Yet more grumblings about how a crown corporation requires the educated to dole out money to take a course to prove one can read…

I admit it. I haven’t been active here lately. Even my filler seems forced. Though it shouldn’t be an excuse, my professional life has evoked the warrior within, and it has consumed my soul. A frakked up current work situation coupled with jumping through hoops for a new day job, along with slowly researching how to make an artistic passion a viable economic resource has in essence tapped me out. All that feels to be left right now is the hardened exterior. Not that this is a change for what most see in me, but for those who don’t know, there’s still a hint of humanity left in me.

It just hasn’t come up for air.

In a good while.

Case in point, the nearly complete misuse of this weekend. Only nearly in the absolute sense that I can’t talk ICBC out of the completely fucked notion that I have to take a 20 hour, 2 day, $200 course to ensure I’ve read about 30 pages of the commercial vehicle manual, regarding air brakes. Frak me gently with a chainsaw. Let’s just put it this way. There was a physical mock set up of a air brake system at the front of the class fully set up, and before the instructor arrived, I had already figured out 90% of the operational functions. Bah. We should rename ICBC to ‘Insurance Crooks of British Columbia’.

Still, the teacher does have some merit. He does break down the systems simply and accurately, so all can follow. And he did afford us one wake up call today, as also found in this CBC story:

Kamloops Oct 27, 1989: a runaway truck carrying steel beams takes a wrong turn off the highway and ends up on a steep grade with no brakes.

The truck hit 12 cars. The driver burned to death. Four other people were also killed. One was 4-year-old Corey James who was with a neighbour.

Corey’s father is Don James. Don feels the accident could have been prevented. He says the truck was unsafe, the driver —Travis Penner— was inexperienced. This was only his second trip through the mountains of British Columbia. His brakes were in such poor condition, they were practically useless. The brakes on the tractor part were improperly adjusted.

What was more shocking was that our instructor was privy to a first hand account by the first officers to arrive on the scene. They found the driver still alive, with the truck on fire. The driver was begging the officer to shoot him before he burned to death. The officer couldn’t do it, and witnessed the horrific death. It makes me wonder where the humane choice truly lies.

With that as an impetus, I can see why ICBC wants to push proper training. However, I do still digress. First, I really don’t think a weekend course can circumvent carelessness. Second, with all the motor vehicle accidents and increasingly rising insurance premiums therein due to carelessness in commuter vehicles as well as commercial, why is the air brake course the only one mandatory for licensing in this province?

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

The return of Twisted Filler and other observations in the dawn of great change…

One thing came up in the twisted filler.

From Paul. Big shock there. Good ol’ Pastehead keeps finding these rarities. As such…

The Nietzsche Family Circus.

Feel free to email any humourous oddities to me at neolithicfilms@gmail.com.

I’m going to need a lot of them these days as our dear Vancouver Canucks are flirting with cellar dwelling this season in the Western Conference. Out are Naslund and Morrison. In come Steve Bernier, Ryan Johnson, Darcy Hordichuk, and Kyle Wellwood. And in all honesty, I do think the Canucks need to go to the drawing board, and definitely start from scratch. If the ‘Nucks do make a consistent commitment to the draft and developing young talent, they can be a force to reckon with in several years time. In the meantime, it makes for very boring hockey. However, there is a wild card. Is Luongo, our star goalie, willing to put up with a carbon copy of the dogma fed to him in Florida, a team that sucks so much balls? Though the direction is in the future, towards the youth, maybe getting a good name player to stand tall with the Sedin twins might give ol’ Bobby Lu enough motivation to stick around until the Canucks rise as a potent force once again.

I’ve been mulling it over, and there is one player I do have in mind. Not a free agent though, so it would have to be a trade…

So how about…

Kevin Bieksa to Philadelphia for Daniel Briere?

Briere’s probably not available, and the Flyers might not jump at this idea, but I do love the way Briere plays. Even if he beat the beloved Habs in the spring playoff dance (fucker).

Though in all sincerity, this isn’t the worst deal I’ve seen in the last 24 hours. Telus and Bell will start charging for incoming text messages starting in August. Revamping costs, or making a quick buck on the spam text message market that’s becoming as obnoxious as it has on the email front.

Thank fuck I’m with Rogers.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

After 141 years, can we find what defines us?

Setting the way back machine for, oh, say four years ago in film school, I seem to remember the purpose of our Canadian film history course. We were told the main scope was to piss us off, depress us, or simply put, really hit home how shit domestic funded production is here. The discussion continued on to really rifle in a point. We as Canadians define ourselves in the negative, that is, what we are NOT. We are NOT American.

Thank the Gods for that simple mercy.

In a completely related subject, Ipsos Reid did a survey as to what Canadians think defines Canada. I wonder if anyone who commissioned the study actually watched The Greatest Canadian?

Some of the results seemed a little slanted. The first category on the hopper was most defining Canadian, with the following results:

1. Pierre Trudeau
2. Wayne Gretzky
3. Terry Fox
4. Céline Dion
5. John A. Macdonald
6. David Suzuki
7. Tommy Douglas
8. Stephen Harper
9. Lester Pearson
10. Maurice Richard

Most names fit for me, but what the fuck? Céline Dion? I mean, fuck me, there are dozens of musicians that fit the bill a whole lot better than that annoying diva. Shania Twain. Geddy Lee. Burton Cummings. Gordon Downie. Even Bryan Adams. But NOT Céline, please fuck Gods no!

Monsieur Harper also irritates the fuck outta me. Fair enough, he’s our PM at the moment, and as such sits in Canadian’s minds, but as he personification of Canada? He’s got a face like a smacked ass, and a personality that can be rivaled by river rock or pond scum. Can’t we as Canadians come up with something with zip? No actors hit the list. What about Mike Myers, Jim Carey, Dan Aykroyd, John Candy, Catherine O’Hara, Rick Mercer, Gordon Pinsent, Lorne Greene, Mary Walsh (or even better Marg Delahuntey), Gabrielle Miller, Brent Butt, Leslie Neilson, Raymond Burr, Mary Pickford, and so on, and so on… come on, anyone but Harper. Cripes, he wants to alter Canadian Parliament as so it is a carbon copy of the American system. Twat.

Defining place in Canada was also covered. Click the above link to get the list. My two cents are simple. How the fuck is Toronto more Canadian than Vancouver or Montreal?

The last I have any kind of contrast with is the defining Canadian accomplishment. The following definitely have merit:

1. Canadarm
2. Peacekeeping
3. Universal health care
4. Fredrick Banting - Insulin
5. Alexander Graham Bell - Telephone
6. Diversity, Multiculturalism
7. Canadian Constitution, Charter of Rights and Freedoms
8. Canadian national railway/railroad
9. Freedom
10. Avro Arrow project

Definitely all good accomplishments. I would like to submit a few others, simply for consideration (my beef is more about the limiting of the top ten items in the news story).

1972 Summit Series win over the USSR.
The Atlanta Flames moving to Calgary (the only professional team to leave a big money US market to come to Canada).
The first Canadian to learn to curve their stick using a blowtorch.
Warm Labatt 50.
Even though it’s in Toronto, the giant phallic erection next to the Rogers Centre.
Newfoundland Screech.
Americanized rugby with one less down.
The game of basketball.

And if all else fails, remember the following to bring pride to Canadian-hood:

The reason American beer is like sex in a canoe? It’s fucking close to water.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

Can bipedal mobile chrome toasters be people and other observations

A note to those ‘non’ Galactica types, this post is very toaster light. Rather, it has been inspired mostly by my reading Battlestar Galactica and Philosophy: Knowledge Here Begins Out There. Currently I’m mired in the fundamental differences between utilitarianism versus deontology, and how they compare to the sacraficial differences in the command styles of Helena Cain in respective contrast to Saul Tigh (and to a lesser degree the Old Man). Fun stuff.

Still, for all the fun filled academia, read the book. For dorks like me, it’s well worth it and sheds loads of depth in an already deep show. However, I’m also reading excerpts of The Joy of Work by Scott Adams to help maintain some semblance of sanity in my life, and as such has made me highly critical of the major evolutionary malfunctions of others. As such, I am envisioning a fusion of the two, as inspired by chapter 5 of the Galactica text, “And They Have A Plan”: Cylons As Persons (written by Robert Arp and Tracie Mahaffey).

The chapter really looks as to whether or not skinjobs can be treated as persons, and examines them based on five points of capacity qualifying them as a person. As such, they are:

1. To be rational or intelligent.
2. Have robust mental states like beliefs, desires, emotions, and self-awareness.
3. Use language, rather than simply transmit information.
4. Be involved in relationships with other persons.
5. Be morally responsible for one’s actions as a free and autonomous who could have done otherwise.

And the main point of this chapter was to imply that ALL conditions must be met. My Gods, how many people my cynicism would disqualify as persons. Exempli gratia:

1. Two thirds of all the drivers in British Columbia. By the way they drive, they obviously have no concept of the cars and pedestrians around them, let alone the world around them, short of the Blackberry they are texting to Facebook on while they drive in rush hour traffic. It is obvious these people cannot manage to tie their own shoes, let alone run their lives. And obvious disqualification to personhood.

2. I’m tempted to say all Christians, as their belief system is based on a lie, but alas, it is a belief system. It’s pretty much a stretch to throw someone in here, so I’ll leave this for Todd the peanut gallery to give their two cents.

3. This HAS to be computer techies. Aside from fueling Todd’s fire to slam this post, the only ‘LANGUAGE’ (or languages) they understand are computer code. Communicating original thought or ideas orally is an idea completely foreign to the lot. This actually works in the whole industry’s advantage (whether by design or an intrinsic coincidence is another subject to debate), as the complete lack of communication, cooth, social skill and any semblance of a heart has allowed the IT industry to thrive by making customers feel like intellectually inferior and like absolute shit before they point out the system needs to be rebooted. Mind you the gits who can’t figure that out deserve to be parted with the money they shuck out to learn where the system restart function is.

4. Once again, computer techies. Palmala Handerson does not count as a girlfriend, to all the computer geeks out there.

5. Anyone in government/politics. Look in the dictionary. The first example of oxymoron that is given is ‘honest politician’. There is NO honour amongst thieves, upper management, and politicians.

Isn’t life just all fun and games until someone loses their personhood? Or is ignorance truly bliss?

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

What a lack of sport combined with ridiculous prices will do to a man

Fuckity fuck fuck. No Battlestar for at least six months. Frak. Still, it could be worse. There could be no sports on TV (oh wait, that’s not far from the truth). With England out of the Euros, there has been little interest for me short of seeing Portugal and Germany lose. One down, one to go. Baseball really doesn’t get interesting until oh, say, October, and the NHL draft and free agent signings are just as interesting to follow on an RSS feed as it is listening to Bob McKenzie or Don Taylor relay the same information.

Still, frankly, I’m not a summer person. And this coming from a fire. Gimme my winter, my skiing, my footie, and my hockey. Period. I could honestly live in 12 month winter conditions. Just so long as the price of oil (or at least the publicly perceived price of oil) doesn’t continue to skyrocket.

Not helping such a climb is the new carbon tax levied by Gordon ‘Asshole’ Campbell, our beloved hated Premier. Though this tax will be diverted from others charged (by way of a cheque all taxpayers in BC will receive sometime this week), it certainly hasn’t helped. The same day this tax was announced, gas stations bumped their prices from $1.09 to $1.24. Yikes. Gods I hate this industry that is showing record profits. They seem to be able to use anything to justify a price hike. Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck. Fuck. When prices last year made it to $1.30, they didn’t last. People didn’t take it. Now it seems more and more are enjoying being fucked right up the ass. I’m just waiting for gas stations to prepare motorists by providing free vibrating anal dildos to men, preparing them for the next fuck in terms of gas prices. Get used to it.

As such, and keeping in the spirit of what my better half told me once that those on the other side of the pond actually gamble on the weather, and to fill my sports void, I propose this. Let’s have a pool. And the criteria is simple:

What day will gas prices break $1.75 per litre in Vancouver?

I say $1.75 as $1.50 could happen as soon as tomorrow. And when Gordo’s 2.5 cent increase hits, it’s certain. $1.75 is a reasonable next target. Make your pick. And if enough people pick, I might just throw in a vibrator for the winner to allow themselves the training of being fucked up the ass to be better prepared for gas price increases.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

Transit Reflections Week 1

Aside from the kick the shit outta you walk back to the SkyTrain station at the end of the day, transit really isn’t quite so bad. It’s definitely a marked improvement over that found in [sic] Toronto. Armed with my iPod and new Battlestar book (to which I should be dedicating a real post tomorrow), I’m actually somewhat occupied for the death train ride home.

It is, however, the fucking walk 1 km uphill that takes the fucking piss outta me. I’ve had some blahg post ideas brewing, but by the time I finally arrive home I’m right wiped. Fuck, cunt, fuck, bollocks, fuck, shit, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Still, certain things just have right floored me (thank you time to read free newspapers and to be alone with my thoughts). Such as:

A. We run transit based on the honour system. The flaw inherent is that are many who take transit that have ABSOLUTELY NONE.

B. One of those fine individuals approached me (whilst I was waiting for one of my work mates) inquiring if I needed a fare. I said no, I buy my own tickets legally (selling used but still valid tickets is so obviously illegal, without even needing to read TransLink’s fine print). He then proceeded to try to procure one of my fares. My response…

Fuck you thief!

C. Superchronic actually is a term the VPD uses to describe one who is charged 12 times in 12 months for drug-related theft.

D. The above group are considered to be put on a 30 strike rule after which sentences will be stiffened.

E. The average sentence upon conviction of people in this group is 55 days.

F. Fuck me, part of me is going to the right, because they aren’t going to change, so lock them up for a long time and get the fuckers off the streets and reduce the huge theft in Vancouver.

G. If you weren’t a severe drug addict, you’d be up shit creek without a paddle for said offenses.

H. I need more blahg content. Maybe some reality challenged, narrow-minded, Jesus freak and extreme right winger from the USA will hate my slant and start a war. I need to stir the pot again sometime. The last challenger had a hissy fit and gave up to easily. Weakling.

And things are just getting so much better. We’re all getting buried under costs. On the Jeff O’Neil show earlier this week, a guy working two jobs to support his family is expecting to hit bankruptcy by December. My parents definitely did not earn their stripes in such a harsh economic climate. Bah.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

Sure signs that you are completely and utterly socially unacceptable

The necessity of a day job in these torrid times for me has done one good facilitation. I’ve been reading (though sparsely) more Scott Adams again. What really rings in me with Scott is one simple thing. Though the aim is entertainment and humour for the intellectually inclined individual, I am once again finding that what logical failings that business has in the western world, which by reading humour tend to seem far fetched, off the deep end, and utter exaggerations, are in fact painfully accurate mirrors of the truth.

Being a logical, academic, and scientifically minded individual, the absolute bollocks that goes on in business is the complete reason why the world is reverse-evolving. With time and applied thought, comes experience. It is obvious that business is more about politics than accomplishing tasks for customers/clients. Perhaps that the dance of bullshit is what is necessary to keep commerce afloat, to be a battlefield to which intellectual plebs may flex their overestimated size, to create competition for those weak souls who rely on cowardice for might, not skill, talent or intellect.

Bah. Still, we intellects must compete in the same mediocre battlefield as we too must eat and have shelter. Frakkers. Since being a child, it became obvious that academic prowess led to dorkiness, geekiness, and nerdiness. In my younger days, I denied it. I wanted to be cool. I just did not want to conform to do it. I did not realize the paradox within. In order to be cool, to be accepted by the norm, one must conform. At this revelation, I did truly recognize I was completely and utterly socially unacceptable. I thought for myself. I hate the mainstream. Frak it all. I’m me and I love it!

As such, for the Scott Adams-esque analysis of such, here are some signs I’ve discovered that might seperate you (well, they seperate me) from the norm of mainstream society:

A. In your top twenty-five iTunes songs, 6 are by Bear McCreary, 3 by Richard Gibbs, 1 is a clip available for download from your favourite radio station, and the number one ‘Rock’ song is Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine.

B. You actually take the time to monitor statistics on your iTunes list.

C. You are currently reading Battlestar Galactica and Philosophy: Knowledge Here Begins Out There.

D. You want to read Family Guy and Philosophy: A Cure for the Petarded next.

E. You get most of the classical references in such.

F. These books inspire you to read more classical philosophy.

G. You also read about classical civilizations.

H. You keep tabs on the population count in the opening credits of each episode of Battlestar Galactica.

I. You refer to your enemies as ‘Walking Chrome Toasters’.

J. You start to realize your dorkiness has a Galactica slant.

K. To compensate for such you purchase Star Wars bobbleheads at the grocer.

L. Vos propono magis en latin.

M. You wanted to write only 12 signs but are writing this to realize it’s thirteen.

N. You start to figure out that using letters rather than numbers might have fucked you up.

Well, it’s a start. If you seem to suffer from some (or all) of the above symptoms, you are not fit for mainstream society. Your ideas and passion, though necessary for the advancement and evolution of the human race, are feared, loathed, and you will be hunted down the moment your back is turned.

Bon Appetito.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

Twisted Filler Tuesday… it’s all fun and games ’till you buy smack on the radio

Yup. Thank the Gods Jeff, Scotty, and Charis are back on the air. Three weekdays with Todd & Karen and Brother Bill (aka Neil Morrison) first thing in the morning don’t cut it. Okay, the two with Todd & Karen sucked balls. Morrison has great picks for music, and at least doesn’t try to steal O’Neil’s bits (not those bits). It was strange. Usually when the lot go off the air, be it just one of them on some variety of holiday, or the lot of them for a period of time, the trio go out of there way to announce it, as to not piss off their listeners. Good on them. Just not this time.

Maybe it has to do with this. Last Wednesday, Scotty dressed in a beaver costume. Okay, not that bad. He went, dressed as such, to Hastings and Main, one of our more colourful neighbourhoods. Okay, let’s not kid ourselves. It’s the most obvious place in Vancouver where impoverished drug addicts commune. And the home of Insite, Vancouver’s own safe injection site. Maybe it was the sign he was holding above his head.

Are You Selling Heroin?

To which Scott transacted a $10 purchase (which he actually paid $20), all live on the radio via the miracle of mobile phone technology. Or maybe it was the fact he was nearly arrested by the VPD (who ironically are situated kitty-corner to the Carnegie Community Centre, the main communal point). At this point I think it’s safe to say that some part of this stunt was the impetus of this involuntary sabbatical.

Hell, even O’Neil alluded to the involuntary nature of their ‘vacation’. Though Todd & Karen annoy me as their program, aside from the music, feels more like the on air banter of a dance station, it is amusing when they even take esoteric potty shots at the whole incident.

Though I fully support free speech, I can understand the implications to Corus Radio. Corus Entertainment, the parent corporation, also owns no less than four children’s broadcasting stations. Without stern action, this could have been a gigantic PR nightmare for the corporation.

And therin lies the problem. Maybe I just hold onto the past, but music, well, my kind of music, was in it’s day called Alternative. Not mainstream. Alternative. A genre very heavy on independent acts. And when I lived in Onterrible (gasp… I know… damn FLQ forced anglos to flee la Belle Province) there was this station. Not The Edge. Not Edge 102.1. Not 102.2 the Edge.

CFNY. Nicknamed in it’s early days The Spirit of Radio. So popular in it’s days it inspired this song of the same name from Rush. And as much of it’s programming, it was (though now owned by the same Corus Entertainment) independent.

And that’s what we really need. That spirit of radio. Of free radio. Of uncorporate radio.

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

Frak me running with a chainsaw - Teaser

Spoiler follows. Click through at your own risk:

It’s Been One Week

Full of asshats.
New boss is an asshat and is very angry.
Five days of near slavery,
Saying asshats galore, get the hell away from me.
Two days in the living room,
Another asshat comes, but this time was virtual.
Yesterday, I’d flamed her,
But it’ll be never before I say I’m sorry.

Not much changes in the world of me. My life’s a war, and for some fucked up reason, all the asshats gravitate towards me. I mean, come on, can’t these pieces of biological waste get a hobby or something?

This one, however, has. She seems to find people like me, who stand against America (for me, it’s simply the Americanization of Canada). She has, as you have now realized following the link, taken on a war against anti-Americanism (isn’t that just as futile as taking on a war against another concept, such as terrorism)? And just to show you where I stand (as it seems I’m highly misunderstood). America is fine. Within limits. For me, just south of 49 will do. And they can have Toronto to boot. I had a choice to live permanently there, but I chose to stay in the Great White North. Why? Health care and not living in a culture of fear were good reasons.

Not to say that America doesn’t have great strengths. I just want to enjoy Canadian strengths. Hockey. Beer. To put a defining point on my beef, take a full college or university program on Canadian Film studies. The lack of funding for good Canadian content is a real sore spot with me.

Still, this ‘person’ chose to hammer this post and the About Me page on here, prior to writing this post about how we Canadians are ‘insecure about our southern neighbours’. Now, instead of defaming her on this site, just read all the comments to see what a nutjob she really is. My favourite bit though still is these two points.

1. I got banned! Woohoo! Break out the champagne! Cocktails! It’s been a while since someone has blacklisted me from their blog. And I’d thought I’d lost my touch!

2. ‘Apparently’, my ass was handed to me. ‘Apparently’, I’m pissed. News to me. Time for another celebratory drinky poo!

And finally, in sheer celebration, my latest bobblehead:

So, from Darth Stewie unto you Candy/Virgo Monkey/flavour of the week girl, I say to you this parting phrase:

If you can’t take a joke, don’t be one.

Now for your airlocking:

Interdum vos ut volvo ferrus six.

P.S. Grow my city’s industry.