I am nearing the end of my War Through Film course with only one more class, a term paper and an exam left to go. I decided to focus my term paper on the the differences in the reception and experience of returning soldiers from Iraq and Vietnam as depicted in Born on the Fourth of July and Stop-Loss. That being the case, I had to go see Stop-Loss and I did so last night.
The story is pretty simple; a soldier returning home from Iraq is set to re-enter society after a tough tour and is then told he is being forced back to Iraq by a policy called stop-loss. The soldier goes AWOL and considers his options as his colleagues struggle with their return. I won't tell you how it ends because I think it's worth seeing. I will say, though, that it is one of the few movies that it at once pro-Army and anti-war. More accurately, though, it isn't anti-war, just anti-policy.
In a related story, President Bush was given the honour of throwing out the first pitch at the opening game of the Washington Nationals new stadium. Despite throwing a (ceremonially-relative) strike he was roundly booed . I don't like to get into politics around here but methinks some of these policies are catching up to him.
Last night I went and checked out Grand Theft Bus at The Playhouse. They are on a mini-tour around the maritimes promoting their new album Move Upwards. We were reminded as we walked down the street that it was still Earth Hour and the city had yet to turn all the streetlights back on. Pretty eerie, but equally interesting, and some more good press potentials for the city's green salemsan. Every little bit helps I guess.
I didn't have to worry about the lights (and amps) being down at the show becsause we arrived after 9 and, surprise!, missed the opener. We arrived a few minutes into GTB's set. I have seen these guys since they first started playing together at the Cellar around the turn of the millenium. Their sound has evolved from pretty straight up jam band to more of a pop outfit, but, in my mind, they have stayed true to their roots and still take some chances (explore the space, if you will). I was impressed with the new stuff and equally happy to hear some of their old stuff in a room with such great sound. I think they are making a push for bigger things and this album should give them a good shot. I especially liked their article in here magazine - it's still all about the music.
On the way out I picked up the new album and a compilation of the rest of the Forward Music Group stable and am enjoying both of them thoroughly.
Tim Horton's (or Tim Horden's, depending on which part of Skyline Acres you come from)is deep into their annual Roll up the Rim contest. I couldn't find definitive numbers to support my quess that sales spike during this contest but I'm pretty sure it's out there for someone who cares. I, quite frankly, don't care because this contest has chewed me up and spit me out. I am currently holding a personal ROTR record for futility with an 0 for 28 record up to this point in the contest. With the odds of winning plastered right on those red cups of hate as 1 in 9, I'm pretty sure that makes me 3x as much of a loser as a regular Tim's customer.
Sophie's birthday was on Sunday meaning she is now two years old. As much as I want to say that it's amazing how fast they grow up it also seems to me that it's been more then just two years that she's been making me smile. Hmm...interesting.
I was trying to find a word to describe Sophie as a two year old and was having a hard time. I wanted to say precocious but the way Kim Carnes says it in Bette Davis Eyes makes it sound like a bad thing. Being a good Godfather I went ahead and looked it up and it turns out it's not bad at all: Precocious: 1. unusually advanced or mature in development, esp. mental development: a precocious child.
As far as I'm concerned that is my current favourite word to describe her...but it by no means sums it up. You'd have to add the hundreds of adjectives that mean cute as can be.
At two years old Sophie is almost potty trained and can say my name. Meaning she is smarter than most of my friends on a Saturday night.
After getting delayed a day we finally made it to PEI Saturday afternoon. We stopped in for a visit in Charlottetown and made it to South Lake for (a great) supper. We curled up around the new fireplace and watched the Habs beat the Bruins in a shootout - Just what I wanted for Easter.
Sunday morning we were having a coffee when Steve notice a coyote in the field in front of the house. It was a 150 yards away but was unmistakebly a coyote. And it was after something. We pulled the binocs out and noticed that it was circling a seal that had wandered up the creek and (way) onto shore. Sam jumped on to the deck and made a racket to scare it away.
At that point we went down to see if we could do anything for it. When we got close it started to scurry into the woods so we headed it off trying to herd it toward the ice. No dice; it started to hold its ground and snap at us.He was just a pup but was just a fat as could be. He was obviously terrified and crapped himself to prove it. We tried, in vain, to scare him towards the water but he stood pat. We decided to try and roll him onto a tarp and drag him towards the ice. As we tried to roll him onto the tarp with brooms he started to play dead which made that chore easy enough. Once on the tarp we carried him down to the ice.Once we got him on the ice we walked a little ways up the shore to a spot where there was a bit of an embankement so he wouldn't head back in the wrong direction. I gave him some gentle nudging towards the water but decided he probably needed some rest after meeting a new bunch of land mammals.We left him there in the hopes that he would get back in the water once he felt ready.
We left him alone for a while and then before dinner Erin and I went back down to check on him. He was still on the ice but this time a little farther up the creek. We again tried to direct him back to the water and this time succeeded. He slipped in and we rejoiced a little. Then we saw him swim directly to the other side of the creek where he slipped out and gave us the finger. Or so it felt. We had done what we could but he was on his own agenda. Again, probably exhausted and clearly disoriented. We left him and hoped for the best.
Pretty cool to see a seal pup up close. I am not morally opposed to the seal hunt but I honestly don't know how anyone could beat one of those animals between those big black eyes. You do what you have to do I guess.
So for Good Friday I figured I would talk a little bit about the best. I should start by saying that this Good Friday saw very bad weather and that lead to our not heading to the Island until the weather turns (hopefully in the AM), so this is me making the most of a bad situation.
So in honour of Good Friday I honour someone who is not only good but great. Yesterday was Bobby Orr's 60th birthday. Bobby changed the way hockey was played; he openned the game up and had skills that no one before him posessed. He is usually acknowledged as either the best or the second best player ever; typically depending on when you were born. For my money him and Wayne are 1a and 1b. Let's not argue...
In my mind Bobby made up for his lack of a 50 goal in 39 game season by coming to my grandparents house in 1987 and taking a couple of pictures with me. Afterwards he signed some photos. I asked him why he was not signing copies of the photo of his most famous goal.He told me that these were just the ones he was given for this promo trip. He then told me that if I wanted an autographed copy of that photo that he would send me one. I, of course, said yes. Two weeks later, after figuring he forgot and letting it slip even my awestruck mind, a cardboard tube arrived in the mail. I openned it up and, sure enough, there was the autographed poster-sized copy of Bobby Orr flying through the air after scoring the Stanley Cup winner. How awesome is that. Happy Birthday Bobby.
As a lifelong Habs fan this admiration of Bobby has been tricky but I like to think that somewhere in there there is a small nod to the hockey Gods to remind them not to let the Bruins come back and bite my guys in the ass after losing 10 straight to them. Again, we shall see...
So a little something different for Flashback Friday:
Today, they tell me, is the first day of Spring. I tend to think it's going to be a while before we see the flowers blooming. It may even be some time before I get to smell the fragrant odor of dogshit on the wind. I can't be bothered to look up the stats but I would say this is about as much snow as Fredericton has ever had It certainly has been that way in the center of the universe...I mean country. I was at the rugby club last night and there is a good 4ft of snow covering the field. And because it's crusted over you can walk right over it. I don't think we will be on it early this year. We shall see...
Yesterday was the 5th Anniversary of the Coalition of the Willing starting their Bombs Over Baghdad Shock and Awe campaign. I won't say too much about how that's going at this point but it should be noted that, while only a fraction of the number of troops that died in World War II have died in Iraq, it is already the second most expensive war in US history.
Not really the most happy topic but best not to bury your head in the desert sand. On the other hand some gold has come out of it and this is the one sure cure I have to turn it into a laugh:
Going back in time a few days I want to pass on a review for a cool movie I saw on Friday night.
Rock, Paper, Scissors: The Way of the Tosser is a story about a couple of young lovebirds trying to navigate their way through this crazy world...and their own crazy lives. The catch is that their lives revolve around RPS. It is a mockumentary along the lines of Best in Show...and it's classic.
It does not hurt (at all) that the co-star and director is former Calithumpians and FHS Hornets rugby player Tim Doiron. Tim was showing the movie in Freddy for the first time and got a little press from the gleaner and also threw a bone to his roots by naming the two man characters Gary and April Brewer (no relation). This is of course an hommage to Zealand and the old line that states "You can't swing a cat in Zealand without hitting a Brewer".
The movie really is worth checking out and you can see a number of clips on youtube. Here is the trailer:
Tim looks like he's having a lot of fun doing the promo tour and here's to hoping he keeps up the good work. I'm thankful that I can go back to making major decisions based on RPS. Good ole rock.
I'm planning on joining the hordes of part-time and amateur drinkers for their one night only. It's always fun to see what shape people are in at 8 o'clock on a Monday. I'm not sure where the night will take me but I have no doubt that, at some point, I will hear some Irish themed music. I'm not sure if Terry Dolan will go for it but I think he should consider banning Farewell to Nova Scotia much the same way that this guy banned Danny Boy. I'll pitch it to him at least.
Personally I'm a fan of Danny Boy but that is mostly thanks to this version:
At lunch time today Jackman went down to MacTavish's to pick up a new hockey stick for the SkillSoft Friday night pick up game. He found a nice stick with a Devon discount price tag and called it a deal. Once he got his fresh new wood in the car his travelling companion alerted him to a minor oversight. The stick Jackman bought was a model approved and certified by the great Mats Sundin. This would not have been a big deal if it wasn't for the fact that Jackman is a huge Senators fan and even more devoted Leaf hater. Quite a bind. At this point he is leaning towards keeping the stick but either taping over the mention of the name we shall not write, or charring the name (for the added voodoo effect).
This story immediately reminded me of the classic Canadian short story The Hockey Sweater (Le chandail de hockey) by Roch Carrier. As a Habs fan, I love this story and can absolutely relate to both it and Jackman's predicament. Here is the kick ass animated short:
"I asked God to send me, right away, a hundred million moths that would eat up my Toronto Maple Leafs sweater". Classic.
That story makes this song the obvious choice for Flashback Friday...amazingly it is now 15 years old:
Here's the best joke I heard today:That really strikes a chord with me. On the whole, I really like U2, but when Bono starts to preach to me in sunglasses I tune out. It all goes back to the first lines on Rattle & Hum when he says "This is a song Charles Manson stole from the Beatles, now we're stealing it back". My parents told me that two wrongs don't make a right so I didn't trust Bono from the point on. I did appreciate that he could make fun of himself on The Simpson's though:
In keeping with the Turbo theme I overheard some co-workers talking about this article the other day.
It appears that the most desirable time for a heterosexual couple to achieve the most enjoyement out of intercourse is 7-13 minutes, plus foreplay. Now, that last note could really be the kick in the pants for the Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am-ers out there but this should at least dispell the myth that you cannot have completely satisfying sex between periods of a Habs game. For example.
Just kidding...I know it takes a little longer for women to rev up and so on. So I will fully agree, on behalf of guys everywhere, that I will aim for the top half of the 7-13 minute range as long as I can throw my hands in the air and yell "I win" when I inevitably cum first. Agreed?
This was our chariot for our weekend in Truro, so needless to say we had a good time.
We met up at the club at 5pm and the convoy left from there. We made it to Truro in time to check in to our no tell motel and then sped off to make our 10pm kickoff. Happily the game was delayed by about an hour. A little time to shake the driving rust off. It didn't work - we got beat the Mudmen of PEI in a 14 minute game that felt like an hour. We didn't deserve to win and that's all I have to say about that. I decided it best to drown our sorrows. So we did and the lack of cabs in the sleepy little hub city lead me to have a walk home long enough to sober up and catch MacDonald's breakfast as it started. Score! I slept in and woke up in time for our 3:20 kickoff. We rushed over only to find we were again delayed about an hour. This time we were playing St. Mary's and I opted to sit this one out and give the young bucks a shot. It didn't pay off and we lost again. And with that the rugby portion of the Truro 7's was over.
From there it was back to the hotel to clean up and hit the bar. But before that I met up with DT, RW and JC, who was in town covering the Warrior XC MMA showcase featuring Jonny "Showtime" Roscoe. I've seen Jonny fighting for years and I'm glad he's moved it inside the octagon. He lost his fight to Iraz Hadin in what was a very entertaining 3 round fight.
From there it was back to partying with rugby players. A typical Saturday night at Truro 7's; boys dressed up as girls and girls dressed up as naughty girls. I decided I didn't want to walk home this night and got a cab early.
I took in the finals and watched the Ottawa Irish women and men get waayyy to excited about winning Truro 7's. They must not have been told that the team that wins the party actually wins the Truro 7's. We didn't win either, based mostly on the fact that I had to walk home on Friday.
Good times as always though.
The drive home was not so fun though...I swear no one could see our bright white sports car in the whiteout on the way home. We kept our humour by playing this song on a continuous loop the whole time:
When the boys are trying to piss me off they like to joke that I should go back to my old job singing for the Spin Doctors. Personally I never saw the resemblence, until, that is, I decided against shaving last year.
15 years ago, when the Spin Doctors were popular I decided to head to Truro for the weekend for my introduction to the Truro International Sevens. It was an eye opening experience that left me with memories (and quotes) to last a lifetime. It is basically a big excuse for rugby types to gather in the offseason to briefly open the pressure valve and blow of some steam. Quick 7 minutes releases of agression followed by very high minded social events revolving mainly around discussions of geo-politics. Or something like that. Frankly, I still don't see that much of a resemblence but here's a picure for Truro last year with one sickly beard, not unlike Chris Barron's.
You be the judge.
My point, and I forgot I had one, was that the Spin Doctors were at their most popular when I first went to Truro and Two Princes was actually played to get people on the dancefloor. It's here now for Flashback Friday:
Tuesday, March 04, 2008
White Room
Kudos to Craiger down at Big Santo for pointing me to a new contender for most spot on satire site I've seen this year. The site is called Stuff White People Like and its devoted to highlighting, well, stuff that white people like. As with most good satire its mostly funny because its true.
I am particurly fond of the ones that I can see in myself like the Sunday paper, the Daily Show, public radio, and standing still at concerts. If they post anything on rugby, self-portraits, Moosehead shirts, or eggnog I will register a complaint.
The site is actually taking off; another fine example of the nature of the world wide beast.
The extensive list of musicians who passed away far too young grew today with the passing of Jeff Healey. He died after a long battle with cancer.
I remember having See the Light on vinyl at mom's house at around 1990 and listening to Angel Eyes over and over again (I must have been infatuated with someone). I remember thinking that if this was the blues, I really liked the blues. I'm not so sure it necessarily was but I liked it and no one could deny that this guy was a talent and not just a side show. He played with some of the greats near and far.As much as I liked hearing him play (which I did get to see live on a couple of occasions at the HJB) I liked seeing him smile even more. His smile seemed so genuine. He was supposed to play at the Blues Festival again this year and I'm really going to miss him now.
He played alot of songs about about eyes (see here, here and here). I'm not sure where Bluesmen go when they die but I hope he gets to see that he's made a lot of people smile over the years. I also hope Diane is reading this because there is kickass guitarist on his way.
I have been going to Dumbar Falls since I was a kid. It's a 15 minute drive from town and a 10-15 minute hike in the woods. It's just off Route 8 to Mirimachi so you can still hear transports chugging up the hill as you trapse upstream. But at some point the all the noises of the world outside are drowned out by the din of the falls itself. And if you really want to get completely lost you can scale along the rock face and perch yourself behind the falls. Once there though there is only one way out; through the falls and into the hole that has been drilled into the limestone where the falls fall hardest: It's a small hole; you can stand up about 3 feet from where Scotty is jumping in here. I remember being scared to make the jump last time I was there and am still amazed remembering that my old buddy Arlo hit the hole from the top of the falls. We went for a refreshing (read: hangover clearing) dip on the morning of Scotty's wedding.I'm not sure how I feel about the land adjacent to the falls being developped, nor am I sure how I would feel about a constant parade of day campers coming out to enjoy a swim and a beer in the backyard of my new dream home. I do think it would be a nice problem to have though and an even better backyard. I think its pretty obvious that we have finally got a clear and present option for what to do with all that camp fund money.
