I should start by accepting a defeat in trying to illicit a response from some auto-computer response to blog, leave a website link. It is possible however that I posted that minutes after what I thought to be my post for the day. Sorry, my Blogaroo of the day. And in effect got screened out from a response.
I wanted to talk about the lottery... WHY. Well the biggest Canadian one ever is about to go down in Canada tomorrow so the streets and papers are abuzz with people buying more and more tickets. I figured I would go with the old "a lottery is a voluntary tax" line and belittle some of the fool poor suckers being fleeced of what little they have. Yet they have hope. Where was it that I read that people need only 3 things, something to love, something to do, and to have hope... Which of course is fool nonsense because you ain't going to be doing none of that if you got no food and you are starving to death.
But the typical lottery fool really believes that they are going to win.
"Oh boy, I tell you, first to pay off the debts, pay off the mortgage, and then that's it. Enjoy it. Give it to charities. Then enjoy my life. I've been waiting for a long time," she said.
She has been waiting for a long time has she? Does she have another plan? Does she even exist, or is he just a profile that other news readers will understand?
Clearly I will have to buy a ticket now that I have challenged the omens... The only question will be, do I pick the numbers or do I let the computer do that... Or do I go with 2 sets of numbers... Do I play the extra game since I will have to check the ticket, and will most likely find out, which of course means I MUST. I wonder what lottery terminal I should buy from... Lucky junction down the street or that store that whenever I go in something really amazing and uplifting happens and it just keeps getting stronger and stronger.
Then there was that one in my dream this afternoon. That vivid numerical dream where these same numbers kept jumping out at me over and over again and now their forever burned on my retina's brain center.
Why are the walls melting? What's that behind them?
3 18 33 oh my god I hear the voices... YES YES YES I am the chosen one!!
later chumps
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Is it odd
Is it odd that seconds after I post a blogaroo there are 3 comments that happen to be "people" who were checking out the blog and happened to leave a link to their site.
Was the word toothbrush a word to trigger some marketing reaction?
Football, Coach, cheerleaders, cleats, touchdown, tickets, i have lots of money, interested in deals, bus ride, Superbowl.
Go fishing with that Good old S Robertson.
other note Superbowl is not in the dictionary.
Was the word toothbrush a word to trigger some marketing reaction?
Football, Coach, cheerleaders, cleats, touchdown, tickets, i have lots of money, interested in deals, bus ride, Superbowl.
Go fishing with that Good old S Robertson.
other note Superbowl is not in the dictionary.
I met this weird guy
I met this weird guy who said he smoked a joint before he went toothbrush shopping and in the process was almost sold on one of the various "pulsating" toothbrushes.
They were blowing them out for $6.99.
It was then that i got involved. I immediately started fantasizing about what would have been if I had only gotten into toothbrush design. There are all kinds of neat flaps and flippers and rotating and pulsating heads... Indeed I missed my calling.
Yes sir you see with our new megatron spin eliminator with the special intratooth modules, you'll never have a brighter cleaner smile. It even has a recalculating sensor that will personally adjust to your tooth type. It has one spinning head and one pulsing head and if the dog gets a hold of it then there is a self destruct.
Later out hero was at the checkout with 6 toothbrushes and some chocolate. The young woman at the cash smiles and mentions the irony of the purchases. Our hero follows with some lame banter and then bursts out in a loud cackle... Nothing else is said between the two.
The next interaction occurs out on the street when some jackass sets off his car alarm when something in his pocket pushes the "panic" button.
The panic button is sold to fool consumers who believe that in the event that they are walking to their car and some "bogeyman" were to attack them then they would simply hit the panic button which would set off their car alarm, which would then cause everybody in the area who could hear the alarm to immediately drop everything that they are doing and rush over to the "distress signal" to offer their assistance.
Only it seems that every time that #&*%^#&$# alarm goes off people get angry at the fact that they have been disturbed by some irritating noises and end up having some discourse with the innocent.
They were blowing them out for $6.99.
It was then that i got involved. I immediately started fantasizing about what would have been if I had only gotten into toothbrush design. There are all kinds of neat flaps and flippers and rotating and pulsating heads... Indeed I missed my calling.
Yes sir you see with our new megatron spin eliminator with the special intratooth modules, you'll never have a brighter cleaner smile. It even has a recalculating sensor that will personally adjust to your tooth type. It has one spinning head and one pulsing head and if the dog gets a hold of it then there is a self destruct.
Later out hero was at the checkout with 6 toothbrushes and some chocolate. The young woman at the cash smiles and mentions the irony of the purchases. Our hero follows with some lame banter and then bursts out in a loud cackle... Nothing else is said between the two.
The next interaction occurs out on the street when some jackass sets off his car alarm when something in his pocket pushes the "panic" button.
The panic button is sold to fool consumers who believe that in the event that they are walking to their car and some "bogeyman" were to attack them then they would simply hit the panic button which would set off their car alarm, which would then cause everybody in the area who could hear the alarm to immediately drop everything that they are doing and rush over to the "distress signal" to offer their assistance.
Only it seems that every time that #&*%^#&$# alarm goes off people get angry at the fact that they have been disturbed by some irritating noises and end up having some discourse with the innocent.
Sunday, October 16, 2005
life in the rat race
A fresh new week, on a fresh new route (I am a mailman), and a fresh new Super Robertson Supper Show. You could even call this a fresh new blogaroo. Remember that word. I sure do... Not too sure if I give a rat's ass about that word but then I don't really have a rat's ass to give.
I suppose I could go out by the dumpster and bag me a rat, but, I think tonight calls for a little gibberish writing, some tea, a book and a good night's sleep. Not to mention that I don't really have the right equipment to go rat hunting at 8pm on a rainy Sunday evening. One would need a flashlight, some bait and a gun. I don't have all three of those things so we will just forget the rat hunting for now thank you very much.
The Supersimian album is now done. Just what I need, another project... But hey it's in the can all I have to do is try to convince Sim to release it online only and save myself some reproduction costs. Nothing like a new CD in environmentally degrading cellophane. How about 400 in the corner of the room until I move again. Is that a bad attitude?
at least I opted out of the rat hunt.
Mule was wearing a maroon sweater?
I thought he looked great.
I suppose I could go out by the dumpster and bag me a rat, but, I think tonight calls for a little gibberish writing, some tea, a book and a good night's sleep. Not to mention that I don't really have the right equipment to go rat hunting at 8pm on a rainy Sunday evening. One would need a flashlight, some bait and a gun. I don't have all three of those things so we will just forget the rat hunting for now thank you very much.
The Supersimian album is now done. Just what I need, another project... But hey it's in the can all I have to do is try to convince Sim to release it online only and save myself some reproduction costs. Nothing like a new CD in environmentally degrading cellophane. How about 400 in the corner of the room until I move again. Is that a bad attitude?
at least I opted out of the rat hunt.
Mule was wearing a maroon sweater?
I thought he looked great.
Thursday, October 13, 2005
I kill myself
It's late, I'm exhausted, and I can't sleep.
I just finished reading a chapter of a book called Monster of God... It's about alpha predators (better known as man-eaters). I read about crocodiles and the poor people that live among them and usually suffer the most tragedy's. A good book indeed... I have been buying a lot of books lately.
The point I was going to get to was that the reason I cannot sleep has nothing to do with the "horror of Man-eaters" but rather the Horror of last nights Super Robertson Supper Show. I would gladly spend a few months being slowly digested in the gut of a large reptile than repeat last nights horror.
I remember the good old Mule said a few years back, commenting on how Roadbed shows tended to be hijacked by trumpet improvisation. He said "you have put your foot down" or something like that, and it is true.
I can no longer allow people who don't know what the fuck they are doing do do it at the Super Robertson Supper show. One idea would be to get another show at the same time on the other side of the city and call it the Super Robertson amateur Hour... It will be like a minor league team in which people who want stage time can take it there in the hopes of impressing and moving on up to the big show.
For the record, when I asked Mule to play drums seconds after he strolled into the Railway club my idea was to play bass and WB to play guitar. It was after he declined that I tried to sell WB at playing in the horn band... Which I thought had merit given his patented snare mastery. But that's all for naught and god knows what I exactly said to him who looked pinned against the wall for my mind was on the lack of good drummers, excess of horns, and presence of an amateur drummer eager to bash away... Not to mention the fact that our Sexy young female singer beat poet songwriter sure to be a star chick hadn't shown up yet and I knew she wanted a soundcheck because she plays to some CD backing tracks. Well she showed up as the show was set to start with some greasy manager and we spent 10 minutes talking about soundcheck possibilities. It would be safe to say that around that time my frustration level rose massively. She needed a soundcheck that would take as long as it would take, didn't want to go on first, and didn't even have the right equipment. Around that time things go weird.
I should have told her sorry you can't play, I told you to come @ 7 for soundcheck, your late and the show has to start... I imagine I would have had a good fight with her manager but surely that would have been a fine entertainment package.
What I should have then done was go up and play "what's in the Bag", or fuse lit bombs, or bay city kitty or something and wait for Hobbs our trusty drummer to arrive... But no I called up the horn orchestra with a bad drummer and me with a heart full of hate honking on some hollowed stick... Thinking great a 10 minute late start and then this... I pulled the curtain quick and cut into "Woodstock"... WB and Hobbs joined in and we were up and running. Now in my mind at that time and knowing what a clown show our guest was going to be I figured that there was no way she was going to play, and I actually though she left (but it was just her manager who ran over to the Pic to harass soundman nick for some gear). I tried to explain to the crowd the fiascos, and how we got off to a rocky start... Oh she is still there hiding in the back of the bar.. I see commotion at the soundboard and I figure too many people are involved, I should give her a chance, knowing full well that this is going to be a disaster.
And it was!
Nothing like seeing people leave the room... People who you have never seen before who came down to check out the show stand up and walk out the door shaking their heads... But I needed that you see, I am a nice guy, I let people try things, I show patience and hope and belief on others.
I must become in charge, and it's not ok to fuck up consistently.
I just finished reading a chapter of a book called Monster of God... It's about alpha predators (better known as man-eaters). I read about crocodiles and the poor people that live among them and usually suffer the most tragedy's. A good book indeed... I have been buying a lot of books lately.
The point I was going to get to was that the reason I cannot sleep has nothing to do with the "horror of Man-eaters" but rather the Horror of last nights Super Robertson Supper Show. I would gladly spend a few months being slowly digested in the gut of a large reptile than repeat last nights horror.
I remember the good old Mule said a few years back, commenting on how Roadbed shows tended to be hijacked by trumpet improvisation. He said "you have put your foot down" or something like that, and it is true.
I can no longer allow people who don't know what the fuck they are doing do do it at the Super Robertson Supper show. One idea would be to get another show at the same time on the other side of the city and call it the Super Robertson amateur Hour... It will be like a minor league team in which people who want stage time can take it there in the hopes of impressing and moving on up to the big show.
For the record, when I asked Mule to play drums seconds after he strolled into the Railway club my idea was to play bass and WB to play guitar. It was after he declined that I tried to sell WB at playing in the horn band... Which I thought had merit given his patented snare mastery. But that's all for naught and god knows what I exactly said to him who looked pinned against the wall for my mind was on the lack of good drummers, excess of horns, and presence of an amateur drummer eager to bash away... Not to mention the fact that our Sexy young female singer beat poet songwriter sure to be a star chick hadn't shown up yet and I knew she wanted a soundcheck because she plays to some CD backing tracks. Well she showed up as the show was set to start with some greasy manager and we spent 10 minutes talking about soundcheck possibilities. It would be safe to say that around that time my frustration level rose massively. She needed a soundcheck that would take as long as it would take, didn't want to go on first, and didn't even have the right equipment. Around that time things go weird.
I should have told her sorry you can't play, I told you to come @ 7 for soundcheck, your late and the show has to start... I imagine I would have had a good fight with her manager but surely that would have been a fine entertainment package.
What I should have then done was go up and play "what's in the Bag", or fuse lit bombs, or bay city kitty or something and wait for Hobbs our trusty drummer to arrive... But no I called up the horn orchestra with a bad drummer and me with a heart full of hate honking on some hollowed stick... Thinking great a 10 minute late start and then this... I pulled the curtain quick and cut into "Woodstock"... WB and Hobbs joined in and we were up and running. Now in my mind at that time and knowing what a clown show our guest was going to be I figured that there was no way she was going to play, and I actually though she left (but it was just her manager who ran over to the Pic to harass soundman nick for some gear). I tried to explain to the crowd the fiascos, and how we got off to a rocky start... Oh she is still there hiding in the back of the bar.. I see commotion at the soundboard and I figure too many people are involved, I should give her a chance, knowing full well that this is going to be a disaster.
And it was!
Nothing like seeing people leave the room... People who you have never seen before who came down to check out the show stand up and walk out the door shaking their heads... But I needed that you see, I am a nice guy, I let people try things, I show patience and hope and belief on others.
I must become in charge, and it's not ok to fuck up consistently.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
all in a days work
I blame the Premier of B.C. for being such a persistent weasel. If it wasn't for him the Teachers wouldn't have been on strike, and if the teachers weren't on strike then the kids wouldn't have been home.
Well they were actually playing road hockey on what would be a quiet Canadian street.. I of course was the innocent Mailman just doing his job and minding his own business, even regretfully declining the first invitation to join the game... And if that fat little kid didn't challenge my skill set with such a cocky tone I probably would have just continued peacefully down Harriet street, and that would have been the end of it.
Indeed... The hairy old mailman had a few moves left in the tank, and all that extra body fat don't do you no good when your flopping around the ground like a walrus.
My team shot out to an early 5-0 lead. I had just assigned the "assistant captain" title to a feisty 7 year old named Danny, taping an A to his jersey when the first infraction occurred.
Fat boy's wheezing brother Abe shot the ball at me during a stop in play... I winked at Danny and turned with the ball on my stick, I called play on, and drilled a hard shot at Abe's neck dropping him to the ground... At first there was no sound, just the violent kicking of legs... And the that whiney voice crying a lost and lonely sound. I went over and poked him with my stick and ordered him to shut up... I had to explain to him that he was a disgrace to the whole sport... He did shut up for the most part keeping it to an intermittent blubbering.
Now I'll give Fat boy credit, he gave me a good chop to the ankle, perhaps as retribution. I even though of letting it slide... But then, what good would that teach him. Sure he is right to stand up for his teammate, but if he thinks that it's going to be a cake walk, that's silly. The world doesn't work on that principle... You got to learn to take your lumps.
So that's why I crosschecked him in the face.
I take it that's when his father and uncle started watching the game. Well they shot out on the street and we had ourselves a real good brawl.. I was actually doing pretty good.. I had the Uncle on the Father and I was working his ribcage... Next thing you know I see a Postal Van and oddly enough my first thought was, EXCELLENT REINFORCEMENTS.
Upon some rather unpleasant discourse it became apparent that my superintendent was actually not there to join into the festivities, but to put a stop to them!
He gets this weird stutter when he gets all mad... He was almost turning pink.
A local dog ended up dragging off my mail satchel to get the dog bones inside.
That really got him going as well.
damn Premier
Well they were actually playing road hockey on what would be a quiet Canadian street.. I of course was the innocent Mailman just doing his job and minding his own business, even regretfully declining the first invitation to join the game... And if that fat little kid didn't challenge my skill set with such a cocky tone I probably would have just continued peacefully down Harriet street, and that would have been the end of it.
Indeed... The hairy old mailman had a few moves left in the tank, and all that extra body fat don't do you no good when your flopping around the ground like a walrus.
My team shot out to an early 5-0 lead. I had just assigned the "assistant captain" title to a feisty 7 year old named Danny, taping an A to his jersey when the first infraction occurred.
Fat boy's wheezing brother Abe shot the ball at me during a stop in play... I winked at Danny and turned with the ball on my stick, I called play on, and drilled a hard shot at Abe's neck dropping him to the ground... At first there was no sound, just the violent kicking of legs... And the that whiney voice crying a lost and lonely sound. I went over and poked him with my stick and ordered him to shut up... I had to explain to him that he was a disgrace to the whole sport... He did shut up for the most part keeping it to an intermittent blubbering.
Now I'll give Fat boy credit, he gave me a good chop to the ankle, perhaps as retribution. I even though of letting it slide... But then, what good would that teach him. Sure he is right to stand up for his teammate, but if he thinks that it's going to be a cake walk, that's silly. The world doesn't work on that principle... You got to learn to take your lumps.
So that's why I crosschecked him in the face.
I take it that's when his father and uncle started watching the game. Well they shot out on the street and we had ourselves a real good brawl.. I was actually doing pretty good.. I had the Uncle on the Father and I was working his ribcage... Next thing you know I see a Postal Van and oddly enough my first thought was, EXCELLENT REINFORCEMENTS.
Upon some rather unpleasant discourse it became apparent that my superintendent was actually not there to join into the festivities, but to put a stop to them!
He gets this weird stutter when he gets all mad... He was almost turning pink.
A local dog ended up dragging off my mail satchel to get the dog bones inside.
That really got him going as well.
damn Premier
Saturday, October 08, 2005
A Post
Remember when post use to mean Mail, and mail use to be something that ended up in your mailbox, and it wasn't some offer for an introductory credit card interest break.
I guess post still means all that but it also means a little "bloggaroo". Yes, yes now, very funny defining a word with another word that does not exist. We shall define Bloggaroo as a post within a blog.
Check this one... When I spell check with the Blog's own spell checker it does not recognize the word blog. It does not accept it as a word! How can it not be accepted! When does a word become a word. Indeed, we are rapidly evolving... Too fast for sure... The change is too rapid, each generation of humans lives in a different world so that the evolutionary attributes keep changing.
Take a bird with a mutated bill, perhaps the bill will be better for getting seeds of a certain kind, and hence that bird's progeny (should the mutation be passed on) have a specific survival advantage over other birds (easier to access food). Over thousands of generations one would see an evolution to specialize a beak type (as well as some digestive modifications... Less obvious and measurable than a physical beak).
The things the average Human does today( at least in a rich first world nation), have very little in common with what people did 200 years ago. This brings severe consequences... Wait this was to be a positive post
In this bloggaroo we shall talk about Hockey. No matter how much suffering an wrongness there is out there in the world, I , man have a cooling case of beer and a couple games on this afternoon. A Toronto Montreal game then a Vancouver Edmonton game.
Then I will relaunch my Sports column in the LPC and BABOOM! a wonderful fantastic distraction. I can now pick up the paper and hit the sports... Re-read it a few times possibly saving me from hearing about the latest "big idea" come from the braincamp of the world's finest Superpower.
This post sucks.
I guess post still means all that but it also means a little "bloggaroo". Yes, yes now, very funny defining a word with another word that does not exist. We shall define Bloggaroo as a post within a blog.
Check this one... When I spell check with the Blog's own spell checker it does not recognize the word blog. It does not accept it as a word! How can it not be accepted! When does a word become a word. Indeed, we are rapidly evolving... Too fast for sure... The change is too rapid, each generation of humans lives in a different world so that the evolutionary attributes keep changing.
Take a bird with a mutated bill, perhaps the bill will be better for getting seeds of a certain kind, and hence that bird's progeny (should the mutation be passed on) have a specific survival advantage over other birds (easier to access food). Over thousands of generations one would see an evolution to specialize a beak type (as well as some digestive modifications... Less obvious and measurable than a physical beak).
The things the average Human does today( at least in a rich first world nation), have very little in common with what people did 200 years ago. This brings severe consequences... Wait this was to be a positive post
In this bloggaroo we shall talk about Hockey. No matter how much suffering an wrongness there is out there in the world, I , man have a cooling case of beer and a couple games on this afternoon. A Toronto Montreal game then a Vancouver Edmonton game.
Then I will relaunch my Sports column in the LPC and BABOOM! a wonderful fantastic distraction. I can now pick up the paper and hit the sports... Re-read it a few times possibly saving me from hearing about the latest "big idea" come from the braincamp of the world's finest Superpower.
This post sucks.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
I am naked
Thinking of a title for today's writing.. I looked around the room and it was going to be Pederson Field Guides, Western Birds, or, I am naked, which I happen to be right now.
Wait I just thought of a game we could play. Open up the Field Guide and I'll tell a story about the time I saw that bird... I guess I'll have to open up the field guide for you... as a side note I just spelt "open" as "poem".
OK here goes... Damn I got the Flycatcher page... those bloody things look all the same. To illustrate this point check this...The Alder Flycatcher can be differentiated from the Willow flycatcher safely "only by voice and to some extent breeding habitat". The second problem is that the damn things stay high up in the trees so you must kink you neck straining through field glasses to see if you are indeed looking at a Hammond's Flycatcher... which is more olive in colour; undeparts more yellowish, with a grayer chest... but if the bird is say dirty, and somewhat indistinguishable from the other species then you can always look at the bill for it is smallish and mostly dark.
When I go birding I call it a flycatcher and save the whiplash for a motor vehicle accident.
Next
damn I got the Oystercatchers... don't think I have ever seen one of those. They would be easy to identify if you did see one. Long legged, long beaked large shorebirds.
try one more
Fucking flycatchers again... this game sucks
SR
Wait I just thought of a game we could play. Open up the Field Guide and I'll tell a story about the time I saw that bird... I guess I'll have to open up the field guide for you... as a side note I just spelt "open" as "poem".
OK here goes... Damn I got the Flycatcher page... those bloody things look all the same. To illustrate this point check this...The Alder Flycatcher can be differentiated from the Willow flycatcher safely "only by voice and to some extent breeding habitat". The second problem is that the damn things stay high up in the trees so you must kink you neck straining through field glasses to see if you are indeed looking at a Hammond's Flycatcher... which is more olive in colour; undeparts more yellowish, with a grayer chest... but if the bird is say dirty, and somewhat indistinguishable from the other species then you can always look at the bill for it is smallish and mostly dark.
When I go birding I call it a flycatcher and save the whiplash for a motor vehicle accident.
Next
damn I got the Oystercatchers... don't think I have ever seen one of those. They would be easy to identify if you did see one. Long legged, long beaked large shorebirds.
try one more
Fucking flycatchers again... this game sucks
SR
Saturday, October 01, 2005
"If I were a blogger..."
"If I were a blogger, I would go home and write about Shaun Playing this accordion" Roger dean Young on stage at a copperspine show September 30, 2005.
Put that one in your pipe and smoke it. Indeed, like the old Mule wisdom of "write your little poems, but please keep them to yourself", but yet a bit less poignant.
"If I were a blogger"... Which he might be if it could even crack the top 50 list of things to do.
"I would go home and write about"... Perhaps more a nod to the fact that Shaun just stole the night with an accordion clinic, but also insinuating slightly that if he felt that he had to finish the evening by somehow documenting it in an online journal then that's how he would do it.
But of course he is not a blogger, and has clearly stated his allegiance to the other camp. What a pompous ass! How the hell does he know what a blogger thinks like... O wait, he used "if I" and then "I", so I guess he's ok on that one.
Blogging is a jackass sport
My glasses Molasses
People think me strange
I don't need to know them anymore
Shaun put on a clinic last night with the accordion during the Tin Cup set. The show was a CD release for Lea Amberson. She is really good, unbelievable voice and guitar. A rhythm queen with the talents worthy of Joni Mitchell comparisons. She is going on tour with Roger this week out to Saskatchewan and back. Check the copperspine.com website for dates.
Put that one in your pipe and smoke it. Indeed, like the old Mule wisdom of "write your little poems, but please keep them to yourself", but yet a bit less poignant.
"If I were a blogger"... Which he might be if it could even crack the top 50 list of things to do.
"I would go home and write about"... Perhaps more a nod to the fact that Shaun just stole the night with an accordion clinic, but also insinuating slightly that if he felt that he had to finish the evening by somehow documenting it in an online journal then that's how he would do it.
But of course he is not a blogger, and has clearly stated his allegiance to the other camp. What a pompous ass! How the hell does he know what a blogger thinks like... O wait, he used "if I" and then "I", so I guess he's ok on that one.
Blogging is a jackass sport
My glasses Molasses
People think me strange
I don't need to know them anymore
Shaun put on a clinic last night with the accordion during the Tin Cup set. The show was a CD release for Lea Amberson. She is really good, unbelievable voice and guitar. A rhythm queen with the talents worthy of Joni Mitchell comparisons. She is going on tour with Roger this week out to Saskatchewan and back. Check the copperspine.com website for dates.
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