You Are The Quarry.

Sure, his last album has a song called "America Is Not The World," and he said at a concert that he wished that W. had died in place of Ronald Reagan, but doesn't the FBI have more pressing things to be doing than investigating Morrissey?

Sphenisciformes!

Penguins are all the rage these days. Or maybe not. But with March Of The Penguins (an excellent film, by the way), Happy Feet, and those annoying Pingu video games, they seem to be everywhere. This is by far the strangest thing I have seen or heard about them:

There is a family in a village in Japan that has a penguin for a pet. The penguin has its own refrigerated room. Every day they put a backpack on the penguin, who then waddles into town to a fish market. Someone at the market gives the penguin a fish, which the penguin eats, then the person puts another fish in its backpack and the penguin walks home.

Apparently the penguin was injured after being caught in a net. Rehabilitation attempts failed so this family adopted him. Here is a video clip about it.

Now I'm not saying I want a penguin for a pet, but I wouldn't mind living in a village where I got to see a penguin waddle on by each day.

Sir Wilf, where have you been?

I got an e-mail today from someone called "Where's Willy?" The subject line told me that my bill had been found. Not one to lose things often, nor one to want more bills, I had no clue what it was. It had made it to my inbox and had no attachments so I opened it. Then I remembered. On June 5th 2005 (I only know this because the message told me so) I came across a five dollar bill that had a website stamped onto it and said something like: "Track this bill." I thought that was a neat idea, so I took it home, went to the website, entered the serial number then promptly forgot about it.

Today's e-mail gave me a link to the log of my bill. Before following the link, I imagined where my five dollar bill might have been. Perhaps the person who had encountered it this time had picked it up from under an empty beer bottle in a sleazy tequila joint in Tijuana. Or maybe it was given as a tip to a camel driver in Douz. Or it had been used to buy a steaming mug of yak's milk tea in Lhasa. Something good, no doubt.

This particular $5 bill was first entered into the Where's Willy system in January of 2004, in Etobicoke. It was next tracked in July 2004 in Vancouver. It hung around here until I got it and I don't remember how or where I spent it. Etobicoke to Vancouver is really not that impressive a distance in 7 months, especially when followed by a year of lazing about in Vancouver, so I really only have myself to blame for letting my hopes get up, thinking that bill of mine had been off having the adventures that I was not.

In the 262 days, 8 hours and 43 minutes since I entered the bill's information it had traveled as far as Kamloops. Here I was, hoping it had bought someone a bowl of borscht from a vendor in Nizhniy Novgorod, when I got Kamloops. Maybe next time it shows up will be a little more exciting. I can hope so at least.

Cool Runnings???

Spare a thought for the Jamaican bobsleigh team.

They came to world attention in the 1988 Calgary Olympics where they quickly became crowd and media favourites due to their novelty value and in spite of, or maybe because of, their poor performances. In 1993 they were the inspiration for the Disney film "Cool Runnings."

Since then they have improved dramatically, though not gone on to win any Olympic medals. Despite failing to qualify for the Turin Olympics they remain a testament to the importance of determination and willpower.

And yet, particularly to those of us who live in more northern climes, there is something inherently comical about a team from the Caribbean competing in the Winter Olympics. No one can think of the Jamaican Bobsleigh team without a chuckle.

And now this. Canada, pesky young upstart of a nation that it is, took their best brakeman from them, a man who set a push-start record at the Salt Lake City Olympics, a man considered to be one of the best brakemen in the world, and used him as a ringer in order to win a silver medal in the two-man bobsleigh.

Welcome to Canada, Mr. Brown. And thanks for the medal.

If Winter Won't Come To Me...

I love winter. I like the snow, the cold, those bright crisp days, all of it. That said, I live in Vancouver. Vancouver doesn't have winter, it has rain. And clouds. And grey, wet days. The rain here drives me a little crazy. When I wake up in the morning and hear that drizzle sound any sense I have of the day being a good one quickly smoulders out and I have no desire to leave my bed. When the first rains come in September or October, I get a sense of dread, knowing that grey and wet raincoats and almost getting my eyes poked out by umbrellas will be my life for the next 137 months or so it will seem. The dread is enough to make me want to run screaming to somewhere in the middle of the prairies.

Knowing all this, my special lady friend, in an attempt to either get me out of the house more or to keep me sane by forcing me to do winter activities, or more than likely a bit of both, gave me a pair of snowshoes for Christmas.

Yesterday was the first time I got to go up into the mountains and try them out. I'd been snowshoeing before, but it felt different having my own pair. It made me feel like, well, like the type of person that has his own snowshoes. The weather down here in the city was beautiful yesterday, so with some cold and snow thrown into the mix, it could only get better.

I headed up Mt. Seymour for my first expedition, bought my trail pass, enjoyed the beautiful views of Mt. Baker, strapped on my snow shoes and set out on the trails. It hadn't snowed in quite a while, so the snow, and there was lots of it, was all packed down. Which meant that most of the time I didn't really need snowshoes. But darn it, I was there to snowshoe so snowshoe I would. Besides, the trail was often steep and icy, so the crampons were helpful.

It was great to be up there, walking through the snow in the woods, listening to the birds, enjoying the feel of icy cold air on skin. It may have satisfied my desire for winter for a little while, and perhaps when it is raining down here, I'll at least be able to think that it is snowing up in the mountains so I could go snowshoeing in fresh snow, but in the end, I still miss living in winter. On a happy note, I heard on the radio today that there may be flurries on the way...

Crazy carpet gold medal goes to...

I’m a big fan of the Olympics, both summer and winter. That does not, however, mean that I like all the Olympics have to offer. Trampoline anyone?

Last week some friends and I were trying to figure out what the most useless event in the Winter Olympics is. My initial response was the biathlon. I enjoy cross-country skiing, both to watch and do. And though I’m not a hunter or a target shooter, I see that it takes a great deal of skill to be a marksman. But why did anyone feel the need to combine the two and make an Olympic event out of it?

But that is neither here nor there, because now, after watching a few runs, I have a new contender for most useless event. At the risk of offending any enthusiasts of the sport, all eight of them, I’m going to have to go with the Doubles Luge. The luge itself is somewhat impressive. Racing down ice at speeds up to 150km/hour takes a great deal of strength, co-ordination and nerve. But what of the doubles luge? It is much like the singles luge though with a slightly larger sled and what is in effect a really big cushion. The stronger of the two lies on top and is in charge of controlling the sled, which seems to me then that the other person is just lying there. Sure, they’re going really quickly down the ice, but they’re just lying there. With someone bigger and stronger lying on top of them, steering their sled. Are they actually any more than a part of the sled? What type of athlete aspires to this position? How is an innate ability for this spotted? Someone had a really good nap on the couch?

Anyhow, this could all change. I haven’t watched the 4-Man Bobsleigh or the Individual Gunderson yet.

Little Sheets of Plastic

I've had a cellphone for the past two years now. When I took the phone out of its package there was a little sheet of plastic protecting the screen. Two years later, it's still there. It's not that I have a particularly nice or expensive cellphone with a screen that needs protecting. No, it's a monochrome, low-resolution deal. I just want the screen to be in good condition, so I have never taken the little sheet of plastic off. It's a good thing too, as that sheet of plastic is all scuffed and marked and scratched. Had I have taken it off that is what my screen would now look like. One might argue the point of having a pristine screen that can't be seen but I know it is under there, just waiting for me to peel that little bit of plastic away. And I will too. One day.

I like to think that I take good care of my belongings and this is one example of that. Other people, however, have a different take on it. "Anal," they say. Hmm!

The reason I bring this all up is recently I was given an ipod. A nice one. A really nice one. With a video screen. A multi-colour, high-resolution video screen. The type of screen that you'd really want to protect. Of course, the ipod came with that same little sheet of plastic, which is, of course, still there. But this time, I am going to peel it off.

Yup, just as soon as I buy a hard plastic case with a screen protector!

Fun With Facial Hair #1

It's not every day that a guy gets to use the phrase: "My moustache..."
But today is one of those days.

Simmer Down!

Note to the whole frickin' world...

They're just comics.