Dying for a bargain

At 5:00 a.m. crazed shoppers swarmed into a Wal-Mart somewhere in the USA, and a clerk was killed in the stampede. For me, this raises only one question:

Why doesn't this happen more often? Why doesn't it happen every year?

Deep-discount bargain shopping is our version of The Hajj.

Dozens, if not hundreds, of people are crushed to death at The Hajj, and in worshipping our god, shopping, we can manage only one fatality. The retail gods will be angry. They will demand more human sacrifices or they will not be appeased.

I hope that poor clerk's family sues Wal-Mart for millions. The guy was just a temp, for god's sake. What a pointless death. Disgusting.

All's Well: Feline Edition

It appears Mr. D. had nothing more serious that perhaps some fur caught in his nasal passage or an allergy to dust.

Dust? In my house? What a preposterous notion.

Anyway, no antibiotics, nothing needed. Just keep an eye on him. He's certainly acting more like himself today than he was 2 days ago.

Now I can relax and veg for the rest of the day. And the rest of the weekend. zzzz. This grey November weather is makin' me snoozy.

One Down

A mere two days ago, I pondered what to do about my remaining "sick" days. Well, here's one down today.

I have to take Mr. D. to the vet. Our appointment is inconveniently scheduled for 11:30, right smack in the middle of the day, so I took the whole day off. My boss agrees that a sick cat qualifies the cat's owner to take a sick day. So that's that.

I've spent all week in the company of a sneezing cat. As cute as cats are, when one sneezes repeatedly in your face, it ain't so pleasant. I suspect he has an abscessed tooth. We'll see. Whatever it is, is doesn't appear to be contagious, so that's a relief.

American Turkey Day

You know what bugs me?

Americans get to eat stuffing today, and I still have a month to wait until Christmas for mine.

Grumble. I luv stuffing.

Why hasn't anybody developed the stuffing-flavoured potato chip? What are you waiting for, chip innovators? Do I have to do everything myself?

Chip Update

Following JAW Fan's ecstatic recommendation of Doritos Jalapeno & Cheddar savouries, I purchased a bag. (Though I do realize the ecstasy was caused by a Baldwin/speedo fantasy, and not necessarily by the chips.)

Regardless. I can report that these J&Cs are very, very yummy indeed. I did not find them particularly cheddarish, but they are tremendously jalapeno-y. Hawt! I ended up burning my tongue a bit, so I had to put the bag away.

Chip Tip: They really go well with a beer. I had mine with a Corona. Si, si, senor.

Don’t touch the coffee pot in your hotel room

Anyone know what a lota is? Neither did I until a couple of weeks ago.

A lota is a watering can-type device that South Asian people use to clean their backsides. Everyone who knows me, knows I am fascinated by all things toilet-related (and that’s why I so love the Japanese!), and naturally the lota is now a subject of interest to me.

South Asians don’t use toilet paper. They wash up with water. And the one South Asian that I know, ahem, thinks that Western people are unclean for using toilet paper to wipe. Yeah, yeah, says I, me and my dirty bum. I do see the point, though. You wash every other part of your body with water, so why use dry paper in your delicate area? Water works best. I’m talkin’ like a convert, now.

I’m not really sure how it works, but lotas come in all sizes and shapes. And, if away from home, in a pinch, South Asian people will just carry water bottles or Coke bottles filled with water with them to the toilet. One of the weirder things I have seen on the Internet is the infamous coffee pot on the floor of your hotel room.

If you are in a hotel room, and spot a coffee pot on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, chances are your room was used by a South Asian, and they used the coffee pot as a makeshift lota. So, um, don’t take any chances. Go to Tim Horton’s. The lota/coffee pot doesn’t actually touch the person’s behind, but frankly, even if it doesn’t, you don’t wanna be touchin’ that thing. And ya know what? Even if the coffee pot is safely in the coffee maker, I still wouldn’t touch it. Maybe the maid just took it off the floor and stuck it back in its proper place. You really don’t know where that thing has been. I repeat: Go to Tim’s.

I love multiculturalism.

Moral Dilemma

December is just around the corner and I have 3 sick days left at my disposal. Do I take these days off?

Sick days are not cumulative. On January 1, we go back to having 7 sick days in the bank for the calendar year. If I don't take any of them, they are lost 4-ever.

Of course, there is a possibility that I may fall sick in December and actually need them as opposed to being "sick" (i.e. Xmas shopping).

What would Jesus do? Or Felipe? Or Matty? Moises?

The Name Game

Following up on my vague thought below, last night I was watching CNN, and I saw on the crawl a story about how some extreme right-wing group in Italy is offering about 1,000 Euros to any parents who name their kid after Mussolini.

What an odd coincidence, as I did not know about this story when I posted about the current shortage of Adolphs in the world.

Vague thought of the day

Is there anyone on Earth born later than, say, 1939, named Adolph?

Chip Time

Back at work, and absurdly busy, but fortunately JAW Fan has a chip review for us. And he seems a bit worked up about it, like he needs a cold shower....take it away:

In search of some salt satisfaction this past Friday, I secured a sack of Jalapeno & Cheddar Doritos. It having been many months since I had even considered purchasing anything with the Doritos trademark, I was obviously overcome by an unbelievable and overwhelming urge to have my fingers turn orange and smell for the rest of the evening. Besides, the deep rich green colour of the bag and the flames coming out of the chip design seemed both calming and warming on this particularly f * *king cold November day.

Now, after my last few rants, I must happily say, "Thank you. Mr. Doritos. Bless you and a shower of kisses upon your fanny for having gotten it right"...Needless to say, these chips were Jalapeno-y and Cheesy, exactly as the name had promised. Were they the cheesiest of this triangular snack family? No...Were they the hottest pyramid-shaped pleasure food around? No...What were they, then? Well, they were simple, comforting, and decidedly yummy...yes, simple like Mary Hart's brain , comforting like Roscoe Lee Brown's voice, and yummy like Alec Baldwin in a frayed Speedo, his burly bulbous bits tantalizingly tearing away at the thin fabric, his masculinity on the edge of total exposure, sweaty with seduction and a-drizzlin' with dong dew...Pardon me, ladies, whilst I fan myself back to reality ...Where was I? Oh yes, Jalapeno and Cheddar...mmmm!!!....On the wang-o-meter, these rock-hard eight inch-scoring treats (to quote AC/DC) shook me all night long.

Kids Today

Yesterday, Kumar was telling me about his three business partners. The four of them have been friends since they were teenagers.

He figures they will always have schemes and business plans together, even, he says "when they are old guys in their 40's".

I glared.

Recession?

If the economy is in recession, it's NOT my fault.

I have to go back to work just to stop shopping. And I hate shopping. But I keep finding clothes that fit, so I have to buy them.

It's like passing a rest stop on the highway, I have to use it 'cause I dunno when the next available one will show up. Same goes for work clothes.

I'm single-handedly propping up the Canadian economy. (A Sony t.v. is next...I can just feel it coming.)

One more day off

I've taken an extra Monday off because I can't face a 5-day work week. I'll go back to work tomorrow.

This weekend was difficult, but my aunt's funeral was nice and all her nieces and nephews were there, which is what she would've wanted, to have all of us together with her. I'm really glad I cancelled my vacation to attend.

I need one more day to recover and snooze.

I ain't a Doer

Following the postpessimist's lead, I ran my blog through the "Typeanalyzer" to see what kind of blog it is. The result?

ESTP: The Doers.
The active and play-ful type. They are especially attuned to people and things around them and often full of energy, talking, joking and engaging in physical out-door activities. The Doers are happiest with action-filled work which craves their full attention and focus. They might be very impulsive and more keen on starting something new than following it through. They might have a problem with sitting still or remaining inactive for any period of time.

This is the most hilariously inaccurate description I have ever read. Especially that last line.

Is it time to panic yet?

By jove, I'm beginning to suspect that this "Stock Market business" is really getting quite serious indeed.

From NY Times: “The problem is there is absolutely no silver lining visible” .

But, but, isn't there always a silver lining? Oil dropped below $50 a barrel today. I'm almost tempted to raise the themostat and burn a bit more of it just for fun (and comfort). I'm already tired of living in an igloo and it's only November. The cats are shivering because I simply refuse to heat the house at a reasonable level. Maybe I should splurge.

In other positive developments: The weather channel is forecasting 5 to 10 cm of snow one day next week. Joy!

Adios

The garage took my beloved Altima away for the last time yesterday.

It is weird to look out the living room window to an empty driveway.

She ain't a-never comin' back.

Final Bond comment

When the bad guys wanted their payment in Euros, I thought, heh, you Quantum are soooo 3 months ago.

More Bond issues

In the final wrapping-it-all-up scene between M and Bond, does she actually explain what has happened to the Prime Minster’s very close advisor who is a member of (Don’t call it SPECTRE) Quantum? Seems like that guy should be in a wee bit of trouble, no?

And, is it me, or did the 3-second love scene between Bond and Fields feel like it had already been edited for t.v., and by t.v. I mean t.v. back in 1975 when sex scenes in movies were almost completely cut for television. They might as well have just shown a train going through a tunnel, like in that Monty Python montage. (This is where Mr. Anonymous pipes in to tell me that is not from Monty Python.)

On cars and quiet streets

Ten years ago this month, when I bought this house, our wise (i.e. know-it-all) friend, Pat. P., said to me, a quiet street is great, but you’ll never have any privacy.

One person who has not received any air-time on this blog, and deserves to be a regular character, is my nosy neighbour, heretofore known as Mrs. Nosy.

I like Mrs. Nosy, I even leave her my keys when I am away so she can check the house and visit the cats. Everyone trusts her with their keys. She is home alone all day, and is lonely, and is a one-woman neighbourhood watch. She sees everything, and talks about everything to everybody. And always in a judgemental tone, although the reality is she knows nobody gives a shit about her judgement.

She also can be depended upon for the casual, off-the-cuff racial slur. Fun!

So this a.m. I am outside, and I’m telling her how much I am enjoying the car-sharing program I have joined. She asked: “oh, is that the grey car I saw in front of your house”. The grey car. Kumar’s grey car. I can tell she is very, very curious about the grey car.

I said no, I rented a blue car twice and once a red car. But I ignore her on the grey car. Hee hee. This is kinda fun.

She first mentioned the grey car just days after Kumar first came over. I ignored her that time too.

Last week, when he was leaving, I mentioned the neighbours to him, and he looked at me and said, in his wry, inimitable fashion: “Your neighbours know exactly what I’m doing here. Especially the nosy one.” Heh.

Wait until Mrs. Nosy notes that the grey car has changed to Ontario plates! I predict she won’t be able to contain herself. This is what I get for living on a street where nothin’ ever happens.

Dylan, last night

Not a bad show. Bob was energetic and rocking, much more than in the past two shows I’ve seen. A lot of good harmonica playing and even a couple of songs sung standing at the mic away from the piano. He’s also developed this quirky finger-like-a-gun pointing thing that he does to the band a lot. They seem to find it funny.

As far as the song selection goes, I was disappointed. None of the faves I was hoping to hear. And, frankly, if I never hear Tweedledee & Tweedledum again, that’s fine with me. Also, Thunder on the Mountain, I just don’t like it much. The set list on the website is wrong. The second song was Lay Lady Lay, another non-fave. Also, Ain’t Talkin’ is another one I’m not that keen on. Really not a good set list for me personally. (On the bright side, I didn’t have to hear Maggie’s Farm.)

This Wheel’s on Fire was an interesting oddity. I liked that. And I thought Memphis Blues Again was terrific. And Watchtower was really good last night.

Ya win some, ya lose some.

New Bond Issue

I saw Quantum of Solace today. It's good, but for me it's no Casino Royale. Lotsa, lotsa, lotsa, lotsa action, if that's what you're after. A few comments:

Opening titles are interesting.

An early scene is set in Siena in the town square, a place I have actually visited! Bond, unlike me, though, does not spend over an hour wandering aimlessly trying to find his bus stop. I, on the other hand, did not get attacked by bad guys, so there's that. Our experiences of Siena do not run parallel.

There's a bad guy with a distractingly awesome bad bowl haircut. (Spoiler alert: it's a hairpiece!)

The villain, Greene, bears an uncanny resemblence to my cousin, Claude. This kept throwing me out of the movie-watching experience, because I kept wondering if Claude thinks this guy looks like him too, or have enough people he knows seen the movie yet that someone may have told him. whatever.

The main Bond girl did not appeal to me. I found her uninteresting. Miss Fields, though, is perky and cool, in her limited number of scenes. And has great boots. More Strawberry Fields would've improved the movie for me.

The Canadian agent is rather meek and quiet. And polite. A stereotype in every way.

Not related to the movie just the theatre: There were 5 people in line. Two ladies ahead of me, followed by me, and two ladies behind of me. So what happens? The two ladies behind me tried to cut in front. I said "there's a line". And they backed down. Fuckin' people who go to Cavendish Mall.

"Paradise" postponed

Well, Kumar landed that job in Toronto. The way the economy is going downhill, to sign a two-year contract is a sweet deal. He'll be moving in mid-December.

He's still insisting this doesn't change a thing for us. Riiiight.

If he tells me to "chill" again, I'll punch him.

Today's Chip Review

Take it away, JAW Fan:

After last week's Spicy Piri unspicy chip debacle, this weekend I decided to sample the other President's Choice flavour that had recently hit the snack aisle...yes, Barbecue Tandoori.

As a barbecue chip, they were full of flavour and brimming with well-balanced BBQ-ness. "Sassy" and "Crunchily-munchable" are the first two words that spring to mind to describe these pleasantly palatable potatoes...

Now, here comes the shocker (if you haven't already figured it out)...Taste-wise, how the bloody f**k is one ever expected to make a Tandoori connection? C'mon, these chips were about as Indian-inspired as William Conrad in a sari!...Obviously, barbecue was the key word here and that's it! You could have just as easily have called them Bollywood Barbecue or Benny Hill Barbecue.

I'm beginning to think "PC" should henceforth be referred to as "Poorly-named Chips" instead of "President's Choice"...My advice to the chip-powers that be, and I repeat, "Stop with the f**king cutesy names"...If you want to put a flavour in your title, then make sure they taste like it. As bad as Herr's Horesradish chips were (see an earlier review), they at least had it right where name and taste were concerned. And if you want cutesy names, then by all means have fun...I would love to purchase a bag of Karen Carpenter Ketchup, Brokeback Mountain Bacon, Raunchy Paunch-Inducing Ranch, or even Venereal Vinegar for that matter...

In closing, on the wang-o-meter, these delicious chips do score an elegantly erect 8.5 inches for lip-smacking barbecue delight, but a shamefully shrivelly-withered cold-showered 1 inch when it comes to Tandoori taste.

No comment

I've been meaning to post this comic for a long time. It's often how I feel. How does the world go on on the days I don't post?

I'm not going to Cuba

In the Life's Like That department, my favourite aunt died yesterday.

Sis and I had gone to see her in the nursing home just last weekend, and we are so glad now that we made that trip. We didn't know it would be our last. I really thought she'd still be around in December when I got back from Cuba. And that I would get to see her again. But no.

This has been quite the shock. And I decided overnight that I couldn't go to Cuba. Cuba will always be there, but this event needs to be marked. The funeral is next Saturday.

On the practical side, I did have cancellation insurance and it does cover this, so I hope my financial loss is minimal. The personal loss, on the other hand, is immense.

Last day of work

Naturally, because this is my last day before 2 weeks off, it has turned out to be incredibly busy here. grrrr.

Anyway, the point of this post to wish Good Luck, Best of Luck, to Ms Mushrooms this evening at her book launch and reading! Read well, don't be nervous and sell some books!

Because, as our friend Raoul, likes to say:

TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT, JOHNNY BOY!

My dereliction of duties

I am so pre-occupied with my stupid pre-trip shopping, list-making and preparations, I totally missed the latest severed foot story.

That's a total of 7 so far.

Thanks to Mrs. Anon for bringing this to my attention.

One-word movie review

CAMP!

I saw an Indian movie called "Fashion" last night. Those people can do camp. JAW Fan would approve.

Chip Review Time!

Lest we forget the real reason this blog exists, I proudly hand the floor over to JAW Fan for his latest tasty potato snack review. Take it away....

This past weekend, to my initial delight, I noticed that President's Choice had released two new flavours of chips in their upscale silver bags...BBQ Tandoori and Spicy Piri. I checked the chili reading on the package for Spicy Piri and it read "three chilis"...their hottest rating to date. "Yowsa and Hot Damn," I thought, quickly reaching for a bag. At a $1.69, these high-end chips are a steal. So, that evening, after supper, I quickly ripped open the bag and dived in. "These aren't that spicy"...but continued to eat...and you know what? They didn't get any spicier afterwards. Either I picked up a batch gone wrong or the f * *king idiots at the PC corporation have no idea what the word "spicy" means. Folks, pick up a dictionary or go Wikipedia it...From now on, stop with the cutesy flavour names and just put on the pacakge "These chips are not spicy at all" or "These chips will set your f **king mouth a-flame so bad, you'll be crying like a five-year old girl who accidentally wandered into the midst of a Japanese Dodge Ball game." Seriously, these chips were about as hot as a Don Knotts centerfold. Is it possible the chip industry is losing momentum? Is the decline in the US economy affecting our potato snacks as well? Can't Obama do anything about this?...On the wang-o-meter, these chips score points for taste and crispiness...but, where their spiciness is concerned, they rank a locker-room humiliating 2.5.

(Nanuk's Editorial Note: Shoulda gone for the Tandoori.)

"Paradise" regained

Another long chat with Kumar today. Looks like everything is okay and we are on the same page again.

Which is dull, because any Russian playwright worth his salt will tell you that conflict is the stuff of drama, and harmony is well, bor-ing.

(I realize that Russian playwrights have nothing to do with Milton. I'm enveloped in literary references for some reason. And in two weeks I will get to visit a whole bunch of Hemingway-related places in Havana. Which would be cool if I liked Hemingway, which I don't. Perhaps I'll have a change of heart.)

Remembrance Day II

Our one remaining WWI veteran was part of today's ceremony.

The man is 108. I can't believe how good he looks. He seems to have all his marbles and looks about 30 years younger than his actual age.

He probably has more energy than I do. I'm impressed!

Remembrance Day

It's the saddest day of the year. It's always so hard to watch the ceremonies, but I can't not watch.

On Saturday, though, sis and I went to our parents' grave and we left poppies for my dad. So we did our pre-emptive boo-hooing on the weekend.

Time really flies. On 11 November 1998, I visited houses with a real estate agent, and I set foot in this little abode for the first time. I saw three cottages of the same type. This one was in terrible shape, but I knew it was this one I wanted. And the price seemed reasonable. Ten years later, the price seems unbelievably unreasonably cheap. What a deal.

One of the first things I said I would do when I moved in was to remove all the silly, ornate, golden light switches (they are so tacky Italian, I said) and replace them with sensible ones. And ten years later, the ornate Italiano light switches are still there. I don't even notice them anymore. Whatever.

Trouble in "Paradise": The continuing saga

Had an argument with Kumar tonight.

He is in salary negotiations for a job in Toronto. Having gotten to this stage of the process, he is confident that he's getting the job. So I said: "Well, that's it for us." He was aghast and accused me of wanting to dump him. Which is so not true. I said: "You're going to move to Toronto". He said: "so what?"

He's an unrealistic goof. He thinks he can work 5 days a week, come back to Montreal on weekends, and we'll continue to see each other. His family is here, and he runs a software business here which he will continue to be a partner in. So weekends will be to keep up with the biz.

And he still thinks there's time for me. The man with the worst time-management skills I have ever met is telling me "Chill, woman" everything will be alright. I remain unconvinced. I knew this wouldn't last long, but I didn't expect it to be over before Xmas for these reasons. I just thought I would throttle him by Xmas, and that would end it. I guess there's still time....

Now he's worried that I'll cheat on him while I'm in Cuba. oh brother.

Pata Pata

I've got YouTube on and I'm playing Miriam Makeba over and over.

What a song.

I don't think I've heard this in decades, and I never knew the name of it. I loved it as a kid. Such a tremendously cool song.

It is sooooo great.

Yay!

Car sharing must be my destiny. Over the weekend, the company opened a new lot. It is behind the Loyola campus, on the corner of my very street. That's a 10-minute walk.

This is great.

What, Me Worry?

What are the chances that Cuba could get hit by two late-season hurricanes this month? Let's hope the odds are very slim indeed.

I was surprised to see the news of Paloma barrelling into Cuba over the weekend. I quoted Maxwell Smart to myself: Missed it by that much.

Paloma starts with a "P". You can't go much further than that in the hurricane alphabet, can you? I don't want to meet Queenie or Quentin or Quasimodo.

So the last two weeks of November should be okay, right? Right? I ain't never done been in a hurricane before, and I'm not interested in living' it. I don't even own Anderson-Cooper-style hip waders.

Note to self: Add rain poncho to packing list.

Superior, they said, never gives up her dead

Today is the 33rd anniversary of the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald. So CBC played that song this morning.

Now I can't get it out of my head.

I'm passing this info on in the hope that it will get lodged in somebody else's brain, and I can stop singing it.

Try it....The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down of the great lake they call Gitchee Gumee....keep going....

Other people's dating problems

H, the daughter (age 20) of one of my good friends recently started dating a Muslim fellow. My friend is up in arms about this because she already sees her daughter being kidnapped while somewhere in North Africa. Oh well.

So, before deciding to “get serious” (euphemism) he asks H what her religion is. She said “Protestant” and it’s clear he doesn’t know what that is. (You’re not from around here, are you, son?) Anyway he looked worried and asked her if that meant Jewish. She said no. So onward they proceeded.

I said to my friend that Protestant is too specific. She should’ve just said Christian. Guaranteed he doesn’t give a shit about the differences between Protestants and Catholics (Sorry, Ireland). We’re all just soiled Christians in his book.

Anyway, everything seems fine but I see a big, big problem. He has already introduced her to the Koran. Run for your life, kid, says I. And this was even before the euphemism took place.

-------

The quotable Kumar on Judaism, Christianity and Islam: “They all started from the same books, and then everything got all fucked up.” Couldn’t have said it better myself.

More Trouble in "Paradise"

In this world there are car people and non-car people. Kumar is the former, I am the latter. Before we met, we had discussed cars a bit. Later, this conversation:

K: You know, I thought you were lying to me about owning a car.
N: Why would I lie about that?
K: Because you take the bus to work.
N: What’s wrong with that?
K: (Incredulously) Who takes the bus when they own a car???
N: I do.
K: Why?
N: Because I don’t like to drive.
K: I don’t get it.
N: (sigh)

We made it past the milestones of Halloween and US election day. Can this last to US Thanksgiving? Probably, but only because I’ll be on vacation for the last two weeks of November. Then there’s Provincial Election Day. (Note to self: no more political talk.) Then Xmas, which he doesn’t celebrate so at least there’s that. Brother.

This week, he said "Tell me more about the car sharing thing." And I thought, why, so you can mock it? I said "Later. After I've tried it".

I'm Missin' Her Already

Interesting thing in the paper today. Seems Palin wanted to deliver her own concession speech on Tuesday, before McCain's. He told her that it was not customary for the VP candidate to give a speech on election night.

This raises some interesting points:

1) Did none of her handlers knows that she was not supposed to give a speech?

1a) If so, did nobody tell her?
1b) If they did tell her, did she just tell them to write one for her anyway?
1c) If they didn't know, what were they doing working on a campaign? or

eeeek!

2) Did she write a speech herself?

O, ye gods of news leaks, if 2) is in fact the case, please, please let that speech find its way onto the Internet. I so want to read it.

------

Other weird fact, her 7-year-old daughter bought a $700 purse with Republican funds? This is gossip gold.

I'm a Do-Gooder

I am now officially an active member of the car-sharing program. Love me, Al Gore. I am being environmentally correct, and saving money too, I hope.

My first rental went okay, but I got stuck in traffic in (where else?) Lasalle (at the stupid overpass) and got the car back to the lot with literally only 2 minutes to spare.

Lesson 1: Always book way more time than I think I need. I'd already thought I'd done that last night, but it still wasn't enough. Stupid Lasalle traffic/construction jam. grr.

Ka-Boom

There’s a column in the NY Times today by Gail Collins where she says that Clinton and wretched W will have been the only two boomer presidents.

But if you look at the standard cut-offs dates, the last year for baby boomers to be born was 1964. New Prez O was born, like me, and Mr. Anonymous, and Ms. Mushrooms, and Mr. Mushrooms, in 1961.

(Aside, will Oprah be willing to share her initial with the New Prez? I predict that not only will she do that, she will let him be on the cover on her magazine! Maybe even without her! Let’s see if that happens.)

(Michelle O, on the other hand, will only get a cover if she shares it with Oprah.)

Back to the topic. Even though ’64 is the cut-off, I have never felt like a boomer. I’ve always felt more like I belong to disgruntled Gen X. I don’t remember much about Woodstock and all that hippy stuff. And the Kennedys and Martin Luther King. I still dislike hippies. My first political memory is, however, of Trudeau in 1968 or 69. I still don’t think this makes me a boomer. PET came to our MP’s house which was just a couple of blocks from our house, and my sister made me go see him. She boosted me up and I said (memorably) “All I can see is the top of his bald head.” I never went in for Trudeau-mania.

To me, boomers are like Clinton and ding-dong W, in their 60’s or late 50’s. They are people worrying about retirement. They have grandchildren. They are not my generation. I’m a tail-end boomer, which is just like being a Gen Xer. We arrived when all the fun was over. We got the leftovers.

So is New Prez O, a boomer? I think this came out clearly in the campaign. Trying to tie him to the Weather Underground? He said “I was 8.” Not a boomer.

Big Trouble Ahead

Last night Kumar said he thought the US would do better getting out of Iraq if McCain was Commander-in-Chief. He also thought McCain's foreign policy experience made him a better candidate.

My first thought was "Don't make me hate you." Second thought: "You cannot be serious" but I knew he was.

It has been obvious that he is a political conservative but I've been in denial about it. Now I have to face that awful fact. Ick. I don't want to be James Carville and Mary Matalin (reversed). This is grim.

Relief!

No more Republican President. wheeeee! I am happy.

Wow. The next President of the United States is the same age as me. I feel a tad under-achieving right now.

Now I can go to bed. zzzzzzzzz

Double ??

CNN has a hologram thingie.

Anderson is interviewing a guy who's a hologram. I'm too old for this weirdness.

Election Night News You Need

From the NY Times:

DALLAS (AP) -- A man has proven that you can never have too much underwear when he stole more than 130 pairs of panties from a Victoria's Secret store.

The report did not indicate what styles or sizes were stolen.

Huh?

While it looks like BO is doing well, the popular vote is still 50% BO, and 49% Crazy Eyes Killah.

49% of Americans are retards. It's a Fact!

Big Gulp

Well, here we are. Today's the day. And I'm still nervous, but less so than yesterday.

I see that the little town that always votes first, Diggler's Ditch, went 15-6 for BO. Does this mean anything? I dunno. But if it had gone for McCain, I'd be drinking already. I know that much.

This morning, I was thinking what if on Inauguration Day, Obama comes out in some weird garb, and declares "They were right! I AM a secret muslim! Ha! Ha! (evil laughter)" . Uh, then what?

Gulp

I'm having pre-election anxiety.

I don't care what the polls say. I just keep thinking that there will be a tie somewhere that will send the thing to the Supreme Court, and the Court will again side with the Republicans.

Doom.

I'm slacking off on the job

My neighbour just asked me if I was going to see Bob Dylan on the 18th. I said no, and thought, d'oh, how could I have neglected to mention the return to Montreal of lazy, retirement-age, do-nothing Dylan.

I shall be in el landa de Fidel, and thus will miss the shiftless bum on this swing through town. Why do I figure this won't be the last?

Answer: it's the "never-ending" tour. And it truly is.

Sugar-coated fascism

I haven’t had a good rant in a while so here goes.

The Quebec govt is currently running radio ads that tell us to greet one another by using the word “Bonjour”. This offends me to my core. There are many ways to greet each other, the ad says, but the best way is to say “Bonjour”. The fucking govt is telling us how to speak to each other. There’s a word for that.

I’m proud and happy to have been born into a bilingual, two-culture family. In this country, I consider that hitting the jackpot. But don’t tell me how to talk to other people. Don’t tell me what to think. Don’t tell me how to act. How dare you.

I was ranting about this to Kumar yesterday. (Yep, he’s already being subject to my rants. Lucky thing.) and when I used the word “fascist”, his eyebrows leapt up in a very cartoonish fashion.

The voice of the woman (of course it’s a woman’s voice!) in the ad is soft, gentle and has a lovely, not heavy, not harsh, Quebecois accent. The best way to deliver an intolerant, racist message is smoothly and gently, right? This pisses me off so much. Just be honest, put out ads where a strong, loud male voice says “Parlez francais or else get lost”. Grrr.