It's a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'n' Roll)
Despite the longer days and Southern exposure these are dark days on Henry St. The Bakery lost its Jester last week. He is off to the greener pa$ture$ of Cowtown in search of the Canadian Dream and his Captain Fabulous cape. Jess was a longtime diplomat at the Embassy on Union st. and him, the Stormer and me lived together for close to 3 years. Some wise men with terrible hair once sang that you "don't know what you got til it's gone". Well frankly Cinderella, I disagree. I know exactly what I would be missing if someone removed my fridge from my kitchen and I feel the exact same way about Jess...if that makes any sense. My point is, he will be missed. Normy, as usual, is suffering from some mild separation anxiety. Every night I come home and he asks me if I have any obscure sports stats for him and to guess how many calories I burned while sitting on my ass all day. He has been carrying on a daily vigil at the gym though...he's such a trooper.
In my mind, if they made a movie about this chapter in Jess's life there would be a montage set to It's a Long Way to the Top (If You Wanna Rock 'n' Roll). As an avid fan of Bonfire era AC/DC I'm sure Jess would concur. In fact, if not for Jessie's Girl I have no doubt that he would happily use it as his theme song. For me the song is the ultimate Friday afternoon song. To see what I mean turn your speakers up and get a load of this: The song is notable for a)it's message - the essence of Rock'n'Roll - and b)the first known effective use of bagpipes in a rock song. We love it...
The sun came out over the weekend to the point where it would seem that we went straight from winter to summer. And that's hardly a joke; last monday it was hovering around freezing and we got a snowfall. By the end of the week it was up to 20 and today it made it up to 25. It's one of those days that makes you consider taking up smoking just so you can join your co-workers for their frequent trips outside.
I went to see Will's band play on Friday night and someone put something in my drink that made the first sunny Saturday of the year a bit of a wash. On Sunday morning we had another 8am practice in Moncton, so while I did get to see the sun come up, by the time I got home I was ready to go back to bed. Before I could get up the stairs though, Hurricane Bardsley showed up and told me we were going canoeing. I was too tired to argue so off we went. We thought about paddling the Nashwaak but I had never done the St.John this early and liked the thought of pulling the boat out of the water 200 yards from my house. So that's what we did.(Not a current picture; hence then leaves)
The water was fast which means we didn't have to paddle a whole lot. This was a blessing and a curse. It meant we could enjoy the weather and enjoy a beer but that also increased the likelihood of us taking a dip with the icebergs that we found along the way. And then there was the matter of the bulldog in the middle of the boat. She accounted for a number of liquid casualties. We mourned our losses by cracking another...and then another. In the end we did find the answer to the question of how long does it take to paddle from Mactaquac to Henry St. and the answer is about 10 beer.
It was a great little trip which proves that Hurricane's aren't always the destructive force they are made out to be.
Ten years ago (holy crap!) the boys and I piled into North's car (The Fairy, he liked to call it) and headed for Montreal to watch Ben Harper play the Jazzfest. We hit Lennoxville for a night at Calhoun's bar The G. We woke up groggy and hit the road for Sin City. Calhoun hitched a ride with us so we were 6, packed tightly in The Fairy. We were hungover, hungry, cramped and somewhat giddy, as is often the case when driving with Normy. As we pulled into the city we headed for ground zero, Supersexe. At the corner of Rue St.Catherines and University Ave. we encountered bumper to bumper traffic and throngs of people on the sidewalks. As I scanned the crowd I noticed on particular character that was stumbling along trying to make love to a slab of pizza. I said "check this guy out" and the three jokers in the back seat looked to their right simultaneously and broke into smiles at this guy's stumbling state. At the same time he felt the eyes on him and stared back at us. Sensing that he was the butt of our joke he decided to go on the offensive and whiffed his pie at the car. His aim was true hitting the fairy smack in the half open back window. The car bore the brunt but some splatter made it inside and onto Barry's head. Barry, being from the 'Ville yelled back "What the f*ck was that?!" to which our man replied, with utter disdain and a pea soup thick french accent, "A slice of pizza!" Calhoun reached for he door but we pulled him back and drove off in hysterics. The story still makes me laugh.
So why the hell am I telling this story? Well, mostly because it makes me laugh, what else do you want? But also because of this:
You can watch a fuller version of the breakdown of the toss here. In the clip you can the two guys arguing after the pizza toss. I like to think that the victim turned around and yelled "What the f*ck was that?!" to which the drunken tosser replies, with utter disdain and a thick southie accent "A slice of pizza!". I love the how much the announcers love this stuff. Gold.
From everything I've heard about Blacksburg, Virginia it could easily pass for Sackville, Lennoxville, or Fredericton. It's a sleepy university town (as much as that is an oxymoron) that was basically of victim of bad luck. This could have happened pretty much anywhere...It's very sad and that's all I have to say about that. I will let someone else say something though:
I love how the clip ends with the unscripted chant. I showed this clip to my friend Cathy and she told me that it gave her the chills. I did too but for different reasons. Cathy went to school at Virginia Tech and has been in that stadium yelling those words. Everyone she knows down there is safe but shaken. She said they used to go to the Basketball games dressed in ogange and maroon and that this Friday is Hokie Hope day where anyone who wants to show support can wear orange and maroon.
There was one Canadian among the victims; a prof named Jocelyne Couture-Nowak who was from Nova Scotia. It's such a small world.
Pace out.
PS - I guess I should also point out that untold hundreds of civilians died in Irag this week and it's equally sad that those deaths hardly qualify as news these days. Shitty.
I love a good urban legend. One of my favourites is this one about the peanut butter girl (I doubt this ever actually happened but do wonder is it inspired anyone). I had a friend swear that this was true because her sister was actually at the party when the girl walked in. Of course this was before the internet and I just had to tell her that I didn't believe her. God I hope she reads this.
I was reminded of the viral spreading of urban legends this week when a few different people sent me pictures of this cougar on a patio:The first person sent it to me with an email string that said the picture was taken in St.Martin's, NB while the second email string claimed the pictures were taken by "a guy in French Village". Someone on the first email replied with this link.
Now there is an long held belief that the Eastern Cougar still exists and has just be hiding from scientists for decades. So pictures like this can capture the imagination and spread like wildfire. I would just love to know who started it. Did some guy in French Village decide to have some fun. If so I say kudos because to spread of a good urban legend is always worth it.
Of course there are still Eastern Cougars around these parts. Go to the 20/20 any weekend and you will find all kinds of cougars prowling. And this brings up another urban legend; the coining of the term "cougar". Some people will swear that they were the first group to use the term "cougar" and, in reality, someone out there is telling the truth. Just like someone actually took those pictures of that cougar (the cat). Which reminds me of another funny story; last weekend I ran into one of the old(er) rugby guys at a restaurant downtown. He asked me if I was out looking for cougars. I said "No Rog, I'm more into bobcats" thinking that I was using an original term for cougars in training. When I went to look up "cougars" online I found this definition for bobcat: refers to a woman in her 30's who sexually pursues younger men. Actually, my buddie's brother's sister-in-law came up with that term in reference to herself. But you wouldn't know her; she's from outta town.
So the big news in Freddy this week was the announcement that The Tragically Hip are returning to Fredericton after a 14 year absence. They will be playing a show at the Aitken Center on September 11. I have seen the Hip somewhere around 8 or 9 times; I've seen them in Moncton, Saint John, Montreal, New York and New Hampshire, but never in Freddy so this will be fun. I'm shaving my head, letting my stubble grow and getting my picture with Gord. And possibly introducing myself as him...
So in honour of this big announcement I am trying to arrange a celebratory trip to see the Hip, well, somewhere else. They are playing next weekend at the Hampton Beach Casino Ballroom in New Hampshire. This is the same venue we saw them play on the Phantom Power tour. It's a much smaller venue then anything they would play in Canada and tickets are only $20. This is how Canadians can actually take advantage of American's apathy towards the band. This is also how I can find a way to put this picture on the web:I love two the way the pirate flag flies so proudly in this picture. I also love that somewhere on the beach in the background a German tourist named Jurgen was excited to export "raise the roof" to Munich. But I digress...
Back to the issue at hand...mid-September in Freddy is also Havest time and, in fact, the Hip are basically opening the Blues Festival a day early. It's going to be a crazy week of music in town with the folks at Harvest recently announcing that Gov't Mule will be playing the big tent on Thursday night, Dr. John will be playing on Saturday and rumours that Matt Mays and El Torpedo will be playing an Afterburner. So for any of you who are away you should consider making your travel plans home around that week. Of course, year to year, you should consider doing that anyways...but again, I digress.
Kurt Vonnegut Jr. died yesterday (and somewhere Geoff North lights a candle). Vonnegut is North's favourite author (right?) and ranks high up there with Twain and Hemingway on the list of all-time American writers. I read Slaughterhouse-Five in first year and was especially taken by it's truth (it didn't hurt that it told the story of Dresden which I was studying in history class). It is considered one of the best American Books of the 20th Century. I have a copy of it if anyone wants it. I just wanted to pass this info along to you in the hopes that it may get someone to pick up one of his books and think deeply; he has that effect.
I also wanted to use this as an interesting segue to pass on something that made me laugh when I was looking up stuff on Vimy the other day. One of Canada's best storytellers, Pierre Berton, didn't use humour in his writing quite like Vonnegut did (although I will always recommend reading his stuff because, invariably, you will learn about Canada) but this clip made me smile like few books ever have.
Today is the 90th Anniversary of the start of the Battle of Vimy Ridge which is widely considered to be Canada's finest military hour and also the symbolic birth of the nation. Up to that point in the war Canadian regiments were spread throughout the larger British Expeditionary Force fighting alongside the rest of the Commonwealth's armies. But at Vimy the Canadian Forces were consolidated and fought as one. And where the British and French forces had failed, they succeeded, taking the ridge. Newspapers in the UK and US trumpeted the victory and actually gave rise to the sentiment that this 4 day battle success signified Canada's arrival as an independant nation. The importance in that respect should not be understated. But the importance of the battle on the whole should not be overstated.
I read an interesting article in Saturday's Globe about exactly that fact. While Vimy was a famous victory for the Canadians it was actually a part of the larger Battle of Arras, which was not considered an Allied victory at all - "No strategic breakthroughs were achieved". After the war when the decision was made to build a memorial to commemorate the Canadian contribution the choice of Vimy as the site was by no means universal. Many army officers felt that Amiens or Passchendaele were more strategic victories and would be better locations. But even that soon after the war the legend of Vimy was strong and it became the site. And what a sight it became. The Vimy Memorial was designed by sculptor Walter Seymour Allward and is truly a work of art. The most poignant fact about the memorial is summed up here: "There are no signs of victory there at all...It expresses our obligation to the dead, and the grief of the living--sentiments of sacrifice that you do not see in war memorials until this time". In my mind that statement mutes the limited strategic victory argument and affirms Vimy as the proper place as Canada's primary First World War Memorial because it was where we first fought as one.
Most importantly, when we did fight as one, soldiers hailing from sea to sea, we earned a reputation from the Germans as the most elite, professional and tough fighting force they had faced. And from civilian to soldier this should still instill pride.
Pace out
PS - I like history
PPS - Years later the date April 9th was important in Canada for another reason - Happy Birthday Sarah!
Watching TV today on my day off, I came across a show depicting the Stations of the Cross. As I watched (and did some wiki work) I remembered that I had the opportunity a few years ago to experience this tradition unlike most. Back in '99 I was lucky enough to get picked for a Sevens tour to Israel. The tournament itself was in Tel Aviv but upon our arrival we had a free day and were treated to a trip to Jerusalem and a guided tour of the city. Don't believe me? Check out this uber-goofy photo:So shortly after we did this little photo shoot from a park on a hill overlooking the city we were escorted to the Old City for a tour. This immediate area contains some of the most sacred places for 3 of the world's major religions. It has, directly or indirectly, been a cause of global conflict for thousands of years, and continues to be. Having said all that the city is still functioning as a city. We took a tour to follow the path of Jesus and as deep and solemn a tour it was, we were constantly hit up by vendors hawking their wares. I bought a keychain to get one particularly persistent on off my back.
The last stop was at the Tomb of Christ in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. As the tour ended we had a chance to chat with our tour guide at which point he asked me my name. When I told him it was Simon he smiled and asked me if felt particularly important. I smiled back and said yes because that's what I always answer when someone asks me that, but really had no idea what he was referring to. Since then I have figured it out and am happy that even in Jesus' time, Simon was a good guy.
We are in the midst of a pretty serious spring storm right now. All of our snow was gone yesterday and on the news they were talking about an early start to forest fire season. Well, that may be true but it's going to be a few days before the kids can start grass fires again. On the plus side, it's really wet snow and I foresee a golden opportunity for a kick ass snowball fight later on this evening. Heads up people, heads up.
Meanwhile in other parts of the continent the rites of spring go on without such hiccups. Down in Georgia a bunch of men are gathered to chase their little balls around a pretty manicured lawn. It all sounds pretty gay really...and then you see the real face of golf and reminded that this is what the vast majority of golfers look like:I love that shot...almost as much as I like this one.
BTW - Those green jackets they give out may be the worst prize in sports....
Well the good news is that my April Fool's joke sailed right over Tony Li's head and he showed up for our group presentation last night. The bad news is that his english is a work in progress and choosing him to open our group presentation may have been seen as a cruel joke to our prof. Having said that, I am positive that he found the group's choice of yours truly to handle the financials of our fictional company even more of a joke. It was all good though...as any smart money man did, I paid him off.
And with that the course is over. We got our final exam back and I am looking at a solid B+. As a mature student (yes, I use the term loosely, jerkwads) a B in an introductory course is basically the mark you should get with even a minimal amount of work being done. I don't totally fall into this category. I made an effort to make it to class and take good notes. I also made an effort not to let me team down in our group work...and I think I succeeded in this with no small thanks to Normy's help (and possible genius - I may have learned more in one afternoon with the Stormer than I did in my whole ADMIN 2313 class, no offence to Mr. Nevers.) This should be my last course; I may soon be a unibearsity graduate. Cross your fingers and I'll keep you posted.
I woke up at 5:45 on April 1st and that's no lie. We had an 8am practice in Moncton. When we left the house the nearly full moon was setting over the southside and it was quite a sight. 45 minutes later we drove into the sun rising in a cloudless sky. It was a very peaceful start to the day...and then we broke the peace by having full contact practice. There were 22 guys at practice and no word on how many didn't show up thinking that a 8am Sunday morning practice in Moncton was an April Fool's joke...I certainly considered it.
I actually forget it was April Fool's Day altogether. I had planned to play an elaborate hoax on Normy to make him think he won the lottery, just to see who he would tell off first if he thought he hit the jackpot. My odds were on me. Instead, I sent an email to the foreign student in my marketing class telling him that class had been cancelled because the whole class was being investigated for cheating on our final. That's when I figured out that April Fool's is not a globally accepted ritual and he believed me. So if he doesn't show up for our group project tomorrow night I will feel bad. Once again the joke is on me....and him I guess. Sorry Tone....
Despite the longer days and Southern exposure these are dark days on Henry St. The Bakery lost its Jester last week. He is off to the greener pa$ture$ of Cowtown in search of the Canadian Dream and his Captain Fabulous cape. Jess was a longtime diplomat at the Embassy on Union st. and him, the Stormer and me lived together for close to 3 years. Some wise men with terrible hair once sang that you "don't know what you got til it's gone". Well frankly Cinderella, I disagree. I know exactly what I would be missing if someone removed my fridge from my kitchen and I feel the exact same way about Jess...if that makes any sense. My point is, he will be missed. Normy, as usual, is suffering from some mild separation anxiety. Every night I come home and he asks me if I have any obscure sports stats for him and to guess how many calories I burned while sitting on my ass all day. He has been carrying on a daily vigil at the gym though...he's such a trooper.
