Wednesday, July 27, 2005
testYou know what's weird? How being charged for Murder (1st or 2nd degree) has a more severe penalty than attempted murder. Really, isn't the act and intention the same? The only difference is, in one, the accused failed to get the job done. So remember kids, failure isn't always necessarily bad.

Personally, I think it should be the other way around. So it'd be either "Nick Hammer, I find you guilty of 1st-degree murder and sentence you to 40 years in prison," or "Nick Hammer, I find you guilty of attempted murder. We realize that you fully intended to murder the defendent, but due to some major incompetence managed to shoot him not in the heart as you had thought, but in the buttocks. And although the defendent may find sitting sitting down a pain in the ass (HA HA) for a while, he is quite alive and testament to your utter failure. Hence, your utter ineptitude has earned you 50 years in jail, and by "jail" I mean a 5' x 5' mailbox. Have a nice day, tool."

In all some seriousness though, when the severity of the penalty depends (more often than not) on a) the would-be murderer's inability to completely kill someone, and b) the victim's ability to survive, there's something wrong.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Erotic Bakery
"So what kind of cake should we get for Jimmy's birthday? Fruit cake? Chocolate cake? Or how about a cake shaped like a giant pair of breasts?"


[posted by Rades at 11:13 AM] LINK ||
Sunday, July 24, 2005
A HEARTWARMING TALE OF CHRISTMAS TERROR:: The Stupidest Angel (a book review) ::

Way back last year, must have been August or September, I picked up a book at Chapters. And while this is itself it not a noteworthy or common event, the reason behind my purchase was. You know how some people grab a candy bar or pop as they're walking up to the checkout? Almost without even thinking about it? See, that's how I am with books. I had already picked out a book, one I had gone there for, when I spotted The Stupidest Angel.

It had a little cartoon angel on the front, and it was on one of those end-of-the-aisle display racks, so you didn't even know what genre of book it was. It also had a subtitle: "A HEARTWARMING TALE OF CHRISTMAS TERROR." The title/subtitle of this book cracked me up so much that, even after checking for a summary on the back and finding none, I bought it anyways.

About a week later I cracked it open. I made it to Chapter 3, 28 pages in. I was not impressed. Small town life, relationships gone awry, a husband and wife squabbling...this seemed like a cookie-cutter generic small town mystery novel, in which a murder would be committed, shattering the solace of the quaint little community, and it would be a bumbling, amusing adventure to find out the culprit. This is what I assumed the book would be, and so I threw it back on the shelf and didn't look at it again for 10 months.

Boy, was I wrong.

With absolutely nothing to do yesterday (my games were down, my books were all read, my shows were all watched) I started reading this again. And almost immediately it got crazy. In a absurd, completely awesome way. Like it was reconsidering its existance and when it felt my hands open up the pages, thought to itself "Aha! Not gonna let you get away this time, fucker!"

The afore-mentioned husband, who's dressed up as Santa for some Christmas event, finds his estranged wife out in the woods cutting down his trees to use as Christmas trees. They argue and then tussle, and long story short, Santa ends up with a shovel blade through the neck.

Things get weird.
Some mysterious stranger in town helps her bury the body, then seduces her. Oh, and this guy has a pet fruit bat named Roberto. Meanwhile her 7-year-old son witnesses Santa's horrible demise and goes home and prays for a Christmas miracle, who arrives in the form of a tall trench-coat wearing man with a taste for chocolate bars and Spider-man.

Meanwhile the Sheriff, who operates a gigantic marijuana field behind his cabin, and is married to an former B-Movie action Queen (who still does her daily katana exercises in the front yard) goes to investigate the husband's abandoned truck. He finds some hairs, and takes it to his scientist pal, who after having been dumped by his girlfriend, is performing tests with male rats that shock their testicles when they try to have sex with the female rat, convinced that male sexuality is an evil, evil thing. The hairs are fruit bat hairs, but he can't confront the stranger, for his job is a helicopter pilot who flies around and spots marijuana fields. And guess what he's just noticed?

Finally, at random points we cut to the town cemetery, where the dead are, I shit you not, conversing among each other about what the people above are doing, wearing, having for lunch, etc.

Things get REALLY WEIRD.
So anyways, all the single/unattached people gather at a church for their annual Christmas get-together/party, which includes all of the characters mentioned so far (except the boy). Cut to outside. The trenchcoat dude is there. He's actually an angel, answering the kid's prayer, and he's a little inept. So he's trying to bring Santa back to life, but he's got no idea where, so he just goes to the woods (which incidentally is by the Church) and basically says "RISE! AWAKE! RISE FROM THE GRAVE!" and walks off to get more candy bars.

Did I mention the town cemetery is outside the Church?

Soon enough Zombies (Zombies!!) are invading the Church, lead by - who else - an undead Santa-wearing husband, who's mad as hell and out for a little vengeance. The zombies, well they want to eat brains, and then go to IKEA. Because as we find out, "No one knows why, but second only to eating the brains of the living, the dead love affordable prefab furniture."

Then, while the Zombies are trying to get into the Church to devour everyone's brains, since they heard/watched all that was happening above them when they were dead, they begin shouting out secrets to embarrass and mortify the townsfolk. Why? ...I have no idea, but it's hilarious.

"Theo Crowe's wife thinks she's some kind of warrior mutant killer!" shouted a rotten woman who had once been a psych nurse at the county hospital.

Everyone in the chapel sort of looked at one another and nodded, shrugged, let out a sigh of relief.

"We knew that," yelled Mavis. "Everybody knows that. That's not news."

"Oh, sorry," said the dead nurse. There was a pause; then, "Okay, then. Wally Beerbinder is addicted to painkillers."

"Wally's not here," said Mavis. "He's spending Christmas with ihs daughter in L.A."

"I got nothing," said the nurse. "Someone else go."

This is as far as I've gotten so far, but this zom-rom-com (YES!!!!) novel has seriously leapt to the upper ranks of the books I've read lately, mostly because at this point, I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what is going to happen. That, and I'm vastly amused at the mental image of the Christmas/IKEA Zombie mob, lead by Santa, who naturally looks like Billy Bob Thornton in Bad Santa. Also, Chapter 18's title is "YOUR PUNY WORM GOD WEAPONS ARE USELESS AGAINST MY SUPERIOR CHRISTMAS KUNG FU".

Overall, a 9/10. Only drawbacks were the slow beginning, and some minor confusion I had between the names of two protagonists, Theo and Tucker.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *


American Diver Injured at Championships
Guess who's NOT winning the gold medal!


[posted by Rades at 1:33 AM] LINK ||
Friday, July 22, 2005
:: Tips for aspiring Journalists, PART DEUX ::

Once again, I present to you today some helpful tips for people who wish to become members of a small community newspaper, as learned by me through various experiences that have arisen at work. This edition deals with the position of Front Desk/Customer Service secretary-ish person.

TIP #1: SIMMER DOWN
Something that doesn't do much to extend the duration of your employment is being in a state of continual rage. Especially when you are the one who deals with all the customers, complaints, and questions at the front desk. If someone comes in saying "I didn't receive my newspaper this week" the correct answer is to offer a new one, and offer to try and remedy this situation and find out what went wrong. The incorrect response is staring at them and saying "Oh. Well it's not my fault" or "Well what do you want me to do about it? *stinkeye*"

TIP #2: THE TRASH CAN DOES NOT MAGICALLY DO YOUR WORK
During the 3-4 weeks of this person's tenure here, there were various tasks in which she (and ONLY she) was supposed to do - billing, filing of bills, taking subscription orders. This kind of thing. As the weeks went by, we got more and more complaints from angry, and more often than not, completely baffled clients or customers. What we discovered after The Firing was that these tasks were not done. I'm not talking "not done well" or "done incorrectly" but completely fucking ignored. After much digging and poking around, Wanda began finding bills and forms that were supposed to have been filled out, stuffed in random places - filing cabinets, in stacks of old newspapers, in random drawers in the bathroom. I don't understand how The Monster could have possibly thought she'd get away with this, but it's taken a good 2 months to finally get things sorted out. I'm just glad I didn't have to deal with any of it.

TIP #3: DON'T STEAL MONEY
Pretty self-explanatory.

TIP #4: DON'T GET KICKED OUT BY YOUR LIVE-IN BOYFRIEND, THEN BREAK BACK INTO HIS HOUSE DURING THE DAY WHILE HE IS AT WORK AND STEAL EVERYTHING HE OWNS, AND THEN TAKE OFF AND BECAME A HUNTED FUGITIVE OF THE LAW
Because we're a newspaper. We will find out and when we do, we will laugh quite enthusiastically at your stupidity.


[posted by Rades at 10:43 AM] LINK ||
Tuesday, July 19, 2005

DUMBLEDORE DIES*


So. Harry Potter. Hopefully he's grown out of that Emo phase.

Actually, with the big tragedy in the latest book, maybe in the next book he'll be all out for revenge. The title could be Harry Potter and the Assassination Contract. He could hire Tom Cruise - hell, Cruise would probably go after the big V himself and try to convert him to Scientology. Then the world would REALLY be in danger.

Or maybe Potter could get creative in his potions class and mix up a Frankenstein-ish combination. Picture the dramatic showdown! A transformed Potter rampages into Voldemort's castle and pummels everything in his path. "POTTER SMASH!" or "I'm not the 92 lb. weakling you kicked sand on, Voldemort! Thanks to hard work, a strictly regimented diet, and the help of the magical potion STEROIDS!"

Or Voldemort could get a henchman who's capable of actually killing someone. There's an idea. He clearly should read the Evil Overlord Handbook.

* may be completely untrue

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I've been thrust back into the Anime series landscape, thanks to the Sanman recommending Samurai Champloo, which is by the makers (or director, or something...some kind of link) of Cowboy Bebop. I watched the series in less time than it took to download (it took 25 hours to download) and overall it's quite a good one. It's got a good mix of humor, historic fun, wicked action and decent drama. Unfortunately the association with Bebop inevitably draws comparisons, and comparing the two, I enjoyed Bebop much more. Champloo has some good humor and distinct hip-hop style that's really fun and unique, but underneath the flash it's essentially a really standard, unoriginal storyline. Also, 2 of the 3 main characters are actually pretty boring. That being said, it's still a really good show and I recommend it to anyone who likes Bebop or Trigun. Also, the more interesting main character's fighting style is a breakdancing style, which is so utterly bizarre but awesome to watch.

I've also downloaded Wolf's Rain, which is again by the Bebop team (somehow). I've only watched one episode and so far it's kind of weird, and that's about all I can say really.


[posted by Rades at 8:24 AM] LINK ||
Friday, July 15, 2005
My greatest achievement today was smashing the giant 5 lb. fly that was, for the entire morning, beating itself against the wall in a litany of madness. Both on the fly's part (really, why do flies do that?) and because it was making me INSANE.

Really, I should just go to bed now. Because I already know the high point of today has passed, and nothing - save perhaps discovering that my hall closet is actually a extraplanar wormhole to a complete supply of the world's entire anime collection - will surpass the glorious moment when I crushed Darth Buzzicus' insectile bulk against the wall, and the resounding thud as its mammoth body hit the floor.

I really hate flies.


[posted by Rades at 11:07 AM] LINK ||
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
(warning: LONG POST. And it's about hockey.)

So NHL Hockey is back. Who cares?

For me, my love of hockey has been a casual one, though to describe it thusly may be slightly misleading. I didn't really get into following hockey until back around 1992-93, when the hometown Kamloops Blazers' Memorial Cup win was followed by the legendary Vancouver Canucks playoff run the next season. For a few years, this cemented my passion for following both the WHL and NHL leagues.

But near the end of high school, I started to lose interest in attending Blazers games. And my interest in the Canucks had dwindled ever since the Mike Keanan/Mark Messier/Trevor Linden disasters, leaving me a somewhat disinterested fan; one that would follow the playoffs each year, not really watching all the games, but more out of curiosity. I didn't even have a favourite team. Sure, the Canucks always got some approval from me, but I think that was more because they were the closest I had to a mandatory "local" team.

Then, college started, the Blazers started to suck ass big time (BIG TIME), and the Canucks logo turned into some kind of Kodiak whale, or something. My interest in professional hockey pretty much disappeared, leaving me (quite contentedly, I might add) to reserving my hockey passion for the street hockey games I partook in.

But once I was in j-school, I met and got to know Canucks Fanatic Nick, along with not-quite-so-fanatical Al, Mark, Silv, Spigs (who is just as Fanatical about the Red Wings as Nick is about the Canucks, but since it's the Red Wings, gets no hyperlink). I started to get interested again.

Then the playoffs came. And something magical happened.

Nick graduated that year, and had already moved most of his things out of the basement suite in which he lived. There remained, if I remember correctly, the following:
- couch
- TV
- laptop with internet still hooked up
- one small nightstand

Me, Nick and Silv sat in that barren room and watched the entire (albeit short-lived) Canucks playoff run that year. For Nick and Silv, it was just like every other year. But for me, who hadn't seriously watched hockey in years, it was new and yet familar all at once. The game was the same. The rules were the same. But I didn't know the players. I didn't know the history. I didn't know the rivalries.

It was great.

By the end of the series with Minnesota, I was making fun of goalies with Silv, and was spitting epiphets with Nick at Marian Gaborik (who I drafted in the next year's hockey pool, not knowing he was embroiled in a contract dispute and would net me a whopping zero points before I dropped him). I was fully caught up with the wonder and beauty that is the NHL playoffs. I cheered for the Canucks, but more for fun than for any real love. To be honest, I didn't care for most of them. I mocked Cloutier relentlessly and expressed my contempt for Todd Bertuzzi at every chance I got. But I still cheered them on nonetheless. It was nice just to be cheering for a team again.

The next year I followed the regular season haphazardly - partially because I was in an NHL fantasy pool this time, and I always follow stats and results when I'm in a pool. Unless it's football. Or basketball. In fact, I guess it's really just baseball and hockey I follow. Oh well.

Then I moved to Alberta. Come playoff time, the slow roar of the Calgary Flames' increasing momentum started to pick up, but Nick and I still cheered for the miserable Canucks. Nick, because he's a Canuckamaniac at heart, and me, well, partially just to annoy the people I know in Alberta who were going for the Flames. Of course, the Canucks lost, surprising no one. But the Flames embarked on a breathtaking, logic-defying playoff run that took me right back to the Canucks run that first got me interested in hockey.

Even though I wasn't (and still am not) a large Flames fan, there was something undeniably heartwarming about last year's playoffs. I could go into detail, but frankly, if you're still reading this, you already know what I mean. By now, I knew the players. I knew the histories, I knew the rivalries. I was ready to start watching again.

And then the season was cancelled.

Without getting into the nuts and bolts of the ugly negotiations, the endless false hopes and let-downs, I'll just say this: when hockey comes back on...I guess I'll watch it. If I happen to turn the TV on and flip to the station. And nothing else is on.

Or I might not. I dunno. I'm just not that interested anymore.

It took a lot to rekindle my interest once. And I don't know if the NHL has the stuff to do it a second time.


[posted by Rades at 11:10 AM] LINK ||
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
So have you seen the trailer for that new movie, The Wedding Crashers? Apparently Vince Vaughn fell ill at the last minute and they had to scramble for a replacement, and it turns out it is someone we know! Check out the trailer (never before seen!) here: WEDDING CRASHERS TRAILER


[posted by Rades at 11:14 PM] LINK ||