Comme d'Habitude

My fascination with all things David Bowie is well documented. (Thanks, Dawn, for the Flight of the Conchords link!) I once dedicated an entire post to the evolution of the Bowie song, "Life on Mars". You may recall that "Life on Mars" was supposedly Bowie's response to not having had his version of the Sinatra classic "My Way" picked up by the big labels.

See, there was a great French song called "Comme d'Habitude" that had a hypnotic and powerful melody, and there was great interest in creating an English version of it. Bowie wrote his version, called "Even A Fool Learns to Love", the lyrics for which are here. But Paul Anka managed to buy the rights to the melody, and turned it into "My Way", which he promptly gave to Frank Sinatra, and history was made.

I thought you might be curious to hear the original French version. The lyrics to this original song are here and, trust me, they're a lot more interesting and poetic than the Sinatra version. The originator, Claude Francois, had a powerful voice but looked kind of freakish. Dig the waxed eyebrows. I think he may have been the godfather of the modern guido:



And because we're all about circularity, here's Paul Anka trying to recapture some of that pop magic by covering Duran Duran's "Ordinary World":



To complete the circle, here's Simon Le Bon getting pwned by Pavarotti, doing the same song:



In Other News:

You will note, I hope, a few changes to this site. The archives are a bit more tidy, and there's a new widget on the side, from feedjit.com, that I hope is showing us the geographical location of recent visitors. Cool, huh? (Now I can finally see where these people are who keep googling "dog fucking stories" and ending up here. Actually, I already just found one of them: he's Acton, Massachusetts. Hi, fella! Thanks, Feedjit.com!)

Meanwhile, there's a new article up on Skiffy.ca about the great, overlooked Canadian series, Odyssey 5.

"Brad Parker" sends us arvindguptatoys.com, a site that popularizes educational toys.

Brother Bhash sends us this new search engine, Cuil.com, which is supposed to be a competitor for google. See, "cuil" is supposed to sound like "kewl" or "cool" or something. (Actually, it means "wisdom" in Gaelic.) So far, I'm not too impressed. Neither is Time.

Finally, further to my so-far failed attempts to migrate to Ubuntu, Nasty Nicky B sends us this from here:

Farked Images

First off, for my fellow scientist friends, the Emirates Centre for Strategic Studies and Research is looking for doctorin' types. Send your resume here.

One of my peeves has been the consistent depiction of men as arrogant simply because we don't like asking for directions. I'm certainly one of those men who hates asking for directions. For me, it defeats the very purpose of driving, which is not just to get somewhere, but rather to get yourself somewhere. I've often argued two things: (1) we're really not lost, just momentarily disoriented; we'll just take the next exit and turn around, so calm the f@ck down; and (2) getting unlost on your own is a skill- and character-building exercise. What do you learn if you always stop to ask directions, rather than trying to figure it out yourself? Civilization was built upon our predilection for problem solving, so don't quash it now.

Now this study suggests a biochemical mechanism for the difference in direction-asking between the sexes. According to them, it's all about testosterone.

Today we have for you a series of images, mostly cribbed from Fark.com..

First off, the Other Ray sends us this tattoo, because it reminds him of one of my books:


Next, what is this foul creature? It's a goblin shark!


That leaves us with these three somewhat self-explanatory images, one of which may qualify as a Daily Perv Link (TM):

Atoms, Space Probes, Rock Stars and Lost

Every heard of "Camp Freddy"? It's an "all-star" rock band that only plays covers. Members include dudes from The Cult, Guns'N'Roses, Stone Temple Pilots, etc., and their gigs usually feature guest performers from around the world of entertainment.

Here is Camp Freddy performing the Sex Pistol's "EMI", with Mark McGrath on vocals and --get this-- Naveen Andrews (Sayid from Lost) playing guitar. I actually think it might be better than the original:



Speaking of Lost --the show I've contended for a long time is the finest American fiction series currently on broadcast television-- here is a treat for you fans. It's a special video shown at Comic Con this year, that, while clearly meant to be a little funny, nonetheless reveals a bit more about the Lost back story, particularly more about the mysterious Dharma spokesman, Marvin Candle:



We now know that Candle is the same man as Edgar Halliwax and Mark Wickmund, and his real name might be Pierre Chang. Already the interwebs are abuzz with the revelations from this new video, such as this discussion thread. More evidence that Lost is the most delicious piece of fiction packaging American corporate television has yet produced.

In Other News...

Below is something truly astounding:


What is it? You, my droogies, are looking at an image of actual atoms of the substance Graphene. Amazing, no? Read about it here.

If you're in the mood for more astounding images, check this out:



What you're seeing is a movie taken by NASA's astounding Deep Impact space probe as it approaches the Earth from 31 million miles away. The shocking bit is watching the Moon spin past. Our world looks so tiny and alone, no? You can download the movies here and here. And you can read about the project here.

Quiz Time

No time for a long post today. Instead, you get to take a news quiz. It's pretty American-centric, so we non-Yanks are at a disadvantage. Still, I'm ashamed that I messed up on the federal reserve question.

What's most interesting are the demographic stats one is presented with at the end of the quiz. Here's a breakdown (I presume all numbers pertain to US data):

Percentage of questions answered correctly:

National average = 50% (pathetic!)

By gender
Men = 56%
Women = 39%

By education
College grads = 63%
Some college = 48%
High school or less = 28%

By age
50+ = 56%
30-49 = 48%
18-29 = 30%

I think it's both sad and interesting that the only question in which women scored more highly than men pertained to the name of a talk show host. What does this mean? Who knows. Maybe if some of the smarter-than-average women who read this blog can help return the gender distribution to an even keel?

PS, the questionnaire supposedly sampled over 1000 people, though it's uncertain how representative the sample was.

The Caring Continuum

It's 2:AM and I'm watching the lame-ass Michael Jackson biopic on TV. How sad is that?

Breaking news (courtesy of EK Hornbeck): the US mortgage crisis has taken down the world's biggest player -- Ric Flair!

Want to know what it's like to watch Faux News for 24 straight hours? Read about it here.

Speaking of Faux News, in this Faux item, a John McCain supporter says to the Man, regarding some campaign issue, "I know I will be on top of their shit list but I could care less."

It's this "I could care less" nonsense that bothers me. People, the phrase means nothing! As this thorough discussion of the phrase attests:

"...the original expression, of course, was I couldn’t care less, meaning 'it is impossible for me to have less interest or concern in this matter, since I am already utterly indifferent'."

Here's a graphical display of why this phrase is so idiotic:

Are we clear now?

And why can't I find myself in one of these vacations?

Vundo and Vista Fatigue

For those of you who've not seen it, the above is the infamous cover of the New Yorker, portraying Barack Obama and his wife the way his defamatory enemies have been intimating. Of course, it's satire. But many don't seem to realize this.

I like Obama's response on Larry King Live. Watch it here:



Love him or hate him, you have to admit that he comes across quite Presidential in that clip.

What's interesting to me, though, is the way the Right Wing blogosphere erupted over the cartoon "controversy". The Village Voice has a good summary of the trend here.

In other news...

Brother Bhash sends us these two sites for accessing websites of a bygone era:

http://www.archive.org/web/web.php
http://www.archive.org/about/about.php

Meanwhile, my Vista fatigue reached a fever pitch last night. I tried to remove Vista and install XP over top of it. However --get this-- Vista would not let me delete the partition on which it was installed! I've never seen this before. Now, I'm sure I could have used another utility to get the job done, but I took this as a sign that I should try something a little less drastic. So, instead, I've used HP's reversion function to revert to a factory installation setting for Vista.

After re-installing some software, I am suddenly re-infected with Trojan Vundo, which is what started this fiasco in the first place.

And that's where we sit. Stay tuned.

157 and Dropping

Further to yesterday's post, many of you may be aware that my work involves assisted human reproduction, the topic of my PhD thesis oh-so-many years ago. Well, I think it's worth remembering that this coming Friday will mark the 30th birthday of Louise Brown, the world's first test tube baby. Here she is:


As someone cleverer than me once asked: what did Louise have as a fetus? Say it with me now: A womb with a view.

This photo of Louise has inspired me to make an announcement. See six months ago I weighed a respectable 185 pounds, which I could pass off as muscle if I sucked in my gut and lowered my voice. Today, my droogies, I am proud to report that for the first time in over 15 years, I clocked in at under 160 pounds; 157 to be exact.

This has been the result of running 2 km a day, maintaining a high fibre diet, and having removed most sources of meat from my meals. Yep, I'm one of those now.

The price has been the loss of upper body mass, i.e. muscle. But I hope to put some back on while continuing to lose poundage. Stay tuned, 'cause you know I'll be talking about it ad nauseam.

In other news, someone has made a Youtube video about the sexiness of Deonandia's resident villain, Darth Vadum. Enjoy it here:



And while we're plugging things, my handsome cousin Joshua made it onto the banner ad for the Geneva Centre for autism:

Imagefest

The story for the above photo is here. Warning: you'll need some of these.

Speaking of death, here is a list of Seven People Who Cheated Death And Then Kicked It In The Balls.

Unrelated, ever wonder if Faux News ever polled its viewers on the question of which news agency is most biased, what options would it present? Wonder no more:


I leave you with the following. It's a genuine ad from the dating site plentyoffish.com. I have removed all identifying information. Is this the future of procreation in the West?


I've cut out the portion where she says she doesn't care to know your name, nor will you know hers. I'm not judging, not at all; people procreate via a variety of avenues. Who knows how each of us was truly conceived? But what I don't get is, what's to stop a disingenuous fellow with a vasectomy from showing up for a "free ride" with no output, so to speak? Also, what sort of fellow responds to this sort of ad? if scumbag-ism or douchebag-ism are in fact genetic traits, I fear for the quality of any child produced from this union.

Bloggus Interruptus

Am off to New York for a family thang for a few days. Blogging in the interim may be sporadic, depending on internet access. Stay tuned. In the mean time, talk amongst yourselves. Topic: if koala bears could talk, what would they say to us? Go.

Linkalicious

Want to see something wacky? Cousin Ajay sends us this tattoo. And Mary Ellen sends us... these.

The Other Ray sends us some cool stuff, like this video of magnetic fields and this video of disturbing medical animation.

Brother Bhash warns us of some police using an ethically questionable drug on detainees.

This is fascinating: a list of movies based on true stories which are complete bullshit.

From the same site, a list of ridiculous phobias.

Also from the same site, a list of movie sequels that were only tenuously connected to the originals.

Are you a little sick of all the brouhaha about Ingrid Betancourt's rescue? Want to hear another take on it? Check these out: a less than popular take on it and Hugo Chavez's role.

Lastly, we have yet another article up on Skiffy.ca. This one is a review of the latest Stargate movie, Continuum. Stay tuned for upcoming reviews of Odyssey 5 and Charlie Jade.

Getting Old Sucks, Part 2

You know, I've been going to the same hair dresser for 4 years now. On my very first visit, I remember clearly joking about the one gray hair she found, and about how we made a ritual of plucking it out. Fast forward to this morning, when for the first time she unironically presented me with the option of dyeing all my gray hairs, which are now much too plentiful for her to seek-and-destroy individually. Yep, getting old sucks.


It's that time of the year again. The evil fruit flies are back. No, it doesn't have to do with any unhygienic behaviours on my part. I swear, it's my messy neighbours who attract the damn things. Regular readers will recall my introduction of the Deonandan Cherry Brandy Trap, followed by the Mark II and Mark III models. Last night, I erected the Mark IV, and it's doing a swell job. Problem is, my prime fly bait is Guyanese cherry brandy, and I used up the last of it in the latest contraption. This is it, my last chance to extinguish the beasties for good.

Everyone has been sending me links to this story, about a Guyanese man so pompously distraught that economy-class passengers were disembarking the plane before his first class ass that he exited the plane using the escape slide. No, he's not a relative of mine. As far as I know. But I wouldn't put it past one of my relatives to pull the same stunt.

Speaking of Guyana, this link tells us everything you ever wanted to know --or ever didn't want to know-- about the land of my incidental birth.

Meanwhile, Cousin Ajay sends us this weird-ass Telugu condom commercial. Sing along, children:



In Cousin Ajay's words, "The scene at 5:44 kind of scared me..."

Further to my ongoing issues with Vista, Dawn is all too pleased with herself for having found this tidbit about Bill Gates himself being upset with his creation. And further to my Skiffy.ca review of the new Indy movie, Dawn also sends us this.

That's all I got today. Back to plucking out the gray hairs....

Getting Old Sucks

Where to start?

Here's a new sport: chessboxing. Now THIS is something I'd watch on TV! Then again, probably not. But I think I'd enjoy playing it.

Happy 80th birthday to sliced bread! Still the standard for all things good.

Apparently Faux News' Greta Van Susteren is mad at CNN's Anderson Cooper. The best comment comes not from the Fark.com forums, from where I originally found this tidbit, but from the comment section of the original article:

"The world wants Coop to come out of the closet and slam the door behind him. The world wants Greta to go into a closet and slam the door behind her."

Meanwhile, it's now considered an act of paedophilia to film a public highschool cheerleading performance. Strike another one for the American Taliban. As one of the article's commenters properly asks:

"Why isn't the school charged with promoting child pornography in public?"

Speaking of idiotic ideas put forward by controlling governments, this report claims that Homeland Security wants to introduce electronic bracelets to be worn by anyone taking a flight in the USA. The bracelets would not only provide electronic information about each passenger, but would allow flight crew to remotely taser the wearer in the event of a security concern.

This ranks up there with similar idiotic ideas, such as equipping airliners with sleep gas so that the crew can anaesthesize all passengers remotely, or allowing the pilot to carry a gun. Why are these bad ideas... other than the obvious threat of malfunction and abuse of privilege? Well, by loading a plane with weapons, you just make the terrorists' job that much easier. They no longer have to figure out how to smuggle a weapon on board, only how to take it away from the unsuspecting crew. Idiots.

On an entirely different topic, for you physics buffs, here's an excellent site that demonstrated visually the famous "2 slit experiment" that forms the basis for quantum mechanics.

And here is a list of impressive visual illusions!

Lastly, E.K. Hornbeck sends us this interesting graphical display of newspaper reductions in America. Eerie.

Now, today's real topic is aging. See, when I turned 25, I swore to myself that I would not age another day. Since then, I've experimented with megadoses of antioxidants, meditation, extreme hydration, melatonin and various forms of exercise. For the most part, my aging has been slower than most men my chronological age. But it's begun to catch up with me, and I can no longer deny that I'm in my 40s.

The kicker has been sacroiliac joint pain these past few weeks. SI disorders are a hallmark of aging. Doesn't matter how fit you are or how diligent you've been in taking care of your joints. t some point, your SI joint just refuses to budge. It's tired. It's fixable, and I'm well on my way to recovery, but it will likely happen to me again, perhaps in different joints. It's my body's way of reminding me that I cannot keep the vow I made at 25; it's just not possible.

For twenty years, I was into competitive martial arts and squash, regular yoga, long distance running, weight training and even occasionally dance. But there has been a noticeable decline in performance. Four years ago, I would run 5km every morning, rain or shine. Today, I managed 1.5 km and it nearly killed me. Just last month, I was bench pressing 190 pounds. Today, I couldn't finish 15 push-ups.

Make no mistake. I will run 5 km daily again. And I will be bench pressing 190 again in a few weeks. My point is that at my age, taking a couple of weeks off results in dramatic loss in performance. As recently as a couple of years ago, I could have rested for 2 weeks then jumped right back into my routine. The curse of aging is that the body is much less forgiving and cooperative.

I think it was Clint Eastwood who once said something to the effect that at his age he needs to work twice as hard for half the benefit. I suppose this is why it's so important to develop discipline in one's youth, so that one can rely upon it in later years. For this reason, I am thankful for my early martial arts training. It has gifted me with true discipline, perhaps the finest tool for facing the oncoming years with a degree of functionality.

When MacKenzie King Fought The Martians

One more joy of getting old: sacroiliac joint injury. Owwww!

First, an announcement. My latest review is up on Skiffy.ca. This one is about the new fan-made Star Trek movie, Of Gods and Men.

Been a busy few days. First, two dudes came to see me in Ottawa. This guy and this guy:


Yes, he's hanging upside down in my inversion table. See how much fun my world is? See, last week was Canada's independence day, uncreatively called "Canada Day". As the capital, Ottawa is under a fair bit of pressure to seem important on that holiday. Among our various activities, we made an impromptu visit to the official home of one of our earlier Prime Ministers, William Lyon MacKenzie King.

Now, I am a great fan of history. I can depress you with my somewhat encyclopaedic knowledge of ancient Greek, Roman and British history, and even with my knowledge of some particular bits of American and French history. But I shamefully confess to not knowing as much as I should about Canadian history.

See, French history is told as a series of revolutions and movements. British history is told in terms of the reigns of kings and queens. American history is told as a series of wars. Canadian history.... well, Canadian history is told as a series of Parliamentary Acts. Yes, you read that correctly. Our legacy (mostly) of peace and goodliving comes at the price of a truly boring history. I never got into it. This is not an excuse for this gap in my education, but merely an explanation.

So I was stunned to discover that Prime Minister King once singlehandedly fought back an invading army from Mars. How do I know? Here's the proof, a device we found in King's home. Clearly, it's a Martian ray gun:


An exploration of his estate, which is now the official residence of the sitting Speaker of the House, reveals further subtle clues to our former PM's alien-fighting past. I leave to you to visit and dig up those clues for yourself.

The day was tainted by the presence of that most loathesome of creeds, the in-character historical recreationist actor. Yep, they were there aplenty. One particular fellow was dressed in a striped waistcoat and solar topee, and leaned on an affected cane as he beamed a joyful and quasi-British-accented "Helloooo" to us as we passed. He was either impersonating MacKenzie King or was a paedophile on the prowl. Either way, I was sorely tempted to take him out at the knees.

We then walked to the nearby Champlain lookout in Gatineau Park, where a friendly sign showed us our location. Apparently, we were snugly in some woman's ass:


That certainly explained the heat and foul odour of the place.

Now, do recall that this was Canada Day, a time when all of this nation's institutions typically celebrate or at least acknowledge our history and legacy. It comes close to the 4th of July, when the Americans do the same. And they do it with style!

So why is that the Western Standard, Canada's hyper-conservative online paper (and big time supporter --and seemingly vice versa-- of our current right wing government) celebrated this week with not one, but nine articles on columnists' reflections on American independence, and not a single such article about Canadian independence? Why doesn't the Canadian Conservative party just rename itself the 51st American State party and be done with it?

Just saying.

The following weekend, I made it to Montreal for the jazz festival. My friends know that I'm not a particularly grand fan of jazz. But I am a seriously big fan of pretty French girls, and there were many of those around! Unfortunately, I am not a particularly big fan of Montreal drivers. I suspect that part of the Quebec driving test involves clinical proof that one is officially borderline mentally retarded. It's the only explanation for some of the truly bizarre automotive expressions I observed and, sadly, experienced.

The best performances of the jazz festival were given by the various street circus folks. Here's a blurry pic of one such troupe:


And here's a pic of a woman at the information desk with her pet baby pigeon! I'd never seen a baby pigeon before. I didn't even know pigeons had babies. I just assumed new pigeons were produced in a factory somewhere in New Mexico:


Okay, I just bought me a granadilla and will now attempt to ingest it. Wish me luck.

Oh What Have I Got Myself Into?

This has been a big week for me. Two big events:

1. I am now officially a full-time, salaried professor at the University of Ottawa. Oh, what have I done?

2. I am now on the Board of Directors of Harbourfront Centre in Toronto. We had our first Board meeting of the year last night. What an impressive cast of overachievers!

In Other News:

Porn fights back.
Rumsfeld wanted another 9/11.
CERN will destroy the world!
20 Things you didn't know about oil.