Selkie tells me that February 27th is International Polar Bear Day! Happy Polar Bear Day! Make sure to send any bears you know lots and lots of presents.

Have you ever seen a coalmine at night? Talk about black.
I'm off for work tomorrow, nights this week. Graveyard shift. I'm not sure if I ever explained this, but my work schedule is pretty decent- I work on a four on, four off rotation. Four dayshifts in a row, four days off, four nightshifts in a row, four days off, repeat. Because we work 12.66 hour shifts, we actually have a longer than regular workweek in just four days. It's nice to have all that time off afterwards, though since I have an 8-day week, I am always a little out of step with the rest of the world. And for a variety of reasons, I am working quite a bit of overtime lately, so tomorrow I leave for six nightshifts (again!), after only two days off. Umm, 6 * 12.66 anyone? Let's see, not quite 80 hours. Crazy eh? And next week when I am done, we are heading to Calgary to visit my future in-laws. So I'm not sure if I will be around here much, though you never know. I'm not trying to neglect you all.

For Michelle . . .


. . . hehe. Bears would never maul you, they are not that mean. And I wouldn't let them.

Last Saturday, Michelle and I were out having coffee, talking, reading the paper, saying hi to people we knew- a typical lazy Saturday afternoon. After a while a comfortable silence settled around us, which I finally broke by saying, "Wanna go see the robots?" And since Michelle loves me so well, she said "Sure!"
Everyone knows how much I love robots, so I was pretty happy to hear that the Odyssium had a new robotics exhibit. Unfortunately, the exhibit wasn't quite what I was expecting. I was thinking killer cyborgs, angst-ridden androids in search of their humanity, and maybe a robotic bear or two. Instead it was kind of a haphazard collection of huge machines with no practical purpose, or at least very unwieldy in their primary function. The basketball playing robot was pretty cool, though. If only they had some hockey playing mechs we might have an NHL season next year, but anyways. I don't mean to slam it, it was still fun. I love robots soooo much, and maybe I was expecting a bit more.
But you know, as much as I love robots, I would never marry one. Realizing this, I asked Michelle to marry me later that night, and she said yes. In a robot voice.

I am sick, and I'm away from home and Michelle, so I don't have much to say today, but I wanted to show you guys this great picture I found. Kind of captures the spirit I try to put in my writing.

Although I didn't win any Grammys this year (I was working anyways so it is just as well), at least Slipknot showed up looking fine in their Sunday best.

I'm still mad about that parking ticket I got a few months ago. The one where I was parked at a meter with lots of time left, but didn't know that that particular spot became a towaway zone at 3:00. What kind of stupid parking spot is that? I wasn't going to pay it, since I had to pay the hefty impound fees, but they don't allow you to renew your registration without paying, so what can you do? Simmer in impotent rage, but that's about it. I can exact some small measure of revenge by refusing to pay the New Zealand photo radar ticket I got! Who knew ole Wedge was even capable of exceeding the posted speed limit?
If you share in my frustrations you can watch a hilarious mockumentary about parking enforcement called The Delicate Art of Parking. Very reminiscent of Best in Show and A Mighty Wind. Made in Canada, too!
And I hope you all see Some Kind of Monster. Sometimes it's like A Mighty Wind, too. And Lars is usually the force behind the wind. Anyways, I love those guys and the movie was a good glimpse into their dynamics. Even Michelle liked it, so you probably will too.

"I think I'm being voodooed," said Ammit, the Egyptian devourer of souls who was actually just a robot who had sold his soul to the devil once and named himself Ammit.
"By who?" I asked.
"I do not know. I had hoped that you might."
I had only known one houngan in my life (and no mambos), and I was pretty sure he had passed away peacefully in Denmark a few years ago. I couldn't think of anyone that had recently taken up the Haitian death magic. "Maybe it's the devil, getting some revenge on you for ripping him off?" I suggested.
"No, he's not mad about that- he tried to rip me off first, so we called it even and laughed it off."
Just then the papertiger came and delivered the morning news. The headline proclaimed, "Mayor Delves Into Voodoo, Hopes It Will Balance Budget". Ammit and I exchanged surprised looks. We decided to pay a visit to city hall.

The unemployed hockey players who guarded the entrance to city hall blocked our way with their sticks, but Ammit just made his eyes glow red like he does when people get in his way, and they let us pass. I guess they think he has a death beam or something but really his eyes just light up. Ask him to show you sometime.
Mayor Mainott was in his office, which was decorated in a very Haitian style, though Mayor Mainott had never been there, preferring to holiday instead in Denmark. There was a beautiful tanbou in the middle of the office, decorated with a scene of elephants parading in E-Town . Mayor Mainott had been an elephant trainer before he was mayor, and thought it was a good use of budgetary funds to herd elephants down Main Street. He greeted us warmly, even though it looked as if he was quite busy with the budget and his voodoo rituals.
"What can I do for you?" he asked.
"Have you been voodooing Ammit?" I got right to the point, a useful tactic in dealing with politicans, I had often found.
"No, I never voodoo constituents. That would be a good way to lose votes. I may or may not voodoo non-constituents, for example the mayor of C-Town, but certainly not our own good citizens." He held up a voodoo doll of a suit-and-tie-guy wearing a cowboy hat.
"Hmmm," said Ammit. "Then who could it be?"
"How do you know you are being voodooed?" asked Mayor Mainott.
"My servomotors often act of their own accord. And I get a strange sensation as if someone was poking me with pins and needles."
The mayor nodded thoughtfully. "Well, if you like, I can perform a ritual to see if we can find out."
"No rituals," said Ammit. "Voodoo creeps me out." My old houngan friend would have been offended by this comment, but I could sympathize with Ammit. He was being voodooed after all, and that is enough to creep anyone out.
"Okay, no problem. How about this? I can pass a bill in council making it illegal to not admit it if you are the one voodooing Ammit."
"Do you think that would work?" asked Ammit. I was a little skeptical myself.
"Well, depends if we could enforce it or not. There are quite a few hockey enforcers that need jobs right now, though many of them are in Denmark playing with the minor leagues . . . " In the old days the police force would have handled such a thing, but they had all been fired for putting in too much Overtime. At any rate, the thought of 30 hockey goons running through the streets of E-Town knocking down doors and terrorizing the populace didn't sit too well with me.
"Wouldn't that cost you votes?" I asked.
"Oh yeah, you're probably right. Well, I could form a committee to see if they can determine who is voodooing Ammit." Ammit just rolled his eyes.
"How about if I grant you diplomatic immunity from being voodooed?" Ammit's eyes started to glow.
"Okay, okay, don't shoot. Here's a grant for $30,000." He handed us a moneybag with a dollar sign on it. "Figure it out on your own. Now my budget's shot."
So we used two grand of our grant to buy a voodoodetector, and found out it was just some kid who was trying to build her own remote control robot, and the signals were interfering with Ammit's subprocessors. We gave her fifty bucks so she could get a better RC unit.
Then we used the rest of the grant money to take an extended holiday in Denmark. It was fun.

I dreamt that I was scuba diving with an autistic fellow, and he accidentally attracted a school of hammerhead sharks. It was a little scary, but I picked up a conch shell, removed my regulator, and blew into it, never forgetting to not hold my breath. That scared the sharks away alright.

Monument

How fitting
that your
Immortality
is a green
Pedestal
Used mostly by pigeons
for pooing on

Songs that make me happy today:
World by Ministry
Get Your Dead On by Scum of the Earth.
And the soundtrack to the Lemony Snicket movie is pretty cool too, as was the movie and especially the books. My awesome girlfriend bought it for me.

"Despite pictographs and paintings found in caves and on cliffs depicting the struggle between ancient man and bears, nearly all Canadian Indians I have known considered bears an ancient race of people. They pointed to the bear's five toes on each foot, to his ability to walk and run on his hind legs, to the fact that all species possessed much the same traits, and to the dental cavities of those whose diets included too many sweets. Aside from certain simians, the bear is the only animal known to throw objects back and forth between two or more individuals. It couldn't have escaped even the most amateur observer that bears have another point in common with man in that they train their young in offense, defense, food procurement, and play."
- from The Bears and I, by Robert Franklin Leslie, an amazing true story(now out of print I think) about a guy who raised three bear cubs in BC, back in the 30s.

Haka!!
Once again I have to miss out on something really cool due to being away at work. Oh well, that's life. But you don't have to miss out, so long as you live in Edmonton. On Friday night, Te Kapa Haka o Te Tumu is performing in the World Warriors concert at the Myer Horowitz Theatre. That's right, Te Kapa Haka o Te Tumu! A Maori performing arts group from the University of Otago (which I think, gabrielle, is in Dunedin- home of the Octagon, not the square). Few things in this world, that I have seen at least, are as cool as a Maori haka. Maybe you have seen the All Blacks perform one before a rugby match?
I saw a haka up close in Rotorua- just amazing. Intimidating, too, in a good way. They tell me it is the only dance in the world that uses every muscle in the body, including the eyelids and tongue. And for my good buddies Jay and Rowan, you will appreciate this lyric, yelled loud: Tenei te ta ngata puhuru horu! This is the hairy person who caused the sun to shine!
Don't miss out on your chance to see some Maori dancing in Edmonton. As a bonus, there will also be troupes from the Borneo, hip hop, Irish, First Nations and African Drumming traditions. Tickets are ten bucks in advance at SUB Info or 12 at the door, and it is this Friday at 7:30. You will thank me if you go. Trust me.
Te Kapa Haka o Te Tumu!!

Everyone say happy birthday to my girlfriend Michelle! We went and saw Emm Gryner and friends play at the Sidetrack tonight and it was amazing. Besides Emm (make sure you spell it right with an extra M in Em. heh) there were five other singer/songwriters, none of whom I had heard of, but all were excellent. Maybe one weak link but I won't single him out. They were touring as the Bluebird North Tour, and they were arrayed panel style, each performing a song in turn, though often helping the others out.
We went because I had read an interview with Emm last week and it mentioned that she recorded a disc of metal/punk/heavier songs accoustically and called it Girl Versions, though I was unable to track the disc down in town (I got her new one instead which is really good). I decided it would be cool to go to the show, not knowing there were five others sharing the bill. One guy, Andy Kim, was well known with the older patrons, and when they played that Sugar, Sugar (Candy Girl?) song we realized why. And another guy played a couple of fun songs- one about the Monster Mash, which was kind of clever and insightful (the point being, he might have been a one hit wonder but at least that guy had a hit) and The Last of the Red Hot Fools.
So it was a great night, much different than we expected, but all the better for it.
Almost makes up for missing out on Slipknot a couple of weeks ago. Make sure you say to Michelle Happy Birthday! It's actually Friday, and I am a bad bearfriend because I have to miss it since I will be working.

"What did you guys do with the lake that was here?" asked Lord Chamberlain Vivvle, with a fair amount of astonishment, alarm and anger in his voice as he looked down into the huge gaping chasm that had been a beautiful pristine lake just yesterday.
"You said we could use it for the moat," said the foreman, or rather, foreorc, pointing towards the construction site, where two frost giants had placed the lake, along with its foundation, off to the side to await completion of the moat. The giants had frozen the lake to prevent it from sloshing while they moved it, and now they watched lazily as two iron-jawed dragons excavated the moat with their mighty mouths.
Vivvle stomped his steel-toed boots and threw his hardhat on the ground. "I meant you could use some of the water to fill the moat, not rip the lake off its hinges and pour it all in! Put it back immediately!"
The foreorc, whose name Vivvle could never remember, said, "Well, alright, but it will have to wait till tomorrow now- Gront and Biphk are going home- they already put in a couple hours overtime moving the lake over there. Had some problems with the feeder creeks. Got it all sorted out now, but I guess that doesn't matter . . ."
Inwardly, Vivvle rolled his eyes. For the millionth time he wished he had heeded his predecessor's advice about always hiring the second cheapest bidder. Monster Construction worked cheap enough- preferring livestock and land concessions (as long as there were villages to plunder) to gold, but they needed close supervision. Stooping down, he picked up his hardhat, which he thought was stupid and made him look like one of the king's soldiers rather than the Lord Chamberlain, especially combined with all the other safety gear he had to wear to tour the construction site- steel-toed boots and safety gauntlets. Worst of all were the strips of phosphorescent moss he wore as a safety vest-the Occupational Safety demons brought them up from their subterranean lairs, but didn't have to wear the stupid things themselves since they already glowed in the dark supernaturally.
He moved on to the actual castle lot, ignoring the hundreds of small fire-lizards busily welding support girders for the interior. The first of the stone trolls were just arriving on shift now, since the sun had set. Obviously the troll masons could only work the nightshift since they would be turned to stone themselves if they were exposed to the sun- and Vivvle had no desire to have a bunch of troll statues littering the king's new castlegrounds. All statuary was already subcontracted out to the faeries anyways- Vivvle would have liked to hire them to do the whole thing but they can't wear any iron safety gear.
Suddenly there was a commotion- one of the trolls had tripped and knocked another one down, and the two had started fighting. One was sent sprawling into some scaffolding, knocking it down. Vivvle's stomach lurched as the huge latticework teetered and began to fall- "Please don't knock down the wall please don't knock down the wall" he prayed . . . to no avail. Ogres and harpies scattered as the whole thing crashed to the ground. Vivvle was apoplectic. But the foreorc was already cussing out the trolls, firing the clumsier one on the spot, and so there was no one to vent his wrath upon. Deciding he had seen enough for the day, he asked one of the workorcs to fetch his chariot.
Vivvle had more than professional interest in making sure the project went smoothly- if the king failed to reutrn from his silly battles, Vivvle would get the castle, at least until the whiny brat prince came of age. Not that he was a treasonous fellow- just very pragmatic.
A workorc interrupted his musings to sheepishly inform him that one of the dragons had eaten his horses.
"Fine." Said Vivvle in a strained voice. "Just . . . get the castle done." And he turned and walked towards the village. He never got there, however, as Gront had realized he had forgotten his lunchbox and had come back to get it, and accidentally stepped on the Lord Chamberlain.

Some months later, when the king had returned from his campaigns abroad, he was absolutely delighted with the end product, which had been finished on time and under budget, and gave Monster Construction a healthy bonus. He did have one question, however, which he put to the foreorc.
"What did you guys do with the lake that was here?"



(This was inspired by a question I heard at work today, which became the first and last sentence of the story.)

According to my young friend (who is four or five years old) I was hanging out with at the Gathering last night, Spider-Man is not real.
"Yes he is!" I protested.
"No!"
"Yeah!"
"No! He's really a boy named Peter who just dresses as Spider-Man."

The other planets in our solar system are named after Roman gods, which is way cooler than some numbering system in Latin or German or something like that. There's something about those cold, aloof jewels spinning around out there in space that seems very regal and god-like. Jupiter, mightiest of the planets, is named for the god king. Venus, the goddess of love, gets a beautiful, bright, yet deadly planet in her honor, or maybe in her worship. And Mars, so aptly named with its blood-tinged hue after the god of war.
Then there's Titan. Saturn's largest moon has always fascinated me- just shy of being the biggest moon in the solar system, it's actually larger than Mercury or Pluto, and it's even colder than Edmonton. Titan was named after a whole class of god-like beings, the titans, who preceded the gods and warred with them. So, it's like having a bunch of goldfish named Dracula and Frankenstein and Casper and then having one just named Monster. Titan is the primeval archetype of bludgeoning brutality and power. He doesn't even need a proper name. Just titan. Cool.
You probably heard that Huygens landed on Titan and has been sending back the first pictures of its surface. Really cool.

I didn't really do any Top Ten lists this year, but for sure my favorite CD of last year was Slipknot Vol. III (The Subliminal Verses). One day in Wellington I thought I saw a Slipknot flyer on a lightpost across the street, so I crossed over to get a closer look, taking my life in my hands once again since I would invariably look the wrong way before crossing in NZ, especially when excited by the possibility that Slipknot might be playing in Wellington. Sadly, it was for some other band with a similar font. But in fact they ARE playing in New Zealand, next week at Auckland's Big Day Out, along with the Beasties (!!!) and System of a Down and lots of other great bands. Oh well. One day I'm sure, Slipknot will come here. Turns out that day is four days hence, or, more pertinent to me, four nights hence. Since I am going to go on night shifts tonight, that means I will be on my last shift on that momentous day, and once more it will be SlipNot for me.
Last night I had a dream that I was at the show, though there was only three of them there and they weren't wearing their masks (still best show ever!!!!) and in the middle of Vermillion Pt. II, a song I doubt they would play live, #0 was stopped in his tracks by a girl in the audience who was messing with his head, and she left for the parking lot and he went after her. Then he came back too torn up to continue, and I had to exhort him with his own lyrics- "I won't let this build up inside of me". I think he felt better after that. But if I had a mask on right now it would be of a sad face.
But ringwraiths can cheer me up, here's a picture I took last night in Mordor.

Today was the day I told my girlfriend I would be coming home from New Zealand, a blatant and deliberate lie, since obviously I came home a month ago. It was getting kind of tricky keeping the web of deciet going for a while there, a lesson that bears and people should just stick with being honest. At one point I had to convince Michelle that the reason I needed her to be home on the day I was actually returning had something to do with volunteering for the Department of Conservation (so I had to call her that day rather than the day I usually called her). "Oh really? That's cool- what is that about?"
"Uhh, you know . . . saving, like, the kiwis . . . or something . . ."
"Well, couldn't you call me the day before?"
"Oh, um, no, because . . . also . . . saving kiwis that day . . . "
Anyways, it all worked out and I am pleased to say that my lie went unpunished. At least by her. Maybe God will still have something to say.
No lying, everybody, okay?

Last week at work my Dad handed me a book and said, "Here, you'll like this one." Since a good book is worth ten times its weight in coal out at the mine (there's lots of coal, not so many books there) I thanked him, till I looked at the cover. It was sort of a "new old-timey" picture of a woman with flowing red hair, and the book was called Rose. Since guys will sometimes leave a romance novel sitting around, I thought my Dad was just joking so I tried to hand it back to him but he said, "No, really- it's about coal mining." Turns out he was right- your basic mystery novel, but set against the backdrop of an underground coal mine in England in the 1880s. Makes me glad that I am an open pit miner, though.
Speaking of underground miners, did you know that more than 5000 Chinese coal miners were killed on the job in 2004?