spacedog

10 August 2003

Beer VS Tri

The Chemong Triathlon was held today in Lakefield ON. This is a nice little race, not well known but certainly well run and and a real fun course. I, however, was at the Toronto Festival of Beer all day, quaffing a series of different microbrews from a little plastic cup and letting the hot sun fry whatever brain cells were left unpummelled by the suds.

Why, you ask? The decision to loaf rather than race was made at about the 10k mark of the 15k run portion of last week's K-Town Tri in Kingston. First time on the Long Course, and although I turned in a respectable time there was some suffering. So Chemong was out, beer was in.

Cheers!

 

22 July 2003

TDF AOK IMO

Is there a more exciting sporting event than the Tour de France? This year's tour has been amazing, a real race for real athletes. Not like those pathetic pantywaste North American team sports with their overpaid undertalented overweight millionaires.

Pro baseball players go on the DL every time they pull a butt muscle from sitting around too much.
Pro cyclists break bones and keep racing.
Pro basketball players limp off the court if they happen to turn an ankle.
Pro cyclists beat cancer and keep coming back for more.
Pro soccer players fall weeping to the ground if an opponent comes near them.
Pro cyclists crash and rip their clothes and skin right off, then get up and get back on the bike.
Pro football players have to rest for 2 minutes after every 30 second play.
Pro cyclists ride 5-6 hours a day continuously for nearly 3 weeks straight.

Any questions?

 

6 July 2003

Tri #1

Completed triathlon #1 for the year, in Midland Ont. A perfect day for the race and an ok day for your host, in spite of three separate nearly disastrous altercations on the bike course with a pickup truck, a pylon, and a cat. The bike is getting better, the swim is getting better, the run... better get training.

Don't forget the triathlon performance calculator, available here free of charge.

30 June 2003

Ride or Pride?

Hey kids, play this great new game! See if you can guess which of the following quotes are from this year's Rideau Lakes Cycle Tour, and which are from this year's Gay Pride celebrations!

  1. "My ass can't take much more of this"
  2. "Be a sport and hand me that butt jelly, wouldja?"
  3. "I'll be along in a minute, I just have to wash out my shorts"
  4. "I haven't done this much riding since last year"
  5. "My back is killing me from holding this position too long"
  6. "Ok, it's your turn to pull now"
  7. "Will you check my bag for me?"
  8. "Are you staying at queens?"
  9. "Hey guys, let's take a shower at the athletic centre"

Hold your mouse here for the answers

26 June 2003

Wayne Shorter

Saw sax legend Wayne Shorter on tuesday down at the du Maurier Jazz Festival at Nathan Philips Square. I was all primed for some hot tunes, but I gotta tellya I didn't really 'get' the show. The chops were on display for sure, but mostly from the other band members (who were jaw-droppingly good). Wayne pretty much laid back the whole night, letting the piano, drums & bass carry the load and only occasionally giving us a taste of his awesome talent on the horn.

The tunes themselves were... challenging. Not a repeated moment the entire show - no backbeat, no easy time signatures to tap your foot to, nowhere to hang your porkpie hat at all. It was like listening to a Jackson Pollack painting. I came away impressed, but still scratching my head about it all.

Then today it dawned on me (feel free to roll your eyes at this next bit); if the best art is a metaphor for human experience, then what we heard the other night was a pure example of that. The music was like life itself — chaotic, unpredictable, exciting, boring, and mostly improvised. The band were in a sort of non-linear groove, communicating but not really following a score as far as I could tell. What an achievement. To compress all of our experience into a 90 minute sonic metaphor is a feat beyond all but a few artists, and I feel now that I was priveleged to have been there to see and hear it.

Globe and Mail review >>

Wayne Shorter's stream of consciousness >> (G&M article, June 19 2003 - looking back at this article it seems that I was on the right track here, so there.)

22 June 2003

Photos Finished

Ok sports fans, the photos are in from the Rideau Lakes Cycle Tour 2003. I've culled the best (ok, the only good ones) from the roll I took this year and have placed them here for you to enjoy at your leisure. Please, no pushing, there's room for everyone.

Behold >>

16 June 2003

So Long and Thanks, Fish

It is with great sadness that I must report the passing of one fifth of the piscene population of the spacedog household. At about 9pm this evening, after an illness of undetermined length, one of our five (now four) pond goldfish went to meet his maker. He survived the winter, but couldn't make it through the summer, poor guy. The missus is quite forlorn over this, as she is a great lover of small creatures. Burial and ceremony to be held tomorrow, June 17th 2003, after work.

Sure, he was only a fish, but it's the first loss suffered in our new home so it's significant. And anyway, even a small loss can make one reflect on the inevitability of it all for each one of us. To paraphrase the Buddha, death is certain, its time is not.

Note: if by chance you've dropped in on the end of a link from CSS God Stuart Robertson's designmeme site, and if by another chance you're using Netscape 7 or Mozillas Phoenix or Firebird or any other browser built on MozCode - I know. I know the rest of the pages in this site fall completely apart. I know it's ugly. I swear, I'm going to fix it. Really.

Other Note: photos from Rideau 2003 are in tha house, and may even get scanned by the end of the week. I may even post them on this site soon. Until then, please enjoy last year's photos and picture us all one year older.

15 June 2003

Give It Away Now

For some reason, I've recently developed the habit of saying yes to any and all unsolicited requests for charitable donations. It started with the guy from Big Brothers who knocked on our door in a hellish snow storm back in, what, May? (joke) The guy looked so pathetic I bought a $25 book of coupons from him, and I normally never do this. Now I can get 10% off my next session at Fab-U-Tan! Exciting, isn't it?

Then a lady from MADD called on the phone and I heard myself agreeing to give them $35. Which I then actually did. I have nothing against the Mothers, but they are not usually on my list of charities.

My next triumph was a beauty. The other night some palooka calls up from the Metro Toronto Police Association. Not the police themselves, they get their money from the Province, but the Police Association. The one headed by that jackass Craig Bromell. I fucking hate that guy, but for some reason I said I'd give the PA $35 for some program called "Fishing With Cops". Seriously, this is a real thing. I asked the guy what this was and he said it was to help get underpriveleged kids out into nature or some damn thing. Watch for a Toronto Sun headline this summer - "Tragic Fishing Accident Kills Young Offender". The sales pitch was hilarious, as was the Tony Soprano delivery; "You do agree that it is important to support the police, don't you Mr. McCartney?" What do you say to that? I agreed to give them the cash in exchange for not getting whacked.

Five minutes later the phone rang again, and I found myself agreeing to renew our family membership to the ROM for 2 more years. Talk about a 180. I think I only agreed to it to cleanse myself of the icky feeling left by my previous donation. The sales guy on the other end was terribly British, and sounded like he might levitate at any minute with the delicious excitement of it all. Highly amusing.

If anyone can recommend a 12 Step Program for compulsive donators, please contact me asap.

9 June 2003

Rideau Lakes Psycho Tour

Another RLCT successfully completed. This is my second, which makes me a rank amateur/clueless newbie/greenhorn/trainee among most everyone else who takes part in the Ottawa-Kingston-Ottawa ride. No matter, it's still a great ride.

Travelling by bike is so different from travelling by car - you hear the landscape as you pass through it, you smell it, you feel it, more like having the land pass through you rather than the other way around. Visually, you get small vignettes of the countryside imprinting themselves on your brain. Brief, but just long enough to form little snapshots of the journey - a dozen vintage MGs cruising past on the way in to Ashton, tops down - cows dotting a green pasture with postcard farm buildings in the background - two almost identical calico cats standing shoulder to shoulder in someone's front yard, staring into a hedgerow - a turkey vulture lifting off heavily as we approach, struggling to get airborne, followed by the sudden reek of roadkill - a lone sheep bounding across an open field away from a sheep-sized gap in an otherwise well tended fence - a huge snapping turtle* pushing its way towards the highway, surrounded by curious cyclists - twenty or so Harley Davidson motorcycles pulling into the gas station in Westport, us ignoring them and them ignoring us - little girl standing in her front yard, miles from any town, waving as we pass and then smiling as I wave back at her. There are lots more, many of them being simply the sight of one or two or ten other bikes on the road ahead, surrounded by hills or fields and blue sky.

At the end of it all, 354 kilometres somehow seemed too short.

*The turtle was hoisted by your humble narrator and carried across the road, at great risk of life and possibly limb. I really hope that's where he/she was going, but it sure looked that way to me.

31 May 2003

Conspiracy Theory Goes Mainstream

"It's no secret that right-wing ideologues want to abolish programs Americans take for granted. But not long ago, to suggest that the Bush administration's policies might actually be driven by those ideologues — that the administration was deliberately setting the country up for a fiscal crisis in which popular social programs could be sharply cut — was to be accused of spouting conspiracy theories."

More evidence of the pending implosion of the American Empire. What sort of country will be left once everyone is either stupidly wealthy or poor as dirt? What are they thinking down there?

Check out "Stating the Obvious" from the NY Times.

30 May

Letter to an Asshat*

Dear Driver of the BMW on Broadview at Danforth yesterday,

First of all let me just say thanks so much for your concern yesterday when I crashed my bike in front of your car. Your thoughtful honking of your horn as I lay stunned on the pavement was just the encouragement I needed at the time, encouragement to pick myself up and move myself out of harms way without delay. Your lightning fast reaction time — I'd say that you let no more than a millisecond pass between the time I hit the pavement and the time your hand hit your horn — was a real inspiration to me. Without your kind reminder, I may have lain there selfishly gathering my wits for, who knows how long? Maybe ten seconds or even longer. And that would have kept you from your far more important journey to wherever it was you were so stylishly headed.

The next time I have the audacity to skid on some streetcar tracks and fall heavily into oncoming traffic, I will surely make certain that you sir, are not inconvienced in any way. Please accept my apologies for my rude and inexcusable behaviour yesterday, and may you have a pleasant and safe journey each and every day of this and every other year.

Your Clumsy Pal,

Jeff

(PS- to the guy who did ask me if I was ok, thank you - I didn't see your face but I heard your voice and it was appreciated.)

*asshat: it's a neologism that's sweeping the nation

27 May

Oh No Canada, Stars n Stripes No More

Does anyone else find the playing of national anthems before major sporting events to be an unbearable experience? I don't know about you, but my discomfort level with this ritual is on par with, oh, say, the 'get to know you' chat Alex Trebek has with Jeopardy contestants, or the skin-crawly / wrist-slashy feeling you get about 90 minutes into most business meetings. Enough with the battle hymns already.

23 May

Musician, Heal Thyself

The scalper was onto me before I even made it close to the Opera House box office. "Need tickets to John Mare? Johnny Mare?" His look of desperation and his mangling of the name of the band he was selling tickets to pretty much summed up the situation for Johnny Marr, former Smiths guitarist and uber-sideman for Matt Johnston, Brian Ferry and many others. Revered as a guitar god among those in the know, and fondly remembered for his Smiths days by fans of a certain age, he nevertheless still flies under the radar of most pop music fans today. The show was not a sellout, which meant a $30 ticket cost me $20 less than an hour before showtime. Good for me, bad for Johnny I suppose. Touring with his new band, The Healers, in support of their accomplished new release Boomslang, Mr. Marr got straight to work once taking the stage. A tight 4 piece unit, the Healers delivered the goods - driving guitar-based tunes with a Manchester undertone and Marr's signature melodic inventiveness. Aside from a few bars of the lovely "Back to the Old House" tossed off almost absent-mindedly at one point, there was a strict No Smiths policy in place, but I don't think anyone really cared. The new material is as good as anything from the old days, and besides, Morrisey-style angst would have been seriously out of place here. Marr's own voice is surprisingly strong, both on the CD and in concert. Ballads like Another Day and out and out rockers like The Last Ride were delivered with equal skill. Who knew Marr could sing? The man is a awesome talent, for sure, and deserves more popular success than last night's attendance would indicate he's receiving. Buy the CD, and try to catch him while he's still on tour - last night was his second stop in Toronto this year so he's definitely out there pushing. Who knows, he may turn up on a summer festival tour as well. Rating:

Recommended listening:

Johnny Marr official website

16 May

Tha Dog Be Back

Ok, it's back to the old style Spacedog again. The "war" in Iraq is over, although there is still plenty of action over there and still a lot to cover(up) in the White House. To that end I'm going to keep following political news and putting links on the site, although I'll also be putting up my usual useless bloggedy blog as well.

The WarDog Files can be found here.

More changes to come; some design tweaks, some re-writes, some new sections. I'll bet you're simply breathless with anticipation...

25 March 2003

I Would Have to Say 'Yes"

To the question posed by this piece from Will Thomas, entitled "Is Bush Nuts?" Thesis: years of hard drinking and drug abuse have seriously and permanently affected the brain of the leader of the most powerful nation on this planet. This is not a joke.

Click here to decide for yourself. Thanks to Kevin McMacintosh for the head's up on this one.

20 March 2003

Bowling for Baghdad

A letter to George W. Bush from Michael Moore, on UnamericanActivities.com and on Michael Moore's own fine site, michaelmoore.com. You may not agree with everything Mr. Moore has to say, but you gotta tip your toque to the guy for being so outspoken during this neo-fascist era in the 'States. Balls the size of a house, as they say.

And just in passing, I read today that a radio show for Canadian Snowbirds in Florida that had been on the air for 25 years has been 'yanked' due to Canada's non-support of the U.S. Attack on Iraq™. Land of the free indeed.

17 March 2003

Amateur Night

Happy St Patrick's Day, readers. I've heard that seasoned tipplers refer to New Year's Eve as "Amateur Night", and I imagine that term could apply equally to today. Lots of green beer (dumb) and drunken shenanigans (a perfect word for this occasion, no?) will be the rule for this eve. That and a huge lineup at evey faux Eire pub in town, even the wretched Tara on Kingston Rd. in Scarbragh. Not the place you want to spend an entire evening in, unless you harbour a fondness for soggy furniture and a general air of decrepitude. The other Tara out on Eglinton at Brimley is much nicer - actual Irish people go there, and they will glare menacingly at your sorry Canadian ass if you dare to sit down for a beer. Tis a beautiful ting it is.

11 March 2003

Wrestlemania, Web-Style

Soon to come: a new and possibly better look to SDD.com, just as soon as I finish wrestling with the CSS code used to lay this site out. It's driving me nuts - the current site looks ok in IE5 and NN6 but falls completely apart in Mac IE5. Plus it's pretty wretched CSS. Sorry if this means nothing to you, but I know at least one or two web geeks visit this site. All for you, sports fans.

And speaking of geezers, how about those Leafs? Owen Nolan, Glen Wesley, Phil Housely and *gasp* Duggeeee Gilmour are now Buds. Combined age: 144. Good players all... in 1992. We shall see.

4 March 2003

The Return of the Kings

With the recent explosion in popularity of "chillout" music, Massive Attack fans have been waiting patiently for the return of the band that pretty much defined the downtempo genre. 100th Window marks their re-emergence, and not surprisingly, marks the humbling of the (too) many pretenders to the crown. 100thW is everything we hoped it would be - dense, layered, moody, subtle, heavy, and of course, very very chilly.

This time out the band uses Sinead O'Connor on guest vox, and although she's no Liz Fraser (Cocteau Twins' vocalist and MA guest on the sublime Mezzanine) she does a surprisingly good job here. I've always thought Sinead got short shrift on her music because of her extra-curricular activities, and she delivers the goods on 100thW.

Accept no substitutes, good people; Massive Attack is the real chill. Hopefully this will thin the herd, or at least up the ante for all those basement dwelling DJ-types who think Pro Tools and G4 is all they need to score big in the chill.

2 March 2003

CIA Gets the Big One

American authorities announced over the weekend that they have captured the mastermind behind the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Apparently even they were surprised when it turned out to be none other than troll-like porn star Ron Jeremy, pictured at right.

According to CNN, White House spokesman Ari Fleischer said it was "hard to overstate the significance" of the arrest a week after he eluded arrest in Quetta, and the chairman of the House Intelligence Committee called the arrest "huge."

Yes, huge.

26 February 2003

Propaganda Remix Project

More good stuff from the US - a motherload of anti-war posters done up in the WWII style. You have to see these to appreciate them, they're quite awesome. Is America becoming the 4th Reich? You decide.

Look for the link to the slide show, that's the best way to view these as there are quite a few.

Click here, please.

24 February 2003

Homeland Security Taken Seriously by Americans

But not necessarily all Americans, apparently.

First, check out the official US Government Homeland Security ready.gov site, paying special attention to the creepy feeling of dread that will soon begin to come over you as you read all about how those nasty terrorists are planning to strike the U.S. Learn how to protect yourself from biochemical, biological, and nuclear attacks! Fun! Scary! Enjoy the artwork in particular.

Next, check out the parody site that sprang up within a week of the original. From the Department of Scaring the Crap out of Americans.

Step three: take a look at this discussion thread on yayhooryay.com - those wacky Americans, god love 'em, you never know whether to despise, pity or admire them. This is some seriously funny stuff.

Special thanks to Stuart Robertson, Supafamous Web Guy, for alerting spacedog to this vital information.

23 February 2003

The End of Winter, Part II

Uh, never mind.

20 February 2003

The End of Winter

Yes, winter is almost over. How do I know this? Several recent signs have proclaimed to me the imminent relax of winter's icy embrace:

Why all the hoo haw over the anticipated change of season? You'd be happy too if you had as little insulation as I — it's been so cold lately it's given me physical pain just to step outside. Like an electric shock or a boot to the thorax from God's almighty ski boot. So the arrival of temperatures in the plus column has made me a bit giddy.

 

7 February 2003

Vinyl vs MP3

First of all, I have no problem with the concept of fileswapping when it comes to MP3s. There's simply no way a CD should cost $25, so if a little illicit trade in popular tuneage is what it takes to get the record companies to ease up on the Greed button, so be it.

I do wonder, however, about the future of true high fidelity music in a world that accepts MP3 as an acceptable sonic format, quality-wise. As mentioned earlier in this space, I've been spinning some of my old El Pees whilst toiling away in the new home office, and even through a 30-year-old amplifier of fair to middling quality, I'm astounded by how good they sound. Lush, smooth, silky, and not at all like a CD. It's true, you can tell the difference.

So if CDs really were a step backward in sound quality, just like the audio geeks all said they were when they (CDs) first came out, and MP3s are necessarily of lesser quality than CDs (the codec throws out "unneeded" bits during compression), just what are we getting ourselves into here?

Here's the rant portion of the show: MP3s are simply another example of a world that eschews quality in favour of convenience. It's the MacDonald's mindset all over again, albeit in a less dangerous forum. But still. Think about this: the MP3 codec wasn't even designed specifically for music - it's simply layer 3 ( the sound layer) of the MPEG codec for compressing motion pictures. I submit that the sound quality of MP3s is shite, no matter what the bit rate.

Feel free to tell me why I'm wrong. But read this first. Here's an excerpt from David JM Robinson, the author of the tests behind that last link (he's a PhD student from the University of Essex)

"Mp3 encoding is a lossy process - audio information is lost that can never be put back. Mp3 decoding does not put any data back - it takes a very compressed file format, and converts it into the audio data that the file represents. However, the audio data that was thrown away during the encoding process is not magically returned. The decoded wav file is much larger than the mp3, but it holds the same information. The original wav file contained much more audio information."

So there.

30 January 2003

I Told Him!

I don't want to say "I told you so", but guess who just got sent down to the minors? That's right, Donald Au(effing)dette, boy wonder of the Montreal Canadiens and chronic underachiever in my hockey pool. I believe if you check my entry for November 5 (it's on the slagheap page) you'll see this all-too-prescient piece of advice for M. Audette: "You won't be IN the playoffs if you don't soon wake up, sir. In fact you may not even be in the NHL."

I told him, he wouldn't listen, now he's playing in Hamilton. Sweet justice.

29 January 2003

Sporting Thesaurus Says

A drubbing. A pasting. A damn good thrashing. A pounding. A lopsided victory / a crushing defeat. A whipping. A laugher. A boot to the head. A kick in the teeth.

Whatever you care to call it, it was certainly a poor excuse for a hockey game.

28 January 2003

Just Do It.

no caption necessary

27 January 2003

Submitted for your approval

I'm just sayin...

23 January 2003

Entropy? What Entropy?

This past week has been marked, some might say disfigured, by a distinct absence of molecular kinetic energy—ie. heat. It's as if the atmosphere suddenly parted like the red sea 'fore Big Mo(ses) and a piece of outer space was allowed to settle on top of us. Too cold to bike, I keep telling myself, as my poor commuter bike gathers a fine patina of chain rust out in the garage. To cold to go outside save to scuttle to the bus stop each morning on the way to work.

Nasty rumours persist that February will be the coldest since February was invented, maybe even the coldest since the earth was created that one week about 5,000 years ago.

14 January 2003

Hey Hey!

Sideshow Mel & Hershell Krustofsky

So long, Mel. You'll not be missed.

12 January 2003

A Public Service Announcement

As a generous and selfless gesture towards the men of Aubrey's Aces, I hereby offer some space on this humble website as a home for our 2003 Hockey Schedule. Bruce, if you want to keep up those winsome summaries of our games I'd be happy to post them here as well.

A permanent link will stay in the right hand menu.

5 January, 2003

Flashback 1979

I just finished setting up a sound system in the basement that is composed entirely of ancient stereo components resurrected from the storage room at the old family homestead. The good gear is upstairs, but since I had to buy new (smaller) speakers for the TV room I thought I would put my old stuff to use by hooking it up to my too-big speakers in the basement. So now I have what is essentially a Wayback Machine set to about 1979. No CD player, 'cause I only have one and it's upstairs, and the tuner (a separate component from the amp) seems to be dead. That means I get to play only my old LPs. Vinyl dinosaurs from the 70's and 80's that haven't seen the light of day since skinny ties were all the rage. Supertramp, Led Zepplin, Van Halen, Yes, and even Rush for heaven's sake, mixed in with a smattering of post-punk and britpop like PIL, Teenage Head and the Smiths. This is real retro, not some overdesigned ironic version of it like you might see on some Much Music Retro-cheese Hour. It's fun for now, but how long until it drives me mad?

Check out the Currently Spinning section over on the right to see what's on the turntable. Next stop: faux wood panelling and maybe a bar with a nautical theme.

3 January, 2003

Jean, You Rock.

Never let it be said that the Government of Canada doesn't spread it's good will around to all citizens of this great land, even the lowliest of spacedogs. Have a look at the cheque Jean's Machine cut me recently, and try not to weep at the overwhelming, unadulterated largesse of our beauteous Liberal Leaders.
your tax dollars at work

I'll entertain your suggestions as to how to spend it all.

2 January, 2003

Rage Against the Machine

I hate computers. Seriously, I really do. Consider the following scenario and then tell me we wouldn't all be better off banging rocks together down by the river somewhere. I call this

"How Not to Upgrade Your Computer".

Step One. Attempt to install new software on 3 year-old PC. Fail utterly. Why? Your pathetic Win98 OS is not up to the task of running the new program.

Step Two. Attempt to install new OS. Fail miserably. Why? Your weak little 5 gigabyte hard drive will not hold all the yummy goodness contained in the new OS.

Step Three. Attempt to install newly purchased 80 gigabyte hard drive in PC. Fail completely. Why? Your hoary old BIOS does not have the fortitude to withstand such a massive hard drive. It refuses to see it at all. Complete denial.

Step Four. Attempt to upgrade your BIOS, using $US60.00 upgrade downloaded from suspicious-sounding American company. Think you are finally succeeding, but actually fail totally. Why? The BIOS install instructions are incorrect.

Step Five. Mess around with your BIOS settings, thinking you are now getting close to having the damn hard drive installed. HA! Fail repeatedly. Why? You just screwed up the drive settings and rogered your CD burner. Now you have an 80 gig drive AND a perfectly good CD burner sitting inside your PC, neither of which you can even see, much less use.

Step Six. Download yet another piece of software from the hard drive manufacturer, one that they claim will allow you to see your spiff new drive with your limp-wristed old operating system. Follow the instructions to the letter until you get to step 13 of 17, when it all goes bad. Yes, you just failed again. Sadly. Why? Well you tell me, ok, because I have no freaking idea.

Total time now wasted: 4 months. Yes! From early September to late December and still no results. And I make my living from computers! Co-workers come to ME for help when they bollocks something up. I'm considered a "power user", a geek, a guy who Knows About Computers. Buying and installing some extra storage for my electro-bits should not be this hard, or this humiliating.

Step Seven. Ask your good friend Steve to bail you out of the mess you've created. Steve knows computers, especially hardware. Steve is a good person. Steve fix. Thank you Steve.

If your evil PC needs afixin' you just let me know and I'll give you Steve's number. I don't care if you're Osama Bin Laden, I'll give you the number, because nobody should be forced to endure the hell I just went through. Nobody.

1 January, 2003

The Party's Over

That's right kids, the party is now over. No more yummy egg nogs, no more filling your face with xmas treats, no more excuses to hang out with all your friends, and no more distraction from the interminable blech-ness of a winter in Canada. Just an endless string of dark days, howling winds, icy rain and/or drifting snow, and a scuttling between isolated pods of warmth - home to car to work to store to bar - while you wait for the return of the sun.

Enjoy!

31 December, 2002

Tragically Canadian

Saw the Tragically Hip in Hamilton last night, which marked the first time I had been part of this quintessentially Canadian concert event. Not so for the fans who packed Copps Coliseum, though - most of the mulletmen & fringe-pursed hosettes seemed to know their role in the event by heart. That involved shouting for the Hip in between every song of opening act Sarah Harmer, or starting up a "Go Leafs Go" chant during her set. Lunkheads. Perfect crowd for the no-frills bar rock practised by the boys from Kingston though — beer-fueled and boisterous, and loving every note of it.

A Hip concert, I discovered, is really just the Gord Downie Show — the best you can say about the other guys is that they don't get in Gord's way, and they hit all the right notes. Downie on the other hand, is riveting. He has a way of grabbing even the most ordinary Hip song (and there are a few of them) by the balls and shaking it until it's begging for mercy. Highlite: Nautical Disaster - an arrangement too complex to be an arena-rock anthem that somehow became a powerhouse, far better than the studio version and maybe the best song of the night. Opener Sarah Harmer was also a treat. Great voice, great tunes, solid band. What else could you want?

No end of year 10 best list, sorry. Didn't get out to many movies, and reading novels isn't my thing any more so I can't comment on the latest Giller/Booker prize-winning lit thing.

Have a smashing 2003 everyone.

19 December, 2002

Merci

A very large thank you to everyone who pitched in to help with the move. A large and enthusiastic crew made the day go real smoove. Now if only I could get some of you to come back and unpack everything...

12 December, 2002

Who are these people?

The last couple of my days have been spent taking care of the last-minute business of buying a house; address change, meetings at the bank, stuff like that. You'd think that dropping in at the bank in the middle of the day would mean short lineups, what with everyone being at work, right? Well, no. Wrong. The local TD branch was chock-a-block with local riff-raff lining up for a little facetime with a teller. Who are these people? Why aren't they at work? Seniors have an excuse for being out & about during the daytime, what with night holding such terrors for them etc etc, but most of the liner-uppers I saw yesterday weren't seniors at all. Don't these people work? Don't they at least know how to use a bank machine? Half an hour of my life wasted in line is half an hour I'll never get back, and dammit, Something Must Be Done!

It's enough to make you want to join the Stone Cutters.

On a related note, the Big Move is this sunday. A squad of helpers has been enlisted to shlep stuff 'tween here and there, but I feel like we should be providing something more than just Baileys-spiked coffee avec nuts de dough as incentive. Perhaps a live jazz band could play for everyone while we move, just like at the local Loblaws where you can mull over your choices in the produce section to the sweet sounds of Girl from Ipanema played live by a trio of starving hipsters up in the mezzanine. Or how about one of those 'street magicians' like David Blaine? He could stop people in mid-hoist and then blow their minds with some eye-popping sleight of hand. Sweet!

Spacedog g'wanna be offline to monday, y'all. Out.

28 November, 2002

Digital Wee Wee

The newest piece of DWW to be added to the spacedog site is the "daily photo" feature, and what a blatant piece of show-offery it is. Every day a new photo will appear in the sidebar over there on the right, each one lovingly crafted by your host from the finest silver halide crystals and dead tree matter, then carefully transmogrified into electromagnetic impulses for you, the Spacedog Customer, to enjoy at your leisure. Simply click the wee link for a bigger version.

I do this all for you, people.

24 November, 2002

www

So one of Chretien's lackeys got caught speaking her mind, calling George W a 'moron', eh? And now there's a minor meltdown over the incident, including some coverage on American tv. Sad, so sad. Let's look at the facts:

"You don't need to be smart to be president"
--Republican Congressman J.C. Watts - said at a February campaign appearance on Bush's behalf. Washington Post, 6/11/00

Uh huh. But what does Dubya hisself have to say?

"Actually, I -- this may sound a little West Texan to you, but I like it. When I'm talking about -- when I'm talking about myself, and when he's talking about myself, all of us are talking about me."
--Hardball, MSNBC, May 31, 2000

Wha? Um, could you clarify that for us please, Mr. Bush?

"We ought to make the pie higher."
-South Carolina Republican Debate, Feb. 15, 2000

Thanks, George. That clears everything right up.

All quotes can be found at DubyaSays

5 November, 2002

Letter to a Bum

Dear Donald Audette,

When I chose you in this year's hockey pool, there were more than a few snickers heard 'round the room. Oh sure, you'd had some injury problems in the past, and maybe you weren't the most consistent player in the NHL. But after last year's playoff run when you scored a pile of goals and played so well, I thought you would be a sure bet to continue in that vein during this year's regular season.

Instead, after a dozen games, you have amassed exactly zero points. That's right, zero. No goals, no assists. This of course is no good. What are you waiting for, exactly? The playoffs? You won't be IN the playoffs if you don't soon wake up, sir. In fact you may not even be in the NHL. Don't you know what's at stake here? How am I supposed to win this hockey pool if I have to carry overpaid underachievers like you? In fact if I don't see a huge improvement in your play very soon, you'll leave me no choice but to sack you if favour of a player who actually gives a damn. So wise up.

Your Pal, Jeff

31 October, 2002

House Update: move in is now mid-december, so this means frantic packing of boxes and judicious tossing of formerly-much-loved-but-now-useless Stuff. Also means spending Christmas in our new house, which is very good indeed.

27 October, 2002

Spacedog in tha' House

Bought a house. No big deal to some folks, maybe, but this is my (our) first foray into home ownership, so it's kind of exciting. In the current market in Toronto, buying a house means plunking down a chunk of change that at one time would have purchased a small Caribbean nation. And that's just the downpayment. Can't think about that, though. I'm too busy pondering the soon-to-be joys of owning a 50 year old brick structure designed with the Cleavers in mind.

It's kind of abstract, still, though — move-in date is sometime in 2003 so for now life continues on as before except for the frequent drive-bys of 'the house' whenever we go out in the car.

Features:

 

19 October, 2002

Minty Fresh Design

I am a packaging junkie. A sucker for a nice box, a flashy paint job or a well-designed label. On any trip through the supermarket I'm likely to choose a product based not on its utility or presence on my list, but on its physical appearance alone. As a designer myself, I like to think of this as rewarding the package designer for a job well done, but those who've seen my fetish in action are somewhat less charitable in their assessment. The word "sucker" comes up alot.

This past week I was in a new shop at Yonge and Carlton that sold imported candy bars and chocolates, plus a large assortment of mints. Mints, as you know, have undergone a high-tech transformation of late, morphing from the staid white ovoids of yesteryear into all kinds of shapes and colours wrapped in all kinds of, yes, packages. Mmmmm, packaging.

I surveyed the collection, dismissing the various look-alike tins as too samey and the more radical forms as too gimmicky, until my eye was caught by a lovely little retro number of a kind I hadn't seen anywhere else. An elongated cubic form about 6cm in length, metallic purple foil embossed with silvery lettering in an old-fashioned font. "C. Howard Co." it said. "Violet" and "Delicious Mints". Buy me, it said.

At this point, the actual product itself should be secondary, no? It's the wrapper that counts, not the wrapped. Still, it's hard not to be disappointed when something you purchase turns out to be a hideous mistake. For without a doubt, the C. Howard Company's Violet mints were anything but "delicious". How to describe their taste? Somewhere between laundry soap and unwashed feet, I should say, which is an ironic sort of combination now that I think of it. Mints are supposed to be minty, correct? Someone should tell the C. Howard Company. I tried to find them on the web, but they have wisely elected to not show their corporate face via that medium, so no email outlining my disappointment was sent.

Confectionary fans, let this be a warning to you. Under no circumstances should you buy this product. Better to play it safe with your Altoids, your Dilbert mints, even your good old dependable certs. The ones in the new box, of course.

14 October, 2002

SniperVille USA

I was just wondering about the folks being stalked by that sniper down in Washington DC, and whether they feel safer knowing that they can keep a loaded firearm in the house if they choose. Seems to me that the right to bear arms hasn't protected any of the victims so far...

I've seen a fair amount of coverage on this on US television, and nobody has talked about how having easy access to firearms might not be such a good idea any more. Not one person.

Snipers, Columbine, Afghanistan, an illiterate president controlled by the oil industry, a national obesity epidemic, Fox TV - living next to the States is like watching a slow-motion train wreck through your living room window. Fascinating, but horrifying too. You just know that sooner or later some flying chunks of burning metal are going to land on your house and burn it to the ground. And there's not a damn thing you can do about it.

13 October, 2002

More Bad Advice

How Not to Manage a Long Course Duathlon

First, pick a course that is so outrageously tough that it had to be shortened because the run sections were deemed too difficult by the race organizers. This was after they received feedback from people attempting to train on it in the weeks prior to the race. And I quote: "We have been receiving input on the courses from those who have tried them - and to put it bluntly, they were too tough, even for a Powerman!"

On race day, do the following:

First Run (3 x 3k up and down a ski hill - this is the shortened course, remember): Go hard, and make sure you take the downhill portions at speed, giving your knees a good pounding. This will come in handy later when you have to repeat the run.

Bike (3 x 22k in the Gatineaus, a very hilly course with not a single flat stretch anywhere): Ride as if you were in a sprint or olympic distance race. Tell yourself you're taking it easy to conserve energy, but make sure you drop everyone you ride with, especially on the hills. Tell yourself you're having a great race and predict a sub-4 hour time. This will work for the first 50k or so, until everyone you dropped re-appears and passes you as you struggle along.

Drink only one bottle of water over the entire 66k course, and eat only minimally. Remember, fuel is for the weak.

Run #2: at this point you should have completely depleted your energy reserves (see bike portion of race), so you can look forward to a leisurely jog around the remaining 3 loops of the run course. Leisurely except for the excruciating pain in your left knee, a result of your reckless downhill attack in the first run. Walk the uphill sections because you are out of gas, and then creep sideways down the downhill sections because the pain won't let you run. Trudge through the only flat section on the course, about a 1k stretch. Repeat 3 times.

Finish in 4.5 hours, an hour behind the leaders. Accept the conclusion that you had no business even entering the race. Make plans for offseason training and preparations for a 1/2 ironman next year.

30 September, 2002

Some Good Advice

Is there a worse feeling than being totally, irreversibly out of control drunk?

Yes. Yes there is, as it turns out. It's the feeling you have the next day when you wake up on the couch and see your clothes balled up on the living room floor where you left them after walking home, a 45 minute trip that you would normally drive in 5 minutes but couldn't because even looking at your car or yor car keys in the state you were in the night before is grounds for immediate arrest and incarceration.

I don't drink, usually, which is good policy when you have no body fat - nowhere to put it, so it all goes straight to the brain. But sometimes... you know, you're out with some friends and one of them wins big at the Off Track Betting Emporium and the next thing you know it's 3 in the morning and you're playing Foosball in some dive bar with people you just met who are taking it VERY seriously and kinda making you nervous.

So you wake up after about 3 hours of sleep. Still drunk, but with undertones of a lurid hangover lurking nearby. A truly existential, zen-like state of being is now upon you, one where you are keenly aware of each passing second and the pain it contains. There's a radio playing too loudly somewhere in the house and you desperately want it to stop, but there's nothing you can do about it because you - can't - move. At all. Until 1:30 in the afternoon and the day is all but gone. Stupid. Sports fans, take it from me: go easy on the beers.

15 September, 2002

A Lake, A Loon, a Stubby of Beer, and Thou

No long boring tales of the joys of cottage country, but I will leave you with this at least...

The Missus & me are standing on the dock, the selfsame dock featured in a semi-famous Labatt's Blue ad this past summer - you know the one where three hosers lose a precious bouteille de biere through the bottom of their case and into the icy depths of the lake? That one. So there we are, stubbies in hand. It's after dinner, the sun has set and the sky is filled edge to edge with stars. The milky way arcs high above us, and the northern lights are putting on a rare southern Ontario show across the northern half of the sky. On the next dock a silent fisher casts his lure into the black water, the whzzzzzz-ploip-sniksniksnik... repeating in a familiar unhurried rythym. Out on the darkened lake a pair of loons call to each other, and not far (enough) away happy cottagers are blasting 30 year-old Rolling Stones tunes into the night.

I swear, it's all true. If I had to make up a more quintessential Cottage Country Canada tableau I don't think I could do it, and this was on Day One of the vacation. The rest of the week was pretty much more of the same.

5 September, 2002

9-11 24/7

ground zero photoNext week is the anniversary of 9-11. I'll be observing radio silence in cottage country, and so will be spared the media spectacle that is sure to be unleashed on anyone within range of a tv, radio, newspaper or web browser.

This is good.

27 August, 2002

Bad Advice, Part Deux

How not to prepare for a 10k road race:

1. Stay up the night before until 3am drinking beer and poking a campfire with a stick. Don't drink any water.

2. Sleep in a windowless room that is way too hot. Make sure you sweat alot. Don't drink any water.

3. Get up too early. The sound of children stomping around a cottage is a good way to ensure this happens. No more than 5 hours of sleep, max.

4. Hang around on a dock all day getting sun. Don't do any stretching. Start drinking some water now, but don't have a big breakfast because you don't want to 'overfuel'. Leave your gels at home so you have to eat peanut butter sandwiches instead.

In the race, make sure you finish one place behind the women's overall winner, a 12 year old girl wearing a bathing suit. As the crowd at the finish line cheers wildly for the little waif, you lurch forward knowing that no matter how well you ran, nobody gives a toss for your pain, your effort, or your life in general. Curse the universe and stumble to the finish line and then down to the water's edge where you plunge your aching bones into the coolness of the lake, vowing never to run again.

Make plans for next week's triathlon.

19 August, 2002

Sting a Ding Ding

A trivial thing to be sure, but received my very first bee sting yesterday. Incredible that one could live one's entire span of 40+ years without once knowing the Touch of The Bee, but there you have it. The scenario: riding the Marinoni, as is my wont on sundays, when was struck by a flying something which then swooshed down into my open shirt. A nanosecond later and the the wee devil had his dirty little dagger thrust into my hitherto unsullied bosom. I felt like an actor in some cheap WWII flick - "I've been hit! Medic!!" A swift uplift of the shirt to rid my person of the offending insect and a brief stop to inspect the damage, followed by 5 minutes of sharp pain and indignation, and I was under way again with no ill effects.

I've heard that if you're allergic, it's the 2nd sting that kills you...

13 August, 2002

Bad Advice

How not to prepare for a triathlon:

1. The night before, eat a plate full of really really really hot spicy flaming ridiculously hot Thai noodles. Noodles so hot, the sweat pours down your face just looking at them. Noodles so hot, people across the room are fanning themselves. Noodles so hot your ass is calling its travel agent in a desperate attempt to get out of town by morning.

2. Roam the streets with your belly full of hellfire until you find the one bar not guarded by scary biker types, and then drink beer listlessly in an effort to forestall number 3. Stay up too late, even though you know you have to get up at 5:45 am the next day.

3. Spend the night in an airless, charmless bunker of a college residence where teenagers are permitted to drunkenly hoot and holler outside your window in the middle of the night. Wake up sporadically throughout the night, grope for your bottle of warm, stale water and pray that it will be enough to counteract the effects of number 1 come the morn.

On race day, surprise yourself with a fast swim, then get a flat on your way out of the transition zone with your bike. Curse the universe, fix the flat, ride like a motherf**er, finish 8th out of 10 on the day.

Make plans for next weekend's race.

8 August, 2002

Domo Arragato...

The Globe unt Mail reported today that researchers are working on a variety of new robots designed to perform specific tasks, like the robot fly, the conventioneer robot (yes) and a robot 'little guy' who could assist disabled persons with day-to-day living. May I humbly suggest some additional ideas for new robotic contraptions:

::1 August, 2002

Cologne for men: it's all shite. There's nothing that makes me gag more than having to share space with some guy who thinks his cologne is so special that it must be applied using a firehose. Gentlemen, it all smells like crap and it makes the wearer seem like a self-obsessed ponce. Unless you've invented a working time machine and you're planning a trip back to the 80's for a night out at the clubs in San Francisco, don't wear it.

::29 July, 2002

The Tour is over. Thus ends 3 weeks of cycling madness, 3 weeks of being glued to the tv for 2 hours every night, and 3 weeks of Bike Envy. Of course the man from Texas "ran away" with it again, as we all knew he would. But that's ok - he's got more class than the entire NBA, NFL and MLB leagues put together.

There's something about a sport like cycling that, in spite of it's recent troubles with doping, makes our North American pro sports leagues look like the circuses they really are. Pure athletic endurance, bravery and the sheer elegance of the sport of cycling are what set it apart for me. If professional baseball or basketball players had to endure as much suffering as Tour riders grinding out a mountain stage, both leagues would fold within 24 hours. Let's see hockey or football players go the entire game without a rest or break in play and with nothing but their pain to keep them company. Not likely!

::24 July, 2002

Last night I had the unique experience of attending a market research session designed to assess the subtle tastes of the "Classic Rock" music fan. Being Scarborough borned and raised, I consider myself to be abundantly qualified to pass judgement on this type of music, even though it now comprises but a small percentage of my Overall Tuneage.

The session, as it turned out, consisted of being pummelled, nay brutally assaulted, by 600 consecutive 'hooks' or 5 second clips from what seemed like every song ever to grace the Q107 playlist. Each had to be graded either as a) unfamiliar b) hate it c) tired of it d) it's OK e) like it or e) love it, dude. No breaks, no resting, no mercy. Just a relentless onslaught of dinosaur rock, enough to test the mettle of even the most die-hard of the Mulleted Class, about 150 of whom were assembled last night, with visions of an easy $45 dancing in their heads.

What were we subjected to? Here's a nearly complete list of what was offered, in no particular order: Led Zepplin Neil Young The Police Cream Jimi Hendrix Nazareth Tom Petty Elton John Genesis Yes Mountain David Bowie CSNY CCR ELO ELP U2 Journey Van Halen Aerosmith Nirvana Stone Temple Pilots Peter Gabriel The Clash Billy Idol Stevie Ray Vaughan Eric Clapton The Stones The Beatles The Who Pete Townsend The Kinks Pink Floyd Bob Seger Rod Stewart Queen The Ramones The Tragically Hip Bon Jovi The Band Jethro Tull Ozzy Osborne The Eagles Black Sabbath Wings April Wine Max Webster The Allman Brothers Soundgarden and you get the picture.

Listening to 600 songlets in a row like that sure helps to focus the mind, and to draw some conclusions about this type of music:

Bands / artists that still wear it well: The Allman Brothers, early Stones, Neil Young, Stevie Ray

Bands / artists that sound tired and or dated: The Eagles, Nazareth, The Who, Van Halen (awful), ELP, U2 (yep).

Now please excuse me while I put on some Smiths.

::19 July, 2002

The Pope is coming to Toronto. He's been tarted up and touted like a visiting Pop(e) Star for World Youth Day 2002, with media coverage up the Papal Wazoo. I heard on the radio yesterday some clips of breathless young catholics carrying on about how excited they were to see His Popish-ness: "At first, I was like, 'whatever', but then later I was like, 'Ohmygawd, this is awesome' " effused one young wordsmith. It's like he's become the eldest Backstreet Boy, which you have to admit is kind of tawdry PR for a guy who's now, what, 90?

And speaking of elders, the Stones are apparently in town again, rehearsing for yet another tour of North America. They like it here, for some reason. Yesterday a roadie for the band dropped dead at rehearsal. He was 55. A roadie! 55! Dude, get a life. Oops, sorry. And yet Keith Richards is allowed to live on...

::15 July, 2002

First top ten finish at a triathlon over the weekend - Collingwood Sprint - 6th place among the crusty old codgers in the 40-44 category. I figure I'll win my first race the day before my 60th birthday at this rate.

Don't forget the Tour de France is on now, or as a certain anti-Gallic friend of mine insists on calling it, the Toor of Frantz.

::9 July, 2002

In honour of seeing my first rat of the garbage strike, may I humbly present the following haiku:

brown rat scurrying
across the concrete plaza
he looks well fed now

Thank you. Thank you very much.

::5 July, 2002

The garbage in Hogtown continues to mount. Rather than take my usual route to work via a series of connected parkettes and parking lots just off the Danforth, I've been opting to ride the long route through the Don Valley. The parkettes are being used as illegal dumps by people too lazy to bring their trash to the emergency dumpsites around the city, and so each contains a single overflowing trash bin surrounded by an ever-growing circle of filth as people add to the pile. The reek is sickening, and the visuals are of course somewhat less than stunning. The Valley, on the other hand, is cool and shady in the morning, and I see birds instead of flies, smell grass and growing things rather than garbage. Sometimes the long way is the best way.

::30 June, 2002

Ok, sports fans. The Rideau pics are finally in. Behold >>.

Also, happy Canada Day. No finer place to live, is there? Ah! Please, no whining, just for today. Thank you.

::21 June, 2002

The summer solstice has arrived, which can only mean one thing: a 4:45 tee off gets you a full round of golf at twilight rates! Woo-hoo!

Also, the Rideau pics have arrived. Some award-winning photos in the bunch, which I will post here as soon as I get the time to scan 'em and come up with some witty comments for each.

::18 June, 2002

There is a definite lull in the tv sports season right now. Hockey is (mercifully) over, basketball is done, football hasn't really started up yet, not even the CFL, and the Tour de France is several weeks away. That leaves baseball (*yawn*) and the World Cup of Football/Soccer. Again, *yawn*. I'd rather watch the English Darts League, frankly. Watching a soccer game is like watching one of those chess matches where the pieces are played by real people. In spite of this, incredibly, people in this city get pretty worked up over the WC - much hooting of car horns

::11 June, 2002

The Rideau Lakes Cycle Tour is over. 177 kilometres times two equals the sorest bum a straight man can get. Highlites of this year's tour, a spacedog first, include:

Watch for snapshots to appear here in the near future.

::3 June, 2002

Bike Week begins. The pancakes in Nathan Phillips Square (a horrible place) were deelishus, and it was nice to see so many 2 wheelers out for the kickoff. Downtown riding is sometimes hairy in Tronna, but it's a picnic compared to riding in the 'burbs. My scariest bike moments have all happened outside the downtown area, where at least there are enough bikes to remind motorists to beware. Plus traffic moves at a crawl much of the time so getting creamed by a fast-moving transport truck is a low-probability event. Not so in Scarborough, where they've apparently never seen bicycles before. I used to commute from my mid-Scarberia home to the industrial wastelands of Markham once upon a time, and was nearly flattened by inept motorists more times than I can count. Addled soccer moms in becurtained minivans, strung out truck drivers used to giving no quarter to anyone let alone a bike, and just plain bad drivers are the unfortunate norm Out There. Props to Dave, Maurice and Paul, three amigos who bike daily to their suburban office. Brave lads, though perhaps a bit daft as well? See you at Rideau, boys.

Related Reading
Bike Week website
Cycling Map of Toronto
Toronto Bike Network

::1 June, 2002

A big shout-out to Stuart & Catherine, who tied the knot today in Guelph. A sylvan setting, a beautiful day, a bagpiper. What more could you want in a wedding?

::27 May, 2002

The new City Plan for Toronto was released today, and although I couldn't find a copy of it on the city's website it supposedly calls for greater density in the downtown area, especially along transit lines. What I hope it also calls for is a plan to make this city more friendly to bikes, and indeed more friendly to anyone NOT in a big, ugly, dangerous, polluting car. I cycle to work every day, as do quite a few of my friends, and believe me it's not a pleasant trip. Riding the Danforth is like riding through an asphalt-lined ditch - garbage and filth line the curb from one end to the other, the pavement is eaten away in spots from corrosive bodily fluids leaking from parked cars, and rush-hour drivers seem to feel that 6 inches of space is enough for you to squeeze by at the lights. A real treat, but still better than the subway...

::25 May, 2002

Doors Open Toronto is on all this weekend, the third year for this most excellent celebration of all that is good in Toronto architecture and heritage. In a city chock-a-block with architectural wretchedness it's sometimes surprising to learn that we also have quite a few treasures tucked away around town.

If you live here, you should really get out and visit some of these fine buildings because this is the only weekend of the year when they're open to the public. If you don't live here, check to see if there isn't a Doors Open event in your city.

::18 May, 2002

I'm Number 2!

 

::1 May, 2002

The Leafs Win! The Leafs Win!

Ok, so it's not the Stanley Cup. Still, folks 'round here get pretty exercised over these series victories. You would too if you hadn't seen a meaningful (ie. Stanely Cup Final) victory since the middle of the last century. Too bad nobody in the East, including the Leafs, has the jam to beat whomever comes out of the west, be it Colorado or Detroit. Sorry.

Predictions, anyone? I'll post 'em here, anonymously if that's your wish.

Send your prognostications to hockey@spacedogdesign.com

::30 April, 2002

Hockey fever has us in its thrall once again, and of course nowhere more than here in the Big Smoke, the Real Hockeytown (not Detroit - please!), Tronna tha Good. The Leafs - Islanders series has degenerated into a circus of mayhem, with both sides engaging in outright thuggery, and in the case of one club's fans, extreme bad taste.

Shane Corson and Darcy Tucker's embarassing antics have brought shame to us all here in our fair city, but just in case you think that only oft-concussed goons are prone to losing their minds on the ice (not much of a loss, admittedly) let me direct your attention to a piece written some time ago by your Humble Host. If it can happen to a mild mannered non-violent vegetarian who weighs in at about a buck-fifty in full equipment, it can happen to anyone.

The Gist, as an excerpt: "How the game of ice hockey is able to transform normally reasonable, non-violent individuals into lumber-wielding psycho-jocks is beyond me, but anyone who plays the game will tell you that all too often this is exactly what happens."

Read The Gentle Art of Ice Hockey

::22 April, 2002

So, McDonald's is testing its McVeggie Burger in Vancouver, are they? Yeah, that should make up for all the greasy, tasteless, fat-laden, empty calorie-bloated "meals" they've foisted on fast food consumers in the past 40 years. Yep, this new-found social responsibility also makes amends for years of sleazy marketing tactics, aimed at hooking little kids and their hapless parents, who are either too harried or weak or stupid (or young, in the case of the toddlers themselves) to resist the siren call of the Happy Meal.

Is this story at all related to the sad fact, noted in yesterday's Globe & Mail, that 61% of Canadian adults are overweight? You tell me.

Related reading:
mcspotlight.org
McDonald's own "social responsibility report"

::21 April, 2002

As promised, some lovely photos of the golf trip. Of limited interest to those who don't know me or the other golfers, but so what? It's my website, dammit.

::19 April, 2002

The NHL playoffs have finally begun, which means 6 weeks of slackjawed staring at barroom tv screens, checking stats to see how I'm doing in the Big Hockey Pool, and generally getting all stressed out over nothing. Will the Leafs win the Stanley Cup? No. Will Leaf fans once again have their hopes crushed to pieces like stemware at a Jewish wedding? But of course.

Will American sports fans ever give a damn about hockey? Nuh uh. Should Canadian sports fans care what American sports fans think about anything? Again, I say: Nuh uh. US fans seem to require one of two things in a sport. Either a) it be slow enough to follow even whilst in a Bud Lite-induced stupor, a la baseball or football, or b) there be enough scoring to prevent even those with the shortest of attention spans from changing the channel, a la basketball.

::13 April, 2002

In case there was any doubt that the U.S. means business when it comes to security...first it was 128-bit encryption, now it's this.

::2 April, 2002

Now that my head has cleared somewhat, let me expound upon my recent experience in Hilton Head S.C., USA. Submitted for your approval - an island, caught between the present and the past, adrift in time, severed from the 'real' world. An island of security patrolled, gated 'plantations', manicured grounds and large shiny automobiles. An island freshly scrubbed, mown, swept and flossed. In short, an island of the damned.

I recently visited New York, and HH is everything NYC is not - monoculture vs multiculture, bland vs exotic, safe vs dangerous. All the themes and memes of American culture and history are present in both locales; the segregation, the economic polarization, the commercial overkill. The difference is that in the Big Apple it's all up front, whereas in HH it's all kept safely out of sight. I know which I prefer. I also know that I prefer my own country, flawed as it is. Sorry, America.

::31 March, 2002

Back from a week of golfing and 'relaxing' in Hilton Head. Let the detox begin.

::11 April, 2002

Could there be a better job in the world than Professional Dog Walker? I met up with a pair of PDWs this afternoon whilst out n about on my (pathetic, un-tuned, hard-tailed, no-shock) mountainbike. High on the slopes of the mighty Don Valley, above the roar and rush of the DVP and the gurgle and reek of the Don River itself, came two comely lasses surrounded by no less than 20 dogs. All sizes, breeds, colours, and all extremely happy to be young and canine.

I could have moved, but I let the pack envelope me so I could reach down and pet a few shaggy heads, tweak a few shaggy ears. Oh bliss oh joy.

A few more days like these and I'm going to have trouble going back to work, I tells ya.

::9 April, 2002

Does anyone else find this guy hysterical?

::4 April, 2002

The Pics page now has pics! Go ahead, see for yourself. Be patient with the page if you have a dialup - the photos take a sizeable chunk o' bandwidth so it can take some time for the page to load. You high speed types will have no trouble at all.

::21 March, 2002

Last transmission before heading off to South Carolina for a week of golf. Apparently the accomodations (a condo) are in a Gated Community, something we don't have many of way up here in Canada. Not yet at least. In order to blend in with the local population, we've rented a Cadillac, and I suppose we'll have to cultivate a healthy suspicion of strangers and 'ethnics' while we're there, too.

Watch for pictures of alligators upon my return, I've heard they're as common as squirrels down there. Butcha can't feed 'em, no sir.

:: 12 March, 2002

First day of the Big Strike. Washed the car, went for a run in the warm sun, re-stocked the beer fridge. Did not wave placard or join an angry mob, did not sing pathetic strike songs. All in all, a successful day.

:: 8 March, 2002

The start of yet another redesign of the spacedog website and home shopping emporium de haute mode. The last version, while it succeeded as an attempt to pare the design down to it's bare essentials, was, er, a little dry. So onward we go with the current incarnation, one that gives just the slightest nod towards visual appeal. The kids will love it, I'm sure.

spacedog