Absurdments

My Bike Ride to Omemee

A Nice Surprise

The other day started out as a beautiful summer morning with just the right amount of sun and heat, so for the second time I decided to check out the TransCanada Trail and do the 25km leisure bike ride to Omemee from my home in Peterborough. Last year, I tried the TransCanada Trail for the first time to cycle to Keene, ON; I ended up losing the trail and becoming totally lost on some pretty hilly and potholed country roads.. I also busted my bike when my saddlebags got sucked into the rear wheel, and I ended up limping into Keene to call my wife to pick me up and bring me back home. On the way home, I consulted the map again - it was then I learned that I was travelling along a proposed trail, not an actual one. Stupid proposals.

This time, the ride to Omemee was a much different experience! I still broke my bike (what's up with that?!) but at least the trail was there. One thing I noticed only after riding for a while was that the trail was very level. So sometimes I would be riding along in this deep V-cut with the landscape rising up sharply on either side of me, and shortly after I'd be riding high on a massive earth berm looking out over the landscape. I guess that this is because the TransCanada Trail is largely made up of decommissioned rail lines, and trains can't climb hills. I gotta say it was way nicer than if I would have had to ride the highway to Omemee because it's pretty hilly country around here...

And the views were just incredible. I mean, I like a nice vista no more than the next guy but several times during this ride, I just had to stop and admire. Everything was so pretty. No doubt the quiet and the remoteness and the perfect weather also helped.

Omemee Bike Trip Slideshow

So at roughly the half-way mark, I came upon this railway trestle bridge. It was right around here. And by far, this bridge had the best view of the entire ride. It felt like the drop off on either side went on forever and I must say my stomach lurched a little as I rode across. I did not spend a whole lot of time in the middle of the bridge - just because the height made me queasy.

The total ride was only around 25km. At around kilometre 16, the cassette on my rear wheel broke, but the bike still worked somewhat and I didn't feel like getting my hands all dirty, so I limped into town at around 10 clicks per hour hour with my bike sounding like a bag of wrenches banging together. And like last year's ride to Keene, I called Patti for a pickup and we went out to lunch together.

Even with the breakdown, the ride to Omemee took far less than two hours. I can safely say it was over way before I was ready for it to be. The bike's all repaired now thanks to the Peterborough Community Bike Shop and I can't wait to get out there and do it again!

You are making my mouth water.

Yo makin' mah math wawtah...

Blech.

I may NOT be on Wipeout now

Stupid Canadian diversity...

Well, according to the Wipeout Facebook page, over 44,619 applications were received which just blows my mind because I'm sure applying for Wipeout is almost as scary as actually doing Wipeout. The release form you have to sign is just unreal. That's a lot of people to compete against for only a very finite number of spots. Still I was sure at the time of my application, that I would get on the show, here's why:

• Sure, there were 44,619 applications, but only about 5,000 with accompanying YouTube videos.
• You can't have a show depicting only fit, 20-something males. You also need fit 40-something males.
• Several of my responses to the application questions were hilarious and witty.
• I have a valid passport (Nigerian) and I do not have a criminal record (in Canada)

You'd think I would have received a call back within minutes of applying. BUT I DID NOT. Yet others near me HAVE gotten their callbacks. Because of this, I've given the whole thing some thought and I think I know now why I haven't received my call yet:

• After I clicked "submit application" nothing happened. It made me wonder if my app was even received by the system.
• Because of some absurdly Canadian desire for game show diversity, I sense that the producers of Wipeout Canada feel that their contestant pool must have an East Indian from Brampton, an Asian from Vancouver, and a hip, pierced, lesbian from T.O. - preferably black, etc. etc. etc. In this regard I am at a disadvantage because as you know (because I am always bragging about it) I am only 1/264 black and not at all lesbian - yet.

I am totally WILLING to become black and lesbian in order to get on Wipeout Canada...but I will never become Dutch because as I am (also) always saying: "There's only two things I hate in this world. People who are intolerant of other people's cultures and the Dutch."

Straight teeth in under 60 seconds

That must've cost a bundle...

 

Don't do this

It's unsafe.

  

I haven't even seen the movie yet

but apparently I'm in it.

Stuff that just popped into my head...

...over the last three years.

I am the Survivor über-fan. And after watching Survivor for 20 seasons now, I have figured out that anyone actually deserving of the million dollar grand prize is always sitting on the jury come final tribal council. Every single time. This time with Survivor:Heroes vs. Villains, it was Rupert.

---

My daughter and I bought a pack of "Juicy Fruit Pink" the other day at the grocery store. I now realize that anything with the words “Juicy Fruit” on it will taste terrible. On the topic of Juicy Fruit – exactly what kind of fruit is Juicy Fruit supposed to be? The nearest we can figure is banana. So, Juicy Fruit is banana-flavoured gum then – sounds so appetizing.

---

I realize that turning 40 a few years ago affected me negatively and profoundly. But I thought the negative effect was simply because I’m getting older. I realize now that being older has nothing to do with it. The reason I hate being over 40 is because I am becoming irrelevant. Like the aging grandparent neglected in the corner at the family reunion, with each passing day I lose any ability to become an agent of change within the sphere of my own personal community and (diminishing) influence. The downhill slide that is my 40s is actually a speedy descent into pointlessness.

---

Recently a colleague of mine received a speeding ticket while driving 50kmh in a 40kmh zone. Normally that wouldn't deserve a ticket however the cop told my colleague that it was a "zero-tolerance" zone. What a load of crap. Here's my theory. Here in Peterborough, cops are paid by the city. The city always needs more money but there are limited avenues from which to get the money. I mean - taxation only works for so much. One lucrative angle is to put cops out on the street, and have them hand out tickets under the guise of "speeding kills" and "protecting the pedestrian pubic" (pun intended,) etc. and similar b.s.
So after people get a ticket or two, they actually start driving the adhoc speed limit (90kmh in an 80kmh zone) because after all, nobody actually wants a ticket. Now, the problem is that the cops/city still need/want the money. Their money hunger hasn't gone away, only the pool of available speeding drivers has. So some bureaucrat comes up with the stupid idea that a car doing 10 kmh over the speed limit is more dangerous to the public than one doing the speed limit exactly. See where I am going? No. Maybe I'm wrong; maybe if I run over a kid doing only 40kmh instead of 50kmh, the kid won't get hurt...

---

Last summer, after a hornet flew into the van while I was driving down the road. My wife's attempts to swat it by guiding the hornet's stinger into my back resulted in my getting stung on the back multiple times (and me weaving the minivan down a small town main street like a drunken Mario Andretti.) After the fracas was over and the dead hornet was removed from the van, I explained to my kids that it really hurt. My daughter said, "I know it must have hurt Dad; you said the "F" word like 500 times."

---

An old joke. If you can get past the stereotypes, it's pretty funny. An Irishman, a Mexican and a Canadian were doing construction work on scaffolding on the 20th floor of a building. They were eating lunch and the Irishman said, "Corned beef and cabbage! If I get corned beef and cabbage one more time for lunch, I'm going to jump off this building." The Mexican opened his lunch box and exclaimed, "Burritos again! If I get burritos one more time I'm going to jump off, too." The Canadian opened his lunch and said, "Peameal again! If I get a Peameal sandwich one more time, I'm jumping too." The next day, the Irishman opened his lunch box, saw corned beef and cabbage, and jumped to his death. The Mexican opened his lunch, saw a burrito, and jumped, too. The Canadian opened his lunch, saw the peameal and jumped to his death as well. At the funeral, the Irishman's wife was weeping. She said, "If I'd known how really tired he was of corned beef and cabbage, I never would have given it to him again!" The Mexican's wife also wept and said, "I could have given him tacos or enchiladas! I didn't realize he hated burritos so much." Everyone turned and stared at the Canadian's wife. The Canadian's wife said, "Don't look at me. He makes his own lunch."

---

Could someone please tell me exactly where in the Highway Traffic Act it says that if you are in the right lane of the highway and someone is on the on-ramp trying to merge into your lane, that you then MUST swing your dumb ass out into the middle (or left) lane where I am overtaking you?

It's not required! If you think it's the law or something, here's the world's shortest driving lesson for you:

1. If you are in the right lane, leave space between you and the car in front of you.
2. If you are the one on the on-ramp, then come up to highway speed quickly and aim for the space.
3. Stay the !@#$ out of my lane.

---

I predicted the popularity of blogs at least a couple of years before the tidal wave of popularity offically rolled in. I remember trying to figure out how I could make money from it - still a mystery to me. In my prime, I also made at least a couple of other IT-related predictions that have since come true. (The keyboard? That's my idea.) Perhaps more telling, I've never made an IT prediction that hasn't come true - so mark my words...the currently popular social networking sites - like facebook and myspace, will over time go the way of the dodo, kazaa lite, and human-verified search engines; somewhat cute yet stupid wastes of time for people who consider being able to open a facebook account their crowning technical achievement.

---

I figured Second Life would be fun even if I don't participate in the virtual adultery. I signed up with the name I always wished I had - Jock Zehetbauer (of course) and chose my avatar - a smooth and swarthy latin lounge-lizard type guy. But within days of activating my account, downloading the Second Life client and logging on, my alter-ego (Jock) began spending all of my days and nights sitting in front of my virtual PC playing an addictive online game called Third Life. He never left the virtual house. And then after his Third Life avatar started wasting his days and nights playing 4th Life instead of going out to party I decided that enough was enough. It was getting too hard to keep track of everything and besides, the irony wasn't exactly lost on me.

So I think I'll continue to spend the majority of my time in First Life ™ thank you very much.

And recognizing that the kissing world at large could benefit from someone with my wisdom and expertise, I'm going to contribute my own personal tips and tricks using as my handle the same nickname I had back in high school (drool-bucket). You see, I'm a giver.

---

"Shun thy neighbour." I've got a weird theory for you. You're a big-city-slicker in a new town for the first time. Let's say you've just bought a house there. It's not hard to imagine that it might take some time for you to get to know everyone in town and become accepted by the townsfolk as one of them. But now let's say that you've sold your house a couple of months prior to moving to a new town. Is it possible that you might be shunned by the people of your current community, sort of in advance of the big moving day?

A while ago, I moved from Sutton West, Ontario to my current home in Peterborough, Ontario. For those of you who are not familiar with Canadian geography, that's the equivalent of moving from backwoods Alabama to some other part of backwoods Alabama - and shunning is the type of stuff you've got to be worried about in small town Ontario Canada.

Inspirational Fortune Cookie

Way to look on the bright side.

This was Patti's fortune after our recent Chinese buffet lunch without the kids. Mine wasn't nearly as inspirational: "When both feet are planted firmly, nothing can shake you." I thought, "Yeah, whatever. Feet aren't even plants!" But man, I still love a good Chinese buffet, and since Peterborough is well ... Peterborough, we just happen to be the Chinese buffet capital of Canada.

Now, here are some other inspiration fortune cookie fortunes that I may or may not have received...

• You will gain admiration from your pears.
• You will receive a fortune cookie.
• You love Chinese food.
• Don’t forget you are always on our minds.
• Never forget a friend. Especially if he owes you.
• That wasn't chicken.

Oprah says turmeric is a superfood

but really, how much turmeric can you eat?

I work out at the gym alot. And I spend a fair amount of time between sets, standing still, trying not to stare at myself in the mirror, and more or less looking like an idiot. One thing I do to pass the time is to read the magazines lying around everywhere, but they are all... "lady-magazines," which actually isn't that bad. My favourites are More magazine (Celebrating Women Over 40) and Oprah! magazine. In fact, I like More magazine so much that I took out a subscription for Patti, and if I happen to read it from cover to cover after it arrives in the mailbox - well, that's neither here nor there...

Unsurprisingly, the VAST majority of articles in either of these magazines are by women and for women. But interestingly, the writers, editors, contributors, etc. all seem to be divorced as well! Not single mind-you, but "capital - B - divorced", and by that I mean they are divorced and they are bitter as hell about it. Also interestingly, when describing the fact that they are divorced, and they all do - it must be cathartic or something, the writers invariably objectify their marriage as a sentient thing separated from them, rather than treating it for what it is (sorry: WAS,) more of a condition...really...you know? I'll give you an example. The lady-writers will always make references to their "failed marriage" or they say "Back in 2000, when my marriage failed..." like it's the marriage that failed, instead of them (and remotely possible too I guess - the husband.)

It's true. It's right there in the magazines. Every single one. Pick one up yourself if you don't believe me. And it's obvious to me that some, if not all of these women, are in a pretty bad place. And I think they need my perspective on the issue. I think it's time for some Steph-kindness®...so here it is...

"Ladies, your marriage didn't fail, YOU failed your marriage. I guarantee you that you are at least 50% to blame for you destroying your marriage. Probably way more. And half of that 50% becomes obvious to me just by looking at the photo of you that accompanies your article. This is your vanity shot? This is the best that you and Photoshop can do together?! As for the other half - to use your own turn of phrase, when you still had a marriage, did you ever do anything to ensure that the poor thing succeeded? Or did you watch your marriage choke itself to death on the kitchen floor right next to the two footprint-shaped depressions in front of your fridge, just so it could be free of you?"

I say this mostly because of the most recent article I read in Oprah! (I didn't read it inside of Oprah - I just read it in her magazine...) Paige Williams is a good writer who, at 5'5" and 200+ pounds, hopes Bikram Yoga will turn her life around. This is how she describes her depression: The depression that had held me down for so long now dropped me into a well. My whole body ached. My hair fell out in the shower. For three months, I had a headache every day, often so painful that I'd lie with a cold cloth on my forehead, just trying not to throw up. Most nights, I went to bed with a heated terry-cloth beanbag around my neck like a boa, like I was 80. If I managed to sleep, I'd reflexively grind my teeth worse than ever. (It was an old problem: Years ago, when I was married, my then-husband woke me one night and said: "Are you eating candy ?") The husband probably got in big trouble for that candy crack.

And here's how she currently deals/dealt with her depression: Pie. Also Big Macs. Publicly, I ate properly if at all, but nighttime triggered a junk food free-for-all. Because I ate poorly and didn't exercise, I slept badly. Because I slept badly, I woke up harried and late, so I never had time for breakfast. By noon, as I caffeinated instead of hydrated and often skipped lunch, I was already thinking about what I'd eat that night. I wasn't a snacker; I was a volume eater. Food was all I looked forward to.

And of course, the inevitable reference: After my marriage failed a few years later...

What's my point? It's this: Ladies, take responsibility for your marriage. I'm a big, bad, stinky man and I take responsiblity for mine. Can't you do at least as well as me?

Lollipop Frankenstein

But don't let the lollipop fool you - he's still a killer.

Nik, my 6-year-old son, loves to draw. And lately, he's taken to creating full-fledged books, staple-bound and complete with covers, illustrations, and back pages that invite you to "...stay tuned for the next book in the series: The Never Ending Hill..."

Some of Nik's drawings are pretty disturbing. Lots of heads getting cut off; lots of heads impaled on sticks. Come to think of it, the only colours Nik ever really uses in his books are regular pencil-lead gray (for his prose and his drawings) and red - for the blood. I'm not really worried - so far none of the pictures are of me. But one illustration that has figured prominently in a couple of books now and doesn't quite match with the rest is "Lollipop Frankenstein." I asked Nik the other day what the story is behind Lollipop Frankenstein. He said, "Oh, our teacher won't let us draw violence, so I put the lollipops in Frankenstein's hand so that he's not violent."

In the book, despite the presence of the lollipop on page 2, Lollipop Frankenstein still rips off another monster's head on page 3, but I have to laugh at Nik's simple yet elegant solution to the violence issue.

Apparently, I'm tight

...but she's not tight at all.

After spending years sealed and unopened, this weekend I went through and began purging the contents of the "ex-girlfriend" box, which contains all of the miscellaneous pictures, cards, and correspondence from all the women in my past life who I now realize must totally hate me for all the drama I put them through... All I can say is - whatever. At least you got away! At least you didn't marry me! (Well, most of you didn't)

It has turned out to be a surprisingly tough job, because it's really brought back a lot of memories, and unfortunately I am not finished yet by a long shot, but every once in a while I come across a little gem like this, an exchange that occurred between somebody I can't remember and me (I can't really think much...) in 1982 in Grade 11, would have made me chronologically 16-years-old and mentally around 12...

 

 

Steph Learns Guitar - Part 5 - Day 57

The flies might be getting in...

I've got to remember to shut my mouth when I'm playing or, as my Dad says, "the flies will get in."

 

I live on a hill

so I should be OK.

“ Looking at the ancient evidence, Ward notes that ice caps began to shrink. "Melting all the ice caps causes a 75-meter increase in sea level will remove every coastal city on our planet." It will also cover earth's most productive farmland, the author warns, adding, "It will happen if we do not somehow control CO2 rise in the atmosphere." ”

"Global Warming, Not Asteroids Caused Planet's Mass Extinction Events" - Leading Climate-Change Experts

 

So we are led to believe that the major catastrophes in the past were not really caused by asteroids, but by global warming. And then we are warned that we had better stop those dangerous greenhouse emissions or there will be another catastrophe.

It's an extraordinary argument for two reasons: First, it seems to dismiss the belief that the "global warming" catastrophes in the past were caused by man's activity, because there were not a whole lot of oil burning vehicles and factories belching carbons into the air in the past. So, one must assume that if man didn't cause it, then it must have been a cyclical thing. But, wait, then we are told that we have to change our ways and give up those coal burning factories and SUV's or we will bring on another disaster. What?

 

Mon Mauvais Francais

C'est peut-être mort.

On the day before Valentine's Day, I was at Zeller's shopping for a few things for Patti and the kids for Valentine's day. Among other things, I wanted to get each kid a t-shirt.

So, I found a neat one for Nik with skulls and stuff on it. And for Ellie I found the perfect shirt because it was in French, and Ellie is in the French club at school (she's really very, very good at it) and I figured she would get a kick out of the translation. I wasn't sure what it said, it was something like: 10 facons ... coeur... and then there was a list of French sentences and the last line was something to do with duct tape (ruban adhésif)

I thought, "Oh, where is my franco-friend Melanie when I need her?" but I muddled through the translation; as best I could tell, the shirt said "10 ways to fix a broken heart" with the last way being "duct tape."

I thought: Perfect! And I bought the shirt.

Next, I brought the shirt home and typed the words into Google Translate and noticed right away that I misread coeur, it was actually soeur... Uh ohh...

You know what it said? "10 Ways to shut your sister up!" And now that I think of it, I was standing in the boy's department...

At least I got the last line correct - "duct tape."

 

I bet Oprah loves meatloaf...

...and mashed potatoes, and gravy, and corn, and stuffing...

I used to have this job where I would travel and had an expense account. My meals were all in restaurants and paid for by the client. On the surface that may sound really good, but I much prefer my new role where I don't travel anywhere and all of my lunches are frozen leftovers from days or weeks past. Yesterday I had beef stroganoff leftovers from a month ago and the red wine was so strong in it I was worried my colleagues would think I was drinking at lunch.

Today was even better because it was surprise leftovers. The container had so much ice and snow in it, I couldn't even tell what it was. It could have been beef bourguignon or it could have been turkey stock. Lunchtime came around, I popped it into the microwave by the coffeemaker - went to the bathroom and returned to find ... meatloaf and mashed potatoes! Score! (Picture me on one knee repeatedly punching the air like Tom Cruise talking about Katie on Oprah.)

Johnny Depp and Technology

Eduardo Dedos de Tijera

Last year, the kids and I watched the movie: Edward Scissorhands together. There's this one part where Edward tried to make a phone call and gets a busy signal. Ellie asked: "What's that sound?" She didn't know what it was. So, it looks like busy signals have gone the way of typewriters and reheating food on the stove.

After the movie, Nik drew some pictures of Edward Scissorhands and then asked me to cut them out for him. I dutifully cut out his pictures and then had a thought. I said, "Hang on a sec." I slipped the pics under my flatbed scanner and scanned them into Photoshop. Then I quickly arranged them into a single sheet and printed them out on the laser printer. Finally I gave him the printout and then stood back feeling satisfied. He looked at the sheet and said: Why did you do THAT?

5-year olds have no appreciation for technology.

Steph Learns Guitar - Day 27

There's no longer any need to continue...

I'm fortunate to have found this. Now there's no longer any need to waste hours practicing chords and picking or developing callouses on my finger tips or getting cramps in my hands. Mastery is just 41 dollars and 98 cents away! And with the E-Z Chord Kit I'll finally want to learn to play rockabilly, something I've never wanted to learn before...

Funny?

I think so.

This Walmart ad has gone viral because it is a little different than the usual smiley face-laden messages pumped out by the chain. The site where I found all this out had lots of comments stating that it just isn't that funny, but I laughed.

And continued to laugh for a while afterwards. I'm still laughing now. And since I'm an authority on what's funny, (sorry Patti) it must be.

The Echo of Doom

(originally wroten on October 31, 2007)

Well, my little red wagon finally gave up the ghost about 10-days ago at 270,000km. The car that never cost me a dime (more on that in a bit) reported to me via white smoke out of my tailpipe that its head gasket was shot. Well, either that or there was a new pope. After taking it in to my scumbag mechanic and agreeing to pay the $1000 for a new head gasket, I was informed a day later that the head was in fact cracked, the car was garbage and on its way to the wreckers - come and get my stuff out of it and pay the shop $200 for their troubles.

I took the whole family to strip my little car of all my possessions. It's funny actually that a car that still looks so good is ready for the garbage heap. I mean the interior is in excellent condition, there are no cracks in any of the glass, and the body has hardly any rust. I guess there is a lesson in there somewhere - something like "just because something looks good doesn't mean it's worth anything..." or something like that. For the record the crack in the head was very tiny! Just a barely visible half-centimetre crack in the head between cylinders one and two. Hard to believe that makes a whole car garbage.

For the next week I floundered a little. I ordered a copy of Lemon-Aid from Amazon, but then because I really needed it sooner, I spent an afternoon in Chapter's with their copy and a chai latte reading passages into my voice recorder. I drove my wife's van around, all the while acutely aware that her van really doesn't like the 320 kilometers I drive every day. And driving the van made my wife house-bound and somewhat persnickety let's say..as long as you garnish the word "persnickety" with about 50 swear words... I was also concerned I would end up killing both of our vehicles if I didn't hurry and find something to replace the Escort Wagon of Doom. (I call it the Escort Wagon of Doom because prior to the Escort I had 4 Tempos - I named each one "The Tempo of Doom". When I got the Escort, it seemed only natural to name it "The Escort Wagon of Doom" even though that doesn't make any sense any more...")

This time around, I wanted a car that would cost me very little, cost virtually nothing for fuel, be very luxurious, and be bullet-proof in it's reliability - like the Escort Wagon of Doom was. Near my home, I discovered a 99 Sable Wagon with 125,000km on it for $4000. At first glance I thought this might be the car and that it was a pretty good deal, except I could hardly believe that my replacement car would end up coming from someplace so close to home, and taxes meant that the price was closer to $4600, and the thing had a trailer hitch on the back which meant somebody had to be towing something with that car over the last 8 years - how long would the transmission last? So, I never even took the car for a spin. These concerns turned out to be the same ones that cropped up again and again over the next several days as I looked at used cars and tried to figure out not only which car I would be happy in, but whether I should buy it privately or from a car salesperson, etc. etc.

I spent two solid days looking for a Chevy Aveo before ducking into Chapter's for a second time and discovering its rating was only "average" And finally on Friday night I settled on a 1998 Suzuki Esteem Wagon. $4000 and 130,000km on it. Highly rated by lemon-aid and it met all of my personal criteria for a car.

On Saturday morning bright and early, I was out inspecting the Esteem from a list I printed off the Internet, with my daughter close by told to write down on her clipboard anything I called out to her. Over the next hour and a half my daughter busily jotted down:

mismatched tires

passenger door dent

rusty rotors

seized fuel release

To the car's credit, we took it out for a test drive and it handled well if a little uninspired. No real steering or suspension problems. Even Ellie said that she like the car and that we should get it...but the thing reeked of cat and I just couldn't get past the smell of it. I knew that if I bought the Esteem, I was just guaranteeing myself 4 more years of thrice yearly trips to the shop - if I was lucky enough to not have to be towed there...

So finally later that Saturday morning with nothing better to do, I called my brother-in-law at the local Toyota dealership, and told him (without much expectation and therefore without much enthusiasm) that I wanted a 5-speed Echo hatchback, with no more than 100k, with A/C, and not red or white. And he actually had one! A 2004. I knew as we walked up to it that this was the car I wanted. By the time I had gone 2 kilometers, I knew it was the car for me. Timing chain instead of timing belt. Variable-valve timing engine only requires oil changes every 8000kms instead of 5000 kms. Electrically assisted heating, and less than 6L/100KM! As I test-drove the Echo I imagined that this is a lot like what driving Thomas the tank engine would be like. I would say to the Echo: "go please" and the car would say: "Yes sir! Yes! Yes ! Yes! I can do this!" and then would give it everything it had to the cause. If I said: "stop car" The car would say: "Yes! Yes! Yes! I'll stop! I live to please you!"

Now in the Thomas stories, isn't there a grumpy old train engine that figures in some of the stories? Then that would be the Escort. To the Escort, if I said "go car" the wagon would say: "what the @$@# are you asking me to do that for? Here's 60%. And I would say, "You're a 4-cyl 2L DOHC engine! You can do better than that!" And the Escort would say. Alright fine. Here's 62%, but first let me rattle this steel cup full of cutlery under the hood for about a minute..." I'm saying the Echo tries and the Escort only grudgingly complies.

Anyway, after the test drive I decided that I definitely liked all that ECHO eagerness, but the car costs way, WAY more than I thought it should. But...I was out of time and energy, so I bought it. Because of this, I was not a happy customer initially. I went home after paying the big bucks, and for the rest of the afternoon I drank rye and cokes and miserably watched TV. Finally, my wife came downstairs and in her trademark voice that sounds like a cross between Barry White eating glass and Satan, she said to me: How long did you have the Escort for anyway? Have you ever added up how much it has cost you over the years?"

So I grabbed my file and checked it out. Let's see... $2700 for the car 3 years ago, $500 to certify and ...this can't be right...$4600 in repairs?! $8000 for just three years - I had to have the car towed three times, the A/C broke last year and I haven't been able to get the rear windows down since last Spring - much to the horror of my heat-stroked children in the back. What a piece of crap!

Now I find myself very happy with my Echo of Doom. I'm sure his cost of ownership will be less than $2700 per year, and I'll spend more time having fun driving and less time worrying about if I will make it to my destination. I'm going to get him pimped out with a moon roof and tinted windows and I'm getting Patti to make me those fuzzy dangly balls that run along the top of the windshield. I'll let you know how it goes.

Update: January 2010

Patti never made me the dangly balls, but I did get the cruise-control installed, the windows tinted, the thumping stereo and the GPS. I love running up and down through the 5-speeds on the country roads near my house, and I still feel spoiled by the quality and dependability I feel with this car. The paint is failing on the front bumper and Toyota is being scummy about it, but it's plastic underneath so I don't have to worry about rust. And that's the only issue I've had in more than two years now. And I'm still on the same half a tank of gas that the car originally came with. Well, almost.

My Ideal Name

If I could change my name to anything, what would I choose?

• Max Power
• Princess Consuela Banana Hammock
• Turd Ferguson
• Bill Brasky
• Snake Plisken
• Manheim Von Crotchblast
• Staff Sgt. Max Fightmaster
• Brecht Von Doob
• Incontinentia Buttocks
• McLovin
• Big Mclargehuge
• Laser Blade Blazer
• Isaac Yudovich Ozimov
• Reginald Thunderpussy
• Colonel Angus
• Styles Bitchley
• Carlos Spicywiener
• Boobie McBoobieson
• Vagisil Peckerwood
• Friggin Awesome
• Abner Wigglestaff
• Dick Steele
• Chesty LaRue
• Dan Druff
• Ivana Hockaloogieonya

 

Steph Learns Guitar - F Major

Yeah, an "F major" pain in my...

This one chord has stopped me dead in my tracks. It's the "unplayable guitar chord." I'm formally applying to the International Guitar Institute to have F Major abolished. I can't even count how many children's fingers have been cruelly twisted and tortured by that chord. From now on, instead of a barre on fret one/strings one and two with the index finger, Fmajor shall simply be played with the index finger on fret 1/string 2 and leave string 1 open (which I think is another form of A...but so what - close enough.)

Esteban Aprende La Guitarra

Los días uno, dos y tres.

 

Day One 

Day Three 

Day Five 

Nerf!

Who's got the best Nerf gun?

My friend John was nice enough to act as videographer while Ellie, Nik, and I decided who has the best Nerf gun.

Can't see the embedded video? It's also here.

Merry Christmas 2009

My son really loved the knife I gave him.

His mother? Not so much...

No Attribution

I have no idea where these "deep thoughts" came from...

Check out #23, Vlad!

1. More often than not, when someone is telling me a story all I can think about is that I can’t wait for them to finish so that I can tell my own story that’s not only better, but also more directly involves me.
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.
3. That's enough, Nickelback.
4. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.
5. The letters T and G are very close to each other on a keyboard. This recently became all too apparent to me and consequently I will never be ending a work email with the phrase "Regards" again.
6. Do you remember when you were a kid, playing Nintendo and it wouldn't work? You take the cartridge out, blow in it and that would magically fix the problem. Every kid in America did that, but how did we all know how to fix the problem? There was no internet or message boards or FAQ's. We just figured it out. Today's kids are soft.
7. There is a great need for sarcasm font.
8. Sometimes, I'll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the fuck was going on when I first saw it.
9. I think everyone has a movie that they love so much, it actually becomes stressful to watch it with other people. I'll end up wasting 90 minutes shiftily glancing around to confirm that everyone's laughing at the right parts, then making sure I laugh just a little bit harder (and a millisecond earlier) to prove that I'm still the only one who really, really gets it.
10. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
11. I would rather try to carry 10 plastic grocery bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.
12. I think part of a best friend's job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
13. Was learning cursive really necessary?
14. Lol has gone from meaning, "laugh out loud" to "I have nothing else to say".
15. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.
16. Whenever someone says "I'm not book smart, but I'm street smart", all I hear is "I'm not real smart, but I'm imaginary smart".
17. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear what they said?
18. Every time I have to spell a word over the phone using 'as in' examples, I will undoubtedly draw a blank and sound like a complete idiot. Today I had to spell my boss's last name to an attorney and said "Yes that's G as in...(10 second lapse)..ummm...Goonies"
19. What would happen if I hired two private investigators to follow each other?
20. While driving yesterday I saw a banana peel in the road and instinctively swerved to avoid it...thanks Mario Kart.
21. MapQuest really needs to start their directions on #5. Pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
22. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
23. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.
24. I would like to officially coin the phrase 'catching the swine flu' to be used as a way to make fun of a friend for hooking up with an overweight woman. Example: "Gutowski caught the swine flu last night."
25. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind of tired.
26. Bad decisions make good stories
27. Is it just me or do high school girls get sluttier every year?
28. If Carmen San Diego and Waldo ever got together, their offspring would probably just be completely invisible.
29. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you've made up your mind that you just aren’t doing anything productive for the rest of the day.
30. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after DVDs? I don't want to have to restart my collection.
31. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my thirty page document that I swear I did not make any changes to.
32. "Do not machine wash or tumble dry" means I will never wash this ever.
33. It should probably be called Unplanned Parenthood.
34. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.
35. I think that if, years down the road when I’m trying to have a kid, I find out that I’m sterile, most of my disappointment will stem from the fact that I was not aware of my condition in college.
36. I wonder if cops ever get pissed off at the fact that everyone they drive behind obeys the speed limit.
37. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.
38. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lites than Kay.
39. The other night I ordered takeout, and when I looked in the bag, saw they had included four sets of plastic silverware. In other words, someone at the restaurant packed my order, took a second to think about it, and then estimated that there must be at least four people eating to require such a large amount of food. Too bad I was eating by myself. There’s nothing like being made to feel like a fat bastard before dinner.

Bad Exam Answer

 

The Cake

Kind of a neat commercial for Škoda.

Here's the YouTube link, and here's my (local) link for download.

And a little bit of trivia for you: the engine in the 2007 Škoda Fabia II is really made out of cake! It smells awesome at 120kmh...

High School 1957 vs 2009

Of course, Billy’s mom has an affair with the psychologist...

Stephan Hoppe back in 1957.

The original author of this article created 8 extreme scenarios to highlight some differences between 1957 and 2009.

Obviously there are 1000’s of scenarios that could be created to highlight the good and bad of both generations, but this particular post was written to favor 1957.

I guess the real question is… Would you rather grow up in 1957 or 2009 and why?

Scenario 1:

Jack goes quail hunting before school and then pulls into the school parking lot with his shotgun in his truck’s gun rack.

1957 – Vice Principal comes over, looks at Jack’s shotgun, goes to his car and gets his shotgun to show Jack.

2009 - School goes into lock down, FBI called, Jack hauled off to jail and never sees his truck or gun again. Counselors called in for traumatized students and teachers.

   ...read more...

Scenario 2:

Johnny and Mark get into a fist fight after school.

1957 - Crowd gathers. Mark wins.. Johnny and Mark shake hands and end up buddies.

2009 - Police called and SWAT team arrives — they arrest both Johnny and Mark. They are both charged them with assault and both expelled even though Johnny started it.

Scenario 3:

Jeffrey will not be still in class, he disrupts other students.

1957 - Jeffrey sent to the Principal’s office and given a good paddling by the Principal. He then returns to class, sits still and does not disrupt class again.

2009 – Jeffrey is given huge doses of Ritalin. He becomes a zombie. He is then tested for ADD. The school gets extra money from the state because Jeffrey has a disability.

Scenario 4:

Billy breaks a window in his neighbor’s car and his Dad gives him a whipping with his belt..

1957 – Billy is more careful next time, grows up normal, goes to college and becomes a successful businessman.

2009 – Billy’s dad is arrested for child abuse. Billy is removed to foster care and joins a gang. The state psychologist is told by Billy’s sister that she remembers being abused herself and their dad goes to prison. Billy’s mom has an affair with the psychologist.

Scenario 5:

Mark gets a headache and takes some aspirin to school.

1957 – Mark shares his aspirin with the Principal out on the smoking dock.

2009 – The police are called and Mark is expelled from school for drug violations His car is then searched for drugs and weapons.

Scenario 6:

Pedro fails high school English.

1957 – Pedro goes to summer school, passes English and goes to college.

2009 - Pedro’s cause is taken up by state. Newspaper articles appear nationally explaining that teaching English as a requirement for graduation is racist. ACLU files class action lawsuit against the state school system and Pedro’s English teacher. English is then banned from core curriculum. Pedro is given his diploma anyway but ends up mowing lawns for a living because he cannot speak English.

Scenario 7:

Johnny takes apart leftover firecrackers from the Fourth of July, puts them in a model airplane paint bottle and blows up a red ant bed.

1957 – Ants die.

2009 – ATF, Homeland Security and the FBI are all called. Johnny is charged with domestic terrorism. The FBI investigates his parents — and all siblings are removed from their home and all computers are confiscated. Johnny’s dad is placed on a terror watch list and is never allowed to fly again.

Scenario 8:

Johnny falls while running during recess and scrapes his knee. He is found crying by his teacher, Mary. Mary hugs him to comfort him.

1957 - In a short time, Johnny feels better and goes on playing.

2009 - Mary is accused of being a sexual predator and loses her job. She faces 3 years in State Prison… Johnny undergoes 5 years of therapy.

It's my 43rd Birthday today

I hope I get calcium supplements

"sTEpHan wearing his birthday t-shirt."

Please take a moment to wish a happy birthday to these famous people born today...

  08 - Oct - 1980   Nick Cannon
  08 - Oct - 1970   Matt Damon
  08 - Oct - 1966   Stephan Hoppe
  08 - Oct - 1956   Stephanie Zimbalist
  08 - Oct - 1949   Sigourney Weaver
  08 - Oct - 1943   Chevy Chase
  08 - Oct - 1943   R.L. Stine
  08 - Oct - 1941   Jesse Jackson
  08 - Oct - 1939   Paul Hogan
  08 - Oct - 1895   Juan Peron

Even more fascinating stuff that happened on this day: IP - DT - BT - WP - HO - AAR - OTD - A/D - FW - IMDb

Create your own South Park character...

...modelled after you.

http://images.southparkstudios.com/games/create/sp_game.swf.
Here's South Park Steph:

 

I originally created me back in June. I think it's an accurate representation, but in order to keep it that way I'm going to have to erase the man boobs now...

100 greatest hits of YouTube in 4 minutes

I've already seen many of these; now I want to see the rest.

Maybe I'm overreacting...

I'm sure this is perfectly normal.

The product of Nik's artistic streak.

 

Just as before, there's probably nothing to worry about.

 

This takes me way back

And it still sends chills down my spine.

The Six Million Dollar Man - Main Title.mp3

Yard Sale Treasures

My amazing deals using my patent-pending yard sale system

I have a theory that the best time for yard sales is after Labour Day. this is because most yard "sailors" have already packed up for the year but there are still people desperate to get rid of their crap before the cold weather really sets in.

Of course, Saturday morning is yard sale morning. I try to get out of the house without Patti and the kids. That's hard since they usually want to come along. Their presence reduces my "yard sale efficiency co-efficient" by a factor of at least fifty, but even with them along I can still have a successful day. I always hit church sales first; because they are big and because the people there have already resigned themselves to the fact that all the money is going to god, so because they know they won't be seeing any of the money, they don't really care what I offer for an item.

Next I hit the street sales where an entire neighbourhood can actually coordinate a sale together on the same day, which I always find amazing. And on the way to church/street sales I might have little individual/ family garage sales marked on my map - if they are on the way.

And I don't usually discriminate by area or town, but I usually don't spend any time in really scummy areas.

Family yard sales hosted by people my age are usually lucrative, while those hosted by raisins (old folk) can be a crap shoot. Buddy, your blunted, rusty, 50-year-old screwdriver isn't worth $5 bucks! The absolute best family yard sales are the ones where the raisin's kids are having the garage sale for the raisin because the raisin doesn't need any of his stuff at all anymore - if you know what I mean. In Peterborough, Ontario there are A LOT of raisin-kids sales...

Here's the results of yesterday's voyage around town with Patti and the kids in tow. Let's see how we did.

 

1. (from left) Adidas handbag plus various Ty Beanie babies and a coupleof toys for Ellie - ~$5?
2. A garage creeper for me, dusty but in perfect condition. Especially needed because of a moment's inattention on my part caused by Patti recently that made me run over my existing creeper with the mini-van...$0.50
3. A closet organizer system. New in sealed box. For Patti's bedroom closet. We've wanted one of these for a while but have been putting off buy one because of the installation time. $5
4. Eight paperback novels - ~$4
5. A bi-level wooden tray with a built-in ceramic trivet (for hot coffee) a slot for magazines or newspapers, and a cut out for flowers. Homemade but nicely done - $1
6. Two disposable BBQs and two large citronella bucket candles (for camping trips.) All sealed and new. - $3.50
7. A set of stainless-steel BBQ tools. New in sealed box. We needed these because our cheap 10-year-old steel tools have rusted. $5
8. (in the cardboard box) A candle set - each candle sits in a miniature tea cup - free.
9. Black halogen floor lamp. - $1.00
10. Two Lego Technics sets plus various Bionicles, Beanie Babies, and misc toys for Nik - ~$4?
11. For Patti, two painted tins buckets in odd shapes, plus some wicker globe thing (obscured by blue cooler) that holds a candle - $5?
12. For me, small blue cooler/ lunch box and a wooden photo-cube - $3.

Our grand total was less than $35. (We actually spent more than that on Timmies and McDonalds for breakfast) Of the things I was going to buy anyway, I figure the creeper would have cost me $50, the organizer $80, and the BBQ tools - $40. The rest is gravy.

This wasn't our best yard sale day by a long shot, but it was up there.

Ou est mon Sirop D'Erable?

A Rick-Mercer-style rant.

 

I read recently in Macleans about issues with the Maple Syrup industry. You see, Canada has 85% of the global maple syrup market, and the province of Quebec has 95% of that. The Quebec maple syrup producers are entirely mom-and-pop shops producing their own syrup and surprisingly the whole thing is regulated by a quota system; there are apparently "vast" reserves of maple syrup out there so that prices remain stable from one year to the next. Maple syrup is also graded by number and colour, with #1 Extra Light considered the best and being the most expensive.

I never gave it much thought before. I've never really understood the numbering and grading system - all I know is that pure Canadian Maple Syrup is awesome compared to any artificial sugar concoction from Aunt Jemima or Log Cabin. So whenever I end up in Quebec, I pick up a couple of cans of the first syrup I see - because it's about half the price it is in Ontario.

The problem (according to the article) is that with so many unregulated small operators making "mapple sirop" in their bathtubs, some are resorting to unsavoury practices to pad their margins. Of most interest to me in the article was the gadget they use to inject air into lower quality "amber" syrup to make it look like #1 Extra Light. Also of some concern was the contamination of some of the syrup with (sweet-sweet) pipe-lead and paraformaldehyde - an illegal chemical that makes the trees bleed longer. So, the tone of the article suggested that instead of a closely regulated company like Aunt Jemima making their barely tolerable excuse for syrup under the close watch of the US FDA, we have Jean-Paul and Germaine filling up empty bottles of Labatt 50 on the back porch, sucking on a couple of Craven-A's, and letting their cigarette ash fall into the vast syrup reserves while giving the finger to Health Canada.

What is proposed in the article is an expensive certification system where by maple syrup is "certified organic" Apparently the system is broken and ISO9002 is the only way to fix it.

Now, it's obvious to me that there is no problem. The system has worked for many years and the vast majority of the syrup producers out there are responsible people, but just as one guy tries to put a bomb in his shoe and now the world has to take off their shoes before going through X-ray at an airport, so it is that one (or so) unscrupulous maple syrup producer is going to have repercussions for an entire industry.

As I read the article, I realized that I can also see the future of maple syrup in Quebec (and Canada). One big conglomerate will purchase several smaller operations and produce non-descript yet "certified" maple syrup. Slowly, (but not really) they will either swallow up or squeeze out every single existing producer of maple syrup in Quebec until they are the only player left. Then this conglomerate will be purchased by a U.S. concern and that will be the end of another Canadian icon.

Our national beer brands, Molson and Labatts are no longer Canadian owned. Tim Horton's, the donut and coffee chain that Canadians most identify themselves with, is owned by Wendys out of Columbus, Ohio. And the image and likeness of the very symbol of Canada, the Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman on horseback - the Mountie - is owned by...wait for it...Disney!

And now we are going to lose Canadian Maple Syrup. All that will be left is back bacon, the beaver, and the maple leaf, but let's face it: we don't really want back bacon, Dubai will probably buy all rights to the maple leaf, and we lost the beaver a long time ago to Jerry Mathers.

NaNoWriMo 2009

This year, I'm gonna do more than 1,200 words...

 

Smullyan’s Paradox

Actually, whomever named these people are the guilty ones.

At a desert oasis, A and B decide independently to murder C. A poisons C's canteen, and later B punches a hole in it. C dies of thirst. Who killed him?

A argues that C never drank the poison. B claims that he only deprived C of poisoned water. They're both right, but still C is dead. Who's guilty?

from: reddit

Hey Dummy.

This is so "me."

Holy Freaking Moly

That's Sour!

Patti and I dropped by the unfortunately named Bulk Barn a couple of Saturdays ago in order to pick up a couple of Valentine's day treats for the kids. Somewhere along the way, I spotted a bin of these deceptively little sour candies - Toxic Waste "Hazardously" sour candy. Neat packaging. So I grabbed a handful, paid for them, brought them home and put them into the candy jar on my desk - and thought no more about them until the next day when Nik asked for one. When he popped it into his mouth,he gave this hilarious agonized expression but I thought he was just hamming it up. (even though us Hoppes have been told ten million times that we are not prone to exaggeration or hyperbole.) I mean I have had sour candies before but really, I've never one that was even moderately sour. I thought for sure he was faking...

...so I popped one into my mouth. A watermelon one. Instantly, my lips slammed together into a point. I couldn't open my eyes. You know that pain you get behind your earlobes when you eat something sour? I got that times 10. After about 15 seconds of the most excruciatingly sour taste sensation I have ever experienced, the sour was over and the candy then turned blessedly sweet. I continued to enjoy my Toxic Waste straight through to the soft sour center - nowhere near as sour as the beginning.

Just this evening, Ellie and I tried the lemon and the apple flavours. If anything, they were even more sour than the watermelon! Definitely not for sour amateurs. Of course they are made in Pakistan - as you know nobody knows sour like the Pakistanis. In short, Toxic Waste isn't a candy, it's an experience. An awesome one. They are so choice. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking some up. I know I will.

Say ello to my liddle fren...

A USB Key Theft-Prevention Device

A while ago, I bought a USB thumb drive for my company for corporate use, but I think the term "corporate use" was misinterpreted to mean: "steal me." So I bought another thumb drive and then developed a PHP registration application that interfaced with a MySQL database to keep track of who had the key and when and for how long...but I'll admit it might have been overly complicated creation - I guess it didn't really need the captchas and the blowfish encryption... because the second key somehow still managed to vanish into thin air during one of the regularly scheduled application and database maintenance backups...

So, taking a page from the local gas bar I toiled away for the better part of a week of evenings in my home workshop and finally finished crafting the "Gas Station (USB) Key anti-theft device." (or g-SUK) I took great pains to make it authentic - right down to the urine splatters on the board.

It's been 48 hours and while nobody has exactly borrowed it yet, at least it hasn't been stolen.

(The title of this article was a line from Scarface, btw...)

Last year was just a dry run...

It's New Year's Resolution time and I've decided to rollover last year's resolutions to this year. Last year, life conspired to foil my poorly-planned intentions and lukewarm efforts, but I'm pretty sure that '09 is the year baby - yeah! So, here's my list for 2009:

(On January 2, 2009 - I started at 270 lbs.)

1. Lose 42 lbs. I currently weigh 270 pounds. That may not sound like a lot but I am only 4 foot 11 inches tall. Worse, the weight is concentrated around my mid-section (as well as around my large and over-developed ego) which makes me look a little like a plum speared on a toothpick.

2. Learn Spanish. At the very least, I would like to speak English with a "conveensing espaneechay accent." I've already got every single Spanish instructional CD and book ever published. Unfortunately, I now know that the act of purchasing said materials is not enough to learn the language - I guess I got to actually open the stuff too. Wish me luck! (or as they say in Spain - "Tengo los huevos muy grandes.")

3. Stop watching TV. Hmmm. As Survivor's Jeff Probst often says to the 16 new survivors as they reach the island: "There is no way Steph will ever stop watching TV..." Well you are wrong this time, Jeff. I will turn you off. And I'll turn off Chuck, Reba, Peter Griffin, Malcolm Wilkerson, Kenny, Spenny, Bret and Jemaine, and - hardest of all - Adam and Jamie...I expect the hydro savings alone will be on the order of many thousands of dollars.

4. Learn the guitar. Or at least enough chords that I can play "Whole Lotta Rosie" with reasonable proficiency. Again, I have the guitar, the CDs, and the books. And I already have the good looks of Steve Tyler and Tom Petty...the complexion of Bryan Adams, and the body of Meatloaf...really I think based on all that the guitar should come easily to me.

Dear little naughty Virginia...

It was 6:30AM yesterday when I sat down at the dining room table to have my breakfast, and I discovered the note left to Santa Claus by my daughter the night before. Evidently, by writing in November she is trying to get the jump on the other kids and put her reasonable demands in front of Santa a little early...

And by some early Christmas miracle, Santa responded to Ellie. By 8AM when Ellie sat down to her breakfast, this note from Santa was waiting for her - somehow written in the same crisp strokes that her own father uses:

In the end, I don't think she fell for it. When I sat down for dinner last night, this was waiting for me:

Maybe it was Santa's evil laugh...

(Some) things (my) kid(s) (might) say (sometimes...)

My 5-year-old son Nik is at that age where he says things that simply tickle me to death. For example, a week ago Patti and the kids picked me up from work in the van. As we're driving along, Nik behind me was saying, "Dad, turn around and look at me...Dad, turn around and look at me...Dad, turn around and look at me..."

So I turn and look and he's wearing an IronMan mask. I said, "Oh hey Nik, that's great; you got an IronMan costume. Is that what you going to be for Halloween?"

Nik waited half a beat then said, "Now what ELSE would I get an Iron Man costumer for?!" (And I definitely caught the unspoken "Duh!")

And yesterday, Pete, Ellie, Nik, and I are watching Family Guy. I know. Family Guy invariably gets too risque about 2 minutes in and we have to switch it but during those first minutes yesterday, Stewie said something that made Ellie ask, "Dad, what's a cankle?" So I took great pains to explain properly and respectfully that with larger people, you often can't tell where the ankle end and the calf begins, and from that comes the term "cankle". There was silence for a beat while Nik digested this and then he said: "What's an ankle?"

Tour de Peterborough

What I am about to relate to you is unremittingly silly but it's also entirely true. I swear. I have not embellished what is to come in any way...

On June 24th, I rode my bicycle to work. It's a distance of between 8 and 17 kms depending on whether you believe my car's odometer or the laptop-sized 20-year-old cyclo-computer on my bike. I was pretty excited the night before while setting myself up for the ride because I used to be like *really* into long-distance cycling. Me and a buddy once did 1000kms over a 2 week period on a bike /camping trip. So thinking back on successful past trips like that one, I decided that for this little trip to work to use the same bike as from back-in-the-day - my old touring bike - a Japanese Sakai Express. I chose the Sakai over my much more modern mountain bike, reasoning that the older, lighter touring bike was designed for just such a commute...and I could use all the help I could get. My Sakai is still a great bike too. It's all "aluminum alloy this" and "molybdenum that" and even though it's over twenty years old, it's still a pleasure to ride...

I figured that even though I am fat and out of shape, I could easily sustain 16kms per hour for the entire ride and so that would make the total ride a maximum of one hour in length. But just in case of unforseen circumstances and because it is my livelihood I was biking to I decided to pad that figure with another hour. I had to be at work at 8AM so the next morning I was up at 5 sharp, had my coffee, got in the shower and bathed as the French do (hardly at all) and at 6AM had my lunch stowed away in my right saddlebag (my change of clothes I had sensibly already packed in the left saddlebag the night before. It was a beautiful morning sunny 12 degrees and the sun just coming up and just the slightest breeze. I set off for work.

The first three kilometers were uneventful; it was mostly downhill so there was a lot of coasting. But I was barely doing 11 kms an hour and to my dismay I noted that the pedaling was quite a bit harder than I remember it being 20 years ago but still it wasn't too bad. The bike was running well - well, I the chain could have used a little more oil. And my biking gloves were a size too small (or I guess my hands have gotten bigger;) I'll have to replace those. And my butt wasn't used to riding on a bike seat, even with the gel cover...Still not too bad.

Let's get this over with. Around the 3 km mark I wasn't paying attention and I hit a pothole - BANG! After that, I thought noticed a rubbing sound but I couldn't see where it was coming from. Next a slight incline came up and when I went to downshift I discovered that my front dérailleur was no longer working. Of course I was on the big cog. At kilometre 5 an old man coming the other way passed me going really fast. He said: "Good morning!" to me and I sort of gasped it back. That was a little embarrassing but I took some solace in the fact that soon I would be at his level - cycling along effortlessly while laughing inwardly at all the noobs. But for now this was turning out to be way harder than I remembered. At kilometre 6 I was already in desperate trouble. My legs were killing me, and if my butt could have literally screamed at me it would have - like this: "OOOOoooooooooooo...". Both my hands were asleep from the too-small gloves. I was soaked through with sweat and had plenty of wind tears streaming down my face, but I was also hell bent on getting at least to roughly kilometre 10 - within visual distance of the smokestack near my company before stopping for a rest. Because, when you are tightly strapped into Campagnolo toe clips, stopping and putting your feet down is not something undertaken lightly. A poorly planned stop means you will tip over...

So by kilometre 10 my cyclo-computer was showing me as doing roughly 3 kms per hour. The average person walks at 5, and people were actually walking past me at that point without trying to look too curiously at me. I don't know if I can properly describe the exhaustion I felt. I was going so slowly that I had to constantly turn my wheels left and right to avoid falling over - I was actually going so slowly I couldn't go in a straight line. I was gasping for air. Little old ladies on their cast iron Raleighs were flying past me. Finally I thought I caught a glimpse of the smokestack through my tears. I carefully twisted my left foot out of the toe clip and set the jelly that used to be my left leg down on the ground. I didn't have to stop - I was going that slowly.

With my bum thanking me profusely the whole time (like this: "OOOOoooooooooooo...") I slowly and carefully released my right foot from the clip and swung it over so I was standing on the left side of the bike - still in the middle of the road, and then I simply and carefully stood there for a few minutes, not even caring what I looked like. Finally I was ready to push the bike over to the side of the road - and the rear wheel wouldn't move. It was seized! So that explained it! It wasn't just the fat man unused to exercise. It turned out that for God knows how many kilometres, I had been forcing a seized wheel to turn! In retrospect that explains why I glided to a stop on the the downhill grades...

So with the rear wheels busted, I started walking, and even walking turned out to be hard work. That rear wheel just did not want to turn. And as I walked along, I couldn't help but wonder that in all the years I had been riding, I had never seen a seized wheel... I stopped again to take a closer look and that's when I saw that my pump had come off its mount; I guess when I hit that pothole way back at kilometre 3, it had wedged itself between the rear tire and the frame. I yanked the wrecked pump out and...the bike glided like a feather again! 5 minutes later I was cruising into work...

I sat out from of the office for 20 minutes until my breathing returned to normal and the sweat dried. The computer showed the entire trip as 8 km (it obviously needs calibration) and that it took me an hour and 15 minutes with an average speed of 6 km per hour. I also found out that the only place to change at work is the plant bathrooms, until I remembered the locked server room that only I have access to...My socks spent the day merrily drying themselves out on the rack mounted Cisco 1700 router, while my t-shirt dried nicely on the APC USP devices.

And after 8 wonderful hours of painfully adjusting and readjusting my seating position at my desk, it was time to return home. I honestly thought I would be more comfortable just riding on the seat post, but in the end I decided to use the regular bike seat like before. On the return trip I only ran out of energy twice briefly, and I was able to make the entire trip home in just 45 minutes with me going "OOOOoooooooooooo..." the entire time.

Hockey Night in Taco Bell

OK, right off even though I am Canadian, I cannot skate and I hate hockey. The skating I blame on my evil and heartless mother who years ago, as part of her perverted efforts to constantly economize would shove my always rather large feet into used, dull skates, that were two sizes too small. My earliest memories are of limping along the ice during some public skate at Nathan Phillips Square and wondering how all of the other children could possibly be having so much fun. I just couldn't wait for it to be over so I could get to the bench and pull those torture chamber pieces of garbage off my feet. Now that I am in my twilight years, my feet are a size 14 and custom size-14 skates cost something like $20,000 so I'm pretty sure I won't be picking up skating anytime soon.

As for the hockey...well, hockey just sucks. I can't follow the puck at all and the fighting is idiotic. I mean, I like fighting as much as the next guy but hockey players get mad and fight for the most absurd reasons. I can say (without a trace of shame) that I have never been to a hockey game, and have never watched a hockey game from beginning to end. I don't even understand the rules and I don't want to. Now, that's all I'm going to say on the subject because as you may know Canadians love their hockey and if I go on in this vein I risk being assassinated. Anyway, the only reason I am even telling you about the skating and the hockey is to set up what happened to me the other day.

The other day is when I managed to sneak past Patti and out of the house and over to my favourite place in the world to decompress - Taco Bell. I like Taco Bell for a few reasons. The food is conveniently predigested - have you seen the meat? - and it's always empty and they have a pile of complimentary newspapers for the customers. Well, they're Toronto Suns so they're not real newspapers but they're good enough for reading material while I drink my bathtub-sized Dr. Pepper and eat my 1/2 pound bean burrito (for $1.79!! which is like, totally awesome! Where else can you get a 1/2 pound of food for only $1.79?!)

So on this occasion, as was my wont I was happily dribbling hot sauce on my Gordita (literally and figuratively) when some friendly guy walking by my table saw my newspaper open to the front page of the sports section (because I was reading something on the facing page) and saw the big editorial headline about whether or not to trade "Sundin". He stopped, one hockey fan to another, and said to me: "Yeah, what do you think? You think Toronto should get rid of him?"

Before I go on I should say that this has happened to me before. You can't really tell from my sparkling and intelligent eyes that I know nothing about hockey, so on occasion I do get asked things like:

"You see the game last night?" (which is an easy one to answer - NO.)

or

"You think the Leafs will win the Stanley Cup this year?" (again easy - NO.)

But for the more complicated hockey questions like this one, I usually apologetically explain that I don't follow hockey and I was just trying to find out my horoscope and biorhythm for the day and then I invariably have to good-naturedly put up with some well-meaning comments questioning my nationality/sexuality/patriotism, etc. etc. ha. ha. ha.

This time I figured it would be faster if I could muddle my way past the question by providing an answer. I figured I had a 50-50 shot at it right? So I looked at him and said: "I sure hope not" and bent my head back down to appear as if I was once again deeply engrossed in the sports editorial. Despite my prayers, the man stopped dead in his tracks and said to me:

"Now, why on earth would you say that?" but actually it sounded more like: "Now-wah bow-wah...whyah you done gone n' said sumpum like dat?!"

and then he spat some "chaw" onto the floor and did a long slow wipe of his chin with the back of his hand. All conversation in the Taco Bell stopped. The disinterested teenaged staff became interested. Even though it was February a lone cricket chirped. I heard the sound of a gun cocking. It was very hot in Taco Bell all of a sudden.

I thought: "Shit! Of course! Hoppe's law states that I will always pick the wrong $#$! answer!" So I said authoritatively:

"Well, uhhh...you know...ummm..."

And the hockey fan interjected:

"If we had gotten rid of Sundin, we could have gotten four draft picks young guys...unrestricted...take-the-summer-off...sign Sundin back again in the fall...no trade clause...blah, blah, blah..."

And I was all nodding in total agreement, my head bobbing up and down with cult-like abandon blabbering on about how "that's exactly what I meant to say" and "I couldn't agree more..." and "can I wash your car for you?" and I felt like a total ass.

So, that experience taught me a lesson. The next time I get a sports question I'll just say: Mon coeur appartient à les Habs!!! ...and leave it at that.

Hurry! This won't last long!

Have you ever heard of Kijiji or Craigslist? They are essentially online classified ads and they're very popular currently. They are free to use, and unlike eBay no commission or fee is charged to place an ad or respond to an ad...no fees are charged to the buyer or the seller. Of the two sites, Craigslist has been around much longer but Kijiji is the newer and slicker little brother - Kijiji is actually owned by eBay...hopefully the eBay people don't screw up Kijiji like they did eBay...Kijiji and Craiglist now have a presence in every major city in North America as well as my minor city: Peterborough.

I'm actually a pretty heavy Kijiji user, especially since I moved recently and so have lots of crap merchandise for sale. I usually always keep at least three ads in circulation on the site and each my ads has a link to my "virtual garage sale" where I have more stuff for sale. Because of this, I tend to troll the Kijiji ads every couple of days. But so many ads on Kijiji and Craigslist just make me shake my head at the nerve and stupidity of some people. I can't be the only one who thinks these actual ads are just ridiculous:

"...we are looking for a small, lightweight 12 to 15 foot trailer. It can be in any condition; we would like it mainly as a cabin for writing. we are willing to trade poems for the trailer..."

I am going to state the obvious and say that these people have unrealistic expectations of the value of poetry. I wouldn't trade a trailer for one of Oscar Wilde's original poems, let alone a couple of hippie students who think the real world somehow resembles a university residence.

"...New Purple Sequenced (sic) Slippers - These slippers are purple with sequence as seen in pictures. They are new and never used, and still have the label on them. The cost $12.97 new. They were given to me by the mother in law, but they are too fancy for my liking..."

Just let me say that I don't want to be part of a world where purple sequins are considered "too fancy."

Personally I take pride in my ad copy. I eschew typos and am all aboot proper grammatical usements. In fact, I am responsible for such recent gems as:

"This is a bra for a Ford Escort or a very large and dominant woman. I used to own a 97 Escort Wagon. For some reason the Escort attracts stone chips like I attract terrible customer service from local retailers. So I bought the bra; the Le Bra brand..."

"This is an Arnold Palmer driver. I'm not saying it is Arnold's actual driver, I'm just saying is all. Like Arnold, it's got a graphite shaft. I'm getting rid of it because I am way too powerful for graphite; on my downswing the shaft flexes like a horseshoe for me. That and the fact that I am a terrible golfer who is giving up golf for good..."

Recently I wondered what would happen if I posted the worst bits of every bad ad I've ever seen on Kijiji into just one single ad? What if I asked for an idiotic price, typed out the ad in completely upper case, injected horrible typos, based my price on retail, was willing to only trade for something ridiculous, added stupid "urgencies" to the ad, a 6-digit phone number etc...would my item sell like a lightning bolt or would it completely bomb? (there's a question for the ages...) So I decided to create the worst possible ad that I can create. Here it is. It's not even the worst ad I've seen on Kijiji, but I hope it will do the trick for this highly scientific experiment. It's for something I am actually selling - my son's dresser. If the above link to the ad is gone, here's the link to the screencap.

Now, the ad has been in for days now. To my surprise the item has not sold yet. I've received only one response:

This is a joke right? If not - then why on earth would somebody pay almost the same as you paid new for a dresser - that's totally ridiculous! I think your crappy dreser will last long (on the classifieds) I'm certainly in no hurry!
Are you on drugs?

OK, that hurt a little bit. But I think this proves that the people who sell stuff on Kijiji don't in turn ever buy stuff from Kijiji, or maybe it proves nothing at all.

Ode.

I like to write.
It's a hobby of mine.
But I'm not much of a writer.
I have trouble with my similes, like a duck eating fudge.
"and I'm absolutely awful at dialogue" I said with a smirk.

Despite that I created www.shoppe.ca
and nobody visited.
I wrote provocatively
and nobody commented.
I put up pictures of my handsome face,
but nobody syndicated, digg'd, or de.icio.us'd me.
I get only a handful of hits per week.
Hey, I understand - this ain't no YouTube after all.

Now I also like to keep in touch with friends and family.
Both of you.
But one of you doesn't want the other to know your email address.
And I just don't have the energy to write to both of you.
But I don't want to lose touch with you either.
So what to do? (but you know already :-)

I wrote a program.
I call it ShoppeBurner.
It runs every morning at 3AM.
If it sees something new on shoppe.ca
it sends it to you as an email.
Despite what one of you says, it's not spam.
It's nicer looking than a regular e-mail,
and it's my way of trying to keep in touch with you.

If you don't want to continue receiving it,
I would first ask you - "why?"
then I would recommend you reconsider,
or I may hack into your bank account.
It's a hobby of mine.
But I'm not much of a hacker...

Gosh, we're all really impressed down here, I can tell You...

Oh, hello there Global Warming/Climate Change activists. I didn't see you there. Consider this: Many years ago I heard that if you gave every person on Earth a one square foot of space to stand on, then the entire population of Earth could stand within the boundaries of a one 10 square mile plot of land. Just to make what comes next more interesting, let's double that requirement to 20 square miles.

OK, now picture what twenty square miles would look like if placed up beside the earth. I think it would be safe to say that the chunk of space occupied by the entire global population would be a speck next to the size of the Earth, right?

 

OK, continuing on with this exercise in perspective, here is the Earth's size relative to 4 of the 30 or so other planets in our solar system...keep in mind that speck of dust that is the global population next to the earth...

 

OK, here are some more recently discovered planets, including the hilariously named "Neptune." At this resolution, the global population would be invisible....

 

Ahhh, OK now here is the Sun (which I like to sometimes jokingly refer to as "God.") At this resolution, the space taken up by the global population of Earth is merely an idea - it's almost impossible to compare it to the size of the sun because it is so insignificant.

Now with all that established, are we all so arrogant to think that we have more effect (adverse or otherwise) on the earth's climate than the Sun does?

I got that from the Zeitgeist Movie. A great movie. It really made me think.

Driving Miss Ellie

Believe it or not, I had a hard time getting a straight answer on this. I wanted to know whether I can put my 8-year-old daughter in the front passenger seat (which has an air bag) of my car. (If you've read one of my past articles, you'll know that my wife's son is never allowed in any seat of my car ever again) So based on the below, It is legal, and government "recommendations" be damned.

In Ontario, booster seats are required for children under the age of eight, weighing more than 18 kg but less than 36 kg (40-80 lbs) and who stand less than 145 cm (4 feet 9 inches) tall.

A child can start using a seatbelt alone once any one of the following criteria is met:

• the child turns eight years old;
• the child weighs 36 kg (80 lbs); or,
• the child is 145 cm (4 feet 9 inches) tall.

You are required to use special protection devices for small children in your vehicle. The driver is responsible for the safety of all passengers under the age of 16 years. Children over 18 kg (40 pounds) must use either a regular lap seat belt or an equivalent booster seat. Children from 9 to 18 kg (20 to 40 pounds) must travel in a front-facing child restraint seat. Children from birth to 9 kg (to 20 pounds) must travel in a rear-facing child restraint system. It is recommended that all children under the age of 12 should be seated in the back seat of the vehicle where the front seat is equipped with an air-bag. Never place a rear-facing infant safety seat in a seating position where there is an air bag.

Shame shame...

Domain tasters can eat dirt figuratively...

and Haiti's poor can eat dirt literally...

I don't want to bum anyone out but this is disgraceful. I feel so helpless because I know that even if I make some kind of donation, I have no way of keeping it out of the hands of the "tiny elite."

Know what this is?

Phosphate Pen -

Hip Hot Pee Blaze -

A Sinkhole Pup -

A Patio Chipper

Forty-one!

People in order banging a drum from age 1 to 100...

I had to do it...

Sorry, but just now I received two more comment spam and so finally had to implement captchas on this site. I resisted as long as I could because it's already hard enough getting people to comment at all without them having having to type "thirty-year-old lira" first. The audio challenge is even worse - 30 seconds to recite 8 numbers. Hopefully I don't have too many blind readers - I'll be doing them a great disservice.

However, when you add a comment and correctly type in the captcha now, you are not only preventing comment spam on my site (which does take time to manually clean up) but you are also doing a public service for the greater good. You see, this is because these aren't simply Captchas I've implemented but ReCaptchas!

While a Captcha is simply a program that can tell whether you are a human or a computer (and so is used by many websites to prevent abuse from "bots," or automated programs usually written to generate spam,) ReCaptchas are an improvement on Captchas by using words from old books and ancient texts that cannot be read by computers. More specifically, Carnegie Mellon University has taken on part of the task of digitizing old books using automated computer programs; if the computer gets stuck on a word, it uses it as my ReCaptcha so that you, the humble commenter can help the computers out with this honourable digitizing inititative.

The question you may have right now is: "How can it check to see if I typed in the word correctly if it doesn't know what the word is?" Well, the answer to that is also the reason why the darn Captchas are so long. You see, only one of the words is unknown. The other is known. So concievably if you wanted to do your part to screw up a little bit of the overall Recaptcha project, you could guess at which word the computer is having trouble with, and then type in that word incorrectly! I've never done it, I'm just guessing... Similarly with the audio challenge, I imagine not all of the spoken numbers are recognized by the computer...anyway it's probably faster if you just type in the words you see on the screen.

And so of course anyway as well in conclusion, it is my hope that the few comments I already receive on a regular basis will not peter out to nothing now that I have this little additional inconvenience in place, on account of my altruistic motives and all.

I Feel Good.

You wanna feel good too?

1. Click your "Start" button, then click "Control Panel", then Add/Remove Programs, and then remove the 90 meg Adobe Acrobat Reader from your machine.

2. Reboot your computer.

3. Click here to download the 5meg Foxit Reader (from the good folks at Foxit) and follow the instructions to install it.

There. You've just made it so your .PDF files will load faster, your computer and browser will be more stable, you will no longer be nagged to install updates and enhancements that you do not need, AND you've recovered a good chunk of hard drive space.

Still not sure? Time this PDF opening before and after.

I sure do...

You Want a Piece of Me is Britney Spears' new single and it's fantastic. Way to reinvent yourself Britney. I'm a big fan of Britney Spears - I think she's totally misunderstood and I also think that not one of us could handle the scrutiny she endures every day. I've seen footage of her trying to get out of her house hiding in one of three cars to try to throw off the paparazzi, but they descend on her like locusts...

In addition to the melody of her new song, I kind of like the lyrics as well. She definitely has talent. She looks fantastic in her new video too despite not wearing a lick of makeup. Amazing! If only she could stifle her inclination to have her loser boyfriend/husband videotape her drunk eating chips and farting, she'd be well on her way back to superstar icon status again. Time will tell I guess, but so far 2008 is looking good for Britney Spears.

I’m Miss American Dream since I was 17
Don’t matter if I step on the scene
Or sneak away to the Philippines
They still gon put pictures of my derrière in the magazine
You want a piece of me?
You want a piece of me…

I’m Miss bad media karma
Another day another drama
Guess I can’t see no harm
In working and being a mama
And with a kid on my arm
I’m still an exceptional earner
And you want a piece of me

I’m Mrs. Lifestyles of the rich and famous
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. Oh my God that Britney’s Shameless
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. Extra! Extra! this just in
(You want a piece of me)
I’m Mrs. she’s too big now she’s too thin
(You want a piece of me)

Oh yeah, this time it's gonna happen...

Here are my New Year's Resolutions for 2008:

1. Lose 33.5 pounds. When I quit smoking last June I weighed roughly 230lbs. That's a nice weight for a guy my height (6'4".) Since June though, the quitting smoking (understandably) added about 20 lbs. and my needy and neurotic personality was responsible for the rest. Now, it's got to go. By June 1st, I'm going to be 228. (if not sooner)

(On January 2, 2007 - I started at 261.5 lbs.)

2. Keep busy. Lately I've realized that I tend to reward myself with leisure activities for work not yet done; that I regard leisure time as a daily ritual or right rather than a reward earned only if time permits. As an example, I will plop myself down in the La-Z-Boy for an extended TV watching session each day even if there are a ton of tasks and jobs around the house that need to be done. And then I wonder why I am "behind" with my life in general. So, from now until June 1st, I resolve to simply "keep busy." Perhaps once I am caught up with my everyday life, only then will I sit down and and relax in front of the boob tube.

Being able to quit smoking after 25 years makes me feel like I can do anything now. Let's see how this goes.

Merry Christmas 2007

No Big Deal

To set up this next story, you need to know something – I bought a new car recently and I love my car. It’s a 2004 Toyota Echo, so it’s not technically new but it’s as new as I will ever be capable of owning and I treat it as if it just rolled off the lot. I am that guy parking at the very back of parking lots (miles away from the doors) when shopping and the guy who lovingly rubs wax on my car with a baby’s cloth diaper in the springtime. I love my car. I want to marry my car and have like ten thousand of its babies. You’ll need to know all that before I go on with this story, OK? “ Ich liebe mein auto.”

Alright, here we go…this past Saturday I treated my 7-year-old daughter and my wife’s 4-year-old son to a simply lovely day. It was a picture perfect, cold and wintery day. And there was lots of snow so we were all really feeling the season. We started the day off with breakfast at the Peterborough Airport watching the planes take off and land – well there were no planes taking off or landing because it was too cold but we had fun simply looking at the parked planes while we ate. Then in the afternoon we went to my new company’s children’s Xmas party, which was a really terrific affair – the company pulled out all of the stops and the kids had an absolutely fantastic time. Late in the afternoon, when it was time to leave we packed up my car with the kid’s gifts and candy; my wife took my daughter out with her on some errands, and I took my wife’s son with me to Home Depot to pick up a part for our new fridge (also not technically new either but it’s as new a fridge as I will ever be capable of owning.) The drive to Home Depot was uneventful, even pleasant with me and the boy chatting away. When we arrived at Home Depot, I parked my gorgeous car, and got out of the beautiful car, and opened the back door of the awesome car so I could pull the boy out of his child seat. As I reached in to get him, that’s when he vomited.

Evidently projectile vomiting is something genetically inherited and not acquired by way of environment or nurturing because at only 4-years-old my wife’s son is already an old pro at it. He vomited a column of evil with such force that it must have looked to passers-by like a paint bomb had gone off in the car. For me, time slowed. I screamed: “OH NOOOO!!” and thinking quickly I stood rooted to the spot like a total moron while the just-tossed cookies soaked into the seats and my wife’s hell-spawn reloaded for another cannon blast - which he again ejected, achieving blanket coverage a house painter would envy. I might have wet my pants in terror but it was hard to tell because even though it was minus 15 degrees outside I was sweating like a stuck pig. I’m sure you could’ve seen my shoulders slump from space. Bellowing like a wounded wildebeest, I jabbed for his seat belt release and then not really caring whether he was free or not, ripped him from the car and stood him up in the parking lot.

The rotten kid spent a minute in the classic position standing with his hands on his knees looking down at the ground spitting and catching his breath. Then he straightened up, looked down at himself briefly, then up at me and with a completely deadpan expression he said:

“I don’t want anyone to see me like this.”

Out of the mouths of despicable babes, eh? So I said to him (printable words only included here for space reasons:)

“Oh yeah? Well, I don’t give a _____ flying _____ what you ______ ______ mother- ______ ______ _____ you little _____ _____!!” … and with that good start I proceeded to weave for the boy the most intricate and elaborate tapestry of profanity, a true work of verbal art seldom heard by grown men 10 times his age. Then I picked him back up deposited him back in his own puke and we drove home, me grinding thousands of dollars of expensive dental work into powder the entire way.

We arrived back home and with a restraint I am now so proud of in retrospect, because I am sure Ghandi himself would have murdered the little b---ard, I placed the boy in the tub, stripped him down, showered him off, put him in his PJs and into our bed, put Family Guy on the TV, and deposited his dirty clothes, coat, and boots into the laundry tub for his mother to deal with when she got home. I then filled a bucket with boiling hot water and dish soap, grabbed some towels and my shop vac and headed outside to survey the damage.

Salvador Dali would have been proud of the boy’s use of his medium (chunk blowing) to create an abstract and surreal milieu. And his attention to detail was amazing. Not a single nook or cranny of the back of the car was missed. The boy’s choice of purple grape juice during the preceding Xmas party lent an almost berry bouquet to the aroma in the car and made the upholstery look almost festive. The chunks of hotdog added texture. I learned that chunder freezes within 90 seconds of hitting cold car seat at minus 15, and over the next hour I battled the elements to keep the wash water liquid long enough to vacuum it up. Despite this, despite my valiant efforts, despite my heroic attempts to reverse all evidence of the demon child voiding his rheum upon the only thing good and pure and sweet left in this world (my car), I am afraid to say I don’t think I was ever able to completely eradicate the horror from my backseat.

So, exhausted, filthy and defeated, I put the car away and went inside to finish off the boy once and for all, ostensibly to stop him from ever perpetrating such a crime against anyone else ever again. I walked into the bedroom and saw that he had fallen asleep. As I kneeled upon the bed to deliver the final blow, he opened his eyes and with the most cherubic visage, with the most angelic expression he said to me:

“Did you bring in my candy?”

And I thought, “Hey, it’s only a car.”

I can't take it anymore...

I've been using Bell Sympatico for at least the past 9 years. Back before there was ever DSL, Patti and I had the first dial-up offering of Bell's - something like 10-hours per month for FREE that's right.) After a year or so of that we received a letter one day stating that our free account was no longer and from on we could pay $5 per month. And so it's gone over the years right up until the present day where we’re paying ~$50 per month for “up to” 5 MBps DSL internet access. Included with this access is 5MB of personal web space – a place to put a web page.

Now, you wouldn’t know it by hanging around here, but I am fairly familiar with the web, web spaces, and other personal things – certainly the concept of a personal web space is not strange to me. I used to have the web space going, but over the years I forgot the login information as I paid more attention to other domains I own.

Anyway, (boy I can be so wordy!) since I moved to Peterborough, I’ve also noticed my access has been spotty and my speed has dwindled somewhat over what I was getting back in Sutton West. So I called 310-BELL for help and after not too much time I was connected to Peter in India. I wanted to find out from him how to get access to my personal web space. Actually, I’d already been able to intuit the host and username to use, I just needed him to reset the password for me. Right off, Peter would not help me until he first tried to sell me the new Sympatico Ultra-Hi-speed 7 MBps service. So, after listening to his spiel I said to him: “But Peter, my tests show I am only reliably getting speeds of around 1.9MBps...” So he “checked my line” and told me with regret that my tests were spot on – that in fact my phone line was only capable of delivering 2.4MBps max to me. Would I like to purchase the 7MBps anyway? So I said: “Rather than paying more for the 7MBps service, why don’t you instead drop me down to the 3 MBps service? I will then be getting the same 1.9MBps for about $20 less per month” Peter then said, “Sir, should you drop from the 5 MBps service to the 3MBps service, we will drop your line speed down from 1.9MBps to 1.1MBps…but if you buy the 7MBps package you get free security tools!”

That was so ludicrous I almost lost it at that point but I decided to at least finish the call by getting the personal web space thing worked out so that the call wasn’t a total waste. Peter dutifully looked into this situation and after a time said: “Your personal web space is already activated.” I said: “Very well then, please show me how to access it.” To which he replied: “You must consult with your local computer technician.” I said: “Peter, that statement is completely meaningless to me. What do you mean by my local computer technician?” But by this point, Peter had retreated into himself and resorted to simply chanting “I’m sorry…local computer technician” over and over, like some east-Indian Rainman. After a time, I realized I wouldn’t get anywhere (yet again) with this Bell tech support agent on this call so I thanked him for his time and wished him a wonderful day because after all – he’s just a guy with a job to do and a script to read – my problems are not his fault.

Let me say here that I have always been a grudging customer of Bell but at least I’ve been loyal. Their prices are not great, their DSL service is not the best and their tech support sucks to high heaven, but it’s easier to be complacent so I’ve never switched. But my last few interactions with Bell and this call in particular left me with a really bad taste in my mouth. Bell could care less about me. They seem to honestly have unlearned the simple concept that they exist solely because of me - that my remaining their customer is their privilege and not their right. And don’t they realize that out-sourcing customer service technicians and tech support to India is a really bad idea?! I don’t want to deal with poorly trained and incompetent east-Indians when I have problems with my Canadian telephone service, I want to deal with poorly trained and incompetent Canadians, dammit! It’s like Bell is literally telling me to screw off. I ask you - how could a so formerly grand company have become so clueless?

Don’t answer that. It was rhetorical, and Bell, screw you right back. I have finally cancelled my Sympatico 0.6 to 1.9MBps DSL service. My local cable provider is Cogeco and is in the top 10 nationally for Internet service speed so I’ve signed up for that. That’s $600 a year less you’ll be seeing. And just to make me feel a little less bad for taking your crap for so long, I’ve cancelled my POTS phone line as well. (Another $400.) Cogeco will give me the same quality line at with less headaches and less hassle. And I’ll now have Internet, Cable, and Phone on one single bill.

So to close this diatribe and for those of you contemplating the switch, I am regularly getting throughput on my Internet line now on the order of 8000MBps!! Cogeco Customer Service are actual real live Canadians on Canadian soil (in Ottawa! How lovely to hear her crack her gum and pepper her dialogue with crutch words like “like” and “you know”.) I am satisfied with their cable package and am looking forward to the phone install, complete with rock-solid reliable service and 8-hour battery backup should the power go out.

Come to think of it, a wonderful Christmas present for me would be if someone – anyone – switched from Bell to anything else because of this article. I would love that. Just leave a comment and let me know about it.

6 Months Today!

6 months ago today, I quit smoking for good. I have been quit for 5 Months, 4 Weeks, 6 hours, 42 minutes and 59 seconds (181 days). I have saved $924.52 by not smoking 2,719 cigarettes. I have saved 1 Week, 6 Days, 5 hours and 13 minutes of my life. My Quit Date was 6/7/2007 11:20 PM

2,719 cigarettes! Just picture that. In only 6 months, that is the number of cigarettes I haven't smoked. Forget about visualizing what that number of butts looks like in a bucket, or how big a room filled with the smoke of 2,719 cigarettes would have to be, just think about the time I've saved not carrying around and managing 2,719 cigarettes over the last 6 months!

I was a smoker for more than 25 years, since I was 15 years old. Wow, 25 is a scary number when you use it in the same sentence as smoking. I wasn't planning on smoking that long! Over the years, I went from a high of maybe a pack and a half a day (Canadian packs - so that's about 37 cigarettes per day) to a low of about 8 cigarettes per day. I was arrogant enough to think that I had my addiction under control when I was smoking only 8 per day, but I seem to have spent most of my life at the 15-20 cigarette per day mark.

Prior to this, I've quit smoking about 30 times. I've used Zyban, inhalers, the patch, the gum, and combinations of everything. I even spent $100 on that useless Lifesigns device about 15 years ago. Once about 12 years ago, using a combination of cold-turkey, and some serious rationalization, I managed to quit for 3 years. I'm still proud of that because I managed to more or less quit, even if it was for all the wrong reasons. Aside from that one-time, I did quit for 5 months a few years after my daughter was born - just as she was starting to understand what it is I was doing with those cigarettes. In the end, I found it was much easier to simply hide my smoking from her rather than actually quitting. And aside from that, the other 28 quit attempts were barely one day affairs.

I think the kicker to quit smoking was my turning 40. That, and one day about a year ago, my daughter walked up to me and said: "Daddy, you know that thing we are not supposed to talk about? Well, you left a pack of them on the floor in the kitchen..." Some secret.

So 6 months ago today, I quit smoking for good. I consider myself a "smoker's ex-smoker" which is to say that I empathize and sympathize with the plight of the modern smoker. You can (maybe) smoke in my car if it's a long drive and you crack the window - but I myself have honestly kicked the habit. I have absolutely no desire for a cigarette any more. I'm still relieved that I was finally able to quit and I sure don't want to do anything to jeopardize that.

Dear Diary...

Today, I had my teeth whitened using the "dentist-delivered" Rembrandt Laser whitening system. This is how it worked for me: Last week, my genial and friendly dentist gravely recommended tooth whitening to me because for some reason I still cannot fathom, 25 years of smoking seems to have turned my teeth yellow. The procedure is not covered by insurance because it is considered "cosmetic" and costs $300. Though I'm sure I could make a case that I passed "cosmetic" about 10 years ago, I decided to take the plunge anyway. I reasoned I could use money from the grocery budget - the kids can eat dog food for another couple of weeks. Though the brochures in the dentist's lobby claim results on the order of "10 shades of whitening" my dentist told me to expect something more like 3 shades - he said this while shaking his head sadly and wondering (I'm sure) how some people can let themselves go so badly.

Upon arriving for my appointment, my hygienist, Melanie, took me back into "the whitening closet" - possibly the smallest room I have ever seen in a dentist's office. It contained the standard dentist chair and that freestanding octopus thing with angular metal tentacles emanating which I guess is all that's important. I was given a Standard Release Form to sign that warned me of some possible negative side-effects such as increased tooth sensitivity and gum bleaching, death, etc. The form made me a little paranoid because my teeth are already pretty sensitive; I'm not sure I could stand any more sensitivity for extended periods - but Melanie was very professional and reassuring. I should say that what she said was very professional and reassuring but she was evaluating me the whole time and her eyes said something like: "This crackpot is going to mentally snap 15 minutes into this procedure..."

So after the legalities were taken care of, we started. Melanie pumiced my teeth to clean them, then handed me a cup of something to gargle with - something to suppress my saliva production I think? Then she handed me a cotton swab covered in something and said something like: "you're mouth is going to be open for around an hour and a half so we ask you to apply this to your lips to prevent drying/chapping..." so I smeared what seemed like a half a pound of Vaseline over and around my lips. I should mention now that Melanie is good-looking, and though I am married and fat and old, I am still pretty good-looking comparatively speaking. And good-looking people like me don't like to look ugly around other attractive people. (Those of you out there who are ugly all of the time will have no idea what I am talking about, but all of you other hotties hear me, right?) The lip balm wasn't exactly making me look cool but I figured I could make the shiny lips work for me. But Melanie had other ideas. She next gave me to wear, a pair of yellow safety glasses styled in the 1980's. This was to prevent my eyes from getting aggravated by the laser light. So now, with the dry mouth, shiny Vaseline lips and the gayest glasses ever created, I was failing fast in the cool department.

But it was far from over. Melanie next adjusted the chair so that my feet were up and my head was low, causing my sinuses to instantly clog. She also pulled out this contraption called a "cheek spreader" and instructed me to flip over on my stomach so she could install it. No, I'm totally kidding. The cheek spreader was to hold my lips and cheeks away from my teeth while the bleach did it's work. Picture the eye spreader thing from A Clockwork Orange in your mouth. The inventor of the spreader however decided that this horrible medieval device was missing something - a tongue suppressor which is a snap-in addition, a sort of shot glass with wings that you tongue slides into - to prevent the tongue this time from coming into contact with the tooth bleach. The whole assembly was plastic and the sharp edges pinched my gums and dug-in to that skin-thing that fastens my tongue to my head. Next I received this vacuum tube to suck up the saliva that was collecting at the back of my throat. Then Melanie applied this blue stuff called Rubber Dental Dam to the edges of my gums so that any excess bleach would hit the rubber instead of my gums. So forget about me looking cool or sexy - instead by this point I think looked like Predator near the end of the movie after Arnold knocks off his helmet.

I couldn't believe I had endured all of this and we hadn't actually started whitening teeth yet. But thankfully that was next. Melanie applied some bleach-solution-gel-cream to my teeth in sections, and once she had done all of the top teeth she placed some Saran Wrap over the teeth to hold the bleach on. Then she applied bleach to the bottom teeth and another piece of Saran. Lastly, she flicked on this laser light that looked like some kind of gem (so that the laser light shoots out in multiple directions at the same time) and shoved the gem in my cranked-open mouth. Then she flipped me back upright, swung a television in front of my face, put a remote in my hands, and gave me a box of Kleenex because I guess I was crying pretty hard by that point. Melanie asked me if I was OK. I said "Unngh, Ack!" and threw in a few clicks like some central African tribesman. For good reason there were no mirrors in the room, but I could imagine what I looked like and sadly accepted that fact that Melanie and I will never date if Patti and I ever split up.

All of that took exactly 30 minutes. All that was left was an hour holding still with my face locked in the rictus of happy-horror. I watched Everybody Loves Raymond and Cheers. Ray's mother reminds me of my own, but without the humour or the kindness, and that Woody is quite the country bumpkin! Melanie had left a motion detector behind and told me to wave my hand in front of it if I needed any assistance - she would come check on me periodically. The damn detector went off every time I moved so eventually I turned it around to face away from me. After 10 minutes Melanie came into to check on my progress and noted that my Saran had fallen off. She asked if I was a mouth-breather and said, "Try to breathe through your nose so the Saran doesn't fall off" So, snorting like a fine-food critic dining at an A&W, I endured 10 solid minutes of pulling a thin and barely survivable stream if oxygen through my completely stopped-up nostrils, only to have Melanie return after 10 minutes and report with a sigh that the Saran had once again fallen off and that I must breathe through my nose to prevent this from happening. This statement didn't bode well for our blossoming relationship and I am sad to report it caused our first fight because I responded with something along the lines of "I can't breathe through my @#$@ nose! It's so plugged that when I try, it sounds like a pig farm at lunchtime, godd----t! But all she heard was "Unngh, Ack!"

After the hour was over, everything went quickly. The laser gem was pulled out, the horrible plastic spreader was removed; she pulled out the Saran, and the blue rubber dam material. I think I might have gargled again with something, then she handed me a mirror and...

...well, I don't know what I was expecting going in, but the utterly medieval and horrible procedure was offset by the fantastic results! It TOTALLY exceeded my expectations. I haven't had teeth like this since I was 20! My teeth look fantastic! So good in fact, that I don't want to drink coffee anymore. Or eat ketchup or anything else that could remotely stain my teeth. I brush my teeth three times a day now. Life is good. When I smile now, streams of God-like light radiate out from my mouth. Angels sing. Funny enough, I stood in front of the mirror with Patti afterwards to compare the whiteness and she is already the same shade of white as me. Wow, but it's way more dramatic for me because of how yellow I was before.

So the long and short of it, dear diary, is that I would recommend this to anyone contemplating it. Phenomenal!

Are you kidding me?!

Oh Man...

We been ELFED!

Update! (December 14, 2007) I finally figured out how to save a copy of the Hoppe Elf movie for offline viewing so, if the link above goes dead, click here for my saved copy.

New items up on Steph's Virtual Garage Sale

After an extended period of laziness a brief vacation, I just need cash want you to know that I have once again placed several unwanted cherished pieces of crap items on to (my) Steph's Virtual Garage Sale site. Check them out and pay full asking price make me an offer...please! or whatever.

It was a dark and stormy night

"While the nurse adjusted Achmed's body cast, he recounted that though he was a new arrival to the country, he was positively thrilled to obtain a new leased and loaded Chrysler mini-van; and so upon taking delivery of it from the dealership, promptly took the vehicle out on the 401 highway, set the cruise control, and then headed into the back to make breakfast."

That is going to be my entry into the Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest, where since 1982 the English Department at San Jose State University has sponsored the whimsical literary competition that challenges entrants to compose the opening sentence to the worst of all possible novels. These are an absolute riot - my favourite from the 2007 results:

I'll have a pack of cigarettes please.no, Marlboro 100's . . . lights please, in a box yeah, no, wait, give me a soft pack, no, not those, the ones right above them, no, no, right next to those, yeah, wait, make it two packs, no wait, how much are they . . . no, one pack will do me, and a lighter please, no the other one, yeah, that one will be fine, he said quickly.

Shane Spears Blytheville, AR

Maybe one line entries don't work well...

...but that would be hard to believe.

 

Tips to Eliminate SPAM

In my job as an athlete, supermodel, and IT consultant, I'm often asked how to eliminate spam email. I've had much success with the methods detailed heretofore (below):

But first of all, what is spam?

Spam is legitimate messages selling products which may not work regardless of how carefully you follow the instructions on the packaging. Also sadly, all email out of Nigeria is spam. There are no longer any opportunities to launder 20 million in U.S. dollars for some African diplomat trying to get out of the country. All email from Netherlands is spam as well. A little known fact is that all spam originates from countries that start with the letter "N", like North America and Nebraska.

It is said that 40% of all email is now spam. That's accurate, but the actual figure is much closer to 5%. Have you ever sent an email message that has been blocked by the intended recipient's spam filter? We ALL have. That message certainly wasn't spam, but unfortunately emails such as this get counted in those statistics your read about.

Much of what looks like spam is actually legitimate email from let's say - unsophisticated senders who lack the technical skills to make their email look less like spam.. Banks are notorious for this. One department will send out a message requesting your username and password for the purposes of updating their systems, however they will inadvertently fail to notify another department, who will then send out another message imploring you to ignore the first message. The irony is that your spam "filter" may block the legitimate (first) message, and then allow the spam (the second piece). Irregardless, I recommend sending the requested information in every case because I would hate to live in a world without trust, you know?

Know this: the single biggest contributor to spam is commercial spam filtering software (and free spam filtering software too - in fact free can be much worse). Getting into a technical explanation of why this is so is beyond the purview of this article, but let's just say, if nobody used spam blocking or spam filtering software ever again, the spammers would be out of business within ONE day. But sadly, there are still be gullible novices out there because there is still some spam on the Internet. And we all have to pay the price for this. Stop using this stuff people!

Third of all, how should we deal with spam?

• First and foremost, a firmly worded but polite email stating that you do not appreciate or tolerate spam can be very effective at reducing the amount of spam you receive. In your letter, be sure to list all of your various email addresses. Title your subject line: "Remove me from your spam list."
• If the method above doesn't work, a second more strongly worded email is called for. Feel free to let your frustration show at this point, for you are dealing with a particularly callous spammer, and stronger wording is definitely called for. The biggest expense for spammers is responding to complaint e-mails so send several copies of your complaint if possible. Make them waste a little time for the time they've taken from you!
• If an email receives no response, then an actual letter certainly will. A clearly typed letter with a SASE (self addresses stamped envelope) is sure to move the spammer into action - in your favour.
• Threats such as "does your mother know about this?" can be very effective by appealing to the spammers upbringing.
• Probably the single best method to eliminating spam from your life forever is also the simplest. Just make one, single purchase from a spammer. The reasoning is this: since you've already purchased, there is much more potential from someone who hasn't already made a purchase. I would have to characterize this as the single best method to eliminating spam from your life - forever!

 

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

About a year ago, I received a call from my local MP's office. It went something like: "Mr. Hoppe, it seems like a federal election is imminent. The Conservative Party of Canada requires support from constituents such as yourself so that Prime Minister Harper can continue his primary goal of improving yours, Mr Hoppe's, life. Can we count on your vote on election day?" So I said: "Sure." So the nice person on the other end of the line said: "Care to give us some money?" I said: "How little can I give? $10? Done." ...and I gave $10 to the Conservative Party of Canada.

Now along with all of the other SPAM I receive, I now am getting spammed by the Conservative Party of Canada. They won't stop! I've tried to unsubscribe, but to no effect. Here is the latest letter from Doug Finley, National Campaign Director, Conservative Party of Canada whose email address is the rather uninspired: donate@conservative.ca

"Dear Mr. Hoppe,
You have been such a strong supporter of the Conservative Party and Prime Minister Stephen Harper that I was surprised when Irving Gerstein, our fundraising chair told me that we have not heard from you this year.
I am writing to ask you to please renew your support today with a $100 or perhaps even $200 contribution. You can make a contribution on line right now by following this link..."

Dougie! Irving! If I am your one of your strongest supporters and my year-old $10 donation got the attention of the fundraising chair, then I really don't want to be a supporter anymore. You've hit rock bottom, losers! You're a sinking ship, and I want off. I'm a conservative but that term applies only to my views, not to which Canadian political party I affiliate myself with. And as for the $10. I actually feel really stupid I gave you $10. At the time, it seemed like the fastest way to get back to my dinner. Now, if I gave you $100 or $200?! I wouldn't be able to face my family. The shame.

Global Warming - what's up with that?

If you want to talk knowledgeably about global warming; if you want to rely on the expertise of the experts involved, let me ask you this: how often has anybody's "weather centre" been accurate? Let's say you're trying to plan a camping trip or something and trying to avoid rain - it always @#! rains. The weather report is accurate less than 50% of the time! Nobody seems to be able to predict what the weather is going to be like 2 days out, and we are supposed to accept that they can determine what the CO2 levels will be 20 years out!?

Consider this article written by S. Fred Singer. It's a good read. See if you can get past all of the conspiracy theories and hyperbole of the vocal ecologists out there and instead understand the rational argument put forth by this professor emeritus of environmental sciences at the University of Virginia! You've got to admit he might have a better idea of the whole situation than you do, or than some far-left, granola-eating, birkenstock-wearing, neo-feminist university student who reeks of pot and patchouli does!

The Narcissism Doctrine

When I look at my 7-year old daughter, Ellie I simply cannot believe how beautifiul she is. From her gorgeous honey-hair to the tips of her cute little toes - objectively speaking she is the most prettiest little girl in the entire world. I am actually hesitant to show pictures of Ellie to other parents because once they see a picture of her, they must surely realize how ugly their own children are...Don't get me wrong, Elle is a sweet girl - beautiful on the inside too, but the subject of this entry is really more about my daughter's super-model good-looks.

My question is why, in the face of the incontrovertable evidence of my daughter's beauty, do other parent's still believe that their hideous and mal-formed children are beautiful too? I've wondered about this for a while and it's only recently that the answer has come to me:

1. I am inherently narcissistic.
2. I see myself in my daughter.
3. Therefore I think my daughter is beautiful.

That's the Hoppe Narcissim Doctrine™ coming into play. I know, I can hardly believe it myself. Me? Narcissistic? I'm not. I'm really not. But then consider my son, Nik. He's nowhere NEAR as good looking as Ellie. He's kind of ugly actually. And he looks a lot more like his mother than he does me....AND she thinks he's beautiful...so they too prove the immutableness (immutablivity?) of the Hoppe Narcissim Doctrine™

FutureShop Sucks

Emailed to service@futureshop.com  on September 5th, 2007:

Dear FutureShop:

I went into the Peterborough, Ontario Futureshop to buy the $749 HP laptop on the front page of your flyer. It was the first day of the sale. I wanted to just get in, get the laptop, and go - in and out of your store in 5 minutes, you know?

But, your computer tech told me that all of the machines had been "set up" and they had no "un-set up" machines in stock. I had two choices:

1. Pay another $100 and take a set-up machine.

2. Wait one hour while they un-set a previously set-up machine.

I asked the tech what he does for $100. The response I got was along the lines of "lots of stuff...recovery, firewall, webcam..." It was painfully obvious he had no idea what he was talking about. I'm guessing it's one of his colleagues who does the setting up...Whatever. I told him to just give me a "setup" one for the $749 and he reacted like that was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard. So, I fairly lost it and demanded to see the manager. The manager showed up and within a couple of minutes, magically located a factory-sealed box for me which is impressive since you apparently didn't have any of those.

I'm trying to keep this short because you already wasted enough of my time in the store. You should be ashamed of yourselves. I'm pretty sure it's not classy to extort extra dollars from your customers. That's a despicable tactic. You - FutureShop (and by relation, Best Buy) are very, very bad, and if your Peterborough store were one of my children, I would spank it so hard it would walk funny for a week.

Stephan Hoppe

How to Clean a Flat Panel Monitor

Dell recommends the following:

To clean your flat panel display screen, lightly dampen a soft, clean cloth with water or isopropyl alcohol. Never use methyl or ethyl alcohol, benzene, thinner, ammonia, abrasive cleaners, acids, lubricants, human excretions or effluvia, gasoline, maple syrup, christianity, ketchup or other condiments unless otherwise stated, sand, broken glass, other monitors, your tongue, concentrated heat (as from a lighter,) physical violence, flotsam, jetsam, pet urine, litigation, tears, tree sap, persuasive logical arguments, rotating knives, squids or octopii, solids, gases, thoughts, your bum, poo, oil-based paint, uranium, plutonium, communism, narcissism, dish-soap, or compressed air; these substances could damage the crystals that make up the flat panel display.

To clean the monitor cabinet, use a cloth lightly dampened with a mild detergent, but never use ....

A brush with stardom

Despite spending way too much time in various airports around North America, I only recently saw my first celebrity enroute to Chicago from St. Louis. It was Ron Jeremy. Honestly, of all the porn stars I lie in bed at night dreaming about bumping into - why did it have to turn out to be Ron Jeremy?!

 

Transcript

This is a recent transcript of a conversation between me and my son, Nik, when I called home this morning from St. Louis, Missouri.

 

Nik: Hi Daddy

Me: Hi Mr. Hoppe. How are you?

Nik: (giggling) Fine.

Mew: Are you treating your sister nice?

Nik: Yes.

Me: Is she treating you nice?

Nik: No.

Nik: You are a orange peel!

Nik: You are a apple!

Me: You are a pumpkin. You are a cucumber!

Nik: You are a rotten chin!

Me: You are a pimple!

Nik: You are a firecracker!

Me: You are a...

Nik: You are a egg sandwich!

Me: When I get home I am going to @$#!, you little !@#!&...

Nik: (laughs, drops phone and runs outside to play with his sister.)

It's carefree moments like that, that I enjoy most with my kids. And I'm proud that together with Patti, we are able to give our children that sort of lifestyle.

Career Choices

Kids seem to know younger and younger what they want to do with their lives. It's funny because I'm 40 and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.

Case in point - Just the other day, my son Nik, who is almost four told me that when he grows up he wants to be a crash-test dummy. I'm not sure if he wants to be a NHTSA dummy or a freelance dummy, but he was adamant and I'm proud of him for it.

 

 

Couldn't have said it better myself

Yes, the original commercials are funny, but no, they are not true. The reason they call them "Macs" is because their user base can't spell "personal computers." This is also funny.

Update 2007-07-18 There's a bunch of 'em! Here and here and here and especially here . And just for colour, the originals are here. (In commercial #2, from where does she pull out the photo?)

Deal RIM...

"cupping edge technology..."

My Unwilling Profligacy

T
he whole family went to see the Transformers yesterday at the theater, to Silver City in Newmarket, Ontario. It was the boy's first movie ever, so I did enjoy a few minutes watching him watching the movie - as well as watching the movie itself. And what a movie. What a fantastic, noisy spectacle of awesome robots! I really wanted my favourite robot to be one of the good guy autobots, but bad-guy decepticon Barricade totally rocked. Barricade is the police car when he's not transformed. If you go see the movie, look at what it says on the side of Barricade/Police Car where it's supposed to say "To Serve and Protect"...funny. Despite the length of the flick (almost 2 1/2 hours long) I really enjoyed it from beginning to end. The boy feel asleep for the last 45 minutes which amazed me because it was so loud in the theatre my ears were bleeding. I tried to wake him up a couple of times just to make sure he really wanted to sleep, and I wasn't too concerned - he got a good eyeful during the time he was awake. So, a good time was had by all.

Now, maybe I'm turning into a crusty old codger who is out of touch with reality but let's see what 2.5 hours in a movie theater cost me. Tickets for two adults, a 7-year old and a 3-year old - three small popcorn, three small soft drinks, a box of Glosettes and a bag of Swedish berries. SEVENTY-FIVE DOLLARS?!?!?

This is my vanity site - the site with my name on it where my employer, my clients, headhunters, and the tax man all end up when they google the name "Stephan Hoppe", so generally I really try to keep the content kind of safe and family friendly, but really...Famous Players Theaters and the MPAA can kiss my ASS. For $75 I could have BUILT the kids their very own Transformer. I could have had Josh Duhamel over for coffee (Patti would like that.) OK Famous Players, you got me though your doors once, you saw my small kids, saw that you had them hooked and then proceeded to bend me over and...take my wallet (let's say.) But those kids are not going to see the inside of a Famous Players Theater again until they have kids. That $75 is the last dollar you'll ever get from my family. From now on, I'll download a torrent and play it on my home theater and the experience will be equal if not better and I'll at least be able to pause the movie for bathroom breaks and turn the volume down to a tolerable level.

Except...I've got no cash...

The midlife crisis is a myth—sort of

Many believe that men go through a midlife crisis when they are in middle age. Not quite. Many middle-aged men do go through midlife crises, but it's not because they are middle- aged. It's because their wives are. From the evolutionary psychological perspective, a man's midlife crisis is precipitated by his wife's imminent menopause and end of her reproductive career, and thus his renewed need to attract younger women. Accordingly, a 50-year-old man married to a 25-year-old woman would not go through a midlife crisis, while a 25-year-old man married to a 50-year-old woman would, just like a more typical 50-year-old man married to a 50-year-old woman. It's not his midlife that matters; it's hers. When he buys a shiny-red sports car, he's not trying to regain his youth; he's trying to attract young women to replace his menopausal wife by trumpeting his flash and cash.

From: Psychology Today Magazine Jul/Aug 2007 - Ten Politically Incorrect Truths About Human Nature

 

I refuse to speculate. I'm merely a reporter of information.

So sad

A
couple of years ago, I stumbled across this blog written by a husband for his wife, Suzanne. Suzanne had been diagnosed with cancer and the husband was blogging up status reports of Suzanne's progress with battling the disease. What I got from it was that Suzanne and her husband were doing absolutely everything in their power, both physically and spiritually, to fight the disease. The blog was simply to keep family and friends up to date; it may also have had some therapeutic value for the husband. I bookmarked the site and followed it via RSS for several months, then gradually stopped reading.

Today, after more than a year, I once again found the link in the mess that is my bookmark pile and I returned to the site, saw the photo tribute for the first time, said "uh-oh..." to myself, and then discovered that Suzanne had passed away on June 20, 2007. I was honestly shocked. Even though I never knew this person (I don't even know where she was geographically), I am stunned and saddened by her death, and chilled that it happened so recently.

Not that I need another one, but once again this serves as a stark reminder to me to respect life, and be most appreciative of family and friends. You never know what the future holds, so the time to appreciate everything that you have is right now. I'm not saying this as eloquently as I'd hoped, but you get the idea.

That explains a lot...

How to ensure nested DIVs stay within the parent DIV

What a pain. For a long time, I've been having a sporadic issue with nested divs that don't nest in Firefox. Said another way, the content in a nested div doesn't push out the containing div. Consider this example:

<div ID="container" style="border: 1px solid black">

<div ID="nest1" style="float:left;border: 1px solid blue">content</div><!--end nest1-->

<div ID="nest2" style="float:left;border: 1px solid blue">content</div><!--end nest2-->

</div> <!--end container-->

In this case, the words "content" should be side by side (because they be floated) with a container div surrounding the words. The container div will have a border around it. As I type in more content into the content divs, the container div with the border is supposed to expand. This elementary concept works fine in Internet Explorer but doesn't work in Firefox. In Firefox, I get my tiny bordered box above my content, as if the content is slipping outside of the containing div. Like so:

As I've said, this has been an issue for me for some time. Invariably I would encounter it and then hack around for a few hours until I stumbled across a solution, wihout really knowing what I did to fix things - I always just attributed the whole issue to Firefox's anal-retentive nature with respect to CSS. But CSS is supposed to be logical and this behaviour is certianly not that? Anyway, recently I decdied to get to the bottom of things once and for all, and figure out exactly what Firefox and CSS2 expected me to do.

It turns out the issue is this: The container is not stretching because the floats are "enclosed" but not "cleared." Something must clear the floats before parent end tag. And the reason I've never noticed this behaviour in IE because IE automatically encloses and clears content floats due to its "non-standard auto-enclosing behavior". In order for a container div to truly surround the divs within it, the contents must both be floated and the div must be somehow cleared at the end. The Firefox and CSS2 retards somehow IE's auto-enclosing a bug and demand that you do it manually according to CSS strict rules. Well, if you can't beat them, join them. Here are a few ways to do this:

1. <br style="clear:both;"> - after the content but BEFORE the closing tag on the container div!

Example:

<div ID="container" style="border: 1px solid black">
<div ID="nest1" style="float:left;border: 1px solid blue">content</div><!--end nest1-->
<div ID="nest2" style="float:left;border: 1px solid blue">content</div><!--end nest2-->
<br style="clear:both;" />
</div> <!--end container-->

 

2. Float the container div along with the content divs. No good if you want the container to be centered.

Example:

<div ID="container" style="border: 1px solid black;float:left;">
<div ID="nest1" style="float:left;border: 1px solid blue">content</div><!--end nest1-->
<div ID="nest2" style="float:left;border: 1px solid blue">content</div><!--end nest2-->
</div> <!--end container-->

 

3. #container:after{ content: "."; display: block; height: 0; clear: both; visibility: hidden; }

Add option #3 above to your stylesheet. It instructs your CSS to add it period right after your container div and then clear both sides of it. Then, to make sure it's not seen and doesn't ruin positioning elsewhere, it hides the period from view.

I'm glad I have this finally figured out now.

Resources:
http://www.positioniseverything.net/easyclearing.html
http://www.webmasterworld.com/forum83/7739.htm

View Source is not working in Internet Explorer?

I
n Internet Explorer, when you hit "View Source", is it not working as you wish? It has happened to me more than once so I know it's happening to someone else right now. Consider this tip my way of paying back the Internet for having answers like this for me when I needed them.

System Key: [HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINE\SOFTWARE\Microsoft\Internet Explorer\View Source Editor\Editor Name]
Value Name: (Default)
Data Type: REG_SZ (String Value)  Value Data: Path and Filename of Editor

Spam Opera

Like the sands of time, so comes the unwanted, unstoppable and inexorable flow of spam through my inbox. Spam actually has its root in ancient Greece, when in frustration Herodotus exclaimed, "how can I stop the delivery of all this @#*$! parchment!?!?" And now, more than 20 years later we still have to deal with unwanted spam for such things as enlargement products which simply do not work, despite the fact that I followed the instructions exactly.

After putting it off for quite some time, earlier this year I finally bit-the-bullet and changed all of my email addresses to try to put an end to the literally hundreds of spam emails I was receiving every day. (Note that I didn't actually receive all of the hundreds of emails - my spam filters were doing their job admirably - but even good filters need to be checked every once in a while to make sure nothing of value gets through...) and I was tired of spam getting through to my regular accounts, and I was tired of having to sift through the junk mail folders to make sure nothing of value was going there. Actually, rather than completely new addresses, I just added a "7" to the end of the old ones like so:

shane.feldman@sympatico.ca

became

shane.feldman7@sympatico.ca

The effect was immediate. The spam simply and completely evaporated leaving behind only a slightly unpleasant smell...oh wait a minute. I realize now that the smell might not have been the spam...whatever, the spam was gone. That was roughly 6 months ago. Now, it's starting to creep back into my inbox again. 1 to 2 per day. Why? Why?! WHY?! (picture me dropping to my knees, arm raised, pleading to the sky, like Star Trek's Captain Kirk would after losing some young unnamed female crew member to an alien virus on some rocky planet where the rocks look an awful lot like papier mache...)

I think the reason why might have been the email field in the comments just below each post on this page. Though I've taken great pains to obfuscate the email addresses elsewhere on the pages of this site, in the comments area they were still there in all of their unadulterated glory. And because I tend to respond to many comments and faithfully fill-in the email and web page fields when doing said responding - my mail address has been picked up by the bots and now the spam deluge will start again.

Now, I first figured this out about 2 months ago. What I have been doing thus far is to manually go in and remove the addresses from the comments if anyone actually supplies their (optional) email address. I don't want the commenters to pay for my programming omission. But it's been getting tedious to manually go in once a month for 1 minute to make a quick, manual change when I can instead spend several HOURS working on a script to do things automatically. So, thats what I did. And it turned out pretty good!

Now, if you supply your email when making a comment, my script:

1. First checks to make sure it's a well-formed (but not necessarily valid) email address. (i.e. shane.feldman@sympatico.ca)
2. Then changes the @ to AT and the . to DOT (i.e. shaneDOTfeldmanATsympaticoDOTca)
3. Then it converts each character of the email address to its corresponding ASCII code. (i.e. &#115;&#104;&#97;&#110;&#101;&#68;&#79;&#84;&#102;
   &#101;&#108;&#100;&#109;&#97;&#110;&#65;&#84;&#115;
   &#121;&#109;&#112;&#97;&#116;&#105;&#99;&#111;&#68;
   &#79;&#84;&#99;&#97;)

Now, if you are at all inclined to check one of the existing comments, and why wouldn't you be? I would...then simply mousing over won't allow you to see the codes, If you really want to see the ascii codes then view the source of this page. But the important point is that now your emails are safe here. Feel free to comment away - and I defy any spam bot to be able to harvest email addresses from my web site now!

I'm an Outlaw

Video of a reckless motorcyclist careening into into next-door neighbour's yard.

OK, so it's not as illegal as I would have liked, or even illegal at all, but it's sure to set neighbour relations back a couple of years!  Please notice the price tag hanging down off the side of the helmet. I predict that this will be the next "in" thing.

 

 

 

A Not-So-Easy-Rider

Well, I finally went and did it. I've named her Emelcee*; she has a pretty two-toned paint job and...that's all I know about motorcycles. The seller was kind enough to drive her to my home for me. I paid him, and then I raced out (in my car) to buy a helmet from Freak~N~Leather (who seem to have a new website - look at their URL - HAHAHA.) You can see by my new helmet that I'm tending more towards the outlaw look rather than the ultra-sissy European rider look - and now I'm in the market for a skull & crossbones decal for said helmet.

So as I said, I bought my helmet then raced home to learn myself how to drive a motorcycle since I am now a motorcyclist (that's what we call ourselves I'm sure - motorcyclists) The gears are something like "1-down, 4-up" whatever that means - I know where the clutch is and there is a little green light that tells me when I'm in neutral, and it's only a 750cc engine, so how powerful can it be? And what else do I need to know? Us motorcyclists aren't exactly known for doing rocket surgery. I get on the bike and barely manage to start it because I've never owned anything with a choke before and immediately realize that 750cc is a lot more powerful than I thought and now I know why girls like horses so much!

Since I don't have a license I drive down my driveway and all over my neighbour's front and backyard since they are away on holidays until the end of the month - I hope their grass grows back before they get home. I only dropped it twice which isn't bad since my crazy neighbour two-doors down almost killed himself in first gear. And now I'm waiting for JJ to come over so I can get some @#$#! pictures of me on the bike before I hurt myself...

I haven't been this excited in a long time.

*Emelcee = MLC = Mid-Life Crisis

...but a goody.

A young man was on holiday in Kenya after graduating from college. While he was walking through the bush, he came across a young bull elephant standing with one leg raised in the air. The elephant seemed distressed so the man approached it very carefully. The young man got down on one knee and inspected the elephants foot. There was a large thorn deeply embedded in the bottom of the foot. As carefully and as gently as he could the man worked the thorn out with his hunting knife, after which the elephant gingerly put down its foot. The elephant turned to face the man and with a rather stern look on its face, stared at him. For a good ten minutes the man stood frozen -- thinking of nothing else but being trampled. Eventually the elephant trumpeted loudly, turned and walked away.

The man never forgot that elephant or the events of that day.

Twenty years later the man was walking through the zoo with his teenaged son. As they approached the elephant enclosure, one of the creatures turned and walked over to where they were standing at the rail. The large bull elephant stared at the man and lifted it’s front foot off the ground, then put it down. The elephant did that several times, all the while staring at the man. The man couldn’t help wondering if this was the same elephant. After a while it trumpeted loudly; then it continued to stare at him. The man summoned up his courage, climbed over the railing and made his way into the enclosure. He walked right up to the elephant and stared back in wonder. Suddenly the elephant trumpeted again, wrapped its trunk around one of the man’s legs and swun him wildly back and forth along the railing, killing him.

Probably wasn't the same elephant.

(I got this joke from The Rider's Mag. I didn't feel much like retyping it so I did a quick investigation on the subject of OCR. It was here that I found a good, cheap, and quick way to scan the occasional image to text.)

Tangy

I've been looking forward to this all last week. I told everybody I knew about it. And finally today the special moment arrived. For today was the day I visited Collinsville, Illinois which, as you all know, is the home of the world's largest catsup (sic) bottle. This phallic triumph of architecture is Collinsville's pride and joy, to the point that it completely eclipses the fact that Collinsville is also the horseradish capital of the world and produces 85% of the world's horseradish supply.

           

Providing moments of entertainment for tens of people the world over, the world's largest ketchup bottle certainly lived up to the hype. Without resorting to too much hyperbole, it seemed to me to be like a large replica of a ketchup bottle; the original bottle on which this replica was based may have at one time contained some delicious and tangy ketchup. While I stood and gazed upon the limited majesty of the largish monument, it didn't do anything at all or move even slightly - it just was there, resplendent in the simple serenity of its mere and current existence. Finally, after a few minutes I left, still somewhat nonplussed.

Is this even remotely interesting?

I work in retail point-of-sale. Recently I troubleshot an issue with a receipt printer, and it required "refamiliarizing" myself with some concepts I haven't really kept on top of the past few years, and writing the short doc below:

A receipt printer must have some way to prevent the computer from sending data faster than the printing device can handle it. The Epson TM-H6000III employs 2 methods to prevent this from happening:
1. Either DTR/DSR (hardware) or XON/XOFF (software) flow control which involves sending special control characters from the computer to the printer and back to manage what gets printed and when. (Epson default is DTR/DSR. WinXP default is none.)
2. A print buffer into which the printer stores incoming data yet to be processed. (Epson default is 4kb)
In addition to the above, both the computer and the printer also manage their own baud rates, the speed at which the computer sends it's data and the speed at which the printer receives it. Baud rate can be loosely defined as the number of characters per second that a device can send to or receive from. (Epson default is 19200, WinXP default is 9600)
Because of the Epson TM-H6000III's large 4kb buffer, there is rarely any need to invoke flow control, but this may actually confuse configuration and troubleshooting efforts. This is because flow-control may be set incorrectly, and (should it be and instead of but here?) because of the printer's large buffer, flow control only rarely gets invoked - only rarely enough to cause trouble.
A good example of incorrect flow-control settings would be the default values for the Epson TM-H6000III and Windows XP. At their defaults and with a large print job, the buffer might fill up before Windows is finished sending the entire job. The Epson TM-H6000III would send a control code to Windows to "stop sending information for a second", but because Windows' flow control is set to "off", it would blindly continue to send data to the printer, overflowing the printer's buffer and causing printer errors.
And with respect to baud rate, on the surface, setting the printer's "receive" baud rate to 19200 characters per second vs. the computer's "send" baud rate of only 9600 characters per second would seem like a good idea to prevent the printer from getting overwhelmed, but keep in mind that serial printer communications are bi-directional, and setting baud rate in this way actually means you may overwhelm the PC! Generally, both the printer and the PC should be set to the same baud rate, and the rule of thumb is to use the slowest acceptable baud rate, because "more slow" equals "more stable".
Note: Since at 9600 characters per second you could literally deliver more than 6 feet of store receipt to the printer in only one second...9600 baud is a more than adequate baud rate setting for both the PC and the printer.
So, as you now can see, stable and reliable receipt printing can easily be achieved if certain configuration choices are made beforehand:
1. Turn off the Epson TM-H6000III printer.
2. Open up the dip switch panel underneath the Epson TM-H6000III:
a. Set DSW 1-7 from ON to OFF and DSW 1-8 from OFF to ON (Baud Rate to be 9600)
3. Hold down the "Feed" button and turn the printer back on enter Self-Test mode and to verify your settings.
4. To exit Self-Test mode. Turn the printer off, and then back on.
5. In Windows Device Manager Settings for COM1:
a. Verify baud rate is set to 9600
b. Set flow control to be "Hardware"
Happy printing!

The long and short of it is, I found this pretty interesting. Is it just me?

Anonymity

I've got this friend; you can call him Shane, but I call him "one-of-only-three" HAHAHA. Anyway, he likes de' web and making web pages almost as much as I do but unlike me, Shane craves anonymity on the web. He feels that anonymity is the path to uninhibited self-expression.

As we all know, this is much different than my philosophy of how web pages must be. I think that I must plaster my ugly mug all over web pages to act as sort of a diet-aid for unsuspecting women who happen by my site.

I won't get into the fact here that I am right and that Shane Feldman / Home: 43 Thornecliffe Park Apt 1950, Toronto, ON M4H 1J4 phone: 416-422-4394 / Work: 25 The West Mall Toronto, ON M9C 1B8 phone: 416-621-1070 / web site: My Own Council is wrong but as a friend, I respect Shane's desires.

More Panoramics

More panoramic photos

This is the first panoramic photo I took with my camera. It even precedes the backyard photo you see in the previous post. I simply put this on my desk at my office and started spinning it around. Considering how well it turned out despite practically no effort on my part - no wonder I like taking these panoramic photos!

For the first time in years, I got to do a little sightseeing while on a business trip. I went to see the Jefferson National Expansion Memorial (the St., Louis Arch) in St. Louis, Missouri. This is a location that practically begs for a panoramic photo.

It's not my best panoramic photo, but it does the job of recording that location for that moment in time. I'll get better as soon as I read more of the manual. This was taken without a tripod - it's just me turning in a circle and trying to hold the camera steady.

This is a picture of the Arch Museum at the base of/underneath the St. Louis Arch:

Something weird happened here. First of all it was dark. There were lots of people in the shot and I felt nervous they were all wondering why I was taking their picture so I was moving fast. Again, I didn't have a tripod so I was actually making my way around a statue that was occupying the centre spot. I was trying to go around this statue without actually touching it because as you can see in the photo at around the 30% mark, there is a female security guard right next to me. She wouldn't move; I practically banged her cheek with my lens

Whatever. The shot looks cool.

Another One-Million-Dollar-Idea (if you share with me)

I certainly told enough people about it; and now all these years later, I'm surprised I've have never seen it in production.

What it is, is this: when I was a young man, long-haired, tall, and slim with perfectly flat abs and an upper body like Dakota Fanning - as was the style back then in the days of Miami Vice and Thompson Twins, I always had this problem when if I wore a belt with my pants, the buckle would ride up over the top of said pants. I was always reaching down to reposition the buckle back over the waistband of the pants. I should mention now that I most certainly do not have this problem anymore. Nowadays, my belt is way to busy struggling to keep from snapping, to worry about such impossibilities as creeping upwards into my belly. Right. So while this problem may not have been up there with say - whirled peas, it did get me thinking and I quickly came up with a solution - The Belt Rock (belt not included.)

Elegant in it's simplicity, the belt rock consists of only a fine hi-test line, like fishing line, and a rock. One end of the line ties around your belt buckle and the other is tied to the rock, which hangs freely at about knee level. I figure 10 lbs. would do the trick for the average male. There is an optional neoprene cover for the rock to save your knees when engaged in vigorous activity such as dancing or exercise. The Belt Rock could optionally be painted - a fashion statement. The Belt Rock could also be used for close-quarters self-defence. Associated games could be developed requiring the Belt Rock.

Note: Stephan Hoppe reserves all rights on One-Million-Dollar-Ideas. Stephan has about one One-Million-Dollar-Idea per week, but lacks the skill, energy, or inclination to do anything with his ideas. It is hoped that by merely expressing his One-Million-Dollar-Idea on the Internet, that should one of Stephan Hoppe's One-Million-Dollar-Ideas actually come to fruition, since the person executing the idea will not likely be able to prove that he or she did not first read about Stephan Hoppe's One-Million-Dollar-Idea on shoppe.ca; that the person will then become obligated to Stephan Hoppe in the amount of $500,000. This is another example of the fine line between futile hope and reasoned despair that Stephan Hoppe dances along each and every day of his life.

Puppy Love

I bought a Canon Powershot A630 from Best Buy earlier this week. I've been on the hunt for a new camera since last summer, when I decided to "get back into photography" after a 15 year hiatus This roughly corresponds with my interest in computers - that is, I became interested in computers and lost interest in photography. (Let's now see if the inverse becomes true.)

In October I bought a Kodak P880 for $100 more than this Canon costs. Being a super zoom, it was a little bigger which I initially thought was nice, and zoomed a little more than this Canon. It created photos with excellent colour, but you had to flip the flash up yourself and I couldn't stand the LCD viewfinder. In December, the Kodak developed some mechanical glitches and I guess that was the clincher for returning it. So since December, I've been on the lookout for the perfect camera (for me.)

It's only been a few days, I'll admit but I've gotten to know this camera really well since I sleep with it under my pillow every night. (and I know what you're thinking - bad grammar or big pillow HAHAHA) I love this Canon. I love it because it has 8 megapixels I takes four AA batteries - I can use alkalines if I wish or NiMH. It came with a hi-speed 2g SD card (which is nice). It has voice annotation, a large 2.5" LCD back screen that articulates, like a camcorder's does - If I flip the camera for vertical orientation, that LCD panel flips too! If I win the lottery I can purchase additional lenses for the camera, just like with an SLR. The macro is mind-blowing. I can get as close as 1 centimeter to my macro subjects!

But mostly, I love this Canon for the panoramic shots it takes. I don't know how it does it (I actually exactly know - it's just a figure of speech) but this little Powershot A630 takes the most impressive panoramic shots with almost no effort - certainly no more effort than taking regular pictures. So, I'm looking forward to redeveloping my photographic skills and creating some cool panoramics.

Words to live by

A friend recently sent me the following list as an email. I'm sure I've seen it before, but now it actually means something to me - you tell me why. It's attributed to Bill Gates...a speech he supposedly gave at some highschool; I don't know if that's true but it doesn't really matter. What I am going to do is print this off and hang a framed copy of it in each of my kids' rooms. I think this list resonates with me so loudly (especially #8) because when I was 18-years-old, I actually thought the world owed me honour, integrity, and 100k-per-year regardless of how manipulative I was, or how little I had yet contributed. I also like this list because it has crusty and ornery undertones which suit my personality!

Rule 1: Life is not fair - get used to it.

Rule 2: The world won't care about your self-esteem. The world will expect you to accomplish something BEFORE you feel good about yourself.

Rule 3: You will NOT make $60,000 a year right out of high school. You won't be a vice-president with a car phone until you earn both.

Rule 4: If you think your teacher is tough, wait till you get a boss.

Rule 5: Flipping burgers is not beneath your dignity. Your Grandparents had a different word for burger flipping: they called it opportunity.

Rule 6: If you mess up, it's not your parents' fault, so don't whine about your mistakes, learn from them.

Rule 7: Before you were born, your parents weren't as boring as they are now.. They got that way from paying your bills, cleaning your clothes and listening to you talk about how cool you thought you were. So before you save the rain forest from the parasites of your parent's generation, try delousing the closet in your own room.

Rule 8: Your school may have done away with winners and losers, but life HAS NOT. In some schools, they have abolished failing grades and they'll give you as MANY TIMES as you want to get the right answer. This doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to ANYTHING in real life.

Rule 9: Life is not divided into semesters. You don't get summers off and very few employers are interested in helping you FIND YOURSELF. Do that on your own time.

Rule 10: Television is NOT real life. In real life people actually have to leave the coffee shop and go to jobs.

Rule 11: Be nice to nerds. Chances are you'll end up working for one.

No-charge One-Million-Dollar-Ideas (if you share with me)

I've been told that men are hard-wired to conceptualize maps and directions from a birds-eye view, as a traditional map is designed for, while women have more of a ground-level perspective, sort of like the directions that Google Maps gives out. This is why a woman will say: "West?! Is that left or right?"

I won't get into the superiority of the former system over the latter, but if someone could figure out a map with more of a grounds-eye view perspective, with perhaps compass points of "Up, Down, Left and Right" instead of North, South, East, and West...why, they'd likely make a million dollars!

Note: Stephan Hoppe reserves all rights on One-Million-Dollar-Ideas. Stephan has about one One-Million-Dollar-Idea per week, but lacks the skill, energy, or inclination to do anything with his ideas. It is hoped that by merely expressing his One-Million-Dollar-Idea on the Internet, that should one of Stephan Hoppe's One-Million-Dollar-Ideas actually come to fruition, since the person executing the idea will not likely be able to prove that he or she did not first read about Stephan Hoppe's One-Million-Dollar-Idea on shoppe.ca; that the person will then become obligated to Stephan Hoppe in the amount of $500,000. This is another example of the fine line between futile hope and reasoned despair that Stephan Hoppe dances along each and every day of his life.

Suppressed Memory - Flashback

When I was in Grade One, one day at recess Jimmy Martin pushed me down to the ground and then farted on my back. So I ran up to the recess teacher, Mrs. Farley and said: "Mrs. Farley, Jimmy Martin just farted on my back..." and Mrs. Farley said: "Farted? Did you just say farted?!" and she sent me to the office and I got the strap from Mrs. Fitzgerald for saying the word "farted."

If I ever see Jimmy Martin again, I am going to punch his face in.

First Post of '07!

Man, my first post of 2007 on April 26th. That's just pathetic.

Aaaannyway, I've heard this song twice now on JackFM. Very catchy. Part of what I like about it is the lyrics are about a guy and his new shoes. That's it. Jack never really tells you what songs they play so I had to type a few queries about "New Shoes" into my newfangled computer until I found the song - "New Shoes" by Paolo Nutini; a handsome young devil who is already popular in Europe and will probably now become huge in North America as well.

Mark my words, this is the next "You're Beautiful" by James Blunt, or "Paralyzer" by Finger Eleven. In 4 weeks, I'll it will be so over-played we'll all be sick of it. Might as well enjoy it for now:

New Shoes - UK Version (more interesting video)

US Version (better quality) 

Merry Christmas 2007

I'm a Chevrolet Corvette! Spooky.

I'm not often astounded by these things, but I just took this quiz to see what kind of sportscar I am, and it turns out I'm a Chevrolet Corvette! (which happens to be my favourite car!) Wow. That's positively spooky. And of course, the description that accompanies the car is both eerie and "horoscopically" accurate, except for the part about being "powerful, athletic, and competitive", and "winning the race and getting the job done", and the part where it says I "get wild when anyone pushes (my) pedal", and of course the part where it says "(I) hate to lose, but (I) hardly ever do". And if all that is not weird enough, the car is RED, which is a colour in the spectrum of visible light.

Like I said - spooky.

You're a classic - powerful, athletic, and competitive. You're all about winning the race and getting the job done. While you have a practical everyday side, you get wild when anyone pushes your pedal. You hate to lose, but you hardly ever do.

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz.

November is National Novel Writing Month

See you in December."

The Dangers of Recycling

This morning was garbage day. It had the added bonus of being a very rainy and crappy garbage day. I dutifully dragged my garbage and my recycling through the rain from my garbage box at the back of my property to the pickup location at the other end of my property. A couple of hours later, I went to retrieve the now empty recycle bin only to find that one of them was completely wrecked!

It's not the end of the world, but I've had these bins for years. I have one from Markham where I used to live, one from Montreal where I also used to live, and one I purchased locally for $7. I have to admit, it got under my skin a little. Now granted, it's a pretty terrible day to be collecting recyclables, but I give a little something to these guys every Christmas and I make sure my stuff is origanized neatly for them every week, so I don't think I deserve to be penalized just because the recycle guy is having a bad day, you know? And I'm out $7, so I made a mental note to be waiting and to chew out the recycle guy next week when he comes around.

Much later in the day, my wife and I are chatting and she offhandedly let's me know that she accidentally ran over a recycle bin with the van when she took the kids to school. Apparently, it made "a noise" and was "very scary". Realization dawned then, and I told her what I thought had happened.

In the end, we both agreed that it was a very good thing we cleared up the issue, because it probably saved me from getting beaten up by our garbage guys next week.

NaNoWriMo

What is NaNoWriMo? National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.

Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over painstaking craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved.

Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.

In 2005, NaNoWriMo had over 59,000 participants. Nearly 10,000 of them crossed the 50k finish line by the midnight deadline, entering into the annals of NaNoWriMo superstardom forever. They started the month as auto mechanics, out-of-work actors, and middle school English teachers. They walked away novelists.

Hey, it's possible...

"my hard drive..."

Like many others these days, I do all of my banking online. I enjoy the fact that it allows me 24 hours-a-day, 7-days-a-week access to my finances (or lack of them). Recently though I was doing my standard banking - writing credit card cheques to cover credit card payments on other credit cards, when I noticed a small dollar discrepancy in one of the accounts. No sooner did I notice this, when the entire PC (running Windows) crashed on me. (first time ever!)

 

As an IT specialist, the first thing I did was shake my monitor vigorously. After I was done breaking the monitor I made a note in my Palm Pilot to purchase a new one, then I picked up the phone and made a call-for-support to the crack IT team at my local bank. After several hours on hold, "Bob" picked up. He apologized in advance for sounding tired; apparently his Mom forgot his chocolate milk before nap time, so he was suffering from "low mental sugars". I made a mental note to write an email to the bank congratulating them on the success of their cost-cutting measures with respect to technical support - just as soon as Bob and I had my PC back up and running.

 

Now, I'm an expert, but unfortunately I don't know it all. That's why I need the Bobs of the world. Luckily Bob did know it all - he let me know this fact many times during our diagnosis, and, after a time and by putting our heads together, we finally had a solution to my computer woes. And, what kind of PC experts would we be if we didn't share the benefit of our knowledge and "learnins" with you, the great anonymous internet masses?

 

The problem was that a small amount of money got stuck (to use a technical term) during one of my many funds transfers from one debt account to another. And stuck pretty good judging by the way it jammed up my machine. Luckily I had noticed the funds discrepancy just before the crash or we might have been diagnosing this issue for some time. As it was, Bob said I only had to open up my hard drive and remove the stuck funds. Bob would handle the reconciling of said monies at his end.

 

The drive came out of the PC easy enough, and within minutes I had my 200 gig SATA beauty in the palm of my hand. It's pretty full of extremely vital documents, moderately sinful images and videos, and of course, my banking information, so with such important data I didn't want to make a mistake so I took it out to my garage to perform the delicate work. I've included pictures so you can do this too if stuck funds ever happen to you.

 

First, I removed the 6 screws holding the two halves of the drive together. Then I used my trusty screw driver to pry the two sides apart. I could have swore I heard the sucking sound of a vacuum seal breaking, but we all know that hard drives spinning in a vacuum is a myth. Prying the sides apart I could see the money in there but the drive wouldn't come apart all the way allowing me to reach it. I decided to remove the controller to see if there were any other screws holding the drive together.

 

Unfortunately I broke one of the connectors while removing the board, but it was no matter as I own lots of glue and tape. Once the controller was away, I couldn't really see any screws on that end so I started scraping those useless silver stickers off here and there to see if there were any screws underneath, and sure enough, I found one or two! But still, after giving the whole drive a serious "look-see" from every angle, it still wouldn't come apart.

 

This was getting frustrating. After fiddling a little more, I finally was able to finesse the unit apart with my pry bar. There was a bit of a snap as I separated the halves - it looks like I did forget to undo at least one screw! ha ha. In any event, there it was! My 10 bucks! And as an added bonus, I found I could see myself in the drive platters - you know, they are just like little, shiny, round, mirrors.     

 

So, after admiring myself for a time in my new mirror, I put everything back together, wrapped the whole thing up with duct tape, and carefully collected and discarded all of the extra parts. (so as not to make a mess) I reinstalled the drive in the machine and ... well ... I'm typing this out to you aren't I? Success is a sweet thing.

If you decide to give this a shot, then take my advice: Save some time and skip the screwdriver; proceed straight to the pry bar.

Customer Service and ducks

Provincial parks are certainly not what they were 10 or 20 years ago, yet interestingly they enjoy much more popularity now than they did back then. Perhaps it is this single fact that has contributed the most to the Provincial parks' decline. Or then maybe it's simply because of the filthy facilities, the disinterested teen-aged staff, the myriad rules and posted threats you must navigate for a successful stay, or the sandy/muddy campsites themselves. But lately I've figured out that private parks actually have something that provincial parks don't: customer service and ducks.

For the last few days, we've been out camping at Rideau Acres near Kingston.

Riiiideau Acres is the place for me. Farm livin' is the life for me. Land spreadin' out so far and wide. Keep Manhattan, just give me that countryside...

Sure the site was small and not private, but what am I doing that requires all this privacy exactly? But it was practically on the beach, there was a great lookout trail, a pool, a wicked playground for the kids, and friendly, helpful staff and fellow campers. It was also super-proximate to Kingston, Ontario (the birthplace of the least genetically diverse university students on the planet; their practically British royalty...), had an excellent park store, hydro, water, the cleanest bathrooms EVER - certainly many, MANY, times cleaner than our bathroom at home has ever been - a fact my wife was thrilled to hear about - seventeen times...and did I mention the ducks?

New York is where I'd rather stay. I get allergic smelling hay. I just adore a penthouse view. Dah-ling I love you but give me Park Avenue.

The park had lots of ducks, and even some peacocks. Apparently ducks must eat their weight in mosquitos each and every day because provincial parks have no ducks and many, many mosquitoes, and our park had all these ducks and not a mosquito to be seen or felt! We even had a resident duck at our campsite and who my kids imaginatively named "duck" though I named him Billy Idol because he had a sort of Mohawk that made him look a little like Mr. T from the A-Team.

Our duck was extremely friendly and stuck around the whole time we were camping there, but it was just about the ugliest duck I'd ever seen which is really an allegory for life, isn't it? You either go for the pretty ducks for a short time, or have long-term relationships with the friendly and smart-with-good-personalities ducks...Ours had this kind of red rubber covering most of his face...like a duck/chicken/rooster cross but I guess it's actually a breed of duck in its own right. "A Muscovy duck with large red warty caruncles above the beak and around the eyes." Believe me, looking at this duck, it can't be that popular a breed.

...The chores. ...The stores. ...Fresh air. ...Times Square

Moving on, my family and I were sitting around the picnic table, with the duck, wondering about exactly what kind of duck it could be and I, seeing a once in a lifetime opportunity, said: "Well, a German duck is called a Guck, and a Hungarian duck is called a Huck, so a French duck is called a..." And my 6-year-old daughter (whom I knew couldn't wait to answer) promptly yelled out the correct expletive at the top of her lungs, and upon hearing hearing it from her own mouth (rather than her father's for once) assumed an expression of such utter mortification, and she clapped her hands over her mouth "Home Alone-style" so comically...well, I'm still laughing about it days later.

You are my wife. Good bye, city life. Rideau Acres we are theeeere!!

So later, again with "Billy Idol duck" present and allowing this line of discussion, and as I am wont to do while camping, I asked my wife what a duck's natural predators would be. Because ducks really aren't that fast, and a duck's quack is not exactly on par with the arsenal of say, a skunk - skunks which I believe do not naturally exist in Sweden... but I digress. I reasoned a bear would eat ducks, for the only reason that I could literally picture a bear sitting on its haunches eating a duck, which to be honest made me a little hungry.

My wife suggested that the only predator for ducks would be foxes and human hunters, which got us both thinking about the pride a hunter must feel at first tracking, and then bagging the elusive and ferocious duck. It actually got us laughing pretty hard as we came up with things the hunter would say to his wife as be brought home his kill-or-be-killed prey..."Honey, it was either me or him!" and "Honey, it just walked right up to me!" and "I just put the gun on the side of it's head and pulled the trigger!" I fear I will never get to experience the duck hunter's pride after acting on those atavistic urges...

Conclusion: Ducks really like Corn Pops.

Sheepish

Sheepish

On my lunch hour yesterday, I went to Markville Mall in Markham to buy some things. On my way back to work from the store I ended up first in line at stoplights, waiting to make a left-hand turn onto Kennedy North from Highway 7 West. As I pulled into position at this absolutely packed intersection, I made sure to keep my wheels straight as I was taught in driving school; the reason being that if your wheels are straight and you are hit from behind, you won't be pushed into oncoming traffic. That got me thinking...

"I am such an excellent driver to think about this little detail. I see many other drivers who are nowhere near as professional and accomplished as I am. One of these days, I should really bless someone else with the benefit of my hard-earned wisdom in the field of driving - perhaps become a driving school instructor."

And while I was daydreaming all of this and staring off into space, my light went yellow and then red. The now "green" traffic trying to move north on Kennedy wasted no time with their horns, allowing me to experience exquisitely what "sheepish" really feels like.

"That's me in the middle..."

I don't want your business.

"I see stuff like this all the time..."

I call myself an IT generalist. I know PCs. It's not arrogance. I know PCs like mechanic knows cars, like a barber know hair, and like a baker knows bread. I've been working with PCs for a long time, and I feel I know everything I need to know to develop maintain, and repair hardware and software for PCs.

Again and again, "friends" and acquaintances try to give me "business". I don't want it. I've got a million analogies as to why. Imagine I'm body shop guy who makes his living tricking out gorgeous cars, and then my "buddy" comes by, a buddy who shares none of my interests, and with whom I never hang out...he comes with his Vega, Gremlin, or Maverick and wants some simple body work done. The same body work. Over and over...for practically nothing in return. If I do the job and his transmission falls out the next day, it's my fault. For the 20 bucks, I'd rather play with my kids.

But it happens all of the time. These people wonder why I seem so reticent to work on their machines for them. I'm sick of computer novices having me over only for me to find out the problem is that they blocked up all of the ventilation on their machines, or a network cable has come loose from the router, or their much-abused CD-ROM drive didn't last through 7 years of industrial strength abuse.

They say they're willing to pay me for my time. A house call during the dinner hour, while I work on their filthy, poorly maintained and understood PC, usually a P4 that runs like a 286 because they are too lazy to surf for something other than porn and actually learn the basics of operating a PC. And could I run down to Best Buy and pick them up a new drive the next time I'm down there? And partition it? (because they heard it's good if the drive "is in two parts") and could I transfer the data over? And can they pay me next week/month/year?

I think I understand a little bit now what lawyers have to go through. I used to complain about how high my legal costs were. But my lawyer has got some knowledge of the legal system and I don't. I don't have to use him - he doesn't have a gun to my head. I'm sure he'll survive without my business - he's probably got lots of other clients up on assault and petty-theft charges. (kidding)

My experiences with these people is making me understand my lawyer and my mechanic a little better. Replacing a starter is not rocket science and it doesn't take a long time, but it's not a driveway job (at least not on the cars I've had) and requires tools and equipment I don't have. So why should I throw my guy only $20 plus parts for the job?

As I just said, I work in IT. I also have kids, hobbies, friends, and a home LAN with more than a half a dozen machines networked together. That takes up 50% of my time. My wife takes up another 60%. So yes, incredibly, I don't want your business. How much do you think I want to test 40 feet of your cheap network cable to find where the "break" is, because you didn't know that you shouldn't tie one end to the back of your car to pull it through the wall? And while I'm testing - as long as I'm there, is it long distance if I point you browser to an Australian web site? And how do you get your task bar from the right hand side of the window back to the bottom? And why is your clock off? And why doesn't your sound-card play audio CDs?

Barely a block from me, there is a computer sales and service store opened up recently. At the time it opened, the "buddies" remarked that it would be "the end" of my business, but I couldn't have been happier. The store owner doesn't know it, but I send most of my "potential" (and I know I'm overusing the quotes - "shoot me") business his way whenever I can. He is almost as incapable as my clients are, but not quite. It's a marriage made in heaven.

I mean, I'll help out my Dad, because I figure that's the price I have to pay for him spending all that time to bring me into this world, and if your'e a tier 1 client with and enterprise back-end and more than 800 machines in the field, with a novel issue that's bringing your business to a halt, then I'm your guy. I'll work day and night on your high-end equipment, collaborating with fellow professionals to find a resolution; maybe I'll learn a little something myself and then I'll look for further ways to add value to your IT operations and perhaps if I'm lucky fit a little bit of innovation in there. I'll also offer to help out my closest friends, and people I meet on the Internet who share my interests, IF they don't abuse the privilege, but everyone else? Hey, I'm a plumber to the stars. I simply not interested in the IT equivalent of unclogging your toilet again and again, especially if you won't take my advice and up your fibre intake.

But I do have a nice store to recommend to you. It's barely a block away.

April Fools!

In honour of April Fool's Day, here are the Top 10 Best Internet Spoofs, as decided by Fark and Wired. It took me a while to figure out the "Dihydrogen Monoxide Kills" hoax, but not before I destroyed every faucet in the house.

Update: April 2, 2005 - I've unearthed what looks like the definitive list of April Fools Day pranks on Wikipedia.

 

I knew it.

I knew it...

Steph: You Are 64% Evil

You are very evil. And you're too evil to care. Those who love you probably also fear you. A lot.

 

Patti: You Are 40% Evil

A bit of evil lurks in your heart, but you hide it well. In some ways, you are the most dangerous kind of evil.

 

Our kids are thankfully still 0% evil, but regarding the stats above...wouldn't someone exceptionally evil lie on thier evil quiz in order to fool people into thinking they were less evil than they actually are? Patti?

How Evil Are You?

 

Utterly Shocking

Well, not really.

I've always believed that it is important to teach your kids to value the spirit of competition, that there can only be one winner, and that sometimes winning isn't everything.

But this article blows me away. To the parents involved in this stupidity, keep your kid away from my kid. Why? because even though he's only two, my son Nik will crush your kid like a bug in order to get that big win. Nik is like Kurt Russell (or Jason Lee beofre he lost the eye) in Soldier. "Caine 607 ... on the double!"

An Eye-opening experience.

A Tim Hortons Conundrum

I don't feel I am so much a fan of Tim Horton's as a victim. Probably because I end up there way more than I want to be. I'd blame it on my Canadian genes, but Tim's isn't even Canadian any more! Can someone tell me why every day I line up like cattle for coffee that's no better than CoffeeTime's or Country Style's?

On to one of the great metaphysical questions torturing me yesterday:

What is the rule when you are in the drive-thru at Tim Horton’s and you are behind some big truck that, as soon as they’ve spoken their order, they ease forward in line but not enough so that their rear wheels are off the "pad" so that you can get your car up to the drive thru speaker?

• Do you drive up on the pad as far as you can get and wait to get to the speaker to talk?
• Do you drive up on the pad as far as you can get and shout your order?
• Or do you wait short of the pad and simply listen as the cashier says to nobody: “Welcome to Tim Horton’s. Can I take your order?”

 

Internet Buyer beware

By sheer coincidence, I've stumbled upon two Internet scams recently. While not worrying for me personally, I am bothered somewhat because I wonder how many people out there fall for these things.

Scam #1: First, some background: If you hold a "dot com" (.com) domain name and you let it expire, what happens next is very simple. The domain is released back into the pool of available domains where you (or anyone else faster than you) can pick it up for the best price they can find among registrars out there on the net. It's that simple.

Of course in Canada, things have to be more complicated and more bureaucratic. First of all, .ca domains are governed by a central authority - CIRA. If you have a .ca domain name and you let it expire, for 30 days following that you can pony up the cash and be back on your way putting up pictures of your cats wearing tiaras. If you let the 30 days go by without renewing your domain, it goes into TBR status for anywhere from around 60 hours to two weeks. While your domain is TBR, it is posted in a publicly viewable list on the CIRA website, which I imagine is of much usefulness to the domain predators out there, but I'll get to that in a minute.

At the end of the TBR period, there there is a 15 minute "special registration period" where you can bid on the domain, blind-auction-style. You can't bid any amount, but instead you must bid at one of 10 pre-defined bid levels. Should there be more than three bidders, then the top three move to their own "Stage 2" bidding process, and then the domain awarded to the highest bidder. Should there be no bids on the domain during the special registration period, it is returned to the pool of available domains and is now available for a regular registration.

And all of this has to be done through a domain registrar, but not every registrar is set up to handle the TBR process. For instance, my usual registrar, Netfirms, doesn't offer this service. So not only is the process convoluted, misunderstood, and virtually unknown, but the pool of potential registrars available is much smaller, making things that much more difficult for you, the person trying to recover your .ca domain name.

How do I know all of this? I was recently retained by a company who wished to recover a .ca domain that had lapsed into TBR status. While investigating the process, I discovered the scam, and here's how it works: CIRA publishes the list of TBR domains in advance, and anyone can view the list. The list my client's domain was on had almost 6000 domains listed. An unscrupulous person will scan the list picking out the 100 most likely candidates and bid the minimum on each domain (currently around $10). Because the whole TBR process is poorly documented and understood, I'm pretty sure these savvy people get the majority of the domains they bid on. So now they have 100 domains, and it's just a matter of picking up the phone at this point, and calling the previous domain owners. If they can sell one domain for $2000, they double their money. You get the idea.

In order to ensure my client's domain wasn't picked up in this manner, I was forced to bid at a higher level. I chose the $60 level, figuring that would eliminate the bottom feeders described above, and only serious bidders would then move forward. And I managed to recover the domain.

If you currently have a TBR domain and are interested in recovering it, choose a maximum you are willing to spend to get it back and stay below that number. Bid at a level higher than the minimum, and choose a reputable registrar. I was pleased with the service I received at fastwebserver.ca. If you have a .ca domain in good standing, this story should motivate you to keep it that way!

Scam #2: What is weird about this is that my client got this phone-call during the period I was trying to recover his .ca domain. Pure coincidence. To explain this scam, I'll put the scammer a little further back in the timeline. I'm sure he won't mind this in exchange for maintaining his anonymity. Let's also say that my client's business is called: "Sample Auto Parts" and that he's got the sample.ca domain.

So, the scammer who is from Britain, and has a web site, and has the ability to register domains trolls YellowPages.ca looking for candidates. What he is looking for are companies that have the optional web link under the listing, and that the web-link is dead. Perhaps the link doesn't even have to be dead. And maybe he is using the TBR list too, but I'm pretty sure at some point he resorts to the yellow pages because my client has two offices and only one is listed in the yellow pages, and that's where the call went...

So scammer calls my client and says:

"My name is John Jones, and I'm with this domain registrar in the U.K., Scammer Domains. I'm concerned because an A. Mitchell from Toronto is attempting to register variations of your domain name, to wit:

sampleauto.com, .biz. .net
sampleautoparts.com, .biz. .net

I discovered your number through an Internet search, and I'd hate to see your business infringed upon in this manner, so what I'm willing to do is, for £400 (about $800 CDN), I'm willing to register these domains on your behalf for a period of 10 years..."

I instructed my client that should this person call again, he was to simply refer him to me, stating that I handle all Internet issues for his company. I was amazed when John Jones actually called me!

John opened with the same story I've related above. I didn't explain to him everything I am going to tell you below. Why arm him? But I just want to mention one part of the conversation:

Me: "Hey John, I tried to "Google" you and you have no listing - no presence on Google. I own a small business as well, and if you punch my business name into Google, in quotes, it pops right up. And so it does for a number of other small businesses I've tried. But I can't find your company on the net anywhere at all.

John: "Well, we do have a web site, it's scammerdomains.co.uk, and the reason we weren't listed in Google is because our servers were down this morning. So should I register these for your client, or do you wish for me to release these to A. Mitchell?"

Me: "Go crazy. Let A. Mitchell have 'em."

...and sure enough, there was a site at scammerdomains.co.uk. OK, where do I begin? Here's why it's a scam:

1. I don't know about you, but if I find an available dot-com domain name and I start the registration process, I'd be pretty ticked off if the registrar then took it upon himself to call around (the whole WORLD) trying to find out if anyone else had an interest in that name. If I've retained you to secure a domain for me, you had better do it.
2. Is there no Sample Auto Parts in the U.K., Belgium, or Puerto Rico? Don't these people deserve to have their business name protected as well?
3. Why would A. Mitchell retain a tiny registrar in the U.K to register these domain names when they are 6 times more expensive than a local Canadian registrar would charge?
4. How did A. Mitchell find scammerdomains.co.uk, if I couldn't without being told the exact address? He couldn't find Netfirms, but he could find this little outfit?
5. scammerdomains.co.uk has no way to telephone them anywhere on their site. Never trust a registrar you can't call on the phone, even if you pride yourself (as I do) on never having to call tech support. Interestingly in a couple of places, they offer you to "give them a ring", even though again, there is no number to call.
6. John Jones was trying to convince me and my client that you should own the domain names for every possible variation of your company name, and every top-level domain - a very expensive proposition, and an unecessary one. There are only two ways to the average site (short of link-backs), and they are: from the address on your business cards, and via the search engines. If you tell me that your company website for ABC Soda Co. is ABCSoda.com, am I going to type in every possible combination of your company name into the URL bar of my browser? Give me a break - I'll enter in the address you gave me to enter in.
7. If your servers go down temporarily, of course you don't lose your search-engine listing in Google. And I don't know how much site uptime an Englander expects, but us Canadians want and get 99.9%!
8. Lastly, here we are days later, and the domain name variations are still available! EEeeek! Poor A. Mitchell!

The only reason I gave this guy the time of day was because he actually called me - and I do like the personal touch when I'm being scammed, though these days with VOIP, even a phone call doesn't say "I-love-you-and-I-want-to-rip-you-off" like it used to. Also, I did find the investigation entertaining, certainly more interesting than the usual stuff I do from day to day. You may even think it's a harmless scam, because nobody really gets hurt, but he's preying on people whose only crime is that they are technology neophytes. I'd hate for my father to get ripped off in this way.

If you read this article and you like it, AND you know a Canadian lawyer, then please send this along to him/her/it. I'd like to know if I have any liability by supplying the scammer's actual name/company information.

Funny yet gone

The other day, a friend sent me a link to this commercial. For something so "clean" it's just about the funniest thing I've ever heard. I just went back this morning and the link is dead! Oh NO! Too much traffic to the site no doubt. Luckily I was able to retrieve it from my "Temporary Internet Files" cache.

Once again, I find myself confused about whether what I did was strictly legal. But I figure it's not hurting anybody and it's not making me money, right?

Here's my link.

Burned CDs Last 5 years Max -- Use Tape?

Computerworld has interviewed Kurt Gerecke, an IBM storage expert and physicist who claims burned CDs only have a two to five-year lifespan, depending on the quality of the CD. From the article: "The problem is material degradation. Optical discs commonly used for burning, such as CD-R and CD-RW, have a recording surface consisting of a layer of dye that can be modified by heat to store data. The degradation process can result in the data 'shifting' on the surface and thus becoming unreadable to the laser beam." Gerecke recommends magnetic tapes to store pictures, videos and songs.

Darn it. That explains a lot.

Just A Second

This New Year you'll have to wait a second before throwing your confetti. The US National Institute of Standards and Technology delared just this week that, for the first time in seven years, they will be adding a "leap second" to the year 2005 to account for "the Earth's General slowing trend." Atomic clocks will read 23:59:60 before rolling over to 00:00:00.

As your watching the ball drop this year, remember to count ...3, 2, 1, 0, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

Just A Second

Merry Christmas

Nik's Magnetic Personality

Should I be worried?

OK, so a couple of years ago, Patti got me this cool gift for X-mas. It's called magnetic poetry, and it's simply a bunch of words on magnetic backers. You stick them on your fridge and - well you'd be suprised at some of the creative stuff you come up with. Now, I keep the container with the words in a drawer next to the fridge, and the other day, I noticed that not only was the drawer an unholy mess, but the container had also somehow opened and words were strewn all over the drawer. I picked up all of the pieces, took them to the dining room and set about to make another poem for the fridge.

Half way, through this task I got a phone call and when I came back the only other person in the house with me, Nik, was there sorting through the words! I remind you he is just two. He cannot even really talk yet; he is still in diapers. As an experiment I pushed all of the words in front of him and decided to see what he would come up with. Like a room full of monkeys eventually typing the complete works of Shakespeare, I figured that eventually we'd see a pre-cursor of Nik's adult personality. In short order, this is what Nik came up with:

Seeing that, I really thought I was onto something! Seriously, with just a bit of imagination, you can make out the sentence: "Stop beneath the finger." I mixed the words up again and went to the local bar for a beer. I came back 30 minutes later and Nik's still at it. This is what he had come up with:

Wow! in only 30 minutes! Spooky. By this time, Nik had enough and wanted to go watch TV. I firmly sat him back down, put my face inches from his, and then screamed at him as loud as I could until he started moving the words around the table again. 90 minutes later, here's what I saw:

Ok, I thought that was just a little disturbing. I gathered up the magnets and put everything away, then (more gently than usual) I put Nik on the sofa and gave him a cookie, and put on his favourite TV show (Dora the Explorer.) Then I had a nap. When I woke up, Nik had the magnets back out and had placed the following on the fridge:

Whew. Thank goodness he was back to assembling only gibberish and nonsense. But then I noticed another phrase at the top right-hand corner of the fridge...

How the hell did he get up there?! I turned around only to find Nik standing in the doorway to the kitchen, considering me as Anthony Hopkins' Hannibal Lecter would consider Ray Liotta just before he ate his brains.

Anyway, when Nik grows up, I think he's going to be just fine.

Does my page suck?

Here is an interesting article I just found on how to tell if your web page is "design hell." The article detailed a (rather large) list of things that qualify as poor web design; I enjoyed the article (which is I guess the only thing that counts) and thought this author expressed himself concisely, even though it did degenerate into a rant pretty quickly. Still, I decided to rate my (recently re-styled) site according to his criteria. Here's how I made out:

In total, I failed on 4 of 17 possible points. My score: 76.5%! Here is where I failed:

1. Large fixed-size tables.
Yes, ideally I wanted to have a box that would scale according to browser size, but it wasn't possible on this occasion without making my text flow into the image of me. And because I ended up using a fixed-size box, I had to decide which users (in terms of resolution) to cater to. I elected to focus on people who run their browsers on a monitor of 800x600 resolution of greater. Less than that and this site is not pretty. It's called a trade-off. Sorry. And I didn't use a table to do it either...it's all pure CSS.

2. Unnecessary border spacing.
It actually took me a long time to get this $%$#$ page centered on the screen, and keep those thumbtacks in place, and the text left-justified. It's quite a trick if you ask me, so I make no apologies for the white space on either side of the page, and in between the entries. Quality whitespace adds to a document's impact and makes it more readable. I'm giving myself a point back for this one.

3. pointless use of "small" or "font-size="
Small fonts can help differentiate important information from not so important information. For example, my purpose for using different font sizes is to steer you to the articles on my site, not to when I wrote them. And the only way to ensure two browsers of different origins will render your page the way you intended is by using font-size=. Believe me, I just finished getting a brutal education in that very thing. I'm taking my point back here as well.

4. Masturbation with javascript
(*smile* that's a good one) OK...as an authority...on javascript, first let me say there is no way to masturbate with it. (what a great turn of phrase though) I am however, a great believer in the use of subtle javascript to ratchet up the interactivity of a site by way of random quotes, random pictures, style and logo changers, and other silly things...sort of the way Google puts up a different logo for each holiday. What's wrong with that? I see where Eric is going here, but I'm still taking a point back.

5. CSS that sets fixed-size fonts dimensioned in pixels
That's really the same as #3, so I am not going to count it at all.

So after corrections my score is now 16/17 or 94%. That's a good 34% higher than my university average! :-)

There are a ton of these types of articles out there - Web pages that Suck, Jacob Nielson, etc, so why did I pick this article to compare myself against? Because the writer is Eric Raymond, and apparently he's big in the open source community; he even puts himself up there with Linus Torvalds. I guess he's got some "cred."

But it seems that he's not arguing for good design, but instead for no design at all. He wants his perfect world where (among other things) content triumphs completely over style, instead of one where style complements content and vice versa. And his site is a prime example of his zeal. I can't help but think if his site looked better, it would also read better, no?

I'm sure in the print world, there is a size of book that is more efficient than any other. Along the same lines, there has got to be a typeface (I don't think they call them fonts) that has been proven to be the easiest to read. Since that is the case, why are not all of the books in the world the same size and using this efficient typeface?

Enough of me asking questions. I think this site is finally doing what it was intended to do, and it pleases me and it look good to my eyes. When all is said and done, isn't that what counts the most? (that's actually another question. Sorry.)

Wow, that was hard.

I
guess I can now officially declare the CSS on this page "cross-browser compatible" (at least it's compatible with IE6 and Firefox 1.07.) In these two browsers, this page looks exactly the same. I did have trouble mind you, but most of what I read on the Internet accuses IE of being the chief culprit responsible for cross-browser styling issues. I found almost the opposite to be true. IE behaved as I expected when I styled the page. It was Firefox that made me jump through hoops. On several occasions while creating this page, I would do something simple like, place a temporary border around an element. IE would do this without problem, but with Firefox, adding or removing a border often caused a positional change as well. For example, if I remove the border on a <div> tag, IE correctly assumes that the <div> styling block remains, but Firefox sets the block to "0" height (while strangely still keeping child elements in position). What this means was that with Firefox, I could not float those thumbtacks into the correct position using a non-bordered <div> block! In the end, I was only able to get my tacks positioned by virtue of some padding and margin tricks...

You might say I should be glad that Firefox is this finicky - it forces me to write more specific styles. But if that's the case, then maybe we should force the spellchecker in MSWord to suggest less spelling alternatives - that would force us to type more accurately, right? In any event, with this style, everything is detailed to the Nth degree. You will not find any "border thin solid...", instead it will be "border 2px solid...". After finishing this style, I have a new respect for people who do this for a living. (That would be Eric Meyer and...nobody else I guess) With the amount of work involved, I sure don't see myself doing this too often!

And I'm not trying to bad mouth Firefox here , mainly because Firefox (and linux for that matter) users tend to be a bit too fanatical for my tastes, and also because I agree that between IE and Firefox, Firefox is the better browser...today. IE7 is going to be released soon and it is going to blow the socks off of the competition. Mark my words.

BoxTalks.com

The other day, I stumbled across boxtalks.com. For only 0.99 (USD via Paypal), you select a box pattern, and in return receive download access to that .PDF pattern for 24 hours. After downloading it, you print it out, cut it up according to the provided instructions, and then assemble the box. It's all very simple and easy - what a novel idea!...and what cute little boxes. 99 cents for some extra brownie points with my wife is a good deal too! :-)

I wonder how much money the site creator is making from this great idea? (I'll bet it's a bundle)

How I made this site.

To make the template for this page, I used WeBuilder (an HTML editor,) which is very good IMHO.

Once it was done, I ported it over to Thingamablog (a desktop blogging tool,) which I will now use for any further content updates. I use Thingamablog A LOT because it saves me so much time on site creation and maintenance. It's simple to use and it is almost infinitely customizable. Though it's billed as a blog creator, I can easily make sites that don't even look like blogs at all if I wish. It even has an RSS news reader and file transfer functionality built right in.

If you want to create a site (or blog) fast, and maintain it with ease, give these two programs a try.