Hungry Rantings From a Brainless Zombie

Why I Became a Vegetarian

2011-07-12T10:49:00.000-07:00

July 13th will mark the one month anniversary of me having become a vegetarian. I've generally found the progress rather easy; I cook a lot with vegetables anyway, so meat was easily replaced with non-meat alternatives. I thought the urge to eat meat would be the biggest hurdle to overcome; instead, it was the telling of family and friends that I had become a vegetarian.

I keep getting ask why I'm doing it. That's a touchy subject, one which you have to approach delicately. I don't personally care whether or not people around me eat meat, so I don't want to sound preachy and soap-boxy when I tell them my reasons. I defaulted to simply saying that it was a personal challenge, that I just wanted to see if I could do it. That's true, but it's not the entire set of reasons, and not many people appreciated my answer. In fact, a few people scoffed. So... now I am writing an informal document that cites nothing within it to give you an idea of what went on in my head when I decided to switch.

Whenever someone asks me why I gave up meat, they often give me a list of reasons they think motivate people to eat only veggies. Here they are, accompanied by my typical answers in conversation:

1. Ethical concerns? Yup.
2. Pollution worries? Yup.
3. Health reasons? Nope.
4. Or are you just doing it? YEAH BASICALLY THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT REASON.

I don't care if you eat meat. Do it. Enjoy it. I just don't want any. These are my thoughts, in an effort to help those around me understand why I decided to switch.

1. Ethical Concerns. I'm a huge animal lover. Always have been. I've watched numerous documentaries concerning the treatment of animals over the past few years. They made me ill.

That's not to say I don't support the eating of an animal for food. Quite the contrary - that's how the food chain works. One animal eats vegetables, another eats that animal, and so on... then some shmuck with big ideas like me comes in and ruins it all by only eating vegetables and essentially putting himself at the bottom of the chain. But that's another story.

So what don't I like about the killing of animals for food? Well, I don't like the conditions in which they live prior to their killing. There are few farmers these days, and fewer new people still go into the profession. So, in order to keep up with the demand, farms cease looking like one or two barn operations and often take the form of animal-producing factories where everything must run at peak efficiency in order to make ends meet. Factories are not known for their cushy living conditions when you, the animal, are the product. Believe me. I've seen shit that'll turn you white.

That's not to say all farms are bad. Not at all, in fact. There are many locally owned smaller establishments that hand raise beautiful animals, which ensure their livestock live out their life in a manner much more comfortable than the places I described above. Those places care about their animals to a much greater extent; my folks live near farms that let their chickens roam free and I think that's great.

But... when I go to the store, how do I know I am getting meat from a place like that? How do I know where it's coming from at all? That leads me to my next issue (I'm adding one to the list):

2. Consumerism and Food Abstraction. I remember cooking a delicious roast for my friends one night. They asked me where I had gotten it. I said the Superstore. Then I thought: I had no idea where it had actually come from. As I walked through the store's meat section, I realized that I had no idea where most of this meat had originated. I was seeing products on a shelf, and to me, that's what meat was - until I started casually looking into it.

Let's say you buy a nice seasoned roast from a store. It's all nicely packaged, has all the nutritional information laid out so you know exactly what's in it. So you buy it, take it home, and cook it. It's great. But I found that when I traced through the origins of that particular roast, I became upset.

That roast was a calf. It was born, had a mother, and nursed from its mother. Then it grew up, possibly spending the bulk of its life in a stall. It might have been fed ground up bits of other cows (remember mad cow, anyone?). It may have been injected with growth hormones, or at least came from a lineage which promoted muscular growth. Then, one day, it was herded through a twisty path, shot in the head, drained of its blood, skinned, carved up, seasoned, packaged, brought to the store, and placed on the shelf where you got it. In fact, it was probably spread into multiple packages scattered throughout the same store.

It may have also enjoyed a nice life spent largely in a huge field, grazing in the sunlight with its peers and enjoying some degree of personal freedom before being rendered into meat. How could I know?

I couldn't know. I could research different companies, but the point is this: I couldn't walk into a store and immediately know.

I was once with a friend who became upset when I was eating chicken wings. She was not a vegetarian, but couldn't deal with seeing bones in the food I was eating. I suspect there are a lot of folks who would become queasy if they knew where their food came from. I know I did. This abstraction of meat from its origins is upsetting to me. Your meat doesn't come from a store. It comes from a dead animal.

3. Pollution. The carbon footprint of an omnivore is greater than a vegetarian when you take into account only food consumption. Animals generate carbon dioxide. Meat rendering requires energy, and shipping of meat from rendering plants to stores, and from stores to homes, is by far the largest contributor to one's food carbon footprint.

4. Health Reasons. I have no personal health concerns; I never ate very much red meat, my blood pressure's fine, I'm healthy. I suppose by not eating meat, I don't run the risk of mad cow, but that's not a huge concern with proper animal regulations in place, as they are. I do have health concerns about vegetarianism, however, so I ensure to take vitamin and mineral supplements, and try to enjoy a very balanced diet.

5. Just giving it a try. Ah, my favorite default answer that seems to piss people off. Sorry about that. I'm just basically using it to back out of the conversation. Besides, I love a good challenge. Trying new food is fun, too.

6. Personal reasons (oh, I just added yet another). I have a rabbit. The last time I ate meat, she watched me while sitting at my feet. I suddenly couldn't fathom why I chose to eat a pig (I was having slow-cooked honey mustard ham), and why I chose to befriend a rabbit. I felt like it made me a hypocrite. I'll kill and eat this ugly pig, but I won't harm my cute rabbit. Instead, I'll pet and snuggle her because she's cute and fluffy. How do we decide these things? Cuteness? Do you snuggle cute things and eat ugly things? Are pigs ugly? Why is eating a rabbit becoming taboo, but eating a pig is normal practice? I have no answers.

So I just gave up meat. It was pretty easy.

I've Started...

2011-03-29T16:51:00.001-07:00

... writing a new story. I haven't done so in ages, but I'm delighted to announce that I have one in the works. I don't know when it will be done and I don't know if it will be worth sharing. I hope it WILL be worth sharing; I've grown quite attached to the concept, and I think someone (at least one person) will actually enjoy it for whatever it's worth.

It feels so good to write something again!

Blogging is Dead, Long Live Blogging

2011-02-22T18:05:00.000-08:00

I haven't written anything on this blog in an age, and I don't know if I plan to anytime soon. I have many interesting things to share but through a lackluster mixture of not caring and laziness, I have arrived at an aged blog with no sign of reinvigoration in the near future.

Also, what is the deal with Twitter? I twat useless shit all day, and the Internet is no better off. At least with a blog, one can create some level of meaningful content - even if that only means forming sentences which aren't restricted to 140 characters and don't contain things like "ur," "RT," and "#ilovepieohmy."

And yet, I'll twitter/tweet/twat/toot like the rest of them, polluting the Internet further while faithfully abandoning one of the fast-dwindling useful facets of the Internet: the notion that someone else gives a damn enough to read the shit you write.

We can't keep your attention for a paragraph. Let's chop it down to 140 characters.

Wikipedia

2010-11-12T11:12:00.001-08:00

That time of year has come again; that time is, of course, Wikipedia's yearly search for donations. I've donated again. Why not give it a go?

As always, if you don't donate, I'm better than you.

Gift Wish

2010-07-25T20:26:00.000-07:00

For 5 years, whenever it came time for a gift-giving occasion, I had always been asked "What do you want for a present?" Every time that question was posed to me, I'd respond with "An ironing board." Yes, I've wanted an ironing board that long. And no, no one ever got me one.

Thinking that an ironing board would be an easy request to fulfill, I initially asked for one from my parents. They felt that such a gift was too blasé to suit for Christmas, and so I got... some other stuff. I then answered the gift question from friends, and then my parents again with "I simply want an ironing board. Not a fancy one either," without any idea whether or not a fancy ironing board exists - or indeed what a fancy ironing board would constitute. Even my girlfriend at the time backed the ironing board suggestion. Five years of this happened.

Well, today, I bought my own fucking ironing board. Thanks, everyone, for making me fulfill my own five-fucking-year wish. It was on sale for ten bucks at Walmart.

Now, in case anyone asks me that question again, let it be known that I want a trip through the North West Passage. And not the fancy trip, either.

Game Over.

2010-06-14T10:33:00.000-07:00

Recently, my rabbit stood upright and took three steps on her hind feet.

Our days are numbered.

I'm Old

2010-05-27T07:44:00.001-07:00

Happy birthday to me. Woo.

The Madness Which is My Cat

2010-02-28T07:18:00.001-08:00

As I sit here, waiting for our new landlord to call about a missing set of keys (which is in fact keeping us from moving into our new apartment), I find myself considering the unusualness of my cat, Jo. Just now, Tara was cutting a string from one of Jo's toys with Jo was watching intently. When handed the toy, she ignored it and stood transfixed by the scissors in Tara's hand. She has a keen and unusual interest in all things human; feline oriented tasks and products interest her to a far lesser degree.

But that's not what I wanted to talk about. What I really wanted to talk about was some of the odd situations in which we have found Jo. Here goes:

- I had lit a candle and left it on our kitchen table. I then left the room for a period of fewer than ten minutes, only to rush back into the room when I smelled smoke. It wasn't just smoke that I smelled; it was coupled with the scent of burning hair. I found Jo sitting on the floor, tendrils of the dark smoke curling upward from her backside. Tara and I grabbed her, only to find that she had in fact just finished being on fire. Evidently, she had placed her tail in the candle's flame, and burned most of the fur from it and her ass. Fortunately, she's a long-haired cat - none of the fire made it to her skin. Barely. It took most of a year for her fur to grow back completely.

- Jo frequently hunts Tara's feet. We don't know why.

- Once, while I was cleaning the bathroom, Jo entered with a toy in her mouth. At first I took no notice; after I realized, however, that the toy had a meter long string which was no longer visible, I became immediately concerned. The toy itself was actually hanging from her mouth by only a centimeter of the string. She sat upon the toilet seat and, as I gently tugged on the toy, regurgitated the remaining 99 centimeters.

- Anytime Jo engages in a fight with Munchie, our rabbit, she loses. Those fights often begin in the middle of the night, in the middle of our bed. What fun.

- Jo loves belly rubs, but hates it if you make a sniffing sound near her. She will bite you in the face if you don't heed her angry groans. She once bit me in the face while I was holding her, for no reason at all. She then clamped her four sets of claws behind my head and hanged there for what seemed like an eternity. I'm not joking.

- Sometimes, Jo has the need to take a really huge shit. When this happens (and it's usually not more than once in 6 months), she begins howling and walking around in circles. When you enter the room to see what all the noise is about, she'll stare at you, clearly expecting you to solve her little problem. To solve it, place her in her litter box, so she may explode. And explode she does. Scooping right afterward is recommended.

There. I've just fulfilled a basic Internet requirement - I've blogged about my cat and, to a lesser extent, my rabbit. I'm now a proud member to the Internet Cats Stereotype.

Now, where the fuck are those keys?

Vinyl

2009-12-25T20:20:00.000-08:00

Thanks to an incredibly thoughtful girlfriend, I've had the luxury of spending the last couple of hours listening to my vinyl collection. I much prefer "Evil Urges" this way. I've missed not having a record player.

The Byte Bandit

2009-10-16T08:13:00.001-07:00

Does anyone know who wrote the Byte Bandit virus for the Amiga? Please, let me know...

... because I want to punch them.

Thrifty Friday

2009-09-18T06:06:00.000-07:00

Whilst sitting in my coworkers' office, swearing at a hard drive enclosure that just didn't want to be assembled, I was informed that a huge gaping hole existed in the armpit of my relatively new t-shirt.

So I stapled it together.

In other news, I bought a 2004 Toyota Echo. While not necessarily a proof against thriftiness, it does provide a measure from which to gauge my thrift.

The Queen vs. Terry Jones

2009-09-06T12:26:00.000-07:00

Lucian Freud's 2001 portrait of the Queen, which has garnered much adoration and criticism from the viewing public, was painted during a number of sittings between May 2000 and December 2001.

Freud, over-excited at the notion of painting Her Majesty in all her glory and blinded by the gleaming Diamond Diadem pictured atop her cranium, failed to realize that he was actually painting Terry Jones in drag.

Hawt.

Random Musings, Part 2.

2009-08-14T22:15:00.000-07:00

I am so manly, even my feet have balls.

Examples Which Illustrate Why I Cannot Walk and Talk Simultaneously at Night While Alone

2009-08-14T10:46:00.000-07:00

1. While walking home in a snow storm, I came across a fellow walking toward me through the snow. As he passed me, he said "Hello." Immediately, my mind began processing an appropriate response. The final two contenders were "good day," and "hello," but before my mind was ready, my mouth started talking. I ended up replying with "Gaydo."

2. I found myself admiring the houses on my street as I walked home one night. Some of the houses were really beautiful, and I began to wish that I could have the chance to live in them. One house to my left, however, wasn't of my liking and so I said aloud "God, what an odd looking house. I don't like it." Since I was busy looking to my left, I didn't notice a man walking toward me. I did notice him, however, once he had turned up the driveway of that odd-looking house, glaring my way.

3. While talking to myself, I passed by an apartment complex. I said something which, at the time, I found completely hilarious and began to laugh. As I did, an attractive woman leaned out of her apartment window, saw me, shriveled her nose, and ducked back in.

4. After laughing aloud at another silly thought, I received an odd look from a couple who had just emerged from the shadow caused by a street light shining near a tree. When I noticed them, I quickly set about singing "Laughing" by the Guess Who. I'm not sure they were convinced.

Perhaps I should just stop talking to myself. At night. While walking in the city.

Random Musings, Part 1.

2009-08-09T07:33:00.001-07:00

When excited, men with penis-fingers are unable to make a fist.

Unusual Day

2009-08-01T21:31:00.001-07:00

I've deemed this day unusual as a result of the following:

1. While taking the garbage out of my apartment, the hall lights turned on by themselves. Further inspection showed that both light switches (which operate the same set of lights) were in the same position; as a result, the lights should have been off. Once I returned from taking the garbage out, I noticed that my washer was smoking. I ran a test load afterward, and it operated normally. The lights went out when I flicked one wall switch from on to off again.

2. A 4-year-old asked me to be her boyfriend when she grew up. I was barbecuing on the front deck when she and her father (our new neighbours) passed by. All I could do was politely suggest that such a conversation was better suited to older people. In response, she gave me a Sobeys sticker.

3. My rabbit walked a short distance on her hind feet. This actually happened a little while ago, but seemed unusual enough to warrant inclusion in this list.

It's too hot.

2009-07-28T10:28:00.000-07:00

My taint is sweating.

TRS-80

2009-07-04T18:57:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine recently gave me a Radio Shack TRS-80, circa 1977. The video display is garbled, though I have managed to confirm that it is indeed only the video display that is malfunctioning. I was able to write a BASIC program that gave the output I expected (albeit with the wrong characters displaying - it was a trick to program), so it seems that the memory is fine.

I guess I need to find some details regarding the TRS-80 hardware. I'd love to make this computer work like new.

Cautionary Measures

2009-07-04T13:51:00.000-07:00

It turns out that our most recent guests have been looking after a dog upon which fleas have just been discovered. Tara's systematically dismantling our apartment and treating everything with insecticide. If I weren't morally opposed to pesticides, I probably wouldn't be as grumpy as I am right now.

Midnight Meatloaf

2009-06-22T20:02:00.001-07:00

It's well after midnight, and I can't sleep. I've wandered into the kitchen and am now sitting in a large bowl chair, next to an open window. Having pulled out my laptop from a bag lying on the floor, I begin updating my blog (something I have apparently not done in a very long time). Between keypresses, I can hear Meatloaf's Paradise by the Dashboard Light echoing from down the street. I look out in a vain attempt to locate the source - every window on the street is dark. In spite of this, the street's dead appearance, Meatloaf continues to proclaim his love for the song's female protagonist in an effort to get in her pants.

I'm not sure why, but I find it comforting to know that someone is curing their insomnia by projecting Meatloaf to the masses. I pause from my typing, following the song. I've heard it countless times before, and find myself waiting for the point where both singers declare they are "praying for the end of time / To hurry up and arrive" after having promised they'd love each other 'till the end. Finally, that moment comes and I chuckle. Promises are best made without a fire in one's loins, it seems.

The song ends and Pop Goes the World takes over. It is then that I delete what I had been typing, choosing instead to write about now. Now is so much more interesting than the fictional drivel my mind was concocting not a moment ago.

Maid Marian's Burns Down

2009-05-20T20:25:00.000-07:00

I received a phone call from Tara last night; she was visiting friends and had heard Maid Marian's had caught fire. She and her friend Tammy rushed to pick me up, and the three of us arrived at what used to be one of the greasiest and tastiest restaurants in Charlottetown. I managed to get a few pictures before my camera's battery pack wore out. Needless to say, the entire restaurant and adjoining pharmacy and smoke shop have been converted largely to ash.

My Favorite Name

2009-04-27T12:24:00.001-07:00

Previous favorite spelling of my name: Keth Bourgogeny

Current favorite spelling of my name: Keith Bagoing.

Thanks, Nick.

My (Almost) Last Will and (Sort of) Testament

2009-04-19T20:52:00.000-07:00

Since I have recently decided that this summer will see me plunging like a fool from an airplane in tandem with a piece of fabric on my back, I felt it was necessary to (not) begin thinking about writing a will. The following is (not) the final draft (because no such will exists), in its entirety.

I, Keith Burgoyne, have decided that upon my passing, the following measures will be taken:

1. All of my awesome stuff will be buried with me.
2. All of my crappy stuff will be given to Value Village.
3. My pets will be set free.

That's as far as I've gotten.

Wha-what?

2009-04-01T13:02:00.000-07:00

Holy fuck! It's the first of April!

Customer Service and DNS

2009-02-08T17:46:00.000-08:00

Beginning roughly two weeks ago, the range of time at which it takes to resolve a domain name via Eastlink's name servers has increased to within ten to fifteen seconds. For a dialup user, this can be typical. For a cable Internet subscriber, this is unusual. The end result is, of course, a perceived slowdown in connectivity. Loading a website which before took a second or two, now takes in excess of ten.

Before I continue, I'll divert your attention to Wikipedia's article on Domain Name Systems; this, as it turns out, is important to the rest of my story. I'll summarize the portions of the article which apply to my service:

As is true with most providers (and as the article describes), an ISP allows their users access to a set of DNS servers; these are used by the client's systems when resolving a textual domain name address to its numeric IP address equivalent. Without name resolution as such, the impractical task of remembering large numbers for specific network nodes would be required (an example of this is google.ca's IP address equivalent which, as of this writing, is 64.233.187.104).

DNS resolution, in a nut shell, happens like this:

1. Client requires a domain name (google.ca) to be resolved.
2. Client's system queries the ISP's DNS servers.
3. DNS server recursively determines the IP address of the domain (beginning with the "ca" domain, followed by the "google" subdomain) either through the examination of its own cache, or the querying of authoritative servers for that domain (ns1.google.com).
4. ISP's DNS server forwards the IP address to the client computer. The client computer carries on, using that IP address.

At some stage in this process, my ISP's name servers were (and still are) encountering a delay. I tried switching to OpenDNS, but they too experienced the same delay. In addition, a number of friends (also Eastlink customers) reported that they were experiencing the same problem and had attempted to change their name servers without any noteable improvement. We began to suspect some sort of traffic shaping was being applied on a per-IP basis. I tested this by directly connecting another computer to my modem. Eastlink's DHCP server delivered a new IP address; any DNS latency was immediately gone. Unfortunately, renewing the DHCP lease on my router resulted in the old IP again (and my entire network is fed through this router). DNS slowness ensued.

I decided to contact Eastlink and ask if there was some odd filter being applied to my account. If there was indeed something that was slowing DNS to a virtual standstill, I intended to complain.

The representative with whom I spoke was less than helpful. He didn't seem to understand that I wasn't having trouble downloading web pages - I was having trouble resolving their domain names. He placed me on hold for a few moments, then returned saying that he wasn't able to see any problem with the quality of my cable signal.

I again explained that I had no problem with any other aspect of my Internet connection, other than slow DNS service. It was here that he began to get a little testy. I tried to explain that when I had suspected a DNS issue, I attempted to query the DNS servers directly with dig and nslookup. After a few tries, I had found there was a huge delay in getting a response. He responded with (and I'm paraphrasing): "Then you're getting that delay because you're being black listed. When you try to ping us, we think that's a denial of service attack and block your IP address. You're not allowed to ping us or we'll block you."

I explained that I was not pinging anything but, rather, I was resolving domain names with dig and nslookup. He then retorted with an explanation that went on as follows:

1. That's like pinging, so users are not allowed to do that.
2. nslookup is probably introducing its own delay by sending a message to its own "service," then that "service" was sending a message to Eastlink, then taking Eastlink's message back to its "service," then back to my own computer (and he was sure to ask about my computer specs, to ensure that my computer wasn't slow and causing the delay itself).
3. He further explained that nslookup is probably like flying from Charlottetown to Halifax, with a stop-over in BC. It's just so slow!

Here is the man page on nslookup: link. Also, here is the man page on dig: link.

Finally, he told me that a ten to fifteen second page load-time was acceptable and therefore couldn't understand why I felt that I had a problem. He then stated that he had just visited cnn.com, and it had loaded in about fifteen seconds - and that was just fine with him. I tried to explain that everything which depended on name resolution was affected (prior to my calling, numerous attempts to connect to web, ssh, and jabber servers had failed simply because the domain could not be resolved in a timely manner), and that page loading was not an issue.

At this point, he began explaining angrily why we have domain names (because we can't remember numbers). This explanation went on for over five minutes, and ended with him telling me that if I go to cnn.com and it is slow to load, it's because cnn.com's cookies are slow. Cookies. Slow ones.

It was at this point that I gave up. I asked that a note be affixed to my account which stated that I was unhappy with the DNS service and felt there was a problem. He rapidly spat out the obligatory "thanks for calling," and the call ended.

Working at a call centre is not a glamorous job, and can be frustrating. I know this for a fact - I worked at one while I was a student. I apologize to the technician if I appeared argumentative; if I did, however, it was only because of his unwillingness to help.

OMGOmGOmgOMGOMG: Y I KANT MSn 2 U Part 2

2009-01-29T17:51:00.000-08:00

12. Surrounding text with asterisks does not constitute a real action: "*pokes you in the shoulder* rofl, r u there." You did not poke my shoulder; don't pretend that you have.

13. Never write a message that includes "LOL" - especially when you are not laughing.

14. The fish-eye effect on your webcam feed makes your head look huge while the resulting four-frames-per-second animation reminds me of a Hana-Barbera cartoon. Leave the webcam off.

OMGOmGOmgOMGOMG: Y I KANT MSn 2 U

2009-01-15T18:58:00.000-08:00

1. LOL, ROFL, ROFLMAO, BRB, OMG, OMFG, and OMFGLMAO are not words.

2. Emoticons are for the emotionally inarticulate.

3. Giant animating images, which draw focus from the surrounding text and take the place of common everyday words, force a strong feeling of revulsion upon me and put epileptic kids into seizures. Animated GIFs have no place in a conversation.

4. Grammar is not a thing of the past.

5. speeling matturz. Use a dictionary.

6. I don't care what music you are listening to while we chat.

7. Don't ever, ever "nudge" me again.

8. Pictures of emo goths are lame.

9. Use your own damned name. Write your name in characters that belong to the alphabet upon which your native language is built.

10. Don't send me files. How do I know you keep your Windows 98 desktop (complete with the Yahoo, Google, Triple-X, Pirate Bay, and Zwinky toolbars) free of viruses? Also, there is a very good probability that whatever you are sending to me can be retrieved elsewhere at a much faster rate; there is also a good chance that I can find the same content in a better quality.

11. No part of MSN is encrypted. That is, all data passed between two MSN users is entirely legible by anyone with half a brain and just the right amount of boredom.

Wikipedia is Looking for Donations

2008-12-23T08:59:00.000-08:00

Oddly enough, when writing the title, I inadvertently placed "donairs" instead of "donations." I must be hungry.

Anyway, I donated just now. If you don't, then I'm better than you.

Who Ya Gonna Call?

2008-11-21T23:34:00.000-08:00

I've just returned home from a midnight screening of Ghostbusters. The reel, reportedly, was an original print; that would make it roughly 24 years old. There were varying amounts of film scratches throughout, and the film itself had obviously fallen victim to emergency splicing in more than one location -- all of this, however, served only to increase the overall awesomeness of the experience.

Ghostbusters is by far my favorite film of all time. I'm glad that I finally had a chance to view it in theatre, scratches, splices, and all. Classic.

The Great Gig in the Sky

2008-11-16T21:29:00.002-08:00

Today, while sitting at a coffee shop and waiting for a friend to arrive, I learned of Richard Wright's passing. Here's to him -- may he and the Crazy Diamond shine on forever.

Imagine if...

2008-10-14T07:01:00.001-07:00

... Sarah Palin and Tina Fey made out.

Someone get me a cigarette.

Take Me to Your Leader

2008-10-11T21:55:00.000-07:00

If aliens ever watched over Canada, they'd probably be a little confused as to who our leader really was. More than likely, they'd assume that position was filled by Britney Spears or Miley Cirus instead of Stephen Harper and the Conservatives.

From cbc.ca:

Stressing the importance of a leader's team when running the government, Chrétien suggested Harper's has remained unremarkable and invisible. He said educated Montrealers drew blanks when asked to name five ministers.

I'd prefer to have a leader that I can actually see. And not a blonde.

Playing - Living - in Traffic

2008-10-08T19:26:00.000-07:00

I don't own a car, and in fact refuse to own a car. I live in a relatively small city, and I'm fairly centrally located. Work is only a 15 minute walk away, and most things I need are pretty close to home. As such, I can get anywhere on foot within a reasonable amount of time; for anything on the outer fringe of the city, I use a bike.

I also like to think that I'm helping to make up for the pollution caused by other non eco-friendly and completely impractical methods of city-based transportation. Did I mention that I hate SUVs?

That said, I've nearly been hit by a car three times (twice on a bike, once on foot) at the intersection of Prince St. and Euston, and had to pull Tara out of the way of a car racing through a crosswalk upon which we were walking on University Avenue. Tara has also had a whole slew of near misses, and one minor hit as well.

The other day, as I walked to work, I noticed a Chevette pull up onto the sidewalk and continue to drive on it for a whole block. The entire car was on the sidewalk. All four wheels. For a block. The streets aren't that poorly maintained!

I should also point out at this time that while Tara and I have had our share of problems with traffic, they all have occured while we were obeying the traffic laws.

Driving isn't all that safe either. Just the other day, Dan and I were in a rather unusual car accident. An elderly handicapped lady hit us from behind while we were driving a truck. The woman, in a minivan, apparently had pulled out of a parking spot at Walmart; she then proceeded to hit a white car, miss a pedestrian by a hair, hit Walmart (yes, she hit the actual store itself), miss another set of pedestrians, hit Dan and I -- and then as I sat alone in the truck while Dan got out to speak with her, she backed up and hit me again (also hitting another truck in the process). Dan and I were sore, and there was a fair bit of damage done to Walmart, but it seemed no real injuries were had. The woman was incoherent and clearly had no idea what had happened.

I think I'll become a hermit and not go outside.

In Case You Don't Get it

2008-09-16T16:52:00.000-07:00

If you've ever read Penny Arcade and just didn't get it, here's why.

Long live xkcd.com.

Bad but Memorable Poetry

2008-08-21T19:24:00.000-07:00

In discussing PEI's ailing tourism sector, all who sat around the kitchen table agreed that few things can be enjoyed by a tourist visiting the island without first forking over a substantial amount of cash. It's true; most of the island's parks are provincially owned and cannot be visited without first paying an entrance fee. Beaches are the same.

Our discussion led me to recall that while I was a kid, it was necessary to pay to use the bathrooms in the downtown mall. Ten cents bought you access to them. I remember when I first approached the coin drop; I inserted my dime with the expectation that if one has to pay to use the facilities, they must be pretty darn fancy. I also remember that, upon my entrance, I found nothing extraordinary about the bathroom other than a strong aroma of urine and the following poem etched on one of the bathroom stalls:

There I sat, broken hearted,
Paid a dime and only farted!
Next time I will take the chance,
Save a dime and shit my pants.

I was ten when I read that. The next time I attempted to use the bathroom at the mall, they had replaced the stalls and removed the coin drop from the door.

Just Don't...

2008-08-11T20:50:00.000-07:00

... drink three pints of beer, eat one large curry with chips, and work out for an hour.

Writing Hiatus, Apple IIe

2008-07-21T21:07:00.000-07:00

I've written very little in the past few months.

On the flip side, I've recently acquired an Apple IIe. My collection of antiquated computers has now grown to the point of needing a more permanent residence that is neither my home, nor that of my parents'.

For practical reasons, I wish I had been a collector of smaller items -- like baseball cards. I'm simply running out of space!

Top Ten Signs that You' ve Really Made it on the Island

2008-06-25T08:12:00.000-07:00

1. Your truck seats at least 5 people and your dog comfortably.
2. Your truck's suspension is raised such that a small car can fit underneath without harm to either vehicle.
3. You've drank whilst driving your truck but have never been caught.
4. You wear a cell phone in a leather holder on your belt. Your belt, in addition to anchoring your phone, also comfortably keeps your jeans up under your belly (a belly which is accented by the fact you've neatly tucked your Canadian or Molson branded polo shirt into said jeans).
5. Your 19 year old wife is pregnant with your second child.
6. You have a goatee.
7. You have a Calvin and Hobbes bumper sticker which features Calvin urinating on the Ford or Chevrolet logo. Otherwise, you have sporty Tasmanian Devil splash guards on all four wheels.
8. You pronounce bike as "boike", boys as "boyys", counsin as "cousint."
9. You live on "pogey" for half the year.
10. You have at least three baseball hats featuring your favorite hockey teams. One of those three you save for special occassions, such as when you're "goin' out with the boyys."

Confusing, Yet Hilaroius, Spam

2008-05-12T13:24:00.000-07:00

If I told you what happened to me your not going to ever believe it but here goes: I am 7 inches big!!

Sofa Demolition, Movement

2008-05-11T17:39:00.000-07:00

After almost a year of procrastination, I finally decided that it was time for us to remove our cheap and ancient couch. This particular couch, which had cost me only $9.99 at Value Village (laugh it up), had been carried several city blocks by myself and a friend and placed inside my first apartment. Another friend and I spent a few hours moving it into my second apartment (the duration of the move will be explained shortly). Despite the amount of effort exerted to keep this couch, I eventually bought a second for a remarkable price and stored it in my kitchen.

My current apartment has an unusual layout; that is, the bedroom door is on a 40 degree angle from the entrance to the living room. As a result, my hallway ends in an oddly shaped V. Moving a couch through this is extremely difficult, and invariably ends with damage to the walls. This was the reason for the 3 hour move of the original couch; it took that long to make it into the living room. It was then that I had decided that if we were to ever remove that couch, it would be done so in multiple stages (cut it up, and throw it out). And so Mike, Maria, Tara and I set about cutting my couch in two. Here are photos of said event:

Dr. Mike prepares for surgery with a rusty hacksaw.

Dr. Keith is set to separate two conjoined chairs.

Mike makes the first incision.

Nurse Maria stands by with one of many necessary surgical tools.

Cutting through the last bit of mesh holding the twins together.

Operation was successful. Maria holds one of the chairs.

They look at each other for the first time.

Finally, we left what-was-the-couch on the curb for the proverbial stork (garbage truck) to take them to their new home.

Next we moved the new couch into the living room. This was the hard part.

The couch became wedged in the V at the end of the hall.

Tara examines the scene. Yes, the couch is wedged so tightly that without anyone holding it, no part of it is touching the floor.

I couldn't get out. Not even to poop.

After a lot of pushing, pulling, and (literally) kicking, the couch got in.

Then we went to see a movie. The end.

Sleep-Deprived Midnight Epiphanies

2008-04-13T00:00:00.000-07:00

(02:34:18 AM) keith: Man.
(02:34:24 AM) keith: I just had a fucking mind blowing thought
(02:34:28 AM) keith: Here it is:
(02:34:33 AM) keith: There are fucking time machines, everywhere.
(02:34:48 AM) keith: Seriuously. We're all "oh, we didn't invent time machines yet, so there are none."
(02:34:49 AM) keith: WRONG.
(02:35:02 AM) keith: 1000 years in the future, time machines are invented
(02:35:16 AM) keith: so then they come back in time to see what we were like, right?
(02:35:25 AM) keith: At any given time, there are like, 25 time machines downtown
(02:35:36 AM) keith: Seriously, go down town and I bet you'll see one without even knowing it
(02:36:15 AM) keith: I mean, you walk past a piece of shit k-car downtown... you don't know what's under the hood. It could be some fucking awesome time machine engine, and you'd be none the wiser.
(02:36:57 AM) keith: I'm gonna go see if I can get one, brb

Flu, in Stages

2008-04-11T21:27:00.000-07:00

Any time I get a cold, I get it in stages. If it's a small cold, it never progresses beyond the first "feeling like I might have something" stage. If it's a large cold or flu, it all happens in clearly distinct and drawn out stages.

It usually starts with a hint of a cold. No real symptoms, but there's definitely a feeling of something not being right with the ol' bod. I had this for a week, then it went away; I felt back to normal. Just another cold, defeated at Stage 1.

Then after a weekend of bragging to my sick friends about how I had beaten the cold effortlessly, Monday saw me with a nagging cough that sounded (or so my coworkers described) as though I was dying. It was just a cough though -- nothing big. So the cold came back, in the form of Stage 2: the "Nagging Symptoms But No Biggie" stage.

Then Thursday night happened. After coughing till 3am, I noticed something else was amiss. Yep, a migraine was about to begin. Seriously. The cold skipped Stage 3 (the "Additional Symptoms Jump on Board" stage), and went right on to Stage 4: "Wanting to Die."

Stage 4 lasted until some time late into Friday evening, and seems to have settled down to a much calmer Stage 3 (almost a Stage 2). I'm hoping I'll get it down to a Stage 1 before Saturday is out.

Boiling Water All Over My Apartment

2008-04-07T20:28:00.000-07:00

Earlier today, I read an article on tearing problems with rabbit eyes. My rabbit, since early winter, has had numerous stints where her eyes would tear constantly, leaving her face wet and her fur crusty and matted where the tears have dried.

At first I thought my cat was playing too roughly with her, and was poking her in the eyes. We took her to the vet, though he was unable to find anything wrong with her (no physical damage, swelling, or any other abnormalities). He suggested that she was allergic to something in the apartment, and we systematically took things away from her access to see if her condition would improve. Unfortunately, it didn't. We were at a loss -- that is, of course, until I read that article.

I never really noticed, but rabbits only blink their eyes once or twice in a minute. In a normal environment (a forest, not an apartment), that's plenty of blinks to deliver the much needed moisture to their eyes. However, in my apartment, whose humidity level peaks at about 51% (keep in mind, I took those measurements with an analogue meter and I cannot be certain of the accuracy), there probably isn't enough humidity to keep her eyes moist and thus she tears up (not unlike a waterfall).

I've gotten some recommendations for eye lubricants and I intend to purchase both that and a humidifier for her (tear drops on a rabbit, who would have thought). In the meantime, to make the place a little more bearable, I've set the shower to run without the air exchange, boiled a pot of water on the stove, and set about boiling a kettle in each room.

We've noticed the dryness quite a bit; nose bleeds are fairly common, as are chapped lips and the like. I don't really know why I've delayed in getting a frigging humidifier in the first place.

Candy and Flavour

2008-04-04T20:48:00.001-07:00

I hate candy. A decent piece of chocolate is alright once in a while, but candy itself is garbage. Suckers, gummies, etc... I really dislike the lot of it (although there are the scattered exceptions -- I do enjoy real licorice every so often).

My problem with candy comes from two stand points. The first, candy doesn't taste like it is advertised to be; the second, most candy is made up of sugar and random chemicals that are not food.

A little while ago, I had what I think may be my last strawberry sucker. it had been the first I've had in the better part of a year. I hauled it from its wrapper, tasted it, and felt it break into little pieces which littered my mouth with a flavour that was not at all like that of a strawberry. It tasted of sugar, a tartness that I guessed was citric acid, and something else that I couldn't really identify. I suppose the mystery taste was similar to strawberries, but it wasn't very close. I've eaten many strawberries in the past. This tasted in a way that was similar to how a sunset would look were it painted by a blind man.

Now, you can argue that different candy lines produce multiple strawberry flavours, some closer to the real thing than others. I don't care. It's not strawberry, so don't call it that.

Another flavour that irks me is watermelon. I've tasted watermelon. It's light, kind of sweet, very watery. Any watermelon candy I have is almost always so strong (and completely unlike watermelon at all) that it makes you (me) nearly wince.

Also, what the hell is blue raspberry? Have you ever seen a blue raspberry? Is it supposed to be a combination of blueberries and raspberries? I've had that berry combination before. Tastes nothing like the candy.

Enough about how candy doesn't taste like fruit (why is candy always based on fruit flavours any way?). Onto more pressing issues, like ingredients. There are so many huge words listed in the ingredients list on most candy wrappers, that a person might never know what each really is. I once saw a young woman report on Street Cents that if you see a huge name in an ingredient list, it's probably some sort of processed sugar. I hate processed food.

I thought I would mention the ingredients list of Rockets (known in the USA as Smarties, hence the following link): Rocket (Smarties) Nutritional Information. There are a number of sugar-related ingredients, chemicals that add colour to the candy, etc. One ingredient that I could not identify, however, was calcium stearate. I took the liberty of looking it up. I found the definition here. It reads: "calcium stearate, an insoluble calcium salt of stearic acid and palmitic acid... formed when soap is mixed with water that contains calcium ions and is the scum produced in regions of hard water."

Yeah. Soap scum. The same crap you whittle off with a knife and zap with Vim, you can find in Rockets (Smarties). There's fucking soap scum in our candy. Not to mention the several colourants (what ARE they made of?), and mysterious "artifical flavours," this candy is made primarily of man made chemicals that do not occur naturally.

I heard there was a guest on The Hour who said that if some food item doesn't rot, you shouldn't eat it. I'm not sure if soap scum rots, but I sure as hell won't be eating Rockets any time soon.

Continuing the Hardest Computer Setup I've Ever Had

2008-03-04T18:34:00.000-08:00

After using syslinux and a custom 2.6.25-rc3 kernel to boot the machine, I was finally able to build a proper 2.26.25 kernel and use the computer normally. I noticed a few shortcomings though, as I used the kernel for a few days -- namely: the nVidia proprietary driver couldn't be built along side 2.6.25, and networking seemed to randomly cut out.

I built a stock 2.26.24 debian kernel, and installed it. I've been using it for a few days now, and it seems relatively stable. I was able to use Envy to build the nVidia kernel, and network support hasn't been a problem. The only outstanding issues are the master volume control isn't available, likely due to an ALSA module issue, and the monitor goes into standby when the boot screen comes up.

Nothing huge, but I am making progress.

Most Difficult Computer Setup Ever

2008-02-23T20:56:00.000-08:00

I recently purchased a number of parts to build a new top-of-the-line computer. Having been mostly satisfied with my current computer, upgrading had been far from the front of my mind. That is, of course, until Tara's computer died. Not sure why or how, but the computer's performance suddenly downgraded to nothing more than emitting a long, mournful beep in lieu of booting.

Thinking that it would make more sense to purchase a new computer, rather than go through the painstaking job of locating older parts compatible with her computer (it is, after all, five years old), I bought a new computer and gave her my current machine. After a couple weeks, my order arrived and I quickly set about building it.

I was planning on recycling my hard and optical drives. This was my first mistake. I quickly realized that the IDE port on the mother board was placed so far away from the hard drive bay that it was impossible to connect both the IDE hard drive (that was my Windows drive) and my DVD burner. Opting to keep the DVD burner, I gave my windows drive to Tara as well. I already knew that this new motherboard was capable of supporting only two IDE devices and so I had also donated my CD-RW drive to Tara as well.

Giving up the hard drive wasn't a huge deal. It just meant that I would have to delay installing Windows on this machine for a while, until I could find a suitable SATA replacement (suitable = cheap). I already had a SATA drive, which was intended to run Linux (my main operating system of choice... Windows is only around to play games that I can't get running in wine). Installing Linux, however, proved to be (and still is) a problem.

My new CPU is a 45nm Wolfdale Intel Core 2 Duo. This required that I updated the BIOS on my motherboard before anything else (I had tried running the Kubuntu installer, but it kept rebooting my machine). That was easy enough (though the new BIOS came in the form of a Windows self-extracting archive that wouldn't run in wine, so I had to extract it from another computer). Finally, it was time to install Kubuntu. I opted for the 64-bit x86 7.10 version (since this computer has 4 gigs of RAM).

I threw in the CD and rebooted. I expected that the computer would boot the live CD and bring me to a KDE desktop. Not so. The installer Window came up, I selected "Install or Run Kubuntu," the kernel loaded, and the fucking computer rebooted.

I blinked. How the hell did that happen again? No errors were reported, so I re-ran the CD, and modified the boot options (removed the quiet and splash options). Again the computer rebooted before anything was displayed.

I did some checking, and found that the GeForce 8800 GT card I was using wasn't fond of the open source nVidia drivers, so I re-ran the installer in VESA mode. It rebooted again. I tried this another time and this time, for some reason, it worked. The desktop came up, and gave me a cursor. As soon as I moved my hand to the mouse, the KDM died and I was returned to a console. X started complaining about no DRI support. No shit.

I downloaded the alternate install CD. I booted it, and the fucking computer rebooted again. After the third try, it started up normally. I noted that there was no option to NOT format an existing partition in the installer (I wanted to replace the OS, but not wipe the home folders, which were on the same partition). That in mind, I booted a GParted live disc, which started immediatly.

I set GParted to shrink my main partition, and create a secondary partition which would allow me to backup my personal data. This whole operation, which I estimated would take no longer than an hour or two AT MOST to complete, actually took 12.5 hours to finish. Once it was done, I copied my home folder to the secondary partition. I started that at 3 PM, and left for a while. It's now 1:35 AM, and it's still not done. There must be something up with the support for this CPU in these kernels (GParted and Kubuntu live CDs have older kernels than what are available now)... or it is a combination of that and shit SATA drivers/default configurations.

Hopefully I can get Linux installed before the weekend is out.

I hate computers.

Tuesday is the new Monday

2008-02-05T05:50:00.000-08:00

I felt the Monday blahs yesterday and I certainly feel them today. Apparently I'm not the only one -- most of us at work feel the same way. We've determined that Tuesday is the new Monday, and that Monday is still (unfortunately) Monday.

Now that we have two Mondays in the week, I vote that we convert Thursday into Friday and keep Friday as Friday.

From the Urban Dictionary:

Tuesday - A seemingly "normal" day. The only significant Tuesday known to man absolutely sucked (9/11)...therefore Tuesday's are boring, pointless, stupid, and never live up to better day's like Friday.

(Please disregard the use of the possessive in "Tuesday's." The urban dictionary is open to public editing, and well... check out my post on email communication here and my post on public communication here for a little glimpse at how I feel regarding our bastardization of the English language).

2008-01-06T06:58:00.001-08:00

To begin, I'd just like to point out that I am writing this post on my new iPod Touch. It's pretty neat, though my typing skills need a bit of an improvement... Typing on a small flat screen is tough, but I must admit that I am very impressed with how they implemented the keyboard. Anyway, the retreat is awesome -- I'm having a blast. I'll be home sometime later this evening. I'd say this retreat has been a huge success!

I Met a Ghostbuster.

2007-12-23T01:34:00.000-08:00

Dan Aykroyd has recently begun touring Canada, promoting a new line of wine and tequila that carries his name. This is happening a few months after his announcement to create a twelve million dollar winery in Niagra, Ontario. See here for details on his new venture.

As part of his tour, he stopped on PEI for a couple of days. He began his stay with a public meet and greet at one of the government run liquor stores in down town Charlottetown. I, of course, attended.

The line up was huge. Luckily Tara and Troy were able to establish a spot in the line early on. Unluckily, they both had to leave before they got into the building; they gave me their spot. I waited for an additional seventy-five minutes or so, before finally getting to meet Dan Aykroyd himself.

He wished me a Merry Christmas, and me, being the idiot fan-boy that I am, was too nervous to come up with anything decent to say other than "Hello, how are you," "thank you," and "can you please sign this" (the latter was accompanied with a Ghostbusters DVD that I handed him). He not only signed the case, but the DVD as well, and then posed for a picture with me:

I wanted to shake his hand but, again, I was just a little too nervous to attempt (in what my opinion is) such a balls-y thing.

At any rate, I did get to meet him, and he was pretty dang awesome. As I left, I purchased a bottle of his chardonnay. I then walked home, camera in one hand, DVD and chardonnay in the other -- and a giant grin on my face.

It Isn't Christmas... Is it?

2007-12-21T22:43:00.000-08:00

I find it difficult to fathom that Christmas is almost here; I don't feel any Christmas spirit whatsoever. The only indication I have that Christmas is coming is the increasing frequency of which wretched Christmas carol covers are played on the radio at every single store I visit. If I have to hear another pop-rock rendition of Silver Bells, I may put my face through a wall.

That's not completely true. The second indication to me that Christmas is coming are the depressingly long line ups in stores. I normally hate Christmas shopping, but this year I'm car-less which means I get to walk for an age to a store, stand in line for a few more ages, and then spend another age and a half walking back. It's not only tiring -- it's a time-hog too. As you can imagine I really hate Christmas shopping this year.

Tara and I thought we'd try to make the best of our Christmas shopping one night and stop for dinner at (gasp) the Zellers Restaurant. Not sure what possessed us to sit down there, but when our dinners were served to us with still-frozen chicken, I knew then and there that I couldn't wait for Christmas to be over.

I still have a few more gifts to pick up. I hope I can get them on Saturday, leaving Sunday to relax and recover after what I am sure will be another frustrating excursion to the stores. I don't know what those gifts will be... Did I mention that I have no idea what to get anyone this holiday?

I'm heading out to my parents' place on Monday. That should be interesting. At least the tree will be already trimmed by the time I get there; trimming the tree is always one of the most "interesting" portions of the holiday (and without a doubt the most hostile). That said, I am sure things will get very interesting when I bring Jo and Munchie in from the 'rents' car. It has been a year since Bacon has seen them, and I have no doubt he'll want to kick each of their arses. Animal social dominance is often challenging to govern, negotiate, or even arbitrate.

Once I return home, I'll be meeting up with all the people I graduated with for a night of drunken comradery. It should be fun... I haven't seen some of those people in a considerably long time.

That's it for me. Time to rest up in preparation for the battle for the perfect Christmas gift.

...sigh.

Pathetic Drives a Pick-up Truck

2007-12-11T18:39:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday evening, Tara and I were walking home from downtown; we had just finished another leg in the ongoing race to bring our Christmas shopping to completion. We were about a block away from home when a pick-up truck pulled over. The driver, roughly 40 or 45, rolled down the window and called out to me:

"Excuse me, but do you know where I can get some grey poupon?"

I wasn't sure if I heard him correctly. "What?" I called to him.

"Do you know where I can get some grey poupon?" he repeated. He looked to be stifling a smile. Two other men of at least his age sat in the cab with him, each stifling the same stupid smile.

Knowing that the probability of this situation not being a crude prank was approaching nil, I decided to play it straight and not give him the satisfaction of making me the butt of his joke.

"Yeah, you can get it at Sobey's," I said, pointing at the enormous Sobey's grocery store at the end of the street. "But you'd better hurry. They close at 5 on a Sunday, and it's 4:30 already."

His smile faded. His eyes darted back and forth, as though he wasn't expecting my response and had to quickly think up a way to salvage his joke.

"Do you know what it is?" Bravo, he "salvaged" it.

"Yes," I replied.

"Well, what is it?"

"It's mustard," I replied flatly.

His smile broadened. "It's French mustard." At that moment it seemed as though he thought only the strict minority of North Americans knew what grey poupon was and that he was a member of this exclusive group.

"Yes, yes it is," I said, my voice void of any interest.

"You know what I'm gonna do with it?" His smile grew, completely oblivious of the fact that I didn't give a damn.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Eat it?"

"I'm gonna rub it on my cock and call it a weenie!" he cried.

Tara shouted "Good enough!" to the driver. He looked back at her, yelled "That's right my dear!" and, cackling, sped off.

As I watched the grey pickup leave, I couldn't help but think: Yeah, I was seventeen once. Too bad he's fucking forty.

Winter has Arrived, Greeted By Weird Al and his Albino Squirrels

2007-12-04T05:44:00.000-08:00

At some point overnight, Old Man Winter barfed fifteen centimeters of snow on us. I woke up with my alarm, and sleepily gaped at his oral excrement.

"I was just so overwhelmed by its immensity, I had to pop myself a beer."

Not long after I began preparing for the day, Katherine called me and asked if I wanted a drive... in five hours. Since my mind was focused only on my desire to return to bed and forget about going outside, it took a few moments to process what she was saying. Turns out ISN had delayed its opening until 11.

Elated, I sat on my butt and started to drink coffee. I threw on some music, and looked out the window with my cat, whose interest in the falling flakes was bordering the obsessive.

"I fell on my knees and I cried and cried, and that's when those security guards threw us out."

A plow went by, depositing a ton of snow in my parking space. That suits me, I don't have a car. Jo, suddenly disinterested in her snow obsession, walked off.

"You're sort of everything I've ever wanted."

It appears a few Weird Al lyrics have creeped into this post.

I'm bored as crap. I better call to ensure they're still opening.

Braxtanfilm's Return of the Ghostbusters

2007-11-04T18:58:00.001-08:00

I just finished watching Braxtanfilm's fan-film, Return of the Ghostbusters. It was fantastic -- a perfect mixture of excellent special effects, cheese, and a generous helping of super-natural comedy.

Holy crap, I sound like some starry-eyed teenage fan-boy. Nevertheless, it was a great film -- one that I recommend highly. Check it out here.

Why Windows XP's Setup Sucks

2007-10-25T22:55:00.001-07:00

1. Installation to an extended partition is impossible (though unfounded rumours indicate that it is possible with what would be several hours worth of partition re-arranging, and fooling XP's setup program).

2. Despite Windows XP's setup program complaining that it is incapable of copying files to the hard drive (and thus unable to install Windows), due to the install path existing in an extended partition, it WILL STILL OVERWRITE YOUR EXISTING MBR. That's right -- you can't install Windows, but you sure can kill your MBR.

3. Windows ALWAYS overwrites the MBR with its own. So if you have lilo or grub installed, you MUST repair it before you can dual boot. I guess Microsoft assumes that everyone can only have one operating system on a given computer?

4. The install program is nearly completely text based. What happened to the nice GUI Windows 98 offered? I'd take that over what I've got right here.

5. Initial start up options are timed. That's right. If you have to install a third party SCSI driver, or anything else before setup can continue, you've only got a second or two to halt the installer before it skips right onto the next stage. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem... EXCEPT THAT THE ONLY NOTIFICATION OCCURS AT THE LEAST OBVIOUS SECTION OF THE SCREEN -- that being the very, very bottom. Line 25 of this lovely ASCII interface. It's so very easy to miss.

I hate Windows. Too bad wine runs StarCraft slowly on my T23 laptop... otherwise I would be entirely Windows-free.

Charlottetown's Fire Horn

2007-09-29T18:57:00.000-07:00

"Sounds a lot like a warning to 'get your cows out of the burning barn,' if you ask me."

That is how a friend of mine responded when I asked "What do you think of that loud horn on the fire station downtown?" For any of you who haven't lived in our fine city, allow me to explain what I am writing about.

There is a horn that sits atop the fire station in downtown Charlottetown. Every time a fire is reported by anyone in the city, and the fire trucks are dispatched, this horn blows. It's loud enough to be heard in Stratford, which is several kilometers away. In addition, it goes off around noon each day and around one or two in the afternoon during the weekend.

I've attempted to come up with some reason to justify having such a loud horn in our city. I thought that maybe the horn was used as a means of informing the volunteer fire fighters that a fire was happening, and they had better get the heck to the fire station.

That made little sense. The horn can't be heard everywhere that a volunteer fire fighter may be; also, each fire fighter who's on duty has to carry a pager around at all times. So, it's obviously not meant to alerts the fire fighters.

Then I thought that it could be used as a means of alerting the nearby traffic that fire trucks were about to roll. No, that too didn't make any sense; the fire trucks have loud and impressive sirens that can be heard from several blocks away. As a result, the horn really doesn't need to be used to alert traffic.

So then I thought "Hmmm... maybe the horn is used to alert the people in the place that's burning that THERE'S A FIRE AND YOU BETTER GET THE FUCK OUT, PRONTO," but that also seemed dumb. If I was in a fire, I sure as heck would know it (such telltale signs as: 1. smoke, 2. heat, 3. fire would provide the hint). Also, if I was the one to call in the fire, why do I need a horn to tell me about it afterward?

Finally, I thought that maybe people use it to check their watches. I mean, if the horn goes off at certain points in the day, you can use it to confirm that your watch is set properly. This is a plus if:

1. You don't have cable and can't check the time on channel 8.
2. You don't have the Internet.
3. You have the Internet but don't know how to use it.
4. You have only one clock.
5. You are afraid to ask someone on the street for the correct time.
6. You don't have a computer.
7. You have a computer, but don't know how to use it.
8. You are blind and can't see the HUGE clock on Town Hall (Note: Town Hall is right beside the fire station).
9. Analogue clocks confuse you.
10. You can't guess the time of day based on the sun's position.
11. You don't have a radio.

Wait a minute... there are at least 11 ways to tell time. All of these are available to a single person at any given moment. With that in mind, do we really need the horn to tell us what time of day it is?

It looks as though I've proved that we don't need a horn. Now let's examine a few good reasons to NOT have a horn:

1. Try walking down Queen or Kent Street around noon time on a week day. Try telling me that the horn doesn't scare the living crap out of you. I'd be afraid that some 70 year old woman with blue hair and orthopedic shoes might have a coronary right then and there.

2. Loud noises are damaging to your hearing.

3. City of Charlottetown Noise Bylaw, section 2.3: "Any person who permits or engages in any activity that unreasonably disturbs or tends to disturb the peace and tranquility of a neighbourhood, is guilty of an offence." (Naturally, town council sees this horn as an exception to the by law).

It seems as though the horn is more of a detriment than anything else. That said, my girlfriend often observes that Islanders are incredibly nosey; perhaps the horn is nothing more than a signal for people to turn their scanners to the fire fighters' band. If the horn was finally removed, I'm sure there'd be at least two old farts write a nasty letter to the Guardian's editor.

I can't wait to see it go.

Five Alive, Mystery Juice

2007-09-11T20:13:00.000-07:00

The other day, a friend of mine was enjoying a can of Five Alive with her lunch. When she set her can down, I picked it up and checked the nutritional information printed on the side of the can. It was then that I saw:

Five Alive is not a significant source of saturated fat, trans fat, cholesterol, fibre, vitamin A, vitamin C, calcium, or iron.

Confused, I read that block of text again. How could fruit juice not be a significant source of vitamin C or A? Five Alive is a citrus fruit juice blend, isn't it? I spun the can around and read the different types of fruit in the ingredients list. It consisted of orange, lemon, grapefruit, tangerine, and lime juice. All of that stuff is loaded with vitamin C for sure, with at least a hint of vitamin A. So what the heck did they do to the juice that got rid of all those vitamins?

Wikipedia provided the answer. Apparently Five Alive is really only 41% juice, while the rest is high-fructose corn syrup and filtered water. Apparently in the UK, Five Alive is only 5% juice.

So there you have it. Five Alive has almost zilch in terms of nutrition. Might as well drink plain old boring orange juice; it's at least better for you than Five Alive, the sugar drink we have all come to know and love (hate?).

My Cat is Dumb.

2007-09-09T00:20:00.000-07:00

I am sitting outside again, and I can hear my cat whining at me from the window above. I brought her out a little while ago because she was whining loud enough to wake the neighbors, but she managed to squirm off her leash and attempt running into traffic. As tempting as it was to see if she really WOULD run out into traffic, I gave chase and nabbed her before hand. Then she continued to squirm and fight me as I held on to her, until I got her back into the house.

Now she's in the window, whining again. I'm hastily looking for a rock, but the garden here appears to be without...

We have a love/hate relationship. She loves to hate me, and I hate to love her.

We get along just fine...

Outside.

2007-09-02T04:12:00.000-07:00

It's 3:48 in the AM, and for some reason I am sitting outside. Maybe it's just that I was tired of being inside, or maybe it's just that I enjoy freezing my butt off in cooler-than-seasonal temperatures. Who knows? Either way, I am now sitting outside while wearing 3 shirts to keep the wind away from my skin.

And I am craving Chinese food.

Anyway, while sitting just outside the down town core of Charlottetown, I have only the (freezing cold) wind and the (non-offering-of-heat) moon to keep me company. It's odd... this is the Labour Day weekend after all. I would have expected a little more action on the streets. Just as well; I don't care for hearing people screaming drunken random things in the middle of the night, while they walk down the street with their little buddies, barfing and stumbling as they go.

Goddammit, I wish there was a Chinese restaurant open at this hour.

I just tried to reconfigure kweather to take readings from a Prince Edward Island weather station. It seems to have the ability to check with the Confederation Bridge station, but when prompted to do so, it claims the stations is undergoing maintenance and is unable to respond. I think that's just some shoddy generic error message anyway; apparently a lot of people are getting the same bug, as I have read online.

Wow, one gut is eating another. Where is there some Chinese food?!

KDE is a decent windowing system. Really configurable, and operate decently. It's also reported to have the largest number of programs written specifically for it over any other windowing system. The only thing that annoys me about that fact is that most of the applications suck. I mean, some of them are buggier than 3 day old dog crap, and others just don't work like they should. There. That's my rant.

I don't think there is an Chinese food available, so I'm gonna stop here and go to bed.

Pros and Cons of Hitch Hiking

2007-08-16T20:45:00.000-07:00

(12:05:12 AM) Burgy: Waters should not have been such a pompous ass -- he needs Gilmour to sound good.
(12:05:25 AM) al: definitely
(12:05:38 AM) al: they both had pretty big egos though
(12:06:58 AM) Burgy: This is true. At least, however, we never saw "Pink Floyd: A Momentary Lapse of Reason by David Gilmour."
(12:07:09 AM) al: hahaha
(12:08:27 AM) Burgy: I was at first confused when I saw the cover of The Wall.
(12:08:55 AM) Burgy: I was all "Pink Floyd The Wall by Roger Waters?" Shit, that's a lot of names.
...
(12:43:54 AM) Burgy: Ah, just heard the portion that was the main riff from "The Fletcher Memorial Home."
(12:45:12 AM) al: ahh well, you know what they say, "Self-plagiarism is style."

Modern Communication

2007-08-05T10:51:00.000-07:00

Recently I wrote this email to a friend. Though it's not worded overly well, its contents illustrate what I think of modern communication:

"It seems as though socialization among friends via IM and Email has gone by the way side, in lieu of such social-based "Web 2.0" sites like Facebook. The art of letter writing is disappearing, being replaced by public "walls" upon which people post irrelevant comments for all to see. Mail itself, the forgotten yet incredibly personal medium we all grew up with, is also a thing of the past.

Now most people enjoy sending brief few-line messages to one another through cell phones and things like the aforementioned Facebook wall. Then, as if they feel it necessary to treasure these brief and unimportant messages, they pay for each text message sent -- or worse still -- post it on their wall and brag to the 15 peers in their extended-friend-network that they actually receive messages and display them like some trophy to demonstrate their social prowess.

Communication has gone to the prostitots and their thugatot boyfriends. Gross.

Well, here's an email to you! Enjoy!

Keith"

He found it two weeks later, having been filtered as spam.

To The Shooting Star

2007-07-20T21:46:00.000-07:00

Old Friend we meet,
Age hasn't changed you
But has me,
Unknown to you

Eyes clearer and
Goggles removed, you
Look so pale
Sickly and dull

Short sight left me
A Mystery and
You never knew
You only guessed

Wrong, and though I
Didn't see your death
It always
Was, blurred but there

My Hollow eyes
See while Friend, you stare
Still at your
Nose, captivate

I will bury you now.

Monday...

2007-07-16T14:44:00.001-07:00

I have a stiff neck. I just learned I'll have to go to work 1.5 hours early for the rest of this week. I'm too hot, and it's really humid. I didn't have a chance to get a coffee this morning. I spent the day as my boss's personal gopher, running about like a chicken without a head. Something smells bad, and I can't find the source. The torrent I spent a week downloading may actually be completely broken. My rabbit just explodo-shat all over the kitchen floor. My fish is in a dire need of an attitude adjustment.

Yep, it's Monday.

Poison (School's Out)

2007-07-10T17:40:00.000-07:00

Mike, Tara, and I were sitting on the couch, idly conversing about music. We spoke of the soon-to-be-playing-here White Stripes, the later-to-be-playing-here Aerosmith, and the never-played-here-but-wouldn't-it-be-cool Alice Cooper.

At this point I belted out "Poison! School's out" in my best singing voice.

After unanimously agreeing that that little ditty I had performed was definitely the best singing either of them had ever heard, we decided to turn it into a song. The best song. The best song in the whole wide world. The song that will undoubtedly leave Alice Cooper feeling the sharp pangs of jealousy as he wishes to God that he had been the one who had first recorded this song. I give you:

Poison (School's Out)

Beautifully composed by Mike Burke, and featuring the outstanding vocals of me, this dynamic group brings you the most astonishing song of the year... of the century.

Go ahead, give it a download. In case you missed the link earlier, try downloading it here.

Thank you for partaking in this horrendous cliché.

Amiga Quest

2007-07-09T17:06:00.001-07:00

After writing my last post regarding what seemed to be a deserted Amiga, I called the landlord of Home Accents. He told me to call the owner of the establishment. I did, and the owner told me that the Amiga 2000HD I saw was not his, but rather his employee's. He gave me the employee's number, and so I called.

I had a nice chat with the fellow. I learned that he was an Amiga enthusiast much like myself, and was not about to part with the machine I had seen in the window. We spoke briefly about how great of a computer the Amigas are, and then ended the call.

It was nice to meet another person who loves Amigas as much as me. However, it sucked that he didn't want to sell.

Treasure in an Unlikely Spot

2007-07-07T20:00:00.000-07:00

I was walking downtown this evening, and happened to notice that Home Accents had finally shut its doors. I always had thought that I would one day stop in there; their wares in the window looked interesting, and I thought at least one of those items would make a nice addition to our living room. Alas, I seem to never have found the time -- and now it's too late.

As I passed their large front window, a computer sitting in the middle of an empty room caught my eye. I looked a little closer, and found that it was an Amiga 2000HD. I assume they had used it as a cash register, but now it sits alone in a deserted shop. I immediately pressed my nose against the glass and stared at it.

To many, it's nothing more than a 20 year old hunk of junk. To me, however, it's a slice of fried gold. Since before I began collecting old computers, I had developed a passion particularly for Amiga computers. Currently I have an Amiga 500, 1000, and 1200. Now I want a 2000HD.

I stepped back from the shop and took note of the phone number painted on the window. Undoubtedly the person who owns that number will be expecting calls that concern only renting of the shop; I, however, am going to find out who owns that computer, and how I can make it my own.

Wish me luck.

Young Entrepreneurs

2007-06-24T17:45:00.000-07:00

Earlier this afternoon, my girlfriend and I decided to take a leisurely walk downtown. As we were heading down the street, I spotted two kids standing by a small coffee table on the sidewalk. The young girl was standing on the edge of the sidewalk, holding a ragged piece of cardboard high in the air and waving it eagerly at cars as they passed.

As we approached, I saw the boy was no older than eight and the girl was at most six. Spotting us, she held up the cardboard; I saw there was something written on it in pencil, and that she was holding it upside down. I couldn't tell exactly what it said, but I had no doubt that she felt it was as important we read what she had written as it is to breathe.

Smiling, I called out "Hi, are you selling something?"

The boy responded "Yeah, we're selling books and stuff."

"Yeah, and we have Bingo," said the girl, having dropped the sign on the street.

I looked at the table by which they stood, and saw they had a variety of books, games, and a puzzle. Some of their wares were laying on the sidewalk, having been tossed aside (no doubt in frustration with the poor sales of the day). Sure enough, a well-used Bingo game sat under a stack of books.

I bent over and took a look at their stacked books. It appeared they had a smattering of different genres; there were a number of kids' books and a few young adult titles. I also spotted what looked to be an old text book. I straightened up, and that's when my eyes froze on the only book that was sitting on its own. It was upside down, so I craned my neck around and was surprised to read the title:

The Deviancy of Sexual Desire.

I looked at the boy, the book, the girl, and then the book again. There was no way they knew what the title meant (when I was his age, I knew that sex was nothing more than kissing a girl in the dark), but there they were, two primary schoolers selling a book on the psychological examination of human sexuality. I suddenly found the situation hilarious, and stifled a laugh.

"What do you think?" I asked Tara. "Anything catch your eye?"

"What about that scary stories book?" she answered.

The book in question, one of the few that had been tossed on the sidewalk, looked to be roughly fifteen years old and had several rips and bends in the cover.

"Sure, how much for the scary stories book?" I asked the young boy, as I reached for my wallet.

"Three dollars," he replied. I gagged. The book looked like crap, and he was demanding three whole bucks for it?

"Alright," I said, handing him the money. Despite the cost of the book (which I later learned was only $5.50 brand new), I decided it was best to help the kids in their little venture.

"Do you guys have kids?" he asked. I blinked. We told him no, and he said "Then why are you buying a kids' book?"

I felt like telling the little rug rat that questioning your customers about their purchases was poor business practice, but Tara spoke up instead.

"I had this book once when I was a kid."

The boy seemed satisfied with this answer. He turned toward the girl and said "Sweet! See? I told you we'd sell something!"

We then walked away, Tara stuffing the three dollar book with stained pages in her purse.

Ubuntu Feisty on a Laptop: Not Worth the Upgrade

2007-06-09T23:55:00.000-07:00

Since I decided to use the 32 bit Ubuntu distribution on my T23 Thinkpad laptop and my AMD64 desktop, I've had nothing but problems. Ubuntu totes itself as being "Linux for human beings," but Feisty does not live up to its own tag-line, at least as far as my Thinkpad is concerned. My desktop runs Feisty relatively well, though my T23 has suffered dearly.

Firstly, I'll explain my difficulties with my T23. To begin, there was a problem with my video card. In Edgy, I was able to have fully 3D rendered graphics without any extra work. In Feisty, however, this functionality appears to be missing. Instead of having pretty 3D power right out-of-the-box, I had to download the source code for the S3 Savage video card myself, and create my own kernel modules. This would not have been a large issue, except that the source files themselves were broken and required that I modify the code so they would even so much as compile. The code problem is not really Ubuntu's fault -- not having proper S3 support is.

Secondly, in Edgy, knetworkmanager worked. It just did. No configuration, no extra work getting my network setup. Now in Feisty, it refuses to show my wireless card. In fact, it also refuses to show any wireless networks in proximity. Again, this worked in Edgy.

Also, in regard to my T23, ACPI is boned. As I appear to be repeating in this article, this software worked fine in Edgy. I can suspend my computer without issue, but I cannot resume. Out of roughly 30 times I've suspended this computer, it was only ever able to resume once.

As an interesting note, Firefox appears to randomly crash. This is another item on my list of reasons why not to upgrade to Feisty.

And finally, the upgrade to the 2.6.20.16 kernel left my computer unable to completely startup. I had to revert to an older kernel.

Then onto my desktop. If my computer remains idle for 10 minutes, my screen saver, which uses OpenGL, comes on and runs terribly slow. That said, when I start the screen saver manually, it works normally.

I guess I don't have that much to complain about, as far as my desktop goes. Although the screen saver issue is VERY annoying, I can live with it. However, my laptop's usefulness has deteriorated significantly with my switch to Feisty. I've used it for a couple months now, but I am significantly underwhelmed.

I Don't Want to Live on the Moon

2007-05-19T00:19:00.000-07:00

But I would like to visit.

What is Happy?

2007-05-14T19:14:00.000-07:00

After having downed my second beer of the evening (which was followed by a small bout of scratching my rear and burping out loud), I stepped into the living room and found Tara to be watching an episode of "Sex and the City." I was struck by the contrast between our two genders; I was perfectly entertained by belching the alphabet after a tasty bottle of beer, and she was satisfied by watching her favorite television show whose target audience is largely female. Seeing this as a microcosm of the world in which we live, I decided to sit down and attempt to understand what it was that made this television show more entertaining to her than burping.

Then, at precisely 5 minutes and 34 seconds into what was apparently the seventh episode of the second season, I was immediately hooked. Forgetting about beer, I sat with my eyes locked on the screen, mesmerized by what I saw: an image of perfect happiness.

I couldn't look away. The scene that I had walked into was that of a going away party, and it was hilarious. The acting was well done, and it played out fluidly. It showed that each actress had grown into their characters, and that they knew how to interact with each other seamlessly. Then the scene came to an end. As the screen was about to fade, they flashed an image of perfect happiness at me. It was sort of a wham-bam-thank-you-for-watching seal on the envelope of what was, in retrospect, one of the better scenes I've seen on television in a while. I attempted to capture this image, with a caption of how I felt when I saw it:

In the future, I'm going to revisit this blog any time I feel glum and look at this picture. It will take me back to the moment when I first saw this crazy person bare all of her teeth at me while arching her eyebrows in a manner that seems not-quite-human. I will remember, and I will chuckle...

...Or shit my pants laughing at how damn ugly she looks right there.

A Fiery End

2007-04-30T18:43:00.000-07:00

Sitting at my desk (upon which my feet rested), I took part in a survey about work place satisfaction. The test was done in jest; my coworker read out the questions in a funny voice while we all wrote bizarre answers on our notepads. We joked about those who would even conceptualize such a survey, and laughed as we continued through its ridiculous and surprisingly convoluted set of questions.

During this moment of office mockery, my computer exploded in a shower of sparks and flame.

It was rather sudden: A loud snapping noise silenced our laughs and simultaneously drew all of our attention to my desk. Sparks blew from the rear of the computer as flames whipped out at the wall behind. An acrid stench of burning plastic filled the air.

I snapped up from my seat and unplugged the computer as the flames were replaced by tendrils of fine blue smoke. I pulled the computer from the wall, and announced that the power supply had ceased its life in one of the finest displays of light and fire I had ever seen a computer produce.

I've since been given a new computer with a half completed Gentoo Linux install. I hate Gentoo. It's likely the worst Linux distribution I've ever seen -- compiling everything that you install is not only a waste of time, but rather impractical when compared to Debian, Red Hat, or Ubuntu. I guess I know what I'll be doing for the next few days: compiling Firefox, Thunderbird, the KDE, and any other program that I would normally apt-get install.

Stupid power supply.

I Just Don't Have Much to Say

2007-04-29T21:05:00.000-07:00

I sat down tonight with the intent of writing some eloquent piece of something-something. It turns out that all I really want to do is go to bed, and so I am going to log out.

See if I don't!

Zombies, Zombies, and More Zombies

2007-04-28T21:15:00.000-07:00

I have seen countless zombie costumes through movies, pictures, and television. Despite the sheer volume of zombie getups I've seen, this one is by far the most bad-ass:

100% Dead, 90% Rotten, 1000000% Bad-Ass

It's from Zombie, an older zombie flick from the 70s. I am of the opinion that the older a horror movie is, the better. Today's horror movies rely too heavily on CGI and such; the 70s and 80s only had tubs of latex, huge amounts of pig guts, and countless buckets of stage blood to make up their special effects. That, in my opinion, makes for a much more entertaining horror experience.

From the Dusty Shelf, Zombie Quest is Retreived

2007-04-05T21:34:00.000-07:00

A while back, UPEI had a great course on video game design. It was a favorite of mine, and it single handedly made what would have been an otherwise dreary and dull semester into something very exciting and interesting. From this course, Zombie Quest was birthed (an endeavor which took weeks of planning and 12 consecutive hours of brutal labour). I now look back upon Zombie Quest's development with a sense of nostalgia. Though it was pretty intense, it was damned fun.

After completing the course, my ZQ co-creator and I shelved the project. The engine we developed was poorly written, and we decided that what we had developed wasn't worth continuing; as it was, the engine consumed almost two gigabytes of RAM during standard run-time, and hogged 100% of the CPU's time. It was a very rough engine, but it worked when we needed it.

Now we've begun discussing the possibility of rewriting the game, this time using full 3D models. At the moment the game exists as nothing more than an idea for a potential hobby. That said, we had come up with several good ideas in our initial designs and it would be a shame to see them go to waste.

For the meantime, we've opened an svn repository for the few classes we've written (I say "we" liberally... my code has not yet been checked in -- it's far from complete). It really doesn't do anything special at the moment, but it certainly has the potential.

Let the unfortunate mis-adventures of Buddy Malone continue!

My Amiga 1200 -- A Pit of Troubles

2007-03-31T11:52:00.000-07:00

I have a classic Amiga 1200 system that I have slowly been trying to setup as a usable desktop for quite some time now. Unfortunately, I have run into a few stumbling blocks:

1. I don't have SCSI cabling for any of the CDROM drives that I have for it. I also don't have any power adapters for either drives. My only copy of AmigaOS 3.5 is on a CDROM. Alas, the hunt continues... that said, I do have some cabling ordered.

2. I attempted installing a TCP/IP stack (AmiTCP/IP) for a wireless card that I purchased for it. The latest version available has a broken installer, and requires a significant amount of manual configuration. I must have made a mistake somewhere during this process, as the system now asks for a username and password but does not accept anything that I had previously configured.

3. At least one of the 18 capacitors in the computer has gone bad. At least, this is the running idea at amiga.org. The computer sometimes boots when I switch it on, but more often it sits there without making a sound. This has been an ongoing problem since I acquired the machine. I now have a plan in place to fix this.

4. I am lacking a proper Amiga monitor, and the VGA adapter I have does not perform any scan doubling. I do, however, have a TV that seems to work fine with it.

Once I correct those 4 issues, this computer will work perfectly fine. At least, I hope.

As a side note: at one point I had adapted a standard PC power supply to run the Amiga. At the time I was lacking a proper power supply, and thought that lugging around a stripped down PC-AT power supply would work fine. The connector ended up falling apart later. I now have a correct Amiga power supply. I also had to purchase a copy of AmigaOS, and a mouse. All of these purchases were made on eBay. This is gonna get a little expensive!

Also, I have been looking for a reasonably priced Amiga 1000 keyboard. I really need one, preferably with an English US layout. Without one, my A1000 won't work!

Ah, I have so many projects for the coming months... or years.

Constipated Betta

2007-03-17T22:55:00.000-07:00

I think my betta has become constipated. He's gotten a little fatter around where I assume his stomach is, and he has become a lot less active lately. In addition, I haven't seen any betta shit in his tank in at least a week -- possibly longer.

I just finished trying to feed boiled and peeled peas to him. He seemed interested at first, but eventually resumed sitting on the bottom of the tank. After sampling some of the peas myself (those that were not already fed to him, that is), I realized that I hadn't boiled them long enough, and they were fairly tough. I'm about to feed another batch to him.

This evening was interesting. Tara and I went shopping briefly, then headed for a rather expensive (and amazingly tasty) dinner. We then stopped to watch a movie at home. Then, with Tara asleep on the couch, I concluded my Saturday night by feeding over-boiled peas to a constipated betta fish.

I think I'll go to bed now.

My Face is About to Explode

2007-03-15T16:34:00.000-07:00

I am one of those lucky few people who rarely get sick. While others complain about stuffy noses, sick stomachs, and other ailments, I just continue on my merry way with a clean bill of health. A few weeks ago, while everyone I knew was getting sick with some viscous stomach bug, the worst I suffered was a slight bought of heartburn. I recall a conversation with a friend of mine where he explained that he had spent the better part of two days sitting on the toilet with his head in a garbage can, acting as though he were a toothpaste tube squeezed in the middle. I was nodding in sympathy, but was only able to follow his description up with a comment about how I kept burping the onions I had in my sandwich at lunch.

Now the tables have turned. While I am not quite exploding from both ends, I do feel as though my face contains enough pressure to annihilate the rest of my head and anything nearby. Every sneeze I've had today seems offers to a little relief, but I'm nearly certain that I've heard the windows rattle each time.

This wicked sinus cold seems to have spotted me while I wasn't looking, and implanted itself in my nose. Then it spread throughout my entire head. This rarely happens -- I rarely get sick! What's the deal?!

Well, I have to run; it's time for me to blow my nose. I am sure I'll eject some relevant piece of my brain into the tissue, and promptly my IQ will drop. It's okay, I'm too tired to think about it.

Old Computers

2007-03-12T21:41:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in a coffee shop with a few friends when one of them suggested that I should catalog my entire collection of computers and display it on my blog. I had been looking for a hobby what with my new spare time and all), so I think I will make this little project happen. Little project -- who am I kidding? Presently, I have about 30 computers. That's a lot. In fact, that's too many; I have most of them stored at my parents' place, since I have no room for them in my apartment. This won't be any "little" project.

I think I'll include some base information about each computer; date of release, hardware specs, and a few pictures. That kinda thing.

This is undoubtedly the geekiest thing I will attempt -- even geekier than actually owning over 30 computers.

Return to the Working World

2007-03-10T23:58:00.000-08:00

It appears my vacation has been shorter than I had first intended; I've been given a job offer and I have accepted it. I was holding out for a while, hoping to hear from another place first. That other place, however, seems to be taking their dear sweet time. Not that time was an issue; I was happy to wait as long as they needed -- I was in no rush to start working again. That said, this new job would need to be filled rather quickly (to avoid someone else getting it. The last thing I wanted was to miss out on this opportunity, and have the other place deny me afterward).

After meeting with the owners and employees of the establishment, I determined them to be quite agreeable. In addition, the work seems very interesting and varied. I've never been given a Linux box as a work station before, despite the many jobs I've held in the tech industry (this is something that I consider to be quite important and exciting). Also, I've never held a position that will see me developing server side applications one day, and rewiring the office the next. This level of variance in the work is what I need. Nothing remains the same from day to day, and this flexibility will give me the amount of freedom I need at this point. I'm not interested in a pure development position right now, although I am sure that is what I will ultimately spend my later career doing. Later though. Much, much later.

I'm really excited to be entering this position. I have the feeling this place will in no way resemble my previous job; it seems quite reasonable. I see that I will have a life, which is more than I ever had with my last job.

I'm going to have a job, and a life. I'm going to eat that proverbial cake.

Coffee...

2007-03-04T13:36:00.000-08:00

For the second day in a row, my head aches for caffeine.

Screw that. Where's a coffee pot when you need one?

I Love Coffee. It Hates Me.

2007-03-03T11:19:00.000-08:00

Until recently, I have relied on coffee to get me through the day. At any point where I felt tired, I wouldn't sleep. Instead, I would chug back some Tim's, Robin's, Timothy's, or Starbucks coffee (generally getting Starbucks meant that I would have a friendly conversation with one of the proprietors, so I often chose their coffee despite the fact that Robin's is better than all of them).

I say that I have enjoyed coffee until recently, because I stopped drinking it. I find that it kills my digestive system, causing uncomfortable bloating and horrendous gas. This was not making me any friends, so I stopped drinking it. This was a very hard decision; I often found my mouth craving the taste of a hot dark roast, so I would hop up and grab one. Or two. Or Three. Alas, I've grown tired of the negative effects, so I cut it out completely. This was a tough time of year to make that decision; Tim's has their roll-up on this month.

Today, my head pounding due to the lack of caffeine in my life, I decided to try a swiss decaf from Timothy's. It was quite tasty, and my headache started to lessen. Just like a placebo, my body considered this to be the real thing.

Then my lid popped off as I was drinking my hot coffee, and proceeded to pour all over my crotch. It was hot, but now it has cooled. In fact, it's freaking cold. I'm hoping that it'll dry a bit before I have to stand up, otherwise I'll look like Mr. Peepee-pants in front of a store full of strangers.

Coffee hates me. It does so many bad things, but damn, I can't live without it.

Late Night Posting

2007-02-26T00:52:00.000-08:00

Another day has gone and passed, and I find myself experiencing again the transition between night and morning. It won't be long before the sun rises, and I still have not yet gone to bed. I'm pretty sure this is a side effect of working so much; I've gotten used to staying up all the time, and I can't seem to bring myself to sleep. This also may have something to do with the fact that I feel as though I need to catch up on all that I have been missing in these past few months.

Friends, family, games, books, movies... I've been cramming my time with all of these things. I also have something that I haven't had in a long time -- a slight feeling that I should take up a hobby. Well, not a hobby as such; rather, a personal project is what I want to get into. I've had a few in mind for a while, and now it seems that I have time to work on them. I won't go into details yet, but I have a few ideas that I would like to see come to fruition. Maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to produce something actually half-interesting, and possible something that someone may want to use. Maybe.

I think I would like to travel a little. That's something I should look into soon...

At any rate, I have to get some sleep. I won't be any good to anyone tomorrow if I don't.

PS: Sorry, I don't have any insightful thoughts in my head presently.

Another Day of Nothing

2007-02-24T22:27:00.000-08:00

Ten minutes ago, I turned on my computer. This was the first time today that I had a computer on in my apartment. Nearly twenty-four hours have passed since I last had a computer on; this is something that has not happened in many, many months. I love it.

I love computer programming. I've done it for years, and I only just stopped last Tuesday. I'll start it up again, when I am good and ready, but I am not yet prepared to even think about coding anything for the next little while. I will not write a single line of code, even as a hobby. I'm on a vacation from development, and I've never felt so relieved.

I don't want to give the impression that I have begun to dislike development. Quite the opposite -- I enjoy it very much. I've just gotten tired of it. Burned out, you might say. But I will get into it again. I have a few personal projects that I would enjoy starting -- but not too soon. I gotta get some living in before I start writing any more code.

Today was a fairly ordinary day. I slept in, got a haircut, and picked up a few odds and ends. This evening saw me visiting with a few friends, and finally grabbing a movie. This day does not sound overly blog-worthy , but trust me; I've never had time to do this in the last 6 months. the novelty of this has not yet worn off.

Time to aimlessly wander through the Internet.

Been a While

2007-02-22T22:40:00.000-08:00

I have free time. For the first time in almost six months, I have free time. This commodity, which was previously rare and almost non-existent, has now fallen upon me with great abundance. I feel like a kid at Christmas.

Just like a kid at Christmas, I am not sure which toy I want to play with. So many possibilities exist! I could play the fun game of sleeping in, or perhaps enjoy a turn at watching a movie. Oh, I know! Maybe I'll read a book! Yeah, I'll do that. I have so many books, and until recently, no time to read any of them.

This time, this blessed time, has been given to me in lieu of my departure from my job. Finally, after at least three months of my family and friends telling me that I should leave the accursed place, I have listened to their wise advice and quit. At this moment, I sit in my kitchen with the feeling that a huge weight has been lifted from my back. I feel almost giddy.

Listening to this advice was a difficult task, however. I felt that me leaving the company would do them a tremendous disservice, that I would harm not only those with whom I worked but even the company itself. As a result, I felt trapped. Reason and logic gave way to some irrationally biased attitude that left me thinking that my job wasn't so bad after all. In fact, I began to think that I was somehow failing them, that the problems I had with the company were my of my own creation. This was not only in my head -- they would have you feel that way. Self esteem plummeted while the bull shit mounted, and the end result was a bleak outlook on my working career. It was a lot like battered wife syndrome -- you begin to reason that the abusive relationship just wasn't as bad as all that. Well, this was a very abusive working relationship, and I couldn't see it as clearly as others.

But I started to listen. That was instrumental. I started to listen to what others had to say, and then I made up my mind. I quit with the sort of hands-down-fuck-you one may come to expect in a situation like that. As I did, all of the pressure that rode atop my shoulders melted away and evaporated into the atmosphere. It was gone. Heck yes, it was gone and disappeared.

They've asked me to come back. I haven't answered yet, but I already know what I will say. My time is far to precious to spend working at a job that I have already quit. And I quit for a damned good reason. For a set of damned good reasons.

It's difficult to detect the point at which a job goes from normal to abusive. That's why it's important to have friends. Tell them about your work. Get them to objectively look at your situation and tell you what they think. If the general consensus is that the place is harming you, then listen to them. I did, but it took me a while. But I am glad that I did listen; I feel so much better now.

At the moment, the only thing I am concerned about is filling my days with stuff to do. This is one concern that I am happy to oblige.

A Day of Revelations

2006-12-12T19:12:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was a day of startling revelations. Not just for me, but for the entirety of humanity. In case you missed out, I will now disclose those very revelations to you.

1. As I ate a delicious meal provided by the fine culinary artists at the Formosa Tea House, my eyes widened and I dropped my chop sticks. Facing Tara, I gripped her hand and told her: "The sun was laughed into existence by a giant and jolly matador." Not long after, we laughed the bill into existence.

2. Afterward, while engaged in a deep and though provoking conversation with Jason, I suddenly realized that we are our own pressure cookers. For flies. This was hardly appropriate conversation for working hours, nor was it thought provoking. It was however, rather comical. We laughed the conversation out of existence.

3. That night I met a cat without eyes. A true survivor, this 15 year old feline with empty sockets felt his way around to each of us who stood in the dimly lit kitchen. That said,the lighting quality of the kitchen mattered little to him since he was unceremoniously thrust into permanent darkness by an unfortunate disease. I wished then that I could have laughed his eyes into existence.

The end.

Changes in Those Around

2006-12-11T19:31:00.000-08:00

My father has always had a simple, blunt, and exact way of talking. Never is his language misunderstood, or confused. His advice is always clear and concise. An example of his brief and poignant vocalization applies directly to the topic of this article; that is, his advice about aging was especially succinct:

"Getting old sucks the big one."

This is very true. It does suck. I'm not talking about the usual suckage that accompanies old age like paying bills or increased responsibility or even grey hair (which I luckily do not have, though my mother got her first greys while in her twenties). Instead, I am talking about the suckiness that is the personal changing of those I've grown up with. Sure, one can argue that personal change follows the natural maturation of a person. I, however, think that sometimes it just sucks.

Someone I have known for a very long time has returned. A very old friend indeed. But the friend that left was not the friend that has returned. Perhaps they were changed as naturally as a baby grows into an adult, or perhaps their experiences while away have left them wanting to fulfill some aspect of their life that they cannot find among their friends. Maybe they need more, or at least, need something different.

As time goes on, friends grow apart. It's a sad truth, but moreover it's a natural truth. We often feel that it is just too bad when it happens, and we experience a mild or even tragic surprise. The only thing we can do is nothing but accept and continue in the same manner as we had while they were gone.

I've left my teen years far behind, and with them reside the many memories of friends gone by. I miss them while I wait.

Good Morning Starshine

2006-11-18T22:14:00.000-08:00

It's morning and the stars are shining in the sky. The rest have gone to bed, yet I remain up. For company, I have my mischevious cat and the few insomniacs chatting to me through simple text displayed on my computer's monitor. Yeah, Saturday nights are awesome.

My cat is visciously attacking a pencil. The pencil has my name on it, a sort of birthday gimmick my mother provided for me several years ago. I only just sharpened it yesterday.

I think my cat has it in for me. She is obviously attacking that pencil with more ferocity than she attacks her other toys. Come to think of it, she is attacking my pencil in the same way that she attacks my legs. With extreme prejudice.

She seeks revenge. Yeah, it's nuts, but she does. My cat will not rest until revenge is served. Once I accidentally kicked her when I swung my feet onto the bed. She jumped on the bed and attacked me, then proceeded to drive me from the room with her incessant biting. Upon realizing that I had been successfully ousted by a cat, I quickly regained my composure by teaching her what a projectile experiences as it flies through the air and eventually crashes into something. That's how I discovered that she likes being tossed into a pile of pillows. Toss her once, and she's back wanting it again. I really think she was supposed to be a bird.

Whatever people may say, several species of small furry animals gathered together in a cave and grooving with a pict does not make for easy listening.

I think I really should go to sleep. I'm rambling!

Cheers!

When is it Enough?

2006-11-03T22:58:00.000-08:00

Ever get the feeling that you're giving it your all, but your all is just not good enough? Or perhaps the 110% you deliver could really be pushed up to 120%? Perhaps your best is just "mediocre" in reality?

I know of a little place that inspires these feelings in anyone who goes to visit, and stays a little while. Only a little while is really forever. Like the Eagles said, "we are programmed to receive. You can check out any time you like, But you can never leave."

Hours turn into days, and days drift into nights. Weekdays revert to weekends, and yet it is the same old thing. You are drained of all creativity, energy, and insight. You're worked till you drop. And finally, finally when you hand in the bloody thing, and you think your work is done, you're told "Well, we want to add something else to it... have it done by the end of the day." It's just never good enough.

The solution is clear and simple. Define exactly what work must be done, discuss it, and then establish feasible timelines to follow.

My review is soon. I'm worried, because my 110% may not be worth all that much.

The Weekend's Plans

2006-10-13T21:37:00.000-07:00

Here are my weekend plans:

Saturday:
1. Struggle to open my eyes at the sound of my alarm.
2. Stuggle to get out of bed.
3. Struggle to shower without falling asleep.
4. Go to work, after eating some random food from my cupboard.
5. Struggle to stay awake while at work.
6. Beg to leave early, justifying my desire with the reason "I've worked late every night, and nearly every weekend, since I started this job."
7. Leave.
8. Come home in time to sleep, but instead of sleeping, I'll tackle the mountain of dishes I have built up over the past while.
9. Finally fall asleep, dreaming of being late for work.
10. Wake up periodically to hiss at my cat for attacking my feet.

Sunday:
1. Sleep.
2. Roll over.
3. Snore.
4. Wake up.
5. Fall back asleep.

And for the new week:

Monday:
1. See Saturday.

I am Not Emo.

2006-10-12T19:35:00.000-07:00

"I'm not emo. Anyone who says I am emo is a liar. I don't even know what emo means.

Cell's ringing. Oh, it's Jess. She's been spreading rumours about me, saying that I've been cheating on Ricky. Time to block her on my MSN.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to sit in the dark with my black eyes and cry for the dead. "
--Thoughts of a random prostitot.

"Punching out a teeny-bopper would make me LOL."
--Thoughts of Keith.

My, what a difference.

I'm Alive

2006-10-12T19:19:00.000-07:00

To some it may seem as though I have disappeared. I haven't, though my consistent lack of communication throughout these past few months serve as evidence to the contrary.

Well then, where have I been? The answer can be summed up into one word: work. Yes, I've been working these past few months. Consistently, with few breaks. So few, in fact, that evenings at home are a thing of the past, weekends with family and friends are a distant memory, and sleep at night is nonexistant.

It's a risky venture. Risky in that I walk the fine line between the sleepy giggles and exhausted delirium on a good day, and on bad days I simply nod in my chair. It also risks aloneness; who in their right mind would want to wait for someone who is never coming home?

The dishes pile up, the bills grow old, and the mountain of laundry grows daily. But there is no time to tend to any of it.

I'm tired. I want some time off.

Interstellar Overdrive

2006-09-14T02:16:00.000-07:00

With random sounds dying in my ears,
I sat with a fizzled Interstellar Overdrive
It is over now

The noise penetrates my sanity
It shines, feeling the thoughts of a dead crazy diamond
And I am lost in a sea of anonimity
Under the blanketing genius

The raging swirl had ebbed, and long gone
Was the diamond's mind, broken as it is forever
Lost to time and space

I drift through the expanse of his play,
Unable to chase the tune of the yellow brick road
Yet I try to follow, to make sense of it all,
Seeing the end soon

I had left it behind, though it still
Followed my every move. I tried to abandon the
Nonesense, just as a glimmer of understanding formed
Within my mind's eye

Love's heart abandons him, though reaching
Hands still grasp from the shadows. They shine dimly, piquing
Interest throughout

For a moment I understand it
See the thought from his torment, the cry in his chaos
And I know him as me, and us all, for he is
The diamond within.

I am Writing Things

2006-08-20T22:15:00.000-07:00

My blog has been pretty sparse lately, which is obvious. You've undoubtedly realized that without me pointing it out. I often state that which is obvious, for lack of anything else more interesting to state. This is possibly the most important thing about me, and serves as a characteristic that differentiates myself from everyone else; I am truly, and utterly boring.

I am actually writing two pieces that I would rather enjoy putting on this blog. Nevertheless, I haven't finished them, and I don't plan to finish them for at least a few more days. As a result, this blog will remain just as uninteresting now as it has previous to this unenlightened post.

It's really late. I should go to bed.

This now marks the second blog entry I've posted where I have simply observed that my blog is lacking, then resorted to going to bed instead of doing something about it.

Email

2006-08-16T10:29:00.000-07:00

Someone had better send me a proper email. I'm tired of getting spam and little two-line messages that usually consist of the word "LOL" on one line and the sender's name on the next. Messages like those don't count as proper emails. I'm waiting.

Where has the art of communication gone? Now we speak in acronyms, provide the briefest of brief communiques, feature underwhelming grammar in our text, and seal our messages with the hope that our audience will be able to understand what we mean. We've essentially gotten lazy, and with that we've become incoherent.

Is it only me that feels as though a very large number of people have the "oh, he'll figure it out" attitude while writing? This is evident in most things written. Just look at that sign at Titles, for goodness' sake. He's a bloody bookseller and he can't form a sentence to save his business!

In conclusion, would someone write a large and eloquent email for me? I need it!

I need to write more.

2006-07-15T21:51:00.000-07:00

Not for a moment do I want anyone to think that I have lost the novelty of blogging. I still have it, very much so, but my life has become so utterly busy that the spare minutes I used to have in abundance are now a rare and cherished commoditiy.

Why is that, I wonder?

Well, to begin, I've moved to a new apartment. There are at least a thousand things I need to do to in order to make this place comfortable, on top of the million things that have to be done in order to maintain it. And somehow, regardless of how much effort I or my girlfriend put into it, it still remains messy (or is easily returned to a messy state). I blame our pets, although it has been often pointed out that they were not responsible for leaving my soiled clothes all over the floor. Nervertheless, I blame them. Especially the bunny. She's a mischevious one.

We also work a lot. We both have full time jobs, and Tara works for a place that is severly understaffed and requires her to put in 6 days a week. So when we finally come home at the end of the day, we're too darn tired to do anything. This results in the apartment slowly getting messy as we let the dishes pile up, as the animals proceed to cover every thing in a fine layer of fur and food, and as I continue to leave my clothes on the floor. Then we blow a day cleaning.

I have a vast to-do list this week. I hope I can get it all done -- because next weekend, we'd like to get some serious R and R in. That would be some nice!

Wow, this post is really boring. I mean, I am bored writing it. Holy crap, I'm stopping here, right now!

DONE.

About the Moon.

2006-06-21T07:15:00.000-07:00

These are what I have determined to be facts about the moon:

1. Maria has recently moved from home on Earth, and found an apartment on the moon; it features a reasonable rent (which includes heat and oxygen), and a lovely view of the Mare Anguis crater. Unfortunately, the moon's diameter is 27% less than that of Earth, making her apartment 27% smaller than a normal bachelour apartment on Earth. As a result, she often complains to her landlord about the frequency of hitting her head on the low ceiling. Nevertheless, she has found enough room to house 6 cats, and 6 litterboxes. She has since become known as the moon's one and only Cat Lady.

2. Amber has travelled many times to visit Maria on the moon. On each return, however, she is often covered in cat fur and sports several large bumps atop her head. Regardless, she enjoys the low-G jogging around Mare Anguis that they do each morning during her visit, and also loves consuming juice out of vacuum bags. She returns to the moon on a regular basis.

3. Nathan thinks the moon might be magic. 'Nuff said.

4. The moon is only cool because Maria lives on it. Otherwise, because it is out in space, it would be fairly un-cool.

5. I really have to get back to my work now.

What About the Moon?

2006-06-17T05:39:00.000-07:00

"I mean, look. The moon isn't all that great -- it's all the way out in space."

"What was the first thing they said when man walked on the moon?"
"Where the heck are my shades? It's so bright."

Overheard on an Airplane...

2006-06-13T09:09:00.000-07:00

While I was travelling to St. John's from Toronto, the flight I was on landed for a short stop-over in Halifax. The West jet stewardess' voice came over the PA system as the plane touched down.

"We will be stopping in Halifax for about forty minutes to refuel and gather up a few more passengers," she said. "Any one continuing on to St. John's is encouraged to stay on the plane. If you wish to move into the terminal, you are welcome to do so, but please bring your photo ID with you. We'll page a few minutes before we have to leave, but if you miss those pages, please enjoy your stay in Halifax." A communal chuckle eminated from the seats.

A few rows in front of me, a half-drunken fellow from Newfoundland responded.

"Well, if I had to stay over here, I'd need a woman to take me in for the night," he bellowed. "A fella just wouldn't do."

From a few seats behind me, I heard another Newf yell, "Well b'ye, I ain't queer, but I'd hate to see ya stuck."

I hate Tom Cruise.

2006-06-09T11:06:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I pretty much hate Tom Cruise.

What a dork.

Zzzz...

2006-06-02T19:50:00.000-07:00

What?!

Hey, you can't sleep here! Wake up! I don't care how boring these posts are, you can't sleep here. This is a blog, not a hotel. If you wanna sleep, might I suggest you try somewhere else?

Thank you, come again!

Quote of the Day: Awesome Coolness.

2006-06-02T13:51:00.000-07:00

"Zombies with pouring guts are awesome-cool. "