I wonder what kind of robot you could build out of a cellphone battery, an old non-wireless laptop network card, a mechanical pencil, two flashlights and a 6-volt drill without any drill bits? I bet it would be pretty cool if you could get it to work.
I could probably get some scrap metal from the mine, if you have any ideas. Not to mention all the coal you could ever need, should it be powered by coal rather that cellphone battery. Can you imagine the robot you could make out of this kind of stuff:

Nothing went right last night. And it started off so great- it was Friday, after all! All us coal miners on the bus were laughing and joking as we headed off to work for the last of our four nightshifts. Just twelve more hours and we could all go home for five days! What could ruin such a great feeling?
Let me tell you.
First, I was assigned Shovel 5, the oldest, smallest and digger in the pit. Which wasn't so bad- I figured I could set up my XM radio and be able to listen to something other than country for a change, since I would be operating rather than oiling for someone else. So the first thing I did was string up the antenna on the roof of the cab, running it through an open window, and taping it to the ceiling to prevent it from getting severed during the night. When I went to turn on the inhouse AM/FM radio (without which the satellite receiver is just a very expensvie clock)I discovered that the radio was fried. So I sighed, but said to myself, "It's Friday! Life is good!"
Life wasn't so good for long. My bucket door wouldn't stay closed. Imagine you're at a beach, trying to fill your wagon with sand using a pail with no bottom. That's kind of what I was doing last night, only instead of being at a beach, I was in a big black pit, and rather than a lil' red wagon, I was loading 260-ton dumptrucks. I was trying not to get frustrated, but I have to admit I was cursing vehemently. I kept trying to convince myself that it wasn't worth getting mad about, since it was Friday, and look! My XM radio is playing a kickass song! Too bad I can't hear it, but at least I can sing it in my head. "Dum de doo de f*&K g-d--n piece of s^!t!"
I decided it was time to be proactive. I swung the bucket around,set my brakes, grabbed a catbar, and went down to clear out all the gunk that was clogging up the dutchman. Suddenly it was pouring hail, and I was soaked in seconds. But that's okay, I was being proactive. Poking the five-foot metal bar into the ten-ton metal bucket, I was alarmed when lightning started thundering all around. I decided I would rather deal with faulty buckets than fried brains, so I went back inside.
Anyways, more trials with the bucket, including when the trip cable got stuck behind the latchbar, but you get the picture. Around midnight I decided it was time to reward myself with my carefully hoarded energy drink, since the caffeine would keep me going well into today. I took a glorious sip, set it down, and cursed (again) as I let the gravity-controlled bucket fall a little too hard, causing it to slam against the boom, pummeling poor old shovel 5. "Oops," I thought, "Better be more alert. Can't be having these little moments of inattention. I know- I'll drink some more of that sweet sweet Guarana-laced nectar." Only the bucketbomb had sent the undersized can flying out of its holder, spilling its life-giving elixir onto the greasy, coal-besooted floor.
Then I really started swearing.
Anyways, at just after the halfway point of the shift, the shovel's ability to propel inexplicably vanished, and it took the electrician the rest of the shift to fix it. Which left me with not much to do but lament my spilt caffeine. I guess it wasn't so bad after all. Hey- it's Friday and I have five days off! Isn't it Wednesday for the rest of the world? Have fun at work!

Wanderers

Max is off to his next destination. I envy him- he's just starting out, still a little innocent, but on his way to becoming a worldly and wise wanderer. Today was the first time he ever flew on an airplane! My wandering days are pretty much behind me, now that I'm a married homeowner. Sure, we'll still travel, but never again the pure "Wherever I May Roam" of thumb and backpack beneath the stars and planets, themselves celestial vagabonds whose very name is derived from the Greek word for "wanderer".
Nine years ago, when I set off on my cross-Canada hitch-hiking adventure, I was a touch naive myself. Luckily, people often went out of their way to help me out. One time I was in Ontario, the middle of nowhere, and it was getting too dark to hitch-hike. Nothing but farmers' fields all around. I thought my best bet would be to knock on a random door to ask permission to camp somewhere, rather than just be an uninvited squatter. So I knocked, and 39 dogs started yipping and barking. A man in his housecoat answered the door, and I blurted out as fast as I could, "Hi I'm hitch-hiking across Canada I'm not a psycho or an ex-con or a criminal I just need a place to set up my tent can I use your yard please????" The gentleman looked me over and decided I looked harmless enough, so he said "Why don't you use the guest house I just built? It's not quite done but there's a fireplace and room for your sleeping bag, and I can bring you out a tray of food."
It was paradise, a haven for a hungry and lonely wanderer. It was experiences like that that motivate me to take in people like Max, help them out, provide a safe place for a little while before they go back out there. Maybe I'm not a wanderer anymore, but I can look out for those who are.
So I feel for Pluto today, stripped of its "wanderer" status. But it's still up there, indifferent to our nomenclature, indifferent to all the roamers and homebodies, making its way slowly around the sun.
Anyways, here's to Max, and Pluto, and all wanderers past, present and future! May your orbits always be clear of debris! And watch out for Neptune.

Returning home from a tryst with the most beautiful woman in the world (Michelle is in Three Hills for the week for a teacher's conference), I picked up a hitch-hiker. Many of you who only know me through the blog may not realize, but back in the day I hitch-hiked clear across Canada and back. Many, many total strangers helped me out in a huge way so I make sure to repay the debt when I can to this day. So this particular hitch-hiker is a Quebecois named Max, and tomorrow he's flying up to Fort Smith, Northwest Territories. Tonight he's staying at my house, where we're watching anime, eating salmon, drinking organic wine, listening to some kickass tunes, and learning how to blog. Say hi to Max the Quebecois hitch-hiker!
In fact, he's an animator too, so check out this fantastic movie he made about a faery.
I wish they had blogging back when I was hitch-hiking across Canada. Back in those days, web-based email was a novelty, and beyond my expertise.

Rockstar: SuperFarmer

Michelle kept telling me about a reality show she thought I'd like- it had Tommy Lee and "James" Newsted and someone named Gill Gilby. Gil Gooby? Gooby Goo? Something like that- she couldn't remember his name and I couldn't think who she might be talking about from her gilbydegook (it's ex-GnR guitarist Gilby Clarke). But even though it had Jason Newsted, one of my musical gods, I didn't really pay too much attention.
Finally I let her show me some of the performances on the net, and I was impressed, and hooked. There are some pretty amazing singers on that show. My favorite is Dilana who has already become one of my musical goddesses.
Every week someone gets voted off, of course. But the bottom three get a chance to redeem themselves by singing a song of their choice.
If I was on the show, I would be the first to get the boot, since bears are not renowned for their singing voices. But I would choose "Poets" by The Tragically Hip to go out on, because it's by the best Canadian band ever, it's an instantly catchy tune that everyone loves on first listen, and it's about poets. Or so the title would lead me to believe- the brilliant lyrics aren't as clear, in typical Downian fashion:

Lava flowin' in SuperFarmer's direction
He's been gettin' reprieve from the heat in the frozen-food section, yeah

So, what song would you sing, and why?

X3 and Pirates were my only "must sees" for this year. Everything else of interest I can wait for DVD (V For Vendetta kicked much ass). Except maybe for Snakes on a Plane! I see many Oscars in its future. I believe this will open up a whole new genre so let me present to you a plot synopsis for

Bears on a Bus

A kindly old lady named Ethel (played by Trent Reznor, perhaps, or Viggo Mortenson) is on bus #9 returning to her nursing home from her grocery shopping trip. She is suffering a slow but steady descent into senility, as will be revealed in a series of heart-wrenching flashbacks throughout the movie. She tries to engage the driver in conversation, as she is very lonely, but he is gruff and eventually she gives up and just stares sadly out the window. She feels useless and forgotten.
The bus stops and three thuggish lads wearing bright neon-colored swastikas and carrying huge lumpy sacks board the bus. Ethel looks them over and doesn't like what she sees- she recognizes them as Neon-Nazis, a pernicious group of white supremacists. When they force her to move out of the seat reserved for the elderly she is disgusted, and calls them "Fascist shitheads".
Suddenly, the neon-nazis release the bears that were expertly hidden in their canvas sacks- a black bear, a grizzly and a polar bear. Chaos! The bus driver is the first to be eaten, and one of the neon-nazis takes the wheel. They deliver a sternly teutonic lecture on the supremacies of both Aryans and fascists, and most of the passengers are terrified. The bears are still causing havoc.
But Ethel stays calm. She uses some of her groceries (which will have great potential for product placement)to subdue the bears, and in the climax, smears the leader of the nazis with oatmeal and leberwurst, providing an ironic and hilarious death when the snow white polar bear devours him. Ethel says the German equivalent of "hasta la vista baby" or maybe "Is that oatmeal just right, sucka?" or possibly "Snap, you SS-wannabe shithead!" This can be rewritten to reflect the latest catchphrase- whatever a focus groups respond best to.
Ethel has a new lease on life as she starts a bear sanctuary and begins the process of rehabilitating the bears, who of course are not racist but merely victims of the Neon Reich.

Reznor, eh?

I actually thought Marilyn Manson would come up- I've always thought we had similar noses. Well, Marilyn's mentor will do.



I can't tell you how many times I've been stopped in the street and told I look exactly like Gnassinbe Eyadema. Or Posh Spice (who shows up as 53%).
Speaking of Marilyn Manson, at his concert in Vancouver a few years ago (gabrielle and I went to it) some little kid asked me if I was Dee Snider!


Anyways, you guys should give it a try and tell me who looks like you!

The response to my last entry inspired me to create a virtual anthology of whimsical sci-fi short stories for you to track down in libraries and (used) bookstores, if you so desire (most have been published many times so look in the table of contents of books called "Year's Best Sci-fi" or "Sci-Fi Hall of Fame" &c). I even came up with a soundtrack for each story! Yay!

A Martian Odyssey, Stanley G. Weinbaum. This is widely considered to be the finest sci-fi short ever written. Even after 72 years it still has the ability to astonish and delight, with characters such as Tweel, a beak-diving avian, the brick layer, and the industrious barrel people. "We are vriends!" Soundtrack- "Woodpeckers From Mars" by Faith No More.

Mimsy Were the Borogroves, Henry Kuttner and Catherine L Moore. You might recognize the title, borrowed from Jabberwocky. What happens when the blank slate of a child's developing brain is introduced to the educational toys of a far-future four dimensional geometry? Soundtrack- Anything from "Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events" by Thomas Newman.

The Nine Billion Names of God, Arthur C Clarke. Those crazy eastern monks! Always engaged in some inscrutable project or other. Here they are cataloguing all the known names of god. When they're finished, we are treated to the best last line of a short story ever. But don't peek! Soundtrack- this seems appropriate! Just click on the "listen" button.

Homefaring, Robert Silverberg. Don't let the generic title fool you- it's all about the crustacean wisdom of lobsters. One of my favorites. Soundtrack- Rock Lobster by the B-52's.

Elephants on Neptune, Mike Resnick. This is the newest story on the list, a Nebula winner from 2003. It's a sort of lament for the way humans have treated elephants over the years, but it's set on Neptune so it still counts as sci-fi. Soundtrack- White Elephant by the White Stripes. The whole album.

The Liberation of Earth, William Tenn. A hilarious commentary on the rhetoric of conquering nations (China still insists it did Tibet a favour by "liberating" her 47 years ago). Soundtrack- Bulls on Parade, Rage Against the Machine.

Blood Brother, Charles Beaumont. A newly undead vampire goes to see a shrink. "'As I understand it, you think you are a vampire.' 'No, I think I'm a human being, but I am a vampire. That's the hell of it. I can't seem to adjust.'" Dedicated to the vampirenomad. Soundtrack- Surprise! You're Dead, Faith No More.

Founding Father, J.F. Bure. If I tell you this one is about two little alien lizard guys that ride around on the backs of humans, telling them what to do, you might think I'm weird and not want to read the story. You'd be right, but you'd be missing out! Read the story! Soundtrack- Lizard King, The Doors.

Puppet Show, Fredric Brown. A common sci-fi theme is aliens come to invite us to join a galactic society. But what if the aliens are a little nervous about the reception they'll get? I love the twist ending. Soundtrack- Master of Puppets, Metallica.

Turnover, Geoffrey A. Landis. Another relatively new one (1997), I like it mainly for its comic tone. It's about a scientist and her beautiful assistant who go to Venus. Soundtrack- The Beautiful People, Marilyn Manson.

I was excited to read Endymion Spring, since the author, Matthew Skelton, grew up in Edmonton and is a fellow U of A alum. As much as I'd love to tell you that I've finally found a great YA novel that everyone can enjoy, this one didn't quite get there for me. But at least the writing wasn't too bad- not nearly as bad as some I've encountered lately. The story was just a little too . . . unexciting. Not boring exactly. Just average, I guess. My bet is that Skelton has some great books in store, so he'll be worth keeping an eye on.

I know lots of you read Young Adult fiction (which actually means children's literature). Where are the good titles? Harvey, I know you have the goods on what's going on in New Zealand and Australia, I definitely want to look into some of your recommendations. I liked Harry Potter, Lemony Snicket, His Dark Materials, The Spiderwick Chronicles, and of course the classics which stand on their own (Tolkien, Lewis, even Beverly Cleary). But I didn't care for Artemis Fowl, Septimus Heap or the Edgewood Chronicles (though the beautiful art almost made up for the writing). What are you guys reading that you recommend? My criteria are first and foremost a good story, but I am also fairly discerning regarding the writing as well.

I realize a 10 or 13-year-old won't necessarily have the same standards as I regarding what makes good writing, but at the same time I think it is very unfair to give these young readers subpar writing with the attitude that it's okay because they won't know the difference. I believe it does matter- because an excellently written story will be a pleasure to read, and young readers will be motivated to seek out more great stories. Whereas a clumsily written story will be hard to read and will therefore have the opposite effect- some readers in that age group will encounter bad writing and think the difficulties they are having are their own, and hence they will be less inclined to read more. Haley-o, do you have some inside insight?

I read The Sword of Shannara in grade 4. My teacher saw me reading LOTR, and thought I would enjoy Shannara. And I did, but only because I was pretty motivated to get through it, and I was already reading at pretty close to an adult level at that point. I still remember how painful the first twenty-some pages were when the main character is just walking through the forest- a less skilled reader likely would have given up on it. By the way, I went back to that book last year to see if I could recapture the magic of youth and was appalled at how terribly written it was. No offense to Terry Brooks, I'm sure he has improved a lot in the last 25+ years since Sword was written.

Back when I worked at the SCup, I loved inventing new drinks in the blender with all the ingredients at hand. And then naming them was just as fun- the Suicide Girl was one, and gabrielle named another something like Vampirebloodjuice. Yum. Now Michelle has bought us a blender so the fun continues at home. Today I unveil my newest creation:

1 cup ice
1/2 cup cold coffee that you forgot to drink in the morning, 6 hours ago
the rest of the Smarties left over from last night
a smidge of french vanilla coffee creamer
Blend

I call it a Grossie. It tastes no good at all.

Bears Always Win?

The big gross spider was an easy victory as far as battles go. And Homie Bear has fought his share of epic battles. Or rather, his share of rhyming couplet battles. Mostly he does pretty well, vanquishing his foes, like the Witch, or Chogtwer. But as we see here, he doesn't always fare so well. This is from the archives, reprinted in full since it's been two years and many many of you are new.


Homie Bear was hunting and he caught a big fat seal
But a killer whale saw him and said that he did steal
His supper out from under him and that just wouldn't do
Homie said to the whale why don't you eat some poo
So the offended orca turned and hit him with his tail
He had never been blindsided by such a craven whale
Homie bounced off an iceberg but got back on his paws
He charged the whale full speed ahead to cut him with his claws
But the whale dodged and dove down deep into the sea
Where he soon discovered that even there he wasn't free
From a bear's vengeful wrath since Homie jumped right in
And grabbed the astonished dolphin by his dorsal fin
The ocean thrashed and bubbled from the epic battle
All the way in South America they felt a little rattle
The water churned and ice exploded as the titans clashed
They bit each other hit each other and they slashed and bashed
With a mighty heave Homie threw the whale back onto the land
Where the raging frenzied beasts prepared their final stand
Ursis maritimus and Orcinus orca, fighting to the death
The whole world seemed to pause as if holding in its breath
Then a timely interruption burst the tension like a bubble
The seal broke in and said, "You should have saved yourselves the trouble
"Fighting over me just isn't worth the pain
"Since I'll be leaving now and you will have no gain"
And then the seal swam away and left the hunters there
Neither now had a meal and they couldn't even share
The only thing that they had proved with their big ordeal
Is that in a fight between whale and bear, the winner is a seal!

Yeah, so, some pretty big words there made the rhythm suffer, but still good fun. I remember writing it in about half an hour before work one day so, you know. The only time I can recall where Homie Bear out and out loses wasn't really a fair fight.
So, who or what should Homie fight next? If there are some good suggestions I might go forth into battle once more.