dr. death

October 13, 2006 under Life, numbers

Jason VoorheesAnother Friday the 13th is upon us. Be affraid. Stay at home. Wear bubble wrap.

Bah, it’s just a day, and I hope I didn’t offend anyone afflicted with paraskavedekatriaphobia or even plain ol’ triskaidekaphobia. One thing special about this Friday the 13th is that if you sum the digits that compose today’s date, the result is 13. So 10/13/2006 becomes 1 + 0 + 1 + 3 + 2 + 0 + 0 + 6 = 13.

In a barely related yet ain’t it freaky sort of way, I’ve discovered that there’s a doctor down the 401 in London known as Doctor Death. His name is not an epithet derived from murdering his patients. This is his actual given name; Dr. Barry Death. He specializes in physical medicine and rehab, so perhaps I’ll be referred to him should I hurt something golfing or playing hockey, or even RSI from pounding out code on a keyboard. Carpal tunnel syndrome and sports injuries can be scary…muwahaha! πŸ˜‰

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57 channels and nothing on

September 13, 2006 under Computers, Internet, Life, lonelygir15, YouTube

It turns out that lonelygirl15 is a fraud, like I suspected. The LA Times printed a follow-up story, and it seems that the goal was to exploit the Web as a new distribution method for entertainment. And why not? There aren’t a whole lot of interesting things happening on traditional TV. Letting the “non professionals” take a stab at it seems fair to me.

A couple of weeks ago, I had an email conversation with Michael Markman and he pointed me towards a video that he hand in creating called “Day of the Longtail”. The clip clearly praises self-produced content and the Web as a low-cost and efficient medium for distribution. RSS, low-cost/no-cost video editing software, inexpensive digital video cameras, and social networking sites like YouTube make it easy for amateurs to create and share. Hopefully you’re reading my blog via my RSS feed πŸ˜‰

Arsenio HallThis got me thinking – damn, I wish this all existed back in 1991. For Mr. Clausi’s Advanced English class in grade 10, Stephan Peltier, Marc Seguin and myself decided to take a different route than the rest of class when it came to our Julius Caesar project. Instead of a skit or essay to be read in front of the class, we decided to spoof the Arsenio Hall Show while keeping the theme focused on the denizens of ancient Rome. Using Steph’s fancy (at the time) camcorder, we parodied Arsenio’s show complete with Greek gods as guests who came with movie clips to promote non-existant films. I remember that Steph portrayed Caesar and was promoting his film that was a send-up of T2: Judgment Day. I think he had another guest on the show executed too, if my memory serves me correctly. We used the camera’s ever-so-slick slow-motion feature to accentuate Steph’s running with a big knife. Get educated or we’ll kill ya! We even added our own commercials. I could never forget the split-screen (more special effects) zaniness of Portia‘s Pizza – be careful of the toppings…they’re hot hot hot! πŸ˜‰ Of course, I was Arsenio. Yes, I know that I look nothing like him, but I imitated his mannerisms as best as I could, whoopin’ and all. We got an A+ and a standing ovation from the class.

For the class’ next project, which centred on Greek Mythology, other students in the class actually requested that we do another Arsenio Hall show video, and we obliged. The goal was to be bigger and better, like any good sequel should strive for. We added John Harvey and Ryan Harper to our group, extended the running time from 10 minutes to 30 minutes, and sorta had a budget. Steph, as the mighty Zeus, killed yet another guest with a lightning bolt. Hercules (John) reduced our musical guest, MC Hammer (Ryan), to nothing more than a pair of shoes and hat with a single swing of an over-sized hammer made from one of my baseball bats and an empty cardboard box. I’m not sure what I was thinking when I came up with this, but we spoofed Freddy Krueger with a Nightmare on Mount Olympus. Picture a dark room of soundly sleeping teenagers, while the quiet intro of Metallica’s “Fight Fire With Fire” plays in the background. Wait a sec, who or what goes there? A sinister spikey-haired figure (John) lurks in the room. As the gentle accoustic guitar of “Fight Fire With Fire” plucks its final chord before the drums and distored guitar kick in, the spectre begins killing all of the teenagers with violent stabs to the face and chest using its spiked scalp. I can’t remember what we were portraying or how it fit into Greek Mythology, but it was freakin’ cool! We used a mixture of cherry Jello, flour and water for the blood. Again, we were awarded an A+ for the film and it was the hit of the class again. I’ve starred in a few other video productions for projects in high school, but none could compare to those Arsenio videos. If anybody has a copy of those, I’d love to get my hands on one since the whereabouts of my copy has long been a mystery. I could totally see them landing on YouTube or Blip.tv πŸ˜‰

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good to grow

September 7, 2006 under Life

I think Dena and I live above a grow op, but I’m not sure.

In the winter, we rarely set the heat to a high temperature; I’m ok with a little bit of chilliness (that’s the Northern boy in me). Yet even at 4AM, while every other floor in our place numbs the hell out your feet and sends shivers up and down your spine, a certain area of the floor in our bathroom is warm – starkly warm. Like “warm water on your hand while you’re sleeping and it’s a good thing you’re in the bathroom to begin with” warm.

Also, this summer we noted how hot it was in our apartment. At first, I suspected that our air conditioner was on the fritz, yet the air was very cool near the vents. No matter how high we cranked up the a/c, our place never cooled down. It’s also very humid in our bathroom. Most bathrooms are after somebody’s had a shower, but ours is humid all of the time. There’s usually a faint aroma of weed in our bathroom if the door’s been closed for a while. To finish off this hypothesis o’ mine, we can hear the bathroom fan in the apartment below us; it’s on constantly.

So we either have amateur arborists growing flavoured tobacco, or perhaps it’s a dead person in the apartment below us. I’m thinking that if they’re growing weed, their electric bill must be insane. Surely that would tip off someone, right? And if it was a dead body, it wouldn’t smell like dope plants. What are some other possibilities?

Dena and I have been seriously looking at purchasing a house, so it’ll be somebody else’s problem in the near future. With a sales pitch like that, I shoud’ve gone into real estate πŸ˜‰

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a letter to the students

September 5, 2006 under Education, Life

Dear Students,

The time of year is upon us in which educational institutions re-open their doors for another year. I’d like to address the students – specifically students who are at the stage of choosing, or at the very least, considering thinking about maybe planning to entertain the potential thought of a career path. You’re at a crucial junction in your life, and while you don’t need the added stress, take this moment in your life with a great deal of seriousness. You may be in high school, college, university or some other learning institution. Either way, hear me out. I don’t profess to be an expert on the subject of career choices and life decisions, but know that I’m including hard-earned experience and opinions in this letter.

What will you do to earn a living? It’s a heavy question indeed. Your family may have ideas as to what you should do, and they may not. Your friends may have ideas as to what you should do, and they may not. Your instructors may have ideas as to what you should do, and they may not. Standardized government testing may have ideas as to what you should do, and it may not. Guidance Counsellors should almost definitely have ideas as to what you should do, and they (rarely) may not. Only one person’s opinion on this topic matters, and that’s your’s.

The most important thing you should consider before choosing a path are your interests. What would you like to do day in and day out in order to earn a living? You definitely need to recognize your strengths and talents, but make sure that you’re focusing on talents that matter. The ability to burp the alphabet, while disgustingly entertaining, might not get you far in life. Determine how your talents will help society. It may be difficult to assess your own interests when you think about it. Anything that you can passionately talk about for hours on end to the point of making other people’ head explode can be a good indication of what you should parlay into a career. Don’t let anyone influence your observations. Overzealous parents especially like to tell you what you should be interested in. Guidance Counselors are supposed to be experts in this area, but they’ll likely never talk to you long enough to know what you’re capable of. Keep an eye on your interests. In my case, I noticed halfway through my second year of Pre Pharmacy in university that I was purchasing books on JavaScript and Perl and actually reading them instead of my Anatomy & Physiology and Organic Chemistry textbooks. While there’s nothing wrong in coming to this realization later on, it can be an expensive oversight, which you’ll become painfully aware of when repaying student loans. Sometimes you can’t avoid the late revelation of where your interests lie. If you have to take general education and elective courses, get a few out of the way early on, should you decide to switch majors later on – they should still count towards your degree/diploma/certificate/qualification.

It would be a good idea to inquire about job shadowing somebody working in the area that you’re interested in. This will give you the opportunity to experience a day (or more) in the life in the line of work that you are considering.

Study hard, live cheap, remain focused, don’t smoke bathroom floor drugs, buy used textbooks instead of new ones, and have fun.

Your pal,

Chris

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don't wear white, now

September 4, 2006 under Family, Life, Timmins

Dena and I just came back from a visit to Timmins for the weekend. It was a nice trip, seeing as I haven’t been up there in over 3 years. At the same time, it was a little depressing.

I’m nostalgic – I always have been. The thing with nostalgia is that any given time that you’re nostalgic for…well, it probably wasn’t very noteworthy during the moment. Nostalgia’s effect creeps in after sufficient time has lapsed, much like vintage wine or fine cheese. The house that I grew up in on Murray Street wasn’t a spectacular house, but it was pleasant. It was spotless and well-decorated, because of my mom. It was functional and upgraded, because of my dad. When I drove by that house, it didn’t look a whole lot different from when I was last in it 3 years ago. The only difference between now and then is that I can’t walk into the house. Thomas Wolfe was right; you can’t go home again.

Another thing that struck me is that I was in various places in Timmins, like the homes of relatives and my mom’s friends, and she wasn’t around. We stayed at my Aunt Rena and Uncle Valdo’s house. For as long as I can remember, we’ve always followed the same seating arrangement in their dining room. It was startling to see Dena in the chair where my mom would be. It was even more startling to be standing on my mom’s grave site in the Timmins Municipal Cemetery; especially since I tended to it back in the summer of 1996 when I had a brief summer job there.

But it wasn’t just mom-related things that bummed me out. I gave Dena a guided tour of the city. It was depressing to see that many of the arenas that I played hockey in don’t appear to have seen any renovations. Actually, that seems to be the fate of a lot of places that I frequented. It’s a fine example of how the North gets shit on. It’s not right, but sadly that’s how it is.

One thing I’ve learned from this trip, other than my visits to Timmins are much too few and far between, is that I’ve been a bit of an anti-social hermit from family and friends (not just the ones in Timmins) for the past few years, and I should probably do something about that. Chico mentioned “we’re old”. I don’t feel old per se, but I realize that my teenage years and 20’s are never coming back. Gone are our ubiquitous sex-drugs-rock ‘n’ roll conversations. Now we talk about home improvement projects, adult relationships and careers. However, there are a few things that remain constant. The northern climate is unchanged, which is refreshing to me, because I prefer it over the more-temperate climate of southern Ontario. Although I have very few friends still living in Timmins, it’s comforting to know that Chico is still Chico, and Taurie Hannigan is still holyfuckshehaslotsaenergy Taurie Hannigan πŸ™‚ This whole nostalgia thing is all in my head, I know. I’ll probably be caught in a full-blown Slush Puppie effect in a few years. What’s the Slush Puppie effect? It’s something I came up with at a very young age while looking at Slush Puppie cups. Those cups depict a puppy holding a Slush Puppie cup, depicting a puppy holding a Slush Puppie cup, depicting a puppy holding a Slush Puppie cup, ad infinitum. As such, a few years from now I’ll probably write nostalgic blog posts, about nostalgic blog posts, and so on πŸ˜›

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when quarters were like gold

August 9, 2006 under Classic Gaming, Computers, Life

I’m not much of a gamer anymore. If I still had time/money to invest into it like I did in my younger days, I would. Yet, I’m still somewhat sad to see the end of an era – arcades.Canadian Quarter

Growing up, you could find me in one of four places: hockey arenas, baseball diamonds, neighbourhood streets and school. Between the ages of 5 and 12, arcades must be added to that list. The first arcade I discovered was the Fun & Games on the bottom floor of the 101 Mall in Timmins. During the summer months, my mom would take me along for daily trips to the 101 Mall. She’d browse, shop and I was incredibly bored. The squeek of clothes hangers moving on a rack still bugs me to this day. Being young and having no patience, I’d become fidgity in a short amount of time and I’ll follow up with a constant barrage of “can we go now?”. My mom would then go to the restaurant on the bottom floor (whose name escapes me and it’s since been replaced by a food court anyway) to smoke and drink coffee. Again, this is no fun for a young boy. My mom stumbled upon an idea that would alleviate my boredom and her having to listen to my boredom. One day she gave me a couple of quarters and guided me to Fun & Games. It all started there.

To a five year old, that arcade was an amazing new world. I was bombarded by bleeps and bloops from every direction. Super Pac-Man arcade cabinetLights flashed. Button were mashed. Quarters chimed as they fell from the coin slots. People darted from one side of the arcade to the other. It was a hive of activity. The first arcade game that I ever played was Asteroids at the Timmins Airport when I was four years old. But it was by itself; not in an arcade. The first game that I played at Fun & Games was the king of video games; Pac-Man. Pac-Man became an obsession for me. I doodled the characters and mazes on my school books, ate the cereal and religiously watched the cartoon on Saturday mornings. When I was at the arcade, I clung to that Pac-Man cabinet for dear life. However, I eventually started to become curious and checked out the other games. The ones that I recall frequenting were Joust, Vanguard, Robotron 2084, Defender, Bag Man, Satan’s Hollow, Wizard of Wor (whose voice in attract mode used to scare the shit out of me at one point), Phoenix, Spy Hunter, Karate Champ and a bunch of pinball games to name a few. Then one day, Fun & Games got a slew of new cabinets. A few of them like Punch-Out!! and Double Dragon did a fine job of robbing me of quarters. Yet, there was one game that I would come to own at the age of 7. I would dare say that I did more that own that game. Dare I say, I OMFG 1337 pwn’d it LOLOLOLOLOL!!! That game was Super Pac-Man. By my estimates, Fun & Games powered down the cabinets on Saturday evening (these were the times of no Sunday shopping) because “CVB” was always at the top four or five positions on Super Pac-Man every week πŸ™‚ Often while I was playing, a group would gather to watch. The group consisted of kids my age, teenagers, drug dealers and tekkers (Timmins 1980’s vernacular for “metal head” guys with long greasy hair, jean jackets and lean brain capacity). Super Pac-Man was my machine and all who frequented the Fun & Games at the 101 Mall knew it. When there was nobody left to dominate, I got into collaboration with Gauntlet; I prefered to play as the Valkyrie or the Elf. “Valkyrie needs food badly” and other vocalizations from the game became staples of my vocabulary for a while.

Then, for whatever reason, I started hanging out in the arcade at the Timmins Square. Elevator Action, Kung Fu, Dragon’s Lair, and the first Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles game were my faves there. At some point, I stopped going to arcades. I had progressed with game consoles from Atari 2600 to NES to the original GameBoy to SNES. Afterwards, I got my first PC and arcades were going the way of the dodo. Top Hat still existed on Pine Street North in Timmins at that point, however it was more infamous as the easiest place to buy hash and acid, instead for having Street Fighter II and Mortal Kombat.

I’m not much of a gamer anymore. I play the occasional game of Unreal Tournament, NHL/Madden/Tiger and the latest shooters from id and Valve. Yet I long for the days when the arcades were video game meccas. There’s a certain warmth and sense of community in arcades. Maybe the allure came in the form of the dimly lit rooms, glow of the screens, mesh of sounds, socializing, change ladies or a combination of them all. Now I’m not bashing console gaming on couches and playing with others via online services. But I think kids are missing out on an important social apsect that arcades provide – a sense of attachment to the real world. Internet cafes are the new arcade, but they tend to be prim and proper. An environment that allows people to roam and yell would be more inline with the arcade experience. Here’s an idea: Put the computers in cabinets to force people to stand for a while in the hopes of preventing comp-ass (a term I’ve just invented to describe a flat ass resulting from sitting on it too much while in front of a computer), decorate the room with game art and open it up a bit. Who’s with me? πŸ™‚

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i am a wild party

July 16, 2006 under Life

The immortal words of Kim Mitchell ring true. Or do they?

Dena’s gone to Crystal Falls for 10 days, as she had banked overtime to use. That means that I have the place to myself. Being the wild party that I am, you’re undoubtedly picturing plenty of mayhem and debauchery happening at Chez Bellini. Where the beer flows like wine [ha!], loads of booty-shakin’ bass, tossin’ hundred dollar bills like mad cheddar, and scantily clad women all over the place.

Reality, however, is a funny thing. It’s disgustingly hot outside, so our place is dark with drawn blinds and the A/C cranked, lots of my crappy (according to Dena) music in the background, and yours truly hunched over a laptop working on a few contract projects, with the odd sojourn over to the desktop PC for some Half-Life 2 action. I told you I’m a wild party…wild, wild party! πŸ˜‰

Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser.

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for some, the crest of the hill appears at 30?

July 13, 2006 under Life

Somebody’s turning 946707779 seconds old today. Who dat? It’s Pat πŸ™‚ From reading his words about turning 30, he doesn’t seem to be taking it all that well, as evidenced here and even here.

Maybe it’s because my 30th is still five months away, but I’m not seeing why it’s bothersome to him. Back in my younger days (ahem…3 years ago), I rambled on about the perception of time. It was an aimless rant, but I stand by some of it. Age, as in the number of years that have passed since you drew your first breath, is a number that is (seemingly) required by law. You have to be a certain age to go to school, get a driver’s license, rent a car, buy alcohol, get a job and collect pension. All of these are government-regulated by way of age. Albeit, he is employed by the provincial government, so perhaps they got to him! Other than government-regulated milestones, what does age actually mean. If you have a nasty crystal meth habit and you’re 18 years old, are you really “young”? To the government you’re one year shy of being able to buy alcohol, but your body’s organs probably feel twenty years older than that. Age really is just a number, in terms of how you feel. Now when age comes into question in a stituation such as pedophelia, then definitely age counts. Shoot the sick bastards! But for how you view yourself, age shouldn’t get you down.

I see no need for him to be depressed about thirty. He’s lived a good life thus far and he’s healthy. Why the need to fret over turning 30?

PS: He’s right in the ode to his family, though. They’re good people. Well, Dadoo might be a little touch ‘n’ go, somewhat πŸ˜‰

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animaniacs or flintstones?

July 10, 2006 under Dena, Life

Happy anniversary, happy anniversary, happy anniversary, HAAAPPY ANNIVERSAAARY!
Happy happy happy happy happy anniversaryÒ€¦

Today is Dena and moi’s 2nd Anniversary!

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i would've been a great ninja

July 5, 2006 under Life

I think I missed my calling. I would’ve been a great ninja, had I applied myself early in life.

For reasons unbeknownst to me, I move with the wind. I don’t do it on purpose; it just happens. When I walk, I make no sound, or hardly any sound at the very least. When I was young, I would sneak up on my mom while she was knitting or watching TV and scare the hell out of her. I was undetectable. Many times over the course of any given month, I will scare Dena. I’m sure that the neighbours conjure images of domestic violence in their minds, as her screams are fairly loud. I don’t do it on purpose. Again, I move without generating a noise and when I finally do produce sound by saying something, she freaks…loudly. After which, I’m usually reprimanded by her for being too quiet and the token “I need to put a bell around your neck” phrase is the next thing out of her mouth. Dena is not my only victim. I regularly do this at work too. Some might view this as a useless or annoying affliction, but this would be a great boon to a ninja who must be skilled in the art of stealth. Ninjas rely on stealth and surprise, something that I have in spades.

Coupled with my uncanny ability to move quietly, I also have physical attributes that would lend themselves well to the ninja life. I’m not especially tall and have an ectomorphic frame (with no fragility). As such I could easily wedge myself into narrow areas and my minimal weight would allow me to perch on rooftops without worry of falling through.

The problem is that I should’ve been preparing when I was a young scamp. My dad wanted me to be a hockey player. However, I didn’t grow as tall as was hoped nor was I able to increase body mass. The shorter pro hockey players tend to compensate for their lack of height by being wide…stocky. Although I tried with extra weight training and special diets, I was and still am unable to gain weight (this bodes well for ninjas, though). My mom wanted me to become a pharmacist. After three semesters of pre-pharmacy, I concluded that I didn’t want to become a pharmacist. No offence to pharmacists or friends/family of pharmacists, but that line of work seemed extremely boring to me – it was something I couldn’t see myself making a career of. So I became a software developer or whatever the hell we’re calling ourselves nowadays. I wonder if I can merge my skills to become some sort of computer ninja. Maybe CSIS or Interpol have a need for positions such as this.

Either way, I could’ve been a great ninja πŸ˜‰

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