Happy Birthday, Eileen!

My sister, Eileen, and her son, Aidan

Here’s to the best sister a brother could ever ask for.

Google Bombs

There’s something called a Google Bomb — a trick used to alter the results returned by Google — about which Jim from Objectionable Content has written. Even better, he makes reference to “The Evil Midnight Bomber What Bombs at Midnight!” from The Tick. Check it out!

Yesterday’s creative writing experiment

Beaten to the punch by that Asimov bitch

My friend Luke pointed out that sci-fi superstar Isaac Asimov has already written a short story about how Genesis was written called How It Happened. That’s the downside to living in the early 21st century: most of the really good ideas — fire, the wheel, The Universal Declaration of Human Rights, ratemygasmask.com — have already been thought up.

Still, as different writers, we take different tacks. Asimov has Moses fully aware of the scientific explanation of the origins of the universe; in the story, he and his brother Aaron wrote Genesis that way simply to save paper. I imagined mine as a skit with Moses having the scientific knowledge of his time — estimated by some Bible scholars to be around 1280 B.C. (or B.C.E.) — and God and Jesus as having a rather bent sense of humour (namely, mine).

Asimov has an edge over me because he’s one of the best-known names in science fiction. He’s written some of the most-loved books in the genre as well as some non sci-fi. Thanks to concepts of his such as the Laws of Robotics, he will influence not only writers but possibly even computer programmers and cyberneticists for generations to come. As for me, my blog was in Blogger’s “Blogs of Note” for about two months and my best-known story is the one where I got picked up by a limo full of cute women.

Hmm…

Joey 1, Asimov 0. Heh, heh, heh.

Other commentary

Prentiss Riddle e-mailed me, saying he liked Sacrelicious so much that he sent the URL to the puppet theatre troupe of his local Unitarian church. I feel like Arthur Miller.

Dan read the story and told me that Buddhism is non-deist. Well, Tibetan Buddhism isn’t, but Chinese and Japanese Buddhism are. In Sacrelicious, God is the enlightenment that Siddartha Gautama is trying to find. Don’t be so literal, Dan. I can picture you having Goldilocks and the Three Bears read to you as a kid: “Bears don’t live in houses! They most certainly do not sleep in beds! The don’t eat porridge! And how can they make porridge, anyway?! They don’t even have opposable thumbs!”

Besides, why would Jesus use a Gantt chart, something that we all know is a tool of the devil?

I’ve kidded him with this zinger before: you can’t spell “pedantic” without “dan”.

Chicks Dig It

As I wrote earlier, Chicks Dig It has moved to a new venue, The Apothecary at Adelaide and Peter Streets. The indoor section of the Apothecary is about half the size of the Temple Bar and it doesn’t have Temple Bar’s high ceilings, either. Unfortunately, that means that the place is much much smokier — so smoky that Rob decided to leave shortly after entering. Still, I’m glad that Chicks Dig It has a venue, and once the weather warms up, they’ll be able to open the patio, giving us open-air dancing and a place to escape the smoke.

And really, kids, you should kick that vile and expensive tobacco habit.

Minutes after Rob left, the sound system went dead for about ten minutes. While the DJs tooled checked the amps and wiring, I strapped on the accordion and the two African drum players and I played some Lee “Scratch” Perry-esque dub until the sound came back on while people in the room clapped. When the DJ music was restored, the bartender walked up to me and said “What do you drink? I’m buying you one,” followed by other club-goers who did the same. I drank free all night. At the end of the night, DJs Dahlia and Chocloate gave me a good-bye hug; Chocolate said “Please come back every Monday, Accordion Guy.”

Damn, I love this instrument.

Here’s Sacrelicious!, a one-act play inspired by these car decals and all that creationist/”Intelligent Design” nonsense. Enjoy!

The scene: God’s office. God is sitting at His desk.

God (to intercom): Gabriel, please send Moses in.

Gabriel the Archangel (on intercom): Yessir.

Moses enters the office, holding a pen and steno pad. He bows reverently to God and takes the seat facing His desk, sits down and prepares to write. God leans back into His chair, stretches His arms, and places His hands behind His head.

God: “In the beginning, there wasn’t anything, period. Except me. I was feeling creative, so I created the space-time continuum. Nifty work, that. Did it in a chronon too — pretty fast, if you catch my drift. You see, the early universe was smaller than a mustard seed — a tiny dense of mass of nothing but energy for the first few fractions of a second…”

Moses: Space-time con-what-ium?

God: Space-time continuum. You’ve got the three dimensions, length, width and depth, in which you humans can move more or less freely around, and then there’s the fourth dimension, time, which you’re slowly dragged through second by second. One of the descendants of that bunch of guys you’re wandering around the desert with, a nice kid with a bad hair life named Einstein finally figures it out a few thousand years from now. He’ll get it wrong when he says I don’t play dice. In truth, I shoot a pretty mean game of quantum craps…

Moses: Quantum?

God: It’s the basic building block of everything, matter or energy. That Einstein kid, clever fella, he figured out that matter and energy are the same thing. Real clever of me to make the universe so modular, huh? Anyhow, back to the dictation. So: mere fractions of a second after the entire space-time continuum has been formed, everything is just a very hot soup of random quanta. As the soup expands, it cools, and you get the four fundamental forces…

Moses: Wait! The Four Fundamental Horses! I know this one! Death, War, Famine and Plague, right?

God (raising an eyebrow): Er…no. Forces. Electromagnetism, gravity and the strong and weak nuclear forces.

Moses: Uh, but they’re terrifying, and they go around killing up stuff, right? And could you spell “electromagnetism” for me, please?

God: No. They’re the four forces which pretty much dictate the behaviour of matter in the universe. (Thinks for a moment.) I may have to dumb this chapter down a little. Ah, I have an idea. Let’s skip to the part about Earth, shall we?

Moses (turning to a new sheet of paper): Ah, something I understand. As you know, sir, my adoptive father — the Pharoah — had me taught by the finest tutors and scholars in all of Egypt.

God (rolling eyes, muttering): Oh this should be good for a laugh…(Looks at Moses with a sly grin.) Very well then. Why don’t you tell me what you know about the Earth?

Moses (eagerly): Very well, Sir! It’s a big flat disc. The sun and moon circle it, each taking turns travelling across a big bowl we call the sky, above which there’s a lot of water…

God: I think your tutors rode the short chariot to school.

Moses: Sir?

God: Nothing. Say, Moses, what holds up the Earth? What supports this big flat disc?

Moses: Our best research indicates that a turtle does, Sir. We even have independent confirmation from the Babylonians.

God: A turtle.

Moses: Yessir. A really big one. (Moses holds his arms outstreched to explain the size of the turtle.) Twenty, maybe thirty thousand cubits a side.

God (learning forward): Let’s assume for a moment that it is a turtle that holds up the earth. What does this turtle stand on then, hmmm?

Moses (almost leaping from his chair): I knew you were going to ask me that, Sir! That’s the really clever part — it’s turtles all the way down!

God: Oh, Jesus Christ.

Another door opens and through it, Jesus pokes his head into the office.

Jesus: Mmmmmyes?

God (muttering to Himself): It’s 1300 years before your birth and already that joke’s old. (Addresses Jesus, points at Moses) Son, this is Moses, a somewhat ignorant rube. I’m trying to as they say in parts south of Israel, “school him proper.”

Moses (looking a little flustered): I’m really trying to understand, Sir.

Jesus (entering the office): It’s all right, my child. (Walks over to Moses, puts his hand on his shoulder.) Let’s start with something simpler. Do you know how old the Earth is?

Moses: Current analysis indicates…wait, I have it here (Riffles through his satchel and pulls out a scroll)…approximately…three thousand years.

Jesus: You know, Moses, when you use Q-Tips to clean your ears, you should stop when you encounter resistance.

God (laughing): Be nice, Son. Moses, it’s closer to 4 billion years.

Moses (getting really flustered): Uh…what’s a billion?

Jesus: It’s a one with nine zeroes after it.

Moses: I know what a one is. What’s a…a “zee-roe”? (God and Jesus break into laughter. God leans back into His chair and lets out a deep belly laugh, while Jesus is doubled over in tears, banging His fist against God’s desk. Moses is on the verge of bursting into tears of shame.)

Moses (blubbering): I’m…I’m r-really sorry, S-sirs…I know I could never be as smart as y-you guys…I’m just an ignorant pigfucker…

God: Dude, don’t say “pigfucker” in front of Jesus. God and Jesus look at each other and begin laughing riotously.

Jesus: That show won’t even be created for another three thousand years! Foward-reference inside jokes! I love it!

God: It’s good to be the king.

Jesus looks at Moses, whose face is buried in his hands, sobbing. He approaches Moses and gives him a big hug.

God (to Himself): My Son, the hippie.

Jesus: Moses. Moses! Yo, Mo, chillax.

Moses looks up.

Jesus: Look at me. It’s all right. We love you. You’re our scribe, right? Look, let me explain: the Hindus and Arabs will figure out the concept of zero.

Moses: Hindus? Arabs?

Jesus: Yeah, from India and Arabia. Generally east of where you are. Great food, worship us in the form of Shiva and Allah and…

Moses: They worship false gods? Give us their coordinates and we’ll get pre-Flood on their asses, Sir!

Jesus: Uh….no. (Turns to God) Uh, Dad, until they have their science all worked out, maybe you should try the allegorical route. Don’t say the universe was created in a chronon; make it a time period they can wrap their grubby pre-atomic-clock minds around. Say, a week.

God: Go on…

Jesus wills a Gantt chart into being. Its title reads “The Genesis Project”.

God: Good thing there’s no such thing as the Star Trek franchise yet. Paramount Studios are litigious bastards.

Jesus: Ahem. (Points to chart.) If we look along the critical path here, you’ve got light and darkness on day one. A nice allegory for energy and matter if I say so myself…

God (leaning forward, resting His head on one hand): Yes. Something their simple minds can grasp…

Jesus:…right up to humans on day 6, at which point you sign off on the project.

God: And what happens on day 7?

Jesus: Well, I’d like to establish the practice of padding the schedule in order to allow for unforeseen delays and such. Not that we need it; I just want to set a good example. In the words of the Jungle Brothers, we’ll say you “regroup and lounge / put on a couple of pounds / and make plans to create the raw, homegrown sounds.”

God (giving a “thumbs up”): Solid.

Gabriel the Archangel (on the intercom): Sir, your lunch appoinment is here.

God Ah, yes. Siddartha Gautama. Sid Non-vicious. I’m going to enlighten him while I make him some pizza.

Jesus: What kind of pizza does he like?

God: He wants me to make him…(giggle)…one with everything! Jesus and God break into laughter again.

Jesus: You’re hilarious, Dad! You crucify me!

God: Not for another thousand years or so… More laughter.

God: Moses, let’s call it a session for now. Why don’t you come back here next….Tuesday at 10:30? You’re free then?

Moses: Sir, I’m stuck in the middle of the desert. The only thing to do is gather manna and maybe keep the folks from building more idols out of their jewelry. Last week, they almost built a golden weasel until I stopped them. I’m still at a loss to explain how these former slaves managed to get enough gold to build the original calf. I think they stole it while they were in captivity, and I’m thinking of holding a board of inquiry into the matter…

God: Don’t sweat it. Look, I’ll see you next week.

Moses: Thank you, Sir.

Moses says goodbye, bows to both Jesus and God, and leaves.

God: You know, Son, there’s a chance they might always take the allegory at face value.

Jesus: Dad, they’re dumb, but they’re not that dumb.

Notes From the Scene

Chicks Dig It has moved…

..to its new regular location, The Apothecary (340 Adelaide Street West, at Peter Street).

The story, according to their mailing list message, is that the owner of the Temple Bar (their original venue), wanted them to stick to a strictly house-music playlist. “Genre prejudice,” the Chicks replied. The Chicks often mix it up, throwing in some reggae, jungle, dub and other tracks where the musicians decided to veer from their drum machines’ default settings. Apparently, the Temple Bar management thought that a steady diet of dance music in 4/4 time (that is, music with a straight “one-two-three-four” beat) was better for drumming up business at the bar. I suggest that they drop their ridiculous drinks prices instead.

Fortunately, Chicks Dig It found a new venue in a less out-of-the-way location: The Apothecary, at the corner of Adelaide and Peter Street (it’s one block south of Fez Batik). It’s smaller than Temple Bar, but it makes up for its size by having an enclosed patio, which will make for some interesting nights once the weather warms up. This Monday’s line-up starts with Chocolate, Sabrina and AMTrak and finishes with Freedom and Denise Benson.

I’ll be there with accordion in tow. Toronto locals who want to have a pre-Chicks Dig It drink chez moi (I have a lot of beer and live four blocks away from the venue) should e-mail me.

The street really does find its own uses for things

There’s an interesting article in a local free magazine called neksis that takes a look at the resurgence of cocaine use. The article is a set of short essays on cocaine use written from all kinds of perspectives — one from a drug dealer, one from an enthusiast, one from a club-goer, and so on.

The observation I found most interesting was the bouncer’s. He noted that the suits had taken to sniffing coke off their Palm Pilot screens. It’s quiet dark and in the bathrooms of many clubs, and the Palm’s backlight comes in pretty handy. I suspect the real high-rollers are snorting off their iPaq screens. They’re pricey, and their screens are quite bright.

I see a great product opportunity: imagine WriteRight Palm screen protective sheets that have been chemically treated to change colour according to the purity of the cocaine placed on them. Damn, I’m full of million dollar ideas.

I wonder if Microsoft can take advantage of this with a new slogan for Windows CE: Where do you want to do blow today?

Lindi Gigs

Lindi is playing two gigs in the near future. The first is at the Steam Whistle Brewery as part of a showcase of independent recording artists on March 15th (the ides of March!). Then we’ll play at C’est What on April 6th in a battle of the homophones: the tall icelandic gentle giant of folk rock, Lindy, vs. Lindi, accordion-powered sweetheart of the cabaret.

Be there or suck mightily.

I still have to write about the Lindi gig I played last Friday. It’ll probably go up tomorrow.

Hair

My friend Chris once chided me about my expensive gel. All I have to say is when you have your hair cut longer than standard-issue prison buzz, hair care becomes important, boy!

Based on my recommendation, my housemate Paul went to See Fu Hair Design (corner of Sullivan and Spadina, a half block from our house) to get his hair cut. As expected, he loved the experience. He very well could be the first gwei lo as well as the tallest person ever to set foot in the place.

See Fu is staffed with very cute club-clothed Chinese girls with anime-coloured hair who start and end your haircut with a very nice scalp massage and shoulder rub (I’m probably risking having the place flooded with otaku fanboys by singing the praises of their cute staff). A haircut at See Fu may take an hour — it’s no place to go if you’re in a hurry — but you’ll be way to mellowed out to care about the time anyway. They’re also very meticulous about their scissor and shear work, performing it with the zest of an Asian kid doing the computer science homework for the entire 2nd floor wing of the womens’ residence at university (yup, that was me, and it paid off in spades).

See Fu will eventually move into its new location, inside E-Zone, half a block south. E-Zone is a strange business that I would like to see succeed, if only for it quirky charm. E-Zone is a combination bubble tea cafe, Asian food lunch restaurant and hair salon. Any place that has cute hairstylists, mango bubble tea and satay chicken on a stick for 49 cents is cool by me.

The only downside is the language barrier; many of the staff can barely speak English. Don’t be shy, and be prepared to repeat yourself and use gestures. The other thing that may drive you crazy is the canto-pop that they’ve always got on their sound system. If you’re not into that kind of thing, the hour you spend there may drive you bonkers. Minor quibbles aside, I highly recommend it.

Recommended Reading

You might want to check out my original posting on Chicks Dig It and eye magazine’s article.

neksis one of a wave of new free magazines that have appeared at hipster stores and cafes all over Toronto (other magazines include Dojo and Trucker). According to their FAQ, they cover “hip hop, electronica, sex, drugs (they have a drug column written by University of Toronto Professor Konstantine Zakzanis, a Ph. D. in neuropsychology!), politics and whatever else we find interesting to a demographic (18-30 year olds) that isn’t often targeted by mainstream media”. In addition to the print magazine, they also have a Slashdot-like discussion site.

Hmmm…I’m just a shade older than neksis’ target demographic. Good thing I don’t look it. Or act it.

By the way, neksis’ Zakzanis says that using E will mess with your RAM.

The Lindi gig on March 15th will be my second performance at the Steam Whistle Brewery. My first is documented here.

Ah, to be a university journo again…

Here’s a hint for all you aspiring writers out there: writing a piece about how someone’s religion sucks is just going to inflame people. You will probably end up having to write a retraction.

Update

I made an update (a lot of spelling corrections, some addenda to the “Recommended Reading” section) to yesterday’s posting about Michael Greene’s evil Grammy Speech. You might want to give it a look.