THE BEST MOVIE ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD

`````With increasing talk that there is a nut in North Korea who might actually be capable of using a nuclear device, I thought that I would mention this film. "On the Beach" came out in l959 and is one of the most effective anti-war artistic statements created. I have read many moving poems, heard protest songs and watched numerous films; nothing tops this one. The cast is stellar (Gregory Peck, Ava Gardner, Anthony Perkins, to name a few), and the black and white cinematography adds to the ambiance. The script is top-notch, as it comes directly from the book of the same name.
`````Australia is the last place on earth with humans alive, and the nuclear death cloud is approaching. The citizens have been given a pill to take which will allow them to die in peace when the alert is given. The scene depicts the final moments in the lives of the main characters. I find that I can never think of the song "Waltzing Matilda" in the same way again.
`````There were some anti-war activists in the l960's who reported that an inspiration for them was having watched this film, which came out in l959.
`````Other good films on the topic are television movies: "The Day After" (l983) and "Testament." "The Day After" was very graphic for the time and thus very controversial. People threatened to boycott companies that advertised, as they felt they were being unpatriotic. "Testament" was made for PBS and stars Jane Alexander. It is more like a theatre production, and thus showcases her excellent acting, especially the scene in which she has to deal with the loss of her child. There were no special effects; rather, it relied on the stage presence of the stars alone.
`````If you haven't watched "On the Beach," it's a classic.

IT WAS A GOOD RUN WHILE IT LASTED

Two years ago, a 44 pound cat was found wandering the streets of

New Jersey. He was recently diagnosed with heart problems and

only yesterday he passed away. He had been adopted by the Damiani

family, and the pictures reveal that he was much loved and

that he fitted in well with the other cat. He had lost weight, now coming in at 22 pounds. He was estimated to be about twelve years of age when he was found.

Thanks to the family for taking him in and giving him such a good home. Prince Chunk was so beloved that his death has been noted on numerous news papers around the world. There is even a Wikipedia page devoted to him. On this day, where we stand on the brink of another war, it's nice to reflect on the joy that animals can bring into our lives.

LOST LIVES AND DEAD DREAMS

I recently saw a news feature about Detroit. Due to the foreclosure crisis, some homes were selling for hundreds of dollars in areas where they had once sold for 100,000. These had been well kept places, with nice lawns and bushes. They had been family homes; the places where photos were taken and lovingly stuck into books. Entire blocks, such as Pole Town (a once vibrant, Polish community), had been razed and were empty wastelands.

Not only are the people evicted with 24 hour notices, but this is the loss of history. Look at these buildings. How can we excuse the loss of these wonderful architectural glories? I admit that I am a bit of an art person, and I love the historical, but it's inexcusable.

How does kicking out a family benefit anybody? Allow them to stay at lower payments if possible. These banks are nothing more then criminals. Yet, they got huge buy-outs when the country sank into an abyss.

Where did these people go? We'll never replace the buildings once gone. The community is destroyed. I despise the suits more and more every day.

HOW DRINKS WITH THE GIRLS ENDED WITH SEEING THE QUEEN

(Artist unknown. It was found on a site about historical dressing.)
.

`````Years ago, before my friend moved back east, we'd meet for drinks at The Four Seasons Hotel either before or after dinner. It was our usual watering hotel. At the time, there was an incredible bartender who worked there by the name of Dan. He knew what we'd order, and he would whip out that bowl of those very-spiced almonds which they had at the time.

`````One night, the three of us had been dishing, post dinner and laughing. We were about to leave when Dan leaned over and shared a secret with us.

`````"If you wait another half hour, then go down the escalators, the Queen will be returning from her visit to the interior." It turns out that she was staying at the hotel. It was fairly late, and there was no visible security and no hangers-on or paparazzi. The hotel, to my surprise, was dead.

`````So, down we went. Sure enough, the Queen and Prince Phillip pulled up in their ride and walked to the elevators. I was shocked at how close we could get, as the escalators came down to that very area. They waved---the Queen mostly. Phillip seemed as cold in real life as he does in interviews. I reflected on how tiring it must get to do this all day long and remain enthusiastic looking. She still looked quite refreshed too.

`````All of this provided me with great fodder to tease my friend, as at one time she had been sympathetic to the Separtiste Cause in Quebec. I'd ask if she'd like a subscription to "Monarchist Monthly" and she'd hit me. It was all in good fun, of course.

`````I thought of this event again, given the announcement of the impending wedding, and how it's going to be another huge production. I couldn't do it. I'll have to remember to call up my friend and ask if she got an invite.

The Christmas Anti-Cheer (music only)

`

Just a brief note. No big surprise, but Microcrap has not been working again. I've got to take photos of it and post it, as nobody believes me. In the past, it knocked me off my connection (via the phone company) and stuck me onto a broadband. This was a totally different system then the high-speed I was paying for. I've posted photos of it. Now, it states that I am not connected to any network at all. When I ran a diagnostic test, it said something about my wireless device, etc. Well, this isn't a laptop...it hasn't magically transformed itself. When I could log on, it would take forever to load and if I tried to sign into my blog, I'd get the "Internet Explorer" cannot open this site message. Sorry about the rant; it's either that or eat Haagen-Daz.

`

On top of that, I just got off work this morning and it's been a bad week at The Bleak House. There's a snowfall warning in effect and we just got rid of the arctic outflow warning. That Christmas shopping I was going to do? Good luck on that if it doesn't stop snowing.

`

On a worrisome note, my mother is not doing well. I know that the measurements differ in the U.S., but in Canada, her blood sugar reading was 20 when she woke up. A few months ago, it was 2.8. She eats well and is not overweight, so this inability to control her recently diagnosed diabetes is very bad. I need to get out there to see her.

`

So, here's a song from ages ago to drown out the cheer and bliss blasting from all the mall's loud speakers.

`I can never figure out which lines I like the best in here, there are so many:
`````They all got wrecked and laughed too loud,
`````I started to feel queasy in the crowd,
`````I caught a cab, back to my flat.
`````And wept a bit, and fed the cat.
`
Ah yes, the Christmas songs have descended upon us. I used to post this on my answering machine each year, but the new digital one won't allow for such nonsense. I get nothing but feedback (although, as I wrote, said feedback deters hyped up telemarketers).
`
A holiday song about being broke, boyfriends who book it, killing a tree of 97 years---it's a great protest song to the usual false joy. Besides, I totally related to the line "Good morning, Midnight, it's Christmas," as I'm always invariably working the night shift when it rolls in.

LOHAN AND THE HYPOCRITES

`````When men live lives of chaos, divorce, excess, drug addiction and alcoholism they are lionized as living the romantic artist's myth, and when women engage in these behaviors they are called mentally ill whores.`````
`````Kate Braverman`````
`
`````Trust me, I am no fan of Lyndsay Lohan's films. I don't have anything against her, and I found her acting fine in "Bobby." Unlike Jennifer Jason Leigh or Meryl Streep, she's not a living actress whom I find outstanding.
`````I am absolutely disgusted with what's been going on with her as of late, and the general double standard in society, and Hollywood in particular. Lyndsay Lohan has recently been dumped from a film in which she was involved about the life of Linda Lovelace. It is claimed that she is uninsurable given her history with substance abuse.
`````Here's where my rant takes flight. Let's compare her to Charlie Sheen, shall we? At the moment, Ms Lohan is in a treatment facility for her usage---a good facility at that. Those who have spotted her insist that they haven't seen her look this good in ages. Charlie Sheen, however, was recently photographed looking much worse for wear. He was arrested and carted off to the hospital for what he claims was a mishap with medication. Please insert the laugh track here. At the time of said mishap, he was in the presence of a sometimes porn-star and sometimes prostitute. They try to make it sound classier by listing their price or calling themselves VIP hostesses. I don't care if they are standing on the street corner or selling their wares in very discreet channels. What they do is the same job. Don't kid yourself or the public. A naked woman locked in a closet with a reportedly coked-out star doesn't equal class even if a lot of cash changed hands. Charlie was almost foaming at the mouth at the time as he was so messed up.
`````This is not Charlie Sheen's first encounter with the law. Last year, he was picked up for spousal assault. Again, heavy duty partying had been involved. In the past, he actually shot his then girl-friend Kelly Preston. He has admitted to spending tens of thousands of dollars on prostitutes. His drug problem was so out of hand that his father begged him to get help.
`````Personally, I think prostitution should be legal. It would bring tax money into the coffers, be safer for the women, keep kids out of it and quite frankly, it's nobody's business what consenting adults do. That being said, Charlie Sheen was having sex while married to another person, which endangered that individual's health. That's the problem.
`````Was he castigated in the public? Not much. He continued to receive a huge pay cheque and appear on a top show. If one took time to read the comments on public forums, he got a high approval rating from his male fans. They felt that he was living the dream. Go, Charlie, go.
`````Lyndsay Lohan, on the other hand, was picked up for driving crimes. She was in a fairly long term relationship with one individual (another woman). It was reported that she was devastated by the breakup. Any of her sexual encounters were most likely driven by lonliness. Unlike Charlie, she did not bed thousands in an unrelenting quest for evermore notches. Yet, she was labelled the "slut." It was she that was made fun of at parties and was suddenly no longer invited to A-list events.
`````There is a bitter irony in her being dropped from a movie about Linda Lovelace. Linda made little money off the porn films she was involved in, yet the males who pushed her into the business certainly did. Many jokes were made at her expense, while millions were made by the producers. She was the tramp/harlot/garbage, but nobody would in turn put the "pimp' label onto her manager.
`````This just disgusts me. I hope she continues with the treatment plan for her own sake. Hypocrites.

LOATHSOME CREATURES

`````I admit it; I've gotten so angry at telemarketers that I have actually called a complete stranger that ugly four letter word that starts with a "c." That's right; you know the word. She absolutely had it coming too, but I am a control freak and I hate losing it. It takes a lot for me to get pushed to that point. Not only do I have my demented feral cats to contend with on a daily basis, but I have a job where I have to contain my temper. I was screaming into that phone but good!

`````I loathe telemarketers. Some of them are nothing but thieves who bully the elderly to the point of tears until they disclose information which backs them into a corner. Many of our older citizens are too polite to use the "F" word or hang up and these scum prey on them. Their genteel values and upbringing don't serve them well. They are then too embarrassed to admit that they have been duped.

`````Hey Babe, if you're so proud of your company's product, tell me your home phone number and I'll call you there on my own time and talk to you about it. No? Then what makes you think I want to talk to you at my house? Given that I am a shift worker, I am far from thrilled with being woken up.

`````I had some woman who barely spoke English call me about a year ago. There were audible sounds of several children in the background. She asked if I was the "Lady of the House" and I said "No." She then asked if I was the "man of the house," slipping into a provocative voice. It was obvious that she was reading from some phoenetically scripted program in a third world country. "No scam, no scam," she insisted when I challenged her, as a local paper was warning people about an attempt to get people to disclose banking information. Again, seniors had fallen for it. That's when the dreaded "C-word" slipped.

`````Being on the "Do Not Call" list doesn't seem to help. I know that if I hold the phone close to the answering machine and by the radio, I can get some great feedback going. Oops. Anybody who's listened to a person give a speech at a wedding knows what that sounds like.

`````They're enough to push anybody over the edge. I imagine them as people who can't get jobs anywhere but there because they have so many dingle-balls attached to their fake fingernails. Typing is out of the question. These are the people who write memos to the boss and think it appropriate to include "tee-hee" in a serious suggestion.

`````In the meantime, I offer a wonderful site to vent and check out who it is that's calling you. Of all of them out there, I find it the best. Just type in the number and see if anybody else has had a problem. Leave a nasty comment about the company. It's a good way to alleviate stress.

Who called me? Free reverse phone directory.

SICK OF BEING SICK

I had to book off sick on my last work day (Saturday night) as a migraine came on quickly. Only just a while ago did I become mobile. I had gotten up on Monday morning to take some Gravol and then crashed again. When I felt that I wasn't going to turn back into the reincarnation of Linda Blair in "The Exorcist", I hustled quickly into the kitchen and fed the cats. I saw that Ollie, ever practical, had opened the cupboard door and looked for the kibbles. Unfortunately, Lumpy only eats canned food, and the dexterity might be there for thieving and stealing toy mice and food, but can openers are not within Ollie's realm. To be honest, the appliance I currently own is a P.O.S. and I keep meaning to replace it (along with the socks and underwear that lack elastic).

`

As an aside, I once knew a guy who took great pleasure in telling me, over and over, that my cats would eat me one day. I guess wanton women deserve it when they are attacked by strangers for their trampy dress. Cat women, such as myself, deserve it when we die alone and are eaten by our pets. He had attended an expert foresenics conference and he detailed for me which animals dispose of human remains in what fashion. Cats, he assured me, were the most ruthless. I think he meant to shock me, as perhaps my shy and quiet nature deceives. In actual fact, I am very attracted to the macabre. I told him that I wouldn't want my pets to go hungry merely as a result of my lack of planning. Less belly for the undertaker anyways; consider it a form of liposuction, post-mortum. As long as my little darlings found me "corpus delicti," all was good. Ask the Donner party...it all tastes like chicken.

`

That task over with, I began to feel bad again, and flopped on the bed for the rest of the day. I left the door open, so this time I felt the twomp, twomp as various cats joined me.

`

At the last minute, I am washing my work outfit. I have nothing to eat in the house as I didn't get out to purchase groceries and of course, the Christmas shopping did not get started. You guessed it....the weather report predicts snow this weekend. I lost several pounds as I threw up so much and my face is a bad yellow that even the worst fake and bake tanner couldn't achieve it if they tried.

`

What a waste of days off. Migraines suck.

`

(Art by Picasso)

A Canadian Artist-Maud Lewis

`
`
````Maud Lewis is a Canadian folk artist. The little house in the video is one she actually used to live and paint in. She used to advertise her paintings outside, and anybody who purchased one is certainly lucky, as she is now considered our version of "Grandma Moses." Over the years, I've picked up mugs from gift shops with the cat images on them, as we used to have a set of wild black cats who looked just like this whom a number of coworkers fed. I saw her work in person at the Nova Scotia Art Gallery.
`
`

LIKE A PLAGUE OF LOCUSTS...IT'S COMING

~~~~~It's coming on fast, and I'm totally screwed (Scrooged). Like other things planned; diets, budgets, cleaning---this too has fallen by the wayside. My good intentions of getting the Christmas shopping done early have failed me again.

`````Two years ago it began to snow in November. Every single time that I had days off, it snowed. I was literally stuck in the house and couldn't make it out to shop. I ordered items from Sears for my neice and thought I had it covered as they promised delivery by a specific date, and I was well within those parameters. Of course it didn't work out; in fact, the items arrived well after my neice's birthday in January.

`````I work seven days in a row and then have to get all my laundry, banking, etc done on my days off. I hardly relish the idea of fighting the crowds to do last minute shopping. The malls here are crazy, as I swear that some women do nothing but shop at the best of times. They camp out on those hard wooden benches in various wings of the shopping centre, and can be heard bellowing to their kids (who obviously have ADHD), "Don't touch that!" Perhaps the children are deaf too, as they certainly don't listen.

`````So, before the blizzards strike, I want to get this out of the way. It would be a whole lot easier if I had tranquillizers on hand. I wonder how many people check into The Betty Ford clinic because they relapsed from Christmas shopping? I guarantee that if a person paid a little extra and a couple of those cute mini-bar type booze bottles came with the shopping cart, the entire process might not be so painful. There might be some cart hit-and-runs in the munchies aisle, but it has to be better then listening to Mariah/Shania destroying a classic carol sober.

`````It would be much easier to shop if I knew what to buy. Every year I ask my brother to provide hints as to what his wife and my neice want. I give the older girls money, but I'm clueless as to what the eight year old needs. My brother merely gives me that passive male shrug. Let me tell you, this is why men end up getting socks and soap-on-a-rope. It's revenge for the "I dunno," response.

`````My Dad? He likes to watch television and electronic gadgets are beyond him. Neither of my parents can even figure out how to change the timer. It's a "time warp" at their house---forever 1200---.The digital camera and satellite radio I've bought him in the past have not had full usage; likewise the massage chair from Sharper Image. Mom has all the jewellery she'll ever need thanks to my dirth of ideas.

`````Between the calories and not knowing what to buy, I dread Christmas. The traffic sucks, I never get the cards sent out anymore and I'm scheduled to be working again. The tree is a lost cause, as my crazed ferals would set upon it like jackals on an antelope. They like to eat all plants; even plastic ones, and they are attracted to shiny objects. They're so greedy they'd even go after the dreaded fruitcake.

`````I might as well go hang my head in shame right now. I just know that this is not going to end well. Bah, hum-bug.

OH, THE IRONY

I was checking the weather camera where my friend lives, to see how it looked this morning. If it was nice, he was going to head for the lake. I had to save this photo. Read the billboard..."It's about wiser use of your energy." It's an ad by Power Smart, which is from the electrical company. They are telling us to conserve. Another stupid message from "the suits."

ANOTHER BAD STORY (this one local)

This photo was taken inside the trailer.
*
Disabled girl left alone with mom’s corpse for nine days: family
*

`````This story took place in a town not far from where I live; a town which prides itself on the amount of churches it has and on being a caring community.

`````I have provided a link to the story, but here it is in brief. A woman, who was a known alcoholic and drug abuser died in her trailer. Her daughter, who had Down Syndrome, was left alone with her corpse for nine days. The poor girl, who another news source reported as being quite affected by the illness, did not realize that her mother had died. Instead, she tried to help her mother by giving her macaroni and cheese and her medication. These items were found strewn around her body. The girl had lost a huge amount of weight herself and was reportedly near death also.

`````The story, as troubling as it is, becomes more so when other facts come to light. Her two sons had gone to Social Services with their concerns about the fitness of their mother. They had reported her substance abuse and the condition of the home; that it resembled something out of an episode of Hoarders. The CBC reported that the brother removed the girl and was told by Social Services that they would investigate. He was then contacted and told that he had to return the girl to the mother, or else he would be charged with kidnapping.

`````What kind of professional, had the individual gotten off their butt, would have allowed a child to have stayed in a filthy home with a drug addicted parent when her own kids complained about her abilities? This reminds me of a case a few years back when a toddler was found crawling in a downtown dive hotel with a dead junkie mother. She had been dead for days and the child was tugging at her body amidst the needle strewn apartment. The scene had been so upsetting that veteran cops needed help to deal with it.

`````However, they have removed kids from foster homes because they've deemed the parents "too old". These were people who had taken in many kids in the past and the image of the two sisters crying was very upsetting. The couple was in great health and they had been willing to take both girls, rather then splitting up the siblings. They removed some children from one home because the parents had a pet snake. The list goes on.

`````I realize it's a difficult job, but this case needs to be looked at. Somebody really dropped the ball. I also hope the girl finds a new care-giver who understands Down syndrome. I know a girl with it, and thanks to the hard work that her mother has done, she is high functioning. In her case, the mother started working with her very early on, but I would hate to think that this poor girl is going to end up in some facility. Let's not let her down again.

A DAY TO REMEMBER, NOT TO SHOP

I find it sad that so many people see today as just another holiday. It is part of the much larger problem of ignorance; so many lack an understanding of history. They have no concept of what others sacrificed in order to prevent the massive slaughter of those deemed inferior. It's a day for reflection and not buying a new pair of shoes.


I am including this video, which features the words to a poem by Wilfred Owen. I first read this poem in junior high-school and I was very moved by it at the time. It gives a vivid account of an attack using mustard gas.

THE MYSTERY THAT CONTINUES TO ELUDE MANKIND

CARTOON FOUND ON WEB IMAGE SEARCH FOR 'MISSING SOCKS'

The Swiss have just recreated the minutes after the big bang, thanks to their hadron collider. We have unravelled much of the mysteries of our genetic coding. But, there is one puzzle which we have yet to solve, and that's what happens to the socks? You know what I'm talking about; after taking items out of the dryer and putting them away, a lone sock remains. Unless you're a person with a peg-leg, this doesn't do any good.
`
I recall reading a letter to Dear Abby or some such columnist about this once. She had sought help from "experts." They always state the obvious, such as the possibility of the sock clinging onto another piece of clothing or having been dropped en route from the dryer to where ever it is that a person folds their laundry. Bull. I've got pretty astute observation skills (thanks to the way I manifest OCD), and I think I'd notice a single sock sitting on my floor after a couple of years. Likewise, if it was snagged on the back of a clothing item, somebody would point it out.
`
I actually began to put them aside with a clip and there's quite a collection now. Socks without partners. Lonely. Mismatched. Sometimes I give up all hope that their mate will regret their wanton ways and return home, and the sock is put to good use, such as tying off the outdoor water tap in winter.
`
Is sock suicide the problem? They just decide to take the proverbial long walk off a short pier one day? Can they dematerialize if the spin cycle is fast enough, only to reappear in some other laundry basket on the other side of the planet? I'm imagining something between "The Philadelphia Experiment" and the "Fly." Perhaps the spinning reaches Tesla's suppressed electrical frequency and poof---the sock goes. Or, does the sock sacrifice itself so that its Siamese twin can live free? Perhaps it's decided to become a nudist and sheds his inhibitions.
`
I once lived in an apartment complex which had a shared laundry room. I always checked to make sure that it was clean and empty before loading anything in it, as I didn't want to be washing somebody's forgotten ink pen with my whites. After conducting such a check, I once found a pair of satin, paisley bikini underwear in my laundry basket. So, sometimes they do come back...even though it may not be to the correct owner.
`
One day, I finally heard a logical answer: the sock goes over the top of the spinning barrel if it's overloaded, then slides down and settles under the drum. This came from a repairman on a talkshow who insisted that he's found numerous socks in this locale. Trust me, I don't want to know what a tangled web is down there. If this is true, it's probably a nasty fire trap or just waiting to grind to a halt any minute now (another bill that I cannot afford).
`
I guess this is one mystery that won't truly be solved until they run tests over and over with a GPS tracking device attached. Only then can one of mankind's greatest puzzles be solved.

DRINKING DIET PEPSI AND ENDING UP IN THE MIDDLE OF MIAMI VICE

ARTWORK BY ESTES=WOOLWORTHS

`````I guess I can consider this my companion piece to the blog of the other day. This one took place on Granville Street which was the other part of town. It also occurred many years ago, as these things are apt to do. I was due to meet a friend of mine at some club, I believe, and had stopped first to grab a diet pop at some divey sort of restaurant near it. I had picked up one of the free local music rags and was reading it.

`````At the time, this part of Granville featured strip clubs, bad rental hotels, kink shops (think the stereotypical guy in a trenchcoat with a penchant for heavy breathing) and a movie theatre called "The Kitten". Within a few blocks it also featured several great clubs for those who liked alternative music.

`````I knew that my friend Brenda would be late; it went without saying that she would make her grand entrance and look fabulous doing it. So, I decided grab a muffin, and kill some time before heading over for out rendez-vous. You see, I was always early.

`````Unfortunately, I had to use the washroom. There was one at the rear of the restaurant, located by the door to the back-alley. Given the size of the place, it was one small room. I locked the door (or I thought I did, as you shall see). It was very loud back there, as the kitchen was immediately beside the washroom, and there was music blaring in the cafe.

`````I never heard the two guys enter.

`````When I walked out of the stall, there were two males in the washroom. They were more startled to see me, as was immediately apparent by their faces. They had a gym duffle bag on the counter and in one instant I could tell that it was full of cocaine. The zipper was undone the entire length of the bag, revealing the contents. In the movies the drug dealers always carry fancy brief cases. That would definitely have been out of place in this restaurant and in this part of town, especially if these two characters had been carrying it.

`````They had been speaking French, and ceased doing so the minute I stepped out of the stall. I hesitated for a second and I thought to myself,

`````"This is how people disappear." I looked at them and I thought that I have to act normal, or else this is going to go bad. They were still looking at me; in fact, they had never dropped eye contact.

`````"Oh, excuzez-moi. J'ai pense que c'etait la salle de bain pour les femmes." I stammered, trying to recall my French and acting casual as I did a quick glance in the mirror and brushed my hair back. I kept looking at my face and not the bag which was loaded with what seemed to be all of the gross national product of Bolivia. I know it's repulsive, but this time I skipped washing my hands and I walked at a normal pace by the two men, who were still staring at me. I've heard the term used often, but now I learned what it meant---the term "the hair stood up on the back of my neck." I kept walking and I expected at any minute to cease all feeling as something came down on the back of my skull and I was dragged out the back door and into the alley.

`````Nothing happened. I went back to my table, sat down, and proceeded to continue reading my paper and drink my pop, just as though this event had not taken place.

`````Yes, my Diet Pepsi addiction has led me into some dark places.

ONE MORE FOR 'MOTHER OF THE YEAR'

Ten-day-old baby dies after going through entire spin cycle in washing machine Mail Online

````It seems as though everytime I read the paper there's some horrid story about animal abuse. I cannot go there, as I'm too depressed already, and it just drags me further down. But, I read this story and I like blogging about crime. Here's a woman who should have had her tubes tied. In fact, her own family had gone to the courts a while ago and were so concerned about her children that they had tried to have her parental rights taken away from her. The courts had ruled in her favour. I certainly hope that judge has to answer for this, but I highly doubt it. When things go bad the little people are held accountable, but never those sitting on the actual throne.

`````Ms Fidler had been caught using crystal meth when she was four months pregnant with her third child. One only has to wonder how her other two children make out on a daily basis. She has had other arrests in the past as well. I am certain that getting caught is only the tip of the iceberg.

`````After her daughter was born, a family member went to check up on her. They had expressed concern over her past conduct and her ability to properly look after the child, who was ten days old. When the woman entered the room, she found Ms Fidler passed out and heard a strange noise coming from the washing machine. She described it on one news site as the sound a machine makes when the spin cycle is out of balance, and opened the lid to make it stop. When she did so, she spotted the body of the baby inside the washing machine. Needless to say, 911 was phoned but there was nothing that could be done. The baby had been inside the spin cycle for 40 minutes. The scene was so upsetting that seasoned paramedics and police officers broke out in tears. How they managed to restrain themselves from throttling this woman is beyond me. I give them credit for being professional.

`````This is where I begin to highly doubt her story. The blame is being placed upon a crystal meth binge. Yes, that would inspire her to start to clean the house, as compulsive behaviour is engaged in. However, she was described as being found "passed out". Look at the mug shot of her---her eyes are that of a person who is on an opiode substance. Users of speed are hyper and they do not pass out. My question is the following: did she kill the child out of frustration and then come up with this story, or was she using multiple substances?

`````No matter what, this woman shouldn't even be allowed to own a goldfish. Being high is not an excuse. I hope my computer lasts long enough to follow up on this one. Again, kudos to the medical personnel and cops for not killing her. Yes, it's their job, but we're all human and we have our limits.

NORTON TRIED TO RIP ME OFF

PHOTO FOUND ON WEB---ATTRIBUTED TO---DAVIDSON (LAST NAME LISTED ONLY)

`

`````There was a message on my computer this morning from Norton that my subscription had expired. I knew that I had about 200 days left. I checked and it was l98 or l99 to be exact. There was a big RENEWAL square that they wanted me to tick. I wonder how many people just tick off that box without thinking or checking.

`````I sent Norton a note telling them I was going to write a letter of complaint to a number of people including my credit card companies, as they insist on keeping credit card information on file for automatic renewals, and people cannot cancel their subscription if they cannot access their computers. It's not a fair practice. Thus, they'll get billed for a service they aren't even using.

`````This, in combination with the constant problem with Microsoft (who tried to install updates again last night), has me so peeved. I guess they hope the consumers crash their computers so that they buy new ones. Well, I refuse to do so. When this one dies, that's it. They can kiss my fat behind. As a matter of principle, I refuse to give any more money to the coffers. So, should I suddenly stop blogging one day, you'll know what took place. It's disgusting that they can get away with these practices because they basically have a monopoly. People tell me to get a MAC, but even those computers have parts from that other company, and they still make a profit. It's wrong; I paid for the product. They cannot turn it off on a whim. Up yours, Norton.

DRINKING DIET PEPSI AND GETTING TRAPPED IN A TARANTINO MOMENT

Art by John Register-Red Booths

~~~~~After I recommended the site (Lincoln Clarkes' photography) in an earlier blog, that part of town stayed on my mind. That area has always been known as "skid row", but in the past it was nothing compared to today's state of despair.

~~~~~At one time, Vancouver had some pretty backwards drinking laws. In fact, many still call it by the nick-name, the "No Fun" city. There was no drinking on Sunday and bars didn't open until a specific hour. They would shut their doors at 0200; a time when the night is still young in places such as New York.

`````There were ways around the drinking laws, however, such as ordering a meal in restaurants. Enter "Kim's Kitchen" on Hastings Street. It stood in the same area as the notorious Sunrise and Balmoral, well known to cops and ambulance drivers. Kim's Kitchen looked like a hole-in-the-wall cafe, but it had a little secret. A person could go in there at 0900 in the morning and order toast and they'd be served alcohol. Hey, it was a meal. Thus, the real hard up alcoholics would get at least a bit of nutrients into their body before the hardcore hotels opened in a few hours.

`````There were cornerstores in the area which specialized in apertifs for the truly desperate. I once went into one and found myself gazing at shelf upon shelf of Chinese cooking wine and cans of Lysol cooking spray. I wanted to ask the owner if they had any airplane glue behind the counter, but I figured my sarcasm would get lost in translation and they probably did sell the item. Incidentally, after several over-doses on this wine, the solution of the government was to restrict its sale to liquor stores and to add more salt. Great; let's ruin their health totally while we're at it. The bureaucrats figured that nobody would want to drink an item with such a high salt content. The "suits" never know what they're talking about.

`````One would never want to use the toilet at Kim's Kitchen. I'm surprised that the entire block wasn't declared a biohazard as a result of that one little toilet stall alone. Most likely, it was clogged with the remnants of drugs and paraphenalia quickly flushed by those escaping the law. It's become so common in the last few years that free needles are issued at the exchange. Back then, unless you had a good reason to have one, you could be arrested for carrying it.

`````Kim's Kitchen, you see, was a drug den. T &R's were the biggest items then (Talwin and Ritalin), and certainly by-passed anything else requested on the menu. The place was raided more then a few times. It would stay closed for a month or so, and then open again. It had been there forever under one name or another, as the songs on the Jukebox attested. "You Can't Always Get What You Want" was ironically on the playlist, along with newer rock songs. Or, as new as one could get sticking to vinyl. That jukebox was probably worth more then everything else in the store.

`````"This," I thought, "was where Burroughs would hang if he lived in Vancouver."

`````There usually wasn't a lot of Diet Pop available at this restaurant, as the regulars liked their sugar (and lots of it). Diet Pepsi was my drug of choice. I was in there one day, after having scored a box of Sweet Bean Cakes at New Town Bakery, a block away in Chinatown. A person had to get there early, or they'd all be gone and only the sinful items such as Coconut Buns would be left to tempt me.

`````There was suddenly a commotion in the restaurant and the owner leapt over the counter with a meat cleaver in his hand. He was waving it in the general direction of a tall, thin man whose face looked as though he'd survived an encounter with The Pox.

`````"You pay!" insisted the Chinese man. The Junkie took flight and began to run around the restaurant, instead of doing the smart thing and heading out the door. Maybe drugs really do make people stupid.

`````"You pay!" The running went on for a while, cleaver in the air the entire time. It brought to mind those comedies of old where the boss chases Marilyn or Lucy around the office desk in a lecherous attack (back when sexual harassement was still considered funny). The junkie's synapses must finally have connected and he went out the door.

`````Everybody looked back down at their highly sweetened coffee or soda. Just another moment in time at Kim's Kitchen.

CHECK OUT THIS SITE

Lincoln Clarkes Photography : Worldwide Green Eyes

In one of my previous blogs on the disappearance of the women from Vancouver's east side, I had recommended a book by Lincoln Clarkes. He had photographed a number of women who lived and worked in the area. Some of them were to end up amongst the missing. On his website, one can check out those photos (Heroines). There are other photos of the eastside (Eastside Gothic), which display the hardships these people deal with.
There's photos in there of great beauty as well. All are masterfully done. I would highly recommend checking out his site if you're a fan of photography.

JUST STOP THIS NONSENSE

Could we just leave the time alone, please? This nonsense was started because farmers needed more time in the field, and wanted help from their kids. Everything grows in greenhouses now, and we have a little device known as lighting in front of the tractor. Test after test shows how accidents are rampant after the time change in the spring; it costs a bunch. Besides, they cannot seem to keep the power on here as it is and I'm sick to death of having to face the flashing 1200. I don't feel like taking out my chairs and climbing on them to put the clocks back.

It used to be really painful when I had to work this shift---one extra hour. They never used to pay for it either until it was grieved. I counted out the amount of times I'd worked the one less hour as oppossed to the one extra hour, and it never evened out. This year, I happen to be off. A miracle. I'll be busy attending to changing every clock and watch in the house.

No thanks, I'll pass.

PAINTING BY CARL LARSON

'Disgusting' bacon soda turns stomach of New Yorkers who tried it

I just read an article about how Jones Soda has come up with a bacon flavour soda. Thanks, but I think I'll pass on that one. I've tried chocolate flavour soda, which if it were still available in this area, would be a wonderful item to add to make a lo-cal martini. Even though the makers claim the drink is vegan and kosher, I have no desire to try this one. Some things are not meant to be drunk.

I know that people, when they travel, will try the eclectic local tastes, just for the hell of it. Before I became a vegetarian many years ago, I used to enjoy raw pickled octopus from a Japanese deli. I love the spicy food found in East Indian Restaurants as well as Thai. But that's all within the realm of normal.

When I read this article, I flashed back to a fad that was around for a while---chocolate covered ants. Somebody in elementary school had them, and again, I resisted the urge to try.

But, let me tell you, my family had some interesting items in their fridge. My father used to hunt, so he loved elk and moose. I never quite acquired the taste of wild game as a kid. Mmmm, maybe there's more reasons to my being a vegetarian then just my love of animals. Having seen Bambi's mother dead in the garage never really bothered me at that age. It was just that taste....

My Scandinavian heritage also put me into contact with some funky food. Forget pickled herring; that's nothing. My father would have my mother purchase items such as tongue and knuckles, which would then be cooked or pickled. There was some fish that sat in a brine forever. It actually had to sit outside in the garage because it was pretty odiforous. My Grandmother, back in the "old country" made blood bread. This is something that maybe vampires would serve at their table before the main course arrives, assuming vampires ate food. Instead of adding the usual liquids that one utilizes in cooking bread, they'd substitute it with blood. It was a hot item in that area.

At Christmas, there is something known as lutfisk. For the uninitiated, this is cod which has been soaked in lye, with the lye then washed out (you hope). It ends up looking like a pale, gelatinous pile of something akin to the creature in David Lynch's film "Eraserhead." The smell would permeate the house as it cooked. My Dad took great joy in having my friend try this when he came for Christmas dinner. It was like a test of his manhood, or something. My friend sampled the wares (after some alcohol, it goes without saying), as my father watched on. It's become a bit of a joke that he comes over should our schedules coincide, and partakes of the Lutfisk at Christmas time. He did my Dad proud. Needless to say, my friend's wife of almost six years does not share the joy.

Did I mention the buttermilk? I grew up with that stuff sitting on the table and I never touched it.

I guess that everybody's family has their own thing, or their own cultural background. Some people had health nut parents and they might as well have eaten the bird seed and kibble for the taste. In elementary school my friend Jill's house was like that. I suspect that the only thing with sugar was the hash brownies that her parents had squirreled away, as they were faithful to the lost hippy tribe spawned by The Grateful Dead.

I just realized....Bacon Soda....isn't that what you call a spoonerism? (baking soda).

SAYING SORRY, BUT TO WHOM AND HOW?

THE VIDEO IS 'DOUBTS EVEN HERE' A SONG BY NEW ORDER, WHICH IS FROM ONE OF MY FAVOURITE ALBUMS. IT IS ALMOST MAJESTIC IN ITS DESPAIR.

`````Lately, I find myself thinking a lot of redemption; not in the religious sense, but whether one can forgive oneself. Actually, the question should more aptly be: is there forgiveness for the actions that one has done to others? For, it's up to those hurt to grant us that reprieve. Perhaps that is why so many find comfort in following the steps as prescribed by various programs based on the tenants of Alcoholics Anonymous. Two of the steps deal directly with this issue:

`````08) Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all. `````09) Made direct amends to such people whereever possible, except when to do so would injure them or others.

`````But, to quote Shakespeare, "There's the rub." It isn't fair to involve anybody in my drama, merely to make myself feel better. Perhaps they've tried to forget themselves, or they no longer want to speak with me. The worst is that this is a solace that one is unable to seek from beyond the grave. I don't believe in paying an individual good money to channel spirits and be told that "All is forgiven." I don't buy it. New age forgiveness to me is as believable as the absolution granted within the confessional.

`````So, what is one to do then? Is it ever enough---the suffering I mean? How much do you have to hurt yourself or deny yourself to even the score? It can never undo the pain of others. Is it even possible to keep some sort of cosmic karma balance? I really don't think that sleeping in the proverbial hair shirt would ever do it.

`````I find it difficult to believe how it is that some feel no guilt. I've met many of them; those that can do true evil unto others and wonder only if there's going to be anything good on television that night. I don't see them suffering at all for what they've done. I, on the other hand, find it impossible to turn that switch off.

`````I've written about an event which took place my last year in high-school and which pushed me into studying criminology. There was a party at which a girl was killed. Many people who were at the party knew who had done it, yet kept silent. These were middle class kids from normal families. There was no gang involvement. What kept them quiet all those years? Even at the reunion, somebody got drunk and started to rant about knowing who it was that killed her. He was quickly hushed up by somebody and told that "it was an accident." The guilty individual finally came to trial, thanks to cold case work and DNA evidence. But, didn't these people feel guilt, especially after they began to have children of their own? How and why would a woman, especially, cover for an individual who sexually assaulted and killed a girl of 15? These were the kids I went to school with---they weren't monsters from some inner city's rough streets.

`````The poet Anne Sexton wrote often about such issues. She called the place she envisioned "Mercy Street." Her family, numerous fans, looks worthy a modeling contract and a Pulitzer Prize would not allow her to find that haven. In the end, she mistook oblivion and obliteration for the comfort she'd hoped to find in that mythical place. For, the damage had been done early and in her poem "All My Pretty Ones", she forgives those who had hurt her, yet it wasn't enough. Anne never forgave herself of an injury she believed she'd delivered onto somebody very dear to her. She feared that her actions had driven her beloved Nana into an asylum. In the end, Anne cuddled up with her mother's fur coat, held it tight, and died in the garage with the engine running. Yet, this solution only served to hurt her two daughters and her myriad of friends. There's no absolution in that final action.

`````I always find myself asking why it is that so many people hurt themselves after they've been subjected to abuse of any type. I think that a large part of it has to do with internalizing the guilt. For, in some sick way, there is control in that. It's very scary to a kid to think that something bad might happen again. In blaming oneself, one assumes the burden of control. "If I caused it by being bad, it won't happen again if I don't repeat the action." How many girls go on to hurt themselves via denying their bodies food or a decent relationship? Nobody wants to think that they are at the whim and mercy of others---that's a scary place. Better to have been bad and deserved it. And of course, if you were bad, you deserve to be punished.

`````Others won't know, of course, what motivated the withdrawl, for the child victim so often doesn't tell anybody. This silence in itself, becomes a source of pain in later years. Obviously, those who cared about you merely think that you weren't interested or that they'd done something to cause that wall of silence to be erected. People don't understand that little kids can be severely depressed. It's often the start of the pretending---people want to see happy, shiny, smiling faces. This requires an incredible amount of energy to fake every day. At some point, there's a price to be paid for this trickery. A person may develop ways to assist with the false front. It's too bad there's no Academy Award for this, as the price and road there was probably as hard as it was for anybody picking up the real statue.

`````Yet, the forgiveness still does not come; that peace with oneself is impossible to attain. How disgusting that those who caused the pain in the first place feel none of this angst.

I JUST REWATCHED-PARTY MONSTER

I am not a fan of Caulkin, so I was surprised that I liked this film. It describes the killing of a well known drug dealer in the New York club scene, called Angel, by his friend Michael Alig. Michael had actually been up for parole only recently, but he didn't get out as planned. The movie is fairly true to facts, although it does change some things (for instance, Alig was picked up with a male partner, not female).

If somebody is interested in watching a documentary on this case, watch "Shockumentary," which interviews many of the real life participants. This documentary interviews the brother of the victim and captures well his grief and anguish that the police seemed to be doing nothing.

Michael Alig openly bragged for some time about having killed Angel. It became an open secret in many circles. When he was first arrested, the Feds were more interested in using his testimony against Peter Gatien, who owned the Limelight (as well as other clubs) and he may have received a slide had he not so openly talked of the killing.

What's interesting watching this film is that people so soon forget the past and comment on the originality of Lady Gaga in her costuming and songs. The Club Kids certainly were the first to have clubbing as their lifestyle.

By the way, I also like the use of this song: Scissor Sisters---Can't Come Quickly Enough. If one listens to the lyrics, it's more then a light-hearted anthem.

Culkin manages to portray the new kid in town well, one who initially rejects the ingestion of drugs. Without being heavy handed, the movie shows his decline. It does not blame his usage, however, for his behavior, which I like. In real life, Alig was highly ambitious to score in the social scene. The drugs merely allowed him to become an obviously lofty, condascending individual who didn't see that getting a free pass into all the clubs and hot parties did not translate into receiving a "Get out of jail free" card.

It is Seth Green, however, who I really liked in this film. He portrays Alig's friend; the individual who ultimately wrote the best-seller on the incident.

It's certainly not a heavy film, but I enjoyed it for the soundtrack and it has a wry sense of humour about it.

MAYBE THE GUY LOOKED LIKE FABIO

Photo of juror Gillian Guess
By Alex Waterhouse Hayward
Located via Images on the Internet Google Search

I guess the only reason I can come up with is that reading too many romance novels makes susceptible women stupid. How else would one go about explaining something like this? A woman who was serving on the jury in a trial was caught attempting to pass a note to a marshall. In it, she detailed the time and place that she wanted to meet him.

*

This is an horrific case. I've left a link in case people want to read about it. The actions of this juror meant that there was a possibility the defence team could have sought a new trial. After all, how much was she paying attention to the evidence if she was so enthralled with checking out the marshall? There just might be reasonable grounds to suggest that the client did not get a fair hearing. Pity the loved ones having to sit through this again, not to mention the great costs to the tax payer. In brief, the man on trial, had broken into a home and attacked the father of the house. He was an ex-con on parole, who then proceeded to rape the mother and forced her to withdraw money from an account. For seven hours this family was subjected to sheer terror. In the end, gasoline was poured upon the bodies of the two children and the home set ablaze. The father, who had been beaten with a bat, bearly made it.

* Defense: Jail worse than death for Conn. defendant

*

Couldn't this woman have kept her mind on the matter at hand rather then giving way to flights of fancy about finding "Mr Right." How romantic could the moment have been, when she made the decision to write it? She'd been listening to graphic details of death and viewed photos, yet she was thinking of a tyrst. Women have long bitched about men always thinking of booty-calls,

yet an individual such as this juror, is just as pathetic. It gives credence to the arguement that we're too emotional and thus cannot be trusted in positions of authority.

*

I was reminded of the infamous case of Gillian Guess, who was the first juror to be tried for allowing her actions to cross the line. Gillian Guess did not remain an impartial jury member when she did her civic duty in judging Peter Gill. The eye contact and hair flipping was so over the top that others in the court reported it. They began to meet in Stanley Park, and after his acquittal, had regular contact. Authority was granted to wire-tap her phone and her house; including her bedroom. Ms Guess did herself no favours, as she seemed to thrive in the spotlight. Whilst complaining of being a single mother on a fixed income, she sported designer sunglasses and new outfits. In fact, the length of her skirts became an issue at her trial. People compared her to one of the characters in the British comedy "Absolutely Fabulous." Gillian was convicted and did time for her actions.

*

Acting out in the same horndog way that only some guys do (most are decent and don't engage in that behavior), does not make women look emancipated. It makes them look stupid and slatternly. Please, don't even get me going on the types of women who send love letters to killers like Richard Ramirez and Ted Bundy. That's a whole other blog. Perhaps when they start selecting perspective jurors they need to weed them out by asking if they are devotees of really bad fiction and believe that unicorns are real.

THE MYSTERY CRAPPER STRIKES AGAIN

`````I was on my way to work the other night, when I put my bag down. It's a combination cooler/storage sack, in which I carry everything. I have this horrible tendency to blow out light bulbs constantly, so the room was dark. When I picked up my bag to head out the door, I could smell that my mystery crapper had struck again. I have a cat who is asserting his dominance by going outside the litter box. So, at the last minute, I was scraping cat doo-doo off the bottom of my lunch bag. I then spritzed it with perfume to try to mask the scent. This only served to make me smell like some cheap lady of the night, or one of those old ladies whose sense of smell is going and bathes in perfume. I kept hoping that it would be one of those nights where I was working alone....but nope---no such luck. Of course I felt self conscious about this the entire night.

`````I don't know who is doing it. The photo above is one of my ferals; the trouble maker who pulls open cupboard doors and makes off with the toy mice I've purchased and hidden there. In this instance, he found an entire bag (a very large bag) of coloured craft feathers. When I came home from work he was proudly displaying his "kill." There were little feather bits all over the entire living room. Make note of his defiant stance in the picture.

`````I had planned on blogging about this yesterday, but Microcrap decided to take 45 minutes to log-on. It insists that I download these updates you see; it's getting very insistant about it. The problem is that every attempt fails. When I logged on today, all I got was a little white box around the cursor and after that a note that Internet Explorer could not connect to the site (Google, e-mail, whatever).

`````I am now on a few days off and I need to clean. The problem is that I have all those books waiting to distract me. Oh, the temptation.

UPDATE ON THE AMAZON ISSUE

Success! Some time ago I wrote of my many attempts to order books from Amazon, which failed due to Microsoft, thankyou, very much. Because Amazon could not confirm with my e-mail account they wouldn't ship to me. I managed to rectify the problem by opening a g-mail account and closing the old one. I'm not holding my breath that this account or computer will last much longer, but in the meantime, I look forward to reading the following:

01) Little Girl Blue: The Life of Karen Carpenter-Randy L Schmidt

02) Wartime Diary-Simone de Beauvoir

03) Thin-Grace Bowman (memoir on anorexia)

04) Raven: The Untold Story of The reverand Jim Jones and His People-Tim Reiterman

05) A Dangerous Liaiason: A Revelatory New Biography of Simone de Beauvoir and Jean Paul Sartre-Carole Seymour-Jones

06) More, Now, Again-Elizabeth Wurtzel (memoir on addiction)

I guess it's pretty obvious somebody's dance card is hardly full. I've said it before that I'd support my local bookstore if they'd stock these books, but all they have is Chickensoup for the Soul in all its incarnations. Its biography section is limited to items about the monarchy.
.
(Photo found on the internet, artist unknown. The search was for costumes of previous times.)

PUTTING A HEX ON WINTER

I had to post a cheery picture to juxtapose with my mood.

~~~~~I did not hand out candy last night because I was working. Instead, I handed out a couple of forms that somebody requested, as well as an asthma inhaler and some personal items. Then I got to sit in an office where the fire alarm kept randomly ringing as they won't fix it.

`````Yes, another holiday in "The Bleak House." I actually spotted the tome (Dickens) on a book shelf. Oh, the irony.

`````This inspired me to haul out my schedule and look through it. I have the dubious pleasure of working Christmas Eve, Christmas itself, Boxing Day and New Years. I was scheduled to work my birthday, but I took it off as the prospect was just too depressing. When everybody else had celebrated the arrival of the new millenium, or the potential demise of the planet (depending on who you believed), I was at work, sitting alone. There were IT guys nearby, just in case, that year, but I doubt they'd want to give me a New Year's kiss any more then I'd want to hug them.

`````I had provided the candy to the neighbours, so that they could issue it. Each Christmas, I give the gifts to my parents early so that they can toss the loot to the right recepients.

`````It starts to get a bit depressing this time of year, as it's dark when I get home and it's dark when I wake up. I am dreading the first snowfall, as they're predicting another bad winter. I have a really difficult time with the cold. Not only do I hate it in and of itself, but the barometric change triggers bad migraines for me.

`````I really resent the "helpful" advice of the health nuts who suggest that people just get out there and exercise every day to cheer ourselves up. You just know that these are people who live in California or Florida. I live in a place where we've been known to get -35 celcius windchill. It's in some bizarre wind vortex where a river valley and a large lake meet. Those hyper-perky cheerleader types can take their exercise advice and well...you know....

`````I guess the best thing to do is just hope that the stinking snow falls on a day when I don't have to drive, I have a good book to read and a cat who wants to cuddle. As long as I don't run out of Diet Pepsi, I'm good to go.