Nightshift philosophizing.

The traditional May blizzard came last night, and as I was mesmerized by the giant puffy snowflakes tunneling down past the halogens, and forgetting if I was on my second or third (or fourth!) bucket for that truck, a difference of 80 tons per so it's kind of important, my mind wandered to the subject of mutation. I have no trouble suspending my disbelief for the patently impossible mutations in X-Men, especially since it is such an elegant way of allowing for an unlimited number of superhumans with any power you can dream up while simultaneously doing away with the necessity of inventing a secret origin for each. Dude shoots lasers out of his eyes? Cool. The blue lady can shapeshift? I love it. No need to give me the genomes and allotype mumbojumbo, I just accept it. My trouble is with real-life mutations.
Obviously mutations occur, but I'm not sure I'm buying into the whole business of evolution being driven by mutations randomly caused by radiation and whatnot. Even given a few billion years, I'm not convinced it's enough. Nor do I propose that God is behind it all. I think that the DNA code comes equipped with some mechanism or sensor to allow for periods of "deliberate" mutation. How else do you explain the sudden and explosive species radiation after each mass extinction event? When an ecological niche comes available, a species immediately (in geological terms) fills it. Therefore I think that DNA, possibly in the "junk" portion, contains some sensor, much like a lightpost senses when it is dark enough to turn on, that switches on a mechanism to allow for spontaneous mutations. Perhaps a biomass sensor with chemical cues- when there are not enough lifeforms emitting scents and other molecules, the DNA starts coding for mutations, random mistakes in the duplication of DNA strands, and some of them are successful and start a new species line. Well, with no genetical training and no empirical evidence whatsover, that's what I came up with at 2:30 AM.
And another thing- aren't we all mutants? What's the difference between a mutation and a trait (not the right word I know)? When does a mutation become a trait?
Things to think about while you watch X3, or load 260 ton trucks on nightshift.


On another note, because I was at work last night, I only got to hear the game, so I haven't seen any actual visuals to go with my Rod Phillips-induced hyper-realities. But as always, the Cosh (am I allowed to call him that?) has the best post-game. Me=broken record, I know. At least he provides some laughs to soothe the (minor) pain.

Here's some Oilers trivia that should even interest you non-fans, assuming there are any ;)
First, we start with this guy:



His name is Venom, and he is one of Spider-Man's arch-nemeses. I hope he is in the new movie but I haven't heard one way or the other. Venom doesn't care for Spider-Man.
Next we have this guy:



As the big logo says, this is Spawn. He made a deal with a devil to come back to life so he could see his wife, only he got screwed over a bit, so now he is an unwilling soldier in the battle between Heaven and Hell.
Finally, we give you this:



The Oilers alternate logo, a beautiful piece of art. All three of these icons were created by Todd McFarlane, an Alberta native (Calgary, sadly), comic book mogul, toy company founder, and part-owner of the Oilers. Or at least, he was until he was successfully sued by former NHLer Tony Twistelli for $15 million- I'm not really too sure where everything stands financially after all that mess. And for accuracy's sake, I should point out that he co-created Venom with David Michelinie, who wrote Spider-Man back when McFarlane was the artist. Cool, eh?
The Mighty Ducks logo, on the other hand, has something to do with Donald Duck and Emilio Estevez. Not quite as cool as slavering-tongued alien hybrids and hellspawns, but whatever.

Maybe it wasn't the prettiest game ever, but the bottom line is the Oilers got it done. Even after only one day off to Anaheim's seven. That Roloson flyball to Peca, who then went 5-hole on Bryzgalov, was a pretty play. Heck, I even liked Todd Harvey's empty-netter. The guy who is the spitting image of Orlando Bloom did his best Legolas impression by bullseyeing the net from center ice. After being knocked down by Orcs, no less.

Sorry for all the hockey talk lately. Well, not really- the Oilers are kicking ass! But I know it isn't the primary focus of this blog. Remember a few years ago when I was an Oilers blog pundit? It was fun but I know sportswriting isn't my primary calling- the guy who ran that blog got all mad at me when I did a fun post about the ultimate Oilers dream team and had such hall-of-famers as Jennifer Garner and the Incredible Hulk in the lineup. Oh well.

On the radio yesterday they had an enthusiatic young Oilers fan, maybe 7 or 8, giving a mighty cheer- you could just see his face bunch up, eyes squished tight as he yelled, all the words running together into one: "All you Detroit fans might as well go home now because if you wait till after the game you'll just go home crying to Detroit . . ."
The announcer very gently cuts in, "That's a great cheer! But you know it's a different series now, right? San Jose?"
"Oh sorry."
"Do you want to try again?"
"Yeah." Deep breath. "All you Detroit fans . . . "
Anyways, the San Jose fans went home crying last night too, so what difference does it really make? I was lucky to catch the third period, but I was at work for the first two. I had staticy radio, but I missed Peca's goal when I had to jump down and stem the deluge from a water hose that had jumped free of its tank. And then our crappy poobus radio didn't work, and when I tried to see if I could fix it the bus driver got all mad at me, threatened to slap my fingers and turned it off. Bit of an overreaction. Oh well. The important thing is they won! Yay!
And all you Detroit Anaheim fans might as well go home now because if you wait till after the games you'll just go home crying!

Hopefully this picture of Jupiter looks a little funny to you- because it's upside down! The amazing thing to me, though, is that it was taken just the other night from Earth. Cool, eh? Good view of the Great Red Spot. The photographer, or planetary imager, is Paul Haese from Australia. Check out some of his other works here.

And my friend Mistytang, who is Emily Weber's younger sister (you may recall the interview I did with Emily last month), drew me this rendition of the Jovian zeppelin beings of the previous poost:



Cool! And once again, for the best recap of last night's Oilers win, go see Colby Cosh! Yeah, that was Jason Smith with the topshelf game winner!

The book I just read had potential- it dealt with a classic sci-fi concept. The idea is that Jupiter could possibly support life, sort of manta ray whale-like zeppelin beings, living in the atmosphere. I've read some great stories with this concept, but alas, this book was not one of them. I could forgive the terrible dialog and stock characters, but the ending was just too ludicrously dumb. Oh well- it passed the time on our circuitous route to and from Smithers.
Speaking of circuitous routes, here is my poetic homage to Jovian aliens.

Hydrogen

My entire world is made of clouds
just sky and sky and sky and sky
I sail on the unending windcurrents
serene in silent singing meditation
never to see the same place twice
I carefully avoid the colossal storms
that rage for thousands of your years
and are twice the size of your world
these cyclones are our terrible gods
and when we die, we merge with them

But such weighty matters are for
our songs that ripple and evolve
endlessly as we call to each other
across the vast sea of clouds
these songs are our own, inscrutable
Mysteries beyond your reach
for you, I use these tiny words
fit for tiny beings on tiny worlds

You also have clouds, I am told
in a blue sky with a yellow sun
and something else besides, eery and
alien to our behemoth brains
an enigma to contemplate for eons
as we travel our circuitous routes
in wonderment we try to comprehend
that on your world, you have a surface
___________________________

The first time I ran into this idea was in a Ben Bova book, I forget the name. And does anyone happen to remember a story where the main guy was changed into a sluggy sort of creature so he could hang out on Neptune? Anyways, back to one of my favorite authors with the best name ever, Greg Bear, for The Forge of God. One of Jupiter's moons goes missing in that one.

Yay Oilers!!!!!!
What an incredible game last night/this morning, eh? Who wasn't heroic? Best first period ever. Smyth left his teeth all over the ice, Smith left Sharks all over the ice, Moreau was flying and of course Roloson, Torres and Horcoff won the game. Colby Cosh has the best recap of it anywhere on the net, so never mind the CBC or the NHL, just go read his summary.

Here's an update on that unusual bear that was killed by an American hunter- it was a grizzly/polar hybrid after all. No surprise there, polar bears are not very far removed from grizzlies on the evolutionary tree. In fact, there are grizzlies on Alaska's Admiralty Island that are genetically closer to polar bears than they are to mainland grizz.
Did you like how the article stated that "It was considered nearly impossible for the two species to mate, since polar bears mate on the ice, while grizzlies mate on land." I would presume this conclusion was drawn based on this quote from the earlier story:

"The probability of a grizzly and a polar bear mating is actually pretty low. Partly because polar bears mate on the sea ice and grizzly bears mate on the land."
(Dr. Ian Sterling)

Most people live their whole lives without going to Smithers, BC for a wedding, and I have been to two! And again, most people live their whole lives without building people out of bales of hay, and I have built two! Well, helped build, along with my father-in-law and my brother-in-law's brother-in-law and father-in-law (but not my brother-in-law). My lawful father has pointed out several times that the English language just doesn't have enough words to describe these various relationships. Nor does it have a word for people made out of haybales. How about haybillies?

"You are my blogging hero!" The wise words of my friend Susan. "I want to be a good blogger like you." Since she is also my financial advisor and hasn't steered me wrong so far, I will hereby become her blogging advisor, and dispense some blogging advice for her and anyone else who cares to listen. Here then are some of my
Do's and Do Not Do's of Blogging:

Do interest me. Tell me something new, something amazing. Talk about the things you love. Be stimulating and engaging, make me laugh. If you can do that, even inconsistently, I'll keep coming back to read your blog.
Do Not rant. Half the blogs out there are called "The Rantings of an Insane 14 Year Old Psychopathic Crazy Nut" or some such. But all ranters do is spew negative vibes out into the blogosphere. It's the textual equivalent of a farting in a crowded room- sure, you feel release, but everyone else is disgusted.
Do Not ramble. The other half of blogs are called "The Ramblings of a Boring 41 Year Old Monotonous Insomnia-Curer", and all they do is ramble on and on about who-knows-what. Even if I could figure out what they're talking about, I still won't care. If you have nothing to say, don't say anything.
Do try and be concise. This helps cut down on the rambling, and makes your blog easy to read. My friend Blarg doesn't believe in scrolling, so if he has to scroll to read your blog, you've lost him. Lots of people are like that, though perhaps not as extreme. (Blarg also doesn't believe in updating his website, either). If you're an interesting writer, though, you can get away with longer posts from time to time.
Do try and interact with your readers. They won't necessarily all interact back, but it makes it more fun for everyone when they do. The ABCs of Abominations didn't quite make it to Z, but it was still fun.
Do Not sweat it when no one responds. It can be a little disheartening to write a Homie Bear poem that I think is the funniest poem ever and then only my wife comments. But oh well, right? Not everyone is going to like what you write, and that's okay, as long as you like what you write.
Do try and learn a few basic html or CSS tricks. When I started blogging I didn't know a single word of < html >. But just from tinkering around I eventually was able to make this nice clean template, and gabrielle's layout is my latest experiment. Try to do something to change your stock blogger template to something slightly unique. Or, get someone to help you. It'll help you to stand out from the other 150 million bloggers. And make sure it's readable! Nothing is worse on my 31-year-old eyes than white text on a black background. Please don't add java doolies and auto-play mp3s and all the other doodads that are just tacky and slow down the page loading time.

There's lots more I could tell you, and feel free to ask (any of you out there), but ultimately the most important thing is your content. Try to update semi-regularly- don't go two weeks without posting, unless you're traveling or Blarg. Keep at it, and your writing will improve- you may even grow beyond making a billion silly poo puns to rediscovering a whole side of your creative self you forgot was there. That's what happened to me, anyway. Have fun!

The stereoscopic lenses included with 10,000 Days come with a dire warning to use them safely, and only for the express purpose of enhancing your enjoyment of the traditional trippy TOOL artwork, lest diabolical things occur. Which brings me waaay back to first year Geology 102 labs, using stereoscopes to study aerial photos. That was pretty trippy too, and it didn't take me long to see the potential for evil that TOOL was undoubtedly warning against- I spent the majority of the three hour lab doing my own extracurricular experiments. Pretty soon the professor popped in for a visit and hovered over my shoulder admiring my work.
"What have you here?" he asked, in his refined, 'I'm-a-millionaire-gold-mine-founding-geologist' voice.
"Oh, well, this is Superman chasing a nuclear missile, and here is a caveman shooting a pterodactyl with his bow and arrow."
He peeked into the scope to see if I had achieved the trick of getting them to appear in stereo- something which had been devilishly hard to do, but through perseverance I had (sort of) managed it.
"Isn't that something?" the professor commented, and then he wandered away.

Happy Miner's Day! You didn't know today was Miner's Day? Well, it is. So you have to buy Miner's Day cards for all the miners you know (that would be me!). They usually say something cheesy like "I dig you!" or "You are not an overburden to me!", but they are still appreciated.
Yeah, so, I should've been at work today but instead I got the day off to celebrate being a miner. And actually I'm on holidays so I have 13 days of non-miningness to savour. 13! Yay! My brother-in-law is getting married on Saturday out in Smithers, so Michelle and I will be flying there on Thursday night, and hopefully have some time to enjoy the amazing scenery in that area of the country.
Here are some more mining pics for you.
Also, today should be Oilers Day. Go Oilers!

Two more days till 10,000 Days! Also till my sister turns 30, which is 10,950 days, give or take a leap year or 8.

I like it when the Oilers win. Don't you? I know I will be liking it a lot on Monday night. Today at work I was thinking how cool it is that I am an oiler, and my team is the Oilers. Then I realized that I am also a Canuck, a Canadien and even a Bruin, and also I have a Maple Leaf tattoo. But it's still cool! I bet you're not an oiler!

An Interview With Travis Hanson On the wall above my desk is a print called The Storyteller, by Travis Hanson. I love looking at it because there is so much detail- I always notice new things. And I love the spirit of it- the joy of a good story. Some day my little bear cubs will look up at it from their crib, and be inspired to dream in Techniwonder. Travis is the artist behind The Bean's Song- Tales of the Broken Moon. He has also just started a weekly webcomic called Stardusters, so I thought I would ask him a few questions so you could get to know him better. 

 So, tell us a bit about yourself: 

  Well I am a 35 year old illustrator and father of 4. I've been married 12 years and life seems to get better each year i get older:) 

 And tell us a bit about your projects- Stardusters and Broken Moon. Star Dusters is a little pet project of mind that has been sitting in the back of my head for the last 8 years. Like the Bean it has changed form and developed into something completely different. I find it a welcome release from fantasy and it helps keep my cartooning skills in check. I am looking forward to seeing where this goes. the Broken Moon series is a much larger project. It started as a webcomic than morphed into a comic book and finally found a home in written print. Aimee Duncan and myself have really put in a lot to give the bean life. Right now we are in the midst of finishing the 1st draft to book 2. It is looking outstanding and it will really go more indepth on Bean's relationship with the sword.

How did you get started in art?

 I have been drawing since i was about 6 yet i did not become serious about my art until i was about 23. It took a swift kick in the butt from a close friend to help me really see my potential. I then spent several years looking for work and busting my hump to find jobs. I landed my first job as a cartoonist for a print shop and than spent the next several years learning my trade. 

 What tools do you use? 

  I use a wide variety - i hand draw and ink everything first than i scan the work in and do layout with photoshop, illustrator and indesign. 

 What inspires you? 

  Life and my kids 

 Do you have any tricks you do to kickstart creativity if you aren't feeling it? 

  I sketch a lot- all the time- and it's usually some minute sketch on a piece of scratch paper that kicks it all off 

 Your work has a definite vibe, or even a message- can you expand on that?

  I want people to realize that they can accomplish anything they set out to do and that imagination is only dead if they make it so. Too many people live in the world of "what if i had done this" i try to encourage people that no matter what station of life you are in that there is hope, imagination is real and everyone needs to belong.  

 What are some goals or dreams you have? 

  To finish the broken moon series:) and start another. 

 And do you have any advice for other artists? well for one keep at it, grow a thick skin and draw all the time. Stop watching tv and playing video games - they aren't bad they just take away from an artist time that can be used to create. 

 Other artists you admire?

  jeff smith author of bone, and many others that you find at deviantart. I also admire the work of my uncle, mother and grandmother 

 Your uncle, mother and grandmother are artists too? What do they do? 

  my mother is a painter(china painter) and doll maker- my uncle is a classic car and abstract painter and my great grandmother was an oil painter- though her work is hard to find in the family:) 

 Finally, what is your favorite kind of bear? 

  grizzly 

 Thanks Travis! Support the Bean! Copies of his prints and the Broken Moon book can be purchased at Bean Leaf Press.

An unknown type of bear was killed by a rich American in the NWT. "Look! Something unique! Shoot it!" Thanks to Phil for the link. If anyone finds a photo please let me know.

Hockey Hockey Hockey Starts With E*
My chiropractor, who also happens to be my friend Travis's fiance, casually mentioned that she and Trav are going to the game tonight. Lucky! Playoff tickets are worth more than gold, or even oil around here. I considered making a call to Travis in a fake chiropractic falsetto- "Hello, Travis? This is your fiance, you know, the chiropractor? Anyways, I can't go to the game tonight because I have to chiropractice, so I think you should take Homie Bear. Okay, gotta go- enjoy the game and remember to maintain proper posture."
The only playoff game I've ever been to was Game 4 of the Oilers/Avalanche series in 1998 when they beat Colorado in 7- but lost Game 4. I went with my good buddy Rob who I haven't seen for five or six years since this afternoon! I was at the university today and I ran into him! Hey buddy!
Rob and I were in geology together back in the day. Glorious Slacker Days! Remember when we were in Field School and started the daily tradition of jumping in the Athabasca after supper? Everyone thought we were nuts, yet we baptized new converts every day. Or how about that camping trip we went on because we didn't have any finals and everyone else did? Did that ever suck! Hiking through all that snow, trying to warm up with Sterno cans, putting on frozen hiking boots in the morning. Well, it had its moments though- the cigar at Whitehorse after we limped back to the car. And going back to Hinton to watch hockey. After that trip we went and bought those playoff tickets and vowed never to go winter camping again (not really).
Well, time to go- Hockey Night in Canada is starting.

* sing with a Cookie Monster voice, to the tune of C is for Cookie

Some day I'll design a Homie Bear board game- it'll have Zombears, Robot bears, telepathic Yeti Crabs, Bullerinas, Apocalyptic Cult Leaders That Promote Violence, Plasma Dragons and all sorts of great characters that have popped in and out of the Woods over the years. It will be set here in the Woods, of course, and you'll have to collect more poo-points than anyone else to win! Yeah! Until that great day, I'll have to settle for Hold 'em, Carcassone and Star Munchkin (or Spacey Munchy as we call it).
But when I'm ready, I'll be sure to look up The Journal of Board Game Design. Interesting blog- but it would be way cooler if he did his template up like a board game.

A new dinosaur has been identified in Argentina- a huge T-Rex-like carnosaur that hunted in packs and probably liked to munch on Argentinosaurus. Actually it's an old dinosaur- Mapusaurus roseae was found in a 90 million-year-old stratum, making it older than T-Rex by about 30 million years. My alma mater's own Dr. Philip Currie helped excavate and name it.
Here's a picture of its skull. Thanks to Papa Bear for the heads-up.

Check out the blog redesign I did for gabrielle. I commissioned deviantArt's Nashya to do a bust of the vampirenomad, and she did a stunning job. The rest was just a matter of matching up the colors, and finding a way to keep the links without cluttering everything up (I won't tell you how I did that!). Nice, eh? It's my late late birthday/Christmas gift to her. Actually, by now it's more like an early early b-day/xmas gift!

In honor of Rob Zombie's new CD and zombies in general, Homie Bear proudly presents :

Lair of the ZomBear

Deep in the Woods, where it's all overgrown
There lurks a menace, unseen and unknown
Rotting flesh comes together in hideous dread
An army arises of animal undead!
Poor Homie Bear is fishing, quite unaware
That he's stumbled on the lair of the Fell Zombie Bear
"Grurp" Homie belched, as he spit out the bones
of the trout he had caught, into the pine cones
So he turned around and went back to fishing
Not hearing the bones make sounds of gut-squishing
The zombie fish pounced and Homie Bear yelped
As zombie fish scales smeared all over his pelt
Gross! Homie yelled as his paws made a splat
Crushing the zombie's putrid corpse flat
But Homie's ordeal wasn't over, as from the forest lurched
Zombie bees, zombie beavers, zombie birds, zombie birch
"Eeewww!" Homie said, "It's a whole zombie zoo
"Zombie elk, zombie rabbits, even zombie poo!"
"Brains!" the zombies groaned, "We eat you brains!
"We suck you guts and you blood from you veins!"
"No!" Homie said, "Anyone else you might scare
"But I am a big, bad, burly old bear!"
So Homie attacked, and zombie flesh flew
He killed 'em all (except for the poo)
But the King of the Zombies, the dread Zombie Bear
Emerged, dripping flesh, from his cavernous lair
"Rarrgh," roared the Zombear, and Homie's heart sank
Not only was it scary but the ugly thing stank!
But it was skeletally slow and not very smart
(It had eaten its own brain as well as its heart!)
So, bolder than a boulder and twice as brave
Homie lured the Zombear back into his cave
Simple and easy, like the best kind of traps
Homie kicked in a pillar and caused a collapse
The Zombear was buried in a pile of debris
And Homie went home, for another day free
But the Zombear was an undead corpse re-animation
And under them rocks he was just in snug hibernation!

New Rob Zombie! Yay! That's always good news. Especially when the guitarist is John 5. I love it, especially the atmospheric intro song, Sawdust in the Blood. Remember my ultimate Zombie fambly playlist? There are many worthy songs from Educated Horses to add to the list. And this is a great song that should be on there too.
Zombie!
Oops- the disc keeps switching over to Beethoven. Nothing like the soothing melody of the Pastorale to jolt you out of Zombieland!

The ABCs of Abominations (updated)

Apparently the apparition was an aberration from the abyss.
Bands of banished banshees bellow blasphemies at banquets.
Carnal cardinals cauterize and carmelize their corpuscles with cthonian conflagarations.
Deadly dervishes and draconic devils drag dirigibles into the dark dastardly depths.
The Ermine and elephant earnestly engaged in elopement and were ecstatic! (by my wife Michelle, who recognizes how abominable indeed an elephant and an ermine coupling would be)
Frighteningly faceless ferrets facetiously falsified factoids flawlessly.
Gargantuan gargoyles gargle at girls, growling and grinning at their grimaces.
Heaving his heavy head heavenward, the hapless hippo hoped help was on the horizon. (by Garet Jon, who underestimated my alliterative abilities when he suggested that "I" would be hard:
Iridescent insectoid incubi invoked by the illusionist to invade Italy instead insulted the inauspicious illuminata, and injuriously ingested him.

Your turn!

Keep alliterating those abominations at me! But a quick interruption to mention that Ursula Vernon has been nominated for an Eisner Award, for "Talent Deserving of Wider Recognition". You might recall I more widely recognized her talent a few months ago in this interview.
She was nominated for Digger, which is currently available in its entire run for free.

The ABCs of Abominations

Apparently the apparition was an aberration from the abyss.
Bands of banished banshees bellow blasphemies at banquets.

Now you write one about Cthulhu. Or Cookie Monster. Or any "C" creature. Not a c serpent though. That's in S. Then someone else can write one about demons. And evil elephants. Etc.

I thought it might've been an April Fool's joke, but it's from March 31st, so it's real: National Geographic has a video of a lifelike android. Lifelike in the sense that Commodore 128 graphics were way better than those of a Vic 20. In fact, haven't they been doing this for years with animatronics? Must be more sophisticated.
And since you're there, you might as well watch this video of a bear wandering around. You can hear her burp! If you ever want to hear a bear burp, I will be happy to belch for you. Only one dollar! Three for two!
And here's a somewhat grainy look at the Simpson's Movie trailer. Also from March 31st, but I suspect this one may actually be an April Fool's joke perpetrated by the tricksters at Fox.

One of the unexpected highlights of my trip to New Zealand was a museum devoted to the odd combination of classic cars and something called "wearable art". The place was like a wonderland. Seriously. So it's not really surprising that the Alice in Wonderland ballet was wearable art come to life. Or even, animation come to life. You really believed Alice was changing size, or that there was a ring of flying butterflies circling the caterpillar, or a lobster and a dodo and a fish et al were dancing with Alice. Everything was perfect, even the music which was culled from a variety of sources and not actually written for Alice. Plus it was hilarious.
A great side effect of these kinds of events is they inspire and jumpstart my own creative process, making me want to give the world something even a millionth as delightful, in my own way. The ideas start flowing and the only real work is culling the dumber ones and choosing the goods. The rest is just letting it happen, more or less. Though there is a bit of self-discipline involved as well- maybe making it happen would be more accurate.
The Edmonton Journal's review of the ballet.

Now that we live in a brand new house, it's easy to be mistaken for Sophisticated Citizens. So when the kindly old Jayman guy rang the doorbell and heard this coming from my stereo: "Went down to the cemetery, looking for love; got there and my baby was buried, had to dig her up", he looked at me a little funny. He was there to do some work in our basement. Before he went down there he asked me, "There aren't any animals or . . . anything down there, are there?"
Anyways, today is Headstones Revival Day, and a timely reminder that this weekend is the Junos, hosted by Pamela Anderson. The Headstones of course are not nominated for any Junos since they broke up a while ago, but they are still one of my favourite Canadian bands. I love their aggressive, darkly humorous punkish rock. They were nominated for three Junos in their time, but won none. I also have won no Junos, so don't feel too bad. Here are the
Top Five Six Headstones Tunes, Each of Which Deserves A Juno From Pam Anderson:
1. Unsound
2. Cemetery
3. Smile and Wave
4. Pretty Little Death Song
5. Tweeter and the Monkey Man
6. Son of a Bitch to the Core

Sadly I can't find my Smile and Wave CD. I think the Jayman guy stole it.

The Alberta Ballet is performing Alice in Wonderland this weekend! We got tickets back in October, so we're good to go- I kinda doubt there are any more left, though you could certainly try. It would definitely be worth your while. I meant to tell you all about it earlier but I plum forgot! Been eating too many mome raths lately I guess. I only wish I could have been at Selkie's Mad Hatter Tea Party and Very Merry Unbirthday!

In HUB Mall there is a bookstore where brand new books are supercheap. Excess inventory. Yesterday I found the exact poker book I've been looking for (6 bucks), as well as Watership Down, some travelogues, and the jackpot, Doug Chiang's Robota- ten bucks! There are still two copies left, any of you U of A students that might be interested *cough cough* Gotthammer.
In celebration of this great find, today I present you my Robotic Greatest Hits.
Robot Bear- a poem with a bit of an environmental message. Naturally!
The Robot and the Devil- a robot sells his soul. The sequel, in which he suspects he is being voodooed.
The Brotherhood of Fat Robots- A short short story of stirring eloquence and emotion.
The sort-of-true story of how I proposed to Michelle. A love poem to her, with robots. Robot's Cove, written on our honeymoon.
Cadaverous Cattle- actually about zombie cows, though it also features robot shepherds and robot rocks. What does a robot rock do? Mostly the same as a regular rock- not really anything.

An Interview With Emily Weber
I first noticed deviantART's zimeta08 because of her fun, uniquely stylized pictures of General Grievous and other Star Wars characters, more than one of which has been my desktop background for a while.



I asked her to illustrate a story I wrote so I could present it at G-Arts. She produced a beautiful image of Mr. H Bear riding a whale.



And of course she recently made surely one of the greatest artworks in the galaxy with The Most Dangerous Sith, featured below in Bear Wars.



So, here is an interview with the young artist.
First, the details- who are you, and all that, and what tools and media do you use?

I'm Emily Weber, of course! :giggle:
I'm mostly German, you can tell by my last name, Weber which means weaver in German. So, I can only assume my ancestors were weavers :o
For art, I usually draw with a mechanical pencil, and color in Adobe Photoshop ^^

How did you get into art?

I don't know for sure. I've been drawing since I can remember... it runs in the family ;)

Where do you want to go with it? Any plans or just day at a time, having fun?

I've been thinking of entering "The Rising Star of Manga" contest by making a poem I wrote into a short 20-page comic. If I do do that, I'm hoping that maybe it'll get me somewhere.

What are you studying in university?

Right now I'm studying Fifth-Year-Japanese at ASU. I took a drawing class once, but the teacher sucked all the fun outta it so I never took another one again.

How do you say bear in Japanese:

You say Bear: "Kuma"

What do you want to be when you grow up?

I'm studying Japanese so that I can go to Japan and apply at Nintendo. Hopefully I can be a game designer, or at least a concept artist ^^

So, where did you get your screen name?

Zim= My alter ego, Zim the toad
Meta= Metal, because I love robots
08= My favorite number

What do you do to get into the creative groove?

Usually watch TV, or play video games. Because, certain games or cartoon shows have really interesting visuals, or character designs.

What do you do to get out of a creative funk?

I usually just keep drawing until it turns out good. There's really not else I can do!

Any words of wisdom you live by?

Watch for falling rocks. :nod: It could save your life someday. [Editor's note: Especially in my line of work!]

Who do you think would win in a fight between General Grievous and the Sith Bear?

Well, I really like them both ... but I think I'd rather see the Sith Bear win because it's such an interesting idea. (And, I really like warrior bears. Ever since reading The Golden Compass.)

Thanks Zimmy!

Bear Wars Epoosode 1

Homie Bear examined his hybrid time machine/spaceship with satisfaction. The Horribilis was mostly made out of logs, though its electronics, tires and wheel motors were all parts he had stolen from a nearby coal mine. It didn't look like much, but Homie thought it would make the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs. Well, maybe thirteen, but since parsecs were units of distance rather than time, it didn't really matter, as long as it sounded good.
Climbing into the cockpit, Homie donned his crash helmet and set the navicomputer for "a long time ago and a galaxy far, far away". Before long he was looking out at the gigantic grey sphere of the Death Star. He landed in Parking Lot 22A and ventured into the bowels of the gargantuan battle station. Soon he had plastered the walls with the poster he had made after that little robot had come up to him and played a strange hologram message the other day while he was fishing:

Missing
One Alderaanian Princess
Last Seen on Death Star
Reward: Your share of More Than You Can Imagine
Contact homiebear@pooinginthewoods.com

His job done, Homie headed back to the Horribilis, stopping only long enough to poo in the tractor beam room, which had conveniently deep plumbing. His parking paid for, he blasted off. There seemed to be an unusual amount of traffic around the Death Star, and Homie was surprised by how vehement some of the space rage seemed to be. One ship, a funny looking round pod with two wings bent into three panels each, was spinning wildly out of control and came within inches of hitting the Horribilis. Homie flipped his middle claw at the stupid sithhead and hustled out of there. Just as he was about to go to hyperspace, he looked in his rearview mirror and saw the Death Star blow up. "Awww!" Homie said out loud. "So much for my posters."
But just then his computer chimed- he had mail.

From: stoopytroopy08@empirenet.net
Subject: Alderaani@n Princess
Cc: bfett@slave1.org
The princess has been seen on Hoth. Watch out for wampas! xorz!!!! If you find her I want my share of the reward. Oops gotta go, there's a red alert. Probably more mynocks on the superlaser power cables again. LOL! ^.^

Homie Bear set a course for the Hoth System.


Tune in tomorrow for Epoosode 2!

Bear Wars Epoosode 2

Ambush! As Homie Bear came out of hyperspace a scarred and battleworn ship immediately started firing lasers at him.
"Hey!" yelled Homie on his two-way radio. "Stop that!"
"This is the Slave 1. You must exit this star system immediately or be destroyed."
Homie Bear had no intention of running away, so he dropped some firewood as chaff. But it didn't fool whoever was behind the controls of the funny-looking ship. So he tried a different strategy. Clearing his throat, he keyed his mic once again.
"Slave 1, this is the, uh, Emperor. Um, we need your help to, you know, hunt some bounties and stuff, so . . . could you rendezvous with us over in that asteroid field over there please?"
The Slave 1 changed course almost immediately. It delayed just long enough to fire a seismic charge at the Horribilis. Homie took evasive maneuvers but just then he lost propel ("Damn electricians," he muttered) and the charge's blast grazed his ship. The explosion sent him plummeting to the icy planet below.
Staggering away from his burning ship, Homie soon succumbed to the cold and his injuries. He collapsed on a snow bank, resisting the urge to go into a state of perfect hibernation, deliriously calling out to his old friend the vampirenomad who would surely fetch him a medic. "Been!" he called. "Been!"
A blue apparition appeared, and said, "Luke! You must go to the Dagobah system!"
"Been?" Homie called.
"Ben, Luke. It's pronounced Ben. You must go to the Dagobah system, Luke, and seek out Yoda."
"But I'm not Luke, I'm Homie Bear. And I'm not seeking Yoda, I'm seeking the Alderaanian princess."
"Oh, my bad. She's over there, at the secret rebel base." The apparition pointed to the horizon and faded away. After a while Homie smelled an odd, distasteful lizardy odor. He tracked the scent and came across a dead four-nostrilled, bipedal, bighorn ram thing whose guts had fallen out of it for no apparent reason. Desperate, he scavenged the remains and regained a measure of strength. "Eww. I thought they smelled bad on the outside, but they taste even worse on the inside." Homie made sure to keep his eyes out for yellow snow and other surprises- he certainly didn't want to step into any poo made by that foul creature!
The beleaguered grizzly headed off in the direction of the secret rebel base. But before he could get there, a gigantic white creature, resembling an albino Sully from Monsters Inc, reared up from the snow with a mighty bellow. Homie sighed, reared up on his hind legs, and engaged the creature in paw-to-paw combat. They grappled. They wrestled. Claws slashed and teeth bit, and they both roared and snarled, but Homie's heart wasn't really in it. It had been a long day. He settled for biting off one of the creature's arms, sending it whimpering away to its cave. For a moment Homie thought he was seeing double, since it looked like there were two one-armed wampas, but he shook his head and turned away. He growled at the insectoid robot with all the bulbous eyelenses that had watched the fight, and it retracted an antenna and floated away.
"Bloody National Geographic photographers. Bet I never get any royalties. Wonder if I'll make the cover again?"




Start camping out now for the staggering conclusion to this epic poology, coming soon to this blog! Bigger budget, better special effects (seriously- way better)! Two-for-one admission if you preorder your tickets now!

Bear Wars Epoosode 3: Return of the Homie

Everywhere he looked it was chaos. Giant walking machines were shooting down little flying speeders, who were in turn doing their best to try and trip up the walkers. Ground troops were being shot and smushed, their laser artillery ineffective against the onslaught. A smaller, two-legged walker came into view. Homie Bear seized his chance, grabbed a conveniently passing snowspeeder's dangling tow-cable and swung onto the funny looking walker. He couldn't resist doing a Tarzan yell, thinking how clever he was and that he doubted anyone would ever do that again.
In less than a parsec he had burst through into the cockpit and disabled the crew. Then he walked it over to the now-overrun rebel base. "Hmm," he thought. "Now what?" He shook the walker pilot awake. "Hey! Wake up! Tell me where the Alderaanian princess is."
The crewman answered with a distinctly kiwi accent, "Nah. Lord Polar'd have a stink."
"Lord Polar can eat my poo. Where is the Princess?" Homie bared his fangs for extra emphasis.
"Right, then. Sweet as. She's in the Wop Wops, eh? Right over there in that cell."
"Thank you. One more thing- I'll need your uniform."
"Meh. I shoulda stayed home and had some fush and chups." But the trooper handed over his armour. It didn't fit Homie that well but at least the cloth face his his muzzle a bit. Homie was mighty pleased with himself. He headed over to the cell, glad that this little misadventure was finally coming to an end.
"Dum dum de dum, dum de dum, dum de dum," he hummed to himself. The cell was unguarded amidst all the confusion of the battle. So he walked right in, without even needing to cause a diversion, which was lucky, since diversions nearly always escalated into big trouble. Huddled on the icy floor was a beautiful princess, wearing a parka. She looked at Homie and said, "Aren't you a little hairy for a snowtrooper?"
"What . . ? Oh, the uniform. I'm Homie Bear, I'm here to rescue you."
"Who?"
"Homie Bear! You know, from Pooing in the Woods? Anyways, let's get you out of here. Are you all right? Did they mistreat you?"
"Yeah, I'm okay. They even gave me this parka, rather than making me wear some bikini or something, so that was nice of them."
"That reminds me, I brought you my old crash helmet for a disguise so we can sneak out of here. It's designed for a bear, but that's okay. I don't need it anymore, so you can keep it. Maybe it'll come in handy someday." The Princess took the brown two-toned helmet and they skedaddled.
Waiting for them outside in the Hothian twilight was a monstrous cyborg polar bear holding a red laser sword of some sort.
"Cool!" said Homie. He wished he had a red laser sword like that.
"Darth Polar. Only you could be so cold. I don't know how you can stand this weather." The Princess said in an accusing tone of voice.
"Don't play games with me, Your Highness. You know polar bears are ideally adapted for extreme cold. We have very thick fur and insulating layers of fat. But I'm glad we ran into you- it seems there's been a mistake. We were looking for someone who has the same DNA as you. You don't have any siblings, do you?"
"Not that I know of."
"Ah well. You may go. But I would have a word with your Ursine companion."
The Princess waved good-bye and ran to catch up with a Corellian freighter that was just then escaping the Imperials. Homie stayed behind, bewildered and a little irked that this had all been a wild gundark chase.
"Do you know what this is, Homie Bear?" asked Darth Polar, gesturing at his weapon. "It is a lightsaber, the weapon of a Sith Lord. If you sign up with the Sith today, one of these can be yours as a free gift."
"Yeah?" Homie was tempted- the lightsaber was awfully cool. "What do I have to do?"
"Not much really, just learn the ways of the Dark Side of the Force, and join me in ruling the galaxy. But you have to be evil, that's the only catch."
"Oh. No thanks. I'm not much for evil."
"What if I told you I was your father?"
"No, that's impossible! My pa lives in Edmonton. I just saw him the other day."
"Darn, that usually works. Fine then, you must die." And the Dark Lord of the Sith raised his glowing sabre to strike Homie down.
But Homie ducked and rolled, and prepared a secret weapon of his own while Polar advanced menacingly. "It is useless to resist," Polar said. Homie ignored him. Just as Darth Polar hoisted his weapon to cut Homie in two, Homie went on the offensive, launching a flurry of tightly packed snowballs. Darth Polar had never faced such a furious wallop. Stunned, he dropped his saber. Homie was on him in an instant. The magnificent bears were at each others' throats, but Polar's cybernetic parts had the advantage of never tiring out.
Homie was close to succumbing. Desperate, he reached for the lightsaber, forgotten in the melee. It was too far. He couldn't reach. "Homie! Use the Force!" a disembodied voice said. Good idea! The lightsaber flew into his hands just as he squirmed free of Darth Polar's killing bite. With the red beam at the Sith's throat, Homie said, "Now I have a deal for you, Darth. Come back with me to the Woods, and you can fish and hunt and eat as many berries as you can stand. You can hibernate all winter, or all summer if you prefer, and poo anywhere you want! It's a perfect life for a bear. No more evil! What do bears know about ruling galaxies, anyways?"
"Hmmm. A tempting offer. There aren't any gungans in these Woods, are there?"
"Gungans? What are those?"
"Deal!"
The bears shook a paw and then Darth Polar took Homie to his spaceship, the Ursith.
"Nice ship!" said Homie. "Mine was made out of wood. But it crashed."
"Thanks! It belonged to some other guy who was cut in half, so the Emperor let me have it." They climbed aboard and blasted off for the Woods, where they pooed in the woods, brought balance to the Force, and had lots and lots of fush and chups.



The End! Yay!

Written by Homie Bear
Directed by Homie Bear
Starring Homie Bear
Visual Sith Effects by Emily Weber
Please don't show George Lucas, he will just want to do yet another Special Edition to incorporate these startling revelations.

Help me Obi-wan Kenobi Homie Bear, you're my only hope.

Just like I said! The other day when I was paying tribute to crustaceans, and speculating as to what undiscovered species may still be out there, the scientific world announced the discovery of a bizarre white, 'furry' lobster. They found it ~1500 kms south of Easter Island, at a depth of around 2300 meters. No word on whether it has any telepathic powers. But still.
They call it the yeti crab. Not to be confused with the mighty and elusive crab yeti, that subspecies of abominable snowmen who have big chitinous claws instead of hands. And telepathic powers.

Crazy about Crustaceans!
Crustaceans are cool, don't you think? Cool in that gross, clawed alien facehugger spidery creepiness sense. When we were on our honeymoon in the Maritimes, Michelle and I had the obligatory lobster dinner. Normally I'm a big fan of seafood- my policy is, if it comes from the sea, it goes into me! But staring at a lobster that had just been boiled alive mere moments ago for your culinary pleasure is a little unnerving. Gabrielle always points out that lobsters mate for life. And, really, they weren't all that tasty when all was said and done. A lot of work for not a lot of reward. I think bears prefer salmon. Anyways, here are some crucial crustacean facts for you.
Leafing through an old National Geographic, I discovered that coconut crabs are the world's largest land crustacean. They're big. Well, about 4 kgs, so pretty big. Especially if you were out climbing a tree and came across this guy staring you in the face! Yeesh!
But ole cocy is not so big compared to the mighty Japanese Spider Crab, the biggest of all living crustaceans. Well, that we know of. These crabs grow to almost 4 meters claw to claw, and can be around 20 kilos. I'm not sure if Godzilla ever fought one, but he would probably lose if he did.
Still, I would rather come across a spider crab than one of these extinct sea scorpions!
And are they truly extinct? I doubt it. Who knows what dire clawed terrors dwell in the unexplored depths of the oceanic trenches? Bioluminescent paleolobsters of feral cunning who eat megalodons and giant squids? Probably. They are likely even telepathic.
The best story I ever read about lobsters is Homefaring, by Robert Silverberg. You should check it out. I think it won a Nebula Award. Or maybe it was the Crab Nebula Award!

Leave your guns at home when you come visit, okay? The Province of Alberta has suspended the grizzly hunt until further notice. No more shooting at me.

It's pretty pristine here in the Woods. No highrises, no houses, not even any outhouses, hence the need to do our "business" outside. So there certainly isn't anything like a Hall of Fame for the many Valorous Bruins and Notorious Ursids out there. But there is a place where the trees have been scratched and, uh, marked, in honor of those worthy individuals who have done the most to uphold the Bear Necessities. Naturally, the singer of that song should be the first to receive such a tree.
Phil Harris was a modestly famous singer and radio performer back in the 30s, but he is best remembered as the voice of Baloo in Disney's adaptation of The Jungle Book. He also played another Disney bear, Little John from Robin Hood. As if that wasn't enough, he had a song called The Preacher and the Bear, about a preacher who skips church to go fishing and gets himself chased up a tree.

"Oh, Lord, didn't you deliver
Daniel from the lion's den?
Also deliver Jonah
From the belly of the whale and then,
Three little children from the fiery furnace,
So the Good Books do declare.
Now Lord, if you can't help me,
For goodness' sake, don't you help that bear!"

He also performed one of my favorite old-timey tunes, a hilarious song called The Thing, about a thing in a box. Seriously. Of course, The Bear Necessities is one of the greatest tunes of all time, and Baloo the epitome of bearhip.

"Wherever I wander, wherever I roam
I couldn't be fonder of my big home
The bees are buzzin' in the tree
To make some honey just for me
When you look under the rocks and plants
And take a glance at the fancy ants
Then maybe try a few"

Phil Harris passed away in 1995.

Did you know that Philip Pullman has a very . . . unique signature? I discovered this today when I found a signed copy of The Amber Spyglass in Strathcona Books. I was curious if it was a first edition and found that it was in fact a signed first (American) edition. Whoa, I thought, and flipped to the signature. I was a bit suspicious because it almost looked as if somebody just scribbled "Philip Pullman" to pass it off as his autograph. I asked the lady if it was genuine, and she didn't know. I bought it with the understanding that if it turned out to be fake I could take it back. I checked the internet, and it's real! Nice!
Michelle and I are starting to build a decent collection of signed books- last month I got A Feast For Crows signed by George RR Martin. Michelle has some Nick Bantock (from the reading we went to, remember gabrielle? Someone pawned their copies and I found them!) and Diana Gabaldon books. Oh yeah and gabrielle found a signed copy of House of Leaves when we were in Wellington and she talked me into buying it.
Do you guys have any?

Like a lumbering alkaloid dinosaur from Titan, Shovel 10 slowly walks its way up the mountain, maw open and ready to devour everything in its path with its blunt metal teeth.



Work really kicked my ass this week. We moved a shovel every day, and two yesterday- from the bottom of the pit to the top of the mountain, or off to the healing grounds to get fixed. A shovel, for those of you unfamiliar with the alien world that is an open pit coal mine, is the primary means of moving rock to get at coal. They're gargantuan electric digging machines, not the small handheld tools you find in your garage. They're also unwieldy. It's not like you can just drive them anywhere you want, you have to manhandle their power cables, move things around, make sure nothing catches on fire, or touches a powerline. Basically you stand outside in the cold ensuring that nothing goes wrong. When there's a ramp involved, and ice, then you want to have a bulldozer (another species of metal monster- a brutish and stubborn chilopod from Neptune) acting as a brake in case, as almost happened with 10 here, it starts sliding out of control. Moving one is a lot of work, and takes a long time. Still, it's not a bad job, especially with the scenery. I certainly don't mind working. And who else gets to play with giant metal alien dinosaur robots that eat rocks?
Anyways, work's done, time to enjoy some days off. Four of them. On the agenda for today: absolutely nothing! Lots and lots of nothing.

I was going to be all mopey about Team Canada's 2-0 loss to the Russians, but then I remembered that today was a great day for Canada at the Olympics. We're now in 4th place in the medal standings! Can't complain about that. Canmore's Chandra Crawford won a cross-country gold and radiated her 10,000 watt excitement all the way home. There was a short track relay silver, and Cindy Klassen won her fourth medal of the games, a gold in the 1500 m speed skating race. Her teammate Kristina Groves won silver! So really, we kicked ass today. I hope tomorrow's papers remember that and don't have a ten page insert on "What Went Wrong", and "How It Is All Gretzky's Fault". It wasn't a bad hockey game, for that matter. We just lost. And the women's team won gold the other day. So it's all good. The millionaires can come home to their NHL teams and try for Mr. Stanley.

If I have one vice (pooing in the woods is not a vice!), then it would have to be books. I sure spend a lot of money on books. Now that we live quite a ways away from the six excellent used stores and the best new bookstore of our old neighbourhood, I thought I might get a chance to get caught up on my bookshelf backlog. But then Michelle told me she would like to have a copy of Pride and Prejudice. So, we made an excursion to the old country to find one. Which we did, and then we spent quite a bit of money on stuff we weren't looking for. But how can you not buy the complete works of Lewis Carroll in one volume for ten bucks? Or Sopranos Season 3 for less than half price of what it would be new? And to finally get our own copy of Oh, the Places You'll Go, well, it's money well spent.
Right now, I'm reading a very cool little book called Darwinia, by Robert Charles Wilson. I bought it last year, and it has sat on the shelf because I read another book of his, called The Chronoliths, which had a very cool concept, but then I felt it sort of failed to capitalize on it. Still a good read, but if you have a story about a conqueror who hurls huge monuments of his victories back in time, well, I wanna read about that guy. But we don't get to. Oh well. Darwinia is a lost world type of story, but completely unique in execution and concept. As a nice touch, it has a few nods to Edgar Rice Burroughs. Oh yeah, he's Canadian! Nice!
Oh yeah, speaking of Canadian authors, I also bought a book by Charles de Lint on Gotthammer's recommendation.

Are you guys going to enter the Bulwer-Lytton Contest this year? I am busy paring my hopefully-horrific sentence down to around 60 words, but it's hard. It would be better if we were allowed an entire painful paragraph. Well, I have it down to 61 so that should be bad enough. (No wiseguy remarks about how I should be a shoo-in!)

Make it stop! Please! I'll give you a lucky loonie!
Anyways, back from nightshift today. Tired. I'll be back tomorrow with my usual Substantial and Brilliant Utterances Upon Varied and Sundry Topics Sprinkled With References to Ursines of All Species And Their Tendency to Poo in the Woods. Which, some minor trivia for you, was originally going to be the title of this blog, until brevity prevailed.

Happy Valentine's Day! May you not be embittered by this oft-heartless day. Here is a V-Day poem dedicated to my amazing wife- not one of those mushy and cliched poems, with lots of references to eyes being like oceans,though, or climbing really high mountains. It's just a love poem, with robots. In fact, that's what it's called:

Love Poem, with Robots


A fleet of technospaceships
full of robots
from the planet Technotopia X
arrived at Earth the other day
looking for the meaning of life
and love
all the questions of the human condition
that have plagued robotkind since
at least the golden age of pulp fiction
they sent a robot researcher
down to study you and I
and make a report to the mothership
he followed us around
mostly unobtrusive
but occasionally pestering us with
tiresome requests to clarify some
figure of speech
that he took literally
anyways
he kept a careful tally
medians modes and means
of every time we
hugged
touched
said I love you
he returned to his
mothership
to report on his findings
love is
he said in his robot voice
love is . . .
love . . .
love . . . does not . . .
compute
love . . .
and then
his technoneural processors
fried
and he died
so the fleet of technospaceships
fled
back to Technotopia X
we felt sad
I said
I loved that little guy
and you said
I love you!
I laughed
and said
I love you too!

Marilyn Manson has been fairly quiet lately, causing gabrielle and I to send urgent emails across the equator wondering what's up with that. Turns out he's been working on a film about Lewis Carroll, author of such classics as Alice in Wonderland and Jabberwocky. Which, when you think about it, is a perfect fit.

Yay for Olympics!
Eighteen years ago, when I was 13, I fell in love with the Olympic Winter Games. They were in Calgary that year, and our province embraced the Games with a zeal I had never seen before, or even since, really. It was cool. There were larger than life athletes, people like Alberto Tomba, Katerina Witt, Eddie the Eagle (a hapless ski jumper from Great Britain who qualified by virtue of being the only Brit ski jumper, the Jamaican bobsleddders, and our own Canadian heroes like Elizabeth Manley and Karen Percy (now married to Oilers GM Kevin Lowe) who won us two of our five medals that year.
Yay for Olympics! Michelle and I watched and cheered (Michelle cheered especially loud) as Spruce Grove native Jennifer Heil won Canada's first medal, gold in Women's moguls. We watched Cindy Klassen get a bronze in speed skating. Today I watched some figure skating- did you see that Chinese pair, Zhang and Zhang? She fell hard 38 seconds into the program attempting a quad throw, skated hurt off the ice, and then they came back and won the silver. That's what the Olympics are all about- inspiring stories of human accomplishment. Every four years it's good to get caught up in that again and cheer on the athletes, regardless of their national affiliation.
As an aside, I'm not really sure what the legal betting habits of Janet Gretzky, a non-athlete, has to do with anything. Hopefully the focus will shift off of that and on to what matters, the athletes.
Turin 2006
CBC's Olympic Coverage website
Canada's Olympic Team
New Zealand's Olympic Team (for no particular reason, other than I was wondering if my kiwi friends had much of a presence in the Winter Games)
Yay for Olympics!

Isn't there a football game on today? It's been a while since I payed much attention to American football. And in fact, I know absolutely nothing about the present incarnation of either team. But that won't stop me from handicapping the game for you, using my Ingenious and Infallible method of adding "poo" to the two teams involved. So it's the Pittsburgh PooSteelers vs the Seattle Poohawks, eh? Well, obviously, stealing poo is immoral and really gross, but when has that ever stopped Pittsburgh? In fact, the only way I can see the Poohawks winning this one is if they litter the field with so much birdturd that the Pittsburgh defence is overwhelmed. Not gonna happen. PooSteelers 31, Poohawks 13.

Sherri Ryan of Sonic 102.9 does a countdown show every Tuesday night where she picks a random thing and plays the top ten songs in that category. Sadly, I am either busy coalmining or, uh, watching House at that time so I have yet to actually hear her show. Luckily she posts her list every week on her blog. Remember my top seven six songs about vampires? Compiled when I was trapped in the Crypt.
The reason I bring it up is I have been trying to come up with a top ten list about coal mines, or heavy equipment, but pretty much stalled out at "Coal Mine" by Armchair Cynics. And that song isn't even about coal mining! But just tonight someone told me about this really cool song and video out there that fits the bill as far as being about machinery, and has the added bonus of having that wistful/reminiscent/childhood whimsy vibe I dig so much. Check it out: JCB Song, by Nizlobi.
Also, you should really check out House. He makes me laugh, with all his childlike whimsy!

Wow, here's something I started back in July of 2004 and completley forgot all about. I don't really know where I was going with it, though it likely was anticipating gabrielle's and my trip. Anyways, I found it in my drafts archive and I just finished it off in a few minutes for something to do, taking it in a completely different direction, I guess. No real clever wordplay that I like to think is my forte. Just a quick bit of silliness. 

Homie and the Sea Turtle

 Homie Bear in polar mode 

 Decided to see the antipode 

 He went to where the icebergs flowed 

 Caught a current and off he goed 

 He promised a postcard to the coastguard 

 Waved byebye to his whale friend Blubbalard

And settled back to enjoy the trip 

 But he was intercepted by a pirate ship 

 They wanted swag and booty and gold 

 But all Homie had was ice and cold 

 So they went away but first they say 

"Watch out for sharks when you get to the bay" 

Homie said, "Sharks! That sounds pretty cool!" 

He decided to see them, like a big fool 

He went to Shark Island and clambered ashore 

He didn't see sharks, they don't live there no more 

But he saw a green turtle, laying eggs in the sand 

And got her some water, to help lend a hand 

The turtle said "Thanks, my name is Ferg 

"And I can't help but notice that your little iceberg 

"Is melting too fast in the tropical heat 

"You're sweating so much you smell like old sheet 

"So hop on my shell and I'll take you home 

"I've always wanted to see where polar bears roam" 

So Homie said sure and he went back to the Arctic 

Leaving his iceberg right there where he parked it 

And Ferg liked it so much in the great white old north 

That she became a polar turtle from that time henceforth 

Which is why when you time travel a million years from last week 

You see white sea turtles with white shells and white beaks! 

 There. Hope you like it. I better go make supper for Michelle. Speaking of my beautiful wife, tomorrow is her birthday, so please all send her some love! And maybe for a gift you can suggest a nice romantic song (but not dumb, okay?) and I can make the compilation!

6:56 AM
It's early, it's dark, I'm still bleary, and I know I have a very long day ahead of me. I do my start-of-shift checks on the shovel, and all the oil and grease levels are good. I go up to the cab for a few minutes before my day begins in earnest. The shovel operator is in his chair, contemplating his own day. He's a nice old fellow named Vic, about 57 or so.
"They told me this is really called a gooey," he says.
"What's gooey?"
"This. The computer. It's really called a gooey."
"Oh, yeah, I know what you mean- a graphical user interface." (GUI)
"Sounds like your dad will be in the pit hauling some coal."
"Yeah I heard that." The sudden change in topic change doesn't faze me.
"Oh so it's a computer term, eh?"
"Yep."
"Gooey."
"Gooey," I agree.
"Well, I think I'll turn to my right here, where the bucket is pointing, and widen out. They'll likely tell me to keep going right to expose more coal, but I have to widen out."
"Yeah, guaranteed they'll be hollering at ya."
"Yep. Gooey!" And with that he plunged the bucket into the face, hoisting more than 80 tons of rock to begin his day.
7:02 AM
My foreman is here to pick me up. The rest of the day is spent by myself outside in the wind, lifting and pulling and wishing the day was over.
But every time I think of gooey, I smile.

Everyone say congratulations to my wife who started her new job today! Congratulations wife! Now I can quit my job!

Today was one of those "you really feel like a coal miner" days. Being open pit miners, we are far removed from the black faces and canaries of undergrounders (and thankfully far removed from their dangers as well) so though we get dirty every day, it is not usually too bad. Today the wind was howling off the mountains something fierce, gusting upwards of 60 km/hr, blowing coal dust in my eyes and face all day as I was down on the ground doing various things, not least of which was help one of these get unstuck. Even through my goggles and other protective gear I was completely black. I had Trent Reznor eyeliner, and cried tears of coal. In fact, I sneezed snot of coal, too! And I pooed . . . well, it doesn't quite get THAT deep. Though I can't really explain how my kneecaps and feet even get coaly.

Dinosaurs make me happy. I was spending a lazy Saturday afternoon down by the fireplace reading a National Geographic article on the mighty saurians. Here in Alberta we have one of the finest dinosaur fossil beds in the world, and an excellent museum to go with it, the Royal Tyrrell. If you are an Albertan student, you can enter their poster contest, though you will have some stiff competition from Weremagnus, who is her own worst enemy it seems, as she was disqualified from a previous year's contest because the judges didn't believe she had actually drawn her entry herself.
Lucky for everybody else, I am not eligible to enter.

Behold my terrifying Triceratops of triumph!

After almost a week of living in our new house, we are settling in quite nicely. Maybe even too nicely, since I accidentally chased off the guy who was shovelling my sidewalk for free. Well, I didn't chase him off so much as tell him that he didn't need to do it anymore, since the house had occupants now. And then a few seconds later I realized how utterly foolish that was. D'oh! Come back, free snowshoveller guy! Come baaaaack!
Oh well. I bought a fancy ergonomically sensitive snowshovel at the hardware store the other day so I might as well make use of it. Before it gets stolen. And speaking of hardware stores, I have been to the Home Depot more times this week than ever before in the rest of my life put together. Weird.
Anyways, the picture you see at the top is my new work area, replete with many bears and General Grievouses to make me happy and unproductive. What do I need to be productive for anyways? I'm on holidays. Heck, I'm still in my Pyjama Power™!

The Last Batgirl
(starring Tom Cruise as Batgirl and Ken Watanabe as Ra's al Ghul?)
Okay, after this I will move on, but how could I not link to Sarah How's fantastic rendition? She of course is the kickass artist who drew my two blogbears for me.

Just for Selkie
I scoured DeviantArt for some Wonder Woman pictures, since Batgirl is getting all the attention these days. So here are:
A vectorized version. A colored comic illo. A digitally painted piece. A B&W WW. Same spiffed up with colors. An Amazon avatar. And an updated Underwoman. I mean, Wonderwoman.

Batgirl!!

Wanna see more? Most of them are much better than mine, I promise.
Here are some of my fav orite ites ites ites . Yay for Batgirl ! ! ! !

And make sure you check out Gotthammer Mike's new redesign- colder picture, warmer feel.

All moved in to our new house! Yay! It's hard to believe we own a little piece of Edmonton. Not a very big piece, but still. It's mine! I can't wait to get a rocking chair so I can sit out on our veranda with a shotgun on my lap, telling everyone who walks by, "Quit walking on my sidewalk!" Or maybe I could just set up a tollbooth, and charge a toonie to pass. That might help with our mortgage payments. Hmmm. That's a pretty good idea. Though Michelle and I seem to have very different philosophies concerning what makes a good idea.


Big bear hugs to everyone who helped us move: Ma and Pa Z, Alex, Crogdor, Erika, SuperDrew (who came directly from the airport!), Dave, and Papa Bear. Thank you all very much! You helped make it the easiest move ever.

George RR Martin was in Edmonton today, doing a book signing for A Feast for Crows. Luckily he didn't do a reading since I am a few hundred pages short of finishing A Storm of Swords, which comes after A Game of Thrones and A Clash of Kings. I kind of expected the signing to be A Herd of Nerds but there was a good cross-section of society there. Martin himself is the epitome of what you would expect a fantasy writer to look like- kind of hobbity and a little wizardy too. He spoke for a bit and then answered questions. He was engaging, funny and generous with his time. His main writerly advice was that you must write, and you must finish what you write. Also he recommended you hone your craft with short stories. Oddly, he never said anything about the importance of writing many poetic odes to bears, but I know he would've had he remembered to- his own bear poem turns up repeatedly, though in fragments, in Swords:

The Bear and the Maiden Fair

A bear there was, a bear, a BEAR!
All black and brown and covered with hair

It goes on from there. It's very good. I forget what the rest of the book is about.

Sort of related, the trailer for Beowulf and Grendel is online now.

I was injured at work today. Oh no! Was I run over by a 260 ton haultruck and squashed flat as a pancake? No! Was I caught in a blast and blown into a billion little pieces? No! Did one of the resident grizzly bears, jealous of my superior literary skills, decide to eat me and poo me out into the woods? No! In fact, I was just putting some orange cones into my foreman's truck and I strained a back muscle. Coned! So I guess in light of what could have happened I was pretty lucky. But it still hurt.

One thing I'm going to miss about this little basement suite is the low cost of living. One thing I won't miss is the cramped quarters. It is physically not possible to stand in front of the bathroom sink, since the shower is in the way. You have to brush your teeth and do other hygienic stuff at an angle. And just doing laundry is literally a hazardous undertaking. Today I burned my hand on the stupid furnace pipe that is right in the way, and a month ago or so I accidentally brushed against that pipe with my back, leaving a six inch welt that still hasn't faded completely away. Ouch!
But on the plus side, there are very few orcs.

PS- Go Canada!!

By a Strange coincidence, I finished reading Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell today, and the other day, I finished off Moving Mars, by Greg Bear (no relation). How is that a coincidence? The two books could not be more different! Turns out Moving Mars won the 1995 Nebula Award, and JS & MN won 2005's Hugo! Both are prestigious sci-fi/fantasy awards (or as my coworker who looked at Moving Mars when I set it down called the genre, "Far-fetched"). And the more I thought about it, the more in common the two books had. One postulates a universe in which everything you see is the result of quantum 'descriptors' which can be tweaked in almost any way imaginable- such that you could move Mars to a whole other solar system if you wanted to. The other is about magicians who just tweak everything by magic to relocate such things as Brussels to somewhere in America. Practically the same book! Though of course both could have been improved by the addition of a polar bear or two.

We got the house! Yay! Here is an artist's rendition of what it looks like, pretty much- even the colors are right. Trees not included. And there will be way more bears hanging out on the veranda in real life*.
It was cool, because Michelle and I basically went to the house store a few weeks ago and bought a house. It was that easy. Maybe even a little too easy- we just went to look. Now we move in in two weeks. You can help us move! Won't that be fun?

* Here is an artist's rendition of the same house, but with the bear quotient turned up a notch.