From the Toronto Star:

The article goes on to say that, yeah, actually, Albertans feel kinda like they’re perceived that way by the rest of Canada. And some people even in Alberta believe we actually are that way.

I wasn’t entirely surprised by this news. Nor was I terribly bothered about. When I realized how I was behaving, it occurred to me I was being smug. So I stopped that immediately (though not before I looked “smug” up, just to be sure I understood it, and the redneck in me wasn’t coming out).

As for condescending and intolerant… Honestly, is anyone shocked by this? We’re talking about Alberta, which as recently as the year 2000 amended its Marriage Act to make sure only members of the opposite sex could get married — and only really changing that in 2005 when the federal government essentially forced the province to change.

Intolerant? Yeah, I can see where that might come from.

And condescending? Hell yes, I can see that. Again, consider how the province has handled the environmental file: basically constantly insisting that everything’s fine and we can handle it, when evidence to the contrary keeps being placed in front of everyone.

But both of these examples are about the provincial government, not all the people of Alberta. And while you could argue that the government is a reflection of the people in a lot of ways, I would suggest that the schism caused by Bill 44 is a small (and admittedly anecdotal) example of the fact that the government isn’t always showing the Alberta we’d like them to — I know people who left the PC party as a result of this event as well as other issues.

Still, is this new/old report something we should be worried about? I think it probably is, a little. It means that each of us as individuals needs to do a better job of showing the rest of Canada that we aren’t just a bunch of slack-jawed, oilsands-exploiting, douchebaggy monsters. As mentioned in the article (though with poor examples provided), there’s much more to the people here than smug condescension and intolerance. But we can’t just state that, provide a few examples, and pat ourselves on the back (smugly!).

We need to prove it — to ourselves and the rest of Canada — by showing that we care deeply about our environment, that success and prosperity for Alberta means the same for the rest of Canada, and that we really don’t need to hang fake bull testicles from the hitches of our pick-up trucks.

Photo by Danny McL on Flickr

I’m posting off-topic today because of a new campaign we’re working on.

Most recently, we’ve undertaken a campaign for seatbelt safety for the whole province of Alberta. Currently, 93% of Albertans use their seatbelts. But there’s still an alarming 7% who don’t. Our goal is reach this 7% and change their minds about seatbelt safety.

But we’re trying to do this a little differently. We’re asking Albertans to share images of themselves and their loved ones for our campaign. The actually completed product would look something like this:

All the details the campaign is about can he found here. Think about uploading your photos and make a statement about seatbelt safety in our province.

There’s a part of me that loves election time. The drama, the debate, the politics – it’s exciting to watch. The thing is, there’s also a part of me that loathes it… for pretty much the exact same reasons.

The reason for this is fairly simple: I hate the lack of respect in politics.

I’m not going to go on a “good-old-days” rant here, because I’m confident that this isn’t necessarily a new development. But it is constantly dismaying to watch, and it makes me tired, depressed and more than a little cynical about the whole political process.

There are two things I wish our politicians would learn:

1. It’s okay to agree to disagree.

2. Just because you don’t agree with the other guy, doesn’t mean his heart isn’t in the right place.

If candidate A wants to shut down a notable city centre landmark, and candidate B wants to keep it open and expand it’s services – that’s fine. Deriding each other as somehow evil is not fine.

Above: Conservative vs. Liberal

Rather, they should both understand that their opponent means well – they sincerely want what’s best for the city. The vision of what’s best is where the difference lies, and it’s up to you to argue the benefits of your point, rather than tear down the other vision.

And frankly, if all you can do is attack the other vision – that means yours is on pretty shaky foundations to begin with, isn’t it?

It’s not limited to elections either; watch any debate in the legislature or parliament and you can see it there as well. No one with an opinion has any respect for the other side – and I honestly believe that’s a major factor that’s holding back any real progress.

When you lose respect for your opposition, the whole process falls apart. It becomes an all-or-nothing game “Us-versus-Them”, rather than a process of compromise and cooperation. Just take a look at the quagmire down in the United States, and more recently in our own Parliament. No one can do anything because any bill put forward by one side is automatically opposed by the other side on principle. There’s no debate, there’s no middle ground. It came from those guys, so it must be stopped at all costs.

That’s not progress. You can’t move forward when you’re in a constant stalemate.

Just like in politics, the only winning move is not to play.

So for Pete’s Dragon – put the partisan bullshit aside, embrace some civil discourse, and let’s act like adults.

But that’s a topic for a different day.

Today, we’re talking about city council. As October 18th looms closer, there’s been a lot of coverage on the various contenders for mayor and city council. And… it’s an interesting and diverse group, to say the least. But, the question remains – who would make the perfect city council?

I’ve done the research, looked at the portfolios, and listened to the word of mouth. And I can definitively say that I have calculated what would be the perfect city council, and I’m going to run them down for you.

MAYOR – Mike Haggar

First of all, we need someone to lead our rag-tag band of civic servants. Someone with the elbow grease and the know-how to bring people together on issues, and the conviction to make the tough decisions. He should also be very physically imposing.

Obviously, that means that Mike Haggar is the name you should be checking in the voting station this election.

Haggar is a former professional wrestler turned politician. He’s passionate about family, and about his city. And when the going gets tough, Haggar rips off his shirt, and kicks some ass.

A very tough stance on crime.

Fuck yes.

That’s not only the kind of mayor our city needs – it’s the kind of mayor our city deserves!

WARD 1 – Hank Hill

Edmonton is fundamentally a blue-collar city, and Ward 1 is perfect exemple of that fact. It has some rural territory, and some older neighbourhoods – mixed in with newer development and bordering on those ritzy St. Albert folks.

For Ward 1, we need a folksy man. A man with simple values, his feet on the ground, and a hard work ethic. I submit that Hank Hill is your perfect candidate.

A conservative family man who values a hard day’s work, but with moderate opinions on matters that most people are agreeable about. And when he feels strongly about an issue (usually related to the underdog), Hill will stand up, put his foot down, and “tell you whut.”

If he doesn’t like the way the other “intellectuals” and “liberals” on council run things, he’d be a strong – but level-headed- voice of opposition.

WARD 2 – Lee Adama

Ward 2 is a hotly contested area this election because of the presence of the most important asset in the city. I refer, of course, to the City Centre Airport. As such, this ward needs a politician who is at once knowledgeable in the legal issues surrounding this controversial landmark, and an able pilot – thus capable of seeing both sides of the issue.

I present to you candidate Lee “Apollo” Adama.

Adama is a lawyer, and former Viper pilot. He’d be willing to take a serious look at all the information regarding the airport, from both points of view, and make a call on what should be done with it in the future. And he’d stick to his guns once that call was made.

A former member of the armed forces, Adama is also suited to help deal with issues concerning military families in our city.

He’s an able leader, a man not afraid to make hard decisions, and he’s easy on the eyes. He is, in a nutshell, the perfect candidate for this hotly contested part of the city.

WARD 3 – Keiko O’Brien

Ward 3 reaches northward, with some new developments. It’s a part of Edmonton that is growing, thriving, and in need of careful guidance. This is a ward where a patient councillor will do well, listening to the needs of their constituents and taking those issues to city hall.

Candidate Keiko O’Brien is just such a person.

A former school teacher, and a botanist, O’Brien is a woman who has that tempered patience to deal with this part of our city. She’s also family oriented, raising two kids while her husband serves in the armed forces.

Her measured approach will also form an excellent counterpoint to the hot-headed businessmen, passionate advocates and eccentric intellectuals she’ll be dealing with on a daily basis in city hall.

Indeed, O’Brien might be the sober, folksy opinion that Mayor Haggar will turn to when he needs a second thought.

WARD 4 – Dr. Gordon Freeman

Edmonton’s Ward 4 can best be summed up in one word: “vast”. It’s a huge swath of territory mixing Clairview with the rural north-east. It needs a councillor who can get around – quickly if need be – and get things done. Ward 4 is an area with eye toward development, and is already very transit oriented.

I propose that you should be voting for Dr. Gordon Freeman.

Freeman is a man with a scientific background, giving him an advantage when it comes to understand newer technologies. He’s also used to getting around in crisis situations – making him the man of mobility who can represent this huge ward.

He may not say much, but that’s because he saves his opinions for when they matter. Yes, with Freeman on council, you can be certain that our city would definitely be on track for the future.

WARD 5 – Dr. Henry Philip McCoy

On the west edge of the city, Ward 5 is a fairly green area  that borders on a great deal of our lush river valley. It’s an older part of the city, and it’s partly rural – a mishmash of people and neighbourhoods that requires a measured, intelligent councillor to represent it’s diverse needs.

It goes without saying that Dr. Henry “Hank” McCoy is a man of diverse skills, who can deal with the needs of the people of this ward. You just have to learn to look past his rather unnerving appearance.

A scientist and activist, McCoy is dedicated to helping build a better future for everyone. Indeed, he’d take a very long view of the city as a whole, and thus would be a great asset to the entire council – while still dealing earnestly with the day-to-day issues of his ward.

Ward 5 could do much worse that a (literally) blue-collared intellectual.

WARD 6 – Oswald C. Cobblepot

The very heart of downtown requires a councilman who understands the urban lifestyle, and wants to see a thriving cosmopolitan centre. We need a visionary who can not only help bring business into the downtown core, but can deal with the crime that inevitably follows.

With this in mind, I think it’s fairly obvious the kind of businessman we need representing the downtown interest. Enter, Oswald “The Penguin” Cobblepot.

The Penguin is a “legitimate” businessman with an interest in the nightlife. He understands what it takes to run a successful club, and draw people to it – and that’s a skill he can use to help liven up our downtown.

Oh, sure, The Penguin has some questionable connections throughout the city – but I personally think it’s much better to have him using those connections to help benefit our city. And with an ear to the street,  The Penguin can help mitigate the worst crime.

WARD 7 – John Francis Donaghy

Like Ward 6, Ward 7 is an inner city ward that is currently dealing with money issues. It’s a run down neighbourhood that is dealing with underfunding. The people in Ward 7 need a go-getter; someone to take the bull by the horns and make change happen.

Of all the candidates, that man is none other than Jack Donaghy.

Donaghy is a man who loves a problem – a problem that he will devote his entire being to solving. Underfunding – done, he’ll squeeze city hall until he gets every penny he can get. School closures – no problem, he’ll get leverage on the school board and make sure those schools stay open. Red tape – ha! Donaghy spits at your red tape.

He loves dealing with bureaucracy almost as much as he loves making money. He’s exactly the kind of magnificent son-of-a-bitch Ward 7 needs as it’s representative – and further, he’ll be a strong, conservative voice on council.

WARD 8 – Brian Griffin

As the ward that contains both the University of Alberta, and the heart of Old Strathcona, it’s pretty safe to say that Ward 8 is fairly… liberal leaning. A successful councillor will tap into that energy from their constituents, and bring their politics to city hall.

And so, Brian Griffin is an exemplary choice for Ward 8.

A staunchly left-leaning candidate, Griffin is also vocal in his politics to the point of douchebaggery. Beyond that, though, he’s intellectual, fairly environmentally conscious, and is a patron of the arts – all things that will resonate with the people of his ward.

He’d be a solid voice for his ward, and wouldn’t be afraid to stand up to Mayor Haggar on issues that are important to him.

WARD 9 – Gomez Addams

Ward 9 is part new and affluent, and part older and rural. It’s a place of contradictions, where new money meets old money. It’s a place that requires a councillor who is one part millionaire, one part visionary, and one part insane.

No one fits that description more perfectly than candidate Gomez Addams.

A man of refined taste, wealth and class, Gomez can easily charm his way into the hearts and minds of the citizenry. Couple that with an opinion on every issue – ill-informed or not – and he’d bring an interesting point-of-view to every council session.

That, and swords.

Sure, he’s an eccentric – but maybe Edmonton needs a little eccentricity to help spruce up city politics.

WARD 10 – Dinah Lance

A significant portion of our city’s ravine system runs through Ward 10, and it’s situated off campus which lends itself to a younger group of residents. Crime, like in so many other parts of the city, is a concern here. People in Ward 10 want to know they can walk home at night without fear.

Without a doubt, candidate Dinah Lance intends to make a difference in this part of the city.

Romantically linked with billionaire philanthropist Oliver Queen, she’s a woman who cares for those in need and is willing to stand up to those who take advantage of them. Drugs and prostitution would be problems she would work hard on – and off – council to deal with city wide.

The people of Ward 10 would rest easy knowing that Lance is watching out for them – day and night.

WARD 11 – Leia Organa

Centred around Millwoods, Ward 11 is a culturally diverse area. It’s a part of the city noted not only for it’s residential, but also for it’s industrial. It requires a steady, level headed leader who can bring people together, and advocate for the rights of workers in our city.

The candidate we should look to is Leia Organa.

Sure, she’s from a wealthy background – one might even say she comes from royalty – but don’t let that fool you. Organa is a woman who is passionate about those she represents, and she’ll fight for them on any issue.

She’s also a uniter, used to bringing people of diverse backgrounds together, and uniting them on a common cause. And she’s a strong believer in peace and in justice – so you can be pretty certain she’ll have a fairly tough stance on crime – something many Millwoods residents have concerns about.

WARD 12 – David Xanatos

As the city continues to spread southward, newer, majestic neighbourhoods are springing up. Ward 12 is a perfect example of this, as the city sprawls toward the undeveloped rural territory to the south. And with that in mind, the ward needs a visionary who can help shape it as it develops into the future.

And no candidate has more vision than David Xanatos. A businessman, media-mogul, and a man who will mould Ward 12 in his own image. His own slick, developed, high-tech vision.

Yes, indeed, high-tech industrial is Xanatos’ game, and it’s a game he’ll bring into Ward 12 full force. A new vision for businesses in Edmonton’s future – one in which computers and technology supplement the money flowing through our refineries.

Xanatos would also advocate alternative energy, alternative fuel sources, and plenty of other alternatives to the issues facing the city. He’s the kind of man who could one day run Edmonton – and likely intends to. Xanatos 2013?

So there you have it – the perfect lineup for 2010. Make a note of which of these candidates are running in your ward and be sure to vote for them – with these 13 leaders, we have nothing to fear for the future.

Go get ‘em, Edmonton!

The ‘List’ List: 2000-2009 in review

The Top 3 Alberta Political Moments of the Decade by Daveberta — Dave Cournoyer held a contest that garnered over 1,600 votes from readers who selected the most significant political events in the province. He narrowed it down to 3, but if you look at his previous voting lists you’ll see that a lot went down in our province over the last ten years. Dave’s a great political analyst, and his top-3 is a must-read for the politically savvy. Also, you should hop on the comments at Daveberta.ca and have your say, even though the voting’s over.

My Favourite Things of 2009 by Reileycat — Reileycat aka Jess, a rising twittizen from #yeg, publishes a list of her favourite things every year. This year, her list is back, and as awesome as ever. She even lists a certain piece of technology that’s played a large part in growing the Unknown Studio, and the Edmonton community in general. Give her list a read, and while you’re there subscribe to her blog. She’s on of Edmonton’s up-and-coming designers, don’t you know!

The Edmonton Journal’s Y2K 10 Decade in Review — Edmonton’s newspaper of record is taking a look at the “decade that was” in several parts. For the next ten days, the Journal will look back at some of the most significant events and trends of the last ten years. What they have posted so far is telling: it was an eventful decade.

Destructoid’s Top 50 Videogames of the Decade — With all due respect to our friends at User Created Content, who put out their own 2009 review in a recent podcast, a great and well thought out list of the 50 best games of the past 10 years was put out by Destructoid. A very good read that shows how the 00′s (Aughts? Zeroes?) were a pivotal decade in video gaming.  Some excellent and surprising choices, and definitely worth the time to sit down and read.

The 20 Best TV Shows of the Decade by PasteMagazine.com — I sifted through a TON of these pop culture lists looking for a good representation for our list of lists. Unsurprisingly, everyone and their dog has their own two-cents on what were the top whatever of the past 10 years. But Paste Magazine has put out a good, detailed list which I recommend checking out. I don’t agree with all their choices, but that makes for some good, discussion-worthy reading.

The 2000s in Review by kottke.org — This is truly the list to end all lists. We found this one thanks to another list provided by Mastermaq. This list has everything — it’s the digital observance of virtually all the things you would ever want to see considered in a series of lists. Along with some of the local stuff up above, we recommend you check this one out. If anything, it will help you kill time as you stare listlessly at a computer screen while the rest of your colleagues finish the last of the egg nog this week.

More to come…

I’ll be posting my fave albums of each year of the decade later this week. And I might have another list or two up my sleeve as well… If you have any list suggestions, add them to the comments!

Both Adam and I are former contributors to the University of Alberta’s very own student newspaper; I was an avid contributor and delivered papers around campus for a year, Adam had the slightly less respected position of Editor-in-Chief. Now, many of you are probably aware of our past with this institution, but you may not be aware that many of our guests are also former Gatewayers.

It’s the Unknown Studio’s Gateway rundown!

Don Iveson (Episode 2)
Ramin Ostad (Episode 3)
Scott Lilwall (Episode 4)
Cary Williams (Episode 12 – check that photo credit!)
Karen Unland (Epsiode 13)

Dave Cournoyer (Episode 9) didn’t write for the paper, but being involved in student politics makes you a frequent Gateway topic.

As an added bonus, Edmonton uber-blogger Mack Male has also left his mark on the paper.

Now I’m not saying we’re playing favourites by booking former members of our exclusive newspaper club. We are however more inclined the book them. Because we like them.

Next Time: Communication

When I heard this story, I felt sick to my stomach. Of course it was a random act of violence. That’s what made it so terrifying.

Thankfully, as City Councilor Don Iveson pointed out in a recent tweet, the alleged perpetrator was apprehended:

“An ETS bus operator was assaulted very seriously this morning. Police caught the guy. Assholes beware, buses have cameras http://is.gd/5bMXA“

But now an Edmonton-area family has to worry about a father and brother who did nothing but his job. I asked the City of Edmonton on Twitter if there was somewhere people could donate money to help the family out. Hey, it’s the season of giving, and I don’t know about you but if my dad were in a condition like that I would be so grateful to have the community rally behind me and help out.

That’s what it means to be part of a society. Helping others.

The City responded this afternoon:

“Trust fund has been established @ River City Credit Union (any branch) for ppl who wish to donate to driver Tom Bregg’s recovery.”

I know it’s not a whole pile of cash, but I’m going to be donating $50 to this fund, and hopefully Tom Bregg’s family will have one or two less things to worry about this holiday season. I challenge each and everyone of you readers out there to throw some money toward the Bregg family as well. Pledge your donation in the comments, and get to any River City Credit Union branch and donate to the fund.

And stay safe out there, everyone.

When I think of Expo, I think of that episode of the Simpsons where Bart, Nelson, Milhouse and Martin manage to rent themselves a car in order to drive down to the World’s Fair in Knoxville Tennessee (“Where Tennesseein’ is Tennebelievin’!”) just so they can see the great Sunsphere… which is still there, despite the fact that the 1982 World’s Fair took place a full 14 years prior. By the time the errant road-trippers arrive, the Sunsphere is filled only with wigs. Thousands and thousands of wigs.

Edmonton’s own Sunsphere

And you have to wonder at a $2.3 billion price tag what Edmontonians are getting for their money. There’s no conceivable way — even with the most optimistic of attendance estimates — that the city will recoup this money from visitors dumping cash into the local economy. Even the city’s own estimates assume we’ll see 1.9 million unique visitors over the 3-month expo. Not that impressive

Boosters will tell you this will be a great party for the city. The world will be watching. And I really, earnestly hope that that’s the case. Because when it came to the more than $3 million loser we call the Indy, the world was supposed to be watching as well. And the taxpayer still took a bath on that event — every year since its inception.

Boosters also tout the legacy the Expo will leave in its wake: beautiful new green buildings on South Campus, affordable housing, and a fancy new bridge to replace the Walterdale. And this is all well and good. But does the cost justify these new bits of skyline? Given the significant cost overruns on Vancouver Games construction projects, I’m not hopeful that Edmonton will somehow manage to keep these things on budget — just look at the costly debacle at 23rd Ave and Calgary Trail to see how good the City is at managing large-scale capital projects.

That’s it: back to Winnipeg!

I’ve seen some good points brought up about this on Twitter — from people who appear to be both for and against Edmonton hosting this multi-billion-dollar 3-month party:

• ec90: “I think #yeg will really benefit if we host #EXPO2017 though I just really hate all the naysayers thinking it’s a waste of money”
• agrabia: “Good to know I can officially start praying we don’t get #Expo2017. It would be #yeg’s luckiest miss since Michael Nylander.”
• Paulatics: “‘Harmony of Energy and our Future Planet’ — who makes up these goony slogans? Are they generated randomly? Argh”
• evolvingblue: “I have to say, I was at Expo86 in Vancouver, and the idea of having Expo2017 in #YEG thrills me.”
• davidamaclean: “Looking a negotiating a sabbatical so I can get the heck out of #yeg during the summmer of #expo2017″
• runsamok: “#expo2017 for #yeg looks like $2b spent by the same ppl who got us a $260m interchange. Too much $ for what we get. Uninspired. Unimpressed”

Don’t Panic

I don’t think the time is ripe for panic yet. We’ve submitted a bid, we haven’t won the right to host Expo 2017. And while significant dollars have gone into bidding on the whole thing, I tend to agree with… well, everyone. It’s not likely massive legacy projects will be undertaken without a reason like Expo 2017… AND the price tag is way too high, especially given that we don’t actually know what we’re getting for $2.3 billion.

We touched on the Expo topic in our last show (which you can listen to here), and I’m still not sure what I think. I’ll reserve judgment (though I’m leaning toward “This costs way too much for the actual value of it”) and let the pundits take care of the, uh, punditry.

Read more!

Smarter more eloquent people than I have mused on the subject. I suggest you read their takes:

• Mack Male – Edmonton Launches Bid for 2017 Expo
• The Edmontonian – No parties while we’re away
• Paula Simons, the Edmonton Journal – Tough to get excited over Expo 2017 without hard numbers
• Canadian Taxpayers Federation – An Expo-nential Waste of Money

You can also follow the goings-on directly on Twitter, using this handy Twitter search.

Looks like it’ll be a political weekend!

Organized by Don Sherman, Michael Brechtel, former Cabinet Minister David King, and increasingly disengaged PC member Ken Chapman, the weekend event is billed as an opportunity for progressive-minded Albertans to work together to develop a vision for our province, and start to explore how to bring that vision to life.

When we had Dave (and Duncan Wojtaszek!) on the Unknown Studio, we talked a lot about hope for the future of politics in our province and country. Grassroots events (though I loathe the over-use of the word “grassroots”) like this are the harbingers of hope, I think. It means that regular citizens — the same ones who are forced by our political structure to vote based upon the antiquated notions of parties — are getting fed up with the way things are and taking matters into their own hands.

A lot of this is possible now because of the fantastic communication bridge social media provides.

We were asked to cover this for the Unknown Studio, but by the time I learned about it, it was too late. Fortunately, there’s a whole community of Albertans out there who are eager to be part of Reboot Alberta.

Take Edmonton citizen Michael Janz, for example:

I’m going to Reboot Alberta because I’m concerned that the current leadership is not prepared nor capable of tackling the big problems that my generation will be inheriting. We need to stop our myopic decision-making based solely on how things are today and think about how things will be in ten years, and how they should be in twenty.

Alex Abboud, a political hack in the best way, thinks the province needs more than just a little reboot:

Without getting into semantics too much, I don’t believe Alberta needs a reboot; it needs an upgrade. A reboot implies that problems exist, but the current system will suffice to handle them. I respectfully disagree. I believe the system, and most importantly, the paradigm around which we’ve based it, need to evolve. The world is changing, and what worked for us in the past is no guarantee for future success.

Ken Chapman, one of the organizers of the Reboot Alberta event, frames the concept behind this movement nicely and simply:

There is a growing sense amongst progressive thought leaders that Alberta is not living up to its potential economically, its responsibilities environmentally and it duty socially.

If you care about the future of this province, you should be in Red Deer this weekend.

Photo by Lillian Nelson

I know what you’re thinking: “How can you even say such a thing! It’s preposterous! Smoking is really bad for you!”

I know all this. That’s why I don’t smoke.

Hell, it’s so bad for you that the Alberta Government recently passed Bill 48:

Bill 48, called the Crown’s Right Recovery Act, passed on Wednesday. [...] Alberta could also sue tobacco makers or join existing lawsuits to recover health-care costs for tobacco-related illnesses. Ontario has already launched a $50 billion lawsuit while Quebec is looking to recover $30 billion. (From CBC.ca)

So while our governments continue to allow Big Tobacco to do business on one hand, they also regulate the hell out of (as they should, frankly). BUT they also sue them to recover health care costs. And while this makes sense for the Boomer Generation, and even Generation X — who were woefully misinformed of the adverse health effects of tobacco — it makes absolutely no sense for my [and subsequent] generations.

We know tobacco’s bad. We know it’s unhealthy. We know it causes cancer. We know second-hand smoke is also terrible. We know how unpleasant it is for non-smokers to be around a smelly smoker. And yet, people choose — CHOOSE! — to do it anyway.

I know it’s absurd. I know it’s crazy. But we’re a species of hedonists, and when it comes to vices, we don’t really have a lot of forethought. In fact, about 18% of Canadians are completely lacking in forethought when it comes to smoking. That’s about six million of us.

Knowing the widely-publicized risks and adverse affects of smoking isn’t stopping people. And those people will eventually develop health complications. And those health complications will present a strain on our health care system. But many of those people started smoking knowing the risks. So why should the government enact legislation that allows them to recover those costs from tobacco companies? Why not shut those companies down?

Because: people will still find a way to acquire tobacco. People will still smoke it, people will still get cancer, and people will still wind up in hospital. Only now, the government can’t pin the blame on anyone. They’ll have no one left to sue to recover thos health care costs Except the smoker himself (and he likely won’t have deep enough pockets anyhow).

Sadly, this takes a lot of the responsibility for behaviour outside of the hands of those who smoke. The only incentive they have to quit is to, you know, not die. And we’ve seen the impact this “incentive” has had on people: that is to say, it has had little impact. And so we pass Bill 48, and allow tobacco companies to continue to operate while suing them to ensure our health care system doesn’t tank.

It’s far from perfect. But I doubt it will change in my lifetime. What do you think?

Man, I need a cigarette.

I think it’s safe to say, after only knowing Jeff on Twitter beforehand, that I liked this guy right away. We chatted for a bit, discussing such things as roadkill and where we could go in the next ten minutes for dessert. It was the start of something wonderful, and it involved cheesecake.

Sadly, I wouldn’t see Jeff again for a long time… Months later, in fact, at a chance encounter at another downtown pub when Mack and I were crashed (it was a good crash, though, and I don’t mean drunk either). This time, Jeff showed up with community pillar Brittney Le Blanc, as well as his awesome wife Sally Poulsen, who I also liked immediately. And not just because she always calls me dude, but because she’s hilarious and smart. If Sally and Jeff weren’t already married to each other, I’d marry them both, then suggest that they also marry each other in a strange union the likes of which probably aren’t legal in Canada, but which would shock the human race into an era of peace and love.

So you can imagine my delight when the two of them agreed to be guests on the Unknown Studio. And not just because they’re awesome people (which they are), but because they’re entrepreneurial community participants not content to sit on the sidelines and whinge about the things that make them sad. They’re down there in the trenches getting shit done.

I think that’s part of the reason why, back in June 2009, they launched TheEdmontonian.com, a hyperlocal news blog featuring content for and by citizens and well-wishers of Edmonton which you should read… after you finish reading this.

The Space Ghost effect

I think it would be fair to say that Jeff and Sally are fans of the Unknown Studio (please, one or both of you, correct me if I’m wrong). And as you’ll hear in the episode we recorded with them, what they’re trying to do with TheEdmontonian and what Scott and I, it turns out, are trying to do with the Unknown Studio is to provide hyperlocal infotainment — a word you’ll learn I also dislike.

But our two squads (can two people be a squad, I ask you?) being of similar minds, I noticed a bit of a Space Ghost effect taking place… You see Space Ghost, himself the host of a talk show, would often ask his guests questions about himself. “What do you think of my show?” “What do you think of me?” “Are you getting enough oxygen?” I’m extremely self-critical, and I don’t want to be the guy who has people on to talk about himself. Myself. Me.

And I don’t think it came across that way, it’s just a little niggling my brain has placed in front of me.

Enough about me

Regardless of limited self-flagellation, I will say this: I read The Edmontonian every day, and have since it was launched. Not every post, but I’m on there checking it out, seeing what my compatriots have discovered from having their fingers on the pulse of the community. And between the morning headlines, the light-hearted stabbing at the reputation of such hallowed concrete and glass monoliths as Commerce Place, and the actual interviews, reviews, and other stories they publish, it’s a great online resource. One of the best hubs the Edmonton community has online.

And they and the other little hubs are all in good company.

Mine.

(Sorry, I just had to get that in there.)

This was, of course, followed up with a very clear message: I am nothing more than swine.

I love the people I work with!

I started to feel under the weather on Tuesday evening. By Wednesday afternoon, I was canceling my evening’s plans. On Thursday morning I called in sick and hadn’t left the house until Saturday. And being home alone all day with an aloof cat, a raging headache and no energy to do anything is a far cry from the delights of sick days when I was a kid.

I haven’t been hit that hard by an illness for about 5 years. I don’t get sick very easily. And while I didn’t think I had H1N1 — because I didn’t have a fever — I think I had nearly every symptom.

Calling in sick… seems like something both the federal and provincial governments have basically done. That, at least, would provide some context for the utter mismanagement of the H1N1 vaccination debacle, particularly in Alberta. More articulate men than I have provided far more lucid comments than I could on the matter. Such as Chris LaBossiere, who wrote two excellent posts on the matter over the last few days:

“But there are two segments of the population I think need to take more accountability in managing the hype and panic spreading across our region. Government and Healthcare leadership and those of use who are not considered a great risk for contacting and being harmed by the virus. The concept of free access to healthcare does not equal the public’s feeling of entitlement to its unmanaged distribution. We must consider that like all complex issues, there needs to be a complex management of said issue.” — From “Time for H1N1 Leadership. A shared responsibility.”

Chris followed this post up with a far more urgent one — one that calls on the leadership in this province to get their shit together:

“The distribution of the H1N1 vaccine should not have been so difficult. All along, Dr. Gerry Predy and the government have had a strategy on dealing with pandemics. I heard him speak over 4 years ago to the Edmonton South Rotary Club about what he called then, a certainty. He said that a flu pandemic was not a matter of if it might happen, as much as when it will happen. Minister Liepert is now coming across like a cat chasing a ball of yarn. He has lost control of the messaging in this situation and the Premier seems happy to watch from the sidelines, delegating the entire situation to his Minister and senior bureaucrats. This is NOT leadership.” — From “So far so… what? Where are you Ed?“

I may have felt like utter piss this past week… and this sick feeling is only compounded by the negligent leadership demonstrated in the handling of the H1N1 vaccination debacle. I fail to understand how a government so explicit in its messaging of the importance of being vaccinated could be so unprepared when citizens actually heed their word. Now, they’re scrambling and implementing restrictions on vaccination delivery that, frankly, should have been in place from the beginning.

Bunch of Eddie-come-latelies, this provincial government. Thank the gods we have guys like LaBossiere upset enough to speak out about it!

Regardless, Scott and I had Marliss Weber on the Halloween episode of the Unknown Studio. Marliss is an editor at See Magazine, and she has a keen interest in stories of hauntings and ghostly encounters, particularly as they take place here in Edmonton. Marliss has gone on a few ghost hunts in the city, even, using such scientific tools as digital voice recorders (DVRs) which have the uncanny ability of picking up ghostly sounds inaudible to humans. If you download the latest ep of our show, some of her tales will no doubt give you chills.

With so much anecdotal evidence and eyewitness accounts of these hauntings, why is it so hard for me to believe in the existence of this ethereal plane? I think it’s because often the mind sees what it wants to see. In spite of the often, incorrectly touted notion that we only use 10 per cent of our brains at a given time, the human mind is a powerful device. And though a science like psychology is still in its infancy (at least in relation to other more traditional sciences), it helps to explain a lot about why we see what we see.

Add the power of the brain to external forces, such as magnetic fields, and you get apparitions people swear are real. I dug up this old article to illustrate the point:

“Individuals prone to paranormal experiences are sensitive to weak electromagnetic fields and to man-made electrical fields, which are becoming more prominent in the communication age,” explains Persinger, who has studied the link between magnetic fields and paranormal experience for 15 years. [...] In our increasingly electronically charged world, it would seem that midnight apparitions are really just clock radios rather than ghosts.

So should we dismiss the notion of ghosts entirely? I don’t think so. I don’t think there’s enough evidence to say decisively one way or another whether ghosts exist or not — though admittedly I’ve done very little research on the subject. And to my knowledge there are only three scientists who were studying paranormal phenomenon anywhere in North America…

But Drs. Venkman, Stantz and Spengler lost their research grant, all because of a crotchety old dean.

Well.

It’s been one of those months.

October arrived with the ferocity of a rabid, nearly-extinct Tasmanian Devil, and it appears poised to hand the keys over the November with the vigor of an over-coked Bohemian reading beat poetry at one of those hipster coffee houses. Put another way, it’s been an exhausting month. Consequently: not as much writing as I’d hoped.

That doesn’t mean I, and others like me, haven’t been up to all kinds of stuff. They have been. Hence, somewhat, this list:

• Last week, Mack Male launched his much-anticipated ShareEdmonton online calendar, a hyper-local event aggregator that promises to become a central repository of all things #yeg. Check it out, play around with it, and send Mack bugs and feedback.
• Mack and fabulous Calgarian DJ Kelly came up with a very interesting idea: pay everyday Albertans to go on sabbatical — so they can improve the province for everyone. Read about it here and here.
• The Edmonton Oilers have started out the hockey season with some fantastic success. Can it last? Also, note that their record is tied with that of the Calgary Flames.
• My cousin’s restaurant, the Manor Bistro, soft-launched its new visual identity this month. You can check it here. They’ll be launching new menus in November as well!
• The ICE Conference takes place at the beginning of November, and I’ll be demoing one of dub5′s products — a scheduler we developed for the SHINE Clinic.
• Rachel and I carved pumpkins last weekend with her roommate (and roommate’s boyfriend). You can see pics here (Mine’s the normal Halloween-style one).
• Scott and I are recording the Halloween episode of the Unknown Studio this evening, with guest Marliss Weber. Should be a creepy one! Look for the episode to come out on Monday, Oct 26.
• On that note, for all things Halloween, particularly in Edmonton, point your browsers to dEdmonton!
• This very interesting article on Search Engine Optimization has been the centre of some controversy. It’s definitely worth reading if you’re into that sort of thing.
• At some point very soon, I need to see these movies: Where The Wild Things Are, Zombieland, Paranormal Activity, Astro Boy, Cirque du Freak, and The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus (I love Terry Gilliam), among others.
• Finally, I’ll be a guest on the next episode of Edmonton’s only video-game podcast, User Created Content. I’ll let you know when it’s posted so you can give it a listen.

Here’s what my tweeps had to say about it:

1. alainsaffel: disruption
2. Meeners: 99% of the time I mute it!
3. mspixieriot: Only on a site for a music act, and even then no auto-play… you have to press the play button yourself. Otherwise bad.
4. thecolinium: unless there is video, disruption
5. grempel: hate it.. if u must provide music.. make it quiet.. and clearly display where to turn it off
6. stormbrew: annoying as fuck unless opt-in. (I use the swear to really clearly state how much I despise websites with music, and not lightly at all)
7. buck75: make sure a person has the ability to turn it off. i don’t like it.
8. evolvingblue: as I have music going pretty much 24-7, the first thing I look for when browsing a site with audio is where to shut it off.
9. hilarydarrah: Most of the time I’m already listening to music, so definitely a disruption.
10. chigaze: Autoplay music/sound on a website is one of the ultimate evils. I will close the window! A button to turn on sound is alright.
11. TheTowelBoy: music on websites is annoying….and SOooooo 2005.
12. stygldpnyby: badbadbadbadbad
13. paulney: It can be done well. But VERY rarely is. http://www.jeshderox.com/ as an example of stunningly beautiful UX (including music).
14. steenyweeny: I’m with everyone else. Hate hate hate it.
15. ChrisInEdmonton: I have no words to describe how much I loathe music on websites.
16. MarkCluett: hate hate HATE music on websites. distraction/interrupts other tasks/programs
17. marshaboyd: Annoying….music on websites are distracting and usually bad. Turn it off!!
18. bevurlee: I don’t like it. Especially if it’s auto play!
19. Hunnyfreak: Music that automatically plays when you log on to a website is EVIL! EVIL!!!
20. GuitarKat: Hate it. Only if there’s a play button. No auto play. I listen to music all the time so I will find where to turn it off and such
21. edmsymphony: A lot of symphony websites used to have auto-play music, but lately the trend has been to remove it (thankfully)

The thing to note here isn’t just that people find it irritating; it’s that they absolutely HATE it. And I agree with people. It’s intrusive and disruptive.

I’m going to use this info the next time a client says they want their website to have music. Thanks for your input, everyone!

Part of our discussion turned to stateman (-woman/person) politicians, and how they don’t really exist anymore. I think most people know what I’m talking about when I statesman — I’m talking about the Trudeaus, the JFKs, hell even the Sir Winston Churchills of the political world. And while I think most people get it, I also think I could have done a better job, at least in the episode, of articulating exactly what I meant by stateman.

To me, a statesman politician is someone who gets themselves elected and takes their job seriously. They have a vision for improving their country and of improving the lives of their citizens in measurable, practical and smart ways. They also have a strategy of how to implement their vision. They’ll do these things at the risk of their popularity or re-election chances (although I would argue that if you’re being a proper statesman, you should have improved chances for re-election over those other politicos by virtue of your statesman-ness). They’ll do it because it’s right.

Then I remembered one of my favourite movies ever. It’s a movie that’s totally off the wall, but definitely a reflection of how I wish things worked. It’s a movie called Dave, starring Kevin Kline, Sigourney Weaver, Frank Langella and Ving Rhames. It’s actually the movie from which I ganked the titled of this post.

Dave sees Kevin Kline’s character “Dave,” a sometimes-impersonator of the sitting US president (“Bill Mitchell”) and head of a temp employment agency, thrust into the most powerful chair on the planet when the president has a heart attack. The geniuses in the Whitehouse decide to hire Kovic to impersonate Mitchell so they can continue with their nefarious scandals and such. Until Dave wises up to what’s happening and decides to take a stand… FOR AMERICA.

If it sounds campy and over-the-top, that’s because it is. But regardless of camp, it stills serves as a soothing balm when juxtaposed against the dead-eyed cynical heaps of flesh we [generally] call politicians these days.

Dave Kovic believed in the statesman president. When he was suddenly asked to assume the president’s role, he realized just how corrupt everything was. And he decided to go for broke and do something about it.

No one in the Canadian political system wants to go for broke. No one wants to take a tremendous risk (or, hell, several small ones) to improve the state of the nation. Should we expect them to? Yes, we should. We give these people the keys to the nation and they repay us with ad scandals, double-talk and outright dishonesty.

It’s little wonder no one in their right mind wants the hassle of running for public office. The mess that needs cleaning up seems insurmountable. If you want to be inspired by politics, your best bet these days is to rent a fictional movie from 1993 called Dave. You won’t regret it. Here’s one of the best scenes from the film:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TcwKI4ld-l8&hl=en&fs=1&color1=0x5d1719&color2=0xcd311b]

At some point, however, I came to realize the importance of being grateful for things/people/events large and small alike. And while I have more than my fair share of narcissistic moments, I also know when to not be such a self-involved cock-bag. This is one such moment. Below the photo [of my father molesting a Thanksgiving Turkey] is a very brief list of some of the things I’m very thankful for.

Dad un-stuffs a turkey

Thanks for…

• My job: I’m lucky to have one. And I’m one of the lucky few who has one who actually enjoys it.
• My co-workers: awesome, creative and hilarious people, all of them.
• My wonderful girlfriend: without whom I would be a much fatter mess than I currently am.
• My amazing friends: without whom I would be a much fatter mess than I currently am.
• My parents and brothers: partly responsible for my upbringing, but without whom I would be a much fatter mess than I currently am.
• My cat: the constant source of amusement, bemusement, and detached but unconditional love.
• The amazing people I’ve met: there are so many folks I’ve met this year because of my [now over] one year using Twitter. I’m so fortunate to know you all, and to get to share and interact with you daily.
• My health: in spite of my allusion to fatness and messiness, I’m a healthy adult male with few — if any — complaints.
• My roommates: oh sure, I want to strangle them 49% of the time. But that 51%? Sweet, sweet friendship.
• Opportunities: some I’ve experienced, and some are coming over the horizon. I’m grateful for all of them.

What are you thankful for at this particular moment?

1. A reason why she needed this from me (and the answer to that can be found here).
2. Precisely the same information from her.

Well Brittney, being the tremendously good sport (and awesome person) that she is, happily complied. Here, then, is Brittney Le Blanc for you, in living colour — she’s one of the finest Edmontonians out there, and I figured she should have her day in the digital sun as well.

Your name: Brittney Le Blanc

Twitter: @britl

Other place to find Brittney on the net: her fantastical blog

On the job…

Your official job title: I don’t have one, but I’m called Wonderkid a lot, even on the schedule — so let’s go with that. Basically I work in the newsroom, reporting, doing web stuff, and writing. I wear a lot of hats (figuratively and literally).

What’s the best part of the job? No two days are the same. I really don’t know what to expect when I walk through the station doors. Also, I’ve been incredibly curious ever since I was a little girl. Teachers used to hate it. Now I get to ask as many questions as I want!

What’s the worst part of the job? The hours can be a little bit scattered. Just as no two days are the same, my hours on those days might also not be the same. One day I might work 6am – 2pm, the next 12pm- 8pm. It can make it hard to plan things in advance.

How long have you been doing this? I’ve worked with the station almost three and a half years. I’ve been in the newsroom for a year and a bit.

What sort of education did you have to pursue for this job? I went to NAIT and took their Radio and Television Arts program. It was a fantastic program, and I’d definitely recommend it to anyone interested in the industry. It’s very hands-on, and the groundwork it laid made working at an actual station much easier to adapt to.

What skills and experience would you say are necessary for someone to succeed in this industry? You NEED to learn to multitask. At any given time, you’ll be doing about eight things. Learning to “listen multitask” is a huge help. Listening to multiple things at the same time is key. Also, it would help if you have six arms, a motivation to learn and better yourself, and never sleep.

What attracted you to this career? As I mentioned before, I’m VERY curious. I always want to know what other people do, how things work, and where things come from. I’m on a quest to never stop learning, and this job definitely helps with that.

What’s the atmosphere like at work? Depends on the day, and the news of the day. Some days, it’s a blast. Everyone is on their A-game, we’re laughing, producing lots of interesting news stories, and everything just clicks. Other days, there seems to be no news and it’s a lot harder to keep momentum going.

What is an average day like? That’s tough, it really depends on the day, and what I’m doing that day. Normally I would say I come into work, catch up on stories, what people are working on, and either work on/find stories to chase, upload stories to the website, write/rewrite stories, or any other multitude of things.

What are a couple of misconceptions people have about your career? That it’s easy or we only like to follow crime stories and depress the public. We’re not trying to frighten the public, and our job isn’t easy. When news breaks, riots happen, explosions, etc, we are the ones who head out there. We try to bring the most accurate and informative news to our listeners/readers, even when that means dealing with families who’ve just lost a family member or friend, or people who really want nothing to do with us.

I think a lot of people also think we do whatever news stories please us. And although you personally might not care about the Dominos Tournament happening in town or a multi-vehicle collision, we try to bring the community the news they want.

What is the best/funniest/worst thing(s) to happen to you at work? I think one of the funniest moments was covering the big storm this July. I happened to be a few blocks from the CN building, so I drove over there to report from the scene. I wasn’t expecting the storm, so I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and my thin iNews880 jacket. A reporter from the Journal and I got caught in a torrential downpour and were pelted with golf ball sized hail. Meanwhile, we were just trying to keep our equipment dry. I was thoroughly chilled and I think I looked like a drowned rat all night.

Another great moment was when the random meteorite streaked across the sky. We all were working and didn’t see it, but the phones went crazy. People saw everything from alien sightings, to communist spy balloons.

One of the worst things we deal with is talking to families that have just lost a child. Amber alerts make our hearts race. It’s all about getting as much information out there as possible. Talking to friends and family of the missing children/teens is nerve wracking. There’s nothing you can really say to comfort them. Everyone gets a terrible feeling in the pit of their stomach until the child is found.

Brittney in #yeg

How long have you lived in Edmonton? All my life. I love this city!

If you weren’t living here, where would you be? Rome. Or possibly Ottawa or Vancouver.

What is your favourite part about Edmonton? I LOVE the High Level Bridge. It’s got to be one of my favourite things. I guess the people in Edmonton are okay too. (Kidding!) I love the community; people are always willing to help each other out. When we need to, our city really bands together.

What is your favourite festival to attend? I haven’t really had the opportunity to attend many this year. The only opportunity I have to go is when I cover the stories. However, I would have to say it would be between the Fringe, Symphony Under the Sky, dEdmonton, or Winter Lights.

What is your favourite restaurant? Probably Mongolie Grill, but it really depends on my mood.

When friends/family come to visit, what’s the first attraction you tell them to visit? I love to show them our River Valley. Of course, they usually just want to head to West Edmonton Mall.

All about Bee Elle Bee

If you weren’t doing your current job, what would you be doing? If I wasn’t in radio at all — I might be a writer. Or maybe work at a pub. I’m not really sure, radio’s been my passion since I was just a little girl, there’s never really been another option.

What is the most interesting job you’ve ever had? I used to work at a little kids birthday place. Part of what I did was run birthday parties for children ages 1-13. To this day I probably could get a bunch of kids in and out of a party room in 30-40 minutes. I also still kick butt at Laser Tag, and could fix any arcade game with jammed tickets.

Favourite Television show? Until I recently got a PVR (thanks company Christmas draws!) I didn’t really watch a lot of TV. I can’t narrow it down to one — but I love How I Met Your Mother, Chuck, Dollhouse, Buffy, Heroes, and True Blood. Although, I’m finding a lot of fault with the last one lately.

Favourite Movie? Amelie, Chasing Amy, Becoming Jane, and both the Die Hard and Batman series.

Favourite Book? Don’t judge me, but I love Pride and Prejudice, Atlas Shrugged, the Fountainhead, Sophie’s World, The Magus, Hardy Boy books, Anita Blake books — and more recently, the Sookie Stackhouse series.

Favourite Musician(s)? Matchbox Twenty, hands down. Then it’s a mix of songs. I find it really hard to have loyalty to one group — I mean look at what Third Eye Blind is doing now. That’s just weird. I love Country music though.

If you could have any super-power, which would you want? Instant teleportation. I wouldn’t have to worry about parking, I’d get more sleep, I’d cover WAY more news and stories… I’d be unstoppable. Plus, I could travel more.

What’s the biggest problem the world faces today? Apathy. A couple of months ago, Lesley Primeau invited Mack Male and myself on her show to discuss Twitter. A man older than both of us was frustrated that “Generation Y” was paying so much attention to the problems of the world, and at home. He wanted us to be more selfish. I think it’s that sort of thought that gets us in trouble.

We need to think more of others, more of our community — both at home and around the world. People 30 and under SHOULD care about politics, should worry about our future, and the future of our city. I’m not saying there aren’t people our age now who aren’t leading the way, but we need more than just them. Apathy won’t get us anywhere, we need passion and smart minds collaborating.

If you won the Lottery, what is the first thing you’d do? Pay off my debts. Really lame, I know. I would probably also throw a big party and buy all my friends Egyptian cotton sheets. I love really nice, soft sheets. I would then buy a penthouse apartment downtown, install A/C, and buy myself a dependable car. I’d save the rest, but probably do something silly and frivolous, like buy myself 365 pairs of new socks, so I’d always wake up and experience that wonderful new sock feeling. (For those judging me for not paying off my Mom’s house — she’s already done that.)

What’s the best part about being you? I can honestly say I’ve never met another me. Which, upon reflection, is probably a good thing for the rest of the world. The best part about being me is the experiences. I always go out there and try new things. I try to never turn down a good experience — as long as no one gets hurt.

Long-time friend and Girls And Bicycles writer Sarah Chan attended and had this to say about PKN5:

“Generally speaking, all the presenters seem to have the common goal of wanting to help make Edmonton a better city. [...] All in all it was a great evening if only to go to something where there are a bunch of people who aren’t necessarily in undergrad and who aren’t super middled-aged either. The demographic was very much to my liking because it was people who are living and working in Edmonton, with the belief that we can do better. Better communities. Better social programs. Better buildings and planning. It’s heartwarming to know there is at least a small segment of young professionals who feel as though it’s worthwhile to take the time to discuss these things.”

You can read Sarah’s full review here.

Mack Male, one of Edmonton’s more prolific bloggers and Twitter kingpin (yes, Mack, I *am* throwing that out there) provides a great summary of PKN5 on his blog:

“I think my favorite presentation was Christian’s. He’s a great speaker, and I’m a sucker for cool technology applied to Edmonton. It’s amazing that he’s created so many 3D models for local architecture. His work is a really great resource for all of us. I also really loved Isha’s presentation, because I think it embodied what Pecha Kucha is all about – an interesting, thought-provoking idea introduced in six minutes and forty seconds. She left me wanting to learn more and wanting to talk to others about it!”

All of this took place on the heels of an article from David Berry at Vue Weekly talking about the upsides and downsides of Next Gen, the committee responsible for organizing Edmonton’s Pecha Kucha Nights. David has a good analysis on Next Gen with some interesting quotes from Next Gen chair Cary Williams (incorrectly named “Cory” Williams, at least in the online version of the story):

“One of the hopes is that Next Gen will be this hub, this glue that bring different people and organizations together and creates a greater community,” sums up Williams. “I want people to be excited about what’s happening here and wanting to contribute to the energy and creative thought here, and I’d love Next Gen to be the pebble in the pond that causes people to get out and be excited about building a community.”

Blogging stalwarts Mack Male and Dave Cournoyer are also quoted in the story. Give it a read!

Here’s another installment of Life Over the Last Few Weeks:

• Mike Kendrick and Conal Pierse are engaged in a battle of wits — using illustrations. You should definitely check out their Sketch War.
• Chris LaBossiere wrote a spectacular post last week about Social Media and the Old Boys Club. Read and comment!
• NHL Pre-season is over. Now the real excitement begins! Over at OilersNation, FlamesNation and CanucksArmy, we’re preparing to roll out some new site features. Keep your eyes open for that!
• Also on OilersNation, Jason Gregor wrote a moving piece this week about his father, who passed away nine years go. Now go tell your dad how much you love him.
• Scott and I recorded two podcasts last weekend, since our next two weekends are jam-packed. We released Episode the Eighth on Tuesday of this week. Check out my update post from Tuesday for details, and click here to download direct from our website, or here to subscribe in iTunes.
• Along those lines, the fabulous and beautiful editors of The Edmontonian profiled the Unknown Studio on their site. Thanks for the shout-out guys!
• The 5th Annual Pure Speculation Science Fiction Festival is taking place this weekend in Edmonton at the Shaw Conference Centre. Register online or at any Happy Harbour Comics Store.
• The National Hockey League has been experimenting with social media, doing NHLTweetups during the playoffs and running a contest users can enter to win tickets. The Edmonton Oilers are getting in on it too. I wonder if this means a big about-face from about a year ago…?

In our last episode (the Seventh), Scott said at the very end of the recording he didn’t expect that we would make it past episode three — having the short attention spans that we do and all. But I can honestly say this little venture of ours isn’t a chore — not even remotely; it’s something I look forward to every recording. In a perfect world, Scott and I would be doing this full time on top of running an Unknown Studio website and doing all the other hilarious random things it is that we do. And we would be paid vast sums of money for our troubles.

Anyhow, we launched Episode the Eighth yesterday and I think it’s kind of a neat listen. Not only did we get to talk to the Festival Organizer of Edmonton’s Pure Speculation Science Fiction Festival (taking place at the Shaw Conference Centre October 2 to 4) Mr Brent Jans, but I really feel as though Scott and I are starting to hit our stride. We sound comfortable. We sound like we’re having fun. It’s because we are.

To those of you who’ve given us a listen, even if you haven’t been into every episode topic: my thanks. It’s great to have your support, and tremendous to receive your feedback. I’m glad to say that more great content is on the way (in our next episode, we talk politics with Daveberta and Duncan Woytaszek).

Scott and I are also going to have a website developed that will probably become home to all my blogging — and Scott’s, as I will force him to write. The Unknown Studio Podcast will always be the flagship, of course. But we’re both so encouraged by how things have gone that we want to become bigger and better.

This is, hopefully, where you come in. If you have criticisms or kudos, we’d like to hear them. Please email me at adam [at] theunknownstudio [dot] ca and share your thoughts with me and Scott. We’re also looking for show sponsors to help us manage our hosting costs and our eventual development costs for the new site.

Above all, please keep listening. That’s why we’re doing this, after all — to share our stories, and those of others in our community.

I hope you’ve enjoyed the ride so far.

Oh sure, there was the occasional Hungy Hungry Hippos grudge-match or a Jenga throw-down. These would invariably apex with me or one of my brothers becoming extremely annoyed, throwing a game piece at someone and accidentally hitting them in the eye. The grand finale involved the thrower running away, saying, “Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry.”

Oh, and we sometimes played Sorry! as well.

Having aged significantly, if not graciously, since then I’ve learned to temper my emotions and have swung somewhat in the other direction. Whenever I play Monopoly, for example, I now try and make deals to keep everyone in the game for as long as possible (socialist douchebag, I know) until I have to start knocking people out of it. Except I’ve never won a game of Monopoly. Perhaps it’s time to revise my pinko strategies.

There wasn’t a revision of strategies earlier last week per se. But it afforded me the opportunity to get together and spend some Unknown Studio downtime with my co-host Mr. Scott C. Bourgeois, his lovely finacée Anita, my lovely girlfriend Rachel, and the lovely Brittney Le Blanc.

We started the evening with a quick dinner, and proceeded directly to Scott’s gaming lair — a true Nerd Cave. Check out all the games he had (and I think this constitutes but a third, not even, of his collection):

Behold: evidence of nerd-kind.

Since we were waiting for Rachel to join us following a meeting, we decided to play a few short board games. The first was called “Giftrap.” In the game you get to give the other players presents, advancing your tokens over the board if other players like your gifts, and you like the ones you receive from them. I know, weird concept, right? It was hilarious though! Probably the worst present was a cryonic chamber. The best was a trip to Greece. Damn shame it wasn’t real…

Anita and Brittney show off their gift bags.

I think Anita won… It really didn’t matter, though. For such a simple concept we had a hilarious time. And that, friends, was the greatest gift of all.

It was like Christmas come early — in board game form.

Next, we played a game whose name escapes me, but whose board and game tokens were exquisitely designed. You were given three cards each, all with a series of random lines on them. The object was to lay the cards out on a board, taking turns, to create a path for your little player. You lost by being run off the board or colliding with another player. You won by being the last man standing. I did not win.

I chose the green token. Rightly so, for a green-horn like me.

We moved on to the next game, knowing now that Rachel was on her way from her meeting. A quick card game was in order! This one was called Fluxx. We each had a hand of cards to start with and some basic rules. We then played cards — some had new rules on them, others had information on what it would take to win, others had objects you kept and displayed in order to win… It was strange and hilarious. I’m going to buy Fluxx for sure and force my roommates to play it with me.

A fluxxing good time. Ugh, weak.

Rachel joined us, and the real game began. The last time I was over at Scott and Anita’s we’d started playing Tales of the Arabian Nights, but I didn’t have a chance to play through to the end as I had to leave early. This night, though, I would have my chance.

In order to properly prepare for the NerdFest about to take place, Anita was kind enough to bring Scott and I some Alley Kat Mead while the board was prepped.

Mead indeed!

The game began shortly thereafter. It’s a simple game to play, but there are a lot of steps involved in a players turn, including moving, dice rolls, having “encounters” (some extremely awesome, some mundane), gain story and destiny points, use earned skills, etc. It’s kind of like an RPG in super-simplified board game form. The excitement was palpable. I felt the need to stand up for every turn. Sometimes, on my chair.

Planning my next move, while Scott reads from the game's story guide

In the end Brittney won the game, but completing her adventures, getting the necessary story and destiny points, going back to Baghdad (the starting point of the game) and having an Encounter — if it sounds very sexy, that’s because it was. In this picture, Brittney and Rachel mock all their opponents:

Brittney and Rachel laughing at their enemies

It was a great night, and I hope the start of many more such events. Board games are so much more than Scrabble and Monopoly. I’m glad I had a chance to discover this is such good company. And all without throwing a single game piece at anyone’s eye.

Oh sure, it’s thicker. But it’s a helluva lot thicker. Terrifying, actually, that I can grow hair this quickly. If rapid hair-growth counted as a superpower, I’d be Professor fucking-X… if Professor X had hair. Check it:

Taste the rainbow... and by rainbow, I mean beard.

The question now: How much thicker will it get? I don’t want to ZZ Top this mofo. However, certain key beard areas aren’t quite at the thickness they should be. But compare the above photo to my previous entry:

Who's this handsome devil?

Oh cool! That zit cleared up.

Ahem.

Yes, you get the idea. And that idea is facial hair. The question is, am I even remotely approaching the sexiness of this man? Only time will tell…

They call him Number One for a reason

My genetics endow me with the dubious quality of being able to grow facial hair at an alarming rate. The last time I shaved was August 31, 2009. At that time, I essentially looked like this:

Basically exactly like the image, actually. I think I even had cake in my high-chair that day.

Now, however, not even a week since, I’m more monster than man:

A five-day beard. Eat your heart out, ZZ-Top

Soon, the genesis of the Riker Beard will be complete… That’s part of the reason I’m doing this, see.

I’ll routinely grow back my facial hair maybe once every two years due mostly to laziness and cheapness — those Mach 3s don’t grow on trees. Because if they did, those trees would cut you. This year, however, Rachel and I have decided to really nerd it up for Halloween, and will go as the original Star Fleet power couple: Commander William Riker — whose cro-magnon tendencies routinely cost him the chance to command is own starship (Riker was truly a sap with no business commanding his own vessel, but damn was he ever handsome); and the meddlesome-though-pleasant Deanna Troi.

There, I said it. Now if we don’t dress like this for Halloween, I no longer have an excuse for my continued vagrancy.

Watch this space for more beard updates.

And rightly so.

One of the topics Dave and I discussed over beers was where, exactly, Ed Stelmach had gotten to. No one has heard a peep from the man since the day he promised us that the beers Dave and I were consuming wouldn’t cost more on account of taxes — recession be damned!

We weren’t sure of the premier’s whereabouts, so we decided to put up “Missing” posters, imploring someone — anyone — who has seen Steady Eddie to let us know. Check it:

You can download the print-quality PDF here. Please print these off and post them all over your towns and cities!

I’m sure you’ve seen some of the major offenders yourself, “Indeed, methinks blah blah blah.”

The wonderful thing about the web is that the main method of communication is through writing. The terrible thing about the web is that it allows douchebags to experiment with language, and sound like complete and utter knobs.

Below is a shortlist of some of the words and phrases I’ve come across that are just so egregious that they should be banned from use entirely. And just so you know, I’ve been variously guilty of using all of these words and phrases myself.

1. “Methinks”: This is meant to be a humourous old English phrase. It’s supposed to be ironic. But over the last few weeks I’ve seen a half dozen or so people use this word completely unironically. The phrase you’re actually looking for is “I think,” unless you’re trying to be hilarious and it’s the 14th century.
2. “Indeed”: The definitions for this word are variously amusing. My interpretation of them is this: “indeed is a word used to emphasize that which has already been stated, and unless you’re a total knob, you actually never have to use the word ‘indeed’ unless you’re just trying to sound like a pompous douche.” Indeed, I suspect many of you already knew this. Yes indeed.
3. “The fact is”: This phrase really grinds me. I think nearly every time I’ve heard someone begin a statement with “the fact is,” I’ve discovered later that, in truth, the fact isn’t.
4. “I daresay”: Like human vestigial organs — the appendix or the tail — “daresay” is a word that should have been surgically removed from the English language about two centuries ago. Use of the word “dare” in this compound word hardly adds to the mystique. Instead of “venturing to say” something, just come out and say it. I dare you.
5. “Needless to say”: Really? Needless to say? Then don’t fuckin’ say it.
6. “In my humble opinion” (not to be confused with the infinitely better “in my opinion”): I find often — though not always — those individuals offering up their “humble” opinions aren’t very humble. People use this phrase to soften then blow of something they know people are going to vehemently disagree with. Don’t be so afraid to share your proud or overbearing opinion. You aren’t fooling anyone with this “humble” business.
7. “Just sayin’”: Yeah, clearly. By virtue of the fact that you’re saying it, we can see that you’re “just sayin’.” Still, thanks for pointing it out to us knuckle-dragging word-simians.

Needless to say, this post indeed makes me come across as a curmudgeonly jerk. I daresay many of you will disagree with me, but the fact is these are words and phrases that we should do away with. In my humble opinion, they make the writer sound like a douchebag, and methinks that harms a writer’s credibility.

Just sayin’.

Data the Enabler forces Scotty to imbibe.

Last week, Henderson and I wound up at the same dinner party, and wouldn’t you know it, but our gracious hosts were fans of the Trek. Since Henderson and I are shameless histrionic personalities, we live-tweeted the whole thing for an audience that exists primarily in our own imaginations.

Here’s what happened when we sat down to watch Season Six, Episode Four: “Relics”

ChrisHenderson: I like this episode. Riker has a beard. It makes me feel safe. Yet, extremely vulnerable.

Bingofuel: Riker, how would you know the value of the earth’s orbit around the sun, you mouth-breather?

BF: Ah yes, the Dyson Sphere: also known as solar bubble wrap. also known as Planet Condom.

BF: Like Worf’s going to be able to increase the oxygen level! He’s the security officer. Ask him to shoot something. LIKE THE EMITTER ARRAY!

BF: Geordi: “I’ve never seen a transporter jury-rigged like this before.” Me: “Technically, you haven’t seen anything before.”

CH: So, yet again, the Enterprise found something extremely dangerous and mysterious to beam down 3 of their 5 most senior officers to. SAFETY.

CH: Scotty is in this epi. He was stuck in a transporter. How did he gain all that weight, when he was broken down into his constituent parts?

BF: Scotty just looked at Worf like he had two heads. Or, you know, one really fuckin’ big misshapen one.

BF: I like how Scotty’s regaling Geordi with old engineering tales, and Geordi’s just, like, checking his text messages and shit.

CH: Scotty and Geordi are nerding out over ship engines. If they get stuck in the turbolift, they’ll probably be tempted to touch silly parts.

BF: Scotty, you’re 147 years old. TAKE IT EASY… and drink this bottle of whiskey.

CH: @bingofuel Geordi doesn’t find Scotty’s stories nearly amusing as listening to @souljaboytellem

BF: Geordi’s so 9-5. SCOTTY’S 24-7

CH: Geordi is annoyed and thinking about shipping Scotty to the USS Barack Obama, where old people have their fate decided by DEATH PANELS.

The USS Jenolan, aka the Little Ship That Could For As Long As The Enterprise Needed To Escape™

BF: uh oh, the scotsman just found the Bar of the Future™. Let the 3D drinking games begin!

CH: Apparently being a Lt. Commander also allows you to tend bar at 10-Forward, which, if I do say so, is the stupidest name for a bar ever.

BF: Scotty’s the Original Gangsta. No bloody “A,” “B,” “C,” or “D.”

BF: FUCK YES. Captain Picard is downing Aldebaran whiskey shots with Scotty. I want to go on a starship pubcrawl with them! SPRING BREAK

BF: How come no one ever goes into the holodeck and says, “Load the muthafuckin’ Tron laser-bike program, and disable the safeties, bitch”?

BF: Scotty’s hangover wisdom is first-rate!

BF: The Dyson Sphere conjures images of Miles Dyson, creator of the Terminator. My advice to the crew of the Enterprise: DON’T GO IN THERE.

BF: When has auxiliary power NOT failed, nameless ensign?

BF: Riker will see about getting main power back online. Probably by head-butting a computer terminal.

CH: @bingofuel I think it’s more likely that he’ll seduce it and then use his cold-hearted manliness to leave it yearning for him forevermore.

CH: Scotty laughs at everything Geordi suggests. Scotty is a damn racist.

BF: Scotty: “I never wanted to be anything but and engineer… an Ewan MacGregor’s body double in Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith.”

BF: Fact: the USS Jenolan is named after the Jenolan Caves in Australia. Booyah… uh, and prosper.

BF: New fact: the FORMER Jenolan… it was destroyed by the Enterprise. No respect for history.

CH: The Enterprise just shot the gap on the Death Star: “SISTA BE DRIVIN!”

CH: Geordi is the Chief Engineer OF MY HEART. Incidentally, I’m Admiral of my own bathtub.

BF: @ChrisHenderson I wish *I* had a bathtub admiral! SISTA BE BATHIN’!

This is the first it what will “hopefully” become a semi-regular series of posts… as long as @ChrisHenderson and I can find time to sit down and nerd the hell out… Mad thanks to the teams of monks at Memory Alpha, the finest wiki-reference for Trek on the whole planet.

First off, Venting is completely anonymous. And for a fairly credible media organization, I don’t think keeping an anonymous sniping section in their newspaper drives the credibility meter up into the stratosphere.

Second, it’s not quite like Twitter. I’d argue that while most of the people I follow on Twitter make nice (generally), Venting is a place for trolls. If people on Twitter act like dinks, there’s a real-time community there to put them in their place. A lot of people on Twitter also choose to identify who they are (like me), though not all people do this. There’s no mechanism in Venting to say to someone, “Hey, Ted from Fort Saskatchewan, who hates all people less than 5’4″ tall, that’s extremely dumb what you just said,” or “Wow, Steven from Holyrood, the level of qualified ignorance you just conveyed really makes me worry for future generations of the human race.”

In a way, though, having a Venting section is a somewhat democratic thing to do: open up the Journal’s pages to those not eloquent enough to collect their thoughts and write a proper letter to the editor. Give anonymous douchebags too cowardly to share their views and attach their name to them a street-corner soapbox from which to share their asinine vitriolic rants.

I’m sorry, but Venting is a tremendous waste of ink. It adds exactly no value to the Journal, and in fact takes it down a notch when you compare that (albeit small) section to the Journal’s other hallowed pages. Venting reads like the Edmonton Sun’s letters section: nasty, brutish and short.

I’d be happy to see the newspaper do away with Venting. Save that space for more local content, and let the trolls have at ‘er in the online comments section of the newspaper. Who knows, maybe a troll or two will amass enough brain matter (by proxy, of course) to write a proper letter to the editor denouncing local drivers and their inability to use turn signals; or the fact that smokers are, like, totally being marginalized and shit.

But what do I know? I guess I’m just venting.

Mack’s right, that’s exactly our problem: a severe lack of pride in our city because it isn’t something or someplace else. And this statement is one that doesn’t take into consideration the efforts of building Edmonton into a global city in the next ten to 20 years. I’m talking about efforts by individuals citizens, by groups of organized citizens, and even by politicians, though I’m sure the cynics among you might think otherwise.

When I was younger, I used to shit on Edmonton constantly. “There’s nothing to do here,” “Downtown’s dead,” “Whyte Ave is a slobbering drunkfest.” And this may have been true, ten years ago (often, sadly, Whyte Ave continues to be a slobbering drunkfest). But there’s plenty to do in Edmonton, and the tools to find out what’s going on are becoming more and more accessible thanks in part to individual citizens blogging and broadcasting about the goings-on here; the City itself is using social media and its own website to disseminate information to people.

For a city that was once known only for its hockey team or its giant mall, Edmonton’s changed quite a bit since my childhood. Or perhaps it hasn’t changed all that much. One thing that has changed, in my mind, are the number of people becoming engaged and involved in the way the city runs, and the way its cultural institutions integrate with other civic agencies and businesses. Individual citizens appear to be more engaged than ever before because of the ease of information flow thanks to the web, social media, and certain champions of the city who have decided to try and get the word out. And this is key.

From the time I graduated high school just over ten years ago until I graduated from University about six years ago, there was a steady bleeding of talented, smart Edmontonians seeking opportunities in other more progressive cities. They wanted to live in places where communities were active and vibrant, where they could walk to a corner market and buy produce, or head a few blocks down a street and find a festival or event taking place. These types of amenities don’t spring up overnight. It takes the effort and will of engaged and passionate people to build those types of things in their own communities.

Thankfully, since my convocation, there have risen individuals who’ve decided that enough is enough.

Edmonton can and should be a place where all of these amenities are available. We now have the Downtown Farmers’ Market, and our festivals are increasingly recognized as world-class (I loathe that phrase, but there you have it) and steadily growing in their sizes and scopes. Even the City itself is getting into the spirit of things, attempting to engage citizens and draw them our of their homes during the typically dead winter.

The thing to remember about all of this? These things take time.

Rome wasn’t built in a day, and Edmonton won’t become a centre of cultural diversity, business innovation, or a tourist destination up there with larger Canadian cities like Vancouver and Montreal overnight. I mean, it’s taken more than ten years for Jasper Avenue to not be completely devoid of life. And it’s not even half-way along to the bustling street it could be. But it’s moved forward, and it continues to do so.

And that is what people who see the potential of Edmonton are doing: moving the ball forward. Because we don’t want this just to be the city with a big fuckin’ mall. We want it to be a city that’s really great to visit, really great to live in, and really great in general.

We’re getting there, slowly and surely, thanks to passionate Edmontonians.

This is the third in a short series of posts about my family’s history, living in Canada as landed immigrants in the 1950s and 60s. You can read the second tale here, and the third one here. This particular series discusses my mother’s experiences living and working on a southern Alberta farm as a child. This will be the final post of this brief series.

There is a particular curse word in French that is quite vulgar when translated literally into English. However, the French no longer see it as such. It’s as common an insult in French as “idiot” is in English — it’s long taken on lesser connotations. If you aren’t sure what the word is, take a look at the first syllable in the word “connotations.” Maybe now you can imagine its English equivalent.

You’ll also find this word —con (pronounce like “cone” but the a very shortened “n” sound) — in the first syllable of the French word for jam: confiture. Georges, the beloved French farm-hand who worked for my grandfather when my family had its farm in southern Alberta, could not — nay, would not have breakfast without bread. And he would not have bread without his confiture. Mum and her twin brother René knew this. Knew it so well, that one morning, they decided to hide all the confiture.

So when Georges sat down that morning to help himself to breakfast — his bread and confiture — there was none to be found. Thus the question arose, “Où est la confiture?” Georges was asking.

“Oh, tu veux de la CONfiture?” came the response from the twins. “Je ‘n sais pas où est la CONfiture.” This particular emphasis and inflection was, quite sensibly, a great source of consternation for poor Georges. Georges le con. Not kind. And likely no help that my grandparents found that little gag particularly funny.

Georges eventually left Canada and headed back to France, though I think it had more to do with the fact that he really missed France. I don’t think Georges was integrating well in western Canada. I doubt the twins were helping much.

My mother and her brother stuck it out in Canada, though. Matter of fact, all my mum’s family did.

René steadily made his way eastward, stopping in Saskatchewan to join the RCMP, where he developed a deep-seated aversion to Shepherd’s Pie. He eventually found his way to Montréal, got married, had two children who are now in their 30s and worked as an RCMP member in charge of protecting federal politicians when they came over from Ottawa. He was front-and-centre during the FLQ Crisis.

René is a nationalist who guarded Pierre Trudeau and Jean Chretien, among others. Both of them, he says, were very nice, very cool people. Some other federal leaders — I’m sure you can imagine which ones — he doesn’t speak so fondly of. René (and his wife) is retired now and spends most of his time cycling and cross-country skiing in and around Montréal.

Mum stayed in Western Canada, in Alberta. She made her way up to St Albert, a bit of a haven for the French among the blue-collar anglophones in the centre of the province. She worked at a law firm, and eventually met my father, somehow convincing him not to become a priest. (I learned this fact about three days ago. Needless to say, a series on my father is in order.) Mum married dad in 1969, got pregnant in her first year of University and spent the next 25 or so years raising three boys, including myself.

I think she did all right.

Mum speaks with a clear fondness for the farm, but is happy to be a city girl now, where she has access to creature comforts she’s become accustom to. And all the confiture she would ever need.

This is the third in a short series of posts about my family’s history, living in Canada as landed immigrants in the 1950s and 60s. You can read the second tale here. This particular series discusses my mother’s experiences living and working on a southern Alberta farm as a child.

I wish I could say that my Mum and René left Georges be. But if they had, I wouldn’t have such tragic and funny stories to tell. So we plod on, and discuss some of Georges’ evening habits… and his fears (aside from the twin spawn of my grandparents).

When I last spoke with Mum and René, they told me and my brothers that Georges had a bizarre aversion to gophers. He didn’t dislike them as some people do magpies or mice. He was afraid of them. Evil vicious little things, he thought.

Naturally, the twins wanted to leverage this little-known fact. And since the last story I told you dealt with Georges’ morning routine, I’ll tell you a little bit about his evening routine.

It would seem, through some clandestine reconnaissance, René had discovered Georges’ method of getting into bed. The man liked to climb under the sheets, and jam his feet toward the foot of the bed underneath the covers. René’s mischievous brain conceived of putting a bunch of brushes into the foot of Georges’ bed just underneath the covers. Combine Georges’ foot-shoving behaviour with a fear of gophers, and you have a truly nightmarish way of falling asleep.

René found some brushes and did just that. These would be the gopher stand-ins and would help Georges’ learn the true meaning of terror. But what’s terror without pain? Nothing, according to my uncle. So he found a detached sledgehammer head.

He found it because on the farm, these things are always lying around somewhere. He also found it because he went out looking for it thinking to himself (en Français), “I’m going to find something very very hard — the head of a sledgehammer — and place it in Georges’ pillowcase.”

And that’s what he did.

And then it was bedtime. It actually never occurred to me to ask my mum if they went to bed early or late. I think it really depended on the time of the season. Sometimes you had to stay up late working and always you had to get up early. Georges was no doubt settling down for a good night’s sleep after a long day of back-breaking farm work and avoiding the twins. My mum and her brother were no doubt barely containing themselves in their own beds as they waited and listened for Georges to discover the gift they’d left for him.

From Georges’ perspective, and in my imagination, it went down a little something like this:

Position self on bed. Slide feet quickly into the foot of the bed under the covers. Feel something unusual brushing against feet, triggering thoughts of evil gophers. React by stiffening and slamming body very hard into the mattress… and pillowcase. Bash head on sledgehammer head that used to be a very soft pillow. Experience a combination of terror and extreme pain simultaneously. Nearly wet self. Hear laughter of irritating bugger children. Become enraged. Curse loudly in French.

Knowing what little I do know about Georges, I would imagine the poor man had a very awful sleep that night. Nightmares of some kind of terrible reverse Whack-a-Mole dancing over his brain. Désolé, Georges!

In my next post, I’ll tell you about how the twins were able to ruin Georges’ breakfast. And I’ll cap off this short series with some words on the kinds of things my uncle and mum have accomplished since their childhood.

I guess life on the farm is extremely routine and regimented. It has to be. Mum lived on a dairy farm in southern Alberta, near Lethbridge, for most of her childhood. I remember hearing stories about how awful the children in her school were to her and her twin brother René. You don’t speak the language, you’re different, and so you’re the object of extreme prejudice by the other — more Canadian, more normal — children. I count myself lucky I never had to experience anything like that. But whatever happened at school, Mum was lucky enough to have René, a built-in best friend. I can’t imagine what it’s like having a twin sibling…

In any event, school was soon forgotten when René and Mum got home, or when they had to wake up first thing in the early morning to milk the cows. Ever present, though, was their desire to bug poor Georges, the wayward Frenchman who never stood a chance.

Georges was a man of particular habits; he liked his toast his certain way and he liked his daily schedule his certain way. What he didn’t like were children, due in large part to my grandparents’ kids and their constant interference with his routine. This was a time before even television or the web. Kids had to occupy themselves somehow. René and Mum occupied themselves with disrupting Georges’ life.

Georges had a pair of slippers he always kept on the porch. In the morning, when he’d wake up, and before he had breakfast, Georges would go upstairs, open the door to the porch, step outside, slide into his slippers and keep right on walking, as though the slippers magically found themselves on his feet. Without a misstep, Georges was on his way.

Until the morning René nailed Georges’ slippers to the deck, my mother watching on, complicit in the whole scheme.

I imagine it a morning like any other, only this particular morning saw Mum and René on the edge of their seats at the breakfast table. And so it went: Georges hauled himself up the stairs, through the kitchen, out the door, onto the porch and into his slippers. However, on this particular morning, his full stride was stopped completely short. I imagine his thoughts of confusion as he tumbled face-first into the floor of the porch; an immediate sense of panic, turned to confusion, then realization at what was going on, then rage and some concept of whole was responsible — all before he experienced a great deal of pain.

Mum never mentioned Georges swearing, not with curse words, anyway. He’d say things like “Espèses de cons!” and “Mais qu’ils sont fous!” Nothing terribly earth shattering. But this time, the curses came fast and they came furious as Mum and René giggled until they were disciplined by their parents.

A single, solitary example of the life Georges led in Canada.

In my next post, I’ll tell you a little bit about my Mum’s discovery of Georges’ bedtime routine… and his fear of gophers.

And I know my parents have conducted themselves both wonderfully and questionably throughout their lives. That’s human nature. But my mother and her twin brother were always up to no good, particularly when they were children; particularly when they were new immigrants (moved here from France when they were just kids); particularly when they were living and working on my grandparents’ farm in southern Alberta.

Mum and René were, more often than not, up to no good. By their own admission, they reveled in scaring the living shit out of their nieces and nephews playing late-night hide-and-seek — my Mum’s eldest sister, herself a mother of ten, is about 15 years older than mum, which means Mum was an aunt at a very young age.

But Mum and René took particular pleasure in tormenting a Frenchman named Georges, who came to Canada one summer looking to work as a farm hand. The Canadian government hooked Georges up with my grandpa, himself a recent immigrant who spoke both official languages (Truly, I think he understood some English, and relied on his children to help him with the rest). I think the government figured on this being a simpler transition for Georges than sticking him with a bunch of English farmers, language barrier and all. What they didn’t figure on was a pair of mischievous French kids.

I’m a first-generation Canadian. Both of my parents are European immigrants who jumped on boats in the 1950s with their families (my father’s family with five children, my mother’s with ten!) and made their ways here to start new lives. My dad led a distinctly urban life, even when he lived in Holland. My mother was raised on a farm both in France and in Canada, though you wouldn’t know it now for her love of all things urban. I take a great deal of pride in my origins (and having spoken French my whole life, identify with that particular part of my heritage), and seeing my mother and her “beau frère” recount their childhood memories last weekend was nothing short of beautiful and inspirational.

Over the next few posts, I’m going to share with you some of Mum and René’s stories, providing context about their upbringing as it relates to their present dispositions. I recognize fully that my parents, my wonderful aunts and uncles, will not be around forever — another sad fact of human nature. I’ve always told myself I’d write a book about my family, since so many of my aunts, uncles, and cousins have such a diversity of experience and I tend to manage to drill down to the interesting bits of their life-stories. I hope you’ll join me over the next little while, as I discuss the poor Frenchman Georges, who didn’t stand a chance in my Home and Native Land.

In his piece, Babiak makes these rather bold statements:

“What happened this week was a masters class in the present and future of political organization. [...] [I]t must have been devastating for the city’s most powerful men and women to watch a group of virtually connected — but politically unconnected — young people creating and controlling public debate with speed, elegance and respect.”

I’m somewhat skeptical of the statement, in spite of having been engaged and involved in the debate, going so far as to e-mail my city council reps Jane Batty and Ben Henderson about the issue. However, the more I started thinking about it, the more it occurred to me I’m too entrenched in the issue, too much a part of the whole story, to really take a long view of whether or not this is truly a significant shift in the way discourse is performed, and the way changed is achieved. I will endeavour to take the long view anyhow.

Whenever I read a politician state, as Mayor Stephen Mandel did in Babiak’s story, “I think we’re seeing a dramatic change in politics. Those traditional ways of lobbying, of getting the word out, that same old cast of characters, don’t mean as much,” I kind of shake my head. How many times has this been uttered about emerging technology? And how many of those technologies wind up being flashes in the pan?

But then it occurred to me: this pan has been flashing brightly and for a long time. We saw it with Bill 44, a debate which will continue thanks in no small part to sensible Edmonton-Whitemud Tories, we saw it on a global scale with Iran (particularly when the US State Department apparently asked Twitter to keep the servers running for a little while after their scheduled maintenance window to ensure Iranians had a place to congregate and broadcast online), and we saw it with the City Centre Airport debate and decision.

What does everyone else think? Is Babiak’s piece prophetic or over-the-top?

Given what I’ve seen on Twitter since I signed up almost a year ago, and indeed on other social media platforms, I’m leaning heavily toward the former. I’ve witnessed increased engagement outside of political party lines with organizations across the city like NextGen and Better Edmonton. Blogging, tweeting, using Facebook… Individuals like Mack Male and Jordan Schroder have this as down to a science as anyone else, and they use these media very effectively and organically. Effectively for obvious reasons (how many among you who emailed your councillors would have done so on other issues?). Organically because the two (and a group of other concerned individuals) came forward and joined forces — if only loosely — to champion a common cause. The “coordination” — such as it was — required to run this campaign wasn’t possible even ten year ago, at least not with this level of ease.

Moreover, the very nature of the web as a public arena gives visibility to all sides of an issue, and forces each side to respond to the other with clear arguments and examples of their perspective. It forces people to be civil and considerate, even if only a little bit. It engages people and demands that they defend their perspectives, or at least better explain them.

To me, the YXD closure debate, emotional though it was for both sides, is a shining example to local, provincial and especially federal politicians for how they should behave. And we have people like Mack Male, David MacLean, and Jordan Schroder to thank for that. But more importantly, it represents a new method of engagement, of organization, and way to change things.

It’s pretty unreal when you can put out an ad on a service like Craigslist or Kijiji and wind up meeting someone who isn’t a terrifying sociopath. When Scott and I needed a third person to move in — after our previous roommate Julie moved out to go travelling — we knew several things: our roommate had to be a girl, she had to be very patient, she had to like staying up late, and she had to be able to dish out the sarcasm and snide remarks that so constantly get floated about in this house. Turns out she was the perfect choice.

The whole adventure started when Scott and I were trying to determine precisely what we wanted in a roommate. We wanted someone who wasn’t afraid to converse with us and be more than just a person who shared our space. We wanted someone we could be friends with. We also wanted someone who liked to have fun every now and then, like go out on weekends drinking, or stay home chillin’ till late at night watching hilarious movies. So we put out an ad stating those things. We got several responses, but Clara was the first one to respond. We invited her over to view the house.

It was the end of August, and the sun was setting over the building downtown, casting an orange glow into the living room. Clara Moon Song (for that is her name) came to the door, dressed in a black halter top and mini-skirt — a deliberate strategy, we later found out, to win us over. We showed her her room, introduced her to the cat, took her through the house and then spent the next hour on the couch drinking wine and chatting. She had lived in Edmonton off and on for four years, and was in town taking car of her brother, who’d been injured awhile back (an injury which caused some brain damage). She wanted to live in the same neighbourhood as him, and our place was ideal.

We liked Clara immediately. Smart, confident, funny. The perfect roommate. We told her we had a few other people interested in the house and we’d let her know if she got it. This was, of course, a lie. But not an altogether evil thing to tell her, as Scott and I needed to discuss whether or not we agreed she should live with us.

It wasn’t much of a discussion. More like vigorous nodding.

I phoned her the next day and told her she could move in whenever she wanted.

Over the past year, Clara became a dear friend, confidante, and drinkin’ buddy. I got endless joy bugging her, making fun of her and annoying her. And boy, could she dish it out better than I could. She was so much fun to have around. Her last day at the house in Riverdale was Canada Day. I cried when she left. In front of about 20 people. But who cares? Our dear friend was leaving us.

I got an email from Clara earlier this week, telling us how much she missed us. I responded thusly:

The house isn’t the same without you, Moon Song. In fact, I’ve closed your bedroom door and there seems to be an unspoken understanding between Scott and I that no one is to enter that room. Meanwhile, the dishes keep piling up, and the backyard’s a mess. We’re waiting for you to come back in August and clean it all up.

I’m kidding. We’ll make Vinny the Husky do it.

Farewell to my Moon Song, who was always kind and equally mean when I needed it. I’ll miss you. I already do.

Good Afternoon Councillors,

My name is Adam Rozenhart. I’m a Ward 4 constituent living in the picturesque neighbourhood of Riverdale. I’m writing you today concerning the hearings on what to do with Edmonton’s Downtown Airport. I implore you to vote in favour of closing its doors and redeveloping those lands for residential and commercial in-fill.

I’ve been listening to the discussion over the web the last three days, and I fear (as Scott McKeen pointed out in this recent column in the Journal) the pro-airport speakers have unduly influenced councillors with dire forecasts of medevac failures and the bleeding of businesses down south to Calgary.

Forgive me, but I call bullshit.

While there is no question in my mind that closing the downtown airport will have significant repercussions in this city, I see these repercussions as being extremely positive. Developing those lands with TOD in mind will bring a new energy to the City. A youthful one. I’ve spent the last five years working trying to build businesses in Edmonton while my friends have opted to leave for greener pastures — both literally and figuratively. They’ve moved to forward-thinking cities like Toronto, Vancouver, and Portland. Cities where transit isn’t shunned; it’s encouraged. My friends brag about how they rarely need to drive their vehicles, how convenient it is to ride transit, and how easy it is to get around on a bicycle. They hadn’t the patience to wait for Edmonton to get its shit together.

I’m tired of having to justify to Edmonton ex-pats why I still live here. We’re still viewed by outsiders as a backward thinking small town with the footprint of a big city. It’s time for Edmonton to put its money where its mouth is. It’s time for us to draw a line in the sand and declare that we realize that tough choices need to be made; we realize that some choices are going to be unpopular; but that we realize, ultimately, this is will benefit future generations of Edmontonians.

The downtown airport lands represent an opportunity to do something uniquely green and smart with development in Edmonton. It means further intensification in the core, and it means a glut of new development. This is a good thing.

I don’t make the following statement to alarm you or to try and force you in a corner, but for me the Downtown Airport decision is a keystone decision. It means the different between staying in Edmonton in the coming years or moving to the coast. Simple as that. I love this city. I’ve lived here my entire life — 29 years. I’m an Edmonton booster. But unless City Council starts making the hard choices, stems the out-of-control sprawl taking place and starts to implement transit-oriented development and pedestrian-oriented development strategies, I will in all likelihood pull up my roots and move to a city that cares about such things.

I’m sorry this is so brief. I would love to sit down and chat with one or both of you about this issue before you vote. I want the right decision to be made for the city, not for the people who fly in, use our services occasionally and then leave. In my mind, this is a decision that must be made for Edmonton and Edmontonians.

I’ve rambled enough. Please feel free to contact me if you’re interested in discussing this issue with me.

Our paths didn’t cross so much between then and now, but Scott and I managed to meet up a few times to discuss launching a podcast. We didn’t know what we were going to call it, we didn’t know what it was going to be about, but we knew we were going to do it. If it killed us or drained us financially (I doubt it will do either, but what’s a good yarn without poverty and death?).

Scott and I met twice over the period of a few weeks to hammer out the details. We decided the focus of the show should be, well, not very focused at all. We would discuss issues relevant to where we live (Edmonton), but that could mean just about anything. That’s the way we want it… a talk-show, with guests, that we find interesting. Our hope is that others will find it interesting as well. That remains to be seen.

Coming up with a name for our baby wasn’t easy. And now I think I know what it’s like to be a parent, minus the 3am feedings, shitty diapers, minimum 18 years of vigilance and discipline… OK I clearly have no idea what I’m talking about if I’m bringing parenting into this.

Still, in order to name our PodBaby (which, now that I think of it, would have been a hilarious name for the show), we enlisted the help of brainstormer extraordinaire, Mr Daryl Hooke. Among the list about about 20 ideas Daryl had, Scott and I really glommed onto “The Unknown Studio.”

So that’s what it’s called. We recorded our first episode at the iNews880 studios (where Scott) works over the weekend, and we’ll produce more, expecting to do one show every two weeks. It was a blast — huge thanks to Brittney Le Blanc, a web editor from iNews, for being our very first guest.

Scott and I are trying to line up more guests, and we have a ton of show ideas… But we could always use more. So if you have an idea for a show, drop some science in the comments section.

And before you leave, make sure you download our first episode!

I spoke with my dear friend @andrealown over Skype tonight about the re-purposing of a blog we created last fall in Toronto, this time with a sharpened focus and eventually visual identity and branding. But that’s not what I want to talk about in this post, because I also met with @scottybomb at Next Act for a beer and a discussion about the creation of a loosely-Edmonton-focused podcast which would feature local guests, and topics that we enjoy and think others will too.

Scott and I had mused about this several tweetups ago, when we had occasion to catch up from our commonly held days at the U of A‘s student newspaper, the Gateway. I’d expressed interested in starting a podcast, and Scott — having had experience producing several — was interested in doing one more consistently and covering his own personal interests.

Then we didn’t really talk about it for a few months.

BUT THEN we started talking about it a few weeks ago, and we were finally able to meet about it tonight. And if the stars align, in the next few weeks, we’ll have launched our inaugural podcast, which we’re hoping will include minor celebrities and other high-larity. But before any of that actually happens, the show needs a name. And we need your help.

We created a shortlist of names, that we certainly aren’t married to. We’d ask you to vote on your favourite, and if you think they all suck, suggest an alternative. Then it’s podcastin’ time!

[polldaddy poll=1691451]

Pal ‘o mine and blogosphere titan Dave Cournoyer was once told to govern [himself] accordingly when he was rather hastily threatened with all kinds of legal mumbo jumbo over the fact that he owned the domain name edstelmach.ca (read about the controversy here and here). It’s a phrase that gets kicked around hilariously still, every now and then, and one I used the other night on Twitter to chide the Alberta Legislature during the third reading of the much-publicized Bill 44.

My quote was used in a CTV Calgary story today. Which is cool. But the description of my profile picture wasn’t terribly flattering (nor, I should say, is the picture):

“note: #bill44 trending on twitter. The eyes of the world are upon #ableg. GOVERN YOURSELVES ACCORDINGLY,” warned Edmonton user Adam Rozenhart, who goes by the username bingofuel and has a crown of broccoli stuffed into his nose on his profile picture.

I expect no less than accurate reporting from the likes of CTV, which this certainly provides. And I chuckle every time I read my own descriptor. Yet I can’t help but think that it might be time to change my profile picture.

I have decided that I shall henceforth govern myself accordingly (h/t to big Davie C). As such, I’m taking requests for what type of legume or fruit should next grace my nostril. I will use this object in the taking of my next Twitter profile pic.

And please, nobody suggest the use of gourds.

As someone who considers himself schooled in the art of the English language — a riotously funny statement for me to make, but certainly well in line with how highly I think of myself — I can be pretty self-conscious about the words I choose, it turns out. Lately, in particular, I’m finding that I use certain meaningless, cliché words to express my sentiments over weighty things. Try describing to someone you’re really into them, without spending hours spewing douchey prose about flower petals and clouds and shit. Pick one word to describe why you’re into someone, like a significant other.

All I ever seem to come up with is “awesome.”

I use the word far too much, and am hyper-aware of it. So, for example, when explaining to Rachel why I like her so much, I find myself saying, “Dude, it’s because you’re awesome.” Now, my use of the word “dude” to address a girl notwithstanding, “awesome” is a terrible word to use, for one reason: it literally means “extremely impressive or daunting; inspiring great admiration, apprehension or fear.”

Uh, right. Except, it really doesn’t mean that anymore, does it? The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are at least partly responsible for its change in meaning.

But still, let’s go with the according-to-Webster meaning in the scenario I raised two ‘graphs up. Why I like Rachel so much: “Dude, it’s because you’re extremely impressive. Or daunting. You inspire — perhaps simultaneously — admiration, apprehension, or fear.”

Somehow, I suspect my girlfriend isn’t going to find such a description particularly flattering. But it might not matter because, really, how much to I use the word?

Well, as probably the only real record of my use of language, let’s use the completely scientific Wordle tweet cloud image above. I use the word “awesome” enough that it appears in the cloud. I also say “really” and “bacon” a lot. And “dude.”

But I’m probably being too hard on myself for overuse of “awesome,” something that Rachel herself pointed out (and I should note that I will never apologize for excessive use of the word “bacon”). However, let me use this public forum to say that I am neither daunted nor apprehensive or fearful of my girlfriend. Not always, anyhow.

And as the Ninja Turles would say, she is awesome.

The Power Trio with Gord Steinke

Over a year ago, my business partner and I went to an Oilers game, as we sometimes do. It was there, after several crack-powered Rexall beers, that we happened upon Lynda Steele from Edmonton’s Global News. Lynda was selling copies of her book the Laptop Diaries. Having just launched OilersNation.com, we were looking for prizes to give away, and since the proceeds from Lynda’s book went to charity, we thought we’d buy a few and have her autograph them. A few means, like, seven, by the way. I had three left over, and being the random idiot that I am, I decided to give them away today by asking my Twitter followers trivia questions.

This was a truly random endeavour — as most of my Twitter wheelings and dealings are — but I was amazed at the response I got!

The first question I asked was spawned by a YouTube video of an acoustic version of Outkast’s “Hey ya.” I just asked everyone, “What’s cooler than being cool?” and received about 15 responses with “ice cold!”

I decided at that moment that I would give away all three copies of Lynda’s book today.

My next question was formulated with some help. Lynda told me she used to play hockey for the Hinton Jets, and I really wanted to stump people. So for the second book give-away, when I asked which hockey team she used to play for, no one got it. I posted a new question: “Where did Lynda grow up?” This one got lots of fast responses, most of them correct. Lynda was born in Edmonton, and grew up in Hinton. I had a lot of people suggest she grew up in Vancouver as well…

The final question was about Lynda’s co-anchor, Gord Steinke. I’ve always known Gord was a rock ‘n roller, but I haven’t kept up too much with that side of his career. As a final question, I needed Lynda’s help again: “What’s the name of Global News co-anchor Gord Steinke’s band?” This one stumped tweeps as well, so I had to go with a different question: “What US city did Gord work as a reporter/anchor in before coming to ITV in Edmonton?” The answer is: KSTP Minneapolis, which tweeps were able to figure out almost immediately.

Congrats to @seanhealy, @britl and @angelzilla for winning signed copies of Lynda Steele’s “Laptop Diaries” — and by the way, they’re all made out to “OilersNation” Ha! — I’ll arrange to get you your prizes as soon as possible. Thanks for playing! If I happen upon more swag, via beer-fueled NHL games or otherwise, I promise to hold more random contests.

Oh, and I will definitely be treating @adampatterson and @frostedbetty to drinks one of these days…

I wasn’t going to write about this… Didn’t see the need, didn’t want anyone to reassure me, don’t need it. I STILL don’t need that. So if you’re reading this, please, immediately realize this: I know I’m not the only person to go through something like this, and I’m not writing about it to elicit sympathy. I’m writing about it to sort out my own thoughts and feelings about it. This medium just happens to be public, and I happen to be OK with that.

This is for me, not you. Just count yourselves lucky you get to peer through the looking glass into my life. Yes, I’m being tongue-in-cheek. Seriously, I’m OK. Read and be entertained or horrified. I expect nothing more or less.

At the end of March, I took a road trip to the west coast with my best friend. It was definitely epic, fraught with hilarity and, quite often, Doritos. We spent some time in Vancouver, among other places, where I got to reconnect with my erstwhile French-Canadienne cousine. She described to me how her parents are doing (her dad — my mum’s twin brother, a thoroughly delightful and stubborn French-born European man — is an amusing topic of conversation for both of us), and how she’s been enjoying living in VanCity since she moved out there about two years ago from Montréal.

We had breakfast together with a group of friends at the Zen Café in Kitsilano. As she was telling me about her parents’ retirement and such, her expression changed to one of anger.

“Get this,” she tells me, recounting her recent summer trip to Scandinavia. “While I was away, Dad had a stroke. And he didn’t tell me until TWO MONTHS after,” she said, clearly enraged, “because he didn’t want to ‘ruin my travel plans.’ Can you fucking believe that?” she asked me, her French accent clearly accentuated by her rage.

“That’s insane,” I said, telling her that if my father did something like that, I’d gladly tear him a brand new one and demand that he thank me for the experience.

My uncle’s OK, and taking all the necessary medical advice, getting tested, etc. In short, his stubbornness gave way to a more pragmatic approach to existence. At the behest of his entire family (and no doubt his own well-formed and often-firing synapses), he’s getting the medical help he needs to ensure his lifestyle is conducive to longevity and not, you know, more strokes.

At the end of our road trip, on our way back to Edmonton, we stopped off at my parents’ house in Calgary, as the way from VanCity is long. The morning we were leaving Cowtown and headed back to the ‘Chuk, I shared my cousin’s story with Mum and Dad, channeling her indignation and revulsion at her father’s failure to share his malady with the people to whom he means the most. My dad smiled perceptively.

“Well, son,” He began. I grinned, thinking some hilarious quip would be imparted to me. “I, uh, I had a stroke too, just a few weeks ago.”

WHAT? I looked over at my mum, who nodded slowly with an expression that said, “Yeah, he’s not bullshitting you, kiddo.”

“Uh… WHAT?” I asked, my mouth deciding to play catch-up with my brain.

“Yeah,” Dad continued. “We were driving home one day, and when I parked and went to get out of the car my right leg wasn’t working properly.”

At this point, my mother starts laughing and says, “He was clomping his foot on the floor of the garage like a horse, or something.”

Now, I don’t know how much bad news you’ve received in your lifetime. If you’re approaching your 30s, as I am, I’d wager you’ve heard your share of wonderful and devastating news. Oftentimes, there isn’t any other way to deal with it than tears. Or disbelief and agape expressions. Or in the case of my morbid family, outright laughter.

Dad laughed, “Yeah, it was so weird. I just couldn’t step down properly.”

“Well… are you OK? I mean, was it serious?”

I’m a idiot: a stroke is always serious. My father’s blood pressure on one side of his body was absolutely through the roof. On the other side, it was perfectly normal. The doc called it a mini-stroke, which I think is doctorspeak for an “it-could-have-been-worse-but-is-still-a-really-fucking-serious-and-probably-life-changing” event.

“So,” I continued. “You were stomping your foot on the garage floor? Like Clever Hans working out a math problem?”

Mum just laughed again. “Are you OK? I mean, what next?” I asked.

Dad explained that he’d made an appointment with a stroke clinic to make sure he’s doing all the right things — from now on — so he’ll be around for awhile. He seemed fine to me. I mean, his hand-writing was a fair sight messier than before, but other than that, Dad was Dad. Normal dude, still making the same inappropriate comments as his children, still attracting the scornful and bemused looks of his wife of 40 years…

That was at the end of March.

Mum and Dad were in town this weekend for my future sister-in-law’s wedding shower. I went over there after the shower to join my entire family — both of my brothers, their spouses and my parents — for a BBQ… and I couldn’t help but feel that my dad looked… feebler.

And I don’t know if he was. Probably not.

He had the same energy, same disposition, same awful commentary. But he wasn’t quite so… I don’t know. There was less of him. He was diminished. And I haven’t really had the chance to parse my own perception, but this is how I felt: like I couldn’t hug him too hard, or rough-house him as usual. And the worst of it is that whether this perception was accurate or not, if he was reading this he would be pissed. Pissed that I would see him differently as a result of a “mini-stroke.”

But there are no such things as “mini-strokes.”

This whole viewpoint was probably exacerbated by my aunt — Dad’s half sister — a thoroughly wonderful woman, whom I love dearly. She phoned me last week, while I was climbing into the car to head home from work. She told me she’d heard about Dad’s “mini-stroke.” She proceeded to reassure me that he was going to be fine, that — after all — he was going to a clinic and getting checked out, and getting the best advice from the best doctors in the Foot Hills. I really didn’t feel like I needed this. Because a mini-stoke isn’t that serious, right? But after awhile, I became more troubled…

My aunt had more information than I did. Foot Hills? Clinic? What?

I was annoyed. And confused. Was this serious enough that I needed reassurance from her? Did I need to have some fear allayed, told that Dad would figure out how best to deal with this?

It hadn’t occurred to me that this was that serious. But it was. It is.

I don’t know if I saw Dad differently on the weekend because he actually was different or if it was because I was different. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that the stakes have changed. Like it or not, my parents are getting older, and they’re entering that stage of their lives where things can go one way or another very quickly. We’re fortunate in that my family’s medical history isn’t terribly storied. Aside from a few blemishes here and there, we’re a long-lived, healthy bunch. Small comfort, I suppose, and most definitely besides the point.

Am I worried about Dad? Sure I am. I only have one, after all, and I’d very much like for him to stick around — and not just to lavish attention on me and my future accomplishments, but as a foil, a confidante, a friend, and a support. It’s easy to dismiss our parents as lacking the understanding to really “get” us. But their experiences at reckoning the world and their place within it isn’t so different than ours, though the times and tech have changed.

I want both my parents to stick around as long as possible. Obviously.

Who else is going to subtly hint at me that I’m doing everything wrong?

The point of this writing isn’t to illicit sympathy or words of reassurance. I’ve had enough of that from family (but seriously, thanks for thinking of me and reading this far).

Nor am I here to impart some new wisdom you haven’t heard before. I’m just putting things together for myself…

The point is this: (and I don’t care how cliché it sounds) call or go see your Mum and Dad and remind them that, in spite of it all, you really do appreciate their assistance with — you know — BEING BORN, and that even though you don’t always agree with them, and sometimes they just don’t fucking get it, you really really do appreciate all the things they’ve done, the sacrifices they’ve made for you, and the wonderful and varied flaws that comprise their characters. Tell them you love them, in no uncertain terms.

Seriously, they need to know. Parents need reassurance as much as we do. They’re just as flawed, just as fragile, and just as human. Even if they’ve always seemed larger than life.

Love you, Dad. Be well.

About a month ago, Nissan Canada undertook a rather unusual marketing strategy for the launch of the Nissan Cube. Rather than access their typical advertising channels — TV spots, radio ads, etc — they set out to do try and build buzz in a rather novel way: entirely by word of mouth. Viral marketing using social media tools like Twitter, Facebook and other social web tools isn’t entirely unusual. However, it’s the scope and scale of this campaign that’s really remarkable.

A good friend of mine, who designed the look and feel of all the Nation websites we’ve developed, found out about Nissan’s “Hypercube” campaign, and decided to sign up just for fun. He created a Twitter account (@ekymson), and filled in his Hypercube profile. At the beginning of the week, Eldon received an email saying that he’d been selected as one of the 500 Hypercube finalists. He now has a 1 in 10 chance of winning a Nissan Cube.

When he first received the email, Eldon wasn’t certain he’d be able to participate, being the busy guy that he is. But a few of us managed to convince him to put his design skills to good use. The hypercube contest asks finalists to create an update a canvas throughout the month. You can see Eldon’s canvas here.

I’ve taken it upon myself to help Eldon get as many votes as possible, to try and get him into the next round, where finalists are judged by people selected by Nissan Canada. I may have even scored Eldon a TV interview for next week. I’ll update when it’s been confirmed.

Please go to the Hypercube website, register and then give Eldon your vote. Let’s see this Hypercube thing through to the end!

Most everything I say, tweet, or write is designed to elicit a specific reaction from people — often shock or laughter. I’m usually quite satisfied. But sometimes I’ll say something without thinking (OK, oftentimes) and the results exceed my expectations or go off in an entirely different direction. That’s what happened this morning on Twitter when I suggested #yeg tweeps create an Edmonton Twitter Boys Calendar for 2010. Yeah, that one went of the rails pretty quickly as people grabbed on to the idea. Before I knew what happened, I was placed in charge of producing the thing.

And now that I think it’s a good idea, I want to do it. But I need your help with some suggestions for how this should work, so please provide me with comments below. We may decide this isn’t feasible. We may decide it is, and just produce PDF copies. Maybe in subsequent years, we can get a company to sponsor us to supplement the money needed to print it. In any event, read on…

We’re going to do a 12-month, 30-box calendar which may or may not get printed. Photographers’ and models’ time will all be donated and the #yeg twitter community will decide where the proceeds should go. I would suggest we print these calendars out, if we can find a good rate someplace from a company who recognizes that crowd-sourced semi-nude, semi-sexy calendars are Always A Good Idea™.

Each month will include one (or possibly more, depending on the response we get) active Tweeps from Edmonton.

Other considerations: who to select as models, how many per month, how to select the models for each month, etc.

Let’s discuss this in the comments below. This is a huge brainstorm at this point so any zany idea goes. And if you’re going to tweet about it, we’re using #yegtwitterboyscalendar as a hashtag. Please broadcast this link far and wide and let’s generate some good discussion!

When Ron died, he was 72 years old. Still plenty of life and vitality left in him. He’d had a bit of a struggle with diabetes, but a new diet and new meds had him up and about, living his life with more vigour than I expected. It was tragic, then, when he was driving about one day and his car was struck by another vehicle. He was released from the hospital soon after, but his internal injuries went undetected. He passed away a week after the accident.

One of the last times I saw Ron was at another uncle’s birthday extravaganza in Calgary. He brought with him my aunt — a darling woman whom I adore — and his fabulous sarcasm. This was a fancy party, you see, and the cream of the entertainment industry’s crop was in attendance. So naturally, some members of my family felt out of place. We schmoozed and laughed, but Ron kept it real, pointing out that these were, after all, just people, and “My god, can you believe how much they’re eating? Some of them can’t even use their cutlery properly,” he said with a hilarious Yoda-like laugh.

This was part of Ron’s charm. Always teasing people, making inappropriate comments. He and my mother got along the best, since Mum always felt out of place when it came to Dad’s family. I think Ron felt the same way — a bit of an outsider. Not superior, not inferior, just cut from a different cloth.

Ron always called me and my brothers “the professors.” When we’d visit, he’d happen upon us and in his signature drawl say, “Well hello professors! Are you behaving yourselves or driving your parents crazy?” I always thought it was weird. I was a kid, not a professor! When I asked him, probably about a year ago, why he called us professors, he said it was because we were smart boys, “even if you were big pains in the ass.”

My fondest memory of Ron, though, was at my parents’ 25th anniversary party. We were having a huge backyard barbecue, and my Oma, who was already quite old and a bit senile, asked someone to get her a gin and tonic. Ron loved that, and declared, “Well, granny’s getting pissed tonight.” He proceeded to titter for about a minute while Oma tried to figure out who said what and why everyone was laughing. This, to me, was an awakening. Here was this guy, super smart, very successful, and just a lover of wit. He was a sharp business man, and a stalwart part of the Jewish community in Edmonton. He owned several businesses, and stayed involved in the community long after his retirement. In spite of my original perception of his severe manner, Ron was truly one of the warmest, kindest, and most intelligent people I’ve ever had in my life.

Uncle Ron’s been gone since the fall, but there’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of him, and how I wished I’d taken more time to talk with him, collect his thoughts on everything and anything, and just spend more time with him. These are always the regrets we trot out when someone dies, but I absolutely feel like I missed out on something great, especially now that I’m older and closer to being on par with his fierce intellect. The day he died, I went for dinner with my little brother and sister-in-law. We sat mostly in silence, occasionally piping up with a memory, thought, or comment about him.What can you say about someone whose impact was so significant? Words aren’t adequate to convey experiences and feelings.

We still talk about Ron, and I’m sure we’ll do so for years. He was a character. I’m grateful to have been a part of his life, and so glad he was a part of mine.

Uncle Ron passed away on September 8, 2008.

Top three tabs among my tweeps

1. Gmail & Twitter tied for first (13/23 respondents)
2. Facebook (8/23 respondents)
3. Google Reader and iGoogle tied for third (6/23 respondents)

Commonalities and Observations

• Every single respondent had a Google site open throughout the day. Gmail, Reader, News, Docs, whatever. We are, everyone of us, Google whores.
• At least one other twit keeps an OilersNation tab open, like me.
• Two respondents always have the Environment Canada site open — the same two always have CNN open.
• Two respondents indicated they typically use RSS Feed Readers to surf the interwebs.

And some other things…

If you responded and said you used a non-browser app to interface with Twitter, I didn’t include you in #1 above. However, it’s fair to say that nearly everyone who responded indicated that they always have Twitter open in some form on their computer.

I asked people which 3-5 five tabs they keep open all day. In total, between 23 people, we had 88 browser tabs open, or 3.83 tabs each.

Who cares?

Well, I do, obviously. I was just curious, because I always have three tabs open: Google Reader, OilersNation.com’s Admin interface, and dub5.net. Oh, and some days I keep Google News open.

Finally, doing polls like this on Twitter is fun, and I plan to do more and publish the results just for fun. It’s always interesting to see who responds.

The very excellent Shauna of @out_inc fame is blaming me for her own coffee inadequacy. To wit: “BAHH! Coffee FAIL @bingofuel keep your Coffee bad juju on your end of the city please, thank you ”

Now, I’m not going to pretend what “juju” means, but I know I don’t like being blamed for Coffee FAILs that are not mine. So, Shauna, you can take that coffee and LOVE IT.

Also, I spilled coffee today as well. It just hasn’t been a great week for me. But this time, I blame the Tim Hortons cup manufacturing process. Glue came unstuck. And I didn’t even win a free coffee.

I promise I’ll write an actual blog of consequence sometime this weekend. In the meantime, go scald yourselves.

Today, the spillage took place at approximately 10:30am. I soiled my green hoodie and my “I’ll be Bach” T-shirt. I was made fun of by @britl, @hules, and several others.

Incidentally, for me the image showcases the crowdsourcing power of Twitter. @Foomanizer created this because he read my tweet and was bored. I got a response to my call for a CoffeeFAIL Whale image within an hour. Unreal!

If there’s anyone out there who thinks they can improve on the design, please have a go. CoffeeFAIL must not persist, but it will, so let’s at least make it amusing.

I use Twitter, currently, on two fronts: for myself as an individual (@bingofuel; also, see the right-hand sidebar for my most recent tweets) and for OilersNation.com (@OilersNation). I’ve found it to be quite a lark for personal stuff, and a really excellent way to find like-minded, interesting people. I’m actually looking forward to the next Edmonton Tweetup (@edmontontweetup), as I felt I was too much of a newbie to attend the last one.

As a personal tool, Twitter connects you with people. People around you, people far away from you. It allows you to filter through broadcasts and read and respond to the things that you deem most relevant. It forces the users to be concise in their messaging (you’re only allowed 140 characters per tweet). I can see its utility as a tool for personal communications and connection to others. As a tool for businesses though—and I’m speaking strictly about my very limited experiences with it for OilersNation.com—I’m not really sure where to begin (and yes, I’ve read Caroline Middlebrook’s Big Juicy Twitter Guide). I’ve used it to broadcast new posts on the Nation’s website that I deem interesting. I’ve used it to broadcast information on contests and such. I’ve even done some very minor live-tweeting of Oilers games. But the key to using Twitter for business, I think, isn’t just sending out promotional information. It’s doing things like what @ComCastCares does: showing the human side of your company or organization. Here’s one of the key things I took from the Big Juicy Twitter Guide:

“[...] if you are approaching this from a purely business perspective then you need to have something to offer your customers. What I mean is, if you use your Twitter account to just pitch, pitch, pitch, you will not get many followers. Twitter is not something that can be effectively used as a direct selling medium without adding extra benefits [...]“

Businesses using Twitter should be doing so to try and start or continue one-on-one discussions with their clients. Twitter brings organizations into the fray of communicating with users who might have an interest in their brand or product. It’s really neat how people and businesses are finding new ways to use the system to get the message out — or, in @ComCastCares’ case, bring the message in and do something about it.

I <3 Twitter. And I know I’ll have a hell of a lot more to say about it as I convince a few clients to start using it to get the word out.

Fortunately, there are many on both sides of the spectrum who are crying out against McCain’s choice for running mate. One such person is Michael Seitzman from the Huffington Post. His recent post on Palin was brief, smart, and basically makes all the right points. To wit:

Now, I want to be clear and speak directly to those of you who LOVED that Palin interview. You’re an idiot. I mean that. This is not one of those cases where we’re going to agree to disagree. This isn’t one of those situations where we debate it passionately and then walk away thinking that the other guy is wrong but argued well. I’m not going to think of you as a thoughtful but misguided person with different ideas who still really cares about the country and the world. No, sorry, not this time. This time, if you watched that interview and weren’t scared out of your freakin’ mind, then you’re mentally ill, mentally disabled, or mentally disturbed. What you are NOT is responsible, informed, curious, thoughtful, mature, educated, empathetic, or remotely serious. I mean it.

MALINTENT, the brainchild of the cutting-edge Human Factors division in Homeland Security’s directorate for Science and Technology, searches your body for non-verbal cues that predict whether you mean harm to your fellow passengers.

Sweet shit, are you kidding? The last time I was on a plane I meant harm to several of my fellow passengers: that big moth-ball smelling old dude who fell asleep on my shoulder, the screaming baby whose mother was too fried on no sleep to shut him up, and the bubbly flight attendant who wore way too much make-up and spoke with a severely exaggerated French accent. All of these people would have suffered my wrath if only I actually acted on those impulses.

Few people do, though (the ones who do are often labeled with any variety of psychosis, doncha know). I can only assume the DHS will be forcing planes to leave the tarmac with half-full cabins.

Air travel is stressful at the best of times, and most often made MORE stressful by these ad hoc and seemingly random security theatre measures. Chances are, you’re going to find a lot of passengers with a lot of ill will toward airport staff, fellow travellers, and even god and Jesus themselves. The claim is that this machine can differentiate between a terrorist and a harried traveler. Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it.

The morning at Bonilla was cold, and wet. Today we would push ourselves. A discussion at some point that morning brought us to the realization: we eat too much. Or rather, the food we’d planned to bring wasn’t lasting us as we thought. We needed energy, and lots of it, to clear the next 27km. Hiking this thing in ten days, as originally planned, wasn’t going to happen if we were expecting to eat at all the last few days. So on Day 6 from Bonilla point, we would hike 11km to Cullite Creek, if we didn’t feel like killing ourselves when we arrived at Walbran campground, only about 5km down the trail.

We hiked the soft, wet sand along the trail to Vancouver point, just as the tide made our way on the beach impassible. We made for the overland trail: damp roots, high steps, wetness.

I recall this part of the trail being tough and discouraging. Just endless up and down. We came across about a dozen hikers who all said the stay at Walbran would be lovely. But we’d arrive there by late morning, and staying the day wouldn’t work with our food supply. We stayed at Walbran for a snack. It was a lovely camp ground, though, pushed slightly inland and defended by tall rock sentries at either end of the beach. We checked out the Walbran Creek “office” before we continued  down the overland trail, past Logan Creek and up to Cullite, which would end up being miserably cold and windy.

This part of the trail is best summarized photographically with roots, overland boardwalk and exhaustion due to cable car:

And so when we arrived at Cullite, we hunkered down for the night. Tomorrow, Day 7, would be our last full day on the trail, and we were soon to learn, the most challenging section of our hike yet. There would be a lot of snapping at one another, grunting, and constant use of words beginning with “f”. I’m going to leave Days 7 & 8 for the next installment of “The Wet Coast is the Best Coast.”

>> see also:

• Days 0 & 1
• Days 2 & 3
• Days 4 & 5

It’s hard to leave a place you completely fall in love with. It’s hard, knowing you might not ever see a place again. That was my struggle to leave Tsusiat Falls the morning of our fourth day. We spent two days in this magical place, where a rush of fresh water tumbled into a small pool, which eventually meandered its way into the Pacific Ocean. But we had to leave. The reason for our journey wasn’t to stay, but to carry on and hike all 75 kilometresof the West Coast Trail.

We awoke at about 5am, the sun barely a glimmer on the horizon. The steady sound of the falls played us through our morning routine: a jump across Tsusiat creek to the other side of the beach, to the composting toilets. Wash up, pack the tent, roll up the sleeping bags, eat. We needed to leave before the tide climbed above 2.1 metres, otherwise we’d have to hike the overland trail and miss the incredible sight that is the Hole in the Wall at Tsusiat Point.

As we hiked out of the site, crouching beneath massive pieces of driftwood I cried, something I couldn’t believe I was doing. I cried because I knew it would be many many years before I would see this place again, wade through the cool, fresh water, sit on a rocky stump and watch the grey whales breach way off in the distance. Julia looked puzzled, but the glint in her eye told me she understood how I felt. In a perfect world, we’d have made our lives here, greeting hikers and saying goodbye to them as they passed through the campsite to conquer the trail.

We said goodbye to Tsusiat at about 6am and headed toward the Point, stepping past the footprints of three hikers who’d left earlier than we had.

The hike to the Hole in the Wall was about two kilometres, made easy by a soaked beach which supported us and the weight of our packs. We were treated to the sights of eagles perched on rocky outcroppings, and the zooming past of fishermen’s boats anchoring themselves off the shore and fishing for halibut in the cool, rough waters.

When we arrived at Hole in the Wall, we knew we’d made the right choice by suffering an early-morning wake up. We passed through a giant rock hole, around which the water lapped furiously into the sand and rock, splashing mist upon us. In the distance, a sentry eagle watched schools of unseen fish swim past. He was gathering his strength for the day’s hunt.

We walked fast through the overland trail after we left the beach, through damp forest and Aboriginal reserve land to a tidal lake called Nitinat. Nitinat Narrows are too deep to wade, the current too strong. We waited for a boat to come and take us to the other side. When it finally did, after only a fifteen minute wait, we managed a quick rest before we trudged through the bog on the other side. Boardwalks were half-buried and broken along the way, and our gaiters barely kept our socks dry. But the mud slowed and tired us. By the time we mounted a cliff overlooking the ocean, we were beat. And we still had another seven kilometres before we could stop.

On our way through the bog and up the dirt paths, we met a group of hikers being followed by a dog named Charlie Parker (we weren’t to discover his name until the next day, so we just called him Dexter). Charlie met up with us at the end of the day, at Cribs Creek campground. He spent much of the evening walking up the beach with us. When he grew bored, he set off further down the trail. We wouldn’t see Charlie again on our journey.

Day 5

Another early morning on Day 5, as we attempted to beat the hot sun. This day, it wouldn’t matter as we would be covered by cloud with the threat of rain all day. This would be an easier day for us, though. Not covering 16 kilometres, like the previous day. This was a day of grace, not unlike our two-day stay at Tsusiat. But the eight kilometres we would cover this day wouldn’t be easy, as the lack of sun contributed to a subdued mood.

From Cribs Creek, we made our way about two kilometres to a point on the beach leading into the overland trail via a series of ladders, rather than concern ourselves with a great deal MORE stairs and ladders at the base of the Carmanah Point Lighthouse. This bit of forest hiking was damp, full of roots and technical stepping, which made for some exhausting going. When we arrived at Carmanah, we took a few photos, mused about what it must be like to live and work at a lighthouse on the trail (according to the board posted at the entrance to the lighthouse grounds, living there is nothing short of “awesome”) and kept going.

About one kilometre after the lighthouse, we found ourselves at Chez Monique, a makeshift home belonging to Monique, who’s lived on the trail for around 19 years. She’s argued long and hard with the government to stake her claim on the West Coast Trail, and she is appreciated by hikers wandering along the trail from both directions. She offers gourmet hamburgers and delicious breakfasts (including beer) for a hefty price. Julia and I could only afford a chocolate bar each.

It turns out Charlie Parker belonged to Monique. He wanders up and down the trail and only comes home when he gets hungry. This is complicated by the fact that hikers will often feed him (not us, though. We didn’t have a bit of food to spare). After a quick stop and a refresh of our supplies we continued down to Bonilla Point, home of a lovely waterfall and tiny campground. We arrived at about 1pm, and made camp. Then slept till dinner. We needed to catch up after so many early mornings. We met up with Sandy and Kat while we were there, but they were on their way further down the trail. So we used their tree branch to hang our food and provisions. Sleep. That was our priority.

>> see also:

• Days 0 & 1
• Days 2 & 3

Stone on meeting then governor Bush at a Republican breakfast: ”I wanted to prove that even though people thought I was a leftist I wanted to hear what they had to say. The minute I walked in the room the sound of the silverware kind of died. People were like, ‘What’s he doing here? Satan has walked in.’ But I met George Bush and I remember thinking that this man was going to be president.”

We decided that in order to maintain a decent schedule of walking—to be able to arrive at our campsite with a decent enough amount of daylight left to set up camp, eat, and clean up—we would need to wake up early. Like, around 6 or 7am. Since we’d just spent our first night on the trail, we were running, ah, a little late.

The “sleep” that first night was rather furtive for me. I had visions of mice chewing my new tent to pieces. Most anyone offering advice about the trail won’t tell you how to survive a bear or cougar attack. But they will tell you that if you have anything in your tent that smells remotely interesting, a mouse will find its way inside (usually by chewing a hole through the tent wall) in order to get to it. All I could hear all night was their scurrying and squeaking. I would often clear my throat or shift in my sleeping bag to discourage their invasion.

We were greeted that morning by a lovely sunrise and a cool breeze. Breakfast up, tent down, packs packed. Some bickering (actually, considering the ways in which you rely on your partner on trips such as these, there was surprisingly little arguing), and then onwards. We would need to make 13km in order to get to Tsusiat Falls, the most stunning campground on the trail.

The hike wasn’t too bad, initially. We even made friends with some Canadian Naval Officers who took a trip to the WCT at the last minute. Sandy and Kat (I think her name was Kat… I missed it!) were a great pair to bump into every so often along the way—very friendly, and often helpful.

The last kilometre of the day was brutal. We arrived at the top of Tsusiat Falls which was fairly technically difficult (a lot of stump jumping) and included a pretty dramatic increase in elevation. Once at the top of the falls, our journey upwards continued. It was frustrating. A lot of high-stepping and using our trekking poles to haul ourselves atop tall ledges. When we finally crested the maximum elevation, we were greeted by a series of about four tall ladders down to the beach. Neither of us was particularly thrilled with the last 30 minutes of our hike.

But once we stepped off the boardwalk and onto the sand, everything changed. Fine sand interspersed with massive hunks of driftwood and the tents of already-arrived hikers dotted the landscape. The ocean stretched out in front of us, broken up by points of rock and the vague shadows of the US mountains to the southwest.

All of this, of course, was completely dwarfed by the roar of the Falls themselves. Huge, wide, fresh-water chutes drained into a waist-deep pond, which in turn drained into the ocean. At its most crass, Tsusiat is a place to shower. At its most romantic, it’s the most awesome place on the Trail. The photos we took hardly do it justice.

We set up camp next to Kat and Sandy. We ate dinner with Jeff and Cheryl. Before bed, we decided we weren’t going to leave in the morning. Tsusiat was too beautiful to just be an overnight campground.

Day 3

This time, the mice made their mark. (This would be the first and only time on the trail that they would cause us any problems. And given the few horror stories we’d heard about holes in packs and missing food, I think we came out of things rather well.) My beautiful new tent had tiny bite and claw marks on the sides and rear screens of the tent. I was not a happy camper. But my soaring spirit couldn’t be deterred.

It was around 9 or 10 when we crawled out of bed. Cheryl and Jeff came by to bid us farewell. They were only going to be on the trail for seven days, and we were scheduled for ten. We could afford to languish, and they couldn’t. We knew them for a brief few days, but it was still sad to see them go, knowing the chances of us catching them on the trail were minimal.

Sandy and Kat left as well. Those two were movers and shakers. Sad to see them leave too, but we’d meet up with them several more times in our travels, so no worries.

With all of the other campers on their ways up and down the trail above the falls, we were left to do our own thing for the whole day. There were only two other people at the site with us. So we showered, explored the beach and some caves, and just hung out in the sun. It was a nice break from two days of straight hiking. It was great to wander around in sandals the whole time.

We planned to leave early in the morning (5am!) on Day 4, to beat the rising tide at the Hole In The Wall point, about two kilometres up the beach. I’ll tell you all about how I cried in the next post.

>> see also:

• Days 0 & 1
• Days 4 & 5

What I feared most for myself at your age was not poverty, but failure.

[...] Failure meant a stripping away of the inessential. I stopped pretending to myself that I was anything other than what I was, and began to direct all my energy into finishing the only work that mattered to me. Had I really succeeded at anything else, I might never have found the determination to succeed in the one arena I believed I truly belonged. I was set free, because my greatest fear had already been realised, and I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored, and I had an old typewriter and a big idea. And so rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.

You might never fail on the scale I did, but some failure in life is inevitable. It is impossible to live without failing at something, unless you live so cautiously that you might as well not have lived at all – in which case, you fail by default.

I snagged this text from a post at Boing Boing. As far as commencement speeches go, JK Rowling’s is one that resonates with me the most: failure is something that once prevented me from pursuing the thing I wanted to. It’s hard to be courageous, especially when you feel the weight of expectation upon you. And while I didn’t need to hit rock bottom, as Rowling did, to pull up my boots, I’ve had my share of pitfalls in this short lifetime. Everyone does.

Rowling also speaks of the power of imagination, and not just of the kind that conjure best-seller fiction novels. She talks of her experiences working with Amnesty International, and how it helped to shape her:

If you choose to use your status and influence to raise your voice on behalf of those who have no voice; if you choose to identify not only with the powerful, but with the powerless; if you retain the ability to imagine yourself into the lives of those who do not have your advantages, then it will not only be your proud families who celebrate your existence, but thousands and millions of people whose reality you have helped transform for the better. We do not need magic to change the world, we carry all the power we need inside ourselves already: we have the power to imagine better.

Read the whole speech here.

Unless a huge show-stopper crops up, I want [the software] to be released by the end of the day. It’s going to suck, so we’ll have to really stress the alphaness of the software, and tell them that they’re seeing software when most people shouldn’t.

I’m still working on retrieving contacts so it doesn’t hammer the server. That’ll be done shortly, then I need to really lock down the sign up process to avoid confusion.

Also, I just took a fantastic poo. It was magnificent.

Thanks for that, Jeffu.

However, McKeen wrote a great column this morning derided what he anticipates Edmonton City Council will do about ETS trolley buses: keep them. His point is that they should be scrapped. I agree with him. From the article:

Yet when [University of Alberta professor David] Checkel looked at all the data, he concluded the city would be wise to scrap its trolley program and invest in either hybrid or diesel buses.

Checkel’s financial projections are striking. He compared the costs of purchasing and operating the three types of buses on a downtown Edmonton route. While the clean diesel and hybrids were similar in cost, at about $2.50 per kilometre, trolleys were $10.26 per kilometre.

>>read more…

Despite his Nottingham University supervisors insisting the materials were directly relevant to his research, Rizwaan Sabir, 22, was held for nearly a week under the Terrorism Act, accused of downloading the materials for illegal use. The student had obtained a copy of the al-Qaida training manual from a US government website for his research into terrorist tactics.

The case highlights what lecturers are claiming is a direct assault on academic freedom led by the government which, in its attempt to establish a “prevent agenda” against terrorist activity, is putting pressure on academics to become police informers.

>> read more…

(via Boing Boing)

I love Steve’s coat. I wish that Steve would be my friend and we could drink Jack Daniel’s together and talk about how dumb everyone is and he could tell me about the days when he rode across North America in a box car and traded food stamps and liquor with other tramps and then magically got into university and became an engineer slash business man and started to climb the corporate ladder and how he eats only really healthy food now but that is all counteracted by the fact that he smokes seven packs a day and has a gravelly voice and could be a great jazz musician if he really put his mind to it.

I grew up with two brothers. The group dynamics of three boys in a five-person family are complicated to say the least. But we weren’t slouches. We knew who buttered our bread, and we also knew the best ways to get things out of our parents: get the youngest child to ask them.

My little brother had this supernatural power of getting my parents to agree to ridiculous things. My older brother and I caught on to this. Consequently, when we figured we were in need of something as simple as Dairy Queen Blizzards, a Nintendo, or a new car, little brother would have the unenviable task of asking for—and somehow receiving—the object of his (or our) desire.

If our household was a country, it would have been Canada—run by some older folks who had some, but certainly not a complete, understanding of the behaviour of their progeny (let’s call us kids provinces, then). I was exceedingly relaxed as a kid. Didn’t really get worked up about anything. Was contented to enjoy the clouds drifting by and languish in just being. I guess that makes me British Columbia.

My older brother was far more uptight. He would answer only when asked, would worry about niggling details and minutae of life, and watch a lot of hockey. Let’s call him Ontario.

My little brother, then, who always got his way whether it was fair or not, could probably be called Quebec. He could get Mum and Dad to agree to anything, and in my eyes at least, he never got into trouble. I blazed the trail for doing bad things. I was punished. And he just got to do bad things while my parents tsk-tsked at him, patted him on the bottom, gave him $20 and told him to stay out of more trouble.

Now that we’re older, the playing field is far more level. Big bro still worries, little bro is far more self-sufficient, and I’m living in Alberta… wishing I was in BC.

But if you look at the actual Nation of Canada, in spite of the fact that the provinces are older and potentially wiser, Quebec is still behaving like a spoiled youngest child, making noise about how it’s special and should get the things it wants as a result. To wit, this piece from the Globe and Mail:

Daniel Turp has started a petition to convince the ICANN, the international authority responsible for Internet domain names, to create an extension that would be unique to websites in Quebec.

Mr. Turp says one way to identify a nation is for it to have its own web extensions and that if his efforts are successful, Quebeckers would use the extension .qc.

I used to buy into the Quebec as a distinct society thing. But the fact that one speaks a different language is not in and of itself adequate to give a group of people a mark of distinction. Quebec operates under French common law. OK, that’s distinctive, I guess. But where does one draw the line? Beyond a certain point (and I certainly think we’re beyond it), all of this becomes petty nonsense. A good point was made in the discussion section of this article:

S Roddick from Ottawa, Canada writes: The last time I looked at a map of Canada, Quebec was still there. If Daniel Turp really thinks that International Standards Organization is going to agree with that he’s out to lunch. It requires that the Root DNS servers be updated for it. Not that I think that that is impossible but if one state, province, territory or district gets one why can’t all of them… Do you really know how many individual subdivisions of countries there are in the world. There are 83 states, 10 provinces, 2 federal districts and 17 territories in North America alone. That’s 112 entries for North America and 195 country entries. If Mr. Turp wants to get the domain names set up for this that’s ok, but I doubt he will get exclusive access to them for Quebec. [snip]

I know squat about the technical implications of adding a .qc domain to root DNS servers, but “S Roddick” makes an interesting point. What’s good for the goose should be good for the gander.

The whole situation reminds me of an old O Henry commercial where two Inuit are sitting out in the Arctic cold. One of them is enjoying a chocolate bar, and when his cohort asks him if he can have some, he’s told: “If I give one to you, I have to give one to everybody else.”

Whereas this ad contained only two actors, Quebec’s move affects internet users/companies/denizens/whoever the world over. Maybe instead of bickering over petty nonsense like this, Quebec’s government should be worrying about the real economic and social issues affecting its people. If I were in Quebec, I’d have grown tired of this whinging a long time ago.

And I’m supposed to be all chilled out like BC…

Also, congratulations to me on my 100th post!

Biking in heels and a dress is not atrocious. In my northern Canadian city it may be rare, but stylish women need to stop running to the car every time they need to get somewhere, and start thinking about how they navigate the city of Edmonton.

Take a clue from other cities with flourishing bike cultures. Beauty and cycling do not have to be at odds. It’s not just a sport, it’s how you choose to get around. Do not compromise your style, and start pedaling.

As I grapple with the best way to bike to work without being a sweaty mess, it’s good to know people like Sarah are doing their part to encourage more sustainable behaviour. The people of this city are married to their cars. I’m pleased to say that every time I climb into trusty old Chloe, I feel a pang of guilt.

So although I’m not a girl, I’m behind Sarah’s call to spokes: ditch the car. Take a few extra minutes to ride your bike to wherever you’re going. It’ll save you money in the long-term, and you’ll have a minimal impact on the environment.

Welcome to the blogosphere, Sarah.

The problem is not just the things we do not know (consider the one in five American adults who, according to the National Science Foundation, thinks the sun revolves around the Earth); it’s the alarming number of Americans who have smugly concluded that they do not need to know such things in the first place. Call this anti-rationalism — a syndrome that is particularly dangerous to our public institutions and discourse. Not knowing a foreign language or the location of an important country is a manifestation of ignorance; denying that such knowledge matters is pure anti-rationalism.

>> read more…

Post a sign-up sheet offering your services for free lunchtime chair massages.

The confusion arises over whether or not anyone’s office chair really needs a massage. So my colleague Michael drafted the following advertisement for chair massages:

Is your chair feeling a little run down? Does it seem to have a week-long case of the Mondays? Well bring your chair to Cubicle 37 today! At Cubicle 37 we specialize in chair massages and other relaxation techniques to soothe and comfort your work chair.

And these services are not just for work chairs! Bring in your kitchen chairs, bar stools or even foot stools. Remember footstools are people too!

We are so confident that your chair will feel and work better we offer a complete money-back guarantee. If your chair is not completely satisfied with its massage, you get your money back! That’s right! Your money back!

Cubicle 37—located at the corner of “Working? and Hardly at All!
We Care, About Your Chair

We can’t rely on the authorities to defend us against attacks that outstrip their capacity to adapt to them. Remember, the same police force that’s plastering London with signs exhorting us to “let experienced officers decide what action to take” is the same police force that gunned down a Brazilian for wearing an overcoat, and shut down Soho when a Thai restaurant burned its chilli sauce, releasing spicy smoke.

Security literacy can only be acquired through continuous practice and evaluation. The more our society punishes those who question security, the less secure we all become.

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I wish to appeal my $5.00 late charge at the Sci Tech library. I don’t have any excuse for this charge; rather, I am appealing because maintaining this fine is costing you too much.

I apparently incurred this fine in 2003, which is also the last year that I attended the U of A.  In the 4 and a half years since, I have been receiving a quarterly statement in the mail reminding me of this grim financial burden. Each time you mail me this notice, it costs the University 52 cents. By now, the U of A has spent $9.36 of some poor student’s tuition money on my $5.00 fine. And this is solely on postage. What about the cost of the printing, the envelope, and the lost time required to administer your relentless collections juggernaut? Surely you are now pushing the $15.22 mark, depending on how well you negotiate your bulk paper discounts.

And all of this is to say nothing of the toll that your oversized envelopes and reminder slips take on the environment. For shame, Library Services. Your actions speak louder than the students in Rutherford South.

I still have qualms with the privacy implications of the system, and whether or not I want people to know what I’m up to, but there are ways around that. Scotty, my roommate, isn’t on Facebook either, but he said he’s thinking of signing up. “I’ve boycotted it long enough,” he told me this afternoon. “It’s become inconvenient to not be on it.”

But there are, of course, other more complicated reasons that make me think I should stay away. Stupid as it may sound, the big one is pride. The I-told-you-sos I expect to have lobbed at me are plentiful. I would probably NYAH someone was well, if they returned with their tail between their legs. I know a few people who’ve left and comeback: Jorge and Fish come to mine. But I cannot seem to fully buy in to being easily connected to people again.

I’m going to think about it over the next few weeks, but I know that as people leave for the summer, Facebook will enable me to stay connected. And I’ve noticed already there are some people with whom I’m not longer speaking simply because it isn’t convenient.

I should probably feel worse about what that says about my laziness than about people saying “I told you so.”

Well, Bush, even your own hand-picked, mouth-breathing policy-type people recognize that a rapidly-changing climate will result in global war, as individuals, communities, and nations defend what precious little resources they have. Oh, and the insufferable English will be living in a Siberian landscape inside of 20 years. Fun times!

From the article (via BoingBoing):

A secret report, suppressed by US defence chiefs and obtained by The Observer, warns that major European cities will be sunk beneath rising seas as Britain is plunged into a ‘Siberian’ climate by 2020. Nuclear conflict, mega-droughts, famine and widespread rioting will erupt across the world.

[...]

The findings will prove humiliating to the Bush administration, which has repeatedly denied that climate change even exists. Experts said that they will also make unsettling reading for a President who has insisted national defence is a priority.

>> read more…

The mayor of a small town in Texas has resigned after secretly keeping her neighbour’s Shih Tzu while pretending it had died. Neighbours had asked Alice Mayor Grace Saenz-Lopez to look after the dog, Puddles, during a holiday. She called them to say it was dead. But the dog, which Ms Saenz-Lopez had renamed Panchito, was later seen at a dog groomer’s and at her sister’s home.

This article puzzles me for two reasons:

1. I don’t know what the hell Saenz-Lopez was thinking by stealing her neighbour’s dog and then lying about its death; and,
2. I don’t know why the hell the reporter wouldn’t address this question in the article.

This is one of the problems with journalism nowadays. The focus on balance or impartiality or whatever has completely stiffled any sort of true exploration of the issues reported on in the news. Why didn’t anyone think to ask the mayor of Alice: “Seriously, your honour, what the fuck? The citizens of this town voted for you, and they have a right to know why you thought you could steal your neighbour’s dog.”

Seriously, just ask her! What’s she going to say, “I’m too shit-fucking crazy to answer that, so, uh, no comment.”

We’re leaving this criticism up to the likes of Michael Moore, Jon Stewart, and Stephen Colbert. And I’m glad they do what they do; despite the humour these guys use to present their ideas, they’re hitting the nail on the head where “real” news shows aren’t.

An excerpt:

Allen Frazier brought Jon Gilbert from Arthur Anderson with him when he formed Frazier Securities. Jon is a former cop, who despite getting an MBA is better suited eating donuts and drinking bad coffee. Allen puts Jon on the boards of his companies, even if the CEO’s [sic] have never met Jon before. Jon destroyed our $150 MM company, just by his actions on our board. His constant whining and squealing at board meetings eventually worked, as he undermined the CEO, and forced the company to be liquidated for $15 MM.

(Thanks CDiddy!)

Read:

Who can be affected by Toilet Phobia?

Toilet Phobia can affect anyone at any time and ranges from a mild disruption through to a significant disruption of daily life.

Causes of Toilet Phobia

Toilet Phobia can be caused by a variety of factors including anxiety, fear, specific experience or trauma and learnt behaviour from someone close. Causes of Toilet Phobia can often be a combination of these factors or none of the above.

Treatment of Toilet Phobia

It is generally accepted that CBT (Cognitive Behaviour Therapy) is the recommended treatment for Toilet Phobia due to the fact that it is an evidence based therapy, however, many individuals cited Clinical Hypnotherapy, Counselling, guided self help and other lifestyle changes as being helpful in providing benefit to managing the condition.

I’ve always been enamoured of this symbol. When hiking was a weekend ritual for me a few years back, I would create one along the way, or at the terminal end of a hike to signify my having been there. Fitting, then, that the word inukshuk translates to “substitute for a person.”

Inuksuit differ from some cairns in significance. The Arctic Circle, dominated by permafrost, has few natural landmarks and thus the inuksuk was central to navigation across the barren tundra.

Inuksuit vary in shape and size, and perform a diverse array of tasks. It is a symbol with deep roots in the Inuit culture, a directional marker that signifies safety, hope and friendship.

(from Wikipedia)

After all, who would you rather trust to get your important project done? The person with the great hair and coordinating accessories (shoes, necklace and purse) who was thoughtful enough to detail to make it all match or the person who shows up to work in sweatpants and their college sweatshirt who couldn’t get it together long enough to put on a decent pair of pants before leaving the house?

- From “To Dress or Not to Dress“

I have to admit to sharing some (most?) of her views on dress code. Incidentally, she’s now on the blogroll.

About six months ago, I worked for another subsidiary of the parent company I currently work for. Call it GasCo. I’m now at ElectricCo.

While at GasCo, I would frequently whinge about the dress code: the expectation was that you would always wear a tie (for the men, anyhow), and there was no such thing as casual Friday. When I started at ElectricCo, I lauded their relaxed dress code… until I saw some people wearing crew-cut sweatshirts with stains on them and dirty jeans. It occurred to me that this simply wasn’t right.

I had a conversation with my boss about this. She reminded me that people are judged by how they dress, and she suggested people should dress “how they want to be paid.” You want to be paid a six-figure income? Dress the part, buddy-boy (or buddy-lady).

I actually enjoy wearing nice business attire to work, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch for me. But for the first week, everyone kept asking me if I had a job interview, which speaks volumes of the corporate culture at ElectricCo. Still, one day when I’m running my own company full-time, I’ll dress relaxed: jeans and a sport coat, Hank Scorpio-style!

So, this guy’s pissed at his roommate for ditching out on his share of the rent, and then dropping $300 on a copy of Rock Band. Some people’s children…

First of all, yes I know this falls in the really mean category and yes I know they’re supposed to really be hard to come by, but you’d be this pissed too. I can understand paying for plane ticket to see fam during Christmas, but dropping $300 on a video game while skipping out on his share of the rent during a really expensive time?!?!?! WTF?

Well payback’s a byatch. I will consider this as the December rent. Highest bidder gets a PS3 Rock Band Special Edition. Comes with drums, a guitar, and a mic apparently. I need this done by next week, for obvious reasons.

Yes it’s been opened and he played for two hours before having to leave for the airport. But Mr. Anal actually packed it away because he didn’t want anyone else playing it while he was gone. *Are you kidding me? At least it saves me the trouble.

Oh and if you’re reading this, consider this your last payment. To everyone else, have a happy holidays.

(Thanks Andy!)

There is no question that food allergies are real. Yet instead of creating the healthy, happy children shown here [a photo from a Food Allergy & Anaphylaxis Network brochure is pictured], exaggerating the threat may actually do as much harm as the allergies themselves. The peril is now perceived as so great that psychosomatic reactions to foods and their odors are not uncommon. Recent surveys have also shown that children thought to have food allergies feel more overwhelmed by anxiety, more limited in what they believe they can safely accomplish, than even children with diabetes and rheumatological disease. One study documented how food-allergic youths become terror-stricken when inside places like supermarkets and restaurants, since they know that allergens are nearby. Such psychological distress is exacerbated by parents, who report keeping their children away from birthday parties and sending them to school in “No Nuts” T-shirts. Having been fed a steady diet of fear for more than two decades, we have becomes, it appears, what we eat.

I suppose it’s old news, but fear and anxiety over allergies seems to fill people, probably because of the immediacy of allergies. I’d wager a lot of people know someone with an allergy and they’ve maybe witnessed a reaction, or had such an event described to them. Are severe reactions typical?

Who knows? All I know is a fuckin’ love peanut butter, and pass the friggin’ milk.

Staniaszek said he signed up with Bell Mobility to pay $10 a month to use a mobile browser on his cellphone. “I thought it was the same thing when I plugged it into the computer and used it as a modem – I guess not,” he said yesterday.

Honestly, ten years ago, I might have thought this guy deserved a break. But everyone knows the mobile telcos are going to hose you on data charges. That might all change is anyone can ever convince one of the Big Three in Canada that they need to offer a truly unlimited data plan.

I don’t really understand how this guy could be charged so much, though. I’ve browsed the net on my phone, and it looks like absolutely dog’s ass. It’s pointless to even bother with it. Unless you have an iPhone. Then it’s preeeeeeeeetty!

Your SIN is a confidential number that is restricted to income reporting purposes. There are a select and limited number of federal government departments and programs specifically authorized to collect the SIN.

When it comes to what you can do when asked for your SIN by some agency other than the feds, the Privacy Commissioner offers the following advice:

• Ask if you are required by law to provide it (see list below);
• Ask why the person needs it, how it will be used and to whom it will be given;
• Your SIN is not a piece of identification. If it is not required by law (and you are not satisfied with the explanation), tell the person you prefer not to use the SIN and offer other identification;
• If the organization refuses to give you the product or service unless you give your SIN, complain to the Privacy Commissioner of Canada;
• If you would like better legal protection for your SIN, call or write your federal Member of Parliament.

More information on authorized uses of your SIN can be found here. Know your rights.

“Given the controversy related to the book, the district will not promote and/or use it to support instructional and/or literacy development pending additional information and initial review,” said a Nov. 29 memo to schools from Ms. MacKay’s office.

“At the same time, since bans and censoring tend to draw increased attention to the potentially inappropriate materials, a course of quiet non-participation is recommended.”

What they’re reviewing is a supposed anti-faith stance the book has. But the school board is missing the point: and the point is education. I’m aware that they are a Catholic school board, but they must decide what is most important. Is it more important to educate youngsters so they can make their way in the world (a world replete with multiple religions and worldviews), or is it more important to ensure that these kids remain Catholic, and never question their views or their faith? The key is balance – in both directions.

I think the primary function of the board should be to instill Catholic values in children while providing them with the most well-rounded education, and the most informed educational rubric, as possible. Hiding something potentially controversial from kids is exactly the wrong way to deal with it. Teachers could use the trilogy to show students a differing world view, outlining what makes the books atheistic and how a member of the Catholic faith might have approached the situations found in the books differently.

The school board is missing an opportunity to teach children something. Instead, they’re trying to pull the wool over their eyes. It’s a knee-jerk reaction that ultimately benefits no one.

It is with sadness that we acknowledge the death of Evelyn Johnson. Evelyn began with Edmonton Catholic Schools in 1970 at Grandin School. She resigned for family reasons in 1974 and returned to Our Lady of Lourdes School in 1978. She then taught at St. Stanislaus and Holy Cross from which she resigned as well in 1989. She returned again in 1991 and was assigned to St. Angela School. She retired from there in 2003.

A celebration of her life will be held on Saturday, Dec 8th at Holy Family Parish in St. Albert. Please watch the Edmonton Journal for exact time.

Que son âme et l’âme de tous les défunts, reposent en paix.

I have a clear memory of Mme. Johnson’s face back in 1986 – soft yet stern.

I remember the classroom layout vaguely. My most profound memory is when I was accidentally stabbed in the hand with a sharpened pencil by a kid named Jason.

Mme. Johnson was the perfect teacher to bring me around to how cool school could be. I’m sure her other students thought just as highly of her.

I hope she’s found peace.

James Barber, best known to Canadian cooking enthusiasts as the Urban Peasant, died suddenly at his farm in Duncan, BC on Thursday, November 29, 2007 at the ripe old age of 84.

His legacy, [Barber's wife] said, would be the lives he’s changed for the better. “People came up to him all the time and told him that. He couldn’t go out without people coming up and saying that. I think he made people feel that they could do things they didn’t realize they could. He did it with his enthusiasm and passion. People would think they couldn’t cook, that it was a chore but he made it a pleasure.”