Black is White, Up is Down

Honestly, I don't care what your politics are. What I do care about is being consciously mendacious. Sadly, No! has the rundown on Orson Scott Card's revisionist view of Joe McCarthy, Bush's war records, and the "treasonous slanders" of John Kerry.

And there I thought that Neal Adams was the biggest nutter in the comic pile.

Friday!

Here is my Friday: my favourite dog, beer, and burgers on the grill. I know, typical lefty fare, deal with it.

So what are you kids doing?

Potty Mouth!

For some great weekend music, stroll on over to Kevin's Woodshed. Any Leafs fans should brace themselves for Hab iconography. Too bad for you.

Anti-Canadian Bias at SadlyNo Blog

At the raging lefty blog, SadlyNo, one of their commenters left this stinking turd in the bowl:

“Edmund Fitzgerald” is such a fucking ridiculously long and repetitive (and repetive) song."

The repetition and length is what makes this song a god-send for craptastic, campfire quality guitarists like me. Just check out the tablature for the song:

(Asus2)The legend lives on from the (Em)Chippewa on down of the
(G) Big lake (D) they call (Asus2) Gitchee Gumee
(Em)The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead
(G ) When the skies of (D) November (Asus2) turn gloomy...


These are all really easy chords, and you get to repeat them, through verse and chorus, for what feels like hours. And if you jumble and confuse the lines, it may take hours to get through them. Tons of entertainment with only a minimal skill needed. Another beaut in this category of songs both easy and long is Hotel California by the Eagles:

(Bm) On a dark desert highway, (F#) Cool wind in my hair
(A) Warm smell of colitas (E) rising up through the air
(G) Up ahead in the distance, (D)I saw a shimmering light
(Em) My head grew heavy and my sight grew dim
(F#)I had to stop for the night


And if you are like me, you fudge those sharps and play something easier. And you never bother with the solos or intros. Trust me, after a few beers, nobody is going to care as long as they can sing Hotel California. And don't forget old folk tunes; those things have a million verses and even fewer chords. Think like a troubadour. Memorize lyrics and forget all the fancy finger work.

So take that, moonbatty lefty blog commenter!

Things I'm Glad I Saw

When the first Austin Powers movie came out, I immediately thought of Matt Helm. More specifically, the Matt Helm film, "The Silencers". To my way of thinking, it was the epitome of the swinging 60s, of a groovy world that I had missed out on due to the misfortune of being born too late.

The film itself was harmless enough, but I always made sure to watch the salacious opening sequence. Watching it now, I am amazed that it played on Sunday afternoons. And I am really beginning to realize how little my parents monitored my tv habits. I guess they thought it was just as harmless as my comic books.

Sometimes the 70s rocked.

Well That Explains The Mutated Deer

My long walk to work gives me lots of time to think, to breathe the fresh air, and to marvel at the ungodly amount of garbage that people pitch out of their car windows. Beer bottles, Tim Horton's coffee cups, drink bottles, more beer bottles, fast food containers...I guess I am really glad that so many people are keeping their cars in pristine condition by not letting any litter befoul their floor mats.

But today, something special caught my eye. Right there in front of me was a package of prescription drugs. Never one to miss a chance at a free high I scooped them up, only to discover that they were birth control pills. Marvelon to be exact.

My mind immediately switched into hyper imagination/speculation mode (not really much of switch from my normal mode): why did E*** Wr** throw out a month's worth of pills? Does her boyfriend/husband know? Did they argue and one them chucked the offending pills from the car? Did they decide that now was the time to have a baby and this was part of the joyous ceremony? Should I call her? Should I call her doctor?

Sadly, I find it all very exciting.

And it is so nice to know that all the don't pollute work done back in the 70s is having no effect at all.

Dear Kukla, Fran and Ollie, Thanks For The Ennui

Saturdays at one p.m., from 1971 to 1977, was the home of the CBS Children's Film Festival, starring Kukla, Fran and Ollie.

Every week this cheerful trio would introduce and comment on a variety of films from around the world, and if it was raining, or somehow Mom didn't kick us out into the fresh air, it was a show guaranteed to thrill, entice, and education impressionable souls like me.

Except it didn't. Oh sure, they promised "Adventure in far away places", but all it ever seemed to be were films about the poor and indigent, Polish shoe fetishists, lame-ass ghost stories (populated by English tykes in smashing jumpers, who seem to be constantly consuming heaps of tomahtoes and lashings of ginger beer all the while planning the comeuppance of that right nasty barrister, Mr. Blaggard!), heartbreaking tales of love, loss and cruelty to wooden animals, or some other Hungarian art film about some old guy smoking and crying. And sadness. And more loss. And cruelty.

Yes, most of the films did have happy endings, but after an hour of being emotionally beaten down by a film about depressed Czechoslovakian orphans pining away for a lost doll whilst being kicked in the mush by a gang of bullies, it was hard to stay for the joyous ending.

Oh yeah, they also showed The Red Balloon. Luckily I was able to see that film in elementary school as well. Nothing more uplifting on a rain-day than a French film about angst and loss. Oh how I would dread film day. If you could get through the drepression brought on by the Red Balloon without stabbing yourself in the eyes with every coloured Laurentian pencil in your case, you might have been slightly cheered by the end of the film. Me? I always felt bad for the balloon and for its bad choice in friends. And for post-war France.

One Minute TV Review: The Juno Awards

Anne Murray sang Snowbird, Russel Peters made fun of gay people, cowboy culture, and an 11-year-old boy, Josee Verner did not pull off that dress, and the guys from Triumph look healthier than I do.

Watching Doctor Who on Google video is a much better option if you want some entertainment.