Recent Entries in Misc

  New Propaganda

Got this idea from a couple of real propaganda posters. The idea was to use existing images, preferably something from a vacation (or a plow match, perhaps?). Certainly, I can't compete with actual propaganda posters, but here's my attempt.

First the original... Pretty threatening, no?


Now mine.


  More Propaganda

Been playing with PhotoShop again. Trying to take some vacation photos and turn them into those Art-Deco propaganda posters, like those ones of Che Guevara or Lenin, or Ronald Regan .... Here's some recent ones.



  Anne Murray Money

Yes, Anne Murray should be on our $10 bill. Not Gene Wilder. I don't even think he's Canadian.


  Gene A. MacDonald?

I showed R my clever discovery, and she remarked that John A. had a remarkable resemblance to comedic actor Gene Wilder. I was astounded, and began searching the web for a photo to prove this. Apparently her friend thought it was Gene Wilder on our $10 bill. Heh. I never thought he was that great an actor.

Seems to me, if anyone goes on our $10 bill, it should be Anne Murray, or possibly William Shatner.

[Pete_Townshend.jpg]   [John_A_MacDonald.jpg]   [Gene_Wilder.jpg]

I noticed this while reading an article on how Michael Moore essentially tried to "bully" Pete Townshend into using a Who song in "Fahrenheit/911". Ironically, I thought "Won't Get Fooled Again" was in the film already, but when I saw it again, it actually wasn't there. I simply thought it was. It should have been -- would have made a great accompaniment to the George W. Bush quote, "Fool me once..." Neil Young was a suitable replacement, but the Who song would have been a classic.

But enough of that. I was looking at Pete Townshend's face in this picture, and I got this odd feeling. Something patriotic stirred in my loins. What could it be? Does the guitarist from the Who have some sort of hidden connection to all Canadians? Is Pete the illegitimate love descendent of the Father of Confederation, John A. MacDonald? Perhaps he's really John A., suffering from Dick Clark syndrome, never ageing, unable to die, except by having his head severed by the sword of Christopher Lambert.... Maybe I'm just trying to fill blogspace by drawing paper-thin conclusions from sheer coincidences. Who knows?

[Pete_Townshend.jpg]   [John_A_MacDonald.jpg]

  Supersized He

Went to see "Super Size Me" last night at the Princess. Crazy film. Can't believe someone would do that kind of thing to his body. Sort of a Michael Moore vs. Jackass. The film introduced some interesting physiological concerns about how fast food can change the way the body operates -- certain mechanisms shut down (like his sex drive), and others became strangely sensitive to stimuli (constant headaches, sugar dependency, euphoria when eating fast food, depression). One of the doctors in the film likened the food to a drug, and the overall health effects to alcoholism. Interesting indeed. Shocking. Somewhat unnerving as well. Read about it in my book "Attaining Spiritual Fulfillment by Maximizing your Buffet Dollar."

Afterwards, we were hungry. Sort of. We didn't really want to eat anything too greasy, or that might be classified as "fast food," so we went across the street to the Jane Bond. We ordered salads.


  Fahrenheit Hawaii

Been watching the news on "Fahrenheit 9/11" lately, anticipating its release in the U.S. I just recently read "Stupid White Men" and am halfway through "Dude, Where's My Country." Most of the same will probably be in this film, but Moore's got a way of rehashing things and making them fun again.

Unfortunately, it doesn't look like it's opening in Canada anytime soon. I read that Alliance Atlantis has picked up the distribution in Canada, but I haven't been able to locate a theatre or a release date anywhere. I don't want to have to go to the U.S. to see it either. They might fingerprint me, or something. Last time I went through U.S. Customs, they practically had me undress to my skivvies. I had to remove my shoes, hat, belt (yes, completely out of the loops and everything). I even had to unbutton my pants and down the zipper. When the metal detector passed over the nipples, they almost had me remove my shirt too (heh)! I got them back by pretending to enjoy it, asking (eagerly) if there was anything else they wanted from me.

The worst part of that customs nightmare was that A) it almost made us late for our flight, and B) it was only because the plane was refuelling in Honolulu! I spent maybe an hour on "U.S. soil", and even then was only allowed access to maybe 1500 square feet of it. We literally got off the plane, walked around a corner, and got back on the plane again.

Anyway. Talked to an American dude on the phone today (the son of an ISP owner), and he brought up the topic of "Fahrenheit 9/11" on his own. He's totally in to it, thinks Moore is a complete spaz, and thinks Bush will lose by a landslide. Nice kid.

  SPAM poetry

Got this interesting message in an email today. Seems if we just stop and read the spam, it will take us in entirely new directions of enlightenment:

Sometimes near cigar panics,
but of garbage can always go deep sea fishing with about blithe spirit!
And sanitize the dark side of her dust bunny.
When senator behind cowboy is tattered, beyond ruffian
learn a hard lesson from midwife defined by.
Any starlet can assimilate toward blood clot,
but it takes a real customer to deficit for mortician.
cups remain wily.
Inside power drill make love to near swamp,
countermen eavesdropper backpack vast.

  Re: BTW

Think this computer's clock is about 9 min off...


It's about 9:10am on Monday, Sydney-time.

  Dada didn't Die

Lowtax pointed out that while most people don't know what Dada is, there's been a resurgence of Dadaism on the internet, especially with respect to email spam. I'm inclined to agree with him -- this is what came in the mail today:

damage blue board head time sweet every shoe tendency hole rest transport burn market brick snake thought apple thread father harmony cruel between trade knot cook over start happy screw guide other steam thin wind same send ray machine army behavior copper weight plane brain low humorice ill warm fat rough sense trick daughter bird smell star range person credit hour winter curtain detail system condition week answer error tail

Click Here For V i c o d i n and X a n e x and C i a l i s

male girl line land whistle yesterday good society I same bone neck limit keep condition news print lord dependent dress credit polish property horse example mine able pump white ever warm left automatic in foot kick ill bread discovery division still shake damage feeling pin heat


Awesome flick. I'm going to see it again, then I'm going to buy the DVD. Ron Perlman (aka Beast from "Beauty and the Beast" TV series, among other cool roles) is priceless in the role of Hell Boy. Just the right amount of camp in the film too. Makes this film totally worthwhile. Maybe I'll make an actual review in a little while.


Cold, wet, rainy April. Nice day to be doing nothing at all.

Looking to clean out some of the junk I own right now, to make it easier to move in about a month. Part of this is cleaning out my kitchen cupboards and getting rid of dishes I no longer need/use. Unfortunately I'm a bit of a pack rat, and also a collector of kitschy dishes and mugs. So I've got to bite the bullet and get rid of some of my favourite cups.

I'd really like to have a set of uniform dishes, cups and glasses, but I still like using diner ware for my dishes. R wants uniform dishes as well, and doesn't understand how people get emotionally attached to dishes. We'll need to look at dishes together, otherwise one of us will be disappointed.

So here's this schway pattern which will likely disappoint R. Double-happiness diner dishes. Oooooh.


I'm looking to put in a cooktop range and a dishwasher underneath it, but most dishwashers are of a standard height which make it impossible to put these things in underneath a standard countertop with a cooktop range in it. The kitchen isn't very big, and I want a built-in dishwasher, so I thought I'd have to do without ... until now.


  Online comix to go

  Thinking of Blue

Saw some nice warm(er) weather on the way to work today, but a little disappointed with the lack of colour everywhere. I know this time of year, a lack of green is expected; I shouldn't expect a blue sky when it's overcast and raining; and I've been indoors all day, so what do I care?

So I was thinking of the colour blue. How calm and soothing a nice blue/purple sky would look right about now, as the sun drops below the horizon, and night comes over everything. Just before the sky goes black (unlike in the city, where the sky goes a perplexing orange) and the stars come out. You know what I'm talking about ... and if you don't, you should leave the city sometime -- just sit out in an empty field and watch the sky from cowpie hill.

I think what I'm missing is summer (note that I was missing summer as early as last autumn) and all the dark blue in the night sky there was. The warm summer wind blowing around you in the middle of the night, the peace and quiet of the larger world interrupted by only the most intermittent traffic sounds (even in the country).

Even up in the north side of Algonquin, there was always some kind of sound, but the blue/black night sky was really the thing which took my breath away. And stars too! Stars in such a concentration where you could actually see the rest of the Milky Way pouring across the night sky like a spilled glass of whole milk (Homo milk in Canada, eh).

So here's to ya, blue. Old buddy, old pal. Here's to the Blue Train, the Galactic Express, the Kind of Blue. Here's to the stars. Here's to the upcoming summer nights. Here's thinking of you.


  Beat Generation

Reading Kerouac's _Maggie_Cassidy_ today, and thinking about the beat generation.

In the depths of the Greyhound Terminal
sitting dumbly on a baggage truck looking at the sky
    waiting for the Los Angeles Express to depart
worrying about eternity over the Post Office roof in
    the night-time red downtown heaven
staring through my eyeglasses I realized shuddering
    these thoughts were not eternity, nor the poverty
    of our lives, irritable baggage clerks,
nor the millions of weeping relatives surrounding the
    buses waving goodbye,
nor other millions of the poor rushing around from
    city to city to see their loved ones,
nor an indian dead with fright talking to a huge cop
    by the Coke machine,
nor this trembling old lady with a cane taking the last
    trip of her life,
nor the red-capped cynical porter collecting his quar-
    ters and smiling over the smashed baggage,
nor me looking around at the horrible dream,
nor mustached negro Operating Clerk named Spade,
    dealing out with his marvelous long hand the
    fate of thousands of express packages,
nor fairy Sam in the basement limping from leaden
    trunk to trunk,
nor Joe at the counter with his nervous breakdown
    smiling cowardly at the customers,
nor the grayish-green whale's stomach interior loft
    where we keep the baggage in hideous racks,
hundreds of suitcases full of tragedy rocking back and
    forth waiting to be opened,
nor the baggage that's lost, nor damaged handles,
    nameplates vanished, busted wires & broken
    ropes, whole trunks exploding on the concrete
nor seabags emptied into the night in the final

(I stole that from Ginsberg, FYI).


  World's Smallest Cubicle

I wanted to get a picture of this cubicle before they did anything crazy, like make it bigger. Yes, this is really my cube. It's a little tight, and I have to be sure not to scrape my nose against the wall when I rotate my chair, but at least the job pays well.



Actually, they made a mistake when they put the new office together. There's supposed to be another desktop section. You can tell by the amount of excess space on the left (outside the cubicle wall). This is only (I hope) a temporary situation. I mean, there are so many other ways to break my spirit, that this is just insulting.

I bet you this picture will get around the Internet in no time. Note: YES, THIS IS REALLY MY CUBICLE.

Update: Added some higher resolution images.

And here I was dissing this guy for being elected Governor... Turns out he's a tough-minded atheist...

From a quote in "Playboy":

Organized religion is "a sham and a crutch for weak minded people who need strength in numbers."
--Jesse "the Body" Ventura




I'd vote for him. He'd make an interesting president.

  Pale Blue Dot

I want to borrow some words from the late Carl Sagan. Click on the image to get an idea of how small we are in the universe.


It was Carl Sagan's idea to turn Voyager's camera back toward the planet that launched the spacecraft in order to reveal to that planet's inhabitants their "true circumstance and condition." After much resistance, Dr. Sagan prevailed, and on February 14, 1990, from a distance of 6.4 billion kilometers, Voyager 1 captured this image of our Earth. Here the entire world fills only 0.12 pixel and appears as a tiny crescent of light. The apparent rays of light are not sunbeams, but scattering off the camera's optics, a result of pointing it so close to the Sun. Now one of the most famous images ever taken from space, this humbling perspective of our beloved home is a part of Dr. Sagan's invaluable legacy.

Text from Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot, Random House, 1994
Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.

  Happy New Year

Happy Chinese new year by the way. Year of the Goat, is it? Personally, I like the Chinese zodiac - I like it more than the one all western astrologers use, though I don't see how accurate it could be in determining a person's personality. I mean, everyone born in the same year would have the same sign, though since the Chinese zodiac is on a 12 year cycle, that makes it no less accurate than the regular, monthly zodiac.

Incidentally, I'm a "Dog", zodiacally speaking. I could be a secret agent:

"People born in the Year of the Dog possess the best traits of human nature. They have a deep sense of loyalty, are honest, and inspire other people's confidence because they know how to keep secrets. But Dog People are somewhat selfish, plagued by constant worry, terribly stubborn, and eccentric. They care little for wealth, yet somehow always seem to have money. They can be cold emotionally and sometimes distant at parties. They can find fault with many things and are noted for their sharp tongues. Dog people make good leaders, activists, teachers, or secret agents. They are compatible with those born in the Years of the Horse, Tiger, and Rabbit but ill-suited to the dragon and goat.

"Some Dogs: Cher, Winston Churchill, Bill Clinton, Socrates, George Gershwin, Benjamin Franklin, Herbet Hoover, Jane Goodall, Lucy Maud Montgomery, and David Niven."


  CleverMonkey News

Keen! Check out my friend's new Clevermonkey site! (har har)

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