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And talking to J***, the gentleman I helped to move, he's telling us stories of the mines and Fort Mac. The drug policies, of interest, 0 tolerance for drugs, you have to have gone 12 hours without alcohol (they're not being too unreasonable there), but they test as well for Cocaine, Marijuana, etc.
They don't fuck around. IN the mines, if there's an accident underground the whole crew is tested, if any are positive they're all let go. It doesn't matter. Marijuana, that stays in your system 30 days. So nobody on these crews smokes dope. Cocaine, on the other hand, only stays around for 4...
You get the idea. They're 2 weeks in, 2 weeks out, and everyone has a plan when they first get back to civilization...
***
J*** is telling us how when he was in Fort Mac. the guy he's with eats a handful of sawdust. He observes, a couple of times, the guy reaching into his pocket, taking out a handful of sawdust and chewing it down. So by and by he asks the question, and the guy explains that tomorrow's payday...
This explains nothing, and so after a bit J*** asks for clarification. Payday, all the workers gather and there's a regatta. The Fort McMurray yachting club. Everyone lays out a turd on the tailing pond, the first one across wins, the loser loses his cheque.
It's important the turd floats, hence he's devouring sawdust.
Now you know where my mind is going, I'm picturing a regatta of sloops and sailing boats, all outfitted with toothpick masts and toilet paper sails, the occasional pirate flag, the cultural elite of Alberta on the sidelines, cheques in hand, cheering them all on...I imagine the trophy that comes with the winning, a (of necessity) "Shit" in a bottle sat upon the proud winners mantelpiece...
If you've never lived in Alberta you wouldn't believe it. If you have you know you're only getting the bits fit for "public" consumption...
But if you wanted to explain the politics this is where you'd start...
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Friend, sick, has an interview with doctor over Skype. Who recommends she gets herself to a hospital ASAP as she's not doing well. Hospitals, at the moment - well, she was in for 7 hours for no diagnosis and a lot of tests.
Anyways, she had told me the doctor was paying a house call and it got me thinking, not as in Skype but as in the day when Doctors would actually go to see the patient in their own environment. Because in their environment might be a lot of clues as to not only what ails them - psychologically as well as physically, but socially as well.
Just as a teacher would get a lot of insight into a pupils life and behaviour by going to their home, so Doctors - and Patients - would benefit from house calls.
But, given the state of health care funding and hospitals in general, don't go expecting that any time soon.
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So, finally, after a lot of exporting and tracking down of missing articles (200 as of this morning, 0 at the moment) I've managed to migrate all my old articles over.
Headache after headache.
This, and a few other display issues, and it's almost to where it was when I began. Of course, it needs a pretty banner, a few tweaks here and there, but, by and large the tech side of it has been handled, and with a half hour a day in a week or so it should look OK.
If you were wondering, that's where I've been. Working on that bollocks, and in Williams Lake...
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Otherwise, in news from the hood, other than stressing over a freaking broken (and very slow and time consuming repair/migration/upgrade) this is what I've been up to.
A new series, Netflix, Guy Murchie's "The Gentleman". Nothing for substance, amusing for style, he's a knack for dialogue.
One thing that I notice is that while he's busy portraying gangsters and posh aristocrats none of the portrayals are even remotely accurate, more just confirming the audiences best prejudices about the circumstances displayed.
And I rewatched "Into the Wild" - which, surprisingly emotionally affected me. The character of Chris McCandless, the people he meets - the young girl filled with longing, the hippy couple, the old man who helped him to make his belt.
That was the beauty of it, and the frank depiction of the relationships that he forms, I think I enjoyed it more on the second watching. I especially enjoyed the line "new experiences without which we grow old", for I've been growing old all winter.
Then there was "Burn After Reading" - the lightest of the Cohen brother's films by far, their idea of a rom-com or spy movie. Stellar performances by George Clooney, Brad Pitt, Frances McDormand, John Malkovich, actually, pretty much everyone. Not my favorite of theirs, but even their worst movies are better realized than most Hollywood dross...
And I started a couple of new paintings, which I'd post here but there's a learning curve here that I'm not yet on top of. Suffice it to say that I primed a canvas and then got scared of it ending up like my website...
Facebook, lots of nuttiness up there. I've saved a lot of great "AI" images of Jesus and stewardesses for you. I think they can't get any more absurd, and then they do....
Wing nut shitposting that she wants a "Strong Male Leader" like they "Have in Russia". Hmmm. Facebook, the repository for all the 'friends' you'd never speak to in real life...
She (Wing Nut) also posts links to videos....'rumble.com', which is like the free-speech alt-right white-supremacist alternative to YouTube.
It's pretty bad. I warned you.
And of course, the US Election, Climate Change, The myth of Donald Trump as Christ, his crucifiction, now, in the media, in the courts, foreshadows for the Christian Right his resurrection, and never mind that he's shown his hoof, waved his tail, worn his horns, I am greatly worried that he's coming back...
And for the moment that catches us somewhat up.
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MEANWHILE, a list of Pets I have owned.
This, an exercise in memory, more for my impending AI clone I'm commissioning to haunt my Children, the undying father....
The earliest memory (one of a very few), living, Victoria, an apartment building with a balcony. I'm small, in a high-chair, I'm delighted because in my cereal ("Rice Krispies" I believe, but may be wrong) I've found the prize, a small plastic jet, red. A toy. I seem to think my Mom is a Stewardess, she's gone a lot, hence my delight with jet. On the small black and white TV placed conveniently to amuse me there's "The Wonderful World of Disney", I don't remember the episode.
Outside, sun shining, the balcony door is open, I'd been to the beach a few days before, collected a bucket full of clams and minnows and crabs, brought them home and filled my small swimming pool with them, and now, in the sun, they're all dead and turning and you can smell them wafting in....
***
Moose Jaw, living at 911 1st NW, in the basement, a pet turtle. Popular in the early 70's, they came with cheap plastic palm tree and island and a tiny moat of a sea that surrounds them...
The turtle, one day it escapes, it's nowhere to be found, only a couple of weeks later we find it, far from it's moat, the island and the palm tree, dead under the carpet...
***
A dog, "Mutt", small, black, forever jerking at the leash, impossible to walk, always trying to get away. One day he succeeded. I found out later that he was taken to the country by my dad and allowed off leash, where he went for a final run from which he never returned...
***
"Archie", some mid-sized curly haired dog we had briefly, then disappeared, I remember as a child finding a decomposing dog over at Central School across the street that matched his description, ghoulish, victim of a traffic accident that managed to crawl off the street and find a place to die...
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"Cindy", a bitch perpetually in heat, Mom would set up with a pellet gun outside the basement window and waited to send off all her gentlemen callers. She apparently ended up on "The Farm".
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A hamster, that my mother tired of cleaning the cage for and so set free and I recaptured it in the neighbors garden only in it's brief taste of freedom it got sick and soon after my recapture died...
I never forgave my Mom for that.
***
Others, a "Mugsy", named for "Mr. Mugs", a popular Scholastic Children's book, large, black and white, as well sent to the farm.
***
The innumerable captured pets of childhood, frogs, snakes, a wounded bird, all to different ends, most released back where they were caught.
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Others, I'm not sure.Goldfish probably A small budgie, but I'm older now, in High School, and the budgie flew out the door one day and was never seen of again. My brother, I recall, was quite upset.
***
In University, a daschund for a few days, supposedly in my keeping as the "Student Mascot" for the Arts Students Union. Not my idea, and after a few days not my problem. The dog, a lugubrious daschund, perpetually farting, incontinent, there was no way, and it went back to where it had come from...
***
And in adulthood, nothing, gerbils, hamsters, mice for the children, and "Princess", a cat who made the trip to the Kootenays with me but proved to be a lousy traveler, gifted to a friends daughter who quite liked her and proved to be a good pet owner.
***
And that's the carnage. You don't realize until looking back all the damage you've done, and while I'd like a dog, cat, fainting goat and a variety of others, a chance to atone the slaughter, these things will have to wait. None short of the dog would match my lifestyle, and there's no pets where I'm living.
Subcategories
Dating
OK. I've been on a few internet dates. I confess this with the same reluctance I would admitting to masturbating, adultery, or excessive drinking and drug use.
This is a list of some of my best -- AND WORST -- dates ever. Note that you gotta go on a lotta dates to get this kinda list, this kinda discouraged. And my online dating thing has been sporadic - an every few years kind of thing at best. Some of these dates go back 10 years, others are a little more recent. And to answer any people who might argue "It beats hooking up at the bar", well, you don't have to hook up at the bar, and at the bar you can see what your getting...
Anyways - apologies to the countless normal, decent dates that I went on but just didn't hit it off with. Memory is selective, it tends towards the extreme, and in this you will find the extremes...
Dear Osama
In which I write everyone's favorite advice columnist.
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