The Sofa King No More

At first I wasn't sure how I felt about the new look of the Daily Show. Then I was made aware of this campaign to bring back the couch. A worthy endeavor for sooth.

But after some careful soul-searching I think I have to agree with my homeboys over at the Doucheblog and the folks over at this counter-campaign.

But then again, I think we've all lost our minds!

A Very Saturated Sidebar

It’s been a long time coming, but I am now a Liblogger!

I hope that none of my faithfuls are overly disappointed with this mutation, and I can assure them that I don’t plan to change my angle because of it. Rather, as always, the Catalytic Corral will continue on with its usual pink-necked overtures, rarely stopping to consider the wider implications. If all goes as planned, the only difference anyone should notice is an increase in traffic and maybe the occasional visitor with some encouraging words for my liberal ass!

A couple of other things worth some consideration:

I don’t really keep up on the official Liberal Party talking pieces, so I reckon I am poorly positioned to be spouting them.

Also, although I am a liberal from Alberta (and a member of the federal party,) I am not a member of the Alberta Liberal Party. I am actually a member of the Progressive Conservative Association of Alberta, and to my knowledge, the only active Albertan in both outfits (much to the dismay of my friends and colleagues on both sides of the divide.) Reconcile this paradox however you see fit. I am what I am, among other things...

Hurt

I was scrolling through some of my faves when I came across this. Like I told my buddy Aaron, this video makes me tear up everytime I see it.

You're the man, Johnny.

And As We Wind On Down the Road...

It’s been five years since the passing of my friend and colleague Jason Eli Curtis Hurd, and although it doesn’t seem like it’s been all that long, I suppose that’s how it generally tends to be with such things.

Just as in previous years, my friends and I made a rendezvous out at Cochrane Ranch (the central park of the small country suburb where Jason began his short life) to pay our respects, and to remember how it was. This year, however, we had the added bonus of being chauffeured in a limousine, which, regardless of the situation, is a considerably enjoyable upgrade to the exhausted traveler's arsenal. I’m sure that Jason would have been proud to see us all packed into that limo, beers in hand and Led Zeplin a-blaring!

The ceremony out at the Ranch was the traditional hap-hazard affair that has become the custom on July 24 (which, I’m sure is how Jason would’ve wanted it to be.) Plenty of beers and a couple of tears and a ceremonial bouquet of wild flowers to float down the quiet stream that partitions the Ranch into East and West parts. We did a little touching-up of the bridge that stands in his memory (a crude carving denotes this,) and there was even suggestion of raising some funds to redo the bridge completely, (probably not for next year, but maybe the year after.)

Jason’s death had a profound effect on me. My cousin and I had been among the last people to speak with him on the day before his tragic last. We returned home on the Sunday to find out that he was gone. Overdosed on life. It was the first and only time I have been called to act as a pallbearer, and it was the last time I ever cried through the night.

It always feels good though, to head out to Cochrane in late July, to mourn, and to remember the way it used to be. However, I have found that as the years have passed, the journey out there has become less and less painful, and more about visiting old friends, whom I see only once a year, at Cochrane Ranch.

Wild Rose Roundup!

Here it is folks; the long-awaited July edition of the Wild Rose Roundup!



It took me a little while to read through the last three weeks of 60 blogs, but I’m sure that I am the better for having done it. I feel so much closer to each and every one of you (queue cheesy sentimental music,) and I’m so glad that I get to share a spot on such a prestigious blogroll, yada yada yada... As per usual, sarcastic comments have been applied throughout. I did my best to pick-out posts that really highlighted the "inner wit" and "stylistic character" of each blogger. Essentially, it’s the best (obviously in my opinion) that everyone has produced hereunto, in these doldrums days of summer. Enjoy!

On the Spiritual Side

8-Track Mind, recovering from a bug he picked up at the local "Bi-Mon-Sci-Fi-Con," comes home to a sweltering domicile and a circus of fans. Pastor Kevin is attending a slightly different kind of convention. Kim at Our Thoughts ponders the effects of the "information superhighway" on the moral-fabric of our society. Stupid Angry Canajun makes an unsuspected spontaneous religious conversion. And the Rambling Priezt offers us a Four-fold Franciscan Blessing. Amen indeed.

Summer Fun & Stampeding Stories

Rantastic Tamara finally gets a chance to meet Steve. By the way Tamara, thanks for skipping me in your Roundup. It was the porno reference, wasn’t it?;) But I digress... The always prolific Daveberta makes an historic trip into Cowtown to do some Stampeding. Lectio, a blogger who works in the hellfire pits of Gehenna, also has some Stampeding fun... daemon style. BumfOnline manages to tie Welsh poetry in with his racy depiction of the Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth! According to him (and I’m committed to disagree,) western apparel really "does the trick," so to speak.

Canuckity Claims

Nick’s Café Canadien actually has a post with only one Harry Potter reference! I’m sure it’s a mistake. The Cannuckistan Chronicles does some speculation on the true inducements of Liberals calling for the end of Stephen Harper. Most of July, he’s been taking aim at Rabble.ca. You can check out some of the action here, here, here, and here. (After a careful read, I’ve deduced that he doesn’t like liberals all that much.) The Burkeancanuck calls for a slightly larger box for him and his conservative buddies. He goes on to discourse the virtues of Enoch Powell (whoever he the might have been,) and Modern Day Canada’s penchant for "Rousseauean Modernist-Secularist Liberalism."Canadian Perasma, one of the newest additions to the Blogging Dippers’ regular infantry, does a neat post on "the Great Calgarian Divide," which should be of interest to all those who reside in Cowtown. He also has some thoughts on immigration, citizenship and refugee claims. Not sure how Enoch Powell would respond.

Hacks With an Axe and Zelda Attacks!

In light of the recent transpirings in London, Laurie Hawn talks about Anne McLellan (cordially I might add,) and some of the contents of her portfolio. The Calgary Grit rinses Link Byfield off with a little shit bath, which prompts a steady stream of comments from others who think that Link should just "do us a favor." Muck Shoveler picks up on the fun and does a couple of posts on it. The Rebel Albertan has run off to get hitched! But not before commenting on Link "the Dink" Byfield and his all his brouhaha. Also, Harlem Spanish over at Cosby Sweater, finds the time to toss a thought or two into the fray, even though he’s feeling the burn in his attempts to write his book. (Believe me, if it’s anything like writing one of these things, he has my sincerest sympathies.) Victor at What it Takes To Win obviously feels that "what it takes" is more, and more, and more Small Dead Animals. I'd say it looks like someone has a crush on Kate! And from Le Revue Gauche we get the kind of punditry that earns you this kind of acclaim. (I understand he just narrowly beat out The Cannuckistan Chronicles for the coveted title.)

The Animal Farm

Socialist Swine breaks down the top ten philosophers of all time. This guy isn’t one of them. Elephants With Wings has been experiencing some technical difficulties as of late. Prior to the troubles, she was just slightly pre-occupied with feelings of day-to-day fear & loathing. This, from Critter Musings, deserves way more than three comments, and one way or another, I’m glad that Dust my Broom agrees. All you Blogging Dippers out there, time to earn your stripes!

Activities that require a helmet. Or maybe even a toque?

Despite some suspicions, Andrew of the Alberta Propagandists hasn’t been murdered by gypsies or dwarves in pirate costumes. Rather, he decided to go on a vacation back in June, and no one has spotted him since. Thus leaving the lovely Kerilyn to propagate the "great game we affectionately refer to as Canadian Football." M. K. Braaten has sports on his mind, (even if he has firewalls in his eyes.) Revolutionary Moderation reports on Canada’s achievements on the Cricket Front. And Little Man in a Toque, who just found out that his name has a "double-tongue," is learning more and more about Canadian sports everyday.

Yankee Politics

Points of Information sees pork barrels a-rollin’ across the amber waves of grain. The Murgatroydblog shares this insightful little letter from a disillusioned Californian. Political Cycles serves up some insight into the Karl Rove affair. And The Black Kettle is rejoicing over this (I presume.)

Worthy of Praise

Civitanesis (who did a spectacular job on the last Roundup,) does a spectacular job summarizing Ralph Klein’s real stand on SSM. Civ’s getting the heck out of Dodge for a while, leaving his associates Tom Cerber and Candace X to fill the conservative void he leaves in his absence. Aaron at Grandinite makes some clutch comments re: the role and purpose of blogs. This is fitting, as Aaron is fast-becoming a blogculture icon in his own right. Not to mention that he is the Godfather of Albertablogs and the initiator of the Wild Rose Roundup. (Considering this, it’s amazing I’m still capable of speaking good words about him.) And also, one of Albertablogs’ hottest new acquisitions, St. Kev of the Pintday Brotherhood, wants to know when he’s going to get his iPod Shuffler. And so do I! (TD customer since ‘96 after my CIBC branch was robbed.... by the manager!)

Probing Pop-Culture

The Doucheblog does a multi-day synopsis of the Jon Stewart interview with Bernard Goldberg. Starting here, resulting in this, which percolated into this, which culminated in this. Matt, a.k.a. Jerry Aldini links to an interesting article from the New York Times, tell ‘ya what!

A Taste of the Unusual

Cloud of Idiot Gas, a freshly minted Albertablogger which recently inspired me to read up on the Darwin Awards for about five hours, is "up in smoke" over the newest craze. Colby Cosh (who’s one of the few Albertabloggers that can claim to compete with my level of traffic,) contributes to the list of attractions worth visiting to honor Alberta’s Centennial. If you’re going to check these out, leave the hallucinogenic suckers at home - paranoia comes natural ‘round these parts.

On a More Somber Note

The time-honored Bow Valley Blog has recently been forced to confront some big-town issues, like violence and misguided allocation of public revenues. Essential Ideas takes on some heavy matter with back-to-back posts on Live8 and the London Bombings. Impetus Java House follows a similar pattern of depressing posts. Noise from the Right (who hasn’t been all that noisy throughout the month of July,) offers us some remarks about the London attacks as well as his sincerest condolences to the Cadman Family. Phendrana Drifts also pays his respects.

Friggin’ Hippies!

Going Green in Alberta has made it a point to clear up some popular misconceptions regarding his Party. Dope, Kyoto, you name it! Herbinator does much of the same. Ian’s Messy Desk lets me know that I’m still doing better than most of my North-American brethren when it comes to "living green."

Filling the Gaps Inbetween with a little Poetic Expression

Hanger 19 tells it like it is. And in-so-doing, he proves once and for all that a picture is worth a thousand words. Candace from Planet X proposes an innovative solution to Canada’s military funding short-falls. On the Campaign Trail makes a campaign promise to "reach out." The Idealistic Pragmatist reacts to the emerging atmosphere of chagrin. Robbie from A Distant Star makes his traverse across the Rock. The Calgary Observer gives us some insight into the plight of a fellow translator and gives us the scoop on Canada’s never-ending airliner saga. The Simian Farmer has some parenting inspired haikus to share.

And last, but certainly not least, The Catalytic Corral, like always, has little to contribute in terms of the prevailing issues of the day. Instead, this pompous, pompous ass has the audacity to subject people to his ridiculous attempt at poetry. What a jerk!

Full-on Robot Chubby!

Unbeknownst to most, July 19th was the fourteenth anniversary of the theatrical release of the most excellent movie of all time! Despite of all of this.

Party On Dude!

(Oh wait, that was Wayne's World...)

A Poem for Jack

If Jack Layton were King,
I’ll tell you one thing,
We wouldn’t have grievance or grumbles to bring,
A thirty-hour week,
His party would seek,
Oh how the people would sing!

If the Pinks were in power,
In the Parliament tower,
They’d eradicate landfills and gasses a-sour,
Suzuki’d be tickled,
Ralph Klein would be pickled,
Big business would flee by the hour!

If the Dippers were crowned,
The future’d be sound,
No fiscal imbalance or malice be found,
Instead we’d have hope,
Cause we’d all be on dope,
Bong-hit prescriptions all-round!

Oh New Democrat glory,
Yes that is the story,
They’ll teach to the children of Liberals and Tories,
And one day they’ll vote,
On a socialist note,
Then the right-wing will be sorry!

If Jack Layton were King,
And the Lord of the Ring,
He’d make time for Bono and Meatloaf and Sting,
The occasional scandal,
I'm sure they could handle,
So long as Jack Layton were King!

Clairvoyant Bootleggers and Blazoned Booms

Since I am in full-scale withdrawal from my favorite HBO series, I have been renting and purchasing as many Mafioso movies as humanly possible. Most of them are very "B," and they typically star some washed-up gavones who played supporting roles in some classic mob movie or another. Unfortunately, this practice of indiscriminately acquiring shitty movies based upon their attempts at one of the greatest genres of all-time has left me vulnerable to some real crap, including one gem entitled "Whacked," which featured a murderous mob diva played by the elegant Carmen Electra (how the Academy overlooked this one I will never know.)

But, I have managed to come up with a couple of good ones that I hadn’t yet seen, or hadn’t seen in a while. The first was a 1981 De Niro classic called "Once Upon a Time in America." Although it had its moments, I think it ran a little bit too long (almost four hours.) Then again, I heard it was in production for almost ten years, so I suppose the extended running length is understandable. Joe Pesci’s character didn’t get nearly enough lines, or depth, or screen time, which was a major downfall. But all-round, I would give this movie 3 Sfogliatelle out of 5.

Last night though, I popped in the 1990s critically acclaimed, all-star cast supported "The Untouchables." Good movie, and Kevin Costner’s a hunk, but there was a major hiccup that occurred about half-an-hour into the flick that I found impossible to completely overcome. It happened right after Elliot Ness (played by Costner,) is dispatched to Chicago:

Ness quickly organizes an assault on a suspected Canadian bootlegging operation with ties to Capone. He warns his deputies to watch for "crates labeled with a red maple leaf symbol on them!" A moment of pride for any gangster film nut-of-the-North, indeed. However, the movie is set in 1930, the Maple Leaf (at least the kind drawn on the boxes) wasn’t conceived until the early 1960s! A serious anachronism if there ever was one.

Since I was sure that I couldn’t have been the first to spot this, I did a Google search to find out just how observant people really are about these types of goofs. Apparently, the whole movie is one long continuity error. See here. But nevertheless, it’s still worthy of 3 and ½ Sfogliatelle out of five. Or otherwise: mobtastical!

Hopefully I will be able to continue to find decent mafia movies to carry me through the rest of the summer. But, like they say: "Col tempo la folglia di gelso diventa seta!"

This is Amazing.

This is going to completely revolutionize the way we think about chicks in bikinis plummeting through an infinite void of pillowy orbs.

Eating Like a King (on the diet of a throne-sniffer.)

My veins course with pure pancake mix, my body is mostly composed of breakfast sausage, and I’m peeing straight Tang; Stampede season is at its acme!

I checked out the Ralph Goodale Stampede breaky on Saturday. It was there that the Hon. Belinda Stronarch had the opportunity to finally meet me. Although she was a little star-struck at first, we actually managed to get a conversation going about the role of young people in politics and the last political convention she attended (where she advocated - unsuccessfully - for the creation of a youth wing in the CPC.) For a full summary of the morning's highlights read the Calgary Grit and Gopolitical.

Then, yesterday it was off to the Ralph Klein Stampede breakfast at the McDougall Centre (and yes, I’m probably the only one to have made it to both "Ralph" breakfasts.) It was the traditional scene of semi-partisan gladhanding (all the city’s politicians are usually there regardless of their political stripe,) and unlike last year’s fanfare (when the premier announced the Province’s new "debt-free" status,) there was no big speech to go along with my scrambled eggs. What a pity.

Today I stepped out to grab a bite of heavenly grub courtesy of the Remax office next-door. I’m so full of Stampede food now, I have refried beans coming out of my nose.

Eat My Dust Lyle Oberg

I was just over at my German friends’ house, doing the yard upkeep as I do while they are out of continent, when all of a sudden I heard a thunderous bang! I immediately dropped my beer and made haste to the scene.

There I saw the results of a rear-end collision between a brand-new, purple TJ Sport Jeep and a Calgary Transit Bus. From what I could tell, the bus had slowed down to drop-off some passengers without the Jeep realizing it. I never heard any breaks, just the sound of her Jeep slamming into the back of the bus at we’ll say.. 60 clicks. Although surprisingly enough, the bus seemed unscathed; the Jeep, however, was a different story. The hood of it was now an extension of the dashboard, the car-horn was stuck on (which turned out to be a useful attention grabber,) and fluid spewed from the engine and radiator, forming a sludgy green lake along the curbside.

Fearing for my life (having seen far too many movies to know that vehicles almost always explode upon impact or shortly thereafter,) I remained on the opposite curb, and allowed the heroic and mechanically inclined bus passengers to assist the young Jeepist from her air-bag-entangled wreckage. I did, however, manage to find a way to positively contribute to the situation, by directing the oncoming traffic through the one remaining lane until the emergency response arrived.

You should have seen it; I was amazing! I was confident, authoritative, and animated (which are all important assets to have in an emergency situation, because the last thing you need is some uncertain "pussy-man" controlling the show.) And, the first responding officer was so thankful of my contribution she even wanted me to stick around so that they could get my name and recommend me for some kind of medal of distinction or whatever, but I refused. You see, I’m a very modest person; I’m not very good a receiving praise, and I never toot my own horn. Hell, that’s probably one of my best qualities, but I digress...

It all happened down on Northmount Drive, which is a small, two-lane, urban, residential street that does more than its fair-share to move traffic East-West across North-Central Calgary. It spans almost 40 city blocks, and adjoins to 13 city schools. It can be a treacherously slow crawl at some hours of the day, especially when school-buses line the margins as they wait for their cargo.

As for the girl in the Jeep, she’ll be ok I reckon. A little whiplash maybe, to go along with the sorrow over her undoubtably written-off Jeep. She’ll be without the option of suing Calgary Transit; at least, I’ve never heard of anyone successfully doing so.

But, I can tell you one thing she can thank God about. She can thank God that it was a regular bus, with regular grown-up adults on it. Because, had it been one of those other buses, you know, the ones that carry children to-and-from school, she’d be fucked! And I don’t use the term lightly. Fucked!

Although I am not an expert in the insurance business, I’m pretty confident she’d be facing a torrential shit-storm by now (since I’ve already dropped the F-bomb, twice, I figure everything goes.) Furthermore, I suspect those children would have been just a little slower to her aide than the burly Samaritans who rescued her today. Just a little. I would have still directed the traffic, so no difference there. But she’d be fucked.

Broken Heart over Busted Kneecaps

I’ve only got one more episode to watch in season five of Sopranos. This makes me very sad, because I know I am going to have to wait a very long time until I get to watch another new one.

Or I guess I will just have to buy HBO.

Making up for Mukwah

I couldn’t have imagined a better place to spend Canada Day then out in the wilderness of Canmore AB. There, along the banks of the mighty Bow, my friends and I were made privy to a three-band show and a festival atmosphere courtesy of Lord Reuben upon Skitownville. Hundreds attended this musical celebration of our beloved country’s 138th, and even more got to experience it through the echoing decibels that penetrated the awkward calm of the serene mountain valley. It was truly magical.

The first big event of the evening came when about twenty people showed up to the party in their canoes; they had paddled there from Banff (about two hours upstream.) This was big for me, as I rarely travel by this mode, and I had just recently highlighted a certain text which explicitly decreed us to be “a nation of canoeists.” Yes, I suppose one could say that these drunken rowdies managed to inspire and vindicate me, simultaneously.

The first band took to the stage at about 9 o’clock, and rocked-out with a seriously powerful set. So powerful in fact, that they caught the attention of the RCMP who’d been monitoring the action downtown (about three blocks away.) Once they arrived on scene, some cunning and/or patriotic young soul began to sing ‘Oh Canada,’ and others quickly followed suit. Before you could say “In All Thy Sons Command,” more than 150 people were standing in full attention, and singing like their lives depended on it. And I guess that satisfied the cops about as much as it satisfied me, ‘cause we didn’t see them again until after midnight when the death-metal band came on to close the show.

All in all it was a spectacular event, and I’m told that no-less-than 11 garbage bags full of smashed and stepped-on beer cans were collected off the grounds. Somehow though, despite the apparent volume of happiness-in-a-can that was consumed, I managed to wake up in a pretty darn good mood.

A birthday bash to remember for sooth!