Tag: Me and Mine

Friday Bullets For The End Of 2010 And 2000’s

Remember all the fuss 11 years ago about whether the millennium ended with the first minute of the first day of 2000 or 2001? Prigs aplenty had their view and most people sensibly had not a care for what they said. But today is different. There is no argument after midnight tonight that somehow the first decade of this century continues. It is done and, frankly, aren’t we well rid of it? Global recession after bubble after terror attacks after Y2K. Good bye.

We are digging out now from a decade of crap. Tonight is the beginning of that, the beginning of something defined by that digging out. Yes sirree. But what? It is another decade without a name. The teens? But 2011 is only a tween by that logic. If the last ten years seemed like we were being ruled, by turns, by the rage and joys of a pre-schooler with a wet diaper and no bottle will the next ten be awkward, gangly, gloomy and pimpled? Will that be an improvement?

  • What did I like this year? It was a big year for my internet writing as it turned out. While I seem to have moved heartily over to the beer blog and lost the daily habit here, I finally got more active on Facebook and Twitter, too.
  • Conversely, I read a huge amount for the first time in years. Histories, aboriginal social and legal theory as well as a bit of the languages, US constitutional writing, some baseball, everything I could find about Albany ale but a lot less about current politics.
  • I got out and about a bit but a bit less than in years past. No great push into the mid-west or the US south. Maybe in 2011. There are just too many humans to move these days. We have gone from a room in a motel to a junior suite in a hotel to two basic rooms in hotels with dreams of two junior suites. I should take up camping. I will never take up camping.
  • Politics depressed me. In Canada, we are led by the dull. In the US, the national campaign was bungled. Only in the UK was there a new thing. But that thing is posed to crush before it shows whether there is any benefit to come from the crushing.
  • I can’t think of an album of the year. Listened to a lot of music but not sure what record stood out. I like “Empire State Of Mind” a lot but only because the title implies that it includes the whole state which means somehow that Watertown is included in its embrace. I could have played more banjo but I played a fair bit.
  • Sports? Sox did well with what they had. Story of my life as a fan – except for the Leafs. They just suck.

I didn’t know that this would be my year in review when I started it but, really, what news occurs between Christmas and New Year’s Eve? Nothing. Well, weather news, North Korea still postures and someone got ripped off in an unimportant bowl game. Maybe that.

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What Beer For Canada Against Russia?

There are few phrases more evocative for a Canadian of my early middle age than “Canada Russia”.

When I was nine I heard the final game of the 1972 series broadcast from Moscow on the car radio sitting in a parking lot in Middleton, NS. We won. We were not always successful in the international head to head tournaments after that and into the ’80s but we quickly came to love or at least fear the Soviet National anthem. We loved or at least feared Vladislav Tretiak and Valeri Kharlamov. To fill the emotional need, there were any number of tours across the country where Canucks and Ruskies beat their heads against each other.

In 1984, I saw a touring Soviet national team play in Halifax against Canada’s Olympic training team. The evil team had eight guys called Sergei which the announcer at the rink pronounced as “Sir-jay-ee.” We cheered when the Canadians rushed toward their end. When they let loose slap shots from beyond half we winced silent winces expecting the goalie or the boards behind the net to crack from the awful force of a Marxist-Leninist totalitarian Moscow Red Army player’s sheer power.

In the 1987 Canada Cup, Mario and Wayne destroyed them in a game so exciting that I had to turn off the TV and only knew Canada won when the wintery neighbourhood erupted out there, outside the windows of the house, car horns blaring to the horizon. Then there was Gorby, then there were Russian players in the NHL, then the bear seemed to fade a bit. Then they got good again. I have no idea what will happen tonight but over half all Canadians will watch the TV tonight to watch a quarter-final game. Because it is Canada against Russia.

What beer to have?

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Friday Bullets for 01 22 10

I missed yesterday. I can’t be tied to your incessant demands for content yet when was the last time I missed a Thursday post. Remember when I posted more than once a day? Remember when I had 12,000 readers a day? We have to face facts: blogging has become like home recording on 8 track tapes. I am off on a shopping exploration of Syracuse. Need me a Jets hat. Kids need multi-coloured goldfish crackers. Why can’t Canadians get multi-coloured goldfish crackers? Why is that the cultural divide?

  • More A. A. Gill goodness.
  • Are US conservative Tea Party types expressing a coherent political point of view? Interesting to hear new Republican darling Scott Brown saying after his election (and riding their wave) that they need to work within the party – and presumably mind their betters. Far too much can be read into anything.
  • Nice to see the NYTs point out what a car crash Conan has become: “…it turns out that the cliché that comics are angry, bitter people deep down is true.” Odd that it is the top headline on the web version of the paper today.
  • I have an Omega 3 drip. Have for years. Soon I will be 17 again.
  • Class speaks to cheater pants: “Ferguson Jenkins says Mark McGwire owes an apology to all those pitchers who gave up his home runs.” Amen.
  • Joel from NCPR just sent me this link to a northern NY folk music project. Where are the traditional folk music and folk tales of my town? Were we not folk?

Is that enough? Is that not enough? Off to find a Wegmans.

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Dislocated Thoughts That Arose On Family Day

Thank God for Family Day. It was great. As we sat around in our pajamas, dilly dallying with unconsciousness, trying to kill of the last of our colds until mid-afternoon when we got to watch the mailman deliver the mail. How delicious to have a holiday that is not applicable to the Federal civil service. I do hope they have their own that provides them the analogous experience. Later, we walked out on the river as the sun set and listened to the grinding sound of ice boats way out on the St. Lawrence. They seem to be associated with the Kingston Yacht Club. Reason enough to try the family membership for a year. I did loads of laundry. We also watched more Doctor Who, reads some Doctor Who literature, checked out some Doctor Who web information and the cast from the Hill from Hell got a Dalek drawn upon it. I made veggie Parmesan with the stuff acquired after Saturday saw a trip to the town’s Italian grocery. It was all disorganized, lazy and relatively unproductive.

Is that what “family” means? Sure thing. I still have my copy of “In Praise of Idleness” by Bertrand Russell from 1932:

I think that there is far too much work done in the world, that immense harm is caused by the belief that work is virtuous, and that what needs to be preached in modern industrial countries is quite different from what always has been preached. Everyone knows the story of the traveler in Naples who saw twelve beggars lying in the sun (it was before the days of Mussolini), and offered a lira to the laziest of them. Eleven of them jumped up to claim it, so he gave it to the twelfth.

Magic. This could be an epistle to my generation, we louts raised on video arcades and nuclear fear – the two great pillars of relative valuation. How much plainer could a clever person be about being idle: “work is of two kinds: first, altering the position of matter at or near the earth’s surface relatively to other such matter; second, telling other people to do so. The first kind is unpleasant and ill paid; the second is pleasant and highly paid.” Wednesday morning at 10:37 am when a report is screaming to be done and the email is stacked high, you don’t think of such things. Family Day gets you to the point that you can remember such things. I wonder what postmen got paid in 1932.

February day-off reports past: 2004, 2005, 2006, 2007, 2008. That makes this the sixth. I could be fluent in Finnish and Urdu by now had I not decided to blog.

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Seven Things For Happy Confusing-To-Canadians Day!

OK, this is when it gets a bit embarrassing to be a Canuck. Things like knowing your own history, celebrating your own country and its traditions or celebrating what you have in common is all so, you know, blurry around the edges for us. We need to have a sit down on a day like this. Heck, we get confused if someone offers us a Dr. Pepper, worrying so that it is far too American for us. So, seeing as I was tagged by Dandy Dan the Dandy Man, had the computer eat the draft a bit ago to tell you seven things about myself and, because of the day, I am going to make them seven things about me and the USA:

  • We traveled to Cape Cod from suburban Toronto for a number of summers before we moved to Nova Scotia when I was seven. Crabs nipped at my toes. The Holiday Inn in Utica had a kidney shaped pool. My mother needed to see the sea and as a result I think that real things happen near the ocean. Not sure about mid-continent though the Great Lakes help.
  • One year we didn’t go east. We drove to California. I think I was three. I still recall the horror of driving through the desert in a station wagon and watching the crayons liquify in the sunlight through the window.
  • I have more relatives in the US than in Canada – more in South Africa, the UK and Australia for that matter. The Canadian wing of the clan is a bit of a blip of the tartan diaspora of ’56.
  • I enjoy watching Canadians being served northern US unsweetened iced tea about as much as anything else. At the Irving truck stop in Calais Maine there is a non-stop performance of screwed up faces, confusion and head shaking on display all for the price of your own lunch and a chair in the corner.
  • When I was ten, I saw my only Red Sox game at Fenway and it was perfect. Tiant pitching versus the Yanks, I sat in the top single bum seat of the bleachers, saw the game won in the tenth inning with a home run over the Big Green Monster. I have an untold affection for my Boston cousins because of the opportunity to have that memory.
  • I went to Washington on the same trip as the Fenway game. Saw the Smithsonian and bought astronaut toys when the Apollo missions were on. Space was cool when I was a kid, before the Canadarm, before Marc Garneau. No one bitched about the US when it was about space.
  • Seven….seven….seven…hmmm. Oh yes, Americans make far better beer. Some of it quite nearby.

There you go. Hug a Yank today. Learn your own history and thank them for the difficult and wonderful friendship we share. And did you know that our great friend Damian is already over in Afghanistan? Don’t you dare forget to donate.





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Norman Was By

Other than a friend’s parent when I was a kid and the Undertone’s song “There Goes Norman”, I have little contact with Normans. Norman, the internet service provider tech, however expanded the Normy part of my world by 50% yesterday when he was over to check the issues with our high speed. He showed me all the weird wiring in our house installed by the last owners, he rigged us up to a more powerful line in the next street over…he gave me his work cell phone number. Later today – on Norman’s direction – a switch should be thrown that allows us the most powerful access to the information super highway that has been known to mankind. Or at least the level of serivce I have been paying for for two years.

I didn’t tell him we had been checking out the competition but if he pulls this off I am sticking with Bell because that means sticking with Norman.

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Friday Bullets Without The Pain…Except For The Pain

I need a new back today. Despite the sit up and other exertions of unbelievable dedication, the back still goes. And it is quite prepared to go before just before the summer holiday begins. Such is life. Good thing I plan to do nothing.

  • Nevermind those who 3% of folk who think George W. Bush will be well remembered by history. He’s going to be considered a goofball if his final words to the G8 are anything to go by: “Goodbye from the world’s biggest polluter.” He has to plan that sort of thing. That can’t be what he’s coming up with off the cuff.
  • I wish Google had reviewed the whole fewer and better ads thing with me. See that over there down to the right? Who am I to complain about who give me that big $350 bucks a year?
  • The Mets: 10 for their last 10.
  • I have never liked Paul McCartney that much so I guess I am with that 0.3% of Quebecers who are unhappy. Surely he is not the biggest act in the world, surely they could have gotten Plastic Bertrand.
  • Kottke noted a great illustration of the disutility of information technology this week. Because the information was not sortable by the critical factor, availability of restaurant seats, the application is practically useless.
  • No other politician generated more dancable tunes, though no ska that I know of. Happy birthday, Nelson!

My got to explore the home pharmacy some more. I understand one pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small. But which is which?

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Monday Morning Quarter Back: Red Sox On Top Edition

Already, we hit the third edition of the Monday Morning Quarterback. I’m not that sure the theme has holding power but at least it gives some meaning, however meager, to my half-hearted obsession with sports.

  • The confusion within the Blue Jays has already hit a new level of panic even though it is only April:

    Frank Thomas’ time as a Toronto Blue Jay ended quietly this morning after a closed-door meeting with team GM J.P. Ricciardi. The future hall of famer, who was mired in an early season slump, will be paid the $8 million (U.S.) owed on his two year deal. He is now free to sign with another team….The move came a day after Thomas was told that his role would be drastically reduced. Thus far this season, he was hitting .167 with 3 home runs and 11 RBIs. In turn, Thomas blasted the club through reporters. “I’m angry. I know I can help this team. My career isn’t going to end like this,” Thomas said on Saturday.

    Note to sad Jays fans: Ortiz has a lower average. Don’t expect him to be drifted, however, as a team with some pride wouldn’t do that. Expect a panicky Jays trade soon.

  • On more tartaned news, there is hope! Morton won Saturday to slip ahead of Clyde and out of the relegation zone with one game left. As I understand it, if Morton wins next week and scores more than Clyde, Morton stays up even if Clyde beats lowly Stirling. Pray. Please pray.
  • The Ottawa Senators have confirmed they don’t deserve access to the coat tails they’ve been riding for a few years. By being swept in the first round sweep was their worst playoff appearance since 1998-99 when they scored only three goals.
  • The Red Sox are playing some of the most exciting baseball I have ever seen with late inning dramatics day after day. The Orioles are the real surprise in the AL East with the other teams floundering as they should given the state of their rosters.

Frankly, I have been pretty good, not wallowing before the blue screen that much. I thought not once of the CFL – well, except to say that if I ever do go to the Grey Cup I am hanging out wit the Baltimore fans. I watched no NBA, no NASCAR and not even any hockey to speak of – and not much of anything else. The weather was too nice. I did catch a bit of Yankees on the radio as we drove around this afternoon, the Jays even having abandoned the Kingston market for its AM broadcasts even though this is the natural place for growing a fan base. We speculated whether this sort of thing wasn’t a step on the same slippery path that found the Montreal Expos playing in Washington DC under another name. Can you say “The Omaha Blue Jays of 2017”?

My Last 24 Hours

I was within a couple hundred yards of highway 400 and highway 7 for around 18 hours not counting the drive to and from Toronto. It was very much like spending 18 hours within a couple hundred yards of highway 400 and highway 7. The oddest thing was getting out of the hotel room to go to where I was speaking to the conference only to learn that the conference was at another hotel. I know the strip malls and industrial parks of the area within more than a couple hundred yards of highway 400 and highway 7 very well now. I am enriched.

Bullet Points For The Week Of The Idle

It ended up not being that idle. Taxes yesterday. Driver’s license renewal Tuesday. I’m wiped. Must save up energy to pray for Morton tomorrow.

  • Here is the sound of someone singing in 1860. Here is what it means.
  • Funny how people have long memories.Interesting to note that baseball continues to settle – after a couple of years of little ball, now free agency is not as mad as it once was:

    this winter was the 32nd for free agency, and something worth noting occurred. For the first time other than the collusion years of 1985, ’86 and ’87, teams did not race crazily and expensively after free-agent starting pitchers.

    I remember my collusion years.

  • I feel like I have seen too much basketball for some reason. Do you really need that link?
  • The real reason I did not do it.
  • El Tigre has posited (or at least frets) that McCain will pick Romney. I find this highly improbably but in this US election campaign – the boring cannibalistic Democratic contest, the more interesting Republican one that ended too soon – anything can happen now. Apparently Fred Thompson knows he is not in the running for VP.

I have to admit, I have been on the internet less this week than most – could it be that there is a connection between the desk and surfing?