Personal Crap

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Meaford, ON, Canada
A big lover of all types of media, from Movies to Video Games, Books to Music, Television to Stage.



Okay, here's the deal: Blogger has been having problems with their counters as of late, specifically with those blogs marked as having adult content. Now, this particular blog was marked as adult content since it is written as a train of thought, including all the rotten language that flows through my head constantly :) As a result, I marked it adult for that, not for having pornographic photos all over the place. So, simply put, be aware that there is language on this blogsite, and if you are offended don't bother complaining because I wrote this so that you'd know it before reading, and it is your fault if you don't believe me and decide to possibly get offended anyway. If language of a vulgar nature might make you upset, go read something by Disney.


The Summer Of 2011, Part Two

Well, assuming everyone is up to speed from the previous entry, we continue with the story of why I've taken time off writing my blogs this summer.

Please keep in mind when reading that this only covers one half of the story.  I'm going to have to write another post detailing exactly how this fits in with me specifically.

Okay, we got up here, so we'll start with the Scott problem.  As you know, Scott was paying the mortgage on the old house, and he was to pay the rent up here while we gathered ourselves and found a new place to buy in his name.  Well, since he had to take some time off work to get everything done, his workplace decided not to pay him for the time off, even though he was owed two weeks vacation at that point.  Then, after he saw that no money went into his account, we never paid last month's rent for the new place.  After that, his workplace decided to fire him in a move meant to make the store more money by hiring people not knowledgeable in the bike industry so they could pay minimum wages instead of a salary for someone who knew his stuff and could bring in tons of sales.  As of this writing the store is sinking and will not survive this Winter season, as they also fired the only other employee of the same calibre in the other department that makes the store the most money.

Okay, so Scott gets on EI to get him cash, and gets the file escalated under the circumstances of not having been able to pay last month's rent to the new landlords.  EI does escalate it, and a payment should have arrived at the end of the first week in July.  No money was deposited.  Scott asks why, and is told a computer glitch affecting a bunch of folks had delayed payments, but it was all sorted and the cash would be there Monday.  Monday comes.  No money was deposited.  Scott calls again, and learns there is a flag on his account because the employers said he was terminated for reasons of something or other, something about undermining the company or corporate espionage or some such drivel.  What the company didn't realize is that Scott had been in touch with the Labour Board about all this before he even contacted EI, so there is a file regarding his unfair treatment while at work, plus what is now occurring which is this:  They promised him a severance package, lied about sending it to him via courier, and that is on file with the Board as well.  So, simply put, Scott's old employer was already at fault according to one government office, and yet another government office was acting as though Scott was the bad guy.

We then escalated things up to the office of the Ontario Ombudsman.  A woman there started by contacting the Labour Board and making sure Scott had a valid claim, and then went to task on the Barrie Service Canada office in order to get the flag removed from Scott's file.  Things were then to progress, and the payment should have gone through.  In fact, Scott was told that the payment went through multiple times over the next week or so, by many different people, and that the bank was the problem ie. the payment's didn't come back to the EI office, the bank still had it and had not put it into Scott's account.  Then, about a week and a half after starting to talk to the Ombudsman's office, and after the second EI payment hadn't gone through, on a call to ream the Barrie EI office Scott was told that no money had EVER been sent to his bank account because there was a SECOND flag on his account.  The Ombudsman's office rep had removed the first flag but not even looked to see that the account was cleared to approve the deposits.  Well, now we're upset, and we take this up the chain to her supervisor, who starts firing people left and right throughout the Barrie office, fires the woman from his own office for failing to follow through on the file, and promises reparations for the delay.  At this point, Scott is owed $700 for the first missed payment, $700 for the second missed payment, $600 in reparations for those two missed payments, and more reparations are planned.  Why?  Well, we're selling what little we got up here with us after the move (see previous post) in order to eat.

Now we take it up the chain again.  We're now talking to Gabrielle in the Office of the Premier of Ontario, Queen's Park.  I added Queen's Park because in a little while we'll be involving Ottawa's office as well.  Anyway, this is where the story goes into "fantastical movie plot that nobody would ever believe" territory.  In fact, I lost an online friend as a result of telling her the truth about what happens next, because she didn't believe it and decided that all I had ever told her was lies.

To start, Gabrielle either fired or reprimanded the supervisor at the Ombudsman's office, then proceeded to start trying to get the money in cheque form up to us via DHL.  Well, DHL lost the package.  Okay, so she gets them to cancel that cheque (which for some reason takes over 6 hours), issue a new cheque (another 6 hours, so basically it takes two business days for this), and tells us she's left it in the locked upper right drawer of her desk for the night.  Next day, she never shows for work.  They find her that night, in a hospital, after having had what she says was a car accident on the 400 while on her way to us with the cheque.  She's in the hospital for the rest of that week, so instead of getting the cheque from her (which is what apparently happened, as they bored out the lock on her desk to get it to us but found no cheque there), they decide to cancel it.  Okay, so now we're dealing with her aide on this, a woman by the name of Jessica, who was aware of all of this while it was happening and is up to speed.  Well, another two days go by while they cancel that cheque and do up another one.  Now we've gone through another weekend of selling what little we have to a hock shop near us, and we're a little desperate.  Keep in mind, we've only just started August by this point.  The cheque is ready to go, and so they avoid DHL (used because the government apparently has a contract with them - they've always been useless, I hate that Amazon uses them), and get the cheque to Purolator Courier.

Purolator Courier loses the package.

Now, I'm not saying they only lost our package, I mean they lost 6 packages across multiple manifests, and as of this writing they have never found two of them, and, you guessed it, one of the ones never found is ours.  Well, Purolator gives us a cheque for $250 as an apology, and that gets sent to Queen's Park in order to be sent to us when they issue a FOURTH CHEQUE!!!  You still with me here?  We're on to cheque number four! 

In the midst of this, Scott applied for emergency funds from Ontario Works.  He got $1000, which got eaten by paying to keep the fridge and stove we've been forced to rent-to-own as a result of the move, pay down his phone bill (almost $1000 itself at that point), and get us food for that weekend.  What was left was about $50, which is about to play a role in the tale.

Now, of course, we're looking at two days to get the next cheque, so now we're at Thursday, August 18th.  At this point, you're probably curious to know why I haven't mentioned an EI payment in August.  Well, see, Scott expected a payment on the correct Friday, but was told he was no longer going to get payments on Fridays because they were only doing that to rush cash to him due to the escalation, and that now he'd get payments on Tuesdays like everyone else.  The irony of him never getting the two rushed payments is not lost on us.  Over that weekend, the weekend of the 13th, Scott's account was hacked from Quebec.  He noticed this on Monday, because that $50 was gone, and called Bank Of Montreal to get it fixed.  They acknowledged the problem, and said that the account was fixed, they were going to give back the money, and that the next day's EI deposit would go through with no worries.

Tuesday comes.  No money was deposited, including the $50 that was already supposed to be in the account.

Okay, now the gloves come off.  Scott calls the Bank Of Montreal, demands the money, and is promised a minimum of $25 as an apology.  That quickly becomes an apology of $100 for the problem, because as of this writing Scott has only gotten the $50 back.  No EI payment, and no apology money (not asked for but told to Scott on their own accord that he would get).  Now, remember, this is specifically from Bank Of Montreal...things will progress to another bank shortly.

Now, back to the story.  Jessica is now in possession of both the Purolator cheque and the Queen's Park EI and reparation cheque, and has them on a clipboard ready to be sent.  All they are looking for is a driver to bring them to our door.  Gabrielle is in a meeting (about which I'll relate in the next e-mail) and Jessica doesn't want anything to happen to the cheques, so she takes them with her as she runs an errand.  By now, you can almost see it coming, can't you?  Like a bad horror movie?  She is seen wandering off the grounds by a couple of groundskeepers at 12:30 in the afternoon, and she vanishes for the next 6 hours.  Her phone is on her desk, charging.  She is finally found at St. Mike's Hospital, unconscious.  From what we've pieced together from security cameras and eyewitnesses (you know it can't be good if I'm using the word 'eyewitnesses'), she had gone to the Eaton Centre to grab a snack, slipped on a wet floor, went down a flight of stairs, fractured her skull and knocked herself unconscious.  And then, just as an added bonus, some of the people that saw this happen grabbed her purse and took off with it.

I know that you, loyal readers, along with Andi and even my one cousin I talk to, all believe I should write books, but how can I compete with real life?

The good news is that they didn't take the clipboard.  The bad news is that Queen's Park isn't family, so they don't let them in to check and get the cheques.  It took so long to find her because she had no ID on her when she fell.  Jessica does not regain consciousness on Friday, so now we're into another weekend with no cash.  Monday rolls around.  Summing this week, as most of it involves the next post, we have gotten exactly $20 out of a person now working our Queen's Park file, Jessica is home recuperating, Gabrielle has been fired from her job, and we're hoping that sometime we'll get the $2000 cheque from Barrie EI.  For how we got from the floor of the Eaton Centre back to Barrie EI, I will be posting again soon.

Until next time...


The Start Of The Story Of Summer 2011

Greetings once again, loyal readers.  I know I haven't been posting anything as of late, and I also know that I promised a good reason as to why I hadn't.  Well, I'm still not writing anything new at the moment, but what I am doing is editing and posting various e-mails I've been forced to write for various reasons over the past few months, detailing what has actually been going on.  As this is still quite a tender subject to me, this is the best I can offer right now.  If I skip anything monumental, let me know, and I'll fill in the blanks.

With that said, here we go:

First thing anyone reading this should know is that we were forced to move as a result of our inability to get our mortgage renewed on our home.  This came about as a result of an attempt by our mortgage company to foreclose upon us back in 2007/2008 which itself occurred because my disability support was cut off by the government after my father, the home's main wage earner, died.  Sounds backwards?  Get used to it.  Anyway, a loan we got then to make sure we could stay in the house was applied for and received, but then this guy decided to tack it onto the cost of refinancing a new mortgage, which made our lender balk, and it all fell through.  That's the backstory, and again if I missed anything, ask and I will fill in those pesky blanks.  Suffice it to say, Andi, Scott and myself were thrown to the street and had to find a place to live.  The place Andi found is over an hour north of Toronto, in the middle of nowhere, and tiny as hell.

The move happened about as poorly as could have been expected.  First, we were evicted a day early because the lawyer for the buyer of the house wanted a bigger kick-back than he was getting to let us stay the extra day, so he reneged on the deal and forced us up here in the dead of night with what we were wearing, what little we could gather in one hour, and one mattress tied to the roof of my car.  The move happened the next day, but the movers were incompetent, and only loaded half the house in the whole day.  They got here at midnight, but because the banks were closed and we needed to get more than the $500 allowed from a bank machine withdrawal, they refused to unload and left with the truck full.  Scott tried to pay them the next day, when the truck should have been getting the other half of our stuff, but after a day of phone tag nothing got done.  He paid them the day after, and the truck came up, and they expected another $800 to unload on top of everything else.  Scott got the driver to start unloading anyway, and we got the truck emptied, discovering almost half of the stuff they hauled was either broken or packed unsafely.  The driver said he wouldn't leave until we paid him another $800, so we had the police here to ensure he left.

As if this isn't enough, the buyer then refused us access to the house to get the rest of our belongings, so we have lost half of what we owned.  This includes all the stuff from my father after he died, all the stuff from Andi's mother after she died, all the stuff from Scott's father after he died, all the stuff from my childhood I was collecting for future kids of my own, all our books, games, clothes, Christmas decorations, piles of electronics (including two televisions and at least one stereo surround system), a painting from a British artist valued at over $500, and more.  Gone, just gone.  Imagine everything you've kept for any sentimental or meaningful purpose, piled together in one big group, and then having someone set fire to it while you watch.  Yeah, that's where we were, and still are.

Then Scott goes back to work, and they refuse to pay him for the three weeks he had to take off in order to do the move.

And then they fire Scott the following week.

So, as of July 1st, we were living on my disability benefits, which left us exactly $25 for the rest of July.  Scott was trying to get unemployment benefits, but nothing had come yet...the company was supposed to pay him a severance package, but they didn't bother, so now the Labour Board is involved, but we don't know where that was going to go either.  We do know that they were planning an audit of the company, and that will likely shut them down permanently (they never gave Scott lunch breaks or the 15 minute breaks he is allowed by law, made him work overtime virtually every day with no pay increase, etc..).

Some of these things came about, and some didn't.  Some of them we're going to court over, and some of them are big lawsuits totalling in the millions, but we'll get there in future posts.  Over the next three or four, I'll get everyone all caught up with what's been going on.  Trust me, it's a bumpy ride, one that I actually lost a friend over due to the fact that she didn't believe that I was telling her the truth.

Until next time...


Not Quite Back Yet

I do know it has been a long time since I've posted, and there are a few reasons for that:  First it was due to the virtual annihilation of my life as I knew it, then it was stress and on-going fallout from said annihilation.  Now it is more a matter of being unable to let various cats out of various bags until certain investigations have neared completion, and/or waiting to see if a story breaks in national media.

The point is, I am going to come back and write these blogs, I fully intend to do so.  However, it is still going to be a little while before I am able to do so.  Right now, it looks as though one way or another I will be able to discuss everything come the end of September/early October, so look for a major post around those periods.

Also, I am a little worried about what I post at that time.  A person I had a relationship with through the BFG website decided that after hearing only a portion of the honest truth that she never wanted to hear from me again, and that I was ultimately full of shit.  Don't know whether a bigger audience would do the same unless there is some proof in the newspapers or television news, but regardless I will post the truth when the time comes to do so.

So, those of you still checking in periodically to find out if I've posted, rest assured - the big story is coming, but you'll have to be patient with me for one more month (assuming another big flip doesn't occur right at the end of that time...that'll make sense when I type the rest out).

Until then, take care and be patient!


Insult To Injury

I'm not back yet - the problems experienced that have stopped me blogging are still in fact occurring, and until things are firmly put to rest completely, I really am stressed by the idea of dredging it all up.  I will however do so once all is put right.

However, yet another problem...

Just when things were going almost as bad as they possibly could get, now the car is broken down in the driveway, effectively eliminating the ability to allow us to even get a simple thing like butter, milk or meat.

I really don't know why I try anymore.


Ryan Dunn 1977 - 2011

I know this would be more fitting on What We're Talking About, but the truth of yesterday's post still remains.

Regardless, Ryan Dunn's car was found by police in the early hours this morning, off the road and fully engulfed by flames.  It is said he was travelling at speeds in excess of 180kph when the crash occurred, and he was driving the Corvette, which was registered in his name, when the vehicle left the road.  As of this writing, his male passenger has not been identified, and Dunn was identified by his facial hair and his tattoos.  Sure hope the passenger wasn't another member of the Jackass family.

Sorry it happened, Ryan.  Give 'em hell!


Sorry For The Delay

Greetings one and all.  This is going to be a short post, as things are still too fresh for me to get into too much detail.  Suffice it to say that there is going to be a rather large post coming down the pipe sometime in the future, and all shall be explained there.  Don't know if I've already said that earlier on this page; if I have, I apologise for repeating, if I haven't then now you all know.

In short, my family and I were forced to move from our house, and while the drama from that was supposed to end with the month of May or at the least early June, this is not what has happened and things are still extremely stressful.  There is a lot of negativity floating around me at the moment, and it will take some things going right in a major way to get me to turn my frown upside down.

To be completely honest, I've pretty much given up anything remotely approaching any interest in my day-to-day life, and am just going through the motions and hoping something either changes hugely for the better or I wind up dead one morning.  As of this writing, neither of these resolutions holds more hope than the other.

So, it's still going to be a while before my personal pain is no longer overshadowing television shows, movie releases, the day's top news stories, the latest video game titles, or even relating my past (especially since I just lost virtually all of the latter's mementos).  Oddly enough, I have a lot to write about each and every one of those topics, but even taking the time to write this post rather than attempt to divert my attention from the shitstorm that has become the daily special around here is a daunting task, and the only reason I'm bothering is in case anyone is actually following any of my blogs in any kind of avid way without my knowledge.  Hey, at least the time I've spent NOT writing has given people who fell behind the chance to catch up, if they bothered to that is...

For now, this will be the place I post any news regarding my return to full form.  It will also be the place to look to see if the depression and stress have won and I'm no longer around to write more.  Until one or the other happens, updates will be extremely sporadic, and will only occur on this blog.  It'll take quite a bit for me to dish on any of the others, so be aware, and thanks for reading (if in fact anyone does).


Bit Of An Absence

Sorry about that folks.  I know I haven't been blogging on any of the sites for the past little while, but I promise I have good reason, and I will delve deeply into the actual facts regarding my break just as soon as some of the final particulars are sorted out.  Trust me, it will make for interesting reading, and ultimately the stress I've been under will have departed upon my typing it, allowing me to get back to slagging off jerks and writing more about my past and the stuff I'm up to currently.

For now though, just know that I haven't forgotten about the people who actually read my shit, and I will continue my writing ways just as soon as this elephant is off my chest.  Bear with me, it'll all be worth it.  For now, though, take a look at a hot chick in her underwear.  That ought to hold you until I can get my head together again:

Okay, that isn't exactly a cute chick in her underwear.  That's Nicole Findlay.  Cute, yes...undies, no.  Let me try again:

Much better.  That's Ashlynn Brooke.  She rocks.  Okay, take care all, be back when I am up for it.


YouTube Ghost Videos

This post may seem like a specific attack on one person and their attempt to deceive the public, and it really isn't.  This pertains to any and all 'real' ghost 'footage' found on YouTube made by people who are interested in trying to get followers for their videos by providing special effects and claiming them as supernatural phenomena.  These videos are fake, people are believing them without sparing a thought for how they were made, and while it may seem harmless at first, one must remember that children are being killed occasionally throughout developed countries (read: United States) by gullible parents believing their children are 'possessed' and videos of this ilk don't help matters.

Simply stated, the videos I'm on about are ones that feature things 'moving' or 'activating' without anyone around to explain how they moved or turned on.  There are quite a number of these videos across YouTube, and some of them are quite entertaining.  Some actual Hollywood movies have used the exact same effects in films to create the illusion of spirits and ghosts, but these films ("Paranormal Activity 2" in particular has one specific scene that I've watched done very well on YouTube) are meant as entertainment, not suggesting that anything within them is actually real.  In fact, all one has to do is sit through the credits at the end of these films to see that they are in fact works of fiction, with the same disclaimers that any Hollywood film needs to have regarding similarity to persons living or dead (nice laugh there) being totally accidental.  In a nutshell, big screen movies are there for a lark, and people seeing them know that and expect that.  

Not so with the videos I'm on about from YouTube.

First off, I'm going to provide the specific movie I'm on about here.  I don't want anyone trying to say that I'm not providing clear evidence as to my opinion, because that would make me a coward, especially if I censored someone else's valid opinion.  So, for your viewing enjoyment, I give you the video I'm guilty of calling a fake:

First of all, please note how the video starts.  Right off the bat, this person is stating that this video is real, that no fakery is involved, and that this footage is of an actual ghost.  This is the exact opposite of what a Hollywood movie does, albeit at the end of a film rather than at the start.  In fact, the movies that are filmed as 'reality' films go so far as to say that they are found footage at the start of the film, leading the audience to believe that it is real for the purposes of the entertainment - but again, at the end they say that it was fiction, unlike the videos I'm mentioning here.

Then we have the two shots of the microwave, which as you can clearly see is on and running when the footage begins.  The person says it just turned on, and there is a plug beside the oven to show that the oven isn't plugged in.  He moves the oven a bit, talking about 'masking,' the act of digitally editing out wires, cords etc.. to make something look like it is moving without human interference.  Please note that at no point am I suggesting this is being done here.  He lifts one end of the oven, to show I don't know what, then puts down the camera phone, picks up the locked-down camera and stops the oven after lifting it again.  I do not know exactly what purpose he has in lifting one end of the microwave while it is running, but apparently his ability to do so must mean there is a ghost.  Anyway, he then proceeds to show the footage from his phone, which is simply a more close-up and shaky version of what we've already seen, and then ends the video by putting a snake around his neck (which any child going to a reptile exhibit at a local zoo can have done to them) which somehow proves that his videos must be real.  I mean he actually has a snake around his neck.  Yup, must be real as a result.

Now, I became a bit testy when watching this because my wife was showing it to me saying that the footage was great.  I have personally experienced weird shit myself, and that is for another post, but due to those experiences I tend to look at videos of this type with a debunking eye.  Upon watching this, I immediately began to theorize how the video could be faked.  That might seem extremely cynical, but consider this:  If you, or someone you knew, was actually able to get real footage of real paranormal phenomena in such a well-lit location, and could conclusively prove that there was no mischief going on, would you post it to YouTube or would you be calling universities and scientific journals to get them into your home to definitively and without any room for doubt prove the existence of another dimension or possibly life after death?  I know what I would do, and it would NOT be to sit on such an incredible scientific discovery and only put the proof of this on a social website.  That is hint number one that this video is a fake.

Hint number two comes from the actions of the man in the video itself.  He films the microwave from two angles, lifting the appliance from one end multiple times, and shows a cord that he claims is from the microwave sitting there unplugged beside the oven.  Okay, that's a great start, but if this were real footage of an actual ghost, anyone with any common sense would go out of their way to show that there was no tomfoolery going on.  This he deliberately does not do.  In fact, if you read the comments below the video on the actual YouTube page for the video, he specifically says in response to someone asking him this exact question that at the time he was too nervous to touch the oven, and didn't think to move it anyway.  This is ridiculous for two reasons.  One, he lifts the oven on one end more than once!  He never gives a reason as to why he does this, but by doing so he obviously has no fear of touching the microwave!  So, if he can lift it, why can't he turn it?  In fact, he turns off the oven and then still won't turn it around to show that the cord beside it is truly not from this appliance.  I know why he did not do this, and we're getting to it.  Secondly, again, if you were actually filming actual ghost interaction with this microwave, and had the foresight to set up two cameras to catch any and all activity that might occur, then why are you reluctant to ensure that all avenues of fakery have been eliminated?  There really is only one answer, and that is that the video is in fact a fake.

Let's now turn to how it was done.  We'll start with the most obvious proof of it being a fake, then go through how he did it, which is so simple it is laughable.  First off, notice the camera footage starts with the oven already on.  Unlike a dial-based gas or electric oven, one must actually push buttons to turn on a microwave.  Even having it on and then unplugging it and plugging it back in won't work, because the electronics of the appliance leave it off when a power interruption occurs.  Therefore, the only way the oven could be on is if he pushed the button himself, then got the cameras going.  Electronic interference or radio waves wouldn't work, as ovens don't have receivers for that type of interference, so that's out.  He had to have turned it on, but what about the cord?  It is obviously from the microwave, right?  How do we know that is true?  The guy on the video says it is, but he never shows us the cord connecting to the microwave.  I call fake right there, since it would be beyond easy to find a junked appliance, chop off the cord, tuck the cut end behind this microwave where the camera can't see it (after ensuring the camera is in an angle where it is hidden of course) and then proceeding to film claiming the cord is from that oven.  Since he never lifts the end of the oven more than an inch or so when a camera is close to it, and never with a view underneath it when he does, he plays it safe and nobody who is gullible will question it.

Now, to prove the goings-on, one must watch the video again, paying extreme attention to the right side of the microwave all the way around the corner to the sink.  Notice anything?  No, you don't, because the maker of the video made sure that he covered his tracks on this one.  You cannot actually see the vertical corner where the wall meets the counter anywhere to the right of the microwave oven, all the way to off-screen.  Even when he picks up the camera, even when he switches to the second camera view, you cannot at any time see the edge where the counter meets the wall to the right of the microwave, as it is hidden by sponges, a blender, various bottles, a paper towel roll and, in an actual act of ingenuity, the tap from the sink itself.  This means well thought out camera placement and exacting angles from the tap, and for what reason?  To hide exactly how the video was made.

For your approval, I submit that the microwave was indeed plugged in, into an extension cord running behind the stuff on the counter to the right of the microwave, and that the reason the person in the video never turned the microwave and only lifted one end is due to the fact that his fakery would have then been revealed.  The video is fake, there is no footage of an actual ghost here, and this is purely a form of entertainment.

However, things don't end there.

I wrote three comments on YouTube to the guy who made this video, three because they give you a very small amount of characters to write a discerning opinion in full, and submitted the three posts within the space of about 15 minutes.  This was simply due to the fact that I wrote them as I speak, just as I write all my blogs, Twitter posts, etc..  In the three comments I mentioned how he did it, suggested that he hasn't proved anything since he didn't even attempt to debunk his own footage, and asked why he hadn't submitted the video to any scientific study if it was in fact real.  This morning, I woke up to find that he had blocked my comments from ALL of his videos, and sent me a message in response.

So, this nqghosthunter wrote me this message, entitled "blocked."  The message reads:

sorry, that is too many troll comments in the space of only an hour or two. So you are now blocked. Not because you think my videos are fake, but because you are trolling my videos. And don't try to say I blocked you because you said my videos are fake, as there are lots of comments that say that and those people are not blocked because they did not troll my videos.

To be fair, there are a lot of comments saying his stuff is fake - but none of them tell how he did it with the extension cord (a lot suggest a battery of some sort, which isn't accurate) and nobody said anything about submitting his 'real footage' for analysis.  My response to his message follows:

I didn't troll your videos, you egotist.  I wrote one consistent thought that happened to take up the total space of three responses, nothing else.  And if you think the fact that a person cannot speak their mind in regards to the fakery you are passing off as legitimate proof of the existence of ghosts can be anything other than 'trolling,' you are quite mistaken and too puffed up by your own bravado to allow opinions to get in the way of your delusion.

You didn't block me because of 'trolling.'  You blocked me because I got it right.  You have obviously blocked me SPECIFICALLY because I am spreading the word in regards to how you actually manipulate your 'audience' with so-called special effects rather than actually providing what you claim to be showing them.  If you had any sense at all, you wouldn't block me, but encourage the dialogue by explaining how I'm wrong and why journals and scientists haven't been informed of your 'data.'  Blocking me just proves me right, and I'm about to make certain that everyone knows this by including your message on my blog.  You won't be able to censor unwanted criticism from there, and I will be providing a link directly to your 'footage.'

By the way, the other tell-tale clue to your fake microwave stunt is the fact that the appliance is already on when you start the camera.  You have to actually hit buttons on a microwave to start it, and as a result of ensuring that you turning it on wasn't on the 'footage,' you had to have started it before the cameras were on.  This is basic knowledge, and people a lot smarter than I are aware of it.

I'm afraid you are simply a coward unwilling to own up to his lie, and in fact your blocking me is going to end up making you look worse.  Fell free to drop by my blogsite at if you think I'm kidding.  Just be aware that it's going to take me a while to write the post, so don't expect the fallout to start for at least an hour or so from the mailing of this response.

That is what I wrote, including the spelling error in the word 'feel,' and I specifically mentioned the turning on the oven before starting the camera bit because that actually came to me late last night when the wife and I were already upstairs in bed.

My main problem with all of the videos of this type (and I could tear down at least one more from this very same poster, involving a 'haunted' office where it is pretty obvious that a guy is hiding under a desk) is that they are passing themselves off as real.  I do believe in ghosts, I honestly do - but I also believe that no actual proof of them has been found.  Photographs with weird phenomena, television shows with unexplained footage, movies based on real events...I subscribe to viewing all of these, but have yet to see anything that proves beyond a shadow of a doubt that what I'm seeing can't possibly have a simple straightforward explanation.  Oh, and by the way, the first people who would agree with me are the very same people submitting the footage for those television shows.  "Ghost Hunters" in the States, or "Most Haunted" in Britain, these shows try to get it right, and some very interesting stuff has come out of the many locations they have filmed in, however neither show has ever claimed that they have definitive proof of supernatural activity.

So, when some random guy says he has 'real footage of poltergeist activity' right at the top of a video on YouTube, I'm expecting something that looks good but is fake, just like a magician onstage.  I don't expect to be told how it was done, but by claiming it as real and having no disclaimer after that you are suggesting to your audience an untruth, and if that fuels even one delusional person to act out against anyone as a result of your video fuelling their delusion, I call that a bad thing.  These videos are great as entertainment, but should be labelled as such in a way that it can't be mistaken for actual footage.  That'll never happen, but hopefully someone reading this will look at these types of videos with a keener eye in the future.

I have no grudge against nqghosthunter, none at all.  I do feel that blocking me was a very childish move on his part, and this post would have been quite a lot shorter and less venom-filled if he hadn't done so, but I hold no grudge.  I know he probably didn't make the video to cause anyone any harm, but hopefully he'll see that feeding the tank of anyone who might believe this is real footage could do a huge disservice down the road.  That being said, do take the time to follow that link in the upper left corner of his video to see another person who has done some great special effects to create a few paranormal videos, also with the tag of being 'real' footage.  See if his kitchen reminds you of last October's theatrical release at all.


Time For Another Reality Check

Okay, before I get too deep into this topic, because frankly I currently have no idea where my thoughts will take it, I have to give mention to the person who inspired it.  I am following a lovely woman in Manchester, UK on Twitter by the name of Regan-Piacarra Dyce and without her this particular post would not have been written.  So, for good or for ill, thank you.  Funnily enough, she asked me to stop following her during the discussion that set off this post as well.  Whatever, I'm writing it here anyway, and as an added bonus I'll post her Twitter here as well: @ReganPiaCarra

Now then, here is the gist of the conversation:  This woman is apparently in awe of Justin Bieber.  I'm saying that there was a day about a week ago when, for about ten tweets in a row, she was praising him.  She was tweeting to him about how great it was to meet him, etc.. and I found it a little off-putting.  Not because I hate Justin Bieber, but because she was putting a person on a pedestal that they didn't deserve.  Nobody should be idolized to the point that his every breath is noted by magazines or tabloid television shows.  I'm certain the surviving Beatles would agree.

Today's particular conversation came about as a result of April Fool's Day.  She was saying that it was after noon, and that it was time to stop with the pranks already.  I agree, but mentioned to her that it isn't after noon everywhere yet, and told her that I was from Canada.  This lead immediately to her commenting about Justin Bieber being from Canada, and I joked that every country has it's faults.  Keep in mind that I'm, even now, still smiling about all of this.  However, she took that as some kind of seriously personal slight against a pop star that she has met once and doesn't appear to have any other actual connection to in real life, and the next thing I know she is getting her back up about the fact that I stated that as Canadians we aren't particularly showy about our skills and talents, and that we as a country (excepting 14 and 15 year old girls) are pretty tired of hearing about him all over the place whenever we open a magazine or turn on the television.

She fired back that 'JB' as she calls him is well aware of where he is from and quite proud of it.  I agreed that while that is true, it doesn't mean that Canadians in general aren't tired of the media overkill.  At that point, she asked me to unfollow her, and told me to, what was it now, oh yes, 'snore off.'  Not sure what that is supposed to mean, but nevertheless I then asked her whether she wanted me to unfollow her due to my having a different opinion from hers, or whether it was more to do with the fact that I didn't put Justin Bieber on the same pedestal she was putting him on.  And, at this point, it must be mentioned that the core of this post was then uttered by me, in what must have been a rude and insulting fashion:

I mentioned that I think it is ridiculous that his hair is currently on tour.

Yes, for those of you who don't know, and unfortunately for me I am actually aware of this silliness, Justin Bieber's recently cut hair is now going on it's own North American tour.  I shit you not.  This is what is now passing as a good idea for the furthering of a pop star's career.  Now, I am aware that the proceeds of people PAYING to see his hair and get PICTURES with it are going to a charity, possibly even one to help Japan after their terrible earthquake, tsunami and nuclear disasters...but come on people, we're now forking over money to see what other people throw in the garbage after sweeping the floor?  Is this planet for real?  Do a telethon, do a PSA, play a concert where the proceeds go towards helping Japan...but sending out your hair for a tour?

Anyway, suddenly the conversation stopped from her end.  Possibly it is due to the fact that suddenly she realized that she is a grown woman worshipping at the feet of someone who thinks they are so high and mighty above the rest of us that even his hair warrants it's own followers.  Wouldn't be surprised to hear about a new Twitter account and a calendar featuring the hair, and just the hair.  Seriously, this is something to laugh at, shake your head, say 'How ridiculous,' and then go back to caring about things that actually matter in the world, like whether Libya will ever get it's freedom.  Or perhaps she realized that she was having an argument with someone who simply doesn't share her views and was therefore going to talk about other things rather than get her panties in a bunch about something so trivial.

Regardless, I sent out a Follow Friday link to her Twitter feed, and left it at that.  Oh, and for the record, I also mentioned that Canadians as a whole are generally tired of hearing about Celine Dion as well, but that didn't seem to bother her in the least, as she responded that she couldn't care less about her.

At the moment, it appears as though she has not blocked me from reading her tweets, though I am not certain she hasn't blocked herself from receiving any tweets I send mentioning her.  Either way, once this is posted, I will be making a point of tweeting the post as usual, but also I will be sending one her way specifically.  I'm not about to say things about anyone without their direct knowledge of exactly what I have said, and will fight to ensure that they have a way to comment back in a public forum to make certain their side of the story sees the light of day as well.  It's only fair, and people who don't allow others to voice opinions on what is said about them are cowards.

That being said, I just want to reiterate the opinion behind this post:  Justin Bieber is a human being who happens to be talented in a field that gives him much publicity.  As a Canadian, I am tired of hearing about how wonderful he is.  If I enjoyed his music, I would STILL be tired of hearing about him all the time.  Why?  Simply stated, because I am an adult and realize that a person's popularity is low on the list of things that are of concern the world over.  I respect his artistry, I think it's great that he has a sense of humour about himself, and I'm glad he's true to his roots - but I don't wish to hear about how incredible he is everywhere I go for information or entertainment.

Oh, and the touring hair is just ridiculous.

I have no hard feelings towards Regan-Piacarra Dyce whatsoever, so if you are on Twitter give her a follow.  And if she is still mad at me, tell her to by all means let me know it.  Oh, and if you are in fact reading this, you can talk to me through the comment box below (for a public tar and feathering) or my e-mail at


The State Of My World Affects My Posts

Just a quick update to any and all readers of my blogs, regardless of which ones.  Now that I put that little column on the right side there that tells everyone when I write a new post, I figure by updating this particular blog everyone has a chance to read it, so gather round.

Recently my life has been becoming increasingly stressful.  A huge delay in moving our mortgage, coupled with horrible nightmares, the approach of my 40th birthday, and my over-riding need to get the hell out of this building on a more regular basis - these have all combined to make my life a great deal more miserable for the last month or so, and the situation does not appear to be letting up any time soon.  Ultimately, this also means that my inspiration/motivation/care to write about things in general has fallen off steeply.  Other factors figure into this as well:  If I'm not playing new games or new game systems, my ability to review things falls away.  I'm dwelling too much in 'the good old days,' and therefore don't feel like talknig about games of the past either.  So, that's why 'Confessions' hasn't had much updating.  Haven't seen any movies in theatres for quite a while, and I'm sick of sitting around watching the same movies over and over again.  That's why 'Reel' hasn't had any great updates.  Tired of having the television provide the majority of the entertainment I get out of life right now.  That's why 'Telly' hasn't had much updating either.

Why do you care?  Well, maybe you don't, but assuming anyone reads this regularly, this is kind of my apology and explanation as to why I'm only really writing new things for my autobiography.  And, of course, virtually nobody is reading that, so that kind of stifles the motivation to write that as well...though my need to get all this stuff out into the world before my heart condition reaches up my throat and throttles my brain does mean that my autobiographical blog in particular at least gets some semblance of a regular feeding.  All in all, my interest in writing these blogs, especially since the only real feedback I've been getting is from those related to me (all two of you), is quite low at the moment - and until I feel better, it is likely to languish for a while.

So, to sum up, I don't feel much like writing most of the time, and nobody I don't share lineage or a bedroom with cares enough to encourage me.  Thusly, if I don't write for a while it doesn't seem like I'll be missed much, and therefore I'm not going to try to push myself to type words on these pages until i actually have interest in doing so.

How can you help me get over this stumbling block?  E-mail me, comment on my writing, communicate to me the knowledge that there are people out there in Hungary, Germany, Iran, China, Pakistan, Ukraine, South Korea, the UK, the US, Russia and Singapore that are not hitting my blog posts by accident and are actually reading my words and care that I continue to write.  I'll still post, but right now it feels again as though nobody cares if I do, and if this is only for my own edification then the posts will be lean indeed.

Anyway, take care to all of those people who actually do read what I'm writing (that'd be you Jen, and you Andi), sorry to anyone who actually reads this and I don't know who you are or that you do (not entirely my fault, if you don't tell me you are doing so), and when I get motivated enough to bother doing more, I will.  Until then, enjoy Spring (I would say enjoy Autumn for those in the southern hemisphere, but totals are suggesting to me that virtually nobody south of the equator is even hitting these pages in great numbers, so most readers are in the same season I find myself).


A Dream Waking Me After Less Than 2 Hours Of Sleep

I have written this from the point of view of Andi, my wife, being the one who reads it, so when I say things like 'you said' or 'you did,' I specifically mean her.  When I use the phrase 'our house,' it refers directly to 40 Harley.  'Our' also refers to Andi and I.  This is what I'm doing to myself while I'm asleep; and people wonder why I wake up at 39 going on 40 with a thumb wedged firmly in my mouth most mornings...dream shit like this yourself, and tell me how you'd react.

The dream was very intense.  Most dreams you have when you are asleep are double the length of the previous dream, as that's how the cycles go.  First you have 'dreamlets,' of maybe 5 seconds, then 10 seconds, then 20 seconds, then 40 seconds.  1 minute 20, 2 minutes 40, 5 minutes 20, 10 minutes 40, 21 minutes 20 and this is the one I think I had based on how long it took to fall asleep and the fact that there is time in between the dreams as well.  So the torture I am about to describe, though not seemingly torture necessarily in your eyes, probably lasted for 20+ minutes for me.  Reading this from your individual standpoints will probably make this dream seem boring and dull, but to myself it was fraught with anger, rage, and impotent blame and hatred.

It started in a version of our house.  I had been asleep for a nap, and I came downstairs to the main floor to have you telling me you had done some work downstairs.  The context of the work was mentioned, but is the only thin I can't remember, so it probably wasn't important.  I went down the basement stairs to note a few things:  First, the basement had been finished.  Second, the ceiling, floor and walls were all white (maybe in prep for final paint and flooring choices, but that wasn't discussed).  Third, the boxes you'd expect to see upon coming down were gone, and the room was well lit as though by florescent tubes across the ceiling, though I don't recall looking up to confirm said tube lighting.  I remember being shocked at how much work you had done while i was asleep, and asked where the other boxes were.  You said upstairs in the bedroom, and at this point I was now standing upstairs in the bedroom, only it was now the front room of the house at Eastwood.  I saw the boxes, then was again magically downstairs talking to you in the basement again (this happened with the snap back and forth of a camera clip during a movie, like an establishing shot of the other room to confirm what had been said by you).  You then were showing me how you organized the boxes, and I noticed that in the ceiling, as though the room hadn't had the ceiling finished, there were two boxes of hamster food, one opened.  I pulled the opened one down, found a garbage bag you had available (not to be confused with another bag that wasn't garbage, and even these bags were white) and threw it out.  I then got the other box, and noticed the ceiling (finished though with rafters or beams BELOW the finished ceiling, so weird) had been discoloured in the shape of the boxes, as though they had been put up there and somehow the contact with the ceiling discoloured the paint or something.  I also had noticed that where the boxes had originally been towards the front of the house the floor had been discoloured by the sitting boxes as though the floor had been done UNDER the boxes, which had been moved later.  All told, there was about 1/3 of the boxes we have down there now and none of the furniture or electronic stuff that is there now.

Here is where the dream starts to change.  While talking to you about the hamster food and compaining about the previous owners, we heard footsteps from above us.  It wasn't Scott, as we never for even a second considered it was his steps.  I think I was naked from my nap, so I grabbed a towel to hold around myself as we went to investigate.  We approached the stairway and you called out 'Hello.'  As we climbed the stairs (you went first, how chivalrous of me) we heard a voice say 'Hi.'  It was Wayne, a driver for my mother's bus company RoadBusters.  The main floor had now become that of Eastwood, as had the entire house at this point, and we came out of the stairway at the back of the kitchen to see Wayne in the front hall coming towards us with the door open behind him.  I came up to him and said this wasn't my mother's house, and under no circumstances was he to enter without knocking, ever, ever.  As I said this, in walks my mother and Peter.  My mother began the argument she had when Lillian and I were at Eastwood after Warren left, that this was still her house so she could come and go as she pleased.  I argued that I was a tenant, I was paying rent, and as such I had certain rights which included not to be barged in upon unannounced.  She agreed and was about to argue more when I said "How about if we were having sex in the front room and you walked in, I don't think that would be fair to us to have to suffer that indignity."  I then indicated the towel I was wearing, and though the sex part hadn't occurred, I said "Case in point."  I then went upstairs to change.

Upon getting to the front bedroom, I noticed the boxes had been piled neatly away from the door and over near the window overlooking the street.  This neatness was in direct contrast to how the room looked the last time I was at Eastwood after the thieves had broken in and ransacked the place.  I removed the towel to find I was wearing shorts after all, and then proceeded to head back to the landing and the top of the flight of stairs, when I bumped literally into Peter who was being his usual asshole self.  He said something along the lines of it's a good thing I was wearing shoes because he was going to hit me on the bottom of my feet with a 2x4.  No idea where that came from, but not untypical.  I got to the bottom of the stairs yelling up at him saying at least I didn't sit on my fat ass all day long, making one phone call a day because that was the extent of my duties that I could handle like him.  This was likely referring to the period of time that I ran their shitty little bus company without their aide but with tons of their interference cocking everything up.  By this point, the anger and frustration of their intrusion into what had been a calm and peaceful afternoon was making me shake with anger.  I went into the front living room of the house to find my cousin Jerri, who I haven't seen in real life for over 20 years, in a hospital bed with I believe a cast on one or both legs, and maybe an arm or two.  She looked like a younger version of herself, even younger than the last time I had seen her (I think I might have had a crush on her when I was a kid, and I think that's where this image of her might have been from).  There was some dog, looking like one of those mops with the thick strings.  The dog was facing away, on the couch that had always been below the front windows, and the hair was grey except for what looked like a white string tied into the ass end of him and standing out starkly against the grey.  I said to Jerri that it was nice to see her after so much time, and she turned to me and agreed.  My mother was in the room, at the foot of the hospital bed, which was situated where the wall separating the living and dining room was, on the side where the fireplace was, facing the street - kind of like my bed did the second time I was at Eastwood though I was fully in the dining room.  I was beside the bed, and my mother started to bitch about the way I was yelling at Peter about how little work he did, and then demanded that she have access to the house whenever she wanted and to hell with my privacy.  I approached her and gave her a triple slap in the face, left, right, left, in quick succession, very much like we slap Munchkin or Garfield's asses when they want loving.  Not soft, but not really hard, more to get her attention.  I remember being aware that Peter had come downstairs by this point and was concerned about what type of retribution I was about to receive due to this action, but I was too upset to hold back.  She started crying, not from pain but from shock, and I did too as I shouted "You know, I used to be your son once."  She said I still was, and I yelled back "Not since HE entered the picture."

It was at this point I woke up.  As I lay in bed, noting it was only about 3:20 am (and we had gone to sleep after 1:30 right after "School Of Rock" finished broadcasting on Movietime), went over the dream a couple of times, and even formulated answers to her 'son' rebuttal, things like how he got into the business with her, not me, he was fucking her, but no love for me (really uncomfortable thought that), stuff along those lines.  Those however were formulated after I had awoken.  I also noticed that since getting the new mattress I have not woken with back pain like I used to have on just the old mattress - until this morning.  I don't know if the mattress is now as shitty as the old one alone was, or whether the dream tensed me up so much that it seized the back due to stress, but I tend to think it was the latter.  I also have a huge headache.

This is easily the worst dream I've had in months, and there were some other doozeys...and probably the worst I've had since the start of 2011.  You might not understand why it affected me so badly, and maybe I don't either.  What I do know is that instead of going back to sleep, I'm down here typing this out to you wishing you had words that could help me find my way clear of having dreams like this anymore.  In the violent department, this was tame in comparison to others I've had, but the rage and hatred was very intense here, and it is what is keeping me awake.

As for filling in the blanks, such as who Wayne is, or the reasons for my anger and rage at this person who has been dead for 5 years, I'll eventually get to it all in my Autobiography blogsite.  Knowing that someone, anyone, is interested in knowing what's going on would also help me to write about it.  Please, if you've never written a comment before, I implore you to do so now.


Global Problems: Japan And Libya

Okay, those two do make strange bedfellows, but I'm kind of wanting to write about one of the topics above and yet I also feel like I should write about the other as well.  Before I do all that though, it's time for an update as to what is actually happening to me life-wise.

Went to see the doctor again this week.  Thanks to O.D.S.P. I'm trying to do it once a month for as long as they'll foot the bill for the cab ride there, or until the car gets up and running again.  Don't see that happening in the foreseeable future, so until December this year I'm taking advantage of the transportation they are granting me.  Dr. Lin is one of the few things my ex-wife gave me that actually was worth the shit I went through with her, so at least there's that.  I personally think he gets a private enjoyment out of the fact that I talk to him plainly, without censoring myself, and once I even got him to share back with me in the same way.  Cheeky monkey!  This past visit he complained that they want him to do another spot on television.  Complaining about being televised.  I wanted to tell him it's no big deal, I mean it's only the CBC after all!  Didn't get around to saying it, but I bet he would have laughed.  He's great, and with any luck he'll be reading this blog and some of my others.  If so, welcome to the party; if not, well, chances are I'll be gone long before him, so he can read me posthumously when he gets the chance.

We're trying to get me to a psychiatrist in regards to all the shit I'm still dealing with from my mother.  My weight is up over 350 now, but we haven't pegged exactly what it's at yet; that'll be for April's visit.  He said that he wants to take blood from me for my 40th, I said fuck off, he said okay then we'll talk about turning 40, to which I then agreed.  Told you he was cool.  He looked again at the open wound in my gut, and I don't think he's too thrilled with how it looks.  Walking around with this thing for a year hasn't been any fun for me either, but at least now he's on it.  Oh, and it appears that beef is no longer a part of my diet, at least for a while.  I won't get deep into what it has been doing to me, but let's just say that I'm losing out on some of my favourite foods, and that fish and chicken are now the norms.

Now then, on to the topics of the day.

First of all, I wanted to wait until I wrote about Japan, mainly because I want hits on this blog to actually be for me and my writing, not just because I have the title 'Japan' up top.  It's been a while, and though the crisis certainly isn't over yet, at least it isn't immediate as it was the day or two after the actual quake.  People are saying Japan deserved it, that they are sinners and are being punished, and that this heralds the truth about 2012.  I can't believe the pile of bullshit coming from these sources.  First of all, yes, this is a serious quake.  9.0 on a scale that goes up to 10 is ridiculously high, no argument.  This signifying that 2012 is real?  No.  See, people are saying that the number and severity of earthquakes has been rising steadily over the past decade, and this simply isn't true.  The number hasn't risen, the population has.  When there are more people, they need more space to live.  In order to get more space, you need to occupy areas you didn't occupy previously.  When you occupy areas you haven't been in until now, you discover things about that area you didn't know.

Think of it this way:  You live on one side of a hill, and there are birch trees on your side of that hill.  You've never seen the other side of the hill (I don't know why, you're probably a fucking shut-in, now stop asking stupid questions you damned recluse and let me get on with this).  Then, one day, you decide to venture to the other side of the hill and, lo and behold, there are birch trees there too.  To then say there are more birch tress on your hill than there used to be would be a false statement.  The other tress were there, you just didn't know about them.  Same with these quakes.  Just because you didn't know they were occurring in places nobody lived does not mean they weren't occurring when they were vacant, it is just that now that there are people living there they notice them, and therefore they are aware of their occurrence.  The question has always been whether a tree makes a noise when it falls if nobody is there to hear it, not whether the tree fell or not.  In this case, the earth has been shaking, but nobody has been living there so nobody recorded it happening.  People are there now, they notice the event, suddenly everyone says more quakes are happening.  Not true.  Oh, and they aren't causing more destruction either.

Take a town with buildings that go no higher than the second floor, do not build them to withstand quakes, and then give that town a 7.0 magnitude earthquake.  Lots of minor damage, nothing ridiculous, and minimal loss of life.  Now, on the exact same footprint of those buildings, put up some skyscrapers, again built not to specifically withstand earthquakes, and give that spot the exact same earthquake.  Buildings collapse, huge loss of life.  The more built up an area is, the more can fall down when the ground starts to move.  Simple.  So it isn't a matter of more destruction because the quakes are higher in magnitude, it is more about what is built near the epicenter of the event.  Also, of course, the quality of the construction has a huge effect as well.  Lesser standards and building materials will collapse faster and more thoroughly than better built, more solid constructions.  That's common sense.  End of story.  Oh, and those saying that Japan deserved this, or that this is some form of punishment, those people can go back to believing that the Catholic Church is wonderful, and all those choir boys really asked to be sodomized repeatedly and God wanted them victimized, it's all for the best.

As for the nuclear situation in Japan, calm heads must prevail here too.  The reactors were built with earthquakes in mind, and would probably also have survived the tsunami as well, if it weren't for the loss of power to the plant.  Ironic that a power plant has no electricity of it's own, isn't it?  Anyway, that would be the only fault of the construction and design of these plants - not being prepared for a catastrophic loss of power.  On the whole, I personally believe the whole thing to be a terrible accident, with nobody specifically culpable, at least as far as the initial problems.  As to the multiple reactor problems that they are now facing, and the evacuation zone being too small versus the radiation levels within them, that's all Japan's government's fault.  To me, it seems like they are for some reason trying to downplay the severity of what is going on, as if they fucked up somehow and are trying to cover their tracks.  Doesn't make sense to me, but that seems to be the case.  All the nuclear watchdog groups are giving a much truer (in my opinion) picture of what is going on, and Japan had better stop spouting their misinformation and get on board with what is truly going on here, or it will indeed become a bigger disaster than Chernobyl ever was.  Lying about it will only make it worse when nature takes the next steps on the path everything is moving down.

Of course, here in Ajax, nestled right beside Pickering, it doesn't help that the Pickering Nuclear Plant had an accident of their own that they were slow in announcing to the public this week.  It is being touted as a minor incident, releasing de-mineralized water into Lake Ontario to the tune of 73,000 litres.  No biggie, right?  Well, the water still had some radioactive material in it, and if there was a more serious failure (the spill is being blamed on a malfunctioning valve) we'd be fucking evacuated to Peterborough (for those not familiar with Southern Ontario, Peterborough is about an hour northeast of here, kinda hard to get to without a damned car) for who knows how long.  I've never been behind nuclear power here in Canada, and given the fact that we live on the edge of a big goddamned lake, I can't see ANY reason why we're not concentrating on disturbing a few fish and putting up a wind farm out in the water.  Naysayers can't bitch if the thing isn't very visible from shore (I personally like the look of the windmills myself), and it wouldn't be disturbing anyone in any way, except maybe for ships that might have to steer around it - oh, big nasty pain in the ass to keep the lights on in Ontario.  Wish it would happen, probably never will.

I have nought else much to say about Japan, so I'm turning to the other big news story to wrap up my post here, and that would be Libya.  Finally, the UN got off it's collective asses last night and voted to institute a no-fly zone over the country.  Congratu-fucking-lations folks, you wait until the slaughter of protesters gets to the point that the rebellion against tyranny and murder is almost completely wiped out by a superior military force before attempting to ride in and save the day.  And at the end of it, you'll expect some kind of credit for doing the right thing almost too late for there to be a rebellion to support.  I don't want to hear that a decision like this is not to be taken lightly - when an oppressive dictator turns to killing his own people, you should be stepping up IMMEDIATELY to bring an end to it, not waiting around for weeks to see how they fare.  I almost consider that a war crime, letting people die like that before taking action.  And such piddly action too.  Get in there and bring the bastard to his knees.  Oh, wait, does Libya have oil?  Yeah, it does, so what are you waiting for?  The excuse is there, go get it...I mean him!  What do you need, an invitation?



Very simple title, isn't it?  News.  The question I pose, however, is what exactly does it mean?  Let me expound in the next few paragraphs, because this is really starting to piss me off.

I was coming online just now, and as I looked over my homepage I saw that Emma Watson, best known as Hermione from the "Harry Potter" movies, has decided in all the wisdom of her twenty years on this planet to drop out of college for the moment, I assume to pursue other avenues of interest.  It made me really fucking angry.  Why am I so frustrated?  Is it because she has piles of cash from her movies and I feel she shouldn't be entitled to drop out simply due to a whim when people who have worked hard to get into a school are constantly denied?  No.  Is it because I find it laughable that a twenty-year-old girl has the audacity to determine that she doesn't need schooling anymore without earning her degree, and that her dropping out equivocates her with the likes of Sarah Palin?  No.  You want to know why I'm so fucking angry?  Do you really want to be privy to the thing about this particular news item that makes me want to bash the author of the piece through a wall?


I don't give a shit whether some girl chooses to go to school or not!  Why is it considered a NEWS item?  It isn't news, people go to school, they drop out, hundreds of others have done it this year, we didn't get news articles about all their decisions!  Why the fuck does the media think any normal, educated being on this earth would have any interest in what this British bird is doing with her life outside of a movie theatre?

See, this is what is wrong with the media today, and when I say media I'm pretty much leaving out Reuters and the Associated Press, is that celebrities and useless information about them have become what some are calling 'Breaking News' and a 'Top Story.'  Admittedly, these two agencies also publish these fluff pieces, but I believe that more actual journalism comes down the pipe from these two organizations than any others.  The thing is, though, the media is a major source of the problems the world is dealing with - and when I say world, I most definitely mean the United States.

Lindsay Lohan may or may not have stolen a necklace.  Big fucking whoop.  Paris Hilton has a sex tape that was 'leaked' to the public.  Who gives a shit, as long as it isn't my dick plunging that nasty airhead's most famous body part on film for all to see.  The point is, it isn't fucking news!  Charlie Sheen had a meltdown, and it's all I see across multiple websites, newspapers, magazines and television shows...but it isn't fucking news!  There is a civil war going on in Libya (I don't care who calls it what, when the people are fighting their government in the streets of their country and both sides are using weapons bigger than a stick, it's a fucking civil war), that's news.  The strife is causing oil prices to shoot through the roof, that's news.  The average person in North America is going to be paying more for gas, food, and virtually anything that is shipped to a store near them, and that's news.  Gang violence, peace talks, revolution...these things are news.  Whether some porn star decides to stay at a druggie's house or not after his kids are taken away from him, that isn't news, that's a loser self-destructing in public, and if he chooses to vent his crazy on television shows other than the one he's been fired from, the average person should look away - because the alternative is to tell the media that this is the shit we crave, and that's fucking insane on it's own!

Yes, I wrote a blog item about the great and mighty Sheen myself, but I never called it news, I never shot a spot for it to air during prime time programming to get viewers to come and look at this idiot fall apart.  Wy not?  Not just because I don't have a channel or station to do it on, but because IT ISN'T FUCKING NEWS!

I now return you to your regular programming...


Fake Weather Strikes Again

Morning folks.  Turns out, yet another storm that was supposed to dump on Toronto has turned out to be less than awesome, as it seems more of it will be rain IF it even gets here.  I'm writing this over half an hour after the snowfall was to begin, and nothing is happening outside.  After checking the radar on Environment Canada's website, there seems to be a huge break-up in the snow event as it gets to our area, and if the colours are correct it also suggests the warmer southern edge of the storm has moved further north than they said, bringing rain instead of the white stuff.  Really been a hit and miss season this year.

I haven't been writing much recently, as I'm sure any loyal readers out there can see.  If I have loyal readers.  I digress.  Point is, I haven't been writing, and I can't explain why.  TV has been average, but nothing special has stood out.  I'll have to write up an Oscar follow-up on Monday, just because I set the precedent by posting the nominees earlier.  Movie-wise, I'm still not able to see anything in theatres, so reviews of the new stuff which everyone would be interested in reading is a ways away.  No feedback for either of those sites means that I can't tell if anyone is interested in DVD or Blu-Ray news, so I'm kind of languishing there.  My autobiography will be coming in spurts anyway, so that's not unusual, but I do need motivation to write it and that's been lacking lately.  And as for my videogame blog, I haven't been picking up newer titles recently, because at the moment I am trying to do some other stuff with my meagre $500 a month.  Regaling you with my CoD exploits would not be productive, I fear.

So, as a result of all this, my writing has slacked off for a bit.  I know that I have always approached my stuff on a cyclic basis, and when a big upturn occurs people will have trouble keeping up with my posts, as they did in the beginning.  Until the next upswing, you'll just have to be patient.

Take care, Good Readers.  I shall be back anon.


How My Depression Scares Me

Never has there been a more apt title for this blogsite.  This post is truly going to deal with what happened inside my head yesterday, between 2:20 pm. and 2:55 pm. without my permission or acceptance.  In order to get everyone on the same page, I'm going to have to set the scene, and that requires a bit of back-story.  At some point, a more fleshed out version of this will appear on my autobiography blogsite (see column to right for link), but given that I am trying to write that fairly linearly, we're talking over a year before some of the pertinent information would appear there.

Three very important things have happened in my life to cause the freak out that occurred on Sunday.  The first happened when I was about ten or eleven.  I was riding my bike in front of my house, doing lazy circles on the road, waiting for a friend of mine to arrive.  I was bored, and he was late, so I was just killing time.  I started to imagine his route, in a way to explain to myself what could be taking him so long to get to me, and actively began to imagine him turning this corner, pedalling down this street, turning the next corner, and so forth.  As I imagined him turning the corner on to my street, I shit you not, at the exact same speed I was seeing it in my mind, he turned the corner on to my street.  I wasn't filling in details about clothing, or his bike, but it unnerved me enough that I somehow synced my thoughts with his movements without seeing him until that moment.  Freaked me out, and still bothers me a bit as you'll see as we continue.

Second past event that figures into this occurred in the late 90s.  I was semi-seeing my future (and ex) wife at the time, and she was on her way home in her car.  She was talking to me on the phone, and was on her street only two corners away from her house.  She said she'd call me back once she got inside and settled, and we hung up.  I didn't hear from her again for over seven hours.  Lots of things could explain what happened...she got home, and her mother was in need of help, and as a result she forgot to call and fell asleep afterwards; her cell phone battery died and the telephone lines to her neighbourhood were down (this was before e-mailing was a thing, and the internet consisted of dial-up modems and BBSes [Bulletin Board Services] only - AOL was about to make the world change); myriad other possibilities could explain the lack of a phone call, but the fact that after about two hours of waiting I was able to call and wake nobody up, getting the answering machine, concerned me as well.  I, however, focused on exactly one thing: a car crash.  Couldn't get the idea out of my head that just around the corner from her house, somehow she had a car crash.  So what had happened as I learned the next day?  She had a car crash, right around the corner from her house.  She dropped the phone after hanging up with me, glanced down to get it, hit some black ice, skidded and crashed headlong into a cement light standard.  Went to the hospital within the hour, didn't get back home until mid-morning.  Before this event, I wasn't the type of person who thought the worst about things like this, but for some reason that belief stuck in my head, and it was right on the money.  It changed me in negative ways that, as you'll see, still affect me to this day and beyond.

The third incident I need to refer to before explaining Sunday happened a lot more recently.  It involves Andi, and her family.  One day, a Saturday if I'm not mistaken, back in 2007, Andi and I had planned on driving around our area, doing some shopping, and otherwise having a great day.  Then I get a knock on the door with Andi still asleep upstairs.  These two big guys want to speak with her, and they are giving me these evil scowls.  I got Andi up, she went downstairs and greeted them, and then went out to their vehicle and vanished for about a half hour.  When she came back, she packed up some stuff and said they were demanding to take her to her sister's, whether she wanted to go or not.  They were giving her no option to refuse, and were ready to beat the shit out of me if I intervened in any way.  We didn't know what to do, so she left with them.  Of course, since this time we've spoken to the police regarding it, and I rightly considered this a kidnapping and should have blown the whistle on it immediately, but I was concerned for Andi's safety and, after all, this was her family doing this (the guys at the door were not family, they were friends of Andi's father, and are no longer as a result of this incident).  I didn't want to get in the way of her family, despite the pain and worry I was experiencing.

Andi was held by her sister for the entire weekend, one in which I got virtually zero sleep or food, and which ultimately ended with her sister reluctantly bowing to her wishes to return her to the house as long as she promised to come for month-long stays starting the following week.  Never mind whether Andi was working, never mind that Andi and I were in love, ignore the fact that Andi didn't want to.  When Andi and I started to discuss this, the blinders came off her eyes as she realized just what had really been going on from the view of an outsider, and Andi has never been back to her sister's since that kidnapping.  In fact, not long after that she stopped talking to her sister entirely.  It has only been within the last year that my belief that her sister was manipulating her like a puppet on strings was proven to be 100% accurate, when Andi discovered that since before that incident, as far back as 2005, her sister was using her S.I.N. number and usurping her identity in order to rack up bills for utilities and leaving Andi to pay them.  If I had anything to do with ruining Andi's relationship with her sister by talknig her out of following her decision to stay with her for extended periods of time, I was totally vindicated the first time a collection agency called to demand that Andi pay a $2000 bill for Rogers Television services used at a Brampton residence when she was living in Ajax with her aunt.

The reason I include this third event is due to the fact that, out of nowhere, on just an average day, all hell broke loose for a weekend-long worryfest, and I was pretty much powerless to stop it.  Adding to that, the guys who came to the house to collect Andi and spirit her away were, before this happened, good friends of her and her father.  This showed me that, where her sister was concerned, even a close friend couldn't be trusted necessarily.

Which finally brings me to Sunday.  Andi has a friend, Irena (hope I spelled that correctly - if not, when Andi gets up I'll fix it, so the error will only be temporary...and I apologise to Irena if she reads this before that happens), who is her best friend.  Reina, and her husband Grey (see previous bracketed note), have taken Andi out before to just catch up on stuff, no big deal.  The plan yesterday was for the three of them to get together for a few hours, hang out, chat about stuff, and then have Andi back at home around 2pm..  I had no problem with any of this, wasn't worried, had met Irena and Grey the last time they picked her up to hang out, and wasn't concerned at all.  Still, Andi ensured that I knew where Irena's phone number was, and if I needed to for any reason (I'm sure she was thinking medical accident when she was telling me this) I could just call the cell phone and talk to her.  Irena's cell phone, that is.  Anyway, 2pm. came and went, and I thought not a lot about it.  Scott was out doing his usual Sunday running around getting groceries and stuff, and when he got back at 2:20pm he said he had to go back out to get chicken as the weight of what he had already carried made the idea of going to M&Ms a ridiculous notion.  So, he goes back out, and I am now acutely aware that Andi is late and the phone hasn't rung.  Those of you who have been reading closely can now see things starting to edge downhill.

I went to the living room and figured that I'd just give a quick call to Irena's cell, not to demand that Andi get home immediately, but just to check in and say hello, get a revised time for her arrival so I could plan what to do with Scott when he got back from his second short venture out into the big world of chicken breasts, and basically reassure myself that everything was still fine.  My mind was at ease to this point, and at least I believe that I was only calling for the reasons mentioned above.

The phone rang a few times and then went to her answering machine.

I hung up, and decided to just fool around with some CoD on the 360 while I sat there waiting for Scott to return.  No dice, I couldn't put anything together.  This was not me consciously making wrong turns, or not paying attention to what I was seeing - my mind had completely ignored the fact that I was trying to play this game, and my in-game avatar just stood there and got killed twice before I realized that I was useless and turned the game off.  I then cruised my Arcade titles to find something mindless and repetitive to play to keep my mind from going where it was surely headed, and instead could only read the titles of the games, not focused enough to actually play one of them.  Now it was 2:30pm, and I tried the cell number again.  Again no answer, so I left some bullshit message about just wanting to check with Andi if our choice for dinner was acceptable (I had zero ideas for dinner), something deliberately innocuous so that Andi would get the phone from Irena and call me back.  This is because, at this point, my state had changed for the worse.

I don't know exactly when it happened, but at some point my logical mind was locked away, as though behind a door, and my emotional state took over - that part of my brain that can envision car accidents, kidnappings, widespread chaos...all without a second's notice.  I went back to the front room, sat in front of the computer as I am doing now, and fidgeted as I somehow went to both the CTV and City websites to look for news of accidents in the area.  Keep in mind, this is only after maybe 15 minutes of not getting a response on the cell phone, and with Andi being only 35 minutes late than her estimated return.  I was not in control of myself, not in any way, shape or form.  In my state, my brain couldn't get the logic to rule over the emotion at this point, regardless of how much sense I was making internally.  I knew Andi wasn't going far, as she still had her backpack here on the floor in the living room.  I knew she at most took the clothes on her back, her coat, and maybe her purse.  Logic tells me she had no intention of being gone long.  My thoughts then made the illogical jump to the idea that maybe Irena was in cahoots with Andi's sister and she was already in Brampton again, and this was how things were going to crash down around us.  What I am trying, probably unsuccessfully, to explain is that I had absolutely no control over my emotional state at this point.  My brain was on auto-pilot, even though I was inside trying to reason myself calm.  I knew she had seen Irena before, she was no threat.  Andi had given Scott a grocery list for him to pick up stuff so she could make me a fresh soup, you don't do that if you're intending to leave.  I even found her bank card on a table near the laptop in the other room.  No dice, my brain wasn't listening as I attempted to logic my way into control.

Scott got back, and now it is almost 2:50pm..  I'm in the front room again, after nervously circling the living room trying to calm down, sitting at the computer and wishing there was more recent news on the websites than Saturday's.  I start trying to explain what I'm going through to Scott as he stands in the doorway, but I can't look at him due to my being ashamed that my dependable logic functions are non-existent and I am unable to control what is happening to me internally.  I yell at him for looking at me while I talk about it, accusing him of staring at me like I'm nuts, which he probably wasn't doing even though at this point I certainly feel unhinged.  He goes to the kitchen to put away groceries.  Soon, I follow him and start to wander the living room again, trying without success to once again talk to myself out loud logically about what is going on, trying to break through the wall of emotion that has cut me off from thinking clearly.  It was around this time, 2:55pm., when Andi came in through the front door.

I walked to the hall, made sure she was inside, and immediately began to apologise (which I have been doing ever since) and explain what happened.  I am fully aware, as I have been the entire time, that this is not her fault, that a simple connection on the phone would have defused the entire mindset I was in, and that it wasn't her fault the phone was not heard by the three of them when it rang (which is what I was told when she had a chance to speak).  Be aware that I was not angry, not loud, not in tears, nothing.  I was simply regaining control internally over the emotional rut my brain had gotten into.  The worry that something bad had occurred, combined with the knowledge that when I had expected things to happen in the past I had been eerily accurate, came together to imagine the worst and freak out over the possibility that I might be right.  For no reason other than 'hey, it happened before,' my mind was prepared to block all clear thinking and just react to the worst visual and mental imaginings I could conjure on the spot, and given that I'm an aspiring writer, you might think that my imagination is quite good, and you'd be right.  In the space of less than half an hour, I put myself through more stress than I had experienced in the last month, and we've been switching mortgage companies!

This is why my depression scares the shit out of me.  I literally had no control over where my mind was heading, and with such a tiny bit of information had created a scenario that realized the vast majority of my worst fears.  This was unintentional, and seemingly unavoidable, though I did not know that before it happened.  Much like someone wrestling the steering wheel of a car away from the driver, my conscious thought was torn from my grasp and set upon this path without my having any control over it occurring.  This has never happened before (I've worried about people before, don't get me wrong, but freaking out to that extent in less than half an hour?  NEVER.), and I worry about it happening again.  It is kind of like admiring a famous painting all your life, and then one day you notice that the artist's name is misspelled, and suddenly you are aware that the entire thing is a forgery.  I feel completely betrayed by my brain over this incident, and I also feel that somehow the words I'm using to attempt to describe this is falling way short of allowing people to understand what I mean without simply dismissing it as some asshole losing his mind.

Anyway, this post is long enough.  If I haven't described it well by now, more words will not do the deed.  I hope that I haven't come across as too much of a psycho, and I hope that nobody looks at my writings and such with a different eye than they had before.  I already feel freaked out by this happening, so don't worry, I have that aspect covered.  Blogs will continue as usual, intermittent until something worth saying comes to mind.  I was going to write a post on my autobiography today, but I think I covered the urge to do that with this, so it'll have to wait.  Happy Monday everyone, will write again soon.


You Gotta Check This Out

Whether you love videogames, tolerate videogames, or hate videogames - I would like you to check out a new trailer for one just the same.  Watch it, and tell me that emotion can't be conveyed by something as simple as an announcement for a title, never mind the title itself.

Oh, and there is a rather large post on the videogame blog, accessible from the link over there on the right.  This trailer is also part of that post.

Have a good day everyone, and don't forget to wave for the cameras.


Yesterday Was An Eventful Tuesday

A few things to share with everyone today, so let's get to it.

First off, I am now wearing my new glasses!  Yahoo!  Only took 6 years to get a new pair, and my sunglasses are still my old prescription, but still...frames that aren't cracked!  Yay!

What else have we here...oh, yes, how could I forget.  We are now back with Bell Express Vu for our televisual entertainments.  I could, and probably should, write an entire television blog entry about the shit dealings we had with Rogers equipment.  We signed up for their services because the Bell billing department went fucking psychotic when they switched to the One Bill plan back in 2007, so in February of 2008 we went to Rogers.  Literally, from the first week, their PVR refused to record things we had scheduled.  As of this writing, they have yet to fix the problem, through over 5 different PVRs and three different models.  They tried, they boosted our signal strength and such, but to no avail.

Trust me when I say I am only lightly touching on this to clarify what I am about to write next:  Last night, less than 12 hours after getting Express Vu installed, their PVR fucked up in such a way that they can't explain it.  It was meant to record Rick Mercer on CBC HD, but instead we got a half hour of The Weather Network, with the "Rick Mercer Report" description and channel number showing when we pause it.  Figure that one out.  The listed recording in the PVR list says it is Rick Mercer, the pause info says it is Rick Mercer, but it is a recording of The Weather Network.  To top it off, the damn PVR refused to even attempt to record it on the west coast time-shift, because it thinks it already has the program.  Even when not attempting to record the show with the 'new episode' option, the only way the PVR is supposed to skip episodes, it still wouldn't do it.  Tried 'weekly,' tried 'once,' and eventually had to make it a manual one off recording to get it to agree to do it.  Guess I'll see if it worked when I go into the living room.  I'll say one thing though - I'm not paying for this shit again.  I'd rather say fuck television and just buy all the shows on DVD and Blu-Ray than to continue to pay a company to not deliver on their services.  Needless to say, I'm pissed off.

Also, today is the final step on our mortgage switch.  Scott just has to sign disbursement papers saying where the money be going, and all is done.  Finally.  Now, if I could just get a new mattress I could sleep again.  The move of the mortgage isn't as good as it was supposed to be, but the payments are less, and if we can just get one year under our belts without incident we might be able to really start heading in the right direction - south!

Other than that, I see that Yemen protests are continuing, Libya is getting heated, Iran is beating it's protesters, and the United States has gone from demanding that democracy become the norm in the Middle East to denouncing the change of government in Egypt as a way to let radical Muslims take over the country.

So, business as usual.