that I think of it.
Nov 5 10:52am: hot ass pembroke ont
Somehow, pal, I’m pretty sure this is not the EHarmony you’re looking for. Nice try, though.
Besides. I’m pretty sure someone’s trying ti impress me. Well, finding a way to do this and not get caught would accomplish it.
Oct 30 4:50pm: how to get everything you can from odsp
Let me know how that goes, why don’t ya. In the meantime, I’ll be over here making sure they don’t take what we’ve already got on account of cost cutting. Oh, yeah–and trying to wake my brain. Where’s my caffeine?
From the way back department, a thing that would be useful. Very useful, actually. Which makes it all the more likely it’s just not about to happen. Considering the love (*) we’ve been getting from the government of late, I’d be inclined to think useful things for ODSP folks take a back seat to useful things for executives in the healthcare industry. But, since we’re being wishful and all that, have a thing.
Oct 24 7:33pm: do i get extra money for christmas when i’m on odsp
Good idea. Won’t ever be seen. Same with extra money for just about anything else–like a phone bill, even though not having one makes trying to do anything useful with ODSP a very interesting little exercise in migraine. Of course, I’d love to be proven wrong–there *is* a budget coming down in a week. Yeah, I didn’t think so either.
(*): The government does love us. Or rather, they love to hold us up as a statistic they’re fixing while all the while fixing to do not a whole lot about this mess. But hey, why split hairs? We don’t need all that fancy stuff–like, you know, rent flexibility. That junk’s for the working class.
It’s amazing how involved folks get with the whole april fools day idea, even right down to doing things that honestly wouldn’t be surprising–hey, Google killed their Reader platform, so it’s not completely beyond the realm of possibility for them to off Youtube. And with the day being 3 hours old, I’m already highly amused. Why? Well, let’s see.
- Youtube dies a death today. All along it’s been a contest for the awesomest video, and it goes see ya later while the judges pick a winner. I knew I should have downloaded that Jeff Dunham video.
- In Youtube’s place, Google’s beta testing a new product, called Google Nose. Finally, I can make the office here smell like the outdoors without the risk of opening the window and freezing my everloving ass off (hi, still nearly 5 degrees out, nice to see ya). Also comes in handy if it happens to be -40 and you still want that freshly cut grass smell.
- Apparently Google’s the only one taking an early start at this whole gag product thing, but hey it’s worth it. Kind of. especially if you happen to like the colour blue–and maybe want your entire email system to reflect it. Personally I’ll stick with my self-hosted email, but hey–somebody might just sign up for this one.
- Because everyone pretty much has been dumbed down to LOLSpeak anyway, Twitter’s offering the LOLSpeak edition of its service, TWTTR, for free. Meanwhile, the grown-ups who actually want to continue forming proper sentences, complete with non-missing letters, will be paying $5/month. They’re also offering the ability to extend your tweet limit by an additional character, for a price depending on the popularity of the character you need (*). A mighty fine way for me to actually put some missing punctuation back on the end of some of my damned tweets. Hey Twitter, let’s talk.
And it’s Google 4, the rest of the world 1. Not bad for a thing that only just started. You should probably disconnect your internets if you don’t have a reasonably good bullshit filter, at least until 12:01 Tuesday morning. Things should return to normal around then. Normal, and baseball. Mmmmm…. baseball.
(*): I’d actually not mind seeing a feature like this. And paying for it. Though, I’d be interested in maybe a discount for all the Tweets who’s ending pounctuation I had to lop off just to make the damn thing fit. On the other hand, perhaps that’s why it’s on the April Fools list–Twitter’d be paying *me* money.
I’m a bit of a sucker for snark. Okay, more than a bit. I’m especially a sucker for snark in the form of a Youtube video that just comes right out and, well, says what the folks I deal with on a somewhat regular basis don’t say (I’m looking at you, Rogers–and, to an extent, Bell). Hell, it’d probably be vaguely easier to stomach if these folks’d just come up and be honest with it. But, well, since there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell of that happening in about half a forever, I’ll content myself with replaying this video. If you’re going to do the same, you might want to make sure you’re at home and out of earshot of the little ones–there’s a bit of language. Readers of the RSS or email variety, you’ll have to flip on over to the site unfortunately. It’s Youtube, which means flash, which hates email/RSS. Sorry.
Now tell me. Doesn’t this just wanna make you pick up the phone and have a friendly chat with your local internet/TV tech support? Yeah, me either.
I wasn’t originally supposed to be home right now, so planned a relatively fluff day. Sorry if you were hoping for part 3 of the Paramount disaster–but it’ll show up. And probably so will part 4. But as for right now, the fluff. It’s everywhere. And drowning in awesome. Especially if you’re at all into the whole science fiction thing. Why for? Well. Uh. Ahem.
Nov 5 8:23pm: Technology: You promised me Mars Colonies. Instead, I got Facebook. W.T.F.
If that isn’t at least close to the best ever google, as in ever, then I have no bloody idea what is. I mean, come on. Has no one seen the Jetsons? We’re late. It’s all that time spent on Facebook, I tells ya. And they say social media doesn’t hold society back. By the way–if anyone needs me, I’ll be somewhere in the vicinity of Twitter.
I needed an excuse to post this video, and my reference in another entry to the guy behind it is a damn fine excuse if I do say so myself. Well, that, plus it’s awesome. If you’ve never seen him live, you should. If you’ve never seen him at all, you should be one of the first ones to go click. Oh, and if you *have* seen him live, I incredibly hate you right now. Either way, watch. Just I’d recommend not having anything to drink while doing so.
If you’re reading this via RSS or email, you’ll want to flick on over to the site. It requires flash, and they’ve yet to devise a thing that does flash in email or RSS reliably. Sorry.
Very occasionally, I’ll pull a random search statistic out of the pile and toss it up here, Usually because at the time there was some degree or several of amusement in its timelyness–or, even, the timing of when I actually manage to find it. Take, well, this one for instance.
Oct 16 6:50am: how to piss off bell canada
Well… If you’re me, you put as much effort into downloading as much crap as you can as quickly as you can, then cancel your service–after bouncing off half a dozen managers who have absolutely no idea what they’re doing, and who’s jobs I could likely teach my technologically challenged mother to do and come out with pretty well better results all across the board. As you can probably figure, there’s a Bell rant brewing. Still. That rant is not today. But feel free to find equally creative ways to piss off Bell. They probably deserve it for something or another.
I take it all back. Every, single, goddamn word. I accept what the 80 million Christians who’ve been trying to convert me have been saying since the first time I asked one of them what the hell he was smoking. God does exist. There is physical proof. But does it seriously have to wear Senators colours? Hey–it came direct from Siri. How wrong can it be?
Readers of the RSS or email variety will unfortunately need to click over to the website to have a listen–Youtube has yet to invent a technology that lets you play it from your client of choice. Blame Youtube. Or flash. Or both.
There is a god. And if there is a god, it plays for the Ottawa Senators. And if worshipping God means worshipping the Senators, Christianity has just lost me forever. As in, I can’t even hear you now. That kind of following just is not physically possible if you’re me. Or any proper fan of anything that isn’t the Ottawa Senators. Divine intervension or not, just no. But hey, I’ll watch him and his team get stomped out of the playoffs any day.
Semi-related: I have just answered why it is the Leafs haven’t seen playoff action since 2004. Damn you to hell, God. Just damn you to hell.
Edited to add: So apparently the email utility I use strips flash content. Nifty. things to note for next time. Take 2, this time with flashy goodness.
Now this is an interesting take. A Macdonalds in Verginia has opted to allow customers free iPad usage while they eat. And they’re providing the iPads. apparently, the restaurant is leasing the iPads from a French company, who’ll be the ones actually in charge of their maintenance–and, presumedly, their replacement should some shmuck decide to get creative and find ways to walk off with one–they’re secured to the table, so creativity might have to be required to pull it off. I imagine anyone who does any kind of anything while mobile will probably still bring their own gear, if only because I can’t see someone checking their email on the restaurant’s iPad. But, hey, if all you want to do is shlept through the news or something while you eat, why not? The restaurant has apparently blocked Youtube, so shlepping through the news or something might be your only option if you’re borrowing one of their pads. Still, it’s an interesting thing to keep an eye on. In the meantime, it does make me wonder exactly how this conversation would have played out had our local one up here gone and done something similar. Hmm. Now I wanna test things.
I’m not entirely sure what in the blue hell this thinggy from Google was aiming at, but I hope they found it, whatever it was.
Oct 8 5:49pm: odsp rat. bastard
Let me see, here. Possible translations include. ODSP people are rat bastards? Yes, in a few cases definitely. The mess I landed in when living in Petawawa is proof of this. Someone got ratted out by or to ODSP? That’d certainly warrant me calling them a bastard–at a minimum–so, eh, sure. Why not? As for other possible translations? Okay I got nothin’. Not entirely sure if it’s because I’m half out of it, or they were. Of course it’s entirely possible this entry just didn’t need to be posted–but oh well. Too late now. The next one’lol be somewhere in the neighbourhood of decent. Or at least that’s what I tell myself while I seriously hope the thing doesn’t catch fire.