25 years ago today

Some guy by the name of Chapman stood quietly in the dark of some New York street, patiently awaiting one forth of the defunct Beatles, just to shout out "Mr Lennon". Then with a loud thud and final echo, some chubby man sporting wire-rimmed glasses had shot one of the most famous and influencial talents of the 60's and 70's. That's it. Done. That simple.

Why would one such man do such a thing? Ask him. I have no idea. I was 4 at the time, but it still affects me today... kinda. It kills me to think that some asshole can have that much angst, so much rage as to fire a .38-caliber pistol at arguably one of the world's most talented people. He shot him dead. Pulled the trigger and killed John Lennon on a chilly December night.

All he had to say was "I just shot John Lennon,". Chapman replied ever so softly when asked by Lennon's doorman, as a 4 year old might voice if asked what he wanted for breakfast "Cocoa Puffs is fine".

I can't write much that hasn't already been written so I'll leave at that.

May he rest in peace.

U2, the review after the reflection

U2 Friday night, very very good. Was it worth a few hundred bucks? Yep. Show of the year? For me, yep. It was a hell of a night.

The set list was awesome, as was the stage and lighting, even though they had some issues a few songs in. Bono's voice was definitely "off", and the sound could have been better. But all in all, excellent experience.

What makes or breaks a show (for me) is the energy of the band, and how much energy is taken and given back to the fans. Let me tell you, U2 are fucking pros. Bono is a master, from dragging kids on stage to dancing with a girl for With or Without You, to what he says, how he says it. All of it. Beautiful. 25 years on stage, and these guys not only do not miss a beat, but they're getting to the point that they know just how long to play with the crowd and at what moment. Most of all, you get the feeling that U2 is giving all they have, night after night and show after show. Watching these guys do what they do best is a wonderful thing, and doing that with 20 000 friends is a pretty incredible thing.

U2 show tonight !

Tonight's the big night, U2 in really a matter of just a few hours. It's hard to believe I bought these tickets 8 months ago! Damn.

I'm surprised that I'm getting this excited about it, becuase for months they were just 2 tiny pieces of cardboard sitting on a shelf. Now they've materialized into what just may be the hottest ticket in town. Yep, I'm feeling it. Leaving work early and driving down to Ottawa to see them. Ottawa is FAR from a party town. Hell, ANY kind of town. This is the type of place that rolls up the town at 5:00pm on Friday and you almost expect tumbleweed to be rolling through Main Street.

I'll definitely be reporting about everything Monday. Have a great one everybody! I sure will.

Random thoughts

If turkeys had a holiday, you think they'd be thankful for anything?

When referring to more than one box, why can't you use the term "boxen"?

If blue balls occurs when polly wont finish off your cracker, does that mean you should finish yourself?

Is it possible for a bird to be afraid of heights?

Americans elected George Bush... a second time?

Why am I now suddenly obsessed with the term "teabag"?

Do cats ever wake up and think "Fuck, I've just GOT to do something with my life."?

I feel as washed-up as Paris Hilton

I didn't write for a couple months, recently got back on the horse. Fucking horses. Never liked riding anyhow. Always trying desperately to hang on, while your ass feels like it's getting pounded through your ribs. As a dude, this isn't the greatest feeling I can think of.

I digress.

I'm washed-up like Paris Hilton. I wonder what she thinks. Actually, nope, really don't care. What's going on inside that empty space is nobody's business. It's probably a dark, caverness, mold infested wasteland of a head and a personality that's as flat as she is. Speaking of Hilton, here's something I've always wanted to try... have a mystery box auction on eBay with just a pic of Hilton. Mystery box is up for sale. That's all it needs to say. To explain the nasty contents of the box being sold would only either get it pulled from the site or freak out the women and children. Shit, probably the men too! What do you win? Nothing, just a used up, grimy, spent box everyone has seen already on the Internet.

The worst part of what's quickly becoming an all Paris post? Giving her this much publicity. If I didn't post everything I write, I'd delete the fuck out of this and try again. But I gotta go to work, to earn thos pennies to pay the rent and feed the cat.

The Infamous Christmas list

Have you ever been asked to provide one of these horrible things?

Most of the time, it's requested by people who have problems buying gifts, people that don't know you well enough. In my case, it's that AND it's my parents... who are so afraid of buying the wrong thing they need a list.

So now, what do you put on this list? A sweater? An IPod? A watch? Concert tickets? Gift certificates? DVD's?

How specific do you get? Seiko Coutura Kinetic Stainless Steel Perpetual Calendar Watch? Too specific? What about handing somebody a list that says: Watch. Now that's begging for trouble, almost daring them to buy the tackiest, nastiest watch that ever came out of a Happy Meal.

What about the number? Are 4 items enough, or do they want 25 items minimum? Who the fuck knows really.

What about categories and pricepoints? Amidst "computer", "lawnmower" and "digital camera", are you expected to sprinkle the list with a couple CD's? Should it be in terms of price, ease of locating the gift, or alphabetical? I swear I've thought about all of these.

Finally, what about multiple lists? If you've got a few people in your entourage that force you to hand over a list of possible mistakes, do you make your life easier by simply producing 1 document, or do you produce multiple versions so there's possibillity you receive the same crap? I've even considered including a phone number to the person with whom they share the identical list. Maybe something like "Before buying anything on this list, please contact Shirly at 555-9368".

I find the process hard as hell. As I continue to try and find ideas for myself I'm continually reminded of why I'm not particularly fond of the holiday season. I know it's sad, but it's too much work for the little joy it brings me. More on the crazy shoppers in a different post. I'm blogged out.

Dildo, Climax, Gay, Blowhard, or French Lick?

Did I get your attention?

These are actual city names. No shit. All 100 percent true. 2 of them are in Michigan, nice state.

I can't imagine being on the phone with my Internet company and trying to explain French Lick to some guy named Billy. "That's right, I moved from Dildo, Newfoundland to French Lick. You happy now?" What fun to live in a town called climax. Hard to be bored in a town like that. And if you like that kind of thing, Blowhard would be the kind of place for you. If you're of the slow suck variety, stay in Blue Ball, Pennsylvania where you belong.

Leather pants? You betcha

Ever bought something you really don't need? I was having this conversation wa s co-worker last week and turns out just when thought you were special and unique... not a chance. Turns out everyone buys crap they don't need, will never use, and don't even want. Why? Who knows.

I recently ran out and bought a pair of $350 motorcycle pants. Did I need them? Well, kinda but not now. I have no money and it's November in Canada. Enough said. A laptop that I wanted for a week or two, then I bought it. I had big plans for this puppy, really did. In the last 6 months I've turned it on about 5 or 6 times. How about an expensive drum set, but I'm such a mediocre drummer no amount of money spent on a drum set could possibly get me to sound good. I have a million of these, thank god for eBay. Without eBay I wouldn't be able to get into my house, I'm a bit of a brand whore and for a guy strangely like to shop.

Of course, this wouldn't be complete without my inspiration for this story. Here's the text grabbed from an auction that appeared on ebay a few months ago. I love people that can be creative enough to poke fun at themselves. This is classic.

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You are bidding on a mistake.

We all make mistakes. We date the wrong people for too long. We chew gum with our mouths open. We say inappropriate things in front of grandma.

And we buy leather pants.

I can explain these pants and why they are in my possession. I bought them many, many years ago under the spell of a woman whom I believed to have taste. She suggested I try them on. I did. She said they looked good. I wanted to have a relationship of sorts with her. I’m stupid and prone to impulsive decisions. I bought the pants.

The relationship, probably for better, never materialized. The girl, whose name I can’t even recall, is a distant memory. I think she was short.

Ultimately the pants were placed in the closet where they have remained, unworn, for nearly a decade. I would like to emphasize that: Aside from trying these pants on, they have never, ever been worn. In public or private.

I have not worn these leather pants for the following reasons:

I am not a member of Queen.
I do not like motorcycles.
I am not Rod Stewart.
I am not French.
I do not cruise for transvestites in an expensive sports car.

These were not cheap leather pants. They are Donna Karan leather pants. They’re for men. Brave men, I would think. Perhaps tattooed, pierced men. In fact, I’ll go so far as to say you either have to be very tough, very gay, or very famous to wear these pants and get away with it.
Again, they’re men’s pants, but they’d probably look great on the right lady. Ladies can get away with leather pants much more often than men can. It’s a sad fact that men who own leather pants will have to come to terms with.

They are size 34x34. I am no longer size 34x34, so even were I to suddenly decide I was a famous gay biker I would not be able to wear these pants. These pants are destined for someone else. For reasons unknown - perhaps to keep my options open, in case I wanted to become a pirate - I have shuffled these unworn pants from house to house, closet to closet. Alas, it is now time to part ways so that I may use the extra room for any rhinestone-studded jeans I may purchase in the future.

These pants are in excellent condition. They were never taken on pirate expeditions. They weren’t worn onstage. They didn’t straddle a Harley, or a guy named Harley. They just hung there, sad and ignored, for a few presidencies.

Someone, somewhere, will look great in these pants. I’m hoping that someone is you, or that you can be suckered into buying them by a girl you’re trying to bed.

Please buy these leather pants.