Princess, Puppy and Pirate Parties

Today, I really needed to come across the listing for “Clowns” in the Yellow Pages. I have left it open on my desk so that when people come by and are idiots approximately every 15 minutes, I can look down and laugh, thus stopping myself from feasting on their forebrains. 15 minutes at a time.

1. A Big Unforgettable Party! Featuring Live Rabbit and Cotton Candy. I’m unsure if these are party tricks or maybe cover bands?

2. A Zany Zack Clown
Just one, mind you. Not ALL the Zany Zack Clowns. What are you, some kind of clown hog?

3. Ask Twister the Clown
“Twister, will the idiots all die at midnight?”

4. Call In the Clowns Tickles Yowza and Family
Call in the commas, dude.

5. The Clownerie (Feat. balloon twisting, train rides, Ducky & Dizzy Stage Show [!])
Why in heaven’s name am I working in an office when I could be part of something like The Clownerie? Another question for Twister, I guess.

6. Giggles “The Guitar Lady Clown” The most gentle clown in the world! This is my favourite, as I have been tortured by violent clowns my whole life.

7. Princess, Puppy and Pirate Parties
!!!!

8. Scooter the Clown
Dear God.

9. Whistles The Clown
Someone get this man a coffee.

10. Woops-a-Daisy
looks a bit too much like Stevie Nicks for my liking.

Originally I was thinking: that’s 10 years of birthday parties for the babby! But after going to some of those websites, I feel quite strongly that clowns are funnier on paper.

Posted in babby, funny | 3 Comments

Mammal, Mammal. Their Names are Called; They Raise a Paw.

This morning, I came across this story, about a Canadian Senator, Céline Hervieux-Payette, who received (as did all the senators) a letter from an American family. The letter expressed disgust and dismay that the seal hunt was going ahead for 2006 and further warned her/us that if we didn’t end the seal hunt, this particular family from Minnesota would never come to Canada again. And they like it in Canada. They like to vacation here. But not while we’re killing seals.

Senator Hervieux-Payette, unlike her fellow senators, wrote back. And in her letter she listed some of the things she finds dismaying and disgusting about the U.S:

“…the daily massacre of innocent people in Iraq, the execution of prisoners – mainly blacks – in American prisons, the massive sale of handguns to Americans, the destabilization of the entire world by the American government’s aggressive foreign policy, etc…”

and futher explained that the seal hunt is a well-regulated tradition and a great money maker for people who have no other employment options. So come on up and see us sometime.

I couldn’t stop myself: some kind of weird testosterone/patriotism came over me and I pumped my fist in the air and shouted “fucking too right!” I wanted to high five that senator. I wanted her to be the spokesperson for all of Canada. I wanted her to tickle Stephen Harper until he cried for mercy.

After a minute, my other side said, “Hmm, but that’s not really very nice, is it? I mean, these people were just expressing their opinions. And it’s not their fault they’re Americans. I mean, who knows what kind of Americans they are. They might be very nice, Democrat Americans. They might hate Bush and the war too. And that’s why they love the seals so. And really, a senator shouldn’t stoop so low as to fire back on the same level as someone who accuses her of murdering innocent whatevers.”

It’s fun when the gut speaks before the brain. Refreshing, even. Especially if you’re appointed, rather than elected.

* * * * * *

I’ve been following the seal hunt fury for the last few weeks. When Paul McCartney stepped in and said, “Oy, stop killing seals you lot! I’m coming to sit on your ice floes and I’m not getting up without a seal hunt ban,” I got pretty defensive and swore at the radio and called Sir Paul all kinds of nasty names, just on principle. Somewhere in trying to figure out whether I was justified in all this shouting, I realized I had no knowledge-based opinion about the seal hunt. Whether or not it was ethical, right, humane. Sealane. Whatever. Short answer: I agree with it. Go get those seals, boyos & girlos.

Long answer:

The last I had heard, seals were not in any danger of extinction. In fact, the DFO-informed seal info site says that seal populations have been monitored and managed since the ’60s and that, “the most recent (1985) advice from NAFO (Northwest Atlantic Fisheries Organization) indicates that pup production is in the neighbourhood of 500,000 animals, with an associated population of animals one year and older of about 2.0 million seals.” If the annual seal-hunt quota is 335,000 (and it is this year) I would say that we’ve got plenty of seals.

The problem is, I suspect, that seals are awfully cute. They have big, round eyes and whiskers, making them somewhat like dog/cat crosses. 20 years ago the protesting was all about the red blood against the white fur of the baby seal. But it’s been illegal since 1987 to club the fuzzy, white (baby) seals. Once they’ve shed their fuzzy white fur, it is fully legal to club the sleek, silver (still baby) seals, as long as you are licensed to do so and stick to your quota.

The main objection that the International Fund for Animal Welfare seems to have to the seal hunt is that it’s unnecessarily cruel. “In the past three years, nearly one million baby seals have been clubbed or shot to death,” they say. “Newborn seals skinned or bled alive … clubbed to death … or shot and left wounded to die under the ice.” They describe seals being hooked and dragged across the ice, only to be skinned before their hearts stop beating. (the CBC backgrounder explains that seals have a swimming reflex or a post-death twitch, much like a chicken with its head cut off will still run around the barnyard but it is, regardless, dead.) Now first, I get that dead baby seals are more compelling than dead adult seals but come on – it’s a seal. It’s not like the baby seal, if left unmolested, will grow up to be president of the United States. It will grow up to be an adult seal, which will live its life for a while and then die and I bet no one will give a damn because adult seals aren’t as agreeable when you try to cuddle one. Go on, try it!

And second, you want to talk about cruelty? How about fishing? You put a hook in the water and yank a fish out by its mouth and then hit it with a stick to kill it? And that’s for SPORT, that’s not even for commercial purposes. You’re telling me that’s not cruel? No, you’re telling me you don’t care because fish have little squinty eyes and they don’t have whiskers (except some fish do, you know) and they’re slimy and they taste good with lime and hey, there’s lots of fish. But how was your chicken dinner killed, Minnesota letter-writing-people? How about your beef? How about your milk? Cows impregnated over and over again, only to have their calves taken away so that the milk can be harvested and sold to grocery stores across the country? No, that’s not cruel. I’m sure the cows love that. The calves too. Why are you focusing on seals when there are so many animals to which you are cruel every day?

I’m not saying I’m vegan. I’m totally not vegan. I like bacon a lot and I know it comes from pigs and I buy it in a plastic package so probably it didn’t come from a pig that was loved and cherished and gently ushered into a sweet hereafter. I eat cheese. I even eat ORANGE cheese. Terrifying stuff. But I also don’t walk around yelling about how inhumane slaughterhouses are. Because that would make me a hypocrite. And I think a lot of people latch on to causes like the seal hunt because they can do that without seeming hypocritical – just critical. It’s very hard to give up meat and dairy products, or to choose more ethically produced meat and dairy products. On the other hand, it’s pretty easy to give up seal skin shoes and seal meat burritos, (I quit cold turkey!) making the seal hunt one of those causes anyone can get behind without having it block his or her view.

(Don’t even get me started on Luna, the dumbest whale ever to make love to a tugboat propellor. The article refers to a request to do a coroner’s inquest into the whale’s freak death. How the hell is this a “freak death?” He liked to snuggle with boats; he had been cut by a propellor before; I would say this is akin to an addict dying of an overdose. Sure, it’s sad, but Luna himself always seemed pretty happy. And if he was indeed the reincarnation of the dead chief of the Mowachaht-Muchalaht First Nation, then I trust the chief knew what he was doing.)

I’m not starting.

(Oh except to say that if CBC wanted to mix it up a little, they could have Donnelly Rhodes play “The Whale Coroner” – kind of a cross between Danger Bay and Da Vinci’s Inquest and that would be great for at least a couple of episodes.)

Posted in outside, serious | 5 Comments

It’s Me! I Have your Funk!

A ways back, The Gecko who Lives in the Temple posted about a neat music project called Pandora. Pandora is a streaming online jukebox that dissects songs for their genetic matter and then feeds them back to you based on your preferences. So if you like Ben Folds (say), Pandora might play you some Joe Jackson (say), because both artists use a piano to perform songs that are harmonic and share a particular rhythm. Say.

Off you go, you type in the name of an artist or particular song and then Pandora spins a song by that artist that it feels encapsulates the artist’s “genes”. Then she spins a song by another artist that shares some of those genes. In this way, you get to listen to a lot of music that, in theory, should sound good to you. You can interact with it while it’s playing, so if it should decide that Creed (say) is in some way like Joe Jackson, you can express your indignation accordingly.

I listen to music while I am working and often I find myself in the mood for something I don’t own. (Like Armageddon, by Prism. Say.) The other day it was REO Speedwagon. I punched that into Pandora and was rewarded with so much arena rock I nearly teased my bangs perpendicular. This morning, I decided I was in the mood for some funk. So I went to Pandora, typed in “Parliament” and have been blissed out on funk ever since. Rick James, Lee Dorsey, Kool & the Gang, Earth, Wind & Fire. It’s a dance party in my pants!

Go try it! 8 hours of listening does tend to stretch the limits a bit and it doesn’t work for everything (I caution you against trying Aimee Mann) but it’s fun and free and then you too could have some kind of party in your pants. Unless there’s already one there.

Posted in music | 1 Comment

Think He’ll Get Any Work?

The Crappy – er, Canadian – Tire guy will no longer grace our nation’s airwaves with his unsolicited advice and smirky bearded face! Farewell, godspeed, whatnot.

I can’t begin to tell you how happy this makes me, not only because: who doesn’t hate the CT guy? but also because I know someone who is the mirror image of the CT guy, both in looks and in behavior and trust me, having the Canadian Tire guy always looking over your “fence” and offering you unsolicited advice? About as much fun in real life as it is on TV. But with fewer power tools. (So actually, less fun in real life than on TV.) My hope is that the two are somehow connected, like a voodoo doll type deal, and the disappearance of one – well – I don’t have to spell it out for you. In print. On the internet.

The other important part of this story is that Canadian Tire has switched ad agencies entirely so maybe the vapid “it starts with you/c’mon & get things started here/ooooooh/let’s get started” jingle will also soon be at the unemployment office looking for its pogey. Again – me, living in Hope, sitting on my porch swing and enjoying the chainsaw carvings.

Posted in television | 2 Comments

Staintastic

Goddessa (who has been napping for a few months but was woken this week by a loud noise and is now prowling your neighbourhood like a post-hibernation bear) would just like to mention that it is extremely unfair to:

a) charge $20 + for a t shirt just because it’s “maternity”
b) make said t shirt out of non-pre-shrunk cotton so after one wash it is no longer “maternity”
c) make said t-shirt out of material that stains if you so much as sneeze on it, thus rendering it stained, too small and thus unwearable.

WTF? Goddessa has never stained so many shirts in her life (except for the first few years, she’s guessing) and it’s NOT because she is suddenly a more clumsy or inattentive eater. She is PAYING ATTENTION to her food. Thrice she has incurred stains on her “maternity” clothing which stains, were that clothing non-maternity, would come out in the wash. She even has permanently stained a BLACK T SHIRT. Come on! Goddessa has black t shirts she has owned for 10 years, shirts she has worn to consume all manner of alcohol and food, shirts she has dyed her hair in, shirts she has BLEACHED her hair in, and these shirts are fine. They don’t fit over Goddessa’s enormous head anymore, so she can’t wear them, but they’re unstained.

Goddessa is extremely disgruntled.

Maternity clothing manufacturers of the world: You done been smote.

Posted in babby, Goddessa Smites You | 3 Comments