Heading out for a run, I walked by your door
And heard you yelling that someone was a ‘fucking whore’

I’ve never known you to curse or raise your tone
And I’m not sure if you were talking to someone or on the phone

I would hate to be the one who receives your verbal brunt
Especially when you yelled out ‘suck a cock, cunt!’

I only caught a bit of your rant before I was down the stair
But the little bit I caught was too much for me to hear

You’ve always impressed me, taking your hat off in the lift
But now my opinion of you has taken a sudden shift

When you see me in the hall, you greet me and call me sir
But now I know, under the surface, what foul thoughts stir

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

Governments have figured out how to control the big bone-headed catastrophes that made news in the past. These days, you never hear about a cow kicking over a lantern causing a major metropolitan area to be engulfed in flames. Now, thanks to government regulations, all the cows use flashlights and nobody gets hurt.

Rich guys used to be able to manipulate the stock market and make huge profits at the expense of smaller investors. It was big news when the small investors discovered they’d been screwed. Now there are many safeguards against the small investor ever finding out how much he’s getting screwed. That means the financial news is limited to interviews with bald guys who try to guess why the market moved ten points today. It’s not really “news” in the sense that it has any relevance.

War isn’t as newsworthy as it used to be either. All the big countries with impressive weapons can’t figure out a good reason to point them at each other.

[...]

Social problems are reported as statistics that rise and fall for no apparent reason. The only fun part is watching politicians trying to distribute blame without accidentally using the phrase, “I sure hope you voters are as dumb as you look!”

Economic news is too abstract for the average viewer. It’s hard to be excited about news when you can’t even tell if it’s good news or bad news. The value of the yen is up? Uh-oh, now what do I do?

The occasional serial killer story is interesting, but the likelihood of the serial killer snuffing me personally is so small that it’s hard to get excited about it. Serial killing is a very bad thing, but logically, nine people killed by a serial killer isn’t as bad as ten people who are each killed by a separate killer. Serial-killer stories are the most impressive news we have, and they only sound relevant when they’re taken out of context. That’s the best evidence the news isn’t important anymore.

The other clue that all the important stories are gone is the number of news reports about other news reports. This morning I saw a news story about how a tabloid obtained photos of a crime scene. News about the news gatherers is more interesting than whatever they’re gathering news about. Could anything be less relevant than news about how someone gathered news about a story that wasn’t relevant in the first place?

[...]

I predict that news outlets will try to compensate for the loss of relevant news by focusing on stories that are more shocking and depressing than ever. At least that way they’ll get your attention and sell advertising even if the stories aren’t “news” in the traditional sense.

This will limit the reporting to a few stories per year about famous people who are killing other famous people. And if there are not enough of those stories to sell advertising slots, the media will do the only responsible thing – they will start to kill famous people themselves. Eventually, news people will get caught and got to jail, and that will be the end of traditional news outlets.

[...]

The end of traditional news outlets will not limit people’s access to information. Thanks to the ubiquity of video cameras and the Internet, every citizen will be a reporter. If something happens in your neighbourhood, you’ll tape it, stick it on the Internet with your own commentary, and make it available to the world. Sports commentary and statistics will be generated by fans who enjoy doing it for free. The weather reports will be computer-generated and constantly available by computer, pager, voicemail, and dozens of other sources. All news gathering will be disaggregated.

[...]

People will have access to software that constantly combs the Internet for “small” news that is relevant to the. The software will learn to filter out reports from Induhviduals who constantly post incorrect information. You will still get misleading reports quite often, but that’s no different from today.

…

Excerpt from The Dilbert Future by Scott Adams

Amazingly enough, originally published in 1997.

We get in the elevator and sure enough it stops at the next floor and a girl gets in.

As soon as the girl gets in, the old guy takes off his hat. In fact, he does it so quickly and smoothly, that I barely notice. It was like it wasn’t even a conscious effort, not even a habit, but pure instinct. And it was all for little reason as she barely acknowledged either one of us. But still the effort was made.

I wish I had that ingrained in me.

Needless to say, the concert was cancelled last week, again due to scheduling difficulties (although rumours persist that Harold McKay of Power Promotional Events personally called everyone who bought tickets to the show to inform them of the cancellation and that gracious act nearly took up most of his morning). The Black Eyed Peas/Weezer show scheduled for the next day is still a go.

But this again stirs a question that’s been jumping around in my head for a while now. The way the bookings of these large scale shows and other events are being handled. The attitude is that we, the citizens of Halifax, should be thanking our lucky stars that artists of this caliber would even be willing to grace us with their presence and thus we should be more than willing to pay out of the nose to experience them. Moreso, even if we don’t like the artists in question, we should support the effort, or failing that, hold our tongues, for fear that no one will ever look our way again.

We’re told that it’s our fault that these shows fail, not the fault of the promoter for booking shows that don’t interest the intended audience. And then it is our fault if more enticing acts don’t come here because we’ve never supported the overpriced crap that was forced down our throats previously. Like petulant children, we’re getting what we “deserve”, in this case, Kid Rock instead of Iron Maiden or Bruce Springsteen.

It’s an opinion that has been forced upon us since the Celine Dion fiasco three years ago and it extends farther than just music.

A lot of the events we see here in Halifax are overpriced and watered down. We get NHL exhibition games for 70 bucks a pop or more, see half the roster that might actually play meaningful hockey during the regular season and fill the place. Meanwhile, to see a legit game in an NHL market (even in a Canadian city like Calgary) is often 15 bucks cheaper or more. And then we get teased with the idea of Halifax one day being a place for NHL expansion because we’re stupid enough to blow our loads (and our wallets) once a year to see the players we watch on television play with guaranteed roster-spot in hand and half-assed effort among a bunch of rookies and has-beens.

The same goes for other sporting events. In June, there was supposed to be an MMA event held at the Metro Centre with a few former UFC fighters. The cost was high, the ticket sales were low and so the event was cancelled.

It comes off as feeling like we’re being gouged. And thankfully, it appears that we’re starting to realise it and get smarter with our money. I don’t want to see an end to NHL exhibition games at the Metro Centre, nor do I want an end to large concerts in the city, but some common sense and care needs to be taken.

Going back to Kid Rock again, this should (rightfully) open up the debate on the use of the Halifax Commons as a concert space. But it won’t.

An act like Kid Rock and the Counting Crows had, at best, a reasonably slim chance at drawing a crowd around 20 to 25 thousand people. That’s probably counting free tickets, comped tickets and the two-for-one packages and such with the Black Eyed Peas show. And judging from the final report on the Paul McCartney concert last year, that number of freebies and comp tickets is astronomical (thus rising ticket prices for later events and also forcing tax payers to cover the cost of the concert regardless of whether they attended or not). I think the final number for Paul McCartney was that every HRM tax payer had $33 of their dollars go to Sir Paul and his show.

Now those numbers should not merit a Commons berth. Prior to the Rolling Stones show five years ago, the outdoor concert venue in Halifax was the Garrison Grounds, a natural amphitheatre near the Commons that can hold 25-30 thousand people. It has hosted many events and continues to do so (including the ill-fated Virgin Fest last year and The Queen’s arrival this year). But it has fallen out of favour with HRM/Events Halifax/Power Promotional.

Some say it’s the problem with dealing with Parks Canada and the desire for HRM to see events that they sponsor held on their own property (thus using their own workers and so on). But part of it has to come back to the idea of gouging the ticket buyers.

For these events, there’s varying levels of VIP tickets as one would expect. For a higher price, you get seats, closer to the stage, food, etc. But in order to make that inordinate expense somewhat justified, you need to make it appear to have value. The natural amphitheatre of the Garrison Grounds prevents this a bit, because for things like concerts, everyone has a pretty good seat (aka, spot on the grass). It makes it excellent for the concert goer, but not for the ticket seller. It’s better to force people onto flat ground, with bleachers, so that those who buy the bare bones package are stuck looking at the back of the head of the guy in front of them and those who really want to see the show shell out even more money to sit in the bleachers (which of course would be redundant (and thus not an option to offer to the VIP ticket holders) in an natural amphitheatre setup like the Garrison Grounds).

And all that is asked of us, the residents of Halifax, is to bend over, hum a tune and take it.

On each piece of paper, in pink and blue, purple and orange, red and rose, there was the drawing of a heart. A little late for Valentine’s Day, but when viewed together, the little rectangles formed a bit of a Hansel and Gretel path up the stairs.

I don’t know who they were put there for or if the intended recipient ever saw them, but each day, taking the stairs down to leave my apartment, it was a neat little surprise to stumble across.

Today the elevator is acting up and the hearts are gone.

**cue me buying nail polish** - for reference sake, I feel obligated at this time to point out that it was clear nail polish.

Anyway, turns out I’m not really good at painting my nails, so I glob it on a bit too thick and it bubbles up and kinda makes a sparkly effect. Which makes the nail that much more conspicuous, which sucks. But I do take a bit of quiet joy that this nail painting thing doesn’t seem to be for me.

**Fast forward to today**

The nail polish was coming off and so the two sides of the crack were beginning to come apart from one another.

So I went across the hall to the girl that just moved in to see if she had any nail polish remover. She just borrowed my vacuum cleaner the other day, so I figured fair was fair, plus I could get my vacuum back.

Anyway, I knock on the door and she answers it wearing this lululemon shorts and bra top combo.

I explain my predicament and I get the nail polish remover and head back to my place. The stuff works like a dream and then I go to return it.

I knock on the door and she yells to come in. She’s laying on the floor doing situps or stretches or yoga or something in the same, rather revealing, attire.

So I put the nail polish remover by the sink in the bathroom and then head back across the hall to paint my nails.

Probably safe to say that she thinks I’m gay…

…but I am getting pretty good at painting my nails…

Cubicle to the Cage from Hemmings House Pictures on Vimeo.

. . .

It surprises even me how much I seriously (honestly) considered this.

I’m exactly in the perfect demographic for it. I’m exactly what they’d be looking for.

But it’s not for me. Not right now.

He won $258 million bucks

He’s got $28.96 in his bank account, three kids split between two women (not counting his girlfriend and her two sons), a shit ton of unpaid bills, owes his buddy money for a truck, just got a job working at a convenience store… oh and he doesn’t have his two front teeth.

He actually said he was going to talk to “people who know about money” to decide if he takes the scheduled payments or the lump sum.

I’m sorry and this is going to come out really negative… but this guy is screwed.

More screwed than he was before with less than 30 bucks in his account.

If his notable quote is about talking to “people who know about money”, someone is going to take advantage of this guy. It’s a shame, because he seems like a nice guy and hopefully that will help him out later on. But I’d be extremely interested to see what this guy is up to in five years and what his quality of life is.

To go from nothing to having everything in his wildest dreams (worth noting that one of those dreams is taking all the kids to Disney World)… that’s going to be a huge shift.

Ever since, it seems that the province has been looking for revenge. So, a couple of weeks ago they brought out the coyote bounty program.

First off, this is hilariously self-serving:

MacDonell confirmed he is planning to offer a bounty worth about $20 to members of Trappers’ Association of Nova Scotia, whose members caught 1,900 coyotes last year without a bounty.

…

Ross White, vice-president of the Trappers Association of Nova Scotia, said he opposes a bounty, unless it is offered only to trappers.

“We’re generally the best qualified to handle harvesting coyotes,” he said from Truro.

Of course they are. Even if they don’t kill any more than the previous year, he just earned his members almost $40,000. Solid work. That’s right, the trappers are already killing coyotes like nobody’s business. The only difference is they’re getting some cash for it now (and maybe will kill some more).

Oh and then the kicker is that practically every scientist everywhere is saying this won’t do a lick of work. Hell, Nova Scotia had a coyote bounty program once upon a time and they discontinued it because it didn’t change a thing!

When faced with this proven science, the response from the government was that they had to be ‘pro-active’ and try something.

There’s a great quote by George Santayana that applies to this: “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” Actually there’s another good one from Albert Einstein: “Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”