4 Things

1. Go read this. Somebody sent some hatemail to Five For Fighting and the guy who is the whole band actually wrote him back. It doesn’t end up being much of an exchange and Mr. For Fighting ended up being pretty cool about the whole thing, but the email he was sent is really funny so check it out anyway.

2. Note to the Bang on a Can All-Stars. Change your name, immediately! This one makes you sound like some sort of homosexual theatre troop. Don’t get mad, I’m just trying to look out for you.

3. On the news tonight there was a story about a new hospital that will specialize in burn injuries. That got me to thinking, has there ever been a report of a fire in one of those places? I can’t remember ever hearing one, but maybe one of you can. If so, let me know. You get extra points if the building burned completely to the ground.

4. We are currently testing our public address system to ensure that everything is in working order and that all equipment will respond properly in an emergency situation. We kindly ask that anyone who cannot hear this announcement contact us immediately. Thank you for your understanding and cooperation.

What’s Up with That?

I’ve noticed lately when I hear commercials for dog and cat food, they talk about the taste. How it tastes better than ever, how it’s the best food ever taste-wise. My question is, how do they know? It’s not like you can ask fido or spot which food he likes better and get a definitive answer. And, if they’re not asking fido or spot, are humans eating it and being the judge? If so, I hope they’re well-paid. that’s absolutely disgusting. The only other explanation, and the most likely one, is that it’s a load of bullshit. Who the hell knows if it tastes better? Unless they tell me how they know, they’re stringing me a line.

I remember the old days when commercials for pet food made sense. They talked about how much protein was in them, how they were recommended by vets, etc. That could still be bullshit, but it’s believable bullshit. This shit about taste? Whatever.

It must be because the pet-owning population has gone sappy. They want to be assured that what they feed spot tastes good to him. Face it, pet taste buds are different than yours. Just accept that their food likely tastes like ass, and don’t be so gullible!

Post Title Goes Here

Hey everybody. Sorry for not posting anything since Friday, though I’m not sure how sorry I should be since it’s not like you didn’t have anything to read. Big ups to Carin for keeping things going while I’ve been lazy, and for helping out in general. That’s really cool of her and I appreciate it.

I can totally relate to the whole song thing even though I can’t think of any examples off the top of my head. But it’s weird hearing stuff that you listened to as a young kid and realizing how much deeper a meaning things have and how much you really didn’t understand even though you thought everything made perfect sense. Same goes for things like TV shows and movies and comedy routines. No matter how much you really did get, or thought you got back then, there’s always more to understand. But when you stop and think about it, everything in life is that way. There’s always more to figure out. Wow, that was heavy. I apologize.

While we’re talking site business and things that go on here, feel free to check out the ads if you like what we’re doing. Good things happen when you do that.

Does anybody remember Matt? I’m just curious because nobody’s asking me where he is, how he’s doing and whether or not he still writes here anymore. I’m not complaining, I’m just noticing is all.

Ok, here come a few random thoughts…

Am I the only one who thinks that they should rename Smokey the Bear? You might think I’m nuts, but I honestly can’t figure out how he became so successful in the PSA business with a name like that. I mean it would make sense if he worked for the tobacco lobby, but he doesn’t. He’s the fire prevention bear and maybe it’s just me, but a name like Smokey sort of implies that something went horribly wrong at some point. And if at this point you feel like writing in to tell me how Smokey got his name, don’t waste your time because I already know and my opinion still stands. If you can’t figure out why I feel that way, read this and then try to tell me that it’s not even a little bit mean spirited. After all, there’s a reason why you never see Choppy the Chimp speaking out about the destruction of the rainforest or Timmy the Tumour campaigning for cancer awareness. It’s just wrong. But having said that, I still can’t help but think that Crispy the Caterpillar was completely overlooked during spokesanimal interviews.

But maybe it’s time to retire Smokey anyway. He’s gone through enough. He’s suffered with that awful name for over 50 years now and I for one think he deserves to live out the rest of his days not having to be constantly reminded of how he was almost burned to death but was then captured by a bunch of do gooders, named after his tragic accident and then exploited for the majority of his existence because an ever-increasing number of retards don’t know how to look after a camp fire. We owe him that much.

So the question now becomes if he does retire, who will replace him? I’d say Crispy the Caterpillar but that would just put us back where we started with the whole naming thing and besides, he soured on the whole industry years ago. So no, that won’t do at all. Personally I think we should go with either Hydrant the Hound Dog or Water Bomber the Worm, either of whom would more accurately reflect the prevention message that we’re trying to get across. I would have said “trying to spread,” but that would have been a little too ironic.

There’s a player in the NBA named Darko. I find that really funny, but maybe that’s just my racist side talking.

But speaking of racism, I heard something on the radio this morning that really got on my nerves. There was a story on the news about a guy who tried to lure a teenaged girl into his car by following her as she walked home and repeatedly asking her if she needed a ride. The story went on to describe the suspect as a “non-white” male.” What the hell is that? Have we really “progressed” so much as a society that instead of talking about what colour somebody is, we have to talk about which ones he isn’t even in cases where lives could potentially be saved? Non-white is about as helpful as non-blue or non-Asian in a situation like that. Why not tell us who we *are* looking for instead of who we don’t have to worry about?

And by the way, there’s something you never hear, non-Asian. And you never hear somebody talking about their non-gay friends either. And when was the last time you heard somebody refer to you as a non-asshole? Probably never, because it sounds ridiculous. Non-white is one of those terms that guilty white people came up with in a pathetic attempt to make themselves feel a little less discriminatory. Nothing more, nothing less. It means nothing, and it makes you sound like a prick. Seriously folks, this political correctness has gone insane, and it needs to stop. So if all of you could do me a small favour I’d appreciate it. IF you ever find yourself in the company of someone who uses the term non-white in a serious context, I want you to non-refrain from punching that person right in the goddamn head. Thank you and good day.

I’ll be back with more later, and I bet that Carin will probably have more to say at some point too, so stay tuned, or whatever you’re supposed to stay to a website. We’re not TV or radio, so tuned doesn’t work…any ideas? But yeah, more stuff coming soon. I’ve got a bunch of new searches that need to be put together and who knows what I’ll come across or what will land in my email between now and then so stay…somethinged.

Old Songs and Being a Kid

When you were a kid, do you remember, along with the goofy kids’ songs you heard, you listened to your parents’ records? I know I did, some of them obsessively. I don’t even know why, I guess because mom and dad liked them. But I would even ask to listen to them! And now that I’m older, and hear some of the stuff I listened to, and recited more than likely, I’m surprised mom and dad never put a stop to it.

Here’s an example. Does anyone else remember the song “Ruby” by Kenny Rogers? I remember when I first heard it, I had no idea what it was about. How could I, I was only 3 or 4. Anyway, my parents live out in the country, and mom used to always get annoyed that dad always wanted to go to town to go shopping and “run the roads”as she called it, and never help out around the house. So, I just thought the guy was mad that his wife was going to town all the time. Not quite! How about he’s a Vietnam vet who’s pretty much on death’s door and his wife’s always off screwing other guys.

And the worst part was I probably memorized it and sang it along with the record, and who knows where else. It’s really weird. I remember every word of that song, even though I didn’t really realize their meaning. I hadn’t heard that song since being a little kid, and I heard it the other day on an oldies station. And every line came back to me only in the form of a string of meaningless syllables. That’s a weird experience. Has anyone else had that happen? And then you realize what the song means, and you can’t help but laugh at yourself and wonder how many people you freaked out for knowing that song and singing it.

I remember making my grandma mad for singing that Ghetto song by Elvis. I had never seen her mad before, but holy crap I was forbidden to sing those words in her house. And I still remember something that every time I think about, I cringe. I remember vividly singing “Let’s Get Physical” by Olivia Newton-John to a bunch of people. Ug! I had no idea what I was singing. I remember the line about hearing your body talk. I had so many talking things that I was like, “hmmm a talking body? Neat!” God I was such a stupid kid. Did anyone else do this? Or have I just exposed that I was the stupidest kid on the planet?

Update on the Screaming Freak

Remember the other day when I wrote that crazy post about that guy who wouldn’t leave the bus unless he got his TV, oh so sorry, TV-VCR combo back that he left on the other bus? Remember when I thought he could have shot somebody? Well I wasn’t far off. My friend ran into him downtown, and overheard him talking. It turns out he’s a crack dealer! Or was doing some less than cool things anyway. Whatever he is, he’s stupid, talking about his stuff in a pretty obvious place in a pretty obvious way, or maybe he’s smoked too much of his product. Anyway, woe that was close. I hope I never run into him again. Well at the rate he’s going, he’ll tell the wrong person how much crack he’s got real soon and I won’t have to worry about it. And it sure makes me wonder if he really spent $150 on that TV-VCR combo after all.

Let’s All Hope for My Neighbour!

Well, today I found out that what I was afraid of was happening. A long time ago, I heard that my neighbour had cancer, but that he had fought it off before, it had come back, and he was sure he would fight it again. It seemed that he was doing it. Then the doctors put him on a clinical trial of a drug. I started to notice that he was going through longer and longer times where he just didn’t seem as well. Today I asked him how things were going. He says the cancer is spreading, and the clinical trial isn’t working. Let’s all hope that when they start him back on the other stuff, that he’ll get better! It’s really freaky to watch someone who was so full of life still trying to do everything, but he just doesn’t have the same strength. If he talks too long, he just has to stop because it’s so painful. It kills me to watch such a good person going down hill and being helpless to do anything to stop it. So let’s all hope he gets better!

Holy Crap!

Well, here I go again, boring you with the mundane details of my life. But as I sit here, sort of studying, sort of daydreaming, the stunning realization hits me like a brick that just over 12 hours from now, I will have done all the work for my whole B.A! and provided that some other hidden pocket of the university doesn’t want money from me, or I don’t royally bomb these exams, it will be mine! I can’t believe it. Six years of work has come to an end…and has coughed me out confused and looking around wondering what the next step is. I mean I know the next immediate step is going for this guide dog, but what does my future hold? The future freaks me out! That’s all I know!

It’s funny. I can’t make up my mind. I have counted the days for this to get here. I have wanted so badly to see the end. Now it’s here, and I’m happy, and want to celebrate, but there’s a part of me that’s so completely confused and kicking myself really hard for not laying out more concrete plans for the next move, and wondering exactly what I’m going to do. I mean I have vague ideas, I just hope I can bring them to a more specific focus. And there’s another part of me that regrets not making more connections with more people. A lot of my friends and people I knew have left the city to go either back home or to other cities. Oh well, it will come together somehow. It’s just really weird to be standing on the edge of one big piece of the structure of my life as it crumbles. I mean I’ve gone to school since I was like 4! It’s freaky to think of it that way.

Ok, I should shake myself. Yick! I sound like a whining sniveling baby. It should be fine. It’s just a little freaky to watch it all end.

You Wanna Go Where Everybody Knows Your Name?

Well I seem to have gone there. It’s pretty wacky to walk down the street, like I did this morning, and have someone come up to me and say, “Well if it isn’t Carin with a C!” At this point I’m trying to figure out who they are, and how they know me. This happens to me all the time, and I feel like such a terminal tool every time I have no idea who they are. Part of me says,if they know me so well, why don’t I know them? Even freakier, some of them know where I live. For some, I understand why. Of course a cabby is going to know where I live. but it’s pretty weird when I accidentally pass the walk to my house and some random person yells, you passed it! It’s really cute, I just wish I could have a better memory of who these people are so I don’t have to either look like a complete jerk or a person gone senile way too young.

It’s happening’!

Well, way back in October, I wrote about getting a guide dog. After several months of sitting on my ass, and then a shitload of paperwork, it’s actually starting to come to reality. And ya know what the irony of it is? I’m going to the school whose package I didn’t like at first glance! But that’s where I’m going, and by the end of next month, I will have my very own guide dog! Some people joke that it will be a guide chihuahua since I’m so short. Who knows. Well I don’t think it’ll be a chihuahua, but I don’t know what kind of dog it is. They won’t even tell me that much! They like keeping things a mystery.

So hopefully while I’m there I’ll have time to write a post or two. I don’t leave until the 9th of May, but that’s when I’m planning to go! So that’s the doggy scoop. I’m still in disbelief that it’s actually happening, and can’t believe I’m going to go live in a guide dog school for about 3 weeks! Wish me luck, hope I don’t go crazy, and hope my guide dog doesn’t have a dumb name!