• Happy anniversary.

    For the first half of 2012, after things that shouldn’t have gone sideways ended up imploding instead, I was single. I’d planned to stay that way, if for no other reason than because I’d just spent 3 years doing exactly the opposite and it wasn’t doing me a whole lot in the favours department. I was more than happy with that. But somebody else decided to go and have a whole other plan in mind. And on July 1, 2012, I decided single until further notice was for somebody with nothing else to do. For making that decision the easiest one in a long while, and for a year I wouldn’t trade for anything, thank you. Happy anniversary, May.

  • Popular posts (May, 2013).

    So a half a forever ago, I made some vague thing about I’d remember to do these more often. Oh yeah, and also that I’d actually write more in this thing in general. Then I promptly flopped on both. But, better late than never, and all that crap. So, a little over an hour before the stuff for June becomes a thing, here’s what you folks found interesting for the month of May, courtesy Google Analytics, as always. I really need to do more of this writing thing.

    • The Ontario Disability Support Program (ODSP) enjoys sticking it to the folks who can’t do much to get themselves off it. In April, I noted the program was killing the startup benefit. And in May, it was the most read post on the site. Not bad for nearly 7 and a half years’ work.
    • Somewhere, probably in Toronto, there’s a fool in an IT office doubled over laughing. In late 2012, Bell canada made some changes to the modem they’re calling “connection hub”. Those changes proceeded to break basic networking standards, and my brain right along with them. Apparently, they broke a few other people’s brains given the trafick to that page. I’m sorry.
    • More on an ODSP front, because clearly it’s still a thing. Back in February of this year, I learned the hard way that ODSP had started up with their cutting costs. They used to pay for your transportation from medical appointments (IE: you’ve been in the hospital overnight and they’re discharging you at 5:30 in the damn morning). They don’t now. Budgetting miracles? Sure, why not?
    • I wrote a two-part series of posts on my rental experiences with Paramount Properties after I moved out of there at the end of January. The short version is they’re crooked as hell and make no bones about showing it–even if they don’t actually admit it. Part two of that series is over here, and was the fourth most popular read in May. I’m still waiting for the lawsuit.
    • And to close things out, we go back to 2010 for a very fine explanation as to why it is exactly I don’t make plans. It takes the form of a month or so spent in Rochester, in which I attempt to schedule it around things that may, then may not, then may again end up happening on this side of the border. I think I may or may not have had a shot of vodka that night.

    And that’s May, in a nutshell. I’ll have June’s posted, uh, hopefully before the end of July. And maybe something a tad more original–but let’s not push things. Clearly, this remembering to do this business with any degree of regularity’s hard freaking work. But I’m two for two this week! bows

  • In which I make 30 look average.

    So I’m just over here, doing my thing. Nothing major; largely breaking anything and everything technological, getting way too close to caffinated things, and sleeping. Probably slightly more of that last one than is healthy–I enjoy my sleep, okay? Stop judging. Yes, you. I said stop. Fine, then–don’t.

    So I’m doing what I do. And from out of nowhere, my freaking twitter blows up. My first thought: okay, which 3-month-old blog post has managed to offend the masses this time? Because that’s occasionally a thing that happens. Apparently people paying attention to days I ordinarily very nearly skip right by is also a thing that happens. Which, also apparently, results in Twitter explosions that vaguely resemble having offended the masses (I speak from experience).

    Yesterday, while I was doing whatever it was I was doing and probably barely paying attention, I tripped and fell over 30. At least I think it was 30. It could have just as well been a pile of clothes–it was half past too freaking early and I was maybe an inch past conscious. But at some point yesterday, 30 happened. And perhaps not surprisingly at all, I was about the 23rd person to actually take notice.

    You go into these things figuring everyone’s got a plan for somewhere around the time they hit 30. Mostly because about 90% of the folks you talk to have had things planned out for when they reach 30 since they were 15. And the rest seem to have tripped and fell into a plan by 30 through absolutely no fault of their own. Then you’re off doing your own whatever, ignoring the world, and 30 steals your coffee while you’re in the shower, the rat bastard. And suddenly you’re sitting down to write a blog post on turning 30 while juggling potential plans for school, employment, surviving school and employment, and asking yourself if you’ve got enough vodka to pull off this miracle. Oh, and still holding a grudge against 30 for stealing your damn coffee.

    I’ve had maybe 2 solid plans in my entire life. I’ve had absolutely 0 solid plans that actually managed to make it from start to finish without becoming significantly less solid, or turning into a sadly misshapen thing that looked vaguely like what I always figured my brain would look like after finishing a major thing 3 minutes before deadline. Not, ahem, that I’m the type to finish something 3 minutes before deadline. Okay so it’s more like 20 minutes after. Sue me. I still don’t have a solid plan–unless the fact that at some point after this thing posts I will be in bed and close to a coma counts as a solid plan, at which point, hell, I’m not doing too bad. I have ideas of all manner, most of them involving significantly breaking just about everything I can get my hands on–for the purpose of improving the thing, of course. Some of those ideas could potentially become solid plans. Some of those solid plans could also potentially not decide to morph right in front of me into some untaimed beast of a thing with like 8 lives and 0.2 weaknesses. But they didn’t happen by 30.

    That, I figure, puts me on about a level with those career folks that have their hearts set on being in middle management before they’ll plan for kids, then they hit middle management at around 45 or so and suddenly it’s a hundred-yard dash to find themselves a partner, a doctor, and a couple thousand dollars for the IVF–because really, if you can pull it off natural like at 45 and not have complications you’re probably Wonder Woman. Actually that pretty much sums up my track record with solid plans right there–thus eliminating about half of that other paragraph up there. It bloody figures.

    So without even trying, I’ve singlehandedly managed to make the idea of turning 30 incredibly average. Possibly even a little tiny bit below average. Definitely a couple knotches well above just plain boring as hell. And all it took was for 22 people before me to catch onto exactly what day it was. The kicker is I didn’t even have to try and plan this. But, then, what the hell else is new?

  • Excuse me. You dropped your filter.

    I like to think I know an unfiltered brain when I see one. I mean, I aught to–I’ve been one on more than a couple occasions. Pretty sure my membership in the unrestrained club’s a lifetime one. So when May and I were sitting on the bus coming home from an appointment, and the guy sitting across from us turned to the woman next to him–someone I’m assuming, based on the fact she hadn’t so much as acknowledged him until then, didn’t know him–and began what was apparently going to be a conversation whether she wanted it to be or not with “you’re probably wondering what happened to me”, to say I was surprised would more than likely be a small exageration. I did have to say something to May though, if only to try stopping myself from cringing so bad somebody at the back of the bus could have been clued in there was a problem on creaper transit.

    I couldn’t be exactly sure how interested she was in this guy’s life story. For that matter, I couldn’t be entirely sure he was addressing her–his conversational tone was a couple knotches above conversational. I could be very sure though that neither May nor myself were wondering what happened to this guy–particularly after he was quite insistent that no no, we could sit right there next to him (thanks, but I like the view from just about anywhere you’re not a whole lot better, pal). And when, whether she was interested or not, he started to explain how he was hit by a bus either last week or the week before (it changed depending on which part of the story he was telling), and going into great detail about how he’s been in and out of hospital since then and all that, I could be slightly more sure that any interest the person he was actually talking to might have had in his life story was quickly switched out for some odd brand of politeness that somehow prevented either her or pretty much anyone else in earshot from punching him in both kidneys on principle. I honestly have no idea how that conversation ended–he was still going on when we got to our stop, but I can only imagine his poor captive audience filed it under “reasons to get a freaking car” and then tried very hard to put as much distance between herself and that conversation as humanly possible.

    I have little to no TMI filter. Which, as it happens, is a very good thing–since apparently people I barely know occasionally feel the need to tell me things most people would find way TMI and probably just as many would slap you stupid for asking. Junk like that doesn’t bother me. Odds are you’ll be more embarrassed for saying it than I’ll be for hearing it. But here’s the thing. I usually at least somewhat know the people who end up doing that to me–probably a part of why it doesn’t bother me (the other part being I will probably never have any reason whatsoever to have need for about 95% of the potentially TMI, so it gets filed under “interesting, but useless”). And it usually happens on some kind of messenger, or through email, or–albeit less often lately–in a phone conversation. You know, an environment of somewhat relative privacy–NSA notwithstanding. This guy’s sitting on a public bus, in front of God and everyone, unloading the trials of the past week or two (again, depending on which part of his story you pay attention to) on a woman he’s never met, who’s name he probably has never heard, and thinking she–or anyone else who can hear the conversation–will actually take notice for any longer than it takes for them to get to wherever it is they’re going. I don’t have much of a filter, but I’m fairly sure he dropped his. I wonder if someone’s told him.

  • Shout Sister Ottawa goes big, before they go home.

    Got a free evening with nothing to do tonight? Find yourself in or near the Ottawa area? The Shout Sister choir will solve that problem and then some. Their final show of the year happens tonight, and anyone in driving range is invited. If you can get to 2675 Draper Ave for an 8:00 show, tickets cost a whole $15 at the door. Why would you want to? This is a start. Mainstream and older music, with a twist–and a dancing dog. Screw going big or going home. These folks are doing both. Want some? You’ve got the address. Now what’s your excuse?

  • On the NSA: 2013 Obama versus 2006 Biden.

    Because we’ve had very little actual debate about what the hell the NSA’s in the middle of and if we even really need or want it there (thanks bunches, secret courts of secret interpretations of otherwise not so secret laws), somebody thought it might be fun to create one. So now, we have the 2013, pro-NSA Barack Obama versus the 2006 apparently anti-NSA Joe Biden. And just for the record, the 2006 side wins. If it wasn’t for the fact he probably won’t be in politics after the 2014 election, I’d be placing bets on how long before someone uses this in an ad campaign. Ah screw it. Who’d like to make a wager?

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  • Why I’d never be in politics, part 2: Even in 2013, your background can sink you.

    Last month, I went into a bit of an essay on why exactly I’d have absolutely nothing at all to do with anything political. Simply put, there’s no honesty in it whatsoever–and, in fact, a guaranteed way to see yourself quickly shown the door is to express some of that honesty, whether it’s got support from the people who voted you in or not. I was reminded of this after the National Post published an entire page of letters on the topic, most of them agreeing politics and honesty don’t go all that well together–and referencing recent events like the mess around Toronto mayors and their aledged crack habbits, or the slightly less B-movie-inspiring soap opera around senators and misbegotten tax dollars. What no one on that page mentioned though is you almost need to be willing and more than able to disconnect yourself from reality, if only to distance yourself from your family background, before you even consider the thought of running for office.

    For the first time since this broke, I’m going to break my rule and dip my toe into the Rob Ford mess in toronto. Because as this thing unfolds, it escentially explains my point. Let’s leave out, just for the sake of argument, your opinion on how well–or not–Ford managed things with the city since he was elected. That’s a non-issue insofar as this goes, particularly considering he could have spent the last two years in hospital and the city wouldn’t have gone to pieces around him on account of if he’s got no one backing him, he’s got about as much power on council as any one of the guys who decided about the day after he was elected that he had to go. But it outlines one of the problems with running for office pretty much anywhere, on pretty much any platform that makes a degree of sense. As soon as someone decides they don’t agree with you, the gloves come off. It looks vaguely like the toronto Star versus the Fords. Or certain columnists versus Justin Trudeau. Or even normally sensible people versus Stephen Harper (disclaimer: I’m not a Stephen Harper supporter. I just don’t see the point in slagging the guy for breathing.). And the only thing that really gets accomplished is attention is drawn from whichever issue prompted the disagreement in the first place.

    I’ll go back to the Ford thing, because it’s happening now and honestly, trying to pull evidence of the Harper thing could take for bloody ever just to sift through it all. Both Rob and his councillor brother Doug could benefit from a quick crash course in public relations management. Or, failing that, a lesson in how not to piss the current ones off. That’s no secret. And whether you’re a Ford supporter or not, that much has to be admitted up front before anything else. And yes, they could probably do with maybe not having shared an opinion or two. But if you really do get what you paid for, then my guess would be the media’s been paying for this since the target was painted. And it translates to roughly what we’re seeing here.

    Last weekend, everyone was expecting–in fact, almost demanding–that toronto mayor Rob Ford address accusations that he’s been caught on video smoking crack. Even if it was to deny the reports, they wanted something. This past weekend, Ford finally did deny the reports–and many of the folks who said they’d be fine with that turned around and then said he was lying–that now, the only thing he could possibly do is resign. A side story came up near the end of this past week that says in the 80’s, Doug was a hash dealer. The Globe and Mail had apparently been working on that particular story for 18 months, so this didn’t necessarily have anything to do with the kerfuffle as regards to Rob, but it was released in connection to the last week’s events, as a sort of profile of the Ford family–an indication that, in politics, nothing is off-limits. And folks in the political and journalism arenas have run with it since–the connection being, of course, “Rob Ford smokes–or, at least, smoked–crack. This isn’t new to him. Drugs are in his family.”.

    Admittedly not having as sharp of a political nose as I maybe should, I can’t see how a report like that does much more damage to Rob than what he’s already doing to himself, save maybe periferally. The damage, if any at all results from this report by itself, would seem to land more at Doug’s feet–possibly a warning shot in the event he follows through with his brainstorm to run for the provincial conservatives in the next election, whenever that ends up being. But if timing is everything, then by publishing it now, the Globe is hoping I’m wrong in that assessment–and, at the same time, indicating how far outside the arena they’ll go to drive their idea of Doug, and presumedly Rob, home to anyone who’ll listen.

    As it stands now, Toronto’s current soap opera goes vaguely something like this. A video exists, say 3 people who’ve seen it, that shows Rob Ford smoking crack. No one except these 3 reporters have seen the video. Ford, acting–his explanation, not mine–on the advice of his lawyer, stayed the hell quiet for a week before denying the reports and saying he’s not adicted to crack and doesn’t smoke crack–choosing his words carefully, in other words, according to a few. “Not good enough. You’re lying. Resign already and get help.” And as if to prove the point, the Doug Ford story comes out. Rob’s older brother, A.K.A. guy with the hash. In his teenaged years, he was the go-to for the good stuff, the report says. Doug, naturally, denies the hell out of it. But still, it’s just one more thing to add to the list where the two of them are concerned. People will react to it how they will, even if how they will roughly equates to not at all, but it shouldn’t have needed to go that far.

    The Globe and Mail, as said earlier, was working on this story for a year and a half. Meaning at some point, crackstarter notwithstanding, they planned to release a profile of at least one of the Ford brothers as a teenager involved in the drug scene. Pinning this as a Ford family profile, as they have, implies that crackstarter campaign notwithstanding, they would have gone ahead and published the story regardless because, as the Globe’s editor said, these are people of public interest running on an anti-drug platform.

    When explaining to readers how its story was in the public interest, the Globe noted that the Ford brothers hold sway over much of the city’s business and have campaigned on anti-drug platforms.

    “The rest of city council, and citizens at large, deserve to understand the moral record of their leaders. In most matters, public or private, character matters,” Globe Editor-in-Chief John Stackhouse wrote in a column accompanying Saturday’s article.

    So as a public service to the community, the Globe and Mail decided it had to let the citizens of toronto know that at least one of the men they voted for may or may not have done something stupid in his teens. For the record, I’ve done something stupid in my teens. Sure, it’s not quite on the level of the drug trade (I, like Rob, have a brother who may or may not have done that for me), but I’ve been pretty brainless. Mind, I also have been very careful to stay as far away from public office as humanly possible. Why? Because even if I haven’t done anything more than shoplift at the age of 13, I’ve got family and they’ve got baggage. And, as the Globe and Mail points out above, the voting public would deserve to understand my moral record–especially if I decided, say, to run for office on an anti-drug platform–or, I guess, as of right now on an anti-shoplifting platform. And because my family’s got baggage, any number of today’s current issues could come back to bite me in the rear were I to bother with running for office. Tough versus soft on crime? Check. Legalizing or decriminalizing pot? Check. Upping the penalties for sexual assault? Check. The list goes on. And all it takes is one or two of the several people I’ve crossed paths with that I’ve managed to piss off in the nearly 30 years I’ve been pissing people off and at least one reporter with 5 minutes to catch a story over coffee. Proof? Why, the word of someone who says they knew me is proof enough. What does it matter if I didn’t stand in a public place and pass a joint back and forth with a bunch of other folks? The reporter for the local paper’s got two people I haven’t spoken to since before I was voting age that says I did.

    Honesty wouldn’t make a difference in my very hypothetical situation, and it doesn’t make a difference in the Ford mess. Sure, both Fords could be flat out telling the truth. Hell, even one of them could be telling the truth. Of course it’s equally–and some would argue quite a bit more–likely that both of them are flat out lying with a straight face. But it doesn’t matter. Because 3 people saw a video owned by a guy who’d like to remain nameless, Rob’s guilty. Because the Globe heard from people probably still in the drug trade, who because they’re likely still in the drug trade would like to remain nameless, Doug is likely going to end up equally guilty. And whether one, both or neither of them were involved in anything remotely on the north side of the law, this will follow them into any future election one or both of them decide to take on. Doug running for the conservatives in the next election? I can already see the liberal ad campaign. Rob running for another term as Toronto’s mayor? Win or lose that one–and folks are saying he’d win if it happened today, anyone running against him has that to hit him over the head with. They have plenty of other, much more proveable things to beat him over the head with, but tell me that one wouldn’t make the list. It doesn’t have to be true. It just has to stick in the back of someone’s mind long enough for them to get to the polls and stick an X next to someone who’s last name isn’t Ford.

    If you have any baggage at all, be it your own or that of a relative, public service of nearly any variety is almost 100% not the place for you. A rare exception is those who, through whatever means they manage to do it, can distance themselves from that baggage and its causes. And even then, it’s only one “investigative report” away from being front page news 30 years later. We all have things we’d have rathered not done. Most of us, I’d like to hope, are smart enough to have learned from those things and maybe aranged things in such away that some of them don’t end up repeated. I don’t plan to be anywhere near public office now, but in 20 years, who knows? Maybe something I write here will be the springboard that pushes me in that direction. Maybe instead I’ll get a job doing AOL style tech support for John Q. Customer and what my uncle was involved in before I was born won’t need to be justified, denied, explained away, covered up or any number of other things people have done to their past before they undertake a career in public service. I’d like to say maybe in 20 or 25 years it won’t matter, but that might be being slightly too generous–and I don’t feel like being that generous. But as long as people’s backgrounds are front page news, because somebody somewhere did something that can be used to make a point, it won’t matter whether you’ve got the next mother Theresa running for office. If you go the dishonest route, you can make a decent living out of it–at least until somebody comes up with a background article that focuses on that drug ring your cousin was arrested for being involved in 2 weeks after you graduated. If you decide to take the honest approach, you’re sunk on sight. Because an anti-drug advocate who was into drugs when he was 16 just can’t happen. And if the guy running opposite you doesn’t make sure of that, the media almost certainly will. Even if you weren’t actually into drugs. For proof, you need only look at Rob and Doug Ford.

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  • In which truer words were never spoken.

    And every once in a while, somebody drops by and leaves me a something I can relate to. This is the last 5 years or so, roughly summarized. And it needs to be said–I couldn’t do it any better myself.

    Nov 26 12:10pm: nowhere is hiring

    Truer words were never spoken, young googler. By the way, could you use a geek? I’m cheap…

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  • Happy tenth birthday, #WordPress.

    I’ve been doing the blogging thing off and on for 7 years, give or take. In that 7 years, I’ve used several different platforms depending on what I was looking for and how much of a headache I wanted. I settled on using wordPress in March of 2009, when it would have been very nearly 6 years old. I’ve never looked back. Today, with several hundred thousand possible themes, plugins, templates and god only knows what else–not counting what’s already built into its core, I don’t think I can ever be convinced to look back. WordPress does half the work for me, which is absolutely awesome if you’re me. And because of the absolutely insane list of just about everything under the sun people have already done to make it even better, you don’t need to be exceedingly well versed in the art of PHP to get things done–also advantage me, who has this nasty habbit of breaking just about everything PHP in several interesting ways before it sort of halfway works.

    Today, WordPress turns 10. And already, they’ve got a shortlist of ideas being kicked about for future versions–including a thing I’ve been saying needs to happen with regards posting by email, since I decided to abandon trying to roll my own solution for doing the same (I should probably update that post too, given I discovered other issues with that plugin later on). If even their short-term plans turn out to be as good as what I’ve seen since throwing myself aboard this particular bandwagon, the next 10 years should be awesome squared. But then, just about anything that lets me throw opinions this way and that on whatever crosses my otherwise empty mind is awesome squared.

    Happy birthday, WordPress. When next I toss back a shot, it’ll be in your name. Now if we could just talk about hiring me.

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  • Popular posts (April, 2013).

    And now, after much forgetting to do this and much more procrastinating, it’s roughly time for one of these again. Just in time for me to start compiling the exact same list for the month of May. You’d think I’d have this down by now. Well, maybe those of you who just started reading this thing would–everyone else knows better. But that would just be no fun. Besides, this month’s will make up for it when it gets there.

    April was fairly busy, with a healthy helping of mockery and an even larger helping of finishing up with the getting my life back in order. But it was the posts from earlier this year that seem to have caught people’s interest. In April, 1418 of you dropped by the site, wasting an average of a minute and a half in the process. I’m sorry. Here’s what caught your eye, as always brought to you courtesy Google Analytics.

    • If I’d known when I wrote in January about my fun with conspiracies it’d still be catching attention 3 months later, I’d have probably done a whole lot more pushing of that post. Because apparently, the Canadian take on a good New World Order conspiracy is a thing. It was the most visited page on the site in April.
    • I’m no fan of ODSP in recent months. Well, if we’re being honest I haven’t been a fan of theirs since 2010, but who’s counting? In February, I discovered the Ontario government’s initial efforts at cost cutting. I wrote about it when I was done dealing with it, figuring that’d be just about it for at least the first few months–especially given the self same government was kind of on pins and needles since Dalton Mcguinty ran off and hid. Yeah, about that.
    • I’m a wee bit of a geek. Okay, so that may be a slight understatement. I tend to like to do fun things with modems and routers and networks and generally not recommended internet things. I like it when an ISP lets me get away with it. Or, if nothing else, when that same ISP doesn’t decide to build road blocks into their hardware to prevent me from getting away with it. So when I found out the ISP I was with near the end of 2012 was doing exactly everything I don’t like my ISP to do, I wasn’t impressed. Naturally I tried to work around it. Naturally, given the ISP in question is Bell Canada, I only came away with a headache. But it apparently proved vaguely useful for a few people, as indicated by the fact the entry still makes the list. Now if someone would just drop by that post with a workaround, that would be amazing.
    • Back on the thread of ODSP things, because apparently people find it useful, I mentioned the government was kind of on a bit of pins and needles. Being a minority government, they needed the support of at least one other party in order to pass their budget for this year, otherwise we’d have been heading for a spring election. That was going to mean compromises that, well, may have ended up hurting more than they help in the long run. Because it’s happened to folks on ODSP before, I wrote an open letter to the province’s finance minister, asking him not to screw it over. I’m still waiting to see if it has any halfway decent result, but first looks aren’t doing so hot. Still, it could be worse, right? Yeah, don’t answer that.
    • Microsoft announced at the beginning of this year it would be making Windows Live things die a death of some sort. And then they only half killed it, leaving some of you to wonder what the hell gives. If you, uh, don’t use Microsoft’s official client for that messaging service, you can still use it. At least until some date to be determined later. If you don’t use a non-Microsoft client, though? Hopefully you’re a fan of Skype.

    And that’s the kind of April it’s been, now that May’s nearly wrapped up. Enjoy what’s left of it. And remember to have a couple shots for me–it’s apparently ill advised for me to drink and blog. Not that I won’t try it at least twice.

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