Erratum

I have to follow up and correct myself after astute reader Chris pointed out an obvious and comical error in my last post. After which I figured I had probably heard the original recording wrong. Finally last night, in a different show, they mentioned it again, shedding light on my erroneous reference.




Indeed Nikola Tesla died in 1943, several decades before the first design of the AMC Pacer. What I had misheard was the make and model used in his electricar car experiment. He used the 1930's Pierce Arrow luxury car.



What's really interesting is that Tesla was developing the technology to harvest wireless radiant energy over a hundred years ago, technology that could have rid us of our reliance on fossil fuel. Considering factors like the greenhouse effect and wars over oil, I ponder how the last century could have been different if his primary financier, J. P. Morgan, had continued to finance Tesla's endeavours instead of pulling the plug (no pun intended) because there was no way to meter and therefore charge for the power consumed.

Neo-archaia

I picked up from the bit torrent community a rare and complete collection of a radio show called Open Mind with Bill Jenkins. It was based in Los Angeles and ran for 7 years in the 1980’s. This ground-breaking show covered such subject matter as UFOs, alternative energy, spirituality, ancient religions, out-of-body and near-death experiences and more and was fraught with government conspiracies, cover-ups, media manipulation, military secrecy, etc. It’s great fodder for a heretic like me, I’ve been listening to different episodes every night.

What’s equally fascinating as the subject matter is how dated it is. Often it simply feels like I have the radio on until they say something like, “…as we continue to mourn the tragic loss of the astronauts in the Challenger explosion…” or “before Carter left office” or something regarding a task performed by some enigmatic device called a supercomputer. And since this was (perhaps) the first radio show if its kind some older topics had to be discussed anew like the Roswell incident and the Philadelphia experiment.

The one I listened to last night, from about 1984, involved discussion on this newly developed “theory” called the greenhouse effect. The new age thinkers on the show, however, claimed we were on the verge of a new energy era that would do away with the consumption of fossil fuel. Not so fast, boys (talk about optimism, or procrastination). Also mentioned was a revolutionary electric automobile that Nikola Tesla made for himself by gutting an AMC Pacer and dropping in a homemade battery. It seems Tesla was not without a sense of Garth.

What’s also funny, like looking at your hairstyle in an old photo, is the cold war-era paranoia. Some callers were very concerned that people in Alaska were suffering the ill effects of Soviet ultra-low frequency testing. (Something which Senator Palin could speak to?) Other well-informed patriots were very curious about how far along those damn commies were in their weather control technology.

One particular recording made my blood run ice cold while I was up late at night in the darkness of the house. It was brought in by a guest who was an authority on Electronic Voice Phenomenon. Remember the movie White Noise? On the air, they played a recording of a conversation between a researcher and someone they knew had been dead for 16 years. The ghostly voice was monotone yet tortured, almost straining to be heard on the magnetic tapes. Fucking creepy.

So I sit and listen in this 25 year old time warp cocoon to the state of affairs in modern science and new age research of the early 80’s. And I hear him repeat the phone number over and over again. And I listen to callers call in with related examples of personal events that happened just a couple days ago. And I think it would be so cool to call in and say, “Long time listener, first time caller.”

And then I would astound the shit out of them with prophetic knowledge of the future. I would tell them that there are no commercial hover cars but there are hybrid cars. And I would tell them about global warming and the Soviet break up and the Berlin Wall and their neighbours San Jose and Anaheim getting hockey teams and home computers which are all connected through an internet and that the Loch Ness Monster was a hoax. And I would tell them that everyone has their own personal pocket calculator on which you can tell time, set alarms, manage your calendar, record and playback video, send and receive silent letter messages, take and store pictures, manage contacts, listen to music, browse this internet thingy, and even talk to other people live just like a phone. Then they’d say, “Yeah, right. Beam me up, Scotty.” Then they’d laugh at me and high five while disconnecting the line to pocket calculator.

What would you tell those millions of unsuspecting listeners about the next 25 years if you could?

Technology is Cool

I found the “3D Buildings” and “Terrain” buttons in Google Earth that turn flat maps into pop-up books with photo-realistic imagery. Much omnipotent fun ensued.

I buzzed the Eiffel Tower. (Not as fun as climbing it).

I meandered through the Grand Canyon.

I spilled over Niagra Falls.

I climbed Everest.

I took a trip to the Vatican and knocked on the Pope’s door.

I slalomed Stonehenge.

I stood at the plate at Wrigley and called my shot.

Then I took off and went flying through New York City, zipping in between buildings.

Speaking of flying, here is a time compression video of 24 hours of global air travel. You can see peak business hours, red eyes, hubs, great circles followed, etc. Heathrow looks like a vacuum. So cool.

Seasonal Affective Standard Procedure

Today it’s like summer. There’s no sting because it’s only -13.

Even this blog suffers from Seasonal Affective Disorder. Which I don’t think is a disorder. It’s an order. It can be predicted and charted.

Summer: Hey, while we’re out we should also go to [another store] because I thought of something else we need.
Winter: We’re done out here. Let’s get the hell off these roads and back home and curl up under the giant blanket and wait until bedtime.

Summer: Wanna go rollerblading?
Winter: While you’re up can you get me some more needless, fattening crap to eat?

Here’s the debate, is it a disorder or just a phenomenon? I believe it is simply a procedural difference between summer and winter. The cold is undeniably debilitating, that doesn’t mean debilitation comes from within. In another example, I was reading about Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome on Wiki (Wiki suffers its share of public and pop culture scorn regarding its validity). This syndrome describes me to a tee but I’m still not convinced that it’s an actual affliction and not simply a report on observed commonalities in human behaviour. This debate is one of the stigmata Wiki suffers, at no fault to its contributors who have good intentions. Ultimately, I’m still hesitant to believe that it’s an infirmity because, if I do, I’ll resign to it, defend it and perpetuate it. On the other hand, a simple procedural change doesn’t account for why I can’t sum up enough creativity to think of anything to blog about for a month, even though I try to hold myself to strict constraints regarding not blogging about absolutely nothing for the sake of blogging. But like I said, today it’s only -13, so it’s like summer. Plus, I’m extra perky today because I got to bed early – before 2 AM! Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome sufferers (read: Delayed Sleep Phase Phenomenon perpetuators) know what I’m talking about.

Yesterday, I conquered. I broke the snowy chains and rose up from the sleepy deep freeze – with lots of help from my personal trainer beautiful girlfriend – and actually went running at an indoor track. And I did it against a scheduled beer-drinking session with coworkers. Take THAT dark winter!

It’s so cold…

Fall teased us with near 0°C temperatures until the first week of December. Then, like it does here, it dropped to between -25C/-13F and -35C/-31F and it’s been that way ever since and it will stay like that until March. Don’t dawdle when in between buildings, plug in your car or it won’t start, don’t drop your mittens in the snow or you’ll lose your hand, type of shit. Repair shops are full of cars with cracked hoses and plug heads that have been ripped off from driving away with them still connected. The roads are such that you can see the brake light reflection of the car in front of you in the sheer ice. People who drive 60 in a 50 zone now drive 50. People who normally drive 40 in a 50 zone now drive 27 – apparently drivers' skill-self-trust/speed graphs are slightly curved. Planes that sit on the tarmac too long are de-iced a second time. Bellaclavas have a white goatee from frozen breath condensation. Your cheeks and nose feel a distinct bite in a subtle breeze. I have to thaw my hockey gear out with a blow dryer before every game because it doesn’t dry in the garage, it just freezes. And I just can’t keep my poor baby warm, she’s cold all the time.





They tell you to pack an emergency kit when traveling in your car. Why? Because this is all you see for hours when driving in this province.




It’s still beautiful country and I still like to watch the sunrise and sunset. I watch it rise during my first smoke break at work and watch it set during my next smoke break. (Where are my vitamin D pills?)

Anybrr, this post is interactive. If you drop in, you must post a punch line. I’ll get you started.

You wouldn’t believe how cold it is here.
(How cold is it?)
It’s so cold…

I saw a squirrel rubbing his nuts.

I tried peeing outside and ended up a tripod with a skinny yellow leg.

I can’t wait to get in from shoveling and get warmed up by a cold beer.

Some wild chill got in my mouth and made my molar ache. (That one is true).

Saskatoon hookers will pay you for a ride around the block.

Gave at the Office/Friends Lost

Here’s a video explanation of a concept called the landing pad. What’s interesting about this is that it’s not so much a video about a particular space in your house as it is a video about a particular space within a woman’s mind. Like a voluntary tumour or a chunk she donated to her retarded brother. I do appreciate the rather large concession though, the allowance of temporary clutter. You can see her blood pressure rise as she begins to talk about what happens when the landing pad doesn’t get processed.

And she goes one beyond to suggest that it become like a “task driver” where anything on the pad that pertains to you is a task you must perform or an item you must process. That’s some pretty forward thinking. That’s the cutting edge in terms of accountability when you think abou– oh wait, we do that here at the office. Employing business practices at home is not revolutionary, it’s out of place. A business functions because its people are both masters of their domain and accountable to the product they put forth. Children are neither.

I used to have a landing pad in my old apartment, it was called the kitchen. Then I had a landing pad for clothes that were in flux between clean and dirty, it was called the entire bedroom. These were more permanent residences than temporary landing pads though. I loved clutter. Clutter was my roommate. Clutter always had my back. Because of clutter, shit was right THERE when I needed it, right where I had put it down (a convenience seldom enjoyed when living with a woman). Picking clothes to wear was easy because clutter ensured my entire wardrobe was always within sight. Me and clutter made some pretty cool discoveries every now and then too, like, “The fuck is that smell?” and “There that shit is!” When I went to sleep at night I knew clutter would watch over me, which was comforting, except that when I tried to walk around in the dark clutter always seemed to be sleeping right in my path. Clutter ensured that doing the dishes was slick and easy because clutter soaked them for a couple weeks. Me and clutter used to laugh at people who were such neat freaks it got to be counterintuitive. “Like when you sit down to turn on the TV only to realize the remote has been ‘put away’ – on top of the TV!” Clutter would say and we would laugh and laugh. *SIGH* I kinda miss clutter. We were tight. Clutter will always have a special place in my heart.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Vinz Clortho

Vinz here is the faithful servant of Gozer, a moldy Sumerian god whose destructive will on Earth is carried out by a victim-chosen incarnation called the Traveller. Vinz, who was present during the previous two times the traveler visited, loves to tell you about them at any given chance. The first, of course, was during the rectification of the Vuldronaii. That time he came as a very large and moving torb. I bet you the Vuldronaii picked a torb because it was probably something small, harmless and immobile, like a root vegetable. Not that day! Then the second time was during the third and what would be the final reconciliation of the Meketrex supplicants. He turned up as a giant sloar!!! Gozer obviously had some sort of beef with Meketrex and, having given his own wayward worshippers two previous chances to reconcile, vengefully roasted all the Meketrex-loving Shubs and Zuuls in the pit of the Sloar.

I don’t think Gozer was a very merciful god. Every time he slipped in the polls a little it was crush this and slaughter that. Then he seemingly disappeared from history. He might even have happily spent the rest of eternity in the nearest parallel dimension if it weren’t for that one nutcase that played to his vanity and reminded him what it was like to be worshipped again 8000 years later. Of course I’m talking about the influential and certifiable Ivo Shandor. Here’s a guy who, after seeing the bloodshed of WWI, figured society was too sick and no one deserved to live. I guess if you’re going to pick a figurehead for your new society that’s based on death and descturction, what better choice than Gozer? So Shandor built what can be described as a lightning rod (in the form of 55 Central Park West, whose ironwork extends through 50 feet of bedrock and touches the water table) for the purpose of drawing in cross-dimensional paranormal turbulence in hopes of attracting Gozer. Then he litters the spiritual landscape with the malignant spirits of those he sacrificed through bizarre yet purposeful rituals on its rooftop. Shandor, as it turns out, was quite the visionary, his legacy nearly came to fruition some 60 years after his death with the third coming of the Traveller. That’s when we met...

This dude!