The Occasional Rant: Bummertime

So here I sit in my living room all alone again, naturally.
Typing away like a confused madman,
while the heat rises up to my crib from the floorboards.

A year ago I would've chilled with my woman,
made plans to go some place where we could see boats going by
into the North Atlantic Blue.

But this summer is different.
I no longer have a woman in my life.
Not that I'm complaining.

And it isn't as if I could've lived my life better.
Yes, I would've lived it better,
but what's done is done and can't be undone.
So I'm learning to do it better every day,
one day at a time.

I've had my relapses - yes I'm human and I can stumble.
I can be articulate but I can also mumble.
I can think of bigger things to happen
but instead I prefer to be at least humble.

So I'm moving on and looking forward
even though it will not go beyond the next hour or two.
At this time it's way past my bedtime
since I ended my shift at quarter-past-two.

But here is something that you should know.
I am here. Here to play. Here to stay.
I'm neither robot, superman nor demigod,
demagogue, religious fanatic, right-wing douchebag,
nor liberal ass-lick, hate-baiting psycho-blogger
who spends virtually most of his time online
reading other people's blogs, watching silly viral vids
or downloading the latest album/tv show/movie via torrent.

I'm just your average, poverty-stricken,
mellowed-out, aging, balding, horny
and thoroughly diabetic romantic hater
who's looking forward to either a decent summer
or a bummer of a summer.

I'm for real. I'm not a bot.
If you see me around and about
on the streets of Halifax, Bedford,
Sackville or Dartmouth, Nova Scotia, Canada,
say hi, whassup, yo, dude when you can,
for I do exist.

There's at least one thing I cannot change
and that's my anger at things that are sometimes
beyond my control,
things that I should've done,
things that I shouldn't have done,
things that others shouldn't do
and the lies presented as truth.
Thank god I can still write.

Right about now, I'm beyond tired.
Shall I crash or catch a second wind?
I'll soon find out.

Have a great summer. Stay tuned, Romantic Haters.

1 July 2009:Canadian.

On any given day, you can ask any Canadian celebrity on what Canada and being Canadian means. Almost all of them were reading from the same book of peace, love, diversity and socialized medicare.

But all of them miss the point.

This country started out as a cash cow for the ancient tribal empires until more people moved in and slowly displaced the First Nations who were there since Day One.

We did have a bloody history. We had slavery. We had our spats with the ingrates to the South. Had we been more tenacious, the Alamo would be flying the Maple Leaf (or maybe the Fleur-de-lys).

But we prefer our wide open spaces, the freedom to roam and the ability to invent - and re-invent - ourselves.

Sadly, I would hear people take pride in what we're not, as in "We're not as cold-hearted as Americans" or "We have a better health system, not like the Americans". Because for the most part, we have descended from Americans - United Empire Loyalists who believed that Mad King George had the better idea than George Washington or Ben Franklin.

But let's not nitpick over technicalities. Canada is still a young nation... in fact, more of a concept rather than a nation. Canadian is a state of mind, rather than a nationality. The land, like its contemporary society, is a mosaic. Each province and territory is a nation in its own right. We work, create, procreate and sometimes deviate in our own way.

But most of all, we live.

We are humans living in a land that that was cultivated by the First Peoples and bound by Celtic ferocity and tenacity, Gallic pride and joie-de-vivre, Anglo-Saxon resolve and good old American know-how.

Collectively, we can be the mouse that roars, the gentle giant, the silent beacon of hope.

Yet we are not perfect. Our medicare costs money. Some people carry ancient grudges and use our freedom to stoke their fires. And our politicians try to be everything to everyone, satisfying no-one.

But as long as the human species remains flawed and the polar icecaps keep melting, I am and shall always be a Canadian.

I'd like to hear one of our celebrities come up with something better.

The Occasional Rant: D'yalls Miss Me?

Big ups, y'alls!

Sure... I've been lying low with life, work, taxes, bills and the like.

And sadly enough, I've haven't been writing and filming too much these days.

It's either spring fever or swine flu. Given the fact that I'm immunized for neither one, it's a tough call, eh?

But here goes what anything goes in this mess of a world...

1. You wouldn't wish THAT on your worst enemy, unless that enemy was a meth fiend.
   
   Back in the day, Henry Lee Summer had this hit called "I Wish I Had a Girl (Who Walked Like That)" that was played incessantly in bars and on rock radio.
   
   I thought that he would be a flash in the pan, a one-trick one-hit wonder.
   
   I didn't expect this to happen to him, though.
   
   I never liked his music anyway, but this is pretty damn sad. He had a promising career, money, fame, limoes and all the booze his liver could handle.
   
   But as one addict pointed out to me a few years ago in Victoria, BC, "Blow may be bad, but crystal is a whore."
   
   I hope Henry Lee can pick up the pieces, quickly enough. Compared to the crap currently heard on "hit" radio, his one-hit had class.
   
   Consider this as a wake-up call for all the one-hit ponies who believe in their own invincibility - you are NEVER invincible; you are NEVER untouchable; you are NEVER immune to addiction.
   
   Moving right along...
   
   
2. Swine Flu Apocalypse! Head to the hills: the Day of Judgment is nigh!
   
   Simple rules.
   
   Wash hands.
   Cook food.
   Stay home, take fluids if sick.
   See doctor.
   Repeat.
   
   In the end, it will all pass.
   
   
3. Windows 7: what Vista should have been.
   (And why you should AND shouldn't download the Release Candidate.)
   
   For the past 4 months I've been beta-testing Windows 7 and at this point I'm resigned to the fact that this is a better Windows operating system than the overworked, overburdened Vista platform.
   
   It does have the flash of Vista, but it doesn't tax your system, especially after you sign in and realize that the damn thing is still loading apps left, right and centre.
   
   In fact, when I received the email from MS announcing the release of the Win 7 RC, I was more than willing to replace my Vista Basic (a better version than the bloated Home "Premium" edition, in my opinion).
   
   But here's the dilemma - I'm running a dual-core Celeron with 2 Gigs of RAM and an overclocked GeForce 9600 video card. I have partitioned the 320-Gig internal drive 3-ways: one for Vista (loaded on someone else's XP installation - long story); one for Win 7 Beta (Release 7000); one for programs and games. I've downloaded the 32-bit version of the RC and burned it onto a DVD. This one would take up 16 Gigs of space, making it almost a full OS release in its own right.
   
   I'd really love to do the whole makeover of my system, creating a mini Win 7 powerhouse, except for the fact that I will have to do it without a net, since unlike the Beta, there will be virtually no support. This means that a) I would be taking a great leap of faith on something that is actually the Son of Vista©; and b) if this blows up, I'd be screwed!
   
   My suggestion for all you who are considering taking similar leaps of faith is this: think very carefully. And as soon as you are ready to let the RC take over, pray. A lot. Often.
   
   Because, for every promise, there shall always be a little disappointment, even if this version of the Win 7 may be the best thing since sliced bread or grocery-store roast chicken.
   
   So far, my Win 7 beta hasn't disappointed me.

And so... there you go. I'm off to bed.

Eventually, "reality"© shows will look like this...

...inside a swank Montreal restaurant-turned TV studio, 30 performers selected from bars across Quebec squared off head to head - and pole to pole - for provincial striptease supremacy...

Cue the music, the drama and catfights. Welcome to "Pole Position Quebec", where the winner will get to give it up for paying patrons south of the Can-US border. And giving them a little rise in an area south of their own respective borders.

My take on "reality"© programmes is quite simple: most of them are geared to appeal to the Schadenfreude that each of us harbour, whether they may be obsessive singing competitors, morbidly obese people, clueless trust-fund hussies or substance-fuelled skanks vying for the affections of faded Z-list musicians.

In short, "reality"© shows are legalised, above-ground ready-for-prime-time porn: sometimes titllating, sometimes repulsive yet ultimately addictive.

Could these shows collectively be the sign of the Apocalypse? While some shows like A&E's "Intervention" - a show to which I personally relate - and Animal Planet's "Crocodile Hunter" have a conderable amount of relevancy and educational content, the rest such as "The Bachelor", "Rock of Love" and even "American Idol" grate at the average person's basest intelligence.

The made-in-Québec special will pit the stripper-ellas of the belle province against each other in an effort to get a lucrative contract Stateside (and hopefully not to blow it all on meth).

Thankfully, this "reality"© special will be shown on pay-per-view here in Canada, but don't be surprised if some Stateside smartass comes up with an "American Pornstar" to rival the "Idol" franchise.

I sure can't wait for that. NEXT...

The Occasional Rant - Well, I Knew It Had To End, Somehow.

There are a few things that are certain and guaranteed in life.

Death is one of them.

Paying taxes is another one (just ask any average working stiff about that).

Growing old is yet another one.

So I'm not shedding any tears for the demise of the "Trailer Park Boys" for the simple reason that the show has run its course.

I knew for the fact that one way or another, Ricky, Julian, Bubbles and company will grow up.

I knew that Season 7 would be the final one.

You could see the outcome in the last episode: the trio hardly smiled throughout the series, yet in the very last scene, they all found an epiphany, a closure, a new beginning.

It may also be because that final episode of that season featured one of the last appearances of Denny Doherty of the Mamas and Papas (and the "Theodore Tugboat" series, BTW).

There is something about the number 7 being the lucky number.

Maybe after 7 years of bad luck, the beleaguered denizens of Sunnyvale Trailer Park were just looking forward to moving on, beyond the bottle tossing, the dope growing, J-Roc's endless schemes and 'hood intentions, Lucy's fake boobs, stray kitties, Julian's ubiquitous rum'n'coke (check out the original "Trailer Park Boys" movie for the origin - it ain't that pretty), Randy's well-exposed cheeseburger-belly...

Maybe, it's because we all grew up, out and beyond.

We could all relate to the people at Sunnyvale: they were like us, with faults, shortcomings, dreams, ambitions.

But there could only be so many stories to create, tell, portray. Eventually, everything that had to be said and done, has been filmed, edited, released, syndicated, put out on DVD and shown again in edited reruns.

So, thanks and G-d Bless to all those who participated for one fucking hell of a good run.

TBP was part of the spirit of the age. Let's keep it that way.

Because, eventually, we'll soon get too old for that shit.

The Occasional Rant - The Mornings-After

So... what's next, eh?


Obama Win Causes Obsessive Supporters To Realize How Empty Their Lives Are
So... there you go.

TRUDEAU - oops... OBAMA WINS!(G-d help us all - Barack included...)

Who thought they didn't see it coming?

When a candidate works hard to woo the middle, s/he would eventually be crowned.

Truth be told - everybody lost.

McCain lost because he refused to back up his policies with a sense of resolve and urgency. He never gotten around, let alone bothered, to explain why the policies proposed by Obama were doomed either to failure or to severe scrutiny. Nor did he ever explain why his policies were better and more cost-effective in the simplest, least technical, terms. He failed the middle.

Barack lost because right about now he'll have to fugure out how to pay for all the goodies promised to the electorate. Sure... he looks great in a suit. He talks smooth. Yet he is beholden to the ideals of the modern day Democratic Party and the new-age "Liberals" from which he draws his insprations. Now, he beholden to the masses who cast their votes for and against him. Worse, he will be forced to walk the tighrope above those ravenous for results in order for him to deliver the agenda that he worked so hard to sell. For a bill still to be compiled and calculated, he failed the middle.

It's too easy to blame the "mainstream" media for the good/bad/ugly/fugly that permeated the campaigns. Many saw Barack to be the "Funky President" envisioned by the Godfater of Soul himself. Yes, Virginia... there is a difference between being funky, getting funky and smelling funky. And the sheeple who come to the trough, eat it up and take the innuendoes as gospel may yet grow to appreciate it in due time. Even the tabloid came to the attack when Palin (Sarah, not Michael) came on the scene, creating an outburst of PMS (Palin Malignment Syndrome), exposing the slightest of gaffes and simplest of shortcomings.

To their credit, Palin should've stepped up to the plate with more than a heartbeat and a smile. Most Americans were asking "Where's the beef" and she should've delivered. Yet when she failed to do so to the masses' satisfaction, the "mainstream" press would crucify her. It's easy to praise an unproven Messiah than respect a wisened Maverick, while the Rolling Stone was quick to crown the upstart the same way that Napoleon was quick to crown himself. The "mainstream" failed the middle.

In the end, when the dust has settled, there will be work to be done. As soon as it's done, the costs will be tallied, the cheques will be written, and the man who would be king will have a lot on his plate to divvy amongst those to which he would have to delegate, some of who have created crises that the previous ruler had to resolve, sometimes with pleasant results, sometimes with hideous outcomes. Eventually, it will be the novice's turn to work with the leftovers to create somthing that may appear palatable, yet distubingly familiar.

If he were to succeed and make things right, the middle may have won.

If he were to fail and create more new crises, then it would not be him who failed the middle.

It would be the middle themselves.

The shortest distance between 2 points is not always connected by a straight line.

Two years sober and counting.

Two years without gambling... okay - so I relapsed a couple of times but I'm doing fine.

Two years without a hangup, sexual, social, political or otherwise.

The problem about living post-addiction is that there always seem to be a tempting aftertaste of the drug of choice taken.

I miss the sharp sweetness of a double vodka and diet coke, the way it would hit the back of the throat and burn its way down the esophagus to the stomach. I miss the eventual buzz that it would induce, and the loosening of inhibitions and morals at any given party.

I miss the rush obtained by rolling two dice at the craps table at Casino Nova Scotia. The noise, the chaos, the anticipation that the right number would come up at the right time - would it be a deuce, double deuce or midnight? I miss the ritual and suspense involved with the roll, the many eyes of fellow desperate beings staring at me, praying that I wouldn't seven-out them of whatever hard-earned money that they would put on the table.

I miss all the orgasms that I have obtained, regardless of means, both legit and illicit. The adventure, the danger, the thrill of witnessing, ravishing and obtaining human flesh so that for one fleeting moment, the pain of reality would go away.

It takes but one taste to get you hooked. And that taste will never leave you.

The taste can redefine the way you look at the world, treat the people, spend the money and even read these worlds.

People would lie, cheat, steal and kill for its effects, its rush, its power and the illusion of empowerment.

I lived for the taste. I wanted more of it. I wanted to re-live the feeling of the initial rush every time I took it.

I spent a lot of money pursuing that first rush. I wanted that high to be more intense, more empowering.

Yet with every high, there is a crash, each one being worse, bloodier and more costly than the last.

In pursuit of the taste I had dug a hole so deep that the only way to get out is to keep digging in the faint hope that I could see light at the other end.

Even though I am enjoying sobriety, the reality of my life and the things surrounding it is no less easier. All the things that I had put off due to my drinking, gambling and whoring ways have returned to haunt me. Negligence has its price. Looking back becomes a habit, a sick perverse obsession. A part of me wants to reinvent the wheel when it comes to taking stock of what led me to my current situation.

I thought I could save the world. I thought I could change it. I thought I could be king in a short time.

But after years of living like a god, I started to realise that soon, I'll die like a man and be buried like everyone else, because I am no longer the wild and crazy kid that I thought I was - at least in my own fevered mind. With all the excesses and the resulting mayhem, in the wake of what seemed to be an endless storm fueled by want of immediate gratification, I emerged battered, bloodied, naked and in pain.

But I am not dead.

Not that I really wanted to live forever - I'm just too scared to die before achieving my full potential. There are too many things to do and accomplish for me to toss in the proverbial towel and cash out of this mortal coil.

Life is full of unexpected experiences, both good and bad. No matter what could happen on any given day, I am still standing.

Because of my sobriety and my willingness to pursue and healthier, more fulfilling life, I consider every day to be a birthday.

I don't miss the stupidity, silliness and hangovers.

I don't miss the losses and disappointments.

I don't miss the guilt and embarrassment and shame of the morning-after and the ensuing ruination of lives.

But most of all, I don't miss the taste, even though it will in my body, mind and soul until I take my final breath.

I have done enough sinning in my life. I have gorged enough forbidden fruit to make the vilest of men sick. I have bitten off more that I could chew and burnt so many bridges that I might as well take a deep breath and move forward.

My name is Jacques. I was, I am and always will be an addict, pervert, scoundrel, jealous bastard, wanton lover and romantic hater.

And I am still alive.

And these days, I never could have felt this great.

Thank G-d for the wisdom to know the difference. Amen.

Oh... and by the way - I still love to create.

RIP - Bo Diddley...Blues Rockin' OG

Heaven's old-school groove has gotten heavier.

The Godfather of Soul, the King of Rock and Roll, the Man in Black, the Quiet Beatle, the Loon, the Crazy Diamond, the Samurai Blues Brother and all the blues, hip-hop and r'n'b OGs from Leadbelly, Robert Johnson, Otis Redding, Muddy Waters, Easy E, 2-Pac and B.I.G. on down, are all on notice.

Bo Diddley's in town, and for the Lord he's ready to get down.



Give the man all the love and props. If you don't know Diddley, get to know.

The Occasional Rant -... and you know why they call it the "Chronically Horrid"!

Now read this.

Last night, I told you that Hali's Ellen Page has taken home the Golden Popcorn for her portrayal of a pregnant teen in "Juno".

After experiencing serious pwnage by Marion Cotillard at the Golden Globes and the Oscars earlier this year, Ellen, in her own understated way, thanked the peeps that created the surreal comedic drama. Now that was a class act.

Now you would think that everyone in the Halifax Regional Municipality, from Musquodobit Harbour to Peggy's Cove and beyonder, would big-up the young, native Bluenoser for pwning bigger, more notorious starlets such as Jessica Biel ("I Now Pronounce You Chuck & Larry"), Katherine Heigl ("Knocked Up"), Amy Adams ("Enchanted") and Keira Knightley ("Pirates of the Caribbean") - who, with all due respect, each deserve a Popcorn for their troubles.

But, as of now, so-far, not much peepage from the media.

Now it's true that many people are getting bored of the smarmy ass-kiss atmosphere present in all award shows. But when one of our own shows up as a nominee, we get "googoo gaga" retarded. And right about now, one news outlet has the opportunity of saying in large print, "ELLEN HAS POPCORN!"

As of right now, the Chronicle Herald is the only paper in Halifax to do that.

In fact, it is the only paper in Halifax. Period.

To be fair, there are two other tabloids on the scene. The Metro was born out of the ashes of the late, lamented Daily News. The Coast offers an independent (read: "progressive") take on local-to-global issues. But neither of them could match the juggernaut that is one of North America's oldest dailies.

So why did the CH drop the ball when Ellen won?

It's one thing to respect your neighbour's privacy - Ellen is our neighbour, after all - but a least one passing acknowledgment should be in order.

Forget the fact that there's more on the go in Ms. Page's life and career. Forget the all the lesbian rumours. Even forget the fact that for many people, Ellen will still be known best as Treena Lahey, Hayley Stark or even little Maggie MacLean in the Canadian family series "Pit Pony".

What's really important is that Ellen gets some props from the only paper in town. And that paper ain't even saying a tiny "boo".

Oh well. Life goes on, even if it's depicted by the Chronically Horrid.

Next...

Where I'm at...June '08 edition

Well... another Sunday. Another start of a grueling work week.

And for some strange reason, I'm so amped.

So here are a few plans that need to be taken care of.

Prioritizing can be a bitch, but this is the best that I can come up.

And if none of this makes any sense, it's because I'm making them all up on the fly.

• Thank goodness for obsessive compulsion!
  I found out that I did back up my website on some DVDs after all!
  Now I've got to find a good, reliable and cheap server to hold all this stuff.
  The sooner I get it, the better.
  The problem is that money is always too tight, and settling in a strange city full of strangers require setting up a certain quality of life.
  So for now, world conquest is on hold.


• For those who do not yet know, I have a YouTube Channel called "The Jacques Treatment".
  It's just like this blog, but this time you get to know a little more about me and how I manage the method of madness.
  Currently, I'm mapping out a couple of projects with 3 cams, several pages full of scribblings and a fevered imagination.
  Not unlike this blog.
  So drop in, subscribe and hopefully we could all start a revolution, one vid at a time, one day at a time.
  And by the way - don't forget my friends. They're all waiting for you. Now.
  
  
• Last year, my bike was stolen.
  Since I sold my car back in '06, the bike had been my means of transportation, and has help me keep my weight down.
  But in early '07, some heartless fucker managed to bypass the Kryptonute locking system and jack my ride.
  This year, I'm being a little more careful.
  Even though my crib is a bit cramped as it is, I'm keeping my new ride inside.
  Which is all the better: the area, while not considered bad by urban standards, has its share of hooligans.
  The other day, the apartment building's front door's Plexiglas had been smashed. The adjacent window was also smashed.
  Who knows what kind of shit goes down in the hood, but I'm not budging for the next little while.
  After all, moving is quite expensive, and I'm trying to keep everything under budget.
  

Anyways... I'm tired, thirsty and ready to crash in a major way. Stay safe.

Snapshot: Page still pwns our hearts!

The lady who played la Môme Piaf pwned the Golden doorstop for best actress.

I was expecting Julie Christie, but Marion Cotillard looked nice.

Thank goodness I've quit betting a long time ago... the race is tighter than a dead miser's fist.

As for Ellen... keep on trucking and you'll be pwning, Kid.

The Occasional Rant - No Sleep! / Page Centre Stage / iPhone: the Prepaid Conundrum

And so here we go...

1. I'll sleep when I'm dead! I always have this thing about days when I don't have to go to work.
   
   I've made it a point to take advantage of the sunlight to do stuff, like making entries like this.
   
   The problem is, my body could only take so much abuse that as much as I want to get on to a second, third or fourth wind, my wee brain starts thinking otherwise.
   
   This usually happens when I work the graveyard or late evening shifts. After work there would be a lengthy period of decompression where I would gather my thoughts and make plans for the next day. This goes everything against all that I've learned in my 12-step programs.
   
   The more I worry, the more I do junk, then...
   
   zzzzzzz...
   
   
2. HEADS! The Wooden Monkey on Argyle might be getting more than a few more customers after tonight.
   Not all people running around with cameras will be tourists.
   And someone might wind up lurking area high schools for the next big thing.
   Ellen Page's star is rising fast. Faster than a Victoria-class sub in an emergency, faster than an old-school ICBM.
   On a personal level, the Monkey is a very nice place. Most of the dishes are natural, organic and locally produced. Last time I was there they had the veggie gyoza and this tofu cheesecake that is to kill for. What the hell is going to happen to the place when the stalkerazzi descend on Halifax like famished locusts?
   And I feel for some of the students at the schools Ellen attended. I fear that some goon from Access Hollywood or Extra will push for some dirt on the kid from people who may have had the slightest passing acquaintance.
   If Ellen were to win the Oscar, one can bet that there will be expectations galore. Expectations for bigger, more demanding roles. If she could take the heat, all the power to her and everything else. But people worry about what might happen if/when the hype hits the fan. And Hollywood, being a town of jaded elders, eats its young like candy.
   Thankfully, Ellen seems to have a good head on her shoulders, and she should keep it if the heat turns up.
   I still think that Julie Christie or Marion Cotillard will pwn the paperweight. I'll find out tonight.
   
   
3. iPhone - not a goddamn toy. For those people stateside who are hungering for Apple's latest gift to humankind, a word of advice.
   Don't try to aim for prepaid service.
   Especially if you have good credit.
   First, prepaid is more expensive than a contract service. You are actually paying more green for less service than you think. The lowest contract price actually offers you more than the lowest prepaid price (monthly prepaid plan rate + 19.99/month for data). Check that one out. Plus you get to do some roaming with a contract. Prepaid customers don't have that privilege. Sorry, boss.
   Secondly, and most importantly, you're getting the same damn service, security and responsibility as contract people.
   If you know that your credit is royally fubar, iTunes would let you know, then give you a choice of going to the nearest AT&T store or going prepaid. It's that simple.
   If I were you, I'd think before I run.
   The saddest thing is that living in Canada, I couldn't get my greasy palms on those babies, yet. Sigh.
   

And so, there you go. Lotsa luck, Ellen.

The Occasional Rant: Dead Celebs; Vista is Satan; PC-hostile CDs; Stéphane Dion Might Be Right After All; And Then Some...

Hey, les Gang! Life as a wage slave may suck, but at least there's time for some more bitching and scratching.

So here we go...

1. Heath Ledger. Brad Renfro. RIP. Could it be the alignment of planets? Could it be that the death-watch focus on Britney, Lindsay and Amy have failed these 2 tortured souls in an industry where looks and performance intertwine? Has Western-civilised society in general become so shallow that the pain and struggle experienced by the famous few get scrutinised under the paparazzi microscope while the common, obscure majority dealing with the same issues get ignored, mocked and even exiled to wallow in their own private hells?
   
   It makes a sane person mad with the desire to kill Dr. Phil, the fake, phony, trivialising bastard-fuck of a charlatan who tried to make Britney his personal experiment, but failed. Where was he when Brad had his demons? Where was he when Heath had to deal with being the Joker for the Dark Knight? Does he care for all of the tortured people, or is he content being Oprah's lap-dog?
   
   I know pain, pressure, desperation. These guys deserved better. Love and respect to those who do.
   
   
2. Vista: Bill Gates's "Fuck You" to PC owners? Hands up all those who still chafe under the yoke of Windows Vista.
   
   Here's the story so far... I got myself a nice little HP laptop preloaded with the infamous OS, loaded up on my favourite games while being challenged every time by its built-in sentry, blah blah blah. In spite of it all, things started getting copacetic. Right?
   
   Well, on Tuesday I booted up the laptop, clicked on the IE button and got a nice little F-You from the system. Just when it was trying to load the Yahoo!© homepage, the damn browser went tits-up on me. Windows stepped in to shut it down with a couple of killer pop-ups of its own, then after I clicked on the "Close Program" button, a balloon appeared on the lower right-hand corner of the screen saying that an app called "Data Execution Prevention" kept the browser from running and ruining the Vista Utopia.
   
   Somehow, the OS assumed that IE would crash and burn and that the entire system would scream blue screen. But I led me to think that of all the OSes I've tried, Vista was one of the worst.
   
   In fact, the only (relatively) robust OS I've ever experienced was IBM's late, lamented OS/2 Warp 4. I worked with it during my time at BMO and it rarely gave any grief, especially while monitoring the bank's vast array of branch nodes and ABMs.
   
   A year-and-a-half later, BMO installed Windows NT, and all hell broke loose.
   
   For a corporation with a virtual monopoly on PC OSes, they should've done their homework before ditching XP in favour of an Apple-lite wannabe. Maybe I should've bought a Mac instead.
   
   
3. Can someone help me with these CDs?
   
   I've tried ripping these CDs for my "jukebox":
   
   Nelly Furtado - Folklore (crashed WMP, CD-DA)
   Bright Eyes - I'm Wide Awake - It's Morning (crashed CD-DA, unreadable by WMP)
   The Mars Volta - Deloused in the Comatorium (Track 10: "Take the Veil Cerpin Taxt" - crashed both CD-DA and WMP)
   
   IMO, Furtado's "Folkore" was a great release, but when I tried to even play the CD, the laptop went "F-U" on me. Same thing with the Bright Eyes disc. Connor Oberst is without a doubt a true fuckin' pop music genius - next to Tom Waits, Richard Thompson, Ben Folds... But was it his idea to make "Wide Awake" so cyber-hostile - the entire OS went Jihadi on me when I popped it in. Like, WTF dude? The Volta's "Comatorium" equals anything put out by At The Drive In in terms of intensity and lyricism, but the last track was a whore, eventually forcing both rippers to yell "Kamerad!" before expiring.
   
   If anyone has similar ripping war-stories, et al, let me know. If you know a cure, e-mail me. Please. Like, right freakin' now. 'kay?
   
   
4. Stéphane Sticks It to the Man. It's a lot better when read out loud.
   
   He who is not Céline recently made a comment that, surprisingly, made a lot of sense.
   
   And so said Stéphane the man...
   
   

   "We are going to have to discuss that very actively if they (the Pakistanis) are not able to deal with it on their own. We could consider that option with the NATO forces in order to help Pakistan help us pacify Afghanistan," said Mr. Dion in Quebec City, commenting after his two-day trip to Afghanistan last weekend. "As long as we don't solve the problem in Pakistan, I don't see how we can solve it in Afghanistan."
   
   The Liberal leader explained that Afghan officials told him they know where the extremist strongholds are in Pakistan. But he said the Afghans don't take action.
   
   "One day, we are going to have to act because our soldiers are cleaning out some areas, but in fact very often they are only clean in principle. The insurgents go take refuge in Pakistan and they are going to come back (to Afghanistan) at the earliest opportunity. This could last very long if we don't tackle the problems that often originate from Pakistan," Mr. Dion said.
   
   Defence Minister Peter MacKay told Canwest News Service Dion's comments were off base.
   
   "Mr. Dion can't be serious to suggest NATO "intervene," in another country while simultaneously saying Canada should abandon its United Nations-mandated NATO mission in Afghanistan," he said in an e-mail.
   
   "He has to explain to Canadians why he wants an "intervention" but wants to turn his back on Afghanistan, which has asked and continues to ask for Canada's help. It's inane."

   With all due blah blah blah... most of what Monsieur Dion said made a lot of sense - Taliban come in, leave IED, fuck-off to the other side. If the Pakistanis have trouble teaching the Taliban manners, why couldn't we help these "brothers" out?
   
   Don't forget: Pakistan, like all the other 'stans, is Islamic. Period. And to many, if not most in that land, the Taliban are brothers. To date, 78 of my brothers and sisters have gone to a better life thanks to these Jihadis, and Musharraf doesn't seem to be doing enough to rein in these murderers who have also sent innocent Muslim civilians to paradise.
   
   Right about now, the 78 Canucks, including Sapper Gonthier, are each probably enjoying 70 virgins and endless showings of classic NHL - the ones with the Rocket and Bill Barilko. After all, they too are Allah's children, aren't they?
   
   
5. Gauging the Rage About Page. (And why I'm being very cautious about what I really want to say without hurting too many feelings.)
   
   Think of this as a bookend.
   
   Ellen Page is without a doubt one of Hali's best exports next to Keith's, Sloan, April Wine and (even though they're from Cole Harbour, but who cares?) the Trailer Park Boys.
   
   Now, I admit to seeing Ellen a few years ago passing through along Young St. once in a while - she attended the Shambhala school which is located not too far from CFB Stadacona. Didn't know or care who she was. She was just another face. But thanks to a few choice roles in some movies ("Hard Candy", "The Tracy Fragments", "Mouth to Mouth", "Juno"), she has gotten more than a foot in the door - she's now in the house.
   
   I also have to mention the fact that she did appear in Season 2 of Trailer Park Boys as Treena Lahey, the sensible offspring of the oft incoherent park super Jim Lahey (played by the inimitable John Dunsworth).
   
   Everyone is talking about "our Ellen" being in the running for the Oscar. I hate to say this, but she's got herself some pretty stiff competition - and that's not just the Torontonian in me saying this: I'm being a bit realistic. Cate Blanchett, Julie Christie (remember "The Demon Seed"? Wicked-ass flick.), Marion Cotillard (c'est qui?) and Laura Linney all want a piece of that action.
   
   I'd love to see Ellen win one, not only for Hali but for all of the Great White North. But truthfully, the golden doorstop has a tendency to go to the classic (Julie Christie has been around since I was half Ellen's age), the pretentious (Cotillard, who won the Golden Globe for Best Actress, played Édith Piaf in the sprawling "La vie en rose") or the all-American. Also, I haven't really experienced too many dark-horse wins, let alone wins by newbie talent.
   
   Ellen, with all due respect since she might be reading this, is a newbie talent compared to the competition. I'm saying that this is not her time. I'd give her 2 more years, more mature roles and storylines, and maybe an appearance on "Red Eye", then she will have enough cred to bring home the hardware.
   
   After all, where the hell is JK Simmons, the man who played Juno's dad? Why did he not get a nod?
   
   Of course, I may be proven wrong. Ellen is talented. And if you take her Canuck career, she does have milage via tv and indie productions. So maybe the Oscar would be considered the icing on the cake.
   
   For now - I'm picking Julie Christie. Better luck next year, Treena Lahey.

And so... there you go.

The Unknown Good Stuff In '06 and '07:How I Lived to be 44 So Far

In spite of what I had to go through these years, I feel a little more empowered and free.

No more would I need an excuse to get hammered on my spare time, nor find myself broke for any other reason than having to pay rent, groceries and utilities.

(Okay... I did have to get games for the Playstation, but that's another story.)

I could finally fit into my jeans. After spending so much time struggling to fit 38 inches into a 32-inch pair of dungarees, I had to tighten my belt quite a bit.

Poverty and starvation can do that. Trust me.

All kidding aside, I am in process of releasing all these years of anger and self-loathing that ironically have driven my previous endeavours, both legit and illicit.

The funny thing about creativity and maintaining muses is that there has to be something that nourishes the process and perpetuates the momentum. Sometimes, the spark would come from a single, repetitive act, an occurring ritual that would define a person's head space. Sometimes, there would be a chemically induced revelation, an alcoholic epiphany, a hallucinogenic awakening that would give birth to a song, a drawing, a rant on a blog.

As you can see, all my writings were done under some kind of influence. And sometimes, like DUI, there would be a little collateral damage.

Have my Muses abandoned me? Has the Fire been squelched? HELL NO!

I believe that through adversity and bullshit, I've become, if not stronger, at least more at peace, more considerate, maybe even more aware of what's around me.

Yes... there will be haters everywhere who will think that once you've got the Disease, you're lost forever. I don't subscribe to the Darwinist fascism of immediate disposability (except for some extreme circumstances). The Disease always has a source, and within that source lies the cure.

Yes, I was, I am, and I will always be an addict. Once you get a taste, the taste will linger as long as you're above ground. For every rush, there will always be the crash, and most true addicts would dwell on the former than contemplate the latter. With sobriety, though, there's no difference between the two - both have equal weight and are necessary to maintain balance and order.

I'll still love and hate as usual, except that my targets will be attainable. I realise that I can't change the world as much as I like - I have enough problem changing myself as it is right now. As for the bridges that I have burned behind me in my years as an addict, leave them be - God will sort out the rest.

In other words, I am still Jacques. Nothing more. Nothing less. And there's still work to be done.

Jamie Lynn Gets Jumped By Stalkerazzis

Jamie Lynn "Not Britney" Spears speaks out about her pregnancy.



Needless to say: no comment.

007... and before I forget...

For the remainder of the year, I shall forgive everyone who had pissed me off for for any reason (real or imagined).

Starting in the New Year, though, the beatings will resume.

WTF, Mr. Jacques?(and a great 008 2 u!)

Well, you're probably wondering what happened to my website, Mr. Jacques.

Wonder no more - given all the issues that I had to address over the past year or two, I let it go.

And eventually, when it's not used for a certain period of time, the site gets moved to outer space.

So, once again, it sux 2 be me, and having said that, I do have more tricks up my sleeves.

I have to deal with the fact that I couldn't blindly run into a project of which I would have no idea of how to commit.

I also realise that even though my politics remain the same, my mind has opened up quite a bit. Recovery and sobriety does that to you, and looking at the smoldering remains in the wake can be very painful.

So, World beware - I AM BACK. And I still have beefs. And I've got plans. And I'm still not backing down.

Yes, there will be a time when I'll get to hang up the porverbial gloves and leave the bloviating to those with more youth and time on their hands. But right now, I love to wish everyone, friends and enemies alike, a happy new year.

It's the best I can do. Enjoy. Don't drink and drive and stay away from meth.

A couple of things off my chest...(24 Sep 2007)

I've been laying quite low for some time due to work (and recovery).

It's amazing what sobriety can do to creativity.

I couldn't be as vitrolic and vituperative as I used to be 2 years ago, but at least there are better ways of expressing exasperation and frustration.

They say that a person reaps what "he" sows. I think that the secret to staying alive and sane is not what is being sown, but it's sown.

So... here goes anything...

1. Can't you help a brother out? TorSun's Lonnie Goldstein makes a valid (and obvious) point about NATO's fence-sitting ways when it comes to Afghanistan.
   Sadly, just like any favours, the whole deal is a two-way street - I bring the steaks, you bring the BBQ. And Afghanistan ain't Canada: almost every warlord wants a piece of every action at all costs with almost no regard to the subjects who serve them.
   It's almost like Iraq, where in spite of all Coalition efforts, everone hates each other so much they'd have to take it all out on GI Joe.
   So, after 70+ of our brothers and sisters gave their lives to ensure peace and social justice to the peoples, Hamid and NATO should step up to the plate more often and give the rest of us Canuckleheads a bit of respite.
   Unless, of course, they want to join Confederation. (Sorry - we have enough problems with 10 provinces and 3 territories. And you wouldn't want GST added to your goats!)
   
2. Sometimes, it snows in Victoria. Back in the day, HMCS Saskatoon was one of the better MCDVs where the personnel were proud to serve.
   I've experienced the camraderie of the crew members and the diligence and dedication displayed by the senior hands. That was the 'Toon I remembered.
   But over the past year, the MCDV Navy was rocked by a drug scandal involving 3 junior ratings and the Cox'n.
   As a recovering abuser, as much as I'm saddened by what had become of this crew (or more precisely, a version of it - FTWK), I'm not too surprised. Just like any big organisation staffed, the Navy has it's share of addicts and misfits. The only difference is that the ordinary person has set a high expectation on the avaerage serviceman wrt dress, comportment and conduct.
   There are other things that I could say about this and everything else in Esquimalt, but only if you ask me politely. It's just that I'm plain sad about this mess.

Roger. Out.