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Screens and comments
Thursday, July 31, 2003
Over at Penmachine.com, Derek espouses the virtues of the flat-panel monitor... without actually owning one. He suggests several brands, but I can just cut to the quick and recommend the Samsung Synchmaster 191N. It's big, it's bright, it rotates 90 degrees to portrait mode, and the price is very reasonable.
The difference between LCD and CRT is amazing: where a CRT can be blurry, distorted, and can flicker, the LCD monitor provides a steady, crisp image. I'll never go back to a CRT if I can help it.
I mention this here only because Derek refuses to put a comment link on his blog, which annoys me to no end.  Cubey Terra
3 comments
Fourth, fifth, and sixth words
Thursday, July 31, 2003
Last night saw a productive start to my story. I started by deleting the first three words that I'd written previously. I now have 1,900 words of chapter one. Our hero has said several things already and had a swallow of scotch before hearing the bad news. But I can't tell you about that without giving away too much. Hee hee hee.
Incidentally, River Selkie and I have decided that a little friendly competition will provide some extra motivation to complete our novels. As she's already about 28,000 words ahead of me, she's aiming for 100, 000 words (roughly the end of her novel) and I'm aiming for 75,000 words (roughly three-quarters). The first person to reach the target will give the other a virtual pat on the back. Regular readers of our blogs will be able to keep tabs on our progress. Egging us on would be extremely helpful. Egging us with real eggs would be less helpful, however, and messier. Cubey Terra
15 comments
Stones
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
Watching TV: the Rolling Stones, live in Toronto. Wow. Those guys still rock. Cubey Terra
8 comments
Chicken balls
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
On a more personal note, about halfway through the morning I suddenly became extremely tired. I said to myself, "Self," because that's what I call myself. I said, "Self," and then I continued on because I was annoying myself by saying "self" one too many times. I said, "I think you'd do well to chow down on some chicken balls and noodles."
And then I thought, "Chicken balls? I'm sure there's a joke in there somewhere." And I laughed at that, which made people look at me kind of funny, because I was just kind of staring into space laughing at nothing they could see. "Yes, there's a joke in there," I thought, this time not verbalizing my inner monologue, "but it's probably not worth the effort to extract it." And so the chicken balls joke was never fully realized.
So I went down to the takeout place in the Robson Market, bought the chicken balls, veggies, and noodles, and returned to my desk, where I did the predictable thing, which was to eat it.
Well, to finish up an unnecessarily long story, I feel even worse now. In fact, I feel a little ill and more tired than I felt before I ate lunch. I'm listless. I have no lists at all. Cubey Terra
10 comments
From the pages of science-fiction
Wednesday, July 30, 2003
If you have read as much science-fiction as I have, you'll be familiar with the concept of the solar-sailed spacecraft. In the pages of fiction, these craft use large surfaces to capture the pressure of particles emanating from the sun. Theoretically, the pressure could be used to propel the craft — slowly.
 Could such a spacecraft actually work? We'll find out in September, when Cosmos 1, the first solar sail spacecraft, launches from a Russian nuclear submarine in the Barents Sea.
Will the solar sails work at all? Some scientists claim that those pesky laws of physics will get in the way. I'll be watching eagerly.
Link: Wired.com: Solar Sail Plying Turbulent Seas Cubey Terra
5 comments
First words
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
Well, I've done it. I've started writing. After work this evening, I sat down at my computer and updated the background info with some new ideas that had fermented in my brain during the day. I drank a beer. I looked at the submission guidelines for assorted publishers. I looked at the blank page. I typed the title. I typed "A Novel by Stephen Cavers". I typed "Chapter One". And then I started writing.
And now I need a break. I'm exhausted. I think I'll go do some grocery shopping while I ponder the story so far.
Word count: 3
Words remaining: 99,997
Est. time to completion: 91.32 years Cubey Terra
12 comments
BBC claims Nessie does not exist
Tuesday, July 29, 2003
In another colossal blunder, BBC claims that the Loch Ness monster or "Nessie" does not exist. An obviously flawed, so-called "scientific" search using sonar beams failed to reveal the evidence that they felt would prove the monster's existence.
 I believe that the BBC is grasping at straws when they try to explain away the existence of a monster as hallucinations, optical illusions, or hoaxes. This new "evidence" only demonstrates that when you set out to prove that something doesn't exist, you will always succeed. The absence of sonar evidence only proves that Nessie is elusive, which we all knew anyway. Photographs and first-hand witnesses provide enough proof that would stand up even in a US military court of law.
I'm a skeptic myself. I will not believe reports that Nessie doesn't exist until I see proof. Do you still doubt the existence of aquatic monsters? Maybe you should look at my photographs of the Sea Monster of Howe Sound. I call him Howie.
Where would we be if we doubted everything based on a lack of evidence? These skeptics are the same ones who set out to prove the non-existence of God. But I have photographic evidence of His existence too. He lives under the front steps of the abandoned house across the street, and I've seen Him foraging in the alley from time to time. Hold on. No, that's a raccoon. I'm sorry. I get confused sometimes.
Link: BBC News: "BBC 'proves' Nessie does not exist" Cubey Terra
11 comments
Bloody penguins
Monday, July 28, 2003
People ask me why I'm obsessed with penguins. Actually, their question is more like, "What is your f---ing problem, you freak?"
In truth, I'm no more obsessed with penguins than anyone else. It all started back in high school...
[Insert wobbly flashback transition.]
 Back in junior high school, I wrote an article for an English class assignment about the endangered "partying penguins" in Antarctica. Apparently they drank lots of Kokanee beer and listened to Dire Straits and Pink Floyd (it was the eighties). The article was accompanied by a cartoon: a penguin wearing a lampshade on its head while playing air guitar with a lamp.
People seemed to like it, so I drew a few more. In response, someone gave me a toy penguin. And seeing that I had a toy penguin, someone else thought I had a "thing" about penguins and gave me another penguin-related object.
When people come to my home, they saw penguins, assumed that was obsessed with them, and bought me more. In the following years, I was inundated with them. People meant well, but it drove me up the wall.
Eventually something snapped. When I think of wild animals, the first thing that pops into my head is a flightless bird from the southern hemisphere. They've invaded every corner of my life. And I don't even like the bloody things. It's really quite tragic.
It could have been any animal. What if I had written an article about the partying platipi? Or the dancing doormice? The rowdy rhinos? The wanton wildebeests? Of all the alliterative wildlife available to me, why did I choose penguins? My life could have been quite different today.
Bloody penguins. Cubey Terra
11 comments
Just call me Slartibartfast
Saturday, July 26, 2003
I spent several hours today writing the backstory and detail for something that I hope will morph itself into a novel. 3,238 words describing the geography, history, religion, and people of another planet. And I'm only just starting.
It's not easy creating a world. In fact, it seems to me that this is far more difficult than any user manual that I've ever written. I estimate that I'll finish by... oh... the middle of this century. I'll keep you posted. Cubey Terra
21 comments
Seven snapshots of English Bay
Friday, July 25, 2003
I can't think of anything to blog about, so here are some snapshots that I took at English Bay yesterday evening.
(click here to see the other six) Cubey Terra
13 comments
Police impersonator sought
Friday, July 25, 2003
Vancouver police are after the culprit or culprits who are responsible for a cache of stolen police gear, including weapons, protective gear, and clothing with a police insignia. (Link: Canada.com: "Police gear found in big gun haul")
In a press conference, Constable Sarah Smith asked for the public's assistance in apprehending the police impersonator: "The suspect wears a dark blue uniform, matching trousers, a police hat with an insignia, and a black utility belt. If you see anyone like this, please call 911 immediately... No, it's not me. Put down that phone!" Cubey Terra
1 comment
Approaching Orbital Burn
Thursday, July 24, 2003
 If you have a moment to spare, pay a visit to Edge Science Fiction and Fantasy Publishing, where K A Bedford's Orbital Burn is now available for pre-ordering.
K A Bedford, or "Adrian" as he is known to visitors to his blog, Modem Noise, has dutifully documented the progress of this book in its final thrashings before publication. When I try to describe the superb creativity bound within the wonderfully retro cover art, words fail me, because, in truth, I haven't read it. I have, however, pre-ordered a copy and at this very moment my breath is appropriately bated. This is an improvement over the previous condition of my breath, and I attribute the change entirely to Orbital Burn. Cubey Terra
5 comments
UFOs linked to purple animals
Thursday, July 24, 2003
This just in: this startling image shows a UFO touching down on the roof of an apartment tower in Vancouver's West End.
One witness reports seeing dozens of purple hamsters emerge from a hatch before leaping over the edge of the building. The witness, who wore a "THE END IS NIGH" sandwich board sign and smoked a curious-looking glass pipe, asked to remain anonymous.
Cubey Terra
9 comments
People flock to see purple penguin
Thursday, July 24, 2003
In a surprise development, researchers from the Joint Australian Centre for Astrophysical Research in Antarctica (JACARA) have discovered a rare purple penguin. Some speculate that it may have come in contact with the purple polar bear in Buenos Aires, Argentina, which may indicate a communicable disease.
Keep your eyes open for more purple animals. If your household pet shows signs of turning purple, or even a shade of violet, contact a veterinarian immediately. Cubey Terra
5 comments
Unclever
Thursday, July 24, 2003
It's one of those mornings. It's an "unclever" morning. On unclever mornings, I'm tragically short of cleverness. I still have trace amounts of cleverness lodged in the corner of my brain, but it's buried under a layer of befuddlement. And it's green.
I was clever enough to turn the key in the ignition this morning, but uncleverness asserted itself again. I was surprised to discover that shifting to "D" will not allow me to back out of my parking spot.
I blame TV. In car chase scenes, they just don't spend enough time explaining the intricacies of the automatic transmission. I watch TV for hours on end, looking for help with this, but the TV people would rather do a bit about a purple polar bear in Argentina than tell me something useful. Like, "Move the lever to 'R' before backing up" or "Don't put vinegar in your eye".
Oh, sure, after I rinsed out my eye, I'd learned my lesson. But they could have warned me.
The elevator presents a problem on unclever days. Every day for over two years, I've gone to the sixth floor. There are two buttons in the lobby. I pushed the wrong one. You'd think that at my age, I would have figured out how to operate an elevator.
A cup of coffee should help. I'll just pay a visit to the vending machine and dial up some Hawaiian blend. The pineapple lends a nice fruity touch that offsets the bitterness, but I tend to pick out the ham floaties. And I'll be fine after I put a touch of vinegar in my eye—
No. I forgot. That's not a good idea. Maybe something like sugar or salt would work better. That's the spirit of unclever experimentation that often leads to new discoveries. Cubey Terra
7 comments
Too bloody hot
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
I arrived home today to this:
I guess it would help if I opened a window or two. Cubey Terra
11 comments
A change of heart
Wednesday, July 23, 2003
A couple of hours ago, I might have said, "Bibble!"
Now?
Now I say, "Wibble." But not without a certain sense of irony, of course.
That is all. Cubey Terra
10 comments
64K memory lane
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Nerds become nostalgic about their first computer in the same way that car buffs get all misty-eyed about their first wheels (and the car attached to them). Oldcomputers.net is a museum of the original home and personal computers.
 I first got my hands on a computer when I was too young to really know what it was. Back in the seventies (maybe '76 or '77), my dad introduced me and my brothers to the DEC PDP-11 at the university. It was a row of red-and-black refrigerator-sized boxes with all the buttons, switches, and spinning things you could ever want. I remember playing Space Wars and Lunar Lander... badly. My Lunar Lander games would last about five seconds before I crashed in a little explosion of lines and dots. All those poor Tron guys... they met an untimely death at my hands.
 Anyway, the first home computer I got my hands on was an Apple IIc at a local school. I still didn't "get it", but I could at least use LOGO Turtle Graphics to make some cool line drawings.
 And then... ooooh.... portability. Or at least an early-eighties attempt at a portable computer. The Hyperion was an 8088-based IBM clone that weighed a ton. I wrote a lot of fun adventure games on that thing.
I think I started down memory lane today because I have a Dell PIII with Windows Me. It BSDs regularly, of course. It makes me yearn for a reliable old 8088 and a copy of WordPerfect for DOS.
What was your first computer and what did you do with it?
As an aside, the Blogger spell-checker suggested that I replace the word "nerds" in the first sentence with "Nordic". When will Blogger replace that useless spell-checker?? Cubey Terra
9 comments
Exploring the mysteries of the universe
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
If you let a bowl of ice cream melt, is it still ice cream?
Hmm. Cubey Terra
7 comments
Next step in blogger wares
Monday, July 21, 2003
In my meanderings through the blogosphere, I have noticed that a certain number of bloggers offer Cafe Press products: hats, mugs, t-shirts, frisbees, clocks, and many other white objects with logos on them. But these are all pretty ordinary products. I mean, most people already have too many souvenir t-shirts. And who really needs yet another mouse pad?
That's why I plan to offer Cubicledweller.ca-branded pets. Visitors will be able to order their very own Campbell's dwarf hamster with "www.cubicledweller.ca" tattooed on its back. Kittens will have the logo shaved into their fur. And if you buy the Goldfish Special, you get fourteen goldfish: each one carries a different letter in waterproof ink to spell out "CUBICLE DWELLER".
Maybe I'll have to rethink that last one. They would probably swim in the wrong order and spell unfortunate things.
 Cubey Terra
15 comments
Startling new evidence: UFOs are real
Sunday, July 20, 2003
Today, as I was working at my computer, I noticed a strange noise coming from outside. I leaned out the window, looked up, and to my astonishment, I saw a fat, silver, cigar-shaped UFO cruising slowly over the city.
Fortunately, I had my camera with me, and I managed to snap a photo.
There appeared to be some strange yellow writing on the side. With some digital enhancement, I managed to get a clearer image:
Yes, this confirmed beyond a shadow of a doubt that I had captured a photo of an authentic UFO.
Skeptics can no longer hide their heads in the sand. This is irrefutable proof that aliens have visited this planet. These images will take the world by storm! Cubey Terra
22 comments
When searches go terribly wrong
Sunday, July 20, 2003
Every day, misguided Googlers go astray in their searches. Here are some of the unusual search requests that have inexplicably led people to this site. Cubey Terra
13 comments
Black shapes in a darkened corner
Saturday, July 19, 2003
She spoke quietly to him over the phone. "Are they still there?"
He considered how to answer. The images of the broken bodies came suddenly. "Yes," he said finally. "Still there."
In the silence that followed, he could hear her breathing irregularly. The bodies had upset her. More so than he had expected. Maybe he had grown accustomed to the sight. Desensitized. It shouldn't be a surprise that, after five years of living with the host of death on his doorstep, the sight now failed to evoke his sympathy.
"I love you," he said suddenly, irrelevantly.
Behind the window blind, a trapped wasp buzzed and then stopped.
"No." Her breath now catching. "No. I can't. Goodbye."
With the suddenness of this ending, he found himself standing for several moments with the phone pressed to his ear, listening to silence.
Carefully, he placed the phone in its cradle.
...
He awoke later on the couch, the room in darkness. In the street, a car slipped past, and he involuntarily hoped that it might be her returning with a change of heart. He chided himself. Foolish. It's done.
It was done. How had it happened? The dead. The dead had defeated him. It was just, he thought. It was just, because hadn't he ignored them, day after day, until weeks became years?
Years? When had it begun?
The wasp buzzed again, it's body pinging helplessly against the slats of the blinds.
Yes, he thought, it was five years ago when he had seen the first one outside, resting on the first step of the stairs at his front door. It was a curiosity. He had paused for a moment to watch it. Its head twitched, registering his presence, then it shifted its weight slightly and was still.
Conscious of the possible danger, he moved on; the violent potential of the intruder hadn't been forgotten. He closed the front door and locked it behind him.
The next day, he opened the door to find two of them. He hesitated. Was it safe to pass? He paused and watched for signs of activity. The new one was motionless ? it probably wouldn't move until the morning sun warmed the air.
The first one lay on its side, it's body curled in on itself. The rigour of the dead.
Had it really been five years since he'd seen that first one? As he lay on his couch he turned his face into the cushion as if to hide from the memory.
He had slipped past the live one without rousing it, made his regular commute to his cubicle, and spent an entire day dwelling on the image of the body on his doorstep. Could he have helped it when had first discovered it? Where did it come from? Why did it choose his doorstep to rest?
The progression of weeks brought more visitors to his doorstep, and each time, his ability to decide whether to help had faded. He was chained to the path of denial, and with each passing day the decision tightened its bond on him, compounding his guilt. He would not help them.
But they had kept arriving. They rested on his doorstep, then found themselves too tired to continue. Daily, he would find a new visitor. And a new corpse. The individuals became a pile in the corners beside the steps. Spiders and pill bugs emerged from hidden crevices and dwelt among the detached parts: here some legs, there a head or two. Black shapes in a darkened corner.
The wasp behind the blinds was silent for several minutes, as he lay stretched on his couch in thought. The silence was distracting. He could open the window to let it out. He didn't move but to cover his face with his hands. Maybe the wasp was dead.
Presently it buzzed again then was silent. No. Not dead yet.
Slowly, he manoeuvred himself to a sitting position, and after a pause he rose and made his way across his darkened apartment to the kitchen cupboard. He opened it and his hand blindly came to rest on the bottle. The cork slipped free smoothly, wetly, releasing the sweet, peaty aroma of scotch. He considered the glasses that were stacked in the corner of the kitchen counter, but they were still dirty from last night.
In hindsight, it was obvious why she would have been upset and it was his failure for denying the reality. He had heard the taxi pull up out front and, smoothing his shirt, went to the door to greet her. He opened the door with a smile that faded suddenly. She stood, frozen, several feet from the front step, her face a picture of horror.
She left. She turned without a word and walked away from him into the night. The steps had been littered with corpses, the crippled, and the dying. He had phoned her, but it was futile. He had lost her the moment she stepped out of the taxi.
The wasp emerged around the edge of the blind and threw itself into the air. It made a single curving flight around his head before plunging back into the gap between the blind and the window.
He took a mouthful of fire directly from the bottle. This would end now. Placing the bottle on the counter, he strode purposefully to the window, raised the blind, and threw open the window. But the gesture came too late. The wasp lay on its back now, its legs flailing helplessly in the air. It was dying.
Had he taken action sooner...
With a puff of his breath, he blew the wasp from his window sill out into the night air. It fell, gently, silently and came to rest amongst the dead. Eventually, it too began to decompose, it's wings and legs and head joining the growing pile of black body parts filling the corners outside the house and extending into the yard. The dust of death swirled in playful winds, dancing as it never had in life.
Sometimes, something I read triggers a flight of the imagination. This is what I hacked out immediately after reading a blog entry by Babak H. Saradjeh. (Link: Scratch Pad: The Fly Who Died) The stairs to my apartment are in an open-air atrium. Architecturally, it's an interesting feature of the building, but for whatever reasons, flying insects — especially wasps — become trapped in the corners. Tenants regularly sweep the landing to clear away the dead insects. It's very strange, when you think about it. Cubey Terra
12 comments
Sketchbook
Friday, July 18, 2003
Strange, humourous, and occasionally a little unsettling: Bearskinrug.co.uk lets you flip through the pages of Kevin Cornell's sketchbook. I couldn't stop — I had to look at every single page.
Link: Sketchbook #1: A series of drawings by Kevin Cornell(link via Boing Boing) Cubey Terra
2 comments
No one can tell you what the ping-pong is
Friday, July 18, 2003
...you have to see it for yourself. This stage performance from Japan is a bizarre meeting of the Matrix and ping-pong.
Link: hkzkt10.asx Cubey Terra
4 comments
Garbage collection, the hard way
Friday, July 18, 2003
In Melbourne, Australia, two masked bandits robbed a gas station at gunpoint yesterday. After threatening the gas station attendant with a sawed-off shotgun, the thieves made off with two big bags... of garbage.
Link: Aussie bandits make getaway from gas station robbery with bags of garbage Cubey Terra
4 comments
About my neighbourhood
Friday, July 18, 2003
Let me tell you something about my neighbourhood. I live in an old pile of bricks on Alberta Street, just north of Broadway. It is two blocks east of the edge of the almost-fashionable condo developments of Fairview. It is three blocks north of the older heritage homes of Mount Pleasant. And it is right in the middle of a sprawl of light industrial factories and small businesses.
At night, urban noises float on the air. Against the drone of the ventilation at the factory, there's the rhythmic tink, tink, tink of hammers on metal. At irregular intervals, cars swish past, too quickly, on their way to somewhere else . From time to time, this ensemble is interrupted by the steel clatter of a grocery cart on crumbling, irregular pavement, the rattle grows louder as it passes under the bedroom window, only feet away, and trundles on down the alley.
Arguments break out between men, and their angry voices echo between the endless backs of brick businesses. Their shouts carry the rhythm of sparring: an attack, and now a defense, then a misdirection and returned attack. And in time the music of hate wears itself into silence.
The homes — slums, all slums. Even those houses renovated and painted are slums-in-denial, because this is the last stop before oblivion for these homes. They're being eaten alive by businesses that are always encroaching, encircling, always killing, then feasting on the carcasses. When I look from my front windows, I see only the empty shell of a dead house — there was a fire, several months ago. Arson, they say. In some neighbourhoods, a burnt house would be taken care of: renovated, repaired, or replaced. Here, the burnt-out shell is left abandoned and no one cares. If it's torn down, no house will ever stand in that spot again.
In the wee hours of the morning, the delivery trucks — tractor trailers, most of them — vie with the garbage trucks for clear passage through the alleys, all under my window, and only a meter or two from me. In my home. In my bed. Listening to the sounds of the dying neighbourhood. Just beyond the edge of the almost-fashionable part of the city. Cubey Terra
5 comments
A website for workplace whinging
Thursday, July 17, 2003
Everyone has at some point in their lives worked with (or for) complete doofuses. Got a workplace story that you'd like to share? Have a gander at this new blog: www.iworkwithfools.com. Cubey Terra
1 comment
The First Annual Cubicle Dweller Hyper-Intelligent Space-Penguins' Choice Blogiversary Contest Clip-Show
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
[Intro music: lively, upbeat music. Sound of audience going wild. A penguin steps out onto the stage and waves to the audience. Eventually the applause subsides.]
PERCY: Hello everyone. I'm Percy Featherbottom...
[applause]
You may remember me from such shows as Charlie's Penguins, Penguin P.I., and Starsky and Penguin.
[applause]
Thank you, thank you.
When Cubicle Dweller asked me to host the Cubicle Dweller blogiversary clip-show, the first question on my mind was... does it pay well?
[audience laughter]
Heh, heh, heh. But seriously... it turns out that it doesn't. Apparently, I'm not a big enough star. Apparently, penguins just don't pull in the viewers. I was considered an artist once! But now I have to work for herring. For herring.
[silence. someone coughs.]
(Ahem. Where was I? Oh, yes. Could you hold those cue-cards a little higher? Thanks.)
[reading from card] Cubicle Dweller's bloggings all began on July 17th, 2002 with an entry in which he commented that " no one will ever read this. So I don't have to worry about offending anyone." Boy was HE wrong. Heh heh heh. Over the last year, he managed to offend and alienate just about everyone, including every small furry animal on the McDonald's menu.
[polite scattered laughter]
(Who wrote this schlock? I'm dying up here.)
[reading cue cards again]
Yes, over twelve months of pointless prattle, Cubicle Dweller has often returned to the one subject that he can be passionate about: BIG, GREASY HAMBURGERS!! Yowza!
[silence.]
Ahem. Uh... Let's look at a few of those now: Oh, my. Now that's a lot of greasy meat-products. Heh heh heh.
[silence. crickets chirping.]
(Uh... Wow, you people are a tough audience.)
[reading cue cards] And then there was the time when Percy Featherbottom hosted the First Annual— Hey! That's today's blog entry.
Alright, I've had it with this clip-show. I'll just announce the winners of the blogiversary contest, okay?
The winning scene in the First Annual Cubicle Dweller blah blah blah Contest is...
[drum roll]
The untitled scene about a penguin
by Adrian Bedford!
[insane applause and hoots from audience]
Adrian is now the owner of a brand-new Endofline.ca mouse-pad!!! Hey, wait a sec. "Endofline.ca"? Oh, bloody hell. Well anyway, it's a mouse pad.
And in the other category, the LEGO Mindstorms robot category, the winner is... uh... what? No one entered a robot? Oh, for crying out loud.
Well I guess I'll just have to give away another obsolete mouse pad to a runner-up in the first category. Who made up this contest anyway? Was he on crack??
The runner-up for winning scene is...
Ripping Time Space
by Eric Janssen!
[insane applause again]
A great big thank you to all who entered the contest: Treefen, Dr Destructo, Bishop John, River Selkie, Purple Fish, Adrian Bedford, Stephen Cavers (who was immediately disqualified for improper relations with one of the judges), and Eric Janssen. Adrian and Eric, please send your snail-mail address to Cubicle Dweller and your obsolete mouse pad will arrive in the mail shortly thereafter.
And before I go, ladies and gentlemen, I'd just like to take a moment to sing something that really touches my heart in a way that—
[lights begin to drop, theme music rises]
Hey! I'm not done yet!
Bloody hell.
[roll credits] Cubey Terra
7 comments
By popular demand: 'Chimps on Penguins'
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
I couldn't help it. I have seen hundreds of visitors hitting my site while Googling for "chimps on penguins". At last my morbid curiosity got the better of me.
Here it is, from Goodjoke.com: " Chimps on Penguins - at the Monkey Bar" (Windows Media, 1.49MB) Cubey Terra
1 comment
'Vancouver 2010' stamp shows Ottawa building
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
 In yet another blunder at the taxpayer's expense, Canada Post issued a stamp to commemorate the IOC decision to award the 2010 Winter Olympics to Vancouver. Strangely, the stamp features a building not in Vancouver, but on the other side of the country, in Ottawa.
How did such a mistake happen? My guess is that Steven W. Mahoney, the secretary of state responsible for Canada Post, simply couldn't find Vancouver on his map of Ontario.
Link: Canada.com: " Quickie stamp marks Vancouver Games" Cubey Terra
3 comments
Funny-looking kittens
Wednesday, July 16, 2003
This one sounds like it's straight from the pages of the National Inquirer, under a story about aliens. A family in Cranbrook, BC discovers that their cat, who is nursing kittens, has adopted some orphans.
Link: Canada.com: "Family cat a mom to mice"
Cubey Terra
1 comment
Missing: PEI, Yukon, Halifax
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
Fodor's Travel Guides has produced a marvellous new guide to tourism in Canada, called PureCanada. Unfortunately, the guide's map appears to be missing a couple of little geographical details, such as: - The province of Prince Edward Island
- The Yukon territory
- The cities of Halifax, Fredericton, and Brandon.
As well, the territory of Nunavut is misspelled "Nunavit".
In an effort to reconcile the discrepancies between the map and actual geographical details, the federal government plans to blow up PEI, which would be more cost-effective than paying another $600,000 of taxpayer's money to reprint the guide. The inhabitants of PEI, and the three cities — also slated for removal — will be relocated to the new territory of Nunavit, where they'll build a new Anne of Green Gables theme park.
The destruction of the Yukon won't be necessary, as nobody has lived there since the gold rush.
Link: CBC News: " No Yukon, P.E.I. on new maps of Canada". Cubey Terra
4 comments
Please stand by...
Tuesday, July 15, 2003
We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please do not adjust yourself.
I'm in the middle of switching everything back to cubicledweller.ca. It may take a few days for various things to settle in, so until then there will be a few broken bits here and there. When it's done, it will look pretty much exactly as it did before.
So why am I doing this? Cubey Terra
11 comments
Words of wisdom from the cubicle
Monday, July 14, 2003
- The trouble with cheese is that you can't carry it in your wallet.
- If you're out in the desert and you pour water all over your notebook computer, you'll get very thirsty.
- Although hamsters are terrific fun to play with, you should never, ever eat one.
- Fishing is a good way to relax and appreciate nature. However, it's not a good idea to trick other animals into swallowing pointy metal things.
- Polar bears never hunt penguins, and you shouldn't need to ask why not.
- If someone asks you "how's it hangin'", they probably don't actually want the real answer.
- Avoid squid-based snacks.
- "Righty-tighty, Lefty-loosy" is applicable to both screws and politics.
- Wax lips aren't nearly as much fun as you might think.
Cubey Terra
7 comments
Deliberations
Monday, July 14, 2003
The last of the blogiversary entries is in and the panel of three judges has gone into seclusion.
No one knows what methods they employ to choose the winning entry, but I've seen delivery men at their hotel room dropping off crates of herring, ice beer, and inflatable dolls. Their deliberations are expected to be intense.
By Thursday, should they survive that long, we'll know the winner. Cubey Terra
5 comments
I scream, you scream
Monday, July 14, 2003
 On a nice, hot summer's day, there's nothing like a double-scoop of your favourite ice cream. A Japanese website, Mainichi Daily News, showcases some favourite flavours from the land of the rising sun.
One of them is called "taco aisu". Thankfully, it's not taco-flavoured ice cream.
It's octopus. Cubey Terra
6 comments
Eric goes surreal
Sunday, July 13, 2003
Having ditched the chicken costume, Eric of Webraw.com has cranked out a scene for the blogiversary contest, apparently written in a wireless cafe. Judging by the strangely surreal nature of the scene, I would have suspected a different type of cafe. We'll have to ask him about that later.
Ripping Time Space
by Eric Janssen Cubey Terra
4 comments
No hashbrown today
Friday, July 11, 2003
This morning, my breakfast routine was interrupted. There on the door of the local McDonald's was a letter-size piece of paper, fresh from the computer. It said: SORRY
NO HASHBROWN TODAY
-THE MANAGEMENT What's this? WHAT'S THIS? No hashbrown? And it wasn't even the plural, "hashbrowns". Clearly they underestimated the demand for the greasy potato pucks and only kept one in stock.
Or maybe it's more serious than that. Maybe hashbrowns aren't as plentiful as I had thought. I must have eaten the last one yesterday! DEBBIE: Hi, can I help you?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Yes, I'll have the Egg McMuffin Meal.
DEBBIE: [hesitating] The meal?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Yeah.
DEBBIE: You mean... the Egg McMuffin and coffee?
CUBICLE DWELLER: And hashbrown. The "meal".
DEBBIE: Uhhh. One second, please. [shouting to back of restaurant] Can I get the key to the hashbrown vault, please?!
[The manager emerges from the back]
MANAGER: Did you just ask for the hashbrown key?
DEBBIE: This gentlemen just ordered... he ordered... the hashbrown.
MANAGER: [to CUBICLE DWELLER] You ordered our hashbrown?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Uh... yeah.
MANAGER: Are you trying to put me out of business?
CUBICLE DWELLER: Huh?
MANAGER: You come in here, thinking you're mister big-shot, and you expect us to just hand over our hashbrown? Do you know how much work went into its creation? Debbie here slaved for days, gluing together bits of french fries, making sure that it was exactly in the right proportion.
DEBBIE: [under her breath] Bastard.
MANAGER: What makes you think you can just... take that away from us? Without our hashbrown — without our precious, crispy, golden hashbrown — we're nothing. Nothing! Do you understand me?
CUBICLE DWELLER: I guess I can't supersize that, then?
MANAGER: What was that? A joke? Was it? Was it a joke? Were you trying to be a funny guy? Do you think it's funny, showing up, throwing down your money, and taking away our very life's work?
CUBICLE DWELLER: I'm sorry... I didn't mean—
MANAGER: No! That's just fine. You are the customer after all. You're always right. Debbie, get the sign and put it on the door. I'll get... [choking back a sob] I'll get the hashbrown.
Well. Since you're set on destroying my business, I suppose you'd like to take our ketchup packet too. Well maybe it didn't happen exactly like that, now that I think about it. But the sign did seem strange to me. Cubey Terra
15 comments
Blogiversary contest deadline, whoo hoo!
Friday, July 11, 2003
 Well today's the day... it's the First Annual Endofline.ca Hyper-Intelligent Space-Penguins' Choice Blogiversary Contest deadline.
If anyone out there is making the finishing touches to their entry (like Agent Q)... PANIC! AAAAAAAAA!!!!
Actually, I'm totally willing to extending the deadline to Sunday July 13th if anyone needs more time. Just let me know.
And as a reminder to those of you still sitting on the fence about whether to write something, did I mention that the winner will receive a RECTANGULAR OBJECT? Wow. How can a contest get any more exciting than this?
Oh, the excitement might be too much for me. I'm going to go take a nap on the conference room table. Cubey Terra
12 comments
Hotter than a mad chair
Thursday, July 10, 2003
It's 8:45 in the morning, and it's already hot out. Granted, I'm a wuss when it comes to heat. I'd probably keel over from heat exhaustion after a minute in the Arizona desert. I'm just not made for the heat, unfortunately.
As I swam through the muggy air to the office and felt the heat reflecting off the sidewalk, I was reminded of Mr Henderson, my grade six teacher. During the weekly "music" lesson, which was mandatory for all students, Mr Henderson would put on his favourite LPs and get us to sing along to songs from Jefferson Airplane, The Beatles, The Lovin' Spoonful, and others. I can't say how often we were forced to sing from his record collection, but it was often enough to make me feel ill when I hear Octopus' Garden, even now.
Henderson had helpfully transcribed the songs for us and photocopied them. (Actually, it may have been a "ditto" machine... I seem to remember blotchy, purple ink. Does that date me?) Unfortunately, he transcribed them a little bit wrong and had the class singing The Lovin' Spoonful's Summer in the City: "Hot damn, summer in the city..." and "Walkin' on the sidewalk, hotter than a mad chair".
Consequently, I now think about mad chairs whenever the weather gets really hot. Cubey Terra
15 comments
In the land of submarines
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
So we sailed up to the sun
Till we found the sea of green
And we lived beneath the waves
In our yellow submarine. * 
click to see more
Cubey Terra
7 comments
OXNJYPJVSXO.
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
HYDJWDBCJLOFYXNOASXQ:JFRHJSBJBCOEOJNYSXQJCRSB?
CROJKXBFOA:JS'WJMVOKAVHJKJVYYXH.
OXNJYPJVSXO. Cubey Terra
28 comments
Mystery of the missing messages
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
Due to technical difficulties, if you sent me e-mail or posted a comment, it's possible that your message has gone missing. If you sent me an e-mail and I didn't reply, please try again. Cubey Terra
3 comments
KISEJGFJ_K_FE
Wednesday, July 09, 2003
_RNFEVWIR_XRSEPFEWRN
_CCRVWUFVWRKZ_J.RSVD
_KKWVCP,R_K'JRSRJ_DG
CRKISEJGFJ_K_FERUFVW
,RJFR_KRJZFLCVRTWRWS
JP.R_XRPFLRUSERIWSVR
KZ_J,RPFLRZSMWRKFFRD
LUZRK_DWRFERPFLIRZSE
VJ. Cubey Terra
9 comments
The adventures of the S.S. Interesting
Tuesday, July 08, 2003
Everyone seems to be having so much fun with the Star Trek generic space-adventure scenes that I thought I'd try one myself. Naturally, I'm disqualified from the blogiversary contest, but here it is anyway...
A Matter of the Utmost Urgency
by Stephen Cavers Cubey Terra
6 comments
Mr Bedford's penguins
Tuesday, July 08, 2003
Adrian's submission to the First Annual Endofline.ca Hyper-Intelligent Space-Penguins' Choice Blogiversary Contest might be dangerous — it's very likely that you will hurt yourself laughing.
Untitled script about a hyper-intelligent penguin
by Adrian Bedford, sci-fi author and suspected penguin Cubey Terra
2 comments
Playing with pixels
Monday, July 07, 2003
Well, until I figure out what I really want to do with my camera, I'll just play with it. I added three new photos to my album. 
click here to see more...
Cubey Terra
7 comments
No tourist photos, please
Monday, July 07, 2003
I'm having a bit of a creative crisis. I like to take photos, as you can probably tell from my photo page, but it occurs to me that something is missing. I can take pretty pictures — touristy pictures. There's technique to it, as it turns out, but with a little bit of experimentation, anyone can take a pretty picture.
Now that leaves me wondering... why am I doing this? What do these pictures mean? Why am I taking a photo of a butterfly? Why am I taking a photo of the city skyline? Why am I taking a photo of another effing sunset? All of these pics have been taken a billion times over, and by professional photographers. Why should I take these pictures too?
I could easily walk over to Stanley Park and take lovely pictures of the totem poles, or the cruise ships sailing past, or maybe the cricket game. But I won't because it's meaningless. It's just another pretty picture like the ones that you see in thousands of tourist brochures.
The photos that I've been happiest with have related to transition and strange juxtapositions that tell a story. I need to think about this. I've got this wacky digicam sitting on my desk and I suddenly don't know what it's for. Cubey Terra
13 comments
The deadline approacheth
Monday, July 07, 2003
Time flies when you're having fun, and I've really enjoyed reading the contest entries so far! But now there are only a few days left before the submission deadline for The First Annual Endofline.ca Hyper-Intelligent Space-Penguins' Choice Blogiversary Contest.
And the prizes — the unmistakably rectangular objects — are ready to go, too. So if you're mulling an idea for the contest, I'm looking forward to reading your scene. Cubey Terra
2 comments
Vigil at the North Wall
Sunday, July 06, 2003
The adventure of Shadowrider, Champion of the Three Villages, continues...
He clutched his sword uneasily to his chest as he sat, watching. His fire radiated a meager light in the evening chill, and he shivered in spite of himself. Though tired, his eyes scanned the forest endlessly with a piercing gaze. He would not tire. He would not be distracted. He was Shadowrider, Champion of the Three Villages, and wielder of the dread blade, Bunniesbane. His duty was vigilance. His duty was patience. His was the way of the warrior, the watchman, and occasionally the doorman.
Shadowrider squinted under his gleaming helm as he tried to recall the events that led to his position as watchman and protector of the north gate. When had his descent from warrior-general begun? Was it during the initial skirmishes of the campaigns of eastern Europe? Was it the invasion of Greenland by their Icelandic cousins? Or perhaps it was the siege of Siam.
Yes, that was it: the siege of Siam. Shadowrider exhaled a pained breath as memory flooded back to him. On the fields of battle, his army of twenty units faced the twelve units of the Siamese army. The gods favoured an easy win, he had thought, but fate, like an unlucky roll of the dice, had dealt an ugly blow. Shadowrider's army was decimated in the attack. After sounding the retreat, there remained only himself and a Scottish terrier named Bill. He hated Scottish terriers.
Now his duties were simple: guard the north gate against attack from the brigands in the forest. Rumour held that they were becoming organized and more dangerous.
It was odd, thought Shadowrider, that the king had stationed him outside the gate, rather than on the inside with the other warriors. As Shadowrider prodded the fire contemplatively, there was a noise — the snapping of a twig underfoot. He froze and gazed over his campfire, out into the woods.
"Who's there?" a voice called from his left, just beyond the edge of the campfire's dancing light.
"Nay, answer me," demanded Shadowrider, as he stood with Bunniesbane at the ready. "Stand and unfold yourself!"
"That," said the voice, "would be impolite. Long live the king."
"Tim?" A figure emerged from the woods and Shadowrider relaxed at the sight of him. It was Tim, his trusted brother-in-arms and dresser-of-hair. In fact, Tim was quite popular in court these days and had been responsible for the king's gigantic bouffante on his last birthday.
"How's the watch, Stan?" asked Tim, as he strode confidently into the circle of firelight.
Shadowrider relaxed and lowered his blade. "What brings you to the north wall?"
"Oh, just thinking that you might feel like a sip or two of meade to warm you up." Tim settled down by the fire, resting a little cloth bag by his side.
"That's very kind of you, Tim," said Shadowrider, moving nearer to the light. "But I really wish you wouldn't call me Stan."
Tim looked at him askance. "Oh, that's right. You're all mister shadowy warrior guy now, always on the lookout for danger." Tim rummaged in his bag and pulled out a lute. "A little music?"
"Look, Tim. I've got a job to do. Or have you forgotten?" For a moment, it looked as if Tim were suppressing a cough as he began plucking a simple tune on his lute. "I," Shadowrider began, with careful emphasis, "am Shadowrider Quicksword, Champion of the Three Villages, and the one known as Blademaster."
Tim's tune was interrupted for a moment, as he suppressed another cough, but Shadowrider pressed on, "I am First Champion of Lord Reortor, son of Reorthus. And really good friend of his daughter, Betty." He leaned closer to Tim, and in a low voice, said, "And I've even visited her castle... if you know what I mean."
Tim stopped playing. "No," said Tim, frowning, "I don't think I do know what you mean."
"Oh, for—," sputtered Shadowrider. "I visited her castle. You know..." He trailed off, punctuating the sentence with a gesture.
Understanding brightened Tim's face. "Oohhhhh. You mean you forded the moat. Smote her dragon. Grappled her battlements."
"Um," said Shadowrider after a pause. "Well, no. I didn't get around to the grappling part."
"You didn't grapple her battlements?"
Shadowrider shook his head.
"Did you ford the moat?"
He shook his his head again.
Tim sighed, "And the dragon-smoting...?"
Shadowrider lowered his gaze dejectedly.
"So when you say that you 'visited her castle'," Tim prodded, "what exactly do you mean?"
"I mean," elaborated Shadowrider bashfully, "that I... uh... visited... uh... I visited her castle." Tim stared back at him. "Okay, fine. We played cribbage once. Until dinnertime. And then they asked me to watch the door for them while they ate."
"Were they expecting trouble?"
"Well, I wasn't exactly clear on that part. It turned out to be pretty... um... quiet."
"Oh," commented Tim. He opened the little cloth bag again and withdrew a small object wrapped in cloth. "Salt cod?" he offered, but Shadowrider declined.
"It's a difficult life, being a hero." Shadowrider absently drew spirals in the dirt with the tip of Bunniesbane.
Tim munched thoughtfully on his fish. After a moment, he pulled a wineskin from the sack. He opened the cap and took a swig before offering it to Shadowrider. "Would you like some meade? It might make you feel better."
"Thanks, Tim, but I'm on duty."
"Are you sure? It's wildberry." Tim gave the wineskin a little enticing shake.
"Well," said Shadowrider, "it has been pretty quiet recently. And besides, Bill is on duty, over at the south wall, so I could take a bit of a break." He pictured Bill at his post, with his eyes gazing intently into the darkness, ever watchful, and his tail wagging spasmodically from the excitement of it all. Bloody terriers.
Shadowrider accepted the wineskin and took a deep draught, while Tim opened the little sack again and rummaged briefly before looking up with a grin. "Well don't look so glum, Mister Quicksword, because I've got a surprise for you."
To Shadowrider's astonishment, Tim withdrew a large, flat, rectangular box and placed it on a rock nearby. Shadowrider eyed the bag.
"Is that a Bag of Holding, Tim?" he asked.
"Yep!" Tim answered cheerfully, before turning his attention back to the rectangular box. "What would you say to a game of RISK?"
Shadowrider grinned. "You're on. US rules, supply lines?"
Tim heaved an exasperated sigh. "Supply lines suck, you wuss." Tim unfolded the game board.
"Whatever. I get the black pieces then," said Shadowrider, as he sheathed Bunniesbane. Battle would soon commence.
Cubey Terra
6 comments
Happy 4th
Friday, July 04, 2003
To our American friends south of the border as well as Alaska and Hawaii (aka the "freak" states), Happy Fourth of July. Eat, drink, and be merry. Cubey Terra
3 comments
Have iron, will travel
Friday, July 04, 2003
Let's see... My shirt's ironed, shoes polished. Puttin' on my top hat. Tyin' up my white tie. Brushin' off my tails — well maybe I'll leave those behind this time.
Hey! I forgot my trousers, Grommit!!
I hit the road this morning, travelling all the way to... well, all the way to the other side of town. Why is it that I only ever need to wear "business casual" when the weather is obviously too warm for anything but "sweaty casual"? Cubey Terra
4 comments
A friendly note...
Thursday, July 03, 2003
To the gentleman on the sixth floor who prefers to use the middle urinal: - Given the choice of three available urinals, why do you use the middle one? Do you really like standing shoulder-to-shoulder when you pee?
- Next time you go to the loo, please step forward another four inches because you're leaving a disgusting puddle on the floor. I'd expect better aim from a drunk, one-armed chimp with an inner-ear disorder.
That is all. Cubey Terra
7 comments
Mooooooo, y'all
Thursday, July 03, 2003
Have you been avoiding Canadian beef? Better check your facts...
According to an article on Canada.com ( Mad cow case could have roots in imported American cattle, says report), American officials have known since June 12 that the BSE-infected cow could have originated in the US.
Food for thought. Cubey Terra
2 comments
Contest entry by Purple Fish
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
Well, Purple Fish has taken the "Captain's log" to a... um... whole new level. Put your cheeks together for the latest entry in the First Annual Endofline.ca Hyper-Intelligent Space-Penguins' Choice Blogiversary Contest!
Untitled script by Purple Fish
Bonus points for a gratuitous reference to Mr Flibble. Cubey Terra
5 comments
2010
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
It looks like the IOC has decided to send the 2010 Winter Olympics our way. There are currently guys driving cars up and down Robson Street shouting woooooOO OOOOOOoo ooo. (I included the doppler effect for added realism.)
I hope they keep in mind there's a scheduling conflict in 2010. According to Arthur C. Clarke, that's the year that we send Roy Schieder and John Lithgow to Jupiter, where they make contact with a monolith. After Jupiter collapses, we'll end up with a new sun, which will make the climate too warm for winter sports.
I really wish people would consider such things. Well I wish them the best, and I hope that not too many low-income families will be forced from their homes, and I hope that the new Olympic facilities won't destroy too many pristine mountainsides. Cubey Terra
9 comments
It's Monday... no, wait... Tuesday!
Wednesday, July 02, 2003
After a day in the warm summer sun, we're all back at the cube farm. It feels just like Monday.
But that's not good, is it? I feel better about being here than a regular Monday. So it's more like Tuesday. But by Friday, it will feel just like Thursday, and I'll be completely thrown for a loop when Saturday rolls around and I'm at home, feeling like it's Friday.
I'll have to think about this for a while. Cubey Terra
1 comment
Beaks in Space
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
The latest entry in the contest doesn't hold back with the penguin or hamster:
Beaks in Space by the temporarily site-less River Selkie Cubey Terra
6 comments
Festival photos
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
There's nothing like a small-town parade. Except maybe another small-town parade.
Here are some shots from the Steveston Salmon Festival. Just good ol' wholesome pics of a gosh-darn-tootin' good time. Yee-frickin-haw. 
Watch out for the power lines, Peter! (ZZZZZzzzt!!!) Oh no!Click to see more...
Cubey Terra
6 comments
Salmon Festival
Tuesday, July 01, 2003
Today, as you may have noticed, is the first day of July. To Canadians, this is the most important holiday of the year: Canada Day. It's a day that symbolizes peace, prosperity, and culture. Much like the Americans' Fourth of July celebration, Canada Day is a day of playing at the park, camping, fireworks, and animal sacrifices. 
Each region has its own way to celebrate Canada Day. In the Atlantic provinces, they indulge in some Keith's and cod. In the prairie provinces, it's common to kill seven dozen bison and feast on the innards. In the north, they hunt the spotted snow emu, which migrates to the arctic circle for the summer months. And on the west coast, Vancouverites traditionally hunt the tundra tofu-beast, which goes remarkably well with asparagus maki sushi.
And then there's Steveston. In Steveston — the village where I grew up — we abstain from the tofu-beast hunt. Instead, we celebrate Salmon Festival: a day of intense fish-worship in thanks to Salmonius, God of Scales, who sits in judgment of all fishermen each time they head out to sea.
On a typical July first, the villagers of Steveston emerge from their summer igloos and congregate on the village's main (and only) road for the Salmon Festival Parade. The villagers then march down the main street wearing nothing but salmon fillets until they reach The Vat, which contains Salmon oil and offal. After the marchers dive into The Vat, a panel of four Vat judges, who represent the clergy of the First Church of Salmonius of the Scales, choose a winner based on style, technique, and the height of the splash. As an aside, it's considered good luck to be splashed with offal during the Vat Dive.
By the afternoon, the children thrill to the excitement of the carnival rides, which feature the Tunnel of Salmonids, the Roe Boat, and the Drag Net. With modern safety devices, there are now very few fatalities. Adults enjoy watching from the comfort of a snow bank while smoking some salmon. Technically, salmon-smoking is illegal in Canada, due mainly to political pressure from south of the border, but the mounties tend to turn a blind eye for such a minor offense — especially if you let them "confiscate" a chunk or two.
In the past, the villagers celebrated Salmon Festival with certain... um... acts... that are no longer considered proper. That practice has been abandoned in favour of intercourse with live fish. In truth, only our mayor, "Crazy" Willy Smith, ever engaged in this practice, but he does so in the privacy of his own igloo. We support him in his lifestyle choice.
The festival traditionally continues until sunset. As you are probably aware, up here, north of the Canada-US border, the sun doesn't set in the summertime, so the celebrations can potentially continue for a few months, with fireworks and fish-wrestling every night.
Some people might say that our ways in Steveston are backwards — that we should join the twenty-first century and turn our worship back east to Ontario and the seat of Canadian power. In conversation with visitors from Ontario, they're disgusted with our lack of patriotism and see our celebration as traitorous. I can see their point. This country deserves a day of celebration. But not if I have to give up my salmon fillets. Cubey Terra
8 comments
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