Wrote this to a very good friend of mine. She responded positively, but mentioned that she had to go eat dinner. I vomited. Here's the scoop:

i wan mak an interes thing.

it wood be perpetual glitch-makin tech.

you'd wear these glassis them look like inuit sun glass

and they'd be glitchey camras

so ereything you seed wood look like glitchy vidyos

and you cud internact wiff it by wearin a gluve that wirelesslee sent message to them glassis

no buttins, you's jus press a finger to palm in ordert selec somefin in your vishuns

and i wan mak this cuz vidyo gmeaz are stale an dumb now.

they need to innerac' whiff real world and distort an mek fun

but i will never mek these fun thing to mek million bullion cuz not with that attitude u won'!

unnerstan?

Hello, dear Sam!

How have you been keeping?  The darker days are nearly upon you and your hemisphere.  Now may be the time to consider the Tarvu religion. I will include a link for you at the posterior of this post (post-post, essentially "post scriptum", but I'm being silly, you see).  You have eaten of the turkey, roots, and gourd: the symbolic final meal before the on-set of hibernation. Be glad of the season!  The harvest has been plentiful.

I found an old poem of yours that I am posting here as well. I had a difficult time considering your implied metaphorical comparison of this pride of un-pride, and the pool of stagnant water left behind in the tread-marks of a forest harvester. Maybe you are inverting the order of reference. The weird palindrome makes me think so: pride; un-pride; stagnant water (un-pride, the world as it is, for better or worse); harvester (human pride). But I liked the inclusion of a religious and occult sensibility, and the confusion of both with pride and un-pride. The midge is collecting blood in an indiscriminate way, as is the plaid-shirted lumberjack.

It may be that you have had difficulty expanding your poems beyond a verse or two. Why are you always trying to be so pithy, anyhow? Can you write something for me that is self-absorbed, long-winded for the sake of words, and just plain fun? I'd like that. Well, that's all for now. Be well!

There is pride in endeavouring

To have no pride at all

A diabolic iloba ida 

Following a fall

So a stagnant pool of water

In uprooted forest’s wake

Will spawn a teeming multitude

For our bloody sake.

http://www.tarvu.com/givil.html

Gentlepeople, I give you the Mars Curoisity Rover:

http://twitter.com/marscuroisity

Become a fan. "Like" it today. Follow it like a twit. I don't give a tweet.

The interweb is just so confusing. There are double-agents posing as mock-double agents everywhere. Duplicity abounds. I don't know what to think about the people who put this page up, for example:

http://www.knowthelies.com/node/8072

Any thoughts? Is this sarcasm? Are human beings really this dumb or are there some clever people who think they are being funny by manipulating people this dumb? So much confusion. My first reaction is to guffaw and loose my honey-nut oaty-o's on the interweb, but afterward I sit baffled and in awe. Narrative threads; narrative threads everywhere!

the news at 5, 5:30, and 6

There are still a few good programmes on the old Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. "Ideas" is just such a one. When growing up, Lister Sinclair's golden voice used to seep through our tiny bungalow from the parents' bedroom where Dada lay on the bed listening to his ancient clock-radio. Lister is gone now, but Paul Kennedy does a fine job.  Quirks and Quarks is still on the air with Bob MacDonald hosting with Jay Ingram's voice (they certainly sound similar). You just need to get over every scientist interviewed responding to questions with "So, ...".

Yes, there's life yet in the CBC. The Current is a good show. It aims at hard-hitting journalism and sometimes delivers the punch but also has a humorous side. "Q" has its moments, and Gian is a genuine, empathetic and mild-mannered host. "Morningside" it is not, but what could be?

Just a little ramble on the state of the union through the lens of broadcasting. This is certainly not an exhaustive list, just something from the top of the head, you know. If anyone reading knows of a good show we're missing here (maybe something along the lines of Two New Hours or Gilmore's Albums) Please respond. Oh, and Day Six and The House are also very good. It's astounding that this quality is possible with the Harper Conservatives running the show in Ottawa.

And that's it for the Canadian perspective for this week.

Join us next time, won't you, for a look at the origins of Greenpeace in Canada and what involvement with that organization means to someone today.

witness to an accident

Of an evening, the progeny, the lady, and the tramp all went to a free, out-of-doors concert featuring the burgh's symphony orchestra. It was quite pleasant (with the exception of the swarms of mosquitos down by the river): McDermott sang a few chestnuts; the strange man who wears the colourful blouses, daisy-dukes and pork-pie hat played second baton; the little ones had fun. The place was packed, and finding parking near at hand was impossible, but aside from that and the blood-suckers, it was not a bad outing.

Once the family had all bundled into the car and were safely on the road, the real danger began. They came to a stop at a red light behind a car with British Columbian plates. They remained there for a good part of the succeeding green light as well while the driver ahead sat, immobile. The friendly, one-short-honk was duly applied, and when the driver still didn't move, the tramp, who was chauffeur, pulled out to pass. That, of course, is when the man in front finally moved, changing lanes so he was still ahead, then moving back into the original lane, all without a single signal. At the red light, he stopped about one-and-a-half car lengths from the stop line, so the family passed and pulled up well ahead in the other lane.

"Let some other driver sit waiting behind this weirdo,"  thinks chauffeur-tramp. Then, suddenly, most unadvisedly, the man from British Columbia throws his car into reverse and drives with full acceleration smack into the car behind him.

Yells of angry disbelief rang out, and the family shot out of there, not wishing to become victims of stab wounds that night. Upon arriving home, the tramp phoned non-emergency police to report this strange event. No one else had phoned it in. The erratic behaviour of the man from British Columbia was described. A statement would have to be taken in person since no record of this incident had been reported. The call was ended. Puzzlement tugged at features creating a confused grimace on the face of the reporter. A piggy-wiggy squealed dementedly in the distance.

"But," thought the tramp, "that accident was meant for us...!"

Eateemores

"Daddy," said the little man, "are you 'fraid of Eateemores?"
"Of what, dear?"
"Of Eateemores."
The little man had a serious, probing look in his amber eyes.
"Well now, ah, it's sort of hard to say," replied that big man, confuddled.
"When there was a Eateemore and it was going to PRASH! into the monkey but the duck flied by and stopt it."
"Eateemores?"
"Yes, I'm 'fraid of Eateemores because they fly in the sky and are very big Daddy, and the Eateemores can hit your eye and then it would be put out and hard to see!"
"Ah-ha!" said the big man. "Yes, I am afraid of Eateemores too, but since I can do nothing about them, I try not to worry too much about them."
"You should be scared too, but if you stop the Eateemores it would be very amazing!"
"Look out! Here comes one now!"
"Silly," said the little man, inclining his chin to the fading rays of the sun and waving his arm above his head "there is no Eateemores up here now!"
And with that, they returned to eating their yoghurt.