But for one detail, this would be little more than your standard ambling exhibitionist news item.
The strange call came in to police just before 10 p.m. last night. The caller reported seeing a naked man strolling in a parking lot near Milner Avenue and Morningside Avenue, police say.
However, before police could arrive, the man got into a van with more naked men and left according to a Toronto Police Operations tweet.
Yes, there was a troop of them. What could they have been doing, I wonder. Were they just trying to get noticed? Were they playing truth or dare? Did one of them lose his wallet? It’s not as though he had anyplace to put it, so that’s as likely as anything else.
Unfortunately, we may never know. The person who called them in didn’t manage to get their license plate number and it seems police were unable to track them down.
Welcome to the newest great mystery of our time, ladies and gentleman…clothed or otherwise.
The other day, my dad called me. While we were talking, he said that he had been trying to call my sister but her voicemail was full and he couldn’t leave a message. I texted her to let her know, and when she wrote back, I was floored.
“I know it’s full,” she said. “It only holds three messages. I had something saved and then two people called me close together.”
Um…what? A voicemail box that only holds three messages including saves? Somebody managed to build that and sell it to companies while keeping a straight face? I’m sure the companies had to be in on the joke and bought in because they know they can get a segment of the customer base to pay for literally anything no matter how stupid and for all I know it was one of those very companies that commissioned the thing, but still, this is just…wow.
Bell’s call Answer could hold 25 messages in the 1990s. Those old digital answering machines could generally hold at least ten. Hell, the ancient cassette using ones could hold lord knows how many depending on the length of the tape you put in and how long you set the message length. But now, in 2016, when digital storage is so cheap that companies like Apple are giving it away for basically nothing, at least one of our country’s largest cell phone providers has deployed something with the ability to hold three whole messages? And worse yet, they’re making people pay for it?
I don’t know what sort of plan my sister is on, but if I ever found out I was being charged honest to god Canadian currency for the privilege of using a mailbox that small, I’d be on the phone demanding that *they* pay *me* monthly to keep using it. Seriously, why the hell even bother to have voicemail at that point?
As I sit here, thinking yet again that maybe I’m just getting old, it strikes me that while I know many types of people from many different age groups, I have yet to meet a single one who either finds or would admit to finding that a nice dinner out with friends or a loved one isn’t fulfilling enough and would be greatly improved by everyone wearing virtual reality gear on their heads like a bunch of goddamned idiots. Seriously, if I ever meet a person who willingly pays to do something like this for any reason other than it’s his job to test this crap, it’s going to be very hard not to hit him until his stupid goggles fly off and take his head with them. Eat your food and talk to your friends like a properly adjusted human being, you fucking dick.
You dine on the first course of the meal in a garden in Tuscany, surrounded by flowers with a winery in the distance. You adjust your Samsung Gear VR glasses as a cool wind blows and you catch the rich fragrance of the gardens. But when your main course arrives, you now find yourself underwater with dolphins playing and fish swimming. Your Italian table setting has been transformed into an underwater experience and the light in the room has changed to reflect the underwater scene. You can even see bubbles arising from your drinks and water splashes on the table in 3D.
Now imagine that all of this occurred without leaving the Ibiza hotel, or the seat you were in. The magic you see, hear, taste, smell and feel comes from virtual reality technology. By using Samsung Gear VR, restaurants can take the already sensory experience of dining to a new level. While there is a wow factor to using this cutting-edge technology, the impact of virtual reality is a natural fit for restaurants that want to create a complete experience around a meal, not just serve a plate of food.
At best this is a gimmicky way for bad restaurants to cover up worse food, but let’s call it what it is. It’s a terrible idea. One we should, now that we’ve had our moment with it, kill with indifference. And fire. Yes, kill it with fire.
It’s been a while since I’ve gotten one, but I know that those lists of supposedly unanswerable questions still float around email and whatnot pretty regularly. You know, the ones filled with items like “Why did kamikaze pilots wear helmets?” They’re designed to be clever and funny and some of them are…at least until a guy from Mental Floss goes and starts answering them, at which point they start making sense.
Turns out that kamikaze pilots didn’t quite wear helmets proper, but what they did wear served multiple purposes, such as regulating temperature or preventing head injuries and deafness because they didn’t always die on every mission.
What a helmet, or even a softer leather flight cap, is good for is protecting a pilot’s head from getting knocked by the cockpit canopy during high-speed, mid-air maneuvering, like the kind you have to do to avoid gunfire while nosediving into a ship.
Couple this with the fact that kamikazes sometimes had to abort their missions before the explosive finale due to turbulence, weather or visibility issues, and the pilots’ protective headgear becomes much more apparent as an aid to help them complete their mission, not necessarily survive it.
I know this happened a month ago, in fact 4 weeks ago tomorrow, so isn’t exactly current, but I have to write about it, because it freaked me right the hell out when it happened, and when something freaks me right the hell out, sometimes it’s good to write about it. So off we go.
Just because this song has chased me whenever I think about this topic, have a listen.
So yeah, I’m sure anyone around here, or anyone who knows me knows exactly what I’m going to talk about.
For the rest of you, here’s the short version. On the morning of October 5, the story goes that Michael Gibbon was taking his usual early morning walk, when out of nowhere, ptwaaaaong, he got hit in the chest with an arrow. He collapsed in someone else’s yard, was taken to hospital much later, and died. For days, nobody had any answers or clues as to who would do this or why this would happen. Police were searching, stopping people on the nearby streets, trying their best to figure this out, but even they couldn’t tell us if it was targeted or random.
Then, a week or 2 later, they pulled over a dude for a traffic stop, and the dude whipped out a pellet gun and shot a police officer in the face! Huh? So they took him into custody, and it came out that he was one of many persons of interest in this whole arrow thing. after a few days, he was charged with Gibbon’s murder.
Aside: Please don’t think I’m making fun of this. I can’t even imagine what his family is going through.
It’s weird. When I write it like that, somehow it fails to capture the way things felt for those few days, maybe because everything feels all neatly bundled up and tied together. But during those days where nobody knew anything, I’m not going to lie, it entered my mind a lot. I wouldn’t say it changed my behaviour, but it made me be a little more vigilant. Once, while I was waiting for my ride at an office across from one of the high schools that was put into hold and secure, I heard a sound that resembled gasping, hickupping and maybe someone doing push-ups. I never found out who or what was making that sound, but my first thought was “Is that the sound you would make if shot with an arrow?”
It also made me try to analyze why this bothered me so much. People get randomly shot all the time, but I don’t worry about myself. Is it because I don’t hear about as many shootings in Kitchener? But I’m sure there have been people shot. I don’t remember walking down the street wondering if I should worry.
Is it because I know the area where it happened, and have walked there from work? Maybe, especially since the area that got locked down reached not too super far from work.
Is it because it’s a freaking arrow, and who the hell does that? But really, should that matter, except for the idea that arrows are reeeally quiet? Is it more the idea that it’s something that could happen without warning? I could be walking down the road, and suddenly get hit and not even know what the hell happened?
Or is it the fact that it seemed to be completely random? We humans always want a reason for something to happen. Did the attacker and the victim know each other? Were they into drugs or gangs or something else shady? Somehow, knowing that makes the rest of us feel safer, as horrible as that is. But by the sounds of this, we have no idea why Gibbon got hit. For all we know, the attacker just wanted to watch someone go down. Writing that sends chills down my spine.
Or is it all of the above? I’m starting to think it is. I definitely have to say that this story is one of the weirder things I’ve had happen close to me.
So what’s the point of writing all of this, aside from hopefully rationalizing this so it makes sense? I don’t know. I guess I wonder if I’m weird. I hope not. I’d like to think I’m rational and logical, but when things like this happen, I have to wonder just how rational and logical I really am.
I can’t come up with a better title for this than that, because honest to god I have no idea why anyone would have a lit candle in their car. But somebody did. Even more amazingly, this somebody decided that a gas station would be a fine destination for herself and her open flame. Well, maybe that part isn’t that amazing, because why wouldn’t the sort of person who drives around with a lit candle in her cup holder in the first place be the same person who pumps gas and then goes inside to pay all without blowing it out? What happened next is about what you would expect, minus the fatalities.
A woman’s car, which had a lit candle inside, became engulfed in flames at a Florida gas station Wednesday afternoon.
ActionNewsJax reported the woman went into the Lake City gas station just after 2 p.m. when a customer rushed inside and alerted everyone the woman’s car was on fire, according to Columbia County Sheriff’s Office Public Information Officer Murray Smith.
The Columbia County Fire Department responded to the Spires Super Market and Citgo gas station and was able to extinguish the fire. The car and a surrounding gas pump were damaged.
No charges were laid against the unidentified woman and police say they’re treating it as an accident.
Um, no. A fender bender is an accident. Some of you might have been an accident. Damaging property because you’re taking a candle on a field trip is either vandalism or arson. Calling this your every day, run of the mill accident is pretty much the most Florida thing ever. Dangerous and irresponsible, in other words.
Remember last year when I wrote about Hitchbot? For a while, Hitchbot did really well, going all the way across Canada, Germany and the Netherlands, and I was impressed. Maybe we humans aren’t such assholes.
Who was the market for this supposed to be? How much did they charge for this crap? Buying a big tub of ice cream and a few bottles of pop had to work out cheaper, didn’t it? I’ll bet it tasted awful, too. When your float instructions include just add tap water, you’re doing it wrong.
I was going to write about this on Monday, but my computer had other plans.
If I wrote this post on Monday, I would have said that I think I’m winning the battle with Captain Nameless Illness, but I’m not completely sure anymore. At any rate, it’s still robbing me of creativity because when I saw this story, my first thought was “Meh, not doing much for me.” I showed it to Steve and he said “excuse me? Not doing it for you? I have so many questions!” I looked at it again, and realized that yeah, I have some too, as a matter of fact.
So, the story goes that early in the morning, two strange fellows walked into a Tim Hortons in Saskatoon. They ordered some kind of sandwich, and one of them got into an argument with the person working at Tim Hortons about how he wanted his onions. He wanted the employee to dice them for him. this argument got more heated, until he rreached into his friend’s jacket pocket, pulled out a small snake and hurled it behind the counter at the employee. Some craziness ensued, police were called, and the dudes and the snake were taken away.
Let’s start with the most basic question. This is a Tim Hortons. why the hell would they be debating with the worker about how they want their onions cut? You get onions the way they make them, and that’s that. this kind of reminds me of something I saw in a Subway shop. This woman started loudly insisting that the guy making sandwiches change his gloves. I guess if she was deathly alergic to something he just handled, then I understand, but otherwise, what the hell?
Second, who walks around with a snake in their jacket pocket? Maybe if you’re 8 or something, you mmight walk around with a frog in your pocket, but these guys were 20 and it was 7 or so in the morning, at least I think I read that in another story.
Finally, what kind of strange relationship do these guys have where guy A can just reach into guy B’s coat and take something out and throw it? Or are they not friends anymore?
A Manhattan will set you back $14 at forthcoming downtown restaurant and bar Second State. Want it on the rocks? That will be a dollar more—for a total of $15.
The Pennsylvania-themed spot, which is set to open in the former Mighty Pint space at 1831 M St. NW on Oct. 21, will be the first place in D.C. with an ice surcharge listed on its cocktail menu. (Most bars eat the cost or build it into the price of the drink.) Granted, these are no freezer-burned, generic tray cubes. This is the fancy, unclouded artisanal stuff from D.C.’s boutique ice company, Favourite Ice, founded by local bartenders Owen Thomson and Joseph Ambrose. Second State bartenders will chip off the eight corners for a more spherical shape that sits in the glass like an iceberg.
“It’s worth it,” says bar manager Phil Clark. “When it goes into a cocktail, it’s crystal clear. It’s purified water, so there’s no minerally taste.”
The only way I’m paying these dickheads any money for frozen water is if I get a douche lord on board bumper sticker I can slap on the back of my Big Wallet, Small Penismobile with every purchase.