We are in the slow, dark heart of the longest week in the media year.
For newspapers, endless Top 10s and piffle.
Loot the files, scalp the archives.
More copy! More lists!
2005's Most Exciting Breakups.
The Top 10 Celebrity Sadsacks.
The Year's Cutest/Oddest/Scariest Trends.
The Top 10 Dog Fashions.
The 10 Most Fascinating Scanner Calls, as prepared by the police desk.
Who's IN and who's OUT and do you even know their names?
Pray for the pathetic lugnuts who drew the short straw and must prepare this material and fill the box until readers come back.
I was one once.
Yet I feel their pain.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Merry Moosemas
My moose pal and I are staying in the woods this weekend, being un-naturally wary of hunters, leg-hold traps and airports.
There will be plenty of rum and no relative will dance The Alley Cat.
In short, the best Xmas possible.
May you have one too.
Come on! Try!
Granny's nuts
Everybody comes to granny's house for Christmas.
Granny follows the sound of children's laughter and hurries to their playroom.
"Who'd like some nuts?" the dear old woman chuckles.
Greedy children fight for the treats, devouring every nut in the bowl. She brings them a second serving. "Eat up!" she chirps. "I have lots!"
Granny goes to the den, when family guys are drinking beer and trading b.s. It is a blue zone of belches and farts.
"Anyone for nuts?" Granny asks? She has another bowl! "I'll just leave them here on the table, lads."
Gorilla hands grab for nuts, fill their fists.
Granny goes to the kitchen, where lady relatives cluster.
"Can I offer you girls some nuts?" Granny asks, pulling a huge sack of nuts out of the cupboard and filling yet another bowl. Soon it's empty too.
She refills nut bowls all afternoon, urging kids and adults to eat up. A daughter-in-law sees her yanking another sack from the cupboard.
"Aren't you having any nuts yourself, Gran?" she asks.
"Oh no dear," Granny says. "You know I can't have nuts! I have such terrible gums. And no teeth!"
"Then why do you buy so many?"
Granny smiles sweetly: "I just love the chocolate around them."
Granny follows the sound of children's laughter and hurries to their playroom.
"Who'd like some nuts?" the dear old woman chuckles.
Greedy children fight for the treats, devouring every nut in the bowl. She brings them a second serving. "Eat up!" she chirps. "I have lots!"
Granny goes to the den, when family guys are drinking beer and trading b.s. It is a blue zone of belches and farts.
"Anyone for nuts?" Granny asks? She has another bowl! "I'll just leave them here on the table, lads."
Gorilla hands grab for nuts, fill their fists.
Granny goes to the kitchen, where lady relatives cluster.
"Can I offer you girls some nuts?" Granny asks, pulling a huge sack of nuts out of the cupboard and filling yet another bowl. Soon it's empty too.
She refills nut bowls all afternoon, urging kids and adults to eat up. A daughter-in-law sees her yanking another sack from the cupboard.
"Aren't you having any nuts yourself, Gran?" she asks.
"Oh no dear," Granny says. "You know I can't have nuts! I have such terrible gums. And no teeth!"
"Then why do you buy so many?"
Granny smiles sweetly: "I just love the chocolate around them."
The Christmas Gloves
Okay, okay.
You knew it was gonna show up here.
It took weeks for the guy to find his girlfriend's perfect Christmas gift.
They'd only dated a few months. He wanted romantic, but nothing cold, creepy or too personal.
He decides on a pair of gloves. Ladylike. Old-fashioned.
He enlists his girlfriend's younger sister to select them at Holt Renfrew. The sister is so delighted by the store, she buys a pair of lace panties for herself.
The salesclerk mixes up the boxes. That's why the guy's girlfriend opens a box of panties on Christmas morning and reads the following hand-written note...
"I chose these because I notice you never wear any when we go out. If it had not been for your sister, I would have chosen longer ones with buttons. But she wears short ones that are easier to remove.
"These are a delicate shade, but the saleslady showed me a pair she'd been wearing for three weeks and they were barely soiled. I had her try yours on for me and she looked really smart.
"I wish I was there to help put them on you the first time, as no doubt other hands will come in contact with them before I see you again.
"When you take them off, remember to blow on them before putting them away. They will naturally be a little damp from wearing. Just think how many times I will kiss them during the coming year. Will you wear them for me New Years Eve?
"P.S... The saleslady says the latest style is to wear them folded down, with a little fur showing."
She fled town on Boxing Day.
You knew it was gonna show up here.
It took weeks for the guy to find his girlfriend's perfect Christmas gift.
They'd only dated a few months. He wanted romantic, but nothing cold, creepy or too personal.
He decides on a pair of gloves. Ladylike. Old-fashioned.
He enlists his girlfriend's younger sister to select them at Holt Renfrew. The sister is so delighted by the store, she buys a pair of lace panties for herself.
The salesclerk mixes up the boxes. That's why the guy's girlfriend opens a box of panties on Christmas morning and reads the following hand-written note...
"I chose these because I notice you never wear any when we go out. If it had not been for your sister, I would have chosen longer ones with buttons. But she wears short ones that are easier to remove.
"These are a delicate shade, but the saleslady showed me a pair she'd been wearing for three weeks and they were barely soiled. I had her try yours on for me and she looked really smart.
"I wish I was there to help put them on you the first time, as no doubt other hands will come in contact with them before I see you again.
"When you take them off, remember to blow on them before putting them away. They will naturally be a little damp from wearing. Just think how many times I will kiss them during the coming year. Will you wear them for me New Years Eve?
"P.S... The saleslady says the latest style is to wear them folded down, with a little fur showing."
She fled town on Boxing Day.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Primate news
Are there actually humans desperate to drop $20 on King Kong? The mega-monkey's opening day box office take is judged to be--uhm--disappointing.
I pray this is an omen for TV next week.
Can the ratings for Howie Mandell's Deal/No Deal be less than a dozen?
I pray this is an omen for TV next week.
Can the ratings for Howie Mandell's Deal/No Deal be less than a dozen?
Sunday, December 04, 2005
Johnny Big Screen
Two days ago, a buddy and I go into an electronics store.
One of us buys a big screen TV.
This is startling, considering both of us are sober.
We solve that, but only after one of us buys the set. It is a long afternoon.
I find a note from buddy in today's morning e-mail.
"So how do you like Giant TV?" he asks. "Have you slept in the last 36 hours?"
I have replied as follows:
"I am Johnny Big Screen, leader of men.
With my half dozen zappers, I control the universe.
Programmers and satellite geeks tremble before my fingertips.
My life has changed.
I walk the streets as TV cowboy, bow-legged.
Where once there was scorn, there is now only envy.
RIDE programs wave me through.
I have lost 11 pounds in little more than a day.
Women have flashed me four times since I was last in your driveway.
I am impervious to bullets and Ontario winds.
My new god? The S-video cable.
In short, life is good.
I would tell you how good, but you would only (a) weep, then (b) beg stores take three or four grand off you, no change required.
Johnny Big Screen is making a list of new friends.
Big Screen Pals worthy of his budship.
With any luck, you may be on it."
One of us buys a big screen TV.
This is startling, considering both of us are sober.
We solve that, but only after one of us buys the set. It is a long afternoon.
I find a note from buddy in today's morning e-mail.
"So how do you like Giant TV?" he asks. "Have you slept in the last 36 hours?"
I have replied as follows:
"I am Johnny Big Screen, leader of men.
With my half dozen zappers, I control the universe.
Programmers and satellite geeks tremble before my fingertips.
My life has changed.
I walk the streets as TV cowboy, bow-legged.
Where once there was scorn, there is now only envy.
RIDE programs wave me through.
I have lost 11 pounds in little more than a day.
Women have flashed me four times since I was last in your driveway.
I am impervious to bullets and Ontario winds.
My new god? The S-video cable.
In short, life is good.
I would tell you how good, but you would only (a) weep, then (b) beg stores take three or four grand off you, no change required.
Johnny Big Screen is making a list of new friends.
Big Screen Pals worthy of his budship.
With any luck, you may be on it."
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Who loves Canada most?
Paul Martin: Is a friend to the evergreen, serves baked tundra at parties. Embraces new Canadians and parachute celebrity candidates. Once placed second in a poutine-eating contest--even as horrified American tourists screamed: "You're eating yellow vomit!"
Stephen Harper: Uses maple syrup rinse on hair, sings O Canada in English, French and several multi-cultural languages not yet identified. Has adopted endangered BC marmot he's named Ben, after his favorite Mulroney. Lived two summers in a chip truck.
Jack Layton: Weeps spontaneously at flag-raisings and northern lights, even traffic lights. Continues to add to a beloved childhood maple leaf collection. Once hugged a socially-disadvantaged beaver so hard he broke its rib.
That's how much they love Canada.
Next issue, please?
Stephen Harper: Uses maple syrup rinse on hair, sings O Canada in English, French and several multi-cultural languages not yet identified. Has adopted endangered BC marmot he's named Ben, after his favorite Mulroney. Lived two summers in a chip truck.
Jack Layton: Weeps spontaneously at flag-raisings and northern lights, even traffic lights. Continues to add to a beloved childhood maple leaf collection. Once hugged a socially-disadvantaged beaver so hard he broke its rib.
That's how much they love Canada.
Next issue, please?
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
As the worms turn...
Prime Minister Dithers, pink and proud as punch, slithers his way back to the office, election writ in hand. Lackies cower in fear, muttering "rhubarb, rhubarb."
"Get out there and work our special interest groups," he commands.
"Beat them hard. Warn what will happen if they choose The Great Satan. The sky will fall. Fear and loathing. Plagues, audits, deportations, tax jiggery-pokery and acne."
In another wing of Canada's Kremlin, The Great Satan considers his own image in a mirror. How best to kickstart approval ratings out of negative digits? He whispers a Daily Affirmation.
"I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And by golly, I'm really going to try to make people like me." He jumps into a gay pothole and breaks a leg.
Jack Be Nimble--the third little pig--primps at his desk.
When Olivia joins me, he muses, we will be Ottawa's true power couple. Who will care which heiress dates Peter MacKay then? Note to self: buy matching parkas.
In the Great White Darkness, 30 million sheep stir uneasily in their sleep. They poke their dear little tails higher into the chilly night air, as is their habit.
"Ride us," they beg. "Ride us hard."
"Get out there and work our special interest groups," he commands.
"Beat them hard. Warn what will happen if they choose The Great Satan. The sky will fall. Fear and loathing. Plagues, audits, deportations, tax jiggery-pokery and acne."
In another wing of Canada's Kremlin, The Great Satan considers his own image in a mirror. How best to kickstart approval ratings out of negative digits? He whispers a Daily Affirmation.
"I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And by golly, I'm really going to try to make people like me." He jumps into a gay pothole and breaks a leg.
Jack Be Nimble--the third little pig--primps at his desk.
When Olivia joins me, he muses, we will be Ottawa's true power couple. Who will care which heiress dates Peter MacKay then? Note to self: buy matching parkas.
In the Great White Darkness, 30 million sheep stir uneasily in their sleep. They poke their dear little tails higher into the chilly night air, as is their habit.
"Ride us," they beg. "Ride us hard."
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Monday, November 21, 2005
Jarhead vs. Bell phone punks
So I drive to Kingston for a few days, mostly to see Jarhead.
I mean, why stay in the woods? Two hours from Ottawa, but this is the Third World.
Since the second "windstorm" a week ago, Bell Canada can't keep the phone on.
It hums, it whistles, it plays endless loop tapes of motherly voices urging me to "Please try your call again." In two official languages.
A Bell guy showed Saturday but his ladder "couldn't reach the phone line. I'll need a bucket truck."
His promised return today? Didn't happen.
No web. And I'm tired of screaming over line noise and cross-talk.
Every time Hydro One burps, which happens about three times a day, the auto-zap on the pump goes off. It has to be manually re-set.
So anyway, by the weekend enough was enough.
Off to Kingston, my new favourite smaller Ontario city.
They've kept a good hunk of their waterfront. You can take your bike over to Wolfe Island and ride for miles. They're on the first-run movie circuit, with decent bars, live music. And the draft Guinness is always perfect at the Tir Nan Og.
I admit I liked Anthony Swofford's Gulf War book way too much. But don't let the mixed reviews for Jarhead--the movie--keep you away. Two of the most affecting sequences in the book are beautifully realized in the flick. Yes, the horse is one of them.
I notice guy reviewers all give Jarhead high marks. (Pete Howell gave it 4 in the Star). Women reviewers don't. The National Post harridan should try something harder than spritzers. Or be reassigned to the Harry Potter beat.
Anyway, if you're looking for something ballsy, funny, profane, awful, profound and deeply moving--often all at the same time--you could do far, far worse.
See it on a big screen for the desert sequences. This will not be the same experience on your poster-sized DVD screen.
Jarhead is a hell of a better use of two hours of your time than calling Bell Repair.
Where's a sniper when you need one?
I mean, why stay in the woods? Two hours from Ottawa, but this is the Third World.
Since the second "windstorm" a week ago, Bell Canada can't keep the phone on.
It hums, it whistles, it plays endless loop tapes of motherly voices urging me to "Please try your call again." In two official languages.
A Bell guy showed Saturday but his ladder "couldn't reach the phone line. I'll need a bucket truck."
His promised return today? Didn't happen.
No web. And I'm tired of screaming over line noise and cross-talk.
Every time Hydro One burps, which happens about three times a day, the auto-zap on the pump goes off. It has to be manually re-set.
So anyway, by the weekend enough was enough.
Off to Kingston, my new favourite smaller Ontario city.
They've kept a good hunk of their waterfront. You can take your bike over to Wolfe Island and ride for miles. They're on the first-run movie circuit, with decent bars, live music. And the draft Guinness is always perfect at the Tir Nan Og.
I admit I liked Anthony Swofford's Gulf War book way too much. But don't let the mixed reviews for Jarhead--the movie--keep you away. Two of the most affecting sequences in the book are beautifully realized in the flick. Yes, the horse is one of them.
I notice guy reviewers all give Jarhead high marks. (Pete Howell gave it 4 in the Star). Women reviewers don't. The National Post harridan should try something harder than spritzers. Or be reassigned to the Harry Potter beat.
Anyway, if you're looking for something ballsy, funny, profane, awful, profound and deeply moving--often all at the same time--you could do far, far worse.
See it on a big screen for the desert sequences. This will not be the same experience on your poster-sized DVD screen.
Jarhead is a hell of a better use of two hours of your time than calling Bell Repair.
Where's a sniper when you need one?
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Good grief!
So a buddy of mine has a very peculiar problem.
The company he worked at for years terminated him this summer.
But every two weeks, as regular as clockwork, his paycheck arrives in the mail. That's right: every 14 days, they send him a check. Just as if he was still in the plant. Doin' his job. But he ain't. They know that.
"How much money are we talkin' about?" I ask.
"Would you believe 10 grand so far?" he laffs.
He puts each newly-issued payroll cheque in a desk drawer.
"I want to see how long it takes them to discover they've screwed up," he claims. "They'll go bananas! Heads will roll!"
"Is it a computer sending you payroll cheques?"
"No!" he sez. "Each cheque has been hand-prepared. Each one has TWO original signatures of company pay execs! It's totally nuts!"
"Cash them all!" I urge. "Let them try to get the money back!"
He just laughs.
"I always figured the execs never knew what I did when I was there," he sez. "It's no surprise nobody's noticed I'm gone. But, duh! What does that say about me, Dunf? I'm kinda insulted. Still, it's such a hoot. I can't wait to see how it turns out."
"You could call your old company," I laugh. "Beg them to stop."
"To hell with that," sez bud. "I don't work there any more. Why is that my responsibility? To solve their screw-ups? Beg them to stop sending me money? Who fired who? Let it ride, baby! Let it build til it blows!"
So if you were my buddy, would you...
(a) call the company to helpfully point out they're idiots
(b) cash all the cheques immediately
(c) ask your buddy to put it on his blog and solicit advice?
He's chosen C. What would you do?
The company he worked at for years terminated him this summer.
But every two weeks, as regular as clockwork, his paycheck arrives in the mail. That's right: every 14 days, they send him a check. Just as if he was still in the plant. Doin' his job. But he ain't. They know that.
"How much money are we talkin' about?" I ask.
"Would you believe 10 grand so far?" he laffs.
He puts each newly-issued payroll cheque in a desk drawer.
"I want to see how long it takes them to discover they've screwed up," he claims. "They'll go bananas! Heads will roll!"
"Is it a computer sending you payroll cheques?"
"No!" he sez. "Each cheque has been hand-prepared. Each one has TWO original signatures of company pay execs! It's totally nuts!"
"Cash them all!" I urge. "Let them try to get the money back!"
He just laughs.
"I always figured the execs never knew what I did when I was there," he sez. "It's no surprise nobody's noticed I'm gone. But, duh! What does that say about me, Dunf? I'm kinda insulted. Still, it's such a hoot. I can't wait to see how it turns out."
"You could call your old company," I laugh. "Beg them to stop."
"To hell with that," sez bud. "I don't work there any more. Why is that my responsibility? To solve their screw-ups? Beg them to stop sending me money? Who fired who? Let it ride, baby! Let it build til it blows!"
So if you were my buddy, would you...
(a) call the company to helpfully point out they're idiots
(b) cash all the cheques immediately
(c) ask your buddy to put it on his blog and solicit advice?
He's chosen C. What would you do?
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Yo hosers! DirecTv drops XM Radio bomb
Merry Christmas, satellite TV gray market!
Santa came early for an estimated 1 million Canadians with access to the forbidden DirecTv dishes and receivers that grab US TV signals like ESPN and HBO from the sky.
Santa's brought them ... ho ho ho! ... 72 channels of XM Radio!
The music signals went up this morning.
Not content to watch the forbidden U.S. cable, network and premium movie feeds, rebel DirecTv-watchin' Canadians suddenly have access to dozens of channels of uninterrupted pop, urban, classic and Latin music streams from the American satellite radio service.
Bluegrass, country, club, alternative, jocktalk, old gold, even a 24/7 disco feed.
The 72 XM Radio feeds are included in all three DirecTv subscriber packages, from the monthly base $41.99US to the top tier $93.99US premiere programs buffet.
So much for which Canuck applicant gets on the air first or how much CanCon the CRTC demands of each homegrown satellite radio service? Kind of irrelevant, hosers.
Just as the CRTC dithered away years before licensing Expressvu and Star Choice while DirecTv established a substantial foothold in Canada, the agency's absurd tap-dancing demands for three satellite radio wannabees has allowed history to repeat itself.
XM Radio (US Edition) arrived today in a million Canada homes with the push of a button ... at the DirecTV control bunker in Castle Rock, Colorado. DirecTv claims a U.S. subscriber base of 13 million households.
Can even Howard Stern help rival Sirius play catch-up? Ha! Get a grip.
Complete XM/DirecTV lineup at
http://www.directv.com/DTVAPP/see/MusicChoice_chandescriptions.jsp
Santa came early for an estimated 1 million Canadians with access to the forbidden DirecTv dishes and receivers that grab US TV signals like ESPN and HBO from the sky.
Santa's brought them ... ho ho ho! ... 72 channels of XM Radio!
The music signals went up this morning.
Not content to watch the forbidden U.S. cable, network and premium movie feeds, rebel DirecTv-watchin' Canadians suddenly have access to dozens of channels of uninterrupted pop, urban, classic and Latin music streams from the American satellite radio service.
Bluegrass, country, club, alternative, jocktalk, old gold, even a 24/7 disco feed.
The 72 XM Radio feeds are included in all three DirecTv subscriber packages, from the monthly base $41.99US to the top tier $93.99US premiere programs buffet.
So much for which Canuck applicant gets on the air first or how much CanCon the CRTC demands of each homegrown satellite radio service? Kind of irrelevant, hosers.
Just as the CRTC dithered away years before licensing Expressvu and Star Choice while DirecTv established a substantial foothold in Canada, the agency's absurd tap-dancing demands for three satellite radio wannabees has allowed history to repeat itself.
XM Radio (US Edition) arrived today in a million Canada homes with the push of a button ... at the DirecTV control bunker in Castle Rock, Colorado. DirecTv claims a U.S. subscriber base of 13 million households.
Can even Howard Stern help rival Sirius play catch-up? Ha! Get a grip.
Complete XM/DirecTV lineup at
http://www.directv.com/DTVAPP/see/MusicChoice_chandescriptions.jsp
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Dazzling Olympics Gear
Have you seen the spiffy new uniforms The Hudson's Bay Co. has unveiled for Canada's 2006 Olympic athletes?
The Bay won the gear contract away from Roots, designers of trendy gear national teams sported in the recent past.
It's back to basics, and not a moment too soon. Goofy elf hats with earflaps complete HBC's winter ensemble, sure to draw admiring glances at Whistler/Blackcomb a year from now.
Gumboots rock!
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