Five Reasons Why I Didn't Like "The History of Violence"

We watched two rented movies this weekend.
One was The History of Violence, the Cronenburg film, and Murderball , a documentary about the Canadian and US Olympic Quad Rugby Team members.

The two things that can really ruin a film for me and the mister are continuity and lack of logical sense in the storyline.

1. If we are to believe the tale that unfolds, why would Tom allow the media to photograph him and splash his face over newspapers accross the country?
If we're to believe his character, and he's not an idiot...so why?

2. Why so much media coverage for the vigilante act, but none when he brutally wipes out 3 mafia guys on his own property?

3. Gratuitous, and pointless sex scene that goes on and on. Tom's wife puts on a cheerleaders outfit and they go at it. It's not even particularly hot, it just goes on and on. Even The Mister was looking at his watch.

4. William Hurt as a mafia kigpin.
C'mon.... No really.... Gimme a break.
He comes off as kind of strange and eccentric, but sinister, scary mafia guy he is not. And he was nominated for an Oscar for this role. Pickin's must have been slim.

5. The film abruptly ends. Not so much as a by your leave. And leaves the audience (the mister and me) saying: "WTF? That's the end?"

As always, for me anyway, Cronenburg's films are interesting to watch, but don't generally make a lot of logical sense. I see clearly that he's got some sort of abstract message; besides "violence is all around us" and "people aren't who you think they are", that he's awkwardly trying to get out and doesn't quite do it for me.
If this movie was just a statement on violence and an opportunity to show gross violence, then it succeeded.
This movie was ok, but I wouldn't have bothered to rent it... if I hadn't fallen for the hype.



Murderball , on the other hand, was fantastic.
Quad Rugby looks like a brutally demanding sport, and the young men in this documentary are angry, heartbreaking, courageous, and real.
The personal stories are compelling and really drive home the facts about spinal cord injury.

I rented this one simply on the fly.
I went looking for The History of Violence.
Sometimes the spontaneous decision works out to be the better one.

Point-Counterpoint: Seal Hunting

I found THIS really amusing.
You have to admit, Canadians have a sense of humour, and since our Senators, (unlike American Senators) basically sit around grand offices pretending that they actually do something other than get paid...
our Senator had time to respond to an average American family that e-mailed her to complain about the seal hunt.

The Relentless Quest to be Loved

I just spent the last half hour crying.
I was watching CBC News: Sunday's documentary on Dejan Kocevski, a 30 year old man who revisits Cape Girardeau, Missouri to confront and help him come to terms with his past.
Starved, beaten and locked up in the basement, the then-7-year-old Dejan nearly died in a house fire 23 years ago that helped authorities discover the abuse and led to the arrest of his mother and her boyfriend on child abuse charges.
Firstly, when it comes to child abuse... I, like any normal human become emotional.
This story hit me harder because Dejan is Yugoslavian, and it hits me in a different way.
The film footage of Dejan as a child is heartbreaking.
His resilience, his eagerness to please...his affectionate nature as he revisits the people who saved him, his cling to the small little details of his interactions with people, and their memories of him and what happened, his need to come to terms with himself and make connections...and his face...his features so familiar to me.
He could be my cousin, my nephew, my brother...

These kinds of stories always devestate me, but the Serb in me wants to kick the ever loving shit out of his mother, Olga....23 years later.
Dejan was reclaimed by his father at 8 and moved to Germany...within a month, his father shipped him off to his grandfather in Yugoslavia.
Now, Dejan lives in Toronto and is re-establishing a relationship with his mother who is remarried and has an eight year old.

The human spirit mystifies me.
The relentless quest Dejan has to understand why he wasn't loved enough by his mother to be protected by her. Wasn't loved enough by his father to be kept by him...

While his mother claims that she was abused and suffered "Battered Wife Syndrome", although that syndrome hadn't been invented yet...and far be it from me to understand the inner workings of being a battered wife...but I would have thought that if you hate yourself enough to take the abuse, understood.
But, the abuse of your own child should have catapulted you into action to save your son.
No?
What also dumbfounds me, and makes me speechless, is the ability of people like Olga to get salvation from life.

I wish Dejan peace from his demons.
It won't come easy, if at all.

Last night I was tight on finding something quick to bake for dessert.
The Mister suggested Lemon Cake, but I had no lemons.
I substituted tangerine. Any citrus fruit will do for this recipe.

Tangerine Cake
You'll need: 1/2 cup butter, 1 cup white sugar, 2 eggs, 1 1/2 cups flour, 1 tsp baking powder, pinch of salt, rind of one tangerine, 1/2 cup milk, 2 tbsp white sugar, juice of one tangerine.


Zest the skin off of one tangerine, and set aside.
Mix juice of whole tangerine with 2 tbsps of sugar
and set aside.
Preheat oven to 350F


In a separate bowl, blend together the flour,
rind, salt and baking powder.
Cream butter with sugar. Gradually beat in eggs.
Add the flour mixture alternately with milk.


Beat until light and fluffy. Pour into pan evenly.
The batter is quite thick.
Bake until golden brown, and knife comes out clean

Cool cake for 5 minutes, take out of pan and score holes
with a toothpick all over the top.
Pour tangerine juice evenly over the top.


You can decorate it with tangerine pieces and drizzle
with melted chocolate, but I was lazy, and this was a
quick after dinner decision...since the mister has to have
"afters" thanks to his mother the ex-caterer to the Guyanese Parliament.
But, in fairness...she taught me more about cooking than my own mother did.

"Some time ago I thought
You had run out of fools...
But I was so wrong
You got one that you'll never lose..."

I read this article about romance fraud.
Do these Lotharios and Philanderettes get away with murder?
It doesn't sound like Tracy Lynn Sargent got what she deserved.

But then, I imagine that with romance fraud, it's a little harder to pin down since the victim gives of their own free will, through love.

Sociopaths like Sargent are all over the place, like love landmines.

A colleague of mine was taken a couple of years ago by a smooth talking Nigerian man who lived in Germany. They met online and had an online/telephone/vacation relationship for over three years.
When he moved in with her during the fourth year, it didn't take long for her to figure out that something was wrong.
When he showed up with a new car, but with no job, and no apparent source of income other than her...she started her own investigation.
Within two months she had unravelled his ball of lies and found that he was stringing at least four other women along and taking money from them.
Was he punished by law?
No.
She was embarrassed to be taken as a fool, and he slithered under some other rock of a woman/women who fell in love with his smooth talkin' ways.
This site is a listing of known scammers (male & female), and it's pretty much like a turbo version of Don't Date Him Girl, the difference being that the first sites' scammers are known to police.
Don't Date Him Girl is about angry women warning each other
Here's another site that Combats romance fraud by decribing a POTT (Person On The Take), and the warning signs.

It seems like an epidemic that is thriving with the internet, but people are also getting caught through the internet.
The whole double edged sword thing...

Either way, it's a con with ostensibly few repercussions.

Kids are Mean

When I was a kid, people used to have nicknames that stuck.
Mean nicknames.

"Jarhead" for a boy whose last name was Jarman and was skinny with the disproportionate big head of pre-teen body growth.

"Bunga" given to a very dark skinned black boy by his West Indian friends.

"Hooked on Phonics" to a boy who stuttered badly.

"Schnitzel" to a chubby kid who lived on Roncesvalles.

I had one boy who followed me around for ages calling me "Molly".
I'm not sure why.
But he did.
It didn't so much bother me as puzzle me.

Do you remember any nicknames?

**Photo taken from TrekLens

Life is Beautiful

As I was dragging some mid to end week grocery needs into the house from my trunk tonight at about quarter to eight, my neighbour Pardeep was coming home dragging his own bags in at the same time.

From his driveway Pardeep said to me, "Ahhhhh, coming home late, nuh?..."

"Yes, as usual..", said I.

"Oh, it's a beautiful life, nuh?...", said Pardeep

My interactions with Pardeep, along with the irony and humour of them makes me almost believe what my uncle believes...and that is that slavs are decedents of East Indian gypsies...

I'm officially a crusty, irascible, cantankerous old person full of stubborn ideas.

My Uja said that it would happen, but I never believed him.

I've been listening to this debate and argument about tuition fees and students freaking out because the cap has been lifted and tuition fees will be going up this year.
I've been hearing that students can barely survive as it is, and it's virtually impossible to pay for tuition, school fees and books...and so on.

I'm not sure about that.
The students that I have contact with are sportin' iPods and laptops, and most of them are having their tuitions paid by their parents while they live at home with them.
Boo fucking Hoo if they have to get a part-time job and study too.

I had to go to school at night, work a full time AND part-time job, AND pay rent and bills. It took me twice as long to get an education as it should have, and I respected my time and classes.
It mattered to me if I failed because I was paying for it.

Some of the students I've met party hard, and know that if they fail, mummy and daddy will fork over the cash for them to do the classes over again.
Or other students who can afford to waffle back and forth from program to program...I want to be a Doctor....NO....I want to be an Engineer...NO...flipping back and forth while they drain their parents bank account and end up staying home until they're 40.

We're raising soft-centered pussies who are whining because they have study AND work part-time.

Boo Fucking Hoo.

Sunday Click-O-Round

Here are just a few interesting links I've looked at this week.
Gum Blondes which is art by Jason Kronenwald.
A Toronto artist whose art is done in chewed gum.
Yes. You read that right. Jason chews lots of gum and then sticks it on plywood to make portraits.
They're really pretty impressive once you get past the chewed gum thing.
Yesterdays Faces Today is a blog dedicated to taking movies, music, and TV shows and finding "then and now" pictures of the actors.

The Mockery Machine - Gothic Tards is a site dedicated finding pictures and crap about Goths. I have to say that "tard" is a good moniker for this. The funny thing about so many Goths is that they really seem to take themselves awfully seriously.
I find this really humourous.

Geeks Gone Wild is via Candygenius and is self-explanatory.

Back by personal obsession is Bombay TV.
C'mon people, make a movie for me...wouldja?

I'm not sure what Buddy Lee Guidance Counsellor is about. If you can figure it out, clue me.

And last, but not least...for the Oscar hooha, a little game called Name That Nominee

Sunday Click Around

The painting to your right is by Diana Pakkala aka "Mrs Mystic". She's having a showing with the previously mentioned artist Rob Croxford at Gallery "X" at 491 Church, March 6th to April 7th.

I don't generally read Live Journal blogs. I don't know why..I guess I mostly associate LJ with high school students, but then I found LJ Images which is a feed of the last 20 or so pictures that were posted on Live Journal. The pictures link back to the uploaders journal. It's a little addicting if you're like me and love to look at other peoples photos of other people, and the things that interest them. Pictures are often the things that keep me on a blog for longer than a few seconds.

This is Broken is a collection of things from around the world that are broken. People submit pictures of mistakes. I like the reader submission type blogs. Like Mirror Project or Windscreen Gallery.

Stereo Images is a site with lots of jiggly pictures. Kind of like those waterfalls that are lit in the back that you can buy at the flea market.

I'm not getting out of bed is a little gif that really imitates how I feel most mornings when I wake up. Then I remember that we have a mortgage and I force my ass out of bed.

Visual Recipes is right up my alley, and as you can see...I've put you onto the page with the recipes submitted by moi!

And last but not least...Pathetic Personals is just that...pathetic. Even the site has broken links. Pathetic. But the links that work are by slippery and suspect submitters who are looking for something...I'm not sure that it's love though.

That's it boycheks and girlikas

WAIT!
Stop the wedding...
you're just marrying her for spite....
if she knew the inside story, she'd tell you it just ain't right...

Recently, I ran into someone from my past life.
She told me that she had a partner, that they had been together for about four years, and that he had two children from a previous marriage.

Wow!
I thought.

Then, she said that they had three kids together as well.
It took me a second to do the math.

Then I thought...WTF?

We chatted for a bit and then she went back to her life, and I to mine.
We didn't exchange numbers, or promise to "have lunch".
I think that in our convo, we both surmised that we didn't have much in common anymore.

But, I thought about her for a long while after.
Why would a grown woman who hooks up with a man who already has two kids, drop three more back to back?

Why?

Women are very competitive, but mostly with each other.
How else could she instantly make her relationship more immediately important, but to have three children back to back..one more than his current family.
Is it evil of me to think that of her?

Now, there are five children in the equation.
I can't even begin to understand the complexities that come with navigating a relationship, stepparenting, and three children under four, combined.
I cannot be convinced that the two existing children are handling this well, and with no problems.
I mean, she couldn't have even got to know them before their first child entered the scene.

Sometimes women are just flat out fucking stupid.

Yes, yes...that's right...I'm a judgemental bitch.

Question:

If you had to choose, would you live an incredible life but die young, or live a long, relatively non-eventful, and quiet life...

Which would you choose?

Sunday Click Around

I found this neat gif at b3ta Crap . There is a lot of silly stuff there.

Yesterdays post was one kind of contract.
Here is another kind. This guy wants to be your cat, and from his resume, he's really experienced in napping and lying around all day.

Group hug is another site full of strange and sometimes disgusting or scary confessions. A little addicting if you have nosey tendencies like I do.

I'm not a chocolate lover, but for those of you who are, Chocolate Club's Chocolate Recipes looks like it would be useful. Frankly, I might try a couple.
Today I'll be trying this recipe for Super Moist Cornbread. I'm trying to find a recipe to replace the good, but dry when it cools, Jamaican cornbread recipe I currently use.

For those of us who hate Toronto's Queen Street West hipster, here's a funny little clip that should make you laugh. I especially love how freaked he gets when he accidently hits Dundas West. LOL. What's even funnier are the morons who comment and argue about what part of the city is hippest. Maybe they should "battle" like "EglintionYoga pants wearing Jewish girls who hang out at Starbucks" against "Queen Street West Hipsters who hang out at The Drake" or "Yorkdale Rich Bitch" against "Parkdale Skank Crazy" or something like that.
Seriously, the comments are retarded (sorry, no one says "retarded" anymore...they're "mentally challenged").

Occasionally, I stop by Toronto Police Services Board website and check out Crimestoppers, because I'm just interested in that way. I also stop by The O.P.P. Bulletins site and check out the pictures of missing persons and Canada's Most Wanted. You just never know if you're in contact with someone wanted unless you know who they're looking for, and since I deal with a lot of people every day...well...you just never know.

That's all for now...

Oh, baby, baby it's a wild world...

I was reading this post over at Cynical-C, about Travis Frey's "Wifely Expectations" Contract.

While I was marvelling at the amount of thought Travis put into the length and amount of pubic hair his wife was allowed to have, as well as all the effort and logging that it would take to keep track of "Good Behaviour Days" and so on...it occurred to me just how naive I am.

While I was reading Travis' four page contract, it occurred to me that this was not a marriage contract at all but a submissive and dominant play contract of some sort, because really...what average woman would want this in a relationship?

Really.

I mean, I don't even like The Mister to interfer with my grocery purchases, much less tell me what I'm allowed to, and not allowed to wear..

I went on a little search, and I'm not going to link to any of the sites I found connected to this lifestyle, because they're por.nagra.phic and I get enough hits from degenerates looking for fet.ishes I didn't even know existed.

But, with this kind of thing, I wonder what kind of abuse or frontal lobe damage has occurred to have someone aroused by degr.ada.tion and this kind of lifestyle.

I have read a couple of blogs, and there is all this talk about "loving" and "freedom" in this way of life.

Loving enough to lock you in a cage?

Beat your ass with a broomstick?

That's a different kind of love than the mainstream love that I'm familiar with.

Freedom from what?

The responsibility of having to make even the simplest decisions like what kind of underwear to wear?

I suppose you really would have to trust someone totally to allow them to rob you of your decision making capabilities, because everyone knows...if you don't use them, you lose them.

Then I got to thinking...these are people with children and jobs...I mean, really!

I know.

I know.

I kind of imagined them to be tattooed and pierced goths, beating each other in basements between sips of absinthe...but in reality they are the middle aged overweight woman in the next cubical, or your Accountant who prances around in a maid outfit with 3/4 gloves like Michael here (and really, you don't want to see what other things Michael gets up to).

Think about it...

That chick at the office who can never meet a deadline or make a decision?

eh? eh?

The arrogant bastard who has to control everything, and never lets anyone have any input on the project?

eh? eh?

I'm not sayin'...

I just sayin'...

P.S. Blogger ate my original post, AGAIN! so if this post shows up FOR THE THIRD TIME later...it's because blogger is free and what else can I expect? I'm lucky to get something for nothing.

Thought of the Day:

"Hire a student, while they still know everything."

Uja (my Uncle) used to say that when you realize you know nothing, is when you really know something.

I Get a Kick...

...out of some sayings used to flower up language or a description. These are just a few that I could remember.
Do you know any?

"She's stroked more wood than a Furniture Polisher"

"As useful as a one armed trapeze artist with an itchy ass"

"As busy as a one legged man at an ass kicking contest" (Crabby's fav)

"Went over like a pregnant Pole Vaulter"

"Went over like a whore at a church picnic"

"Empty as a bag of Hershey's Kisses at a Weight Watchers convention"

"I wouldn't trust him with the key to a can of sardines!"

"Talkative? She's got more tongue than a Mountie's boot"

The art is by: The fabulously talented Toronto Artist, Rob Croxford

Ode to My Garbage Man

How do I hate thee?
Let me count the ways.
I hate thee to the depth and breadth and height
My garbage can reach.

When one fine paper finds it's way to the blue bin,
You shall not pick up.
Though I wash my garbage to please you,
you still will not pick up if it's in a bag, and not in the blue bin.

I hate thee to the level of Thursday's
unknown time of pick up...sometimes at dawn, sometimes in the afternoons light.
I hate thee freely, as I rush to get my garbage out at the right time;

I hate thee purely, as I can't leave it out too early for risk of fine.
I hate thee with a passion put to use
In my old beefs, and with my childhood's hope and faith that I too would be overpaid for a menial job that requires no College or University education.

To be able to have the power to infuriate residents with my petty little demands of
type of garbage bin they may or may not use, refuse to pick up certain colours of bags, and smelly green bins.
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
I shall but hate thee better after your death.

For your information; a first year teacher in Ontario gets paid less.

Yuh face it pretty
But yuh character dirty
Gal, yuh just act too flirty flirty...

We're spoiled.

I know that this isn't news.

But, the other day I was sitting with some colleagues and one was talking about her vacation in a South American country, and how shocked she was by the conditions of life for the people of that country.
Then another told us a shocking story of how children are treated in another country...

Then I piped in with, "Life is cheap".

Conversation stopped and all stared at me.

I continued with, "In most countries, life is very cheap and easily lost. We're lucky here. We get give dogs birthday parties, and dress our pets up in silly costumes. Be pissed off when our Latte doesn't have enough whipped cream, and can buy soap.
Meanwhile, somewhere in the world there are children beating flies off what they picked out of a garbage dump to eat. People are being killed for a wrong word, or a pack of cigarettes."

Yeah.
Just call me, "Patty the Party Conversationalist".

That's Why I Love Mankind...


This disturbing report on attacks of Embassies in the Middle East is about a friggen' cartoon.
How many times have we seen Jesus depicted as a joke?

Anyone who reads my blog knows that I can't get with organized religion.
The behaviour of these fundamentalist freaks is a perfect example of why I can't buy into the man made rules and regulations connected to believing that you need to be a decent person in this world.

It's the misguided and blind faith of people who believe that they must kill Doctors and Nurses in the name of abortion. The crazy idea that being aggressive and scaring people is the way to bring people to the fold of their faith.
The mob mentality of people driven by religion to do terrible and unforgivable things for the possibility of going to their heaven.

It makes me think of Etta James' version of "God's Song (That's Why I Love Mankind)" written by Randy Newman.

"Cain slew Abel, Seth knew not why
For if the children of Israel were to multiply
Why must any of the children die?
So he asked the Lord And the Lord said:
Man means nothing he means less to me
Than the lowliest cactus flower
Or the humblest Yucca tree
He chases round this desert
'Cause he thinks that's where I'll be
That's why I love mankind

I recoil in horror from the foulness of thee
From the squalor and the filth and the misery
How we laugh up here in heaven at the prayers you offer me
That's why I love mankind

The Christians and the Jews were having a jamboree
The Buddhists and the Hindus joined on satellite TV
They picked their four greatest priests
And they began to speak
They said, "Lord, a plague is on the world
Lord, no man is free
The temples that we built to you
Have tumbled into the sea
Lord, if you won't take care of us
Won't you please, please let us be?"
And the Lord said I burn down your cities-how blind you must be
I take from you your children and you say how blessed are we
You all must be crazy to put your faith in me
That's why I love mankind

You really need me
That's why I love mankind"

Life is a chocolate bar
A broken string on a cheap guitar


If you're a Torontonian, and you're ever in the area of West Mall and Burnamthorpe, stop into The Etobicoke Civic Centre for a time warp into 1950's Canadiana.

I was at a meeting in Council Chambers, and the paneling (pictured on the left) was moving, it was such an optical assault.
In the basement, they have mounted fabulous photographs of the old, kitschy, seedy hotels on the Lakeshore that were torn down a few years ago to make room for those lakeview blocking condos.
The photos are most excellent, and the Civic Centre is like a time capsule in it's shiny, waxed 1950's goodness.





While driving along Queen Street, I saw this great window display and had to stop and get a picture. This Photographer has been in business in this spot for as long as I can remember.


As you can see, Ben Afflecks father was clearly Canadian.

Lastly,
you know that little thing you found on the floor, and you were wondering where it came from, and where it belongs, because it's obviously a part of something, but you don't know what...and it sat in a certain spot for weeks?

I'm here to tell you that you won't know what it is or where it belongs until you throw it away.