Slaughterhouse Pie

Sylvia sent me this text message this afternoon. I laughed at the non sequitur of the final line. And yet it seems fitting that the huntress should feast after her kill. My line about the pancake, of course, is in reference to this post. 

The Man with the Kryptonite Punch

Some time ago Jeff asked me if I could send him some photos of my Lex Luthor action figure so that he could paint a Number 25 action figure. Jeff's work turned out great, but I felt bad that my reference model was missing an arm. So when Sean and I stumbled upon an old but whole Luthor for a mere $10, I had to snap it up. For future reference, then, here is a two-armed Lex Luthor figure from the Super Powers line. Here he poses malevolently, brandishing his Kryptonite ring, in front of some JSVB calling cards, mostly because the colours match and this is a Jeff-related post. Comic book maxi-series have thrived on thinner plots!

The Grumpy Gourmet

We've had a hard time replacing our broken refrigerator and as a consequence we're starting to run a little low on food. Today Sylvia phoned me to say she ate "an old pancake out of a cardboard box" for lunch. It reminded me of the day Sylvia returned home after having spent a month in rehab for her broken leg shortly before our wedding. She was very well cared for, with nutritious tasty meals every day. The state of our larder was something of a shock for her, and when I stepped out of my office for a moment I caught her eating several-days-old Kentucky Fried Chicken out of the bucket, not even bothering to take it out of the fridge; she merely stood there looking forlorn, gnawing on old meat.

"That was a sad moment," she remarked when I reminded her of this story a few minutes ago. Yes, but a pretty hilarious one in retrospect. I wish I had a photo. 

Dicelexia

Last night, as Jeff was once again lamenting his terrible luck with die rolls, Pete came up with a name for that unfortunate condition: dicelexia. I was immediately inspired to show how a typical roll of the dice might look to someone suffering from the disease: all ones. 

Night of the Werewolf

Handcar Horizons

In many of my dreams I find myself alone on a handcar, pumping the handle up and down, propelling myself down the railway track. It is always summer, the landscape is always beautiful, and I never get tired. The sun never sets, but I'm never too hot. Sometimes there's a cooler resting on the handcar and I reach down and pull out an ice-cold bottle of Coca-Cola, dripping with condensation.

I never need to worry about colliding with a train, for there are no other travellers on this track; there is only me on my handcar, and I have all the time in the world to chase the never-setting sun. The only sounds are the steel wheels tumbling along the track and, sometimes, the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind.

It's a good life that goes on forever. 

My Plan to Win the Stanley Cup

While I'm barely conscious of hockey, my brother and many of my friends are fans so I can't help but absorb some hockey knowledge through cultural osmosis. According to my brother, Edmonton has had a terrible hockey team for years. So a few weeks back I asked him if I would make a better general manager than the person doing the job now.

Sean eventually said no, but he had to take a long pause to consider it.

Were I to become the Oilers' leader, I would enact my simple plan to win all games: I would hire the hugest, fattest goalie ever, a person so gigantic that their entire body would cover the whole net. This way opposing teams could never score.

I have no idea why this idea hasn't been tried by some team in the past, but I'm certain if the Oilers hired me and allowed me free reign I could bring home the championship. 

Offer of the Century

I found this unopened pack of cards in our board game closet; it's a legacy of my parents. The cards came with one of those giant rectangular batteries that were slung underneath a handle and a big flashlight. I find it amazing that Ray-O-Vac corporation was willing to cut cheques for the meagre value of 75 cents; perhaps it's because they knew few people would bother, given they had to buy another battery and mail in the receipt...and back then, a stamp cost 30 cents, leaving you with a 35 cent return - in 1983, about a third of the value of a comic book. It hardly seems worth the bother, which is perhaps why this deck of cards remains in pristine condition over 30 years after Mom or Dad bought the lantern battery it came with. 

We Laughed for 45 Minutes

Sylvia and I watched this clip in bed a couple of weeks ago and laughed and laughed for nearly an hour, tears spilling down our cheeks. Perhaps we're insane. 

Dodgeball Memories

As part of its community outreach efforts ATCO Electric is encouraging employees to participate in National Volunteer Week, so tonight I joined some co-workers in spending some time with the kids at the west end Boys and Girls Club. I helped make some garlic toast early in the evening, but my most demanding contribution came when we headed over to a nearby school gymnasium for a round of dodgeball. 

Dodgeball was perhaps the only sport I was ever good at as a kid. Throughout elementary and junior high school, gym was by far my most humiliating class; I was terrible at floor hockey, basketball, flag football, track and field, everything. Keep in mind that at the time I was fit; I was small and skinny and even a little toned. (Those were the days!) But I was hopelessly uncoordinated. I briefly held a school record in situps and the flexed arm hang, but those activities required no real skill. Anything that did - including badminton - was completely beyond me. 

That is, except dodgeball. I wasn't very good at hitting anyone with my throws, but I was mostly untouchable on the court, routinely the last man (or teen, I suppose) standing. With dodgeball, I was in the zone. 

Tonight was another story, though not as calamitous as my current age and size might imply. I was taken out a few times, but I stayed alive for most of the game, and I even scored a hit on one opponent. 

More importantly, the kids had fun. Not a bad night.  

The Shield of Liberty: The Winter Soldier

By far the best of the modern Marvel movies to date, Captain America: The Winter Soldier is a sharp, well-plotted political action thriller that neatly poses a question every citizen must answer: how much freedom are we willing to surrender in the name of security?

As the film opens, we discover that time-tossed World War II super-soldier Steve Rogers - AKA Captain America (Chris Evans) - is dividing his time between performing anti-terrorist operations for shadowy supra-government agency S.H.I.E.L.D. and trying to catch up on the sixty or so years of popular culture he missed while in suspended animation. (There's a cute moment where we see a brief close-up of Steve's notebook, which includes a checklist of music, movies and television shows he should watch to bring himself into the 21st century.)

While a patriot, Steve is clearly uncomfortable with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s methods, which consist chiefly of universal surveillance and overwhelming firepower. His concerns mount when his boss, Director Nick Fury (Samuel L. Jackson) informs him that a new generation of helicarriers (basically flying weapons platforms) will soon be deployed, and that these weapons are capable of wiping out every bad guy on earth in one fell swoop. In the real world, drone strikes kill indiscriminately at a distance without due process of law; the film takes this unhappy reality one step further, suggesting a holocaust by remote control.

Steve's misgivings - and, as it turns out, those of his boss - turn out to be well-founded, and soon Captain America and his allies the Falcon and the Black Widow are on the run, fugitives from their own employer. What follows is a well-paced cat-and-mouse chase full of surprising revelations and chilling betrayals, with not only millions of lives at stake, but the personal freedoms of everyone on Earth.

While this film, like the other Marvel movies, features generous helping of super-hero action, Captain America: The Winter Soldier is far more grounded in real-life problems than its cinematic siblings. While previous films in the series dealt with mad scientists and alien invasions, The Winter Soldier presents us with villains cast in the mold of today's greatest threats to democracy - the very people we elected to serve us, who instead kowtow to the 1 percent and sacrifice the liberty of the masses to serve a few corporate masters.

That may sound a little cynical, but the past year's revelations of increasingly intrusive corporate and government surveillance of our lives makes this, along with climate change, one of the chief existential threats to civilization. Tellingly, the only politicians in The Winter Soldier turn out to be exactly as deserving of the distrust polls show we have for our elected officials.

Many storytellers fail to deliver on the initial promise of an intriguing premise, but in this case the film plays out exactly as it should, taking some impressive chances to deal with the logical fallout of its plot - fallout that can't help but have an impact on future Marvel movies (and especially the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. television program).

In the end, Captain America and his friends save the day - for the moment. But it's a victory that demands its audience start thinking more seriously about what patriotism and freedom really mean. These are not American problems; it's a struggle that touches each and every one of us. The Winter Soldier is just a movie, but like the best popular culture, it raises an important issue and even serves as a call to action: don't let the powers that be cow you into a state of constant fear. Open your eyes and look for the real enemies. 

HAiKU

Poems now mortal
No paper, ink or pen strokes
Sent from my iPhone

Bald Birthday

Sean's friends like to make fun of him by insinuating that Harvey's is his favourite restaurant. For Sean's birthday we played along with the joke by shooting this photo and claiming on Facebook this would be Sean's birthday supper before heading in to see Captain America: The Winter Soldier. 

Cola Haiku

Icy cola foam
So sweet it brings bitter tears
A syrup addict

Squires of Leon

Thanks to the generosity of my boss, Sylvia and I had a great experience at the Kings of Leon concert. Seeing a show from a suite is definitely the way to go! 

The Lightning Brains

Disembodied brains make great villains, and it's been ages since audiences have enjoyed a good mad-brain-on-the-loose story. I propose a film in which the test of a terrible new weapon goes wrong, destroying the bodies of a small town full of innocent people but leaving their brains behind as one interlocked community of brains with LIGHTNING POWERS! The brains would float, hundreds of them, linked together by intermittent blasts of lighting transmitting their thoughts to one another. When enemies approach, the lightning brains would focus their powers to blast and sear the foe into oblivion! Imagine the lightning brains shooting down fighter jets and blowing up tanks, or razing cities full of panicking citizens as the brains wreak their revenge!

I'd go see that movie.

Reverse Demotivational Poster

Demotivational Poster

The Introspection Abandoned

Sick Day Haiku

Confined to bed rest
With my phlegm and weary limbs
Poetry cures naught

Sent from my iPhone

Grad 78

I shot this on the west side of the Leduc Junior High School sometime during my Grade 8 Industrial Arts class, which included a unit on photography. We also had to develop the negatives and make prints.

I would have been in Grade 8...let's see...during the school year 1982-1983. So the class of '78's graffiti lasted at least four years, assuming it was actually painted in 1978. That seems like a long time for graffiti to cling to the side of a school, but back in the 80s Leduc had a rough reputation. Maybe the school officials felt it added to the ambiance. 

Introducing the Cocoa-Nut

Many humans enjoy the succulent white meat of the coconut. Others are fond of chocolate. When mixed in desserts and candy bars, chocolate and coconut are a winning combination.

BUT! What if some mad genius - and I'm not naming names here, cough cough - were to use genetic engineering techniques to combine the coconut palm and the cocoa plant into one STUPENDOU-FOOD - the COCOANUT! It would have sweet dark chocolate meat! The chocolate to plain coconut's vanilla!

Where is my Nobel prize? TWO Nobel prizes - one for Peace, one for Science! 

The Parking Person

As I rolled into my downtown parking lot of choice this morning I noticed a woman with a clipboard standing at the ticket vending machine. After backing into my stall I saw that she was still there, poking away at the machine for far longer than it should have taken to purchase a ticket. 

By the time I clambered out of my car, she was gone. But as I was about to slide my credit card into the machine, I saw that there were two tickets already poking out of the ticket slot. Curious, I fished them out and noted that they were both valid for the day. I looked around for the woman, thinking she'd somehow mistakenly left the tickets behind, but then I realized that it would be silly to buy more than one ticket in the first place - unless your intent, all along, was to leave them behind for other motorists. I realized I was the recipient of a random act of kindness! 

My faith in humanity renewed, I took one of the tickets for myself and returned the other carefully to the ticket slot for the next lucky passer-by. This was no cheap gesture - parking costs $14 per day on that lot, and my anonymous benefactor had paid for at least two strangers to park. 

So thank you, anonymous do-gooder, for your generous gesture. I'll likely never know your name, but the thought is very much appreciated nonetheless. I'll pay it forward sometime this spring. 

It Is a Cookbook

A Revolutionary Repast

Even after  half-dozen Geekquinox dinners, Peter Harris' inspired feasts continue to stun his friends into gastronomical submission, our groans of sated delight the conclusion to each of these wonderful evenings. Last night Pete treated us to French cuisine with a twist - a meal based on the French Republican calendar, with a course or drink for every month. Here are some selected highlights:

Ventose ("windy"), one of the winter months, here captured as a deliciously light and puffy pastry of wheat and roasted red pepper. We inhaled these as if they were air itself.

Ellen serves up a tray of ventosian delight.

For the wintry month of Nivose ("snowy"), Pete warmed us with raw oysters on a bed of snow.

Oyster sauces.

Bottoms up! Before this moment I'd never had oysters, let alone raw. Drowned in hot sauce and lemon juice, I found them quite appealing.

The chef and his assistant present the oysters. Ellen wounded herself several times while prying the shells open.

Pluviose ("rainy"), the final winter month, here symbolized by escargots in mushroom caps with buttery garlic sauce, served alongside...

...bread, a French staple.

Germinal ("germination"), a spring month, a time when there can still be a chill in the air to be warmed by French onion soup. Pete bought sixteen French onion soup bowls for this meal, and filled ours with roughly one onion each, along with the bread and cheese that make this soup a favourite.

For Prairial ("pasture"), another spring month, Pete served flame-broiled steak in a cream sauce with mushrooms. Things were beginning to heat up...

Flames of the revolutions.

And finally, the piece de resistance, lobster Thermidor ("heat") served alongside green beans and bacon (Messidor, "harvest") a summery dish to sum up the evening.

And here we are, a thoroughly filled-up and satisfied group of culinary revolutionaries, French for the evening. Thanks again to Pete and Ellen for yet another superb dining experience, and to everyone for an important night of fellowship. Even fighting off our various colds and flus (poor Scott had to put up with my constant hacking), it was another memorable, can't-miss occasion.