Yeah, so we watched another Western-with-a-twist tonight, one of my second (third?)-tier favorites, Shanghai Noon. Gabrielle wasn't completely enamoured of it, ironic as it was her choice to watch it, but that is quite alright. It doesn't have the same history for her as it does me.
I first saw Shanghai Noon in China, on a bootleg VCD. Kind of fitting. It just happened that two of the students on my team were extras in it, as it was shot in and around Calgary. The casting call went out for all the people of Chinese descent in Calgary to come be extras in the slave-labour camp. So my two friends had brief cameos.
This made it interesting as we screened the movie with some Chinese friends. And also quite confusing for them. Our Canadian-born-Chinese friends were playing Chinese-born-Chinese people living in America, though the movie was shot in Canada and they were now here in China studying Chinese. My Chinese-born-Chinese friends had a bit of a hard time keeping all this straight.
Although China's educational system is at least equal to ours, if not far superior in some ways, they seem to have a bit of a hard time with basic genetics. They were invariably mystified that our Canadian-born-Chinese folk were, in fact, Canadian, and yet genetically Chinese at the same time.
"Are you Chinese?" they would ask.
"Yes, though I was born in Canada and am Canadian," they would reply.
"But you look so Chinese!"
"Well, yes, that's because my parents are Chinese."
"But you were born in Canada."
"Yes."
"Why you don't look like them?" (pointing at me or one of the other Canadian-born-non-Chinese.)
"Because I'm Chinese."
"Can you speak Chinese?"
"No."
"But you're Chinese!"
And on it would go. Every time. I found it all quite amusing but it got a little old for my friends.

Although technically I'm not supposed to, our store is so dead on Monday nights that I like to put a movie in to while away the hours. And besides- I did something last week that to me was pretty common-sensical , but it got my manager accolades from corporate headquarters all the way in Alabama, so he was pretty happy with me (I started getting donations a few days early to a charity we're promoting , the only store in North America to "take such initiative".) And since Hidalgo was so much fun, I thought I might enjoy another western from a LOTR alumni, so I watched The Missing. Cate Blanchett is really great and I like her other work a lot. Same with Tommy Lee Jones, to a lesser extent, and though they were both good enough, the movie itself was just . . . weak. Pretty cinematography, good acting, but not much plot and no character development at all. And since this isn't really a shoot 'em up western, character development is kind of a must. So I was disappointed. Oh well- I was paid to watch it, sort of, so no complaints. I can get you a poster of it if you disagree with me and liked it ;) For that matter, I can get you posters from a wide variety of current movies-available-on-video, just let me know if you want any (and are local to me).

Like gabrielle, I also really liked Hidalgo. Though where she occasionally found herself thinking of Aragorn and Brego, I marvelled at the fact that, over short distances, a bear can run as fast as Hidalgo, maybe even slightly faster. (Not to imply that this movie causes your attention to wander, because it doesn't.) Of course, a bear could never ever hope to beat Hopkins and Hidalgo in a long-distance race, which was their specialty.

Life in Hostile Environs part IV
There are limits to what life can endure, of course. High-altitude mountaineers know that above 7500 meters, your body begins to break down, to die. They call this the Death Zone. Yet even then, the human body can survive for limited amounts of time. Jon Krakauer says, in his astonishing book Into Thin Air, "Above the South Col, up in the Death Zone, survival is to no small degree a race against the clock. . . Depending on each person's acclimatization and physiological makeup, we would still be able to function above the South Col- but not well, and not for long. We would instantly become more vulnerable to HAPE [High Altitude Pulmonary Edema], HACE [High Altitude Cerebral Edema], hypothermia, impaired judgment, and frostbite. The risk of dying would skyrocket." As you probably know, eight of Krakauer's fellow climbers perished on that night.
For a long time, it was thought it was not possible to survive unaided at such heights. That's why all ascents of Everest were done with supplemental oxygen. But in 1978 Reinhold Messner reached the top without bottled O2, the mountaineering equivalent of the four-minute mile.
So it's possible, but there's a pretty steep (pardon the pun) price to pay.

(More on HAPE and HACE here.)

Why I'm just not a very good gamer
Since the ROTK video game is way fun, I decided that I should take advantage of some of the other games we have at work, so I brought home some other ones last night and tonight. I couldn't get into either one. The one yesterday was just poorly done- it was called Legion: Legend of King Arthur. Could've been cool, but wasn't. Then tonight I brought home Castlevania. I tried playing it for a while, and got stuck in an empty room in the tutorial stage. Oh well. I much prefer blogging to gaming. Not that there isn't room for both. I just need to find more fun games, like ROTK, that I can actually play, and can hold my interest.

Life in Hostile Environs part III
I discovered, about an hour after my arrival in Tibet, that high altitude is a hostile environment to me. This was quite a blow to my self-esteem since I grew up not twenty minutes away from the front ranges of the Rocky Mountains, and I like to keep in relatively good shape. But the Tibetan Plateau, at an average altitude of 12,000 feet, is higher than all but the highest of the Rockies, and physical fitness is not a factor. Plus I flew there from sea level or so, which is not really a good idea- you need to acclimatize. So after about an hour I started feeling funny and then I just fell over, unconscious, knocking my head on the cement, much to the alarm of a watching lama. I was okay- though I was apparently twitching and turning blue. I was a victim of altitude sickness. It was very unpleasant- puking and headache and even a touch of narcosis (? or whatever you call symptoms similar to intoxication). I would wake up in the middle of the night, my heart beating at lightspeed, hardly able to breathe. It was worse than any hangover. But after a few days I adapted to it and I thrived. And when I went back down to more normal, more mortal altitudes I was in supershape. I zoomed up the Great Wall of China. Not so much anymore, but it's good to know that life can adapt. Life is pretty resilient. I am pretty resilient. (You are, too ;)

Life in Hostile Environs part II
I found this interesting sci-fi book a few years ago in a bin of free books at Grant Mac. Called Dragon's Egg, it is a story about what life would look like on a neutron star. The author, Dr. Robert L. Forward, is a gravitational astronomer, so he knows what he's talking about as far as the physics go, and still writes a readable story.
Here is a quick primer on neutron stars, and an artist's rendering. In a nutshell, they are stars in a nutshell (heehee). When a star goes supernova, a neutron star is what is left behind- a massively dense object only a few tens of kilometers in diameter. And not really on fire any more- they have super-smooth surfaces. Dr. Forward's fictional neutron star, Dragon's Egg, is about 20 kms across but has half the mass of the sun. Its surface gravity is 67 billion times that of the Earth's.
The cool thing about the tiny little critters living on Dragon's Egg is that they live at a much faster rate than we do- an hour of our time would be almost two generations of theirs. A typical lifespan is 33 minutes. In the book, our civilizations interacted for 1.2 seconds.

NASA is saying that Mars was once wet enough to have sustained life. Maybe even still does. Cool. Martians. I like Martians- I imagine they are large, bear-like creatures full of intelligence and benevolence.
When I was little I had the same fascination for the possiblity of life elsewhere as every other little kid, and I read everything I could find on the subject. Back in 1980 or so, scientists were pretty pessimistic about any life elsewhere in our own solar system (and they still didn't know if there were any other systems with planets, which of course we now have confirmation of), though they said maybe Europa, one of Jupiter's larger moons, could support life. By life they meant "life as we know it." In the intervening quarter century, our definition of "life as we know it" has expanded considerably even just right here on Earth. There are organisms that live in habitats once thought to be hostile to life- hydrothermal vents at the bottom of the ocean, or beneath Antarctic ice. When you think about it, the bacteria that live inside our stomach, swimming happily in hydrochloric acid, are hardly living in a friendly environment, at least the way we consider it.
So anyways, it's cool that water once flowed freely on Mars, and maybe that means that it is more likely that Mars once did or still does support life. But as we are seeing more and more, life is pretty capable of getting by in habitats once thought anathema to it. Maybe there really are giant gas whalerays flying around in the atmospheres of Jupiter or Saturn.
On the other hand, there are an awful lot of other things needed to get life going- how about protection from ultraviolet rays and other solar radiation?
Maybe one day we'll know one way or the other. Until then it's fun to imagine, and wonder, and dream.

The following is a guest poost by gabrielle of the Crypt.

Since I am currently in the midst of a Completely Rightfully Owed CounterChallenge of Vengeance (a.k.a. The Samurai Sword of Poetry) over at the Crypt, Homie has graciously allowed me his Woods in which to guest post.

I found the following news item on yahoo today: Video Games Make Kids Fat, Violent, Swedish Experts Say
The big question I have in response to this is "What do we really have to fear from fat violent kids?" Granted, violence is never a good thing but the study does directly link obesity and violence to video games. As kind of a virtual pas de deux, if you'll forgive the ballet term. What I'm thinking is that I could outrun a fat kid. Even a violent fat kid. I'm sure of it. So... where's the danger?

In a separate but related note, I have recently become a gamer myself. Granted, I haven't invested a childhood into becoming as adept as, say, Fat Albert but I do play one mean Legolas if I do say so myself. Thirty-five orcs in a row. Single-handed. BOOM BABY! I even have a "gaming thumb blister" to prove it. And I have not gained a single pound that I can tell. Nor are my tendencies of late any more violent than they usually are. In fact I daresay phone calls to my pod from irate sales reps during my workday make me, on a whole, far more violent than slaying orcs. Or the dishonored dead. Therefore I am calling into question this Swedish research. I have no personal anecdotal evidence to support their theory.

Of course this doesn't change the fact that I'm just not scared of fat violent kids. What are they going to do - throw a Twinkie at me? Outplay me in Osgiliath? Like that's hard to do... you can't be Leggy there. You have to be Sam. Who is himself a fat and, in this game version of ROTK, violent short person who has never in his life played a video game.

What's next? Marilyn Manson causes teens to be dysfunctional? The earth is flat? *scoffs*

**** end guest poost ****

Bastards! I was actually over at Outside Magazine's site to see if they had yet poosted their story about Hidalgo. They hadn't but then I found that news item on those sumnabish poachers. Rrrgh they piss me off. I think the penalty should be a gallbladder for a gallbladder.
Anyways, with Hidalgo opening this weekend I thought you might be interested in reading about what historians and the Long Riders Guild have to say about it. There is some question as to whether Frank T. Hopkins (Viggo's character) was telling the unvarnished truth when he wrote about his exploits. For my part, I think it will be a fun movie, whether it actually happened or not.
You want historically accurate film-making? Band of Brothers. Best mini-series ever. Crazy sandstorms, running leopards and angry Arabs need not be so true-to-life, at least if you ask me.

As you might expect, I was pretty happy with how the Oscars went tonight. I was a little sad that Mr. Depp did not win, but it was cool that he was even nominated. We watched Pirates with Johnny's commentary track the other night, and we got the distinct impression that this movie was a little more haphazard then you might think from the end result. Anyways, tonight was Peter Jackson and Friends' night, and they deserved it all. I think I would have rioted if ROTK hadn't won. Or at least pooed on the Academy's porch.
I especially loved Annie Lennox' performance of Into The West. (Though seeing Eugene Levy and Catherine O'Hara back in character for A Kiss at the End of the Rainbow from A Mighty Wind was great, too.)
And last night was the release party for Seven Devil Fix's CD Lotus. It was great fun, though I couldn't be there for all of it, as I was working and only through the heroic efforts of my boss to accomodate me was I able to even be there at all. As always, a pretty great show from the guys. Radio Act, who you might know as Liquesce, opened for them. I've actually mentioned them here before, and they continue to impress. If they had kept their old name their slogan could be "Liquesce continues to Impress."
And lest you have somehow forgotten, or not been paying attention, make sure to head over to the Crypt to see gabrielle's Epic response to my Counterchallenge. It's only Day 1 and already she has written a masterpiece- what the movie advertisements refer to as a "cinematic achievement of staggering proportions."

It's weird to think that one year ago today was way back in 2000. But that's how Leap Years work. I don't really understand it myself, but then I was convinced the Apoocalypse was upon us last year (by last year I mean 2003, not 2000, which on most days was four years ago).
The diamond geezer has some fascinating info on Leap Years for you- 29 facts worth.
I had a friend back in Elementary School who was born at something like 11:58 PM on February 28th, and we were all in awe of him that he came so close to being a Leap Year baby. Instead of being 8 like the rest of us, he would only be 2! It never occurred to us that he wasn't really in much danger of that since we were all born in 1974. Not a Leap Year, 1974.

Day 3

Shine on You Crazy Elephant

I met an elephant whose name was Dwight
He was always scared at night
He said he once had had a dream
That had really made him scream
In this dream some tiny mice
Made Dwight's blood turn to ice
And since an elephant can not forget
Any nightmare that made them sweat
Dwight was now Achlu-Musophobic
So he skipped night-time aerobics
But he still had to go on Dawn Patrol
(Still quite dark unless the moon is full)
His tusks, they shook and his ears, they flapped
They say that even his poo, it crapped
And so he had to hatch a plan
Horton helped him, and Tarzan
What they did is they took Dwight's trunk
And cleared it of all the snot and gunk
And stuck a flashlight way up in there
With extra batteries to spare
Dwight can now walk in the night
Done with the danger of dying of fright
As an added bonus he no longer whines
For now he is known as the Elephant Who Shines!

Ahh. Thus ends this Gruelling and Harrowing Ordeal. Although actually it was a lot of fun. I was going to dedicate this one to Mao, but the truth is this little trilogy is all thanks to gabrielle, and thus dedicated to her.
And now, Miss vampirenomad, your counter challenge:
Write a poem on each of the following topics:
Day 1- Frodorc
Day 2- Bears are Great
Day 3- Time is of the Essence OR Spider Gorgon (I'm giving you some leeway)
Feel free to switch the order up if you want. Have fun!

Day 2

POEm

Homie was such a mighty bear that he was made the king
Of all the animals in the Woods and nearly Everything
All the creatures loved him so for he was good and wise
Sorting predator from prey and discerning truth from lies
Benevolence and nobility were Homie's stock in trade
Anyone will tell you he's the "Best Bear Ever Made"
So Homie was quite unprepared when he finally met his match
In form of little furball who would hiss and bite and scratch
She goes by Poe, don't you know, a haughty grey-haired cat
Meowing for attention yet saying "Don't look at me like that."
She ran away his very first day, getting him in poo
Plotting havoc against the bear and laughing at him, too
All she does is be's real bad, pretending to be dumb
But if you're ever mad at her she moons you with her bum
Homie Bear tried to reason, to obtain her loyalty
But Poe refused to recognize any non-her royalty
Homie finally realized he was no longer ruler of the land
Instead of King, Homie now was third place in command

Ok, I'm ready to respond to this Completely Unprovoked Challenge. (Read the previous poost first, if you haven't)

Day 1

Lembas

Elven waybread
Sustaining fellowship
through long dark days
of struggle and strife
Wafers of golden strength
Perhaps from Galadriel's
own hand?
I've heard it said
that one small bite
can fill the stomach
of a full grown man
I wish I had some right now
I'm hungry
All I have
is cold ravioli
And that doesn't taste
very nice

The Green Man has discovered a green polar bear! I suppose the poolite thing to do would be to repay the favour by showing him a homie man.
And the vampirenomad has thrown down the proverbial gauntlet. I shall respond shortly. First, though, I think I'll open the blinds and let some sun in, and maybe have some garlic bread. She'll be sorry when I am dictator of China.

Yay! My Amazon order arrived yesterday, which means that soon I can start reading Band of Brothers, and the third book of His Dark Materials trilogy. I just have to finish off my book of Readings on the Middle Kingdom . I'm on the section on Communist China now, so I am almost finished. Here is a little bit about true love, Revolution style, from a government-produced movie:

"The young lady . . . twenty-five years old and an engineer by profession, discovers her [boy]friend after midnight in his office. He has fallen asleep over a weighty mathematical computation, the results of which will be required by the factory in the morning. Until dawn, she works out his mathematical formula and leaves before he wakes. This too is a sign of love . . ."

And here is a poem by Mao Zedong himself:

The Snow

All the scenery in the north
Is enclosed in a thousand li of ice,
And ten thousand li of swirling snow.
Behold both sides of the Great Wall-
There is only a vast confusion left.
On the upper and lower reaches of the Yellow River
You can no longer see the flowng water.
The mountains are dancing silver serpents,
The hills on the plains are shining elephants.
I desire to compare our height to the skies.
In clear weather
The earth is so charming
Like a red-faced girl clothed in white.
Such is the charm of these rivers and mountains,
Calling innumerable heroes to vie with each other in pursuing her.
The emperors Shi Huang and Wu Ti were barely cultured,
The emperors Tai Zung and Tai Zu were lacking in feeling,
Genghis Khan knew only how to bend his bow at the eagles,
These all belong to the past- only today are there men of feeling!

He had whole books of this stuff. Little Red Books full of them. When you're the supreme dictator of the most populated country in the world you can publish as much bad poetry as you want. You can even have music written for some of your more profound utterances and make the whole country sing the songs.
One day this is what I will do- you will have to sing Homie Bear pooems in big rallies on Parliament Hill. Instead of Little Red Books, though, I will have Big Brown Books o'Poo. Heck why wait? Preorder yours today.

Here's a trustworthy saying: "An hour spent in the dark, listening to Beethoven, is an hour well spent." See? I didn't even make it about bears, or the most beloved of ursine composers, Bearthooven. Just simple, straightforward advice that you could all follow. I suppose I could add a "poo" in there for good measure, but I think I'll leave it. (In truth I can't take credit for this revelation, as it was gabrielle's idea to shut off all the lights and sit quietly listening to Ludwig.) Too few people take advantage of an opportunity to contemplate and reflect. It's a discipline and an art, really.
Here are some of the insights I arrived at today (you should listen to the Pastorale while reading these):
1. Medusa is pretty creepy with her snakey hair but I would be way more scared of a Gorgon with spiders for hands.
2. I think China discovered the Americas and its indigenous peoples before even the Vikings did. This theory is not unique to me, but as far as I know it has never been confirmed. There are tantalizing and intriguing not-quite-clues that you find every now and then in the literature, however. I have this book that is a collection of readings about China and there was a statement that caught my interest, from Liang Qi Qao, written in 1900. He almost seems to be quoting an accepted truism, like "30 days has September . . . " when he says, "Of old, there were five States: China, India, Persia, Egypt and Mexico." The great Mayan and Aztec empires were not contemporary with the zenith of the Persian and Egyptian dynasties, so perhaps they knew the Olmecs or another race? The Chinese historically were never all that interested in the other countries of the world, so they may have known all about them and never bothered to write one single thing about them. Or perhaps we just haven't discovered anything yet. Although Admiral Zheng He's mighty fleet of 300 ships sailed the world between 1405 and 1433, so it is conceivable they met some Aztecs. And look at what I just found as I was researching a little on Zheng He- Nicholas D. Kristof writes "historians have found evidence that when China's Shang Dynasty was overthrown in about 1045 B.C., Chinese refugees may have sailed to the Americas and settled among the Olmec people of Mexico . . ." (from Thunder from the East, by Kristof and WuDunn). Interesting, eh?
3. I don't understand why Isaac Asimov's Nightfall is considered one of the most important sci-fi stories of all time. It's kind of boring. I guess it was innovative and all, dealing with social issues rather than just being pulp fiction, so it is respected for that, but if you want a kickass story about a planet with three suns that only gets darkness once every 22 years, you should really watch Pitch Black.

The English language is rife with sayings, proverbs and cliches of a zoological nature. You know what I mean, "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." Often these expressions are left over from bygone times and they no longer make much sense. I don't think a bird in the hand is worth much of anything, these days. Birds in the bush are still quite pretty, though. Anyways, I think it's time we updated and revised these sayings for our more enlightened age. Thus, the previously stated proverb becomes "A bear in the hand will probably be the end of you."
How about "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink?" We can now render it thusly: "You can't lead a bear to water or anywhere else; he will go where he pleases." And don't even think about giving any gift bears, let alone looking them in the mouth.
There is another avian adage- "The early bird gets the worm." We could change this saying to . . . actually Homie Bear is content to allow the early birds to get as many worms as they want; he will get more sleep. Actually, on further reflection it seems as though our proverbs are fine how they are. We just need more of them dealing with bears and all they can teach us. It would be nice to see this saying enter our lexicon: "You should always give a bear presents, especially Homie Bear. In this lies the path of great wisdom."

At the coal mine, the radio was often a source of confusing communication. Partly because all the equipment is loud and we all wore earplugs, and partly just from the fact that so many people use it. For example, someone might say "Shovel 8 to 30 truck, are you by, Nathan?"
Only trouble is, I'm in 31 truck. So I have to decide if shovel 8 is looking for me personally or the specific truck. The best thing to do here is pause and see if 30 truck will answer. If not, then you have to say something like, "Uhh, Nathan here, in 31 truck. You looking for me or Al in 30?"
And the opposite can happen. "Shovel 8 to 31 truck, are you by, Al?"
"Yeah, go ahead for 31 truck, but it's not Al."
"Oh, sorry Nathan, I was looking for Al- what truck is he in?"
That kind of thing. Nothing too serious, but every now and then a mechanic or electrician would pull you over and start tinkering with your truck. So you'd ask him what he was doing and he'd say, "Didn't you call in about a sparking gridbox?"
"No, that was Al in 34 truck- see over there with all the smoke?"
"Oh, right, sorry."
I hated the radio, for the most part. I just wanted to do my job and be left alone. Usually being called on the radio was bad news. Lots of guys' radios would mysteriously go on the fritz if they knew they were going to be sent to a worse pit. But as much as I wanted to, I could never really shut it off in case of an emergency, minor or serious.
Like the time I got a call from a fellow truck driver, "05 truck to 07 truck, watch out for the babies on the road." Then I had a few moments to wonder why there would be infants crawling around on a mine's haul road when I turned the corner to find all the young bighorn sheep kids.
I remember one nightshift, the last ten minutes of our entire four day rotation, when Al's voice came over the radio.
"14 truck to dispatch?" Even though I was done, I decided to listen to what Al had to say- he was my good friend, and like me, he eschewed the use of the radio if at all possible. And though he sounded quite calm, there was something in his voice. There was no answer, so he called again.
"14 truck to 215 (junior foreman, his pit supervisor that night)" Still no answer. That's when our senior foreman came on, perhaps sensing something as well.
"210 here, go ahead 14 truck."
"Yeah Terry, I was going down the hill headed for the dump and I think my tire blew out or something because now I'm on my side."
"You're on your side? You flipped?"
"Yeah I flipped. I'm alright, and I shut the engine off, but . . ."
"Just hold on, we'll get Mine Rescue out to you."
Anyways, he was alright, just a little shaken up. And 14 truck was dinged up but was back on the road after a week.

A telephone conversation I had at work today:

Phone rings, I answer it. "_____ _____ _____ (where I work.) How can I help you?"
"Hi this is buzz buzz buzzz bzz bzz bzz." I can hardly hear her, she sounds all distant and faint.
"Sorry, who is this?"
"Bzz bzz from ___ ____." She is someone, still not sure who, exactly, from another branch of my company.
"Oh hi."
"Hi."
Long pause.
"So what was your question?" she asks me.
"You called me! I don't have a question."
"No, you called me."
"No, I honestly didn't." I decided not to add what I was thinking, which is that I could prove that statement by the simple fact that I had no idea who I was talking to.
"Yes, you did. You called m . . . " and then something happened with one of our phones and we were disconnected, leaving me feeling quite mystified. Oh well.
I had other fish to fry at that point. Well, actually I had no fish to fry at all. The truth is the store where I work is so slow and dead that we are shutting down at the end of March, and Homie Bear will be Unemployed Bear once again. And that is just one or two small steps away from being Homeless Bear. And I definitely don't want that. So if you know of any jobs out there drop me a line. (I do have something I think I can fall back on, though, so don't worry about me- I'll be fine.) And if you have any mysteries for me to solve, I'm your bear!

My Playstation 2 and I are good friends, but primarily because it plays DVDs. I'm not really much of a gamer. It's not that I don't like it, but for whatever reason I hardly ever play them. I have very fond memories of last year, before Two Towers came out, Cory and Lauren and I playing the Two Towers game. So tonight I brought home the Return of the King version, and gabrielle and I tried our hands at guiding Legolas and Sam and Gandalf through Middle-earth. It's so much fun. Turns out gabrielle is much better at killing orcs than I am, though I am better at, umm, eating cookies. Actually there isn't really much else to the game. Well, you have to keep Frodo from being scooped up by the Nazgul. But neither of us were very good at that, until we figured out the trick. You have to harness a black hole to convert space into time and go back and prevent Isildur from taking the Ring in the first place. So simple really- why didn't Gandalf ever think of it?

Yes, it is perfectly alright. Just don't make a mess.

A recent search engine query that found its way to the Woods. The page won't open but you can at least see what the question was.
Then there was this one, from google. I had never really though about it before. Maybe they had little laurel wreaths around them, or togas. Or perhaps little centurion helmets.
And it's nice to know my blog is the first site that comes up for "Giant Man Eating Cats Pooing On New York". I kind of wish I had more to say on the subject.
These poosts are so easy, I try not to do them too much. But after indulging myself with some semi-serious poetry last night, I thought I would poost something fluffy, lest I chase you all away.

I have written my own song in honor of our hard-working spacemen. But since there is no music or melody or instruments, I guess it's not really a song. Oh well- it's not really about spacemen, either.

E=mc²

Einstein wrote a poem
Describing the shape of the universe
So I'm going to see if he was right
How could I not?
Lightspeed and time travel and
every wonder I can think of
And even more that I can't
A whole galaxy of experience
spiral arms scooping up adventure
For whoever wants to find it
I can't wait
So good-bye Mom
Good-bye Dad
and everyone else
I love you all
I'll be back in a few years
though it might seem longer
(Depending how fast I go -
what with relativity and all)
And when I get back
we'll share new poems
and old laughter
Describing the shape of our lives
We'll toast Einstein
and each other
saying
All is right with the universe

Songs about spacemen are cool. One More Astronaut by I Mother Earth comes to mind. There aren't really that many of them out there, but one of my favorite songs when I was younger was Major Tom, by Peter Schilling. Probably you have never heard of him but I had two of his tapes. He was great. Me and Jonny Smelter used to rock out to the space-synth sound of Herr Schilling all the time. Major Tom is kind of the opposite of Asthenia in that the guy can't get back to Earth. The title character comes, of course, from David Bowie's Space Oddity. Here is a brief article on Major Tom's impact on our pop psyche. Sadly, it was more than Peter Schilling could ever manage. Poor guy. I bet he got Asthenia when no one bought his albums.

I bought the new blink-182 CD last week and I really like it. My favorite song is Asthenia. I didn't realize what it was about until I read the liner notes- it's about an astronaut trying to decide if he even wants to come back to Earth or not. "Should I go back should I go back should I? I feel alone and tired." In Tom DeLonge's words, it's "a song about the loss of hope." The title comes from a medical/psychological term referring to a loss of strength and motivation. I found it interesting so I did a little research on it. Turns out the Americans aren't really too keen to admit that such a thing exists, while the Russians, whose cosmonauts tend to spend a lot more time in space then their American counterparts, freely agree that this takes place. It's not just limited to space missions, either. Any kind of expedition or mission to a remote corner of the Earth, suach as the Antarctic, is prone to bouts of asthenia amongst its members. Often this can lead to strife. This article explains a bit of the anecdotal history of asthenia and talks of ways to counteract its effects (fairly common sense stuff like talking to family and indulging in treats), certainly a valuable resource for anyone who is looking at going away for a long period of time, even if it's not into space.
I have been away on a number of more-than-a-month-long trips, and though I get the occasional bout of homesickness and loneliness, for the most part I am too busy having fun to get asthenia. It can be a daunting realization to think, while standing on the side of a highway with your thumb out, that you don't know a single human being within a thousand miles of you. But it helps that my kind of traveling usually doesn't involve the mind-numbing routine of a space mission or a stint in a submarine. Fun adventure is the key.

The trouble with believing all those impossible things is the disappointment you feel when you go down to your car the next morning to discover that it has somehow failed to transmogrify into a dragon overnight. Oh well. There's always tomorrow. And I'm not so sure the cat will be learning Greek anytime soon, gabrielle. Today as I was browsing on the computer and not paying attention to her she fell off the futon for no reason. She was just sitting looking at the lamp, preparing to bite it, and then she wasn't. Then she was hanging on by her front claws but she was clearly doomed. So I rescued her, and she bit me. Such gratitude. Could have been worse, though, she could have left a dropping.
Anyways, what was I going to say now? I forget. Must be time for a guest poost. Oh wait, now I remember (but feel free to email me a guest poost anytime). This week's VUE has a cover article on bears. I saw the headline out of the corner of my eye as I was getting into my car, and I thought it said "Bearing Witness", so I decided I better check it out to see if it was about bears or about some other thing I wouldn't care about. Yup, it was about bears! But it was also kind of sad.

Six Impossible Things for Breakfast
Selkie quoted Lewis Carroll in the droppings a couple of poosts back. If you don't read the droppings (in which case you are missing out on half one third one fifth of the fun of this blog;), this is the quote:

"Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. "
~Lewis Carroll

So, I decided to try and come up with six impossible things to believe for tomorrow morning. It's harder than it sounds, especially since I think almost anything is possible, but here is my list:

1. I believe that tomorrow when I go down to my car to drive to work, Little Green Jellybean will have turned into an actual jellybean. No wait, that's too easy. It will be a giant green jellydragon! And I will fly it to work!

2. Only, I won't have to go to work because when you have a jellydragon, you certainly don't need to work for a living. Instead we will fly to Jupiter, which isn't uninhabitable at all- it is populated by even-more-giant-than-usual whales who swim in the gaseous murks of the atmosphere, and each whale is also a city, full of, umm, happy aliens who want to share their cookies with me! Yay! (If you want, gabrielle, I can swing by and rescue you from your pod- I doubt your boss will dare defy a jellydragon!)

3. Speaking of whales, I believe that the whales are more intelligent than we are and that tomorrow they will finally break their silence and teach us truly the way of life. The only impossible thing about this is that they would ever want to have anything to do with us. So make that, the whales will teach the bears, who then may or may not decide to share with us.

4. I believe that I will be appointed World Envoy of the Primacy of World Peace and will be given freedom to travel anywhere in the world to promote the primacy of world peace and bears. Or whatever position is like that that will allow me to go wherever I please for free.

5. I believe that next Wednesday we will all awake to discover that the world has turned into a cartoon. Life will go an as before, but everything will be brightly animated in a style that is a mix between Hiyao Miyazaki and Disney, circa Sleeping Beauty. And we will all be cartoon animals, a la Robin Hood. I of course will be a bear, and you . . . hmm . . . you will probably turn into a bug. Sorry. But maybe it's fun to be a bug, I don't really know. It doesn't look like fun, but . . .

6. And finally, I believe that good will triumph over evil, and love over hate.

How about you? Doesn't have to be six, if you don't want. It can be mimsytwo, if you prefer, or a handful of mome raths.

This month's National Geographic almost seems like it was aimed at me- not only does it feature a cover story of Polar Bear photography, including some really beautiful ghostly shots- there's one in particular that I really like- a bear in a small copse of trees, something you don't usually associate Nanooks with. Oh yeah, I was saying not only does it have bears, but it also features an interesting article on the Han Dynasty of China. You might recall I also have a fascination for the Middle Kingdom. I don't usually buy National Geographic, but I could hardly resist this one- China and bears.
Know how to say polar bear in Chinese? Beiji xiong, if my memory serves. North Pole Bear.
And in other news, the original Star Wars Trilogy is finally coming to DVD in September. I can't remember how to say Star Wars in Chinese, though it seems like something I would have asked. But I have a Phantom Menace bootleg VCD from China that proudly declares itself to be Star Wars EpisodeL

UPDATE: Sign the original trilogy petition! Han shot first! Jabba is not a baby slug!

I hadn't seen Alice in Wonderland for many years and had forgotten all but its broadest strokes, but last night we watched it and I loved it. Pure imagination, on both Carroll's and Disney's parts. I liked how the Cheshire Cat recited Jabberwocky, the nonsense poem Lewis Carroll embedded into the text of Through the Looking Glass. Do you remember it?

"`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."

The entire text can be found here.
My Dad lent me a book of classic sci-fi short stories once, and one of the stories was called mimsy Were the Borogoves. It was a really coo llittle story written in the 40s about some mysterious toys accidentally sent back in time from way in the future. But hey- why should I describe it to you when the entire text can be found online? (You might have to click on each page since the 'next' button doesn't seem to work). It must be old enough to be in the public domain now. I love imaginative stuff like that. Makes me happy.

Ever since I saw Moulin Rouge I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. And at the same time I have been thinking about the Klondike Gold Rush too. And it turns out they were not all that different- they even had their heydeys at roughly the same time- the late 1890s.
Dawson City spawned an entire industry devoted to separating the hard-working gold-miners from their gold. And the easiest way of accomplishing this was through dancehalls, and the courtesans who worked there. You have probably heard of Diamond-tooth Gertie. How about the sisters Vaseline and Glycerine? There was even a girl named The Grizzly Bear, who was, in Pierre Berton's words, " a gargantuan woman who weighed one hundred and seventy pounds, [and] had an eye missing: it had been torn from her head, so it was whispered, in a fight with another dance-hall girl."
And despite (or perhaps because of) the inherent shadiness, the miners were only too happy to play along, and they even upheld a certain morality about the whole business. When the rigours and hardships of such a life caught up to a dancehall girl named Myrtle Brocee, and she tragically shot herself, her admirers all came to the defence of her honor: "The coroner's inquest into her death was marked by an odd gallantry: half a dozen men took the stand to testify that they had been sleeping with Miss Brocee, but each blandly swore under oath that, though he had shared her bed, she remained virtuous to the end. She had been living with Harry Woolrich, one of the most famous of the Klondike gamblers, and it was, indeed, in his room that she took her life, but Woolrich testified with a straight face that his bed companion was a virgin. The remarkable instance of mass chivalry . . . inspired the entire community, and when Myrtle Brocee , her honour preserved, went to her rest, it was in a coffin with silver-plated handles and a silken interior of blue and white, and with half of Dawson weeping quietly at the graveside."
(Once again, the source for these quotes is Pierre Berton's Klondike: the Last Great Gold Rush.)

Tonight when Alex and I were climbing the tobogganing hill for the hundredth time, I asked him if he thought the hill was steeper or taller than the Chilkoot Pass. We surveyed the slope, across from the Edmonton skyline and beneath the biggest full moon I've seen in ages, and decided that, no, I was a dummyhead for even thinking so.
I've been thinking about the Chilkoot Trail and Skagway lately. I guess partly because I pulled out my old tattered copy of Klondike in order to copy an excerpt for gabrielles' blog (she is doing a very interesting series on vampires, right now, so go check it out if you havent' yet) last night. I took it to work today and thumbed through it during lulls (which was most of the day, actually).
If you ever get a chance to hike the Chilkoot Trail, jump at it. It's amazing. And it may be the only backcountry trail in the world where you get to take a train back after you've finished. A nice, relaxing way to wind down after a few days on the trail.
And if you ever get a chance to read Pierre Berton's Klondike: the Last Great Gold Rush, or his photo-essay book, The Klondike Quest, which is a gorgeous coffeetable book full of old photos of the gold rush, it would be well worth your while. And you could use the coffeetable book to go toboganning afterwards. Because you should definitely jump at any chance you get to go do that.

I am admiring my new Warg and Orc right now. The orc is perched atop the Warg, menacingly glaring down at Frodo in the Mordor corner of the Woodsy Crypt. Treebeard is standing nearby, ready to squish the not-so-little orc if things get out of hand.
Did anyone read Elfquest back in the day? It was one of my favorite comics. I have the whole set of the original (actually they were the Epic/Marvel color reprints of the original) series. That was about a tribe of Elves, the Wolfriders, who were burned out of their home and went across the desert to meet other elves, and then went on a quest to find all the other elves out there in the wide world. Wolfriders. Warg riders. Quite different, actually. One of the Wolfrider chiefs was named Bearclaw, so obviously he was pretty cool, though he only appeared in flashback, being dead and all. (I have refrained from mentioning this to you, gabrielle, despite your elven obsession, because I don't think you would really care as much about these- they are not very Haldiry, really. But if you want to see, just let me know).
One of my other favorite comics back then was a mini-series called Longshot, about a guy who was lucky. As long as he kept his motives pure. That lesson really resonated with me- I always try to keep my motives pure. Not that I necessarily believe in luck. But I was thinking about motive today. Specifically, what motivates you to create? I think some people have the wrong motive- they want money or acclaim. But I don't know if you can produce something beautiful, however you define beauty, with such motives. Beauty, much more than luck, has to stem from pure motives.
I watched a movie that was sort of about that tonight, and also a perfect example of what I'm talking about- Moulin Rouge. (My excuse for not having seen it ere now- I was in Tibet when it came out.) The movie itself is absolutely beautiful, astonishing and thrilling. Seriously. And of course, it is about Truth and Beauty and Freedom and Love.
All the things that a Warg-rider is opposed to, in fact. Kind of funny, that.

Every dull rock rising like a bear ghost

In 1907, polar explorer Dr. Frederick Cook and his group spent 5 months huddled in a cave near Cape Sparbo on Devon Island, living off the land and waiting out the winter. As if spending a winter in an arctic cave wasn't bad enough, they were basically trapped there by polar bears, who prowled about outside stealing blubber, waiting for an unwary explorer to emerge. Obviously Homie Bear's sympathies naturally align more with the bears than the explorers, but it still makes for a harrowing tale. Sadly, it's the explorers who came out ahead, as they eventually made their way back to civilization and a position in the Annals of Polar Exploration (though some of Dr. Cook's claims are disputed). They even (supposedly) lassoed a bear, shot it and ate it at one point. They were all starving to death, so I suppose that's how it goes- natural order of things. However I can't help but wonder how a starving man managed to lasso a polar bear and not be killed instantly.
The quote above is taken from Dr. Cook's account of the trek, describing how he would poke his head out of the cave to see if the coast was clear, and the waiting polar bears would raise their heads. I like the poetry of it.
(Source: Pierre Berton's The Arctic Grail)

Did you ever notice how both Yogi Bear and Smokey the Bear are always wearing hats? It's true. I think this proves that they are brothers. But Yogi steals pic-a-nic baskets while Smokey continually admonishes you that only you can prevent forest fires. I guess that makes Yogi the black sheep of the family. Smokey doesn't like to talk about Yogi, actually. It's too bad, really- Smokey could learn a thing or two from the happy-go-lucky Yogi. As it is, Smokey is kind of a one-note bear. Anyways, I found Smokey's homepage, I think commemorating his 60th birthday. He has somehow circumvented the worldwideweb and is able to appear on just the worldwide. Or the wideweb. There is some interesting stuff over there- like how Disney lent the Forest Service the use of Bambi imagery for a year but then they had to come up with their own guy afterwards, and hence Smokey was born.

What with all the pooha over wardrobe malfunctions you may not have heard about the alleged preserved dragon that was found in England. Basically, a preserved dragon was found in England. An intriguing mystery, to be sure. Though the article is frustratingly written ("Some scientists believe that dragons, though the product of imagination, were inspired by the extraordinary creatures that once roamed the Earth." What extraordinary creatures? Imaginary dragons? Levitating sasquatches?), but the picture alongside the article is pretty cool. I guess dragons are actually mammals, or at least viviparous reptiles, since they have umbilical chords.

Today is the day everyone makes a big deal out of groundhogs. Homie Bear does not begrudge the lowly groundhogs their day, since they don't have much else going for them, but at the same time he feels compelled to point out that originally this day was known as Bear's Day. You may not believe me, but it's true!
From Bears: Their Life and Behavior , by Art Wolfe:
"During medieval times, the bear became a symbol for Christ's resurrection . . . Bears were depicted holding the sarcophagus of Christ, and bear's head and bear's claw images were worked into the illumination of religious manuscripts. Candlemas, the Christian feast of lights that celebrates the purification of the infant Jesus, appears to have been based on a Roman holiday which itself derived from one of the early bear-cult rituals: bears figured prominently in the early celebrations of this day,and it is still called "Bear's Day" in parts of eastern Europe. A remnant of this persists in our own current secular Candlemas celebration, known as Groundhog Day. Originally, the creature said to come out of the den and observe its shadow on Candlemas Day was the bear, not the groundhog."

Little Orc
Running through deep, powdery snow is pretty hard work. But it's fun. Yesterday I ran (part of the way) to the grocery store, leaving all the rush hour gridlocked cars stuck in the blizzard in my snowdust. Wearing my trusty old Merrells, and ample winter gear, it was actually quite pleasant. It brought back some good memories for me, in fact.
When I first read Lord of the Rings, way back when I was but a cub, one of the many, many things that stood out to me was the orc-chase in The Two Towers. Gimli, Aragorn and Legolas after the orcs who took Merry and Pippin. "Let's hunt some orc!" Obviously the three heroes were pretty noble and brave, chasing after all those orcs like that. But then again, that's what they do- be noble and brave. For some reason, the thought of those orcs running day and night without stopping really made an impression on me. They weren't motivated by some higher purpose like rescuing loved ones in peril. Rather, they seemed to be running just because they could. Though now Legolas informs us they run "as though the very whips of their masters were upon them", so maybe they were motivated by fear. Still, to my young mind, I thought those orcs had at least one admirable trait- they could run like hell. So whenever I felt like running, especialy through snow when it's so much harder, I would always pretend I was one of those orcs. Not the Elf, not Aragorn, nor even Gimli, but an orc.
I was a little orc, running for no other reason than that I could.

Not to be morbid, but given the choice, I would rather die at the hands of a grizzly than be struck by lightning. Seems more fitting. Yet, according to this National Geographic special on grizzlies that I saw, you are far more likely to be struck by lightning than eaten by a bear.
So I started wondering, just what exactly are my odds of death by Thor vs death by Ursis?
I didn't find any actual Vegas-type numbers, but I found out some interesting things. In BC, for example, between 1969 and 1997, there were 133 people killed by animals, with a nearly 50-50 split between wild and domesticated animals. Horses were responsible for 47 deaths, while bears killed 19. So did moose, actually, though those were all as a result of a car crash. And bugs killed 16 people. Who'da thought bugs were almost as lethal as bears? But by "bugs" I mostly mean bees and hornets. Here you can see a map of BC along with a graphic showing each animal-caused fatality. Just scroll to the bottom.
On more general terms, in the 1990s, bears caused on average about 3 deaths a year in North America. Lightning, on the other hand, killed 1318 people between 1980 and 1995 in the United States, or an average of 82 a year. Wow. I couldn't find any statistics about how many bears were struck by lightning, though I did find some far more disturbing things- between 1971 and 1996, there were 639 documented grizzly deaths, of which 627 were caused by humans.
So what it all boils down to is, a bear is far more likely to be killed by a human than the other way around. No surprise there, unfortunately. So, I guess being both bear and human, I have something like a billion percent chance of dying at the hands of my own kind.

A pyramid of bears! That you can knock down. But don't worry, they are not hurt. Hee hee look at them go! Yay!

Cool, take a look at this:

create your own visited country map
or write about it on the open travel guide
I have a lot of work to do, looks like.
And then there's this:

create your own visited States map
or write about it on the open travel guide

They don't have one for the Canadian provinces, but that's fine since mine would be all red anyways, except for Nunavut.

The Story of Scrapefoot the Fox and the Three Bears
Goldilocks evolved from Scrapefoot. The same site where I got this story says that originally the word for fox was mistranslated as old woman, and over the years the old was changed to young. The name Goldilocks was at first Silverhair, then Silver-locks, then Golden-Hair, and finally Goldilocks.
But there were always three bears, and that's what really matters.

Fixed!
Little did you know that I had a bit of an emergency after that last poost- I accidentally deleted my template! But luckily I was able to piece it back together using painstaking CSS Detective Skills. They could make a show about that, called CSS:Miami, or maybe CSS: Homie. I think you can hardly notice a difference, except that the hand-coded archives I have been tediously working on, primarily for my own benefit, are gone. Sigh. But the Poo is still here! So that's a relief. Long live the poo! I was a touch worried after I saw what I had done.

Remember a while back, that guy who was killed by grizzlies? Outside Magazine has a letter written by him shortly before his death. Once more I find myself admiring his idealism, but questioning his rationality. I don't think he was crazy, or stupid, just misguided, in that rose-colored-glasses sort of way.

It is late, and I have to work in the morning, but my heart was so warmed by Little Green Jellybean today that I had to poost something in honor of it. It is so cold that warming my heart is quite a feat. LGJ started both times today, despite not being plugged in (for you warm-weather wusses, cars in such cold climates as ours come equipped with plug-in block heaters, so that your engine block and the oil in it is not completely frozen when you need it). I think the temperature was a fairly steady -32C all day today, as repoorted by the U of A, and though it had to struggle a bit, my trusty car (with its new battery) came through yet again. I was proud. I would nominate it for car of the year or something, but those awards don't really exist. Wait, yes they do! I give them out. The Award for Most Best Car Ever Built, as well as Award for Car Most Not Afraid of the Cold Ever goes to . . . Little Green Jellybean!
I will sure be sad when I sell it later in the year.

Very, very sad.

Cecilia Ann was a strange girl who sat next to me in English class. She always listened to really loud Rock Music on her walkman and the teacher just let her do it- he was scared of her I think. Maybe it was because she insisted he call her Velouria. Allison, who sat behind me, didn't like her at all. "Is She Weird, or what?" she would ask me. Ana would always come to her defense, though. "Leave her alone," she would say, "she's been All Over the World."
I didn't get involved, since I was too busy reading our assignment, a short story called "Dig For Fire". It was about this little girl who always Went Down to the Well. One day she came back and never spoke again, though no one knew why, so they just referred to it as The Happening. I was Blown Away by the story, but the truth is, it didn't make much sense to me. I did my class report on it, but I did an "interpretive" presentation where all I did was jump up and down in a toga and Hang Wire from the ceiling. I got an F, so I went outside in the Stormy Weather, feeling sorry for myself. I decided I would run away to Havalina, but I never did.

If anyone has any idea what I'm talking about, you win a prize.

TheLogo had a pretty good poost about one of the most important things in life- taking it easy. Since it happened to guest-star me, it was even more poofound.
I like going barefoot. I also like picking things up with my toes. Bears have fairly good motor skills and can manipulate objects, but of course it's monkeys who are the most adept at using their toes.
Anyways, today as I picked something up from the floor, revelling in my simian abilities, I realized that if I ever should one day attain the position of CEO of a major corporation, one of the first things I would do is send this memorandum:

MEMO
TO ALL STAFF:

It has come to my attention that lower back pain is a major cause of chronic discomfort and fatigue, as well as inducing irritability. Henceforth, I would like you all to limit your need to ever stoop down to pick something up. Further, I would like to institute a policy of going barefoot at all times while here at work. Sort of like Hobbits, or monkeys. That way, you can learn to use your toes to pick things up and save yourself much damage to your dorsal areas. This policy will take effect immediately.
Thank you and good day.
HOMIE BEAR

Actually, probably the FIRST memo I would send would be the one granting extended poo-breaks to all employees. It would probably go something like this:

MEMO
TO ALL STAFF:
I'm sure there was a study done at some point in time that showed that some of our most creative and deep thinking comes while sitting on the toilet. In fact, just the other day I was having a poo and I realized that I should encourage all of our employees to feel free to take extended poo-breaks in order to foster creativity. So it shall be, from this day forward.
Good pooing!
HOMIE BEAR

I thought it was time to write something about Norse Gods. A little more serious than Homie Bear's regular stuff.

Ragnarok

Old gods have known their fate
since they were young gods
To die at the hands of their enemies
at Ragnarok
But they await that day
joyfully
For all that matters to old gods
and young gods
and even their enemies
Is to meet that fate steadfastly
and with valour

When you have recurring dreams is it the same dream exactly, like watching the same movie? Or do the same themes recur, but different scenes and stuff? I don't think I've evr had any identically recurring dreams, but I have noticed some themes that keep popping up. Like, for some reason, every now and then I'll dream that I'm back in school, either high school or university, and there will be one class that I just didn't go to, and didn't do any of the homework, either. I just ignored it. Then the semester ends and I'm kind of screwed.
Or on Thursday night I dreamt that I had already given that talk I did yesterday, and then later I tried to remember what I said and since I couldn't, I thought I had forgotten to go, or something like that. The details are fuzzy, now. I don't know what that says about me.
Oh well, other times I dream about being an X-Man or an Oiler. Maybe an X-Oiler, with the mutant power of being able to score 100 goals in one season. Maybe in one game.

I spoke over at the U of A today, just a little talk. I spoke on losing your way, I guess. Gotthammer Mike came along, at my request, in order to play the G-Version of Jesus Loves Me. I think that was my favorite part.
Lots of G-oodness lately, actually, since Gotthammer and I had supper and a smoke last night, and then I met Rustyangel to physically clean the G, which was not as painful as my recurring nightmares had led me to believe, and then, just because, we dropped in on Blu to watch some hockey. Oilers lost, but Rusty and Blu were so pleased to be in my presence that I don't even know if they noticed.
Luckily all my friends have their own webpage.

Special Happy Contest of Joy!!!!!!!!!

I just had a great idea for a great contest. See, I was listening to St. Anger and thinking I wish I had tickets to go to the Metallica concert in March, but it is sold out.
So . . . I thought I would hold a contest. A Special Happy Contest of Joy, in fact.
Win a trip to see Metallica in Edmonton (or Calgary, I suppose) with Homie Bear!!! Yay! The rules are simple - just procure two tickets to the concert, give one to me, and I will declare you the Winner and Supreme Champion of Special Happy Contests of Joy.
Not open to residents of Quebec, though family members are more than welcome to enter.

Another non-rhymey poem for you:

Sasquatch

You prowl in the night
Hidden and unseen
No one knows if you're real
And if you are
are you friendly?
Or mean?
You don't eat bears do you?
I hope not
And I hope you can levitate
and turn invisible
and heal sickness with a glance
But maybe that's only if you're Russian

Here is a poem of the sort I don't usually write, in that it doesn't rhyme, but I had a flash of inspiration as I was walking in my front door for some reason. Don't take it personally if you're one of my IM friends, it's not about anyone real.

LOL

Why do I type LOL
when you don't even make me smile?
I guess I don't want to hurt your feelings
But I thought of you today
at work
When a customer made a stupid joke
And I said "LOL"

I knew it!
Humans are a type of bear! Well, maybe not quite. But according to this book gabrielle got me for Christmas, the reason bears never settled in Africa is because the ecological niche they usually occupy was already taken by humans.
The book is called Bears: Their Life and Behavior , by Art Wolfe (a book about bears by a wolfe- how ironic. That's like if I wrote a book about wolves. A paradox, you might say), and has tons of beautiful pictures of bears. You should really get it, though it has inexplicably gone out of print so you will probably have to go to a used bookstore to get your copy.
Here is what he says about African bears: "By all rights [Africa] should have bears. Where are they?
"There is no confirmed answer to this question, but there are the beginnings of concensus behind a provocative hunch. There are no bears in Africa, most ecologists now believe, because they evolved too late, and when they arrived their niche was already full. The creature that had filled it was a descendant of ancient insectivores that had grown considerably and had lost most of its body hair. It was, in short, us. We are the bears of Africa: large omnivores on plantigrade feet, eaters of the same food, fillers of the same ecological niche. Brothers under the hairy skin. We owe our evolutionary lives to the fact that bears were slow to spread past the Equator. Perhaps this is a debt we should begin at last to find the courtesy to repay."
And here is a nice link that Blu sent me about our generous brothers.

So, David "Faramir" Wenham can play a good badass, as seen in Dust. Never heard of it? Let me describe it for you. It's a cowboy western, only it's set in Macedonia. And present day New York. It's narrated by an old white lady, but then later by a young black guy. Lots of shooting, some corrupt cops who might have been loansharks dressed as cops, and a couple of airplanes. It's kind of weird.
Not like Band of Brothers, which is just quality cinema that everyone should watch at their earliest convenience. Really, I can't say enough about it. Feel free to click on the above link to order me a copy of the DVD set ;) And here is HBO's (what does HBO stand for, anyways? It's a mystery, that's for sure) official page.

Russian sasquatches.
"Some researchers believe that people's hairy neighbors can not only hypnotize, but also levitate, become invisible or cure any diseases with a glance. There are even more fantastic hypotheses saying that yetis are wood-goblins, demons or some beings from the parallel world. Unfortunately, there is not single evidence proving any of the fantastic suggestions. "
It was an interesting and thought-provoking article until the subject moved away from Russian Sasquatches to Invisible Flying Sasquatches from Dimension X!

I mentioned a while back that Homie Bear had to go and get himself a job, against his better judgement. Now that it's been a month or so, I can tell you a bit about it- I am working at a video store. It's alright. I don't know how well I'm doing, though. Apparently my customer service is a little shaky, though I can't figure out why. Let me walk you through a typical day.

Customer 1: Hi! Do you have Seabiscuit?
Homie Bear: No, but we do have The Bear, I think you will like it a lot.
Customer 1: Uh, it's just that, my daughter really likes horses . . .
HB: The Bear has bears in it, your daughter loves bears, right?
Customer 1: Yeah . . . no thank you.

Customer 2: Excuse me, do you know when Secondhand Lions is coming out?
HB: No, but Brother Bear is coming March 2nd.
Customer 2: Can't you check your computer to see what it says?
HB: All it says is that Brother Bear is coming March 2nd. Want me to order you a copy?
Customer 2: No, that's alright.

Customer 3: Hi, I called about reserving a copy of Bad Boyz II?
HB: Yes, here you go.
Customer 3: What's this? It's not Bad Boyz II.
HB: It's Bad News Bears. It's not really about bears, but baseball. You might still like it though.
Customer 3: But, I don't want Bad News Bears, I want Bad Boyz II. Do you have it in?
HB: No, not really.
Customer 3: . . . maybe I'll check Blockbuster.

Customer 4 (a sweet old lady): Hello there. I'm wondering if you can recommend to me a good family movie.
HB: Yes I have just the thing- it's over here in our Horror section.
Customer 4: Oh no, not horror, I don't like those movies.
HB: It's not actually a horror at all- that must have been some sort of filing error. It's called Grizzly. Here you go.
Customer 4: It says here that a grizzly is on the loose and killing people one by one.
HB: Yes, it's quite cute.
Customer 4 backs away and leaves.

Now that I have come full-circle on that whole Viking Trail, starting off on vikings, and naturally moving on to talking about Legolas and Gimli and Iceland and glaciers and Norse Mythology and X-Men and Canadian Superheroes and medicine men and hitch-hiking, I am now at a bit of a loss as to what to blog about. I mean, I pretty much covered everything there is.
But then I read this. And these.
I was shocked to discover that my friends think I am some sort of raging maniac ready to snap at the slightest provocation.
Blu says: "he appeared to be getting reasonably frustrated at this idiot beside him who wouldn?t let him in." Now, I was not getting frustrated. If at any time I feel like the dingus next to me is an annoyance I just speed up and pass him. In fact I was in a rather relaxed mood, content to allow the moron next to me to do whatever it is that morons do. Leisurely I glanced over at said dimwit, and look! It was Blu! Yay! I like seeing my friends around town. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, although that is pretty much how a bear always feels anyways.
Oh yeah, and I would also like to retort to gabrielle, who said this:
"I think I might have been close to reaching [Homie's boiling point] last night during the Sasquatch ?discussion?."
Let me explain. She was reading my blog, and said to me, "What's with this fear of sasquatches you have?" at which point I launch into an earnest and revealing look into my deepest fears and vulnerabilities, and after a while I realize gabrielle is making that face that people make when they are trying hard not to laugh. You know, their mouth is curling up into a smile so they force it down into a neutral line, but the effect is more of a crinkling thing and anyways their eyes tell no lies, so you can totally tell.
So I start to cry, not mad at all, but rather wounded to the core of my soul, and then she laughs even harder. Even the cat was laughing. It sill pains me to think about it.
But I have reached deep down into my inner reservoir of strength and charity and have forgiven both cat and gab for their blatant insensivity.

Hitch-hiking has always held a fascination for me. Maybe because one time when I was five years old, my Dad and I were driving out to BC so he could help his friend build a house, and our car broke down, so we had to hitch-hike the rest of the way.
So when I got my own car (LGJ) I made sure to pick up hitch-hikers all the time.
I liked the guys who were talkers, who had stories. The ones who just sat and stared, or slept, were disappointing. Same when I was a hitch-hiker, I liked the rides who talked. But I always cued into my ride, talking if they were into it, keeping quiet if that's what they preferred.
Once I was driving out to Saskatoon, and I picked up this guy, and we just clicked. He was a middle-aged native fellow from a BC reservation. So demographically we weren't that similar, but once I put in the Creedence (the universal hitchers' soundtrack) and we were singing at the top of our lungs, we bonded. I even took a picture of him by the big plaster bull in Radville.
I think my favorite experience on the passenger side of things was in Newfoundland. I was leaving St. John's headed for the Viking Trail (Yay vikings! See? Full circle. I wonder how Legolas and Gimli are doing?) and this guy picked me up. We drove together for six hours, with hardly a pause in our conversation. His name was Sean. He was heading to Port-Aux-Basques to attend a funeral. So he had the entire length of Newfoundland to go. As we got near to Cornerbrook, it was dark and there were many moose on the road. In fact we came across some devastation as two moose, a cow and her calf, had been hit and killed, and the people in the car were in bad shape too. Sean turned to me and said, "The roads are getting dangerous, want to stop in Cornerbrook for the night?"
I agreed, and I got to watch Newfoundland hospitality in action. Sean came unannounced to his brother's girlfriend's cousin's house and explained who he was and how he was connected, and next thing we knew we were long-lost family welcome for all time. Sean and I went out to a pub and had a beer and shot some pool, and continued our conversation.
"How you like Newfoundland?" he asked me, deep into our third or fourth beer. I told him the honest truth, I absolutely loved it. Loved it. Then, he pulls out his Zippo and shows it to me. It had the Newfoundland Coat-of-Arms on it.
"Here," he says, "I want you to have this. To remember Newfoundland by, and me."
Next morning he dropped me off on the Viking Trail, and went on his way. A few days later when I was in Port-Aux-Basques I called him up and he came and got me and showed some more of the famous Newfoundland hospitality. Later, at Christmas, when I was back home, he called me up to make sure I made it home alright. He was a good guy. I always wanted to keep in touch with him, but you know how that goes.
I still have the Zippo, though. It's been everywhere with me- China, Tibet, Alaska, New York, Mexico. I have quite a few souvenirs from all my trips (gastrointestinal organisms included), but that Zippo is my very favorite.

I brought all kinds of interesting stuff home from China the first time I went, back in 2000: three little kitchen gods that were a present from a family I met; bamboo bookmarks; some bootleg CD's; a Mandarin Manson suit, and some sort of intestinal troubles. If I had had this blog back then it could have been called "Pooing All The Time".
Shortly after I got back, I drove out to Hinton. On the way I spotted a hitch-hiker. He had long, grey hair, a buckskin jacket with frills and he was carrying some sort of pouch- not a backpack, exactly, and it had plants sticking out of it. So of course I stopped and picked him up.
He was the medicine man I mentioned yesterday. As we talked he explained that he had studied medicine under the guidance of some elderly First Nations fellows, and he was one of the few practicing white medicine men around. Turns out he knew my grandparents, who ran a health food store out in Hinton, there being some overlap in the realms of health food and native medicine.
I decided I would mention my tummy troubles, to see what he had to say. Turns out he had just the thing- he had picked some plants the week before out near Rocky Mountain House that were good for that sort of thing. So when I dropped him off at his house, he invited me in and got me some of the plant. He gave it to me uncut, and explained that my Grandpa would be able to grind it up so that I could make tea out of it. In payment he just said next time I was around I could bring him a pouch of tobacco.
The stuff seemed to help, though I wasn't quite the same all year, until, ironically, I returned to China and it cleared up a bit. The tea tasted pretty good, too. I never did get him his pouch of tobacco, though. Seems like bad medicine. Maybe I'll bring him something else, some day. A Chinese remedy or something.

So I found those comics I was talking about yesterday. And the story arc was actually started in a two-issue series called X-Men and Alpha Flight. Including them, I have all four still. Yay!
Now, you might be saying, "X-Men? I remember them from such movies as X-Men and X2. But Alpha Flight? What's that? Is it like Alpha Bits?"
Nope, Alpha Flight were Canada's very own team of superheroes. Not being totally up on current comics culture, I have no idea if they still exist or not, but they were never exactly popular, so I would be surprised if they do.
Keep in mind that the coolest of all superheroes is Canadian. Wolverine hails from here- where he fights in cage matches in the rough-and-tumble bars of Northern Alberta, according to the first movie. Hugh Jackman is actually Australian, but that's ok. At least he is still a Commonwealther.
The other Canucks aren't quite so kickass. Let's see, we have:
Guardian, and later his wife, Vindicator: They had a special suit that looked like the Canadian flag, sort of, and it enabled them to fly and be strong.
Aurora and Northstar, twins from Quebec. They say things like "Sacre-mere!" and can fly. Not really sure what else they can do, or if they are seperatists or not.
Puck. An acrobatic dwarf, but not really like Gimli, though he may be from Gimli, Manitoba. The only thing stereotypically Canadian about him is his name, which doesn't seem to have anything to do with anything.
Sasquatch: Long time readers of the Woods will know of the lingering fascination/ fear I have of sasquatches. But Walter Langkowski is not scary at all- he is a scientist, but when he needs to he can transform into some sort of orangey colored monster. A sasquatch, apparently.
Shaman, and his daughter Snowbird. Shaman is a medicine man, and I don't really know what Snowbird can do, since she spends all of the X-Men/Alpha Flight series sick and withering away because of something Loki was doing. The only medicine man I've ever met in real life was white, but they do still exist. But still, it seems kind of predictable. Oh well, at least they didn't all wear toques and live in igloos, and say things like "It's up to us to save the world, eh! So let's get oot and aboot and kick some hoser arse!"

Did you know the X-Men went to Asgard once? Probably more than once, actually, but I remember one time particularly. It was the first X-Men comic I had ever read, but it didn't make any sense to me since it was part 2 of a story, so all these unfamilair people were wandering around getting themselves out of the messes they had got into the issue before. But once I tracked down part 1, it became my favorite comic story ever- though a lot of that has to do with nostalgia, and the fact it had to do with Norse gods, even if it was the Marvelized version. I think I still have the issues in my collection, somewhere.
Here is a link that explains the story and has a picture. It's a Geocities page so if you don't have a popup blocker there might be havoc. But no dogs of war, or Garms, or Gronds, hopefully.

Ragnarok
After the ice storm yesterday, I was thinking Ragnarok was nigh. But today it is more like Ragnamuck out there. Very muddy.
Actually, Ragnarok will be preceded by a super-long winter called Fimbulvetr, which will last for three years. At the end of Fimbulvetr, the great wolf Skoll will devour the sun while his brother Hati eats the moon. Once that happens, chaos breaks out.
Now let me back up a bit. Skoll might be a big bad star-eating wolf, but the baddest of the wolves is Fenris, the son of Loki and the giantess Angrboda. It was prophesied that Fenris would destroy the world, so the gods decided to lock him up. Only Fenris didn't really want to be locked up, so the gods had to use trickery and deceit. Fenris could break any chains that held him, so the gods commisioned the dwarves to forge a magical chain, which was woven of six seperate threads: the footsteps of a cat, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear (hey!), a woman's beard, a fishies' breath, and a bird's spittle. This chain was called Gleipnir.
The gods were talking smack to Fenris, saying he was too weak to break free from Gleipnir. Fenris accepted the challenge, but since he was no dummy, he demanded that the gods give him a token of goodwill- he wanted one of them to put a hand in his jaw. If there was any trickery he would chomp off the hand. So Tyr, the god of war and the only god who really liked Fenris, agreed. And when Fenris couldn't break free of Gleipnir, he bit off Tyr's hand.
So all of that is to say, that when the earth started shaking after the destruction of the sun and moon, Gleipnir was finally broken and a very-pissed Fenris started fulfilling his destiny. Not only that, but Jormungand, the Midgard Serpent, sworn enemy of Thor, starts to make his slow and slimy way to shore, poisoning land and sky with his foul breath as he goes.
The boiling sea frees the ship Naglfar, commanded by the giant Hymir and full of angrygiants. A second ship under the command of Loki sets sail from the underworld, carrying the inhabitants of hell. As if that wasn't bad enough, Surt and the fire giants leave Muspelheim to join the battle. Surt's sword is made of flame and scorches the earth as he walks.
Heimdall sounds his great horn, calling the Aesir to battle. Odin engages Fenris, Thor takes on Jormungand and a hundred other battles all take place. Fenris devours Odin, and Vidar his son kills Fenris, while Thor is victorious against the Midgard Serpent, but suffers a mortal wound which poisons him slowly to death.
Poor old one-handed Tyr fights Garm, the Norse equivalent of Cerebus ( instead of three heads he has four eyes), and they both die.
Then Surt starts flinging fire everywhere from his sword, and everyone dies. Well, two humans live and rebuild afterwards, but who really cares about them?
All this is foretold and the gods each know their fate, yet they eagerly await the day when they can engage the forces of chaos in the final battle.

I hope Elijah Wood isn't in town today- ice storms tend to be bad for his health. And there is a monstrous ice storm going on right now here in Edmonton. Probably caused by Frost Giants. Damn Frost Giants. I went to work at 9 this morning and it the freezing rain had already started, and it didn't stop all day. When I went to start my car at 5, I first had to scrape off a goodly layer of ice (1 cm or so) that was coated all over my car. And the roads are bad too. All slippy-slidey. It's the kind of night when you should really stay at home and read Fantastic Four comics or watch movies starring various LOTR cast members, such as The Ice Storm or The Gift, which I rented today and stars Cate Blanchett. Unfortunately it also has Keanu Reeves so we will see how it is.
But it is pretty out there- a good night for photography if you are good at that. So if you do decide to venture out today, just make sure you don't go sit on any guard rails.

Here is a 3D rendering of a small portion of Vatnajökull Glacier. Pretty cool.
You can see why those vikings came up with the best mythology ever. Frost giants? Totally believable when you're looking at the Vatnajökull.
Frost giants were the sworn enemy of the Norse gods, among whom were Odin, Thor and Loki. They were said to live in Jotunheim, a freezing, icy wasteland full of mountains near the sea. Iceland, in other words. Jotunheim.
There were fire giants, too, led by Surt (or Surtr), who will destroy the world some day. The volcanos of Iceland undoubtedly helped the Norse to picture the fiery realm of Muspelheim.

Like Legolas and Gimli, I too have a desire to explore Iceland. Though perhaps less so now that I have just learned that there aren't ANY bears there! I'm not really sure how that happened- I thought it would be prime polar bear territory. Maybe King Snowfrost ate his real estate agent last time out and never learned about Iceland. Maybe I will have to go and claim it in the name of Bear-kind.
Iceland's main industry seems to be ethereal music, as in Björk and Sigur Ros, but there is some beatiful scenery there. I would love to check out Reykjavik, the capital, as well as Myvatn Lake, the Vatnajökull Glacier, Skutastadir, and Skaftafell National Park. They have the coolest place names in Iceland. Grímsvötn Volcano. I love that one. I think Gimli must have named it.
Here's a very cool satellite photo of Vatnajökull Glacier, which is a monster.

In Appendix B of The Lord of the Rings, there is a timeline called the Tale of Years, which details the chronology of the Westlands, especially of the War of the Ring. The very last entry is in 1541 Shire Reckoning, or 122 years after Aragorn's coronation. Here is the entry in full:

"In this year on March 1st came at last the Passing of King Elessar. It is said that the beds of Meriadoc and Peregrin were set beside the bed of the great king. Then Legolas built a grey ship in Ithilien, and sailed down Anduin and so over Sea; and with him, it is said, went Gimli the Dwarf. And when that ship passed an end was come in Middle-earth of the Fellowship of the Ring."

What happens after that is a bit of a mystery, but I think I can fill in a few blanks.
Gimli and Legolas must have landed in Iceland at some point, and become vikings. Then they sailed over to Newfoundland and settled in L'Anse aux Meadows for a while, and then they hitch-hiked east to the Prairies, settling at last on the shores of Lake Winnipeg and founding a village which they named after Gimli. Maybe Legolas was too humble or perhaps Gimli too proud, but either way it is the Dwarf's name, and not Leggy's, which adorns the town to this day.
And then they put up a little mini-Argonath, perhaps in memory of King Elessar. Or maybe they watched Ralph Bakshi's version of LOTR and decided to commemorate Boromir.

Selkie has a new page design, and it looks great. It has a viking theme, which automatically bumps her into the upper echelon of cool bloggers. I am at the top of that list, of course.
Then Adrian mentioned in her comments that he thought he had heard that the vikings had once settled parts of North America. Since he is from New Zealand, he was understandably a little unclear on his facts. Actually, though I once hitch-hiked a small part of the Viking Trail in Newfoundland, I am also a little fuzzy on the particulars. So I decided I would do some research, since that is the Viking Way. To the library! Pillage! Burn! Rarrrggghhh!
Actually I just googled it, and this is what I found: a quiz, apparently! It seemed like exactly what I was looking for, what with all the questions it asked, such as "Who were they? When did they come to Newfoundland? Where did they live in Newfoundland?" But it turns out that there are no answers.
But this page turned out to be a little more helpful. The vikings came about 1000 years ago and settled briefly on the Great Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland, which may also be called St. Anthony's Peninsula, I think. And that's about it, really.
Damn vikings.

Ow! My Mighty Claw of Sharpness!
Homie Bear has been quite lucky in that he has never broken a bone, and never bothered to go get stitches for anything. No major diseases or comas or anything like that. But today I stubbed my big toe and broke the nail and made a bunch of blood and purpley stuff appear underneath it. It's okay though- I can still walk, and I don't think I will need to ampootate. But if you feel like sending sympathy cards and presents, by all means feel free. Send to:
Homie Bear
c/o The Woods
Canada, P0O 0P0

Gabrielle is currently doing a survey of LOTR cast members' past and future lives. Not in a reincarnation-wheel-of-life way, but just poosting on movies, before and after, that some of the cast have made. If you're looking for some good "sorta lotra" stuff to watch then you can go read the results of her research.
Here is my own little variation of the game, which is "What actors have acted with two or more LOTR actors in different movies?" Sort of a six degrees of seperation thing.
So far the list is a short one, and not necessarily exhaustive since I am going off the top of my head:
Johnny Depp: With Orlando Bloom in Pirates of the Caribbean, and Cate Blanchett in The Man Who Cried.
Ewan McGregor: With Christopher Lee in Attack of the Clones, and Orlando Bloom in Blackhawk Down.
Famke Janssen: With Elijah Wood in The Faculty, and Ian McKellen in X-Men and X2.
Josh Hartnett: With Elijah Wood in The Faculty, and Orlando Bloom in Blackhawk Down.
Harrison Ford: With Viggo Mortenson in The Witness, and John Rhys-Davies in Raiders of the Lost Ark/ Last Crusade.

Can you imagine if you were snorkelling in some exotic paradise, azure sea, white beaches and green palms all about, and then five hours later you find yourself in a sub-arctic deep-freeze? No blues or greens anywhere, but a whole lot of white. Wouldn't that be terrible? And yet I know someone who is in this very situation as I write, and for some reason, rather than feel bad for him, I am laughing heartily. "Hahaha," I say.
Papa Bear comes back from Mexico today. When he left Edmonton two weeks ago it was a very mild winter, but now it is a whole 'nother story. C-O-L-D.
I hope he brought me something cool.

Commentary
Last week I finally got around to watching Adaptation. I really liked it. But I think it's only a matter of time before some screenwriter pens a movie called Commentary. It will be about a director doing the commentary track on his Special Edition DVD, and of course there will be this subtext of commentary on the world situation as a whole. That may be going too far.
For the most part I don't really care about director or cast and crew commentary. But over the last few days gabrielle and I have been watching bits and pieces of the cast commentary of the Lord Of The Rings Extended Edition Digital Video Discs (LOTREEDVD's for short) and they are pretty funny. For a variety of reasons. Billy Boyd and Dominic Monaghan are truly funny guys. Ian McKellen is a stately craftsman. Brad Dourif has an entirely over-inflated sense of Wormtongue's value to the movies. And Sean Astin is . . . knowledgeable might be the most charitable way of putting it. But anyways, if you own the DVD's, and haven't really bothered with the commentary before now, they are definitely worth a watch. Or listen, I guess. And Peter Jackson is quite entertaining as well, very wry. If they ever do make a movie called Commentary, I'd want him to direct it.

Homie Bear doesn't really make New Year's Resolutions, and besides, what kind of resolutions does a bear need to make? I resolve to eat less people; I resolve to poo more; I resolve to spend more time in the Woods. There's not much there. Bears are basically perfect to begin with. But maybe I should resolve to blog less.

1974 was a good year because Homie Bear was born. It may even go down in history as one of the greatest years for that very reason.
1984 was a good year because the Oilers won their first Stanley Cup; it reminded everyone of George Orwell's 1984; and probably some other good stuff, too.
1994 was a good year because that was the year I bought Little Green Jellybean; it was my second summer at the coal mine, when I really came into my own as a miner.
2004 will be a good year, too, I think.
2014, not so sure about. I'm a little suspicious of that one, frankly. I think it's up to no good.