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Leveraging low-hanging synergies outside the vertical fruit box since 1999.

Friday’s Quizzlet: We Have a Piper Down


in Friday's Quizzlet, Movies, Musical

Appetizer: On a scale of 1-10 how much do you like your own handwriting?
The only time I write in script / cursive is when I’m signing my name. The rest of the time I write in this all caps printing style and I really don’t know where it came from or when it started. It’s almost graffiti-esque and I can’t say I’m too proud of it. I’ve always held pens in a funny way which cramps up and eventually begins to hurt my hand after too long. As a result, in grade school they gave me a triangular rubber pad to pull over my pencil. Why did that just turn me on a little bit?

Soup: Do you prefer baths or showers?
I don’t think I’ve had a bath in about 20 years. Unless we’re talking about a more naughty sort of bath for naughty bath purposes. For daily maintenance I’m a shower person all the way. This came up just last night, actually. The lake house has 3 bathrooms, 2 showers and no bathtubs. Janet is beside herself and I think one of the summer projects for 2008 will be putting one in if she has anything to say about it. Or wants to pay for it. I still have a lot of work left to do on the Winchester, and the only bath-type-thingy I’m interested in installing is a hot tub on the back deck. Oh yes… Jim and I are already talking about the schematics. That came out wrong.

Salad: What was the last bad movie you watched?
You know me – “bad movie” is a very relative term. Do you mean a guilty pleasure that is admittedly bad yet I still enjoy it immensely? Or a flick I simply can’t get behind no matter how hard I might try? Jason, Amy and Marj are coming up this weekend, so I’ve been waiting till then to watch my newly acquired copy of Semi-Pro. It’s no Citizen Kane but I’m sure I’ll lap it up. For the other side of the coin I’ll mention Altered States. I love William Hurt and I picked this DVD up in the bargain bin at a local supermarket recently for $4.99. It wasn’t half as good as I remember it but I think that’s more accurately categorized as a bad movie that I actually concede is a bad movie.

Main Course: Name something you are addicted to. How does it affect your life?
I think this is probably a fairly popular answer, especially among people like me who are obviously in deep denial, but the only thing I think I’m truly addicted to is music. And it affects my life in a very positive way. It will change a mood, evoke a memory, make a long drive more bearable… I had a long haul to Ottawa and back earlier this week, for example. When I hit Roger Stevens and realized I still had at least another hour before I made it home I sighed like a sissy, having already spent close to 3 hours in the car. Then the best driving song in human history shuffled onto my iPod and there was no where I’d have rather been than behind the wheel of the HMS Pye.

Dessert: Which instrument is your favorite to listen to?
Bagpipes, and there’s nee a wee debate needed there, laddie. My maternal Grandfather, Jimmy Smith, was from Wishaw and I first heard the lovely sound growing up when I’d go to visit him. The pipes are very, very difficult to learn to play and are almost primative in form and function – but there are fewer more beautiful sonic events on planet Earth. I will miss being in Boston this Monday, where I would have undoubtedly been standing in The Field when the Police Pipers come in as I have been on St. Paddy’s past. By the end of their set there’s narry a dry eye in the house.

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zSrIEPC0Eqw&feature=related[/youtube]

I think that’s why I’ve always loved Big Country so much. Long before he hung himself in a Hawaii hotel room, Stuart Adamson could make his guitar sound like a set of bagpipes wailing away on a moor somewhere. Like a banshee predicting his sad end, perhaps. The clip I’ve included above is a great example of his extremely unique Scottish style. Listen to just the first 33 seconds to see what I mean, if you so desire. Actually, forget the banshee. The red bandana tied around his neck is probably better foreshadowing.

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Manotick Tock and More Puppy Schlock


in Animalistic

A business meeting in Ottawa yesterday brought me within 5 miles of Manotick – the town in which I spent the first 10 years of my life. I decided to take a detour and drive on through to check out how the town has changed, visit my old subdivision, etc. I hadn’t been back in about 20 years, so it was quite a mind-blowing experience and I took pictures and captioned them if anyone would like to peek into my past: Manotick Photos. The damnedest thing I saw had to be that the old jungle gym I used to play on in the park across from my house was still there. It’s a rickety old metal thing which predated our arrival to Island View Drive in 1974 – and not something that was anchored in any way which is why I was so shocked. If nothing else you’ll get an idea of the ridiculous amount of snow the winter of 2007/2008 has dumped on us.

pippens
“The power of Christ compels you.”

On to the weasels: Shepherd and Rhubarb are growing and learning fast, and they’ve fit in well amongst the cats and craziness. Their Grandparents, Gord and Bonnie, adore them and Mom keeps an eye on them during the day while Janet and I are hiding away in our rooms working. Janet is a very early riser so she takes the pups out when they start to squirm around 7am, I walk them down to the end of our road around lunchtime and then Janet likes to have them in the kitchen with her if she’s cooking dinner. Then it’s my turn again at night, and they’re usually chilling on the couch with me with the occasional trip outside until they hit their respective crates about 11pm. Rhuby is in Janet’s room and Shep is in mine. We’re a week into sleeping them in separate crates and rooms, and it’s been an easier adjustment than we expected. Here is a big batch of new pics: Puppy Photos.

And finally I’ve added some photos of our house and the surrounding area. You’ll shriek in horror as you see my driveway become a skating rink. There’s also a friendly snowman, a bearded neighbor and several other shots of the winter wonderland I’ve been living in up here. Enjoy: Portland Photos. All the pictures have individual captions written for them like I used to do in the old days, so don’t just glance at the thumbnails. I’m trying to make you giggle, here.

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Friday’s Quizzlet: Grunters and Collectors


in Friday's Quizzlet

Appetizer: If you could be any current celebrity for one week, who would you be?
Rachel Weisz‘s husband isn’t really a celebrity, but if he were – that would be my answer. Because I’d cherish a week’s worth of long conversations about my feelings with her. From behind.

Soup: On a scale of 1-10, how much do you enjoy talking on the phone?
We’re looking at about a 2. I am a very social person, and I could sell ice to Eskimos, but if I don’t absolutely have to be on the phone – I’m not. I hate long voice mail messages – “Hi, this is Steve and I’ve just called you as you could have probably just seen by looking at your caller ID. Anyway, so I’m calling you and you can call me back if you want. Or don’t – maybe you’re busy or sleeping or something. Anyway…” Kill yourself. Nor do I like calling someone, getting their voice mail and then having to listen to the same sort of blather – “Hi, you’ve reached Steve at 555-4455, which you might already know because you just dialed it, and I’m not here to take your call right now. Look, I’m sorry I missed your call because talking incessantly on the phone like a 14 year-old girl is what I live for. Please leave your name, number and a short message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I’m done recording my voice mail message that you listen to before you leave yours and which I change hourly.” YOU leave a short message, frigtard. And kill yourself. I changed it a year ago for business reasons, but I still pat myself on the back for coming up with the greatest voice mail message in human history. It went: “Thank you for calling Dave. If you don’t know what to do when you hear the beep you probably shouldn’t be using a telephone.” Feel free to use that. Please.

Salad: Name a charitable organization to which you have donated.
I used to donate to the Boston Humane Society every year. The address stickers they’d send me adorned with puppies and kittens were just a bonus. I’ll find a similar animal charity to get involved with up here, although I might just start my own at the rate my own squirmy wormies are ravaging my wallet. Janet made a comment this morning about how cute their little grunts are, and we always talk about how they are incapable of not picking up any loose item they come across, be it a stone, piece of paper, human toe, etc. I then announced with an unnaturally straight face that if the puppies ever started a band, it would be called Grunters and Collectors. Come on, that’s funny.

Main Course: What’s a food you like so much you could eat it every day for a month?
A month? Come on, let’s make this interesting. I could eat feta cheese every day for… a life. And incidentally I do. Was there a Greek shepherd 600 years ago who sat milking a goat on a hillside in Crete, chuckling to himself about the addiction he was about to unleash? I liken it to the early settlers bringing whiskey to the Native Americans. Maybe I’ll start a goat cheese support group. “Hi, my name is Dave and I’m a fetaholic.” “Hi Dave.” “It all started when my father first took me to Molivos in Montreal circa 1984…”

Dessert: Have you or anyone in your family had the flu this year?
We’ve been a little busy with the cancer and the Alzheimer’s, thank you very much. Was I whining there? It’s better than self-mutilation with a snowblower – which was the alternative. Remember, what you’re reading is an “outlet”. On the issue of health – I bought a ridiculously powerful and expensive juicer last week and have been atomizing carrots, apples and oranges at a dizzying pace ever since. The intake is wide enough to take in a whole apple at a time and the motor sounds like a Harrier Jump Jet. I am getting my mother and father onto the regime as well in the hopes it will aid in their various maladies. I predict I’ll be crazier than Jay Kordich on bathtub amphetamines within a month.

Let’s get our little community back, kids. Answer these questions yourselves in the comments.

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The Road House Curse


in Movies

Dalton: So, you play pretty good for a blind white boy.
Cody: Yeah, and I thought you’d be bigger.

The 1989 movie Road House has always held a special place in my heart. Even moreso after I started working at bars in various capacities and found I could put a lot of Dalton’s Zen-like bouncing and shithead-management principles into practical use. “Expect the unexpected. Take it outside. Be nice.” Whoever wrote that movie obviously spent a fair amount of time in that dirty business themselves. Hopefully with shorter hair and looser blue jeans.

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Z0CngDuHcc[/youtube]

The cast of Road House is having a rough week. First the ever-so-awesome Jeff Healey dies Monday of pancreatic cancer at the tender age of 41, and now Patrick Swayze is reportedly close to death suffering from the exact same thing. It’s beyond uncanny and Kelly Lynch better watch her breathtaking Roadhouse heiney. Because we’ve seen this sort of thing before, kids.

lynch-roadhouse

Is everyone familiar with Poltergeist? It’s the exceptionally scary movie that Spielberg made in 1981 and an eerie series of events befell many of the people associated with the both original and subsequent sequels. And I’m not talking about nasty clowns, a pool full of corpses or a TV on the fritz. Here is a quick run down and upon some new research today it’s even worse than I remembered.

  1. She didn’t have a lot of screen time in the movie (“What’s happening? WHAT’S HAPPENING?!“), but Dominique Dunne who played the older sister, was strangled to death by her boyfriend just 5 months after production wrapped, kicking off the creepiness that would become known as the Poltergeist Curse. She was 22. During the fight she had with her boyfriend that ended in her death, a friend inside Dunne’s house turned up the Poltergeist soundtrack to drown out the noise of the two yelling outside.
  2. Heather O’Rourke, the actress who played Carol Anne (“They’re heeeeeere!”) died during the making of part 3 in 1988 from acute bowel obstruction. She was only 12 years old.
  3. Most famous for his role as “Chief” in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s nest, Will Sampson had a large role in part 2 and died from kidney failure shortly after in 1987 at 53 years of age.
  4. Perhaps the most detestable character of the series, the old preacher who turns out to be a walking spook, was played by Julian Beck. He died of stomach cancer in 1985. In all fairness he was 60 years old and is a bit of a stretch for curse victim consideration, but he did croak only weeks after filming had ended.

These four occurrences are just the tip of the iceberg, and there is no better account of the curse than Wikipedia’s if you’d like to learn more. Wild, wild stuff, Ed. Maybe at this point we should be calling it the Poltergeist Reuinion.

In keeping with my Roadhouse Curse theory, here are some facts to back up my hypothesis.

  1. Jeff Healey died very young earlier this week.
  2. Patrick Swayze is apparently at death’s door as I type.
  3. In 1994 Chris Collins, who played a troublesome patron who offered to let folks fondle his wife for $20, died of a cerebral haemmorage.
  4. Kelly Lynch is best friends with Sheryl Crow. Jesus.
  5. Red West appeared in 16 Elvis Presley movies.
  6. Sunshine Parker died of pnemonia in 1999.
  7. Kevin Tighe appeared in 1995’s Jade. Shudder.
  8. UPDATE: We lost Patrick.

The horror. The horror. Roger Hewlett, Terry Funk and Sam Elliot had better renew their life insurance policies because we’re obviously in for a really long and terrible… curse… here. No need to thank me, it’s what I’m here for. And I’m pulling for you, Patrick.

Dalton: If somebody gets in your face and calls you a cocksucker, I want you to be nice. Ask him to walk. Be nice. If he won’t walk, walk him. But be nice. If you can’t walk him, one of the others will help you, and you’ll both be nice. I want you to remember that it’s a job. It’s nothing personal.
Steve: Being called a cocksucker isn’t personal?
Dalton: No. It’s two nouns combined to elicit a prescribed response.
Steve: What if somebody calls my mama a whore?
Dalton: Is she?

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