Vive Le Québec Ivre

Ok I hope at least one person gets that joke. They probably won’t, and if they do, they’ll be pissed at me for saying it. Oh well.

I saw something on the news that just killed me. In Quebec, there’s a liquor strike. Ok, another strike. Whatever. But people are flipping out! They’re going to Ontario and New Brunswick to get their liquor, and stocking up on it as if it was water before y2k! . One guy actually said that the liquor stores should be considered an essential service! He said this on camera, without one bit of shame! And it wasn’t a joke! Ok, it’s booze. You’re not going to die without it…are you? If so, get some help, not out of province booze.

A lot of people must agree with him, because to avert the strike, they actually brought in Lucien Bouchard, ya know, used to be premier, big political man, to help with negotiations. I am not joking. It’s on the CTV site. Doesn’t M. Bouchard have better things to do than to stop the beer store people from going on strike? Apparently not.

The part that’s even funnier is they can still get some beer at the grocery stores according to CBC. But they just have to have more. What the hell? Can someone please explain this one to me?

Bell, we employ the simple

My fucking god. I am pissed. I am pissed. This is going to look like the spewings of a rabbid dog, if a dog could type that is, but I don’t fucking care. This is unbelievable.

Let’s recap. Wednesday night I was happy. Happy happy happy. Tuesday was a beautiful day and nothing could bring me down. I should not have challenged fate, because fate was game for the challenge. *snap* Out goes Carin’s phone, among other things, and that’s when I started to realize that Bell does not keep things simple, they employ the simple.

Maybe I’m just really unlucky and I just happened to meet the special ed shift, but my fucking god. First off, there’s god damn blasted piece of shit speech recognition Emily. Somebody strangle that cheery little robot before she pisses off the next Bell customer who happens to be armed. Somebody might die because of that stupid thing.
Emily: Just tell me what you want.
Frustrated customer: phone repair.
Pause
Emily: Ok, repair and technical support. Now, is it about Bell telephone, Bell mobility, or Bell Sympatico?

Ok, if I called 611, which is the Bell repair line, do you think it’s my internet, smartass? They even have a special number for sympatico, as I found out when Emily thought phone repair meant my internet’s broke. Considering I use rogers, not sympatico, sorry Emily, time to tune up those high tech ears of yours. You seem to be deaf.

Emily: Ok, Bell telephone repair. Briefly describe the problem you are having.

I’d love to watch Emily’s circuits fry if the customer’s reply was:

Well gee, I get this funny buzz beep werr thing when I pick up my phone, and sometimes I can hear my uncle bob over there fucking a goat through my handset. what do you suppose that means?

No, all she can handle are simple commands, and even then it’s chancy. The thing is they make her sound so conversational. “Just tell me.” “My name’s Emily.” No, you’re a computer. And you’re about as effective if I could just press keys rather than try to talk to you.

So finally after she figures out that my problem is too big for her pea brain, she puts me through to an agent. I think phew. Someone with some brains. No. Wrong. This woman who’s mowing through her talk at the pace of a race car tells me something about a repair tech coming the next day. But I’m in school the next day and it’s kind of important that I go cause it’s the last day. She mumbles something about outside wiring and notes on my door. After getting royally pissed at me for not understanding what in the blue christ she’s talking about, she hangs up on me. Hangs up on me! Ok, who the hell is she to hang up on someone with a broken phone who’s trying to talk to her through a cell phone on a 3-way call. Until she’s had that happen to her, the bitch has no right.

Ok, so maybe she has, but I’m sorry. That just pissed me off. Flash to the next day. I’m at school, and very happy that I have a cell phone. it rings, and it’s the Bell man. He says the problem’s inside my house, and can he get in, even if the landlord let him in. I’m like call me back and I’ll see what I can do. The landlord says it’s ok. The Bell man calls back, but 3 hours later. I’m like good, you called back. You can get in. He’s like, oh I’m long gone now.

Thanks, asshole. You’ve been ever so helpful. Thanks for listening to me so well. He’s like, oh you’ll have to call the Bell people back and reschedule. I do. And I’ll swear until the end of time that he said, they’ll be hear on Friday between noon and 6. I run home so I can be there for them. I miss a call on my cell phone. I call them back and this is what they say to me.
“Repair technician? today? We have no record of that.”

Ok, so in front of each customer service rep, what do they have? An etch a sketch? A game of let’s pretend? What the fuck? Did I talk to another person with no brain? So here I sit with a dead phone and the Bell people are oh so kind as to send someone between the hours of 8 and 5 on Saturday. 8 and 5? No, no one has plans on Saturdays at all. They just sit and wait for Bell. So I’m angry, but what am I going to do? Two hours later, knock knock knock, who’s at my door? A Bell man! The first intelligent person I’ve seen at Bell. I’m thinking, woe they realized how pissed I was and sent someone real quick as a way of apologizing. Yea Bell. He tries to fix it and realizes that the problem is so bad that I’m going to have to hope that the owner of the restaurant next door, which I swear is some kind of mob front, is real nice and isn’t a mobster for real. Cause, they’re going to have to rip apart his restaurant and lay new wire, because some numbnuts caused a bunch of old wires to touch together and short out and they can’t even tell whose wire is whose. Get this. I have my neighbour’s wires in my apartment, but my wires aren’t in my neighbours house. All the fucking connections are mislabeled down there, and the wires are spliced through some other crap.

So he leaves and I’ve resigned myself to the fact that me and my cell phone are becoming best buds real quick. Then I’m not at my house and my cell phone rings. It’s Bell! They have no record that the guy who came yesterday ever came so they don’t know why I am not home. They don’t listen to what I’m saying. Later, when I call back, I’m told that now they’re sending a whole crew to fix something the depths of which they can’t even begin to understand, and they don’t even know which technician ordered this crew. So I don’t even know if they’ve been given the right information. And, hahahahahahahahaahahahaha, let me laugh some more, hahahahahahahahahaha, they think they’ll have it fixed by 7! Hahahahahahahahahahaha my sides ache. 7? Are you out of your trees? Are you going to bring a full carpentry and roofing team too? I didn’t know Bell had such diverse employees.

And here’s the kicker. The report has been forwarded to a dispatch manager, but Joe Bell employee can’t talk to said manager because he’s not in the same building. Ok, hold the phone. He’s a dispatch manager. That means he can talk to people who are driving around and send them other places. That means that he can be talked to. Bullshit they can’t talk to him because he’s in another building. What, the *telephone* company doesn’t have telephones? Unless they can’t call out, which is dumb, for sure dispatch manager guy can be reached. Sometimes I wonder at their idea of efficiency.

So now, perhaps a crew of befuddled Bell people *may* show up at my house. Or maybe tomorrow. Who the hell knows? Whenever I call there, I get a different answer. Either way, I am so unbelievably frustrated and without a phone and with a cell phone whose battery is nearly dead. I really hope this is over soon. And if someone who’s reading this works for Bell, maybe you can explain some of this bullshit to me.

Stayin’ Alive? Not So Much

Brad sent this news story, which I somehow managed to miss. Not sure how that happened.

Phillip Quinn was killed last week when his lava lamp exploded.

Quinn was found dead Sunday night in his mobile home outside Seattle, Washington. Police say Quinn had placed the lava lamp on a hot stove and was killed when it exploded. There were glass fragments in all the walls. A glass shard pierced his heart.

Criminal Mastermind At Work

I turned on the radio this morning just in time to hear one of those things that makes me want to shut everything off and crawl back into bed for the rest of my life.

It seems that a super genius in the city of Kitchener was caught downloading child pornography and charged with possession. “Good on the police and their investigative expertise” you might be saying to yourselves at this moment, but to be honest, I don’t think they had too hard of a time with this one.

The man, who we’ll call Chester M. Olester since I didn’t hear his name and because I think that one sounds funnier, was discovered downloading the child porn from the internet using a computer at the Kitchener Public Library. Yes, the *public* library. Not the private library, the public one, you know, where other people are.

When I heard this story 2 things came to mind.

1. Perhaps Chester read the sign wrong, this was all a horrible misunderstanding and if he were to look again, he would discover that there was in fact an L somewhere other than in the word library.

2. It’s a good thing that most kids don’t visit libraries anymore or this story might not have been funny at all.

Honestly, I’m not sure if this man is more disturbed or stupid, but either way, it’s a dangerous combination.

What Is No, You Can’t Come Back Tomorrow?

I just watched Ken Jennings finally lose a Jeopardy game. Wow, what a run that guy had. Something like 74 days and 2 and a half million dollars. He did pretty well, but now it’s all over.

On 1 hand I’m sad to see him go because I really enjoyed watching him destroy people the way he did, consistently leading so convincingly that by the time Final Jeopardy came around they had no chance of beating him, and sometimes eliminating them from even participating in final altogether. But on the other I’m happy if for no other reason than that now I don’t have to listen to people bitch anymore about how he’s been around too long. Seriously, not much has made me happier today than knowing that soon all of these people will be forced to shut the hell up.

I actually heard somebody on a radio talk show a while back say that if Jennings was any kind of a man, when he won a million dollars he would have said that he’d done well but now it was time to give somebody else a turn. I can’t believe that somebody could make a statement like that with a straight face, it’s ridiculous. I would have loved to ask this woman if she could honestly say that if put in that position she would do the same thing, and then somehow force her to follow through on it. The truth is that very few if any of us at all would do that. If we were winning, there’s no way we’d just quit because some people might be getting sick of us and the other contestants might get sad. It’s a competition, and it’s a competition where big money is involved. Cashing it in and going home is an easy thing to do when you’re nowhere near the contest, but it gets quite a bit harder when the money you’re playing for is money that you get to take home.

Think of what Ken Jennings did as bettering life for himself and his family. He’s got 2 and a half million dollars in the bank that he didn’t have before, more money than most of us will ever have. Not only that, but now he has the potential to make even more money now that he’s a bit of a celebrity. Between TV appearances and speaking engagements this guy has it made, and I think that’s where a lot of the resentment and jealousy comes from. The average person has a hard time getting behind a guy who knows everything and makes his fortune playing game shows because guys like that are everything that most people aren’t but desperately want to be, smart, rich, famous and full of potential for future growth.

So congratulations Ken, you deserve it. Now can I borrow a few bucks?

What Are The Odds?

I’m not quite sure what to make of this one. On one hand I suppose it’s not impossible, but on the other this whole lawsuit sounds like a bit of a cash grab to me. I’ll let you decide, but every time I read it again it seems more and more far fetched.

MUNSEY PARK, N.Y. – A Japanese hibachi chef didn’t know what he was getting into when he playfully threw a piece of grilled shrimp toward a tableside diner. The food-flinging incident at a Benihana restaurant is now being blamed for causing a man’s death. The lawyer for the deceased man’s estate says that the man’s reflex to duck from the food caused a neck injury that required surgery. Apparently, the first operation had complications, so a second surgery was performed. Five months later, Jerry Colaitis died of an illness his family blames on the injury. Alleging wrongful death, Colaitis’ estate is seeking $10 million in damages.

United States Of Whatever

I noticed something during the press conference earlier today featuring President Bush and Prime Minister Martin that up to now I haven’t heard anybody else mention. It upsets me that I have to be the first to point this out since we should be able to leave it up to our news organizations to at least somewhat inform us of major events, but here goes anyway.

The most significant development today had nothing to do with any of the hot button issues that the experts predicted would dominate the day. Nothing to do with the economy, border security or anything else. No, it’s much more urgent than any of that and something needs to be done before it’s too late.

Ladies and gentlemen, George W Bush is a contagious disease, at least his language is. I had to step out of the room during the moment in question but if my hearing is accurate, and it usually is, then I heard Paul Martin say the word “nucular.” Not only did he say it, he said it twice, and I don’t remember ever hearing him say it before.

Some of you may think that I’m being alarmist and write this incident off as simply more of the pathetic ass kissing to which we have grown accustomed during the weeks and months leading up to the President’s visit, but I think that there’s something more sinister at work here. If you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe
CNN,
which reports that he’s already gotten to Tony Blair. The Blair infection is much more advanced however, having gone beyond language to extend into attitudinal similarities.

So the question now becomes not what’s going on here, but how do we stop it? Maybe the answer is medical, but until a cure is found there’s only one way to prevent Martin from suffering the same fate as Blair. Someone needs to create an international incident harmless enough that nobody is injured or killed but at the same time severe enough that President Bush and Prime Minister Martin don’t want to talk with each other unless they absolutely have to do so, and that person has to do it fast. And the way I see it, Martin has to go to bat for himself this time.

For the sake of his health, Paul Martin needs to sleep with Laura Bush, and he needs to do it soon. Maybe some of you reading this might have better ideas but the way I look at it, I can’t think of many other things that would piss old George off sufficiently enough to cause him to adopt a strictly business because it has to be for political reasons relationship with Martin.

Sure, it would probably piss him off so much that he’d mess with trade relations more than he already has, but come on, a man’s life is hanging in the balance, I think we can all make a sacrifice here. Who’s with me? Nobody? That’s what I figured, you terrorists.

Some People’s kids

I have to say that in general, today I’m pretty happy. I basically put an end to all the work for that class that I couldn’t stand. I have wanted to say that for a while, and the end is finally here!

But I saw something today that, no matter how awesome my mood is and no matter how many times I see it, makes me want to walk up to the people doing it and go, “Guys. You might want to use that bunch of tissue between your ears. Ya know. Your brain.” I bitched about this in one of my columns, but every time I see it, it makes me want to bitch some more.

So let me set the scene for you. I am happily munching on my lunch in the food court-looking part of the main university building. There are others doing the same. Everybody’s minding their own business. Then, out of the general din, we hear a bullhorn. Yes, a god damn megaphone thing. At first, it’s impossible to discern what this dude is trying to broadcast to a bunch of people eating their lunches and getting on with their days. Maybe it’s Mr. Wendy. Who the hell knows?

Then it becomes clear. He’s chanting, “Bush, go home! Bush, go home!”
Bullhorn-toting freak: Where should he go?”
Crowd response (and when I say crowd, I mean 10 people): Home!
Bullhorn-toting freak: When should he go?
Crowd response: Now!

Ok, did I miss something? Did Bush come to our campus? Is he meeting with the president of the university or something for some odd reason? No! He’s in Ottawa!

And here’s where my problem begins. I have no problem with people protesting. I think, if done right, it takes a lot of guts and may do a lot of good. But these so-called political protesters might as well piss into the wind for all the good their protests are going to do. If you want to protest Bush’s presence in Canada, go to where he is and protest. Don’t stand in the food area of some university campus that isn’t even in a capital city I might add and protest. Now all you’re doing is drawing attention to yourself and making yourself look like a fool to anyone with more than a few brain cells to rattle together. Again, if anyone has an intelligent reason why political protests have even a snowball’s chance of success in a university cafeteria, then by all means, enlighten me. I could even see it if it was about a student issue. Then go ahead. You’ve got a bunch of the student body watching, it’s the prime spot. But something about the president of the United States? Yeah, real effective.

I can hear it now. “But these people can’t just take off to Ottawa to protest. They’re in school.” Fine. Then start a letter-writing campaign. That would be far more effective than standing around yelling at people who aren’t even connected to this whole thing.

They didn’t even protest for that long, thank god. Then they went outside and stood beside an old cannon filled with cement. Think about that. They don’t like Bush, probably because of his stance related to war, so they finish their protest beside a big cannon! Wow! Talk about symbolism shooting you in the foot. And talk about showing yourself to be an even bigger idiot. To all those people who want to protest in stupid places, please, do yourselves a favour. Think about other ways to be useful. I’m sure you can find one.

The Safety Dance

Update:
The old website no longer works, so I’ve removed the link. But there is now a YouTube channel! If you need an example of what you might find there, this one seems timely what with Kenny Rogers recently dying.

And it would be criminal not to post this one since wash your hands is all we’re being told these days.

Original:
Have you ever been frying up some nice, delicious hamburgers and suddenly thought to yourself “gee, I wish somebody would write a song about how to do this properly”? Me neither. But Carl Winter, a food toxicologist with the University of California did, and since nobody else was going to do it, he even went as far as to write and perform the songs himself.

Combining his musical background with his love of developing food safety education programs, Winter spends what seems to be way too much of his time writing and recording food safety parody songs. His 1 man band even has CD’s available and gives live performances, I’m not kidding.

But you don’t have to buy a CD to hear this greatness for yourself. Winter’s website features many streaming examples of his work including such classics as I Will Survive, They Might Kill You/ We are the Microbes, A Case of Norwalk and many many more. Each song even has it’s own set of Powerpoint slides if the musical experience just isn’t enough for you.

I’m trying to think of a snappy way to end this post but it’s not working so I’ll leave you with a few lyrics so you know what you’re in for, or so you know what you might be in for if you don’t visit the site and take Winter’s advice to heart.

I’ve got a sign
On my fridge door
Sayin’ go away bacteria
Cause you’re not welcome anymore
Listeria don’t scare me nor does that nasty E. coli
Hey Salmonella?
Did you think I’d lay down and die?

Oh no, not I
I will survive
Oh as long as I am careful with my food I’ll stay alive
Cause I’ve got all my safety plans
I disinfect and wash my hands
And I’ll survive, I will survive

Hua!

I guess this is just random thoughts time. I need to be a little more alert before class, so I thought why not throw something up here. Hell I might get mad and then I’ll be awake. Or maybe I’ll type equally horribly as I did Tuesday.

Today I was walking down the street and I thought I noticed someone walk by. A couple seconds later, I knew I did, because I was hit with this wave of perfume. Why do some people need to wear so much perfume that it follows them in a vaporous cloud? Seriously, it was as if the perfume had wings and was flying like a little bird behind them. Easy killer. Who are you trying to impress with that? It’s not working.

And speaking of smelly things, I decided to stroll over to Boing Boing because well I was bored and thought I’d check it out, and somebody’s actually come up with something that will give off a smell when your phone rings. But apparently they smell like food! That would be cruel. Sniff sniff. No that’s not lunch, just getting a call. I can see it all now. Please keep your phones on vibrate or smell mode in the theatre. Just as long as it doesn’t smell like popcorn.

Granted I didn’t read the story, because I ran out of time, but that’s just weird.

And speaking of running out of time, I just did. Wasn’t that a pointless post?