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There have been a number of challenges issued lately: yogurt, oatmeal cereal, the Ottawa Catholic Diocese, the B.C. Quality of Life Challenge, Canada Hockey Anthem Challenge, etc. etc. ad nauseum.

Well, here comes another one, and I have a challenge to the challenger: prove your sanity!

The challenge? The Seven Day Sex Challenge. Yes. Married couples, make love once a day for seven days. Aside from wearing out the bed (replacement of which should help the economy) and possibly making both spouses' parents happy with another grandson, the purpose is to prove that sex between a husband and wife is more fun and satisfying than purposeless couplings between strangers or mere acquaintances.

Are you up for it? The Prove The Pastor's Sanity Challenge, that is.
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News item: "Despite the down economy, falling gas prices have driven consumers back to the sport utility vehicles they once gave the cold shoulder."

"Workers at General Motor's Arlington, Texas, SUV assembly plant began working overtime this month and are scheduled to remain on overtime for the rest of the year."

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At 11:11 in the morning 90 years ago tomorrow, my grandfather climbed out of a trench, stared at the sky, and realized he had survived the Great War, the War to End All Wars.

His brother had not, killed days after his 18th birthday. They were supposed to go on leave and meet in Paris to celebrate. They never got the chance.

A generation later, my grandfather waved goodbye to two other young men: his son and his future son-in-law. They were off to yet another world war - how piteous sounded the well-meaning slogan of his own War, it did not turn out to be the War to End All Wars, merely the preview for the next generation's war. The last thing he did was to gave his pocket watch to his son, instructing him to "bring it back".

He never did get that watch back. Some rotter purloined it off my uncle's effects while he was waiting life-saving emergency surgery on June 9, 1944. He survived the wound, but spent the rest of the war in convalescence in northern England. My uncle was embarrassed when he wrote to say that he'd lost the precious, expensive watch, but Grandfather sternly advised him he'd rather lose a hundred (expletives deleted) watches than one son, even if they were made of gold and smothered in jewels.

All of these gallant gentlemen I've mentioned are gone now, along with another great-uncle who fought in the first War and manned a desk in the Second.

Canada's remaining World War II veterans are dying off at the rate of 500 a week. We have about 135,000 left. We only have one WWI vet left, aged 108, and he had served in a "boys' battalion" in England. To all of those veterans of Canada's armed services and those of her allies, living and dead, serving today or long retired, I thank you all.

Happy night

Nov. 9th, 2008 01:02 am
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I went to the D-C pool tonight. A great time - one couple brought their 16-month-old, who charmed the lot. (I must confess it's the first time I've seen the swimsuit version of diapers. Let me assure the squeamish - they DO work, very well.)

It's interesting that the lifeguards couldn't give a tinker's dam about how many more than the 12 officially permitted bodies we had in the whirlpool. The only problem was the jets were on a 5-minute timer, so unless someone was walking by, one of the (well over) dozen bodies would have to get OUT of the whirlpool and press the button again. (At the wave pool, we've noticed a similar condition W/R/T the lifeguards and the age limit for the sauna that one has - nobody under 16 years of age. The explanation we've come up with is that the group tends to keep an eagle eye on what their kids are doing - we don't have unescorted under-16's, the group is family-oriented - and the rule is probably there to avoid having rugrats tearing into the sauna, possibly damaging it and/or injuring them.)

And as a lifeguard put it, because their walky-talkies weren't working, they couldn't let us use the waterslide. (You need to have the person at the bottom of the slide in radio communication with the person at the top of the slide, so as to let them know when they could send the next rider down.) Big disappointment for the kids, especially those over 50. ^_^ Fortunately for the energetic, Dave Fleming was able to get a pickup water polo game going in one of the swim lanes.

In three weeks, it's wave pool time. We'll get more kids, especially more older kids, for this one, and lots more women - mostly mothers of the kids.
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I'm still not 100% yet thanks to this cold (thanks Kathy...), but:
1) Tonight, I'm off to a swim organized at the D-C pool up in Vaughan. Although this IS accessible by TTC, thanks Kathy & JP for the car. ^_^
2) Next weekend I have a conflict. THere's that housewarming (which is were I intend to go), and there's a swim in Newmarket.
3) The weekend after that: Le Coup Grey/The Grey Cup. Sunday, Grey Cup Party at Mike & Marion's.
4) The weekend after that: WAVE POOL (funfunfun!)

And there's always the "all plans could go into dumpster because of Dad's medical condition" (God but I hate cancer dammit).


Nov. 7th, 2008 04:19 pm
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There's been a rumour all over Investor Village's SCOX message board today, that is (a) quite believable and (b) if true, quite outrageous. It's believable because the group in question has pulled this stunt before, and it's outrageous because, well, outrageous is the sort of thing this group does best.

According to the rumour, The Very Reverend Phelps and his Westboro Baptist Church, which I understand is as strongly connected to the actual Baptists as the Mormons are to the Russian Orthodox Church, are planning on picketing and generally protesting during Obama's grandmother's funeral. Apparently to them, Obama is the Antichrist, and they want to.... er... ah... I'm not too sure what they're hoping to accomplish, actually, other than gaining undeserved attention. They will be providing the American Psychiatric Association with yet more evidence (if any were needed) that Rev. Phelps really needs a nice long rest in a nice all-inclusive resort hotel where the dress code consists of jackets with nice long sleeves.

I sincerely hope that this rumour is wrong, but if it's not, I hope the outcome is similar to that when the Church decided to picket the funeral of those Kentucky cheerleaders today: two (2) of the good (?) Reverend's fruitcake followers showed up and were isolated out of harm's way... both their physical harm, and the emotional harm they intended to inflict on the mourners.

(A few posters have suggested that if he's stupid enough to go through with this stunt, they hope Rev. Phelps enjoy his vacation in Gitmo.)
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To Barrack Obama: congratulations. You are now the next President of the United States.

You poor bastard.

For the next four, potentially eight years, everything that goes wrong in this world will be your fault. Farmers' crops failing - your fault. Price of gas too high - your fault. (Price of gas too low - your fault.) Hangnails will be your fault. Drunk drivers will be your fault. The first terrorist attack on the United States after your swearing in will be your fault, even if the plot started back when Clinton was sitting in the Oval Office.

You now have to Do Something about Iraq and Afghanistan, Iran's and North Korea's nuclear weapons programs, Global Warming (or cooling or acid rain or whatever flavour of the month it is), the American nation's global indebtedness, too-high taxes ("Don't tax you and don't tax me, tax that fellow behind that tree"), a dangerously adventuresome Russia, tribal strife in the Congo and a seriously dysfunctional United Nations overwhelmed by the despotic nations.

You are coming into power with expectations ratcheted up to insanely high levels of overkill - the last President I can recall to be elected with such levels of expectations would have been John Fitzgerald Kennedy (and there's lots that went disastrously wrong with that administration). There are those who think you walk on water - and will be the first to complain bitterly and abandon you when it turns out that as good as you might be, you're still a man, subject to Man's frailties and able to make mistakes with the best of them. They expect you to resolve their over-mortgaged homes and vanishing jobs and the rapidly declining value of their pensions and savings, preferably the day after you take the Oath of Office. In fact, the day after the election would be nice, that is if you're not doing anything at that time.

As one of your predecessors put it most succinctly: The buck stops here. Before, you could CYA by blaming your fellow congressmen. There are no "fellow presidents". You're standing alone in the spotlight. Try to leave them laughing - with you, not at you.

Good luck.

You're going to need it.
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There's something basically warped about this country, in a Star Trek/Star Wars/Dr. Who "mixed together in a blender on frappe" type of way.

Take CFL football for example. Nice game. If you could get the NFL to play 3 down football, you'd have put something together that would be better than the separate originals.

Eastern semi-finals: Edmonton vs. Winnipeg.
Western semi-finals: BC vs. Saskatchewan.

Those who studied North American geography in middle or high school might just notice that not only are all the above teams in the WESTERN half of Canada, but that one of the Eastern teams, Edmonton, Alberta, is actually in the province to the WEST of Saskatchewan.

It is entirely possible that we will end up with a final consisting of Edmonton playing for the East against Calgary for the West. I don't know if that's more or less screwed up than a matchup between Edmonton for the East and Saskatchewan for the West.

You can't blame people in other countries for thinking Canadians are a strange lot...
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This one is for the gold medal.

Let's see where this starts sounding stupid, even to someone patently unqualified to man a mop, shall we?

- Let's steal this truck
- The truck that is located 100 yards away from where police are doing spot checks
- A truck that belongs to a police officer
- Said police officer is, ah, 100 yards away at the aforementioned police road block.
- Let's drive this truck right past the police spot-check.
- Now, being hemmed in, let's go out on foot.
- Let's ignore the fact this police officer is a long-distance runner and a fitness instructor and you are not

(Notice how often the word "police" gets mentioned above?)


(In the idiot's defence, he had no clue who the truck belonged to, but still... 100 yards from where police are standing?)
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This cat in Japan is the new super stationmaster in her hometown.

Looks a lot like Sumomo, doesn't she - except Sumomo wouldn't be caught dead in that goofy cap.

(She's a nudist cat - you can't even get her to wear a collar.)
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1) Top ten signs you are a bad driver: #1: You know all the tow truck drivers in your home town... personally.

2) You've heard of the song by Napoleon XIV, "They're Coming to Take Me Away"? The flip side is "Yawa Em Ekat ot Gnimoc Re'yeht". There are two more songs in the theme: "I'm happy they took you away!" by Josephine XV and "They're Coming to Take Me Away (Again!)", a follow-up by Nappy XIV. (Scarier still, the spell checker recognized "Nappy" as a proper word... which it is in Britain.)

3) The new personal X-ray scanners at the airports? You might as well be entering the aircraft buck naked. It can see everything - and I do mean everything, not just the coins and keys in your pocket. I've been hearing joking (?) suggestions that the security officials send their rent-a-cops to nudist resorts to get over the sight of so much flesh.

4) The good news about the American election: there's only one week to go. The bad news: there's still one week to go.

"That is seven votes for President John McCain." - Diebold computerized voting machine, speaking to Marge Simpson, The Simpsons


Oct. 28th, 2008 07:21 pm
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Typically, this part of the planet gets about .5 cm of snow in October. That's half a centimetre. That's like nothing, squared.

Forecast for the next two days, from Newmarket (just north of here) through to Barrie: ten centimetres. That's like great news for Canadian Tire stock, as everyone immediately goes out to refill their windshield-washer fluid, get the snows on the car, replace the ice scraper (WTF happens to that piece of lumber, anyway?), get a new snow shovel to replace the one you broke the blade on last year and haul home a new snowblower to replace the teenager who is in his first year of drinking himself insensible studying at university at some sunny clime.

Coming on top of last winter's colder-than-usual weather and this summer's colder-and-wetter-than-forecast weather, this is getting a little much.

Dear Global Warming: Please come back. All is forgiven.
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I'm on Manga Fox, and happen to notice this little tidbit.

I'm an Aquarius, birth date late January.

She's supposedly an Aquarius too. Dig the date of birth.

1) the scanlator put her birth date in the wrong month; or
2) the scanlator placed her under the wrong sign; or
3) because she's on the other side of the planet, the scanlator assumed that the signs were all shifted 180 degrees...
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Ah, the pain.

The cold is, if anything, worse. I've got sinus headache, stuffy nose, clogged ears (what was that again?), mild photophobia and an annoying, annoyingly loud cough. And my throat feels like I'm trying to swallow 40-grit sandpaper.

But onto the real pain. I've been reading online fics again.

- People in these fics eat their meals in the dinning room. Maybe they haven't paid their bills recently.

- And they seem to like plates of sand - they're ending each meal with desert.

- Before they eat their meals in the dinning room, they wonder around the room. Believe me, kids, we wonder too.

- You never lose something, you loose it. Probably by not tightening it.

- Rig up the jaunty sale!!! See how the main sale sets!!! Avast there, mateys, we're sailing off to... I dunno, The Bay?

And this fic has some of the higher quality writing out there...

I'm sure if we don't stare at the sealing we can find worse examples!!

Edit: The author from whom many of the above butchery of the English language comes, made a slight error in his last chapter, apparently a search-and-replace type error: The name MaryLynne was replaced by Maryland. For the last half of the chapter, that state had interesting adventures. I don't know how an entire state's population fit into a kitchen, but they managed in this tale. :P
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Linux backers typically spend somewhere in the region of $0 on marketing. Windows? Let's take a look, shall we?

In less thrilling news, I HATE COLDS. Grrr.

Thanks, Kathy.
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The big wolf-like dog about halfway down the pictures? Biggest emo-hound on the planet. Just a big, big, BIG friendly puppy, loves to lick you to death. His owner is a petite woman without an ounce of fat - or muscle, for that matter - who only comes up to my shoulder. You can see him taking her out for a drag every day. Rumour has it that the guy who shoes this monster is the same blacksmith who does the horses for the Toronto Police Force's mounted unit. :P
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Offered for $free, as that's precisely what they're worth. You can take that to the bank. The tellers haven't had much to laugh at for awhile.

1) It will finally be over. No more in-depth analysis of each party's marketing efforts (as if they were any different from the marketing of canned soup - marketing is marketing, it's all spin, and everyone sees through it by now). And there was great rejoicing. Yay.

2) Another Harper minority. I think he'll get more seats than before the election call, but not enough for an absolute majority.

3) The other parties will try to create a coalition government, but the Bloc will demand too much to participate for the Liberals to stomach, and the result will be a failure.

4) The Greens might get one or two seats.

5) The country will be basically split: NDP in parts of BC and Saskatchewan (and maybe Windsor and Oshawa), the Liberals in Toronto and the Maritimes, the Blocheads in Quebec's Francophone ridings, and the Tories in BC, Alberta and the 905 region. Sort of like the American Red vs. Blue, only with lots more pretty little colours representing lots less unity.
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Gacked from [livejournal.com profile] jennisis

My business college education (and life experience) is showing...

The strange thing is, I always considered myself more libertarian (do what you want, as long as it doesn't scare the horses) type, socially.

You are a

Social Moderate
(55% permissive)

and an...

Economic Conservative
(71% permissive)

You are best described as a:


Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid
Also : The OkCupid Dating Persona Test
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Gacked from [livejournal.com profile] seangaffney

My LiveJournal Trick-or-Treat Haul
lordshipmayhem goes trick-or-treating, dressed up as a wine bottle.
bunnyhero tricks you! You get a piece of paper.
csi_tokyo3 tricks you! You get a scratched CD.
gabe_zilla gives you 16 light yellow lemon-flavoured gummy worms.
gbeans gives you 13 red raspberry-flavoured pieces of taffy.
haruhiko gives you 16 light orange coffee-flavoured jawbreakers.
hysteriachan gives you 5 softly glowing mint-flavoured pieces of chewing gum.
ice_rose tricks you! You lose 29 pieces of candy!
jelynne gives you 19 orange evil-flavoured pieces of bubblegum.
mechaboydos tricks you! You get a used tissue.
lordshipmayhem ends up with 40 pieces of candy, a piece of paper, a scratched CD, and a used tissue.
Go trick-or-treating! Username:
Another fun meme brought to you by rfreebern.
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...when even their heating stoves are armed and dangerous...