The Badger Lounge

Gambia Goat Post is back...

2007-05-02T05:38:00.000-07:00

Check it out at a new faster (for me) location. Read team news and my personal blog (under the team section).

First post coming soon I forgot in at my compound.

You can send me comments at my personal email.

Peace,

Mike

www.Gambia2007.com

Happy Easter and Don't Mess with My Grandma

2007-04-08T23:32:00.000-07:00

Easter is a joyous occasion. A time to reflect on Christ victory over death, stuff your gills with the finest spread of ham, turkey and chocolate then watch your 90 year old grandma dominate Wii boxing.

First step careful instruction...

Next a few practice swings...

Then it was time to preform...

Yup, don't mess with my grandma.

35 sleeps... (hopefully)

2007-03-26T18:28:00.000-07:00

Providing I actually get to sleep each night there should be 35 between here and Gambia. The excitement and reality are beginning to take effect. on Friday I stood up in front of a 200 partrons of the Point Pub, the music stopped, the stage lights came up and if I had tried to hold my hand still you could see a good 4 inch case of the shakes. I made it through a 20 min presentation in about 5.

Anyways, if you don't know what is up check out our fly web page.

www.gambia2007.com

Stay Humble

2007-03-08T21:56:00.000-08:00

Tyler James... I haven't been blown away for quite some time yet a guy who looks all of 15 years old, hasn't finished a full album and grew up in Iowa writes and plays songs I can't stop listening to.

brilliant.

www.tylerjames.com

7 steps to fool your neighbours...

2007-02-24T00:33:00.000-08:00

1) Move in to an old house in a quiet neighborhood with two other twenty-somethings friends.

2) Cover all basement windows with metal sheets

3) Ensure house has bad ventilation as to allow windows to be steamy in the morning

4) Build rooms in the basement using a rental truck to transport in materials after dark.

5) Load your car with full garbage bags late at night.

6) Leave a faulty extension cord on your dryer to start a basement fire; Put fire out yourself and air out house during the day.

7) Spend the next two days taking more full garbage bags out of the basement.

Come back next week for... 6 tips when dealing with a mistaken police officer, who just kicked in your door.

A Tribute to Snow

2007-01-24T00:00:00.000-08:00

January 10 marked the morning I awoke to the heap of snow which hide my car and it tore my heart out tonight to see the last patch of snow melting from my front lawn. We've shared many great memmories:

The Day I skied...
Fresh snow, blue skies, open slopes could a stressed out twenty something ask for anything more.

The Day my Car skied...
Melting snow can create some hazards but, we get along when we have too.

The day I skied to work...
Why? Sussex St. not an ideal resort for the skiing enthusiast but the faces of unbelief from passing motorists, side walk shovlers and motorists I'm passing is well worth the cost of a P-tex repair job.

And finally the Epic Friesen sled run reborn...

Need I say more?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ED5GkIckek4

In mememmory Snow Jan 10 - Jan 24, 2007 M.I.P.

(Not to be confused with the Licky boom boom down guy)
http://www.jivemagazine.com/column.php?pid=2264

Jukebox box additions for '06

2007-01-04T00:46:00.000-08:00

The world has yet again snuck it's way around the all corners of the sun. I thought it would be appropriate to pay tribute to my favourite albums of 2006*.

I'm a mountain - Sarah Harmer
I fell in love with this album as Sarah Harmer has never sounded more like Sarah Harmer. Granola eaters and city slickers alike will find thoughtful lyrics gracing melodies which soar over a delicately painted country vista. Many of the album's tunes were inspired from conservation work done with the Niagara Escarpment in which she held a walking tour to raise support. Check it out: http://www.sarahharmer.com/index2.html

Good Monsters - Jars of Clay**
Arguably the most influential band of my life, Jars of Clay released their best album since If I left the Zoo (my fav). Self produced and engineered in Sputnik (their private studio) the album may at times lack in cohesiveness musically and sonically which I believe has existed since the release of 11th Hour. However, the album does takes a slot in the jukebox for their ability to write meaningful songs which speak oceans of truth and leagues of depth into life. Need a sample? 'Surprise' - hands down the best musical address to our society's drug addiction. 'Light Gives Heat' - struggles with Western church's approach to 3rd world aid. This album sings with my heart. Check it out: http://www.jarsofclay.com/

Chemical City - Sam Roberts
The second Canadian addition to the Jukebox this year was recorded in an old Austialian church and carries its long dark reverb through out. May take a listen or two to adjust your ear from the typical modern over-produced crap you hear on the radio (a worthwhile endeavour) - this music has sonic depth and a hip funky travelling bum lyrical cohesiveness which make it a great 'full' listen. Catchy tunes (Bridge to No where, The Resistance) mix their way between epic progressive Jams (Mind Flood, Mystified Heavy). http://www.samrobertsband.com/web/news/index.php

Wired - Michael McGoldrick
Pick this album up at a small record shop off the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. An instrumental effort yet, each real (Scottish term for progressive tunes) paints endless journeys across the Highlands, gushing memories of my time there this fall. The tasty arrangements accent combine a diverse selection of instruments not limited to wooden flute, fiddle, banjo, tabla, guitar, kit and Electro-acoustics. A unique addition to any one dimensional North American collection.
http://www.capercaillie.co.uk/theband/michael/

Cello Sonatas 1 & 2; Brahms, Johannes; Maria Kliegel, Cello - Kristin Mercher, Piano
This decomposing composer really struck a cord with me this year. Of the selections I acquired this was my favourite. Come spring do yourself a favour, find a copy of the Sonatas in your local library book an hour on the grass by the water and enjoy.
http://www.amazon.com/Brahms-Cello-Sonatas-Mstislav-Rostropovich/dp/B000001G4M

Atlantis:Hymns for Disco - K-os

Haven't really listened enough to know the longevity of this collection. Although the catchy vibes will immediately testify to another solid release for the Dance Hall master. Ethical lyrics and creative production help it round out this year's Jukebox additions.

http://www.k-osmusic.com/

Other mentionals:

Stadium Acardium - Red Hot Chilly Peppers

Despite his fame and prestige in modern music Rick Rubben has never been a favourite producer of mine. Notable radios singles shine amidst an otherwise bland double disc set (I haven't yet been able to make it through the double set in a single listen. Perhaps Venus and Mars was a little too ambitious. I may have liked it more if I didn't feel get the sense every second song is about a porn fanticy. She ain't bad but is far eclipsed by previous Chilly offerings (ie. By the Way)

Eager Seas - Watashi Wa

Musically nothing to aspire to this independant'ish release found a spot in my listening rotation. I typically would have little ear for such raw emo-ish pop rock but I connected to a few catchy licks, melodies and heart felt lyrics.

Behave - Edmund

Best album ever put out by a friend. Great song writing all the polish you can give a self produced recorded on a budget and time line.

http://www.myspace.com/edmundband

Continuum - John Mayer

Never stuck... great guitar playing but I never fully connected with his lyrics. Polar opposite to

Heavier Things; I was plugged in. Perhaps I need a girl friend to appreciate this album.

Barenaked Ladies Are Me - Barenaked Ladies

Couple of great tracks mixed in with some poor excuse for album material. The live disc that came with my album was cool but not enough to make up for some of the weak ballads.

* These are albums which I purchased this year.
** Jars are coming to town in Feb let me know if you'd like to go.

My Space just got a whole lot cooler

2006-12-06T19:03:00.000-08:00

Back in September I was working fevourishly mixing my first intercontinental release. Although still not formally release the Holy Family Band (Gambia's finest Sena-Gambian Reggae Artists) now have a myspace.

So ya, check it out it might just make your day.

myspace.com/holyfamilyband

Get on Board

2006-11-23T21:20:00.000-08:00

I don’t what I was thinking when I said “yes” but, it was obvious not all my logical nerves were firing. Somehow life is better that way. Most who know me understand I am no movie buff and I definitely can’t speak Spanish. Odds-on a Tuesday night one would not expect me to be shellin’ out 6 big-ones for a double header at Vancouver’s Latino Cultural week Film Festival Screening.

Had you have gone (and really you should have) your heart may also have been won over by Cuba’s Pink Camello, "the Camel Bus".

Amidst the broken shambles of Cuba’s “special period” transportation network the cries of the people could be heard "If Camello shuts down, may God help us all!” While other buses layed ruin aside the road Camello didn't disapoint. Trucking along the Cuban country side, it trolled its 300 finely dressed suburban Cubans payload to their Havana salsa engagements night after night.

Little more than a covered Bolivian flatbed attached to a semi, no modern feet of engineering can match its price point never mind its efficiency. Alas a new saviour of Vancouver transportation woes. Forget twinning the Port Man, Skytrain expansion or Olympic info structure, at 20k a piece Camello can shoulder the load. SVU’s would be a thing of the past, Camello would chew them up and spit them out in his wake and with that kind of advertising space they would practically pay for themselves.

So don’t delay, call your MP tell’em to get on board, you only stand for/on Camello.

-message brought to you by Fidel’s Used Camello Sales Emporium

Traveling Gypsy Rover

2006-11-02T02:25:00.000-08:00

Ever wonder what it would be like talking with a goldfish? I have spent the majority of the week’s dialog responding one three-word question: “How was it?” Case in point Mr./Mrs Anonymous (comment #8 of last post)

Not that I grieve such an task but the challenge of enlightening people about a trip is itself a journey flanked with the tar pits of social faut-pas and plagued with the shadows of jet lagged mind; Over simplification ensues. Oh yes it was truly ‘epic’, ‘unforgettable’, ‘great’, ‘beautiful’, ‘exciting’. Spat out these adjectives are spun out rotting the adventure of veracity or soul. Akin to playing Pictionary using only one dimension, your audience will be left thinking your mountain is a stick.

Travel (the way I have come to terms with it) is rich with the depth of a good wine and the playful interaction of a well written novel...(check out "Life of Pi" read it on the plane ride home). The experience of being cradled in a valley’s field under the rising moon of Glencoe while pondering the journey of civilization and your role with in it, does not lend itself to a one word summary. Neither can the best song express the train of emotions as you meander through a holocaust exhibit nor the best camera capture the beauty of the setting sun’s glow upon the pounding surf. You really have to live it.

All said, let me assure you the life of a traveling gypsy rover is no walk in the park (unless your planning on sleeping on one of its benches). There are smelly hostels, heavy packs and $15 plates of food that a yak wouldn’t scat on but, oh the rewards.

But for all these who still want to live vicariously through my journey, I opted for a Mike-style fun factoid summary of the journey.

Enjoy!

The route:
London - two days – Museums and rain
Leeds –Carolyn and friends, hiking, old abbey exploring, clubbing
Lake District – Quaint villages with sheep and chickens
Glasgow -- Cathedral and fancy graves
Glen Coe – Beautiful nothing short of it.
Stafin, Ile of Sky – Sea cave and castle ruins the wild highlands
Carrbrige – Prepare ye for “Castle day” 6 in all
Edinburgh – two days – local music and sweet museum
Belfast – Ulster disappointment, “Peace line”
Dublin – two days – energizing streets, Guinness factory tour
Cork – four days – South west ocean car tour, Hurley, Irish pub.
London – Tate modern and I think that is a bomb in your bag.

Cars Driven: (yes, both on the left hand side)
2006 Ford Focus LX 1.6L, Baby blue. Handles beautifully room for three men and all their baggage.
Miles driven: 1496
Near misses: 2 (depending on who you talk to)
Honks: 1
Days driving: 7

2004-ish Pugeot 206, Candy apple red, drives like a civic
km driven: 300
Near misses: 0 (depending on who you talk to)
Honks: 0
Days driving: 1

Best Meal:
Canadian/British thanksgiving in Carolyn’s house in Leeds.

Best food:
Indian Cuisine on Drummond St., Euston (Greater London))

Worst food:
Bishop Fish and Chips, N. Ireland (just cause people eat there don’t mean it’s good)

Best Hostel view:
Ile of Sky near Staphin

Best bed:
Mountain Innovations B&B/Hostel

Worst Hostel:
Bunkum’s Glasgow – what is that smell

Best Museum:
Scottish National Museum – never has museum staff been so cool, free personal guided tour!

Best Bar Experience:
The Sally Belle – Live music and you get to help provide it

Best Tourist Trap:
Guinness Factory Dublin

Best Adventure:
Finding Sea Caves, Greensake, Ile of Sky

Worst Advice:
“Eat at Pizza Paradise” (close runner up for worst food) – Girl in Edinburgh backpacker’s Hostel

Best New Sport:
Hurley – field hockey with out the sissy rules (Ireland equivalent to Canada’s Lacross)

Best Reason to have a Geisbrecht on your trip:
sheep hugging and fiancial records

Best Reason to have a Koehn on your trip:
History narations during car ride and hook-ups

England, Scotland, Ireland and North Ireland what gives?
People:
England – stiff lipped and proper with a smile (top pedigree of civilization)
Scotland – laid back, friendly with a hint bitter envy
Ireland – fun loving in a I don’t trust you kind of way
North Ireland – We are not blown each other up, that is progress!

Fences:
England – stone wall
Scotland – stick and barb wire
Ireland – prickly bush
North Ireland – concrete wall with barb wire

The troubled youth:
England – Emo punks
Scotland – Goth
Ireland – Delinquents

Grade 7 Spelling Test

2006-09-21T01:04:00.000-07:00

My sister 'chell' was over from the island for my Grandma's 90th birthday (Ya, Grandma!). As a dedicated teacher she was marking her Grade 7 spelling test and I thought why not give 'er a shot. How bad could it be the class average was 80%.

peter the humble husband decide to follow suit spelling everything backwards. I asked if I could take the test using Word. 20 words later and a pass of the human scantron revealed my lack of talent for such activities. The totals peter 85% - Moo 55% - Moaw the cat 0%

Please try not to laugh too hard... the poor cat couldn't even hold the pen.

Perhaps, 'Chell you could post the words in the comments and all you faithful can try the test (no cheating! get your roommate/sister/cat/dad to read the words to you)

Let me know how you do...(unless you did really well)

You don't go for the camping

2006-09-12T02:01:00.000-07:00

Cut in the bank of the mighty Columbia river valley, a shanty village of tents and SUVs marked the end the pilgrimage of ~20,000 people. This colourfully/barely dress group of mostly whites, had endured high gas prices, stinky ‘Honey Buckets’* and semi cooked corn dogs in search of the ultimate beach ball’n, glow stick’n, and high five’n experience.**

Yes, Dave Matthews was playing the Gorge, in George Washington.

As the dude with the “Wanna make out?” sign walked by, I began to doubt my place in such a crowd. However, when Dave lead the band through the structure of ‘Granny’ and they dropped into the first Jam, there were few places I’d rather be (maybe closer to the stage; further from man w/ kissing sign).

There is no modern rock band that brings the technical mastery of their instruments to the stage like these guys. You almost need that minute of dead air they leave between songs to process what all went on in the last 12-15 minutes, before they start it all up again.

A satisfying 3 hours later, we followed the mob back to Shanty Town now wafting 3 days of human over population. We were quite pleased with our ‘site’ selection as it was apparent the majority of our neighbors also wanted to sleep. By the time Doug, Nikki and I awoke the shanty town was gone. Left behind were the excessive piles of trash scattered amidst old sofas and Honey Buckets. My heart went out to the clean-up crew.

A bowl of oatmeal later we broke camp and left for the home. On the way, I wondered if Dave would consider playing at Elfin lakes next year.

*American equivalent of ‘Jiffy John’ and if honey refers to the sticky yellow stuff covering the floor and seat they picked the right adjective.
** you may wish to add intoxicated’n to the list.

If you’d like to know the gritty details and all about the show and the gear they use Dave’s web tech has done the work for me. http://road.davematthewsband.com/SetlistsDir/setlist.asp (Sep 3 2006 Gorge Amphitheatre)

How I spent my summer vacation...

2006-08-13T12:56:00.000-07:00

A Week at Kates 06’
July 23rd -31st

Sunday:
Free with a price…
Stomach’s memo to brain:
“Just because Mcdonald’s gives you an extra McBagel don’t mean you have to eat it.”

Lighting…
Sat on the deck eating ice cream and taking pictures of the 2-hour wide format multimedia extravaganza. Two thumbs up.

Monday:
Watch your toes…
I have a new beach hobby, stacking rocks. Some people read a book, others just lie on there towel but my dad and I, we pile rocks.

Tuesday:
The joy of extended family...
When they are all in the boat I can jump higher on my wakeboard.

Duck Itch:
Everyone swims but only I seem to get bit. Borrowing parasites why to you torment me?

Wednesday:
Brain oil:
Reading, planning, dreaming, it is nice to break to rust off the cogs.

Thursday:
Pie Lady:
$17.50 well spent.

Cute girl:
Hung out with a cute girl today. She made faces and tried to steel watermelon while I painted a flower on her arm. At 5 years of age she is a little young regardless we had fun.

Friday:
Nothing much:
No pie, cute girls, tennis or wakeboard, just an average beautiful day at the lake. Spent time working on electronica, scrap wood clean up and Mere Christianity.

Saturday:
Jordan arrived:
After a day of baby delivery and chasing overdosed addicts in electric wheel chairs Jordan came to join us… a welcome and amusing addition to our morning breakfast.

Lake surfing:
Nothing like catching 3 foot rollers in the middle of a lake.

Sunday:
Mini golf:
The only thing that wasn’t mini about it was my score!

Lake cold:
The lake turned over; had to pull out the wetsuits for the annual tubefest. Required long hot shower to return circulation.

Monday:
Too much sun:
So, I turned on the BBQ and failed to notice the plastic BBQ brush.

Throwdown 06'

2006-07-20T23:18:00.000-07:00

Next week I spend on vacation at Kates. The rest will undoubtebly provide me with some time to read and posibily write about some of the events of the past two weeks. But for tonight I present nothing but a shameless, self centered egotistical posting....

A gorgeous evenning set the stage for our interchurch Utlimate tourney. A well matched tourney which provided for speculars games to watch and take part in. It was the kind of night where no won lost. (unless of course your church's team decided to pull out the night before)However, only one team would get to hoist the throwndown cup and that team was mine. Yes, "They Might be Pirates" (Myself, Dekcer, Koehn, Richmonds and A Moo) came home last night as throwndown champions.

I hope to post some pictures sometime soon... so you can see some pirate booty in action.

Kate's

2006-07-04T22:16:00.000-07:00

The only annoyances are bugs that spend their lives addicted to glow and the inability to adjust my eye to catch the light of further reaching stars when I look up. The deck is still warm from the heat of the day and the mountain breeze gently eddies off the awnings. It has been hard to take it all in.

The upper crusts float with there twilled hats and wish for such a dwelling but few will see it through. Each timber has a cost and each nail has intention for this structure is greater than its matter.

I’ve played with ignorance, justification, euphemisms and denial but those were a foolish ploy. The thought I can’t escape, ‘I don’t deserve any of this’ yet the injustice is beautiful. Far from finished yet I could move in today and live without discomfort. May I never take it for granted, may I never complain, for the value is not in the wood, granite or slate. As my Father builds a palace, my father builds a house by a lake and invites me to rest.

My New Puke Purple Bike and I

2006-06-08T03:06:00.000-07:00

No Mother’s, news anchor’s or general surgeon’s warning could have keep inside for another sunny night. Time had come for a great escape or a Shawshank redemption of sorts.

Two days in the dehydrated captivity of violent vomitus and the explosive stick of Mo-daddy’s revenge had suited me with a lack luster return to work. My summer soul was left with few other options. (God have mercy when I’m old)

Freshly topped up with Jerked chicken and a plate of vermicelli, ole grumbles (my stomach) and I decided try out that “new to me” bike in the basement. The bike was donated to me from a loving uncle who wanted to reclaim some garage space and dignity and has since removed space and dignity from my basement.

The bike? Well…purple – puke purple may be the best may of describing the designer’s motive for the bike. Outfit with the finest of Shimano Derore components the frame also housed a single action pump, rain fenders and enough rat traps to save the world from any impending plagues. Wanting to do my part I accessorized with sunglasses, my skiing brain bucket and black pack full of random crap. – hey, if you are going to be out of style you might as well be safe and well prepared.

After an invigorating of tire pumping session, we stormed the streets doing our best to avoid cars and awkward glances. I hadn’t quite figured out the consequences of meeting people I knew until it was too late.

Leaving the Deer lake swings, I met up with two friends from my days at Summer Fun. Initially unsure, I debated riding away but at the age of 25 I’ve conceded to embrace my quirks and so I turned around to catch-up. Glad I did. Turns out they even liked ‘Pete’.

Parting ways I set off to enjoy the setting sun on the buildings of Metrotown from a small dock on the North side of the lake. My bag of crap supplied a Mexican blanket a CD of Brahms’ Cello Concertos. -- I you have never sat by a lake and listened to Brahms… you really should -- Later on, I met up with Em and John to tour the park grounds with the remainder of the day’s light before tackling the ride home.

Turning out the lights as I shut the basement door, it was apparent that somewhere between freewheeling down Burris and the final strokes up the hill to home I resolved to spend more time with my new puke purple bike.

Because I'm not locked out, Fox News presents...

2006-05-17T00:01:00.000-07:00

So I got back in my house a while ago and since people are still commenting on my last post I figured, I owe a post. Tonight (this morning) I present if "FOX NEWS COVERED MIKES LIFE - we report. you decide."

"GOTCHA "

an investigative report... thud (a metalic thud)

It is little secret that gotcha is the hottest trend of the week among people at Emerge. Its creators dub the slogan "It's a game where you stalk your friends......and shoot them with elastic bands......with as much loving kindness as possible." But what you don't know about rubber bands could hurt you!

Did you know?!? 1 in 3 cows eat elastic bands and they were the number 4 cause of non-fatal injuries not causing serious death in office supply factories in the state of Ohio this week. surprising? Well, Fox news has also learned that many accidents aren't even reported due to their minor severity and we as experts estimate that by the year 2026 they could move to the number 3 spot.

We sat down and talked to a scientist to stretch out some facts. He mentioned Hook's law and inverse porportionality. Sounds sciency? Well it is. All you need to know about elastic science: it is bad sciency. Unlike cancer or weapons research people aren't healed and big coperations don't make big money. Most elastic are also made of chemical compounds. Elastics are so toxic that eating a pack of regular consumer grade elatics could put you in the hospital for weeks.

We tried to talk to Grand and Toy about this fact but they declined our interview.

What alternatives do you as a comsumer have? Protect yourself! Buy rubber gloves, a mask with an elastic and protective goggles held on by elastics. Keep them in a kit by your bed have drills with your kids, education is key. Consider also some alternatives to elastic bands guns. Real guns have been proven to be 99% more effective in killing targets. Consider a high impact large calliber bullet and riffle combination for best results. Others have suggested tazers but this effect is only mommentary and may only be effective at a close distance.

What does this mean to You! Elastic bands really are a case of buyer beware.

Reporting live Senior Gotcha Investigative Analyst Anchor wanna-be, Tim Baker Fox News.

"Mike Turns 25"
Mike the tyke turns into real Man

Tomorrow Mike will celebrate his 25th birthday. Fox asks the tough questions...When are there too many candles? and how many cup cakes were eaten at his surprise 80's party? Find out and see rediculous pitcures and video footage tomorrow on Fox news.

"Camping up Eagle Mountain"
Escaping Death of mountain

Two men were returned safely after spending night alone on Eagle Mountain. No rescue opperations were initiated although the pair foolishly left on the trail at dark armed only with proper camping supplies and a dead cell phone. Had something gone wrong the pair was over two hours away from Eagle Ridge hosiptal. When they returned home late after deciding to enjoy the sunshine and hike to amazing view of the Lower Mainland no one worried.

What has gotten into the young adults of today?

To answer this we turn to our panel. Dr. Ted Trump from Fox Tech. specialist in fear management; Sally Drumal from MALG (Mothers who Ain't Letting Go); and Yuri Spunatichoff Florida Bingo Analyst and Avid Mall Walker.

Ted?

Ted: Bears, need I say more. BEARS! Nevermind, cougars or grouse these animals will eat you if they get the chance. You shouldn't go in the wild without a properly loaded assult riffle. Bin Ladden was been training terrorist animals and we know it is only a matter of time before he strikes again. We need to put these left wing camping hippies and communist tree lovers behind bars so they don't jepordize our nation's security.

Sally?

Sally: My 28 year old boy stays at home and camps in the living room were he is safe from bugs and the sun. Don't want to see my kid be victim to skin cancer or bears. It takes a little extra effort to make sure the fridge and cupboards are stuffed with addictive junk food. We also spend money on video games and ensuring the TV is large enough to block out the windows but in the end as a parent it is worth it.

I can't understand how parents can let their children grow-up.

Yuri?

Yuri: I don't get. Why kidz go to woodz? Mall close, free and save. Instant coffee on Tuesday when line up before 7am.

There you have it FOX NEWS first.

"Great weather"
with Triple Dopler High Gramma Radiation Coverage

Wow, the summer season is here and temperatures way higher than the winter ones. Better go out and buy an air conditioner so you don't die.

"When air conditioners attack"

Special report. Just where does that box get its cold air. Fox goes undercover in the artic to find out. The results will surprise you. Next week on Fox.

"Sports"
.
Ultimate Season is in full swing but because it is not football or baseball we won't cover it.

Thank for reading tonights special coverage.

Now, stay tuned on Fox for American Elimi-organ. The show that gets testosterone injected men and plastic sexy hot woman with an IQ of a glass of water to sign away their kidneys and eat bugs for a chance at a new life. ($25, a screening for an infomercial and an expired AM-PM corn dog coupon)

Check out these cool Fox links.
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,77934,00.html
http://shop.ecompanystore.com/foxnews/FOX_shop.asp
http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,95166,00.html

Special fox headlines (no Joke)
• Bear Mauls Monkey at Zoo
Can't Make This Up - Beauty pageant winner gets a year's supply of dog food
Lisa Bernhard - Video Interview: Hollywood Insider — From her days as a "Baywatch Babe" to the thrill of interviewing a Beatle, FNC's entertainment reporter Lisa Bernhard dishes the dirt on the stars AND herself!
War on Rumsfeld Why are retired military generals speaking out now against Rumsfeld?
FOX All-Stars The panel weighs in on the Senate immigration compromise
Al Gore and Global Warming

Keys please

2006-04-20T21:29:00.000-07:00

Ever been locked out your house? Well now I have/still am.

What have I learned from the experience?
1. Assuming your roomates will be home is a bad idea.
2. It is a good idea to leave food at work, although rice cakes don't make for a great dinner.
3. Don't think "I won't need my CDs today" when leaving the house in the morning
4. I still don't like opera.
5. Most importantly, never lend out your only house keys to a bass player.

Lunch Time Weather Report

2006-04-18T13:34:00.000-07:00

Little surprise that it has been a while since my last post. It is typical that when I have lots to blog about I have no time to post. So here goes my lunch (time) well see how many mini post I can puke out.

Yellow Jackets... I've had few good experiences with yellow jackets. In grade ten I was mountain biking only to stop with my foot on a hive. Baggy shorts and boxers were a bad combination. After a couple of warning pokes I was dumbfounded as too a proper action, sacking myself was not an option and short of streaking through forest I knew not what to do. Despite my best efforts I spent ensuing week walking like a cowboy.

My most recent encounter with yellow jackets was on Easter Sunday. Rumors of their presence sparkled news that morning but I failed to heed warning. So obliviously I passed into a small swarm that were reeking havoc just north of Canada way on Willingdon. Streaking was not an option although the $200 fine did leave me in the sensation of a good rock to the jimmies.

Sarah in Seattle...

Known for flying fish, coffee, the tech-boom and grunge rock it also happened to be the last drivable place were I could get tickets for Sarah Harmer. Eight emerges piled into a pair of small imports for the long haul to the Tractor Tavern in Ballard (NW Seattle). Thanks to Emily's fine navigational skills we arrived in what appeared to be the American version of kits.

For those who may be unaware Sarah is presently my favorite female artist and she plays 'my guitar'. Her music found me alone in a crowd. The gracious melodies swam the cannels to gently sway the cilia like the waves of a small boat pass though the reeds. Part of the experience was realizing that I will never write/play/sing like that.

The drive home was a battle. Thankfully Emily provided simulating conversation as my other two passengers were indulging in the sleep my being so desired. I was about ready to hand over my keys when a blurry sign light up. Before I could read it vanished to the night as to tease my weary senses, only to reappear 3 seconds later. "What the?!?" The thought hung in the air for a moment then it clicked.

Three lanes of I-5 over I lurched into the generic American rest area for the promise of ‘free coffee’ (as generously provided by the friendly folks of the Squamick Senior Center). Well, the coffee lived up to expectation it was free and it had caffeine but, next time I’ll skip on the week old prune cake that was offered.

Easter Egg Hunting the weird way…

No comment.

Okay maybe a caption...this year gett'up: glasses for the legally blind, golf ball retriever and a baseball glove.

Under-whey…

So, I think I may have started my album. We’ll see about that.

No more lunch.

I do see forecasts for the following posts:

“Hunting deer? Try a Yukon”, “How to wreck your neck painting”, “16 ways to enjoy skiing at Grouse”, “How to know if your Grandma is a funeral junkie” and “Inter-mountain tram?!? Don’t forget the mouse ears!”

...but you know how accurate the weather forcast is.

A Tribute to Lorene ‘Grandma’ Laughton (1919-2006)

2006-03-21T00:54:00.000-08:00

I can’t help to smile when I remember her cheerful face lighting up. Her hand would begin to bounce off her lap as she joined in “Yam, ba, da, ya-dee, bum-ba....”. For the joy of life had stuck a chord and she was not going to be left out. Oh, to experience the beauty of her spirit once again. I can only pray that these memories remain engraved in my mind as a score to a song well sung.

She grew up and lived in Vancouver her whole life. I can remember the visits to the old house on Flemming St. (the one where my mom and her two sister were born into). As I drove her home after family dinners she'd tell stories her youth. From meeting grandpa to singing on the CBC the drive home never allowed enough time.

Like a true musician she taught piano well into her 70s and it was only a couple of months ago, at the age of 86, when her legs and breathing restricted her from singing in the Bonsor community choir. Such a voice and talent the local choir masters would fight over her involvement as she was forced to withdraw her body unable to keep pace with her spirit. (I guess God want to fill out his alto section)

She leaves behind a legacy in her family. A home built on the rock of Jesus and close to 55 years of happy marriage with grandpa before he passed away. A friendship built with love and respect. It set the standard for the generations to come. As a family we play, work, laugh and cry together. Seldom far form the action grandma would be there taking it all in and when it was time to celebrate she was the first to pull out the credit card to pay for dinner.

An encouraging heart she never failed to take interest in what interested me. Taking the time to ask me about school, work and girlfriends then offer her concerns, support and advise. During the Olympics I got a chance to spend a Friday evenning with her, a night well spent. Laughing at beavers, talking about hearing aids and celebrating victories there is something about her presence that was just to be enjoyed.

Thank you Grandma we'll do our best to pick up the melody where you left off.

PS. Kudos to God for keeping her out on loan for an extra 6 years.

Fresh Tracks

2006-03-10T02:24:00.000-08:00

I can’t quite explain it but there is something freeing and surreal about driving a snowy freeway while listening to Jack Johnson sing about recycling. I had just been cleverly surprised to hear Donald Miller speak and was subsequently wading through the swamp in my mind. Yes, the frozen ponds of my mind were being to thaw yet I was witnessing the inversion on the other side of my window.

Like the cars on the road my mind began to wander. As per my usual observation, SUVs seemed almost a disadvantage contrasting their commercialized appeal. The only sporty fresh tracks these urban wagons are making lead to the ditches. Nothing proves inertia like 1.5 tons of reinforced steel.

Approaching home, it became apparent no one had dared to venture the testoster-hills. With unwavering trust in my aged-econo-import I spun my way up the streets. Though I can’t completely compare it to the sensation of skiing the lure of fresh tracks had sent out an invitation and with little hesitation I replied. Forgetting about home, I searched for virgin snow in the dead ends and cult-de-sacs of the Metrotown hills.

A stride of speed lends its hand to a silent merry-go-round spinning the winterscape past the smeared crystals which glaze my windshield. Each street lead me thought a breathtaking dance upon the frozen glass. However, as sweet dream stunted by your alarm clock, the reality of sleep and a waning tank of gas brought about the end of the ball. Like an enchanted young boy after a goodnight kiss, I meandered the streets leaving a lacey signet of inverted turns through the corridors of cars to my home. As if to dismiss any wonder of blame for the creases on the white dress, the only tracks will lead their curiosity to my front door.

Oh Perogies!

2006-02-28T21:22:00.000-08:00

As a Menno bachelor of sorts, I’ve really come to appreciate the Perogi. When you get home at 7:45PM and have the energy of a lump of carbon a 0deg Kelvin there are few things better: nutritious, simple to cook and filling. However, there is a limit to the palatability of these Ukrainian potato pockets so over the past year or so I have developed a collection of Perogi dishes. Here I present them to you for your experimental pleasure.

Old Fashion Bachelor Perogies:
Mike Ranking: Blah!
All aboard the grease train! Gets old and too the bottom of your intestine track in a hurry.

Ingredients:
Perogies – the fatty cheese bacon ones are the best for this glutton fest
Onions – Enough to make you unkissable (In my case a whole lot; I’m hard to resist)
Fatty Farmer Sausage – You know the kind
Bacon – Kind of optional but if you are look for that hit the bottom feeling this is a must.
Seasoning Salt – This is where the “bachelor” part of the recipe name comes from
A spill of canola Oil
Sour Cream if you like it maybe even a squeeze of ketchup
For the extra fancy bachelor gourmet how about some ‘No Name’ peppercorn ranch dressing

Comments:
I don’t think I’ve made this one since I was in high school living with my parents and they were away from the house for a week. Seasoning salt was the only spice I knew tasted good so I used that. It didn’t take too many repeats of this one before I needed a stomach pump. Even with the No MSG seasoning salt your bound to come down with some strange cancer if you make a habit of this dish.

New School Bachelor Perogies:
Mike Ranking: Last Resort
If you are tight-up these are passable.

Ingredients:
Perogies – Hopefully you didn’t buy those bacon and cheese ones.
Onions—A half white Spanish onion is best
Farmer Sausage or ham – Ham really works well and it is a little lighter, easier to take in quantity
Fresh Tomato
Grated Cheddar Cheese
Pepper
Salt
Fresh Garlic
Parsley
Goes well with a side of diced carrot sticks
Sour Cream again if you like it.
The squeeze of ketchup thing is really gross if you haven’t already discover it
The Ranch is at least usable as a dipping sauce.

Comments:
Won’t leave your stomach to rot but not a dish to have night after night.

Mexican Perogies:
Mike’s Ranking: Vote for Pedro (worth a second term in the kitchen)

Perogies -- If you haven’t learned not too buy the bacon cheese ones tough luck.
Onions – one or two depending on if plan to be approachable
Ukrainian Farmer sausage – nothing could be more Mexican
Salsa – Mild for bed wetters; medium for the indecisive; hot if you want a date with the can.
Corn – optional but really adds a new dimension
Jalapenos – to help increase the Jalopi factor
Monterey Jack cheese
Green Pepper
Mesquite spices
Fresh Garlic
Parsley – helps with the approachable part
Goes well with a side of diced carrot sticks or a corn dog
Sour Cream even if you don’t like it.
Ketchup will sub for salsa if you are still trying to make the transition from the bachelor thing.
Ranch if you have an addiction to it.

Comments:
Discovered this one while trying to figure out what to do with the four open Jars of salsa that were going bad in our fridge.

Hawaiian Perogies:
Mike’s Ranking: Jack Johnson’s will soon be writing a catchy chick song about it.

Perogies – I know it seems obvious but I’m not willing to be responsible for a messed up meal.
Onions – one or two depending on if plan to be approachable
Maple or smoked ham steaks – Wild boar would also be good if you have a spit.
Pizza sauce – not too much just enough to fill in the mix
Pineapple – can if you must but the fresh stuff is so much better
Mozzarella cheese
Green Pepper
Sage
Fresh Garlic
Thyme
Goes well with an orange and mango smoothie

Comments:
Had it tonight. Quite nice.

Swedish Maple Perogies:
Mike’s Ranking: I was surprised that it turned out. Worth a shot.

Perogies
Alfredo sauce
Red Pepper
Pepper

Swedish Meatballs made with the following
Ground beef
A package of instant maple brown sugar
A splash of Worchester Sauce – shaky, shaky, wake-y, wake-y
Fresh garlic – a little more than you are comfortable with
A whole Egg
Goes well with a trip to a sauna or a trip to Ikea.

Comment:
There was something about the maple brown sugar oatmeal that made it taste good together. Don’t go to heavy on the Alfredo sauce you will regret the over powering creamy nature.

Lebanese Perogies:
Mike’s Ranking: Might just be my favorite to date

Perogies
Red Onions
Red Pepper
Pineapple
Parmesan cheese
Broccoli – strange but good, don’t over cook it
Chawarma Spice (basically Nutmeg, fennel and cloves)
Pepper
Sour Cream or a light Alfredo sauce

Comments:
It is too bad the Mennos didn’t travel through Lebanon before moving to Winnipeg.

Italian Perogies:
Mike’s Ranking: If you are tired of pasta…

Perogies
Onions
Chicken Breast
A Tomato Pasta sauce – preferably a good thick one
Spinach –
Parmesan cheese
Basil – lots of it
Fresh Garlic
Thyme
Goes well with an argument or mobster movie

Comments:
You go to make it yourself because they sure ain’t going to offer it at the bread garden anytime soon.

Greek Perogies
Mike Ranking: Of Olympic Quailty

Perogies
Red Onions
Chicken Breast/shrimp and/or some kind of fish
A Greek salad dressing– preferably a good thick one; runny = soggy
Fresh diced tomatos
Spinach –
Feta cheese
Olives
Fresh Garlic
Pepper
Use olive oil in the pan

Goes well with a cruise on your Mediterranean Yacht.

Comments:
Ya, this one is stretching it... I could have just had a greek salad but that just isn't filling.

............................................................

Bonne appetite!

And let me know if you discover any new ones I should try.

Rain City

2006-01-20T01:09:00.000-08:00

Do you ever get one of those itches? Not the ones you scratch but those urges, a sort of tug from your subconscious. Science may suggest it is a disproportionate presence of a chemical that is triggering stimulants haphazardly admits the cervix of my brain. Religion may call it a spiritual awakening a whisper and nudge from God. However, most normal people just think I am weird. In essence, I regarded all explanation as true and connected as I glided on the rails above the cityscape.

The caves Kodak's production floor had some how encouraged me to call up an old friend. Claiming I wanted to look at guitars, I was able to cover my inner desires of just wanitng to escape for a night.

As if a month of continuous rain was not enough, the sky marched its drops down upon the civilians of streets below; A dismal soddened lot. However, the reserve of the citizens refused to yield to the terror of the aqueous bombardment, after all this is Rain City.

Passing my wet bag to the security guard I found Darrell and we browsed the aisles and rooms. Like a young flirt at a summer camp I played the collection like a star. Without hesitation each guitar was given a moment in my arms. The neck was a gateway to discovering the body. Indulging myself I listened as each shape and complexion sang out its unique tones to accompany the dance of my fingers. Some were worthy of my ears but most were dropped like a plate at a Greek party. This was serious competition; I wasn’t just here for casual dating. However, it was soon discovered that tonight nobody’s foot was going to fit in that slipper. Unsatisfied, Darrell and I returned to the wet.

Outside the streets cried their own tune like a river. Contained by the banks of the buildings life swims in the ebon flow of prosperity and destructive desire. Wooed by a local I was caught off guard and soon trapped in a twisted riddle of human kindness. Thankfully, to the dismay of my new friend I was able to conclude that 15 seconds of rhythmic rhyming about the word “open” is really worth a granola bar and not my spare change.

Darrell works for Chorus entertainment and needed to stop by work for his bag. A quick tour only helped me confirm the myth that nobody looks like they sound. However in hindsight, I had never spent the time to figure what my voice looks like. I’ll have to get around to that.

Leaving Pacific center, a generous bus driver took my expired ticket as legal tender allowing us to shield the remnant of our dry fabric for few more minutes. From Broadway our feet carried us by the endless store fronts, our stomach into a late night snackery and our minds through the questions of the world.

A visit to his apartment brought about warm dry pants and a chance to see some photos of the last year. But time is fast and we soon said our goodbyes.

Stepping out the front door I returned soon reaquianted me to the comfort of wet pants. Waiting for less than 5 mins I caught a bus and train to Metrotown. In the shetler of my ride, I stared across the aisle through the empty seat to the spilling sounds of Ipods and one sided cell phone conversations. I couldn’t help but absorb the life around. My thoughts drifted with the passing rain. Adding nothing I sat and listenned to the city.

"I'm alive"

Perhaps that is what I needed to hear because things that are alive our worth caring about. Where I go from there I'll leave for my next adventure in rain city.

Jamaica in a week

2005-12-31T09:58:00.000-08:00

December 16, 2005
6:03 AM -- Traveling Insomniacs

It has almost been 2 days since I’ve left home in Burnaby. Work, dinner at parents, a pick up of a dump load of gifts and a night stay with Aunt Beth and Uncle Ernie in Seattle made way for a relatively smooth travel thus far to Philly city of dumpy airports, pricey food and brotherly loving Marriott security guards.

A couple of notables of the trip would include:
n Seattle rush hour surprises with Aunt Beth
n “Damn foreigners” guy in boarding tunnel
n Seat 19C and the crusty Canadian
n Scoring 47 of 50 in the name the state and 82% accuracy in "place the state"
n Figuring out how to transport 200+ pounds of luggage being too cheap to rent a cart
n Staying up all night talking to Bev from Penn State,
n Bob “Here comes trouble” the dancing security guard
n No sleep (mind is slow but still there, I hope)
n Navigating the airport which was masterminded by an architect with ADD or no concept that people would like to transfer from domestic to international
n The overwhelming no sleep adrenaline rush of “Where is my passport?!?” ANS: in the one pocket of my 4 bags in didn’t security at 5AM.
n Hanging out with Nat (not writing this only because she is reading over my shoulder right now)
n The spiritual encounters and conversations over the course of the trip thus far

T – 5 hours until Emese time!

December 19, 2005
12:03 AM – Crafty Marketers Present and Manic Taxi Drivers Present…

Over a third of my way through my Jamaican adventure knowing the remaining portions will fly by just as quickly.

The Airport in Jamaica was incredibly smooth, maybe it was bad because of my past experiences or just that I was bracing for the worst.

What a delight to see Em’s face light-up as Nat and I past through the line of taxi drivers. Between sharing stories and updates I found myself taking in my surroundings. Jamaica was far more “developed” than I had originally expected, a nation evidently living off of the tit of its frivolous neighbors to the north (I ain’t talking about Cuba).

*ASIDE*
Jamaicans top three industries are:
1) Tourism
2) Bauxite (Unprocessed Aluminum)
3) Money Transfers – forget the official name people working outside of the country sending money to support family and friends.

I know this is supposed to be a relaxing mind numbing vacation but I just don’t do that well. I have trouble lying to myself. I get lied to enough already. To really experience a culture and environment you need to escape the walls of the resorts and no exception is found here in Jamaica.

On the outskirts of the resorts are the smoother and politer than the Gambian bumsters. The locals have already pulled me into buying some generic hand made crafts (which are suspiciously similar to those of any other developing world craft shops) and being a more affluent society they can clean any green out of your pocket lining better than a jug of Tide ultra with bleach.

Sorry, I really shouldn’t be that bitter about it, my pride just hurts to know that I have been had. Sometimes I wish I was just ignorant and could let it all fly over my head.

But then it occurs to me these people live like this because their options in life are few. I’m quite sure they enjoy tactfully selling me stuff as much as I like buying it. They need to eat just as much as I do and I have always been fortunate not to ever need to worry about it. But enough about this, I’m moving on…

The first night we arrived they had their Christmas banquet. A great crash course to the things that have been going on in an introduction to the students and staff. The group here is quite diverse. Students range from green out of high school to 40 year old mothers of two, Island locals to Germans. The randomness is quite something. It is also one of the first Christian banquets were alcohol was on tap… no doubt from an orange Gatorade cooler labeled with messy enough handwriting to allow literate children to drink it with a clean consciousness.

Being too tired to endure the entire nights randomness I had to retire. I woke up to discover the night had concluded with a marriage proposal involving Shania Twain. After of brief period of morning the loss of such a social experience, we grabbed a cab and headed off to the tourist beach. Apparently the YWAM crew only goes to this beach to avoid dangers and hassles of the other beaches. For the $2.5US fee you receive limited security and some floaty trampolines planted out in the water.

On the return we walked through the local’s district of Mo-Bay to get some groceries. Crowded streets, dancing vendors and load distorted music brought me to a flashback of Gambia with a modern sophistication. Everyone seems to think Jamaicans are laid back, a Gambian could make a Jamaican look like a workaholic with a stress problem.

We even had a taxi driver turn on us. First he wanted to marry Em then Nat, then he couldn’t stop cursing us as he went back on the clearly agreed upon price. Really a standard bill to run into in these countries, however, I had never experienced a man turn so quickly and harshly. The situation never got out of hand but it sure wasn’t pretty. Poor Em was shaken an embraced that we had to experience the whole deal, however, I’m glad I did. It was a sobering reminder of the challenges that she faces on a daily bases just to live here. The very people she has a heart to help are trying to degrade and wrong her. It would so easy to develop a hatred towards such people, Em prays for them.

December 23, 2005
7:30PM --- Flying Jamaican Style

Well, the last 5 hours have almost spawned a Christmas special (I’ll make it home for Christmas. It all started when I checked our fight 4 hours before it was scheduled to leave.

“Flight not found” replied the website.

Hmmm. Lets try that again.

That is funny the only flight leaving with US Airways is leaving in 20 mins. There must be a mistake… And just guess where that mistake was, our itinerary. Starting with a small panic a few calls it quickly grew into a mad dash to the Mo-Bay Airport at 2:20PM to catch a flight to Charlotte NC the last US Airways fight out today. Arriving at 2:45PM they refused to hold the plane for Nat, myself and two other travelers. The plane left at 3:20PM. The next hour was spent trying to contact a our travel agent (who conveniently closes at 3:30PM) we also discovered that toll free numbers don’t work in airports. All the numbers we had where toll free.

While I was looking at every possible flight to the states .Nat was amazing and somehow remember her CIBC work number in Vancouver and got on the phone to some one who could ‘help’.

“Get yourself home honey”

Air Jamaica was the choice: $550US each for a one way to Philly @ 6PM (same cost as our entire trip. The plan is to catch our next flight with US Airways out of Philly. So, that leaves us here in the airport waiting for the pilots to get flown in from Kingston. The board has it slated to leave close to 8:45PM now.

December 24, 2005
1:06AM -- Back at the Marriott

Flight from MO-Bay was nice and empty; two meals, a row of seats all to me, and a live safety presentation.

Figure I should catch up on the last week of adventure.

Tuesday we squished on a bus to Negril via Whithorn. My first winding mountain road experience was mild in comparison to ones to come, however, concerns of safety always take a back seat to the simple pleasure of riding with the locals. Squeezing thought narrow passes, climbing over meadows of sugar cane and crossing rocky streams of white Toyota van was determined to overcome the thrill and beauty of a Disneyland Ride.

At Negril we stopped at Rick Café. A tourist trap built around a picturesque ocean coastline with a lighthouse and cliffs to jump off of. The big one for the locals was a 37ft platform. The lifeguard/drive team however would climb another 30-40ft to a plank sitting in the trees overhanging the cove. Depending on the tip they would do handstands and pull-ups in the branches before gracefully dropping to the waters below.

The water was clear and inviting on such a warm day. With each jump the mind and body would fly deeper into the arms of the blue. Before we knew it we were calling a cab to take the coastline 130Km/h taxi drive to Lucea where we caught a bus to Reading for some delicious home made pizza.

The plan for the next day was to head towards Blue Mountain. The Island’s highest peak 7402 ft above the ocean.

This trip for me was the highlight of the trip. No doubt the most uncomfortable and scariest traveling I have experienced and I don’t get spooked very easily. Blind downhill corners with cliffs on either side got the adrenaline going enough to forget I had a 35 pound pack on my lap. After a mild city bus ride to Picatine then squished into a hot mountain going van heading for Mavis bank. At this stage we almost lost Nat, she was really close to having a nervous breakdown. I was far behind until we started over into the blue mountain range.

The beauty and wonder of the valley surpassed the pain of my legs contorted legs and soft head hitting the ceiling. 30 mins later we were told to get to out at the police station to meet Gerome from Montreal who quickly became a traveling partner.

T.B.C. need to sleep.

December 24, 2005
9:55AM EST Somewhere over the Midwest – More Blue Mountain

We decided to hire a 4x4 to carry us to Whitfield leaving us with a shorter hike. After a couple hours of waiting a Toyota pickup shows up along with Andy the Rasta and Nicolas the European tourist whose mind had turned to glue. The Rastas were staying the night in Whitfield so we pressed on to the Ranger station. The hike was scenic with views of the surrounding peaks and vistas into the lightly populated valleys below.

We were greeted at the ranger station by 6 local teenagers wielding big knives and machetes. Unsure what to make of our situation, we thankfully discovered they were boy (and one girl) scoots. I played card games with them and later we tried to build a fire with the moist wood we could find as it was quite cold this high in the mountains.

We left camp at 2AM after an hour or so of actual sleep. The goal was to watch the sunrise from the summit. Hiking by headlamp we arrived at the summit and huddled awaiting the sun’s arrival. It was a little cloudy and so we were unable to see Cuba however the view was incredible.

At 7AM we packed up and headed home, all the way. We manage to run into the ranger who called for another ride. Then we hitch a ride in the back of a pickup said our goodbyes to Gerome (a real treat to have along) then jumped on a city to catch a overcrowded Juta bus back to Mo-Bay. We were spent.

The next day we decided to take it easy and got a ride from Dave and Debbie to Ocho Rios to be tourists for a day which included dinner at a nice restaurant a despite the rain it was a real nice way to cap off the trip. On drive back we reminisced about adventures of the past and talk with Em about things at the base.

All-in-all the trip was an amazing experience and a real blessing for the three of us. Not restful physically but maybe more so spiritually. Right now both Nat and I are exhausted (as you can most likely tell from my unexciting writing) sleep has been illusive. But I’m going to start trying for some so I can drive home safely for Christmas. :o)

Post note:

Nat and I blew a tire on our way home. Big thanks to Wallmart for being open Christmas eve and selling tires.

Pics -> http://www.flickr.com/photos/20559662@N00/79451041/in/photostream/

December...what the?!?

2005-12-10T00:15:00.000-08:00

After leaving work tonight at 9:30PM I came home to Christmas lights, dirty dishes and my lunch which I had forgotten to put in my bag. Part-A! Maybe I missed an invite... checked for messages. Not quite willing to believe no one called, I checked the call display. Hmm.

I had just solved the mystery of the light valve driver testing jig. This was by no means the glorious homecoming I deserved. My mind was mush and I wanted people to know why.

Young and restless like an anxious puppy I raked my mind scratching the doors wanting so badly to relieve the pressure. Deciding to take advantage of the mall's insomniac Christmas' hours reasoned, "I need pants, yes, I nice new pants now". Gliding up the magnetic superstore ramp my eyes slowly became flush to the world of closed store fronts. Tuesday was fine for late night complusive shoe purchases; apparently Friday or pants was an exception to the sacreligious holiday store hours.

One fine parallel parking job later I returned to the high pitch sound of our hydro meter sucking power to supply our bushes with light. "I wonder if it helps them grow... not a lot but maybe just enough to notice." It is amazing the thoughts you have when you did too much thinking at work.
Not sure what to do at 10:23PM on a Friday night I concluded would be an ideal time to start that recording project... you know the one I was going to finish before September (05').

But alsas, the fallen time through my hands as decomposed through my veins leaving little more than acidic fertilizer. I'm hoping a week in Jamaica will help restore the fields preparing me for a more fruitful spring. Speaking of which I better go digging for my passport. I only got 5 days to find it it has got to be somewhere in this pile of processed trees.

A Dungeon for Dragon Slayers

2005-11-12T11:46:00.000-08:00

Distorted symphonies usher about the hero of another night,
Dragons to slay dues to be paid yet petty tasks are of no concern,
Mountains are stairways and alligator filled moats are gold fish puddles.

Unsightly growth of a third eye tags along as an unwanted spy or paparazzi
An awkward protégé of the evening exposing the flaws of flesh and skin
Unquestionably dripping tasty tittle-tattle for the pleasure of the townsfolk

Shaken but not perturbed all heroes are only results of their overcoming,
Perhaps a witty remark, a say of hand could give illusion to a perfect knight,
For one cannot withdraw the processional, the lots had fallen; the princess awaited.

The final thud of the drawbridge jumps the mind to the cold insecurity beyond the castle walls,
No bridge to be burnt for such actions hamper the return journey,
Each beast to be waltzed and spun in a delicate dance to court an approval for passage

The table set wine poured but the eyes could not be delivered from the boiling pot of oil,
Stabbing prawns the cackle of the throng delivers their tactful blows and strike,
Weather, fortune or skill know no trick could wound, for a unwavering soul is the strongest of armors.

A proud moment a legend in the making yet tonight there was no victory,
The battle in vain these pages will forever lack luster in the book of tales,
Thought the hero fought valiantly he rides home distraught; the prize he decidedly left unclaimed.

Celebrating 1 year of biting thoughts!!!

2005-10-17T23:35:00.000-07:00

I just noticed a week or so ago that my first post was exactly one year ago from today. A big thank you to the faithfuls who drop by share their thoughts or just silently laugh at me in their heads. To help celebrate I'm inviting all readers to share their favorite badger lounge moment. (post/quote/spelling mistake). If you are really into it you can ask me questions or make suggestions that I may blog responses to.

Peace.

Aphabetical Jukebox

2005-10-13T00:06:00.000-07:00

My recording project has the momentum of a spongeball. According to my initial plan I was finished a month ago. With 10% of one song "completed" I have finished approximatly 1% of my intended goal.

Since I cannot present to you a CD I release "Mike's Alphabetical influential Jukebox" 26 discs you should treat your ears too if you haven't already. If you try one out each week it aught to give me 26 weeks to finish.

A - "August and Everything After" (by Counting Crows) - Arguably my favority album all time. The marraige between the music and lyrics is epic. No cheese, nothing there that shouldn't be.

B- Barenaked Ladies, "Gordan" -- I have been into this CD since Grade 7. Call it joke rock if you must but few things encourage me to sing in the car more than this album.

C- “Coil” from Toad the Wet Sprocket – Solid from front to back. Never really made it as big as “Delucinea” (also great) because the band retired to spend more time with their families.

D - Damien Rice's "O" -- Saw him on David Letterman. Acoustic guitar, Cello and beautiful female vocal(i)s(t) make this a classic songwriter’s album. **Warning so good it is depressing**

E- “Essentials of Aretha Franklin” Some one said I had a the musical palette of a washed up 50 year-old record jockey for buying this album but, man this lady has pipes and soul.

F- Fredrick Handles’ “Water Music” My dad would play it every summer when we were vacationing at Shushwap lake. It is sheer nostalgia when I put this on.

G – Greig “Op7, Op36 w/ intermezzo” My mom gave me this CD when I asked for a sampling of good piano stuff. It is presently my favorite classical album. Piano and a Piano/Cello concerto brilliantly played.

H- “Heavier things” by John Mayer, Many didn’t like John’s second release and the radio only helped ruin the popular “Daughter’s” single. However, despite all this bad press I believe it is the better of his two releases. Guitar lines are careful crafted amidst his contemplative vocals.

I - “If I left the Zoo” by Jars of Clay. A lot of people tend to sluff this album off. However, the depth and connection of these lyrics make it another all time favorite. The instrumentation is unique giving it a distinctive flavor not unlike a modern St. Pepper.

J- “Joyfull Rebellion” K-os’– Catchy, Catchy, Canadian, Hip hop. Refreshing from your traditional hip-hop/rap album

K- K, Relient “MMHMM” amazing catchy pop punk with some lyrical depth (but not too much).

L- Lauryn Hill’s “Miseducation of Lauryn Hill” This album won a Grammy for good reason. There is a lot to be enjoyed if you can get past the constant Yeh… uh-huh…yeh, yeh. Ex-factor, Zion and Doo Wop get solid votes

M - Matthew Good “Avalanche” – Tracks “7-13” I would pay full price for just these tracks.

N - "Nest" by the Odds -- best pop rock album, witty lyrics, catchy hooks, priceless BGVs, great arrangements and a dualling guitar solo on track three that I can never get enough of.

O – Our Lady Peace “Naveed” Aggressive driving Rock before Nickelback and Raine before he started that woohoo vocal effect. Brilliant.

P - Peterson, Oscar "Night trian" Swing and Simplicity. Three legendary Jazz musician's on the same CD (Ray brown- Bass, Ed Thigpen - drums) Notable favorite tracks Hymn to Freedom and Volare.

R - Ryan Adam's "Gold" - Note this is not under the "Bryan Adams” Big difference. Another songwriter’s special but with more of a southern rock feel. Album is emotionally addictive may take few listens before it grows.

S- Satellite “POD” being this album went double platinum it is not really a rarity however most people don’t get much past “Boom” the hit single. There is far greater depth to be found. It is no surprise I average an extra 10km an hour when driving with this stuff on.

T- Tourist “St Germain” Granted not everyone likes Jazz trance but this is the best I’ve found. Great for background, driving or general grooving.

U – Trying not to go with U2 (athough their stuff it solid) I picked Dave Matthew’s Under the Table and Dreaming. I can remember the first time I heard the band on an American radio station 92.9 Independent Rock. I sat in the car for 15 mins after I arrived at my destination to hear who the band was. Ants Marching…one of my favorite tunes.

V – Van Morrison’s Back on Top – He wrote more than Brown Eyed girl ad this is a good modern album of such stuff. His best of album also gets a solid endorsement as it introduced me to ‘Jackie Wilson’, killar track.

W – White Ladder also not the rarest of albums’ but I couldn’t help putting it on as there are people who still haven’t heard this album. Lazy Sunday music at its best.

X – “X&Y” was the only album I have. In my humble opinion this is a weak effort from the band depending heavily on over production and Chris Martin’s falsetto. That said I do pop it in every once in a while. My real vote is for Parachutes.

Y – “You were here” was my introduction to Sarah Harmer I heard is in the background at a friend’s place. Went out and bought it the next day. Refreshing arrangements, lyrics and vocals.

Z – Zoo Station is the only thing it my library which starts with ‘Z’ making “Achtung Baby” my final section. A fine album if you have for some reason never given it a listen. But if you have I’ll use a wildcard and throw out Ben Folds’ Five’s “Whatever and Ever Amen” this piano driven album is crud at times but unlike anything else I’ve ever found.

Enjoy. Let me know what you thing if you try something new. I’m interest to hear what you think.

Sadurday

2005-09-25T00:42:00.000-07:00

I have never really blogged about an average day much like the others in the blogging community do. Thought I might giv’er a whirl.

I woke up around 9am to my alarm and then again at 10:30AM to the sounds of Decker shewing out an orange tabby cat who had wondered in our open front door. Apparently the taunts of my local tribal community had convinced my sub conscious of my need for some new apparel and a mop cut. I thought today would be ideal to stroll-on up to join the worshipers at the heathen temple of material lusting and see what I could do.

Poking my shaggy head into the first couple stores I had to double-check the signs. I wasn't quite sure what to think, did I walk into the Salvation Army Thrift Store? Off the Wall? Perhaps it was a new store Bootbegger -- it appeared the clothes all boasted torn crotch holes and 50+ cycles of washtime. These were the ones I was trying to replace. Glancing at the prices inspired a scheme of openning up a high fashion retail outlet with the pile of unwashed grubs in my basement. Buy a few manikins for the front window, I had a tackle box I could use for a til...

Awoken from my daze by the commission sales staff I politely acknowledged with my standard smile-n-nod. "Just looking for some clothes that weren't hemmed with a meat grinder!". The scenario repeated itself over a couple of hours with the notable exception of Sears and the Bay where the selection included Arnold Palmer's personal line of geriatric wear, Tommy Hilfiger Sandwich boards and World Poker Championship T's. Through all this, I managed satisfy my style ego with a shirt, pants and a pre-worn hoodie, leaving me to attend to my hair which had received its fair share of awkward glances over the day.

Many out there may know that I have not been to a hair dresser in over two years, others now understand. Feeling the need for some professional help,I lurched pass a number of hair salons lined with rows of space-aged pillow chairs and ladies sporting the latest in tin foil technology. Then I walked by again, hummed-hawed, again, finally on the fourth pass I had the knads to ventured inside. After discussing with the booking agent Marque (figured it must have been spelt with a q) I decided that any place with a dedicated appointment maker would cost even more than that 3-pack of pre-worn tighty whities I'd passed earlier. Fortunatly for me, the next consultation slot was over an hour away so, me, my wallet and hair managed to escape inviolated.

A few more half-baked attempts yielded similar results then a sign for the Eastern-Latvian School of Hair Growth Management came into view.... $6 how could go I wrong? They have instructors and should be used to dealing with lots of hair, right?!? Before I could pronounce my hairdresser's name I was seated, choked and sprayed. Carefully articulating my desires to further pursue my bum stylin' but with less transient and more of an established urban slum feel, my hair and dreams began sliding down the smock to the floor. Two pounds of hair later, it was hard to scale the damage; something was wrong, I couldn't quite place it.

Two pounds of gel passed, I counted my losses, paid my fee and came home for a closer survey of the ol'mop. Half way between a mullet and a bowl cut, I sighed, yanked out my Fiskers and went to work.

Good thing I know how to cut hair.

Just call me Gramps

2005-08-30T01:33:00.000-07:00

You've reached the next level of "old" when you start perpetually worrying about the state of the future youth catching yourself thinking "When I was young we...". Short of the long: I've been riding the bus becoming to the new old school. With the frequency of these occurrences, I can only conclude this bus is traveling far faster than I originally anticipated.

It was little more than a week ago, playing on my old school play ground (how is that for a blogging paradox), that I become appalled to find the ditches of my youth had been culvert. Emotions surged through my veins unsure of which it was I began a logical analysis as to what was going on.

Here is how it broke down on the spectro-emotio-scanner.

Shock: How could they?
Fear: What is this world coming to? I hope I don't cry in front of these people.
Lost: Where did my childhood go?
Concern: Won't somebody please think of the children!
Love: I loved those ditches they will always have a place in my heart. (may also have been a heart attack cause by initial shock)
Action: Grab a shovel, we are digging our water way to freedom.

*aside* Many of you reading at home may be confused or more likely ready to take me straight to a nursing home. After all, I'm spilling the beans over a hundred odd feet of aluminum pipe, this stuff hapends everyday. Well, go start your cars because I'm just getting warmed up.

You see, when I was young those ditches were my classroom. As the relentless Vancouver rain dropped down buckets of liquid sunshine Cameron, Derek, Graham L and Graham M and I were engineering the finest of dams for our cheese spreadstick regattas. We quickly discover the importance of pre loading, using sustainable materials and precession digging to achieve the optimum blockage. After a lunch hour of diligent labour we lined-up our plastic red-stick boats and awaited the stomp of a yellow gumboot to kick off the race. "Gusherrrrrrrr!!!!" opening the flood gates, we smurfs followed the water streaming down the hill to the finishing stick in hopes of wining the bragging rights for today's lunch and thus a peace of fruit rollup from your friends next recess.

Perhaps, the teachers got tired of dealing with muddy boots, wet hair and soggy underwear or maybe the school board thought someone might drown in one of our damned lakes. Regardless, the poor children of today are undoubtedly unable to cheer their cheese sticks down the mighty ditches of school district 43. That isn't acceptable in our modern civilized world of regulation.

Instead, they sit eyes glazed over a computer monitor in attempts to feed a bunny by solving the single digit math equations which appear of the sides of the organically grown carrots like a corporate add campaign for seasame street. All because that is safe, low maintenance and non-threatenning.

Goodness knows they have probably barred Oregon Trail from the school as well. You never know Kids might start bringing hunting rifles to school to shoot buffalo. How will anyone learn about typhoid fever or bartering with the Indians? How will they survive in the wild?

You see the problem with the kids these days is like Jello pudding. Essentially, we so effectively removed the adventure and Hazard from their lives and replaced it with a simulated form of adrenaline and experience through a 17" screen. This grows kids with the physical stamia, social skills and orevall imagination of a Jello pudding cup.

ya, I'm getting old.

The ol' Cottonball express

2005-07-28T00:23:00.000-07:00

Started Jul 28th, 2005

I’m not sure who I'll be writing to but my hope is in a few faithfuls who still believe in my blogging life.

The lack of blogging is by no means of lack of desire or ideas. However, more due to my lapse about the North American machine. Gallivanting amidst the British Columbia’s southern lands in attempts to reconnect with lost social hours along with some new ambitious goals have left few moments for writing. Goals, eh?

No -- this has nothing to do with puppy dogs and pick-up trucks. But alas, I have started work on a new musical album. I have two and a half years of music to peel off my fingers and project out of my mouth. I'm attempting to capture it and craft it into something palatable for the human ear. A daunting task to say the least.

Well, I suppose I should go back and change goals to goal. But…meh, I’ll just come up with another…

When we shift our lives outside of our normal, a new normal is formed and if you step far enough away you realized just how un-normal normal can be. Basically, warning: venturing too far outside of your traditional bounds will mess up life as you knew it.

Gambia, for the record, has mess me up. Thought I have returned to the same house, same job and same friends, (all of which I am absolutely grateful for) nothing is perfectly familiar, it is seen from a new vantage all now emit different impression. There are new rocks in my minds many of which grind up against the old bearings of the ol’ Cottonball Express (the Canadian Model). The friction brings about wear on the system and eventually you’ll need some maintenance.

Popping off the cover you check out the damage. Some is obvious the extra friction wore out the timing belt that will need replacing. Many of the weaker stones have broken down into sand and are too small to throw around anymore. Although difficult to fully remove, these will cause only minor problems down the road and if my mind is like an oyster I might pop out a pearl in a year or two.

Others, more stubborn ones, have inhabited the gearbox and drive train explaining the sloppy shifting and why I periodically can’t get out of first in the mornings. Overall it has weakened the strength of the system and its physical wear takes a toll on the rest of the unit’s performance ambitions. Dehabitualising these obvious rocks is relatively easy, however, restoring the gears to their former glory is a formidable task. The simple reality is that the current physical system does the job so its rehab program remains low of the priority list.

A quick glance at the tire reveals the cause of the bumpy ride over the last couple of months. Thousands of foreign objects from the adventure have been picked up and hide the character of the tire from its interaction with the road. In a few grooves a piece of glass juts out to slice at the world posing a greater threat to the tire itself. Other harmless pebbles make for periodic awkward moments of miss connection reminding you aren’t quite as smooth as you recalled. Not all is a negative. It appears some tiny diamonds have melted into the studs adding grip, resistance and a brilliant shine the tires that others have taken note of.

Closing the hood I could help but acknowledge the dints in the outside appearance. Not really looking like the pride of the town. Is there a point in fixing the old machine back to North American standards if you will be heading down the road again sometime soon? How long would it take? Will the old form and shine ever really return? Or maybe I just think too much and it is time to grow a new brain.

To think I just saw William Shatner on a box of all bran.

Finished Aug 24th, 2005

The Gambia Goat Postal

2005-04-14T02:00:00.000-07:00

Hello Badger Lounge faithfulls.

I have started a second blog for my adventures in Gambia, check it out.

mikeingambia.blogspot.com

Badger Lounge Posts will resumesoon after I return in mid June.

Peace.

Mike

Sometimes Spelling Matters

2005-04-13T05:34:00.000-07:00

To those who love the contemplate,
Too much lies awake for I anticipate,
Two few hours may count my rest tonight.
There are times we compromise,
They're producing a calloused mind,
Their legends can scar or toughen,
Lessen the impact or,
Lesson begin.
Four hours past my goal
For what reason I will not
Know why I ask
No, I am not sure

Sometimes spelling matters to bee wrong can sting. So,

I am awake to know why?
Eye restless for things done and seen?
I cannot wait for tomorrow?
Here eyes lie.
Hear songs outside.
Daze I'll be tomorrow,
Days must begin
Wear a cap
Where will the last, end.

Punction matters too

The Fysics of World Jump Day

2005-03-10T22:42:00.000-08:00

Wow! Mark you calendar. July 20th, 2006 is world Jump Day. Better than Jello or solving world hunger, or solving world hunger with Jello because World Jump day solves everything: Global warming, the heath care crisis and the need to fully understand Newtonian physics. It is on the net and they used flash animation, it must be true. They even got real scientists and a bunch of other reliable Internet sources.

Check it out then come back for some post game analysis...

http://www.worldjumpday.org/

Many of you might have been disappointed that is wasn't the start of some massive Van Halen or Criss-Cross global tour and some of you might have failed out of high school physics have already set an alarm, bought a T-shirt and signed up to jump. I'm sure the fear mongering block watch vigilante type who stumble across this site will undoubtedly tell people to stop jumping as to avoid the hazard of jumping at the wrong time to push us into the sun.

To fully appreciate what is going on I turned to dust off my old friends Fishbane, Gariorowicz and Thornton and their knowledge that they so tightly packed into the extended edition of Physics for Scientists and Engineers (2nd edition).

The simple argument of using a force to shift the orbit of earth is quite legitimate, however, the scale and source of the force which our astrophysicists have conjured-up eclipse the dim glow of this idea. Lets analyze this together... Assuming the average weighs 50kg and they are able to jump 0.5 m. Each person could create ~250 Newton-Meters of force (E=mgh assume g~10m/s^2). With 600 million people that is 150million KJ of energy. We all know the Earth weights approximately 5.976 e 24 Kg and the sun in turn weights 1.989 e 30 Kg and is a mean distance of 1.496 e 11 m (to be generous we will add an extra 1% to this distance as the earth is not always a constant distance from the sun). Plugging this puppy into Newton's Law of universal gravitation we get the centripetal force which holds the earth, ~3.33 e 22 Newtons.

Pouring all of our jumping energy into counter-acting this force (W=F*d) gives us a total displacement of 0.0000000000000045 meters. That ought to help curve our global warming trend. Granted I did a lot of rounding and made a few major assumptions along the way but I fail to see how tighter number crunching will dramatically improve the result.

So you ask, what if we jumped a lot, trained elephants to jump or have serious doubts about my math skills? Let me assure you that such optimism is in vain thanks to the reality of Newton's third law. "When a force acts upon an object the object exerts an equal and opposite force in return."

You see this whole operation Jump Day ignores where the force is coming from. When you jump pushing the earth away from you and out of is current orbit, the earth's and your gravitational field (yes, you have a gravitational field) interact and pull the earth back to your feet. This essentially brings you and the earth back to their original positions. In other words if 600 million people jump on the 20th of July we won't even get our negligible 4.5 e -15 meter increase in orbital radius. Kind of puts a damper on the day doesn't it.

In order for orbital change to occur, the source of the force cannot be generated by the earth's gravitational field. I started thinking and decided that our only hope for a quick fix to global warming was to lasso passing comets and hitch a ride. I'll save the physics of that one for another blog but rest assured it would work if we could find a way to do it. Until such technology exists we will have to stick with public transit, leaving your fridge door open and other more traditional means of slowing global warming.

Photo Evidence

2005-02-17T01:59:00.000-08:00

Now remember this was a dirty junk filled unfinished basement... and it is still missing its floor moldings and chair-rail.

Studio Left http://photos3.flickr.com/4833906_befcdc8a17_m.jpg
Studio Right http://photos4.flickr.com/4833903_8075742b8c_m.jpg

and just for kicks... here is that Creo 'Christmas' Greeting that I said I'd post.

www.creo.com/greetingsfromcreo

Insomnia

2005-02-12T03:49:00.000-08:00

Well, it is 3:49 AM you can guess where this one is going...

I don't know how many of my faithful readers have ever experienced the joys of insomnia. Maybe you are reading this and find yourself admist a similar lot and are reading my posts as a form of tranquilizer. For those who haven't extended late night pivilages thru no desire of your own, don't lose any sleep over it you aren't missing much.

A few musical artist have written songs about the matter, Green Day might be to first to come to mind. However my favorite is an excellent song off the Barenaked Ladies' Stunt album. It really captures the essence of yet another sleepless night in a 3min 44sec pop tune. In fact, I am listening to it right now. I'll type along...

Now I lay me down not to sleep
I just get tangled in the sheets
I swim in sweat three inches deep
I just lay back and claim defeat

Chapter read and lesson learned
I turned the lights off while she burned
So while she's three hundred degrees
I throw the sheets off and I freeze

Lids down, I count sheep
I count heartbeats
The only thing that counts is that
I won't sleep I countdown, I look around

Who needs sleep?
well you're never gonna get itWho needs sleep?
tell me what's that for
Who needs sleep?
be happy with what you're getting
There's a guy who's been awake since the Second World War

My hands are locked up tight in fists
My mind is racing, filled with lists
Of things to do and things I've done
Another sleepless night's begun

There's so much joy in life,
So many pleasures all around
But the pleasure of insomniais one
I've never found
With all life has to offer,
There's so much to be enjoyed
But the pleasures of insomnia are ones I can't avoid

Copyright 1997 Ed Robertson and Steven Page

Well that killed off another 4 minutes...

Obviously the frustrating part is I want to sleep. I've got an 8:30am class tomorrow. I know I need the sleep, I've noticed the dark patches under my eyes from a week of difficult sleep. I am far too amazed at the ability of people to fall alseep on a moments notice. If you are one of these people please tell me your secrets!

So the question arises, what has blessed me with opportunity to relish these quiet hours in which most of the time zone spend unconscious? To be honest I don't know. Could it be my body is making up with last night's good sleep? I doubt it. I have made some major purchases and decisions in the past week, perhaps that is the cause. But there is nothing I can do about that. I'd be worse off trying to ignore these issues. I'd like to blame it on the evil powers of Valentines day or even better the fallout of geomagnetic storms caused by gaseous solar flares but these trends are inconsistent with my actual sleeplessness patterns. Thoughts?!?

Perhaps if I stop having to think about the cause I could just fade away into the absence of time between now and my alarm clocks' rude awakening. The ironic thing about this mess is that I'll wake-up and spend the next four hours trying to stay awake in my lecture.

If only I could get that class on tape...

Trading Basements

2005-01-30T15:26:00.000-08:00

"After all is said and done there is a whole lot more said than done," states my computer desktop as a constant reminder of the many abandoned projects which lay lurching in the wake of my existence. However, this was not to be one of those projects...

Now $600 after my last post, I enter the final stage of my personal dramatic manly custom chop-shop soap opera known as trading basements. Taking the over-creative budget rennos of all those home network shows, added with the disfunctional work force of American chopper and the hair of that apprentice guy and you get a solid picture what I've been up to.

The epic transformation of my souless rental basement began when I moved in to the testosterhome last September. Before Saturdays with cream corn, becoming a wanna-be track star and posting my every thought on a global digital billboard, I had a dream of building a sound proof room in the basement.

Ignorant, full of motivation and energy I devoted my life to this task. For weeks, post-work relaxation comprised of removing and sorting scrap wood and plumbing parts which littered the unfinished basement. When I wasn't proving my manhood, I was gathering cheap building supplies like an anxious squirrel preparing for another long winter. My parents and friends thought I was nuts. They are right but, I feel a certain joy knowing I insulated 500sqft of basement walls and ceilings with free packing foam from work.

So why all this work? One must only glimpse into my bedroom to appreciate my desire for a place to set up my studio. On a good night I will share my bed with some speakers, a preamp, my computer keyboard and some random cables. There was however a short period where I was sleeping with a 88-key synth and a guitar. It is hard to keep a good rep with rumours of stuff like that going around.

So given a week or two away from 'normal' school, I signed up at the school of hardknocks for gifted stubborn males. Over the past month, I have completed courses including framing slanted wall on slanted floors, drywalling with dummies, the 1-2-3's of how not spakle, half-can painting and custom stained T-bar ceiling installation. As time bore on expectations where lowered and resounding truths of 'tight budget' and 'learning experience' echoed in the walls. However, as I sat in the nearly completed room to write a song this week I came to a simple realization.

It is perfect.

Now that the dust has settled on my camping gear, I face a small hollow character room and the haunting image of my 8'x 2'6" mixing desk that is a 1/2" too wide to fit through to opening of my $20 solid core door.* My dad, who delivered my desk, just smiled.

He knew it is nothing a strong willed male with a skill saw can't fix.

*yes, that is with the door removed and the moldings taken off.

Making Sense of Christmas

2004-12-24T01:36:00.000-08:00

Bundled-up with ripped pyjamas to battle another long winter’s night under my summer bed spread, I began to collect the thoughts which littered the past 25 odd days. From my last feeble props you may have gathered that December stormed through like an unyielding mob of anxious Christmas shoppers determined to leave nothing good to the Boxing Day crowd.

Unfortunately, great blog entries were trampled by the holiday rush before they could check out of my brain. “Operation Christmas Flop?!?” was a 3 hour discussion over Pilsberry’s disappointing yet adequate cinnamon rolls with Bin Laden’s long lost cousin -- ‘berto.ca’, a human geographer, Kevin Bacon and myself about the value of Christmas Shoe Boxes. Surely it had the makings of a stellar posting. Alas, the train of thought was derailed as a hurried shopper had just purchased the tracks to the model railway on display.

“How to Become a High School Rock Star Wannabe When You are 23” and “Who Invited Mr. Wong?” might appear on the shelves later this spring. However, tonight’s topic for discussion is Christmas.

I can remember as a child dreading Christmas day because after it had come and gone I would have to wait another year until it was Christmas again – I was a bright one.

Each Christmas (including last year) Rachelle, Jordan and I were planted on the top of the stairs endlessly waiting for Dad’s taped inquisition where he would drop the loaded question. *

“What day is it today children?”

“Christmas!” we’d chorus with slightly less enthusiasm each year.

“Well, let us see if Santa has come by…oh, it looks like he brought a few things” my Dad would muse, triggering the charge to the stockings**. The next two hours were spent exchanging gifts and eating our Christmas breakfast to the tune of Handel’s ‘Messiah’.

As I am writing, I realise how much my family held to our traditions. I can recite the traditional Christmas schedule and meals from the night of the 23^rd to the morning of the 27^thwhich we kept so diligently each year. Tradition is no doubt a large part of ‘my Christmas’ and as life begins to pull away from these traditions I have spent much of the month observing how others respond to this unusual festivity.

The remnants of chemistry class must still dance in my head as I attempted to reduce this jolly holiday to its interplay with the living molecular wonders it encounters. After all, you can learn a lot about a substance by the reaction it brings.

Starting at home, I watched over the course of the month as Christmas’s Head of Promotions and the Grinch*** exposed their Christmas attitudes in the Testoster-home.

Who can blame them? The student Grinch works in retail. For him Christmas equates to a relentless string of final exams and long gruelling shifts at work. This Christmas is a far cry from the ‘I am in love’, ‘been on the Christmas train twice’ and ‘I love Christmas music’ President’s Christmas. Time off work to visit family and hosting parties where people bring baked goods that complement his holiday Coke are the fruits of his Christmas season. In the micro cell of my house, it quickly becomes evident that the traditions of the ‘modern Christmas’ are not universal benefits.

Meanwhile, my work has taken the head in the sand approach to Christmas. Check out our virtual Ch**stm*s greeting card. (link coming soon) . In order not to offend our costumers who live in other countries, we have decided to refer to Canada Day as ‘Happy Summer Country Time’ and will replace our national anthem with John Lennon’s ‘Imagine’.

The makers of Radio and TV ads may be the largest cultural benefactors to the holiday season. They litter the frequencies of the sound and light spectra with a landfill of propaganda, ensuring you know about your obligation to buy people stuff they want. How will this generation raised on the bosoms of modern media explain to their kids why we buy presents for the holiday formally known as ‘Christmas’ which comes before ‘buy what you really wanted day/week’?

In hindsight, if the Grinch wanted to destroy Christmas he should have just saturated it with higher expectations, better toys and more cheesy slogans. If St Nicolas was around he could have easily reclaimed his gift expenditures through his store endorsements contracts. I wonder how much Sears shelled out to become the Official store of Christmas?

Christmas is one messed up holiday! No doubt, there are many amazing Christmas miracles of joy and peace as people reach out to find the ambiguous ‘true meaning of Christmas’. That universal spirit of Xmas which hovers about the season is really quite elusive. By removing Christ from the spotlight of Christmas, we are left aimlessly meandering through the holidays in the search of ‘the best Christmas ever’.

Perhaps it is okay for people to believe that the hollowed out shell of Christmas will hold its value in the fairytalesque xmas-scapes of artificial snow and good will in attempts to amend for the self-absorbed ideals we seem to aspire after the rest of the year. Fear not! When global warming melts all the snow, a genetically modified holiday will evolve and adapt as society so demands. I often wonder what Christmas will look like 100 years from now?

So, where does this leave us? How do you handle a holiday on the verge of an identity crisis?

From its inception Christmas has been in competition with its surrounding secular holidays. In fact, Christians pirated a variety of pagan holidays eventually laying claim to the holiday season; ever wonder where the Christmas tree comes from?!? To make a long story short a Roman Cesar eventually proclaimed the celebration of the birth of Christ to be the 25th of December^* smack in the middle of massive pagan festivities.

Should we be surprised to see the mass populous rebel to create their own holiday? In a sense it has already begun. Each year I encounter more people miffed at the shallow new holiday creation, I usually agree with them.

I love the holiday season the time with family, the peace of the quiet reflection and the light of Joy in people’s eyes that brightens up the darkest days of the year (at least for the Northern hemisphere). Although I may struggle with the many misconceptions and the shallow resolve of ‘peace on earth’ and ‘seasons greetings’, as I read the accounts of Jesus’ birth everything falls into place.

Some how amidst the ludicrous plot of shepherds, a virgin mother, a faithful fiancée and foreign guest comes hope for all and I mean everyone. When I celebrate and consider Emmanuel, God comedown, Christmas once again makes sense.

Merry Christmas,

Michael

* In more recent years my parents where the ones waiting for us to emerge from our beds
**Stockings were always opened first no matter how obvious the shape of the ‘feature’ gifts.
*** The Grinch was recently spotted joyfully wrapping gifts in preparation for his family shindig. Rumour has it his heart grew a few sizes after he finished his last shift.
^*Now most scholarly people believe Jesus born around October.

A thoughtful list

2004-12-03T19:01:00.000-08:00

A list of nothing in particular for no particular reason but, consider the following.

Nothing makes a good sandwich like a crunchy pickle and Ben Harper.
The tree is cool but the pink ice skate might misteriously be moved to the back.
Taking proper precautions can protect you from life.
Maybe this is the worst idea for a post. Ever.

// Please post your answer in the comment section the winner gets a prizzle.

Things Worth Remembering

2004-11-13T11:15:00.000-08:00

At the tender age of 23 the concept of retirement has yet to develop as a sensible goal. However, when all Creoites were solicited to pick up a brochure regarding changes to our RRSP policy I wanted to know what they were doing with my canned prune fund.

I arrived at reception expecting little more than a three fold pamphlet that would uncomfortably stuff in my pant pocket. I was greeted by a glossy inch thick folder exploding with 5 odd pamphlets, a poster, a CD Rom, and a tree’s worth of financial analysis reports.

“Envision Your Retirement” captions a picture of a happy couple far to young to be retired holding hands as they stroll along the shore. In the foreground of the image sits a majestic sand castle glowing with the final rays of the setting sun. Now as I recall, the Bible offers wisdom about building things on sand (Mat 7:26-27). Perhaps they had never read it, maybe they thought nothing of the advice, or possibly they were asleep during that part of the sermon. Regardless, this poor couple had little more than an hour before the sun sets and the tide comes in, leaving them in the dark and homeless for the next 35 years of their lives.

Later that evening, I decided to pop open the fancy Velcro folder and see what my future had in store. Flipping through the pages I found little informative information. The reports were lofty and vague all projecting long term growth -- like anyone would invest in the fund that projected heavy losses. The CD-Rom asked me 4 questions before spitting out fictitious numbers predicting my future wealth of poverty. The only thing of use is the poster which will mysteriously appear in Giesbrecht’s room or in Decker’s kitchen cupboard.

The collection was undoubtedly the pride of the marketing department. They believed whole heartedly in ‘a picture is worth a thousand words’. All the classics were there: smiling couples in Europe with dentures whitened by the transfiguration, the old man lecturing his grandson on how to catch a fish, the grandma reading with the grand-daughter about her recent facelift procedure and the young coffee drinking couple excited about making financial decisions with their golden retriever. Hey, that is all the info I need to pick the right RRSP.

Investing is easy -- the important thing is to diversify. Don’t put it all in the denture fund. Making contributions to the golden retriever, European view and flying a kite funds will help balance your portfolio. And remember, harnessing the power of your dreams, dollar cost averaging will compound your interest growing assets and sheltering you from volatile risk environments.

I haven’t quite figured out where I am heading with this but something about this propaganda is unsettling. This shallow glossy paper shines to glorify the king of Freudian desires, ‘Easy Living’. Preying on our insecurities, Easy lures us in with an oversimplified plan and a snappy catch phrase. Soon all reason agrees with the notion that you live to retire and the quality of your retirement is based on your savings. A seemingly harmless trap amongst many bottomless pits the world has to offer* but, obliviously building life on such a skewed foundation leaves too many people wondering why their pictures won’t hang straight.

I beg you to know that the challenge of investing in your character, family and friendships will play a much larger part in the ‘success’ of life. Bitter people are bitter whether they have money or not. Rich or poor, self-centered individuals will find themselves by themselves. And, you can ask Trump and J-Lo how their money has helped mend marriages and develop strong family bonds.

I spent my Remembrance Day at work by myself doing some mindless testing. This provided me with ample time to reflect on the sacrifices made my Men younger than I. My thoughts boiled down to this. The generation in which a 1/3 is now living in poverty spent their youth investing in us.

Where would we be if they had invested in the white denture fund? -- undoubtedly a question well worth remembering.

Therefore in closing, ‘Won’t you please take me off your list easy living’** I want to envision better things for my life and retirement.

* I had not yet finished this post when I was reminded of a much larger investment pit which Big Easy had dug, the ‘Investment in Me Now Fund’. Sooner or later I will probably rant about it as this post only applies to people who have survived that field of marketing mines.

** Jon Foreman, Beautiful Letdown

Mortal Minds (a sequel)

2004-11-06T23:24:00.000-08:00

The contemporary melodies of modern adult pop appeared in yet another one of my whacked out dream sequences. I was about to accept John Mayer as part of my dreamscape when Eager, the unpopular lobe of my Brain, suggested it was time to wake up.

"6:30Am on a Saturday?!?" Lazy cried.

Logic then reasoned, "Eager has a point, we must have set it for good reason."

" -- To remind us we have another 4 hours to sleep" Lazy retorted (ironically quite sharp and active for this time in the morning)

"Remember no class this week" added Procrastination, pushing my arm out to hit snooze.

Memory, often slow to rise, then sauntered into consciousness, made a few confirmations and promptly took control of the situation.... A couple hours later, I find myself standing in a crowd wearing shorts, three shirts and a knee brace wondering if I have enough time to pee.

It is race day, first one in 7.5 years. Taking a quick glance up the road, I decided to make a dash for it. Careful not to drop my keys conveniently laced into my shorts, I found a bush which would offer adequate shelter.

Returning to the crowd, I am relieved and relieved to find my teammate has yet to appear. The next 30mins were spent standing in a cold communal 'keep your clothes on' shower, performing some kind of new age dance in a poor attempt of defrosting my body.

Lazy and Comfort had now begun a full on campaign against signing-up for anymore relay races. However, before they have finished their convincing appeal, a small speedy lady in a blue shirt rounded the bend. "Number 90" a voice chimes, stepping out of the crowd I tear the wrist strap out of Cynthia's cold hands and my legs subconsciously whisk me away on a 15km journey to Mission's Town Hall.

The first obstacle was a set of switch backs which scaled 150ft in a matter of a 0.5km. Adjusting my determination touque and lowering my head, Lazy took a seat in the back of my mind waiting for an more appropriate time to make an appeal. In his own interest, Competitive suggested the hill was an ideal time to select a runner to pace with.

As I began searching the field in front, I heard approaching footsteps on my tail. A few seconds later, I had found my man. An older man, tall, experienced and wearing shorts over his tights. When you will be spending the next hour staring at the guys butt, Instinct believed the shorts were arguably the most important factor.

The next 30mins I remember little but following a speedy bum up hills and past many small clusters of slower bums. However, Endurance soon piped-up and reminded me that I had missed 2.5 weeks of training* and thus my body could not continue this intense pace for another 30mins. Easing off the throttle, I soon found myself by myself. I was tired, thirsty and some crazy distance from my finish line. Generally not a good thing.

But, thank goodness for teammates who care. Just as Lazy stood up to make a motion for a light jog, a small lady stepped out of a black BMW to cheer me on and hand me a drink. Up to this time, Hope was expecting only to get the water that I could catch while running with my mouth open.

It was like the Dam at Stave Lake had sprung a leak, the wall of doubt began to crumble. "Water is good" the delusional Logic reasoned, "People you know are watching" Added Pride. Soon most other lobes joined in the chorus restoring my spirit. As the water hit my lips, my body soon followed suit.

This same cycle repeated itself a couple times, Cynthia was there each time to kick my butt in gear. Finally, I rounded the bend revealing the second of two course markers -- "1 Mile To Go" -- I'd been running for 8.5 Miles to see that sign. I don't remember much that occurred over the next 7 odd mins. But, I do recall every muscle nerve fiber was making its plea for a hot shower and an hour long massage.

As I entered the exchange, I felt my cold wet hands pass on more than just a timing chip. A feeling of freedom and release engulfed my mind, I had served my sentence. ** After receiving the congratulations of my peers, I slowly regained consciousness and I had a tired man's celebration; I made my way home to fulfill at least of one my muscles requests. ***

The duration of my day was spent eating, drinking, and stretching between my feeble attempts at finishing the week's homework. I did end up getting it all done. Although, I'll hate to review my work tomorrow because I was never able to focus. I couldn't stop wondering why my Mortal Mind has already decided to sign-up this Mortal body for next year's race.

Notes:
* ---- See previous post Mortal Bodies
** --- point of interest Mission municipal Hall is right beside a GVRD correction institution with its own private goold course.
*** --- Mike's muscles have yet to receive a massage and are still requesting one.

For those who care Race Results are at http://www.bcathletics.org/H2H/results04.htm
(Mike ran Leg 3 for the Creo-s-printers)

Relativity

2004-10-30T13:35:00.000-07:00

I love learning. I love the feeling of expanding, exploring and experiencing. Education is a catalysis to the enrichment of our lives pushing the limits of our frail body, mind and soul. It grows new opportunities, freedom, success and all those other warm and fuzzy concepts we so endear.

I am currently sitting in my 4.5 hour Saturday morning lecture. The rays from the sun shine into this concrete bunker as I am being serenaded by a mono-tone melody of trivial theorems that provide less excitement than hanging out with a can of cream corn.

Maybe Sesame Street is to blame for teaching me that education can and should be enjoyable. In those younger years, learning was an hour long hit parade of dancing numbers sequenced into a plot with a huge yellow bird and a manic-depressive elephant. Who wouldn't want to learn under those conditions?

I could maybe even see myself listening to this lecture if it was being taught by a disgruntled green man in a trash can (at least for the first hour).

However, some where along the dream of life this reality was lost. I now have to come to terms with the fact that I spent 40 hours working this week so I could afford to spend my Saturday morning learning that a point must exist between two points of a continuous line. This new thought had no trouble competing with the exhaustive proof of Horner's Theorem. By break my thinking had gotten me no further than Mr Hoopers corner store (for some reason we where never allowed to go any further).

In my frustration, I later vented with a fellow classmate. He is an older man, bald with a crown of greasy grey hair to help keep his ears warm during the winter months, the kind you would expect to cast down words of authoritative wisdom, like Solomon. My beef was primarily with the poor course design and dry illogical presentation of such trivial material. Summarizing that although I had managed to ace all my assignments to this point, I had yet to learn anything useful.

I was expecting a word of support or at least a nod in agreement. However, to my dismay he adjusted his spectacles and retorted, "But you are here for the degree, I am here for the learning." He turned and lurched down the hall in search of his third cup of coffee, leaving me staring at my bag of cookies, the words still echoing between my ears.

Could my motivation be all wrong? Surely, if I only wanted a degree I would have just ordered one online from those internet universities. Forget the degree, I'd get my PHD! Maybe there was something I was missing, a hidden signal of information the teacher was transmitting. Perhaps the secret was in the hair, my lush brown hair was blocking the signal.

Not wanting to shave my head on a whim, I decided I better re-evaluate what had just happened. I mean, this may forever change the rest of my Saturday morning overhead viewing.

Then much like Archimedes must have felt, it dawned on me. I wouldn't have to shave my head after all. It is just like old Albert said, 'it is all relative'.

I smiled and returned to my seat happy to know, the old man really loved cream corn.

Mortal Bodies

2004-10-19T21:27:00.000-07:00

Thank Goodness for Mortal Bodies...

Ever had one of those weeks when you wish to trade in your slightly disfunctional body for one that works. For all I know, there may be people out there don't wake up to discover they have pulled muscles while sleeping, have there forehead imitate the activity of Mount St Helens or, have an unruly colonial rebellions to a foreign bacterium. But as far as I'm concerned, the majority of us do battle with the quirks of these Earthen vessels and will continue to do so until we leave this stage of cattle dung.

Please don't get me wrong. I have a deep appreciation for the biological suits we live through. The beauty and durability of its design are a wonder which a science alone will never full capture. The body is capable of amazing feats and I am really grateful for the opportunity to lope around in one. However, sometimes it just doesn't operated as we would hope and that is where I find myself tonight.

I guess my current problem starts with me being one of those weirdos who run for fun. I had recently increased the intensity of my running patterns to train for a race I have entered in early November. Just over a week ago, I came down with a slight cold. No problem, I just stopped running for a few days. On my last day of rest, I was getting out of my car and noticed a slight pain in my left knee. Thinking little of it I resumed running the next day.

After a light 8km jog, I not only reaggrivated my cold but put my knee to a stage where I could no longer walk fluidly. It has been a week since that day and I find myself sitting here blogging during my normal running slot.

So what, I can't run. Big deal.

I guess my frustration lies in the side effects it has had on my daily routines. This whole week I have had the attention span of a A.D.D. kid in a candy store and trying to sleep is like trying not to think of pink elephants for 10 minutes. Following logically, the poor sleep has kept this stupid cold lingering, randomly choking out a pathetic coughs and clogging my nasal passages once every hour on the hour.

Surely my plight and woes fail to compare to many in my dodgey Knee Club which I have temporary joined (word up' Kev and Camilo') never mind those in the world who may not even have knees. However, that is not the point.

After holding a short pity party for myself, I began thinking about my Grandpa who spent three frustrating years feeling his cancer slowly eat his spine to a mushy pulp. A blue collar worker to the core, my grandpa was in his element building things, shoveling in his massive garden and hosing bears out of his pear tree. A man not used to being idle nevermind having to rotate between a sitting and lying position to reduce pain. He had even been deprived of proper communication as his hearing was less than sufficient for proper conversation.

With all that said, I'd bet he was even happier than me that we don't have to live in these mortal bodies forever.

My First Wlog

2004-10-17T20:53:00.000-07:00

Well, it was little less than a year ago when I was chatting with my Uncle from Seattle about this new internet fad know as the blog. Puzzled for weeks on why they resorted to Blog as opposed to Wlog, I soon forgot about the issue until I started receiving emails of friends who were starting their own Wlogs or Webles. Not to be out done, I set out to out do...

As a 23 year old independent white male, I though it would a solid idea for me to have my own lounge where my cutting thoughts may aggressively challenge the global community on top drawer social issues that effect the world today. Unfortunately, my cutting edge thoughts are really just blatant personal social problems that will one day appear in the top drawer of a psych major's filing cabinet.

A classic example would be the time I boldly anounced to a girl I liked that "I don't celebrate Valentines day. It is just an overhyped commercialism holiday that preys on insecure relationships." Let me warn you.... words that sharp are dangerous! And, although there is no shortage of these brilliant ideas, my not so independent side thoughtfully suggested the female half of the world was not quite ready for these revelations.

Maybe I could have an instructional site....

Imagine me effectively training individuals to reach out to new horizons propelling them to achieve new levels of self awareness. The posting would list inspiring lessons such as "How to change you oil" a guide to reducing autonomous friction in you life; "Song Writing Made Easy" Seven misconceptions that will make you feel like you are a musical genius; and, "Improving your Chances at bachelorhood" Surefire tricks that let her know she is dealing with the wrong man. However, the notion of people globbing to my blog to wlog my secrets from all tangential points of the spherical earth, would leave me on the same plain as Opera, Dr. Phil and Jared from subway. Just the thought of it will disturb my sleeping patterns for the next week.

Many other themes for my blog included A thread I would call 'dashboard professional' (a revealing marathon of me wallowing in my pathetic relational life) and "Living with Jo(h)ns" a full on scientific log of my roommates habitational tendencies.

However, after all is said and done there is a whole lot more said than done. And you are left to muse over yet another ordinary blog.

So read it or leave it,

Welcome to the Badger Lounge.