I miss the honky tonks, Dairy Queens, and 7-Elevens

I have to admit I was a little disappointed when I heard Kevin Smith was making a sequel to his 1994 breakout film, Clerks. Let me explain.

I first saw Clerks at an art-house theatre in Waterloo in my first year of university. I had been working clerk-ish jobs for about 5 years, and I could relate to everything that I saw on screen: the annoying customers, the surly co-workers, the getting screwed into working way more than you should. In an age when "American Indy" film was plagued by people making Hollywood-seque narratives with no-name actors, Clerks truly was different, edgy and in your face. People talked like people I knew and talked about things my friends (mostly) talked about. In a film (the only one up until then and possibly since) given the kiss-of-death NC-17 rating solely for dialogue- no guns, no sex, no (discernible) nudity- I found charatcers I knew. I went tohighschool with a number of Randalls, guys who would say literally anything in order to shock people and then claim not to understand why other people found it offensive.

Since Clerks Smith has had his share of hits and misses, most of which take place in Smith's fictional world (or "Askewniverse). His next flick, Mallrats was trashed by critics, flopped at the box office but has found its niche on home video and DVD. Chasing Amy, Smith's "apology film", was a return to the edgier content of Clerks, this time with professional actors and a more competent Smith at the helm. Independently financed, Chasing Amy is my personal favourite of Smith's work, a postmodern love story about a boy in love with a girl who likes girls. Then there were the Jay and Silent Bob driven Dogma and Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, the former a (mostly) thoughtful examination of religion and faith, the later a masturbatory fluff piece replete with star cameos, none-to-subtle references to previous films, and lots of fourth wall breaking *wink-wink* glances to the audience. 2004's Jersey Girl marked a directional shift in Smith. This was the first of his films to exist outside the Askewniverse, a world Smith claimed to be putting to bed. With an enviable cast, including the frequently used Affleck and George Carlin, Liv Tyler, Jason Biggs (that pie-f#*$er) and Jennifer Lopez. The film is solid, but ultimately weak: a romantic comedy with a cute child. Its poor performance at the box-office can be blamed as much on the media's overexposure of "Bennifer" as anything else. Jersey Girl is no Gigli, but after that steaming pile of horse crap, people avoided anything that had those two sharing screen time. But the film, inspired by Smith's new role as father, showed maturity and promise. There was talk of a Smith-helmed Fletch movie (which sounded great but feel through) and he seemed to be turning his attention new stories. But then he announced his next film would be a sequel to his first film, then titled "Passion of the Clerks." And I wondered if Smith, like Dante and Randall, is doomed to a repetive existence, stuck in the same deadend role, film after film.

So, what make Smith return to the Askewniverse that established him as a creative force after claiming it had run its course? Was it the failure of the Jersey Girl> Was it the promise to the recovering Jason Mewes that if he stayed clean he could play Jay one more time? Was it, as Smith said, that he simply fell in love with the Clerks characters all over again while putting together the Tenth Anniversary DVD? Whatever the reason, Clerks II was made. And, for the most part, I'm glad that it was.

The real stand out in this film is Rosario Dawson. She's absolutely perfect. So incredibly beautiful, yet so down to earth. A non-made up beauty you really can find in the real world. You can see her working in a dead-end job and you can totally see Dante falling for her. While Brian O'Hallaran and Jeff Anderson are very good in their roles, Rosario has a lot of different things to convey in her scenes. She does it every time, from dancing on the rooftop, to trying to act tough, to fragility. I've heard that Ms Dawson doesn't think of herself as a sex-symbol. While to limit her to that role would be gravely short-sighted, she is very sexy.

Clerks II is not Clerks, but then it shouldn't be. You can't go home. Or, you can, but you'll find that your mom's thrown out your comic books and Reservoir Dogs posters and turned your room into a sewing room. If you go expecting things to be different, and allow for those changes you might be surprised. Make no mistake, the dialogue is as raw and disgusting as ever, but there's sweetness and gentleness beneath the bestiality jokes here that I'm afraid will go unseen by the Mallrats-loving potheads or the uppity conservative filmgoers who will avoid this film all together. But that's always been Smith's major limitations: he's hardly ever recognized for the sum of his talents. His capital-P Potty mouth often alienates people who would appreciate the intelligence and subtly of his work. Where else are you going to get an extended donkey sex scene in the same movie that gives you a whimsical dance number?

This is the celebration of Smith's world that Jay and Silent Bob Strikes Back should have been: no crass mugging for the camera, no celebrity whoring (except for that Affleck cat, but given his importance to the Askewniverse he deserves to be there). In the final scene, a touching nod to Clerks with Smith's friend, "the Lon Chaney of the 90s," Walt Flanagan orders a pack of smokes from Dante. The colour fades. We're back in the world of Black and White, customers and clerks. People know what they want here, unlike at Moobey’s where everything has to be contemplated about and translated. The camera pulls back down the aisle of the Quickie Mart, leaving the clerks at the counter. Things are well in the world.

We can leave the store now.

Let's start a company and make misery

It's Fringe time here in Winnipeg. Happens every year about this time. I usually make it to a few plays, ones that my wife has scoped out ahead of time. After one year's "Canterbury Tales" horror, (sometimes I wake up screaming because it was so bad) I don't trust myself to pick my own plays. Maybe I should bad about this. I don't, but maybe I should. It's not like most other Fringe-goers are that different. Last night I watched as couple after couple wandered around the Exchange with the Free Press review held aloft, ever before them, trying to rush to see whatever thing some newspaper critic gave 5 stars. At least my wife knows me and knows what I'll like. People who select a play simply because some random reviewer gave it 5 stars deserve to be disappointed - like the sour faced guy coming out of the much-heralded Flamenco show who was heard to say, "That piece of crap got 5 stars?". Well, if you don't like to watch people dancing, what does it matter if someone gave the show 5 stars or a hundred: YOU'RE NOT GOING TO DIG IT, FRIEND!

Case in point: Free Press ubermensch, Morley "Ohh What a Big Pen I Got" Walker criticized one show for being too American and for using, and I quote, "too many four-syllable words." Let's leave the ridiculousness of thinking that the American content would go over Canadians' (who get between 80-95% of their media from the US) head, let's concentrate on that pesky problem of big words. You see, Walker describes the performer as "Bill Maher overdosed on amphetamines" and quips, "Nothing escapes van Hest’s bitter, acerbic and vulgar gaze, though he sounds like he has memorized a PhD thesis deconstructing American social mores. Maybe I'm wrong, but aren't there a whole bunch of big, freakin' words in that review? I can only assume from this that the only big words Walker objects to are the ones other people use. Reviewers need to remember that their job entails more than merely giving your own personal opinion of something You're supposed to be guiding a potential audience towards things THEY will like and away from things THEY won't.

I overheard two people talking before one of the plays. Guy #1 recommended a certain play to Guy #2. Guy #2 crinkled his nose, "Didn't that get a bad review in the Fress Press?" Guy #1 rolls his eyes, "I know that reviewer and I was at the show that guy was at. Everyone else in the audience loved the play. They were howling with laughter. Everyone except the reviewer." Guy #2 furrows his brow, "He didn't mention that in the review." Of course he wouldn't. But again, if people solely rely on the word of one person, one person you don't know, you're going to miss some really good stuff.

That said, here's what I saw, all of which I'd recommend:
1) Canned Hamlet. Fun, energetic comedy. What Fringe comedy should be, prepared but with enough room for some improv.
2) Zombies. One man show written and performed by some English dude. Once i got over the disappointment of there being no actual zombies on stage, I rather enjoyed this play.
3) Shock Corridor. Take a B-film from the 60s about a newspaper reporter trying to win the Pulitzer Prize by going undercover in an insane asylum and solving a murder. He convinces his girlfriend to pose as his sister, there are nymphs, and crazies and, of course, shock therapy. Wild, incredibly bizarre play adapted and directed by George Toles. Brilliant!

I'll write more about these plays later on, as well as my two cents on Kevin Smith's Clerks II, which I saw this afternoon at a matinee with 5 other people, sitting spread out, avoiding making eye contact with each other. I can only imagine that this is what going to a 70s porn theatre was like.

There's no telling where the money went

Amusing morning incident: well, I was waiting for my magic 36 bus early this morning and a car stops at the red light right beside me. The guy driving was wearing a bandana on his head, the windows of the car were rolled down and he was blaring his stereo. And he was leaning. You know what I mean. Pretty cool, no? Well, it might have been if his car wasn't 98 Chrysler LeBaron and if the music wasn't Robert Palmer. Simply irresistible.

I want to be adored

Right. It was a stupid day at work. When my boss showed up with his 8 year old daughter and said, "Mike, you get to entertain her today" I couldn't tell if he was kidding or not (he was, it turns out, though I did have to install her Arthur on one of the work computers to keep her busy).

I also had to go into one of our author's office to try to find some file he supposedly emailed us back in January. His office is only a few doors down, and he's been sick for months. I'm sure I was the first person in that room since May. And clearly he had no premonition of his illness - there was a used syringe lying on the desk, the coffee pot was filled with moldy coffee (which I know from experience takes a long time for regular coffee without cream to go). Then my boss handed the cell phone to me so that this 400 year old author could talk me through his computer, which, let me tell you, is not a good way to spend your time. He kept describing things that weren't there (some other explorer icon on the desktop? - I found two, neither of which did what he said it would do). In the end I did I search for all word documents and went through them, one by freakin’ one. Good times.

Deliver Col. Sanders down to Davy Jones' Locker

After picking up my wife at the airport on Saturday morning we decided to go and see the new Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Really, it was more an attempt to escape the blistering heat than any deep desire to see Johnny Depp, but I remember liking the first movie. Well, I remember seeing the first movie anyway. At least I thought I did. When this new movie started, characters kept appearing and other characters would say things like "I see you're back"... and I realized something: I haven't the foggiest idea what happened in the first Pirates movie. Other than the three main stars (Depp, Orlando Bloom, and the adorable Kiera Knightley) and Geoffrey Rush, I couldn't a single other character. As I watched I realized I couldn't remember much of what had happened either - the Black Pearl, prison escapes, engagements... they're all referred to, and I'm sure they happened, but I don't remember. This realization has caused me great anxiety. If I can't remember film plots, I really don't know what good I am to anybody.

As to what I thought of this second Pirates of the Caribbean movie, generally I was unhappy with it. Yes, the sets were cool, the actors good, and the effects were top-notch. But the story left me feeling like this was just an appetizer, not the main meal you expect of a feature length film. Actually that's a good way to describe what I felt like leaving the theatre: still quite hungry; not full, not satisfied. It was like someone invited you over for dinner, promised you a huge feast and gave you crackers with cheese, nicely dressed up crackers and fancy cheese, but crackers and cheese nonetheless.

I'd heard the day before that it ends with a bit of a cliffhanger, obviously setting up for the third installment. However, about half way through the film, I realized that they weren't going to resolve much of the plot of this film. Sure enough, almost everything is left up in the air. It felt a little like watching a pilot for a television, much of the material was setting up things to come in the next film. Which, frankly, is a bit of a rip-off as there really wasn't enough plot to cover this film. Much of the action sequences felt like filler material and like we were going over the same ground again and again. How many times can someone else grab the object everyone's been searching for to prolong the swordfights?

While I have long been down on the whole Star Wars franchise, I think the best second of a trilogy has to be Empire Strikes Back. And naturally my tendency is to compare second parts of trilogies to it. Empire leaves just enough unresolved storylines (what happens to Han) to make you want to go back to see what happens, but resolves the major plots of that particular film. You don't leave Empire feeling like you've watched a 2 hour introduction for Return of the Jedi.

Wondering where the lions are

I'm discovering that I have an exceptionally low tolerance for bad commercials these days. Many's a time I find myself yelling at the television, "Who came up with this crap?"

I'm not quite sure what's at root of this anger. Maybe it's knowing that someone, somewhere, was paid an incredible amount of money for coming up with concept I know I could've come up with drunk, bouncing on a trampoline and trying to recite all the provinces of Canada in alphabetical order. For example, the government of Manitoba recently spent $5 million for the slogan "Manitoba: Spirited Energy", which has got to be the most nonsensical thing I've ever heard in my life. What is "spirited" energy? How exactly does "spirited energy" differ from regular old, run-of-the-mill energy? I mean it's ENERGY - isn't it already spirited by the fact that it's energy? Have you ever heard of lackadaisical energy? No, of course not. I think the slogan should have been more in keeping with the attitude of the people who live here. I propose they re-consider my suggestion Manitoba: we don't really suck that bad.

And all this leads me to the wonder that is modern advertising. There are two commercials, in particular, which, I believe, have given me a slight brain aneurysm. The first is for the new Burger King stacked burgers (Mmmm, more processed meat). The premise of the commercial is that these burgers are manufactured by little people… you know, dwarves. Maybe they’re supposed to be elves, like Santa’s workshop, I’m not really sure and I don’t think it matters. Whatever they are, they’re the butt of the joke. The one fellow gets a burger dropped on him. Are we supposed to think to ourselves, watching this at home, “Oh, look! That little guy was crushed by a hamburger… And that's made me a bit peckish. I could go for one of those.” You see, I’m not really sure how Burger King thinks that ridiculing little people is going to sell their stupid burgers. I’m sure that there’s not a lot of work for little actors – there was that one episode of CSI and there are probably a few Wizard of Oz revivals here and there – but was this job really worth it?

The second one is older one that I thought had run its course, but seems to have reared its ugle head once more. It's for Bailey's Irish Cream. A group of ridiculously attractive people are sitting around a campfire, sipping elegant glasses of Baileys and roasting marshmallows, when all of a sudden one of their marshmallows catches on fire. Panic-stricken, which of course is always a good thing when fire is involved, the poor, thoughtless girl sticks her flaming marshmallow into the drink of the man sitting next to her. Another guy, obviously some sort of rocket scientist who has come along on the camping, sees this and decided to purposely ignite his marshmallow in order to put it in some other girl's drink. As the commercial ends everyone is having a wonderful time with this new discovering, setting their marshmallows ablaze and dunking them in glasses of ALCOHOL. Now, was I the only person in the world who paid attention when the Fire Department came to visit schools? Isn't alcohol an accelerant? So, is advocating of the mixing alcohol and fire really the most responsible thing that the Bailey’s company could be doing?

Here she comes now

It took some effort on my part, but I managed to track down this film (and if you don't think going into a store and asking people for a film called "A Cock and Bull Story" is effort, you're just wrong). I've loved Winterbottom's previous films (Jude, 24 Hour Party People) and I love this cast, but wasn't able to catch it when it played Winnipeg for three minutes.
Simply, this is a adaptation of an unfilmable novel. I know the term "unfilmable" has been used to describe a number of movies that have been sucessively filmed - Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Mrs Dalloway spring to mind - but I can't think of more complicated, cyclical narrative than Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy .

The film is absolutely brilliant, creating another layer to the narrative by including a behind the scenes plot. Some people play themselves, some people play characters. I wish I could write more about this, but, frankly, it's too damned hot here, I'm sticking to my chair and sweating on my keyboard. I don't wanna electrocute myself.

I saw my head laughing, rollin' on the ground

I can honestly say that this is a question I have given absolutely NO thought to before.

You Are Duck

Exotic and unusual, you are a bit of a rare bird - literally. You're known for being soft and succulent, though at times you can be a bit greasy.

What Kind of Meat Are You?

Someday, everything is gonna be smooth like a rhapsody

Well, it's been a completely, crazy jam packed weekend within adventures and in-laws and butter chicken. So, I thought I'd stop by and drop some notes and let people know what's what in the (not really that) exciting world of Mike.

Rachel's parents arrived on Friday afternoon some time Rachel and I had a wedding to go to, so we all ate supper together then went our separate ways. Let's be honest here: I like weddings a lot more than funerals - I'm tired of funerals. And this wedding was very nice and a lot of fun. The bridesmaids weren't dressed hideously, the bride sang a surprise song, and the reception was relaxed and social. Saw some people I hadn't seen in a while, which was nice; ate, chatted... and left before the dancing, but that's probably the best thing for everyone as I likely would have injured myself or someone else.

On Sunday we drove up to Bird's Hill Park to enjoy the wonder that is Folk Festival. After returning to the house a few times to pick up extra sweaters (it was a bit chilly in the morning) we finally made it to the park by 11 or so. The first thing we caught was a workshop of Celtic Franco-phone bands - a little odd a combination, but the two bands were great and played together with gusto. I was a little surprised to learn to one of the bands is from Regina. Didn't realize that Regina had any French people... maybe they keep them hidden away with the Aboriginals?

Next, we caught a set with Doug Frechette, the Wailing Jennies and the Doug and Jess Band. I wanted to see this set, as the "Doug" of "the Doug and Jess Band" was the first professor I TA'd for here at the University of Manitoba. He's retired now and has devoted himself to playing and performing music, mainly bluegrass. This was a brilliant set, with a steady mix of alt-country, bluegrass and folk. The only problem was the workshop was called "Getting Hairy on the Prairie" (seriously, who thinks up shit like that?), which host Frechette repeated every time he took the mic. Note to future hosts: if your workshop name is stupid, you are not obligated to repeat it over and over. In fact, it's best to just never mention it.

Luckily, it had warmed up considerably by this point. My mother-in-law, however, remained wrapped in a blanket for most of the day. Cue menopause jokes.

After this we headed over to a spoken word workshop with Ridley Brent, Belieze dub-poet Leroy Young, the aptly named Tons of Fun University (T.O.F.U.) and the incredible, must-be-seen-to-be-believed That 1 Guy. This might have been my favourite workshop, even though I'm not a huge poetry slam-fan. The groups mixed well, helped each other out. Young's poetry was lyrical and more obvious serious, Brent's more narrative driven. One of the guys from T.O.F.U. brought the house down with an angry, ironic, and topical poem - the line "Oh say, can you see... who fuckin' jacked me" got a loud cheer and the poem itself got a 3 minute standing ovation. That 1 Guy closed the show with a demonstration of the incredible range of his "wacky instrument, the 7-foot-high Magic Pipe (a homemade, two string contraption that serves both rhythmic and melodic duties)." As his closer he played something akin to Stomp-y techno, with beat-box backing and odd percussive sounds that you might hear on a club-mix. All of a sudden he breaks into a rocking cover of "Smoke on the Water." The audience went nuts. After playing "Smoke" for a while (during which the Magic Pipe started spewing smoke) he switched seamlessly to twangy bluegrass. Incredible.

After an informative workshop on "Appalachian Education" by Tony Trischka and Mike Seeger (Pete's younger brother), which was noteworthy because of a song about a horse race and the copious amount of pot smoked by the group next to us, I went to check out the shops while listening to Afrodizz play a few dozen yards away. Afrodizz is a fun band, reminiscent of the old Shuffledemons, but thankfully without the gimmicky wardrobe. Were I prone to dance, this would have been the band I danced to.

The Main Stage concert that evening was Richard Thompson, Ferron, Rickie Lee Jones, Mike Seeger and Bruce Cockburn. Thompson was great, an incredible musician and lyricist; Jones was solid (except when she spoke - she sounded like an airhead, which I know she's not), but Bruce Cockburn was incredible live. His set was worth the price of admission alone. I think I've dismissed most of Cockburn's material because of his heavy-handed use of synthesizers on his studio albums. I knew "Lovers in a Dangerous Time" was an important song, I appreciated the politics of "If I Had a Rocket launcher"... but, I haven't paid attention to most of his work. Last night, with the songs stripped down to acoustic guitar and voice, I heard them for what they are.

Of course, the best and worst part of Folk Festival is the audience. How such an eclectic group of people manages to get along for so long is beyond me. Why so many people feel the need to sit down next to you and talk all the way through an act, usually telling the person they’re talking to how much they love music and how they’ve been coming to Folk Fest for so many years….

And then there are the freaks. The neo-hippies, the throwback hippies, the dudes in kilts, the women showing way too much skin, the guys showing even more skin… I am a little curious to know how some of those people operate in the real world. I mean, you know some/most of them are playing the weird up for the weekend, because Folk Fest is one of the accepting places in the world: the young guys likely only wear their sarongs for this one weekend; older guys drag out their beads and walking sticks for Folk Fest... but not all of them can be playing. There was one older guy in all tie-dye dancing away. I don't know if he was on something, but he was feeling the music. He didn't look like this was an act. So where does he go the rest of the year?

It's a wonder we can even feed ourselves

All right - stole this off someone else. Bolding the books I've read. Why? Because one of my gentle readers may, one day think to herself, "I wonder if Mike's read Lord of the Flies. Now you know. For the sake of my own nerdiocity, I have noted (*) titles I have read multiple times. To protect my nerdiocity, I have not indicated how many times.


The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
The Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger *
The Hitchhiker’s Guide To The Galaxy - Douglas Adams
The Great Gatsby - F.Scott Fitzgerald *
To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
The Time Traveler’s Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince (Harry Potter 6) - J.K. Rowling
Life of Pi - Yann Martel
Animal Farm: A Fairy Story - George Orwell
Catch-22 - Joseph Heller
The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
Lord of the Flies - William Golding - and I never intend to!
Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen *
1984 - George Orwell
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban (Book 3) - J.K. Rowling
One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (Book 4) - J.K. Rowling
The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter 5) - J.K. Rowling
Slaughterhouse 5 - Kurt Vonnegut
Angels and Demons - Dan Brown
Fight Club - Chuck Palahniuk
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Book 1) - J.K. Rowling
Neuromancer - William Gibson
Cryptonomicon - Neal Stephenson
The Secret History - Donna Tartt
A Clockwork Orange - Anthony Burgess
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (Book 2) - J.K. Rowling
Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte *
Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Ender’s Game (The Ender Saga) - Orson Scott Card
Snow Crash - Neal Stephenson
A Prayer for Owen Meany - John Irving *
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe - C.S. Lewis *
Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides
Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien *
Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte *
Good Omens - Terry Pratchett, Neil Gaiman
Atonement - Ian McEwan
The Shadow Of The Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
The Old Man and the Sea - Ernest Hemingway
The Handmaid’s Tale - Margaret Atwood *
The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
Dune - Frank Herbert
The Unberable Lightness of Being - Milan Kundera
Hey Nostradamus! - Douglas Coupland
The Nature of Blood - Caryl Phillips
Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules -Ed. David Sedaris
I Know This Much is True - Wally Lamb
Empire Falls - Richard Russo
American Pharaoh: Mayor Richard J. Daley - Adam Cohen & Elizabeth Taylor
Devil in the White City - Erik Larson
Seeing - Jose Saramango
White Teeth - Zadie Smith
Sophie's World - Jostein Gaardner
Ursula Under - ingrid Hill
Mountains Beyond Mountains - Tracy Kidder
In the Time of the Butterflies - Julia Alvarez
God of Small Things - Arundhati Roy
The World According to Garp - John Irving *
Great Expectations - Charles Dickens *
The Sword of Shannara - Terry Brooks
Metamorphosis- Franz Kafka *
Gone With the Wind - Margaret Mitchell
The Stainless Steel Rat - Harry Harrison
The Key to Rebecca - Ken Follett
How to Practice - the Dalai Lama
Pillars of the Earth - Ken Follett

Made from Annie's depair

It's about 2:30 on a Thursday afternoon and I'm tired of working. Today's a thesis day, so it's a lot of reading and writing about child neglect in post-war England (in other words: "fun, fun, fun").

It's so incredibly cold in my office today. It's like 31 degrees outside and here I sit in jeans and a sweater! Now I'm all for air-conditioning, but, like so many good things in this life, it needs to enjoyed in moderation. If you can safely store milk in your office, chances are it's just too damn cold.

I would venture outside to warm up (it's a lovely, sunny day here in Winnipeg) but unfortunately mini-University started up this week. Mini-U, as it's called by people in the know, is the U of M's summer day camp program for children. Kids can partake in any number of different programs, many revolving around a particular faculty or department. I know there used to a little Lawyers camp... thankfully that was disbanded.

What mini-U REALLY means is that the campus is overrun by thousands of obnoxious twerp-campers and the way-too-happy-to-be-working-with-children instructors. It's hard to walk anywhere without stepping on four or five kids and their backpacks, lunchbags, swimming clothes or whatever their SUV driving parents have sent along... and despite what some of my gentle readers might imagine, I don't actually enjoy hurting children; I just don't like them that much.

The children are dragged all around the school in the hopes of doing something fun. I can't imagine that they ever get to do anything fun - all the children look bored and surly. Come to think of it, I'm bored and surly. Maybe I'm actually at mini-U and I don't realize it.

Got one note to last all week I'll carry on regardless

I can't believe that it's July already. Man, where does the time go? If I could keep time in a bottle, I think I use it to get back some of that wasted Maury Povich time.

It was Canada Day weekend here in the great white north. We didn't really get up to anything special. Typically Canada Day celebrations are marked with folks dressing up in red and white, setting off fireworks and drinking beer. Only one of those remotely appeals to me. I'll let you guess which.

I did, however, get a chance to check out Superman Returns on Friday afternoon. I must say, I've had low expectations for this movie. My brother-in-law saw it earlier in the week and dubbed it "flawless." My expectations spiked just enough that when Rachel asked if I wanted to go, I said yes.

After some of the world's WORST previews (who gives the Wayans Brothers money to make movies?) the film began with the familiar rift of John Williams' "Superman theme" and employed the same credit sequence of the previous Christopher Reeve films. And I felt somewhat at ease. Unlike Christopher Nolan's Batman Begins, which essentially rebooted the Batman story, this Superman film is presented as a sequel to the Christopher Reeve films (well, at least Superman and Superman 2... there was no mention of either Richard Pryor or questing for peace). However, I couldn't help but feel the film was more a remake-cum-sequel: while back story had Superman saving the world before going away, his reintroduction to Metropolis was strangely reminiscent of the events of the 1978 film.

HERE BE SPOILERS!!!

We begin on the Kent farm; Superman crashes back to earth and is found by Martha Kent (in the 1978 film Jonathan Kent dies of a heart attack when Clark was a teenager). He goes from the farm to Metropolis and the Daily Planet. Though this time he is returning from a leave of absence, there's the same fumbling, bumbling Clark trying to figure out his surroundings. The first appearance of Superman is to safe Lois. In the original he saved her from a helicopter accident, this time from a plane/rocket malfunction. There's even a recreation of the famous Superman/Lois flight over the city scene. Lex Luthor's plan is almost identical to his plot from the first movie, involving destroying a large part of the continental United States, this time the East Coast as opposed to the West. He has a sympathetic moll (Kitty as opposed to Miss Teschmacher). There are differences, to be sure, the main one being Lois's fiancé and child. This creates the allusion that you're watching another movie, that things are different, but how different are they? Yes, the special effects allow for more spectacular things to happen, but the plot, like Superman himself, is solid and familiar. We know where it's going to go; we trust it because we've seen it save the day before. Unlike Batman, who has varying shades of grey and black, Superman is straightforward red, yellow and blue. He's simply good, simply honest, simply true.

Head on down the road to somewhere

It's been a pretty crappy week here in the (not really that) exciting world of Mike. The other day we got a phone call - a great man and a dear friend passed away. I knew John Braun and his wife Esther first through church, then through working together at Donwood manor here in Winnipeg a few summers ago. John and Esther were caretakers there and showed me the ropes. They were generous.

John had one of the deepest, loudest voices I've ever heard. Never scary-loud, always warm and friendly and inviting. It was perfect for reading aloud. Wheverever he would see me, he'd smile and call out "How you doing, Michael." Part of me is sad I'll never hear that again; another part of me knows I'll always hear it; in fact, I can hear it now.

The other crappy news is that an English professor, a fixture in this department, is not long for this world. Robin Hoople had retired from active teaching before I arrived at the UM, but his door was always open and he was always interested in how people were doing.

What in the world has happened to me?

Seems someone came along and pooped on my pity-party. It's funny that when you feel yourself getting down with stupid stuff, something comes along and makes you realize how meaningless it all is. For me, it was an email I got a few minutes ago: my sister's going to Arizona.

Now some people might think, "She's so lucky. Nice hot weather." Others might think, "Ugh, hot weather." But I haven't thought much about stuff like weather (other than to type those last two sentences. My sister's going to Arizona for a reason... to battle her eating disorder. And I can't imagine being more proud of her.

It's not a love, it's not a love, it's a love song

As Cindy Lauper said, "Confusion is nothing new."

I find people genuinely confusing. I mean, I'm not a stupid person, I don't think, but shouldn't I be able to figure out people's likely moods and attitudes based on previous conversations and encounters? I mean, if someone almost falls off their bike waving to you one day, is it unreasonable to assume they'll, I don't know, talk to you, treat you human, another day?

Don't get me wrong. I'm not looking to overthrow the social order and have everyone be my friend; I'm not trying to thrust myself in the popularity spotlight: I just want a little consistency. Example: with my wife's 2 month stress-leave sabbatical, I won't see a whole group of people. You think telling tell people "won't see you until August" might have registered something a bit more profound than the "Oh, really?" I got.

Meh, whatever. So, it's full speed ahead on the thesis. My advisor seems to really like where I'm taking this whole project. He's been amazing with the encouragement and the suggestions. I not only feel good about it, I don't even have a sense of dread. The last conversation left me excited. For the first time in a long time I felt like I was doing something exciting and interesting. For the past few months whether people ask what I'm writing about I feel like I'm going to put myself to sleep describing it. Right now I feel pumped. Well, as pumped as I ever feel.

It'll all work out eventually, Better off with him than here with me

It's a gray day. The sky's overcast. It might be raining. I can't tell for sure.

I'm sitting here in my new office. It's a big, bright room over looking much of the university. My desk faces three large windows. With the gloomy day, it's not too bad, but yesterday, with its abundance of sunshine, it was a little like staring into the sun. I didn't get much in the way of natural light in my hovel (or "hole" - thanks Abby) of an office.

Along with the sunshine, I have a little round conference table and 4 chairs all to myself. I don't foresee any visitors, so maybe I'll rotate the chairs myself so that at least they're being used.

And the Sunday shines down on San Francisco Bay

I made the mistake of dating myself the other day. I met a friend's boyfriend after hearing about the poor guy for the better part of a year.
"So, you really do exist," I said. "I was beginning to think this was a Snuffleupagus thing."
I was met with a confused "Snuffleupaguses aren't real?" from my friend... And then I realized how things change.

See, when I watched Sesame (back in the 70s) Big Bird was the only person on the block who saw Snuffy. The adults would constantly (and conveniently) walk out of the room just as Snuffy appeared, teaching an entire generation of children frustration and disappointment. I'll never forget the episode that a sleepwalking Snuffy was spotted by Bob, but, alas, Snuffy had a sheet over his head (at least I think he was sleeping, maybe he was on his way to Klan rally) and Bob's description of a "big, white creature" didn't match up with Big Bird's friend. This same bait and switch technique was also employed on the Canadian hit "The Polka Dot Door" with the elusive Polkaroo. The main difference, however, was that the one host who stepped out actually believed in the existence of the Polkaroo and was disappointed not to have seen it... him... whatever the heck it was supposed to be.

Snuffy wasn't seen until 1985. I don't know if the Polkaroo was ever seen. When Snuffy's existence was finally revealed to the other characters it had something to do with abuse and child molestation, children not keeping secrets, or hanging around with hairy elephants or something... the 80s were a particularly paranoid time and, clearly, imaginary friends were not to be trusted.

But the whole Snuffleupagus thing got me thinking how much better my Sesame Street was then the Sesame of Street of later years.

We didn't have Elmo, a hyperactive plush toy with a speech impediment. Seriously, if Sesame Street is meant to teach children, what's the lesson with Elmo? Talk like a baby and people will think it's cute? We were happy to have Oscar, a green sock living in a trashcan.

We learned about death when Mr. Hooper died in 1982. Poor Mr. Hooper.

Luis and Maria? So the two Hispanic characters have to get married? When I watched Sesame Street Maria was hot for David, a black man who... actually just disappeared from the show.

There was no ambiguity as to Bert and Ernie's relationship. Grown men could be friends and roommates without labels and accusations.

Ah, simpler times.

At the dark end of the street

I read an article on Audio Commentaries over at AVClub.com It identifies the 15 different types of Commentators you can get on a DVD. As someone who likes audio commentaries, and usually treasures the insights of directors, actors and film critics, I found the whole thing pretty funny. There are "types" - the Academic, the Party crew, the Indifferent Cast members - but I think audio commentaries are one of the things that make DVD such a great format. Sure there's more than enough examples of directors with no sense of historical proportion talking about their films, or hacks who talk about their grade Z flick like it's Citizen Kane, but sometimes those make for fun commentaries too. So, in light of the article, I thought I'd run through a few of my favourite audio commentaries. So, in no particular order.

1) Brief Encounter, w/ Bruce Eder. The AVClub would cast Eder's thorough and insightful commentary into the Irritating Academic Category, but he adds so much to the film in regards to contextualizing the material.

2) Goonies, w/ director Richard Donner, Sean Astin, Josh Brolin, Jeff Cohen , Kerri Green, Corey Feldman, Martha Plimpton, Jonathan Ke Quan. Forget about the fact the 2/3 of these former child actors fell off the face of the earth; forget about the fact that Astin leaves part way through the film and NEVER COMES BACK: this train-wreck of an audio commentary is worth listening to in order to hear Cory Feldmen yell EVERYTHING HE SAYS! You'd think a guy who spent a good part of the 90s dressed up like his hero, Michael Jackson, would NOT be interested in drawing attention to himself.

3) "Buffy," "Angel," and/or "Firefly", w/ Joss Whedon. There are a number of different people who provide commentary on the Mutant Enemy titles (Marti Noxon, David Greenwalt, David Fury), but the episodes with Joss are usually the most insightful. Yes, the false humility-bordering-on-self-deprecating gets a little old, but when he's talking about the show it's clear that he knows what he wants to do and how to do it. Few shows developed season-long story-arches as well (or, frankly, at all) as Joss Whedon shows. To hear Joss explain his vision is a treat. If only he'd tell a little bit more about SMG! I mean, she's rarely mentioned in the commentaries (except how hard she works) and she's NEVER featured in the blooper reel... What's the story, Whedon!

4) "Freak and Geeks" w/ cast. "Freaks and Geeks" was a great show. The DVD set is worth a purchase for the audio commentaries if nothing else. Some tracks are basic "director/writer" stuff, but the real gems are the ones with cast commentary, because time and again people bring up the self-perceived sexual prowess of one Samm Levine!

Honestly, everyone mentions how Samm would always be found hitting on the ladies. That kid hit on anything with boobs. My favourite is a girl-cast only track where the ladies swap Levine stories. It is very, very funny.

5) Clerks w/ Kevin Smith, a bunch of other people you've never heard of, plus a very high, sometimes sleeping, Jason Mewes. Given Mewes long-documented history of drug abuse this probably should qualify as a cautionary tale of the dangers of narcotics... but it's just so damn funny. Recorded in a hotel room while they were shooting Mallrats, this commentary is like a high school party gone bad - people are incoherent, the stories ramble, no one seems to be at their best, and there are a bunch of people you can't figure out why they're there. I love that Kevin Smith has continued to use and include his New Jersey friends, but do I have to hear them on the audio commentary? There's one guy introduced as "the resident View Askew historian." Imagine being saddled with that title. Your friend creates a reasonably successful film and your claim to fame is remembering crap about that film? Ugh. Added to this are the innumerable references to people we don't know (or care about): DP Dave, Walt, the Skipper, Mary Anne, who cares? And a stoned Mewes nodding off and snoring during his own scenes is pretty funny.

It's the same old song, but with a different meaning since you've been gone

I've never been able to get down with things that are popular. I have unique tastes. I understand this, and have chosen to live with the consequences. Usually those consequences are minor: being unable to have even a vague conversation about shows like “Everyone Loves Raymond” or “Will and Grace” or putting up with raised eyebrows and snickering when I talk about shows like “MST 3K”. Nothing serious. In fact, the people I tend to hang out with have their own unique tastes – they’re not the same as mine, but we come from the common ground of understanding.

When I started university, I lived in dorm and the consequences are a bit more pronounced. "Trying" doesn't even begin to describe the experience. Whenever I'd go down to the lounge to watch something on TV, I was reminded that I don't have the same tastes that other people have: I don't watch hockey, I don't like sports, and the idea of watching porn in a ROOM FULL OF OTHER GUYS... well, let's just say that that's hardly my idea of fun. Occasionally I'd find myself alone in the lounge and able to watch what I wanted. However when one of my floormates stumbled in drunk, I'd be forced to explain why I was watching a samurai film, lucha libre or anime. "What's this *#!%?" became sort of a greeting.

As I was walking home the other night I was suddenly struck with a feeling I hadn't really felt since those days in Willison Hall - that I have nothing in common with the people around me. It was Sunday night, which, if you're from Winnipeg you know, is "Cruise Night"! People who have spent a lot of money supping up or restoring their fancy-schmancy cars drive down Portage Ave - some times fast to show off speed, some times slow to allow a good look. But it's so much more than just driving. People gather in empty parking lots all along Portage to WATCH PEOPLE DRIVE BY. They bring out lawn chairs, they sit in the back of pick up trucks, they bring the whole family out to observe traffic. As I walked past one parking lot there were three cars in a row with their hoods up. Tall burly men were having an animated discussion about carburetors and V8s ... when I realized they weren’t talking about that tasty vegetable juice, I felt very alone.

Call me crazy, but I don't understand the appeal of cruise night at all. I can drive- it's hardly one of my favourite things, but I do it - but the idea of driving around to watch other people drive around seems... silly?

Listen to me, baby, that's all you gotta do

My stupid back's better today. Okay, there was some grunting and grumbling while I tried to get out of chairs, but nothing too serious. And after sitting for a long period of time, I tend to walk like an old man (shuffling along with the grumbling) for about three minutes. I continued the pills and heat. I'll be fine by Monday, I'm sure. If not, then the dread Doctor.

Ever been really anxious to do something or see something, that when the chance finally came, you weren't sure you wanted to? I've being waiting over 10 years to see this film



It's a French gangster film called Le Samourai (1967) It's directed by Jean-Pierre Meville and stars Alain Delon as hitman with a rigourous code of ethics who is betrayed by his employers. John Woo cites it as the major influence on his masterpiece The Killer (1989) - imdb.com goes so far as to call The Killer a remake. Back in university I discovered John Woo (along with about a thousand other directors); I love The Killer, and I had always heard about how incredible and influential Le Samourai is. I knew I'd love Le Samourai too.

So I tried to track it down. And I failed. It wasn't the typical "Blockbuster fare." I did come across a tape of it in a store in Winnipeg, but didn't have time to rent it. When I returned, it was out and it remained out for weeks. I didn't want to get so crappy 3rd generation copy from a tape trader or a version taped off a French channel (CBC did air it once, but my French is limited to "Good morning" and "I like hamburgers"), I wanted as pristine a print as possible with proper subtitles.

This year, with some birthday money, I ordered the new Criterion edition of Le Samourai . It arrived Tuesday. I carefully unwrapped the plastic and removed the stickers. I opened the case and read the 48-page booklet. I put the disc into the DVD player... and couldn't bring myself to watch it. This has been a 10 year journey, a 10 year journey that will end the moment I press "play" on the remote control. Is the greatest joy in the wanting, the expectation?

Smack, crack, bushwacked

I threw my back out today. I'd like to say that it happened when I was doing something cool - lifting weights or saving small children from a burning building. Truth is it happened while I was refolding and straightening a blanket in the living room. I had just folded it all neat and pretty and set it over the new armchair; when I leaned over to smooth it out, my back spasmed and my legs went dead. It was like they just stopped working, like my nerves gave out on me. I went down, falling face first into the seat of the chair. I tried for minutes that seemed like hours to straighten out and stand up. Evenutally I made it to couch, where I could lay flat out. The next hour or so was fighting to stand, walk, sit, reach... I got a heating pad, I swallowed pills. Walking required carefully balancing on the wall, the counter and backs of chairs. I couldn't bend over to pick up the remote once I'd made it back to the living room. I couldn't reach for my drink once I sat down.

It's been getting better all night. I've continued with the heat and the pills. I've stretched. I sat in the chair that started the whole (so it knew that I didn't hold it responsible) and watched television. I can move pretty well now. It still hurts, but walking doesn't demand the same forethought. I can do it under my own power... it just takes a little more time than usual.

Lemme show you what it's all about

Four jobs I have had in my life:
1) I worked in the Thrift Store all through highschool
2) I've worked at various videostores in various locations
3) I currently work for the UM Press doing... stuff
4) I was teach English Literature

Four movies I would watch over and over:
1) Casablanca
2) Duck Soup
3) Seven Samurai
4) Life and Death of Colonel Blimp

Four places I have lived:
1) Toronto
2) Oshawa
3) Waterloo -in res for a year, then an apartment
4) Winnipeg

Four TV shows I love to watch:
1) Veronica Mars
2) Buffy the Vampire Slayer
3) House
4) and I'm rediscovering Mad About You.

Four places I have been on vacation:
1) Miami
2) England
3) Nfld
4) Nova Scotia - though I'm not sure visitng relatives actually counts as a "vacation"

Four of my favourite foods:
1) Spagetti - all day, every day
2) Chicken
3) these potatoes that Rachel makes
4) green currie Thai soup

Four places I would rather be right now:

1) Anywhere
2) Anywhere
3) Anywhere
4) Anywhere
.... you get the idea

Something won't let me make love to you

I still don't know what I think about X-men 3. I see the agruments of people who hated it (and I agree with them too), but I also see why people would love it. I still think I enjoyed it, but I'm learning not trust myself.

I finally finished Season 6 of Buffy the Vampire Slayer this weekend and started Season 7. Season 6 was like a kick in the gut, but a good kick in the gut. Beloved characters left or died or turned all veiny and apocalyptically evil. Now I've seen some of Season 7 already - we purchased them out of order, for a reason that's simply too long and conviluted to explain here, and I started with what we had - but I hadn't seen the first episode of that season. While Season 7 episode 1 of Buffy sets up some of the themes and the main villain for the rest of the season, in one of the greatest bits of Buffy, the new "big bad" becomes all the big bads from previous seasons - Adam, the Mayor, Gloria, Drusilla and, best of all, the Master - revealing itself to be the source of all evil. As these other villains were manifestations of this First Evil, this First manifests as them.

In the story Buffy returns (with her younger sister) to the highschool (now rebuilt) where the series began. Seeing a confident, mature Buffy walking the hallways of Sunnydale High made me realize just how good this show was. To effectively transition characters from highschool to adulthood so well is unheard of. I can't think of another show that managed to do this. Welcome Back Kotter, Saved by the Bell, even Degrassi all fall short of taking teenagers into their twenties and beyond while maintaining a certain quality.*










*I realize that the word "quality" is rarely used in relation to either Welcome Back Kotter or Saved by the Bell.

I should go to bed, but the voice in my head says, what the hell?

There was a preview for Superman Returns that ran before X-men: Last Stand. I'm having a hard time accepting a Superman who looks like Max Fisher.


Maybe I'll go see it if he uses his super-powers to try to win Miss Cross. Superman to Luthor "I saved Latin. What did you ever do?"

Of course, the Fisher-esque Superman aside, there's the whole, creepy thing with Marlon Brando coming back from the dead to play Jor-El again. My feelings are if you're going to come back to life for a role it should be one you haven't played before. Call me a traditionist, but if you're dead, you should be allowed to re-play a part. Even if you are Marlon Brando.

Keep your pretty head low

After supper (a tasty bit of Greek takeout), I sat down at the computer to check my email, and who should I have a message from? Oprah. That's right, Oprah emailed me. Okay, the message wasn't from Oprah herself - I'm sure she's far too busy picking books for her club to read or offering to pay for Jennifer Aniston's wedding - but it is from Oprah's people. The email invites me to tune into an upcoming show that will feature the legendary women of the Oscars. Apparently Emma Thompson and Meryl Streep will be appearing as well as "other big names for the Academy Awards."

Boy, does Orpah know me or what? There's nothing I'd like better than to sit around and watch as a group of Academy Award winning actresses sit around and pretend to be real people while Orpah shouts "You go, girlfriend" at the top of her really expensive lungs.

The biggest mystery as far as I'm concerned is why did I get this message at all? How did she get my email address? I don't watch Orpah; I've never been to her site; I haven't even bought any of her "Picks" at the local bookstore .Is Oprah now employing the same market savvy plans as the makers of Herbal Viagra and LostErectus? Did she think to herself, "I know what'll get more people to watch me: SPAM!"

Honestly, I'm more familiar with Oprah from SNL skits and the detailed reenactments my sister used to do for me over the phone. I've never understood my sister's bizarre fascination with Ms Winfrey. I figured if I ever did hear from Oprah the message would be more along the lines of "could you tell your sister to stop being so obsessed with me? I really don't want to be her friend." If the countless magazines and books that littered my sister's bedroom didn't make me tune in, if the two foot wall of tapes ambiguously labeled "Good Oprah" and "Really Good Orpah" around the ol’ family rec-room didn't pique my curiosity, then what's an email going to do? I mean, it didn’t even have any graphics. Come on, Oprah, have a little pride in your spam.

Let her talk about the things you can't explain

I realize I've been a little lax about updating this. Everyday I sit at my computer and think to myself, "I should write something in my blog." And then I can't think of a single thing to write.

There's nothing interesting going on in my life right now: no adventures, no profound insights into the world. That's not to say I'm not busy. I am. In fact, lately I'm obscenely busy with PhD stuff, but no one wants to hear about that.

So I'll respond to Professor Van Helsing's quiz which I found over at IMDB


1) What film made you angry, either while watching it or in thinking about it afterward?

The question seems to assume that only one film has made me angry. That's just not true. Films that have made me angry include: Star Wars Episode 2, The Portrait of a Lady, some Benoît Jacquot film that I saw at the TIFF. There was something recently that left me enraged... but it can't think of the title. Apparently I was so mad I've repressed it.

2) Favorite sidekick

Patricia Franchini (played by Jean Seabring)in Godard's Breathless.

3) One of your favorite movie lines

"Do I laugh now, or wait 'til it gets funny?"

4) William Holden or Burt Lancaster?

William Holden.

5) Describe a perfect moment in a movie

Well, the hill of beans speech at the end of Casablanca is pretty damn close to perfect.

6) Favorite John Ford movie

Um, I'm probably supposed to like Stagecoach more, but I prefer My Darling Clementine.

7) The inverse of a question from the last quiz: What film artist (director, actor, screenwriter, whatever) has the least–deserved good reputation, artistically speaking. And who would you replace him/her with on that pedestal?

I think Laurence Olivier is an extremely overrated actor.

8) Barbara Stanwyck or Ida Lupino?

Barbara Stanwyck.

9) Showgirls-- yes or no?

A hesitant yes.

10) Most exotic or otherwise unusual place in which you ever saw a movie

Sadly, the drive in. It wasn't very 'exotic, but it did smell like urine... and there was a lighting storm

11) Favorite Robert Altman movie

MASH or Gosford Park

12) Best argument for allowing rock stars to participate in the making of movies

Phil Collins in A Hard Day's Night. Actually, A Hard Day's Night makes a pretty good argument too.

13) Describe a transcendent moment in a film (a moment when you realized a film that just seemed routine or merely interesting before had become become something much more)

First viewing of Casablanca or Duck Soup.

14) Gina Gershon or Jennifer Tilly?

Well, they both seem a little crazy, but if I had to pick one I guess it'd be Jennifer Tilly.

15) Favorite Frank Capra movie

It's a Wonderful Life is the best of an outstanding body of work.

16) The scene you most wish you could have witnessed being filmed

Anything from Casablanca

17) Robert Ryan or Richard Widmark?

Widmark.

18) Name a movie that inspired you to walk out before it was finished

"Inspired"? I've only walked out of one movie that I can recall... that Benoit Jacquot film

19) Favorite political movie

All the President's Men or Putney Swope.

20) Your favorite movie poster/one-sheet, or the one you’d most like to own

I don't know... I guess the one for Kubrick's Lolita.

21) Jeff Bridges or Jeff Goldblum?

Bridges.

22) Favorite Ken Russell movie

Women in Love

23) Accepting the conventional wisdom that 1970-1975 marked a golden age of American filmmaking in which artistic ambition and popular acceptance were not mutually exclusive, what for you was this golden age’s high point? (Could be a movie, a trend, the emergence of a star, whatever)

Blah, I dunno... the evolution of the director.

24) Grace Kelly or Ava Gardner?

Grace Kelly.

25) With total disregard for whether it would ever actually be considered, even in this age of movie recycling, what film exists that you feel might actually warrant a sequel, or would produce a sequel you’d actually be interested in seeing?

Well, it's not Rocky 6, that's for sure. I think a sequel to The Breakfast Club would be tempting.

What if I ride? What if you walk?

A sincere thank-you to those who sent e-cards and birthday wishes. They were really appreciated. I mean it. But birthdays? *grunt* More freakin' trouble than they're worth.

What does it mean when the only actual, physical card you've received in the mail is one from a lady who babysat you when you were 2-3 years old? Should my blood family have figured out the mail system by now?

I did get the new Leonard Cohen book of poetry from my wife (who knows me too well) and for a brief moment I was transported to a time, several years ago, in Waterloo. I'd head down to Kitchener in order to scour the second hand book stores for Cohen's books. I have an impressive collection: Let Us Compare Mythologies, Spicebox of Earth, Death of a Lady's Man, and others whose spines are too far away to read. Eventually I had most everything. Cohen retreated to Mount Baldie. The trips to downtown Kitchener were never quite the same.

But if I could you know I would Just hold your hand and you'd understand

So, it's the Victoria Day long week. And we can all let our our primal "whoots" because a long time ago, a dumpy, sour-pussed old lady ruled England and 1/4 of the known world. And now, a century or so later, people in the New World can skip work to do "royal" things, like camp, Bar-b-que and drink beer. I mean, look at this face.
Doesn't it scream "Take a day off and party"?

Personally, I think Victoria Day should be a bigger deal than it currently is. Sure people get a day off work and that's all well and good, but aside from the increasingly infrequent firework displays, what sets Victoria Day apart? Nothing. If we're really being honest with ourselves, it's a holiday in desperate need of a make over - much like ol' Queen Vic herself. I think we need to add to the mythology of day in order to give it a little extra umph. Families should decorate their houses with lace and crinoline and hang larger portraits of Queen Vic. Not only are these portraits festive, it would give families something to put presents underneath. We could all gather 'round the fireplace for a glass of hot punch and a rousing round of Victoria carols. Of course decorations and songs are all well and good, but in order to lift a holiday from the mire of the mundane, work-a-day holidays (like Arbor Day and Remembrance Day), we need to target children.

Children should be filled with anxiety for a good month before May twenty-whatever, wondering if Queen Victoria be visiting while they were sleeping to leave them goodies (boiled sweets or humbugs) or coal. Actually, Santa still has the coal market cornered, right? What's worse than a lump of coal? Traditional English cuisine! Parents can threaten their chidlren all year long, "If you don't behave, Queen Victoria's gonna leave you nothing but Bubbles and Squeek."

That's right, I'm barely alive

I knew it! "Who could ever love a Beast?"

You scored as The Beast. Your alter ego is The Beast! But that is only a name... you are kind hearted and sweet, people just misunderstand you. Which Disney Character is your Alter Ego? created with QuizFarm.com

If every word I said could make you laugh...

A friend told me about a video with a Great White Shark jumping 10 feet out of the water while trying to get a seal... I watched the video.

Scary shark

I'm never going near the ocean again.

Happy birthday, Jaimie. Thanks for making me wet myself in terror.

And there's no one there to comfort you

I like television. A lot. And I watch a lot of television. Part of the fun of watching television are the season finales, where all the storylines of the season (however much or little there was in the way of an arch) come to ahead. They're either resolved or brought to a moment of crisis to entice you back next season: Ross will say Rachel's name at his wedding to Emily; Buffy will die to save her sister's life; high school students will graduate (usually with some sort of loud, raucous party).


So far I've seen a couple of decent finales, but the second season ending of Veronica Mars might have been the greatest finale I've ever seen. Somehow, in a mere 42 minutes, it managed to weave innocent nostalgia, heart-wrenching suspense and a sense of closure with the hint of mystery for next season. I've said it before to whoever will listen, and I'll say it again: Veronica Mars is the best show on network television.


On the other side of the fence, the Smallville season finale had me a little perplexed: where do we go from here? It wasn't bad per se, but I've really turned my opinion around on this show this season. I used to love it, watched all the DVDs, wandered around humming that damned catchy theme song to myself; now, I'm wondering how close the series is from collapsing under the weight of its own limitations. Clark Kent's coming of age has a limited shelf-live. He's already graduated high school, he's found out about his alien birth and the secrets of Krypton. So how much longer can they delay putting him in the blue leotard? This season cliff-hanger saw Lex being replaced with Zod and Clark trapped in the Phantom Zone. We know, cognitively, that most characters are "safe" from real harm because of their importance in the Superman universe. We know Clark has to get out; we know Lois isn't going to die in the plane crash. Okay... he needs to become Superman now. But of course once that happens the appeal of the show is over. And what happened to Lana? She can't take Clark's lies to protect her, but is fine with Lex's unique ethics? She's become a really annoying character this season; not even her obvious hotness redeems her anymore.

But she never escaped my mind, and I just grew

Spring in Winnipeg means one certain thing: construction. Every year, after the snow melts away, fleets of trucks and workers in dirty jeans and orange vests descend on the city to "fix" the potholes.

Now I don't know who plans this massive infrastructural undertaking, but I really have to question their wisdom when it comes to organizing the work. For those of you who don't know, Winnipeg is divided by a major river. There are several bridges scattered along the Assiniboine that one can use to get from one side to the other. If you're driving from the south of the city to the centre or, heaven forbid, the north, you have a few major roadways that lead to these bridges. And every year when the flowers are starting to bloom and the trees beginning to bud, city workers rip up all those roadways... at the same time. Rather than use the majority of the workforce to fix two or three major roadways quickly, the city decides to use small teams to start work on 20 different projects. So no matter which way you choose to drive, you're stuck while a huge cement mixer attempts an eighty-seven point turn. And, as an aside, a big thank you to the genius who invented the beeping device that lets people know when big trucks are backing up. Genius!

When I was in kindergarten I learned a number of valuable lessons that I have carried with me during my 30 plus years on this stupid, God-forsaken orb we call "Earth"; perhaps the simplest and most profound was this: don't move on something else until you finished with what you're doing. Ah, childish logic. You want to play with blocks? Well, you have to put the Magic Doodle away first. You want to tear up Waverley? You have to put Pembina Highway back in order first.

But hidden in his coat is his Red Right Hand

I haven't given much more thought to being evil, other than a passing thought during a conversation with a friend about a wedding. I assured her that quietly grumbling about particpating in something you don't want to do isn't evil... true evil would be making something up to get out of something that you know you should do. Or doing it, grumbling to everyone who will listen and ridiculing all parties involved while you're doing it.

I continue to be perplexed by the oddities of others. Nothing I really feel like sharing at the moment. Just thought I'd shoot that out there.

Hey you, out there i the cold

I had the weirdest thought today: what if I could just be evil? Not "mean" or "bad" or "grumpy" but EVIL - cartoonishly wicked. You know, steal candy from children, kick old ladies down stairs, take over the world. I wonder, what it would take? Do really evil people choose to be evil? Did Lex Luthor wake up one morning and say, "I think I should start being evil today. Right after breakfast"?

I think evil Mike could solve a lot of my problems. I wouldn't have to do nice things for people - lend them books, offer to proofread essays. Evil-Mike wouldn't offer to proofread people's papers. Or he would offer and then he would add a whole bunch of mistakes and evidence of plagiarism. Life could be so much simpler, if I was evil. People annoy me - have them killed in their sleep. People treat me badly - put their legs in cement and drop them off a pier.

I suppose being evil would mean losing a lot of my friends. But, on the other hand, I believe I would pick up some henchmen. Most evil guys have henchmen, right? I suppose that's like having friends. It's all balance, isn't it?

Nothing ever grows in this rotten old hole

10 interesting and completely useless Mike facts (in no particular order):
1) Mike has been known to drink coffee in the shower.
2) Mike knows the words to far too many bad songs.
3) Despite some claims to the contrary, Mike shot neither the sheriff nor the deputy. He contends it was someone else
4) Growing up, Mike's across the street neighbour (and coworker of his father) is/was Bob Marley's brother-in-law..
5) Mike has an inexplicable love of teen comedies.
6) Mike read novels in kindergarten.
7) Mike has a deathly fear of people singing to him in restaurants.
8) Mike, once, many years ago, dunked a basketball in a regulation basket.
9) Mike was in the audience for a show for YTV that was produced by Cory Hart's brother.
10) Mike saw Pulp Fiction a staggering 13 times in the theatre; he never paid full price.

Then like a sinner before the gates of heaven I’ll come crawling on back to you

A strange day, with even stranger revelations. Some people are such disappointments.

My sister had a rollerblading accident last night. Sounds pretty serious:

Scraped her leg badly. Went home treated it and could feel something under the skin. Went to the walk-in clinic near her and they sent her to emerg.
They removed 17 small stones and they've told her the tissue damage is so severe she will have to have skin grafting done. They will do it next week.

Gross. Skin grafting? Wonder where they'll take the skin from? If it's from her butt, will she have a bum leg?* Still, this confirms my all fears about going outdoors and doing, you know, "exercise" - running, biking, rollerblading, whatever. Not worth it if you ask me. Walking: now that's more like it. Less likely to fall down. If God had wanted us rolling all over the place, he would have given us wheels... you know, actually attached to our feet, as opposed to the kind we purchase and put on voluntarily.

*(NB, that was my wife's joke, and it gave her such pleasure that I felt inclined to include it).

Sam-I-Am and Star-you-are

I can't believe it's May already. Ugh. May means lots of things, some good, some bad. May means summer's almost here; May also means I turn a year older.

So, after watching them film for many hours Saturday afternoon, I ended up going back out that evening when the cast and crew returned from dinner. I never did get to meet Anna Paquin, or Breckin Meyer, but I enjoyed watching them work. I stayed out there until nearly eleven o'clock watching them rehearse and shoot one scene. There was even a punch that had to be choreographed. The punch was a much debated topic on the set for quite awhile. How should Anna punch Breckin? Should it be a tight shot, a wild swing, a slap? The scene, punch and all, was wonderfully tense and Anna Paquin ad-libbed a line that nearly made me wet my pants... and I'm sure that would have impressed her.

A bunch of neighbours gathered to watch, which was cool. I think I got to meet more of the people on my street in that one day then I have in 7 years of living here. Not everyone stayed for the whole shoot, but a number of us did. By the time they wrapped, the crew had already cleaned up everything not being used for that particular shot. As we all shuffled back to our respective houses and as the cast shuffled back to their trailers or hotel rooms or whatever, only the camera, monitor and the boom mic were left to clean up. By Sunday morning you'd never have known anything interesting had been going on.

And life just keeps slipping away....

It's just my job five days a week

So, it's Anna Paquin.

They've been shooting for three days now and today was the day they decided to shoot outside stuff. I went out to take a look and gradually find myself in the company of the director and some of the production crew. I got to watch monitors. Weird. I stood around and watched Anna and Breckin shoot three relatively short scenes, and that took 3 hours.

She's really pretty close up. Everyone on the crew commented how cool and down to earth she is. One of the guys (I think her brother) offered to introduce me to her when they were on a break, but that never materialized as they never seemed to really break. Besides, while it would be cool to meet her, what could I possibly say? "I liked you in X-men, or the Piano, or Jane Eyre"? Smooth.

Breckin Meyer's a really funny guy; quite witty.

See you got our fist out; Say your piece and get out

So, they're shooting a movie across the street from me. Actually, I don't know who "they" are. I haven't seen anyone I recognize (and let's face it, if I have one true talent it's recognizing people from movies). All I've seen is one group of people working very hard and another group of people sitting on my neighbor's lawn and looking unreasonably proud of themselves. Oh, and a lot of babushkaed extras wandering up and down the block and smoking.

It could be a couple of different projects shooting in Winnipeg right now. Apparently Ben Kingsley's in town shooting a "dark gangster film" in the Sexy Beast vein (which is great 'cause I'm tired of seeing him playing cartoony bad guys in B-grade kids' flicks). Anna Paquin's supposed to be in town shooting Blue State with Breckin Meyer. Or it could just be some crap Canadian made-for-tv thing I'll never see. If I had my preference, it'd be Anna. Even if she comes with Breckin.

Changed my hairstyle so many times now, don't know what I look like

Spent a few hours Sunday afternoon at Providence College's graduation ceremony. It's the first year I've attended, because it's the first year I've taught more than a handful of the graduates. I think 10-15 of them had passed through one of my classes or the other (and really there are only two). It was nice to see them get their opportunity to walk across the stage, receive their degrees, and flip their tassels - though some of them seemed to have trouble with the whole tassel thing, thankfully none of my former students had much trouble.

I tried to make my way around to congratulate as many students I knew as I could... I didn't see (or get to talk to) everyone, as the gym and foyer were quite cramped, but I spoke to many. Everyone looked so happy - the guys looked confident and mature, the ladies beautiful and radiant. Most seemed occupied with family and friends. I didn't want to bother or interrupt, just let them know that I was pleased for them. Don't know if they cared one way or the other, but it meant something to me to tell them I was proud of them. I don't think many student think of professors as "people," but we are. Well, most of us are.

The service was short, as far as grads go: two hours and a bit. My Laurier BA grad was a painful 4 hours... never got to my MA grad. I think when I finally get a chance to walk across the stage to be dubbed "Doctor," my Gameboy will be idling in my pocket.

Should've been one of these things first

Well, I'm well stuck into the marking. Finished one set of exams this afternoon, but, unfortunately, the rest of the term grades are in my office downtown. I guess I'll swing by there Monday and figure out the final grades.

So far, judging by the exams I've marked, I've been impressed. Maybe I actually taught some people some stuff. I suppose in this wacky world anything's possible *shrugs*.

Walked up to the ol' neighbourhood library yesterday; had to return one book and pick up a new one that had been brought over from another branch for me, (The Time Traveler's Wife, which, if you're interested, several people whose opinions I value have recommended). When I got to the library, there were actually 3 books waiting for me: the aforementioned TTW, plus Lost and Son of a Witch. These last two are by Gregory Maguire who writes revisionist versions of classic stories. Wicked, his first and most famous, retells the story of The Wizard of OZ and recast the Wicked Witch of the West as the hero - Son of a Witch is the sequel. I'm sure I'm going to love all these books, but it is a rather daunting amount of "rec" reading to get done in the next month. Good thing the television is wrapping up. No reruns for Michael!

If you start me up I'll never stop

So, I was talking to my good friend Chris yesterday. He was relating some wonderful sotries about his daughter/my goddaughter, Del, who is apparently growing up to be a little drama queen. Example: he was putting her to bed one night and she looked sad.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I don't have any friends," she said, burying her head into her blankets.

Now whether she's your child or not, when an adorable three year old says something like this and your heart doesn't break, you are no friend of mine... and I'm a caustic bastard. Chris was understandably crushed. "Man, I didn't feel like that until highschool," he quipped to me. He said something to try to comfort her, but the whole thing naturally bothered him.... until he found out that Del had seen this very same exchange on her favourite show, "Calliou". Calliou had said this to his grandmother and the grandmother reacted with sympathy and treats. Turns out Del thought she'd try it out and see what kind of reaction she'd get with it. Smart kid.

Let's get together and feel all right

Gave my final exam of the year this afternoon. So once all this marking's done, I get to party, I get to kick back, I get to write my PhD thesis! Whooo!

Invigilating an exam is a odd mix of conflicting sensations: so, so boring; so, so entertaining. I mean, I understand that we're a voyeuristic society, one that enjoys watching what other people are doing, but there really is something indescribably amusing about watching people who have no idea that you can see them. I can only assume that this truth accounts more the staggering popularity of reality television.

Students writing exams (should) have too much on their minds to be self-conscience about the little things like etiquette. I watched one guy stick his finger in his ear, root around for a good 30 seconds, and then look intently at his finger! There's no way he thought people could see him; he was totally absorbed in his own world ... and his ear.

Both today and yesterday I watched the way people sit with great interest. As the time went by and the chairs became less comfortable, student would shift their bodies in an attempt to find a position that they could sit in. I tried to discern how sitting style relates to gender. Females are much more likely than males to pull one or both legs up on the seat of the chair. They are also more likely to twist their legs around their bodies. One of my students had one leg tucked underneath her and the other one crossed. She looked like a pretzel.

Guys tend to push their butts as far back as possible and then lean their torsos on the table. They are also more likely to try to "crack" things - fingers, legs, arms, necks. I can't tell if this is an honest attempt to ease stiffness, or just a noisy way to pass some time. Guys are also more likely (not far more likely, mind you) to scratch themselves in a way that can only be called “inappropriate”.

I also noticed that many people, both male and female, have no idea where their shirts end and where their pants begin. I saw a whole lot of underwear during this exam period. It's not like I was looking for it or anything, but once you notice something like that it's hard NOT to look. Eyes are just drawn there even when you don’t mean to look.

When the cities are on fire with the burning flesh of men

Grrrrrr... another bloody plagarist! Too frustrated to write anything original (though I had a wonderful entry planned about watching people who don't know they're being watched). I'll survey it instead.

Some questions are missing. I don't know where they got to.

1. What time did you get up this morning? 10

2. Diamonds or Pearls? Blah... stupid question

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema? Chronicles of Narnia, I think

4. What is your favorite TV show? Currently on: House, Spooks. Of all time: Buffy, Night Court.

5. What did you have for breakfast? Yogurt and granola

6. What is your middle name? William

7. What is your favorite cuisine? Ethopian

8. What foods do you dislike? Brussel sprouts. Stupid little cabbages. I hate everything and everyone in Brussells because of these blasted things.

9. Your favorite Potato chip? Cheddar, Roast turkey

10. What is your favorite CD at the moment? Buffy the Vampire Slayer- Once more with Feeling

11. What kind of car do you drive? A red one.

12. Favorite sandwich? Reuben

13. What characteristics do you despise? PLAGARISM!!!

14. What are your favorite clothes? Jeans

15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where WOULDN'T you go? Alberta

17. Favorite brand of clothing? Meh, don't have one.

18. Where would you want to retire to? England

19. Favorite time of day? Bedtime

21. What is your favorite sport to watch? Don't really have one.

24 Pepsi or Coke? Diet Coke is good, but Diet Pepsi I could drink all day long.

25. Beavers or Ducks? Is saying Beavers all right?

26. Are you a morning person or night owl? Night owl. No question about it. Unfortunately, it's a morning world.

27. Pedicure or Manicure? uh, neither.

29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with everyone? I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.

30. What did you want to be when you were little? Big

32. What is your best childhood memory? Innocence

36. Piercings? Just the arrow in my heart

37. Ever been to Africa? Nope

39. Ever been toilet papering? Yup.

40. Been in a car accident? Yup

43. Favorite day of the week? Thursday. It's my Friday!

44. Favorite restaurant? Masawa's

45. Favorite flower? Shut up.

46. Favorite ice cream? Ben and Jerry's "Vermonty Python"

47. Favorite fast food restaurant? Taco Bell... when I've forgotten what it did to me the last time.

48. How many times did you fail your drivers test? 0

50. From whom did you get your last e-mail? Someone promising to make it bigger.

52. Which store would you choose to max out your credit card? Chapters

54. Bedtime? What a good idea.

56. Last person you went to dinner with? In-laws, Rachel, brother-in-law an his girlfriend.

57. What are you listening to right now? Eddy Grant's "Gimme Hope Jo'anna"

58. What is your favorite color? Black

60. How many tattoos do you have?? 0

65. Favorite magazine? This new one called Jeez

I can live with or without you

Well, the last week of school stuff before the summer. Both my classes write exams this week (tomorrow and Wednesday) and then I have to mark them. Might sound bad, but I'd take marking exams over essays any day. I'm marking essays right now (have to have them done for Wednesday) and it's making me suicidal! Exams you don't have to correct, comment and "justify" your mark like you do with essays. You read twice and give it a grade. Easy-peasy. I can't believe I just wrote "easy-peasy".

This weekend was amazing! The weather in Winnipeg has been unusually awesome. Maybe it's global-warming, I have no idea, but I like it! I've been wearing T-shirts and short sleeved shirts since Friday. My in-laws were in town and we spent a lot of time walking outside. Of course, it very well could snow again. Who’s to say?

The weather was just one part of a great weekend. As I said, the in-laws were in town (which was a good thing) and we got to spent a bit more time getting to know my brother-in-law’s girlfriend and her three year old daughter, Julia. Julia’s a riot. We played games, read to her, and went to the park. She dubbed my father and mother-in-law “Rabbit and little rabbit” (though I’m not quite sure why) and dubbed me “That guy”… which, unfortunately, makes perfect sense. After all, how many people in my life have referred to me as “that guy”? Not counting immediate family? Lots.

“Who’d you have for English?”
"Um, that guy. What’s his name? You know."
"Oh yeah, that guy!"

Awkward conversation number 405. Some people are so bloody hard to figure out. One day they're all chatty and friendly and everything's cool. The next day they're stand off-ish and weird. Then back to chatty again. Some people should come with instructions. Or flow charts.

Gimme hope, Jo'anna

Grunt...

It's a grunt sort of day. I'm tired, my head aches and I have a pile of work to do.
Plus the usual, "People are so very frustratating" thing (not you folks; you folks are great). Sometimes it amazes me how freakin'self-absorbed people can be. And some of you wonder about my misantrophy?

Last class at Prov. You'd think they do more than complain. *shrugs* It's not like I wanted a parade. Okay, a parade would have been cool. What about an old, "Hey, liked the class"? I'd planned on laving them with a final poem about how literature can mean different things to you at different times in your life, as an encouragement to continue reading good books. But, frankly, after the apathy and bored looks when reviewing for the exam, I figured, forget it.

I used to dream there were clouds in my coffee

Okay, the game is called "Two Truths and a Lie." It's pretty simple. You tell two truths and lie about yourself; other people (or me) try to figure out which statements are the truth and which is the lie.

Example: 1) I was born in Toronto. 2) Until I moved to Manitoba, only my grandmother regularly called me Michael." 3) I shot a man in Reno just to watch him die.

If your guessed #1 and #2 were true and #3 was lie, you're RIGHT. I did shoot a man just to watch him die, but it wasn't in Reno.

Wanna play?

It's too cold to be out walking in the streets

It's April and there's a smell in the air... and I'm not talking about the "farm" smell out in Otterburne. I'm talking about the smell of fear. It's exam time and here at the University of Manitoba, and the fear is so thick that you can taste it. it hangs in the air. Students are walking around jacked up on caffine, pencils stuck behind their ears, muttering formulas and dates to themselves. It's a beautiful sight. Sometimes I like to walk by the Multi-purpose rooms 20 minutes before the afternoon exam period. Students are crammed in to the hallways, sitting almost on top of each other to be early to, what?, get a seat? Trying desperately to cram just one more fact into their heads before the exam starts, they have every text book open and all their classnotes spread out in front of them.

You probably think this song is about you

I finally took part in a major Winnipeg institution: today I ate at the Salisbury House. I've lived here for 7 years and I had never even been inside one. Oh, sure, I made the occasional joke (especially when the chain was purchased by a group of investors that included Winnipeg legend/joke, Burton Cummings). For those of you non-Winnipegger's Sal's is... well, like a combination of McDonalds-style fast food, 50s diner and a Perkins. They have burgers (which are called "Nips" for some reason no one seems able to explain) and all-day breakfasts. I had a crispy chicken wrap that was quite good and piece of pie. Yeah, so... Sal's... ate there.

It's spring, and spring in Manitoba means one thing: flooding. The banks of rivers are overflowing; people are sandbagging. I have to watch the news to see if the highway I use to drive to Otterburne will be underwater Wednesday. At the end of our neighbourhood there's a park and a creek that runs off one of the main rivers. I was by there today and the footbridge that crosses the creek is completely underwater. The only evidence a bridge exists is the life-saver bobbing up and down in the water.

Classes are over this week. And while this has been a good semester, I'm glad it's all coming to an end. Caught a student plagiarizing on a major paper the other day. That kind of sucks and means headaches for me (not least of which is being generally pissed off and angry). Blah! I still have a pile of papers still to mark, and now I have no desire to mark them. I just have this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach about this. Why would somebody do this? And do it so badly? I mean, I googled one questionable phrase and up popped the original article. And why do I take this all so personally?

I don't have to fight to prove I'm right

1. Do you still talk to the person you had your first kiss with?
I honestly have no idea who I had my first kiss with, so I'm going to say no.

2. What would you do with 1,000 plastic spoons?
Find a thosand plastic bowls.

3. What did you do when you were in school in the 2nd grade?
In grage two I learned to swear. My friend Beau taught me.

4. What is the best thing about your job?
Well, it's not marking, that's for sure. I guess something about expanding young minds and shaping the next generations thought? Oh and that I can wear jeans to work.

6. Are you against same sex marriage?
No.

7. Did you vote for Bush?
To do what?

8. Where are you going on your next vacation?
I have no idea.

9. Have you kissed any of your blogging friends?
Um, no.

10. Are most of your friends guys or girls?
Girls.

11. Do you own any furniture from Ikea?
Yes, Quite a bit I'm afraid to say.

12. Last book you read?
Superman: Birthright (graphic novel) or James Ellroy's White Jazz

13. If you could have one super power what would it be?
Fly.

14. Where have you lived most of your life?
Oshawa, Ontario... Canada

15. What was the last convo you had about?
Work. At lunch.

16. Where do you see yourself in four years?
Sitting at my desk with a big stack of papers still to be marked.

17. What's your favorite smell?
Fresh Nan bread.

18. What is your favorite sound?
The sounds of silence.

19. Are you moody?
Yes.
No. Yes. I mean, I don' know. I hate you.

20. Favorite movie of all time?
Casablanca

22. Have you ever gone to therapy?
No, but I really enjoy the therapy scenes on the Sopranos.

23. Have you ever played Spin the Bottle?
Yes, and I wasn't very good at it.

24. Have you ever toilet papered some one's house?
Not a house, but I did toilet paper my highschool one Hallowe'en

25. Have you ever liked someone and not told them?
All the freakin' time.

26. Have you ever gone camping?
Only by accident.

27. Have you ever had a crush on your siblings friend?
No. My sister is four years younger and had ugly friends.

28. Have you ever gone to a nude beach?
Only by accident.

29. Have you ever gone streaking?
Only... no I have never gone streaking. I have performed in front of people wearing almost nothing.

30. Have you ever had a stalker?
Nope.

31. Have you ever gone skinny dipping?
I don't think so. You'd think you'd remember something like that. Unless it was really traumatic and you repressed it. So... maybe?

32. Have you ever laughed so hard you cried?
Yes.

33. Have you ever gone to a party where you were the only one
Um, that's not a party then, is it?

34. Have you ever felt betrayed by your best friend?
Sure.

35. Have you ever lied to your parents?
Of course.

37. Have you ever been out of the country?
Yes, I have. Thank you very much.

38. Have you ever thrown up from working out?
No, but I always suspected I might. That's why I don't work out.

39. Have you ever gotten a haircut so bad that you wore a hat for a month straight?
No. Not a straight month. A couple of days maybe. If I had a haircut that bad, I'd just have my head again.

40. Have you ever eaten 3 meals from 3 different fast food places in 1 day?
Three meals? Doubtful. I'm not a big breakfast person. But two meals, I'm sure I have.

41. Last song you listened to?
A live version of "Tango to their Sore" by Tom Waits. It's my very favourite Waits song.

42. Have you ever spied on someone?
The Russians. You mean professionally? No.

43. Have you ever slept in the same bed with the opposite sex?
Yes.

44. Have you ever seen your best friend naked?
Yes.

45. Who was the last person who called you?
My mom (somebody shoot me)

46. When was the last time you slept for more then 12 hours?
Friday night to Saturday afternoon. Heavenly.

47. Have you ever been arrested?
Nope. They keep trying, but they just can't catch me. Suckers.

48. Most embarrassing CD you own?
Well, if we're counting cds my wife purchased and I therefore own too, probably something stupid like the Top Gun soundtrack. Of cds I purchased and therefore have no excuse... um...can't think of any. I think I sold all the embarassing ones.

49. Have you ever had surgery?
Only by accident.

I can't help it if I'm lucky

Did you know that golf season is starting up soon?

Neither did I.... until I found a helpful little email from Golfer's World in my Junk Mail folder this morning. And it must be a big deal, right? I mean, they took the time to email me – me, who has never golfed a round in his life!

Now ordinarily the only messages that I find in my Junk folder promise to make me "bigger." Lately there have been a disproportionate number from "females" with names like Candy or Sindy, calling me "Sexy" and looking to "hook up." My astute eye has judged these as fraudulent - no one who's actually seen me would describe me as "sexy".

My goodness, I've used up two whole weeks worth of quotation marks in that paragraph. My apologies, "gentle" "reader."

But today, instead of one of these typical messages waiting to be Trashed like a Frat-boy on Spring Break, I found this one telling me all about the advent of the new golfing season. Now I don't like golf, not even a little bit, but it was refreshing to have something different breaking the monotony of the Junk folder, like a breath of fresh air. Okay, maybe not "fresh" air, but definitely less stagnant.

"But the fool on the hill sees the sun going down

So it's April Fool's Day. I've never been a big fan of April Fool's Day, never much saw the point in jokes and japes and larks being tied to a specific day. But if it's one the same day year after year, don't people start to catch on?

I saw a show on television this afternoon that got me thinking about fooling people and being fooled. The featured an interview with Ray Manzarek, keyboardist for "The Doors." He was talking about (surprise, surprise) Jim Morrison's final days. The interview brought up some of the shadowy circumstances that have lead some fans to believe Morrison actually faked his own death: there was no autopsy, no death certificate, an Algerian doctor who diagnosed failed heart as the cause of death, a closed casket, and a quick burial. Though Manzarek says he believes Morrison's excessive lifestyle finally caught up with him and that Jim did indeed die and is buried in Paris, he also said that if there was anyone in rock and roll who could pull off a stunt like that it was the Lizard King. But some people still believe. Just like some people believe Elvis Presley's still alive somewhere. Or that Andy Kaufman faked his own death as a huge Kaufmanesque joke on the world and that one day he'll return. Or that Tupac faked his own death and is still alive somewhere (I gotta admit this one seems possible as Tupac has released more material since he died than he ever did in life).

Why is it so easy for people to believe that someone would take the time and care to stage their own death and hide out because they're too famous, or they're tired of the fame? Why do people show up at the Comedy Store on the eve of Andy Kaufman's death hoping he'll show up? Has anyone actually pulled this off? And why has no one actually tried it? I think that it's about time that someone actually tried the "fake your own death thing only to return." Could you imagine how big something like that would actually be? Someone we all thought was dead right there on telelvision presenting best Onscreen Kiss at the MTV Movies Awards. We'd all go bananas! I nominate a New Kid on the Block. Any New Kid on the Block. Joey, Jordan, Timmy, Alan… I don’t care. Draw straws. They could certainly use the publicity.