Up Above the Daily Hum

Women

2009-12-05T18:36:00.000-08:00

Dry Spell

2009-11-21T00:31:00.001-08:00

I just re-read a bunch of my old blog posts. Turns out this used to be a pretty good little blog! That is, whenever I got around to writing in it.

I was just about to write a bunch of excuses about how I've been pretty busy with school and stuff, but that's not really true. The fact is, I don't share a house with commies anymore, and I don't work in a retail job that feeds my cynicism anymore. So what is there to write about? All that's been on my mind is what you've seen here lately: philosophical musings that are more teachy and preachy than they are entertaining. I guess it's a good thing I never promised to be entertaining.

On the other hand, I don't really want to be writing a blog that's all about why Russell's Teapot trumps Pascal's Wager, or what I wished I'd learned in high school science class. Lord knows there are plenty of blogs like that out there. And I doubt my many hours in a classroom, or my office job, will provide much fodder for an interesting blog.

So that's what's up. I'll post more when I have stuff to write about. It might be a while. Or who knows, maybe I'll be inspired to write something awesome tomorrow.

How To Detect Bullshit, Part 3

2009-08-11T23:13:00.000-07:00

And now the thrilling conclusion to my "How To Detect Bullshit" series...

My previous installments of "How To Detect Bullshit" dealt with the scientific method in general, and some specific guidelines for rational evaluation of claims. In addition to all of the above, it's helpful to be aware of certain logical and rhetorical fallacies, which are indicators of faulty logic. Beware of arguments that contain the following fallacies and, of course, avoid using them yourself.

Ad Hominem - Latin for "to the man", an ad hominem is an attempt to discredit someone's argument by attacking them personally, instead of the argument itself. For example, "why should we pay attention to Freud's theories - he was a coke head!" or, "Hitchens isn't trained in theology, therefore his arguments about God aren't sound!" Arguments should be assessed on their own merit.

By the way, not all personal criticisms or insults count as ad hominems in the fallacious sense - it's only a fallacy if you use such an attack as a substitute for a proper criticism of the argument.

Argument From Adverse Consequences - Sometimes things that are true are difficult to deal with. The consequences of facts have no bearing on whether or not those facts are true. The argument from adverse consequences states that "X cannot be true, because the consequences of X would be undesirable." For example, "there must be a god, because otherwise my life would have no meaning."

Appeal to Ignorance - "We don't have a good understanding of X, so it must not be true," or, "hypothesis X isn't well-supported; therefore, alternative hypothesis Y is true." For example, "I don't know how else to explain the strange lights I saw last night; therefore it must have been aliens!"

Another form of this could go the other way: "nothing has falsified the Big Bang theory, so that proves it." We don't know all there is to know, and so all scientific theories are considered to be tentative - even well-supported theories like the Big Bang. In other words, science is always open to new evidence (and so should we all be).

Special Pleading - If someone claims that their proposition is exempt from certain rules or criticisms - and they don't give a reasonable explanation why - they are making use of "special pleading".

For example, theists often take the following line of reasoning: "everything that exists has a cause; the universe exists, therefore it had a cause." Their conclusion, of course, is that God "caused" the universe. But if God exists, mustn't he therefore have had a cause as well? What "caused" God? The theist's response to this challenge is invariably a version of special pleading, which claims that God is exempt from the rules of causality - for no reason other than the assertion that god is uncaused.

Begging the Question - This fallacy occurs when your argument's conclusion is contained within the premise. It's a form of circular reasoning, which essentially takes the form of "X is true, because X is true."

For example, "I know Bigfoot exists, because last fall I saw Bigfoot in the woods." The conclusion here is that Bigfoot exists. The premise is built on the assumption that Bigfoot exists, without any rational or empirical support. Your claim may very well be true, but it is up to you to demonstrate that what you saw was, in fact, Bigfoot.

Observational Selection - "Counting the hits and forgetting the misses." This one's really easy to fall in to. I suspect it's also the basis for a lot of woo-woo "alternative" medical treatments, and the success of such "services" as astrology.

For example, when recalling the statements made during a psychic "reading", it's easy to remember the specific times when the psychic said something that was true about you ("hits"), even if they were greatly outnumbered by untrue statements, or "misses". A talented psychic will also know how to make their misses less conspicuous, and even turn them in to hits once in a while.

Statistics of Small Numbers - Examples from Sagan: "They say 1 out of every 5 people is Chinese. How is this possible? I know hundreds of people, and none of them is Chinese. Yours truly." Or: "I've thrown three sevens in a row. Tonight I can't lose."

Non Sequitur - Latin for "it doesn't follow". When your premise does not logically lead to your conclusion. Many of the other fallacies listed above are special instances of non sequitur.

Post hoc, ergo propter hoc - Latin for "it happened after, so it was caused by." A "before and after" sequence of events is not a sufficient condition to establish causality (although it is a necessary one). For example, "You know who used to cut class? Jimi Hendrix. You know what happened to him? He died! choking on his own vomit!"

Meaningless Question - For example, "If God is supposed to be omnipotent, can he create a rock so big he can't lift it?" Such questions are simply exercises in logical contradiction. Another type of question that may be meaningless deals with meaning itself: "What is the ultimate meaning of life?" may turn out to be as meaningless as asking "what is the sound of gravity?"

Excluded Middle, or False Dichotomy - Considering only the two extreme possibilities, when a continuum of intermediates is also available. For example, "if you aren't for us, you're against us."

Slippery Slope - Related to the Excluded Middle fallacy. If you're claiming that A will inevitably lead to Z, you must back up that claim by establishing the intermediate steps, not by merely implying them.

For example, here's Pat Robertson in fine form, speaking against gay marriage: "And what about bestiality, and ultimately what about child molestation and pedophilia? How can we criminalize these things and at the same time have constitutional amendments allowing same-sex marriage among homosexuals?"

Confusion of Correlation and Causation - As any science 101 student should be able to tell you: correlation is not an indicator of causation. If, for example, all you know is that "when A increases, B also increases", you simply don't have enough information to conclude that "A causes B". It could easily be the other way around. Or there could be some third variable that is causing changes in both A and B.

Here's an amusing example that I did not invent: Since the 1800s, the number of pirates in the world has steadily decreased, while the temperature of the planet has steadily increased. A statistical analysis reveals that the two variables are strongly correlated. Therefore, the decline in piracy around the world has clearly caused global warming.

Straw Man - When someone uses a "straw man", they present a distorted (usually weaker) version of their opponent's argument, and attack that argument rather than the original one. This is a lowly debating tactic, and an indicator of intellectual dishonesty.

For example, to summarize this bullshit anti-evolution video: "evolutionists theorize that the universe is the result of random chance, plus time. The evolutionist's formula is a myth!" -- Well of course it's a myth, because the "evolutionist's formula" presented here is a straw man argument created by this particular intellectually dishonest young-earth creationist. The theory of evolution deals with the multiplying of species on our planet by means of natural selection, and has zero to do with the universe creating itself out of nothing. By the way, I included a link to the original video so you can verify that I'm not presenting a straw man.

Anyone who learns to recognize and avoid these fallacies will be able to detect bullshit from a mile away.

How To Detect Bullshit, Part 2

2009-07-13T00:41:00.000-07:00

In my last post, I gave a very basic explanation of the scientific method. Whenever I re-read it I think of things that I missed, but that's probably okay - it's stuff that is covered in pretty much any introductory science course. The point I was hoping to make, as a segue to this post, is that by following a few simple principles based on rational thought and evidence, our species has been able to answer a lot of questions about how the world works (and, of course, open up new questions in the process). Before science, people basically made shit up. "The sun is a flaming chariot, driven across the sky every day by the god Helios.", "lightning comes from the hammer of Thor."

The point is, rational thought (specifically, basing our beliefs on evidence) has taught us everything we know about the world today, and is the backbone of science. Rational thought can also help us on a daily basis. Armed with a small set of tools based on reason and logic, we have the ability to discern whether something you read or hear is likely to be true; in other words, we can detect bullshit. These rules are kind of like arithmetic: some people can figure it out for themselves, but almost everyone has the capacity to understand if it's taught properly. Unfortunately, a lot of people don't figure these rules out for themselves, and these principals are almost never taught to kids. And so we have a society full of more credulous people than there ought to be, and booming industries of pseudo-science and snake oil, robbing the gullible of their money and sometimes their health.

So here is a set of rational tools that comes in quite handy. I should mention that this list is entirely borrowed and paraphrased from Carl Sagan's book, The Demon Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark (Amazon / Chapters) in a chapter where Sagan describes what he calls the "baloney detection kit". Here it is:

- It's always best if a claim can be independently confirmed. Claims that cannot be verified or replicated by others are of little value.

- Substantive debate can be fruitful, with knowledgeable proponents of all points of view challenging each other.

- Beware of arguments from authority. Someone's "authority" alone is a bad reason to believe what they say is true. "Authorities" have been mistaken before, and they will again in the future. As Sagan says, "in science there are no authorities; at most, there are experts."

- Your first hypothesis to explain something unknown won't necessarily be the right one. Make a point of coming up with more than one hypothesis. Try to think of all the possible explanations, and then try to think of systematic tests you could use to disprove them. If one hypothesis survives, it's far more likely to be closer to the right answer than if you'd just stuck with the first one to cross your mind.

- If you've come up with a hypothesis, try not to cling to it too tightly just because it's "yours". The goal is the pursuit of knowledge, even if it means accepting that your pet hypothesis is wrong. Try to compare it objectively with the alternatives. Try to find reasons to reject your own hypothesis. If you don't, others will (often with much glee).

- Whenever you're dealing with explanations that involve numerical quantities, be specific about those quantities. Attaching numbers (even if they're estimations) will make things less vague when you're trying to discern between more than one hypothesis.

- When you're making a chain of argument, each argument depends on the preceding one in order to work. Every link in the chain must be valid - including the premise right at the beginning - not just most of them.

- Remember Occam's Razor: when you're choosing between two hypotheses that explain the data equally well, pick the simpler one (i.e., the one that makes the fewest assumptions).

- Always consider whether a particular hypothesis can be, in principle, falsified. Claims that are unfalsifiable are untestable, and are therefore of little value. For example, let's say I make the claim that the universe was created just five minutes ago, and that our entire lives up till now were implanted as fake memories in our brain by some mischievous deity. It sounds ridiculous, but if you think about it, there is really no test you could perform to falsify (or verify) my claim - which is precisely why it's a worthless claim to make. Unless a claim can be falsified or verified, it's best to file it away with all of the other unverifiable claims people could come up with (which are basically infinite in number) - ready to be dusted off for evaluation if a feasible test is ever devised.

So there you have it - a (by no means complete) guide to weeding out bullshit. In Part 3 I will round off the topic with a discussion of various fallacies - sure signs of bullshit, which should be avoided at all cost.

How To Detect Bullshit, Part 1

2009-04-26T20:17:00.000-07:00

A conversation I had with my brother about pyramid schemes and "alternative" medicine got me thinking about a new topic to write about: how do we know when something is bullshit?

I think I've always had a bit of skepticism in me; that is, I've always been inclined to ask questions about things before I signed on. But it wasn't until I began studying psychology in college (which I'm still doing) that I learned some proper guidelines for rational thought. These guidelines are the result of the work of philosophers, over thousands of years, which gave rise to what we call the "scientific method".

The scientific method is essentially a systematic form of skepticism. The underlying reasoning goes something like this: we are born into this world with a handful of assets, including our five senses, the ability to think logically, and the ability to interact physically with our environment. None of us are born with any special "inside" information about how the world works - we are all on a level playing field, epistemologically speaking. Science is a way of learning about the world around us, using those inborn human assets.

It's a pretty simple system: start by thinking of possible explanations for something (whatever you're trying to explain); test each one of those explanations, using your five senses and logic (the more systematic and precise the test is, the better); then reject all of the explanations but the most useful one. The more your explanation helps you to make accurate predictions, the more useful it is. If a new explanation is proposed, test it against the current one and see which is the most predictive. These explanations are known as "theories". The constant process of tearing down old theories in favour of new, more predictive ones, is the driving force behind all of science. Theories that are left standing over time are the most powerful ones; they are the accumulated result of studies that have made it through the "peer review" process, whereby a panel of experts in the field scrutinize every detail of the study before it gets published (or rejected). Yet despite this process, even the most well-established theories are still considered tentative. There is always the possibility that a better, more predictive theory will come along.

I will continue this topic in another post, since I realize I've barely managed to introduce the intended subject, which is "how do we know when something is bullshit?" I'll wrap up part 1 by talking about something I had no intention of bringing up, but my thoughts keep leading me there:

If the "power" of a theory is the ratio of its explanatory scope, divided by its simplicity, the most powerful theory in all of science is undoubtedly the theory of evolution by natural selection. It's so utterly simple that it amazes me no one thought of it until 150 years ago; yet it explains the diversity and complexity of all life on the planet. It also happens to be supported by multiple lines of evidence, including molecular phylogenetics, comparative anatomy, geographical distribution, the fossil record (including countless "transitional forms"), and even observed instances of speciation (formation of new species). Like any other scientific theory, evolution is still a tentative explanation; in fact, in the past 150 years we've discovered that Darwin was wrong about certain details. Still, the theory of evolution is about as well established as the theory that our planet revolves around the sun.

Those who disagree with evolution are usually creationists, motivated by religion. Since evolution is a scientific theory (as opposed to religious dogma), it is open for dispute if anyone comes up with an alternative explanation that fits better with the data. Of course, creationists have no such alternative scientific theory, so they are forced to circumvent the peer review process, and use other channels to undermine the science of evolution. Their favourite channels include the legal system, and the public school system. Although they don't have a viable scientific theory, the creationists make the claim that they are being "silenced" by the scientific community, and that their explanation for life ("god did it") deserves equal time in science classrooms. Over the past twenty years or so, creationism has taken the guise of "Intelligent Design", which sounds very sciency, in order to make the claim that they are not religiously motivated (to get around that pesky church-state separation thing). They still have no testable hypotheses that would establish ID as a science, and their claims are exactly the same as those of regular creationists ("god did it") - except they substitute "god" for "an intelligent agency" (wink wink, guess who).

The fact is, if someone came up with a scientifically sound, testable alternative to evolution, and that alternative was more well-supported by the data currently available, it would be a monumental discovery. Everyone involved with such a discovery would receive the Nobel Prize, and they would have a permanent place in the scientific halls of fame. The fact that creationists have yet to come forward with such an alternative, and have instead chosen to circumvent the scientific method altogether, tells us that they are more interested in preserving their religious beliefs than engaging in scientific discourse.

Follow-up

2009-04-14T14:16:00.000-07:00

I got a second letter today from Peter Popoff. It was basically the same as the last one, except instead of Miracle Spring Water, this one contained "real" Dead Sea Salt (a little baggie with ten tiny crystals of rock salt).

To reiterate my last post, fuck Peter Popoff. He is the lowest form of lying huckster. He and his family bring in millions of dollars every year by conning the desperate and the needy into sending their money. He should be in jail.

I'm actually glad that Popoff's organization has me on their mailing list. Each letter contains so much paper and other crap that it costs them between $1 and $2 to send each one up to me in Canada, according to the post marks on the envelopes. The sheer amount of paper and printing necessary for each letter is probably worth another dollar as well.

I know a few dollars here and there is not enough to even make a dent in Popoff's enterprise, but I'm still happy to have him spend money on me, without any hope of getting anything back.

My hard times are (almost) over!

2009-04-07T15:39:00.000-07:00

That's right folks, something VERY special is going to be happening to me soon, because I've got my Miracle Spring Water! What does it do, exactly? Well, only God and Peter Popoff know for sure.

Some of you may remember Peter Popoff as the huckster televangelist from the 1980s, who went down in flames when he was exposed as a fraud. Actually, that sounds like a few televangelists from back then... I'll be more specific.

Popoff was all over TV in the 1980s. He appeared to have a direct line to the voice of God - in front of his huge audiences, he would call out sick people he'd never met before, and pray for them. He knew their names and ailments (and sometimes their addresses) before he even saw them, as if a divine voice was directing him. Well, as it turns out, there WAS a voice directing him, but it wasn't exactly divine.

James Randi, one of my heroes, was the guy who pulled back the curtain on Popoff's cheap trick. I'll let Randi explain:

I've known about Randi's exposé for a long time, and I always just assumed the story ended with Popoff going bankrupt and never resurfacing again. I wish that's all that happened. Unfortunately, as I discovered a while back, Popoff is back on TV. How this happened, I have no idea. Did everyone just forget he's a charlatan? He's hasn't changed one bit; he ditched the hidden earpiece act, but he's still a huge douchey fraud.

What's he doing now? He's giving stuff away for free. Yes, CALL NOW and you will receive such valuable items as a Faith Slipper, a Miracle Manna Loaf, and a Silver and Gold Bracelet (a.k.a., a piece of tinsel). All just useless shit, of course. Well, not literally shit, although I can imagine him sending out "Miracle Last Supper Stool" or something, wrapped up in a little baggie.

So, you may be asking, how is giving away useless shit a scam? I was wondering the same thing myself. As I watched Popoff's new show recently, the item that really caught my attention was the Miracle Spring Water. I KNEW this little pouch of magic water would solve all of my life's problems. Also, I wanted to see how Popoff was profiting from all this. So I went to Popoff's web site and filled out a prayer request form ("My back hurts"), and waited for the Miracle to arrive.

It arrived today.

In a big, fat envelope from "Peter Popoff / People United For Christ, Inc.", I received the following:

A four-page "personalized" letter from Peter Popoff
A sealed envelope that says, "Please DO NOT open this envelope until you FIRST READ my ministry letter". This envelope contains the Miracle Spring Water.
Another sealed envelope that says "DO NOT open this until 5 days after you use the MIRACLE SPRING WATER!"
A postage-paid return envelope

I'm going to play along with Popoff here. I didn't open the Miracle Spring Water envelope until I read the letter. Here's basically what the letter says:

God has given Popoff an important message just for me.
Through Popoff, God will deliver me from the "hard things" I am facing.
Various promises are made: I will achieve success, I will become prosperous and joyous, my greatest wish will come true, I will have a harvest of a "great income", all through the power of God.
God has revealed to Popoff "7 secret prophetic events". Here are the first four:

During the next few weeks I will come across somewhere between $1,900 and $19,000 from an unexpected source.
A dramatic turn of events will occur in my life, which, "like Joseph's," will take me "from the Pit to the Palace". Favor and BLESSING OF GOD will follow me.
Someone or something that causes fear and hurt will be removed
The biblical book of James is my "guiding document", whatever that means.

What about the last three "secret prophetic events"? Weren't there supposed to be seven? Well: I am told that the final three are "yet to be revealed", but first my "obedience is the key".

At this point in the letter, Popoff starts to give me instructions, and uses the language of "obedience" a whole lot. My first instruction is to open the envelope with the Miracle Spring Water in it. (Finally!) Before I "use" the water, I am supposed to lay it next to my bed "TONIGHT ONLY!", and the angel of the Lord is going to "trouble" the water as I sleep tonight. [Yes, I'm actually going to do this].

And here, ladies and gentlemen, is the catch:
After I "use" the Miracle Spring Water exactly as he directs, Popoff instructs me to obey God by putting $19.00 into the return envelope and send it to him. In Popoff's words:

NO, I don't want you to send $39 or $99... No, SEND EXACTLY $19.00. Because 1 is the number of the Father... and 9 is the Father's number of NEW BIRTH. Send it back to me along with the empty Miracle Spring Water Packet.

Only AFTER I send Popoff my $19 will he reveal the rest of the "7 Secret Prophetic Events" to me. There you have it, folks. The true word of God, as revealed to the prophet Popoff, will be given to me if I am obedient enough to send money. The same old scam that's been used for centuries.

When we see bullshit artists like Peter Popoff on TV, there is a tendency to think "no harm, no fowl", and give them a pass. This is a mistake. Peter Popoff makes a living by preying on the sick, the poor, and people with serious trouble in their lives. The wording in Popoff's letter is quite revealing: his target audience consists of people with "hard things" in their lives, who are hoping for a miracle. He baits them in with free "miracle" products, and then switches his language to "obedience", so they'll empty their pockets. The "obedience" approach is something I've seen churches use many times when they're trying to bring in cash, but Popoff's approach of specifically targeting desperate people is just plain disgusting.

According to IRS documents, Popoff's organization made $9.6 million from donations in 2003, and almost $1 million of that went to salaries paid to himself and his family. By 2005, the total from donations went up to over $23 Million, and the salary of Popoff and family went up to $3 million. Popoff has made his living for over 20 years now by lying, cheating, scamming, deceiving and exploiting people. His victims are the weak, the sick, the old, the troubled and the stupid. Popoff's willingness to profit from other people's misfortune is the most despicable kind of human behaviour I can imagine.

In summary: fuck Peter Popoff.

And by the way, I'm still going to wait five days to open that other envelope. I'll post a follow-up at that time to tell you if any miracles occur in my life.

A Brand New Combination of Words On Your Screen

2009-03-26T00:50:00.000-07:00

I'm forcing myself to write this. For months now I've had too little time to contribute to this blog. Actually, that's not true. I have plenty of time. I certainly find enough time to sit and watch stupid shit on YouTube, like 6-minute compilations of people falling off of things.

I guess the real shortage is not of time, but of mental resources. I am in school now, which is time consuming, but consumes my brain more than anything else. And writing a blog post takes quite a bit of mental effort - at least for me. Also, there's nothing more boring than reading blog posts about how the writer wishes he or she wrote more blog posts.

So, I'm about to go to bed, but I'm forcing myself to post something - anything - to this thing, just to clear out the cobwebs. I want to tell you all about my love of Frank Zappa, or Slayer, or The Residents. And I'd like to go on about how some stuff in popular culture, like, totally sucks, and try to do it in an interesting and amusing way. But not tonight.

Here's an interesting thing for you though. One of the many fascinating things I've been learning about over the past several months. We all probably know that our five senses are the result of electrical signals produced by various sensory organs, and those signals are then sent into the brain, which interprets them as, say, vision, or touch, or smell. Beyond that, we have our sense of balance (produced by organs in our inner ear). We also have sensors that tell us our body's position in space, and sensors in various organs that give information about our emotional state.

Well, did you know that there are parts in our brain that take all of these separate sensory signals, and combine them to make one cohesive stream of information? It turns out that your sense of where you are in your body is the combined product of all of those pieces of sensory information, which are interpreted together in one of these "multiprocessing" areas. Chances are, you've never even thought about how you know where you are in your body - it's just something we all take for granted. But if doctors were to deliver an electric current to an area in your brain called the angular gyrus, you would probably experience the sensation of floating outside your own body. Or, like some people, you might experience the sensation of a shadowy figure beside you - a "double" of your body, which mimicks your movements. And when the current is turned off, you would immediately go back to normal. These sensations, which have been produced in people experimentally, are the result of interfering with one of those "multiprocessing" areas. Without areas like the angular gyrus, we would experience the world in a very different way.

Now I'm going to bed.

And bloody hell - this was supposed to be a quick toss-off before bed time, but now it's almost 2am. I stand by my opening statement: I don't have enough time for this nowadays.

Recognition!

2009-02-07T12:13:00.000-08:00

I recently discovered that a picture of one of my synthesizers has been printed in Keyboard magazine. Stephen Jones of Synthwood, the man who made the beautiful cocobolo case for my Minimoog, e-mailed me to let me know. He said he found out about the bit in Keyboard when famous people started contacting him to learn about his service.

I tracked down the issue of Keyboard, and here is the bit with my Minimoog. If you click on the image it will take you to a PDF of the full article.

Evidently they found the photo of my Minimoog on Flickr, where I've posted several shots of the synth. I suspect it's a bit of a no-no for them to just grab a photo off of a site like Flickr, and publish it in a magazine without asking. But I'm not going to complain. It's actually kind of exciting.

Let's Not Get Ahead of Ourselves

2008-11-20T22:37:00.000-08:00

Now that a couple of weeks have passed, I have a few more observations about the whole Obama thing. And no, this is not going to become a political blog.

The evening of the election I was thrilled at the results. The few days afterward, I was in a generally good mood, and everyone seemed to be a bit more chipper. Even total strangers seems to be smiling and saying hello.

In class, a passing reference to the recent elections would elicit applause from the students. I have heard, more than once, people exclaiming "yes we can!". And this is in Canada.

Can I just point something out here? Barack Obama HASN'T DONE ANYTHING YET. Yes, his victory on election night was exciting for many reasons that I really don't need to educate anyone about, but isn't it a bit early to start worshiping the guy?

Actually, what I said isn't totally true: Obama has done a few things. He's appointed a war-hawk as his chief of staff. He's considering an anti-science nutjob to run the EPA. He's given the turncoat Joe Lieberman a slap on the wrist, and allowed him to stay in caucus. I suspect once the stars fade from Obama's supporters eyes, at least some of these decisions are going to be upsetting.

I'm not saying Obama won't bring the change so many of us are hoping for. I just think it's WAY too early for some of the worship I'm seeing. In class, I sit behind a guy who has Barack Obama "Yes We Can" wallpaper on his laptop, for fuck's sake. In another class, a student responded to something the teacher said by saying "I can't believe America elected a black president!!". It was completely out of context and confusing.

The job of the American people is to hold its politicians' feet to the fire. Everything the government does should be done under the watchful eye of the people. Unfortunately, in a somewhat ironic way, I think the people thus far are having a hard time looking past the fact that this president-to-be is black. It's not in a racist way, but perhaps in a self-congratulatory "yes we did" kind of way. If that doesn't change, I say that's a recipe for a terrible administration. Let's wait four years before declaring that change has finally arrived.

Thanks America!

2008-11-04T23:25:00.000-08:00

This is about the best birthday present I could have asked for!

I thought we might be facing four years of the cranky grandpa and the pig-ignorant, end-of-days worshipping, young-earth believing, moose-hunting beauty queen.

I'm very happy right now.

Yaarrrr!

2008-10-30T20:48:00.001-07:00

Fun Facts

2008-10-12T12:20:00.001-07:00

Using computer magic I can see all sorts of data about my web site. I can tell how many people visit it (not enough to brag about), the average time people spend here (about 13 seconds), which posts are the most popular ("Your Tattoo Sucks", by far), and how they got here (usually through Google or Google Images).

I can even see what keywords people entered in Google when they found my site. Here is a selection of my favourite search terms to bring people to Up Above the Daily Hum:

- "hippie jargon"
- "blacks half erect"
- "carpe diem tattoos lame?" [if you're asking, then the answer is yes]
- "colostomy jeff foxworthy"
- "does jack johnson wear birkenstocks?"
- "nog's eve"
- "open ended arson questions"

Yes, we have fun here.

Rick Wright

2008-09-21T15:09:00.000-07:00

I just found out that Rick Wright from Pink Floyd died on Sept 15. How did it take me so long to hear this?

This is a sad loss indeed. Wright was with Floyd from the beginning, and although he didn't receive nearly as much attention as guys like David Gilmour, Roger Waters or Syd Barrett, he was a key part of the Pink Floyd sound. He also wrote some of Pink Floyd's most memorable pieces: 'Us and Them' and 'The Great Gig in the Sky'.

This is particularly sad for me. I've been really in to Pink Floyd over the last few years. What particularly attracted me to their music was the spacey, atmospheric synth elements - most of which was Rick Wright's contribution to the sound. If he wasn't part of the band, I probably wouldn't have paid much attention to them. Wright's Minimoog solos in songs like "Shine on You Crazy Diamond" and "Any Colour You Like" are some of my favourite moments in any piece of music ever. They're also a lot of fun to play along with on my own Minimoog, which is almost always dialed in to a classic Floyd patch.

Here's a clip from a few years ago, when the 4 surviving original members of Pink Floyd joined each other for a brief set at the Live 8 concert. It's touching to see Gilmour, Wright and Mason playing together with Roger Waters (on bass) for the first time in over 24 years. As it turns out, it was the last time they would play together. I chose this clip because even though Wright is barely acknowledged by the camera crew, that actually sums up his role in the band: 'that other guy on the stage'. This is one of my favourite Pink Floyd songs.

The Dragon in My Garage

2008-09-04T01:08:00.000-07:00

[From Carl Sagan's "The Demon-Haunted World"]

"A fire-breathing dragon lives in my garage."

Suppose (I'm following a group therapy approach by the psychologist Richard Franklin) I seriously make such an assertion to you. Surely you'd want to check it out, see for yourself. There have been innumerable stories of dragons over the centuries, but no real evidence. What an opportunity!

"Show me," you say. I lead you to my garage. You look inside and see a ladder, empty paint cans, an old tricycle—but no dragon.

"Where's the dragon?" you ask.

"Oh, she's right here," I reply, waving vaguely. "I neglected to mention that she's an invisible dragon."

You propose spreading flour on the floor of the garage to capture the dragon's footprints.

"Good idea," I say, "but this dragon floats in the air."

Then you'll use an infrared sensor to detect the invisible fire.

"Good idea, but the invisible fire is also heatless."

You'll spray-paint the dragon and make her visible.

"Good idea, except she's an incorporeal dragon and the paint won't stick."

And so on. I counter every physical test you propose with a special explanation of why it won't work.

Now, what's the difference between an invisible, incorporeal, floating dragon who spits heatless fire and no dragon at all? If there's no way to disprove my contention, no conceivable experiment that would count against it, what does it mean to say that my dragon exists? Your inability to invalidate my hypothesis is not at all the same thing as proving it true. Claims that cannot be tested, assertions immune to disproof are veridically worthless, whatever value they may have in inspiring us or in exciting our sense of wonder. What I'm asking you to do comes down to believing, in the absence of evidence, on my say-so.

The only thing you've really learned from my insistence that there's a dragon in my garage is that something funny is going on inside my head. You'd wonder, if no physical tests apply, what convinced me. The possibility that it was a dream or hallucination would certainly enter your mind. But then, why am I taking it so seriously? Maybe I need help. At the least, maybe I've seriously underestimated human fallability.

Imagine that, despite none of the test being successful, you wish to be scrupulously open-minded. So you don't outright reject the notion that there's a fire-breathing dragon in my garage. You merely put it on hold. Present evidence is strongly against it, but if a new body of data emerge you're prepared to examine it and see if it convinces you. Surely it's unfair of me to be offended at not being believed; or to criticize you for being stodgy and unimaginative—merely because you rendered the Scottish verdict of "not proved."

Running Away, Part II

2008-08-28T20:37:00.000-07:00

The year was 1987. "Livin' on a Prayer" was all over the radio. Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were the talk of the jungle gym. I had just turned 7.

On one particular day during this particular year, around lunch time, my friend Georg and I managed to escape from the watchful eye of the evil Mme. Brae. -- Oh, and I just remembered another thing about her that made her so evil: she reeked of too much perfume. Poor lady. She's probably dead now. I hope her family never reads this.

Anyway, Georg and I had a plan. Well, I had a plan, and Georg went along with it. We had to go to the mall. Capilano Mall is roughly 2 kilometers (1 1/4 miles) away from Larson Elementary. As an adult, that's a nice afternoon walk. As a 7-year-old, it seemed more like an epic journey. There were dangerous roads to cross, hills, and rivers (well, creeks) to traverse.

The object at the end of my quest - the object for which I was traveling to the very ends of the neighborhood - had caught my eye a few days earlier when my mom took me to the mall. Unfortunately I have conflicting memories of what it was, precisely. I definitely remember that it was a small plastic bubble-blowing toy. When you squeezed it, the "loop" would rise up from the soapy mixture and you could blow through it. I also remember that it was in the shape of either Mr. T or Alf. Using the finest and most expensive equipment modern science has to offer, I have successfully created an accurate visual depiction of the bubble blower, based solely on my memory. Click here to see it.

I didn't tell Georg that that's why we were going to the mall. He would have thought it was dumb. I couldn't stop thinking about the bubble blower, but I kept it to myself. As far as Georg knew, we were just going to the mall because it was a pretty fun place for seven-year-olds. That was reason enough.

So off we went on our journey. I'll spare you every detail save for a few. At some point along the way we began to get tired. We knew it would take forever to go back to the school, but we didn't have the energy to go all the way to the mall (which was all of three blocks away by then). Also, we had veered off of the beaten path, and we were trying to figure out how to get back to the main road (it was right behind us). We decided that we were "lost". I came up with the idea to find a house with a "Block Parent" sign in the window, and knock on the door. In my mind, a block parent house was one of the coolest things ever - a house that you've never been to, where you can just stop in and hang out. We spent several minutes going up and down the block looking for one of those signs in a window. We never found one. We did, however, find the main road we were looking for, and we were therefore no longer "lost".

There was a creek a little way down the road, and since we were still tired we decided to stop at the creek and drink, just like explorers do on TV. After we had our fill of disgusting creek water, we debated about whether or not this creek was where everyone's pee goes when they flush their toilets. I wasn't sure. Immediately I imagined that I was getting sick from drinking creek pee.

We eventually got our energy back, and my imaginary sickness had left. We went to the mall. Nonchalantly, I led us toward the store that had the bubble blower. I looked at it casually. I demonstrated to Georg how it worked, and he agreed that it was pretty neat. I really wanted it, but of course I had no money. Somehow though, Georg did. Immediately I became convinced that Georg had to buy the bubble blower for me. The logic was simple: a) I wanted the bubble blower, b) I could not afford the bubble blower, c) Georg could afford the bubble blower. Therefore Georg owed me 1 bubble blower, QED. To my surprise, Georg couldn't understand simple logic. He refused to buy the bubble blower for me! We argued about it for a minute, but to no avail. I was angry and desperate and whiny. It was time to leave the mall.

My home was just a couple of minutes away from Capilano Mall, so we decided to just go there. By that time it was around 3pm; school was just getting out now. I wondered if Mme. Zayonc noticed that Georg and I weren't there for half of the day. Probably not, I thought. So imagine my surprise when my parents freaked out as soon as I got home. They weren't mad though; it was a different kind of freaking out from what I was used to. This was a "thank god you're alive" kind of freak out. When my parents settled down, they informed me and Georg that our teacher, Mme. Zayonc, blew a gasket when we didn't show up after lunch. I wish I was somehow able to witness it: she was apparently crying, convinced that we had been kidnapped. Everyone looked all over the school, and when they couldn't find us they called the police.

This is where I would usually put a dénouement to bring the story to a close. I don't really have one though. We went to school the next day and I don't remember a single consequence, or even a conversation about why what we did was bad. I do remember hearing about the teacher's breakdown the day before, but not from her of course. That story was passed around at recess, between conversations about Ninja Turtles and Mr. T.

Running Away

2008-08-18T19:07:00.000-07:00

In 1987 I was in grade two. I don't remember much from that year - just a few snippets. I remember the portable where we had our class at Larson Elementary. I remember my teacher, Mme. Zayonc (I was in french immersion). I remember the time when I stayed in the portable during lunch hour, and instead of going to the bathroom to pee, since no one was around I just peed in a garbage can in the corner. I didn't really know the difference between garbage and sewage I guess. I wonder if Mme. Zayonc had to clean that up.

I do remember one particular afternoon pretty clearly though. It was the day I ran away from school.

It was lunch time. Our class had just wrapped up an intense three hours of singing songs in french about Louie La Grenouille, and practicing the multiplication table. My friend Georg and I were happy to be out of there, and we wandered to the far end of the field, where a discreet little trail exited the school grounds. It was strictly against the rules to go "out of bounds", and we knew it. The school had lunch-time monitors who were there to keep kids from doing stuff like poking each others' eyes out, throwing snowballs, and especially leaving school grounds. They seemed more like nazi prison guards to us. Especially Mme. Brae, a grumpy old lady who barked orders at us and blew a little whistle whenever someone (usually me) was doing something dumb. We took much joy in being little brats whenever Mme. Brae wasn't looking. She took much joy in sending me to the principal's office as often as she could.

This day when Mme. Brae wasn't looking, Georg and I managed to escape.

My school was nestled in the middle of North Vancouver, with dozens of parks, creeks, forests and playgrounds within walking distance. So what do two 2nd-grade kids do with an afternoon to themselves? I knew exactly what I wanted to do. I convinced Georg that we HAD to go to the mall. There was something I wanted to buy.

I'll leave the tale there for now, since I've been accused of long posts before. Next time I'll finish the tale of our adventure. I'll tell you how a 2nd grade teacher reacts to having two of her students go missing. Also, did we make it to the mall? Did I get my hands on the object of my blossoming consumer impulses (which will not be named yet, only to say it involved Mr. T)? Next time!

Another Quickie

2008-07-24T23:18:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry I haven't posted anything in a long time. Too much has been going on. I have two unfinished posts saved as drafts, but no time to finish any of it. I now live with my Special Lady Friend in a small apartment in a clean and quiet neighborhood. Instead of commies, what do I have to write about now? The toilet seat up vs. toilet seat down controversy? The nice old man next door? I think I overheard some people speaking Polish or something down the hall. Maybe they're up to something.

Truthfully, I'm having a shitty week. I had to have my cat put down last Wednesday, and I'm really sad about it. I had him since I was 11. He was my buddy. But he was very sick, and it was the last kind thing I could do for him.

There's plenty more to come from me, all in due time.

Small Grievances or Observations

2008-05-11T12:34:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine e-mailed me, saying "can you write more in your blog ie small grievances or observations? i need more."

Yes, the last couple of posts have been brief. I have been busy with a new job, a new place, and school coming up soon. So in an effort to keep the blog alive all I've been able to post has been a video clip and a picture of my awesome moustache (which has been removed).

The cold war is over now. I have abandoned the bunker, along with the commies upstairs. Here's one last commie story that I think is kind of funny: The commie patriarch owed me a bit of money because one of his brat kids broke a window. I had it fixed in November, and he was supposed to reimburse me. It was months before I was able to get a cheque from him. In fact, it was moving day, the truck was loaded, I was literally minutes away from leaving the bunker forever, and I still had not received payment from this guy. I went upstairs to ask him for the money and he kind of rolled his eyes and said okay, he'd write me a cheque. I said "do you want my full name?", and he said (in a thick, red accent) "no, I have it already". Something like fifteen minutes later he comes back with a cheque, addressed simply to "Murry". No last name. Not even the correct spelling of my first name. I had to ask him to write my last name in, and initial it so the bank would process it. Has this guy never written a cheque before? Bloody commies.

Now we have a kindly old man living in the apartment next to us, which probably won't make for such entertaining stories, but I guess we'll see.

Not much else to write for now, so I'll post another video clip, which I find absolutely fascinating. It's from TED, an annual conference that's essentially designed to blow your mind. I've never been disappointed by a TED video. Check it out:

Channelling Frank

2008-04-15T23:01:00.001-07:00

A New Pope

2008-04-11T23:20:00.000-07:00

So Tired...

2008-04-06T18:57:00.000-07:00

Something like 98% of all species that have ever existed are now extinct. It is likely that humans will some day join that number. It's tempting to think that we can last, but why? Because we have the big brains? Let's stop kidding ourselves. No, we will some day disappear and the planet will keep spinning indifferently. Actually the planet would probably be better off.

I think my customer service job has taken its toll. I've pretty much lost any faith I once had in humanity. So many people are just a waste of molecules. I spend my days wishing I didn't have to bite my tongue when I'd rather be telling stupid, spoiled, ignorant dipshits to just shut up. I have constantly wanted to physically fight the following people:

- The douchebags who use the fact that they've "been to Italy" as an excuse to act like a coffee expert.
- The smug, self-congratulatory morons who get their drinks in a nasty-ass used paper cup from the day before, to "save a tree". I hope they get sick.
- The ladies of a certain age who can't make up their fucking mind.
- Cheap assholes who habitually request add-ons to their drink at the bar (rather than at the till) in order to save $0.50
- The eco-bullies who comment loudly on how much water or paper is wasted by companies like ours.
- Anyone who accuses us of "going corporate" (as if that's a bad thing) just because we're successful. Assholes.
- The rednecks who proudly order "just plain old-fashioned coffee" as if consuming espresso or steamed milk instantly makes you queer.
- Anyone who will choose a coffee solely based on some bullshit "cause" such as organic or fair-trade, rather than on how it tastes.
- Any person who has ever talked on a cell phone while ordering from me. I sometimes just don't take their order. They deserve my foot in their ass.

I'm getting closer and closer to putting something in their drinks to make them sterile, so at least these people can't spawn.

Good thing I'm changing jobs soon.

Strapping Young Lad

2008-03-22T01:12:00.000-07:00

There is something you ought to know about me. I am a bit of a metalhead. I love many kinds of music (unlike the metalhead featured in this Onion article) - I really do - but nothing gets me quite as excited as some really heavy music. So with that as an introduction, join me in part 3 of our ongoing series, Bands I Love. Tonight we will look at the music of Strapping Young Lad, and in particular, their frontman Devin Townsend.

When you're not a fan of a particular genre of music, all music in that genre tends to sound the same. For this reason it's worth explaining to my non-metal-loving readers that "heavy metal" is an umbrella term that describes dozens of pretty distinct musical subgenres. The point is well illustrated in the Onion article I linked to above; for a really good primer on metal, go rent "Metal: A Headbanger's Journey". I'll also say that if you're not really a fan of heavy metal, now's a good time to put on your helmet and proper eye protection.

The reason I mention all the different subgenres of music under the banner "heavy metal" is that Strapping Young Lad (SYL) is kind of difficult to pigeonhole. I have seen / heard them defined as "industrial metal", "alternative metal", "progressive metal", even "death metal" (which they are definitely not). Probably the most specific label you could give them is "extreme metal", which is just another umbrella term for the really heavy stuff. This is one of the reasons I like them - they are unique. No other band really sounds like them.

That's not to say that their sound can't be described. It sounds like dunnunnuhnuhnuh badumbadum dugga-dugga chugga chugga weedley-weedley-weee ...okay, so maybe it is hard to describe. Wikipedia does a pretty good job but fuck that, let's just listen to a song:

Warning: this song contains some bad words. If you are averse to specific consonant-vowel pairings you can write an angry letter to my ass, right after you kiss it. This song is called "Shitstorm", and come to think of it, that's a pretty good one-word description of what SYL sounds like. Shitstorm is a one of my favourite SYL tracks, and while it's playing I'd like to point out a few things: for one, the really, really fast drumming, courtesy of Gene Hoglan, one of the fastest drummers in music. That's straight-up human performance, not corrected or assisted by Pro Tools. Also, despite the noise, the music is actually quite melodic. They even have a little choir of girls singing some stuff. There isn't much in the way of guitar soloing, but the guitar lines are very impressive.

There's an aspect to SYL that you may not detect from listening to this track: they don't take themselves too seriously. Heavy metal is a genre full of bravado, macho theatrics and over-the-top bullshit. It's what so many people hate about the genre. I love it, but I see it as theatre. I think SYL's frontman Devin Townsend sees it very much the same way. He is one of the most intense frontman-types you'll see on stage, but he never misses an opportunity to joke around with the audience. The following is one of my favourite bits of stage banter ever:

In person, Devin Townsend is very different from his stage persona. I have had the pleasure of meeting him a couple of times, and in my encounters he has come across as very calm and subdued. The calm side of Townsend comes through a bit more in his solo work, which is a bit more musically diverse than SYL. Some of his solo work is recorded with the same musicians as SYL, which gives it a familiar feel, but the difference in style is clear. Here's a good example:

This song showcases Devin's melodic sensibilities, particularly in the guitar solo. I'm not really that in to guitar solos, generally, but this one always stands out to me. Towards the end of the song, the sound is really "full" - a good example of Devin's production style, which features layers upon layers of everything. This "wall of sound" approach is one of the defining features of both SYL and Devin Townsend solo material.

Lastly, I'd like to share a photo with you. This was taken the first time I met Devy at a SYL CD release signing. As it happens, Devin and I were talking about WEEN. Turns out Dev and Gene are huge Ween fans, which I thought was pretty sweet. Devin made a comment on how Ween are able to convey deeply emotional themes in such a fucked-up and retarded way. He hit the nail right on the head. I've fantasized about a Devin Townsend / Ween collaboration ever since.

-- Edit --
Although this post is already pretty long, I'm going to add something because I think it deserves to be on the Internet, and if you're a SYL fan it might be interesting. Last year I ran in to Devin Townsend at a local metal record store, on the day that his solo album Ziltoid the Omniscient* was released. I was there to pick up the record, and he was there to drop them off at the store. Since a couple of us were there to buy the CD, Devin hung around for a bit and chatted. Fresh on Mr. Townsend's mind was his need for a break, the future of his music (including SYL), and frustration with the media.

Before last year, Devin put in over a decade of solid work from recording, to touring, to producing other bands' albums. He was obviously burned out and said so himself. He and his wife had just had their first child, and he needed a break. What's more, he felt strongly that he didn't want to make music or tour for the wrong reasons. He didn't want to keep working just because he felt obligated, or to make big bucks, and certainly not to gain popularity. He was simply burned out. Right at that time, news blurbs on certain blogs were announcing "Strapping Young Lad is Over For Good!", based on comments Devin had made to reporters.

It must be frustrating to say something offhand about the future and immediately have it become The Official Word which gets circulated around the globe, as if you're the freaking pope. That's why I felt compelled to post this extra bit, because basically what Devin was saying to us that day, out of exasperation, was this: if he feels like releasing more music he will. If he feels like touring he will. If SYL ever feel like they want to make more music, they will. Of course it would be nice to know for certain, one way or the other, but life is full of uncertainties. The man needs a break.

*The album is sweet, by the way. It's a tongue-in-cheek sci-fi metal concept album which, just to give you an idea, opens with an intergalactic warlord named Ziltoid coming to earth and proclaiming "you shall fetch me your universe's ultimate cup of coffee. Black. You have five earth minutes."

I Love Science

2008-03-09T16:21:00.000-07:00

I believe that scientists will be able to produce a fully functional artificial brain within my life time. They've already done the groundwork:

Out of the Blue: Can a thinking, remembering, decision-making, biologically accurate brain be built from a supercomputer?

It's worth the read, if you have time.

Old Information (New to Me)

2008-01-31T20:44:00.000-08:00

As I progress through my current phase of "detoxing" from Christian faith, I am beginning to realize things I never fully realized before. For example, until quite recently I was under the impression that evolution was a lie. I am almost embarrassed about it. I say "almost" because when I think about it, it really wasn't my fault. The blame lies squarely upon the shoulders of the pastors in my former church. Actually it's hard to lay the full blame on them, since they underwent the same indoctrination I did when they were young, and so did their pastors, and so on back through many generations.

I would like to talk for a bit about evolution, since the whole thing is such a revelation to me. Here's what I honestly used to think evolution was all about:

In the 19th century a man named Charles Darwin observed similarities between apes and humans, and he somehow came up with the concept that human beings descended from apes. Furthermore, he speculated that it all happened over a long long period of time. Eventually, he published a book about it.

Not all scientists agreed with Darwin, but the idea had enormous appeal to the particular scientists who had an agenda against God. They figured that if they could teach this idea it would undermine the religious teaching that God created the world in six days, and that he created human beings in their present form. By the mid-twentieth century, to their own delight, these scientists became the most powerful scientists in science-dom. They were (and are now) in the perfect position to inject this subversive anti-god perspective into the media, museums, and text books, which they controlled. The best part was, they could teach it as "science"! As a result the average non-believer thinks evolution is true. Christians, of course, don't believe that evolution is true because it contradicts the truth of the bible. And deep in the world of science-dom there rages a battle between scientists who don't agree with the theory of evolution, and an equal number of scientists who do.

There are so many inaccuracies and lies in the preceding section that it's hard for me to know where to begin. However, this is not just some "straw man" that I've set up in order that I may pick it apart. As I said before, that is actually what I believed, based on what the church taught. I'm certain that it's close to what many christians I know still believe.

Fine. What is Evolution?

Evolution is actually very easy to understand, and yet it is misunderstood by so many people. The basic idea is that as living things (animals, plants, bacteria, etc) reproduce, slight variations caused by mutations in the DNA sometimes appear in offspring. If this particular mutation is harmful the offspring will likely die before it reproduces. If the mutation is useful, like if it even slightly helps the creature to avoid dying or to attract a mate, the creature will reproduce, and the mutation will be preserved in future generations. That's it in a nutshell (although there are many fascinating nuances to learn about, if you take the time).

The fact is, mutations happen (Darwin didn't know about genetics, but we've since discovered that mutations happen on a genetic level). Another fact is, once in a while these mutations aid survival. When that is the case, the mutation is preserved in the genetic code of successive generations. Each time this takes place it's a tiny, tiny step in evolution. Each time, it results in a slightly more complex form of life. Given enough time (and life on earth has had somewhere between 2 and 4 billion years to evolve), you end up with some amazingly complex and diverse forms of life.

Why Do People Disagree?

It's remarkable to think that such a simple concept would be denied by anyone with a brain. Yet I myself used to think it was false, even with a vague understanding of it all. I have a few thoughts on why and how this can happen. Many of those who reject evolution do so because an authority in their church has told them evolution is false. This is a standard model by which religious teachings are passed along; the teaching is firmly believed because it has been taught by someone whom God has appointed.

There are also those who object to evolution because it seems to contradict another form of religious authority - the bible. These are usually the folks who believe the Old Testament creation story in a literal sense. That is to say, they believe the world was created, fully formed, in six 24-hour days. This group are typically called "young earth creationists", because they also believe that those six 24-hour days took place some 6,000 - 10,000 years ago, depending on the particular calculation they derive from biblical accounts of history.

Aside from biblical literalism and religious authority, I know some christians who find the idea of evolution offensive to their value of human life. A while ago, a good friend of mine who was about to become a father was waxing poetic about the beautiful process of embryonic development. It was mind-boggling to him (as it is to me) that such intricate and precise detail as we see in the human body could come from the meeting of two simple cells, nine months prior. In a moment of whisky-aided directness he asked me, "how can you actually believe that something like that could just happen randomly? It would take more faith for me to believe that all this is an accident than to believe that God made it happen." [I'm sorry if I'm misquoting a little bit - I suspect neither of us can remember the conversation too clearly].

Ministry of Misinformation

His point was a good one. It would be very improbable for life as we know it to come into being randomly. The thing is, my friend was misinformed. Evolution by natural selection is not random. It is an orderly sifting of the useful and harmful traits that arise through random mutation. The traits that help life to flourish are selected in a very systematic fashion. Furthermore, life as we know it is the result of a slow process by which life becomes more and more complex.

This raises another point though, which is that the religious opposition to evolution manifests itself through flat-out misinformation, often in the form of shameless propaganda. I remember being taught the lie (by people who really didn't know any better, but a lie nonetheless) that there are no transitional fossils, and therefore Darwin's theory falls flat. Well my friends, this is false. For one thing, all fossils are "transitional" fossils, since life is in a constant state of transition. However, what is usually meant by "transitional" fossil is a fossil that links a certain species to another ancestral species. These exist in the hundreds of thousands. Go to a museum. Even Google "transitional fossils". Look up Tiktaalik Rosae, my personal favourite.

Here are some more lies about evolution. I remember being told that on his deathbed Darwin changed his mind about his theory and recanted. This is not true, even though it's still perpetuated by christian propaganda today.

Right now, probably the biggest lie out there about evolution is that its existence is a hotly debated subject in scientific circles. Although this was true in Darwin's time, this now couldn't be farther from the truth. Since Darwin's time, mountains of evidence have piled up from many branches of science, not only confirming that evolution happens, but giving us a detailed understanding of how it works. Incidentally, I've noticed that in North America one of the language games anti-evolutionists use to propagate the myth of the controversy is by referring to evolution as "Darwinism". The connotation there is that only Darwin and a few others believe it, and those who still believe it consider Darwin almost as a religious authority. Truthfully, Darwin (and Wallace) deserve a lot of credit for figuring out natural selection, but with 150 years of scientific discovery since The Origin of Species the vast majority of scientists side with Darwin.

I will briefly mention the Intelligent Design (ID) movement, since I remember learning about it when I was a church-goer. Intelligent Design is young-earth creationism repackaged to sound more "science-y". Since the US courts decided that creationism is religion, not science, and therefore couldn't be taught in schools, a christian group came up with a way to try to sneak god back in to the classroom. A small christian organization called the Discovery Institute, featuring fringe christian scientists that no one had ever heard of, propelled the movement by publishing creation science textbooks that surgically replaced the word "creationism" with "intelligent design", and "god" with "an intelligent agency". Part of their plan, which they were quite explicit about, was to "teach the controversy", as addressed in my previous paragraph, and that "equal time" should be given in the classroom to "both sides" of the scientific debate. Unfortunately for them religion does not become science just by adopting clever euphemisms, and the US courts ruled against the whole ID hoax as well (Kitzmiller v. Dover, 2005). What will they think of next?

What's Your Point?

The last think I would like to say is directly to my christian friends. I know that many churches teach that evolution is wrong. As the science becomes stronger and stronger, doesn't it feel like the young-earth view is grasping at straws? I know that's how it felt for me when I was a christian. I know, "evolution is just a theory", but it's really only a theory in a very technical sense that is specific to the scientific method. You don't hear people saying "gravity is just a theory", but did you know that that's exactly what it is, in the same technical sense? In layman's terms, gravity is a fact, as is evolution. Here's another fact: not all christian churches reject evolution. Just as all christian churches now accept that the sun doesn't evolve around the earth (it took them a while to admit that one too), many churches are now okay with the fact that the earth is billions of years old, and all life has evolved from a common single-celled ancestor. Many christians happily believe that god can still exist even though not everything in the bible is literally true. In other words, you don't have to reject evolution just because you believe in God. Neither do you have to reject God if you accept the fact of evolution.

Who knows, maybe you don't even think evolution is all that interesting, whether it's true or not. But if you're anything like me, it's amazing to actually understand how such utterly complex life has been "designed" by natural processes. To me, evolution is the most astounding true thing I've ever learned about the universe.

Apple News

2007-12-11T01:56:00.000-08:00

[I found this article on the Apple site a few months ago. Thought I'd share:]

Apple Unveils Newest Player of Shitty Music

SAN FRANCISCO--September 5, 2007--Apple® today introduced the new iPod® touch, which features their revolutionary, patented multi-touch interface on a beautiful widescreen display, and allows you to listen to up to 22 hours of your shitty music.

"The iPod touch opens a new chapter of personal entertainment technology," said Steve Jobs, Apple's CEO. "People are going to be blown away by how thin it is, and how much it can do. With the iPod touch, your shitty music selection is all at your fingertips--literally!"

Whether you enjoy listening to top 40 music or Montreal indie rock, your bad taste in music never sounded so good.

"Whether it's Justin Timberlake, Kanye West or M.I.A., the iPod touch plays all of that," explains Jobs. "As long as you're in to really shitty music, the iPod touch is probably for you. Or if you're one of those hipster kids, we'll play all of your bullshit too: Belle and Sebastian, Animal Collective... the list really goes on and on."

Industry insider Jeff Burton thinks the iPod touch will have a particular appeal to the twentysomething indie types: "Actually it's perfect for hipsters," Burton explained. "As soon as a band isn't popular anymore you can just delete them from your collection."

With Apple's iTunes® software built-in, your entire collection of music, terrible as it is, can be played for you in a shuffled order. Or, if you want a particular mix, it's easy to browse through your library to create godawful playlists.

Apple has noted that the iPod touch is capable of playing early Beatles material, but is unable to play anything after Rubber Soul.

Cold Sea Stink

2007-12-04T18:12:00.000-08:00

Let's face the facts: sushi is awful. Take raw fish and rice, wrap it up in nasty stinky seaweed, add a sauce made from horseradish, and serve it cold. I don't even need to taste that to tell you it's not something a person should consume. Sadly, I have tasted it and it's just as terrible as it sounds.

Why do people like it then? Let me explain it to you. The fact is, no one actually enjoys sushi. The people who claim to enjoy sushi make such a big fucking deal out of it that it's obvious they're just lying. Then when someone like me comes along and says what everyone is thinking ("this is vile"), the people on the sushi wagon get so defensive it reveals their lie even further. "WHAT?? You don't like sushi??" "Hey everyone, this guy here doesn't like sushi!" - I can't think of another thing where if I said I didn't like it people would put up such a fuss. I could say I didn't believe women should have the right to free speech and the most I'd hear is "hm, that's an interesting perspective." The fact that people get so defensive about cold stinky ocean food makes me think they're protesting a bit too much.

I think this must have begun back when sushi was still an "exotic" food for us westerners. Maybe ten or more years ago it had a far greater "ooh la la" appeal. Of course it made sense for people to pretend to like it in that context - it immediately set you apart as a gourmand with a sophisticated palate. Now that it's commonplace, sushi doesn't make you nearly as cool as it used to. Can we please stop pretending it does? You should all be relieved - you don't have to pretend to like this stuff anymore.

The Apostate

2007-10-09T21:00:00.000-07:00

When I was around 16 years old I was baptized. I belonged to a church that happened to believe in adult baptism, and it was a big moment for me. As was customary, I wrote a little 'testimony' to read out to the congregation before the baptism was carried out. It was the story of my introduction to christian belief, and the development of my beliefs up till the moment I decided to be baptized. The writing of the testimony, and the act of reading it out publicly was almost more important to me than the baptism itself. It crystallized my religious convictions, and in my mind it marked me as a true believer. I remember very little of what I actually said while I stood in the baptismal pool. I do, however, remember what it meant to verbalize publicly the things I believed. No longer was it a private, internal affair; now it was a matter of public record. My words that day added up to this: I believe in all these things, and you all heard me say it. It was definitive. And terrifying.

This is a testimony as well. Its content is quite different from my baptism testimony which I wrote eleven years ago, but its significance to me is exactly the same. I'm bringing forth things that have been mostly private to me, making them a matter of public record. It's also terrifying in a similar way, to say these things, but I feel I need to. No, I'm not about to tell you that I'm gay. But I do understand now (albeit to a very limited extent) what "coming out" must be like. Anyway, perhaps I'd better start from the beginning:

I was raised by christian parents, and they passed their beliefs on to me pretty early in my life. As soon as I was old enough, I was signed up for Sunday school, where I learned the usual bible stories, reenacted for me on Flannelgraph™ boards. I was taught how to pray and was told that god heard every prayer. I was taught that god cared about me, and also there was a rather large list of things that he didn't want me to do. I was also taught that there is a place called heaven and a place called hell, and I should listen to god so I could get a ticket into heaven.

I spent my teenage years being very involved with my church youth group. My beliefs became more and more deep-rooted. There were big, fun events, but we also had small, intimate bible study groups and prayer groups where we would pray our hearts out. We learned that prayer is a powerful thing: when you pray for something god will grant it, except for the times when he doesn't. Sometimes god has other plans.

My beliefs grew as I got older. As a young adult I would describe my belief as a "personal relationship" with Jesus. This meant that I prayed to Jesus as if he was sitting next to me, and I believed that the spirit of god lived inside me and spoke to me, even though it was usually hard to tell whether it was the Holy Spirit or just my inner monologue I was hearing. I was part of my church's young adults group no longer just as a child of christian parents, but as a bona fide christian.

Six or seven years after high school I entered what I describe as a crisis of belief. I began to realize that even though the christian god is supposed to be personal and intimate, I couldn't recall ever actually hearing him speak to me. I saw people all around me experiencing what looked like intimate encounters with god, yet that was totally foreign to me. It's not that I expected to speak in tongues or anything, but I figured the all-powerful creator of the universe, who was supposed to be interested in me personally, would have the means to speak to me personally. Especially since I spent all that time speaking to him. I still had faith that god was there, but it was beginning to feel like he wasn't. The more I thought about this, the more disconnected I felt from the church - which was awkward because I was in a position of leadership there. I eventually couldn't, in good conscience, carry on as a leader there so I stepped down. I had some thinking to do.

If god was there, why wasn't he speaking to me? Was I just not listening for the right thing? How could the voice of GOD be difficult to make out? Was I doing something wrong? I had lots of questions going on in my mind, and I didn't know where the answers would come from. I prayed every day for god to reveal himself to me. I asked him to speak to me in a way that I couldn't possibly miss it. I knew that if god was who christians said he was, I could be confident that my prayers would be answered. I just kept praying and kept waiting.

The longer I waited, the less optimistic I became. A few years had passed and my prayers were now few and far between. It seemed to me they were falling on deaf ears. It wasn't that I stopped believing in god, but I suppose you could say at that point I was an agnostic. I simply no longer knew whether god was there or not. It was a very serious question to me, and it required a great deal of rational investigation. I actually wanted it to be true, and I was very willing to accept it as truth if the right evidence showed up, but that evidence would have to stand up to the only measuring stick I had - critical thought.

That's where I've been at for quite some time now - weighing the evidence for and against god's existence. And now here's the part that to me is terrifying to say: I don't believe in god. After weighing the evidence it seems very unlikely that he's actually there. Why is this terrifying to say? Well, as I've gone to great lengths to explain, christianity was a huge part of my life. Now I've lost that. Also, christianity features a built-in sense of meaning and purpose, and now that particular meaning and purpose have been removed from my life. And, to be honest, it saddens me that god doesn't exist - I quite liked the whole idea. But mostly it's scary to me because, like my baptism testimony, saying these things publicly makes it official. My time on the fence is over.

But above the scariness of it all, much bigger and brighter, is a sense of excitement and inspiration. I have so many new questions about the way the world actually works. I am a free agent in a marketplace of ideas. Now I can learn things about life, the universe, and everything, without having to jam the information through the paradigm of christian doctrine, like a square peg through a round hole. Also, no idea is "sacred" anymore - any idea can be questioned and even thrown out the window if a more reasonable one comes along. It's a truly liberating feeling.

If you've gotten this far, thanks for reading. I don't usually write this much, but it felt good. The real challenge now is convincing myself to hit the "publish" button. I wonder if I can do it...

Bands I Love, Part 2

2007-09-11T19:58:00.001-07:00

To continue the topic I introduced two posts ago, I would like to talk about another band that I love. Perhaps you've heard of them, they're known as Ween.

Ween is actually a difficult band for me to write about, because they are pretty hard to pin down. Actually they seem to be a difficult band for anyone to write about; if you read ten different reviews of the same Ween album you'll get ten different interpretations of both the songs and the band. The best I can do here is to tell you what I think Ween is all about, and why I enjoy them so much.

Perhaps it would help to go back to the beginning of my experience with Ween. Around 1994 I saw an episode of Beavis and Butthead which featured the video for a song called "Push th' Little Daisies" by Ween, a group I'd never heard of. My first impression: I hated it. I guess I liked to think I was in to serious hard-rocking music at the time, and this was the opposite of all that. It had a cheesy electronic bossa nova drum beat, and it sounded like it was being sung by an annoying 8-year-old. "I'll pass, thank you very much," I thought. "I'm quite happy to listen to my Pearl Jam tapes."

Fast-forward to around 2002. My brother somehow comes across a web site with some songs on it, and he calls me over. "I think you should hear this," he says. It was a song by Ween written for a Pizza Hut commercial. Pizza Hut was advertising a new pizza that had cheese inside the crust (it was called "the insider", if I recall), and the ad agency they hired thought Ween would be cool. This is what my brother played for me:

It kind of made my brain hurt from weirdness and coolness all at once. And as if that wasn't enough, my brother informed me that the song had a sequel. It was a version of the same song which Ween recorded after Pizza Hut rejected several of their ideas and eventually fired them.

First impressions are very important, but not always accurate. From my first impression I was totally convinced that Ween was a wussy little band led by an annoying 8-year-old singer. I could easily have gone my whole life thinking that. Thank god my brother found that web site. The "Where'd the Cheese Go?" songs were literally unlike anything I'd ever heard before. I realized I had no idea who the hell Ween really were, and what their music was all about. I definitely needed to hear more.

I eventually came to own all of their albums, but in the beginning I was just downloading random Ween MP3s from peer-to-peer networks. As I heard more and more of their songs I went through a sort of progression of viewpoints on the band. At first I basically just went for the songs with the most amusing titles. To me then they were kind of a joke band - I wanted more stuff like the Pizza Hut songs. There were plenty of amusing songs to be heard, too. "Bananas and Blow", "Spinal Meningitis (Got Me Down)" and "Mister Would You Please Help My Pony" were favourites of mine. But the more songs I heard the more I realized there was some real substance there, both musically and lyrically.

Musically, one thing that really jumped out at me was the fact that practically no two Ween songs sounded the same. The band seemed to effortlessly jump from one genre to another, covering a range of styles from Carribean cabana music to classic country. As I began to appreciate this aspect of Ween, they shifted in my mind from being a joke band to being more a slightly more serious band with a knack for stylistic mimicry. Below is a perfect example of this - it's called "I'm Holding You", and it's from Ween's infamous country album:

The other thing I began to realize was that the light-hearted and sometimes funny nature of the music often belied the heaviness of the lyrics. Take a song off of the Chocolate and Cheese album, for example: "Mister Would You Please Help My Pony?" features upbeat music, juxtaposed with genuinely sad lyrics sung from the point of view of a child whose pony is sick. "Mister would you please help my pony? / He's chewin' bark and not the leaves / he's crying like a baby, would you help him? / I think it's his lung". Hearing the song makes you laugh, but you can't help but feel sad for the kid - that strange pairing of emotional reactions is a typical response to a Ween song. You can listen to it here:

From the very beginning of their career, Ween has written the occasional song that is both serious and intensely personal. They are often songs written to loved ones during emotionally-charged situations, included on the album for all to hear. Listening to them almost feels intrusive. These are the songs that should prevent anyone from calling Ween a joke band, although sadly that label still appears in some write-ups, in publications that should know better. Here's one such song, from their Quebec album, called "I Don't Want It". Some of the album's songs were written while the singer was going through a divorce, and this song is presumably one of them.

So how can we sum up Ween? Well, my first response to the question is "so what if we can't?" Why do we feel like we need to summarize a band's creative output in a few words? Are we really so simple that we can't appreciate something we can't define? But that answer doesn't do anyone any good if they're simply trying to learn about a band they don't know very well. The real answer is that it's very hard to sum them up, which is why I've included so many tracks for you to sample. There are many different types of Ween songs. I've only covered a few (their early period of ultra-raw 4-track recording has been totally skipped over here, for example). The fact that you can't easily define them really appeals to me, but I suppose other people find it frustrating. Some find it sufficient to call them "genre-defying", but that also puts them in a corner where they don't really belong. How can they be defying genres when they pay so much homage to specific genres in their songs? The best way to "get" Ween is to do it the old-fashioned way: smoke a lot of weed and listen to their music.

Just kidding.

Kind of.

Here's one last Ween song for you to enjoy. It's called "Friends", from The Friends EP, and it will also be on their upcoming full-length album, La Cucaracha, to be released in October.

Life's a Beach

2007-08-26T16:25:00.000-07:00

At the beach, when I was young, I used to think that all the logs had been put there on purpose. Like there was some municipal department in charge of log placement on beaches. After all, the logs on beaches are so well-organized, they all more or less run parallel to the shore, and in my mind they had a clear purpose: for sitting on.

I now realize that the logs just randomly washed up on the shore, and their positioning on the beach is just a result of the way objects in tides behave under various laws of physics. Why are they there? Just because. The fact that they are pleasant to sit on is incidental. This doesn't make them any less enjoyable to me, in fact it makes me that much more appreciative of the mechanisms inherent to the world which result in pleasant things like log placement on beaches.

I'm not speaking in metaphors here; this is an actual realization I had at a beach, about the logs around me. I actually used to think people put them there. And to be honest, the beaches I visited when I was young were in West Vancouver, so I wouldn't be surprised if they really DID have people placing logs there (or, more likely, selectively removing logs that don't look just right). Those beaches aren't particularly natural. Most beaches up and down British Columbia have washed-up logs though, and they're just there. Why? Just because.

My Favourite Band

2007-08-07T17:11:00.000-07:00

I have often been accused of cynicism. I wouldn't use that term myself, but I suppose I can see what people are driving at when they say it. My blog often focuses on the things that rub me the wrong way. What people don't realize is that writing about these things causes me to rub myself the right way.

I have no idea what that means, but I thought it sounded funny.

Anyway, just to show that I'm not just a cynical bastard, I'm going to be positive for a while. I thought it might be nice to write about bands that I like, and hopefully convey why I think they're awesome.

To start things off, I think I'll have to talk about my all-time favourite band, Primus.

Let me take you back to 1994. It was a confusing time for the world. I know this because I was a confused adolescent and the world happened to revolve around me. Just like every kid that age, I was trying desperately to have an identity. I think I came up with a pretty good one, too. You see, while some kids centered their identity around the various classic paradigms (e.g.,"jock", "nerd", "prissy bitches", "Iranians"), my chosen high-school identity was deliberately non-standard. In other words, whatever I did, I just wanted to be different from those other assholes. Of course that didn't include my friends, who were of a similar mindset to mine. I realize now that my idea to be totally different wasn't very original either, but that's another story.

This early-teens identity crisis somehow coincided with a crisis of musical taste. Sounds strange to me now, but I knew I couldn't go on listening to just any music. Especially not music that everyone else likes. If it appealed to the majority, it probably wasn't very interesting, I thought. The logic there, I guess, was that the lowest common denominator had the broadest appeal. This reasoning really shaped my taste in music, even to this day (although I'm not quite as dogmatic about it anymore). My love of music in general, combined with my instinct to reject most popular music, created a musical vacuum of sorts. And then along came Primus.

I first heard Primus on a compilation CD called "The Beavis and Butthead Experience". The CD was released at the height of the Mike Judge cartoon's popularity, and it mostly consisted of throwaway tracks by early nineties rock and rap groups (anyone remember Jackyl?), and a bunch of between-tracks filler. Okay, most of the CD was filler, except for maybe three tracks. The Primus track was called "Poetry and Prose", and it was the weirdest thing I'd ever heard. It was a fast-paced, chaotic jumble of slappy bass and noodly guitar. The guy singing wasn't actually singing - more like reciting a kind of limerick-like ode to Beavis and Butthead in a strange nasally voice. It was goofy and novel, but not in a hammy "Weird Al" kind of way. Musically it was very interesting. I needed to hear more.

My first taste of a Primus album was Pork Soda, which was a new album at the time. I was expecting more light-hearted novelty songs with slappy bass lines, but what I heard instead was a big, echoey sound that was vaguely disturbing. It sounded like it was recorded in a big empty warehouse. Turns out that's because it was recorded in a big empty warehouse. The songs had a kind of cartoony, circus-like feel to them, for lack of a better description.

The lyrics were about life in all of its absurdities and pleasures. Often in the form of a story, the singer conveyed his unique perspective with insight and a good dose of humour. The stories were often strange, dark, and sometimes disturbing, but they were told in a light-hearted way that allowed you to laugh about it all. He was obviously a gifted writer, but he didn't take himself too seriously either. The unexpected depth of the songs and unconventional musical style really appealed to me - this was not the kind of music you'd hear on the radio!

A typical Primus song isn't guitar-driven like normal rock songs. In fact, the guitar really just adds colour to the songs, which center around the highly rhythmic bass guitar and drums. Les Claypool, the singer and bassist for the band, does stuff with his bass that I've never seen anyone else do, unless they're specifically imitating him. He uses a variety of basses, notably a six-string fretless, and an electric stand-up bass, which he often plays with a bow. His playing style is the center of the Primus sound.

Tim Alexander, the drummer during most of Primus' existence, is equally amazing. His job is to take the frenetic bass lines and the noodly guitar, and ground them in some solid, discernable rhythm. He manages to achieve this while being more expressive and masterful than most drummers in rock music. When Tim left the band in 1997, Bryan "Brain" Mantia was hired to take his place. There are few drummers out there that could have filled Tim Alexander's shoes, but Brain did it - and with a style of his own. While Tim was more subtle and complex in his playing, Brain's style was more grounded in funk. He played off of Claypools' bass lines in a totally different but equally interesting way. Also, he beat the shit out of his drums. I even saw him light his drums on fire. As a drummer, both of these guys have influenced my playing style more than anyone else.

I could spend a lot of time analyzing Primus' sound, but it wouldn't mean much on paper. Like Frank Zappa said, writing about music is like dancing about architecture. I'll save Frank for another post. In the end, Primus is more significant to me than just some musically interesting band. It's not even enough to say they were the soundtrack to my adolescence. When you're a teenager your favourite band is a cornerstone of your very life. There's only a few years in your life when a band can be that important to you, and then "real life" sets in. And when you think about it, if Primus was "that band" to me, it's no wonder I turned out how I did. They shaped my taste in music, my sense of humour, and they taught me that life's a lot more fun if you can laugh at it once in a while.

Here's a clip of Primus playing "Pudding Time", live in Chicago, in 2004. By the way, the crowd is chanting "Primus sucks!", which isn't too uncommon at a Primus show. Call it an inside joke.

Polyblogging

2007-06-26T12:23:00.000-07:00

Oh, there is so much I'd like to write about. Unfortunately it's all terribly boring, geeky stuff involving synthesizers and other electronic instruments. That is not really the type of content that people have come to expect from Up Above the Daily Hum, one of the Internet's top 5 blogs (according to my browser's bookmarks). So I am left with a conundrum of sorts - how do I expel the geekiness within, and maintain the integrity of a blog that literally TENS of people read? I have come up with an elegant solution:

I have a new blog. It is for all of my synth-related hobby work. So naturally I called it "Hobby Synth". You can find it at http://hobbysynth.blogspot.com/. Okay, so all the good URLs were already taken.

Anyway, that's what I'll be spending time on for the next little while. This blog is still alive - I'll still need a dirty laundry hamper. So, um, yeah. Feel the power of geekiness.

Cool Kids in the Summertime

2007-05-22T20:22:00.000-07:00

Ahh summertime. Is it summertime yet? It's starting to feel like it. Is summertime a single word, or two words? Perhaps it's supposed to be hyphenated. Anyway, summer-time is almost here. You can tell because the number of good-looking girls in the city increases by about 50%. I don't know where they come from. I'm guessing it's actually the same girls we see the rest of the year, but they're no longer wearing parkas and overalls. Or jeans underneath perfectly functional dresses (still waiting for that terrible trend to die).

Dudes, on the other hand, don't really benefit as much from summer's fashion opportunities. We're all back to t-shirts and baggy shorts. Every single guy. The only way you can tell one guy apart from another guy during the summer is the colour and logo on his t-shirt.

The one fashion thing that always amuses me in the summer is people's sunglasses. By the way, I'm amusing myself right now by the fact that my blog so far has been about fashion. Anyway, I have a point to make, and I think goes a bit deeper than fashion. Sunglasses possess magical powers. They have the ability to instantly boost the wearer's ego. I suppose we have some pretty strong cultural associations with sunglasses; all rock stars wear them, action heroes and movie spies always wear them. The amazing thing is that when a guy puts on a pair of sunglasses, on some level, he actually believes he is either a rock star, an action hero, or a spy. It instantly makes him think he's WAY cooler than he actually is.

I may be one of the few who thinks about these things, but I find it absurd when people act like they're cool. Whether you're on Main street bragging to your dirty hipster friends about how little you paid for your wardrobe, or just some dude putting on sunglasses and strutting around like a rock star minus the talent. Why do so many of us still believe in the notion of being "cool"?

As my brother says, the idea of "cool" makes no sense as soon as you're out of high school. In high-school there's a clear class-system, and the cool kids are at the top. Outside of high-school do we have a similar pecking order? I think maybe we do, but it's not quite as easily defined. I think the pecking order occurs within any social group, whether it's in the workplace, a group of friends, religious or secular organizations.

A person's coolness is tied to the social group they're in. If a person belongs to several different groups, their level of coolness (yes, there's a coolness scale) in any given group will be unrelated to their coolness in another group. Furthermore, what will make a person cool in one group won't necessarily make them cool in another group. This means that a person could be cool in one group, and not nearly as cool in another group. Usually though, the type of person that figures out what it takes to be perceived as cool in one group has the ability to do so in any group to which they belong.

It's all bullshit though. The thing about elevating yourself through the notion of coolness is that there's no substance to it. One doesn't become cool via any sort of talent, skill, or achievement in their life. One becomes cool based on completely superficial traits such as clothing, lifestyle and whether or not they're wearing sunglasses. That's why the people who get by purely on coolness have nothing in their lives worth being proud of. This makes sense in high school; after all, most high school kids haven't had a chance to do anything with their lives. But if you're out of high school and being cool is all you've got, well it's a little sad.

Those Poor Janitors

2007-04-05T22:41:00.000-07:00

Just over a week ago, somebody committed suicide in the shopping district where I work. This particular shopping district sits directly under an eight-lane, 90-foot-high bridge, and this person jumped off the bridge and into an open-roofed parkade, about 20 feet away from my car.

The market administration and the police kept it pretty quiet, and the only reason I know this happened is because my car was right there, and when I went to get it that day there was a "police incident" in progress. They had put up big white tarps to wall off the area so that the hundreds of shoppers and tourists couldn't see what was going on. But I saw what was going on. There were anxious-looking market janitors posted at each access point to the parkade, and they were sending everyone away. Normally those guys pick up garbage in the market, so I'm sure they were having an interesting day. There was a guy, presumably a witness, giving a statement to a police officer, and right at center-stage was a green sheet covering what was no doubt a big mess.

As participants in this big game called Life, the Universe and Everything, we are guaranteed to encounter death. It would be very cliché for me to say death is part of life, but that is the simple truth. I think the reason it shakes most of us up like it does is because we are almost completely sheltered from it. Through most of history, and still in many parts of the world, death was practically inescapable. In the west this used to be true too, but this changed about 100 years ago. Before the turn of the last century every house had a room called the parlour, where families would lay out the bodies of their recently deceased before burial. Then at some point a cultural shift occurred, and such closeness to death became taboo. It was suddenly terribly unsophisticated to have bodies in one's home. From that point on, houses had "living" rooms instead of parlours.

Growing up, I only had a handful of encounters with death, and none of them were very intimate. My grandfather died when I was young, but we didn't really talk about it. A high-school friend committed suicide shortly after we graduated, but I didn't really know him that well. An acquaintance from a church group drowned one year, and in the same year another acquaintance from the same church group died in a drunk driving accident. In any of these cases it was definitely not okay to talk frankly with my grieving friends about the strange questions we face when we encounter death.

However, the suicide of a random stranger gives me a perfect opportunity to talk about such things. I mean, I never knew the guy so I'm not really grieving. And no one reading this knew the guy either, so I have no "insensitivity" issues to worry about. Emotionally, I felt affected by it for a couple of days, and that's it. But this guy chose a very public setting for his death, so I can't help but assume he wanted strangers to both see it and ponder it. So here are my thoughts about this event, and death in general, for all to read. Also, this is my blog so I have no intention of censoring myself or apologizing for any of this. I guarantee these are things that lots of other people think, but never get to talk about.

First, I wonder how this guy landed, and how many bones were broken. It must have been a terrible impact. There is now literally a crater in the asphalt where he landed, which I walk by every day. It's really creepy, but only a few of us know what caused it. If the hard ground was damaged like that, I can only imagine what it did to his soft body. I also wonder how they cleaned it up afterwards, and who had to do it. The market janitors?

I wonder at what point did he die. I've heard that after you fall a certain distance you die before you hit the ground, but I think that's bullshit. People have fallen out of planes without parachutes and survived. I suspect it's the impact that is lethal. Which is why he had to choose the perfect landing place. You can almost re-create his decision process if you scan the possible landing spots from the bridge. He didn't want to land on a roof, and he didn't want to jump into the water. He didn't want to land on any cars either. He basically only had one place to jump.

I wonder what the story was with this guy. The obvious answer is that he had hit rock bottom, was probably really depressed, and felt he had no other way out. It was probably premeditated. But what if he was really depressed, and went out to clear his head by taking a walk across the bridge, and the jump was really more of a spur-of-the-moment thing?

And this brings me to suicide in general. I can't believe I'm about to say this. I think suicide gets a bad rap. If our lives are reduced to something so unpleasant that all we can think about is checking out, why shouldn't we have the right to make that choice? Sure, it causes grief to family and friends like all death does, but shouldn't there be a little comfort in the fact that this person is no longer suffering? Personally I've never felt that low, and I doubt I ever will, but the kinds of problems I deal with have solutions. Most problems do, but honestly not all of them do.

Anyway, what if this guy wasn't really that suicidal at all, but he had an irresistible urge to find out what falling 90 feet would feel like, even if it's the last thing he does? I know every time I walk across a bridge like that one I wonder what it would feel like. These types of thoughts arise from time to time, I'm guessing in all of us. For me it's mostly with heights. "There's nothing stopping me from hopping over this rail." And really, I suspect it's just a small cluster of neurons in my brain that stops me every time. The same small cluster of neurons that stops all of us from doing all the stupid shit we think of. The Better Judgement Circuit. If biologists actually find it, I call dibs on naming it Murray's Cluster. It's my suspicion that more people die from faulty Murray's Clusters than we realize.

Our Favourite Music, In Numerical Order

2007-03-21T17:01:00.000-07:00

Here's an interesting little piece of news. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, in conjunction with the National Association of Recording Merchandisers (NARM), have put together a list of the so-called "definitive 200" albums that every music lover should own (http://www.definitive200.com/). That means, for those of you who still go in to record stores, you will soon be seeing stickers on various albums, informing us that that album is on the list.

It probably goes without saying that this list is complete bullshit. Our first clue to this fact is that the list is developed by record merchandisers. This means that the list is closely tied in with sales. It seems that the albums listed break down in to three different categories.

First, there are the albums that have sold really well over the years and therefore are "good" albums. Their ranking is correlated directly to their sales. Sometimes this seems to make sense. For example, the number one album is The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper album, and number two is Dark Side of the Moon. Personally, I'd switch the two around in their ranking but at least we got the right top two.

However, the "high sales = album worth owning" logic breaks down a bit farther down the list when we see Pearl Jam's Ten at number 11. I mean, this album was one of my favourites when I was 14, and in its day it was a good album. It certainly sold a lot of units. Try listening to it now though. Seriously, has anyone tried? It has NOT stood the test of time. Neither has Nirvana's Nevermind for that matter (#10), but its ranking makes sense because it's such an important album.

The second type of entry are the albums that are fairly recent, and have sold well and therefore are "good" but in ten years the people who own them will be embarrassed about it (e.g., Usher's Confessions, Green Day's American Idiot). A "definitive" list of albums worth owning should not include anything released in the past ten years. Not to say that recent albums aren't good, but they should all be put through the test of time before we canonize them. Wait ten years and then make another list. Then we'll see if that Beyonce album (#183) is worth owning.

The third type of album on the list are the albums that once sold really well but have since fallen off the radar. The reason for including these albums is, of course, to squeeze a little more profitability out of them. Sounds cynical, right? Well, how else can you explain the inclusion of worthless tripe such as the Dirty Dancing soundtrack (#99), or Human Clay by Creed (#95)? Judging by the write-up for Creed on the list's web site, they don't even like it that much. The only reason it's enjoyable is that it reminds us of better, more original groups: "Memorable hooks, Soundgarden-like guitars, and Vedder-like vocals make Human Clay at once compelling and effectively redundant" (http://www.definitive200.com/albums_page.php?album_id=66). Oddly, Soundgarden isn't even on the list. And I'm not saying they should be.

It's amusing to see the inner workings of the list, which sticks exclusively to safe music - i.e., music that will appeal to the greatest amount of people (or "lowest common denominator" music if you're a cynic). At the same time, the list tries to include all types of popular music. However, not all types of music are widely appealing. This is most obvious with the heavy metal genre. To heavy metal fans, the albums that would be worth owning would also be pretty unappealing to other people. You're not about to see Slayer's Reign in Blood in there. So how does the list go about including heavy metal? By including no less than FOUR albums by the most softcore, accessible metal band out there: Metallica. And because they are the kind of metal that your grandparents can enjoy, they pretty much single-handedly represent the entire genre in the list.

Another interesting aspect of these kinds of lists is when you start to play the "why is this ranked higher than that?" game. Inevitably there are genuinely good, classic albums ranked lower than other albums that don't even belong on the list. Let's look at some examples:

-Eminem's Marshall Mathers EP is ranked higher than The White Album.
-Kid Rock's Devil Without a Cause is ranked higher than Led Zeppelin's self-titled debut.
-Norah Jones' debut is ranked higher than Miles Davis' Kind of Blue.
-There is a Kenny G album on the list. And it's not at the bottom.

Not to repeat myself too much here, but how many people are actually buying CDs anymore anyway? A couple of years ago I was buying CDs all the time, but it's slowed down a LOT. And I probably still buy more CDs than any friends of mine. Perhaps part of the purpose for this list is to get us interested in purchasing albums again. I'm totally for this cause actually. I think that the age of downloaded songs has all but killed the idea of albums. Good albums are much more than a bunch of songs put together. They are so often greater than the sum of their individual songs, because of the way each song works together. Albums have a way of setting a mood and telling a story in a way that single songs mashed together in an iPod can never do. It would be a shame to lose this concept.

America's Favourite Author

2007-03-13T02:00:00.000-07:00

I managed to get my hands on an excerpt from Dan Brown's upcoming book, "The Solomon Key". Dan Brown is, of course, the author of the hugely popular "The DaVinci Code", and a masterful writer. Anyway, you could imagine my excitement when I had a little taste of the new novel. Here it is. I believe it's from a chapter about two-thirds in to the book.

"I'm afraid I have no time to explain," explained Robert Langdon. "There is more to this manuscript than it seems," he said. "Also, it is a code," he also said. "You see," Langdon said, "I spent years researching the meaning of secret codes and symbols, and also the masonic lodge. Also, my father was a freemason. We need to visit the lodge."

"But aren't the freemasons the ones who are after us?" asked the intrepid young female detective. "We would be playing right in to their hands!" She exclaimed!

"My father was a freemason," Robert Langdon said, re-iterating what he had previously explained*. "I know someone in the lodge who we can trust," he said. Then with a wink he said, "an old friend of my father's." Then he said "someone who could never possibly turn against us and hand us and the manuscript over to the Order of Solomon." And then he also said, "if that were to happen, we would be in a really tight bind, which could only resolve itself with a climactic stand-off in which the religious men show their true colors by drawing guns and making threats, but the secret is finally rescued out of the wrong hands, and kept safely for centuries to come."

"But that would never happen," he said, giving a thumbs-up sign.

"You know, in the middle east that means 'up yours'," said the young female detective.

"Yes I know. I am an expert in symbols and codes." said Robert Langdon.

*See the end of paragraph one.

I Smell Hippies

2007-03-01T20:52:00.000-08:00

The company I work for is undergoing some growth at the moment.

It started as a small family business, and in the past ten years we have grown into something pretty great. I'd say we're "mid-size" in terms of the industry to which we belong. Because of that, we're not quite as well known as the giants of the industry but we're catching on. Plus, we offer a certain personal "experience" that the bigger companies just can't offer.

We're good. The product we offer is of a way higher quality than the Big Guys. We'd win the so-called Pepsi challenge, hands down. People know this. That's why we're growing. We don't advertise, but we're getting bigger.

And that's where we come to a bit of a tricky situation. You see, our small size has allowed us to offer a certain experience that is appealing. Also, because there are just a few people leading the whole company, the passion of that small group has resulted in a product that is superior. BUT, this is causing growth, which could cause us to lose all of these special things if not handled properly.

Anyway, I don't really want to talk about the company I work for. I just thought I'd give that background before I launch in to the following rant.

In certain discussions about our company's growth, I've heard people talking about us "going corporate". They always mean it in a bad way. Can we PLEASE get past the whole "anti-corporate" sentiment? Companies grow because they do what they do well. If we grow it's because people like us.

I know, people fear change. More specifically, people fear change that could cause them to lose what they have come to love. That's part of the resistance to growth right there. There are certain aspects of "corporate" culture that I dislike. I don't like it when anyone in power takes advantage of the "little guy". That's just a given, and it applies to people, politics and business. I also don't like business-y lingo. Every time someone talks about our "branding strategy" I vomit in my mouth a little. But you know what? I get the same feeling of disgust every time I hear some fucking hippie talk about "going corporate", as if anyone who does is selling their soul to the devil.

The truth is, not all large businesses take advantage of the little guy. There are plenty of large, "corporate" business that operate very ethically, despite what Michael Moore might have you think, and despite what you may have gleaned from No Logo in your college dorm.

I think the problem here is that people don't really know what exactly they're protesting when they cry corporate. It's just an over-simplified, knee jerk, catch-all word that has vague implications of soullessness and impersonality, but doesn't really mean anything specific. I think it would be much more productive if we stopped using leftist, hippie jargon and started talking about what we don't like about "corporate". Maybe we could even try to be productive and come up with ideas for how a company could enjoy its success AND keep its integrity. I know, that would require some people to put down the shitty djembe drum that their friend on Hornby Island made, and maybe leave the hacky-sack circle, but it will soon amaze them how nice it is to be a productive member of society.

God, I hate hippies.

Some Thoughts

2007-02-19T00:04:00.000-08:00

-My Name Is Earl would have been better as one movie, rather than a good TV show that quickly got tired.

-Howie Mandel isn't funny.

-Whatever happened to James Earl Jones?

-You don't see nearly as many freemasons around anymore.

The Red Menace

2007-02-11T17:33:00.000-08:00

I intercepted the following transmission from the commies upstairs. Russian-y letters added for effect:

Comє in MoscΦv. MoscΦv, comє in.

Ћяansmit to MΦtћєяlanδ bєgin. I шяitє in anglβкy to maкє moяє чaяδєя to coδєbяєaк tяansmit. Maybє not so gяєat iδєa, δa?

Шє maкє gooδ pяogяєss шitч Canaδian spy шчo livє in bцnкєя цnδєя кommiєbasє. Wє maкє шatєя-flooδ in шintєяtimє, anδ sчцt off єlєкtяiк in nєighborчooδ. Vlaδєк maкє dooкiє in шatєя sцpply anδ шчolє city шatєяtap tцяn bяoшn foя a шєєк. Шє pяєtєnδ liкє шє чavє шatєя-flooδ too, so no onє sцspєкt цs.

In moяningtimє Ana yєll loцδly in кitcчєn to шaкє Canaδian цp, anδ maкє hєavyfoot шalкing abovє his bєδ-яoom. Wчєn hє taкє шatєя-sчoшєя шє opєn all чot-шatєяtaps anδ maкє toilєtflцsч to stєal his шatєя.

Θця δog is gєt moяє big єvєяy δay. Jцst in timє foя Motчєяlanδ Pяotєкtoя δay. Sчє шill fєєδ шчolє family.

Sєnδ moяє voδкa.

Tяansmit to Moћєяlanδ stop.

My Blog is Constipated

2007-01-29T01:24:00.000-08:00

Wow, two months. I can't believe it's been that long since I've posted.

I've spent most of the past two months with all of my belongings piled into one end of my place, ever since the flood caused by the Commies. It didn't feel like home. But now things are all back to normal.

I guess I've been trying to think of blog-worthy things but it's been hard. Sometimes you can't force this sort of thing.

I'm watching Twin Peaks, a show that I only recently decided to check out. I guess I was a little too young for it when it was on the air, but I've always heard that it was good. I've been enjoying it. There are some pretty great characters. There are also some great moments of early-nineties cheese. And, some of the dialogue smacks of daytime TV. Anyway, I'm almost finished Season 2, and overall it's been pretty great. Oh hey, look, Heather Graham makes a cameo in this episode.

I guess that's not the most exciting post I've ever made, but it's good to clear out the cobwebs on the old Blogger Dashboard. Besides, I'm not even sure if anyone reads this thing. I wonder how many blogs out there contain those words.

Two Days Before The Day After Tomorrow

2006-11-29T23:23:00.000-08:00

I don't know if this is a standard thing for people of my generation, but I often find myself daydreaming about what the apocalypse will look like. Not the apocalypse in the biblical sense, but more in the way preached by modern day soothsayers: the environmentalists and hippies. My vision, as dictated by these prophets, is of a time when there is no oil, most animals are extinct, all our forests are gone, and man has been nuked into the stone age. In other words, it's basically The Road Warrior.

Seriously, there is something about that movie, and other post-apocalyptic films, that resonate with me in a way that other kinds of films do not. I think it's because I can readily accept it as our likely future. I can more easily put myself into the story. At least more so than something like Gattaca, for example. I think one of my favourites of these is 28 Days Later, because not only is it about the world after civilization crumbles, but it also has zombies. Zombie films are another favourite genre of mine, and it wasn't until just now that I figured out a possible reason for that - they tie in to my apocalypse fantasy.

Anyway, I guess why I'm writing this is because of the weather. It's not even December yet and it's cold as hell and snowing faster than we can keep up with. That's not saying much, of course, since Vancouver owns something like two snow plows. This is pretty unusual weather for the city though, and it was preceded by a few weeks of record-setting rain fall. And if I've learned anything from the hippie environmentalists, it's that any type of different-than-normal weather should be blamed on global warming. Even if the weather is COLDER than normal, global warming is for some unexplained reason responsible. In fact, speaking of movies, they made a movie all about this called The Day After Tomorrow, which was probably intended to be a huge blockbuster, but it featured a lineup of B and C-list actors, was poorly written, and was basically ridiculous. I don't like ALL apocalypse movies.

I usually imagine that when this apocalypse comes I'll be resourceful enough to survive past the worst parts, and eventually be part of the rebuilding of society. All the buildings everywhere would be empty, and I'd either scavenge in the city, or live off the land to keep myself alive. But tonight after my pitiful experience driving around in a mere four inches of snow, sliding all over the place, struggling to drive up what wouldn't even be considered a slight grade, I realize that when a real problem arises I won't stand a chance. I'll be one of the first frozen corpses for people to gawk at as they run for shelter (in a local church, where they'll be burning hymnals for warmth).

I guess I don't really have a point. I have a feeling though that if this city ever faced a real crisis we'd be completely fucked. Then they'll make a movie about it with Bill Pullman and That Black Guy That Played The Police Chief Or Something In Deep Impact. It will go straight to DVD.

Oh, by the way, it's past midnight now. That means it's officially Nog's Eve day. Merry buttbells!

The Commies Strike Again

2006-11-07T13:27:00.000-08:00

Okay, so I'll resort to using words again, at least for now. I just thought I'd share a little story about the bunker*.

Yesterday I got home to find a little surprise. The surprise came in the form of a wet sensation on my feet when I walked into the living room. Of course, my first thought was that the commies upstairs had flooded their secret communication room ("come in mother hen..."), and it had leaked downward onto my floor, but I found no evidence that it came from the ceiling. Also, I soon discovered that the problem was more than just a wet spot on the floor. As it turns out, half my living room floor was wet. This was no accidental communication room flooding. This was clearly a deliberate attack by the communist threat above my bunker.

Of course, all the evidence pointed toward something other than commies. That's exactly how they planned it. Anyone less informed than I would pin the blame on the combined forces of heavy rain and a blocked drain pipe. Those commies are more clever than I had thought.

My first instinct was to report the incident to the government's Anti-Commie Task Force. But I didn't want the commies to find out that I was on to them. So my only choice was to play along. "It had nothing to do with the commies," I told myself with more than a hint of irony, "it was just the weather." So instead of the ACTF I called my landlord.

While I was waiting for the landlord to come by, the father of the commie family came to my door to "see if everything was okay" (i.e., gauge the damage caused by their attack). He was using his friendly neighbor face too, but I saw right through it. "Oh, it's bad but it looks like nothing important was damaged," I told him. "It's a shame about that 'weather and blocked drain pipe', isn't it," I said sarcastically. I'm sure he knew what I was driving at.

"We have problem upstairs too," he said. "We have leak on roof. Have to climb roof to tarp it."

I guess they had to do work on their commie transmitter antenna or something, which he thought gave them the perfect alibi. The old "our place is leaking too" defense.

So the landlord came by. He was very helpful. Brought two water pumps, a big fan, and a dehumidifier. All I can really say is that it's going to be a pain in the ass getting that place dry again. We ended up ripping up the carpet in the living room (which involved clearing all my stuff out of there, into a small bedroom), and he sawed a big hole in the floor so he could dry out the crawl space underneath.

The only funny thing about my landlord's appearance is what he said before he left yesterday. "I'm going to have to call the plumber and ask him to put his snake in my drain pipe." So if that's your type of humour there's a little gem for ya. Of course I'm much too mature to find something like that funny.

So it's just damage control for the next few days. The battle against commies continues.

*The bunker is where I live. There is a family of noisy and often leaky commies upstairs.

Communication

2006-10-14T21:32:00.000-07:00

Problems

2006-09-16T20:40:00.000-07:00

Determination

2006-09-10T18:09:00.000-07:00

Perspective

2006-09-08T23:46:00.000-07:00

Potential

2006-09-06T00:51:00.000-07:00

Wanna know the best thing about the Internet? There's something for almost everyone to masturbate to.

However, if you're a motivational consultant or a high-school guidance counsellor there's a specific kind of wall-hanging that gets you off. Of course I'm talking about the "inspirational" poster. Over the next while I will be designing and posting my own series of inspirational posters to facilitate the wankings of those idealist types.

The posters will be available for $30 each.

The quotations are by me, unless otherwise stated. That's because I'm one inspiring motherfucker. You can reprint the quotations, but only with my permission. I expect a lot of people will be wanting to use them, since they're so sweet.

Here is the first one:

The Synchronicity Concert

2006-09-01T21:29:00.000-07:00

Besides my love of blow, I have one thing in common with the people of the 1980s: I enjoy the music of The Police.

I recently found a Police concert DVD on sale at my local video chain, and I felt like I would be a fool not to buy it. I also bought a bag of Twizzlers because they're delicious. The Police DVD turned out to be quite the spectacle, for reasons I hope I can convey through this ever-developing blog-medium, or "blog-eedium" as I've just decided to call it. Don't use that. It's mine.

Anyway, the best part of the DVD turned out to be the shots of people in the crowd. It is a perfect representation of 80's adolescence. For example:

Then there's this guy, who is dancing and having a good time, which is enough to embarass his girlfriend. Here she is, looking totally embarrassed:

It's fun to imagine them as a married couple today. He's a regional manager for a chain of drive-through liquor stores, and she's a dental assistant. He's got a drinking problem. They have sex once a month. Anyway,

THESE GUYS ARE HI-FIVING! YEAH!

One thing about the 80s that I always suspected, but was never confirmed until now is, when people listen to music they do the "80s Snapping Dance". Which basically involves leaning over slightly, bringing one arm up toward your face and snapping your finger. Then you bring that arm down and repeat with the opposite arm. Observe:

My award goes to the girl on the right for the most enthusiastic snap-dancing.

Another hilight of this DVD is the use of cutting-edge video effects. Out of nowhere, they decide to trace a girl's figure as she dances:

Notice that she's doing the snap-dance in the first frame. Then later on on the DVD they do the same thing. This time it's on a guy with a huge cold-sore:

He's snap-dancing too. All the 80's people did it.

My FAVOURITE part of the whole thing is the skinny asian kid. Here he is, rocking out to the Police, when what happens?

The grinning dufus with the orange backpack pushes the cool asian kid out of the frame! What a dick.

Pretty much all of the fun stuff happens in the crowd. There isn't a lot on stage worth mentioning, except for Sting's crazy outfit...

(insert droll fashion humour here)

...and the backup singers, who are not wearing pants:

The only semi-normal looking guy in the band is Stewart Copeland, AKA the frickin' sweetest drummer ever, but even he looks like a cokehead.

A Quickie

2006-07-15T23:15:00.000-07:00

Yes, I am still alive. I get the urge to write on this thing pretty frequently, but unfortunately I have other obligations for the moment. I am currently working on a new web site for the company I work for. Their current site looks like a grade 9 InfoTec project, circa 1998.

And yes, I am still going to the gym. From your e-mails I know that some of you just lost a bet. I'll be back with something new in no time.

By the way, I am very excited about Strapping Young Lad's new album, "The New Black". I am also excited that, after six years of silence, The Rentals have returned and are coming to town.

Let's Healthercize!

2006-05-25T23:34:00.000-07:00

I went to the gym yesterday. Those of you who know me well enough are probably laughing at the thought. Well it's true. I know that I'm not a particularly active guy, and I figured the gym might not be a bad idea. My brother has a membership at a local fitness chain, and he gets to bring a guest for a free trial.

So my trial began. They gave me a little sheet to fill out, and my brother went off to do his workout. The sheet had a little drawing of a guy jogging and below it said "circle the areas that you feel you would like to improve." Now, my intention is not to improve areas. My areas are fine. I mean, I have a slim build which means I have no body fat to worry about, and my muscles work fine. I just felt I needed to be more active. You know, bike machines and stuff. But anyway the sheet told me to cirlce something, so after some consideration I circled the whole picture.

A friendly young girl was then recruited to give me a tour of the facility, and then presumably I'd be off to join my brother. She began the tour by saying "you've chosen the best fitness centre in the world." And then she added, "like, literally." And it's good that she clarified on that, because it would have been a poor metaphor.

The tour ended in a office, where the girl explained she was going to do my "fitness profile". By now my brother was probably finished his workout, but my annoyance gave way to curiosity. Whatever she was about to do, it sounded scientific. Perhaps even useful to me. Surely I could wait a few minutes for the sake of science?

Well the reality was not quite as exciting. She got me to take off my shoes and socks and stand on a machine that looked like a scale. No beeping or whirring noises to prove that it was true science. Just stand on the machine. After a couple of seconds, out pops a little chit of paper that showed my weight, my body fat, and some other stuff. It basically told me that I'm skinny. I already knew that. On the other hand: the girl's interpretation of my body fat rating? "Wow. You're, like, an athlete." This was very flattering, of course, even though I have a hunch I'm not really an athlete. I get tired walking up the stairs. And my hunch was confirmed one minute later when she said "your muscles could be bigger."

I know my muscles could be bigger. But I wasn't there to make my muscles bigger. I'm happy with the way I look, and I told her so. I also told her I was there to basically be more active, and could I please go meet up with my brother. "Okay," she said, "but first you'll have to talk to Sarah."

Sarah was another spunky employee of the fitness centre. She was the one that was going to try to sell me on a membership. She was not particularly bright. Sarah got the conversation started: "so, did you enjoy your fitness profile?" "Yeah," I said, "I really enjoy standing on things." I don't think she thought it was very funny. On the other hand, I don't think she was listening. She was looking at her nails.

Sarah got started. It turns out I was one lucky bastard. Sarah informed me that I just happened to get there while their membership startup fees were on special! Talk about being in the right place at the right time!

Truthfully, in the end I agreed to a trial membership. The thing that finally swayed me was their awesome brochure, which Sarah gave me. Here are the actual graphics from the front:

There are just so many awesome things about this picture, from the poorly worded slogan ("change your life to a new way of living") to the dated stock photography. Aren't these the pictures that came with Corel Draw in 1991?

I'd like to point out that the smiling couple chose a really bad spot for their picnic. As their magical picnic basket floats before them they'll eventually realize they are sitting in the middle of a jogging path.

What really tops it off for me though is the neon yellow ski guy. Do people even ski anymore? I haven't seen rad air like that since I rented Warren Miller's Snowriders (on VHS).

My Little Cold War

2006-05-19T17:08:00.000-07:00

I have a family of commies living upstairs from me. I know they are commies because they speak in a commie tongue, and they send secret communications back to Mother Russia. I think they come from a gene pool that is either hard of hearing or low in seratonin because they are always YELLING at each other in commie-speak. Or maybe tourette's runs in their family. To add to the yelling, they enjoy clomping around instead of walking. They all love to jump down their staircase.

I live in the basement of a fairly old house, and the commies have the upper floors. It's not their house, but they think it is. Or perhaps they're exercising their communist belief in the sharing of posessions. I don't even know if that's a communist thing, but I'll assume it is. Anyway, because it's such an old house it's quite noisy. This isn't aided at all by the clomping and jumping down stairs. The light bulb in my bedroom is constantly burning out because the commies clomp around in their kitchen up above.

This is kind of minor, but I just received a new blue box for recycling, along with bags for newspaper and mixed paper. Apparently before I moved here this suite had those things, but the commies decided to "share" them (i.e. steal them), and so they currently have two blue boxes, one of which is full of kindling and bark. I had none, so I ordered one.

So here's the thing: since I got my shiny new blue box, the commies have been trying to steal THAT one too, and put one of their old crappy ones in its place. As if I wouldn't notice that my new blue box has suddenly become a crappy old one. Silly commies. Anyway, every day for the past two weeks I've come home to find that they've taken my box. I always go get it, put it back in front of my door, and put theirs back. But I know it'll be switched again the next day. Also, last week they filled up my garbage can with their garbage, and some big pieces of particle board. Guess they didn't think I needed it.

Anyway, today I caught one of them red-handed (ha ha). The little bastard was bringing his old crappy blue box to my door. I know it's a minor issue and everything, but I was kind of annoyed. So I beat him to death with a hockey stick. No one else was home, which was good because it gave me time to bury him by their garbage cans. I know, maybe I went overboard with the symbolic burial spot, but I figure now he can spend all his time looking at their crappy old blue box from below. And every time the commies take out their garbage I'll have a little skip in my step.

Show & Tell

2006-05-18T01:04:00.000-07:00

This evening I was accused of being "very sporadic" when it comes to blogging. I'm trying, believe me! It's just that sometimes my life gets in the way of this sort of thing. In my defence, I should say that once upon a time I never thought I'd even have a blog, and I've come a long way since then.

Anyway, since someone mentioned it to me, here's a little something to keep the blog alive.

I thought I'd share with you some of the music-related gear I've acquired over the past couple of months. In a lot of ways I buy this stuff because I think it's cool (and I'm a geek). But I like to tell myself that the real reason I buy this stuff is because it's what I need to unleash my musical creativity. It's an investment into my passion.

First of all, I got myself a fancy new keyboard, Novation's x-Station. As you can see, it is covered with knobs and faders, and it also has a fancy x/y touchpad (like a laptop mouse pad) that can tweak the sound in any variety of ways. The keyboard is a really nice synth, plus through the magic of MIDI, the multitude of knobs and faders gives me actual physical control of music software like Reason and other stuff. The keys are semi-weighted, and have really nice action - a feature I would likely appreciate if I knew how to play. It's times like this when I'm kicking myself for quitting piano lessons when I was young. Oh well, I have it now, I'm sure I'll learn. The scale I do know, I play really well.

Next up is a fun little gadget I discovered on the Internet called MidiNES. This is an actual cartridge for an old Nintendo, which controls the Nintendo's music circuit. The cartridge has a MIDI cable coming out of it, so I can plug it into my x-Station keyboard and make sweet Nintendo music. This thing is awesome. I know, 8-bit Nintendo sounds have been in a lot of music in the past few years, and not all of it has been good music. I know that the time for retro Nintendo music in pop culture has pretty much run its course. Well y'all can just shove it because I still enjoy it. Some part of my childhood comes alive whenever I hear crappy 8-bit triangle waveforms and bursts of static programmed as percussion.

This one was actually given to me by a colleage of mine. I think they're called melodicas, but I like to call it the Blowtron 3000. It's a small keyboard with a hose that comes out of it, which you blow into to create sound. It's kind of like an accordian, kind of like a harmonica, and kind of like a piano.

Again, really wishing here that I had some talent in the keyboard instrument department, but I'm still telling myself that having them around me will create a "vibe" where I am able to play them.

Always my own worst critic, I was thinking "why the hell don't I have any interesting musical ideas?" And I got it into my head that I do actually have some interesting ones, but I never remember them because I'm nowhere near my instruments or computer when they come to me. That is why I got myself a little hand-held tape recorder.

So far it turns out to be a depressing confirmation that I was right in the first place, and I have no musical ideas. But I have the tape recorder now. The ideas will come to me. Okay, actually I have recorded a few little ideas, but it's mostly me beatboxing and going doot-doot-doot to whatever is in my head at the moment (usually when I come out of the shower). This is apparently how Danny Elfman documents his musical thoughts. He'll be on a flight, and the person sitting next to him gets to hear "Percussion: dunnanunna bum bum bum; Flutes: ooooooeeeeooooo" the whole way.

More Fun With Electronics!

2006-03-21T01:53:00.000-08:00

It's okay, I'm still alive. I know all my loyal readers (i.e., Infidelia) have been lying awake at night wondering what I've been up to.

I'm building myself a drum machine. You all may remember that a few months back I built myself a synthesizer. It was a rather good clone of Roland's legendary TB-303 synth, a staple of all kinds of electronic music since the 80's. I enjoyed that project so much that I wanted to do more.

The drum machine I'm building is a clone of Roland's TR-909, which is one of my favourite drum machines. I kind of like it better than the TR-808, which somehow has more notoriety amongst those who don't actually use drum machines. Much of the time, when I mention to someone that I'm building a 909, they will say "I think you mean 808" because they think I got the numbers wrong. I never bother to correct them.

The 909 clone I'm building is called the 9090. And though this is a DIY project, I'm not going to pretend I'm the one who designed it. The 9090 was designed by Trevor Page, and he's the one who made this project possible.

Unlike the 303 clone I did, this project does not come as a kit. That makes it more of a challenge to me because the only parts I get from Trevor are the circuit boards and the chips that contain the sound data for the cymbals. Everything else is up to me, from the transistors to the casing in which the machine will be housed. And there's a lot of parts. I counted over 1,000 electronic components, and that doesn't even include the screws and wires and all the other things to put it all together. It's more than double the parts my synthesizer had.

After a month or two of waiting, my circuit boards arrived last week. There's nothing like the look of an empty circuit board. It's like looking at a roadmap before taking a long trip. I then spent hours and hours with my list of parts (AKA my bill of materials), going through catalogues of electronic parts, tracking down all the bits I need for the project. I managed to get pretty much all of them from Mouser. I had to order one chip from somewhere else. When I get that box from Mouser it's going to contain a buttload of tiny silicone parts.

The preparation before the construction is just as painstaking as the actual building of the instrument. For some reason I love projects that are painstaking like this. If they require hours of dedicated focus and attention to detail, it's great.

I'll keep logging my progress as I go. It's going to be interesting. At least for me.

Mmmm... melted shower curtain.

2006-02-02T22:12:00.000-08:00

Am I a freak?

Sometimes when I'm showering I like to turn the cold water all the way off. It feels good on my back. I get the water so hot that it almost starts to feel cold. Like my nerve endings don't know what to do with the overload of hot. It hurts, but it's a good kind of hurt; like getting your back scratched, really hard. I keep it like that for a couple of minutes, and I almost pass out from pleasure. My back stays pink for a couple of hours afterward.

Anyway, it was on my mind and I thought I'd share. Feel free to psychoanalyze me.

People for Extortion, Terrorism and Arson

2006-02-01T23:18:00.000-08:00

Okay, I rarely get political on this thing, but there's something on my mind, and I may as well post it here.

What is the subject of my ire? It's People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, or PETA. They are an animal rights organization, in case you couldn't figure that out from their name.

There are many things that bother me about PETA, but it can probably be summed pretty simply: while they're passionate about animal rights, PETA have little or no regard for human life. Take their distasteful "Holocaust on Your Plate" campaign for example. In the campaign, PETA drew direct comparisons between animals being shipped to slaughterhouses and Jews murdered in Nazi concentration camps. Way to use human suffering to your advantage, PETA! Are they saying that because I eat chicken I am like a Nazi commandant? Have they forgotten what those images truly mean? Maybe they think the holocaust happened long enough ago that they can use it for whatever bullshit cause they like. It must be public domain by now. Hell, 9/11 is being used that way already.

While they're at it, they might as well use slavery as a comparison. Wait... actually they did. In another campaign that simultaneously displayed their love for animals and utter disregard for humans, PETA juxtaposed pictures of black lynching victims with slaughtered cows. It's okay, slavery doesn't acually happen anymore. The new slaves are animals*.

*And the slaves that still exist in many countries around the world.

There's something interesting about the name PETA. As an acronym, it spells the name of a delicious flatbread that can be dipped in humus. Coincidentally, Helping Ugly Men Understand Singlehood, or "HUMUS", is the name of a nationwide self-help group for lonely guys. They are also known as NAMBLA.

Something else that's interesting about PETA's little acronym is the use of the word "ethical". What's interesting here is that PETA is anything but an ethical organization. In order to achieve their goal of total "animal liberation", PETA has taken some pretty unethical measures. This is getting long, so I'll only mention the biggies.

Meet the Animal Liberation Front (ALF). The ALF is an activist group that actually has the balls to do what PETA can only talk about - commit violent crimes in the name of animal rights. They are responsible for firebombing research labs, meat producers, and whoever else they see as their enemy. Not surprisingly, the ALF has actually been named a "terrorist threat" by America's Department of Homeland Defence. Guess who funds the ALF? Come on, guess! Okay, it's PETA. To the tune of tens of thousands of dollars. Thanks to PETA, many of the ALFs more dispicable players, convicted arsonists and such, have been personally given thousands of dollars in support.

But wait, there's more! Despite all their fuss about animal liberation, PETA is responsible for killing over 10,000 dogs and cats at their Norfolk, VA headquarters. In 2004, according to PETA's own filings, they killed 86.3% of the animals in their care. I don't know how many animals that equals, but 3.5 miles away from PETA, the SPCA killed only 5% of animals in their care.

Here's a funny anecdote: This past July, two PETA employees in North Carolina were charged with animal cruelty after they picked up dogs and cats from shelters and later dumped their dead bodies in a dumpster. Police found 18 dead animals in the bin, and 13 more in the PETA van. According to the police, the vets and animal control folks said PETA promised to find homes for the animals rather than euthanize them. Here's a link.

And it wouldn't be a proper rant about PETA if I didn't offer a few quotes from their leaders. I feel these sum up PETA's pro-animal/anti-people stance:

"[Serial Killer] Andrew Cunanan, because he got Versace to stop doing fur."
-PETA's Dan Mathews, when asked to name a 20th century man he loves. (Versace was murdered by Cunanan)

"Arson, property destruction, burglary, and theft are acceptable crimes when used for the animal cause."
-Alex Pacheco, 1989, director of PETA at the time

"We cannot condemn the Animal Liberation Front ... they act courageously ... [their activities]comprise an important part of today's animal protection movement."
-PETA Statement about ALF's activities, 1991

"Of course we're going to be, as a movement, blowing stuff up and smashing windows...is a great way to bring about animal liberation."
-Bruce Friedrich, PETA, 2001

"Even if animal research resulted in a cure for AIDS, we would be against it."
-Ingrid Newkirk, PETA president

All of the things in this post are verifiable. If it were a school project I'd include all the proper references, but since you're reading this you're obviously already on the Internet. Look it up for yourselves.

My Little Black Box

2006-01-17T00:54:00.000-08:00

Okay, it's time to get geeky again.

I'm following up on my post about the synthesizer I made. Most people, when I tell them I made a synthesizer, assume it's a keyboard of some kind. It's not a keyboard. In fact, I have taken a few pictures of it because I am a huge nerd.

My x0xb0x (on the inside) from the back
My x0xb0x (on the inside) from the front
My x0xb0x in its finished state, in all of its blinking glory.

Since I have a couple of days off, I'll be performing some minor surgery to my little box. I'm modding it a bit. In technical terms, I'll be increasing its awesomeness by about 300%.

Also, since this project was such a success, I've decided to make a friend for my little creation: a drum machine. The drum machine project will probably take longer than the x0x, but it will be oh so sweet.

Okay, I'm sure that's about all the geekines you can take for now.

Talkin' Bout Network TV Blues

2006-01-10T22:12:00.000-08:00

I hate to say it, but I think maybe it's a good time for Arrested Development to go off the air.

I have been watching every episode since the first season, and I think it's one of the best things on TV in a long time. However, when I heard that Fox was thinking about cancelling it I was disappointed, but I can't say I was surprised. Not only does Fox have a track record of cancelling genuinely great shows, but I think the episodes of Arrested Development have been less funny as of late.

I think that may be for a couple of reasons. First, the premise of the show doesn't really lend itself to seasons upon seasons of fresh material. The central story of the family being in financial trouble and trying to get itself back on its feet can only go so far. To the credit of the writers, they've managed find ways of keeping it interesting for two and a half seasons. And of course there are lots of great little sub-plots, plus the characters are the funniest on TV right now. Sadly though, those are outweighed by the ever-thinning central plot.

Secondly, I think some of the best, most creative shows on TV were only meant to last a short while. As much as we all like new episodes of our favourite show, there's something to be said about a show quitting while it's ahead. I think BBC's The Office was perfect at two seasons' length. One of my other favourite shows, Mr. Show ended after it's fourth - and best - season. They could have probably made some more great episodes, but I think it ended/was cancelled at the right time. No one likes to see a great show jump the proverbial shark.

So, sad as I am to think about it, Arrested Development is probably better off ending gracefully at the end of this season. Maybe the same creative forces can do something else worth watching? That would be nice.

Hail Santa

2005-12-26T00:31:00.000-08:00

I remember being surprised when I first heard that people are often depressed around Christmas time. Now I understand. Every year around this time I feel like pressing the "skip chapter" button on my life. I can't stand Christmas. I hate it. I'm miserable. I want everyone to take down their damn lights and just shut up.

Fuck.

Your favourite band sucks.

2005-12-16T21:41:00.000-08:00

You know what really sucks? Acoustic folksy rock singers. They're personal. They're deep. They have a story to tell. And they make the mistake of assuming we care. There's enough bullshit in rock and roll as it is. We don't need any more crappy troubadours along the lines of Hayden, Damien Rice, Iron and Wine, and Sufjan Stevens. The only people who care are college-age girls, and they generally have bad taste in music anyway. They're drawn to formulaic emoting like flies are to shit.

Actually, let's cut the crap, right here and now. I'll tell you what actually sucks. Rock and roll. Fuck rock and roll. It's bullshit building upon bullshit. Rock and roll is about some bullshit "attitude". It's about being cool. Rock and roll is not about a message, though it's been used for that. Rock and rollers with a message are usually assholes anyway. See the above paragraph. It's sure as hell not about good music or good singing, although that does occur once in a while, probably by accident. Rock and roll is tired and old. It's on life support, plugged in by an industry. What rock and roll really needs is a fucking bullet in the head. Then let's move on and do something new.

Forever and ever. Amen.

Behold!

2005-12-14T00:40:00.000-08:00

I have built a synthesizer. I've been working on it for several weeks now, and today I finally finished it. It is a thing of beauty.

It is a clone of Roland's TB-303 Bassline Synth, which was a big sound in 90's electronic music. This particular clone is called the x0xb0x, and it comes as a kit, which you have to solder together. So now I have two things: 1. A VERY close reproduction of the original 303, which I have always wanted to own, and 2. the satisfaction of having built it myself. So far, only a couple hundred of these have been made. Mine is #164.

I have made a little demo for you all to hear. Here it is, in all its glory. Right-click the link to save the song.

Has it been that long?

2005-12-09T00:26:00.000-08:00

Dear Mr. Lennon,

It's been 25 years since some crazy bastard shot you dead. That's a long time. I was too young to know who you were when it happened, but it wasn't long before I learned.

The earliest introduciton I had to your music was in elementary school. I had this burnt-out hippie music teacher named Miss Buzzby. I just want to apologize on her behalf right now. She tought us lots of Beatles songs and Lennon songs, like Yellow Submarine and Imagine. I think she got off on having twenty fourth-graders sing her favourite songs. It left a bad taste in my mouth though, and I ended up thinking I hated the Beatles. I'm sure that wasn't her plan. Anyway, when I was 20 or so I discovered that you were actually pretty cool.

You accomplished a lot in your time. Your early music was light-hearted and simple. Kind of cheesy, if you ask me. You would have probably been a footnote in musical history if you hadn't started doing drugs. Thank god for acid. In your time you wrote some of the best songs ever. You were more popular than Jesus. I'm guessing though that you hadn't quite achieved all you had hoped before you were shot. And now for 25 years you've watched us.

Some of us have tried to carry on what you had begun. Some amazing music has been written, thanks to your band's influence. Unfortunately, a lot of shitty music has also been made, thanks to you. Have you heard Oasis? They pretty much think they're doing the same thing you did. Also, did you know worthless bands like Everclear claim that you've been an influence on their music? Is that the legacy you want?

Your ideas about peace and love were pretty neat. I guess that's not going to happen for a while though. It's a shame that most of the people who still share that vision are dirty hippie douches. I'll bet you're not too happy about that either. I mean, that was all well and good in the 60s, and into the 70s, but the summer of love is over. There are no more bed-ins. Let's move on already. If world peace comes about, it won't smell like B.O. and patchouli.

Anyway, it's past 1am, and the anniversary of your death is past. I'll drink to your legacy. Say hi to George for me.

Nog's Eve Eve

2005-11-29T18:34:00.000-08:00

Well, the big event is almost upon us. In the hours remaining before the Nog's Eve party, I'd like to share the "official" Nog's Eve Rules of Order. Of course, the most important rule is that you don't drink egg nog until December, but there are a few other rules and guidelines. If you're orthodox like me, you will cherish these laws like the writings of Moses.

The Rules

1) Egg Nog may only be consumed between 12:00:01am, December 1, and 11:59:59 pm, December 31.

2) Invitations by phone or mail to past celebrants are strictly prohibited. They should remember on their own (this shows the importance for each group to have a consistent meeting place each year).

3) The first and last Egg Nog for each individual MUST contain some volume of coffee.

4) Traditions are meant to be kept. As it stands any new tradition must be added to the front end of the evening. The traditions of those who went before you will be done in the reverse order to which they were conceived. For example: The traditions of the First Generation Noggers (FGNs) will be done last in the evening and just prior to midnight. The traditions of the Second Generation Noggers will come just before those of the FGNs and so on.

5) All MUST partake.

6) Newcomers are to remain silent during the toasts - they will be included next year!

7) Mockers are not to be tolerated.

8) Any deviation from the rules results in expulsion of the deviator for one full year (technically the person with the infraction is not welcome to Nog's Eve the following year so it is like a two year suspension - pretty stiff penalty).

9) There must be an evening Captain. Generally this is the host; however, it could be an elder in the group. The captain is responsible for the flow of the evening and the execution of all the necessary actions. It is also the responsibility of the captain to arrange enough Nog, Coffee, and Mugs for all to participate. A bad Captain spells a bad Nog's Eve.

10) There must be a large and accurate clock for all to see. Because of the general light hearted atmosphere it is easy to lose track of time and have to cram all the activities in at the last minute only serving to cause confusion and lack of coffee for all - and could result in the expulsion of everyone at the celebration.

There are several traditional Nog's Eve toasts that should be said at any Nog's Eve party. Here they are, including the proper times for them to be given. It helps to print out several copies of this for all to read:

Nog’s Eve Toasts

11:45 – Individual Toasts:

Captain calls for attention.
Coffee is poured and drinks are readied.
In turn each person calls a toast of good tidings and thanksgiving (individual to make this up).
All must participate, except newcomers; newcomers must remain silent during all toasts. They will be included next year!

11:55 – Traditional Toasts:
The toasters will be pre-appointed.

Toaster #1: A toast to the chicken!
All: Chicken, chicken, it's finger lickin’!

Toaster #2: A toast to the nutmeg!
All: Nutmeg, nutmeg go on you pull my leg!

Toaster #3: A toast to Jamaica!
All: Jamaica, Jamaica ohh I wanna take ya!

Toaster #4: A toast to the Lord!
All: Amen!

11:59 – Toast to All:
Toaster will be pre-appointed.

Final Toaster: I'd rather be with you people than with some of the finest people in the world!

All: Here, here!

Captain: Merry Buttbells!

All: Happy Poinsettia!

Well, there you have it. If this is your first Nog's Eve party, you're all set. Of course, if it's a party full of only first-time noggers, you will still need an evening captain, and the rule of silence for newcomers gets overruled. It's better to have toasts than to have silent newcomers in that situation.

Have fun. Merry buttbells to all!

Indy-er Than Thou

2005-11-22T22:29:00.000-08:00

Oh god, what are you listening to? The Dandie Puffs? Man... You still listen to them? I stopped listening to that band as soon as they released Winter Cauldron. I mean, what a load of derivative crap! They should have never signed on to that big label. I know, their newer stuff is good enough for the average "indy" listener (like you) but not me. I only listen to true independent label artists. I am WAY indy-er than thou.

And sure, now everyone's in to The Czars as if they're this brand new thing. Give me a break! I was in to The Czars way before everyone else. You think their first album was good? Well you should have seen them open for The Sattelites back in '03. Now THAT was a fuckin' show! Bet you wish you were there to see that, don't you. Well I was, so shut the fuck up. They're not even cool anymore, anyway. I heard Interscope wants to pick them up, so there's another decent band about to sell out.

What's that? My favourite bands? Oh, I get it, you want to know what bands I listen to, so you can tell me they suck right? Well, go ahead and try. I bet you haven't even heard of ANY of the bands I listen to. They're all independent. Do you know The Runs? Didn't think so. How bout The Soviets? No. The Condensers? Kill Baby Kill? No chance. Don't bother though; you wouldn't like any of those bands if you're still listening to The Dandie Puffs these days.

If you do feel like expanding your narrow musical palate, you could check out The Soviets at the Green Club this weekend. I think I'm going. I'll be the one off to the side with the bored expression on his face. I know I just said I liked that band, but they're nothing new to me these days. You can tell how indy I am by how bored I look at shows.

The way I see it, if a band is popular enough to get signed to a major label, they're not worth listening to anymore. How can a band maintain true artistic integrity and at the same time appeal to the bleating flocks of music consumers? And do you really want to be part of that flock? I, for one, belong to a much more independent flock. The thinking consumer's flock.

That guy from The Killers said it best: it's indy rock & roll for me. What a fucking sellout.

The Real Meaning of Nog's Eve

2005-11-14T23:52:00.000-08:00

Okay, since my first post about Nog's Eve it has become apparent that far too many of you have no idea what Nog's Eve is about. So here's the lowdown.

Some Background

Nog's Eve is founded on two basic beliefs:

1. Egg Nog is delicious
and
2. In order to maximize enjoyment of Egg Nog, it is best to restrict drinking to one month out of the year.

The first belief is self-explanatory, and if you don't agree then you might as well stop reading. Nog's Eve isn't for you, and you're going to hell.

The second belief came from an observation. Every year about this time, grocery stores start stocking their shelves with Egg Nog, and, of course, Nog lovers buy it. The average Nog drinker will find themselves enjoying the delicious (see belief #1) Egg Nog for about four or five weeks, after which they will experience Nog Overload. For some, the threshold is a couple of weeks, for others it's six weeks.

Following this observation, certain people far wiser than I discussed the issue. Around 1989, the very first Nog Council convened. It is better described in the words of Tim, one of the original Elders of Nog, in a letter to me circa 2000:

It was determined that Egg Nog, while loved by most, was subject to losing its attractiveness after being consumed over a three month period. The rampant over commercialization of Christmas had dragged Egg Nog kicking and screaming into a position where over indulgence could rear its ugly head. Hence, It was decided that a curfew of sorts be imposed on the partaking of Egg Nog so that all may enjoy the goodness and none may fall into the mire of disinterest.

After more discussion, the council agreed on a one month curfew for the Nog drinking. Naturally, the month of December was chosen.

Here's Where Nog's Eve Come In

Since it was decided that Egg Nog should only be consumed in the month of December, a great celebration is held on the eve of December 1. Therefore every November 30 is Nog's Eve, the eve of the month of Nog. On Nog's Eve, Nog lovers get together and, on the stroke of midnight, everyone partakes of their first Nog together.

That's it. That's what it's all about.

In closing, I urge you brothers and sisters to remain firm in your commitment to the traditions and laws of Nog's Eve (more on the laws later). Be strong against the temptation to partake before December. Egg Nog lattes count, by the way.

There's This Band...

2005-11-07T00:06:00.000-08:00

Everyone who plays music and aspires to be part of the industry should read this:

The Problem With Music
by Steve Albini
from Maximum Rock n' Roll #133

Albini is best known for his production/engineering work with Nirvana and The Pixies. I believe this article was published in 1993, but it is still totally relevant. In short, he explains from an insider's perspective how bands get screwed by record labels.

The Origins of Nog's Eve

2005-11-02T20:39:00.000-08:00

I'm sure you're all like me. As the month of November begins, my mind is drawn to the celebration that will occur in just a few short weeks. A mirthful celebration centered on friends, loved ones and merriment. Of course you all know I'm talking about Nog's Eve.

Or perhaps you have no idea what I'm talking about, and are thinking about clicking through your favorites folder to find something more interesting. Perhaps some porn. Well, before you get your vaseline, read of the greatest holiday ever told: Nog's Eve.

The origin of Nog's Eve is one of mankind's greatest mysteries. Some say it began around 1800 BC, in the time of Moses. This theory is mainly based on passages found in Moses' autobiography, Moses' Little Black Scroll (not found in the bible). For example:

1And the sons of Jacob took from the Caananites the nog of eggs. Yea, even much fine nog. 2And in the twelfth day of the month of Shevat did they build an altar to the Lord for delivering unto them the Nog of Caanan.

3And then did the Lord command unto them, "Thou shalt not drink of the Nog until the month of Adar, and in that month only shall you drink of the Nog."

4And the Isrealites erected a golden calf to worship in honour of the gift of Nog.
(MLBS 6:1-4)

Some, on the other hand, claim that Nog's Eve (as we celebrate it today), has its origins in Holland. The Dutch legend of the Magical Chicken Cow tells of a supernatural chicken-like creature with cow udders which produced Egg Nog. The Chicken Cow, which was immortalized in song by the late Wesley Willis, was said to appear in the poorest villages, and its nog would save people from starvation. When one village became too greedy with the nog, the chicken cow left. From that point on, the Chicken Cow would only visit villages for one month out of the year: the month of December.

Whatever the origins, Nog's Eve has certainly found its way into all of our hearts, as one of our society's most cherished holidays, alongside such celebrations as Kleinfeld Day and AIDS for Everyone Day.

I'll be sure to post more about Nog's Eve in this month leading up to it. Thanks for reading. You may now spank it.

God Dammit

2005-10-27T23:01:00.000-07:00

I feel like crying.

Some poor bastard who didn't know any better sold a mint condition Roland TB-303 Bass Line synth in its original package for $150.00 on eBay. I feel like crying for two reasons: 1. the guy could have easily sold it for at least $1000.00, and 2. I didn't find out about it in time. I would have bought that in a second.

I have dreams about synthesizers like that one. I can easily spend hours at my computer playing software synths. I got started using Rebirth (the TB-303's software equivalent) about seven or eight years ago. I sometimes fantasize about owning a modular Moog synth. I think if I was stupidly rich I'd have a large room full of such toys. In a way though, I'm grateful that I can't afford all the toys I daydream about. I usually find that after I own something for a while it's not nearly as great to me as it was before I had it.

Nintendo is a perfect example of that. When I was little, my parents didn't want me to own a NES. They said that if I had one I'd waste too much time with it. As a result, every time I went to my friends' places I'd be completely obsessed with their Nintendo. They were all sick of their Nintendos, of course, which I thought was absolutely insane. How can you be bored of this? Look! He jumps when I press 'A'!! Now I understand what my parents didn't: my interest in Nintendo could have been snuffed out if my parents simply bought me one. Didn't think that one through now, did you Mom and Dad? Besides, I had computer games. If Nintendo was such a waste of time, how come I had computer games?? And why didn't you tell me I was adopted?

A few open-ended questions

2005-09-08T20:34:00.000-07:00

Okay, I'm sorry I haven't written much lately. It's been almost a month since my last post, but I do feel I have still been somewhat active on my blog since then, what with all the comments. Anonymous posters suck. At least choose a fake name, dammit.

Really, I haven't had a whole lot of burning issues on my mind. I do have a few general questions that I would like to put out there, into the digital ether.

Are all goth chicks bi?

Do all hippies enjoy drum circles?

Where do baby storks come from?

And, yeah, I do have one little issue on my mind. It's more of an observation, really. Here it is: almost all girls have bad taste in music. Of course, that's based on the benchmark of my own personal taste in music, but fuck you, I have good taste in music. My preferences are the correct ones.

Anyway, this is not really a big problem to me. It's just something I've come to terms with. I'm at peace with the fact that any girl I date will be in to The Cure, Dave Matthews, Jack Johnson, Death Cab for Cutie, Coldplay, and probably Bob Marley. Throw in some 80's pop hits, maybe Franz Ferdinand or Iron & Wine, and you have pretty much every girl there is. Sometimes I think it's a shame, but I guess it's kind of cute. Like a stutter or a low IQ. Anyway, it's not something I can change.

Also, wanna know something funny? After I wrote the tattoo post I discovered that a dear friend of mine has a "carpe diem" tattoo. She read the blog and was very gracious in telling me about her tattoo. I'm sorry friend, I still think the carpe diem t-shirt would be hilarious. Also, another person in my close circle of friends has a tribal tattoo which he picked off the wall. Ah well, it's still a neato tat. After all this discussion I'm seriously contemplating the anchor on my shoulder. Maybe a skull & crossbones. Hmmmm. Maybe.

Your Tattoo Sucks

2005-08-11T21:21:00.000-07:00

I am a fan of tattoos. Actually, I have very mixed feelings about them. On one hand, they can look so great, and really represent who people are and accentuate their bodies; on the other hand, I see way more bad tattoos than good ones.

By the way, can we please stop acting like tattoos are so hard core? Everyone has a tattoo now. It's not some fringe thing anymore. Tattoos are about as hard core as eyebrow rings. Unless it's a prison tat or it depicts an act of bestiality, your tattoo is not shocking. Sorry.

That's the problem with these anti-mainstream fads. As corny as it sounds, they become the mainstream and lose their necessary shock value. The mohawk has become a cute hairstyle. Piercings of all kinds are run of the mill. Branding/scarring has about one or two years' shock value left in it. If you want to do something to your body that will really shock people you'll have to go way beyond what's being done now. Become morbidly obese (it doesn't count if you're fat to begin with - it has to be deliberate). Cut off some fingers. Have surgeons give you a cleft palate. Get a vanity colostomy. Make your body modifications count. Tattoos are for pussies.

Anyway, like I said, most tattoos are bad tattoos. They're sometimes bad because they're poorly drawn or placed, sometimes they’re just way too common a design, and sometimes they’re the type of tattoo that you know will be regretted for most of that person’s life. I’d like to do a blog made up entirely of bad tattoo photos. Because I’m lazy I’m not going to dig any pictures up right now. Instead, here are some simple guidelines to help you figure out whether or not your tattoo sucks.

If you have a nautical star tattoo, like the one on this guy’s shirt (what the fuck?), it’s a bad tattoo. Most star tattoos are lame, just because there are so many of them.

As much as I like the look of tattooed words, if you have a text tattoo of any kind, chances are it's a bit lame. There just aren't enough phrases great enough to be visibly displayed on your body. Choosing your favourite phrase for a tattoo is like choosing your favourite bumper sticker: it's cheesy no matter what you choose.

Actually, my favourite word-tattoo is carpe diem. It's fucking hilarious. It's the counterpart to "shit happens" in the yin yang of campiness. I'd get a carpe diem tattoo just for irony. Of course no one would know it was a joke. I'd get into all these awesome discussions with people:
- Hey, I really like your tattoo. Carpe Diem. What a great motto to live by.
- Yeah, after I rented Dead Poets Society it kind of became my philosophy, you know?
- Oh, I hear ya. It's the type of phrase that never goes stale.
- I'm inspired every time I look at my shoulder.

I'd get sick of it pretty quickly, I'm sure. Maybe a carpe diem tattoo t-shirt would be a better idea.

Back to my handy guide to bad tats: If you have a tribal tattoo of any kind, it probably sucks. Especially if it's a tribal arm band. And especially if you chose it off the wall at the tattoo shop.

If you have a kanji tattoo, a sanscrit om tattoo, or the lyrics to a song, it's probably a bad tattoo.

I'm starting to sound like Jeff Foxworthy. That means it's time to stop.

Chakra and Cheese

2005-07-29T22:38:00.000-07:00

Dammit.

I was making myself a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner, and the cheese slicer was struggling with a particularly think chunk of cheese. I yanked it, to try and force it through, but it slipped and ended up slicing my thumb.

Now, I cut myself (accidentally) quite a bit. I have a pretty high pain threshold. I burn myself all the time too; it's in my job description. Most of that stuff doesn't really bother me that much. This cut hurt a lot. Much more than your everyday "ow, that really hurt" cut, which indicated to me that it was pretty deep. I was tempted to probe, just to see how deep a cut I was dealing with, but if I learned one thing from dating a nurse it's this: don't check how deep your cut is. Apply pressure to the cut as soon as it happens, hold the pressure for a minute or two, and much of the wound will heal within that short period of time.

That principle can be applied to many of life's "cuts". Hold your hand over them and they'll go away. Okay, that really just works for the cuts on your skin.
Your metaphorical "skin".
Actually, just your literal skin.

What the hell am I talking about? Oh yeah, the cut hurt like a bitch for about half an hour, and the bleeding just wouldn't stop till I wrapped it tight in a band-aid. Then I went and finished making my sandwich. If my blood earned me anything, it's a goddamn sandwich. You can put that on my tombstone.

In other news, the yoga clothes folks across from where I work wanted me to try on some clothes, to test them. It seems they don't get a lot of guys in their store, and they're trying to perfect their line of clothes. Actually, even though it's not the type of stuff I'd wear, it was actually pretty nice. Like I said before, it makes you feel instantly athletic.

I still question yoga as a pseudo-religious practice. I just don't see the connection between stretching and spirituality. Maybe it's because I question spirituality in general. I mean, it's a nice idea and I'm sure it brings meaning to a lot of lives, but I don't see any evidence of a "spirit world". By the way, do we necessarily need to believe in a spiritual realm in order to embrace spirituality or spiritual practices? Maybe not, but to have one without the other smacks of bullshit.

I'm gonna go tend to my thumb now. Friends, if your cheese slicer won't go through the cheese, just give up and use peanut butter instead.

Mothership Connection

2005-07-27T14:56:00.000-07:00

As I said before, my brother is in China. He is working with low-functioning retarded orphans in a city called Changsha. I guess we don't say retarded anymore, do we. Or maybe it's changed back to that. I can't keep track.

Here's an excerpt from an e-mail he sent yesterday. I felt like sharing it because 1. it's amusing, and 2. I don't have anything else to write right now:

What's up! I'm in China... or Richmond, I can't really tell the difference

...

zing!

It's still hot, dirty, smugy, snugoogly, and of course snickerdoodly here.

Ah, pure gold. Of course that wasn't his whole e-mail, but since I don't have his permission to share it on a public site, that's all I'm quoting.

Return of the Lotus Dragon

2005-07-22T18:37:00.000-07:00

My brother just went to China, the country I fondly remember for Most Loogies Horked. Without any exaggeration, even little old ladies will regularly hock up their esophageal nastiness and loudly spit it. Indoors. I guess they're used to a time when spitoons were at every corner, but those days are "Old China". This is "New China", the gleaming beacon of industry in Asia, and there will be no more spitoons. But people will still spit.

Here's a little lesson on what music people like to listen to in China. Their regular song rotation consists of seven songs. Here they are, in order of popularity:

Any song by Kenny G. - Yes, while Mr. G's career isn't what it used to be in North America, he is thriving in China. He wrote some song in honour of China, called "Lilly Flower" or "Dragon Lilly" or "Lotus Dragon Lilly Flower" or something, and they just love him for it. They'll put on a Kenny G. CD at restaurants and just let it repeat all day. Kenny-mania has grown to such a frenzy that other adult contemporary, pseudo-jazz saxophone players have started to reap the benefits as well.

"My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion - You know, the song from Titanic. Remember how eight years ago you were sick of that song? Apparently Chinese DNA includes a resistance to song-fatigue. I think Celine should forget the Vegas gig and move to Beijing. This tune is even more popular than ever because Kenny G. plays a version of it. Both versions are played widely. Both are horrible.

"I Believe I Can Fly" by R. Kelly - I got to know this song very well during my stay in China. In case you don't know it, here are some of the lyrics: "I believe I can fly / I believe I can touch the sky / I think about it every night and day / Spread my wings and fly away..." etc. You get the point. It's like a song I would have written as a joke in high school. There's even a gospel choir. Blahh.

"Right Here Waiting" by Richard Marx - This one's an oldie but definitely a goody. Next time I do Karaoke I'm singing it. Everyone my age and older who has ever played piano has attempted to play this song. I know I did.

"Hotel California" - I don't know why. I just don't know. It's everywhere. I was even in a musical instruments shop in Chengdu and I heard some Chinese rocker playing it. I guess that's their "Stairway to Heaven". Led Zeppelin, incidentally, is impossible to find anywhere.

"Tears in Heaven" - This is a decent song with some genuinely tender sentiment behind it. Lord knows why they like it in China though. No one understands a word of it. Part of me wishes this was higher on the list, because it's marginally better than Celine Dion.

"Auld Lang Syne" - Yes, that's right, it's the song that people sing at midnight on New Year's Eve. Immortalized by Robbie Burns, not even Scottish people know what the hell it means, let alone the mostly Mandarin-speaking population of China. Why shouldn't they play it all year round? After all, they don't even celebrate the New Year at the same time as us! This tune is also a popular ring tone in China. I can't figure out if they have the ring tone because it's a popular song or if it's popular because of the ring tone (their ring tones are precious to them).

It's pretty interesting to me that the songs I heard most in China were American ones. Maybe I just remember them more because I knew them, but I'm pretty sure these were played more than Chinese pop songs. It's a clear example of the Chinese embracing western culture without completely understanding it. Even the Chinese pop songs are very American sounding, which makes them both funny and weird. Especially the Chinese hip-hop. Especially the Chinese hip-hop videos.

Think of how ridiculous it would be if Western popular music started modelling itself after traditional Chinese music. It would be far more exciting if Chinese musicians stuck to their own roots and allowed the music of China to evolve by itself, alongside the Chinese boom of industry. It would probably make for some really cool stuff.

Matt, if you're reading this, I'm sorry you must endure the music and the horking. Just be glad you brought all those CDs of your own.

Half-Erect Activism

2005-07-15T20:29:00.001-07:00

Every single day on my way to and from work I pass a giant poster ad for some sort of car. One day I noticed that some daring revolutionary decided to write on the poster the words "kill your car", in black jiffy. It really made me think. It was as if my whole single-passenger driving culture had been "jammed". I immediately got a bus pass and joined Greenpeace.

I see these felt pen sermons a lot in my city. Who are these people that do this sort of thing? I'll tell you what I do know: they probably did it in the middle of the night, they probably wore bandanas over their faces like these assholes, and they probably took a picture of their handiwork with a digital camera and sent it to Adbusters as an example of radical "culture jamming". What are they hoping will happen? That everyone who sees it will realize how they're hurting our planet? That other daring scribes will brandish their sharpies in revolt? Maybe Naomi Klein will come thank them for the good work they're doing, and then they'll all jerk each other off at Under the Volcano.

My favourite is this spray-painted message I see everywhere: BUSH + WTO = 911 GOOGLE.COM LOOK IT UP, or something like that. I don't remember the exact equation because, 1.) it's very hard to read when you're driving, and 2.) I was never that good at math anyway.

There's some intense irony in the fact that this particular anti-globalization message tells us to look it up on the Internet, one of the biggest products of globalization. I'll bet whoever wrote the message owns a cell phone too. If these folks are truly against globalization they will abandon all of its fruits. That means no cell phones, no pagers, no computers, no Internet, no planes. In twenty years' time they will be in pretty much the same spot as the Amish are today.

To any Amish people reading this, I mean no disrespect.

Can You Forgive Me?

2005-07-14T22:21:00.000-07:00

Since I wrote my last post I have received an assload of e-mails from folks telling me that it was offensive.

"Suicide is no laughing matter," says Friend Number 1. "You shouldn't writing [sic] so flippantly about such an awful subject. I thought you were more sensitive than that..."

"Murray, I thought the Yoga thing was cute but you went too far with the rock suicide thing. I didn't get it," Friend Number 2 tells me.

I have a whole folder full of these in Outlook. I guess I should respond. First of all, I am not writing any of these things to make you laugh. That's not my goal. I'm just getting things off my chest, and trying to make you think. But this time YOU made ME think! And you're right.

I was being insensitive. I'm sorry.

But to make it more meaningful to you all, I shall state my Clean Blog Loyalty Oath:

I, Murray, do hereby solemnly swear, under no circumstances to mention for satirical purposes: suicide, retards, wheelchair people, AIDS, stupidity, fatties, Christians, people with hearing aids, hippies, ugly people, Freemasons, environmentalists, foreigners, Ben Gibbard, fecal matter, Jews, gay people, schizophrenia, blind people, penises, vaginas, Mormons, white trash, the elderly, masturbation, cancer patients, semen, chiropractors, veganism, Americans, cripples, psychics, gunts, A.D.D., Texans, sexual acts including (but not limited to) the rimjob, the hot carl, the shocker, the dirty sanchez, the donkey punch, the Cleveland steamer, and the rusty trombone.

So help me God.

Suicide: Something to Breathe Life Into Today's Music Scene

2005-07-12T13:37:00.000-07:00

We haven't had a good old-fashioned rock & roll suicide in a while. Seems like in the 90's they happened every six months or so. Now the last one I can remember is Layne Staley, but he didn't so much commit suicide as become a living corpse that eventually slipped into the netherworld. Not a very glamorous death. Not like a shotgun to the head, autoerotic asphyxiation, or even a run-of-the-mill O.D.

My nominations for our next rock star suicide are:

Jack White
I don't particularly like Jack White, but my main reason for nominating him is because it would be a pretty spectacular death. Jack obviously likes rehashing rock & roll, so however he decided to kill himself it would be in the tradition of someone big. Maybe he can die taking a shit like Elvis, or an alcohol overdose like John Bonham?

John Mayer
John Mayer's suicide wouldn't be nearly as sexy as Jack White's. Mainly because Jack White has some balls and Mayer's a big pussy. He would probably go quietly with some sleeping pills or something, and that would be that.

All the members of Franz Ferdinand
It wouldn't even have to be a suicide. If they all died in a plane or a bus crash that would be just fine. Sometimes when rock stars die people realize how brilliant they were, and a huge boom of post-humous popularity ensues. This wouldn't happen if we lost Franz Ferdinand. We'd get on with our lives without any sense of loss.

Ben Gibbard
Perhaps the most annoying figure in music today, Ben Gibbard would benefit from his own death almost as much as we would. If he died now he would enjoy a wave of popularity that could possibly last longer than his current 15 minutes of annoying fame. At any rate, I'm sure he'll be in the "where are they now" file before long. See? I'm an optimist!

Stretchy Pants, Enlightenment for Sale

2005-07-09T23:41:00.000-07:00

There's a new yoga clothing store across from where I work.

I think it's great that the yogics are finally trying to profit from their pseudo-religious stretching exercises. After all, what's a religion without a cash-grab?

Yoga clothes are the new fleece. In Vancouver people like to wear fleece vests and other hiking paraphenalia to make themselves look super outdoorsy. Put it on and immediately look like you're in shape. It's a great substitute for exercise, plus it appeals to our love of purchasing things.

I'm all for the yoga clothes trend. Nothing makes an ass look good like a pair of Lululemon pants. Thank you Ganesh!

The first one...

2005-07-09T23:14:00.000-07:00

I do enjoy a good rant from time to time. This seems like a good place to pinch them out whenever they come knockin'. Who knows if anyone will read it, but that's not really the point.