Welcome to Nowhere

Home ยป Page 22

  • Consider this, if ever you happen to need a hotel.

    written by

    james

    I get paranoia. I don’t get it, insofar as I understand it, but I get it exists. And I get it exists to quite probably the most unjustifiable levels in about half a forever. There’s probably about half a dozen diagnoses that could cover it. Perhaps if a few of them were applied at just the right time to just the right people, we wouldn’t have yet another list from the Department of Homeland Security on just what to look for in a potential terrorist while you’re doing exactly everything a good non-terrorist is supposed to do during your hotel stay. Which, apparently, includes such sound advice as to keep a lookout for anyone who might be leaving their vehicle unattended too close to the hotel–without, you know, defining such critical language as “too close”. Oh, and be careful how much you don’t use the hotel-provided telephones or wi-fi. Oh, you’ve got your own cell phone? Don’t wanna pay the too much for in-house net? Terrorist!

    Fortunately, the article also provides us with a handy dandy little instruction set so we don’t end up on the DHS’s not loyal enough list, presumedly while we’re keeping an eye out for folks who might not know better. Which is good, since my own attempt at doing same got about as far as “loyal citizens stay the hell home”.

    So, to be a standup, non-terrorist citizen, here’s what you need to do:

    Pack for two weeks if you’re staying for two days. Park your vehicle a safe distance away from the hotel, perhaps across the street or at another hotel. Leaving your vehicle dangerously unattended, walk directly through the main entrance with hands open and displayed in a non-threatening manner.

    When registering, present as many forms of ID as possible. Be sure to mention where you work EVEN if no one asks. Brag if you have to. Hand out business cards to the staff. Let the desk clerk know that your stay here is no secret and that your room number should be given to anyone who asks, including those who don’t ask. When asked if you have a room preference, answer with a bright, but unfrightening, “I’ve never had a ‘preference’ in my life! I’m easy to please and an American citizen!”

    Head directly to your room, carefully avoiding eye contact with doors marked “Employees Only.” Immediately unpack all of your luggage. Make several phones calls using ONLY the in-room phone. Call the front desk several times so as to avoid appearing suspicious. Return to your unattended vehicle and clone yourself using existing, but non-potentially-dangerous technology. Make no sudden movements and keep your ID and passport displayed prominently. Return one of yourselves to your hotel room, again using the front entrance in a non-threatening, flag-waving manner.

    Stay in your room. Use the provided wi-fi. Avoid sites that use any form of encryption. Be careful not to stay in your room too long. When venturing out for something to eat or a non-suspicious conversation with the suspicious staff, avoid stairwells, hallways, exits/entrances, and connecting roads. On second thought, just stay in your room. This will make it easier to avoid being caught up in the middle of a personnel shift change.

    If you must leave your room, smile and wave at each and every security camera. Lift your shirt to display lack of weapons, explosives or identifiable scars and tattoos. If purchasing anything from the hotel, use only credit cards, checks or DNA. Return to your room using the most surveilled route. Use the in-room phone to order room service. Turn down the delivery when it comes, stating that you’re trying to keep visitors and deliveries to a minimum. Apologize for not having any cash to tip with, but explain that this lack of cash directly contributes (not monetarily, of course) to the safety of everyone in the hotel. Repeat this apology to housekeeping when they arrive, being sure to answer the door before they get to the second knock. Try to ignore their just-out-of-earshot griping about having to clean around the scattered contents of four large suitcases. Smile in a non-threatening fashion and shrug as if to say, “LOOK AT HOW MUCH I DON’T HAVE TO HIDE.”

    If you find that, despite your careful planning, your stay is going to be extended indefinitey, switch hotels. Pack all of your belongings carefully. Police the room for any stray socks, unused condoms or stealable toiletries. Turn the coffee maker OFF (if applicable). Leave in an unhurried fashion, but don’t dawdle. Return to your attended vehicle and (most likely) dead clone. Drive to another hotel, preferably one a non-suspicious distance away and repeat the process. Once you return to your hometown, turn yourself into the nearest authorities for a thorough post-travel debriefing.

    On second thought, I don’t care if loyal sitizens stay home. The smart ones who’d rather not deal with Homeland Security sure as hell do. I’ll be cancelling my not fully formed vacation plans now.

  • Don’t Say Gif.

    written by

    james

    This only maybe matters to 1.25 of you, but I found it vaguely amusing. Since the day of its creation, no one could decide whether the .gif file format should actually be pronounced as it’s spelled, or as JIF instead. For whatever reason, the guy what invented it was remarkably silent on the topic–until recently. And he’s apparently quite offended that so many have so willingly mispronounced the word–apparently, the J way’s the right way, and he’d like for people to start using it right the hell now thank you please. Personally, I’ll stick with saying GIF. Sorry, dude. But because somebody thought quickly enough to mock the hell out of it, and because I can’t hope to be that good, have a Youtube video. If someone could steal a screenshot of this and send it to me in JIF–er I mean GIF–format, that’d be awesome. Readers of the RSS or email variety, jump on over to the site and have a watch. I’d make it available to you in your reader of choice, but flash says no. Blame Adobe. It’s good for you.

    ,

  • Dear Amy. It was a wrong number. Signed, God.

    written by

    james

    Most of you have probably already seen some variation of this. The owner of Amy’s Baking Company, in arizona, figures cooking is what she was born to do. She remains so convinced of this that she started, with help from her husband, a restaurant. Just one problem. Pretty much no one who’s ever been there, including the staff, agrees. That hasn’t stopped her, of course, from proclaiming this precisely what God intended her to do–and creating no fewer than a dozen lables for everyone under the sun who’s ever disagreed.

    So when Gordon Ramsay, of Kitchen Nightmares fame, agreed to do an episode about her restaurant, she took it as a sign from God. Sheff Ramsay, she said, would prove all the hateful haters who hate dead wrong. Except, of course, for that small part wherein just no (note: Long video is long. It’s why we’re not embedding it here, thanks much.). Instead, everything folks were saying was wrong with this restaurant suddenly became wrong with this restaurant on national TV–and, now, on Youtube. And her reaction? Just keep screaming, screaming screaming. then play the appology card and announce the grand reopening. Because, you know, that works so well.

    It must absolutely suck to go for a PR boost like that and have it absolutely blow up in your face. I mean not that I’d know, not being brainless enough to 1: continuously bang my head against a thing I just plain suck at and 2: nearly strangle myself with denial of the reality that I really do suck at it. It’s why you don’t see me anywhere near the kitchen in any capacity but the helpfully helpful. But you do have to wonder at what point it becomes apparent that God’s calling for you might have been a wrong number. If you’re Amy, it might aughta think about being somewhere around now. Mostly because I’m sure even he’s running out of ways to tell her.

    , ,

  • Side-effects of being a #Sens fan: Desperation leads to conspiracy.

    written by

    james

    That sucking sound you may or may not have just heard is what little of Ottawa’s sanity remains quickly finding and utilizing the nearest exit. While on the bus coming back from dealing with a few things, I was privy to the most interesting of sports related discussions. Interesting in that it almost had very little to do with sports and more to do with money. Fists full of money. We’ve all been fooled, if you’re the guys who were in this conversation.

    The National Hockey League is now expecting the playoffs to go the full 7 games, not because it’s good competition and the teams might actually not fall over halfway through for a change, but because it means more money for the NHL and the teams in question. So, you take a Boston, for example, who’s apparently had Toronto’s number all season, and stick them in a playoff round versus Toronto. Then, you tell them, “Look. You guys flatten this team, okay? But that does nothing for us. Let them come back a time or few. Keep them interested. *Then* flatten them. Deal?”. And of course, because the teams get a pretty sizeable chunk of money during the playoffs anyway, both are fine with it.

    Now, flash forward to the second round, and you’re a Senators hopeful. If you’re these Senators hopefuls, you’ve already got it figured out but good. Ottawa has the talent to take this thing pretty well all the way, you see. They could slam the door any old time and it’s all over. But that’s less money, and we all know how much the owners love their money. So instead you’ve got Ottawa holding back, while Pittsburgh goes up by 3. Most Sens fans would be a little worried by now. But oh no. These guys have it in the bag. Now, it’s Ottawa’s turn to do the owning–it’s supposed to go 7, after all. So Ottawa does their shtick tonight, then in the next, and eventually ties this thing up. Then, they can max out the money on both sides, give the fans their game 7, and Ottawa can take its much deserved place in the conference finals. Because money, and owners want some, and I honestly have absolutely no freaking clue.

    I think, if nothing else, I’ve just unearthed a teeny tiny side-effect of being an Ottawa Senators fan. Having never actually won a cup (the Original Senators don’t count, as this is not the original Senators) leads a select few to unimaginal bouts of desperation. That desperation is quickly followed by a spin off into the land of alternate reality. There is a solution. And it isn’t even a painful solution. And it’s probably much more of a likely outcome than the theory. I just don’t think I’d wanna be anywhere near these guys when it happens.

    , , ,

  • Fun things with comments.

    written by

    james

    Because everyone else is doing it (I’m looking at you, Ro and Amanda), I’ve decided to add a splash of trivia to user comments. Sadly it’s not a retroactive thing, but oh well. I’m a fan of drawing attention to me. It’s why I comment. Hell, it’s why I set this thing up–whether I’ll admit that in a week or not. But I’m also a fan of spreading that attention around. So, effective as of about 10 minutes ago, folks commenting on here will have the option–on by default–of having their most recent post added to their comment. Because if you’re reading this thing, odds are you’re in the mood to go wandering and see what else you can find. So why not make it easy? As always, this is kind of a testing thing–if it breaks while you’re using it, you can keep both pieces. Meantime, I’ll try and arange it so it only breaks on every third Sunday after a full moon. Now, to figure out what I did with that other thing I meant to post up here.

  • Brought to you by a long weekend with time on my hands.

    written by

    james

    So, I’m sitting here nomming on supper, and a thought sort of pokes me in the eye. Well, okay, there’s also that one that says I’ve done this whole neglect the blog thing again, but that one’s always there. Especially when I find things to mock, put them aside, even download local copies of mockables just in the event they run off, then promptly forget to set aside the time to mock. But this one, just for the sake of being there, decides there will be no forgetting to write. And, well, far be it from me to ignore, well, me.

    I now have proof. We, as a society, have blown right past screwed and are cruising for a permanent spot in hell. And the fool doing the driving’s got a piss poor sense of irony. Let’s line things up.

    • First, a near strike by workers at the LCBO, that only comes to a miss at a little bit past 10 on Thursday night. Keep in mind, they don’t call this May 2-4 weekend for no damn good reason–there’s drinking involved. Lots of it. Well, unless you’re me (I should really fix that). So a strike, by the only folks in Ontario legally allowed to sell anything other than beer, on the weekend where a lot of people tend to go through a lot of anything other than beer, tends to be a wee bit problematic. More than a few people more than likely spent a chunk of Thursday emptying out the store before the boozepocolypse. Which reminds me–I expect to see that $50000000000000000 noted in a much smaller budget shortfall, Ontario government. Lowering the provincial half of the HST wouldn’t hurt either.
    • That was the warning shot. Then, on Friday morning, most of the province–and apparently as far out as Cleveland–was earthquaked. Measured around 5.2 at its center, so the folks say, with a 4.2 aftershock about 10 minutes later. No major damage, but then, that wasn’t the plan. That was strike 2.
    • Strike 3 happened in Toronto. No, I’m serious. And it’s been happening all weekend. And it’s not about to blow over, on account of the guy at its center’s up and stuck his head in the sand. No, he will not be named. He need not be named. It explains itself.

    Strike 3 Image source: Toronto Savvy

    You’ll note I’m staying clear away from anything involving Ottawa, senators, Ottawa Senators, and things named Duffy. These misformed beasts can be lumped together under the heading of collateral damage. Not that the train wreck we get to watch now isn’t damage enough all on its own, but you’ll have that. So where does that leave us? Welp, if the conspiracy theorists are right, next comes the firing squad and folks sitting on disability support get a special spot at the front of the line. Me, I prefer to look at it from a different perspective. We’ve all got a one-way ticket straight to hell. Bright side: someone else is doing the driving, so if yall don’t mind too terribly, I think I’ll go get started on the drinking. Hey, it’s cheaper than moron insurance.

    ,

  • Piracy, with a side of malware.

    written by

    james

    I’m one of the many who’ve followed pretty much every one of Demonoid’s attempts at rebirth after a shutdown for copyright or other reasons, so when I saw a notice from some very generous members of Demonoid’s community that said they were bringing the service back as Demonoid2 or D2, I was more than a little curious. And more than a little teeny tiny bit skeptical. Apparently, with good reason–for the few minutes it was actually online, it was malware. But, because it amused me anyway, have the email I received in its barely edited entirety (links need fixing, y’know). If you got a similar email and thought about doing the clicky clicky, 1: good on you for not (you didn’t, right?). And 2: it’s deader than dead now, so clicking on it’s safe. Where safe = “This page cannot be displayed”. And now, because I can, the “Welcome to your new Demonoid!!!!!” email.

    From: admin@d2-gatekeeper.net
    Sent: May 8, 2013 12:25 AM
    To: my@email.removed (I hate spam)
    Subject: Demonoid rises from the ashes at last

    Dear Demonoid Community Member,

    We have all read the same news stories: The Demonoid servers shut down and seized in the Ukraine. The Demonoid admin team detained in Mexico. The demonoid.me domain snatched and put up for sale. The Demonoid trackers back online in Hong Kong, but then disappearing.

    We all wanted to believe that Demonoid would be resurrected once again; but it seems that these events have spelled the end of Demonoid as we have always known it. We all waited to see if Demonoid would return, though its now clear that this time its really gone.

    Now for some good news: The heart and soul of Demonoid lives on! Through an amazing sequence of unlikely events, the data on those Ukrainian servers has made its way into the safe hands of members of our community and has now been re-launched as d2.vu

    Invitations to return are being sent out only to existing Demonoid members, which is the reason you have received this email. For the foreseeable future d2.vu will remain a semi-private site and no new invitations to join will be issued until we are certain that the system is stable. To login, click here and authenticate using your old Demonoid username and password.

    Demonoid may be gone, but the community lives on at d2! Welcome home!

    Sincerely,
    admin

    ,

  • This post brought to you by fill in the blank.

    written by

    james

    I swear one of these days these’ll get old. That day is not today. From the land of the Google, we get a partial statement. And it even has a degree of truth to it.

    Nov 14 11:05am: welfare and odsp create jobs

    … For any aspiring social worker, whether you’re actually qualified to be one or not, depending entirely on your definition of qualified. Oh, you were meaning they create jobs for their recipients? Well–no one’s offered to hire me, yet. On second thought, perhaps a call to my case worker’s in order…

  • Mobility musings. Because half past late.

    written by

    james

    If you’ve read the “about me” style pages linked on the left side of this thing, you’ll probably be made vaguely aware that I have this problem (*) wherein vision just doesn’t happen. The same can be said for a few of the folks what read the thing. So it’s with that in mind that a thought type deal’s been circling my head like it’s got nothing better to do. And, oddly enough, it has to do with the very most basic of basic mobility.

    Late in 2012, the city of Toronto started a pilot project wherein they placed specific markers at one intersection, as a way for the visually impaired to be able to tell when they’re approaching the street. And, that got me thinking not entirely sarcasticly. Does Toronto have a “blind person wanders into middle of intersection unknowingly” problem that maybe hasn’t been reported, or that places like Ottawa haven’t developed quite yet? It was an honest to goodness question that, well, not having been in Toronto in a number of years I can’t really answer with any degree of accuracy. But having been in all manner of places near Toronto, and well past it, I can say if it has, it would be a new one on me. So I have to ask. What problem is toronto hoping to solve?

    I do my fair share of travelling, when I can. Probably not as much as I aught to, but more than your average John Q. Sighted figures me capable of 9 times in 10. I’ve run into some wicked nifty cool intersections that, okay, don’t make themselves blatantly obvious if you happen to be 3/4 the way asleep. But pretty much everywhere I’ve been, be it in Ottawa or elsewhere, has always had some kind of general indicator that, hey guy with the cane, street incoming. The only way you’d miss most if not all of those indications is if you were walking the streets completely and utterly oblivious–and if we’re being honest, John Q. Sighted’s probably a little more guilty about that than he’d like to admit what with the texting and walking and all that jazze. So seeing this project underway pretty much begs the question. What are we not seeing?

    Don’t get me wrong. If this solves a problem, I’m all for it. I’m just trying to wrap my head around exactly what problem is being solved, here–and, relatedly, if it’s even a problem at all. I’d assume it is, simply because Toronto isn’t exactly swimming in cash at the moment and is kind of hoping the province will kick in just a little money to help support their transit system (Let’s not touch the fact the province is about as swimming in cash as toronto is, shall we?), so they wouldn’t–you’d hope, anyway–decide to go on a random toss money at a solution and hope it catches a problem. At least that’s the working theory. Because the alternative is a significant number of visually impaired folks in and/or around toronto are somehow asleep at the switch, posing all manner of risks to life and limb–usually their own–for the sole purpose of getting from A to B. And really, that doesn’t come off too pretty either. So I haven’t the slightest. Are the sidewalks in Toronto that bad? Are folks over there that caught up in their whatever they’re doing that isn’t paying the hell attention? Or is this a solution looking for a problem. Inquiring minds are inquiring. Just in case future trips in the general direction of Toronto necessitate I expect random things in my path that are supposed to be warnings. Because nothing says welcome to a new city quite like sidewalks that don’t actually look like sidewalks when you go to actually do things with them. Or maybe I just can’t think like someone from Toronto.

    (*): John Q. Sighted tends to see this as a problem. I, rather, can’t see much of anything.

    Update to add: I fail at HTML, so the second link on this thing may have slightly broken. It’s since been fixed. Now if I could just have remembered to fix the thing when I was in here fixing other things earlier.

    , ,

  • Because Ottawa doesn’t have enough of that small town feeling.

    written by

    james

    One of the things that keeps me close to Ottawa is that it’s got all of the convenience of a major city, but the atmosphere of a small town. More often than not, that’s a thing that kind of comes out when you least expect it. Like on the first weekend of actual warm weather, when I’m sitting here working on I forget what, and out of the blue, completely from absolutely nowhere–or maybe just around the corner, comes a thing I haven’t heard since I was, we’ll say, 13.

    Apparently, I’m not sure if it’s this part of the city or just this community, but somebody from somewhere drives an ice cream truck. And at about quarter past 8 on Saturday, the thing sat in front of my house for a good 20 minutes. Over top of the music, I swear there must have been a good dozen kids out there at any one time. I was halfway tempted to go nab something, if only because again, not since I was maybe 13. Sadly that required both money and the motivation to find something that would have been appropriate to wear even in my front yard, given what would have been my extremely close proximity to the afore mentioned dozen kids. And since I wasn’t sure I had the first and couldn’t be arsed to find the second, I contented myself with sitting here listening. Because really, that’s probably the second best sign of summer in existence–second only to the only solution to 35 above freezing being a vanilla milk shake at a temperature approximately 35 below freezing. That having been said, though, if it’s not a one-time thing I’m storing a stash of quarters in my sock drawer. Because signs of summer, dammit.

    I spent 5 years, we’ll call it, in Ottawa altogether, not counting the year I spent in small-town exile. And until now, I had absolutely no clue such a creature even existed in the city–although I did find other small town style things to be mildly impressed at. It’s the kind of thing you don’t much hear about in the major cities, like your toronto, or your Vancouver, or places like that. It’s what Pembroke could potentially be, if it wanted to be. And it’s a thing that goes awesome well with baseball–provided the team what plays the baseball actually shows up (Sidenote: thanks for yesterday. More, please.). And the thing only took 5 years to find. Because huge small town city is huge, and it almost comes off like several smaller towns all slammed together under one moderately disfunctional city council.

    Because I can’t hear a thing without sharing, and since this is pretty much what I got to hear for 20 minutes on Saturday, and because my ability to record what I heard was sharply hindered by my lack of decent recording equipment, combined with the above mentioned lack of motivation to find me something worth wearing in that close proximity to kids, have your very own ice cream truck. Because signs of summer, dammit. Yes, even if you’re one of the 7 people still shoveling your driveway this morning (PS: Better you than me.). Anyone have some spare quarters? My sock drawer’s looking a little empty.

    , ,

recent Posts

Recent Comments

Archives